The Cambridge History of Ancient Christianity [1 ed.] 9781108620420
The first three hundred years of the common era witnessed critical developments that would become foundational for Chris
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Citation preview
ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY
The first three hundred years of the Common Era witnessed critical developments that would become foundational for Christianity itself, as well as for the societies and later history that emerged thereafter. The concept of “ancient Christianity,” however, along with the content that the category represents, has raised much debate. This is, in part, because within this category lie multiple forms of devotion to Jesus Christ, multiple phenomena, and multiple permutations in the formative period of Christian history. Within those multiples lie numerous contests, as varieties of Christian identity laid claim to authority and authenticity in different ways. The Cambridge History of Ancient Christianity addresses these contested areas with both nuance and clarity by reviewing, synthesizing, and critically engaging recent scholarly developments. The twenty-seven thematic chapters, specially commissioned for this volume from an international team of scholars, also offer constructive ways forward for future research. B W . L is Professor of Christian Origins and W. W. Melton Chair of Religion at Baylor University. His recent books include In Stone and Story: Early Christianity in the Roman World (Baker Academic, ), and Greco-Roman Associations, Deities, and Early Christianity (Baylor University Press, ). D E . W is Professor of Historical Theology at the George W. Truett Theological Seminary of Baylor University. His recent books include Ancient African Christianity (Routledge, ), Ireneus and Paul (co-edited with Todd D. Still; Bloomsbury/T&T Clark, ), The Apologists and Paul (co-edited with Todd D. Still; Bloomsbury/T&T Clark, forthcoming ), and Israel’s LORD: YHWH as Two Powers in Second Temple Literature (with Adam Winn; Fortress Press, forthcoming ).
THE CAMBRIDGE HISTORY OF
ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY *
Edited by
BRUCE W. LONGENECKER Baylor University, Texas DAVID E. WILHITE Baylor University, Texas
Shaftesbury Road, Cambridge , United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, th Floor, New York, , USA Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, , Australia –, rd Floor, Plot , Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – , India Penang Road, #-/, Visioncrest Commercial, Singapore Cambridge University Press is part of Cambridge University Press & Assessment, a department of the University of Cambridge. We share the University’s mission to contribute to society through the pursuit of education, learning and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/ : ./ © Cambridge University Press & Assessment This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press & Assessment. First published Printed in the United Kingdom by CPI Group Ltd, Croydon CR YY A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data : Longenecker, Bruce W., editor. | Wilhite, David E., editor. : The Cambridge history of ancient Christianity / edited by Bruce W. Longenecker, Baylor University, Texas, David E. Wilhite, Baylor University, Texas. : First edition. | Cambridge, United Kingdom ; New York, NY, USA : Cambridge University Press, . | Includes bibliographical references and index. : (print) | (ebook) | (hardback) | (paperback) | (epub) : : Church history–Primitive and early church, ca. -. | Christianity–Historiography. : . (print) | . (ebook) | .–/eng/ LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/ LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/ ---- Hardback Cambridge University Press & Assessment has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Contents
List of Figures page ix Notes on the Contributors x Editors’ Preface xiii . .
CONTESTED CONTEXTS The History of Ancient Christian History .
The Present and Future of Ancient Christian History .
Depicting the Other in Early Christian Polemic: Christian Rhetoric and Identity in the Early Heresiologists Why Did People Become Christians in the Pre-Constantinian World? Reframing the Question
CONTESTED FIGURES Remembering Jesus in Earliest Christianity: The What and How of Socially Framed Memory
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Contents
Remembering Jesus in the Second and Third Centuries
Paul and His Diverse Champions . Peter and His Diverse Champions
CONTESTED HERITAGE Jews and Christians in Pagan Antiquity: From the First through the Third Centuries The Marcionite Option . The Gnostic Options: Routes Back to God Early Christian Involvement in Classical Education, Literature, and Philosophy Scriptures and Interpretations in Early Christian History .
CONTESTED CULTURES Early Christians and Their Socioeconomic Contexts . Early Christians and Roman Imperial Ideology
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Contents
Martyrdom between Fiction and Memory . The Emergence(s) of Christian Material Culture(s) .
Manuscripts and the Making of the New Testament
CONTESTED BELIEFS Contesting Creator and Creation .
The Trinity in the Making Resurrection, Transformation, and Deification . The Eucharist in the First Three Centuries Office, and Appointment to Office, in Early Christian Circles .
CONTESTED BODIES Masculinity, Femininity, and Sexuality: The Construct of Self-Control in Early Christianity . Christian Slavery in Theology and Practice: Its Relation to God, Sin, and Justice . .
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Contents
Wealth, Almsgiving, and Poverty
Power, Authority, the Living, and the Dead . Index of Ancient Sources Index of Modern Authors
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Figures
. Funerary banquet with baskets of bread. From G. Wilpert, Roma sotterranea: Le pitture delle catacombe romane (Rome: Desclée Lefebure and C., ), , tav. . page . St. Petronilla leading Veneranda into Paradise, Catacomb of Domitilla, Rome. From G. Wilpert, Roma sotterranea: Le pitture delle catacombe romane (Rome: Desclée Lefebure and C., ), , tav. . . Fourth-century cemetery Chapel of Bishop Alexander (with tombs of his predecessor bishops), Tipasa (Algeria). Photo: Author. . Reconstruction (drawing) of the Basilica of Saints Peter and Marcellinus, via Casilina, Rome (with the adjoining mausoleum of Helena). Photo credit: Agefotostock, America, from De Agostini Editore Collection. . Mausoleum of Helena, Rome, c.. Photo: Author.
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List of Contributors
. is Dean E. Walker Professor Church History, Emmanuel Christian Seminary at Milligan University, TN, USA. is Assistant Professor and holds the Pope Benedict XVI Chair of Liturgical Studies at St. John Vianney Theological Seminary, Denver, CO, USA. . is Joseph Glenn Sherrill Chair of Bible at the McCallie School, Chattanooga, TN, USA, and Adjunct Research Fellow at the University of Regensburg, Germany. is Associate Professor in Classics and Late Antiquity at the University of Exeter, UK. is the Aurelio Professor of Scripture Emerita at Boston University, MA, USA, and Distinguished Visiting Professor of Comparative Religion at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Israel. is Chaplain and Fellow of University College, Oxford, UK. . is Professor of Biblical Studies and Research Director with the Sydney College of Divinity, Australia. . is Associate Professor of New Testament at Candler School of Theology, Emory University, Atlanta, GA, USA. . is the Patrick O’Brien Professor of Theology at the University of Notre Dame, IN, USA, where she holds concurrent appointments in Art History and Classics. is Professor of New Testament at United Theological Seminary, Dayton, OH, USA. . is Lady Margaret’s Professor of Divinity Emerita at the University of Cambridge, and Fellow of Robinson College, Cambridge, UK.
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List of Contributors . is New Testament Abstractor at Boston College, Chestnut Hill, MA, USA. . is the W. W. Melton Chair of Christian Origins at Baylor University and Professor of New Testament in Baylor’s Department of Religion, Waco, TX, USA. is Professor of Religion and Theology (Early Christianity and Late Antiquity) at the School of History, Archaeology and Religion, Cardiff University, Wales, UK. . is Professor of Early Christianity in the Department of Theological Studies at Saint Louis University, MO, USA. is Professor of New Testament and Director of the Centre for Advanced Studies “Beyond Canon” at the University of Regensburg, Germany, and Research associate at the University of the Free State, Bloemfontein, South Africa. is the Joseph Professor of Catholic Spirituality in the Theology Department of Boston College, Chestnut Hill, MA, USA. . . , is Professor of Theology and Senior Fellow and Member of Durham University, UK; Sacred Heart University, Fairfield, CT; Angelicum, Rome, Italy; KU Leuven, Belgium; Max Weber Center, Erfurt, Germany; and Cambridge University, UK. is the Avalon Foundation Professor in the Humanities and Professor in the Departments of Classics and History at Cornell University, Ithaca, NY, USA. is Professor of Church History in the Religious Studies Department at Westmont College, Santa Barbara, CA, USA. is Lindsay Young Professor and Department Head of Religious Studies at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, USA. . is Assistant Professor of Early Christianity and Contemporary Christian Practices at the Iliff School of Theology in Denver, CO, USA. . is Senior Lecturer in Biblical Studies at Codrington College, Barbados. is Associate Professor in New Testament Studies at the University of Oxford and G. B. Caird Fellow in Theology at Mansfield College, Oxford, UK. is an independent scholar who received his Ph.D. from Ridley College, Melbourne, Australia. is Professor of Biblical Studies at Ansgar University College, Kristiansand, Norway.
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List of Contributors . is Associate Professor of Religion at Clemson University, SC, USA. . is Professor of Historical Theology at George W. Truett Theological Seminary of Baylor University, Waco, TX, USA. is Associate Professor in the College of Christian Studies at the University of Mary Hardin-Baylor, Belton, TX, USA.
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Editors’ Preface
The historian David Olusoga notes, “civilisation is slippery; the word has multiple and contested meanings.” Much the same could be said of the term “ancient Christianity.” This heuristic term is slippery because within it lie multiple forms of devotion to Jesus Christ, multiple phenomena, multiple permutations in the formative period of Christian history. Within those multiples lie contests, as varieties of Christian identity laid claim to authority and authenticity in different ways. The contributions to this volume focus largely, but not exclusively, on Christianity in the pre-Constantinian era. In that era, Christ-devotion was getting a variety of footholds within the Greco-Roman world, prior to Constantine’s legalization of Christ-devotion, which itself helped to unify his diverse empire. The imperial decision of proclaimed tolerance toward Christianity, and Constantine followed that by assembling the First Council of Nicaea in , which produced the Creed of Nicaea. Consequently, by the second quarter of the fourth century, Christianity was in a much different place socially and politically than it had been in the first decade of that century, and those differences are inexplicable apart from Constantine. The contributors to this volume are mindful of this shift in context, and deal with it in different ways, depending on the topics they discuss. The inauguration of the Constantinian era is more consequential in some instances than in others. It functions within this volume more as a “milestone” along the way than a “border wall.” While each essay in this volume foregrounds preConstantinian data, it is within the author’s own judgment to determine the extent to which discussion of that data should overshoot the arrival of the Constantinian period.
David Olusoga, “Civilization Revisited,” The Guardian, February .
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Editors’ Preface
The contents of this volume discuss select issues around which productive conversations about nascent Christianity have emerged in recent years. There is more to be said about ancient Christianity than the topics covered here, but issues engaged within this volume are ones that have drawn particular attention in the past two decades or so. The four essays in the introductory section (“Contested Contexts”) set the stage for the volume. They focus on issues of diversity and uniformity within Christian discourse and practice, the rhetoric used by Christians regarding others beyond their number, and the extent to which Constantine can be used (and overused) to help explain the development of, and certain developments within, ancient Christianity. The second section of the volume (“Contested Figures”) contains four probes into the reception history of three key figures: Jesus Christ and the apostles Paul and Peter. These essays consider the nature of the data in a variety of sources, illustrating the contests whereby Christians aligned these figures along different trajectories of Christian identity. Ancient articulations about Christian identity were frequently tugged this way and that owing to convictions about Judaism, the Marcionite program, and gnosticizing tendencies. How was the heritage of Christian identity to be conceptualized in relation to these robust forms of influence? Moreover, how was Christianity related to (or to be seen in relation to) the currents of education, literature, and philosophy of the classical world? Further, how was Christian identity to be fashioned in relation to the canonization and interpretation of Scripture? The essays in Part III (“Contested Heritage”) engage these issues. A fourth section (“Contested Cultures”) examines the placement and posture of ancient Christianity in relation to certain cultural settings and influences. How was Christian identity configured in relation to social forces within urban contexts of the Roman world? In relation to cultic devotion toward the Roman emperor and his family? How are we to assess the stories and experiences of Christian martyrdom? What does the material record tell us about Christ-devotion in this early period? In what ways do we see Christdevotion entering the material record? And if Christianity was a “bookish” culture, how was its own identity preserved within manuscripts of its own heritage? Early Christian theologians deliberated on matters they considered to be of pressing interest – theological matters concerning creation, the triune character of God, and resurrection, and ecclesiastical matters concerning
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Editors’ Preface
the observance of the Eucharist and the various church offices. The essays in the fifth section of the volume (“Contested Beliefs”) consider those disputed issues that Christians leaned into with a keen sense of urgency. A final section (“Contested Bodies”) explores issues pertaining to embodied life in early Christian perspectives. To what extent were genders of masculinity and femininity, as well as sexuality itself, socially constructed phenomena within early Christian discourse? How did Christian theological discourses navigate the social phenomenon of slavery? Or the incongruities of poverty and wealth? And to what extent did Christians have connections to other Christians who had died – either to assist the deceased in their postmortem existence or to be assisted by them? And how did Christians commemorate the deceased and understand their corporate gatherings at the grave sites of the deceased? As someone should once have said, “A thankless heart is the playground of the devil.” There are enough devils in our dangerous world, so the thankfulness of the editors embraces the whole of this volume. A huge debt of thanks is owed to each of the authors within this volume. They were invited to participate in this project in the days prior to COVID- and produced their contributions despite the setbacks that came with the pandemic. From them we have learned much, and we are thankful for our associations with them. We also thank Beatrice Rehl at Cambridge University Press for overseeing the project. Eric Brewer, while undertaking his own graduate studies program in early Christianity, resourced the project enormously – not least as its early copy-editor and indexer. His eagle eye and tireless efforts have been mainstays of the volume’s progress. Bobby Martinez, Mandi Becker, and Solomon Svehla also provided valuable editorial work and helped ensure that the project came to completion. It is not an exaggeration to say that this volume would not exist without the excellent work of these four graduate assistants. And of course we would be remiss if we did not thank our families for humoring us in our fascination for the study of ancient Christianity.
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The History of Ancient Christian History .
When was the first history of ancient Christianity written? The answer of course is not so simple. For instance, one may think of Eusebius’s Historia ecclesiastica (c.) as the first account of ancient Christian history, covering the time of Christ up until the time of Constantine. However, the term historia in Eusebius’s title implies “narrative” more than a modern notion of “what happened.” In other words, much depends on what is meant by the category of ancient Christian history, and so debate ensues about the nature of studying this subject. The current state of studying ancient Christian history is contested. That is, scholars disagree about what has and should define this discipline, and in their reflections on said contested matters these same scholars usually focus on the post-World War II developments and debates. The historical study of
See Jeremy M. Schott, Eusebius of Caesarea, The History of the Church: A New Translation (Oakland: University of California Press, ), who contrasts ancient “historians” like Herodotus and Eusebius with the modern scientific understanding championed by Leopold von Ranke, “Vorrede,” in Geschichten der romanischen und germanischen Völker von bis (Leipzig: ). Important examples include André Mandouze, “Mesure et démesure de la Patristique,” Studia Patristica, vol. , ed. F. L. Cross (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, ), –; Charles Kannengiesser, “Fifty years of patristics,” Theological Studies . (), –; Kannengiesser, “The future of patristics,” Theological Studies . (), –; Andrea Giardina, “Esplosione di tardoantico,” Studi Storici (), –; Elizabeth A. Clark, “From patristics to early Christian studies,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –; Mark Vessey, “‘La patristique, c’est autre chose’: André Mandouze, Peter Brown, and the avocations of patristics as a philological science,” in Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies, ed. Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, ), –; Averil Cameron, “Patristics and late antiquity: Partners or rivals?” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. Exceptions to this trend include Clark, Founding the Fathers: Early Church History and Protestant Professors in Nineteenth-Century America (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ), who extends
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ancient Christianity, however, has a much longer history, and in order to better understand recent and current discussions it will help to offer a more comprehensive overview of past approaches. For one thing, it quickly becomes apparent that the state of studying ancient Christian history has often been contested, even since the earliest attempts. In order to appreciate this recurring aspect of the historiography of ancient Christianity, we will trace the developments of this field with a particular eye to the resources that were available at any given era. This will accomplish three goals. First, it will establish how past generations understood ancient Christian history and through what means, which can be beneficial for locating the contextual factors that affected previous historiography of ancient Christianity. Second, this survey will be able to trace the various ways that the historiography of ancient Christianity always entailed contest, debate, and dissent, which helps to reframe more recent debates about the nature of this field. Finally, by offering a more complete review of the historiography over the past two millennia, the current essay can assist future discussions about the nature, methodology, and aims of studying ancient Christian history. While we cannot present an exhaustive account here of all historiography of ancient Christianity, we will offer a reflection on a series of examples that will help illustrate the history of studying ancient Christian history. In doing so, we will set the stage to trace important developments and trends. Therefore, in order to better situate where the present state of the discipline lies, in what follows we will begin at the beginning, even before Eusebius. Then, this discussion will quickly move to modern times, where much more attention to detail can be offered. These details will then bring us to the current state of studying ancient Christian history.
Ancient Beginnings In one sense all ancient Christian documents represent attempts to preserve and understand early Christian history. Early Christians, for various reasons, documented sayings of Jesus (e.g., Q and Gos. Thom.), the events surrounding her study to influential Protestant scholars of the prior century; and Michel Fédou, The Fathers of the Church in Christian Theology, trans. Peggy Manning Meyer (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, [orig. Les Pères de l’Église et la théologie chrétienne, ]), whose opening section reviews the whole scope of Christian history, although he almost exclusively focuses on Catholic scholarship in the modern era.
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Jesus and his followers (e.g., the Gospels and Acts), and they communicated with one another in order to ensure proper interpretation of the paradosis, the early tradition handed down to them (cf. Thess. : and other early Christian epistles). The collections of these texts, popularly thought of in terms of “canonization,” itself represents an act of historical data collection and archiving. This process of collective remembering and studying the past extended far beyond the texts that came to be seen as Scriptures. For example, the emergence of literature devoted to martyrs and saints, such as acta, passiones, and vitae, represent examples of Christians remembering and retelling their past. Soon the wider events of the Christian movement came under the view of Christian historiographers, like Eusebius, Socrates, and Sozomen. As the centuries unfolded the correct telling of Christian history was as important, if not essentially the same thing as, teaching the correct doctrine. Even heresiologies can be seen to function as ways of controlling the historical narrative: Who is and is not a Christian? Who did and did not teach and practice Christian faith rightly? Conversely, “histories” written by chroniclers like those mentioned above were often driven by an agenda: to validate their party’s orthodoxy. In the wake of the Council of Ephesus (), Vincent of Lérins famously defined true Christianity as quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est, or “that which is believed everywhere, always, and by all.” For Vincent and his party, the “always,” representing the history axis of the equation, is just as important as the “everywhere-by-all,” or what he would understand to be the catholic axis. Of course, Vincent writes at a moment when the definition of “all” is contested. Many at the time began distilling debates down to which Father could be cited. In the aftermath of Ephesus, for example, what exactly Cyril and other luminaries said and meant became a matter of eternal significance. Thus, the
Obviously, canonization involved many other factors. See David Brakke, “Scriptural practices in early Christianity: Towards a new history of the New Testament canon,” in Invention, Rewriting, Usurpation: Discursive Fights over Religious Traditions in Antiquity, ed. Jörg Rüpke, Anders-Christian Jacobsen, and David Brakke (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, ), –; and Edmon L. Gallagher and John D. Meade, The Biblical Canon Lists from Early Christianity: Texts and Analysis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). See Chapter in the present volume. See Chapter in the present volume. Commonitorium . (CCSL :). Thomas Graumann, Die Kirche der Väter: Vätertheologie und Väterbeweis in den Kirchen des Ostens bis zum Konzil von Ephesus () (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ).
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preservation and understanding of the transcripts from these councils themselves became matters of utmost importance. In the centuries that follow, while innumerable treatises were written for specific debates, the authoritative teachings of the preceding Christians and the recording of what had “always” been believed was most commonly relayed through catenae (“chains” of comments on Scripture) and later through sententiae (collection of sayings), such as Isidore’s Etymologiae (c.). Chronicles still flourished throughout the Middle Ages alongside these sentences, but just how the history axis of the chronicles and the catholic axis of the sentences intersected is complex, to say the least. Even works not devoted to retelling the ancient past retained a commitment to that past. Maximus the Confessor (c.–) insisted that proper Christianity is that of affirming “just what the Fathers taught us (ὡς οἱ Πατέρες ἡμᾶς ἐδίδαξαν).” This use of the “Fathers” was itself something Maximus inherited from earlier authoritative writers. The key point being that the Fathers plural, that is collectively, offered authority and validity to a given Christian teaching. Thus, the so-called ecumenical councils represented “the Church” par excellence because they claimed to be descended from ancient Christianity properly remembered. Of course, the records from these councils themselves belie a more complicated story: both sides of the iconoclast controversy, for example, could cite numerous predecessors for support. In the centuries that follow, this contested claim to consensus will be challenged repeatedly.
Medieval Developments A major development for how ancient Christian history would be interpreted came with Peter Abelard (–). Whereas most scholars of his day Full treatises did still circulate in elite circles: cf. the example of Photius’s Bibliotheca (late ninth century), which summarizes books read and discussed in Photius’s circle of friends while Tarasius, to whom the book is devoted, was apart from him. The book is not meant to be an index or summary of a set of authoritative texts, but it was often treated that way by early modern scholars needing attestation of certain writings (e.g., Bernard Schmid, Manual of Patrology, trans./rev. V. J. Schobel [St. Louis: Herder, ], ). Ep. (PG :). John Meyendorff, Le Christ dans la théologie byzantine (Paris: Cerf, [ orig.]); ET = Christ in Eastern Christian Thought (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). See discussion in Óscar Prieto Domínguez, Literary Circles in Byzantine Iconoclasm: Patrons, Politics, and Saints (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ).
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would inquire into the teachings of the past by simply finding support from what “the Fathers” in general taught (quod ubique . . .), Abelard published a set of questions for which “sentences” from the Fathers were provided as answers. The answers to these questions, however, consisted of sayings from the Fathers in which some answered “yes” to the given question, while others answered “no.” Thus his title, Sic et non, and the scandalous notion that the past did not speak univocally but could be shown to answer both Yes and No. Abelard’s work implied that any given theological questions require answers based on reason, not merely historical precedence, and for this (and other sordid matters) he was repeatedly harassed. Even so, generations that followed would continue to inquire beyond mere sayings from the past, and eventually look to situate those sayings in their own historical context. That is, scholars would soon have to look for the original rationale and to its applicability to the present. The need to make such interpretations, furthermore, meant that the history of ancient Christianity would be seen as a contested tradition. Another important factor in the Middle Ages was the need to defend Christianity from outsiders, so that the scholastic tradition often sought to demonstrate the validity of Christianity apart from recourse to past tradition – that is, through reason alone. Prominent examples include Anselm’s Proslogion () and Thomas Aquinas’s Contra Gentiles (). This trajectory of thought takes us beyond the scope of the present volume and so cannot be pursued here. It should be noted, however, that this factor did decenter ancient Christian history in Christian theology and practice. What is pertinent is that some notion of “pure reason” will be important even for future historical studies. This was especially the case in the early Renaissance period. A contributing factor to the rise of the Humanist movement was the debates about the role and validity of philosophy in relation to theology. While most humanists looked to ancient philosophical texts for their philological eloquence, some humanists had to defend their use of classical philosophical sources. In doing so, they looked to ancient Christian writers
Jeffrey E. Brower and Kevin Guilfoy, The Cambridge Companion to Abelard (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). For more detailed treatment, see Jaroslov Pelikan, The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, vol. , The Growth of Medieval Theology (–) (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ).
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like Justin Martyr who had done the same and served as precedents. This is not to say that Christian antiquity was simply a smoke screen for the Renaissance writers in their pursuit of “pagan” antiquity. And yet it is true that the growing awareness of corruption in the church’s hierarchy did lead the Humanists to adapt a pursuit of history thought to be objective and unencumbered by doctrinal or ecclesial commitments. It will suffice to mention famous examples like Lorenzo Valla (–) proving the Donation of Constantine to be a forgery in , or the theological debates set off in when Erasmus removed the Johannine Comma from his edition of the Greek New Testament because he could not find any Greek manuscript containing it. These developments prompted the search for better manuscripts and raised awareness about the need for a more scientific and less subjective approach. For example, Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples produced new editions of early Christian texts, like the letters of Ignatius of Antioch and Polycarp of Smyrna in . These kinds of developments set the stage for and continued into the Protestant era.
The Reformation and Sectarian Approaches to History The historical background that led to the Protestant Reformation is more than can be summarized here, but suffice it to say that the mentality set forth by Abelard and others further developed after Martin Luther challenged the church’s authority. Luther himself had to contest the interpretation of the formative centuries of Christianity that allegedly gave rise to certain Catholic teachings and practices, as is articulated most explicitly in his Von den Conciliis Jill Kraye, “Twenty-third annual Margaret Mann Phillips Lecture: Pagan philosophy and patristics in Erasmus and his contemporaries,” Erasmus of Rotterdam Society Yearbook . (), –. Charles L. Stinger, Humanism and the Church Fathers: Ambrogio Traversari (–) and Christian Antiquity in the Italian Renaissance (Albany: State University of New York Press, ). Salvatore I. Camporeale, Christianity, Latinity, and Culture: Two Studies on Lorenzo Valla, trans. Patrick Baker, ed. Baker and Christopher S. Celenza (Studies in the History of Christian Traditions ; Leiden: Brill, ). Grantley McDonald, “Erasmus and the Johannine Comma ( John .–),” Bible Translator . (), –. See J. B. Lightfoot, The Apostolic Fathers, vols., nd ed. (New York: Macmillan and Company, ), .:; and Hughes Oliphant Old, The Patristic Roots of Reformed Worship (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zurich, ), –. For extensive treatment, see essays in Irena Dorota Backus (ed.), The Reception of the Church Fathers in the West, vols. (Leiden: Brill, ).
The History of Ancient Christian History
und Kirchen (). This Protestant approach to history would become a common one, and some saw Protestant Christianity as essentially one of properly using historical analysis in order to recover the ancient form of the faith. For example, in the work of Lutheran theologian Johannes Gerhard was published posthumously, entitled Patrologia sive de primitivae ecclesiae Christianae doctorum vita ac lucubrationibus. Gerhard claimed the Reformation was the proper retrieval of ancient Christianity, in effect making “Patrology” (a noun he coined) a form of sectarian apologetics for his day. Another important example is Gottfried Arnold, who believed himself to follow in the line of Luther when he wrote Unpartheyische Kirchen – und Ketzer – Historie in . Despite claiming to be “impartial” toward the tradition, as opposed to the dogmatic Catholic scholars, Arnold sided with the so-called heretics in seemingly every case. A less polemical Protestant polemicist was Remi-Casimir Oudin (–). He was a French monk, who after reading ancient Christian texts converted to Protestantism around . Some of his influential publications include the three-volume Acta sanctorum () and the three-volume Commentarius de scriptoribus ecclesiae antiquis (). Several Catholic scholars offered their own studies of ancient Christianity in response to the Protestants. The French theologian Marguerin de la Bigne (–) published ten volumes of patristic texts as a means of refuting Protestant use, or misuse, of them. Roberto Francesco Romolo Bellarmino (–), the Italian Catholic scholar, supporter of Trent, who was later made Cardinal, Saint, and Doctor of the Church, wrote De scriptoribus ecclesiasticis in . Therein, he offered comments on the writers and works from apostolic times through the scholastics, with much of the focus on the early period. In a similar vein, Noël Argonne (–), the French theologian who took the name Bonaventure when he joined the Carthusian Order, wrote a brief guide to how to read the Fathers, entitled
Johannes Quasten, Patrology, vols. (Utrecht: Spectrum, ), :, credits him with coining the term “Patrology.” The term would later shift to mean the study of early Christian texts; see Fédou, Fathers of the Church, –. Sacra bibliotheca sanctorum Patrum, vols. (–), as well as the works of Isidore of Seville (in ). Similar work was taken up by Fronton du Duc (–), with works focusing on the Greek writers from antiquity: namely, John Chrysostom (–); see his Bibliotheca veterum Patrum, vols. (), which included an assortment of authors. More will be said about published editions below. The work is mostly a catalogue, but like Jerome’s Vir. ill. (his model) he does offer judgments on the writers and texts.
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Traité de la lecture des Pères de l’Église in . One could also mention here the work of Rémy Ceillier (–). He responded to Jean Barbeyrac, a Huguenot who had dismissed many of the early Christian writers for the lack of moral teaching. Ceillier defended “the Fathers” in his Apologie de la morale des Pères, contre les injustes accusations du sieur Jean Barbeyrac, professeur en droit et en histoire à Lausanne (). This spawned his later and lengthier (twenty-three-volume) history and defense of ancient Christianity entitled Histoire générale des auteurs sacrés et ecclésiastiques (–). Of course, not all Catholics agreed that there was an unbroken and unified line from the present papal decrees to the ancient Christian era. Jansenists, Catholics who taught strict Augustinian doctrine and were thought to be too Reformed by the magisterium, soon emerged and offered their own retelling of history. For example, Louis-Sébastien Le Nain de Tillemont (–) wrote a monumental sixteen-volume work entitled Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire ecclésiastique des six premiers siècles (–). This work was only outpaced by fellow Jansenist Louis Ellies Dupin (d. ), whose sixty-onevolume work covered sixteen hundred years of texts and history: Bibliothèque des auteurs ecclésiastiques (–). There were similar debates internal to Protestants. While those of the socalled Radical Reformation often utilized a strict sola scriptura approach to theological debate, many leaders identified with this movement cited the early Christian writers in support of their views. Menno Simmons (–) claimed his fellow “Anabaptists” were the true heirs to the ancient Christian tradition: “verily Christ and his apostles, Cyprian and his bishops, the Nicene Council and the holy apostle Paul must verily also have been Anabaptists.” Conrad Grebel (–) wrote enthusiastically of how he acquired Beatus Rhenanus’s edition of Tertullian’s works in the
In the preface he wrote for the edition of Samuel von Pufendorf’s Le droit de la nature & des gens ( Latin orig.). After Cellier’s book, Barberyrac wrote Traité de la morale des pères de l’Eglise (), which elaborated his original position, tracing the Christian teachings on morality, finding instances where their moral “truths” were in fact incorrect and thus needed reforming. See the response by Blaise Vauxelles (–), French Catholic who took the name Honoratus a Sancta Maria when he joined the Carmelites: Animadversiones in regulas et usum critices spectantes ad historiam ecclesiae, opera patrum, acta antiquorum martyrum, gesta sanctorum, vols. (–). This work’s influence is evidenced by its numerous reprints and translations. Simmons, “Reply to False Accusations ,” in The Complete Writings of Menno Simmons, ed. and trans. Leonard Verduin (Scottsdale, PA: Herald Press, ), . Although it should be noted that Simmons is quick to “assert that we do not believe in all their doctrine.”
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same year it was published. Likewise, Balthasar Hubmaier (–) often looked to the “post-apostolic” writers for support of his teachings. In response, these polemics drew the ire of the magisterial Reformers who offered their own non-Anabaptist (or non-“Donatist”) interpretation of “the Fathers.” A century later this kind of internal polemic can still be seen in Johann Fecht (–), who, among other publications, wrote Theses ex universa theologia patristica selectae (), directed against Philipp Spener (–) and the Pietists. This widespread rush ad fontes meant that many had to scramble to find the actual resources themselves. There were not yet good editions of ancient texts, and so many scholars, especially Catholics, began producing newer collections of sayings and excerpts from the early tradition. Many Protestants looked to Johann Karl Ludwig Gieseler’s five-volume Lehrbuch der Kirchengeschichte (–), which functioned for many as an anthology of ancient Christian authorities. The most influential Catholic resource was Heinrich Joseph Dominicus Denzinger’s Enchiridion symbolorum et definitionum et declarationum de rebus fidei et morum () – a work that has gone through many editions, so that “Denzinger” is still in print to date.
Conrad Grebel, Letter : “Grebel to Vadian (Zurich, end of October, ),” in The Sources of Swiss Anabaptism: The Grebel Letters and Related Documents, ed. Leland Harder (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, ), –. See especially Hubmaier, “Old and New Teachers on Believers Baptism,” in Balthasar Hubmaier, Theologian of Anabaptism, ed. and trans. H. Wayne Pipkin and John Howard Yoder (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, ), –; and Andrew P. Klager, “Balthasar Hubmaier’s use of the Church Fathers,” Mennonite Quarterly Review (), –. See further discussion and examples in Brian C. Brewer, “‘To defer and not to hasten’: The Anabaptist and Baptist appropriations of Tertullian’s baptismal theology,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –. Jesse A. Hoover, “Capricious, seductive, and insurrectionary,” Journal of Early Modern Christianity . (), –. See Andy Alexis-Baker, “Anabaptist use of patristic literature and creeds,” Mennonite Quarterly Review (), –. E.g., Dominic Schram, Analysis operum SS. Patrum et scriptorum ecclesiasticorum, vols. (–); Stephan Wiest, Institutiones Patrologiae in usum academicum (); Gottfried Lumper, Historia theologica-critica de vita, scriptis atque doctrina SS. Patrum trium primorum saeculorum, vols. (–); Franz Michael Permaneder, Bibliotheca patristica, vols. (–), a work never completed but which covered the first three centuries; and Joseph Nirschl, Lehrbuch der Patrologie und Patristik, vols. (–). Clark, Founding the Fathers, . Gieseler’s Dogmengeschichte (, posthumously) is sometimes considered the sixth volume of his Kirchengeschichte. See Heinrich Denzinger, Robert L. Fastiggi, Helmut Hoping, and Peter Hünermann, Compendium of Creeds, Definitions, and Declarations on Matters of Faith and Morals, rd ed. (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, ).
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These and other resources did give rise to more nuanced debates about the nature of ancient Christianity. Johann August Wilhelm Neander (–), a Jewish convert to Protestant Christianity and a student of Schleiermacher, did not simply claim Protestantism as the sole heir to the ancient tradition but that Christian tradition itself always involved diversity, a diversity that the dogmatic decrees repeatedly tried to suppress. Alternatively, the “Catholic principle” of unity was championed by Johann Adam Möhler (–), whose work caused a famous debate with F. C. Baur about the nature of Christianity both past and present. These confessionally driven readings of the early tradition contributed to Pope Pius IX’s decision to summon Vatican I (–). Johann Baptist Alzog (–), whose publications were influential in the field of ancient Christian history, supported papal infallibility at the council. Likewise, Josef Fessler, who published the two-volume Instutiones patrologiae quas ad frequentiorem utiliorem et faciliorem SS. Patrum lectionem promovendam (–), served as secretary at the council. As more resources became available for studying ancient Christian history, and as more refined historical studies emerged, debates also continued internally among Protestants. No one sparked more of these than Adolf von Harnack, but we can do little more than mention his influence here. Suffice it to say that Harnack initiated numerous debates both with Catholics and with his fellow Protestants. This kind of sectarian and even intra-sectarian approach to ancient Christian history did not go away in the succeeding generations, but more nuanced and objective approaches did begin to emerge.
Allgemeine Geschichte der christlichen Religion und Kirche, vols. (–). Also cf. Neander, Theologische Vorlesungen, ed. posthumously by J. L. Jacobi (). Möhler claimed the difference in Protestantism and Catholicism is primarily that of individual subjectivity promoted by Protestantism vs. collective ecclesiastical authority of Catholicism. Baur disagreed vehemently, claiming that the “Protestant principle” is one of subjective faith, but it is faith of the subject in an object, God, and this establishes the individual subject within objective reality (i.e. following Schleiermacher). See Möhler, Symbolik oder Darstellung der dogmatischen Gegensätze der Katholiken und Protestanten nach ihren öffentlichen Bekenntnisschriften (Mainz, ); and Baur, Der Gegensatz des Katholicismus und Protestantismus nach den Principien und Hauptdogmen der beiden Lehrbegriffe (Tübingen, ). E.g., Alzog, Handbuch der Universal-Kirchengeschichte (); and Grundriss der Patrologie (). Otto Bardenhewer stated in the preface to his Patrologie that the work was meant to be a new edition of Alzog’s third edition of his Grundriss (). Of his many works, he was especially known for Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte (first vol. in ; rd ed. in vols. –); ET of rd ed. = History of Dogma, vols. (–); and Die Mission und Ausbreitung des Christentums in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten, vols. (Leipzig, ); ET = The Mission and Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries, vols. (–).
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Critical Readings of the Ancient Sources Out of these debates, and in the wake of the Renaissance, there grew a keen awareness of the need for critical editions of ancient Christian texts. In the early seventeenth century, a movement began in French Benedictine monasteries to revive the stricter asceticism known from ancient times and championed by Benedict himself. In a new organization of likeminded monasteries was formed, the Congregation of St. Maur, which took its name from Benedict’s disciple, Maurus, who had first brought Benedict’s Rule to Gaul in the sixth century. One of the ancient practices retrieved by these Maurist Benedictines was that of reading and study. The house of SaintGermain-des-Prés in Paris was one of the most renowned for its scholarship, and in the monks began editing the works of Augustine. In the eighteenth century, “the Maurists,” as they are often called in the secondary literature, began collecting, editing, and publishing many other “Fathers.” These collections would influence and inspire a new generation of modern editions. In England there was already a felt need for better access to ancient Christian sources, but these came in the form of translations, not critical editions. As part of his defense of the Anglican Reformation, William Cave (–) wrote several works that promoted the study of ancient Christian history. A few generations later, the Oxford Movement arose, in which Edward Bouverie Pusey (–) and John Henry Newman (–) led in the production of English translations of ancient Christian texts. The series entitled A Library of the Fathers of the Holy Catholic Church: Anterior to the Division of the East and West, more commonly known simply as the Library of the Fathers (–), consisted of forty-two volumes. This series, however, being born out of the Anglo-Catholic Oxford
Important examples include the following: Tabulae ecclesiasticae (); Primitive Christianity: or, The Religion of the Ancient Christians in the First Ages of the Gospel, vols. (); Apostolici: or, The History of the Lives, Acts, Death, and Martyrdoms of Those Who Were Contemporary with, or Immediately Succeeded the Apostles. As Also the Most Eminent of the Primitive Fathers for the First Three Hundred Years (); Ecclesiastici: or, The History of the Lives, Acts, Death, and Writings of the Most Eminent Fathers of the Church (); and Scriptorum ecclesiasticorum historia literaria a Christo nato usque ad saeculum XIV, vols. (–). See discussion and details in Richard W. Pfaff, “The Library of the Fathers: The Tractarians as patristic translators,” Studies in Philology . (), –. For Newman himself and the Oxford Movement, see the essays in Stewart J. Brown, Peter Benedict Nockles, and James Pereiro (eds.) The Oxford Handbook of the Oxford Movement (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
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Movement, was unpopular and even less marketable. A rival series was produced by the Presbyterian scholars Alexander Roberts and James McDonald. T&T Clark Press in Edinburgh eventually named the series The Ante-Nicene Christian Library, and it consisted of eight volumes (–, with a ninth volume added in ). In the United States A. Cleveland Coxe, the Episcopal Bishop of New York, republished ten volumes of these same translations, in a different order and with additional notes. It was entitled The Ante-Nicene Fathers series (–). Another series was then produced by T&T Clark that extended into later centuries. It was named A Select Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church (usually known more concisely as The Nicene and PostNicene Fathers). This later collection consisted of two “series” (–): the first, edited by Philip Schaff, was eight volumes entirely devoted to Augustine and six to Chrysostom, and then the second series, edited by Henry Wace, included a range of authors and texts, ending with the seven ecumenical councils. The most influential and large collections of ancient texts were produced by Jacque Paul Migne. He printed volumes of the Patrologia Latina (PL) series (–) as well as volumes of the Patrologia Graeca (PG) series (–). Made inexpensively by way of various shortcuts (reprinting earlier editions, cheap paper, etc.), virtually every theological library in the western world attained a copy of these collections. The series, however, was not without flaws, and with the ongoing discoveries of additional ancient manuscripts, more modern and rigorous editions needed to be produced. First, because of the many flaws found in Migne’s collection, a new series was launched in entitled Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum. The CSEL was founded by the Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, which established a “Commission zur Herausgabe eines Corpus kritisch berichtigter Texte der lateinischen Kirchenväter,” in order to help create a complete base of texts for the then forthcoming Thesaurus Linguae Latinae. The project was first led by Johannes Vahlen, a philologist Schaff was a leading church historian in the United States, and a leading figure in Mercersberg Theology, an extension of the Oxford Movement; see essays in William B. Evans, A Companion to the Mercersburg Theology: Evangelical Catholicism in the Mid-nineteenth Century (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ). Wace (–) was an Anglican priest and scholar; his four-volume Dictionary of Christian Biography, Literature, Sects, and Doctrine (–), co-edited with William C. Piercy, is still in use in many libraries to date.
