Monday, March 18, 2019

Summary of the argument for the relationship between the death of Jesus, Socrates, and the impaled, just man in Book 2 of Plato's Republic

Jesus's noble, criminal death may have been intentional, like that of Socrates, and the fictional one of the Impaled, Just man of book 2 of Plato's Republic.

Jesus, as best as we can tell, was an apocalyptic prophet.  And, from the desperate prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus seemed to think that he needed to suffer, and perhaps die, to fulfill God's plan.

The incident at the temple was a critique of the corrupt temple cult.  Mark folded it between the fig tree story, the point being that just as it was no longer the season for figs, it was no longer the season for the temple.  Perhaps Jesus also intended his exemplary ethical suffering (and perhaps death) as a critique of a corrupt leadership in society that killed a just man like Jesus for silly reasons.  Perhaps Jesus thought this noble suffering/death would be the catalyst that would cause God to intervene in history and bring about the end of the current age and the coming of the Kingdom of God.

Plato records Socrates's last words as "let us offer a rooster to Asclepius" indicating Socrates was giving thanks for the poison he was receiving (pharmakon - both poison and drug/cure). 

How do we explain this?  Xenophon suggested Socrates thought it was better to die than experience the senility/suffering of old age.  Plato had a somewhat different view.  Plato's Republic Book 2 presents the impaled just man/criminal as the ethical ideal.  How could this be applied to the death of Socrates?  Socrates was condemned as a criminal and executed by his society for unjust reasons.  His death as a noble/just criminal served to show that his society was fundamentally unjust, and so Socrates is remembered as an ethical martyr who died in the service of exposing the injustice/corruption of his society, to the point that the corrupt society would take a noble/just man's life for unjust/silly reasons.

We see the same thing with the criminal Jesus.  Jesus in his death as a condemned criminal by society exposed the unjust nature of his society, even to the point of that unjust society executing a just man such as Jesus for silly/unjust reasons.

 Jesus, as a crucified criminal, seems to embody the Platonic ideal of the impaled just man from book 2 of Plato's Republic, either because Jesus was trying to direct his life events to emulate that ethical ideal from antiquity's most famous book, The Republic, or else because the New Testament writers were using Plato's ethical ideal of the impaled just man as a model to shape the Jesus narrative, in the way Matthew's Jesus infancy narrative recapitulates the story of Moses, or Mark's crucifixion narrative is patterned after Psalm 22 (there is a debate whether the crucifixion narrative is also patterned after Isaiah 53).

I wanted to share an excerpt from Clement of Alexandria's The Stromata to show how he thought Plato's ethical ideal of the impaled just man is reflected in apostolic Christian life:

Does not the apostle then plainly add the following, to show the contempt for faith in the case of the multitude? “For I think that God hath set forth us the apostles last, as appointed to death: we are made a spectacle to the world, and to angels, and to men. Up to this present hour we both hunger, and thirst, and are naked, and are beaten, and are feeble, and labour, working with our hands. Being reviled, we bless; being persecuted, we endure; being defamed, we entreat; we are become as it were the offscourings of the world.” Such also are the words of Plato in the Republic: “The just man, though stretched on the rack, though his eyes are dug out, will be happy.”  
Clement of Alexandria (153-217)The Stromata Book IV Chapter 7
Jesus may have been trying to approximate the ethical standard/paradigm of the impaled, just man in book 2 of Plato's Republic, or else there is exegetical work going on in the New Testament to model Jesus on Plato's impaled, just man.  This makes sense of such themes in Mark as the messianic secret, since such a Jesus would have to avoid even the appearance of reward for being just, such as wealth, fame, honor, etc.

