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EJ (1992) 3‑11
The Disappearing Disciple: Why is the Use
of 'Disciple'
Limited to the Gospels and Acts?
Lawrence 0.
Richards
'Disciple' is a word that fascinates many.
It seems to speak of a special commitment, a special closeness to Jesus. It
has also infatuated those in ministry, who have wondered if perhaps the best
way to shape a new generation of committed Christians may not be by
adopting Jesus' methods and to 'disciple' others. Typically the discipleship
approaches which have grown out of this notion have stressed one‑on‑one
relationships. But the popularity of the concept has also led many churches
to establish 'discipleship classes.'
The purpose of this study is, first, to
survey the biblical and historical data on 'disciple' in view of the
constant use of the term in the Gospels, its infrequent use in Acts, and the
surprising absence of the term 'disciple' from the New Testament
Epistles. I intend, second, to suggest reasons why the term disciple was
abandoned by the church. Finally, I intend to describe briefly the dynamic
new process of nurture which replaced discipling as the church discovered
its identity as the Body of Christ and Family of God.
The Use of 'Disciple' in the New Testament
If we glance at a Greek concordance, one
fact simply shouts for attention. 'Disciple' in the New Testament is
predominantly a noun, not a verb. It occurs as a noun some 167 times in the
Gospels and Acts, but as a verb only four times. As a noun, mathetes
is used with several different senses.
First, the phrase 'the disciples' frequently
designates the Twelve, whom Jesus chose to be with him. The Twelve are
unique in that Jesus chose them (Mark 3:14 ) and then trained them in the
distinctive mode by which Rabbis of his time trained others to also become
'teachers of the Law.' In the case of the Twelve, the term implies not only
commitment (Luke 14:26), but also a special, culturally defined
educational relationship with Jesus, which I will describe below.
Second, rnathetes is also used in a
common general sense to identify followers of a school or tradition. Thus
the New Testament speaks of disciples of the Pharisees (Matt 22:16; Mark
2:18; Luke 5:33) and of disciples of John the Baptist (Matt 11:2ff; Mark
2:18; Luke 5:33; John l:35‑37; 3:35). In this sense 'disciple' does not
imply an educational relationship. It simply indicates that those so
designated are adherents of a movement.
Third, mathetes is used in the New
Testament to include a much wider circle beyond the Twelve, who were loose
adherents of the Jesus movement. At times the word 'disciple' seems to carry
the sense of 'believer' (cf. John 8:31; 13:35; 15:8). But not all who were
Jesus' 'disciples' in the Gospels made a firm commitment to our Lord. Many
'disciples' were only superficially attracted to Jesus as a wonder worker
and healer and possible deliverer from Roman rule. The shallowness of their
commitment is illustrated in John's Gospel, where the Evangelist tells us
that, when the crowds found Jesus' teachings hard to accept after his
discourse on the Bread of Life, 'many disciples turned back and no longer
followed him' (John 6:66). When, after the Resurrection, Jesus told his
followers to 'go and make disciples of all nations' (Matt 28:19), he was
careful to define what he meant. He did not charge the Twelve with winning
loose adherents. He called them, and us, to bring men and women to full
commitment, that they might 'obey everything' Jesus commanded them.(v. 20).
Fourth, when we move into Acts, Luke
continues to use the word 'disciple,' but now mathetes serves as a
synonym for 'Christian believer.' Luke also records the point at which the
believing community began its break with the disciple terminology. He
reports a time at Antioch when 'the disciples were first called Christians'
(Acts 11:26). By the time the Epistles were written terms like 'saint,'
'brother,' and 'the elect' had completely replaced the use of 'disciple' as
ways to designate followers of Jesus Christ.
This shift in terminology is both
fascinating, and important. The shift reflects both the development within
the church of a new self‑understanding ‑ and the rejection by the church of
meanings deeply imbedded in the older term. The abandonment of 'disciple'
was a natural outgrowth of the transition of Christianity from a 'sect' of
Judaism to a discrete and separate faith. Although Christianity's roots were
deeply sunk in the Old Testament, in essence the new faith‑community was
increasingly distinct from both Old Testament and, especially, First Century
Judaism.