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who focused on classical/pre-Christian sources. Although many of the early volumes in this series have been superseded by other critical editions, the series as a whole is still ongoing, and many of the volumes remain the best or even the only ones available for certain texts. Additionally, the emerging field of “Oriental” studies emerged in the wake of western colonialism, and many saw the need for a series devoted to nonGreek and non-Latin sources. René Basset, who studied “Berber” and Arabic and focused on Algeria and its ancient history, and François Nau, a renowned mathematician who also excelled in the study of Syriac, were the founding editors of a series entitled Patrologia Syriaca in . After only a few volumes, this project was reinstituted as Patrologia Orientalis in , and it was meant to supplement Migne. Around this same time (), the University of Louvain and the Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C. launched a joint venture entitled Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium (CSCO). These volumes consisted of critical editions and often included modern translations of ancient Christian texts written in Arabic, Armenian, Coptic, Geʽez, Iberian, and Syriac. Beginning in , Josef Kösel began publishing the German translation series Sämtliche Werke der Kirchenväter. After Kösel’s death in his successor, Johann Huber, continued the series in their press in Munich. It contained only thirty-nine volumes when they discontinued it in , and so the series was not as “complete” as originally envisioned. The same publishing house then offered what would be called the “first series” of Church Fathers, entitled Bibliothek der Kirchenväter: Auswahl der vorzüglichsten patristischen Werke in deutscher Übersetzung (= BKV). This time it included eighty volumes published between and . This work was directed by Franz Xaver Reithmayr and Valentin Thalhofer, both biblical scholars on the Catholic Theological Faculty in Munich.
According to the series website: http://csel.sbg.ac.at/en/profil/geschichte/. In the series was handed over to the University of Salzburg and Walter de Gruyter press. With several of the “projects” containing multiple volumes, there are well over volumes available to date. All published by Institut pontifical oriental de Rome. For the titles of each volume, see www .patristique.org/Patrologia-orientalis.html. The collection includes subseries: the CSCO, Scriptores Aethiopici includes volumes; the CSCO, Scriptores Arabici includes volumes; the CSCO, Scriptores Armeniaci includes volumes; the CSCO, Scriptores Coptici includes volumes; the CSCO, Scriptores Iberici includes volumes; the CSCO, Scriptores Syri includes volumes; and cf. the to-date CSCO, Subsidia monographs.
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Later, the “second” edition of this series (not counting the SWKV) was slightly retitled more humbly as Bibliothek der Kirchenväter: Eine Auswahl patristischer Werke in deutscher Übersetzung (= BKV). This second (or third) iteration was supervised by Otto Bardenhewer, who was a Catholic professor of biblical studies at Munich, Theodor Schermann, a church historian at Munich, and Carl Weyman, a philologist at Munich. The BKV had eighty volumes published between and , when World War II and its aftermath made it impossible to continue. Another German series was founded by Harnack and Theodor Mommsen in , entitled Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten drei Jahrhunderts (more commonly known by the title Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller, or the abbreviation GCS). It began in Leipzig, organized by the Royal Prussian Academy, and then later in was continued by the Berlin– Brandenburg Academy and published by Walter de Gruyter press. Consisting of critical editions and notes, this project was meant to offer objective access to ancient Christian sources. Although the series was originally limited to Greek texts from the first three hundred years (as the title suggests), the series was later expanded after World War II to include texts as late as the eighth century. The postwar era witnessed several other series of critical editions and translations. A series of Spanish translations began in , entitled Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos (BAC), founded by Ángel Herrera Oria, the former journalist, turned politician, turned cleric. He later () became Bishop of Málaga and then was appointed Cardinal by Pope Paul VI in . In France the series Sources Chrétiennes began in . French Jesuits at the seminary in Lyon began work on the series while World War II was still raging. Although the first volume provided only a French translation, the series soon offered critical editions in addition to parallel translations.
It should be noted that the “third” series (BKV) consisted entirely of reprints. The series continues to produce volumes, and is currently co-edited by Christoph Markschies and Annette von Stockhausen. One could even include several volumes in the Loeb Classical Library (LCL) series, founded in by James Loeb. Jean Daniélou, Gregoire de Nysse: La Vie de Moïse, nd ed. (SC ; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, [orig. ; repr. in with critical edition of the Greek text]). There are now over volumes in the collection, and in the first Italian version of the series appeared, by Edizioni Studio Domenicano. Also, there is now the Sources Chrétiennes Online (SCO); see https://about.brepolis.net/sources-chretiennes-online-sco/.
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Another major development took place in . In that year Elgius Dekkers, the Benedictine Abbot of St. Peter in Steenbrugge, Belgium, partnered with Brepols Publishers in Turnhout. They announced plans for the forthcoming Corpus Christianorum, both the Series Latina (CCSL) (–) and the Series Graeca (CCSG) (–). These aimed to offer critical editions as replacements for both Migne’s PL and the CSEL. The availability of such a comprehensive and reliable series was a major breakthrough in the field. The project also resulted in numerous reference works, which will be discussed further below. Even with these modern and expansive series, several new projects emerged that published texts and translations so as to make the ancient Christian sources more readily available. The Oxford Early Christian Texts series began in , and it offered critical editions of texts while also providing English translations. In a series of Italian translations were first published by Edizioni Dehoniane, edited by the Centro di Studi Patristici in Florence. The series was entitled Biblioteca Patristica. In a series of critical editions with German translations was founded by Wilhelm Geerlings, entitled Fontes Christiani. In addition to the series reviewed above, a unique collection of ancient Christian texts needs to be mentioned here: the Nag Hammadi Library. In , a dozen codices’ worth of Coptic texts came to light, after decades of
See details in Mathijs Lamberigts, “Corpus Christianorum (–): The laborious journey from dream to reality,” Sacris erudiri (–), –; and Bart Janssens, Mathijs Lamberigts, and Johan Leemans, “Building the Corpus Christianorum: A short history of the first years,” in The Recent History of Theological Libraries and Library Associations in Europe: A Festschrift at the Occasion of the th Anniversary of BETH, ed. Leo Kenis, Penelope R. Hall, and Marek Rostkowski (Leiden: Brill, ). Later, in , the press began publishing the series Continuatio Mediaevalis (CCCM), and in the Series Apocryphorum (CCSA) was added. See the joint statement from the press and the abbey, proposing the project: Établissements Brepols and the Monachi S. Petri, “A proposed new edition of early Christian texts,” Sacris erudiri (), –. They also point to the many new discoveries of manuscripts. The sense of relief and enthusiasm can be felt in Bernard M. Peebles’s review essay devoted to the first five volumes; see Peebles, “The primitiae of the ‘Corpus Christianorum,’” Tradition (), –. While it continues to publish volumes, it does so sporadically. First published by Herder; the third subseries is by Brepols. The Fontes Christiani Institut at Ruhr-Universität in Bochum supervised the project, but in it moved to Munich.
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somewhat sordid work. These were eventually collected under the authority of the Egyptian government’s Department of Antiquities and UNESCO, and then a committee was formed under the leadership of James M. Robinson to publish the texts. Needless to say, this discovery made a huge impact on the field of ancient Christian history. Aside from a few exceptions, for the first time the voices of the “Gnostics” could be heard, unfiltered by their opponents. This capability fueled the already growing trend championed by Walter Bauer to do away with the biased categories of “orthodoxy” and “heresy.” Instead, ancient Christianity was seen to be diverse and decentralized, a now common assumption among historians.
For a helpful summary, see Edwin M. Yamauchi, “The Nag Hammadi Library,” Journal of Library History . (), –. The Facsimile Edition of the Nag Hammadi Codices, vols. (Leiden: Brill, –). Before this publication, a series of French and German scholars were given access and produced sporadic editions and translations of select works from the collection. Robinson, along with his colleagues at Claremont’s Institute for Antiquity and Christianity, published an English translation of all the texts: The Nag Hammadi Library in English (Leiden: Brill, [cf. th ed., ]). And now see James M. Robinson (ed.) The Coptic Gnostic Library: A Complete Edition of the Nag Hammadi Codices with English Translation, Introduction, and Notes, vols. (Leiden: Brill, ), available online with subscription to Brill Online Reference Works. See John D. Turner and Anne McQuire (eds.) The Nag Hammadi Library after Fifty Years: Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Literature Commemoration (Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ); David M. Scholer, Nag Hammadi Bibliography – (Leiden: Brill, ); Marvin W. Meyer, The Gnostic Discoveries: The Impact of the Nag Hammadi Library (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, ); and the supplemental bibliographies of Scholer published annually in the journal Novum Testamentum. The quotation marks around “Gnostics” is due to the contested nature of this category. See Chapter in the present volume. Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity, ed. Robert A. Kraft and Gerhard Kroedel (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, [German orig. = ]). For the category of “Gnosticism” in particular, see Michael A. Williams, Rethinking “Gnosticism”: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ); Karen King, What Is Gnosticism? (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, ); and Ismo Dunderberg, Beyond Gnosticism: Myth, Lifestyle, and Society in the School of Valentinus (New York: Columbia University Press, ). The mention of the Nag Hammadi discovery also raises questions about the content of ancient Christian history. Newly discovered Christian manuscripts and papyri have added much data for historians to consider; see Lincoln H. Blumell and Thomas A. Wayment (eds.) Christian Oxyrhynchus: Texts, Documents, and Sources (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ); and Chapter in the present volume. In addition to literary evidence, archaeological discoveries of material remains have also played an important role in shaping this field. However, space does not allow more than a brief statement here, and since the extant material record for the period in question is sparse, we have left aside the larger role that archaeology has played in the development of studying ancient Christian history. For more details, see Graydon F. Snyder, Ante Pacem: Archaeological Evidence of Church Life before Constantine, rev. ed. (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, ); and Chapter in the present volume.
The History of Ancient Christian History
Modern Instrumenta Studiorum In addition to the need for critical editions, another awareness emerging from the sectarian debates of the early modern era was the need for more critical tools to assist the study of ancient history. One can especially see the shift to critical readings of ancient Christian history by way of the instrumenta studiorum that came into being in the modern era. While a full review of the resources available cannot be offered here, it will be helpful to review a few key examples that help to illustrate the development of ancient Christian historiography as a scientific discipline. The German polymath turned theologian Johann Albert Fabricius (–) wrote numerous influential works related to ancient Christian history. He studied Philo of Alexandria in light of his Platonist background, which led to a lowering of Philo from “honorary Church Father” status. He also helped establish the categories now known as Old Testament Pseudepigrapha and the New Testament Apocrypha through his compilations of texts like Codex apocryphus Novi Testamenti () and Codex pseudepigraphus Veteris Testamenti (). Similarly, the German Lutheran scholar Johann Lorenz von Mosheim (–) wrote a work entitled Institutiones historiae ecclesiasticae Novi Testamenti in . These kinds of resources prompted further reference works to assist those interested in ancient Christian history. In the early modern era a few patristic dictionaries were published. A prominent example is the Thesaurus ecclesiasticus e Patribus Graecis edited by the Swiss Reform theologian Johann Caspar Suicer in (revised in ). A few others can be found, but until more complete critical editions of sources were available most of these were insufficient. For example, a series of Greek lexicons emerged that largely focused on pre- and non See Joseph E. Kelly and Jeane-Nicole Saint-Laurent, “Instrumenta studiorum: Tools of the trade,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. See especially his Bibliotheca Latina (begun in ; completed by J. A. Ernesti in ) and Bibliotheca Graeca, vols. (–), which covers pre-Homeric writers all the way through the year . This work originally covered the history until the fourteenth century, i.e. before the Reformation, but he issued later editions, eventually offering a complete history of Christianity. The edition was translated into several European languages under a shortened title: Ketzer-Geschichte, or Ecclesiastical History. For additional examples, see Philip Schaff, A History of the Christian Church, vols., th ed. (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, ), :.
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Christian antiquity, and yet many if not all of these still had interest in the New Testament and theological developments. In H. B. Swete at Cambridge proposed a new lexicon. Despite his ability to enlist over eighty clergy and scholars for assistance, and despite his ability to raise funds to support the endeavor, the scope of the project meant that its first volume would not be in print for decades. In , with Geoffrey W. H. Lampe as its editor, the Clarendon Press finally printed the first volume of A Patristic Greek Lexicon. For Latin texts, as mentioned above, the CSEL was originally founded in to help create a complete database of texts for the Thesaurus Linguae Latinae (first volume published in ). The aim was to establish the definitive differences between classical and ecclesiastical Latin. In this instance, the study of ancient Christian texts served to help the disciplines of ancient history and philology more generally. However, later resources would arise that would place a focus back on the early Christian period, such as Alexander Souter’s A Glossary of Later Latin to .. , published by Oxford University Press in . A number of resources grew out of Dekkers’s Corpus Christianorum project (discussed above). In Dekkers published the Clavis Patrum Latinorum, which covered all known Christian Latin texts from Tertullian to Bede (d. ). This served as an outline of the forthcoming CCSL, and the Clavis also detailed all known editions of any given text as well as select bibliography. In Maurice Geerard published the corresponding Clavis Patrum Graecorum (eight volumes, not completed until ), covering Christian authors through the eighth century. These claves have proven invaluable for contemporary scholars worldwide who can now, quite literally and for the first time in history, be on the same page – or at least, the same reliable page – when discussing ancient Christian texts.
For English-speakers, these culminated in the Greek–English Lexicon by H. G. Liddell and R. Scott, first published in and completed in . This resource would not be surpassed until the recent publication of The Cambridge Greek Lexicon, vols., ed. James Diggle et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), which was initially conceived as an update of Liddell and Scott but then evolved to be a completely new resource altogether. See Lampe’s preface that documents the details: A Patristic Greek Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), v–x. Among his many other projects, Souter was also the general editor of the Oxford Latin Dictionary (begun in and published –). Now in its third edition (Brepols, ).
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Dekkers also began publishing reference works in in the series Instrumenta Patristica (expanded as Instrumenta Patristica et Mediaevalia in ). Decades later, as the CCSL and CCSG grew, the editors began offering microfiche versions of the indices for some of the volumes. When these began to be compiled, the press created the Thesaurus Patrum Latinorum (begun in ) and then the Thesaurus Patrum Graecorum (begun in ). Although the full details of the technological advances cannot be rehearsed here, the process included the release of a CD-ROM. The Centre de traitement électronique de documents (CETEDOC) at Louvain supervised the project, and soon the CETEDOC Library of Christian Latin Texts (CLCLT) moved to an online format. Along with the database’s searchable features, the complete collection of all available Latin Christian texts is also now online. This resource represents a major development in the field. A comparable resource is the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae (TLG), begun in by classicist Marianne McDonald. This resource is even broader in that in addition to Christian sources the online database includes almost all known Greek texts from the time of Homer until . As was stated above about reliable editions of ancient Christian writings, scholars can now not only be on the same page, but the same webpage. What is more, the texts are – virtually – always available at scholars’ fingertips (at least, for those connected to research libraries with subscription to the database). Another resource worth mentioning addresses one of the major aims of research in the area of ancient Christianity: namely, the reception and interpretation of Scripture. In looking back over the modern historical research into ancient Christianity one can see how many of the sectarian and theological debates entailed questions about biblical reception and interpretation. In response, more critical and non-sectarian studies emerged in this area. In the Committee of the Oxford Society of Historical Theology published The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers with Clarendon Press. The committee provided a grading system (A, B, C, D) for the certainty that a given early Christian text quoted something from the
For full details, see Paul Tombeur, “Corpus Christianorum, Thesaurus Patrum Latinorum, Instrumenta Lexicologica Latina,” and Bernard Coulie, “Corpus Christianorum, Thesaurus Patrum Graecorum,” in Corpus Christianorum –: Xenium natalicium. Fifty Years of Scholarly Editing, ed. John Leemans and Luc Jocqué (Turnhout: Brepols, ), –, –. See details and additional links at the CC website: www.corpuschristianorum.org/cctpl. See details and additional links at the TLG website: http://stephanus.tlg.uci.edu/.
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New Testament. Needless to say, not everyone agreed with the findings, and yet this resource provided an attempt at an objective interpretation with which later scholars could interact. Decades later, in Strasbourg, a more substantial project began. In the Centre national de la recherche scientifique established a committee to offer an index of biblical citations, which covered even more early Christian writers. The Biblia patristica: Index des citations et allusions bibliques dans la littérature patristique (–) consisted of seven volumes covering major Christian writers up to the fourth century. In the original team began handing over its published and unpublished material to Sources Chrétiennes. A team of scholars is currently expanding the project as a digital database now available online: Biblindex. Another major development comes in the form of peer-reviewed journals. For some time there had been numerous publications devoted to theology and Christian history in general. Then, in the twentieth century, several scholarly endeavors produced an array of journals that focused on ancient Christianity in particular. In Franz Joseph Dölger established the Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum (RAC). This resource is a unique case because Dölger was the only contributing author in its quad-annual publication until . At that point more experts began to collaborate in the project, and in Theodor Klauser founded the Franz Joseph DölgerInstitut zur Erforschung der Spätantike at the University of Bonn to oversee the work. Klauser and others at the institute then began publishing the Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum. In Christine A. E. M. Mohrmann and Jan Hendrik Waszink started the journal Vigiliae Christianae. Waszink primarily worked on Tertullian, but his expertise in Latin attracted the attention of Dölger and so he was enlisted
The project was updated as The Reception of the New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers, vols., ed. Andrew F. Gregory and Christopher M. Tuckett (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). See the history of this transaction on the Biblindex website: https://biblindex-en.hypotheses .org/. An exhaustive list is practically impossible given the various ways that journals define their scope. The following examples refer to those that focus on ancient Christian history. E.g., Adamantius is an Italian journal devoted to Origen and the Alexandrian tradition. Founded in , it was originally named Bollettino del Gruppo italiano di ricerca su Origene e la tradizione alessandrina. See discussion in Markus Vinzent, Writing the History of Early Christianity: From Reception to Retrospection (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), . The Franz Joseph Dölger-Institut zur Erforschung der Spätantike continues to support work in this area to date.
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to help work on the RAC as well. Mohrmann was a fellow Dutch Latinist, and with Jos Schrijnen a leader in the Sondersprache school of research. As a woman, Mohrmann faced unique challenges and several controversies. For example, she was not allowed to replace Schrijnen in his chair at the Catholic university, simply because she was a woman. Nevertheless, Mohrmann made a significant impact through her publications and doctoral students. Along with his work on the CCSL and CCSG, Elgius Dekkers founded the journal Sacris erudiri in . This initially focused on the work related to the productions of critical editions, but it has since expanded to cover a wide array of ancient and medieval Christian history. This and the other journals that emerged at this time helped further much work in the field of ancient Christian studies. Other specialized journals in this field did not arise until much later but should still be mentioned briefly here. These include Second Century: A Journal of Early Christian Studies, which in came under the supervision of the North American Patristics Society and was simply called the Journal of Early Christian Studies; Annali di storia dell’esegesi (–), devoted primarily to biblical reception; the Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum/Journal of Ancient Christianity (–), which aimed to promote more interdisciplinary research; the Journal of Late Antiquity (–), produced by the Society for Late Antiquity; and Early Christianity (–), which covers the first and second centuries without bifurcating “New Testament studies” as separate from historical inquiry.
See Philip Burton, “On revisiting the Christian Latin Sondersprache hypothesis,” in Textual Variation: Theological and Social Tendencies, ed. H. Houghton and D. Parker (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, ), –. For further details and bibliography, see Carmela Vircillo Franklin, “Christine A. E. M. Mohrmann (–) and the study of Christian Latin,” in Women Medievalists and the Academy, ed. Jane Chance (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, ), –. As stated in the editorial of its first issue: “Die Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum resp. das Journal of Ancient Christianity (ZAC) ist eine akademische Fachzeitschrift, die dem Dialog zwischen der Kirchengeschichte, der historischen Religionswissenschaft und der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft in ihren Teildisziplinen (klassische Philologien, alte Geschichte und klassische bzw. christliche Archäologie) sowie der antiken Philosophie- und Rechtsgeschichte dienen will. Sie wendet sich an alle Forscherinnen und Forscher sowie Studierende auf dem Felde des antiken und spätantiken Christentums und will den interdisziplinären Dialog und internationalen Austausch anregen.” Hanns Christof Brennecke and Christoph Markschies, “Editorial,” Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum (), –, on . See Jörg Frey, Clare K. Rothschil, Jens Schröter, and Francis Watson, “An editorial manifesto,” Early Christianity . (), –.
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Another telling indicator of the scholarly shift to a more objective and even secular approach can be seen by looking to the various scholarly societies. For example, in the late nineteenth century several such organizations formed to promote academic approaches to theological studies broadly defined and ancient Christian studies in particular, such as the Society of Biblical Literature and Exegesis () and the American Society of Church History () – both were founded by Philip Schaff, who was discussed above. While the latter retained its name and ecclesial scope, the former shortened its name simply to the Society of Biblical Literature in , which arguably reflects a shift to a strictly historical and less confessional approach. The same can be seen when the Association of Biblical Instructors, which was established in , and later renamed the National Association of Biblical Instructors in , finally became the American Academy of Religion in . Numerous other societies deserve to be mentioned here for their contribution to promoting collaboration and further research. Key examples include the quadrennial meeting of the Oxford International Patristic Conference, founded in ; the Association internationale d’études patristiques, begun in ; the North American Patristic Society, formed in (“Patristic” was changed to “Patristics” in ); the Canadian Society for Patristic Studies, established in ; and the Byzantine Studies Conference, which also began in . The Society for Late Antiquity was formed in the wake of a conference at the University of South Carolina entitled “Shifting Frontiers in Late Antiquity.” The society continues to sponsor biennial conferences on this theme. A final matter to consider in terms of specialized resources is the number of electronic and online tools that are now classified as digital humanities. Most of the academic societies mentioned above hold annual sessions devoted to this new medium of scholarship, and there is no doubt that various grant-funding agencies are incentivizing additional work in this
Selections of the conference proceedings are published as Studia Patristica. Numerous other international and occasional conferences could be listed. The breadth or narrowness of scope of many of them preclude inclusion in the current essay. Mention should also be made of the influential American Philological Association, founded in , renamed the Society for Classical Studies in . Details of the conferences and the corresponding published proceedings can be found at the society’s webpage: https://lateantiquity.web.illinois.edu/.
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area. However, the influence of digital humanities on biblical, patristic, and late antique studies should not be misunderstood. Rather than needing to adapt with broader movements in the contemporary academy, biblical and theological studies in fact birthed what is now known as digital humanities. In an Italian priest named Roberto Busa partnered with IBM to use machine-readable punch cards to digitize works by and about Thomas Aquinas. His project evolved in several stages: his computer-generated analysis appeared in print in the fifty-six-volume Index Thomisticus (–), and was then made available on CD-ROM in , and then online in . Around the same time Busa was working with IBM, John W. Ellison in produced a computer program to make a concordance of the Revised Standard Version of the Bible. Paul Tombeur’s work with the CLCLT has earned him the moniker “the Grandfather of Digital Humanities.” These and other examples are often cited as the genesis of what has become known as digital humanities. Even in the collection of essays that coined the label “Digital Humanities,” one author uses “sacred writers and pillars of the church like Jerome” as examples when discussing the importance of authorship in this electronic age. The “Shifting Frontiers” conference mentioned earlier in this essay provides another example, even an endearing one from the point of view of a post-COVID and post-Zoom world. In the preface to the conference proceedings, the editors boast of
E.g., in the United States, the National Endowment for the Humanities states that it has a “major goal . . . to increase capacity of the humanities in applying digital methods” (quote from the NEH website: www.neh.gov/divisions/odh). Domenico Fiormonte, “Digital humanities from Father Busa to Edward Snowden,” Media Development (), –. www.corpusthomisticum.org/it/index.age. See Jeffrey S. Siker, Liquid Scripture: The Bible in a Digital World (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ); Claire Clivaz, Écritures digitales: Digital Writing, Digital Scriptures (Digital Biblical Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ); and Peter Phillip, The Bible, Social Media and Digital Culture (London: Routledge, ). See the details and online lecture at the Research Infrastructure on Religious Studies website: https://reires.eu//-years-of-digital-humanities-video-with-prof-paul-tombeur//. Although recent studies have shown that other projects also should be considered as precursors to the digital humanities movement; see discussion and further bibliography in Claire Clivaz and Garrick V. Allen, “The digital humanities in biblical studies and theology,” Open Theology . (), –. Hugh Craig, “Stylistic analysis and authorship studies,” in A Companion to Digital Humanities, ed. Susan Schreibman, Ray Siemens, and John Unsworth (Oxford: Blackwell, ), – (citation from online edition: www.digitalhumanities.org/companion/).
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how this was likely the first conference in their field organized mostly over “E-MAIL.” The initial electronic advances for ancient Christian history were tied to philological concerns. We have already mentioned the CLCLT, TLG, LCL are all now available online (with a subscription, usually only afforded by academic libraries). There are also linguistic and textual tools available for texts in Syriac, Coptic, and other ancient Christian languages. The number of websites and online resources is incalculable, but the fact that virtually every printed resource produced by the major publishing houses is also available in electronic form indicates that digital access is the way of the foreseeable future.
Summation At this point, our survey of ancient Christian historiography has caught up to the present. We have shown that studying the early Christian sources has always been a contested tradition, and so contemporary debates about the nature of this discipline in fact belong to a long line of succession. Even so, as Ralph W. Mathisen and Hagith S. Sivan, “Introduction,” in Shifting Frontiers in Late Antiquity, ed. Ralph W. Mathisen and Hagith S. Sivan (Aldershot: VARIORUM/Ashgate Publishing, ), xii. E.g., the Digital Syriac Corpus (https://syriaccorpus.org/index.html; cf. https://syriaca .org) and the Coptic Scriptorium (https://copticscriptorium.org/). Also, cf. the larger scope of the Perseids Project (www.perseids.org/digital-editions/). Any printed resource or bibliography on this subject is virtually (pun intended) obsolete by the time it reaches the library shelf. Nevertheless, there are helpful studies of this trend, including Claire Clivaz, Andrew Gregory, and David Hamidović (eds.) Digital Humanities in Biblical, Early Jewish and Early Christian Studies, vols. (Leiden: Brill, ); and a new monograph series by Brill: Claire Clivaz, Paul Dilley, and David Hamidović (eds.) Ancient Worlds in Digital Culture (Digital Biblical Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ); Vanessa Bigot Juloux, Amy Rebecca Gansell, and Alessandro Di Ludovico (eds.) CyberResearch on the Ancient Near East and Neighboring Regions (Digital Biblical Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ); David Hamidović, Claire Clivaz, and Sarah Bowen Savant (eds.) Ancient Manuscripts in Digital Culture: Visualisation, Data Mining, Communication (Digital Biblical Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ); Top of Form Clivaz, Écritures digitales: Digital Writing, Digital Scriptures (Digital Biblical Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ); also, Sarah Bond’s paper given to the Oxford International Patristics Conference, entitled “Digital Humanities and the Study of Patristics Developing the Terra Biblica and BAM (‘Big Ancient Mediterranean’) Online Resources,” has been incorporated into a larger project and can be seen in her online paper, co-authored with Paul Dilley and Ryan Horne: http://dlib .nyu.edu/awdl/isaw/isaw-papers/-/. Other examples are the electronic indexes available for researchers, such as ATLA and L’Année philologique. New online bibliographies are also emerging for ancient Christian studies: e.g., the Base d’information bibliographique en patristique hosted by the University of Laval (www.bibl.ulaval.ca/bd/bibp/).
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the centuries unfolded and more resources came available, more refined and objective approaches did emerge. Scholars in the twenty-first century are in a much better position than those from prior eras, even those from fifty years ago. And yet, as mentioned in the introduction to this essay, this has not ended debate about the details and content of ancient Christian history or the proper approach to studying this field. If the resourcing has increased exponentially, the precision with which we understand early Christianity should – in theory – follow the same trajectory. In fact, however, in some ways just the opposite seems to be the case. With resources available to us more now than ever, instead of seeing emerging consensuses, we are seeing ongoing contestation. In the future, these debates will certainly continue, and they should do so with an awareness of past developments.
Select Bibliography Alberigo, Giuseppe (ed.) The Oecumenical Councils, From Nicaea I to Nicaea II (–) (Conciliorum oecumenicorum generaliumque decretal ; Turnhout: Brepols, ). Alexis-Baker, Andy. “Anabaptist use of patristic literature and creeds,” Mennonite Quarterly Review (), –. Backus, Irena Dorota (ed.) The Reception of the Church Fathers in the West, vols. (Leiden: Brill, ). Bauer, Walter. Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity. Edited by Robert A. Kraft and Gerhard Kroedel (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, [German orig. = ]). Blumell, Lincoln H., and Thomas A. Wayment (eds.) Christian Oxyrhynchus: Texts, Documents, and Sources (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ). Brakke, David. “Scriptural practices in early Christianity: Towards a new history of the New Testament canon.” Pages – in Invention, Rewriting, Usurpation: Discursive Fights over Religious Traditions in Antiquity. Edited by Jörg Rupke, Anders-Christian Jacobsen, and David Brakke (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, ). Brennecke, Hanns Christof, and Christoph Markschies. “Editorial,” Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum (), –. Brewer, Brian C. “‘To defer and not to hasten’: The Anabaptist and Baptist appropriations of Tertullian’s baptismal theology,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –. Brower, Jeffrey E., and Kevin Guilfoy. The Cambridge Companion to Abelard (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Brown, Stewart J., Peter Benedict Nockles, and James Pereiro (eds.) The Oxford Handbook of the Oxford Movement (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Further analysis is needed on how these developments of the past have shaped the present and will shape the future of ancient Christian history. See my own reflections in Chapter in the present volume.
. Burton, Philip. “On revisiting the Christian Latin Sondersprache hypothesis.” Pages – in Textual Variation: Theological and Social Tendencies. Edited by H. Houghton and D. Parker (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, ). Cameron, Averil. “Patristics and late antiquity: Partners or rivals?” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. Camporeale, Salvatore I. Christianity, Latinity, and Culture: Two Studies on Lorenzo Valla. Translated by Patrick Baker. Edited by Patrick Baker and Christopher S. Celenza (Studies in the History of Christian Traditions ; Leiden: Brill, ). Clark, Elizabeth A. Founding the Fathers: Early Church History and Protestant Professors in Nineteenth-Century America (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ). “From patristics to early Christian studies.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies. Edited by Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Clivaz, Claire. Écritures digitales: Digital Writing, Digital Scriptures (Digital Biblical Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ). Clivaz, Claire, and Garrick V. Allen. “The digital humanities in biblical studies and theology,” Open Theology . (), –. Clivaz, Claire, Paul Dilley, and David Hamidović (eds.) Ancient Worlds in Digital Culture (Digital Biblical Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ). Clivaz, Claire, Andrew Gregory, and David Hamidović (eds.) Digital Humanities in Biblical, Early Jewish and Early Christian Studies, vols. (Leiden: Brill, ). Coulie, Bernard. “Corpus Christianorum, Thesaurus Patrum Graecorum.” Pages – in Corpus Christianorum –: Xenium natalicium. Fifty Years of Scholarly Editing. Edited by John Leemans and Luc Jocqué (Turnhout: Brepols, ). Craig, Hugh. “Stylistic analysis and authorship studies.” Pages – in A Companion to Digital Humanities. Edited by Susan Schreibman, Ray Siemens, and John Unsworth (Oxford: Blackwell, ). Daniélou, Jean. Gregoire de Nysse: La Vie de Moïse, nd ed. (SC ; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, [orig. ; reprint in with critical edition of the Greek text]). Denzinger, Heinrich, Robert L. Fastiggi, Helmut Hoping, and Peter Hünermann. Compendium of Creeds, Definitions, and Declarations on Matters of Faith and Morals, rd ed. (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, ). Dunderberg, Ismo. Beyond Gnosticism: Myth, Lifestyle, and Society in the School of Valentinus (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Établissements Brepols and the Monachi S. Petri, “A proposed new edition of early Christian texts,” Sacris erudiri (), –. Evans, William B. A Companion to the Mercersburg Theology: Evangelical Catholicism in the Mid-nineteenth Century (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ). The Facsimile Edition of the Nag Hammadi Codices, vols. (Leiden: Brill, –). Fédou, Michel. The Fathers of the Church in Christian Theology. Translated by Peggy Manning Meyer (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, [orig. Les Pères de l’Église et la théologie chrétienne, ]). Fergusson, Everett. Backgrounds of Early Christianity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ).
The History of Ancient Christian History Fiormonte, Domenico. “Digital humanities from Father Busa to Edward Snowden,” Media Development (), –. Franklin, Carmela Vircillo. “Christine A. E. M. Mohrmann (–) and the study of Christian Latin.” Pages – in Women Medievalists and the Academy. Edited by Jane Chance (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, ). Frey, Jörg, Clare K. Rothschil, Jens Schröter, and Francis Watson, “An editorial manifesto,” Early Christianity . (), –. Gallagher, Edmon L., and John D. Meade. The Biblical Canon Lists from Early Christianity: Texts and Analysis (Oxford: Oxford University Press ). Giardina, Andrea. “Esplosione di tardoantico,” Studi Storici (), –. Graumann, Thomas. Die Kirche der Väter: Vätertheologie und Väterbeweis in den Kirchen des Ostens bis zum Konzil von Ephesus () (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Gregory, Andrew F., and Christopher M. Tuckett (eds.) The Reception of the New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers, vols. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Hamidović, David, Claire Clivaz, and Sarah Bowen Savant (eds.) Ancient Manuscripts in Digital Culture: Visualisation, Data Mining, Communication (Digital Biblical Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ). Harder, Leland (ed.) The Sources of Swiss Anabaptism: The Grebel Letters and Related Documents (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, ). Hoover, Jesse A. “Capricious, seductive, and insurrectionary,” Journal of Early Modern Christianity . (), –. Janssens, Bart, Mathijs Lamberigts, and Johan Leemans. “Building the Corpus Christianorum: A short history of the first years.” In The Recent History of Theological Libraries and Library Associations in Europe: A Festschrift at the Occasion of the th Anniversary of BETH. Edited by Leo Kenis, Penelope R. Hall, and Marek Rostkowski (Leiden: Brill, ). Jensen, Robin. “Integrating material and visual evidence into early Christian studies: Approaches, benefits, and potential problems.” Pages – in Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies, ed. Brouria BittonAshkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, ). Juloux, Vanessa Bigot, Amy Rebecca Gansell, and Alessandro Di Ludovico (eds.) CyberResearch on the Ancient Near East and Neighboring Regions (Digital Biblical Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ). Kannengiesser, Charles. “Fifty years of patristics,” Theological Studies . (), –. “The future of patristics,” Theological Studies . (), –. Kelly, Joseph E., and Jeane-Nicole Saint-Laurent, “Instrumenta studiorum: Tools of the trade.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies. Edited by Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). King, Karen. What Is Gnosticism? (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, ). Klager, Andrew P. “Balthasar Hubmaier’s use of the Church Fathers,” Mennonite Quarterly Review (), –.
. Kraye, Jill. “Twenty-third annual Margaret Mann Phillips Lecture: Pagan philosophy and patristics in Erasmus and his contemporaries,” Erasmus of Rotterdam Society Yearbook . (), –. Lamberigts, Mathijs. “Corpus Christianorum (–): The laborious journey from dream to reality,” Sacris erudiri (–), –. Lampe, Geoffrey W. H. A Patristic Greek Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Lightfoot, J. B. The Apostolic Fathers, vols., nd ed. (New York: Macmillan and Company, ). Mandouze, André. “Mesure et démesure de la Patristique.” Pages – in vol. of Studia Patristica. Edited by F. L. Cross (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, ). Mathisen, Ralph W., and Hagith S. Sivan, “Introduction.” Pages – in Shifting Frontiers in Late Antiquity. Edited by Ralph W. Mathisen and Hagith S. Sivan (Aldershot: VARIORUM/Ashgate Publishing, ). McDonald, Grantley. “Erasmus and the Johannine Comma ( John .–),” Bible Translator . (), –. Meyendorff, John. Le Christ dans la théologie byzantine (Paris: Cerf, [ orig.]); ET = Christ in Eastern Christian Thought (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). Meyer, Marvin W. The Gnostic Discoveries: The Impact of the Nag Hammadi Library (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, ). Old, Hughes Oliphant. The Patristic Roots of Reformed Worship (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zurich, ). Peebles, Bernard M. “The primitiae of the ‘Corpus Christianorum,’” Tradition (), –. Pelikan, Jaroslov. The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, vol. , The Growth of Medieval Theology (–) (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ). Pfaff, Richard W. “The Library of the Fathers: The Tractarians as patristic translators,” Studies in Philology . (), –. Phillip, Peter. The Bible, Social Media and Digital Culture (London: Routledge, ). Pipkin, H. Wayne, and John Howard Yoder (ed. and trans.) Balthasar Hubmaier: Theologian of Anabaptism (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, ). Prieto Domínguez, Óscar. Literary Circles in Byzantine Iconoclasm: Patrons, Politics, and Saints (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Quasten, Johannes. Patrology, vols. (Utrecht: Spectrum, ). Ranke, Leopold von. “Vorrede.” In Geschichten der romanischen und germanischen Völker von bis (Leipzig: ). Robinson, James M. (ed.) The Coptic Gnostic Library: A Complete Edition of the Nag Hammadi Codices with English Translation, Introduction, and Notes, vols. (Leiden: Brill, ). (ed.) The Nag Hammadi Library in English (Leiden: Brill, ). Schaff, Philip. A History of the Christian Church, vols., th ed. (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, ). Schmid, Bernard. Manual of Patrology. Translated and revised by V. J. Schobel (St. Louis: Herder, ).
