The Resurrection Stories
JHC 4/2 (Fall, 1997), 138-149. Theologische Literaturzeitung 12 (1948), 740-742. Translated by Eric Weinberger. Original JHC page numbers in brackets.
In recent discussions of the New Testament accounts of the resurrection of Jesus, if I perceive them correctly, little consideration has been given to religious history or literary history. The Leipzig doctoral dissertation by Johannes Müller-Bardorf (1941) constitutes a certain exception, which unfortunately was not published. In any case, there are findings here that promise to be instructive and await cultivation. In this article I shall present and briefly comment on the most important material.
To prevent any misunderstanding, let me say at the outset that the disciples must have been convinced that they had seen the resurrected Jesus. Otherwise the birth of the Jerusalem congregation and thus the Christian church becomes a mystery. Jesus died on the cross, contrary to the messianic hopes of Judaism. He died in a way that was regarded in the ancient world as particularly despicable. Furthermore, in the earliest of the four gospels, Jesus, in the throes of death, seems to utter a public confession of error or at least a cry of desperation to the effect that his whole life's work has been in vain (Mk 15:34). However, within a very short space of time we once again find a group of believers rallying to the name of Jesus, and indeed in the very city where his terrible death took place. Something must have happened between the crucifixion and this revival to renew the disciples' courage. This could only have been the emergence of belief in the resurrection of Jesus.
When the disciples now report this experience, however, they employ forms of speech commonly found in resurrection stories, emphasizing certain features that always stand in the foreground of such stories. This reflects the practice of their time, which was seldom marked by the distinctive manner of an individual author as what we are used to today.
 We have no Jewish contributions to the forms of speech employed in resurrection stories. The Jew knows nothing comparable. The disciples' decisive experience therefore seems foreign to him. He cannot reproduce the story in his own way, but can only deny it, whereby he remains focussed merely on external incidents. He concludes that the disciples stole the body of Jesus during the night (Mt 27:64; 28:11-15); or that the gardener removed the body to protect his lettuce from being trampled on by crowds of people wanting to get a glimpse of the tomb.2 Or like Celsus, he may ask, Who supposedly saw the resurrected Jesus? And answer: A woman who had been bitten by a tarantula (Mary Magdalene). Surely such a hallucinator could not be a credible witness.3 Actually, Celsus' fictive Jewish opponent of Christians is the only one to recognize the issue lurking in the background, which is: How does the story of Jesus' resurrection compare with the many resurrection stories in religious history in general? One must ascertain, he says, "whether anyone who has really died has come to life again with the same body." However, that is as far as he goes. In his opinion the Christian resurrection stories are no less fantastic than fables in other traditions.4
When we set out to compare the various pagan traditions, our mind is first drawn to the tales of dying and rising gods such as Osiris, Tammuz, Adonis, Attis, and Dionysos. We find such stories in the Levant as far back as the beginnings of historical time. It might have been there that the idea originated that even superhuman beings were subject to death, in order, of course, to come to life again. A similar belief is found also in Greece. But Greece scepticism took exception very early to the idea that a god should die. Consequently, such stories would have been transmitted less openly in Greece than in the Levant. Even apart from this, however, it is not always easy to make sense of the evidence, since the sources are widely scattered. Plutarch, writing in a later period, gives us a concise account of the life of Osiris.5 But as Plutarch himself admits, the story is incomplete. We have to supplement this from allusions that we derive primarily from older Egyptian sources. Even Magical texts sometimes provide important material, since they preserve remnants of once sophisticated  religions having long since decayed. In one book on erotic magic, for example, we read: "May XYZ love me all her life, just as Isis loved Osiris." The love of Isis, therefore, was proverbial.6 The sources for Tammuz and the other deities are even more widely dispersed.
Despite the difficulties, whoever surveys the entire range of material arrives at a series of firm conclusions. We are immediately struck by differences between the Eastern-Greek tradition and the Christian tradition. Even in the Roman period, the deities that die and come to life again are still primarily embodiments of the decay and renewal in nature. This is true not only for Osiris, but also for Dionysus. Some of these gods, Tammuz and Adonis in particular, essentially never become anything more than this. However, such a concept plays no role in the gospels. It appears occasionally only in later traditions. In Lk 23:31, for example, a Tammuz motif has been identified: "For if men do these things when the tree is green, what will happen when it is dry?" The statement in Jn 15:1, "I am the true vine," is reminiscent of Dionysus, who is depicted on bas-reliefs from the period of the Roman emperors as a child emerging out of grapes, vine branches, and acanthus. Then there is Jn 12:24: "Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds," which reminds one of the initiation rites of Eleusis. Perhaps Kore was once a goddess who died and rose to life again. But what do these sayings prove? They are analogies. In the preaching of Jesus the emphasis is on a right relationship between God the Father and the believer, which Jesus mediates, and the moral obligations resulting from such a relationship. In so far as nature is spoken of, the emphasis is on its subjection to the omnipotence and providence of God.
Further differences between the New Testament accounts of Jesus' resurrection and resurrection accounts in pagan literature are connected with this. For example, the earth-bound nature of Osiris and his relatives has the presupposition, or consequence, that the god is flanked by a goddess who functions as his mate, mistress, or even his mother. In the case of Osiris, this role is played by Isis. It is also true for Dionysus, except that he does not always have the same woman beside him (Semele, Ariadne, and Demeter come into view). In some areas of life the goddess is even more important for the believer than the god himself. Cybele is  more powerful than Attis, Aphrodite more effective than Adonis. In the course of development, the goddess will sometimes outstrip the god, as in the case of Isis and Osiris. Here also, we find no reflection of such ideas in the New Testament. It is not until later that Jesus' mother is accorded a role comparable to that of Isis.
A third distinction is that in these circles resurrection is often the brought about through magic. This is not surprising, since it is concerned with beings so closely related to nature. At that time, at least in the mind of the common people, one "ruled" nature with the help of magic. Especially in the case of Osiris transience seems to be overcome through magic. The god regains his life by devouring Horus' eye. Or, in another version, Isis waves a fan and revives Osiris with a breeze. In addition, certain spells are required. One Greek-Egyptian book of magic says of such a spell: "Isis spoke and wrote it down when she secretly retrieved Osiris' and joined his severed members together again."7 There is nothing in the gospels that can be compared with such traditions. In fact, the oldest texts avoid altogether depicting the moment of Jesus' resurrection.
There is no certain connection between magic and morality. Consequently, faith in Osiris, Attis and other pagan deities often fails when it comes to moral decisions. Only in the course of development do more reflective persons among the devotees attempt to fill this gap to some extent. By contrast, the figure of Jesus is determined by morality from the outset. He does not experience his death and resurrection as blind fate, having nothing to do with his character. Rather, he is a preacher who leads people to God and encourages them to live a right kind of life. His passion and death result from his refusal to yield to the opposition of the uncomprehending leaders of the people. He sees death coming, but does not waver. Even those who distance themselves from Jesus would at least concede that he was a martyr for his own convictions.
The differences we have described above show that the resurrection accounts in the gospels cannot be derived from the belief in the dying and rising deities. That does not exclude the possibility, however, that in the Christian accounts certain features are present which also play a role in pagan traditions.
 One conspicuous feature that they do share is the emphasis on the number three. According to the Egyptian calendar of festivals, Osiris dies on Hathor 17th, to be "discovered" (alive) on the 19th, i.e. on the third day.8 The same period is mentioned in another tradition. According to the Pyramid Texts, Horus "drives away the evil in Osiris on his fourth day," i.e. after three days and three nights. This probably refers also to Osiris' resurrection.9 This view finds support in a Greek-Egyptian book on magic, where we read: "On the river bank in Busiris, where the boats come in, I am going to cry out the one who stayed in the water for three days (and) three nights, namely the hesiês, whom the current bore out to sea." The Egyptian-Coptic-Greek word hesês refers to Osiris, or to the one who drowned in the Nile and became Osiris — in our text without doubt the god himself.10 As far as Attis is concerned, we know a good deal about the Roman festivals in his honor. His death was celebrated on March 22, his resurrection on March 25, after three days and three nights.11 In the case of Adonis we have no direct witness. He has been connected with a prediction by the prophet Hosea: "After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will restore us, that we may live in his presence" (Hosea 6:2). But certainty cannot be achieved here. A statement by Lucian of Samosata points in another direction.12 The gospels take it for granted that Jesus rose on the third day. Moreover a saying is transmitted: "For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of a huge fish, so the Son of Man will be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth" (Mt 12:14; cf. Jonah 1:17).