Given this framework, let me suggest two ideas:

(1) Perhaps while Jesus thought he had to suffer to fulfill God's plan (see the desperate prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane), perhaps he didn't think he would actually die to fulfill it (the irony of Plato's impaled just man is that no living person could meet the ethical paradigm, only approximate it). The desperate prayer in Gethsemane may have originally been envisioned as being granted (compare Heb. 5:7).  Jesus may have thought/been portrayed as thinking the willingness of Jesus to die, like Isaac’s, is what answers future Israel’s sins, not the actual death.  

(2)  As Jesus is dying, he calls out in desperate questioning to God as to why He has abandoned him, hoping  God will send Elijah to rescue him.  We read in Mark:


When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land[e] until three in the afternoon. 34 At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”[f] 35 When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “Listen, he is calling for Elijah.” 36 And someone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.”
So, what we seem to see in Mark is a exemplary case of the impaled/crucified just man, abandoned not only by his followers at the arrest, but even by his God who he trusted to answer the Gethsemane prayer and ultimately save him.

The VMNT blog provides a useful unpacking of Ratzinger's views regarding the relationship between Jesus and the impaled, just man of book 2 of Plato's Republic.  They write that:


In his masterwork Introduction to Christianity, Joseph Ratzinger reminds us of the connection, once readily apparent to our Greek-speaking Church Fathers, between Plato’s fate of the just man and the fate of Jesus of Nazareth:

The Cross is revelation. It reveals, not any particular thing, but God and man. It reveals who God is and in what way man is. There is a curious presentiment of this situation in Greek philosophy: Plato’s image of the crucified ‘just man.’ In Republic the great philosopher asks what is likely to be the position of a completely just man in this world. He comes to the conclusion that a man’s righteousness is only complete and guaranteed when he takes on the appearance of unrighteousness, for only then is it clear that he does not follow the opinion of men but pursues justice only for its own sake. So according to Plato the truly just man must be misunderstood and persecuted in this world; indeed Plato goes so far as to write: “They will say that our just man will be scourged, racked, fettered, will have his eyes burned out, and at last, after all manner of suffering, will be crucified.” This passage, written four hundred years before Christ, is always bound to move a Christian deeply. (Ratzinger, Introdruction to Christianity p. 292; cf. Plato, Republic, II.362a)
Certainly, the translation Ratzinger uses lends itself to an obvious Christian connection, although the original Greek is not so explicit. The Greek term we find in Plato’s text, ἀνασκολοπίζω (anaskolopizo), is not so much “crucify” as “impale” or “pierce”. And yet, even Greek has several other words for the same idea. In John 19, for “pierce” we find both the verb νύσσω in verse 34 (ἀλλ’ εἷς τῶν στρατιωτῶν λόγχῃ αὐτοῦ τὴν πλευρὰν ἔνυξεν; “but the soldiers took a spear and pierced his side”) and, when referring to the prophecy of Zechariah, we find the verb ἐκκεντέω (ekkenteo) in verse 37 (καὶ πάλιν ἑτέρα γραφὴ λέγει, Ὄψονται εἰς ὃν ἐξεκέντησαν; “and another that says, “they will look upon him whom they have pierced.'”) When we examine the Old Testament, the verb κρεμαννυμι (kremmannumi) comes up most often for “impale”. By contrast, the Gospels quite singularly uses the verb σταυρόω (stauroo) to denote the act of crucifixion.
Is all this enough to prove the idea, so often raised by detractors of Christianity, that Ratzinger, like the Fathers before him, did violence to Plato’s text in order to prove a Christian point? Perhaps an investigation into the nature of the two punishments (ἀνασκολοπίζω and σταυρόω) will help shed some light.
To impale a man is to impose a particularly gruesome punishment on him. The point is not to kill him immediately, but to wound him in such a manner that he dies a slow, painful death. The stake, if it does not puncture the chest cavity (thus leaving the heart and lungs intact), allows the victim to breathe only with the greatest pain while denying him the mercy of a quick suffocation. Furthermore, impalement is often a public punishment, used as an effective deterrent to would be-criminals, for the skewered body remains in plain sight for all to see. Often, such executions occurred not upon freestanding stakes, but upon poles placed perpendicularly into city walls, such that the body, often still alive and screaming, remains pinned high on the parapets, visible to passers-by and visitors to the city, open to the wiles of wild animals and birds of prey.
When we compare this kind of impalement to crucifixion, we realize that the differences are not so great after all. Crucifixion is nothing but the most sinister form of impalement. It is, in fact, a relatively late development in the history of executions, a development wrought as a way to extend the tortures of impalement. No wonder, therefore, that the word or even the idea of stauros did not exist in Plato’s time.
Instead of a large pike piercing the torso, smaller nails pierce the limbs, which are too weak to effectively hold the body’s weight for prolonged periods. The bloodletting is too minimal to offer a swift demise. As strength leaves the arms, the victim must painfully stand up upon his nailed feet to relieve the pressure on his chest cavity in order to breathe. This painful alternation of hanging from one’s arms and standing on one’s nailed feet repeats viciously until the victim loses consciousness. Often, crucifixion prolonged the already-fierce suffering of impalement not by hours but by days or even weeks. And like its ancient parent punishment, crucifixion is by nature a public sentence meant to strike the fear of the State into the heart of each witness. For example, after Spartacus’ slave rebellion was finally crushed, the surviving rebels, numbering in the thousands, were hoisted upon crosses along the Via Appia, the “queen of Roman highways”, stretching from Rome to Capua– the Republic’s unequivocal admonition against those who would dare defy the Senatus Popolusque Romanus.
Back to Plato: his text affirms that the just man is a meek and humble one, who bears his burdens patiently (NB: Latin patiens means “suffering”!), and who endures even the humiliating, public spectacle of death by impalement, all because of his unshakable commitment to truth and justice. Plato’s man is reviled and rejected by society and accordingly executed, for his ways are “not of this world”.
Do we not, therefore, find echoes of the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 52-53? Is not Plato’s man “spurned and avoided by men,” with “no stately bearing or appearance to make us look at him”? Is he not also “crushed” and “pierced”, “a man of suffering, accustomed to infirmity”?
Of course, since New Testament times, Christians have universally read this passage from Isaiah as a prophecy of the Passion and Cross. Is it therefore any wonder that our Greek-speaking Church Fathers, steeped in the Graeco-Jewish cultural and intellectual cross-fertilization epitomized by the Septuagint, seized upon the similarities between Plato’s just man and the servant foretold by Isaiah’s oracle?
Against this backdrop, the apparent linguistic gulf between ἀνασκολοπίζω and σταυρόω diminishes greatly. For if crucifixion is indeed impalement taken to its most extreme incarnation, then Christ too, enemy of the SPQR, was executed by impalement, and in his Passion, he too was “scourged, fettered, and racked”. In all, the similarities are too great for a man of faith to ignore, and indeed the Fathers and Ratzinger did not make a merely facile comparison, but were right to say that our passage from the Republic, “written four hundred years before Christ, is always bound to move a Christian deeply.”
So, the VMNT blog provides a useful overview as to the relation between Plato's just, impaled man, and the crucified Jesus.  But perhaps this is also a window into why Jesus may have thought he needed to suffer to fulfill God's plan.
It has long been noted that Jesus believed he needed to suffer to fulfill God's plan, such as demonstrated with the desperate Gethsemane prayer, or Jesus rebuking his followers for not thinking he had to suffer.  This has sometimes been thought to be due to an exegetical coloring of the gospels with Isaiah 53, although there is disagreement on this issue.

Here is another avenue that might prove more fruitful as an explanation.  In Book 2 of Plato's Republic, Plato gives the example of the lowly impaled just man as a condition to determine whether one was truly just and whether this is preferable to being a happy unjust ruler.  Sachs comments that:
If Socrates were to succeed in proving that justice by itself cannot but be good for the soul of its possessor, and injustice evil, he still would not be meeting Glaucon's and Adeimantus' challenge; for they ask him to show that justice is the greatest good of the soul, injustice its greatest evil. Further, showing this will not be sufficient unless Socrates thereby shows that the life of the man whose soul possesses justice is happier than the life of anyone whose soul is unjust. The latter is required of Socrates when Glaucon asks him to compare certain lives in terms of happiness.  Glaucon envisages a just man's life "bare of everything but justice. . . . Though doing no injustice he must have the repute of the greatest injustice . . . let him on to his course unchangeable even unto death . . . the just man will have to endure the lash, the rack, chains, the branding-iron in his eyes, and finally, after every extremity of suffering, he will be [impaled]." On the other hand, the unjust man pictured by Glaucon enjoys a position of "rule in the city, a wife from any family he chooses, and the giving of his children in marriage to whomsoever he pleases, dealings and partnerships with whom he will, and in all these transactions advantage and profit for himself," and so forth, including a not unreasonable expectation of divine favor. Socrates has to prove that a just man whose condition is that described by Glaucon will still lead a happier life than anyone who is unjust if he is to show that, in terms of happiness, which is the Platonic criterion for the choice among lives, one ought to choose the just life. Again, if Socrates is able to show that an unjust man who enjoys the existence depicted by Glaucon is more wretched than any just man, that will suffice for choosing to reject any unjust life. As Prichard remarked, "Plato certainly did not underrate his task. Indeed, in reading his statement of it, we wonder how he ever came to think that he could execute it.
So, Plato proposes a sort of test for how to measure whether one is truly just, and whether such an individual would be "happier" in the technical Platonic sense.

Plato's Republic was the most famous book in the ancient world, so it is not unreasonable to suppose some of its themes may have influenced Jesus and his followers, even if none of them ever read The Republic.  Perhaps Jesus thought it was God's plan for him to nobly suffer as a criminal in society's eyes like Plato's impaled just man, because this would demonstrate him to be truly just and thus worthy of being the Son of Man/Judge of people in the new age following what Jesus viewed as the imminent apocalypse.

Sunday, March 17, 2019

Jesus, the Temple, the Garden, The Cross

For the last few posts I've been talking about how Jesus's noble death may have been intentional, like that of Socrates, and the fictional one of the Impaled, Just man of book 2 of Plato's Republic.

Jesus, as best as we can tell, was an apocalyptic prophet.  And, from the desperate prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus seemed to think that he needed to suffer, and perhaps die, to fulfill God's plan.

The incident at the temple was a critique of the corrupt temple cult.  Mark folded it between the fig tree story, the point being that just as it was no longer the season for figs, it was no longer the season for the temple.  Perhaps Jesus also intended his exemplary ethical suffering (and perhaps death) as a critique of a corrupt leadership in society that killed a just man like Jesus for silly reasons.  Perhaps Jesus thought this noble suffering/death would be the catalyst that would cause God to intervene in history and bring about the end of the age. 

Thursday, March 14, 2019

The Deaths of Socrates, Jesus, and the Impaled, Just man of Plato's Republic Book 2.

In the last few posts, I've been talking about the relationship between the death of Jesus and the portrayal of the Impaled, Just criminal/man in Plato's Republic.  I suggested that either the NT writers were modelling their portrayal of Jesus on Plato's Impaled Just man, or else the historical Jesus was trying to live up to this ethical criminal ideal by becoming the noble, persecuted criminal (or some combination therein).

Today I would like to briefly talk a little about how this relates to the death of Socrates.  Plato records Socrates's last words as "let us offer a rooster to Asclepius" indicating Socrates was giving thanks for the poison he was receiving (pharmakon - both poison and drug/cure). 