The History of Ancient Christian History Scholer, David M. Nag Hammadi Bibliography – (Leiden: Brill, ). Schott, Jeremy M. Eusebius of Caesarea, The History of the Church: A New Translation (Oakland: University of California Press, ). Siker, Jeffrey S. Liquid Scripture: The Bible in a Digital World (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Snyder, Graydon F. Ante Pacem: Archaeological Evidence of Church Life before Constantine, rev. ed. (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, ). Stinger, Charles L. Humanism and the Church Fathers: Ambrogio Traversari (–) and Christian Antiquity in the Italian Renaissance (Albany: State University of New York Press, ). Tabbernee, William. Early Christianity in Contexts: An Exploration across Cultures and Continents (Grand Rapids: Baker, ). Tombeur, Paul. “Corpus Christianorum, Thesaurus Patrum Latinorum, Instrumenta Lexicologica Latina.” Pages – in Corpus Christianorum –: Xenium natalicium. Fifty Years of Scholarly Editing. Edited by John Leemans and Luc Jocqué (Turnhout: Brepols, ). Turner, John D., and Anne McQuire (eds.) The Nag Hammadi Library after Fifty Years: Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Literature Commemoration (Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ). Verduin, Leonard (ed. and trans.) The Complete Writings of Menno Simmons (Scottsdale, PA: Herald Press, ). Vessey, Mark. “‘La patristique, c’est autre chose’: André Mandouze, Peter Brown, and the avocations of patristics as a philological science.” Pages – in Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies. Edited by Brouria BittonAshkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, ). Vinzent, Markus. Writing the History of Early Christianity: From Reception to Retrospection (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Williams, Michael A. Rethinking “Gnosticism”: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Yamauchi, Edwin M. “The Nag Hammadi Library,” Journal of Library History . (), –.
The Present and Future of Ancient Christian History .
The discipline of ancient Christian history is shifting, like tectonic plates with pressure building in some areas while new landscapes are emerging in others. The metaphor of “shifting frontiers” will be a familiar one to scholars in this field. The Society for Late Antiquity was formed in the wake of a conference entitled “Shifting Frontiers in Late Antiquity,” and it continues to sponsor biennial gatherings on this theme in various iterations. In the published proceedings from the first conference, the organizers credit the metaphor to Peter Brown’s statement from his book, The World of Late Antiquity. Brown called for renewed focus on “the shifting and redefinition of the boundaries of the classical world after .” Brown’s use of this imagery roughly coincided with a number of studies devoted to the Roman limes, wherein many of the standard categories like Romanitas and “barbarian” were being reconsidered. The Shifting Frontiers agenda thus grew to be about more than literal boundary markers on a map, but about “types of non-geographical frontiers, such as spiritual, religious, intellectual, psychological, mental, social, and cultural frontiers.” It would be fair to say, therefore, that much of what is considered historical study of ancient Christianity is not just undergoing shifts of interest, methodology, and commitments, but it is a discipline now focused on shifts themselves, on identifying instabilities and fluidities in prior categories, taxonomies, and assumptions. While this focus does Details of the conferences and the corresponding published proceedings can be found at the society’s webpage: https://lateantiquity.web.illinois.edu/. Ralph W. Mathisen and Hagith S. Sivan, “Introduction,” in Shifting Frontiers in Late Antiquity, ed. Ralph W. Mathisen and Hagith S. Sivan (Aldershot: VARIORUM/Ashgate Publishing, ), –, at , citing Brown, The World of Late Antiquity (London: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, ), . Mathisen and Sivan, “Introduction,” .
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represent an important trend in current studies of ancient Christianity, it should also be noted that studying ancient Christian history has always been a contested enterprise. In this essay I will situate the focus on a few recent “shifts” in the field of ancient Christian history by placing them into the broader patterns of historical trajectories. In so doing, the recent and current approaches to this field of study can be better appreciated and some suggestions for future directions in the field can be made.
What Is Ancient Christian History? It was once trendy to ask “What is Christianity?” This question usually involved a descriptive assessment of the earliest periods of Christian history, while at the same time consisting of a prescriptive agenda for the present and future practitioners of the faith. A famous example is Adolf von Harnack, who gave a series of lectures under this title at the University of Berlin (–). Harnack spoke extemporaneously, but one of the students transcribed Harnack’s lectures in shorthand and gifted them to the professor, who then had them published in the widely popular book, Das Wesen des Christentums. Therein, Harnack articulated his theory that the “kernel” of the Christian Gospel had to be extricated from the “husk” of Hellenistic dogma by way of careful historical analysis. This, to be sure, was more than objective scientific inquiry; Harnack understood his project as the logical conclusion of the Protestant agenda: an undermining of tradition by way of returning to the original Gospel. This view, unsurprisingly, met resistance. Although Harnack claimed to be carrying out an essentially Protestant agenda, Roman Catholics were not the only ones who objected to Harnack’s approach. Protestants and even those not committed to Christian faith and As surveyed in Chapter in the present volume. Much material covered in that chapter will be referenced here in abbreviated form. E.g., Philip Schaff, What Is Church History? A Vindication of the Idea of Historical Development (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott and Company, ). ET = What Is Christianity?, trans. T. Bailey Saunders (New York: Putnam and Sons, ). Harnack, What Is Christianity?, , “to grasp what is essential in the phenomena, and to distinguish kernel and husk.” And not all Roman Catholics did. Alfred Loisy (–), for example, was a Catholic priest who wrote in favor of Harnack’s basic premise. Loisy, however, disagreed with the conclusion that the church was an aberration from Jesus’ original intent, and he instead insisted that the church, while not foreseen by Jesus who preached the kingdom, was nevertheless the logical outcome of Jesus’ message in light of the delayed Parousia. See Loisy, L’Évangile et l’Église (Paris: Picard, ), , “Jésus annonçait le royaume et c’est l’Église qui est venue.”
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practice found Harnack’s claims unconvincing. One contemporary of Harnack, a Jewish scholar named Abraham Wolf, described Harnack’s view as not historical at all, but subjective: “he chiefly tells us what Christianity is to him, what he feels it to be . . . For there can be little doubt that the lectures throw considerably more light on the religion of Prof. Harnack than on historic Christianity.” This all begs a question, but it is a question different than, “What is Christianity?” or even, “What is ancient Christianity?” The pertinent question for our present purpose is, “What is ancient Christian history?” While Harnack thought he offered a scientifically objective approach, his critics believed he had done the opposite. This illustrates how the aims and methodologies used when studying ancient Christianity are as much an important matter to understand as the primary question of what happened. In recent decades it is trendy to question the traditional disciplinary boundaries of fields like New Testament studies, patristics, and medieval studies. In place of these balkanized disciplines, more permeable – and, arguably, less theologically driven – fields are emerging, such as “early Christian studies” and “late antiquity.” It is very much an open debate Even with this difference, for his support of Harnack, Loisy was excommunicated by the Vatican in . “Professor Harnack’s ‘What Is Christianity?’” Jewish Quarterly Review . (), –, at . More recently, the debate is no longer about the essence of Christianity per se, but about the invention of the term “Christian” and the construction of “Christianity” itself; cf. Matt JacksonMcCabe, Jewish Christianity: The Making of the Christianity–Judaism Divide (New Haven: Yale University Press, ); and J. N. Bremmer, “Ioudaismos, Christianismos and the parting of the ways,” in Jews and Christians: Parting Ways in the First Two Centuries .. ? Reflections on the Gains and Losses of a Model, ed. J. Schröter, B. A. Edsall, and J. Verheyden (BZNW ; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, ), –. See the argument and the compelling case studies examined by Markus Vinzent, Writing the History of Early Christianity: From Reception to Retrospection (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). E.g., Martin Hengel, “Tasks of New Testament scholarship,” Bulletin for Biblical Research (), –, calls for New Testament scholars to be more conversant in “Patristics.” Similarly, Markus Vinzent, “Marcion’s Gospel and the beginnings of early Christianity,” Annali di storia dell’esegesi .(), –, challenges the false boundary between “New Testament studies” and “church history.” Conversely, Christopher A. Beeley and Mark E. Weedman, “Introduction: The study of early Christian biblical interpretation,” in The Bible and Early Trinitarian Theology, ed. Christopher A. Beeley and Mark E. Weedman (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ), –, trace how modern “Patristics” is largely a history of ideas approach that then gave way to “Early Christian Reception of Scripture.” Cf. Andrea Giardina, “Esplosione di tardoantico,” Studi Storici (), –; Elizabeth A. Clark, “From patristics to early Christian studies,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
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about what is the content and scope of ancient Christian history as well as what is a valid historiography. At least to some extent, these debates have their roots in past centuries. Eusebius, for instance, could focus on a Christian “life” (e.g., Vita Constantini), but he could also claim to write for “the Church” at large (e.g., Historia ecclesiastica). Furthermore, he and other chroniclers had a penchant for privileging the stories of “Fathers,” or official teachers of the church, especially but not exclusively bishops. This can be seen in Jerome’s De viris illustribus (c.), later extended by Gennadius (c.), Isidore of Seville (c.), and other later writers. In other words, the tension between “early Christian studies” and “patristics” is one that extends back to ancient Christianity itself, even if few from that time would have seen the two as being in tension. Today, however, there are calls for a division of these approaches. Mark Vessey offers an interesting example in his paper marking the fiftieth anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies. He believes a watershed moment occurred in when his own Doktorvater, André Mandouze, delivered a paper at the third meeting of the International
), –; Wolfgang Liebeschuetz, “The birth of late antiquity,” Antiquité tardive (), –; many of the essays in Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (eds.) Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, ); the introduction and essays in Rita Lizzi Testa (ed.) Late Antiquity in Contemporary Debates (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, ); Scott McGill and Edward J. Watts (eds.) A Companion to Late Antique Literature (New York: WileyBlackwell, ); and Averil Cameron, “Patristics and late antiquity: Partners or rivals?” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. Cf. Charles Kannengiesser, “The future of patristics,” Theological Studies . (), –; Christoph Markschies, Kaiserzeitliche christliche Theologie und ihre Institutionen: Prolegomena zu einer Geschichte der antiken christlichen Theologie (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ; now translated in English: Christian Theology and Its Institutions in the Early Roman Empire: Prolegomena to a History of Early Christian Theology, trans. Wayne Coppins [Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ]). See Hubertus R. Drobner, The Fathers of the Church: A Comprehensive Guide, trans. Siegfried S. Schatzmann (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, [German orig. = ]), , on how “Father” was originally a designation only for bishops in the Christian church, not priests or deacons, but this began to change in the fifth century, when other clerics like Ephrem and Jerome would be cited as such. The conference met in Jerusalem in . See Vessey, “‘La patristique, c’est autre chose’: André Mandouze, Peter Brown, and the avocations of patristics as a philological science,” in Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies, ed. Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, ), –.
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Patristics Conference in Oxford. In Vessey’s reading of Mandouze’s argument, prior scholars had seen themselves more or less in the line of succession from the great teachers of the past. The example of Harnack above seems to bear this out: Harnack saw himself in the line of Luther, who was the successor to Augustine, who in turn was in line with Paul. For Mandouze, however, “patristics” should be “autre chose.” That is, something else, namely literary history. While such an argument is valid for modern scholars, there nevertheless remains the problem of how exactly to extricate oneself from the past. In other words, while Mandouze and/or Vessey may not see themselves as part of the same line of apostolic succession stemming back to ancient doctors of the faith, we do not want to risk erecting a new false boundary between the past and the present. The historiography of ancient Christianity has a long history, and present scholars belong to it just as much as they study it, as will be shown below. Vessey and Mandouze are not the only voices speaking about the secular shift in this field. When reflecting on another quinquagenary, Charles Kannengiesser wrote an essay entitled “Fifty Years of Patristics,” which reviewed scholarship in this field since World War II. Kannengiesser pointed to scholars who, in response to Europe’s fragmented and divided postwar state, appealed for “the humanistic” approach to ancient Christian history. It can be shown, however, that this impulse – which I will call the humanistic impulse – can actually be traced back much further in Christian history. Additionally, this alleged “shift” – which is in reality more of a trajectory with a very long arc – derives from other factors that have long been present in the history of studying ancient Christian history. And these factors, it should be noted, would widely be acknowledged as central identifying markers of ancient Christianity itself, such as the appeal to catholicity or universality. Once this more complex understanding of the
Published as Mandouze, “Mesure et démesure de la Patristique,” in Studia Patristica, vol. , ed. F. L. Cross (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, ), –. Mandouze himself may not be so straightforward. He was a Roman Catholic who dedicated his doctoral thesis at the Sorbonne to “Saint Augustin”; see André Mandouze, Saint Augustin: L’aventure de La Raison et de La Grâce (Paris: Études augustiniennes, ). Furthermore, his call for “scientific” approaches reflects credible academic language of his time, but his aims were still to uncover “le veritable Augustin”; see Thomas E. Hunt, “Imperial collapse and Christianization in patristic scholarship during the final decades of colonial Algeria,” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –, at –. “Fifty years of patristics,” Theological Studies . (), –. Kannengiesser, “Fifty years of patristics,” .
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various impulses in historiography of ancient Christianity is charted, it will be clear that the option of extricating contemporary scholarship from the line of predecessors is more complicated than it first appears. In what follows, the historiography of ancient Christianity will be revisited, not exhaustively, but so as to better situate current debates and trends. In fact, we will be very selective in our choice of examples, but they will help to illustrate how the humanistic impulse mentioned in the previous paragraph both has had a long past and also has been intertwined with other factors. To be clear, we are not attempting to resolve all the debates mentioned above about disciplinary boundaries and categories. Instead, we will assess the present and future state of the historiography of ancient Christianity in light of its own history, focusing on one point of tension that has been present virtually throughout Christian history. After doing so, we will return to the present and future state of the discipline, only more fully informed by past trajectories.
Reassessing the Historiography of Ancient Christianity In our previous essay surveying the developments of resources for ancient Christian history, we began at the beginning, in the ancient Christian sources themselves. In reassessing that material and its relevance for contemporary studies, let us begin somewhat in medias res, noting an early pattern that becomes more acute and adamant in the sources around the fifth century. Around Vincent of Lérins coined a helpful summary for Christians who in his day looked to the ancient sources for guidance. He insisted that the correct party was one that taught “that which is believed everywhere, always, and by all” (quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est). Notice that this phrase is often thought of as an ecumenical motto, focusing on the “everywhere” and “by all.” However, in its time such a focus would be an oxymoron because Vincent and his party were at odds with the so-called Nestorian party – so not “everyone” in terms of contemporaries. The emphasis for Vincent was in fact the “always” (semper), the claim to be
It should be noted that we are defining the scope of ancient Christian history as roughly the first three centuries, which includes the New Testament texts. However, even though much of what follows overlaps with New Testament studies, the following review is not devoted to New Testament studies per se. For a more focused study of this area, see William Baird, The History of New Testament Research, vols. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, –). Commonitorium . (CCSL :).
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able to draw on past Christian voices, beginning with the earliest and stemming until the antecedent generation, voices like Cyril of Alexandria. Vincent’s party could claim to be the true ecumenical or “catholic” party only because they believed their opponents had in fact strayed from what was taught “everywhere” and “always” and “by all” in the past. This past ecumenism could then be applied to the present sectarian divide. Parties like the “Nestorians” simply did not belong to the true church, to the catholicity of the faith. They were schismatic heretics not counted among the true body of believers. With that way of seeing their contemporaries, this Vincentian slogan can technically be seen as ecumenical. But it is an ecumenism or a catholicity not of the present, but one which gazes on the past. I will call this appeal to both the catholic axis and the tradition axis the ecumenical impulse. That is to say, the desire to show one’s interpretations as valid by appealing both to the widest, most truly catholic teaching, which includes the teachings found in the most ancient Christian sources of the tradition, is itself an ancient phenomenon. What is more, this impulse will be one that drives much of the study of ancient Christianity that is to come, which we will see in several instances below. Before moving to later examples and returning to the humanistic impulse mentioned above, it is worth reiterating that Vincent’s appeal is not new in substance. We do not need to trace the developments from early times wherein Christians often strived to operate as a united body, but suffice to say that appeals to unity and universality were frequent since the first century. In the early second century Ignatius of Antioch can employ the term “catholic” (καθολικὴ) with no need of explanation of its sense, and this notion will become a crucial demarcation for most writers who look back to these early sources, such as Justin, Irenaeus, and others. Of course, the reality was that these writers and their communities did not experience perfect harmony and unity, which is why Ignatius and others had to appeal for unity in the first place. Various factions and parties claimed to be the true heirs to the ancient Christian past, and so in recognition of this phenomenon contemporary scholars now focus on diversity among early Christians rather
The actual sources themselves belie a more complicated reality; see David E. Wilhite, The Gospel According to Heretics (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ), –. E.g., Cor. :–; Eph. :–; Mark :–; John :–; Clem. –. Smyrn. ..
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than accepting these ecumenical claims uncritically. Even so, among this diverse movement there was a common appeal to the shared past, the appeal to both the tradition axis and the catholic axis, or what I am calling the ecumenical impulse. This impulse needs to be seen in relation to the humanistic impulse, to which we can now return.
Contesting Ancient Christian History in Modernity During the Renaissance and early modern period, many scholars worked to produce texts and reconstruct history scientifically along the lines of what I have been calling the humanist impulse. This, however, was not new, for it had precedents in prior generations, such as Abelard’s insistence, in his Sic et non, on doing more than citing the “sentences” from the past. Instead, he insisted that a rationale must be given, especially when the supposed ecumenical sources disagreed. Later, this humanistic impulse will reappear in modern scholarship in other guises, which stands in contrast to those whose historical findings are predetermined by their ecclesial commitments. Of course, we cannot conceive of the humanistic impulse as a complete break with the ecumenical impulse. Humanists like Erasmus had their own ecclesial commitments, which is why Erasmus opposed the Reformation itself. Virtually all the Renaissance scholars were churchmen, but what set them apart in studying the past is that wherever possible they looked to the ancient sources themselves in an attempt to follow the evidence wherever it led. This point brings us to the debates from the Reformation. During the Reformation, whether the polemic was overt or not, when it came to studying ancient Christianity the Protestants’ agenda was clearly one of showing themselves as the true heirs to the ancient Christian past. Here again both the ecumenical and the humanistic impetus were factors in the debates, and the two drives were in fact closely connected. Most Protestants looked to ancient Christianity with what they believed to be a humanistic impulse, a pursuit of ancient truth unencumbered by ecclesiastical oversight. The irony here is that although they claimed objectivity, the Protestants instead offered their own biased readings of the sources. Similarly, the Reformers couched their retelling of history in terms of the ecumenical I.e., the approach championed by Walter Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity, ed. Robert A. Kraft and Gerhard Kroedel (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, [German orig. = ]).
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impulse, especially when understood as prioritizing the history axis (as noted above). The Protestants claimed to have the truly “catholic” or universal reading of Scripture as evidenced by the ancient Christian writings. The irony again is that the Protestants in fact sparked centuries of sectarian – in a sense anti-ecumenical – approaches to the study of ancient Christian sources. For example, in the work of Lutheran theologian Johannes Gerhard was published posthumously, entitled Patrologia sive de primitivae ecclesiae Christianae doctorum vita ac lucubrationibus. Gerhard claimed the Reformation was the proper retrieval of ancient Christianity, in effect making “Patrology” (a noun he coined) a form of sectarian apologetics for his day. Generations later, Harnack thought of himself as exemplifying Luther and Gerhard’s approach, and he offers an illuminating example of the tension at play in later Protestant historiography. While Harnack’s arguments in general do have ecclesial and clerical implications, it is also clear that he is drawing from modern theologians like Schleiermacher and Ritschl, and so his agenda entails another step away from sectarian and confessional agendas. Instead, he envisions what Gustav Krüger claimed around the same time for the study of ancient Christian history: it is one of literary history freed from dogmatic prejudices. That being said, Harnack did have a theological agenda, and his allegedly objective approach only further extended interand intra-ecclesial divisions. To illustrate the kinds of debates Harnack sparked, consider the work of the English scholar Henry Barclay Swete, whose interaction with Harnack offers several illuminating elements. In his The Apostles’ Creed in Relation to Primitive Christianity (), Swete first traced how the Church of England remained committed to the Apostles’ Creed from the time of Cranmer to his own present day, but he then attacks Harnack for his treatment of the creed. Harnack’s work had been translated into English with an introduction by
Johannes Quasten, Patrology, vols. (Utrecht: Spectrum, ), :, credits him with coining the term “Patrology.” The term would later shift to mean the study of early Christian texts; see Michel Fédou, The Fathers of the Church in Christian Theology, trans. Peggy Manning Meyer (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, [orig. Les Pères de l’Église et la théologie chrétienne, ]), –. Krüger, “Patristik,” in Realencyklopädia für protestantische Theologie und Kirche, vols. (Hamburg, ), :–. E.g., see the assessment of Harnack’s reading of Marcion in Sebastian Moll, The Arch-Heretic Marcion (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), esp. –. Founder of Journal of Theological Studies (–). His Patristic Study () was also very influential among English readers.
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Mary Augusta Ward, the same “Mrs. Humphry Ward” (as Swete calls her) who wrote several entries for Henry Wace and William Smith’s widely used Dictionary of Christian Biography (–). She also championed the admission of women to Oxford, serving as the founding secretary of Somerville College’s council. As for Harnack, he had rejected the doctrinal authority of the creed, finding “novel” content in the creed compared with the old Roman symbol. In reaction Swete saw variations in the ancient symbols as merely amplifications and not deviations, and he insisted that this creed in particular and not an allusive and allegedly older form of it should be the doctrinal standard for ordination. In short, Harnack did embrace the humanistic impulse, and yet he also had theological agendas for which he appealed to the ecumenical impulse as well. Harnack’s time was also the era when the series of reliable critical editions were becoming available. These certainly represent the humanistic impulse in the sense of offering the ancient sources themselves regardless of doctrinal commitments. That having been said, many of the scholars who produced these texts did in fact have strong ecclesial commitments and motivations. For example, the production of the eighty volumes of the BKV series between and was directed by Franz Xaver Reithmayr and Valentin Thalhofer, both biblical scholars on the Catholic Theological Faculty in Munich. Each opposed decisions made at Vatican I, and so for Reithmayer and Thalhofer the “Fathers” are already seen as sources for internal education and reform. Similarly, with the BKV the scholarly reputations of Otto Bardenhewer, Theodor Schermann, and Carl Weyman gave this final series more credence as an act of scientific objectivity. Nevertheless, it is difficult to imagine that the availability of ancient Christian texts in a modern language did not belong to or at least foster the spirit of aggiornamento within the Catholic Church that would eventually be exhibited at Vatican II. This is certainly the case for the founders of the SC series. It is true, as Kannengiesser and others cited above claim, that Henri-Irénée Marrou would call for more literary historians to join the work, invoking the humanistic impulse. And yet the founding editors were Henri de Lubac,
“The Apostles’ Creed, by Professor Harnack,” Nineteenth Century (July ). See discussion in Gabriel Flynn, “Theological renewal in the first half of the twentieth century,” in The Cambridge Companion to Vatican II, ed. Richard R. Gaillardetz (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. See Marrou, Patristique et humanisme: Mélanges par H.-I. Marrou (Patristica Sorbonensia ; Paris: Éditions du Seuil, ), –.
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Jean Daniélou, and Claude Mondéseret, and their “nouvelle théologie” and desire for “ressourcement” were clearly motivating factors for their work. In short, these humanistic efforts were driven by or at least interlaced with ecumenical interests. The collection of texts most epitomizing a real “shift” to a strictly humanistic approach is the Nag Hammadi collection discovered in and published in full in . The Bauerian shift from the categories of orthodoxy and heresy to that of diversity obviously reflects a commitment to read these and other ancient sources more objectively and scientifically. These texts are more analogous to the approach of classicists when reading ancient philosophers: no one truly belongs to the “school” of thought espoused by these ancient texts. More will be said on classics and the humanistic claims to objectivity below. The rise of specialized journals also further enabled such approaches, since the blind peer-review process epitomized in top journals prevented scholars from publishing sectarian and confessional opinions in the guise of academic research, as was the case seen above with early modern scholarship. Even here, however, we must be cautious and not claim too much about what the humanistic impulse has accomplished. The recent debacle at Harvard Theological Review involving the so-called Gospel of Jesus’ Wife is an important reminder that even peer-review processes can become subjective. Furthermore, in the future, the trend toward the use of digital humanities will offer new challenges. Online formatting may make most academic publications printed in traditional forms obsolete in a matter of years, especially since there are universities taking the lead in exploring the
See details in Étienne Fouilloux, La collection ‘Sources Chrétiennes’: Éditer les Pères de l’église au XXe siècle (Paris: Le Cerf, ); and further discussion in Jean-Noël Guinot, “Éditer et traduire les écrits des pères dans Sources Chrétiennes: Regard sur soixante-dix ans d’activité éditoriale,” in Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies, ed. Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, ), –. The Facsimile Edition of the Nag Hammadi Codices, vols. (Leiden: Brill, –); and James M. Robinson, The Nag Hammadi Library in English (Leiden: Brill, [cf. th ed., ]) See n. above. The event was covered in full by Ariel Sabar, Veritas: A Harvard Professor, a Con Man and the Gospel of Jesus’s Wife (New York: Doubleday, ); and see Sabar, “A scholarly screw-up of biblical proportions: ‘Harvard Theological Review’ offers an exemplary guide on how not to do peer review,” Chronicle of Higher Education ( June ), available online at www.chronicle .com/article/a-scholarly-screw-up-of-biblical-proportions.
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intersection of traditional theological subjects and digital humanities. In other words, not only are the printed media facing competition, but academics’ expertise itself is in jeopardy, since those who refrain from digital media will likely be sidestepped by the public who can access alternative academic resources online. In the world of social media, podcasts, and YouTube channels, the notion of peer review may become little more than “likes” and “dislikes.” Of course, these kinds of popular-vs.-academic questions have existed for some time before the Internet, given the spectrum of publishing houses ranging from university to for-profit trade presses. Even so, these matters will become more acute and immediate in the digital sphere. The most important indicator that the humanistic impulse is still not a clean break with the past is in the need for scholars of ancient Christian history to take the “linguistic turn.” It is to this point that we can now direct our attention and see how the past continues to shape the present and the future in this field of research.
Ancient Christian History without Borders In looking back over the history of ancient Christian history, several observations can be made. Of course, we cannot cover the numerous topics that have been trending in recent studies; those will largely be addressed in the essays that follow in the volume. What will be offered in this final section of the present essay are a few observations about the current state of this field in light of the past and some considerations for its future. In looking back over the long history of looking back to ancient history, it is remarkable to realize that only in the post-WWII era has a real opportunity emerged to study the early Christians in historically sound ways. In a sense, the discipline of writing the history of ancient Christianity is only just dawning. That is to say, the basic data (the critical editions of ancient texts, proper catalogues of inscriptions, etc.) and the necessary tools (lexicons, prosopographies, etc.) were not even available until very recently. This does not mean that prior scholarship should not be appreciated. As each generation has built on the previous one’s work, much progress has been made, and the findings and insights of earlier scholars still have much to offer today.
E.g., The Centre for Digital Theology at the University of Durham (www.dur.ac.uk/ digitaltheology/).
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The need to respond to recent developments in scholarship should not preclude conversations with previous generations. It does mean that as scholars continue to place prior studies in conversation with present and future research they will need to do so circumspectly. Even so, there should not be, and arguably cannot be, a clean break with the past. There is no firm border wall between past and present when it comes to this discipline. This brings us to a few other points about how ancient Christian history can be approached, in a sense “without borders.” First, current and future scholarship will need to ensure that there is no false barrier between the study of antiquity in general and Christian history in particular. As with contemporary academics in general, ancient Christian history scholars must specialize, but such specialization risks studying the sources with too narrow a lens. Ancient Christian sources must be set in their historical context, just as late antiquity scholars cannot ignore the Christian movement that defined so much of the extant sources from late antiquity. Predecessors in this tradition remind us that there should not be a separation between ancient Christian history and ancient history. For example, in addition to his Bibliotheca ecclesiastica (), Johann Albert Fabricius famously compiled his Bibliotheca Latina (begun in ) and Bibliotheca Graeca (–). Likewise, in addition to his Mémoires Louis-Sébastien Le Nain de Tillemont also wrote Histoire des empereurs et autres princes qui ont régné pendant les six premiers siècles de l’Église, vols. (–). Some of the giants in the field of ancient Christian history had their roots and training in philology. Friedrich Schleiermacher (–), who famously (or, to some, infamously) redefined Christianity’s origins and essence, first translated Plato’s works into German and thereby established the modern historical study of that philosopher. Theodor Mommsen, who along with Harnack established the GCS series, was a famous Roman historian who served as the founding editor of the Corpus Inscriptionum
Kannengiesser, “Fifty years of patristics,” , called for greater interaction between ancient history scholars and “Patristic” scholars. Also, see Cameron, “Patristics and late antiquity,” –. The influence of Peter Brown on contemporary scholars cannot be overstated here; see Clark, “From patristics to early Christian studies,” –; and Liebeschuetz, “The birth of late antiquity,” –. Catherine Conybeare and Simon Goldhill, “Philology’s shadow,” in Classical Philology and Theology: Entanglement, Disavowal, and the Godlike Scholar, ed. Catherine Conybeare and Simon Goldhill (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. André Laks, “Schleiermacher on Plato: From form (Introduction to Plato’s Works) to content (Outlines of a Critique of Previous Ethical Theory),” in Brill’s Companion to German Platonism, ed. Alan Kim (Brill’s Companions to Philosophy ; Leiden: Brill, ), –.
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Latinarum series (). This kind of example led Harnack to deny any ongoing divide between ancient Christian history and the secular study of antiquity: “the fence that previously separated the field of church history from the field of general history has been torn down.” Likewise, Franz Joseph Dölger’s Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum clearly saw no methodological divide in the study of both antiquity and early Christianity, as his title unapologetically declares. Admittedly, those who do overcome this divide tend to be driven by what has been identified here as the humanist impetus, and they tend to be historians, not patristic scholars or church historians per se. For example, the CSEL project was first led by Johannes Vahlen, who was a philologist focused on pre-Christian classical sources. This raises the question as to what kind of specialist in ancient Christian history can and will attain proficiency in ancient history in general. A similar question arises in relation to the aforementioned border that has often been found between New Testament studies and “early Christian studies” or “patristics.” This too is a false barrier sometimes erected because of theological commitments regarding sacred texts, but other times is simply a border never crossed by scholars who have not left the comfort of their fields of expertise. Laments over divides between New Testament and patristic studies appear to be both valid and unavoidable, since graduate education in most of the world creates these disciplinary boundaries for future generations of scholars. And yet the history of these disciplines shows that the dividing wall need not always exist. The early modern distinction between theologia biblica and theologia patristica was simply that, a distinction, not a divorce. For example, instead of seeing ancient Christian sources as segmented off from New Testament texts, Ángel Herrera Oria and his team made the Bible (in Spanish) the first volume of the BAC series in . Alternatively, it must be admitted that most scholars of previous centuries who drew on these diverse fields of inquiry did so because of their ecclesial
Also, see Mommsen, Römische Geschichte, vols. (–; vol. “” was published in , and vol. was only reconstructed and published in ). Cited in Markschies, Christian Theology, xvii n. . Noted by Vinzent, Writing the History of Early Christianity, . The series was published in order to help differentiate classical and ecclesiastical Latin for the Thesaurus Linguae Latinae, according to the series website: http://csel.sbg.ac.at/en/profil/ geschichte/. See discussion in Vinzent, “Marcion’s Gospel and the beginnings of early Christianity,” –. Hengel, “Tasks of New Testament scholarship,” –.
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and theological interests. In their attempt to prove their own sectarian position correct, they looked ad fontes, whether these sources were biblical, patristic, philosophical, or otherwise. As the field of ancient Christian studies has increasingly shifted to a strictly historical endeavor, it is unclear how much expertise scholars should be expected to have in earlier and later historical periods. Polymaths will likely only be found among the theologians. This point led Kannengiesser to fault “Patristics” for losing a “theological agenda.” In other words, without the ecumenical impulse it is unclear what kind of scholar will achieve expertise across what have become disciplinary lines. Furthermore, to return to the false divide between antiquity and Christian antiquity, it turns out that the discipline of classics was initially and frequently intertwined with the efforts of theology. Or as Constanze Güthenke puts it, “the seminar and the seminary” were always closely connected. Numerous other examples could be listed of what appears to be strict historical appeal that in fact served ecumenical purposes. Dekker almost dedicated his Clavis to Pope Pius XII, but he feared this too presumptuous.51 Markus Vinzent makes similar observations on this point, such as the efforts of Pope John XXIII, whom he quotes as claiming “the modern renaissance of patristic studies . . . was opening the way to reconciliation.” Vinzent also notes how the founders of the RAC were Catholic professors at Bonn but they nevertheless insisted on contributors being ecumenical and nonsectarian in their approach. Along these same lines, Averil Cameron warns of the pitfalls of neglecting the interrelated sources of classics and Christian history: early modern historians who attempted to exclude Christian sources wrongly described a “decline” model of Rome’s history. Therefore, on the
E.g., Johann Fecht (–) wrote on biblical, historical, and philosophical sources. Similarly, the founding directors of the BKV, Franz Xaver Reithmayr (–) and Valentin Thalhofer (–), were both biblical scholars at the University of Munich, as was Otto Bardenhewer (–), who updated Alzog’s Patrologie and wrote the fivevolume Geschichte der altkirchlichen Literatur (–) and served as editor of the BKV. Kannengiesser, “Fifty years of patristics,” . “Philology’s roommate: Hermeneutics, antiquity, and the seminar,” in Classical Philology and Theology: Entanglement, Disavowal, and the Godlike Scholar, ed. Catherine Conybeare and Simon Goldhill (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at . He dedicated it to Cardinal Giovanni Mercati instead; see Mathijs Lamberigts, “Corpus Christianorum (–): The laborious journey from dream to reality,” Sacris erudiri (–), –, at . Writing the History of Early Christianity, –. Writing the History of Early Christianity, –. “Patristics and late antiquity,” –.
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one hand, much progress was made in making the study of ancient Christian history more objective and methodologically sound, but on the other hand this did not come about because of or for the purpose of a strictly secular approach. Such an approach, in fact, turns out to be impossible. On this matter, let us turn to the question about how objective the current state of ancient Christian historical study can claim to be. An important point to be noted about the humanist impulse in studies of ancient Christian history is how bias and subjectivity remain. In fact, the attempt of modern historians to attain objectivity, while laudable, failed abysmally. This can be documented on many levels. At the level of claims about scientific methods surpassing sectarian agendas, there remains an often unacknowledged “theological” bias even among allegedly secular historians. As Christoph Markschies has recently stated, the dominance of new models, such as Bauer’s notion of “diversity,” is not a replacement of past theologically driven historiography with a scientific objectivity. Instead, it replaces classical orthodoxy with what he calls liberal theology: . . . it has also become clear through our analysis of Bauer that such a construction, once it is first deconstructed, cannot be suddenly replaced by the “naked truth” or “pure reality” of irrevocable plurality. Rather, in his reconstruction of history, Bauer actually only replaced one theological frame of reference (orthodox ecclesiastical theology) with another (the frame of reference of liberal theology). Here too the positivistic illusion that beyond the ideologically colored models of historical developments one can set forth an absolute model that is free from ideology and a priori conforms to reality is falsified in the carrying out of the model formation. The attempt to make room for a “purely historical” model through the deconstruction of classical, theologically profiled models fails because it must fail.
Conybeare and Goldhill, “Philology’s shadow,” : “Like so many modern disciplines, classics, in the name of objectivity, science and scholarship, has repeatedly defined itself in opposition to faith based or confessional apology.” Christian Theology, . One could add that Bauer’s Protestantism still entails a bias against the “Roman” church: e.g., his statement, “It seems to me, therefore, that Rome takes action not when it is overflowing with love or when the great concerns of the faith are really in jeopardy, but when there is at least opportunity of enlarging its own sphere of influence” (Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy, –).
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Clearly, Markschies is not calling for a return to a strict history of dogma supervised by the magisterium or confessional synod. Instead, he rightly identifies what are often implicit ideological agendas that need to be acknowledged. With regard to the humanistic impulse, we should remember that the classics were taught not simply for the sake of transmission of knowledge, as if pure objective knowledge were an end in itself. Instead, the Romanticism inherent in classics departments of modern universities set up courses so that future leaders of society would be better ethical agents. Therefore, the humanistic impulse carried its own ideological agenda, and its specific contours and moods very much were shaped by those who taught it. To take this point further, the humanistic impulse is itself derived from prior Christian commitments, and it is even tied to the ecumenical impulse. We have already shown instances above where these two were held in tension or somehow intertwined. It should also be acknowledged that the “catholic” claim was exactly that, a universalist claim. That is to say that what the ancient Christians like Justin found in Christ was claimed to be the universal truth known to all who pursued knowledge, whether it was Moses or Plato. Modern humanists may have thought differently about the content and nature of their truth, but they nevertheless believed it was universally available, just as the ancients had claimed about their Logos. Whether it is the Platonic soul or the Enlightenment ego, the claim to see what every “man” sees is a recurring one in the historiography of ancient Christianity. In short the humanistic and the ecumenical impulses have in a sense long been two sides of the same coin, or rather two extensions of the same commitment. Even so, the way these have been framed brings us to our next point about the lack of objectivity even when the humanistic impulse is salient among Christian historians of antiquity. Another level to consider is how the humanities have in fact defined “human” in an androcentric way. As with other disciplines, the work of feminist scholars has provided a much needed (and still needed!) correction
See Conybeare and Goldhill, “Philology’s shadow,” , for bibliography and discussion of how the standard history of the sciences replacing theology’s subjectivity with objectivity has been debunked. Güthenke, “Philology’s roommate,” . Güthenke, “Philology’s roommate,” .
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in early Christian studies. Elizabeth Clark in particular deserves credit because she has inspired numerous studies and students in this area. In her work entitled Women in the Early Church (which ironically is the thirteenth volume in the Message of the Fathers of the Church series) she calls for a shift to “social” and “cultural history.” Clark presses the discipline in this direction because for so long the study of ancient Christian history entailed a history of ideas and a reception of Christian Scripture, which neglected issues related to women. While exceptions can be found, Clark’s point is valid. She uses the subheading “Social Justice” to describe interests that emerged from outside of patristics studies that were influential in shaping new approaches, which include studies devoted to the topics of women, gender, sexuality, postcolonialism, and power. This represents the “Linguistic” and “Cultural Turn” common to many fields of research in the late twentieth century. While it may be that such a turn could somehow turn too far, the benefits of expanding the scope of ancient Christian history cannot be denied.