To make the tradition understandable, consider the meaning of the number three in ancient times. It was often used as a round number to refer to a small quantity. The reason for this has not yet been entirely clarified, and there may have been multiple reasons. It seems important to me that the number seven, being the number of the planets, is often used to refer to completeness, for example in the Muratorian Canon. By analogy, the number three, being a rounded-down version of half of seven, is a symbol of abbreviation. But Plutarch, for example, shows that still other  considerations are involved.13 Whatever the case may be, Jesus uses the number three to abbreviate time: "I will drive out demons and heal people today and tomorrow, and on the third day I will reach my goal. In any case, I must keep going today and tomorrow and the next day..." (Lk 13:32-33). Perhaps this sense of the number three explains sufficiently why it is used in reference to the period between death and resurrection. But then again, there may be other factors involved. For example, the moon is invisible for about three days during the new moon phase. And according to a Jewish belief that perhaps origenated in Persia, the soul stays near the body for three days after a person's death: "For three days the soul hovers over the grave, contemplating a return to the body, but once it sees that the facial color has faded, it goes away, never to return" (Gen. Rab. 50:10). This view is reflected in John's gospel. Lazarus has been in the grave for four days by the time Jesus resurrects him; the miracle is immense beyond comparison (Jn 11:17, 39). So we cannot say for sure what is the real meaning of the number three that occurs in all the resurrection stories. But it does seem certain that they are interdependent in this regard. For it would be an exceptional accident for so many individual writers on their own to hit upon the same idea of using the number three. Moreover, there were many other round numbers in the ancient world.14 Decisive is the fact that the two phrases, "on the third day" and "after three days and three nights" are used together with reference to both Jesus and Osiris.
The situation is not so clear-cut when it comes to another aspect of the stories. In some traditions there is a prolonged search for the departed deity. This is especially the case for Osiris. The search finds expression here even in the worship service, where the devotees carry out the search in a kind of theatrical drama. We even know the wording of their cry of joy on finally discovering their god: "We have found (Osiris)! We all rejoice!"15 While there is no trace of a symbolic search for the body of Christ in the liturgy of the early church, a story of comparable form is found in the gospels. The women who go to the tomb on Easter Sunday morning, as well as some of the disciples who follow them, are searching for the body. This is most apparent in the fourth gospel, that is, the latest tradition (Jn 20:1 ff.; but cf. already Mk 16:1 ff., etc.).  One has the impression that the later accounts appropriate the traditional form; but a connection may be present from the very beginning.
We can probably adduce a third element of evidence. It seems highly probable that the Greek romantic novels presuppose the stories of dying and rising dieties. Narrative forms used in the legends emerge in the novels in a new guise, adapted to the human realm and the conditions of the present, shorn of superstition and cut into manageable pieces with the knife of enlightenment. What is important in the present context is that the novelist Chariton, writing at the beginning of the Christian era, if not earlier, mentions an empty sepulcher.16 Chaereas goes to the grave of his (supposedly) deceased wife, Callirhoe. Here are the key sentences with which Chariton describes this visit: Chaereas "arrived at the tomb at daybreak." "He found the stones removed and the entrance open. At that he took fright." "No one dared enter (the tomb)." "He could not believe that his wife was not lying there." "He searched throughout the tomb, but could not find anything." Finally, Chaereas says, speaking in spirit to his wife, "I will search for you by water and by land."17 Much here is admittedly different than in the New Testament accounts, the most striking difference being the "enlightened" point of view: Callirhoe is not really dead, but only seems to be so. Despite what Mk 15:44 and Acts 20:10 may seem to say, such a view is not found in the New Testament. Nevertheless, there is agreement between the story of Chaereas and the New Testament that is almost word for word at some points. The connections with the fouth gospel are again particularly clear, since there the fact of the empty tomb is especially emphasized and elaborately portrayed (Jn 20:5ff.). But even in the earlier (Jewish Christian) traditions a connection is apparent. It seems that the motif of an empty tomb occurs in several stories of gods (though not in the case of Osiris, of course) and resurfaces in early Christianity.