How do we explain this?  Xenophon suggested Socrates thought it was better to die than experience the senility/suffering of old age.  Plato had a somewhat different view.  Plato's Republic Book 2 presents the impaled just man/criminal as the ethical ideal.  How could this be applied to the death of Socrates?  Socrates was condemned as a criminal and executed by his society for unjust reasons.  His death as a noble/just criminal served to show that his society was fundamentally unjust, and so Socrates is remembered as a martyr who died in the service of exposing the injustice/corruption of his society, to the point that the corrupt society would take a noble/just man's life for unjust/silly reasons.

We see the same thing with the criminal Jesus.  Jesus in his death as a condemned criminal by society exposed the unjust nature of his society, even to the point of that unjust society executing a just man such as Jesus for silly/unjust reasons.

Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Clement of Alexadria's Thoughts on The Ethical Ideal of the Perceived Criminal Impaled Just Man in Plato

In the last few posts I've done, I've been talking about how Jesus, as a crucified criminal, seems to embody the Platonic ideal of the impaled just man from book 2 of Plato's Republic, either because Jesus was trying to direct his life events to emulate that ethical ideal from antiquity's most famous book, The Republic, or else because the New Testament writers were using Plato's ethical ideal of the impaled just man as a model to shape the Jesus narrative, in the way Matthew's Jesus infancy narrative recapitulates the story of Moses, or Mark's crucifixion narrative is patterned after Psalm 22 (there is a debate whether the crucifixion narrative is also patterned after Isaiah 53).

So, given that preamble, I just wanted to share an excerpt from Clement of Alexandria's The Stromata to show how he thought Plato's ethical ideal of the impaled just man is reflected in apostolic Christian life:

Does not the apostle then plainly add the following, to show the contempt for faith in the case of the multitude? “For I think that God hath set forth us the apostles last, as appointed to death: we are made a spectacle to the world, and to angels, and to men. Up to this present hour we both hunger, and thirst, and are naked, and are beaten, and are feeble, and labour, working with our hands. Being reviled, we bless; being persecuted, we endure; being defamed, we entreat; we are become as it were the offscourings of the world.” Such also are the words of Plato in the Republic: “The just man, though stretched on the rack, though his eyes are dug out, will be happy.”  
Clement of Alexandria (153-217)The Stromata Book IV Chapter 7

Mark and the Cross

In my last few posts I've been blogging a bit about how Jesus may have been trying to approximate the ethical standard/paradigm of the impaled, just man in book 2 of Plato's Republic, or else there is exegetical work going on in the New Testament to model Jesus on Plato's impaled, just man.  This makes sense of such themes in Mark as the messianic secret, since such a Jesus would have to avoid even the appearance of reward for being just, such as wealth, fame, honor, etc.

Given this framework, let me suggest two ideas:

(1) Perhaps while Jesus thought he had to suffer to fulfill God's plan (see the desperate prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane), perhaps he didn't think he would actually die to fulfill it (the irony of Plato's impaled just man is that no living person could meet the ethical paradigm, only approximate it). The desperate prayer in Gethsemane may have originally been envisioned as being granted (compare Heb. 5:7).  The willingness of Jesus to die, like Isaac’s, is what answers future Israel’s sins, not the actual death.  

(2)  As Jesus is dying, he calls out in desperate questioning to God as to why He has abandoned him, hoping  God will send Elijah to rescue him.  We read in Mark:

When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land[e] until three in the afternoon. 34 At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”[f] 35 When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “Listen, he is calling for Elijah.” 36 And someone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.”
- So, what we seem to see in Mark is a exemplary case of the impaled/crucified just man, abandoned not only by his followers at the arrest, but even by his God who he trusted to answer the Gethsemane prayer and ultimately save him.

Tuesday, March 12, 2019

UPDATE: NEW THOUGHTS ON: Jesus and The Impaled Just Man in Book 2 of Plato's Republic

The VMNT blog provides a useful unpacking of Ratzinger's views regarding the relationship between Jesus and the impaled, just man of book 2 of Plato's Republic.  They write that:

In his masterwork Introduction to Christianity, Joseph Ratzinger reminds us of the connection, once readily apparent to our Greek-speaking Church Fathers, between Plato’s fate of the just man and the fate of Jesus of Nazareth.
The Cross is revelation. It reveals, not any particular thing, but God and man. It reveals who God is and in what way man is. There is a curious presentiment of this situation in Greek philosophy: Plato’s image of the crucified ‘just man.’ In Republic the great philosopher asks what is likely to be the position of a completely just man in this world. He comes to the conclusion that a man’s righteousness is only complete and guaranteed when he takes on the appearance of unrighteousness, for only then is it clear that he does not follow the opinion of men but pursues justice only for its own sake. So according to Plato the truly just man must be misunderstood and persecuted in this world; indeed Plato goes so far as to write: “They will say that our just man will be scourged, racked, fettered, will have his eyes burned out, and at last, after all manner of suffering, will be crucified.” This passage, written four hundred years before Christ, is always bound to move a Christian deeply. (Ratzinger, Introdruction to Christianity p. 292; cf. Plato, Republic, II.362a)
Certainly, the translation Ratzinger uses lends itself to an obvious Christian connection, although the original Greek is not so explicit. The Greek term we find in Plato’s text, ἀνασκολοπίζω (anaskolopizo), is not so much “crucify” as “impale” or “pierce”. And yet, even Greek has several other words for the same idea. In John 19, for “pierce” we find both the verb νύσσω in verse 34 (ἀλλ’ εἷς τῶν στρατιωτῶν λόγχῃ αὐτοῦ τὴν πλευρὰν ἔνυξεν; “but the soldiers took a spear and pierced his side”) and, when referring to the prophecy of Zechariah, we find the verb ἐκκεντέω (ekkenteo) in verse 37 (καὶ πάλιν ἑτέρα γραφὴ λέγει, Ὄψονται εἰς ὃν ἐξεκέντησαν; “and another that says, “they will look upon him whom they have pierced.'”) When we examine the Old Testament, the verb κρεμαννυμι (kremmannumi) comes up most often for “impale”. By contrast, the Gospels quite singularly uses the verb σταυρόω (stauroo) to denote the act of crucifixion.
Is all this enough to prove the idea, so often raised by detractors of Christianity, that Ratzinger, like the Fathers before him, did violence to Plato’s text in order to prove a Christian point? Perhaps an investigation into the nature of the two punishments (ἀνασκολοπίζω and σταυρόω) will help shed some light.
To impale a man is to impose a particularly gruesome punishment on him. The point is not to kill him immediately, but to wound him in such a manner that he dies a slow, painful death. The stake, if it does not puncture the chest cavity (thus leaving the heart and lungs intact), allows the victim to breathe only with the greatest pain while denying him the mercy of a quick suffocation. Furthermore, impalement is often a public punishment, used as an effective deterrent to would be-criminals, for the skewered body remains in plain sight for all to see. Often, such executions occurred not upon freestanding stakes, but upon poles placed perpendicularly into city walls, such that the body, often still alive and screaming, remains pinned high on the parapets, visible to passers-by and visitors to the city, open to the wiles of wild animals and birds of prey.
When we compare this kind of impalement to crucifixion, we realize that the differences are not so great after all. Crucifixion is nothing but the most sinister form of impalement. It is, in fact, a relatively late development in the history of executions, a development wrought as a way to extend the tortures of impalement. No wonder, therefore, that the word or even the idea of stauros did not exist in Plato’s time.
Instead of a large pike piercing the torso, smaller nails pierce the limbs, which are too weak to effectively hold the body’s weight for prolonged periods. The bloodletting is too minimal to offer a swift demise. As strength leaves the arms, the victim must painfully stand up upon his nailed feet to relieve the pressure on his chest cavity in order to breathe. This painful alternation of hanging from one’s arms and standing on one’s nailed feet repeats viciously until the victim loses consciousness. Often, crucifixion prolonged the already-fierce suffering of impalement not by hours but by days or even weeks. And like its ancient parent punishment, crucifixion is by nature a public sentence meant to strike the fear of the State into the heart of each witness. For example, after Spartacus’ slave rebellion was finally crushed, the surviving rebels, numbering in the thousands, were hoisted upon crosses along the Via Appia, the “queen of Roman highways”, stretching from Rome to Capua– the Republic’s unequivocal admonition against those who would dare defy the Senatus Popolusque Romanus.
Back to Plato: his text affirms that the just man is a meek and humble one, who bears his burdens patiently (NB: Latin patiens means “suffering”!), and who endures even the humiliating, public spectacle of death by impalement, all because of his unshakable commitment to truth and justice. Plato’s man is reviled and rejected by society and accordingly executed, for his ways are “not of this world”.
Do we not, therefore, find echoes of the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 52-53? Is not Plato’s man “spurned and avoided by men,” with “no stately bearing or appearance to make us look at him”? Is he not also “crushed” and “pierced”, “a man of suffering, accustomed to infirmity”?
Of course, since New Testament times, Christians have universally read this passage from Isaiah as a prophecy of the Passion and Cross. Is it therefore any wonder that our Greek-speaking Church Fathers, steeped in the Graeco-Jewish cultural and intellectual cross-fertilization epitomized by the Septuagint, seized upon the similarities between Plato’s just man and the servant foretold by Isaiah’s oracle?
Against this backdrop, the apparent linguistic gulf between ἀνασκολοπίζω and σταυρόω diminishes greatly. For if crucifixion is indeed impalement taken to its most extreme incarnation, then Christ too, enemy of the SPQR, was executed by impalement, and in his Passion, he too was “scourged, fettered, and racked”. In all, the similarities are too great for a man of faith to ignore, and indeed the Fathers and Ratzinger did not make a merely facile comparison, but were right to say that our passage from the Republic, “written four hundred years before Christ, is always bound to move a Christian deeply.”
So, the VMNT blog provides a useful overview as to the relation between Plato's just, impaled man, and the crucified Jesus.  But perhaps this is also a window into why Jesus may have thought he needed to suffer to fulfill God's plan.
It has long been noted that Jesus believed he needed to suffer to fulfill God's plan, such as demonstrated with the desperate Gethsemane prayer, or Jesus rebuking his followers for not thinking he had to suffer.  This has sometimes been thought to be due to an exegetical coloring of the gospels with Isaiah 53, although there is disagreement on this issue.