Most notably Rosemary Radford Ruether and Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza. See especially Radford Ruether (ed.) Women of Spirit: Female Leadership in the Jewish and Christian Traditions (New York: Simon and Schuster, ); and Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins (New York: Crossroad, ). Many other works and scholars deserve mention; for further bibliography, see Lynn H. Cohick and Amy Brown Hughes, Christian Women in the Patristic World: Their Influence, Authority, and Legacy in the Second through Fifth Centuries (Grand Rapids: Baker, ); Kaisa-Maria Pihlava, Forgotten Women Leaders: The Authority of Women Hosts of Early Christian Gatherings in the First and Second Centuries .. (Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, ); and Susan E. Hylen, Women in the New Testament World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). E.g., Dale B. Martin and Patricia Cox Miller, The Cultural Turn in Late Ancient Studies: Gender, Asceticism, and Historiography (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, ), is devoted to Clark. Women in the Early Church (Message of the Fathers of the Church ; Wilmington, DE: M. Glazier, ), quote from . E.g., James Donaldson, Woman: Her Position and Influence in Ancient Greece and Rome, and among the Early Christians (Whitefish, MT: Kessinger Publishing, ), and Thomas B. Allworthy, Women in the Apostolic Church: A Critical Study of the Evidence in the New Testament for the Prominence of Women in Early Christianity (Cambridge: W. Heffer and Sons, ). Women in the Early Church, –. Clark, History, Theory, Text: Historians and the Linguistic Turn (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Averil Cameron fears that social and cultural history risks reverting to the secular approach where Christian sources are not only decentered but are excluded. For much of the surviving sources from late antiquity, “Theology mattered greatly, and the big questions about Christianization or about religion as agency go well beyond cultural history.” See Cameron, “Patristics and late antiquity,” . It should be noted, however, that Cameron is not opposed to the shift to including “cultural history” in the study of “late antiquity”; see her positive assessment of Peter Brown in Cameron, The Mediterranean World in Late Antiquity: – (London: Routledge, ), ix.
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Another level wherein ancient Christian history turns out to be anything but objective is in its Eurocentrism. In , when assessing the advances made in “Fifty Years” of the mid-twentieth century, Kannengiesser lamented that “It [patristics] was still quintessentially European in its motivation and in its achievements.” With hope for improvement, he then adds, “What lies ahead is the study of the Christian identity outside the boundaries of a Eurocentered classical Christianity.” Writing a quarter century later, Martin Wallraff had to concede that not much progress had been made in this area. He noted how the “Fathers” have been seen as fathering “European culture” as much as church culture. Even in Europe, most scholars have not connected with Eastern European scholarship and Eastern Orthodox sources. The emerging scholarship on texts in Coptic, Syriac, Ethiopic, to name a few examples, has helped in this area, but much more work is needed. Scholarship from outside of North Atlantic academies has been slow to emerge, but there are signs of positive change. For instance, the Western Pacific Rim Patristics Society was founded in , first meeting in Tokyo. Brill recently began a series entitled Patristic Studies in Global Perspective, and the first volume is now in print. One wonders if the Internet will be the printing press of this era, and whether the digital humanities will be to the twenty-first century what the critical editions of ancient texts were to the
Kannengiesser, “Fifty years of patristics,” . Kannengiesser, “Fifty years of patristics,” . “Whose Fathers? An overview of patristic studies in Europe,” in Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies, ed. Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, ), –, at , citing Marrou’s opening lecture of the first Oxford Conference on Patristic Studies for stating that patristics is a form of classical humanism, which postwar Europe needs. Cf. Marrou, “Patristique et humanisme,’ in Patristique et humanisme, –. “Whose Fathers?” . Also see Marcin R. Wysocki, “Between Western and Eastern traditions: Polish patristic studies after World War II,” in Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies, ed. Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, ), –. Some of these resources were discussed in Chapter in the present volume. Its name was changed to the Asia-Pacific Early Christian Studies Society in ; see https:// apecss.wixsite.com/apecss/about. Junghun Bae, John Chrysostom: On Almsgiving and the Therapy of the Soul (Patristic Studies in Global Perspective ; Leiden: Brill, ).
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twentieth. If so, then there may be hope for the study of ancient Christian history to grow beyond the borders of “the West.” To do so, however, another level of bias needs to be acknowledged. Even if ethnic and geographic demographics were not issues of concern, there would still be a significant lack of objectivity in terms of class status among scholars of ancient Christian history. The prior discussion about the advances of many of the digital humanities too often included caveats about the resources only being available via subscription. It is, to say the least, debatable whether such fees are necessary evils or whether open-source technology is a viable path forward. Here again examples from past scholarship may be both inspiring and telling. Swete’s Patristic Greek Lexicon can be lauded for enlisting over eighty collaborators, and yet its publication was delayed for decades because of a lack of funding. Even so, collaboration and forms of “crowdsourcing” have always been part of academia, and the humanistic impulse present in much historical research into ancient Christianity ideally trumped any concerns about marketability. For example, when Elgius Dekkers started the CCSL in , Richard Meister, the head of the Kirchenväter-Kommission, which supervised the CSEL series in Vienna, granted permission for Dekkers to use copyrighted editions in the new series where appropriate. Of course, how to fund and retain quality control in open-source technology is still a matter of concern for many academics. No easy solutions present themselves at present, but if the study of ancient Christian history is to continue to strive for an objective approach, one that is not limited to elites with access to costly resources, then the guild must address the matter. When ancient Christian history was housed exclusively in ecclesiastical settings, simony was more easily identified. Whether such sins can be charged against historians in the halls of academia is a more complicated matter. Finally, this discussion of objectivity must end on a very subjective and even personal note. It should be acknowledged that the preceding assessment of the various levels of ongoing bias in our field has been written by someone
See Rajiv S. Jhangiani and Robert Biswas-Diener (eds.) Open: The Philosophy and Practices That Are Revolutionizing Education and Science (London: Ubiquity Press, ), available online at www.ubiquitypress.com/site/books/e/./bbc/. Lamberigts, “Corpus Christianorum,” –.
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who quintessentially embodies all of them. I, the author, am a white male of privileged class, of European descent, who has both a confessional background and tenure at a research university. What is more, I get to publish a non-peer-reviewed essay in a volume I co-edited for a university press at the center of what has too often been a force of western hegemony. In the introduction to this essay, I cited the call made by Mandouze (as read by Vessey) for contemporary scholars to extricate themselves from the line of succession going back to “the Fathers.” I, and I suspect many others, will have a difficult time doing so, given that we are all in some sense a product of our discipline. Even so, we all are also ethical agents in our field. Surely, progress can be made in this area. Given the difficulties of extricating many of today’s scholars fully from the past and its problems, where does the study of ancient Christian history go from here? Two items may prove salutary for the future of our discipline. First, if the community of those studying ancient Christian history can continue to grow and broaden, then perhaps one’s individual background and context can at least be put into dialogue with that of others from various perspectives. After all, a perspectiveless perspective is impossible, and so one’s prior commitments and biases themselves do not preclude one from offering insights on ancient Christian history, so long as one is willing to listen to and engage with the insights offered by those with different prior commitments. Second, the sources from Christian antiquity themselves may in fact continue to offer resources that inspire improvements in our field. After all, a much larger question remains as to why anyone would study any history. At least in our field, despite the obvious problems of the past, we can also acknowledge and honor the advances made in the pre-enlightened world by ancient Christians. Many early Christians believed they had a mission to transcend all borders with their message and lifestyle. Much like this ecumenical and humanistic ethos found in ancient Christianity itself, if the future of ancient Christian history can be one that is without borders, it will be the better for it. In sum, given the past and current state of research in ancient Christianity, the future is full of potential. Various methodologies and subjects are welcome in today’s journals and presses. The apparent borders of our field are open, and interdisciplinary work is highly encouraged in the guild. If the history of the history of ancient Christianity is any indication of its future, then future research in ancient Christian history will be productive and of much value.
The Present and Future of Ancient Christian History
Select Bibliography Allworthy, Thomas B. Women in the Apostolic Church: A Critical Study of the Evidence in the New Testament for the Prominence of Women in Early Christianity (Cambridge: W. Heffer and Sons, ). Bae, Junghun. John Chrysostom: On Almsgiving and the Therapy of the Soul (Patristic Studies in Global Perspective ; Leiden: Brill, ). Baird, William. The History of New Testament Research, vols. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, –). Bauer, Walter. Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity. Edited by Robert A. Kraft and Gerhard Kroedel (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, [German orig. = ]). Beeley, Christopher A. and Mark E. Weedman. “Introduction: The study of early Christian biblical interpretation.” Pages – in The Bible and Early Trinitarian Theology. Edited by Christopher A. Beeley and Mark E. Weedman (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). Bitton-Ashkelony, Brouria, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (eds.) Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, ). Bremmer, J. N. “Ioudaismos, Christianismos and the parting of the ways.” Pages – in Jews and Christians: Parting Ways in the First Two Centuries c.e.? Reflections on the Gains and Losses of a Model. Edited by J. Schröter, B. A. Edsall, and J. Verheyden (BZNW ; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, ). Brown, Peter. The World of Late Antiquity (London: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, ). Cameron, Averil. The Mediterranean World in Late Antiquity: ad – (London: Routledge, ). “Patristics and late antiquity: Partners or rivals?” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. Clark, Elizabeth A. “From patristics to early Christian studies.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies. Edited by Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). History, Theory, Text: Historians and the Linguistic Turn (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Women in the Early Church (Message of the Fathers of the Church ; Wilmington, DE: M. Glazier, ). Cohick, Lynn H., and Amy Brown Hughes. Christian Women in the Patristic World: Their Influence, Authority, and Legacy in the Second through Fifth Centuries (Grand Rapids: Baker, ). Conybeare, Catherine, and Simon Goldhill. “Philology’s shadow.” Pages – in Classical Philology and Theology: Entanglement, Disavowal, and the Godlike Scholar. Edited by Catherine Conybeare and Simon Goldhill (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Donaldson, James. Woman: Her Position and Influence in Ancient Greece and Rome, and among the Early Christians (Whitefish, MT: Kessinger Publishing, ).
. Drobner, Hubertus R. The Fathers of the Church: A Comprehensive Guide. Translated by Siegfried S. Schatzmann (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, [German orig. = ]). The Facsimile Edition of the Nag Hammadi Codices, vols. (Leiden: Brill, –). Fédou, Michel. The Fathers of the Church in Christian Theology. Translated by Peggy Manning Meyer (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, [orig. Les Pères de l’Église et la théologie chrétienne, ]). Fiorenza, Elizabeth Schüssler. In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins (New York: Crossroad, ). Flynn, Gabriel. “Theological renewal in the first half of the twentieth century.” Pages – in The Cambridge Companion to Vatican II. Edited by Richard R. Gaillardetz (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Fouilloux, Étienne. La collection ‘Sources Chrétiennes’: Éditer les Pères de l’église au XXe siècle (Paris: Le Cerf, ). Giardina, Andrea. “Esplosione di tardoantico,” Studi Storici (), –. Guinot, Jean-Noël. “Éditer et traduire les écrits des pères dans Sources Chrétiennes: Regard sur soixante-dix ans d’activité éditoriale.” Pages – in Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies. Edited by Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, ). Güthenke, Constanze. “Philology’s roommate: Hermeneutics, antiquity, and the seminar.” Pages – in Classical Philology and Theology: Entanglement, Disavowal, and the Godlike Scholar. Edited by Catherine Conybeare and Simon Goldhill (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Harnack, Adolf von. What Is Christianity? Translated by T. Bailey Saunders (New York: Putnam and Sons, ). Hengel, Martin. “Tasks of New Testament scholarship,” Bulletin for Biblical Research (), –. Hunt, Thomas E. “Imperial collapse and Christianization in patristic scholarship during the final decades of colonial Algeria,” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. Hylen, Susan E. Women in the New Testament World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Jackson-McCabe, Matt. Jewish Christianity: The Making of the Christianity–Judaism Divide (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Jhangiani, Rajiv S., and Robert Biswas-Diener (eds.) Open: The Philosophy and Practices That Are Revolutionizing Education and Science (London: Ubiquity Press, ). Kannengiesser, Charles. “Fifty years of patristics,” Theological Studies . (), –. “The future of patristics,” Theological Studies . (), –. Krüger, Gustav. “Patristik,” in Realencyklopädia für protestantische Theologie und Kirche, vols. (Hamburg, ), :–. Laks, André. “Schleiermacher on Plato: From form (Introduction to Plato’s Works) to content (Outlines of a Critique of Previous Ethical Theory).” Pages – in Brill’s
The Present and Future of Ancient Christian History Companion to German Platonism. Edited by Alan Kim (Brill’s Companions to Philosophy ; Leiden: Brill, ). Lamberigts, Mathijs. “Corpus Christianorum (–): The laborious journey from dream to reality,” Sacris erudiri (–), –. Liebeschuetz, Wolfgang. “The birth of late antiquity,” Antiquité tardive (), –. Loisy, Alfred. L’Évangile et l’Église (Paris: Picard, ). Mandouze, André. “Mesure et démesure de la Patristique.” Pages – in vol. of Studia Patristica, ed. F. L. Cross (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, ). Saint Augustin: L’aventure de La Raison et de La Grâce (Paris: Études augustiniennes, ). Markschies, Christoph. Kaiserzeitliche christliche Theologie und ihre Institutionen: Prolegomena zu einer Geschichte der antiken christlichen Theologie (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ; ET: Christian Theology and Its Institutions in the Early Roman Empire: Prolegomena to a History of Early Christian Theology. Translated by Wayne Coppins [Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ]). Marrou, Henri-Irénée. Patristique et humanisme: Mélanges par H.-I. Marrou (Patristica Sorbonensia ; Paris: Éditions du Seuil, ). Martin, Dale B., and Patricia Cox Miller. The Cultural Turn in Late Ancient Studies: Gender, Asceticism, and Historiography (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, ). Mathisen, Ralph W., and Hagith S. Sivan. “Introduction.” Pages – in Shifting Frontiers in Late Antiquity. Edited by Ralph W. Mathisen and Hagith S. Sivan (Aldershot: VARIORUM/Ashgate Publishing, ). McGill, Scott, and Edward J. Watts (eds.) A Companion to Late Antique Literature (New York: Wiley-Blackwell, ). Moll, Sebastian. The Arch-Heretic Marcion (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Pihlava, Kaisa-Maria. Forgotten Women Leaders: The Authority of Women Hosts of Early Christian Gatherings in the First and Second Centuries c.e. (Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, ). Quasten, Johannes. Patrology, vols. (Utrecht: Spectrum, ). Robinson, James M. The Nag Hammadi Library in English (Leiden: Brill, [th ed., ]). Ruether, Rosemary Radford (ed.) Women of Spirit: Female Leadership in the Jewish and Christian Traditions (New York: Simon and Schuster, ). Sabar, Ariel. Veritas: A Harvard Professor, a Con Man and the Gospel of Jesus’s Wife (New York: Doubleday, ). Schaff, Philip. What Is Church History? A Vindication of the Idea of Historical Development (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott and Company, ). Testa, Rita Lizzi (ed.) Late Antiquity in Contemporary Debates (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, ). Vessey, Mark. “‘La patristique, c’est autre chose’: André Mandouze, Peter Brown, and the avocations of patristics as a philological science.” Pages – in Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies. Edited by Brouria BittonAshkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, ).
. Vinzent, Markus. “Marcion’s Gospel and the beginnings of early Christianity,” Annali di storia dell’esegesi . (), –. Writing the History of Early Christianity: From Reception to Retrospection (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Wallraff, Martin. “Whose Fathers? An overview of patristic studies in Europe.” Pages – in Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies. Edited by Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, ). Wilhite, David E. The Gospel According to Heretics (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). Wolf, Abraham. “Professor Harnack’s ‘What Is Christianity?’” Jewish Quarterly Review . (), –. Wysocki, Marcin R. “Between Western and Eastern traditions: Polish patristic studies after World War II.” Pages – in Patristic Studies in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of an International Conference to Mark the th Anniversary of the International Association of Patristic Studies. Edited by Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony, Theodore de Bruyn, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, ).
Depicting the Other in Early Christian Polemic Christian Rhetoric and Identity in the Early Heresiologists The same man [Hegesippus] also sets out the origins of the contemporary heresies as follows: After the martyrdom of James the Just, for the same reason as that of the Lord, his uncle’s son Symeon, son of Clopas, was then made bishop. Everyone chose him next as he was cousin of the Lord. For this reason they called the Church “virgin,” since it had not yet been corrupted by empty rumors. Then Theboutis, because he had not been made bishop, began to corrupt it through the seven sects [haireseis] among the people, out of which he himself came, and from which there came Simon, from whom the Simonians sprang, Cleobius, from whom the Cleobians, Dositheus, from whom the Dosithians, Gorthaius, from whom the Gorathens and Masbotheans. From these came the Menandrianists and Marcianists and Carpocratians and Valentinians and Basileidians and Satornilians, each introducing their own doctrine distinctively and differently, and from them false Christs, false prophets, false apostles, who split the unity of the Church asunder with destructive statements against God and his Christ.
This passage from Eusebius of Caesarea’s Ecclesiastical History, written at the start of the fourth century, is a classic account of the origins of heresy within Christianity. Drawing on the now lost second-century Memoirs of Hegesippus, it begins in Jerusalem with a “pure,” undivided community of the faithful. Soon, however, dissension arose through the figure of Theboutis, who brought in external ideas from the seven “sects” of Judaism and began the
Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..–. On this passage and Hegesippus’s concept of heresy and heretical succession, including apparently contrasting views of its origins and diversity, see Alain Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie dans la littérature grecque IIe–IIIe siècles, vols. (Paris: Études augustiniennes, ), –. This important volume is now available in an English translation (with new introduction) as The Notion of Heresy in Greek Literature in the Second and Third Centuries, ed. David Lincicum and Nicholas Moore, trans. A. K. M. Adam, Monique Cuany, Nicholas Moore, and Warren Campbell, with Jordan Daniel Wood (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). On Hegesippus, see also Kendra Eshleman, The Social World of Intellectuals in the Roman Empire: Sophists, Philosophers, and Christians (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –.
process of corruption: more heresiarchs arose and founded more heresies, which were named after them, and these in turn begat further heresies and dangerous doctrines, together with false figures of authority, as had been foretold in Scripture. From these beginnings, therefore, heresy grew and multiplied in opposition to an unchanging orthodoxy, with every individual and group innovating in such a way that their views differed not only from the true Church but also from each other, while nonetheless forming part of a network of heresy stretching back to a shared origin. In this one example, it is already possible to identify many of the essential features that would go on to characterize heresiological rhetoric, especially in some of the more elaborate forms it would take in the post-Constantinian world: a focus on doctrinal deviation from an established norm; the pernicious influence of inappropriate “external” ideas imported into Christianity; the assigning of blame to named heresiarchs with questionable motives; the organization of opponents into discrete groups, frequently named after their supposed founder and thus separated from the name of “Christians”; and the tracing of genealogical links between heretical sects, allowing each one to be tied to others and thus damned by association, while also contrasting the manifold disagreements of the various groups with the singular, unchanging faith of the Church. Despite the popularity and longevity of these accounts of heresy’s rise and evolution (including those presented by Justin Martyr and Irenaeus of Lyon), they are no longer treated as straightforward descriptions of the intellectual genealogies of these philosophical and religious ideas. During the twentieth century the “Irenaean” or “Eusebian” paradigm of the primacy of orthodoxy over heresy came under sustained criticism, mostly notably through the influential work of Walter Bauer. He argued that many theological positions that came to be condemned as heretical, including by authors such as Hegesippus, had previously enjoyed widespread support among early Christians and had even been the dominant mainstream or “orthodox” positions within particular regions. Many objections have been raised to For accounts of these developments, each covering a different span of time during the first centuries of Christianity and tracing influences and variations between individual heresiologies, see, for example, Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie; Averil Cameron, “How to read heresiology,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies (), –; Geoffrey S. Smith, Guilt by Association: Heresy Catalogues in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Walter Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity, ed. Robert A. Kraft and Gerhard Krodel (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ); trans. of Rechtgläubigkeit und Ketzerei im ältesten Christentum (Tübingen: Mohr, ).
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both the details of Bauer’s analysis of evidence and his overarching narrative of orthodoxy being gradually transformed into heresy, but even if the model he constructed has not endured, his destruction of the previous one has proven much more lasting. Criticism of his work has not provoked a return to the previous status quo, which has instead been replaced by a pluralistic model for the history of early Christianity, whereby different forms developed semi-independently, with some communication and some conflict, and included those that would go on to be regarded as “proto-orthodox” as well as those that ended up as heresies. As David Brakke has vividly described it, such a model for early Christianity, especially in the febrile context of the second century, resembles viewing a horse race the outcome of which one already knows. Numerous independent Christian communities, none with a fully convincing claim to exclusive authenticity as “true Christianity,” emerge from the fog of c. and jostle for position; in hindsight, we can identify the “horse” that will emerge as the dominant orthodoxy by the end of the third century, and we watch it as it competes with and overcomes its rivals.
This reconstruction has received some criticism for suggesting that all second- and third-century forms of Christianity demonstrate equal “continuity” with views expressed in the earliest extant writings. While certainly not advocating for a return to the traditional approach, Lewis Ayres has argued that “the claim by an Irenaeus or a Tertullian to have maintained the faith of the apostles of course needs much nuance, but dismissing it as naive or as deceitful rhetoric is not good history.” It is certainly important to avoid such See, for example, Rowan Williams, “Does it make sense to speak of pre-Nicene orthodoxy?” in The Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in Honour of Henry Chadwick, ed. Rowan Williams (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; Alain Le Boulluec, “Orthodoxie et hérésie aux premiers siècles dans l’historiographie récente,” in Orthodoxie, christianisme, histoire, ed. Susanna Elm, Éric Rebillard, and Antonella Romano (Rome: École française de Rome, ), –, at –; David Brakke, “Self-differentiation among Christian groups: The Gnostics and their opponents,” in The Cambridge History of Christianity, vol. , Origins to Constantine, ed. Margaret M. Mitchell and Frances M. Young (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at –; Lewis Ayres and Andrew Radde-Gallwitz, “Doctrine of God,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –, at –. Brakke, “Self-differentiation,” . Lewis Ayres, “Continuity and change in second-century Christianity: A narrative against the trend,” in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments, ed. James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at . See also the more balanced consideration of this issue and the question of how widespread particular early “Christianities” were in David E. Wilhite, “Second-century diversity,” in The Cambridge
characterizations, while recognizing that a sincerely held position can be based on evidence without providing a full or completely accurate account and might also be supported by rhetoric that interprets and structures a situation according to the outlook of its proponent. This chapter does not aim to assess the accuracy of any individual’s or group’s claims to primacy or apostolic tradition, but rather to chart the development of that rhetoric, especially for the construction and enforcement of difference. Most modern approaches therefore break down the heresiological discourse present in a number of early Christian authors, who are sometimes labelled as “proto-orthodox” in order to avoid buying into the dichotomy of “orthodoxy” and “heresy” created by their writings and amplified by later supporters such as Eusebius. Nonetheless, to simply dismiss such accounts as tendentious and distorted, as inaccurate guides to the preceding decades and centuries of debate, would also risk downplaying their central roles in the debates of their own time. Not only does the grouping together of these figures as “proto-orthodox” represent the retrojection of a later categorization onto individuals and texts that differed from each other in notable ways, but it also fails to take into account the ways in which the concept of “conflict” between different groups or positions is itself a legacy of how these texts sought to create an identity for Christians. As James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu have proposed, we might be better off drawing attention to the complex interactions between different representatives of Christianity, rather than to the core stabilities of mooted groups, apparently in competition with each other. Here, texts written by, for instance, the so-called proto-orthodox are less reflections of a reality than rhetorical attempts to create an ideal; the phenomenon of early Christianity ceases to become a battle of groups but a complex interaction between texts which converge at surprising points.
It is vital, therefore, to assess not merely how these texts present the history of early Christianity, but also what roles they themselves played in that history, shaping self-identity at least as much as they defined various forms of Companion to the Apostolic Fathers, ed. Michael F. Bird and Scott D. Harrower (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at –. James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu, “Introduction,” in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments, ed. James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at . On the problems of the category of the “proto-orthodox” and the “horse race” model for failing to sufficiently recognize diversity, see also Brakke, “Selfdifferentiation,” , .
Depicting the Other in Early Christian Polemic
“Other.” The concept of “heresy,” together with its later companion “orthodoxy,” created new ways of constructing and policing Christian identity, as has been particularly highlighted by the work of Alain Le Boulluec. Modern interpreters must therefore always be alive to the latent presence of such ideas when talking about differences in belief and practice during this period. The language of “orthodoxy” and “heresy,” of approval and exclusion, was far from the only possible way of talking about believers, but it turned out to be very powerful. This heresiological discourse was so successful that “the question of who’s in and who’s out became the primary way of thinking about Christianicity.” The purpose of this chapter is therefore not primarily to trace the process by which various people, groups, and doctrines came to be pushed beyond the boundaries of “acceptable” or “mainstream” Christianity, but rather to explore how this method for defining those boundaries was created and developed. The construction of a concept of the “Other” – and the concomitant construction of one’s own identity in opposition – was certainly not novel or distinctive to early Christianity, as is evident, for example, in the creation of a collective sense of Greekness in opposition to “barbarians” in the fifth century . Orthodoxy, heresy, and heresiology did not appear in a vacuum. It is important, therefore, to explore the development of these concepts within a broader cultural and literary context encompassing not only Jewish attitudes toward difference but also classical techniques for describing and classifying different schools of thought within particular fields, especially philosophy. While there is widespread agreement about the need to recognize the range of influences on this process, identifying the exact origins of the notion of “heresy” and the point at which it is first observable has been the cause of significant debate. This is partly due to the terminology involved: the Greek word hairesis (together with its transliterated Latin equivalent, haeresis) originally meant “choice.” From this it came to have a neutral, non-pejorative meaning as a way of describing a “school of thought”
Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie. On the emergence of the Greek term orthodoxia, see Le Boulluec, “Orthodoxie et hérésie,” –, noting, of course, that the first attested use of the word does not provide a clear date for the appearance of the concept. Daniel Boyarin, Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ), . See, for example, François Hartog, The Mirror of Herodotus: The Representation of the Other in the Writing of History, trans. Janet Lloyd (Berkeley: University of California Press, ); Edith Hall, Inventing the Barbarian: Greek Self-Definition through Tragedy (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ).
and its members, including as a term for self-definition, being used primarily to designate different Hellenistic schools of philosophical and medical teaching, but also being applied to Jewish groups, such as the Pharisees. For example, the second-century doctor and philosopher Galen described and classified various haireseis of medicine and, although he stated that a good physician should not adhere rigidly to any individual one of them, this was not because he found the concept of a hairesis inherently problematic or worthy of criticism. Over time, however, the term came to acquire the negative connotation of “heresy” within Christianity, being used primarily or exclusively to describe individuals and beliefs that deviated from the “correct” body of teaching and tradition, as well as from the institution of the Church, which was not to be regarded as merely one hairesis among many. Such a development was not, of course, a strict linear process, and one cannot simply identify a date after which all uses of hairesis (or even all uses by “Christian” authors) can be definitively regarded as signifying “heresy.” Instead, they must be examined and interpreted on a case-by-case or authorby-author basis. One of the most important and influential contributions of Le Boulluec’s work was to credit the second-century author Justin Martyr with a vital role in creating the notion of “heresy” and thus transforming Christian discourse as others followed his lead. While this view has found widespread acceptance, there have been attempts to locate its origins in earlier authors. Thus, for example, it has been suggested that the firstcentury Jewish writer Philo may have been using the term hairesis pejoratively within a description of the disagreements between different Greek philosophical schools, but the fact that the passage as a whole is critical of these groups does not necessarily entail that the term itself conveys the distinctive negative sense of “heresy.” Writing a few decades later,
LSJ s.v. αἵρεσις. Jaap Mansfeld, Prolegomena: Questions to Be Settled before the Study of an Author, or a Text (Leiden: Brill, ), –. For two notable attempts to trace this process, see Marcel Simon, “From Greek hairesis to Christian heresy,” in Early Christian Literature and the Classical Intellectual Tradition: In Honorem Robert M. Grant, ed. William R. Schoedel and Robert L. Wilken (Paris: Éditions Beauchesne, ), –; Heinrich von Staden, “Hairesis and heresy: The case of the haireseis iatrikai,” in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, vol. , Self-Definition in the Greco-Roman World, ed. Ben F. Meyer and E. P. Sanders (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ), –. Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie, especially – on Justin’s own contribution. For the suggestion about Philo’s use of hairesis, see David T. Runia, “Philo of Alexandria and the Greek hairesis-model,” VC (), –, with the relevant passage quoted at –. Such a reading of Philo is rejected by Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie, –; Boyarin, Border
Depicting the Other in Early Christian Polemic
Josephus also employed the term on a number of occasions, including talking about “the three haireseis of the Jews, which adopted differing positions regarding the affairs of humankind, of whom the first was called the Pharisees, the second the Sadducees, and the third the Essenes.” His identification and classification of these haireseis, nonetheless, merely denotes them as groups who had divergent views from each other, rather than criticizing them as “sects,” and does not prevent him from seeing them as fundamentally united in many ways. The development of meaning for hairesis is not, however, the only methodological problem facing anyone who studies the earliest history of the concepts of heresy and heresiology. Just as with “orthodoxy,” the first use of the term does not necessarily correspond to the moment when the concept emerged, and so it is possible for a notion of “heresy” to predate the specific use of hairesis with this meaning. This therefore raises the question of what, if anything, is distinctive to heresiological discourse that differentiates it from other methods for defining identity and enforcing exclusion from a specified group. For Le Boulluec, central features of heresiology, especially as constructed by Justin Martyr, include a focus on correct doctrine for defining identity, the denial of the name of “Christian” to opponents who are judged to have failed to adhere to this criterion sufficiently, the claim that heresies resulted from demonic or diabolical inspiration, and the creation of genealogical chains of successions, both between the different heretics and, vitally, for the “orthodox” themselves, who stand in opposition to error and have preserved their faith against such threats. This influential model of the development of heresy and orthodoxy in tandem has also been taken up by Daniel Boyarin, who argues that it plays a central role in a shift from “sect” to “church” and a growth in the rhetoric of “victory,” as well as the creation of a concept of “religion” centred on theology and behavior:
Lines, n. ; Robert M. Royalty, The Origin of Heresy: A History of Discourse in Second Temple Judaism and Early Christianity (New York: Routledge, ), –. Josephus, AJ .. On this passage and other uses by Josephus, see Simon, “From Greek hairesis,” ; von Staden, “Hairesis and heresy,” ; Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie, ; Boyarin, Border Lines, –; Runia, “Philo of Alexandria,” –; Royalty, Origin, –. For this important point and its centrality to Le Boulluec’s study of the topic, see Le Boulluec, “Orthodoxie et hérésie,” . See, for example, Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie, ; Le Boulluec, “Orthodoxie et hérésie,” –.
It is not so much that one group has won, as that something in their own discourse and perhaps in the circumstances allows them to shift from representing themselves as the embattled group that has the truth (sect) to the always/already there possessors of the truth that others are attempting to suborn (orthodoxy/“church”).
In addition, Boyarin also proposes that this discourse developed simultaneously within Christianity and Rabbinic Judaism, playing a central role in the construction of a distinction between the two “religions,” rather than appearing in one and then influencing the other. This focus on the role of Justin and his second-century context for the creation of this idea has not, however, received complete acceptance. In particular, Robert Royalty has challenged this approach, including rejecting what he regards as too rigid a sociological distinction between “sect” and “church” in Boyarin’s analysis. For Royalty, second-century figures such as Justin and Irenaeus represent the end of a development rather than the beginning, and he instead locates the origins of heresiological discourse in New Testament texts, as well as other writings from the wider context of Second Temple Judaism: Justin’s rhetoric of “us” and “them,” of orthognōmoi and haireseis, is seductive, but it elides the range of alternative Christianities in the binary categories of orthodox and heretical at the point of rhetorical clarity in the second century rather than at its discursive genesis in the first century. Christian communities had formed discursive responses to ideological difference well before Justin.
Royalty thus seeks to trace the history of the concept of heresy by looking for “a cluster of rhetorical forms” that have many similarities to those used by other scholars: a concept of membership based on belief, an “eschatological worldview” that stresses the demonic origin of heresy, a focus on tradition, a “doxography” for the views of one’s opponents, and the amalgamation of all those outside the group into a united “Other.” There is, therefore, significant agreement within scholarship regarding the importance of many of these phenomena to “heresy,” while points of disagreement are more concerned with whether they are not merely necessary but also sufficient in themselves for the concept to be said to exist. This
Boyarin, Border Lines, . Royalty, Origin, quoting –. Royalty, Origin, –, with the quintet recapitulated at –.
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is also coupled with the question of whether the more elaborate secondcentury forms of this rhetoric of difference are distinctive enough to be regarded as a new form of discourse separate from their antecedents, as opposed to being developments of the same ideas. Thus, for example, both Royalty and Boyarin analyze material from Qumran, including the so-called Damascus Document, which includes complaints about false prophets and diabolical inspiration and also presents the community as “true Israel” in comparison to others who falsely claim that name. While Royalty regards this rhetoric as “a prototype of Christian heresiology” and sees “a nascent heresiological discourse” in a number of Qumran texts, Boyarin argues that “there was not yet at Qumran a structure of orthodox church and heresy” because the community should be identified as a “sect” that had diverged “from the main part of a religious community in search of greater purity or stringency.” Nonetheless, Boyarin stresses that this lack of a clear sense of orthodoxy and heresy “should not be construed as a claim that none of the elements that would eventually constitute heresiology were already in place before their aggregation into a discourse of heresiology in the early rabbinic period.” This debate over the origin of Christian heresy can also be seen in interpretations of New Testament passages that employ a discourse of difference, with or without using the term hairesis. Within the Synoptic Gospels, Matthew stands out for its critical language toward others and rhetoric of separation, both in parables and elsewhere, most notably chapter with its repeated refrain of “woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites.” Here Jesus forcefully condemns these figures for their blindness and false appearances, calling them “full of hypocrisy and lawlessness” and declaring that “you testify against yourselves that you are descendants of those who murdered the prophets. Fill up, then, the measure of your ancestors. You snakes, you brood of vipers! How can you escape being sentenced to hell?” Such vitriolic language was certainly influential on later heresiological discourse, as was the famous admonition from the same gospel to “beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves,” alluded to in the passage from Hegesippus
Royalty, Origin, –, quoting and ; Boyarin, Border Lines, –. Boyarin, Border Lines, –. Matt. :, , , , , . All biblical translations are from the NRSV. I would like to thank my colleague David Horrell for his advice about the rhetoric of difference in the New Testament. Quotations: Matt. :, –. Blindness: Matt. :–, , .
above. Royalty has therefore identified Matthew, and to a lesser extent Q and the Gospel of Thomas, as important examples of heresiological discourse, arguing that “The Pharisees and scribes, as discursive formations in the Gospel of Matthew, are the model for the religious opponent, the co-religionists with enough shared identity to mark them as dangerous. In short, Pharisees are heretics.” Moreover, what is particularly significant about the use of this exclusionary rhetoric in Matthew is that it is not simply espoused by the narrator: “Heresiology becomes, in the Gospel of Matthew, a discursive move by the eponymous founder of the religion, Jesus Christ,” such that “this Gospel reconstructs Jesus as the arch-heresiologist of Christianity.” Such a reading has profound implications, suggesting that the text is depicting Jesus not merely as the originator of correct beliefs and practice, but also as creating and authorizing the discourse of “heresy” itself. As discussed above, however, it remains important to ask whether this gospel’s use of rhetorical tropes of invective is sufficiently distinctive to identify it as heresiology, even if a number of these passages and tropes would go on to be incorporated within later examples of this form of literature. The Acts of the Apostles also provides potential evidence for the beginnings of such discourse, particularly regarding the term hairesis itself. It appears six times in this one text, providing two-thirds of all uses across the whole New Testament. While some of these appear to have the more neutral sense of “party” or “school of thought,” others may have a more negative tone, such as when Paul is accused of being “a ringleader of the hairesis of the Nazarenes” and responds that “I admit to you, that according to the Way, which they call a hairesis, I worship the God of our ancestors, believing everything laid down according to the law or written in the prophets.” While there is probably something of a pejorative sense of “sect” here, this should not automatically be taken to mean that it yet contains the full, later sense of “heresy.” Other New Testament uses are
Matt. :. See also : for another appearance of “false prophets.” Royalty, Origin, –, quoting . Royalty, Origin, . Acts :, :, :, :, :, :. Acts :, . The NRSV uses “sect” to translate hairesis throughout Acts. See also Acts :: “But we would like to hear from you what you think, for with regard to this hairesis we know that everywhere it is spoken against.” Versions of this middle position on its use in Acts can be found at Simon, “From Greek hairesis,” ; von Staden, “Hairesis and heresy,” –; Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie, –. Boyarin also roundly rejects any sense of “heresy” in any of these passages (Border Lines, ), while, in contrast, Royalty regards this notion as “fully present” throughout the text (Origin, –).
Depicting the Other in Early Christian Polemic
even less directly critical, including Paul’s statement in Corinthians that “there have to be haireseis among you, for only so will it become clear who among you are genuine.” While Royalty regards all Paul’s uses of hairesis to be negative, even he interprets the rhetoric of this letter as essentially focused on unity, rather than being heresiological. As Marcel Simon notes when tracing the development of the term, this particular Pauline passage is employed by both Clement of Alexandria and Origen to explain how disagreements helped Christians to come to true understanding, while Clement even uses it to describe the correct faith when he claims that “in the one truth and the ancient church there is both the most precise knowledge and the actual best hairesis.” Paul also uses the term more obviously negatively in Galatians when he includes haireseis among the list of forms of behavior that will prevent people from inheriting the kingdom of God. Such polemical language continued to develop over the following decades, with Geoffrey Smith arguing for the origins of later heresiological discourse not in classical doxographic literature, but rather in a “pseudo-Pauline Corpus Polemicum” that includes, amongst others, and Timothy and Titus, as well as the honorary members Jude and Peter, because they followed a similar epistolary model. The last of these is notable for its statement that “false prophets also arose among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you, who will secretly bring in destructive haireseis,” building on language found in Matthew and elsewhere. A similar tendency toward a sense of doctrinal error is also evident in the early second-century letters of Ignatius of Antioch, although it remains debatable whether his approach can be said to move over from the rhetoric of “divisions” or “dissensions” into full-blown “heresy.”
Cor. :. Here the NRSV translates the term as “divisions.” Royalty, Origin, –, . Simon, “From Greek hairesis,” –; Clement of Alexandria, Strom. ..–, quoting .... This is not, of course, to claim that Clement’s writings lacked heresiological discourse, with this aspect of Book being explored in detail at Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie, –. Gal. :, translated as “factions” in the NRSV. Simon regards this as a reference to factionalism rather than doctrinal error (“From Greek hairesis,” ), while Royalty sees heresiological tropes in both Galatians and Corinthians, especially due to the latter’s rhetoric of “satanic influence and sexual impurity” (Origin, –, –, quoting ). Smith, Guilt by Association, –. See also Royalty, Origin, –. Pet. :, with the NRSV translating haireseis here as “opinions.” Simon argues for doctrinal disagreement in both Peter and Ignatius, citing Eph. . and Trall. . (“From Greek hairesis,” –). In contrast, Le Boulluec also sees Ignatius’s rhetoric as exemplifying some elements that will be important in later heresiology, but without the
Moving into the second and third centuries, we encounter a group of texts widely recognized as heresiological and written by a set of figures – Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, Tertullian, the author of the Refutation of All Heresies – who are central to the story of “the establishment of a self-proclaimed orthodoxy and the concomitant rise of heresiology.” These have some similarities to classical “doxographic” literature, particularly accounts of the history of philosophical schools, which include descriptions of “successions” (diadochai). These present intellectual genealogies for individual schools of thought and thus create narratives of authoritative chains of transmission that suit the author’s purpose, as well as presenting models for dividing up and categorizing groups. While Le Boulluec included some discussion of similarities between Justin and philosophical texts, especially Diogenes Laertius, Kendra Eshleman’s important work has taken these comparisons much further to show how second- and third-century heresiologists developed the concept of apostolic and institutional succession in order to accuse their opponents of innovation and provide them with contrasting heretical genealogies. The utility of examining heresiological catalogues and philosophical doxographies together, and especially of viewing the former as merely a Christianized form of the latter, has been questioned, including with the suggestion that they “privilege superficial similarities in form over and above profound differences in the respective aims of each type of literature.” We should, however, recognize the range of different aims that each of these forms of text, and each individual text itself, could possess. As Eshleman has shown, philosophical succession narratives by figures such as Philostratus could play vital roles in shaping the history of a discipline to suit the author’s particular ends, including presenting themselves as reliable and authoritative experts within their fields, and it is therefore vital to recognize the potential polemical purposes of non-Christian writings. clear notion that appears from Justin onward (La notion d’hérésie, –). Royalty argues that “the ideology of heresy is fully developed in his letters” (Origin, –, quoting ). Winrich Löhr, “Modelling second-century Christian theology: Christian theology as philosophia,” in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments, ed. James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at . Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie, –; Eshleman, Social World, –. See also Hervé Inglebert, Interpretatio Christiana: Les mutations des savoirs (cosmographie, géographie, ethnographie, histoire) dans l’Antiquité chrétienne (– après J.-C.) (Paris: Institut d’études augustiniennes, ), . Smith, Guilt by Association, . Eshleman, Social World, esp. –. See also George R. Boys-Stones, Post-Hellenistic Philosophy: A Study of Its Development from the Stoics to Origen (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –.
Depicting the Other in Early Christian Polemic
More generally, such approaches form part of a broader and highly fruitful scholarly trend of analyzing the development of heresy and heresiology not only from Jewish sectarianism and disputes, but also within a wider intellectual context in the Roman empire during this time, especially regarding “developments witnessed in Platonism, among sophists and other philosophical movements.” As Rebecca Lyman has persuasively argued, it is vital not to see “Christianity” and “Hellenism” as standing in stark opposition during this period, especially for the writings of Justin, but instead to view “the ‘invention of heresiology’ in the second century as an intellectual creation by particular individuals in response to issues of social identity and philosophical meaning within Roman Hellenism itself, rather than as a cultural translation of an essential Christian exclusivity.” Moreover, as Boyarin’s exploration of similar developments in Rabbinic Judaism has shown, the emergence of this discourse across a range of authors and texts should be seen as a contemporaneous phenomenon from a shared cultural milieu, rather than as one discrete “community” influencing another. While most of the texts attributed to Justin Martyr are not extant, his concept of heresy and orthodoxy is clearly stated in both his Dialogue and his First Apology. The former text, purporting to be a discussion with a Jewish figure named Trypho, establishes a sense of identity in opposition to both Judaism and heretical figures who falsely claim the name of Christian. Significantly, however, this is not merely self-presentation in opposition to one or more “Others,” but rather the creation of a specific category of religious identity based on correct belief and action: “Christianity was a new thing, a community defined by adherence to a certain canon of doctrine Carleton Paget and Lieu, “Introduction,” . See also Boys-Stones, Post-Hellenistic Philosophy, –. J. Rebecca Lyman, “ NAPS Presidential Address: Hellenism and heresy,” JECS (), –, at . On this issue, see also Löhr, “Modelling second-century Christian theology.” For Justin’s concept of heresy and the view of his writings as representing a major development, see, for example, Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie, –; Richard A. Norris, “Heresy and orthodoxy in the later second century,” USQR (), –, at –; Lyman, “Hellenism and heresy,” –; Boyarin, Border Lines, –; Brakke, “Self-differentiation,” –; Löhr, “Modelling second-century Christian theology.” Judith M. Lieu surveys Justin’s treatment of Marcion and notes some ambiguities in his use of hairesis but nonetheless sees his writings as very important to the emergence of heresiological rhetoric (Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ], –). This view is echoed in Judith M. Lieu, “Modelling the second century as the age of the laboratory,” in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments, ed. James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at .
and practice . . . This notion that identity is achieved and not given by birth, history, language, and geographical location was the novum that produced religion.” As part of his account of the true “philosophy” of Christianity, near the beginning of the Dialogue Justin explains how it had become divided among numerous schools, each with an eponymous founder whose new ideas were passed down by their disciples without enough thought and inquiry: “what philosophy actually is and the reason why it was sent down to humans has escaped most people; for there would not be Platonists or Stoics or Peripatetics or Theoretics or Pythagoreans, as this knowledge would be one. I want to explain why it became many-headed.” Later in the text he attacks various groups who do “confess that the crucified Jesus is Lord and Christ,” yet nonetheless are not to be permitted the title of “Christian” that they claim for themselves, because “they do not teach his teachings, but rather those from spirits of error,” unlike Justin and his coreligionists, who are “students of the true and pure teaching of Jesus Christ.” He then presents their appearance as the fulfillment of a number of biblical predictions, including Matthew : and Corinthians :, decries their “godless” and “blasphemous” words and deeds and declares that they are called by us after the names of the men from whom each teaching and opinion sprang . . . They call themselves Christians, in the way that some among the Gentiles apply the name of God to things they have crafted and partake in lawless and godless rites. There are some of them who are called Marcians, some Valentinians, some Basileidians, some Satornilians, and others by other names, each named from the founder of the opinion, in the way that each of those who regard themselves as philosophers, as I said at the start, chooses to bear the name of the philosophy he practices from the father of that notion.
These erroneous groups are therefore not merely like different schools of thought who happen to disagree in their shared search for truth. Instead, they are alien to the teachings of Christ, and their claim to the name of “Christian” is as false as the manmade idols that the Gentiles revere as gods. In the First Apology, which is addressed to the Roman emperor Antoninus Pius and his heirs, Justin also develops the theme of heresy as the result of
Boyarin, Border Lines, . At pp. –, Boyarin also argues that this positive construction of “Christianity” better explains Justin’s articulation of these ideas than Le Boulluec’s view that he was responding to the challenges of “Judaism” and “Gnosticism.” Justin, Dial. .–. Justin, Dial. .. Justin, Dial. ., .
Depicting the Other in Early Christian Polemic
demonic inspiration, which leads men astray and sometimes enables them to perform magic. In a celebrated passage, Justin complains that such men are not persecuted by the Roman authorities, unlike “proper” Christians, even though they are known by this name. When describing the figures whom the demons had sent forth since Christ’s Ascension, he begins with “a certain Samaritan, Simon, from a village called Gittho” who appeared in the reign of Claudius and “showed off magical powers through the artifice of the demons who possessed him.” This description builds on a brief account in Acts of a Samaritan named Simon who was severely rebuked for trying to buy the power to impart the Holy Spirit from the Apostles Peter and John. Justin then moves on to discuss “a certain Menander, also a Samaritan, from the village of Capparetaia, who became a pupil of Simon and was possessed by demons,” followed by “a certain Marcion from Pontus, who is even now still alive” and “through the help of demons has persuaded every race of men to speak many blasphemies.” While this passage is perhaps not to be regarded as a fully fledged example of “heretical genealogy,” the teacher–pupil relationship between Simon and Menander is emphasized, and the sequence of descriptions, together with the constant references to the role of demons, subtly associates them with Marcion, even if no formal link is stated. This passage therefore provides an important precedent for many later developments in heresiological discourse, including the identification of “Simon Magus” as the first “heretic” of the Christian era. After explaining about these different individuals and groups who get called “Christians,” Justin also informs his imperial addressees that “we also have a treatise [syntagma] compiled against all the heresies that have come into being, which we will give to you if you want to read it.” This text, usually referred to as the Syntagma, is not extant, meaning that its exact scope, purpose, and influence on later heresiologists has
Justin, Apol. . At ., Justin states that such people, who do not follow Christ’s teachings properly, ought to receive punishment from the authorities. Justin, Apol. .. Acts :–. Justin, Apol. .–. See also chapter on Simon and Menander and on Marcion, repeating the accusation of demonic inspiration. Lieu makes this important point that there is no explicit progression from Simon and Menander to Marcion here beyond the temporal, although Justin’s demonic rhetoric helps to conceal this lack of actual evidence (Marcion, –). Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie, –; Eshleman, Social World, –. Justin, Apol. ..
engendered some debate, including whether it is to be identified with a text written by Justin against Marcion that is mentioned by Irenaeus of Lyon. While the exact relationship between Justin’s writings and those of Irenaeus is uncertain, the latter’s Against Heresies certainly demonstrates an expanded version of some of the same content and rhetoric. Written toward the end of the second century, this substantial work in five volumes is directed primarily against the “heretical” Marcion, Valentinus, and other “Gnostics” (a highly influential polemical category created by Irenaeus). Despite its apparently rambling nature in parts “it manages to produce an edifice which, while making limited use of the language of ‘heresy’ and still less that of ‘orthodoxy,’ leaves readers in little doubt as to what might constitute each and why there can be no engagement between them.” Importantly, Irenaeus weaves his substantial criticism of these more recent opponents within a web of associations to earlier enemies of the true faith, presenting heresy as simultaneously both a single entangled mass of error and a cacophony of discordant voices. This is particularly evident in Book , where he sets out his own statement of true faith and acknowledges that most heretics accept the existence of only one God, but distort this belief like the Gentiles in their idolatry: therefore as the process of uncovering and refuting all heresies is varied and multifarious, and we have set out to oppose them all in accordance with their individual character, we have decided that it is necessary first to relate their source and root so that, learning about their most sublime Bythus, you understand the tree from which such fruit grew.
Irenaeus, Haer. .., ... Le Boulluec is confident in restoring its content (La notion d’hérésie, –), while Eshleman provides a good guide to various reconstructions (Social World, n. ). Lieu is much more cautious about claims regarding both its content and its influence (Marcion, –, –, ). Smith argues that Justin merely read the Syntagma rather than being its author, although this interpretation of the evidence, especially Apol. ., is somewhat speculative (Guilt by Association, –). See, for example, Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie, –; Norris, “Heresy and orthodoxy,” –; Lieu, Marcion, –; Smith, Guilt by Association, –. Brakke, “Self-differentiation,” ; Richard A. Norris, “Irenaeus of Lyon,” in The Cambridge History of Early Christian Literature, ed. Frances Young, Lewis Ayres, and Andrew Louth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. The original Greek text only survives in fragments, but there is a full Latin translation, as well as extant sections of Syriac and Armenian versions. Lieu, Marcion, . Irenaeus, Haer. ... On the heretical belief in an “Aeon” named Bythus, see Haer. ...
Depicting the Other in Early Christian Polemic
What follows in the next few chapters of Irenaeus’s work is a genealogy of heretical belief that is more complex than anything in Justin’s extant writings and is often thought to have been based on his lost Syntagma. Just as Justin had done, it begins with Simon before moving on to call Menander his “successor,” but it also provides a number of other links in the chain, including stating that Cerdo learned from Simon’s followers and then Marcion became his successor. Heretics are also described as copying and importing ideas from Gentiles, including philosophers, but this chain of error nonetheless makes clear that all heresies can be traced back to a single source: all who adulterate the truth in any way and injure the Church’s preaching are disciples and successors of Simon the Samaritan magus. Although they do not admit the name of their master so that they can seduce others, they nonetheless teach his ideas: for they present the name of Jesus Christ like a lure when they are actually expounding the impiety of Simon in various ways, and they destroy many by wickedly dispersing their own ideas under a good name.
Although these relationships between groups are not as consistently or clearly developed across the remainder of the text, Irenaeus’s scheme represents a significant advance on any earlier surviving heresiology, employing methods used by authors of ancient philosophical succession narratives, such as Numenius, while simultaneously presenting these philosophical schools as one of the major influences that allow the multiform edifice of heresy to grow and divide still further. This association of heresy with Greek philosophy is also developed by the North African author Tertullian, particularly in his work entitled Prescription of Heretics. Although anti-heretical discourse and doctrinal genealogies appear in numerous places in his writings, including his lengthy Against Marcion, this text, which probably dates from the very early third century, is the most explicitly heresiological and includes the famous set of rhetorical questions
The central part of this family tree appears at Haer. .–, although it is then developed further down to the end of the book at chapter . Smith also regards the Syntagma as a key source for Irenaeus, despite not believing that Justin was its author (Guilt by Association, –). Lieu cautions against assuming that these chapters are based on the Syntagma (Marcion, ). Irenaeus, Haer. ., . Irenaeus, Haer. ... See also .pr. for Simon as the fount of all heresies and . for an example of heretics learning from Greek philosophers and authors. Eshleman, Social World, –.
“What has Athens to do with Jerusalem? What has the Academy to do with the Church? What have heretics to do with Christians?” This comes toward the end of a chapter that identifies the origins of various heretical beliefs in the doctrines of specific philosophical schools, and throughout this text Tertullian places heresies securely outside the apostolic Church and associates them with unprofitable distortion of the unchanging rule of faith. He supports this claim by quoting various Pauline passages, including Galatians :, and introducing his Latin-speaking audience to the Greek origins of the term “heresy”: but in almost every letter, when insisting that we must flee from impure doctrines, he [Paul] refers to heresies, which produce impure doctrines: they are called “heresies” from the Greek word meaning “choice,” as this is employed by anyone at all who sets or takes up these. He therefore said that a heretic is self-condemned because he chooses the matter in which he is himself condemned.
Tertullian also uses the same point about self-exclusion to justify refusing the name of “Christian” to heretics, since they have chosen to follow others instead of Christ, and he furthermore denies that they should construct arguments from Scripture, because they have no right to use “Christian literature.” Despite what they might have claimed themselves, Tertullian thus makes them active agents in their own heresiological classification. This alienation of heretics from the proper succession of the true faith reaches a more extreme form in the Refutation of All Heresies, which probably
Tertullian, Praescr. . On this text, especially the linking of heresy with philosophy, see Simon, “From Greek hairesis,” –; Charles Munier, “Les conceptions hérésiologiques de Tertullian,” Aug (), –; Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Tertullian’s scriptural exegesis in the De praescriptione haereticorum,” JECS (), –. For a detailed cataloguing of Tertullian’s anti-heretical invective both in this work and across his wider corpus, see Ilona Opelt, Die Polemik in der christlichen lateinischen Literatur von Tertullian bis Augustin (Heidelberg: C. Winter, ), –. On Tertullian’s portrait of Marcion as heretic, see Lieu, Marcion, –, as well as Eshleman, Social World, –, for Tertullian’s account of early heresies and Marcion as an heir to Simon Magus’s doctrines. For this regula fidei, see Tertullian, Praescr. . Tertullian, Praescr. . Tertullian, Praescr. . The brief heresiological treatise known as Pseudo-Tertullian, Adversus omnes haereses may also date from around this period, at least in its original form. Like a number of the other texts discussed here, it assigns Simon Magus prime position in the history of Christian heresy, with Menander as his disciple. The text proceeds to provide a number of groupings of heresies and statements about relationships between different heresiarchs, emphasizing where they disagree with their predecessors. On the heresiological categories employed in this text, as well as the question of its history and possible versions, see Inglebert, Interpretatio Christiana, n. , –.
Depicting the Other in Early Christian Polemic
originated in Rome during the s. The author is firmly opposed to the bishops Zephyrinus and Callistus, claiming for himself authority over the city’s Christian community, and he is often referred to as “Hippolytus of Rome,” although his identity remains the subject of ongoing debate. After stating that his account will be lengthy because of its comprehensiveness, he claims that “no one else will refute these things except the Holy Spirit passed down in the Church,” beginning with the Apostles and coming down to him as their “successor” (diadochoi) in both his “position as high priest” and his “teaching.” He therefore establishes his own authority as a reliable, orthodox expert but also seeks to distance himself from any accusation of partisanship or tendentiousness by claiming to function primarily as a conduit for the Spirit. The text’s heresiological method follows in the tradition of Irenaeus, weaving the most elaborate network of genealogies for heretical sects yet, with Simon Magus once again taking an important position but also being joined by the dangerous deacon Nicolaus as a second ancestor for many later errors. Significantly, however, these figures from the apostolic age are not presented as the first step in this chain of error, since the origins of all heresy are to be traced back much further: they took the beginning of their opinions from the wisdom of the Hellenes, from the beliefs of philosophers, purported mysteries and roving astrologers. It seems appropriate first to explain and reveal the opinions of the Hellenic philosophers to the readers, as compared to the heretics they are more ancient and more reverential toward the divine, and then to compare each heresy with each of them, as the leader of the heresy devoted himself to their arguments, grasped and seized their principles, rushed from them into worse ideas and so devised their belief. For discussions of the author’s biography and arguments against this attribution and in favor of leaving the work anonymous, see Lieu, Marcion, –; M. David Litwa (ed. and trans.), Refutation of All Heresies (Atlanta: SBL Press, ), xxxii–xlii. [Hippolytus], Haer. .pr.–, using the authorial first-person plural. See also .pr. for the classic authorial declaration of the great amount of work and research involved in creating a learned text. Irenaeus, Haer. .. had already discussed this Nicolaus and the Nicolaitans, drawing on Acts : and Rev. :, . For a thorough tracing of the construction of this network and its reliance on and deviations from Irenaeus’s scheme, see Eshleman, Social World, –, with a helpful flowchart on p. . For the text’s structure, methodology, and concept of heresy more generally, see Winrich Löhr, “The continuing construction of heresy: Hippolyt’s Refutatio in context,” in Des évêques, des écoles et des hérétiques: Actes du colloque international sur la “Réfutation de toutes les hérésies,” Genève, – juin , ed. Gabriella Aragione and Enrico Norelli (Prahins: Zèbre, ), –; Lieu, Marcion, –; Litwa, Refutation, xlii–li. [Hippolytus], Haer. .pr.–.
Heresies are thus revealed to be completely outside the Church and the true apostolic faith, not deviating from it through incorrect interpretation of Scripture or corrupt teachers, but starting out as “plagiarists” of ancient ideas and practices, many of which predate the Incarnation. Moreover, just as error has a long history, so does correct belief, as this heresiological treatise functions as “a universal history of human knowledge,” in which “Christian truth is the primordial, natural wisdom of humanity, the religion of Abraham, Noah, and Adam.” In order to create this story, the first four books of the Refutation are devoted to explaining what these various non-Christian ideas entail: Book covers philosophical groups, Books and are lost and probably explored various “mysteries,” including those associated with Egyptians and Chaldaeans, while Book focuses on astrology, magic, and numerology. Books – then explain at length and with many digressions the beliefs and relationships of the different groups and, where deemed appropriate, compare them with those of particular philosophical schools, before Book provides a recapitulation of the whole text. This main heresiological section of the work starts with the Naassenes, identified as the first “Gnostics” and the originators of many other heresies, and three other related groups, before presenting Simon Magus as their successor. This tracing of heretical successions then reaches what is arguably its most important stage at .–, where the author describes his personal opponent Callistus. As well as describing his clashes with this so-called bishop, the author provides an almost picaresque account of Callistus’s dishonest life story before outlining his shameful practices and doctrines, which are said to draw on those of Theodotus, Sabellius, and a follower of Noetus named Cleomenes. The section concludes with the statement that this sect has received the name of “Callistians” before moving on to their successors in the form of Alcibiades and the Elchasaites. Soon afterward, the author claims victory in his great task, “breaking through the labyrinth of heresy not by force, but through refutation alone, demolishing it with the power of truth.” The Refutation therefore provides not only the most elaborate preConstantinian account of heretical sects and their relationships, but also the For heresiarchs as “plagiarists,” see .pr., as well as the image of them as cobblers patching together old ideas at ... Eshleman, Social World, . For the text’s statement of the greater antiquity of the “Godfearers,” see .–. Naassenes: ..–. Simon: ... [Hippolytus], Haer. ...
Depicting the Other in Early Christian Polemic
clearest example of the powerful prescriptive and defensive force of heresiology. Like contemporary non-Christian authors such as Philostratus, its use of diadochai allowed its author to create a version of the world where institutional and intellectual connections mapped out a central, authoritative position for himself against anyone who might challenge his position. The reader encounters a mass of heretical figures and ideas, many of which they might recognize, including perhaps from earlier writers such as Irenaeus, and so they are reassured about the veracity and orthodoxy of the material. As they progress through the work, they come closer to the present day and to more “controversial” characters, such as Callistus, but no difference is marked within the text: they are all linked to each other and equally alienated from Christianity, allowing the latest, less secure “heretics” to be enrolled among the rest through the author’s diligence and inspiration. With the Refutation we reach the end of this first major stage of heresiological literature, with a gap of about a century and a half until the next phase is inaugurated by the voluminous Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis and his notable successors, including Filastrius of Brescia, Augustine of Hippo, and Theodoret of Cyrus. Already by the early third century, however, many of the fundamental methods, associations, and rhetorical tropes of heresiology had been firmly established, making it a powerful tool for the defining and policing of Christian identity and, vitally, for the self-construction of the author as its secure, orthodox touchstone.
Select Bibliography Ayres, Lewis. “Continuity and change in second-century Christianity: A narrative against the trend.” Pages – in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments. Edited by James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Ayres, Lewis, and Andrew Radde-Gallwitz. “Doctrine of God.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies. Edited by Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Bauer, Walter. Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity. Edited by Robert A. Kraft and Gerhard Krodel (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ). Translation of Rechtgläubigkeit und Ketzerei im ältesten Christentum (Tübingen: Mohr, ).
See Eshleman, Social World, especially –. On these phases, see Inglebert, Interpretatio Christiana, –; Lieu, Marcion, .
Boyarin, Daniel. Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ). Boys-Stones, George R. Post-Hellenistic Philosophy: A Study of Its Development from the Stoics to Origen (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Brakke, David. “Self-differentiation among Christian groups: The Gnostics and their opponents.” Pages – in The Cambridge History of Christianity, vol. , Origins to Constantine. Edited by Margaret M. Mitchell and Frances M. Young (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Cameron, Averil. “How to read heresiology,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies (), –. Carleton Paget, James, and Judith Lieu. “Introduction.” Pages – in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments. Edited by James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Dunn, Geoffrey D. “Tertullian’s scriptural exegesis in the De praescriptione haereticorum,” JECS (), –. Eshleman, Kendra. The Social World of Intellectuals in the Roman Empire: Sophists, Philosophers, and Christians (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Hall, Edith. Inventing the Barbarian: Greek Self-Definition through Tragedy (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Hartog, François. The Mirror of Herodotus: The Representation of the Other in the Writing of History. Translated by Janet Lloyd (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Inglebert, Hervé. Interpretatio Christiana: Les mutations des savoirs (cosmographie, géographie, ethnographie, histoire) dans l’Antiquité chrétienne (– après J.-C.) (Paris: Institut d’études augustiniennes, ). Le Boulluec, Alain. La notion d’hérésie dans la littérature grecque IIe–IIIe siècles. vols. (Paris: Études augustiniennes, ). “Orthodoxie et hérésie aux premiers siècles dans l’historiographie récente.” Pages – in Orthodoxie, christianisme, histoire. Edited by Susanna Elm, Éric Rebillard, and Antonella Romano (Rome: École française de Rome, ). ET with new introduction: The Notion of Heresy in Greek Literature in the Second and Third Centuries. Edited by David Lincicum and Nicholas Moore. Translated by A. K. M. Adam, Monique Cuany, Nicholas Moore, and Warren Campbell, with Jordan Daniel Wood (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Lieu, Judith M. Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). “Modelling the second century as the age of the laboratory.” Pages – in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments. Edited by James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Litwa, M. David. (ed. and trans.) Refutation of All Heresies (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Löhr, Winrich. “The continuing construction of heresy: Hippolyt’s Refutatio in context.” Pages – in Des évêques, des écoles et des hérétiques: Actes du colloque international sur la “Réfutation de toutes les hérésies,” Genève, – juin . Edited by Gabriella Aragione and Enrico Norelli (Prahins: Zèbre, ).
Depicting the Other in Early Christian Polemic “Modelling second-century Christian theology: Christian theology as philosophia.” Pages – in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments. Edited by James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Lyman, J. Rebecca. “ NAPS Presidential Address: Hellenism and heresy,” JECS (), –. Mansfeld, Jaap. Prolegomena: Questions to Be Settled before the Study of an Author, or a Text (Leiden: Brill, ). Munier, Charles. “Les conceptions hérésiologiques de Tertullian,” Aug (), –. Norris, Richard A. “Heresy and orthodoxy in the later second century,” USQR (), –. “Irenaeus of Lyon.” Pages – in The Cambridge History of Early Christian Literature. Edited by Frances Young, Lewis Ayres, and Andrew Louth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Opelt, Ilona. Die Polemik in der christlichen lateinischen Literatur von Tertullian bis Augustin (Heidelberg: C. Winter, ). Royalty, Robert M. The Origin of Heresy: A History of Discourse in Second Temple Judaism and Early Christianity (New York: Routledge, ). Runia, David T. “Philo of Alexandria and the Greek hairesis-model.” VC (), –. Simon, Marcel. “From Greek hairesis to Christian heresy.” Pages – in Early Christian Literature and the Classical Intellectual Tradition: In Honorem Robert M. Grant. Edited by William R. Schoedel and Robert L. Wilken (Paris: Éditions Beauchesne, ). Smith, Geoffrey S. Guilt by Association: Heresy Catalogues in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Staden, Heinrich von. “Hairesis and heresy: The case of the haireseis iatrikai.” Pages – in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, vol. , Self-Definition in the Greco-Roman World. Edited by Ben F. Meyer and E. P. Sanders (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ). Wilhite, David E. “Second-century diversity.” Pages – in The Cambridge Companion to the Apostolic Fathers. Edited by Michael F. Bird and Scott D. Harrower (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Williams, Rowan. “Does it make sense to speak of pre-Nicene orthodoxy?” Pages – in The Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in Honour of Henry Chadwick. Edited by Rowan Williams (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ).
Why Did People Become Christians in the Pre-Constantinian World? Reframing the Question
The question contained in this chapter’s title continues to elicit many answers from academics, particularly in publications addressed to a larger audience. As has been observed by more than one scholar, however, the answers have not changed much since the time of Edward Gibbon (–). Moreover, in my view the answers typically given are not fully convincing, so I take the opportunity here to reconsider the question – in fact, even to question the question. Instead of a critical review of the answers
Only an arbitrary selection can be offered: Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity: A Sociologist Reconsiders History (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ); Douglas Boin, Coming Out Christian in the Roman World: How the Followers of Jesus Made a Place in Caesar’s Empire (New York: Bloomsbury, ); Larry W. Hurtado, Why on Earth Did Anyone Become a Christian in the First Three Centuries? (The Père Marquette Lecture in Theology ; Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, ); Alan Kreider, The Patient Ferment of the Early Church: The Improbable Rise of Christianity in the Roman Empire (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ); Robert C. Knapp, The Dawn of Christianity: People and Gods in a Time of Magic and Miracles (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ); Bart D. Ehrman, The Triumph of Christianity: How a Forbidden Religion Swept the World (New York: Simon and Schuster, ). For a survey of major works before , see Danny Praet, “Explaining the Christianization of the Roman empire,” Sacris erudiri (), –; Praet discusses the hypotheses of Peter Brown, The Making of Late Antiquity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ); Ramsay MacMullen, Christianizing the Roman Empire (.. –) (New Haven: Yale University Press, ); and Robin Lane Fox, Pagans and Christians (San Francisco: Harper and Row, ). See Seth Schwartz, “Roman historians and the rise of Christianity: The school of Edward Gibbon,” in The Spread of Christianity in the First Four Centuries: Essays in Explanation, ed. William V. Harris (Columbia Studies in the Classical Tradition ; Leiden: Brill, ): –; Hurtado, Why on Earth Did Anyone Become a Christian, ; Bremmer starts his valedictory lecture with Gibbon; see Jan N. Bremmer, The Rise of Christianity through the Eyes of Gibbon, Harnack and Rodney Stark: A Valedictory Lecture on the Occasion of His Retirement from the Chair of Religious Studies, in the Faculty of Theology and Religious Studies (Groningen: Barkhuis, ).
Why Did People Become Christians?
typically offered, I seek to deconstruct the question, using the words that compose the title of the chapter as a guide for uncovering the many assumptions that lay behind it. As a result, I will complicate the picture and illustrate the many ways that things can go wrong if fundamental assumptions embedded within the question are left unexposed, as is usually the case. In the first section, I explore the “pre-Constantinian world” chronological divide. As is often acknowledged, Constantine does not represent as radical a break as once was thought. Furthermore, the question at hand entails an examination of the consequences and costs attached to people’s adherence to Christianity – a term I use in order to avoid both “conversion” and “adhesion” (two concepts that are juxtaposed to each other by Nock). In the second section, I will turn to the idea of what it means to “become” a “Christian,” questioning the standard categories.
“The Pre-Constantinian World” Larry W. Hurtado claims that the answer(s) to the question “Why Did People Become Christians in the Pre-Constantinian World?” must engage with the consequences and costs, both social and political, of being a Christian. He rightly emphasizes that it is necessary to stop asking why Christianity grew and to focus on individuals instead. His next step, however, is to claim that “[t]here were serious social costs involved in becoming a Christian in the first three centuries, costs that were unique to early Christianity.” The implicit assumption is that unique costs mean unique reasons for becoming Christian, motives that are different from the usual motives for the adoption of any other cult or devotion. I will begin by reviewing the “political costs” of becoming Christian, or those effects resulting from the actions of government officials, and then I will turn to the social costs.
For a classical treatment, see MacMullen, Christianizing the Roman Empire, –. Arthur Darby Nock, Conversion: The Old and the New in Religion from Alexander the Great to Augustine of Hippo (London: Oxford University Press, ); see below, “‘Becoming’ Christian,” –. Hurtado, Why on Earth Did Anyone Become a Christian, –. Hurtado, Why on Earth Did Anyone Become a Christian, –. Hurtado, Why on Earth Did Anyone Become a Christian, .
Official Consequences of Adhering to Christianity The “pre-Constantinian world” chronological divide assumes that, with Constantine, the Christians’ status changed significantly, if not radically. Most famously, the shift in Christian status is attributed to Constantine’s “Edict of Milan” in , which would have made Christianity a legal religion in the empire. While historians have long acknowledged that there was no such edict, that Constantine was not its author, and that there was no such notion as a legal religion in the Roman empire, the edict and the date of continue to play a symbolic role. Constantine was only one among the Tetrarchs to grant rights to Christians as they ended the persecution launched by Diocletian. Instead of an “Edict of Milan,” we have a series of letters that Licinius, after a meeting with Constantine in Milan in , issued to the governors of the provinces that now were under his control (in Asia Minor, the Syrian region, and Egypt). These letters confirm for the Christians of these provinces the freedom of worship and the restitution of property that were granted to Christians in the whole empire by an edict of Galerius and his co-emperors, Maximinus Daia, Constantine, and Licinius in . Similar rights had been granted to the Christians of Britain, Gaul, and Spain by Constantine as soon as he was proclaimed Augustus in the summer of , if we accept the testimony of Lactantius. Similarly, Maxentius had extended religious freedom to the Christians of Italy and Africa when he became Augustus in October , but waited until or for the restitution of their properties.
Frank M. Ausbüttel, “Die Tolerierung der Christen in der Zeit von Gallienus bis zur sogenannten Constantinischen Wende (–),” Millennium (), –; Timothy Barnes, Constantine: Dynasty, Religion and Power in the Later Roman Empire (Hoboken: Wiley Blackwell, ), –. For a survey of the scholarship since the sixteenth century, see Paolo Siniscalco, “L’editto di Milano: Origine e sviluppo di un dibattito,” in Costantino I: Enciclopedia costantiniana sulla figura e l’immagine dell’imperatore del cosiddetto Editto di Milano, – (Rome: Treccani, ), :–. For the letters of Licinius, see Barnes, Constantine: Dynasty, Religion and Power, – (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..; Lactantius, Mort. .). On the edict, or Edict of Serdica, see Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..– and Lactantius, Mort. ; Ausbüttel, “Die Tolerierung der Christen,” –. The Christians of the provinces that Licinius took control over in only briefly benefited from this edict of toleration as, after the death of Galerius, Maximinus Daia resumed with persecution; Timothy Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), –. Barnes, Constantine: Dynasty, Religion and Power, – (Lactantius, Mort. . and Inst. ..). Barnes, Constantine: Dynasty, Religion and Power, –.
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It is also important to realize that Christians had enjoyed such rights since an edict of Gallienus in . Some historians have tried to minimize the importance of Gallienus’s edict, arguing that it did not have an impact on the Christian tradition. It is easy to understand, however, why the Christian tradition would privilege the conversion of Constantine and minimize the measures of tolerance of Gallienus. Other scholars present the execution of the Christian soldier Marinus in Caesarea as evidence that the edict did not bring the end of the “persecutions.” There is, however, some inconsistency in the dating of the execution in Eusebius. He places it both during a time of peace, which might suggest after , and under the reign of (plural) emperors, which can only point to the joint reign of Valerian and Gallienus (– ) and therefore to the period preceding the edict. There is, therefore, no solid objection against the fact that the edict of Gallienus opened a period of peace for the Christians, one that lasted until the edict of Diocletian some forty years later. The fact that there was church “property” that could be seized and destroyed under Diocletian confirms that Christians understood themselves as safe, legal, and able to construct public spaces. Indeed, there is no evidence for a “persecution” under the reign of Aurelian (– ). Both Eusebius and Lactantius mention that the emperor planned to launch a persecution before his death. Though Constantine repeats the claim, there seems to be nothing more to it than an unconfirmed rumor. The many martyr accounts that place executions under Aurelian
Timothy Barnes, Early Christian Hagiography and Roman History, nd ed. (Tria Corda ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. The edict itself is not preserved, but we find in Eusebius’s Eccl. hist. . a copy of a rescript sent by Gallienus to a few Egyptian bishops in response to a complaint about property restitution; see also Ausbüttel, “Die Tolerierung der Christen,” –. See Graeme W. Clarke, “Third-century Christianity,” in The Crisis of Empire, .. –, ed. Peter Garnsey, Alan K. Bowman, and Averil Cameron (CAH ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), ; Lukas de Blois, The Policy of the Emperor Gallienus (Studies of the Dutch Archaeological and Historical Society ; Leiden: Brill, ), –; Michael M. Sage, “The persecution of Valerian and the peace of Gallienus,” Wiener Studien (), –. Most recently, Min Seok Shin, The Great Persecution: A Historical Re-Examination (Studia Antiqua Australiensia ; Turnhout: Brepols, ), –. For Eusebius’s chronological inconsistency, see Clarke, “Third-century Christianity,” n. , and ; Barnes, Early Christian Hagiography, –. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..; Lactantius, Mort. .; Eusebius, Coet. sanct. ; see Clarke, “Third-century Christianity,” –.
are the fabrication of a later, unreliable tradition. Aurelian, indeed, is known to have granted a rescript to the Christian Bishop of Antioch who requested the emperor’s intervention for recovering a church from the heretic Paul of Samosata. It should also be noted that the cases of the “military martyrs” executed in the last few years of the third century are only apparent exceptions to the peace, insofar as the documentation shows that it is the martyrs themselves who thought that their religion was not compatible with military service. The edict of Gallienus, therefore, is an important turning point in the history of Christians’ status in the Roman empire. A thorough examination of the eighteen preserved imperial constitutions that deal with the toleration of Christians shows that the terms in which it was granted seldom changed after Gallienus’s edict. Whatever Constantine’s influence over the other Tetrarchs was, Christians were only reestablished in a status they had enjoyed for more than forty years before Diocletian suspended their rights in . Now, we still need to ask about the “political costs” or the effects of official actions against Christians before . In , the edict of Gallienus de facto cancelled the edicts of his father Valerian that targeted members of the clergy and upper-class Christians. Valerian’s edicts, which are not preserved, are reconstructed from Christian sources with the inherent limitations attached to such reconstruction, as the case of the edict of Decius well
Contra Shin, Great Persecution, ; for Gallic martyrs attributed to Aurelian, see Joseph van der Straeten, “Les Actes des martyrs d’Aurélien en Bourgogne: Étude littéraire,” Analecta Bollandiana (), –; and Van der Straeten, “Actes des martyrs d’Aurélien en Gaule,” Analecta Bollandiana (), –; on Mustiola, also listed by Shin, see Pierluigi Licciardello, “La Passio di Felice, Ireneo e Mustiola: Con edizione critica delle versioni BHL –c,” Analecta Bollandiana (), –. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..; see Fergus Millar, “Paul of Samosata, Zenobia, and Aurelian: The church, local culture, and political allegiance in third-century Syria,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. See Barnes, Early Christian Hagiography, –. Ausbüttel, “Die Tolerierung der Christen.” All sources emphasize that the measures of toleration are a restoration: the edict of Galerius () explicitly presents itself as a restoration: ut denuo sint Christiani (Lactantius, Mort. .); according to Optatus, Maxentius “restored the liberty” of the Christians (Optatus, Against the Donatists ..: libertas est restituta); according to Lactantius, Constantine sanctioned “the restoration of the holy religion” (Mort. .: sanctio sanctae religionis restitutae). See Rajko Bratož, “Forma e contenuto della tolleranza religiosa dall’editto di Gallieno all’editto di Galerio,” in Costantino prima e dopo Costantino = Constantine Before and After Constantine (Munera ; Bari: Edipuglia, ), .