'Disciple' In Hellenistic and Jewish
Cultures
The word 'disciple' is constructed from the
verb manthano, 'to learn.' Its simplest meaning is that of a pupil,
or learner. Prior to Socrates manthano was used to describe the
process by which a person sought theoretical knowledge, and a
mathetes was one who attached himself to a teacher in order to gain
knowledge, whether by instruction or by experience. In time the word's
meaning was extended to designate both an apprentice, learning a trade, and
an adherent of one of the philosophical schools. After Socrates, some 400
years before the Christian era, mathetes lost favor with the
philosophers. These men were not at all happy with its association with
labor, and its drift into ordinary speech. Thus by the first century
'disciple' had no special, technical meaning in ordinary Hellenistic speech.
In first century Judaism, however,
'disciple' did have a distinctive and technical meaning as well as
the ordinary ones. It reflected the process by which a person mastered the
traditions of Judaism, by becoming the disciple of a recognized Master. In
first century Judaism, and increasingly in the centuries that followed, it
was only by this process that an individual might win recognition as a
'teacher of the Law.' what we today call a 'Rabbi' and what modern Judaism,
looking back to the great men of earlier eras, calls a 'Sage.'
This process was well defined by the first
century. Then 'disciple' spoke of a special relationship between a
recognized Sage and learners who attached themselves to him. This was deemed
essential, for the Jewish community was convinced that no one could
understand Torah unless guided by a teacher.1 The difficulty of
understanding was complicated by the fact that in the first century, as
today, a disciple in Judaism had to master not only the written Scriptures,
but also a vast body of oral and written traditions which had grown up
around the Scriptures. Only after mastering this body of preserved knowledge
could a person become a rabbi himself, to serve as a judge dispensing
decisions according to God's Law, or to teach with any shred of authority.
Discipleship was the only road in Judaism to a deep understanding of
religion, a though reflected both in the Jews' amazed reaction to Jesus'
public teaching,2 and reflected in the leaders contempt for the
general population.3
Several aspects of the special relationship
between teacher and disciple in first century Judaism are significant. The
disciple left home and moved in with his teacher. He assisted his teacher in
the most servile ways, treating him as an absolute authority. He not only
listened, but observed, for a disciple was expected to both learn all his
rabbi knew and also to become like him in piety and character (Matt
10:24; Luke 6:40). In return, the rabbi provided food and lodging, and saw
his own distinctive interpretations transmitted through his disciples to
future generations. When Mark tells us that Jesus chose twelve men 'that
they might be with him’ (Mark 3:14), he accurately reflects the contemporary
understanding of how future leaders should be trained.
It is abundantly clear from the Gospels that
Jesus adopted this well‑established contemporary pattern in training the
Twelve. Hints abound in the Gospels. The Twelve were chosen 'to be with
him’ (Mark 3:14). Jesus kept them with him on his travels, and after they
had heard him teach the crowds and seen him heal the sick and demonized,
Jesus often questioned the disciples or answered their questions. He
clearly expressed the common opinion when he said 'a student [mathetes]
is not above his teacher, but everyone who is fully trained will be like
his teacher' (Luke 6:40). And, after a time, Jesus sent the Twelve out as
his representatives, with authority to heal and with clear instructions
concerning what to preach (cf. Matt 10).
Various studies of the Gospel data have led
to a variety of books and papers on 'how Jesus taught.' Nearly all have
suggested that the church adopt Jesus' methods of training and discipling.
Probably one of the clearest, and certainly most helpful conclusions,
suggests a training should involve a four‑step process: (1) the teacher does
and the learner observes; (2) the teacher does with the learner; (3)
the learner does, and the teacher observes; and (4) the learner, now
discipled, does by himself.
Despite the insights that we may gain from
studying the teaching methods utilized by Jesus, and despite the value of
some of the processes that may be derived from such a study, the truth is
that Jesus' discipling method is not directly applicable to Christian
nurture in the church. In fact, the method Jesus used has such significant
drawbacks when applied by Christian leaders that Christ's followers are
specifically forbidden to develop a parallel system within the Body of
Christ!
Implications of the Discipling Process
One of the clearest implications of first
century discipling is that it establishes and maintains an elite class,
which is set off sharply from the other members of the faith community.
In every society there are a variety of
social strata, based on social role and the particular values affirmed in
that society. First century Judaism had a variety of ways of determining
status. Many of them were religious. Judaism had its sects, like the
Pharisees, whose zeal for keeping God's Law in every minute detail earned
the respect of the general populace. It had its institutions, like the
priesthood which served the temple. First century Judaism had occupational
criteria for status as well, according to which tax collectors ranked on the
bottom as moral social outcasts. And tanners were near the bottom as ritual
social outcasts because of their contact with the skins of dead bodies ‑ to
say nothing of the odors emanating from their establishments. As other
societies, first century Judaism also ascribed status on the basis of
wealth. But it is important to note that crossing most of these boundaries,
and lending the most significant status of all, was that earned by studying
with a renown Rabbi and in time being acknowledged as an 'expert in the Law'
by the religious establishment and the people.
