The Son of God in the Roman World: Divine Sonship in Its Social and Political Context

Imagine yourself in the fi rst century, a Jewish resident of the burgeoning Roman Empire. Perhaps you live in Rome itself, the eternal city. Or perhaps you live in Alexandria, that other bastion of high culture around the Mediterranean. If you live in Jerusalem, your perspective is slightly diff erent, as the Roman military presses in on you from all sides. From there, it seems like the world is about to end. Regardless of exactly where you live, yo zu have a diff erent perspective on the cosmos, a diff erent worldview, than that of a modern Western person. You are not an autonomous individual with guaranteed liberties, but your entire life transpires as a subject of an empire. You have never actually seen your emperor, but you know a great deal about him. You have heard stories about him from everyone, about what he says and does, about what his childhood was like, about his many triumphs. You know his face from coins and the faces of his whole family from statues; you know them almost as well as your own. In fact, in this era before mirrors in every room, you probably know his face better than your own. He is the most famous, the most powerful person in the world. But there is someone else, also whom you have never seen, that you know even better than the emperor. You fi rst heard of Jesus from people who actually did know him. Th ey told you all kinds of stories about him, too many to remember, accounts of what he said and did, about his tragic end and his glorious appearing. You believe the stories, they give you life, and you want to share the stories with as many people as you can. You decide to write a narrative. But where do you begin? You don’t know about his childhood or what he looked like. You met his brother once—maybe he looked a bit like him? Th en again, you think of yourself also as his “brother.” Th ose who knew him passed on his chief teachings, and they proclaimed him as the “son of God.” He prayed to his “father” and inaugurated a new “family” of God. You believe this and you live by it, but believing and living are diff erent than narrating. Again, where do you begin? One main problem you have, as a Jew, with portraying God’s “son” is that your God does not have a partner. For this reason, among others, your God is unusual in the Roman world. But if the paternal God does not procreate, how do you portray the divine sonship of Jesus? Again, where do you begin? Put yourself in Mark’s shoes—how do you narrate the life of God’s son?