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shows. Our Christian sources describe two successive edicts that escalate punishment for clergy who do not sacrifice: first exile and then death. The second edict also includes diverse categories of upper-class Christians and a variety of punishments. Though independent testimony is lacking, Valerian’s edicts seem to be the first imperial legislation against Christians. Roman historians have long agreed that, prior to the time of Valerian, there was no imperial legislation against the Christians. Indeed, the edict of Decius ( ) did not target Christians, but ordered all inhabitants of the empire to sacrifice – as has been established by historians with the extant certificates of sacrifice. There is no evidence – and it would go against all we know about the interactions between emperor and governors – that the famous response of Trajan to the inquiry of Pliny about the Christians was meant to generally define the legal status of Christians after or , nor that it was used as a general law, despite some Christian sources. In the absence of a general law, Roman historians agree that Christians were executed only on the basis of individual denunciations. Since Ste. Croix, it is also agreed that the “name” itself carried condemnation; in other words, simply being Christian was a crime. The claim that the “name” carried condemnation, however, mostly depends on Christian apologetic texts that in turn derive from the canonical Gospels. Moreover, Christian sources On the edict of Decius, see below; on the limitations of Christian sources, see James CorkeWebster, “The Roman persecutions,” in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Christian Martyrdom, ed. Paul Middleton (Hoboken: Wiley Blackwell, ), . Reinhard Selinger, The Mid-Third Century Persecutions of Decius and Valerian (Frankfurt am Main: Lang, ), –. Timothy Barnes, “Legislation against the Christians,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. Schubert offers a review of scholarship: Paul Schubert, “On the form and content of the certificates of pagan sacrifice,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. That the edict did not target Christians is already established by Knipfing: John R. Knipfing, “The libelli of the Decian persecution,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. See James B. Rives, “The decree of Decius and the religion of empire,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –; Selinger, MidThird Century, –; Allen Brent, Cyprian and Roman Carthage (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. See now James Corke-Webster, “The early reception of Pliny the Younger in Tertullian of Carthage and Eusebius of Caesarea,” Classical Quarterly (), –; and “Trouble in Pontus: The Pliny–Trajan correspondence on the Christians reconsidered,” Transactions of the American Philological Association (), –. Geoffrey E. M. de Ste. Croix, Christian Persecution, Martyrdom, and Orthodoxy, ed. Michael Whitby and Joseph Streeter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –; repr. of “Why were the early Christians persecuted?” Past and Present . (), –, and of “Why were the early Christians persecuted? A rejoinder,” Past and Present . (), –; Barnes, “Legislation against the Christians.” Corke-Webster, “The early reception of Pliny the Younger,” –.
play on the polysemy of “name” in such a context: it is not the Christian name that is condemned, but Christianity that is “named” a crime. It also remains an open question whether religion was always behind the few attested executions. For example, the executions of Christians mentioned by Tertullian took place in periods of political turmoil; and there are elements that suggest that the religion of the victims, logically emphasized by Tertullian, might have been secondary. In any case, executions of Christians were local, sporadic, and random. New Testament scholars have a hard time reconciling this tendency towards minimalism with the overwhelming presence of “persecution” in some early Christian texts. Though Paul Middleton acknowledges “the heavy theological investment in the early Christian presentation of themselves as suffering for the name of Jesus Christ,” he strives to establish that Christians were likely to face trials in which they could be invited to curse Christ during the first two centuries; he also seeks evidence of the application of the sacrifice test, used by Pliny, in earlier Christian texts. However, Middleton fails to persuade most scholars with his claim that an “almost perfect imprint” of the sacrifice test is found in first-century Christian texts. A good example is his treatment of the denial of Peter in Mark :–. Middleton claims that the threefold questioning of Peter by Jesus mirrors the experience of the Christians questioned three times by Pliny. It should be noted that the triple question is not a normal form of procedure in Roman trial, and therefore unlikely to be repeated, not to mention the obvious absence of a sacrifice test in the case of Peter. Rather than trying to match the
On this point, see Aline Rousselle, “Le crime de christianisme,” in Ordre moral et délinquance de l’Antiquité au XXe siècle: Actes du Colloque de Dijon, et octobre , ed. Benoît Garnot (Publications de l’Université de Bourgogne ; Dijon: Éditions universitaires de Dijon), –. See Éric Rebillard, “Popular hatred against Christians: The case of North Africa in the second and third centuries,” Archiv für Religionsgeschichte (), –, at –. On the tendency towards minimalism from Mommsen to Moss, see Corke-Webster, “The Roman persecutions,” –. Paul Middleton, “Martyrdom and persecution in the New Testament,” in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Christian Martyrdom, ed. Paul Middleton (Hoboken: Wiley Blackwell, ), –, at – ( for the citation); see Paul Middleton, The Violence of the Lamb: Martyrs as Agents of Divine Judgement in the Book of Revelation (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ), –, for a more thorough treatment. Middleton, Violence of the Lamb, . Adrian Nicholas Sherwin-White, The Letters of Pliny: A Historical and Social Commentary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), .
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perception of early Christians with their social reality, scholars should continue to investigate the function of such a discourse of persecution. A chronological divide that emphasizes Constantine carries many assumptions that are important to put upfront – before asking why people became Christian. If other things changed with Constantine, it is not clear that the status of Christians is one. An earlier chronological divide still frames the question in a narrative that mostly focuses on the “persecutions.” With the minimalism consensus about “persecution,” however, social costs of adherence to Christianity are presented as more important than the political costs. I now turn to these.
Social Pressures of Adhering to Christianity There is a consensus that their “atheism” lies behind the hostility against Christians. The universal rejection of the gods and forms of devotion at all levels, from the family to the city, would set Christians apart; responses to this behavior inevitably would involve hostility, especially in the context of crisis. It is more difficult than one imagines to find explicit, especially practical, calls in early Christian texts for this exclusivity. What is clear, however, and abundantly documented, is that there was a wide range of attitudes among Christians. Though acknowledging this diversity is now part and parcel of early Christian studies, it is more often than not balanced or canceled by the assumption that the majority of converts would adopt the requirement promoted by the group whom Burton Mack calls the “centrist” Christians, also called “proto-orthodox.” Larry W. Hurtado thus writes: “I judge that
For the Christian presentation of themselves as suffering, see Judith Perkins, The Suffering Self: Pain and Narrative Representation in the Early Christian Era (London: Routledge, ). On the use of readiness to withstand hardship as a corroboration of legitimacy, see James A. Kelhoffer, Persecution, Persuasion and Power: Readiness to Withstand Hardship as a Corroboration of Legitimacy in the New Testament (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). The latter, however, assumes the reality of the “persecutions.” Ste. Croix, Christian Persecution, Martyrdom, and Orthodoxy, –; Joseph J. Walsh, “On Christian atheism,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –; Hurtado, Why on Earth Did Anyone Become a Christian, –. See below. Mack, Who Wrote the New Testament? The Making of the Christian Myth (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, ). The term “proto-orthodox” is used, for instance, by Bart D. Ehrman, Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew (New York: Oxford University Press, ); Larry W. Hurtado, How on Earth Did Jesus Become a God? Historical Questions about Earliest Devotion to Jesus (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ).
those who formed ‘proto-orthodox’ circles comprised the majority of Christians of the time, and so reflect the kinds of Christianity that drew the majority of converts.” He offers no evidence for the basis of his judgment. Bart D. Ehrman seemingly avoids the difficulty when he writes: For the argument I have been advancing, it is not important whether Christianity is reduced to some kind of essential entity that is necessarily evangelistic and exclusive. What matters is that broad swaths of it demonstrably were. That is the kind of Christianity that in the end became dominant in the empire.
Thus, he entirely subscribes to the winners’ triumphal narrative and concludes that Christians who did not adopt an evangelistic and exclusive form of Christianity are largely irrelevant. Historians should leave assumptions of this sort to theologians. Centrist Christians, through a “process of agglomeration, synchronism, and harmonization,” succeeded in presenting as the majority position what were independent and conflicting positions on the topic. One example is the position on consumption of idol meat. Acts presents the command to abstain from idol meat as a very early and unanimous decision in the socalled Apostolic Decree. Such a position is seemingly found in other texts included in the New Testament: Cor. –, Rev. : and :. These texts, however, show that the abstention from idol meat is not a unanimously shared position. The author of Revelation clearly accuses rival prophets of participating in idolatry. We should not assume that specific communities are behind the Nicolaitans or the followers of Balaam and Jezebel, any more than there is one behind Revelation itself; we do not have enough evidence
Hurtado, Why on Earth Did Anyone Become a Christian, . Ehrman, Triumph of Christianity, . For an analysis of this process on earlier positions on sacrifice, see Daniel C. Ullucci, The Christian Rejection of Animal Sacrifice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), . See Éric Rebillard, Transformations of Religious Practices in Late Antiquity (VC Suppl. ; Farnham: Ashgate Variorum, ), –, trans. of Éric Rebillard, “‘Vivre avec les païens, mais non mourir avec eux’: Le problème de la commensalité des chrétiens et des non-chrétiens (Ier–Ve siècles),” in Les frontières du profane dans l’Antiquité tardive, ed. Éric Rebillard and Claire Sotinel (CÉFR ; Rome: École française de Rome, ), –. Acts : (see :, :); on the complex issues related to the Apostolic Decree and its historicity, see Charles Kingsley Barrett, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, vols. (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, –), :xxxvii–xlii. Rev. : (Nicolaitans), :– (Balaam), : (Jezebel); see Colin J. Hemer, The Letters to the Seven Churches of Asia in Their Local Setting (JSNT Suppl. ; Sheffield: JSOT Press, ), –; Alex T. Cheung, Idol Food in Corinth: Jewish Background and Pauline Legacy (JSNT Suppl. ; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, ), –.
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to think of these contentious issues in terms of social groups. For the argument of Revelation to work, however, the consumption of idol meat had to be the object of controversy. There are also disagreements and diversity of practice among the Christians in Corinth. More importantly, as David G. Horrell rightly insists, the strong sense of ideological distinction that Paul promotes does not go hand in hand with the promotion of a separatist or antagonistic social practice. Christians are encouraged to maintain social interaction with those who are not Christians. Cor. : even suggests that Christian meetings are not “of an entirely exclusivist sect.” Thus, general statements on Christian “atheism” leading to their social isolation and kindling hatred among the non-Christian population need to be revised. Another good example is the resident-alien topos found in texts such as Peter, Hebrews, Diognetus, Shepherd of Hermas, etc. Typically, Peter’s use of the labels “resident alien” and “sojourners” is presented as evidence that his readers suffer persecution because of their separatist way of life. Peter, in turn, is presented as a typical portrayal of Christian communities in the
For a critique of such assumptions, see Frederik Wisse, “Indirect textual evidence for the history of early Christianity and Gnosticism,” in For the Children, Perfect Instruction: Studies in Honor of Hans-Martin Schenke on the Occasion of the Berliner Arbeitskreis für koptisch-gnostische Schriften’s Thirtieth Year, ed. Hans-Gebhard Betghe, Stephen Emmel, Karen L. King, and Imke Schletterer (Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies ; Leiden: Brill, ), –; Stanley Stowers, “The concept of ‘community’ and the history of early Christianity,” Method and Theory in the Study of Religion (), –; and Robyn Faith Walsh, “The influence of the Romantic genius in early Christian studies,” Relegere: Studies in Religion and Reception (), –. David G. Horrell, “Idol-food, idolatry and ethics in Paul,” in Idolatry: False Worship in the Bible, Early Judaism and Christianity, ed. by Stephen C. Barton (T&T Clark Theology; London: T&T Clark, ), . Horrell writes, “What is striking, however, from the evidence we have surveyed in Corinthians, especially on the idolatry and idol-food issues, is the extent to which Paul’s starkly antagonistic rhetoric contrasting church and world goes hand in hand with a policy of quite open interaction with outsiders, albeit circumscribed by certain clear limits.” Horrell, “Idol-food,” –. Corinthians :, NIV: “So if the whole church comes together and everyone speaks in tongues, and inquirers or unbelievers come in, will they not say that you are out of your mind?”; see Horrell, “Idol-food,” . This is true for the first century as it is for the third; on Tertullian and Christians in Carthage, see Éric Rebillard, Christians and Their Many Identities in Late Antiquity, North Africa, – (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press), –; and Rebillard, “Popular hatred against Christians,” on the lack of evidence on “popular hatred.” For a list of references to the theme in the first three centuries, see Johannes Roldanus, “Le chrétien-étranger au monde dans les homélies bibliques de Jean Chrysostome,” Sacris erudiri (–), –.
first three centuries. Benjamin H. Dunning, however, not only emphasizes that we lack evidence to confirm this portrayal, but also shows that there is a whole spectrum of uses of the topos. Of upmost importance, Dunning claims, is “the rhetoricity of the first Christians’ speech about their alien status.” The topos cannot be mapped onto the “real world” in a unilateral relationship. It needs to be decoded in its rhetorical context: the construction of difference is never a disinterested project. It appears, therefore, that even if some Christians, in some specific circumstances, had to pay a social and even a political cost for their religious allegiance, such a situation cannot be generalized and serve as a framework for asking why people became Christians in the preConstantinian world. My analysis suggests that the reasons for becoming Christian should not be tied entirely to a context that is unique to Christianity. In their important study on Roman religions, Beard, North, and Price clearly – though implicitly – consider “persecutions” and growth of Christianity as two separate phenomena, one related to changes in the patterns of Roman religious control (Chapter ) and one that can be understood in the context of the proliferation of religious choice (Chapter ). As we will see now, there are many other elective cults that develop in the Roman empire, and viewing Christianity as one of them is crucial.
E.g., Craig Steven de Vos, “Popular Graeco-Roman responses to Christianity,” in The Early Christian World, ed. Philip F. Esler (London: Routledge, ), :. Benjamin H. Dunning, Aliens and Sojourners: Self as Other in Early Christianity (Divinations: Rereading Ancient Religion; Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ), –. Dunning, Aliens and Sojourners, ; see : “The uses of the topos in Christian discourse of the first two centuries are simply too wide-ranging to sustain confidently any generalized historical assertion about the relationship between Christian alienation and social integration with respect to the Roman social order, made on the level of a de-rhetoricized ‘real world.’” Dunning refers to the work of Moore on the early Mormons: R. Laurence Moore, Religious Outsiders and the Making of Americans (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). I have no room for examining the opposite view that Christianity’s rewards explain why people become Christian. Stark again can be credited for bringing scholarly attention onto the notion, even if his promotion of rational choice theory did not convince everybody; Stark, Rise of Christianity, – for the theory, – and – for Christianity’s rewards. Though very critical of Stark, Sanders emphasizes that he renewed the argument of the benefits brought by Christianity; see Jack T. Sanders, Charisma, Converts, Competitors: Societal and Sociological Factors in the Success of Early Christianity (London: SCM Press, ), . See Mary Beard, John A. North, and Simon R. F. Price, Religions of Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ).
Why Did People Become Christians?
“Becoming Christian” Now that we have analyzed the assumptions that underlie the chronological dimension of the question raised by our chapter title, we need to shift focus onto the first part of the question: “becoming Christian.” As I pointed out, both “becoming” and “Christian” require scrutiny.
“Becoming” Christian Few scholars still claim that “becoming” Christian is an experience unique to Christianity, or even uncritically adopt the distinction proposed by Nock in between conversion and adhesion. Nock defines conversion as “the reorientation of the soul of an individual, his deliberate turning from indifference or from an earlier form of piety to another, a turning which implies a consciousness that a great change is involved, that the old was wrong and the new is right.” Furthermore, he claims that there was “no possibility of anything which can be called conversion” in any other cult in the GrecoRoman world, because one merely adheres to these cults as a “useful supplement.” Nock’s claims are more nuanced than they are sometimes presented by his critics. However, Simon Price well uncovered how “his conviction of the unique nature of Christianity underpinned some aspects of his research,” both in the essay on “Early Gentile Christianity and Its Hellenistic Background” and in Conversion. Historians now posit the “proliferation of religious choices” as a characteristic of the religious world of the empire and point to cults that are “purely elective.” Christianity is one among many, including Isis and Mithras. Even Nock concedes that the (fictive) experience of Lucius in Apuleius’s Metamorphoses comes close to “conversion,” and that any other worship
Nock, Conversion, . Nock, Conversion, and respectively. See Arietta Papaconstantinou (ed.) Conversion in Late Antiquity: Christianity, Islam, and Beyond. Papers from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation Sawyer Seminar, University of Oxford, – (Farnham: Ashgate, ), xix–xx. Simon Price, “The road to ‘conversion’: The life and work of A. D. Nock,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology (), ; Arthur Darby Nock, “Early gentile Christianity and its Hellenistic background,” in Essays on the Trinity and the Incarnation, ed. A. E. J. Rawlinson (London: Longmans, ), –, repr. in Early Gentile Christianity and Its Hellenistic Background (New York: Harper and Row, ), –; see Sanders, Charisma, Converts, Competitors, –, for a sharp critique of this text. Beard et al., Religions of Rome, .
would appear inferior. Roger Beck makes a good case that one can “become” a Mithraist, and Birgitte Bøgh extends the experience to the “mystery cults.” The intellectualist and psychological approach of Nock, which privileges the “conversion” of a Paul or an Augustine, has been criticized many times. On the other hand, we do not want to advocate for the two-tiered approach adopted by Ramsay MacMullen. Thus, conversion would be reserved to the intellectual and social elite, while the lower classes would experience only adhesion. Though insisting that historians are concerned with millions of people, MacMullen still uses a psychological scale, albeit one that is calibrated differently. New understandings of conversion, especially in pluralistic societies, suggest that even a change of belief, as opposed to a change of identity, is not a necessary requirement for the adoption of religious practices. Thus, “becoming” Christian is not the only way people experience Christianity, though clearly it is the mode promoted by most of its “specialists.”
Nock, Conversion, ; see Beard et al., Religions of Rome, . Roger Beck, “The religious market of the Roman empire: Rodney Stark and Christianity’s pagan competition,” in Religious Rivalries in the Early Roman Empire and the Rise of Christianity, ed. Leif E. Vaage (Studies in Christianity and Judaism ; Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, ), –; Birgitte Bøgh, “Beyond Nock: From adhesion to conversion in the mystery cults,” History of Religions (), –. See in particular Zeba A. Crook, Reconceptualising Conversion: Patronage, Loyalty, and Conversion in the Religions of the Ancient Mediterranean (BZNW ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). MacMullen, Christianizing the Roman Empire, : “Let me declare Christian conversion, then, to have been that change of belief by which a person accepted the reality and supreme power of God and determined to obey Him. Whether actual, entire, and doctrinally centrist obedience resulted would depend on cases. It would depend on cases whether the change lay half on the surface and in conduct, or produced an exclusive loyalty, or was warmly or little felt.” It should be noted that MacMullen does not use the vocabulary proposed by Nock; for a critique of MacMullen’s distinction between lower- and higher-class experience, see William S. Babcock, “MacMullen on conversion: A response,” Second Century (), –. On MacMullen and psychology, see Crook, Reconceptualising Conversion, –. For the millions of people for whom the historian must account, see MacMullen, Christianizing the Roman Empire, – (and esp. – on Nock). The best characterization of the two-tiered model is still Peter Brown, The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ), –. On the notion of “religious butinage,” see Yonatan N. Gez, Yvan Droz, Edio Soares, and Jeanne Rey, “From converts to itinerants: Religious butinage as dynamic identity,” Current Anthropology (), –. I use “specialists” to designate the writers of early Christian texts. Bourdieu traces the notion back to Weber and adds to it the concept of field: Pierre Bourdieu, The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature, ed. Randal Johnson (European Perspectives; New York: Columbia University Press, ), –; see Ullucci, Christian Rejection, , n. , on the model of “cultural producers.”
Why Did People Become Christians?
If we introduce the categories that social movement studies use for describing adherents, we are called to distinguish activists, identifiers, and agreers. The activists are those we know most about: they are the “specialists” who produced the texts we are familiar with. Identifiers acknowledge themselves to be Christians, while agreers do not. Not every person encountering Christianity would become an activist or even an identifier. There is also some evidence that some people identified themselves as Christian only temporarily, as they would with other cults. Famously, Pliny interrogated such former Christians: “Others named by an informer presently denied it, saying that they had indeed been Christians, but had stopped, some three years before, some several years before, a few even twenty years before.” Whatever their level of commitment at the time, they stopped recognizing themselves as Christians, and it seems that this was not uncommon. Ultimately, what this suggests is that we need to make sure that a focus on “becoming” Christian does not reduce the spectrum of possible interactions with Christianity.
Becoming “Christian” Finally, as I said above, the use of “Christian” in “becoming Christian” also needs to be unpacked. I do not mean to refer here to the problematic use of “Christian” for designating the different movements associated with Jesus and/or Christ in the first century, though it also has to be acknowledged.
See Anthony J. Blasi, Early Christianity as a Social Movement (Toronto Studies in Religion ; New York: Lang, ), –. Blasi, Early Christianity as a Social Movement, ; Blasi defines the agreer thus: “the person who agrees with the movement but does not identify with it by saying, for example, ‘I am a Christian.’” Pliny, Ep. Tra. ..: Alii ab indice nominati esse se Christianos dixerunt et mox negaverunt; fuisse quidem sed desisse, quidam ante triennium, quidam ante plures annos, non nemo etiam ante viginti. See S. G. Wilson, Leaving the Fold: Apostates and Defectors in Antiquity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), ; Hurtado, Why on Earth Did Anyone Become a Christian, , concludes that their “defection” was due to the social/political costs of being Christian. Gary Johnson instead suggests: “They apparently did not see the Church as something outside the range of normal experience, as that unique body portrayed by the authors of early Christian literature and by modern scholars”; see Gary J. Johnson, “De conspiratione delatorum: Pliny and the Christians revisited,” Latomus (), –, at . For instance, Mack identifies five Jesus movements and distinguishes them from a Christ cult, all of them in the first century; Mack, Who Wrote the New Testament?
The question of when “Christians” became Christians has gotten more and more complicated – perhaps even unanswerable. There is a large consensus that “Christian” was a hostile label forged by the Roman authorities or at least by outsiders. Few scholars now think that Acts :, the first attestation of “Christian,” supports that the name was formed in the early s . The testimony of Tacitus for its use in Rome in the s has also been questioned. In any case, by the first quarter of the second century, the use of the term as a hostile label is well established. When was it adopted as an active and positive term of self-designation? This is a disputed question, especially since most of the texts that use the label are difficult to date with any certainty until the Apologists. The term is used twice in Acts, but one should note that no one claims the designation for themselves. David G. Horrell built a strong case for the designation in Peter, which contains a strategy of self-stigmatization in which a positive value is given to a term used for shaming by outsiders. The date of Peter, however, cannot be established with certainty. Nevertheless, there is no doubt that by the middle of the second century, the term “Christian” is commonly used by insiders. Even with the use of the term “Christian” by both outsiders and insiders, though, the diversity of the groups now claiming the name for themselves
The issue is usually described with the metaphor of the “parting of the ways.” For a good overview of the debate, see Adam H. Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed (eds.) The Ways That Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). For a good synthesis and discussion on the topic, see David G. Horrell, Becoming Christian: Essays on Peter and the Making of Christian Identity (LNTS ; London: Bloomsbury, ), –. An earlier, less developed version appears as “The label Christianos: Peter : and the formation of Christian identity,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –. See also Paul Trebilco, Self-Designations and Group Identity in the New Testament (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. Horrell and Trebilco both conclude that the term was coined before ; Horrell, Becoming Christian, –; Trebilco, Self-Designations, –. Brent D. Shaw, “The myth of the Neronian persecution,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. As attested by Tacitus (Ann. .), Suetonius (Nero .), and Pliny (Ep. Tra. .). For a review of the evidence, see Trebilco, Self-Designations, –. Acts : and :. Horrell, Becoming Christian, –. For a recent discussion, see Travis B. Williams, Persecution in Peter: Differentiating and Contextualizing Early Christian Suffering (NovT Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ), –; the time frame is – . Justin uses the term more than thirty times in Apol.; see Trebilco, Self-Designations, .
Why Did People Become Christians?
remains a factor that we need to evaluate when we talk of people becoming “Christian.” Karen L. King asks the question: “Which early Christianity?” I have already pointed out that adopting the requirements post-established by the centrist or proto-orthodox Christians is not satisfactory. When Beard, North, and Price review the homogeneity of the new, elective cults across the empire, they note both that “Christianity laid far greater stress than any of the other cults on its internal organization and central control” and that “these structures of authority were established partly to deal with the problems of [the] variety [of beliefs and practices].” In other words, the dominance later acquired by orthodox groups must not distract historians from the sheer diversity of early Christianity. A prerequisite, then, is to address the nature of this diversity. Both theologians and historians now agree upon the diversity of early Christianity, and many of its “varieties” have been described. This raises the question of whether it still makes sense to speak of Christianity in the singular. Essentializing answers, such as Harnack’s, have given room to more historical approaches. As Karen L. King points out, however, many of these attempts end up establishing a core (Dunn) or a proto-orthodoxy (Ehrman) that both unites the varieties and marks off the limits of what is acceptable, thus falling back on a narrative that is not fundamentally different from the ancient narrative of orthodoxy and heresy. The shift to an “analysis of the deployments and effects of [the] rhetoric [of orthodoxy and heresy] as a discursive strategy by which borders could be constructed, patrolled, and maintained” does not solve the question either. As Maia Kotrosits has shown, the use of “Christian identity” as an optic already presupposes the existence of movements that want an exclusive identification as “Christian.”
Karen L. King, “Which early Christianity?” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. Beard et al., Religions of Rome, –. Adolf von Harnack, What Is Christianity?, trans. Thomas Bailey Saunders (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ); trans. of Das Wesen des Christentums: sechzehn Vorlesungen vor Studierenden aller Facultäten im Wintersemester / an der Universität Berlin (Leipzig: Hinrichs, ). King, “Which early Christianity?” . King refers to: James D. G. Dunn, Unity and Diversity in the New Testament: An Inquiry into the Character of Earliest Christianity, rd ed. (London: SCM Press, ); Ehrman, Lost Christianities. King, “Which early Christianity?” ; referring to Judith Lieu, Christian Identity in the Jewish and Graeco-Roman World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Maia Kotrosits, Rethinking Early Christian Identity: Affect, Violence, and Belonging (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), esp. – on Lieu’s approach; also – on Shelly Matthews, Perfect
What I want to explore here is what people thought they encountered when they “became Christian,” given this diversity. Two passages from Corinthians and Corinthians illustrate what I mean. In Corinthians :–, Paul mentions divisions in Corinth and describes them in the following manner: My brothers and sisters, some from Chloe’s household have informed me that there are quarrels among you. What I mean is this: One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas”; still another, “I follow Christ.”
This provides us with a glance at the issue: even if all these “teachers” talk about Christ, does it mean that they are perceived as specialists of the same deity? Paul certainly implies that it is the case when he asks “Is Christ divided?” ( Cor. :), but as the second passage shows, the question is more complex. In Corinthians :–, Paul attacks the “super-apostles” who preach “a Jesus other than the Jesus [h]e preached” and complains that the Corinthians “put up with it easily.” As Cavan W. Concannon writes: That Paul is concerned about multiple spirits and Christs in Corinth does not reflect a concern with heresy or wrongheaded ideas being taken up by the Corinthians; rather, it reflects the capacity within Greek modes of religious practice to hold multiple perspectives on the names of deities.
It means that the Corinthians would have to decide for themselves whether these specialists preach the same deity or not, and that there was no obvious answer, though Paul seems to suggest that the Corinthians have decided in the negative. Let us jump to the middle of the third century and look at the situation in Carthage. At this time, unlike first-century Corinth, we can assume that people might know what to do to “become Christian.” They would go to the bishop Cyprian or one of the presbyters and ask to be admitted as catechumens. What happens, however, when there are three “Christian”
Martyr: The Stoning of Stephen and the Construction of Christian Identity (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Cavan W. Concannon, “When You Were Gentiles”: Specters of Ethnicity in Roman Corinth and Paul’s Corinthian Correspondence (Synkrisis; New Haven: Yale University Press, ), ; he refers to Henk Versnel, Coping with the Gods: Wayward Readings in Greek Theology (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World ; Leiden: Brill, ). Victor Saxer, Vie liturgique et quotidienne à Carthage vers le milieu du IIIe siècle: Le témoignage de saint Cyprien et de ses contemporains d’Afrique (Studi di antichità cristiana ; Vatican City: Pontificio Istituto di archeologia Cristiana, ), –.
Why Did People Become Christians?
bishops, as was the case for several years after ? It is unlikely that people would have chosen a bishop on account of what he stood for on baptismal and penitential disciplinarian grounds. Greco-Roman associations, it has been successfully argued, can provide useful comparanda for thinking about early Christian assemblies. While early Christian texts say almost nothing about the organization and structure of these assemblies, there is abundant documentation, mostly epigraphic, about the organization and structure of a host of small face-toface associations. Though the paradigm of the “Greco-Roman association” has come under severe criticism recently, a careful comparison should nevertheless allow historians to infer information about the size, the membership, and the finances, among other things, of the early Christian assemblies. If we follow the logic of scholars who put forward the association model, then we might wonder whether “Christ” would be the singular or the salient reason for their affiliation with one group or the other. Indeed, while previous scholarship on associations tended to divide them according to their main purpose, recent approaches emphasize that associations drew members from a web of social network connections. Do
For an attempt to go beyond Cyprian’s silence about his rivals and what he calls their communities, see Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Cyprian’s rival bishops and their communities,” Augustinianum (), –. On “simple belief,” see Jack Tannous, The Making of the Medieval Middle East: Religion, Society, and Simple Believers (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ), –. For a recent synthesis, see John S. Kloppenborg, Christ’s Associations: Connecting and Belonging in the Ancient City (New Haven: Yale University Press, ); also Richard S. Ascough, Paul’s Macedonian Associations: The Social Context of Philippians and Thessalonians (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ); and Philip A. Harland, Associations, Synagogues, and Congregations: Claiming a Place in Ancient Mediterranean Society, nd rev. ed. (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ). See Benedikt Eckhardt, “Private associations in Hellenistic and Roman cities: Common ground and dividing lines,” in Private Associations and Jewish Communities in the Hellenistic and Roman Cities, ed. Benedikt Eckhardt (Journal for the Study of Judaism Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ), –. Jean-Marc Flambard, “Éléments pour une approche financière de la mort dans les classes populaires du haut empire: Analyse du budget de quelques collèges funéraires de Rome et d’Italie,” in La mort, les morts et l’au-delà dans le monde romain: Actes du colloque de Caen, – novembre , ed. François Hinard (Caen: Université de Caen, ), –; and Nicolas Tran, Les membres des associations romaines: Le rang social des collegiati en Italie et en Gaules sous le hautempire (CÉFR ; Rome: École française de Rome, ), –. On the tautology of the notion of religious association, see John Scheid, “Communauté et communauté: Réflexions sur quelques ambiguïtés d’après l’exemple des thiases de l’Égypte romaine,” in Les communautés religieuses dans le monde gréco-romain: Essais de définition, ed. Nicole Belayche and Simon C. Mimouni (BEHER ; Turnhout: Brepols, ), –.
people become “Christian” when they join a group that worships Christ as one of their communal activities, or do they join in a group of neighbors, colleagues, or expatriates? Or should we rather say that these different networks of recruitment are all combined, though with different weight, or salience, in their decision? If this model is valid, one should not imagine that joining a “Christian” group would be a different experience from joining another Greco-Roman association, at least initially. More generally, because the situation in Carthage is far from unique, and because the plurality of Christian groups inevitably affects the meaning of becoming “Christian,” we should be wary of thinking about it as an experience that can be subsumed under a single descriptor.
Conclusion Within this essay, I have not even started sketching the answer(s) to the commonly asked question, “why did people become Christians in the preConstantinian world?” Instead, what I hope to have made clear is that the terms of the question themselves can constrain the historical probity of one’s answers unless the assumptions that lie behind the framing of the question are clearly uncovered. Political and even social costs associated with Christian allegiance cannot be posited as the unique context for understanding all forms of adherence and all levels of commitment to Christianity. Thus, a divide between a pre-Constantinian and a post-Constantinian world seems to lose some of its relevance. It is unclear that “Christian” would have meant the same thing to all people who had some interaction with a specialist of Jesus and/or Christ or their followers. Furthermore, adherence was not the only form of engagement with Christianity: selective, temporary, situational association, and/or borrowing of beliefs and practices are also options. This could help redescribe the “triumph of Christianity,” leading us
Regrettably, Kloppenborg distinguishes types of associations on the basis of their activities – thus members of “cultic associations” implicitly have a cult as their primary focus; Kloppenborg, Christ’s Associations, –. Harland well notes that many associations drew membership from more than one set of social connections, but only to suggest that one can “detect the principal set of linkages” (Associations, Synagogues, and Congregations, ).
Why Did People Become Christians?
away from a Sunday morning head-count model, focused on impressive numbers and rates of growth, and inviting us to investigate the no less impressive extent to which Christian symbols and rituals came to be added (and sometimes simply tried out and rejected) by more and more people across the entire Mediterranean world and beyond.
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Stark placed numbers and rates of growth at the center of the discussion: Stark, Rise of Christianity; see Keith Hopkins, “Christian number and its implications,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –; Harold A. Drake, “Models of Christian expansion,” in The Spread of Christianity in the First Four Centuries: Essays in Explanation, ed. William V. Harris (Columbia Studies in the Classical Tradition ; Leiden: Brill, ), –; Thomas A. Robinson, Who Were the First Christians? Dismantling the Urban Thesis (New York: Oxford University Press, ), –; Ehrman, Triumph of Christianity, –; Schor is the only paper that explores other models instead of tweaking the numbers; see Adam M. Schor, “Conversion by the numbers: Benefits and pitfalls of quantitative modelling in the study of early Christian growth,” Journal of Religious History (), –.
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Kelhoffer, James A. Persecution, Persuasion and Power: Readiness to Withstand Hardship as a Corroboration of Legitimacy in the New Testament (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). King, Karen L. “Which early Christianity?” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies. Edited by Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Kloppenborg, John S. Christ’s Associations: Connecting and Belonging in the Ancient City (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Knapp, Robert C. The Dawn of Christianity: People and Gods in a Time of Magic and Miracles (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Knipfing, John R. “The libelli of the Decian persecution,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. Kotrosits, Maia. Rethinking Early Christian Identity: Affect, Violence, and Belonging (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Kreider, Alan. The Patient Ferment of the Early Church: The Improbable Rise of Christianity in the Roman Empire (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). Lane Fox, Robin. Pagans and Christians (San Francisco: Harper and Row, ). Licciardello, Pierluigi. “La Passio di Felice, Ireneo e Mustiola: Con edizione critica delle versioni BHL –c,” Analecta Bollandiana (), –. Lieu, Judith. Christian Identity in the Jewish and Graeco-Roman World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Mack, Burton L. Who Wrote the New Testament? The Making of the Christian Myth (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, ). MacMullen, Ramsay. Christianizing the Roman Empire (a.d. –) (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Matthews, Shelly. Perfect Martyr: The Stoning of Stephen and the Construction of Christian Identity (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Middleton, Paul. “Martyrdom and persecution in the New Testament.” Pages – in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Christian Martyrdom. Edited by Paul Middleton (Hoboken: Wiley, ). The Violence of the Lamb: Martyrs as Agents of Divine Judgement in the Book of Revelation (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ). Millar, Fergus. “Paul of Samosata, Zenobia, and Aurelian: The church, local culture, and political allegiance in third-century Syria,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. Moore, R. Laurence. Religious Outsiders and the Making of Americans (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Nock, Arthur Darby. Conversion: The Old and the New in Religion from Alexander the Great to Augustine of Hippo (London: Oxford University Press, ). “Early Gentile Christianity and its Hellenistic background.” Pages – in Essays on the Trinity and the Incarnation. Edited by A. E. J. Rawlinson (London: Longmans, ). Repr. as pages – in Early Gentile Christianity and Its Hellenistic Background (Harper Torchbooks; New York: Harper and Row, ).
Why Did People Become Christians? Papaconstantinou, Arietta (ed.) Conversion in Late Antiquity: Christianity, Islam, and Beyond. Papers from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation Sawyer Seminar, University of Oxford, – (Farnham: Ashgate, ). Perkins, Judith. The Suffering Self: Pain and Narrative Representation in the Early Christian Era (London: Routledge, ). Praet, Danny. “Explaining the Christianization of the Roman empire,” Sacris erudiri (), –. Price, Simon. “The road to ‘conversion’: The life and work of A. D. Nock,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology (), –. Rebillard, Éric. Christians and Their Many Identities in Late Antiquity, North Africa, – ce (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, ). “Popular hatred against Christians: The case of North Africa in the second and third centuries,” Archiv für Religiongeschichte (), –. Transformations of Religious Practices in Late Antiquity (VC Suppl. ; Farnham: Ashgate Variorum, ). “‘Vivre avec les païens, mais non mourir avec eux’: Le problème de la commensalité des chrétiens et des non-chrétiens (Ier–Ve siècles).” Pages – in Les frontières du profane dans l’Antiquité tardive. Edited by Éric Rebillard and Claire Sotinel (CÉFR ; Rome: École française de Rome, ). Rives, James B. “The decree of Decius and the religion of empire,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. Robinson, Thomas A. Who Were the First Christians? Dismantling the Urban Thesis (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Roldanus, Johannes. “Le chrétien-étranger au monde dans les homélies bibliques de Jean Chrysostome,” Sacris erudiri (–), –. Rousselle, Aline. “Le crime de christianisme.” Pages – in Ordre moral et délinquance de l’antiquité au XXe siècle: Actes du colloque de Dijon, et octobre . Edited by Benoît Garnot (Publications de l’Université de Bourgogne ; Dijon: Éditions universitaires de Dijon, ). Sage, Michael M. “The persecution of Valerian and the peace of Gallienus,” Wiener Studien (), –. Sanders, Jack T. Charisma, Converts, Competitors: Societal and Sociological Factors in the Success of Early Christianity (London: SCM Press, ). Saxer, Victor. Vie liturgique et quotidienne à Carthage vers le milieu du IIIe siècle: Le témoignage de saint Cyprien et de ses contemporains d’Afrique (Studi di antichità cristiana ; Vatican City: Pontificio Istituto di archeologia Cristiana, ). Scheid, John. “Communauté et communauté: Réflexions sur quelques ambiguïtés d’après l’exemple des thiases de l’Égypte romaine.” Pages – in Les communautés religieuses dans le monde gréco-romain: Essais de definition. Edited by Nicole Belayche and Simon C. Mimouni (BEHER ; Turnhout: Brepols, ). Schor, Adam M. “Conversion by the numbers: Benefits and pitfalls of quantitative modelling in the study of early Christian growth,” Journal of Religious History (), –.
Schubert, Paul. “On the form and content of the certificates of pagan sacrifice,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. Schwartz, Seth. “Roman historians and the rise of Christianity: The school of Edward Gibbon.” Pages – in The Spread of Christianity in the First Four Centuries: Essays in Explanation. Edited by William V. Harris (Columbia Studies in the Classical Tradition ; Leiden: Brill, ). Selinger, Reinhard. The Mid-Third Century Persecutions of Decius and Valerian (Frankfurt am Main: Lang, ). Shaw, Brent D. “The myth of the Neronian persecution,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. Sherwin-White, Adrian Nicholas. The Letters of Pliny: A Historical and Social Commentary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Shin, Min Seok. The Great Persecution: A Historical Re-Examination (Studia Antiqua Australiensia ; Turnhout: Brepols, ). Siniscalco, Paolo. “L’editto di Milano: Origine e sviluppo di un dibattito.” Pages – in vol. of Costantino I: Enciclopedia costantiniana sulla figura e l’immagine dell’imperatore del cosiddetto Editto di Milano, – (Roma: Treccani, ). Stark, Rodney. The Rise of Christianity: A Sociologist Reconsiders History (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Ste. Croix, Geoffrey E. M. de. Christian Persecution, Martyrdom, and Orthodoxy. Edited by Michael Whitby and Joseph Streeter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Why were the early Christians persecuted?” Past and Present . (), –. “Why were the early Christians persecuted? A rejoinder,” Past and Present . (), –. Stowers, Stanley. “The concept of ‘community’ and the history of early Christianity,” Method and Theory in the Study of Religion (), –. Straeten, Joseph van der. “Actes des martyrs d’Aurélien en Gaule,” Analecta Bollandiana (), –. “Les Actes des martyrs d’Aurélien en Bourgogne: Étude littéraire,” Analecta Bollandiana (), –. Tannous, Jack. The Making of the Medieval Middle East: Religion, Society, and Simple Believers (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Tran, Nicolas. Les membres des associations romaines: Le rang social des collegiati en Italie et en Gaules sous le haut-empire (CÉFR ; Rome: École française de Rome, ). Trebilco, Paul. Self-Designations and Group Identity in the New Testament (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Ullucci, Daniel C. The Christian Rejection of Animal Sacrifice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Versnel, Henk. Coping with the Gods: Wayward Readings in Greek Theology (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World ; Leiden: Brill, ). Vos, Craig Steven de. “Popular Graeco-Roman responses to Christianity.” Pages – in vol. of The Early Christian World. Edited by Philip F. Esler (London: Routledge, ). Walsh, Joseph J. “On Christian atheism,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –.