It is difficult to overestimate the status
thus gained. Jacob Neusner, an outstanding Jewish scholar of our own day,
has pointed out that in Judaism the Sage is held to participate in an
ongoing process of continuing revelation. The Torah (here, the Old
Testament) is interpreted in the Mishnah (the then oral, but now
recorded, commentary on and interpretation of Torah), and the two are
applied by the Sage. Thus Torah, Mishnah, and Sage are all necessarily
involved in the process of discerning God's will. In Neusner's words,
'Scripture, the Mishnah, the sage ‑ all three spoke with equal authority.'4
It is this feature of first century and modern Judaism that Jesus refers to
when he says, 'the teachers of the law, even Pharisees, have sat down in
Moses' seat' [epi tes Mousios kathedras ekathisan oi grammateis kai oi
Pharisaioi] (Matt 23:2).
This truly radical transformation of Old
Testament faith, which began a century or two before Christ and took
distinct form in the two centuries after him, has shaped what we know today
as Judaism into a religion very different from that described in the Old
Testament.
As Neusner rightly observes, the developing
Pharisaic outlook placed the Sage in a unique position: 'So in the rabbi,
the world of God was made flesh. And out of the union of man and Torah,
producing the rabbi as Torah incarnate, was born Judaism, the faith of the
Torah: the ever‑present revelation and always‑open canon.'5
The creation of an elite class of
interpreters of the Law brought about a vast gap between those who 'knew'
the Law and those who were subject to it. The Gospels suggest that it also
led to significant distortion, both of the Old Testament revelation, and of
the character of those who were exalted to the status of Sage. In tracing
this theme in the Gospels it is important to remember that many individual
experts in the law were men of faith. Christ's words are not a blanket
condemnation of every learned first century Jew. Instead the link that is
often found, as here in Matthew 23, between the Pharisees and Sages,
suggests that it is the theological method of the Pharisee, adopted
by the Sages of the Pharisee party and Sadducee party alike, which is
the real focus of Jesus' harsh words about the 'Pharisees and teachers of
the Law' who so frequently confronted and criticized our Lord.
What, then, were the major problems with the
emergence of the Rabbi in Judaism, and the institutionalization of the
discipling method by which Rabbis were trained? I suggested that the
problems were both theological and personal. The
theological problem is summed up in words, recorded in Matthew 15:6,
where Jesus scornfully charges the 'Pharisees and teachers of the law' with
nullifying the Word of God 'for the sake of your traditions.' When
traditional interpretation and application of Scripture is given equal
weight with Scripture itself, error is sure to corrupt faith. Even in the
first century many traditional interpretations of the Law had significantly
missed the true meaning and intent of God, and so in Jesus' view, nullified
God's Word. In Matthew 15 Jesus mentions the practice of Corban, by
which a person was ruled to have relieved himself of the necessity of caring
for parents by making a technical ‑ not even a real! ‑ gift of property to
God. In other passages Jesus points to the Pharisees' criticism of Christ's
readiness to heal on the Sabbath, ruling it to be 'work' (Matt 12). This in
effect nullified compassion and concern for the suffering. Jesus also points
to the fine distinctions the teachers of the Law made between binding and
non‑binding oaths, which effectively canceled out God's intent that his
people speak honestly and sincerely on every occasion (Matt 23:16‑22;
cf. Matt 5:34; James 5:12).
The seven woes reported in Matthew 23
are organized in a chiastic pattern, and sum up the theological
failure of first century rabbinic Judaism:
1 The sages reject Christ (23:13)
2
They have zeal but do harm not good (23:14)
3
They misapply Scripture (23:16‑22)
4 They misread
Scripture's central message (23:23‑24)
3' They misapply Scripture (23:23,26)
2'
they have zeal but do harm not good
(23:27‑28)
1’ their forefathers rejected the prophets
(23:29‑31)
This is a devastating critique of the
theological flaws of the approach to Scripture adopted in first century
Judaism. But it is accompanied in the Gospels by an even more devastating
critique of the personal impact of that approach on the Pharisees and
teachers of the Law themselves. That critique is summed up in the
formula which introduces each woe: 'Woe to you, teachers of the law and
Pharisees, you hypocrites.' Here the word 'woe' must be understood as an
introduction to a judicial condemnation. But at the same time it must be
understood to have been spoken with compassion.
As we know, a 'hypocrite' is a 'play actor.'
the word appears in one of its forms 27 times in the New Testament, 16 of
them in Matthew. Originally 'hypocrite' denoted an actor in a Greek drama,
who held a painted mask before him to represent the character he portrayed.
In time 'hypocrite' came to describe any person who masks his real self
while playing a part for his audience.
References in Matthew's Gospel display the
hypocrite as one who fails to act spontaneously from his heart, but instead
acts with calculation, seeking to impress observers (Matt 6:1‑3). This
hypocrite sends servants ahead of him to blow trumpets, so crowds will
gather to admire his piety when he gives to the needy. References in Matthew
also display the hypocrite as one who thinks only of the external trappings
of religion, and ignores the central issues of love for God and others (Matt
22:18‑22).
While these are hardly attractive traits,
and while the very persons Jesus judicially condemns plotted his death, we
must still sense compassion in the repeated formula. Why? Because these
teachers of the Law, wedded to the theological method of Pharisaism, were
in fact fallible, sinful human beings like the rest of us. Yet, as Neusner
states, their method imposed on them the terrible burden of trying to be
'Torah incarnate.' Under this terrible pressure from others and from within,
Pharisaism produced, not a crop of humble believers, but hypocrisy. It
produced leaders who could not, like the tax collector, cry out 'God, have
mercy on me, a sinner.' It produced men whose training and inclination led
them to say, 'God, I thank you that I am not like all other men ‑ robbers,
evildoers, adulterers ‑ or even like this tax collector.' It produced men
whose boast was about externals: 'I fast twice a week and give a tenth of
all I get' (Luke 18:9‑14). It produced leaders who insisted that they
possessed spiritual authority but who, when challenged, refused to speak
authoritatively out of fear of those over whom they claimed spiritual
dominion (Luke 20:1‑8).
Jesus
on discipling
To this point I've suggested just
three things. First, I've noted that the word 'disciple' soon disappears
from the vocabulary of the early church. Second, I've admitted that Jesus
himself followed a culturally defined 'disciple making' process in training
the Twelve for leadership in the church. Third, I've suggested that the
process of disciple making in first century Judaism in fact produced a
class of elite leaders ‑ with disastrous theological and personal effect! It
is useless here to debate which came first, a Pharisaic approach to
Scripture or the disciple making process. In fact the two were intimately
interwoven in the first century, with each supporting and depending on the
other. The overall impact of the wedding of theology and method has
been to produce rabbinic Judaism, an approach to faith which is distinctly
different from Old Testament Judaism; an approach which as Neusner argues
has shaped the Judaism of today.
The question for those in ministry, however,
is more simple. And that is, Can the disciple making method of
Christ's time, which Jesus himself admittedly used, be adopted to nurturing
or training believers today? The answer we must give is this: the discipling
method of Christ can not and must not be adopted by the
church.
Jesus' strong reaction against the method is
made explicit in several New Testament passages, one of the strongest being
found here in Matthew 23. Read against Christ's criticism of the Pharisaic
'teachers of the Law' who have sat down in Moses' seat, and thus claim
spiritual authority over God's people. Christ's meaning is sharp and clear.
But you are not to be called 'Rabbi,' for
you have only one Master and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on
earth 'Father,' for you have one Father, and he is in heaven. Nor are you to
be called 'teacher,' for you have one Teacher, the Christ. The greatest
among you will be your servant. For whoever exalts himself will be humbled,
and whoever humbles himself will be exalted (Matt 23:9-12).
This passage, of course, reminds us of
another.
Jesus called them [his disciples] together,
and said, 'You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and
their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead,
whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever
wants to be first must be your slave ‑ just as the Son of Man did not come
to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many' (Matt
20:25‑28).
Jesus explicitly rejects the elitist
structure of first century Judaism and of the secular world. Their
hierarchical relationships are to be replaced by an egalitarian family
relationship, in which all are brothers, and in which the greatest
are those who dedicate themselves to serve.
It's no wonder then that the discipleship
process, in which some are exalted as 'father,' 'rabbi,' and 'teacher,' is
ruled out by our Lord.
Why, then, would Jesus utilize this method
in training the Twelve? In part because the method was culturally expected.