We might discover more parallels if we knew more about the resurrection of Osiris and the other gods. However, if we cast our nets further afield we can gain some  compensation, for it is not only full-fledged gods who revive after death, but also primeval heroes, who first sojourn as humans among humans before being elevated to divine rank. Osiris himself may have been such a hero. Certainly some "lesser" spirits were, such as Hercules among the Greeks, whose resurrection festival (e1gersij) is known to Menander of Ephesus.18 From the Latin world we could mention Romulus. Let us use his figure to illustrate our point.
In a certain sense, the poet Quintus Ennius († 169 B.C.E.) represents the beginning of the tradition of Romulus' resurrection. He paints a picture of the event in his Annals (1:65f. and 110ff., Vahlen). But as Plutarch maintains, citing examples,19 Ennius was dependent on earlier Greek material. Unfortunately, only fragments of Ennius' work are extant. However, quotations by later writers make it possible to reconstruct the gist of what he presented. Among such writers, the following may be mentioned: Cicero (The State, 2:10, 17 and 20; cf. 1:16 and the end of 25); Livy (1:16); Ovid (Metamorphoses, 14:805 ff., which is clearly dependent on Ennius, and Festivals, 2:491 ff.); Plutarch (Romulus, 27:3 ff., 28:1ff. and passim).20 From these and other witnesses it is immediately clear how much popularity Ennius achieved with this particular legend. Horace alludes to it, treating it as a well-known story (carm., 3.3.9ff.). Among Latin Christians, Tertullian indicates the same (Apology, 21:23), noting a certain similarity, at least on the surface, between the ascension of Christ and that of Romulus. We even find references from as late as the fourth century C.E, for example, in the Life of Commodus by the so-called Aelius Lampridis (2:2), who even knows the day of Romulus' resurrection.
According to these witnesses, what happened is as follows: Romulus, after reigning as king for thirty-seven years, suddenly disappears during a gathering. At the same time there is a solar eclipse, accompanied by a violent thunderstorm. There is no trace of Romulus to be found. However, one morning he appears to his friend Julius Proculus, larger and more beautiful than in real life, armed with weapons shining like fire. Although in a state of shock, the friend manages to take in Romulus' last words and  instructions. The resurrected Romulus explains that he now dwells again in heaven, where he originally came from. Proculus reports his experience to the Roman people and vouches for the accuracy of his account with a solemn oath. The Romans even dealt with issues of piety and worship in legal terms!
This point takes on added importance here, because during the period of the emperors the Romulus legend became not only a memory, but also an archetype. It was followed as a pattern for the elevation of Roman rulers to the status of gods after their death. As early a writer as Horace stresses that Romulus and Augustus took the same route to heaven (see above). In particular, the assumption is made that the departed emperor has been removed from the earth, that is, has disappeared, like Romulus. One eye-witness has to testify under oath to the Senate that he saw the deceased rise to heaven from the funeral pyre. In a report on Augustus' funeral (14 C.E.) we read: "There even came forward a man of praetorian rank to testify on oath that he had observed the form of the cremated emperor rise to heaven."21 Certain traits from the Romulus legend thus served as a basis for the official deification of the Roman emperors.
What is significant for our discussion is that narrative forms from the legends partially reappear in the earliest Christian resurrection accounts. There is dread of the one who has been elevated. He looks different than he did in life, at times making a supernatural impression. As a rule, however, he is recognizable. In the case of Jesus, the disciples regain their composure, pay close attention to what he says, and receive his instructions. Subsequently they try to list as many witnesses as they can of what they have seen and heard. (These narrative features were all identified by Müller-Bardorf from the New Testament accounts. The non-Christian texts confirm his results. On this basis he showed that Mk 6:48ff. probably originally portrayed a manifestation of the resurrected Jesus.) In trying to determine how much of what we are told about the experiences of the disciples is historically accurate, we are given a clue by the following: Among Jesus' appearances should be counted Paul's conversion on the road to Damascus (1 Cor 15:4ff.). We are well informed about this event. We have three accounts in the book of Acts (9:3ff., 22:6ff., 26:12ff.), which derive from at least two different sources.22  Besides that, we have some statements by Paul himself which show that on this occasion Paul was called to be not merely a Christian, but also a preacher to the Gentiles (Gal 1:15f.; cf. Acts 26:16ff.). Paul thus receives a mandate similar to that given to Julius Proculus. That is a popular feature in the kind of narratives we are discussing. Without doubt, however, Paul was in fact convinced of having received a commission from Jesus. That a story is recounted in terms common to legendary literature does not always mean it is not historical.