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Remembering Jesus in Earliest Christianity The What and How of Socially Framed Memory Remembering Jesus is an ongoing activity. It began within Jesus’s own lifetime but continues to the present. The contexts, controls, and creativity of remembering Jesus are, therefore, not exclusive to how Jesus was remembered from the earliest time – they are also relevant to each generation’s present. With this in mind, historians who focus on Jesus must () attend to the material, literary, and social history of the Second Temple period, and () attend to their own placement, agenda, and historical vantage point. So remembering Jesus is as much about self-awareness as it is about studying ancient history. For these reasons, a robust theory of memory is required, one that helps us navigate the mnemonic frameworks of earliest Christianity as well as how our memory works more generally. We will examine the earliest Christian creed (or hymn) as it is quoted by Paul’s letter to the Romans. That said, the bulk of this essay will address Jesus and memory as topics for historians in the twenty-first century. Our aim is to explain how and why theories of memory have become integral to scholars of the Jesus tradition.
Between Jesus and Christianity Perhaps the best way to approach early memories of Jesus is by reading Mark’s Gospel. Mark is the earliest extant biography of Jesus. It is short enough to orate in fewer than minutes (which may be how and why it was composed) and it presents the basic story of Jesus’s public life, disputes, and execution. Mark presents Jesus as a preacher, an exorcist/healer, a
Joanna Dewey, “Oral methods of structuring narrative in Mark,” Interpretation . (), –.
storyteller and wrongfully executed messiah, who is eventually vindicated as the risen “Son of God.” Mark’s story seems to have inspired several other similar (and competing) stories about Jesus that Christians used for remembrance. But beginning with Mark has two drawbacks: it’s not the earliest extant remembrance of Jesus; and it packages Jesus within a complex narrative. Mark is an important window into Christian memory, but it does not represent so-called “earliest Christianity.” For that, we must begin with a more seminal text, and one that captures the thoughts of Jesus’s followers when they were almost exclusively Jewish. With this in mind, we begin with Paul’s remembrance of Jesus in Romans :–: The one born of the seed of David according to the flesh who was designated the son of God with power through the spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead Jesus Christ our Lord.
Here Paul seems to quote a hymn or credal statement that predates his earliest letters. If so, it was probably used in formal worship settings between and . It is possible (perhaps even likely) that a few phrases were appended to a more original parallel verse. Even so, this short statement of belief gives us an important starting point. We will revisit this text in greater detail below, but let’s begin with a cursory look at this statement of shared memory. Note that the first line assumes Jesus’s fundamental Jewishness. The first and last lines assume something specific about Jewish messianism (which suggests that Jesus was anointed and endorsed by God to accomplish a divine mission). The second line assumes Jesus’s humanity, in that he was born “of flesh” (κατὰ σάρκα). The third line assumes Jesus’s status as God’s authoritative son. The fourth line suggests that Jesus’s power was in some way mediated spiritually (and perhaps accordant with the concerns of ritual purity). And the fifth line assumes that Jesus rose from the dead in a way that was theologically meaningful. So packed into this short statement are several claims about Jesus. Each insight assumes Jewish ideas about God, the Chris Keith, The Gospel as Manuscript: An Early History of the Jesus Tradition as Material Artifact (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). A worthy next step is to examine how such claims were narrativized. At that point, the Gospel of Mark would be especially useful.
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world, and how these interface. Each presupposes elements of Jewish history, memory, and social structure. In short, remembering Jesus was simultaneously about remembering key elements of Second Temple Jewish life and the present concerns of the rememberer. Perhaps, then, this creed – albeit in service to Paul’s gentile project in Rome – serves as a mnemonic bridge between Jesus and Christianity. Moreover, because of the form and function of this text, these claims about Jesus seem critical to understanding nascent Christian memory. In a very succinct formula, Romans :– answers what earliest Christianity deemed important enough to remember. But we are also interested in how these memories took shape. This second question requires a theoretical framework, something that scholars of Jesus have been chasing for a long time.
Mnemonic Contexts In the last thirty years the methodological practices of previous generations (those associated with “form criticism”) have been questioned and undermined. One of the most important methodological challenges is the supposed separation of tradition and memory. An early critic of form criticism’s weaknesses regarding tradition and memory was Birger Gerhardsson. In order to understand the relationship between memory and tradition, Gerhardsson looked to the closest proximate culture to Jesus. He identified this culture as Tannaitic and Amoraic Judaism from the first five centuries , which are generally described as the period of Rabbinic Judaism. The ability of religious scholars of this era to reproduce the Torah and its interpretations by rabbis from memory is indicative for Gerhardsson of the kind of value placed on the preservation of tradition. If the culture of traditionpreservation surrounding Jesus was capable of such detailed transmission, then it is likely that Jesus’s own followers had the capacity to remember and transmit the teachings of Jesus in a very detailed way.
Alan Kirk, Memory and the Jesus Tradition (New York: Bloomsbury, ), –. This is not to say that the contributions of Form Criticism should be abandoned entirely, but since they have some foundational flaws in their approach, it is necessary to reexamine their conclusions. Gerhardsson defines the group whose material is represented in this period as “Pharisaic Rabbinic Judaism.” Memory and Manuscript: Oral Tradition and Written Transmission in Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity (Lund: C. W. K. Gleerup, ), . Gerhardsson, Memory, .
As Alan Kirk points out, recent research on literacy and education undermines some of Gerhardsson’s specific conclusions. Nonetheless, his reunification of memory and tradition is upheld as the probable context of Jesus’s life and teaching. Building on the overarching contribution of Gerhardsson, the specific relationship between memory and tradition needs to consider the relationship between the levels of memory, eyewitnesses, oral/aural cultures, literacy, and textuality. Memory is complex. The complexity is compounded by the use of the word “memory” to refer not only to personal memories but also to the memories of communities, cultures, symbols, print and digital media, monuments, etc. At this point it is appropriate to introduce the adjective “cultural” to clarify what memory is. “Cultural memory” is a technical term that has been used in diverse fields to represent the fact that all memory (from the individual up to the national) is conditioned by the culture in which it is formed. An example demonstrating the importance of the cultural aspect of memory is Maurice Halbwachs’s “traveler” who moves outside the memory frameworks with which they are familiar: [He] does not speak the language but knows the history of this country and has not forgotten his own history. But he lacks a large number of current notions. More precisely, a certain number of conventions no longer make sense to him, even though he knows that they exist and tries in vain to conform to them. A word heard or read by him is not accompanied by the feeling that he understands [its] sense; images of objects pass before his eyes without his being able to attach a name to them – to recognize their nature and role. Under certain circumstances he can no longer identify his thought with that of others or attain that form of social representation which is exemplified by a notion, a scheme, or a symbol of a gesture or of a thing. Contact between his thought and the collective memory becomes interrupted at a certain number of detailed points.
This example is especially poignant because it includes the intersection between the individual’s memory and the memories that are required by an individual in order to participate in a given society.
Kirk, Memory and the Jesus Tradition, . See also Catherine Hezser, “Jewish literacy and the use of writing in late Roman antiquity,” in Jewish Culture and Society under the Christian Roman Empire, ed. Richard Kalmin and Seth Schwartz (Leiden: Peeters, ), –; Hezser, Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Astrid Erll, Memory in Culture (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, ), . Maurice Halbwachs, On Collective Memory, ed. and trans. Lewis A. Coser (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ), –; emphasis added.
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One way to reduce some of the complexity is to note a distinction between types of cultural memory. Astrid Erll conceptualizes this distinction as the difference between memory as metaphor and memory as metonymy. When memory is understood as metonymy, we can refer to an individual remembering at the cognitive level (i.e. autobiographical experience). In that sense, to talk about memory is to speak directly about an individual’s organic memory. A follower of Jesus of Nazareth will have had individual memories of what Jesus said and did. Those memories will be interpreted through the worldview or cultural frames of that individual. As we observed above with Romans :–, Jewish followers of Jesus remembered him through Jewish concepts like “seed of David,” “son of God,” and “messiah.” Note again that such idiosyncratic experiences are still measured against cultural matrices. When memory is used as a metaphor, it is referring to an external representation of individual memories. These external media are “like” an individual’s organic memory insofar as they represent the past to the present. They differ, however, in that they are not connected to the neuronal processes of an individual; they represent the memory of the individual in an actualized manner. Actualization is a key term here because it refers to the necessity of memory to extend beyond the individual in order for any given memory to be meaningful to the community in which the individual participates. As Astrid Erll notes, Just as the social environment and cultural schemata shape the individual memory, the “memory” of a sociocultural formation must be actualized and realized in, or appropriated through, organic minds. Otherwise commemorative rituals, archival material, and media representing the past will be useless and ineffective – dead material, failing to have any impact in memory culture.
At this point it is possible to make some connections to the life of Jesus as it was experienced by individuals (memory as metonymy) and remembered in The distinction here is essential for constructive conversations about memory, as we have noted elsewhere: “social memory theorists often confuse literal memory with memory as a metaphor for tradition,” Anthony Le Donne, The Historiographical Jesus (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ), . “There is no pre-cultural individual memory,” Erll, Memory, . Erll, Memory, . For the connection between actualization and performance in communities, see Rafael Rodríguez, Structuring Early Christian Memory (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ), .
communities (memory as metaphor). On the side of individual memories, it is important to emphasize the cultural frames essential to the individual’s ability to interpret or make sense of their experience. On the side of memory as metaphor, Jesus’s followers circulated his teachings and actions in oral and textual media. Those individuals who were personally present to hear Jesus’s teachings and to observe his actions would be considered eyewitnesses. The extent to which eyewitnesses constrained the Jesus tradition and helped shape its evolution is a matter of debate. But let us assume for the sake of argument that such eyewitnesses held some sway as tradents. As such, they would have autobiographical memories of these words and events. Even so, the individual’s memories would be automatically interpreted through the cultural memory that they have acquired throughout their life frames (also called schemata). It is the progression of these memories into tradition that leads us to a discussion of orality, literacy, and textuality. Based on various sociological models, it is probable that the literacy for the general population of Roman Palestine/Judea was between and percent. There has been an increased interest in literacy in the last ten years. Chris Keith has recently refined the conversation around literacy to include several important types of literacy. The spectrum of literacy that Keith identifies includes, among others (and on a scale of increasing abilities): illiteracy, the ability to sign one’s name, the ability to read at a basic level (signs, inscriptions, contracts), the ability to read documents, the ability to copy documents, and ultimately the ability to personally construct religious or literary texts. This gradient coupled with the likely percentage of literate people leads to the observation that Roman Palestine/Judea would have had a vibrant culture of oral tradition mingled with textual literacy and a small segment reaching scribal or artisanal literacy.
Cf. Richard Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). With a confidence interval of percent, meaning that it is percent likely that the actual literacy falls within the range provided. For more on the importance of CI for measurement, see Douglas W. Hubbard, How to Measure Anything (Hoboken: John Wiley and Sons, ), –. For the low-end percentage, see William V. Harris, Ancient Literacy (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), . For higher levels of literacy at varying places on the spectrum, see Chris Keith, Jesus’ Literacy: Scribal Culture and the Teacher from Galilee (LNTS / LHJS ; London: T&T Clark, ); Hezser, “Jewish literacy”; Brian J. Wright, Communal Reading in the Time of Jesus (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Keith, Jesus’ Literacy, –.
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Although the cultural context of memories about Jesus was largely oral, we do not have any existing oral traditions. Instead, the recognition of a significantly oral culture that produced texts means we must understand something about the genesis of texts that have their origin in orality. Rafael Rodríguez clarifies this relationship between communities and orality/textuality: “The communal function of texts applies to literate and nonliterate members of society, so long as the values and traditions established by (or merely through) the text are made accessible via channels other than individual silent reading.” With the earliest communal expression of eyewitness testimony, the clock begins to tick on the availability of access to those individuals. The period of time in which individual eyewitnesses circulate their memories is called “communicative memory” and extends for approximately eighty years. This is a period longer than the life of any given eyewitness because it incorporates the probable lifespans of people who could have known an eyewitness. The ensuing period brings on what is considered (by some) a “crisis of memory.” It is at the point that the permanence of memory reaches its climax for the community. That is not to say that it is only at this point that a mixed-literacy culture would consider using a more permanent physical artifact (memory as metaphor) to preserve its memories. Richard Bauckham and Samuel Byrskog are prominent voices who have attempted to bridge the gap between memory as metonymy and metaphor within the period of “communicative memory.” Byrskog is most concerned with the model of history based on the records of the earliest Greek and Roman historians. Those historians were focused on getting back to the direct eyewitnesses whenever possible, though they acknowledged and accepted written accounts of eyewitnesses as well. That parallels Byrskog’s conception of what is accomplished in the textualization of traditions: “The written text is not permanent in the sense that it is entirely stabilized, but in the sense that it is available as a fixed record for a longer period of time.” Bauckham brings a different angle to the role of eyewitnesses in the transmission of tradition. In what can be seen as an extension of Byrskog’s
Rafael Rodríguez, “Reading and hearing in ancient contexts,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament . (), . Jan Assmann, Cultural Memory and Early Civilization (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), . Samuel Byrskog, Story as History, History as Story: The Gospel Tradition in the Context of Ancient Oral History (Leiden: Brill, ), .
approach, Bauckham uses Paul as an example of how it is possible to distinguish the preservation of tradition for the sake of itself and the use of traditional material in the teaching function of the Christian communities. Looking at Cor. :, Paul introduces a direct quote from Jesus, whereas in Cor. :–, Paul feels the freedom to take some principles of Jesus and state his own authoritative opinion. From this Bauckham claims that “the tradition of the sayings of Jesus was kept distinct from their use in parenetic instruction.” It is possible that Bauckham has overstated his position. Even so, the example offers an intriguing insight. If this can be extended, the identical wording in some places within the Gospels and approximate wording in others might indicate that the authors remembered sayings of Jesus without the benefit of a larger, codified narrative. While this might indicate something closer to memorization (presumably, certain creeds like the one discussed above were meant to be memorized), the interpretive function of memory remains paramount. As evinced by the Evangelists’ actions, for Jesus’s words to have meaningful impact they cannot have existed only as sayings strung together without context. For both Bauckham and Byrskog, the presence of some memorization or close-toverbatim preservation of sayings still implies the interpretive meaningmaking included in the transmission of traditions about Jesus. We are now full circle on the function of memory as metonymy and metaphor. It must now be asked: What influenced the formation of the memories at the individual and communal levels?
Mnemonic Controls There are several kinds of controls important for understanding memory and its relationship to tradition. As already mentioned in the previous section, the initial limitation is every individual’s inherent frames of remembering. Beyond this, Michael Schudson identifies three limitations to the presentation of the past in the present: “the structure of available pasts, the structure of individual choices, and the conflicts about the past among a multitude of mutually aware individuals or groups.” Each of these can be examined independently.
Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, . Michael Schudson, “The present in the past versus the past in the present,” Communication (), –, at .
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First, “the structure of available pasts” refers to the fact that for any given event, there is a limited number of sources of information about it. Additionally, memories have the tendency to become more generalized the further a past event is from the present. Even if there was a large audience, the range of possible explanations provided by those people is not unlimited. As will be seen later, there is value in having several perspectives not only for the multiplication of details that is possible, but also because the overlap in testimony reduces uncertainty about what happened. Second, “the structure of individual choices” describes the responses that each individual has to the stimuli of any given situation. Schudson identifies four types of individual-choice remembering: trauma, vicarious trauma, channels, and commitments. Trauma, in this case, is the presence of memories from experiences that the individual tries to forget but cannot. Vicarious trauma can also be described as “lessons” or memories that entail learning from the experiences of others. Channels can be thought of as the gravitational pull that directs patterns of remembering and expression, often due to their wide acceptance or similarities to a community or cultural precedent. Commitments describes the kinds of memories that are intertwined with a part of the self or self-in-community. Failing to incorporate these kinds of memories into the experiences of the present could result in the feeling of loss of one’s identity. Third, the presentation of the past in the present is bound by “the conflicts about the past among a multitude of mutually aware individuals or groups.” Another way of understanding this limitation of possible memories is the concept of a “memory market.” Chris Keith describes a memory market occurring when the “conflicts” or “competition” results from the coincidence of living memory and multiple reports. Keith writes, “These two conditions Schudson further identifies this as a manner of memory distortion that he calls “distanciation.” The others he names as instrumentalization, conventionalization, and narrativization. See Michael Schudson, “Dynamics of distortion in collective memory,” in Memory Distortion: How Minds, Brains, and Societies Reconstruct the Past, ed. Daniel Schacter (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), –. Distortion as a word for memory sounds harsher than it is. It simply means that human memory is not exhaustive and that there are certain patterns that memory follows as the brain processes the amount of information it is capable of processing, which is limited and therefore in some sense “distorted” from the event as it happened. Literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin has written extensively on this topic. See Mikhail M. Bakhtin, The Dialogical Imagination, ed. Michael Holquist, trans. Michael Holquist and Caryl Emerson (Austin: University of Texas Press, ). Schudson, “The present in the past,” .
mean that memory producers must compete against one another for public approval, and in a context where individuals who experienced a past event can function as control mechanisms.” Genres provide an illustration of these three boundaries. When a person recounts their experiences, the distance from the event plus their own understanding of the event’s importance leads to the selection and arrangement of those parts of the memory into a narrative that re-presents the most salient points necessary to communicate their intended meaning. The mode of retelling is manifest in a narrative whose genre matches the kind of meaning they are trying to communicate. In addition, the storyteller is often pressured by their audience (by way of social frameworks and specific narrative expectations), who may have opinions on elements of the story that can be corroborated (or contested). With this in mind, two points deserve consideration: () Aural contexts have the capacity to constrain a story’s creativity; () they also have the capacity to enhance a story’s creativity. In relation to the former point, Baruch Halpern represents the expectations and difference between genres this way: Transpose the difference between history and romance into portraiture. This historian depicts a real subject, the dramatist an imagined one. . . . The techniques are identical – each copies from an ideal original (real or imaginary), and both use the same fictionalization, concealing or stressing warts or imperfections in complexion or other features of the model. But the originals, the models, are different. One is susceptible to objective scrutiny, to examination by someone other than the artist; one is not. . . . History, in sum, is subject to falsification, to argument as to the accuracy of its particulars and the assessment of their interrelation. The dramatic tropes in which it presents these reconstructions are, as the literary critics say, incontestable: whether Waterloo is a tragedy or a comedy is for the reader to decide, but that France was worsted there admits of no qualification.
Tying together the context and controls of memory, the recognition of genre features by an audience occurs regardless of medium. John Miles Foley captures the importance of generic features when he describes the operations of understanding involved in both oral/aural performances of a tradition and the written instantiation of the same tradition. In the oral/aural performance,
Keith, Jesus’ Literacy, . Similarly to distanciation, this description can be represented by the form of memory distortion called “narrativization.” Baruch Halpern, The First Historians (San Francisco: Harper and Row, ), .
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the speaker would be able to “adopt a language and behavior uniquely suited (because specifically dedicated) to a certain channel of communication,” but in a written text, that contract of generic expectation must be established by means of introductory formulae, etc.
Mnemonic Creativity There is a spectrum of responses to the claim that creativity is involved in the historical process. In one sense, creativity in the context of history is often thought of as fabrication with implied deception. The creative historian is in some way trying to benefit by telling their story at the expense of the audience. This is often the case in political histories that lionize war heroes and/or demonize enemies. In a similar sense, the creative processes of memory (distortion or refraction) meet with the response that memory is basically unreliable. On the other end of the spectrum, creativity is minimized in relation to history. Using the four Gospels as an example, the authors of those Gospels could be seen as nothing more than compilers. Their creativity refers only to their participation in the arrangement of traditions that existed unto themselves. Similar to that is the understanding of memorization as the means of remembering Jesus at the eyewitness level. Memory’s creativity is functionally denied because the memory of Jesus had been memorized before eventually being relayed to the Gospel author, who simply transcribed and arranged.
John Miles Foley, The Singer of Tales in Performance (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, ), –. Cf. Yael Zerubavel, “The historical, the legendary and the incredible: Invented tradition and collective memory in Israel,” in Commemorations: The Politics of National Identity, ed. J. R. Gillis (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ), –. Zeba A. Crook, “Collective memory distortion and the quest for the historical Jesus,” Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus . (), –. Byrskog, Story, –. Coordinately, this approach can also be seen in the stated aims of John P. Meier in the first volume of his A Marginal Jew: “The primary goal of this book is the detection of reliable data. Inevitably, interpretation will accompany the assemblage of data, if for no other reason than that the selection and compiling of data already involve a certain degree of interpretation. But every attempt will be made to keep interpretation to an absolute minimum. Our goal will be primarily the ascertaining of reliable data,” John P. Meier, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, vol. , The Roots of the Problem and the Person (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), –, emphasis added.
A proper understanding of creativity in memory can be understood if we put the pieces of memory already outlined together by using the categories of social memory. Chris Keith provides this definition: By focusing upon the social formation of memory in the present, whether that means autobiographical memory that is socially formed or cultural memory that is autobiographically appropriated, the primary task of social memory theory is to conceptualize and explain the various manners in which cultures (and individuals as culture-members) appropriate the past in light of, in terms of, and on behalf of the present.
Within the historian’s purview, creativity can be properly understood as the fruit of examination of the past in light of present circumstances – whatever they may be. No doubt, imaginative reconstructions of the past are received somewhat differently in the field of history, where creativity can be viewed as a negative, as opposed to other fields, where creativity is more often esteemed and reflective of mastery or genius. To create (in a sense) means to produce something where before there was not that thing. At a simple level, because the present has never happened before and it is an essential component in memory, creativity is tantamount to the interpretive function inherent in remembering. One could argue that some form of acceptable creativity is required to keep the historian’s subject relevant, to reintroduce or continue its currency within cultural memory. Indeed, the limits/acceptability of the historian’s creativity is part and parcel with the ongoing discussions of their chosen subjects. Finally, much of the historian’s task is analyzing, critiquing, and/or correcting the leanings of previous historians. The specific mechanisms of social memory in the context of individual memory can be understood more precisely. The cycle of social memory might be imagined as a diachronic spiral. Each loop of the spiral has five prominent phases that capture memory’s evolution. The first phase exists prior to the individual. In order for a memory to be situated, a social framework must be in place. Thus, mnemonic perception begins within existing frames of culture, family identity, language structure, narrativized understanding of the world, etc. In the second phase, mnemonic trajectories are informed by the frameworks already mentioned. The third phase represents an experience in the perceived present, which is immediately interpreted using mnemonic frames and patterns. Finally, the “new” memory is
Keith, Jesus’ Literacy, .
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localized, and thereby becomes mutually informative within a mnemonic network. Thus, the preconceived frames evolve (however slightly) in the process and propel the spiral of perception and memory forward. At this point it must be remembered that the individual is a participant in a matrix of community life. We should therefore expect autobiographical memory to intersect with “collective memory.” This includes social forces present, past, real, and imagined. Any experience of memory is forming that person’s processes/frames of remembering while the localization of their new experiences in the present are actualized within the perceived community. Mnemonic communities provide frameworks for interpretation and (often) set the parameters for acceptable patterns of interpretation. This level of influential memory is sometimes called a “master commemorative narrative” because the community (not just the individual) has taken on the narrativization of the memory and incorporated it into their autobiographical narrative (i.e. identity). Yael Zerubavel explains master commemorative narratives in this way: Each commemoration reconstructs a specific segment of the past and is therefore fragmentary in nature. Yet these commemorations together contribute to the formation of a master commemorative narrative that structures collective memory. With this concept I refer to a broader view of history, a basic “story line” that is culturally constructed and provides the group members with a general notion of their shared past . . . Since collective memory highlights the group’s distinct identity, the master commemorative narrative focuses on the event that marks the group’s emergence as an independent social entity.
At the personal and communal level, identity formation is at the center of remembrance. Every encounter a person has is interpreted by their past and for their future. In the case of Romans :–, we probably have a collectively memorized and recited commemoration of Jesus. While this involves the individual memories of participants, the purpose of the commemorative activity is to fortify a collective identity. In doing so, earliest Christianity formalized memories of Jesus within structured poetic verse (probably borrowing from Semitic grammar) and within Israel’s commemorative narratives. This is an example of how idiosyncratic memories of Jesus intersected with larger collective memories.
Le Donne, Historiographical, . Yael Zerubavel, Recovered Roots: Collective Memory and the Making of Israeli National Tradition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ), –, original emphasis.
Controls for Contemporary Historiography about Jesus The controls operative for the work of the historian mirror the controls for remembering Jesus in his lifetime, but they are more pronounced. Not only is our distance from the past outside the range of communicative memory (the lifetime of eyewitnesses and those impacted by their testimony), our access to any record is mediated through texts for which we do not know authors, provenance, or audience. Instead, based on letters from various followers and commemorators of Jesus, we have various streams of interpretation. And the followers in the generations after the earliest remembrancers reacted to and against these interpretations. While contemporary historians are able to sift through ancient materials, they must also contend with two millennia of commemorative ebb and flow. No historian is immune from the tensions created by their times. Jesus historians in particular have navigated (with varying degrees of success) anti-Judaism, heresy, heresyhunting, religious convention, religious schism, reformation, renewal, multiculturalism, provincialism, capitalism, etc. All these pressures and more have constrained and propelled biblical scholarship and historical Jesus studies. And each time there is a new social pressure, Jesus is reinvented to meet the moment. Sometimes, this reinvention of Jesus happens in pop culture and the historian is forced to react to fictions, forgeries, or films that scandalize the general public. The control based on distance from the past is not only chronological but also numerical. There are only a certain number of relevant sources – whether primary to the subject or to the background (cultural, economic, political, etc.). The historian can speculate from silence, but the available relevant sources provide a natural boundary for what may be said plausibly about ancient figures and events. Perhaps the most prominent and fruitful correction to Jesus studies in the last century relates to the advances made in understanding the complexity of Second Temple Jewish life. While there are still historians who frame Jesus as a proto-Christian, or something other than Jewish, most professional historians adhere to the claim that Jesus was Jewish. While seemingly simplistic, this is no small advance in the field. Moreover, upon this premise, we One only needs to skim the table of contents for almost every New Testament introduction or commentary on a Gospel written in the last years to see that a significant amount of effort goes into debates about the possible authorship by the named author, their possible location within the empire, and the textual clues as to the likely audience.
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continue to describe the matrices of Greek, Roman, and Jewish life along the lines of postcolonial approaches, gender studies, disability studies, etc. So while the source material for Jesus might be limited, our understanding of the world that produced this material grows. That said, historians are limited by their own frames of memory, experiences, and exposure to generations of scholarship on the history of Jesus’s various contexts. In many ways, the decision to approach Jesus using sociology rather than philology (just as one example) may predetermine one’s range of historical conclusions. Despite all these limiting features of the historiographical enterprise, the historian is also limited by their own conscious or unconscious belief that their work of reconstruction is in some sense an improvement on previous attempts; otherwise, why write?
Creativity for Contemporary Historiography About Jesus To answer our own question, “Why write?,” we can begin with a recognition that historiography is an active participation in the process of social memory. In effect, historians are reflecting on the past in order to inform in the present with a purpose. What the purpose entails is not often explicit, but that there is a purpose to writing history is undeniable. There is a part of humanity that desires both connection and inspiration. Ludwig Wittgenstein captures something of the essence of this in reflecting on what it might be like to observe his friend working. He writes: Nothing can be more remarkable than seeing a man who thinks he is unobserved performing some quite simple everyday activity. Let us imagine a theatre; the curtain goes up and we see a man alone in a room, walking up and down, lighting a cigarette, sitting down, etc. so that suddenly we are observing a human being from outside in a way that ordinarily we can never
“The burden of building a bridge to his people remains with the historian. I do not know for certain that this will be possible. I am convinced only that first the historian must truly desire it and then try to act accordingly . . . What historians choose to study and write about is obviously part of the problem. The notion that everything in the past is worth knowing “for its own sake” is a mythology of modern historians, as is the lingering suspicion that conscious responsibility toward the living concerns of the group must result in history that is less scholarly or “scientific.” . . . Who, then, can be expected to step into the breach, if not the historian?” Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi, Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory (Seattle: University of Washington Press, ), reproduced in J. Olick, V. Vinitzky-Seroussi, and D. Levy (eds.) The Collective Memory Reader (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –.
observe ourselves; it would be like watching a chapter of biography with our own eyes – surely this would be uncanny and wonderful at the same time. We should be observing something more wonderful than anything a playwright could arrange to be acted or spoken on the stage: life itself. – But then we do see this every day without it making the slightest impression on us! True enough, but we do not see it from that point of view . . . only an artist can so represent an individual thing as to make it appear to us as a work of art . . . A work of art forces us – as one might say – to see it in the right perspective but, in the absence of art, the object is just a fragment of nature like any other; we may exalt in it through our enthusiasm but that does not give anyone else the right to confront us with it.
Underlying Wittgenstein’s observation about ordinary life is the poignancy that selective representation of something gives meaning to what would otherwise be dull. At the autobiographical level, the mundane details are left out of our recollections so that we privilege memories that are the most important for understanding our place in the world. At the social level, the individual identifies with the essentials of their collective identity and interprets their series of life events through that story. For the historian, minor details may be important for substantiating claims, but the impact is made by the salient aspects of the past. In this sense, historians are the artists that concentrate the gaze of the audience for the purpose of being inspired.
Romans :– Revisited As discussed above, Romans :– provides a salient example of the past informing the present (and vice versa) within earliest Christianity. Paul is writing to a group of people with whom he has limited familiarity (Rom. :b). The composition of his audience in Rome is hard to establish exactly, but we will assume that the audience is diverse enough to include followers of Jesus from both Jewish and non-Jewish backgrounds (i.e. that it is not written exclusively to one or the other). James Dunn suggests that
Ludwig Wittgenstein, Culture and Value, ed. G. H. von Wright and Heikki Nyman, trans. Peter Winch (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, []), e, original emphasis. For example Romans :, “so that I may have some fruit among you as among the rest of the Gentiles.” Paul also knows Jewish followers of Jesus from Rome (e.g. Herodion in Rom. :; Priscilla and Aquila in Rom. : and Acts :), indicating his knowledge that the demographics of his audience are a composite. For a recent study that argues for a primarily gentile audience, see Rafael Rodríguez, If You Call Yourself a Jew: Reappraising Paul’s Letter to the Romans (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, ).
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the letter was written to address the tensions that had arisen throughout the earlier periods of Paul’s ministry. These were the tensions and issues in a gospel which proclaimed a Jewish Messiah to a non-Jewish world: whether Gentile and Jew were in equal need of the gospel; how the God of Israel’s justifying grace could extend to Gentiles; how the gospel, as compared with the Torah, deals with the reality of sin, the weakness of the flesh and the power of death; in view of the gospel for all who believe, where Israel stands in the purpose of God; and how all this should work out in Rome itself.
It is for this reason that the first words of the letter are significant. After a very brief introduction, Paul immediately rehearses a credal statement that captures the essence of his message regarding God’s “son” (:a). For the sake of reference, we will include again the words of Paul’s credal citation: The one born of the seed of David according to the flesh who was designated the son of God with power through the spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead Jesus Christ our Lord.
One of the first rules of memory (so Schudson) is the inevitability of vagueness and loss (mnemonic distanciation). In the face of this reality, groups use vehicles (mnemotechniques) to propel certain memories forward. The literary structure of a hymn or a creed can work to stabilize memory. Simply put, the (relatively) rigid structure of poetic parallelism can provide a hedge against forgetfulness. Of course, imposing such a structure onto a memory will distort it. Nuances were certainly lost when the early Christfollowers reduced their expression of faith into parallel verse. But once reduced, the core of the expression would have a greater capacity to survive distanciation. Even if certain phrases were added later, the structure of this creed is readily observable. Such phraseology is meant to be repeatable, and if repeatable, it can become an “activation pattern.” As Alan Kirk explains, “Habituated, coherent sequences are cued in order forward because their neural activation is a matter of pattern completion by the first item in
James D. G. Dunn, Beginning from Jerusalem (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), . For this chiastic structure we follow the translation and divisions of Richard Longenecker, The Epistle to the Romans (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –.
the sequence.” Once habituated (perhaps in liturgy), those reciting the creed would only need the cue “born of the seed . . .” in order to retrieve the rest of the pattern. Importantly, we are not saying that such patterns solve the problem of memory distortion. Rather, we see here a type of memory distortion that facilitates its own longevity. As discussed, the creed contains the twin focus on the humanity of Jesus and Jesus’s messianic lineage via David. Using David in the context of Jesus’s identity is not something that Paul does frequently. It is, however, a theme that the Synoptic authors employ in stories of healing (cf. Mark :–) and Jesus’s question about David’s psalm (cf. Mark :–). It is noteworthy that Davidic sonship does not develop into a major theme in Romans. Seemingly, Davidic messianism is something assumed, but that requires little argumentation. Nonetheless, Paul includes it as indicative of what he and other Christfollowers believe about Jesus. Based on the lack of Davidic references in Romans and Paul’s other letters, the question must be asked, what has prompted the use of this memorial content? While Paul does not develop the Davidic aspects of Jesus’s identity, the larger messianic significance of Jesus being the seed of David is central to Paul’s argument that God has fulfilled his promises to Israel. Both the evangelists and Paul retain an element of the Davidic Jesus, but bring it into the present differently due to differing contextual needs. The second phrase of the creed contains elements that are more familiar to Pauline themes: the “spirit of holiness” and resurrection. Herein, Jesus’s relationship with God is underscored, but this is done in a way that compliments Jesus’s fleshly origins. The designation that Jesus receives, “son of God,” is found throughout the Gospels as connected to the appellation “messiah.” In both Paul and the Synoptics, Jesus fulfills the promises of God to Israel through various means. Because the Gospels are internally chronological, they do not emphasize resurrection in the same way that Paul does. One could say that the Synoptics conclude with resurrection, while Alan Kirk, Q in Matthew: Ancient Media, Memory, and Early Scribal Transmission of the Jesus Tradition (LNTS ; London: Bloomsbury, ), –. Esau McCaulley develops this in detail through Galatians. Esau McCaulley, Sharing in the Son’s Inheritance: Davidic Messianism and Paul’s Worldwide Interpretation of the Abrahamic Land Promise in Galatians (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ). It is noteworthy, however, that “spirit of holiness” is not a typical Pauline phrase. E.g. Matt. : par., although only Matthew includes the designator “son.” Luke and John both omit υἱός but include the relational genitive τοῦ θεοῦ. Mark opts to omit any relational reference and includes only σὺ εῖ ὁ χριστός.
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Paul begins with it. Regardless of the differences in genre and purpose, both the Synoptics and Paul point to the resurrection to vindicate the claims of the earthly Jesus about his relationship to the Father. Revisiting the concept of communicative memory detailed above, we could say that several points of Jesus memory are evinced along differing mnemonic trajectories: Jesus’s humanity, his Jewishness, his Davidic descent, his title “son of God,” and his vindicating resurrection. Moreover, most (if not all) of these points plausibly emerge (or evolve) from Jewish concepts at home in the first century. The characteristics of Jesus have been compiled and compacted into a creed (something professed and employed in an identity-forming manner). For Paul this is both something that identifies him to himself and to those who know him in Judea, and also represents what he believes to be the essential components of Jesus’s life insofar as those components are relevant to others throughout the entire world – informing their collective identity by the same credal markers. This is further supported as Paul unpacks Israel’s history in relation to Jesus over the course of the letter. Inherently in the substance of the letter, Paul has distilled and then delineated the components of belief about who Jesus was and is. This culminates in Paul’s ultimate request for Roman support of his mission. If the Romans are going to support Paul, they must know what he represents. And since they are also followers of Jesus that Paul has never met, Paul, like Halbwachs’s traveler, must ensure that the frames of memory align. By writing this letter, Paul is ensuring that there is an integral connection between cultural memory and the collective memory of his acquaintances in Rome. Furthermore, Jesus’s identity (past) informs Paul’s present and future by way of Jesus fulfilling promises to Israel that God would send a savior for all nations. Conversely, Paul’s evolving context(s) will inevitably reshape the way that Jesus is remembered.
Conclusion As the earliest Christians reflected on Jesus, they did so from within the social matrix of Jewish commemorative activity. Thus, certain elements of Jewish commemoration seeped into the pores of nascent Christian identity.
The Fourth Gospel also seems to frontload resurrection belief (cf. John :).
Moreover, because Jesus was venerated, an additional network of Jewish life infused these memories with significance. This is readily observable (even if complex) within the earliest Christian creed. As we encounter Paul’s memory, we witness the intersection of communicative and collective remembrance. But we must also acknowledge another level of intersection: as we encounter Paul’s memory, we are keying our own matrix of communicative and collective remembrance. Thus, we bring a host of witting and unwitting mnemonic networks into the encounter.
Select Bibliography Assmann, Jan. Cultural Memory and Early Civilization: Writing, Remembrance, and Political Imagination (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Bakhtin, Mikhail M. The Dialogical Imagination. Edited by Michael Holquist. Translated by Michael Holquist and Caryl Emerson (Austin: University of Texas Press, ). Bauckham, Richard. Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Byrskog, Samuel. Story as History, History as Story: The Gospel Tradition in the Context of Ancient Oral History (Leiden: Brill, ). Crook, Zeba A. “Collective memory distortion and the quest for the historical Jesus,” Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus . (), –. Dewey, Joanna. “Oral methods of structuring narrative in Mark,” Interpretation . (), –. Dunn, James D. G. Beginning from Jerusalem (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Erll, Astrid. Memory in Culture (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, ). Foley, John Miles. The Singer of Tales in Performance (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, ). Gerhardsson, Birger. Memory and Manuscript: Oral Tradition and Written Tradition in Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity with Tradition and Transmission in Early Christianity (Lund: C. W. K. Gleerup, ). Halbwachs, Maurice. On Collective Memory. Edited and translated by Lewis A. Coser (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ). Halpern, Baruch. The First Historians (San Francisco: Harper and Row, ). Harris, William V. Ancient Literacy (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Hezser, Catherine. “Jewish literacy and the use of writing in late Roman antiquity.” Pages – in Jewish Culture and Society under the Christian Roman Empire. Edited by Richard Kalmin and Seth Schwartz (Leiden: Peeters, ). Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Hubbard, Douglas W. How to Measure Anything (Hoboken: John Wiley & Sons, ). Hübenthal, Sandra. “Luke .–, collective memory, and cultural frames.” Pages – in Biblical Interpretation in Early Christian Gospels, vol. , The Gospel of Luke. Edited by Thomas R. Hatina (London: T&T Clark, ).