But mainly because Jesus was the Christ. Jesus was the Word
Incarnate, the only true 'living Torah' who has walked our Earth, and thus
the only one for whom the disciple making process was truly appropriate.
None of us can, nor should, aspire to the authority given the rabbi of
Jesus' day. And none of us can, or should, assume to 'disciple' others as
Jesus Christ discipled the Twelve.
Certainly the New Testament Church
recognized this truth. In fact, I suggest that a radical, Spirit‑inspired
change in the early church's sense of its unique nature led to the
abandonment of what had become a central and defining trait of Judaism.
Discipleship - by which the Sage was exalted as living Torah, the
interpreter and conveyer of an ever‑changing, contemporary revelation ‑ had
no place in the new community. Leaders learned to shepherd God's sheep as
servants among, rather than as rulers over, the people of God. And
underlying the radical change was the exciting discovery that the church had
other resources to rely on; resources through which the goal of discipleship
‑ to produce people who are 'like' their Teacher ‑ could be achieved.
Implications for Contemporary Christianity
First, an examination of the use of the word
'disciple' in the New Testament reminds us of an important reality.
Ministry, whether pastoral or educational, is to be rooted in theology.
When we construct our approaches to ministry on a superficial understanding
of Scripture, or on attractive but untested assumptions, they are certain to
be flawed. The assumption that Christ's methodology is directly applicable
by church leaders today is attractive, but surely flawed. This is not to
say that we can gain no insights into teaching or training by studying
Christ's relationship with his disciples. But it is to warn against
approaching ministry with the assumption that since Christ discipled the
Twelve, we are called to disciple church members in the same way.
Second, the portrait of the religious
leaders of Jesus' day reminds us of the danger of exalting leaders above the
rest of the people of God, or giving to mere human beings an authority that
resides in the written and living Word. Most trace the rabbinical movement
back to the emergence of the synagogue during the Babylonian exile. Then an
altogether healthy reemphasis on the written Word stimulated men like Ezra
to devote themselves 'to the study and observance of the Law of the Lord,
and to teaching its decrees and laws in Israel' (Ezra 7:10). It was only
gradually that such commendable zeal for study and application of Scripture
became institutionalized. As interpretation was piled upon interpretation,
and tradition upon tradition, it became necessary for the scholar to master
the entire developing body of belief. In time only the person with requisite
training was considered to understand the Law of God well enough to apply it
appropriately, either as a guide to daily choices, or as a judge chosen to
settle disputes. An increasingly great gap developed between the learned
elite and the common person: a gap which led to both the theological and
personal corruption of the religious leaders of Jesus' day.
That danger remains with us today. Where
only those with seminary training are considered able to preach and teach,
where the pastor's judgment is accepted as authoritative, where the minister
is expected to be a model of perfection and not allowed to share his or her
human frailties and vulnerabilities, there we reproduce in the church part
of that pattern which proved so disastrous in first century Judaism.
Third, if we take the warnings of Jesus in
Matthew 20 and 23 seriously, we will be forced to ask how leaders function
in this new community called the church. How do we exercise the authority we
admittedly have, and yet remain, ‘servants' 'among' the flocks we
'shepherd'?
Most important, we have to turn to the New
Testament Epistles. There we have to search for the themes that will show us
how to minister in the Christian faith‑community. We have to discern from
the methods of ministry which will enable us to lead Christ's Church to
maturity. For we are called to shape a community marked by the growing
commitment of every member to Christ and to others. We are called to shape a
community known for its love, not only for those within it but for those
without. We are called to shape a community where 'Christians' are not loose
adherents of a religion, but loyal citizens of God's Kingdom on earth, who
give full, intelligent allegiance to our Lord. We are called to shape a
community in which the goal of discipleship ‑ that everyone who is fully
trained be like our Teacher ‑ be realized as every member experiences
progressive transformation into the image of Jesus Christ (Luke 6:40; 2 Cor
3:18).
NOTES
1Note
the Ethiopian eunoch's remark to Philip, 'How can I [understand what I am
reading in Isaiah 53] unless someone explains it to me?'
2'How
did this man get such learning without having studied?' (John 7:15).
3'This
mob that knows nothing of the law ‑ there is a curse on them' hn 7:49).
4The
Foundations of Judaism (Fortress
Press, 1989) p. 119.
51bid,
p. 121.
Lawrence 0. Richards, a former teacher at
Wheaton Graduate School, is currently engaged in a full‑time writing
ministry in Hudson, Florida |