Let us pursue our deliberation a step further. Not only prehistoric heroes and Roman emperors experience resurrection and ascension. In some circles it is taken for granted that the philosophers, being "men of God," are elevated in a similar way. Philostratos thus remarks in passing, as though no evidence were required: Socrates "did [not] die. The Athenians only thought he did."23 Lucian of Samosata provides the best confirmation of this belief. In his work on the death of Peregrinus he gives a caricature of a life of a philosopher. At the end of the story (39f.) we read that from the flames of the funeral pyre that had devoured Peregrinus there rose a vulture, who, "with a loud human voice," called out, "I am [leaving] the earth and ascending to Olympus" (elipon gan bainô d' es Olumpon). This utterance is written in the Dorian dialect and the word order is that of poetry.24 It is thus intended to call forth an atmosphere of high solemnity appropriate to a tragic play or as elicited by formulas of worship in mystery religions. The next thing that happens is that an elderly man with a trustworthy appearance sees the deceased philosopher in human form: Peregrinus is cheerfully walking up and down a hall, wearing a white robe and sporting an olive wreath on his head. This same witness affirms under oath that he saw the vulture with his own eyes. In interpreting these statements, it is easy to allow for the exaggeration characteristic of satire, since caricature is only applied to what is commonly known and thus recognizable as distorted. It was a common custom in Lucian's day, therefore, to talk about the ascension of philosophers to heaven in parables such as those in the Romulus legend and the apotheosis of Roman emperors. We need to pay attention to this fact, the more so as other features of the  philosophical life crop up in our gospels as well. I hope to treat of this point in another place in the near future.
We have a special case in Philostratos' account of the after-life of Apollonios of Tyana. Philostratos offers a detailed presentation, that is structured in his own way, but again provides us with additional narrative forms. Apollonios speaks in advance of his life after death and predicts that he will appear then to his followers. Like Jesus, he even goes so far as to tell them where to meet him. To his disciple Damis he says, "Go to Dicaiarchia (Puteoli)... After you have greeted Demetrios there, set out to sea, where Calypso's island lies. There I will appear again to you (epifanenta gar me ekei= opsei)." At this Damis asks, "Will you be alive, or what?" Laughing, Apollonios replies, "From my point of view, alive; but from your point of view, revived (anebebiôkota)" (7:41; p. 294; cf. Mk 14:28).25 The death of Apollonios is reported with the words: "He disappeared." This takes place during a court hearing in Rome (8:5; p. 300; cf. 8 and 10; p. 326f.). In describing the incident, Philostratos is deliberately vague. He wants to create the impression that Apollonios does not die at all, like Romulus in the legend referred to above. Shortly after his death, Apollonios appears to his disciples where he said he would: "He left the courtroom (in Rome) before midday and appeared (efanê) to Demetrios and Damis in Dicaiarchia in the afternoon" (near Naples, VIII:10, p. 327). Apollonios is able to cover a great distance in an amazingly short time. After that he shows himself to his disciples and the public over a longer time. For example, he converses with them and others in Olympia for forty (!) days (8:19; p. 335; cf. Acts 1:3). During this time he has little need of food (8:13; p. 330). However, he still gives the impression of being a human being with a human body. Demetrios doubts. "At this Apollonios stretched out his hand and said: 'Take hold of me. If I slip out of your grasp, then I am just a phantom from the kingdom of Phersephattes... However, if I withstand your touch, then go and convince Damis that I am alive and have not discarded my body.' Their doubts dispelled, they stood up, took hold of him, and embraced him" (8:12, p. 328; cf. Lk 24:39; Jn 20:24ff.). Apollonios' activity comes to an end with a kind of ascension into heaven. He enters a temple and vanishes. At the same moment the voice of singing virgins proclaims in solemn Dorian dialect (that is meant seriously here): "Rise up from the  earth! Rise up to heaven! Rise up!" (8:30, p. 342). After this departure Apollonios appears only once more, this time in a dream to an unbelieving disciple, in order to convert him (8:31, p. 343; cf. Jn 20:24ff.; Acts 9:3ff.). Philostratos writes in the first half of the third century; but it is generally agreed today that it was not his intention to replace or outdo the gospels. I have some doubts about that, but do not intend to discuss them here. The prevailing view is that the similarities between Philostratos' story of Apollonios and the New Testament accounts of Jesus' resurrection are due to Philostratos having known and used the same body of narrative traditions as the evangelists.