Here is another avenue that might prove more fruitful as an explanation.  In Book 2 of Plato's Republic, Plato gives the example of the lowly impaled just man as a condition to determine whether one was truly just and whether this is preferable to being a happy unjust ruler.  Sachs comments that:
If Socrates were to succeed in proving that justice by itself cannot but be good for the soul of its possessor, and injustice evil, he still would not be meeting Glaucon's and Adeimantus' challenge; for they ask him to show that justice is the greatest good of the soul, injustice its greatest evil. Further, showing this will not be sufficient unless Socrates thereby shows that the life of the man whose soul possesses justice is happier than the life of anyone whose soul is unjust. The latter is required of Socrates when Glaucon asks him to compare certain lives in terms of happiness.  Glaucon envisages a just man's life "bare of everything but justice. . . . Though doing no injustice he must have the repute of the greatest injustice . . . let him on to his course unchangeable even unto death . . . the just man will have to endure the lash, the rack, chains, the branding-iron in his eyes, and finally, after every extremity of suffering, he will be [impaled]." On the other hand, the unjust man pictured by Glaucon enjoys a position of "rule in the city, a wife from any family he chooses, and the giving of his children in marriage to whomsoever he pleases, dealings and partnerships with whom he will, and in all these transactions advantage and profit for himself," and so forth, including a not unreasonable expectation of divine favor. Socrates has to prove that a just man whose condition is that described by Glaucon will still lead a happier life than anyone who is unjust if he is to show that, in terms of happiness, which is the Platonic criterion for the choice among lives, one ought to choose the just life. Again, if Socrates is able to show that an unjust man who enjoys the existence depicted by Glaucon is more wretched than any just man, that will suffice for choosing to reject any unjust life. As Prichard remarked, "Plato certainly did not underrate his task. Indeed, in reading his statement of it, we wonder how he ever came to think that he could execute it.
 So Plato proposes a sort of test for how to measure whether one is truly just, and whether such an individual would be "happier" in the technical Platonic sense.

