Restoring Apostolic Faith

Few biblical phrases are more frequently conflated than “Son of Man” and “Son of God.” Many readers assume the titles are essentially interchangeable descriptions of Jesus. They are not. The difference is not merely linguistic; it affects how we read both the Old Testament and Jesus’ own self-understanding.

One of the most common examples cited in popular teaching—Daniel 3—does not even contain the phrase “Son of Man.” Careful attention to the original languages and literary contexts prevents us from reading later theological assumptions back into the text.

Daniel 3: A Heavenly Messenger, Not “Son of Man”

When Nebuchadnezzar peered into the blazing furnace, he saw something unexpected:

“Look! I see four men loosed and walking about in the midst of the fire… and the appearance of the fourth is like a son of the gods.” (Dan 3:25)

The Aramaic is precise:

דָּמֵה לְבַר־אֱלָהִין dāmeh lebar ʾĕlāhîn

“like a son of the gods” (plural).

The king does not say bar ʾĕnāš (“son of man”). He describes a figure who looks human in form yet belongs to the heavenly realm—a divine messenger. This fits the worldview of a Babylonian king who recognized that ordinary humans do not survive such fire.

Three verses later, Nebuchadnezzar himself interprets the event:

“Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who sent His angel and delivered His servants…” (Dan 3:28)

The narrator offers no correction. The plain sense of the text is that God sent one of His heavenly messengers to protect the faithful. While a long and honorable Christian tradition has read this figure as a pre-incarnate appearance of Christ, the text itself identifies the deliverer as an angelic being sent by God. That distinction matters for responsible exegesis.

What Bar ʾĕnāš Actually Means

The Aramaic phrase bar ʾĕnāš is an idiom meaning simply “son of man”—that is, a human being or mortal. Its Hebrew counterpart, ben ʾādām, appears more than ninety times in Ezekiel, where God repeatedly addresses the prophet as “Son of man.” The title underscores Ezekiel’s humanity and mortality in contrast to the majesty of God. It is not a messianic title in that context.

Daniel 7: The Pivotal Vision

The decisive Old Testament occurrence appears in Daniel 7. Daniel sees:

“…one like a son of man coming with the clouds of heaven.” (Dan 7:13)

Aramaic:

כְּבַר אֱנָשׁ kəbar ʾĕnāš

“one like a son of man.”

The comparative “like” is significant in apocalyptic vision literature. Daniel does not present an ordinary human. He describes a figure who appears human yet moves in the divine sphere: coming on the clouds (a prerogative repeatedly associated with YHWH in the Old Testament), approaching the Ancient of Days, receiving everlasting dominion, and being served with pelach—a verb Daniel elsewhere reserves for the worship due to God alone.

Daniel 7 thus holds two realities in tension: genuine human likeness and participation in heavenly, even divine, authority. This tension became foundational for later Jewish messianic expectation in the Second Temple period, where interpreters understood the figure in various ways—as an individual messiah, an angelic being, or in corporate/symbolic terms. Daniel later identifies the saints of the Most High as sharing in this kingdom (Dan 7:18, 22, 27), which explains the flexibility. Jesus’ use of the title draws upon and transforms this rich background.

Jesus Was Probably Speaking Aramaic

Jesus likely spoke these words in Aramaic—bar ʾĕnāš (“son of man”)—while the Gospel writers translated the expression into Greek as ho huios tou anthrōpou. This is not a new title invented by the New Testament. It is the Greek equivalent of the Aramaic idiom rooted in Daniel 7. Understanding that linguistic bridge helps explain why Jesus’ contemporaries recognized the allusion, even though modern readers often miss it.

Why Jesus Preferred “Son of Man”

In the Synoptic Gospels, Jesus overwhelmingly refers to Himself as “the Son of Man.” He uses the title far more frequently than “Son of God.” Several factors likely shaped this choice. The title allowed Him to identify with humanity while echoing Daniel 7’s vision of vindication and authority. It pointed toward His suffering, resurrection, and future coming without immediately triggering the full range of political expectations attached to “Messiah” in first-century Judea. When Jesus declared that the high priest would see “the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven” (Matt 26:64), He was deliberately invoking Daniel 7. The high priest understood the claim—and judged it blasphemous.

This does not mean Jesus never used or accepted the title “Son of God.” Divine declarations at His baptism and transfiguration, Peter’s confession, and key passages in John employ it with great significance. Yet the Synoptic pattern remains striking: Jesus consistently chose “Son of Man” as His primary self-designation.

The Broader Range of “Son of God”

The expression “son of God” (or “sons of God”) carries a wide semantic range throughout Scripture:

• Angels or heavenly beings (Job 1:6; 2:1)
• Adam (Luke 3:38)
• Israel as a nation (Exod 4:22; Hos 11:1)
• The Davidic king (Ps 2:7; 2 Sam 7:14)
• The coming Messiah
• Jesus, in a unique and climactic sense in the New Testament

Context, not the phrase itself, determines whether functional sonship, covenant relationship, or ontological deity is in view. The same principle applies to “son of man.” Neither title carries automatic, fixed meaning apart from its literary and historical setting.

Reading Jesus Through Jewish Eyes

Modern readers often approach these titles through the lens of later creeds and systematic theology. The first disciples, however, heard them through the language of Israel’s Scriptures and the expectations of Second Temple Judaism. Before asking what later theology concluded about Jesus’ identity, we should first ask what these titles communicated within their original Jewish setting. Only then can we fully appreciate why Jesus’ use of “Son of Man” was so profound—and why His contemporaries recognized the significance of His words.

None of this diminishes Jesus’ identity. Rather, it allows us to understand how He revealed Himself within the language and expectations of Israel’s Scriptures. Reading the titles in their original context does not weaken Christology—it strengthens it by allowing Jesus’ own claims to be heard as His first-century audience would have heard them.

Why These Distinctions Matter

Small differences in the biblical languages often produce large differences in theology. Bar ʾĕnāš and bar ʾĕlāhîn are only a few letters apart, yet one emphasizes humanity while the other points to the heavenly realm. When we allow the biblical authors to define their own vocabulary—rather than importing later theological categories—we often discover that Scripture is both simpler and richer than our assumptions.

The goal of faithful interpretation is not to make every passage conform to what later theology expects it to say. It is to understand what the inspired author intended his original audience to hear, and then to let that message shape our theology rather than the reverse. This is not a rejection of orthodox Christology. It is the necessary foundation for a Christology that is truly biblical.

Jesus’ preference for “Son of Man” was not a reluctance to claim deity. It was a deliberate, contextually rich way of revealing who He is—fully human, yet the one to whom the Ancient of Days has given everlasting dominion. Reading the titles on their own terms helps us see that claim with greater clarity and wonder.

Bibliography

• John J. Collins, Daniel (Hermeneia)
• John E. Goldingay, Daniel (Word Biblical Commentary)
• Tremper Longman III, Daniel (NIV Application Commentary)
• John H. Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament
• Larry W. Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity