But there is another characteristic that is important for Jesus’ miracles, one we have not yet addressed: his miracles are always for other people, never for himself. Jesus’ miracles are pure acts of concern for people in need. This applies not only to the healing miracles and exorcisms but also to the raising of the dead, the stilling of the storm, and the multiplication of the loaves. Jesus never did anything to help himself.27
It is very revealing that later, in the apocryphal Infancy Gospels and novelistic Acts of apostles people, even Christians, had no hesitation in relating self-help miracles performed by Jesus and the apostles.28 The fact that the canonical gospels are altogether devoid of these shows that they retain something specific to Jesus. In antiquity, and even in Judaism, it was apparently a matter of course that one should expect a great miracle worker to perform miracles on his or her own behalf. According to Mark, the spectators at Jesus’ execution mocked him by saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe” (Mark 15:31-32).
Of course, we must see that this mockery is not only suggesting a miracle in aid of Jesus. It is also, and even primarily, about a demonstration. The idea that the Messiah or the bringer of salvation must prove himself to be such, and by means of a specific miracle that reveals his power and legitimacy, was widely accepted. Josephus reports that before the Jewish war messianic pretenders and pseudo-prophets appeared and aroused the people against the Romans. As legitimation for their actions they promised spectacular miracles:
These works, that were done by the robbers [= Zealots], filled the city [Jerusalem] with all sorts of impiety. And now these impostors and deceivers persuaded the multitude to follow them into the wilderness, and pretended that they would exhibit manifest wonders and signs, that would be performed by the providence of God.
…Moreover, there came out of Egypt about this time to Jerusalem, one that said he was a prophet, and advised the multitude of the common people to go along with him to the Mount of Olives, as it was called, which lay over against the city, and at the distance of five furlongs. He said farther, that he would show them from hence, how, at his command, the walls of Jerusalem would fall down; and he promised that he would procure them an entrance into the city through those walls, when they were fallen down.
29
Apparently these pseudo-prophets found many followers. They promised the people kinds of miraculous events they called “signs of redemption” but all of which had something excessive and bombastic about them. Similar demands for signs were directed at Jesus. According to Mark 8:11-13, this happened one day:
The Pharisees came and began to argue with him, asking him for a sign from heaven, to test him. And he sighed deeply in his spirit and said, “Why does this generation ask for a sign? Truly I tell you, no sign will be given to this generation.” And he left them.
Jesus’ “spirit” was deeply disturbed by this demand for a sign, which was in direct contradiction to his understanding of miracles. Similar demands for signs appear in the Gospel of John (2:18; 6:30-31). Jesus rejects them all severely, even harshly. For him the dimension of faith is part of any miracle. He demanded faith before any miracle could take place, and he presupposed that a deepened faith and repentance would follow the miraculous event. He must have sensed that the signs asked of him simply as legitimation had nothing to do with the longing to be able to believe. There was something Sophistic and seductive about them. Therefore he refused to let himself be legitimated by God (which is what “a sign from heaven” in Mark 8:11 means). He rejected every kind of authenticating miracle and any wonder performed for show. Apparently he regarded such things as idolatrous posing.
So Jesus did not regard the saving deeds he performed as isolated authenticating miracles. His deeds of power had a different origin and goal. They arose out of the crisis, the need he encountered on all sides, and they are the beginning of the new world God is giving. They are signs of the inbreaking reign of God. They are signs that now the Old Testament prophecies are being fulfilled. Hence Jesus’ mighty deeds stand within a referential context that itself makes them what they are. There is absolutely no comparable framework for the miracles otherwise reported in antiquity.
At this point it is worthwhile taking a closer look at the story of the raising of a dead girl by Apollonius of Tyana. This will make it obvious what I mean by a “referential context.” Apollonius, an itinerant philosopher, lived between 40 and 120 CE. He was regarded in antiquity as a preacher and a miracle worker. He is supposed to have forged amulets that protected against earthquake, wind, water, mosquitoes, and mice. We have scarcely any truly reliable sources regarding his teaching and life. Over a hundred years later Philostratus was encouraged by the Roman empress Julia Domna to write a novelistic description of his life that in many respects reads like an “anti-gospel.”30 As part of this Vita, Philostratus tells the following story:
A girl had died just in the hour of her marriage, and the bridegroom was following her bier lamenting as was natural his marriage left unfulfilled, and the whole of Rome was mourning with him, for the maiden belonged to a consular family. Apollonius then witnessing their grief, said: “Put down the bier, for I will stay the tears that you are shedding for this maiden.”
And withal he asked what was her name. The crowd accordingly thought that he was about to deliver such an oration as is commonly delivered to grace the funeral as to stir up lamentation; but he did nothing of the kind, but merely touching her and whispering in secret some spell over her, at once woke up the maiden from her seeming death; and the girl spoke out loud, and returned to her father’s house, just as Alcestis did when she was brought back to life by Heracles. And the relations of the maiden wanted to present him with the sum of 150,000 sesterces, but he said that he would freely present the money to the young lady by way of dowry.
Now whether he detected some spark of life in her, which those who were nursing her had not noticed—for it is said that although it was raining at the time, a vapor went up from her face—or whether her life was really extinct, and he restored it by the warmth of his touch, is a mysterious problem which neither I myself nor those who were present could decide.
31
It seems almost required of us to compare this story with that of the raising of the young man of Nain:
Soon afterwards he went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went with him. As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother’s only son, and she was a widow; and with her was a large crowd from the town. When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, “Do not weep.” Then he came forward and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, “Young man, I say to you, rise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized all of them; and they glorified God, saying, “A great prophet has risen among us!” and “God has looked favorably on his people!” This word about him spread throughout Judea and all the surrounding country. (Luke 7:11-17)
If we compare the two stories—setting aside all historical questions!—we see that they have much in common. In both the bringer of benefit encounters a funeral procession and causes the bier to halt. The dead person is young in both cases: in the first, a young woman about to be married; in the second, a “young man.” In the one it is the bridegroom who is mourning, in the other a mother who now has no one left to care for her. In the Hellenistic story the city of Rome shares in the bridegroom’s sorrow, and in the biblical tale many people are accompanying the funeral procession out of the city of Nain. Apollonius is depicted as a sympathetic and selfless benefactor: he wants to put an end to the tears being shed for the dead girl, and he gives his honorarium to the girl as her dowry. Jesus is seized by pity for the widow and tells her, “Do not weep.” Apollonius touches the dead girl, Jesus the bier. Apollonius heals by his word, and so does Jesus. But what is especially striking is that the Hellenistic storyteller recalls the raising of Alcestis by the demigod Heracles, while the biblical narrator uses a literary reference to recall the raising of the son of the widow of Zarephath by the prophet Elijah: “He gave him to his mother” (1 Kgs 17:23).