Plato's Republic was the most famous book in the ancient world, so it is not unreasonable to suppose some of its themes may have influenced Jesus and his followers, even if none of them ever read The Republic.  Perhaps Jesus thought it was God's plan for him to nobly suffer as a criminal in society's eyes like Plato's impaled just man, because this would demonstrate him to be truly just and thus worthy of being the Son of Man/Judge of people in the new age following what Jesus viewed as the imminent apocalypse.


Monday, March 11, 2019

What Does The Impaled Just Man In Book 2 of Plato's Republic Have To Do With Jesus?

It has long been noted that Jesus believed he needed to suffer to fulfill God's plan, such as demonstrated with the Gethsemane prayer, or Jesus rebuking his followers for not thinking he had to suffer.  This has sometimes been thought to be due to an exegetical coloring of the gospels with Isaiah 53, although there is disagreement on this issue.

Here is another avenue that might prove more fruitful as an explanation.  In Book 2 of Plato's Republic, Plato gives the example of the lowly impaled just man as a condition to determine whether one was just and whether this is preferable to being a happy unjust ruler.  Sachs comments that:

If Socrates were to succeed in proving that justice by itself cannot but be good for the soul of its possessor, and injustice evil, he still would not be meeting Glaucon's and Adeimantus' challenge; for they ask him to show that justice is the greatest good of the soul, injustice its greatest evil. Further, showing this will not be sufficient unless Socrates thereby shows that the life of the man whose soul possesses justice is happier than the life of anyone whose soul is unjust. The latter is required of Socrates when Glaucon asks him to compare certain lives in terms of happiness.  Glaucon envisages a just man's life "bare of everything but justice. . . . Though doing no injustice he must have the repute of the greatest injustice . . . let him on to his course unchangeable even unto death . . . the just man will have to endure the lash, the rack, chains, the branding-iron in his eyes, and finally, after every extremity of suffering, he will be [impaled]." On the other hand, the unjust man pictured by Glaucon enjoys a position of "rule in the city, a wife from any family he chooses, and the giving of his children in marriage to whomsoever he pleases, dealings and partnerships with whom he will, and in all these transactions advantage and profit for himself," and so forth, including a not unreasonable expectation of divine favor. Socrates has to prove that a just man whose condition is that described by Glaucon will still lead a happier life than anyone who is unjust if he is to show that, in terms of happiness, which is the Platonic criterion for the choice among lives, one ought to choose the just life. Again, if Socrates is able to show that an unjust man who enjoys the existence depicted by Glaucon is more wretched than any just man, that will suffice for choosing to reject any unjust life. As Prichard remarked, "Plato certainly did not underrate his task. Indeed, in reading his statement of it, we wonder how he ever came to think that he could execute it.
 So Plato proposes a sort of test for how to measure whether one is truly just, and whether such an individual would be "happier" in the technical Platonic sense.

Plato's Republic was the most famous book in the ancient world, so it is not unreasonable to suppose some of its themes may have influenced Jesus and his followers, even if none of them ever read The Republic.  Perhaps Jesus thought it was God's plan for him to nobly suffer as a criminal in society's eyes like Plato's impaled just man, because this would demonstrate him to be truly just and thus worthy of being the Son of Man/judge of people in the new age following the apocalypse.