This particular question is not decisive. Even without Philostratos, there is enough other material to show that resurrection narratives follow certain, repeated patterns. Consequently, whoever examines the experiential content of the texts will not dwell on the particularities (although, as we learned from Paul, a feature common to all such accounts may be historical). One thing stands out in all of this. Since the reports of Jesus' resurrection are initially cast into words by Palestinian Jewish Christians, the extent to which traditions of non-Palestinian origin are at home in these circles is amazing. To be sure, it has to do merely with narrative fragments that are easy to remember and thus easily traverse distant paths. On the other hand, world-views that require independent reflection progress by nature more slowly and with more difficulty through the world of common people.
The main thing we have learned is that there are legends of the resurrection of figures who are not in any way related to the forces of nature. To be sure, in such cases the belief is confined to select segments of the population—e.g., in the case of the Roman emperors, the official representatives of the state, or for philosophers, their academic colleagues and the inner circle of admirers. Jesus is the only one who initiates a world-wide movement. This is a unique feature that deserves consideration even by historians. One superficial feature may already be significant: within a generation after the death of Jesus, which probably occurred around 30 C.E., the first Christians already made use of formulated resurrection accounts (1 Cor 15:4 ff. was written during the first half of the 50s C.E.). More important, however, is that behind the Christian accounts stands a unique personality, a figure whose course of life is an inner necessity, and therefore must appear to be the fulfillment of God's eternal will.
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1 Theologische Literaturzeitung 12 (1948), 740-742.
2 Tertullian, De Spectaculis, 30.
3 See Origen, Contra Celsum, 2:55; cf. Luke 8:2.
4 Ibid., 2:55; cf. 3:22 and 24.
5 Plutarch, On Isis and Osiris, 12 ff.
6 Karl Preisendanz, Papyri Graecae Magicae II (1931), 172.
7 Preisendanz, Papyri, 2:43f.; cf. 151f.
8 Plutarch, Isis and Osiris, 13, 39, 42.
9 Pyramid Texts, § 1978.
10 Preisendanz, Papyri, 1 (1928), 90f.
11 Hugo Hepding, Attis (1903), 149 ff., 167 ff.
12 On the Syrian Goddess, 6.
13 Fablus Maximus, 4:6f.
14 See Gerhard Kittel, Rabbinica, 1920, 31 ff.
15 For sources see Albrecht Dieterich, Eine Mithrasliturgie (1910), 216.
16 On the question of the date, see Erwin Rohde, Der griechische Roman und seine Vorläufer (1914), 610; cf. now also B. P. Reardon (ed.), Collected Ancient Novels (Berkeley: University of California, 1989), 17.
17 Chariton, III, 3, in Karl Kerényi, Die griechisch-orientalische Romanliteratur in religionsgeschichtlicher Beleuchtung (1927), 10f., 24ff; cf. Reardon, Ancient Novels, 53f.
18 Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews, VIII:5, 3, § 146; for more details see Friedrich Pfister, Archiv für Religionswissenschaft, XXXIV, 1938, 54-55.
19 Romulus 28:4ff.
20 Plutarch does not believe the story (see 28:7ff.), saying that the divine is asarkon, but reports it nonetheless.
21 Suetonius, Augustus, 100:4; Justin's so-called First Apology (21:3) is also instructive; cf. E. Bickermann, Archiv für Religionswissenschaft, XXVI, 1929, 1 ff.).
22 Emanuel Hirsch, ZNW, 28 (1929), 305 ff.
23 Life of Apollonios of Tyana, 8:2, end of p. 298, Kayser; cf. 12:7, 16, p. 324.
24 See Richard Wünsch, quoted by Albrecht Dieterich in Eine Mithrasliturgie (1910), 204f. See Karl Holl, Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Kirchengeschichte,, II (1928), 266.
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Darrell J. Doughty
Copyright © Institute for Higher Critical Studies, 1998