Remembering Jesus in Earliest Christianity Keith, Chris. The Gospel as Manuscript: An Early History of the Jesus Tradition as Material Artifact (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Jesus’ Literacy: Scribal Culture and the Teacher from Galilee (LNTS /LHJS ; London: T&T Clark, ). Kirk, Alan. Memory and the Jesus Tradition (New York: Bloomsbury, ). Q in Matthew: Ancient Media, Memory, and Early Scribal Transmission of the Jesus Tradition (LNTS ; London: Bloomsbury, ). Kirk, Alan, and Tom Thatcher (eds.) Memory, Tradition, and Text: Uses of the Past in Early Christianity (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Le Donne, Anthony. The Historiographical Jesus (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ). Longenecker, Richard. The Epistle to the Romans (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). McCaulley, Esau. Sharing in the Son’s Inheritance: Davidic Messianism and Paul’s Worldwide Interpretation of the Abrahamic Land Promise in Galatians (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ). Meier, John P. A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, vol. , The Roots of the Problem and the Person (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Olick, J., V. Vinitzky-Seroussi, and D. Levy (eds.) The Collective Memory Reader (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Rodríguez, Rafael. If You Call Yourself a Jew: Reappraising Paul’s Letter to the Romans (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, ). “Reading and hearing in ancient contexts,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament . (), –. Structuring Early Christian Memory (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ). Schacter, Daniel L. (ed.) Memory Distortion: How Minds, Brains, and Societies Reconstruct the Past (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Schudson, Michael. “Dynamics of distortion in collective memory.” Pages – in Memory Distortion: How Minds, Brains, and Societies Reconstruct the Past. Edited by Daniel L. Schacter (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). “The present in the past versus the past in the present,” Communication (), –. Wittgenstein, Ludwig. Culture and Value. Edited by G. H. von Wright and Heikki Nyman. Translated by Peter Winch (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ). Wright, Brian J. Communal Reading in the Time of Jesus (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Yerushalmi, Yosef Hayim. Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory (Seattle: University of Washington Press, ). Zerubavel, Yael. “The historical, the legendary and the incredible: Invented tradition and collective memory in Israel.” Pages – in Commemorations: The Politics of National Identity. Edited by J. R. Gillis (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Recovered Roots: Collective Memory and the Making of Israeli National Tradition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ).
Remembering Jesus in the Second and Third Centuries In this chapter I consider some of the ways in which Jesus was remembered or commemorated in the second and third centuries , and how recent scholarship has addressed this issue. In this context, the use of the verb “remember” points to the significance of social or collective or cultural memory as the means by which individuals and communities understand both their present identity and the past that has helped to shape it. Such memory may extend over significant periods of time, as noted by Jan Assmann, who uses the category “cultural memory” to refer to a process made possible by written texts and ritual performance, and therefore neither dependent on the product of individual neurobiological memory orally transmitted (“communicative memory”) nor limited by any need for living contacts with eyewitnesses to past events. This category enables Assmann to explain how societies pass on foundational memories beyond the period of “communicative memory” with the original participants or eyewitnesses (which he considers to be – years or three to four generations). It is therefore readily applicable to the period studied here, in which authors of
Scholars use terms such as “social,” “collective,” and “cultural” memory in a range of different ways, not always helped by issues of translation between French, German, and English terms, and the different scholarly contexts in which they have been used. See further Sandra Huebenthal, Reading Mark’s Gospel as a Text from Collective Memory (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), – (German orig. Das Markusevangelium als kollektives Gedächtnis [FRLANT ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht , nd ed. ]); and the comments by Chris Keith, “Social memory theory and Gospels research: The first decade (Part One),” Early Christianity (), –, at –; and Anthony Le Donne, The Historiographical Jesus (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ), n. . See, for example, his essays, “What is cultural memory?” in Jan Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press), –; and Assmann, “Communicative and cultural memory,” in A Companion to Cultural Memory Studies, ed. Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nünning, in collaboration with Sara B. Young (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –.
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the second and third centuries draw on written sources and on “memory formulas and configurations that underpin [their] sense of community and . . . the memory needs of a clearly defined ‘we’” by means of which they construct and transmit their socially conditioned memories of Jesus. This use of the term “remembering,” in a similar way to the use of the term “reception,” serves to foreground a dialectical process in which perceptions of the present and the past each inform and shape the other. Particular authors shape the social and cultural (as opposed to individual or neurobiological) memories that they receive and share, just as those traditions and memories shape the individual authors or tradents who in turn reprocess, reframe, and re-present or retransmit them for their own purposes, and in ways that bear on how others will receive, reframe, and in turn retransmit those memories or traditions. Thus, as social or collective memory theorists observe (and historians would agree, with or without reference to the conceptual framework that social memory theory provides), the past helps to shape the concerns and interests of the present, as also present needs and concerns shape the way in which humans interpret or remember the past. So understood, social or collective memory depends not on preserving and transmitting a record of the past, based on the personal eyewitness experience and individual recollection of someone who was present at a particular event, but on communal retelling or commemoration of the past in ways that are important for the present and are often ritualized or formalized. In other words, memory is a category through which we may comprehend the self-perception of a community or society, and a cultural concept that allows us to describe “the way in which a community adopts its past as history”; it
Assmann, “What is cultural memory?” , where he also refers to the importance of written texts. For a very helpful discussion of the way in which Assmann’s theoretical approach fits with the chronology of early Christianity and sheds light on the development of early Christian literature, see Sandra Huebenthal, “‘Frozen moments’: Early Christianity through the lens of Social Memory Theory,” in Memory and Memories in Early Christianity, ed. Simon Butticaz and Enrico Norelli (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –; and Huebenthal, Reading Mark’s Gospel, –. Others who note the importance of Assmann’s insights for the study of early Christian texts include Alan J. Kirk, Memory and the Jesus Tradition (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, ), –; and Keith, “Social memory theory,” –. As Galinsky observes, “Assmann’s concepts are not meant to operate as a rigid theoretical straitjacket but can be elastically and usefully applied” in a range of contexts: Karl Galinsky, “Introduction,” in Memory in Ancient Rome and Early Christianity, ed. Karl Galinsky (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –, at . Jens Schröter, “Memory and memories in early Christianity: The remembered Jesus as a test case,” in Memory and Memories in Early Christianity, ed. Simon Butticaz and Enrico Norelli (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –, at .
is a living tradition that “comprises not only the common past of a community, but also the commemoration of that past.” When conceived in this way, memory is less about the conservation and transmission of Jesus’s activities and teachings by his early followers than about how communities of those followers “perceived of their own identity and contemporary situation by interpreting them in the light of Jesus’ activity and fate.” Its focus is not on individual recollection, nor is it an instrument for the preservation of records of actual events from the past but is rather “to be regarded as an adaptation of traditions of the past to present situations and their needs.” Therefore, as Schröter makes clear, the category “memory” is useful not because it offers a new method for historians to use but because of the light that it can shed on the question of how the past is preserved and used in the present. It is a “hermeneutical paradigm” that “presupposes and makes use of historical-critical research,” so it helps historians to reflect on what they do (and, I might add, on aspects of what some of their sources also did) rather than leading them to new understandings of the object of their study, which is Jesus as other people remembered him. Thus, as Chris Keith observes, “social memory theory is not so much a historiographical method as it is a theory of the social construction of the past that enables responsible historiography.” So understood, we may note that this approach describes what historians already do, when they take into account how a second- or third-century author’s portrayal of Jesus depends on the circumstances and commitments of that author alongside any traditions or sources about Jesus on which those late antique authors may draw in framing their own portrayal of Jesus. Therefore, its insights may be seen to be operative in the work of any historian who (with Gadamer) recognizes that “the horizons of the interpreter and the interpreted object have to merge in order to make the
Schröter, “Memory and memories,” . Schröter, “Memory and memories,” . Schröter, “Memory, theories of history, and the reception of Jesus,” Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus (), –, at . Schröter, “The contribution of non-canonical gospels to the memory of Jesus: The Gospel of Thomas and the Gospel of Peter as test cases,” New Testament Studies (), –, at –. Schröter, “Contribution,” . Keith, “Social memory theory,” ; in Keith’s text, the quoted material is in italic for emphasis. See also Andrew Gregory, “Memory as method: Some observations on two recent accounts,” Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus (), –, at –, and the comments by David Eastman in Chapter in this volume.
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past meaningful for the present.” This includes, but is not restricted to, the work of those who draw explicitly on social or collective or cultural memory in order to ask how second- and third-century Christians remembered Jesus. It may also be seen in the work of those who set out to ask about the “reception” of Jesus, using an approach that emphasizes the impact of prior knowledge, understanding, and tradition upon a given interpreter, and thus sees any given interpretation of a text as a product of a mixture of what the interpreter has inherited from the past and the present circumstances from which he or she receives that past.
Constraints of space, and the range of material that might be considered, mean that it is not possible to give a comprehensive account of the full range of ways in which Jesus was remembered – which usually means Jesus as risen Lord, alive in the present, as was already the case for Paul and for those who wrote the canonical gospels and other “first-century” texts. I offer instead a representative sample, as set out below. First, I discuss how Jesus was remembered or presented by Christians whose writings contain formulaic summaries or credal statements that appear to reflect or to show similarities with the earliest memories or traditions that were inscribed by first-century authors such as Paul and Mark. In this context, these witnesses are useful or important not because they set some sort of theological standard of orthodoxy or demonstrate a particular genealogical relationship with what became canonical texts (although many of the continuities are striking), but rather because they provide a helpful overview of how some Christians memorialized and understood the outline and significance of Jesus’s life, and a structure for further discussion. Second, moving beyond those structured outlines, I note and analyze how a range of sources remembered key aspects of Jesus’s life (his origins, bodily existence, and death) and two features of his ministry (his teaching and his miracle-working). Through these examples, Schröter, “Contribution,” , citing Hans-Georg Gadamer, Wahrheit und Methode, repr. of th rev. ed. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Chris Keith, Helen K. Bond, Christine Jacobi, and Jens Schröter, “Introduction,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, ed. Chris Keith, Helen K. Bond, Christine Jacobi, and Jens Schröter, vols. (London: T&T Clark, ), xv–xxvii, at xv, also with reference to Gadamer. Their three-volume work contains many examples of this approach; for particularly effective and sophisticated examples of what it can achieve, see Alan Kirk’s chapter on the Gospel of Peter, and Schröter’s on the Gospel of the Savior (P.Oxy. ), both in the second volume. Constraints of space preclude any discussion of how collective memories of Jesus are reflected and recast in non-Christian sources, including Pliny, Tacitus, Lucian, and Celsus.
I seek to show some of the ways in which social memory theory may cast light on how contemporary readers may ask questions about how some late antique authors testify to their memories of Jesus.
Remembering Jesus: Testimony and the Rule of Faith Hymn-like or credal statements, whose easily memorized structures may reflect liturgical or ritual shaping and use, are valuable evidence for how some early Christians framed and remembered their understanding of Jesus, and his continuing significance for them. Among the earliest of these summaries are those that emphasize his humanity and Jewish identity (Gal. :–, Rom. :–) and his death and resurrection, in accordance with Jewish Scripture ( Cor. :–). One second-century author who makes frequent use of similar summaries is Ignatius of Antioch, whose letters are traditionally dated c.–, although some scholars have argued for a later date. The Jesus remembered in this way is a present reality for Ignatius and the other followers of Jesus whom he addresses as he travels towards Rome: “one physician who is both flesh and spirit . . . Jesus Christ our Lord” (Eph. .). This Jesus was a man, announced by the prophets (Phld. .), descended from David, and crucified under Pontius Pilate; the son of Mary, conceived by the Holy Spirit, who was born, baptized, ate, drank, suffered, died, and was raised from the dead (Eph. ., .–., Magn. , Trall. .–, Smyrn. .–, etc.). Although truly flesh and blood, he was also of cosmic significance, a star that shone in heaven, revealed to the aeons (Eph. .–), who was baptized in order that he might cleanse the waters (Eph. .) and fulfill all righteousness (Smyrn. .) and through his death and resurrection bring together Jews and Gentiles in the one body of his church (Smyrn. .). As is readily apparent, Ignatius’s story of Jesus is credal in nature, focused on his continuing significance, but rooted in a theological commitment to his full humanity, perhaps in opposition to those who claimed otherwise. It is also skeletal or bare-bone: Ignatius makes no reference to Jesus as a teacher or miracle-worker, but we cannot tell
For a comprehensive list, and full discussion, see Wolfram Kinzig (ed.), Faith in Formulae: A Collection of Early Christian Creeds and Creed-Related Texts, vol. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), and, more briefly, Everett Ferguson, The Rule of Faith: A Guide (Cascade Companions; Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, ). Paul M. Foster, “Ignatius of Antioch,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ), –.
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whether that is because he did not remember him in those terms or because the circumstances from and which he wrote gave him no reason to draw on such memories or traditions, in whatever form he may have known them. In the Epistle of the Apostles, usually dated to the middle of the second century, in which eleven named apostles write about what the risen Jesus has revealed to them, we find an extended creed-like summary of what its authors know or remember of Jesus. They refer to him as a living presence, and as “our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ,” God and Son of God, who was sent by the creator God, became flesh, was made known in Bethlehem, and grew up “as we saw” (Ep. Apos. .–). Later, they continue, he performed miracles, some of which they recount in a narrative that may reflect familiarity with all four canonical gospels. Thus the Savior to whom they look for salvation in the present and in the future is Jesus who was born a man, and who was not only a miracle-worker but also (as they explain elsewhere in the letter) a teacher and revealer who was crucified, buried, descended to the dead, rose again, appeared, ascended, and will return. Their memory of Jesus, and what they proclaim about him, is presented in a biographical form that contains not only the skeleton found in earlier credal formulae but also flesh that appears to presuppose the more detailed memories inscribed in the fourfold Gospel. The text’s repeated appeal to the authority of the disciples’ apostolic authority as witnesses to Jesus Christ (Ep. Apos. –) opposes the teaching of the false apostles Simon and Cerinthus (Ep. Apos. ., ; cf. .). This emphasizes the claim that the true followers of Jesus are those who share the beliefs that the apostles teach (Ep. Apos. , , ., ., .). It neatly illustrates the link between cultural memory and the formation and maintenance of shared identity that social memory theory predicts. For Justin Martyr, Jesus is a Jewish figure, the Son of God and suffering Messiah, prophesied in Scripture. But he is also a divine being, in whom the preexistent Word of God took flesh – and whose life, Justin claims, may be compared with that of Greco-Roman heroes ( Apol. ). His ostensible rhetorical point is that pagans may understand Jesus in terms with which Paul Parvis, “Epistula Apostolorum,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ), –. On the miracle catena, see discussion below. On the case for the use of all four Gospels, Darrell D. Hannah, “The four-gospel ‘canon’ in the Epistula Apostolorum,” Journal of Theological Studies (), –. Winrich Löhr, “Justin Martyr,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ), –.
they are already familiar, but it raises the question of the extent to which Justin and other followers of Jesus, themselves products of a Hellenized Roman empire, framed their memories of Jesus in light of these pagan understandings of divinity. Like Ignatius, Justin repeatedly refers to key episodes in Jesus’s life during his first coming, which for Justin include his virgin birth, his baptism, his passion, resurrection, and ascension. Unlike Ignatius, however, Justin also refers to Jesus’s ministry of teaching and miracle-working. One such summary is found in his Apology (usually dated –), where he sets out to show that Jesus is the fulfillment of prophecy, and not someone who practiced magic or merely appeared to be Son of God: In these books then, of the prophets we have found it predicted that Jesus Christ would come, born of a virgin, growing up to manhood, and healing every disease and every sickness and raising the dead, and hated and unrecognized and crucified, and dying and rising again and ascended into heaven, and both being and being called Son of God. ( Apol. .; see also ., ., ., Dial. ., ., .–, .)
If in some instances Justin presents a preexistent Jesus both as and alongside the creator God of Israel in a way that appears to reflect a “binitarian” understanding of God ( Apol. ., Dial. –, ., ., .), in others he appears to remember and to refer to Jesus in a way that might be said to reflect the early stages of a “proto-trinitarian” understanding of God in which Jesus is to be worshipped as Son alongside the Father and the Spirit ( Apol. ., ., ., ., .). A “trinitarian” approach to presenting Jesus as object of belief and worship is clearer still in later authors such as Irenaeus, Tertullian, and Origen, each of whom draws on creed-like summaries of the type to which Tertullian refers as the rule of faith (Praescr. , Virg. .–, Prax. ). Thus, the collective or cultural memory of Jesus that they share in the Christian Gregory J. Riley, One Jesus, Many Christs: How Jesus Inspired Not One True Christianity but Many (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, ), –, –, and passim. See also Christopher P. Jones, New Heroes in Antiquity: From Achilles to Antinoos (Revealing Antiquity ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), and M. David Litwa, Iesus Deus: The Early Christian Depiction of Jesus as a Mediterranean God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). For texts, translations, and bibliography, see Kinzig, Faith in Formulae, :– (Irenaeus), – (Tertullian), – (Origen), and Ferguson, The Rule of Faith, –. On Irenaeus, see further Rolf Noormann, “Irenaeus,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ), –. On Origen, Alfons Fürst, “Origen,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ), –.
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communities in which they live or for which they write is not only part of what they believe as his followers but clearly constitutive and determinative of how they understand their identity as Christians. In their writings, as in those of others, we see also how a credal framework for remembering Jesus may have been related to specific practices such as baptism, the Eucharist, the reading of the Gospels in acts of worship, and other liturgical settings that we cannot determine or reconstruct. Jesus is remembered as a present and living Lord, not just as a figure from the past, or as someone whom they will encounter as Judge in the future. His memory shaped their daily lives, just as their daily lives shape the way in which they remember Jesus in order to address the situations and needs that they and their communities face.
Remembering Jesus: Biographical Elements Birth and Life Our earliest written witnesses to Jesus, including all the writings subsequently included in the New Testament, portray him as a Jewish man, whose significance is to be understood in the light of Jewish Scripture and his status as the anointed agent of the creator God of Israel (Gal. :, Mark :–, –, etc.). According to later polemical reports by Irenaeus and other heresiologists who appear to depend on him, a certain Cerinthus maintained a distinction between the supreme God and the demiurge through whom the world was created. He is also said to have taught that Jesus was born in the normal way, the son of Mary and Joseph, but that after his baptism the supreme God came down on him as the Christ, in the form of a dove, before “at the end” flying off from Jesus. Thus, Irenaeus claims, Cerinthus remembered Jesus as a human who both suffered and died, whereas the spiritual Christ, who came from the unknown Father whom the human Jesus preached, did not (Haer. .). As Irenaeus shows, Cerinthus held to a Christology that made sense within the wider context of his (presumably prior) cosmological beliefs about
Rafael Rodríguez, “Baptism,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Chris Keith (London: T&T Clark, ), –. Andrew McGowan, “The Eucharist,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Chris Keith (London: T&T Clark, ), –. Chris Keith, “Public reading of the Gospels,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Chris Keith (London: T&T Clark, ), –.
the gulf between the eternal heavenly world and the material created one; he understood or remembered and taught about Jesus in the light of other commitments or beliefs, not unlike the way in which Irenaeus himself presents or remembers Cerinthus in the context of his own understanding of the world, just as he frames his accounts of Jesus in terms of the fourfold Gospel and the rule of faith. Yet not all those who remembered Jesus understood him to have been someone who lived a human life and was later recognized or worshipped as being in some sense divine. Irenaeus’s account of Cerinthus may be compared with his account of Cerdo, an early second-century thinker who presented Jesus as having been sent by an unknowable good God, in contrast to the just God knowable through the Law and the Prophets (Haer. ., ..). Irenaeus does not elaborate on this summary of Cerdo’s beliefs but presents him as a predecessor of Marcion, whose now lost but apparently once very influential gospel likely opened with a form of words that links material found in Luke : with material found in Luke :: “in the fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar, when Pilate was governing Judea, Jesus came down to Capernaum, a city of Galilee.” Thus, if Tertullian is to be believed, Marcion’s Christ came down from the creator’s heaven into which he had previously come down from his own (Marc. ..–, ). This suggests that Marcion’s portrayal of Jesus starts with him as an adult (as does that of Mark, and arguably John, in contrast to Matthew and to Luke), but there is reason to question his opponents’ claim that his Christ had only the appearance or semblance of flesh and blood. In contrast to Marcion’s silence on the infancy of Jesus, other sources provide much fuller accounts of the circumstances of Jesus’s conception, birth, and infancy or childhood than those found in Matthew and Luke, and contribute to further developments of traditions about Mary and about Jesus as her child. In the Protoevangelium of James, Jesus is remembered as the
Judith M. Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); Dieter T. Roth, “Marcion’s Gospel,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ), –. Lieu, Marcion, ; Dieter T. Roth, The Text of Marcion’s Gospel (NTTSD ; Leiden: Brill, ), , –, ; Jason D. Beduhn, The First New Testament: Marcion’s Scriptural Canon (Salem, OR: Polebridge Press, ), , –. See Chapter in this volume. Eric M. Vanden Eykel, “Protevangelium of James,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ), –; Lily
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child of Mary, whose purity before and after childbirth is the dominant theme of the text. Jesus’s birth is remembered in a way that draws on material found in the opening chapters of Matthew and Luke, but to these are added other stories that accentuate the role of other characters and present Jesus alongside them. Quite different is the way in which Jesus is presented in the Paidika or “childhood deeds” of Jesus, often known as the Infancy Gospel of Thomas. Here we find a series of stories that present the child Jesus performing miracles or at school, finishing with an account of his visit to the Jerusalem Temple aged twelve, which appears to retell the story of the same incident that we find in Luke (although it is unclear quite when these different stories first circulated together as part of one continuous sequence or text). It remembers Jesus as a child who possessed great learning, and who performed miracles that may be compared or contrasted with those that other texts, including “first-century” and “second-century” gospels, attribute to the adult Jesus. One story found in the Paidika is also found in the Epistle of the Apostles, which likewise places the boy Jesus in a classroom environment, learning his letters (Ep. Apos. .–). Irenaeus too discusses an account of Jesus learning the alphabet, but attributes it to the Marcosians, a sect whom he accuses of fabricating apocryphal and spurious writings intended to lead people astray (Haer. ..). Such polemic notwithstanding, the circulation of this story, and its presence in the Paidika, shows an interest in Jesus as a teacher, and places that memory in a schoolroom context, as also does the Gospel of Truth. Other possible references to Jesus as a child are found in one witness to the Apocryphon of John (BG ), in which a post-resurrection Jesus appears to Zebedee in different forms, and in the Gospel of Judas, where a term is used that might be translated “phantom” or “child” (Gos. Jud. .). It is C. Vuong, The Protevangelium of James (Early Christian Apocrypha ; Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ). Tony Burke, “The Infancy Gospel of Thomas,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ), –; Stephen J. Davis, Christ Child: Cultural Memories of a Young Jesus (Synkrisis; New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Davis, Christ Child, , –. For a recent discussion, with further bibliography, see David E. Wilhite, “Jesus in The Infancy Gospel of ‘the Israelite’ and the God of Israel,” Studia Patristica . (), –. For a fuller discussion of all four accounts, see Davis, Christ Child, –. Lorne R. Zelyck, “The Gospel of Judas,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ), –; Johanna
noteworthy that here the term seems to be used of Jesus before his crucifixion. Even then, while Jesus teaches his disciples before he leaves them, he is portrayed as being able to come and to go in a way that other texts portray only after his resurrection: Judas addresses Jesus as one who has come from the immortal aeon of Barbelo (Gos. Jud. .), and Jesus, in reply to the question of where he had gone and what he had done while he left his disciples behind, says that he had gone to another great and holy race (Gos. Jud. .). Already, during what is usually described as his earthly ministry, it seems that for the author of the Gospel of Judas Jesus’s appearance on earth is understood not to result from a human birth, but is instead “a way of appearing that is usually attributed to the risen Christ.” For the Gospel of Judas, it seems, Jesus’s apparent human body was only a disguise assumed by a heavenly revealer.
Death Many Christian texts from the second and third centuries share the view found in both the New Testament and the emerging rule of faith that Jesus died a normal human death, together with the claim that God raised him from the dead. In some cases they mention traditions about Pilate that go beyond those found in first-century accounts. Thus Justin directs his audience to accounts of what was done under Pontius Pilate ( Apol. ., .) and Tertullian refers to correspondence between Pilate and Tiberius ( Apol. .), which suggests that their memory of Jesus’s trial has been framed or shaped by these texts (or at least by their belief that such texts existed) as well as by their knowledge of the content of the passion narratives in the Gospels. Brankaer and Bas van Os, The Gospel of Judas (Oxford Early Christian Gospel Texts; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Brankaer and Van Os, The Gospel of Judas, . On the framing of Christ as a teacher of spiritual insight or esoteric knowledge by early Christian “gnostics” (including a brief discussion of the usefulness of this label) see Roelof van den Broek, “The gnostic Christ,” in Alternative Christs, ed. Olav Hammer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. On some other accounts of Christ as revealer, see Einar Thomassen, “Jesus in the New Testament apocrypha,” in Alternative Christs, ed. Hammer, –, at –. On Christian claims about resurrection, see David Litwa’s discussion in this volume (Chapter ). It seems unlikely that these texts, if they existed, are related either to anti-Christian “Acts of Pilate” that Eusebius associated with persecution of Christians in the fourth century (Hist. eccl. ..–, .., ..), or to the medieval Christian texts that circulated under the same title.
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Both authors also accentuate claims of Jewish responsibility for Jesus’s death, apparently for apologetic purposes, as also does the Gospel of Peter. Here Jesus is remembered as a proto-martyr, who is seized, rushed, and dragged, as are his followers in accounts of their martyrdoms, and who like them feels no pain, but is passive rather than active. As Alan Kirk observes, so great is its “shifting of narrative focus from Jesus (the principal focus in all four Gospel passion narratives) onto the Jews in an obsessive concern to cast them as Jesus’s murderers” that Jesus is displaced “from the lead to a supporting role in the passion narrative.” The author of the gospel appears to have knowledge and command of at least some of the canonical passion narratives, but reworks them to a greater extent than any of the authors of canonical gospels reworked Mark, because he remembered and represented Jesus in a particular way in order to reactualize first-century tradition in the particular second-century context in and from and for which he wrote: “there can be little doubt that the Gospel of Peter refracts the memory of Jesus, transmitted in the passion narrative schema, through the symbolic world of second-century martyrological tropes, with an intended imitatio Christi effect upon recipients.” If the theme of imitating Jesus is implicit in the Gospel of Peter, it is certainly explicit elsewhere. Ignatius of Antioch writes to the church in Rome of his desire to imitate his suffering God (Rom. .), thereby remembering Jesus in the way that suits his situation, just as he seeks to imitate the Jesus he presents to his hearers as he implores them to imitate Christ (Phil. ., Eph. .) or God (Trall. ., Eph. .). Polycarp writes to the Philadelphians that they should follow the example of the Lord (Phil. ., .). Others in turn present Polycarp as both an imitator of Jesus (Mart. Pol. ., ., .) and an example for other Christians, whose own martyrdom is “according to the gospel” (Mart. Pol. ., .) and therefore praiseworthy, in contrast of that of Quintus, who (unlike Jesus and Polycarp) went forward on his own and
Alan J. Kirk, “The Gospel of Peter,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ), –, at , with further bibliography. Kirk, “The Gospel of Peter,” , drawing on Philipp Augustin, Die Juden im Petrusevangelium: Narratologische Analyse und theologiegeschichtliche Kontextualisierung (BZNW ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). See also Schröter, “Contribution,” –. Kirk, “The Gospel of Peter,” , in dialogue with Augustin and with Tobias Nicklas, “Die Leiblichkeit der Gepeinigten: Das Evangelium nach Petrus und frühchristliche Martyrerakten,” in Persecution and Martyrdom in Late Antique Christianity, ed. J. Leeman (BETL ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –.
handed himself in (Mart. Pol. ) rather than waiting for his opponents to come to him (Mart. Pol. .). Thus the author remembers Jesus’s death not merely with antiquarian interest, as if it were simply a past event, but as a stimulus for the present purpose that it is now intended to serve; the community’s recollection of how in the past Jesus waited for his arrest shapes their understanding of how they should respond if faced with the threat of arrest in the present. One theme present in some martyrdom accounts, and in the exhortations to martyrdom written by Cyprian and Origen, is that of sacrifice – and questions may be asked about whether or the extent to which their audiences understood martyrdom as following Jesus’s example or as participating in his sacrifice in addition to his suffering. Other texts also remember Jesus’s death in a sacrificial context. For example, in Melito’s On Pascha, which is often characterized as a homily but might be a Christian equivalent of a Passover Haggadah, Jesus’s death is framed in terms drawn from the Passover narrative in the book of Exodus alongside images found in other Jewish and Christian texts. Melito expounds “the mystery of the Pascha” (Pasch. ), but in so doing he draws on a range of Jewish Scriptures and explains how they tell the story of “the Man Christ” (Pasch. , cf. –), who was speechless as if he were a lamb and led to slaughter as if he were a sheep (Pasch. ), in whose death his people find life (Pasch. –, ). Just as the authors of the canonical passion narratives drew on Jewish Scripture in shaping their narratives of Jesus’s death, so Melito draws on Jewish Scripture to expound its meaning in a liturgical setting, commemorating Jesus through the prism of the Passover narrative, which frames how he presents him.
Michael Holmes, “The Martyrdom of Polycarp and the New Testament passion narratives,” in Trajectories through the New Testament and the Apostolic Fathers, ed. Andrew Gregory and Christopher Tuckett (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. Candida R. Moss, The Other Christs: Imitating Jesus in Ancient Christian Ideologies of Martyrdom (New York: Oxford University Press, ). See also Elizabeth Castelli, Martyrdom and Memory: Early Christian Culture Making (Gender, Theory and Religion; New York: Columbia University Press, ). But not in all. See Moss, The Other Christs, –, . For references, discussion, and bibliography, Frances M. Young, The Use of Sacrificial Ideas in Greek Christian Writers from the New Testament to John Chrysostom (PMS ; Cambridge, MA: Philadelphia Patristic Foundation, ) and Robert J. Daly S.J., Sacrifice in Pagan and Christian Antiquity (London: T&T Clark, ). Alistair E. Stewart-Sykes, The Lamb’s High Feast: Melito, Peri Pascha and the Quartodeciman Paschal Liturgy at Sardis (VC Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ).
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Many other instances might be given of how Christians portrayed Jesus in the light of Jewish Scripture, often in ways that interpret his death as sacrificial, but constraints of space allow for only two. The first comes from the Letter of Barnabas, whose author sees all Jewish Scripture as being for the glory of Jesus (Barn. .). In the light of his appropriation of that Scripture, he presents Jesus as the one to whom the type of the scapegoat on the Day of Atonement pointed forward (Barn. .–; see also Justin, Dial. .–, Tertullian, Marc. ..). Second, both Melito and Barnabas depict Christ in terms of the story of Abraham offering Isaac (Pasch. fr. –, Barn. .), an understanding that reflects a collective memory that they share with other authors including Irenaeus (Haer. ..), Clement (Paed. .), Tertullian (Adv. Jud. .), and Origen (Hom. Gen. ), and which may be reflected in what may be two or three late third- or early fourth-century Christian catacomb frescoes and possibly some sarcophagus reliefs that may be dated to the same period. In all these cases, and in others besides, Jewish Scripture is an indispensable resource for framing and remembering Jesus’s sacrificial death in a way intended to explain how it plays a role in human salvation; its meaning for the present determines how the past event is remembered, and “prophecy” in Jewish scripture is at least as important a source as is the historicization of that prophecy in Christian passion narratives. Yet others who followed Jesus conceptualized and presented his death in a very different way. Given their negative beliefs about the nature of the material world and the superiority of the spiritual realm, they did not appeal to Jewish Scripture and its story of the creator God of Israel in their interpretation of Jesus’s fate. In the Gospel of Philip, for example, Jesus’s words of dereliction are understood to mean that the divine Christ has left the human Jesus on the cross (Gos. Phil., NHC , .–), which appears to correspond with the belief that Irenaeus attributed to Cerinthus. This view is often labelled “docetic,” for it understands Christ as having had only an appearance or semblance (dokesis) of human flesh, and may have contributed to memories of a polymorphic Christ, who appeared in different forms. In J. Christopher Edwards, “Epistle of Barnabas,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ), –. Robin M. Jensen, Understanding Early Christian Art (London: Routledge, ), –. Broek, “The gnostic Christ,” –. Pheme Perkins, “Christology and soteriology in apocryphal gospels,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Apocrypha, ed. Andrew Gregory and Christopher Tuckett (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –; Paul M. Foster, “Christology and soteriology in apocryphal Acts and Apocalypses,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Apocrypha, ed. Andrew Gregory and Christopher Tuckett (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –.
the Acts of John, for example, he appears in a number of different guises during his public ministry. Later, he escapes crucifixion by fleeing to a cave on the Mount of Olives, where he appears to John and requires him to pay attention to what he says (Acts John .–), while crowds below in Jerusalem watch the crucifixion of the man whom they believe to be him. Similarly, in the Coptic Apocalypse of Peter, Peter sees Jesus in three forms: the savior with whom he converses as he sees a vision of the crucifixion, a living Jesus, smiling and laughing above the cross, and another Jesus, into whose hands and feet nails are driven, who is the fleshly substitute of the living Jesus (Apoc. Pet., NHV , ; cf. Treat. Seth , .–.). Thus, the Jesus who dies is not the savior who instructs Peter, and who is celebrated in this text. This Christ does not die, and has no reason to do so, for he is understood and remembered as having brought salvation by revealing spiritual insight or hidden knowledge (gnosis), not for having died and been raised from the dead.
Jesus as Teacher Many early witnesses refer to Jesus as a teacher or someone who taught, or they quote teaching that they attribute explicitly to him ( Cor. :, :, :–, Mark :, , etc.). They include sources that may be dated either to the first or second century, among them Acts (Acts :), the Didache (Did. ., .) and Clement, a letter written from the church at Rome to the church in Corinth. In support of his argument, the author of Clement twice exhorts his hearers or readers to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, and quotes the sayings to which he directs their attention ( Clem. ., .). The form in which he cites these sayings and the early date at which he did so combine to make a very strong case that we have here evidence for an early collection of Jesus’s sayings that did not depend on the Synoptic Gospels. Nowhere else do we find stronger evidence for any memory of the teaching of Jesus being preserved and transmitted in a form that does not presuppose or reflect the shaping of that tradition by the editorial activity of an author of one of the canonical gospels. Indeed, as we turn to later texts,
Above, p. and n. . Andrew Gregory, “First Clement,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Helen K. Bond (London: T&T Clark, ), –. Other sources that might be considered include the Gospel of Thomas, which contains sayings attributed to the living Jesus, only some of which clearly reflect the redactional
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each of which contains a larger number of sayings that it attributes to Jesus, we see how the basis for remembering Jesus as a teacher appears to depend more clearly on his presentation as a teacher and the transmission of his teachings in the canonical gospels, whose influence comes increasingly into view. In the writings of Justin Martyr we come to what is very likely our earliest evidence for an author making extensive use of material drawn from canonical gospels (with the exceptions, of course, of Matthew, Luke, and probably John and their use of Mark). Justin draws on material that shows the distinctive work of Matthew and Luke, so there can be no doubt that his knowledge of traditions about Jesus presupposes their accounts. He probably has in mind the four canonical gospels when he refers to “Memoirs called gospels” ( Apol. .) that apostles ( Apol. ., Dial. .) and their followers (Dial. .) wrote on the basis of what they remembered ( Apol. .) the Lord to have said (Dial. .) or taught ( Apol. ., ., Dial. .) or done (Dial. ., ., .). Justin’s apparent reticence to say more about the gospels as written texts could be because he was aware that they were not considered authoritative by anyone outside the Christian community. However, since both his Apology and his Dialogue were more likely written for a Christian audience than for outsiders, this reticence may be explained more plausibly on the basis that Justin was less interested in the gospels as texts than he was in the Jesus to whom the apostles testified, even though he relies on what they remembered and wrote down. As B. F. Westcott observed, Justin “habitually reports Christ as speaking and not the Evangelist as relating his discourses.” Justin uses these texts because they testify to Jesus, but when quoting sayings of Jesus he appears to draw largely on a post-Synoptic source of harmonized sayings. He also draws on one or more compilations of texts from Greek
activity of Matthew or Luke. For different views, see Stephen Patterson, The Gospel of Thomas and Jesus (Sonoma, CA: Polebridge Press, ), and Mark Goodacre, Thomas and the Gospels: The Case for Thomas’s Familiarity with the Synoptics (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). For a succinct discussion of how the author of Thomas remembers Jesus, see Schröter, “Contribution,” –. The Epistula Apostolorum may also draw on all four canonical gospels, but to a lesser extent. See above, n. . Brooke F. Westcott, On the Canon of the New Testament, rd ed. (London: Macmillan and Co., ), , quoted in Eric F. Osborn, Justin Martyr (BHT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). See Osborn, Justin Martyr, Arthur J. Bellinzoni, The Sayings of Jesus in the Writings of Justin Martyr (NovT Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ).
Jewish Scripture, containing prophesies that Justin understood Jesus to have fulfilled, and he cites teachings of Jesus alongside quotations from Jewish Scripture (Dial. ., .–). When he reminds his readers of the bread and the cup that the Lord gave them to do in remembrance of him, he can frame this teaching as the fulfillment of Isaiah (Dial. .) or as something that the apostles have handed down in the memoirs called gospels ( Apol. .–). Thus, Justin remembers Jesus’s life and teaching in terms shaped by prophetic testimony, as well as the form in which Jesus’s teaching came to be shaped by the Synoptic tradition: Christ who was covertly preached in the prophets persuaded the apostles that his suffering, crucifixion, and resurrection were plainly proclaimed in Jewish Scripture (Dial. .). He is also someone who speaks in a way that Justin thinks will be attractive to his contemporaries, in the Roman empire: Jesus is no sophist, but spoke in ways that are short and concise, for his word was the power of God ( Apol. .), as Justin sets out to show in the block of Jesus’s teachings that he sets out after this claim ( Apol. –).
Jesus as Wonder-Worker Writing in the fourth century, the historian and apologist Eusebius of Caesarea refers to one Quadratus, who he says addressed a discourse to the emperor Hadrian, as a defence of the Christian religion. Eusebius quotes one extract, which is all that survives of this text. In it Quadratus notes that those whom Jesus had healed and those who were raised from the dead lived on after Jesus’s death, and that some had survived “down to our own time” (Hist. eccl. ..). Thus, he presents Jesus as a wonder-worker “whose works were always present for they were true.” Jesus’s miracles were in the past, but they have a continuing and contemporary probative force, not least because some of those whom Jesus healed or raised are said to have remained alive within living memory of Quadratus and his audience. Of course we cannot tell from this one short extract to what extent the rest of Quadratus’s apology was focused on Jesus as a thaumaturge or whether it was Eusebius’s own interest in appeals to miracles that led him to focus on See Osborn, Justin Martyr; Oskar Skarsaune, The Proof from Prophecy. A Study in Justin Martyr’s Proof-Text Tradition: Text-Type, Provenance, Theological Profile (NovT Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ).
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this extract. But Quadratus was not alone in appealing to Jesus as a wonderworker in support of Christian claims in the present. Like Quadratus, the author of the Epistle of the Apostles presents Jesus’s miracles as things that happened in the past. They were deeds of power that his apostles saw and remembered, so that they could write about them to others (Ep. Apos. .–, .–, .) – but in such a way that they affirm Jesus’s importance for the present, as the living Lord to whom they and their addressees relate. As Francis Watson has shown, the series of seven miracles that the text relates immediately after a credal confession “is not constructed at random” but “demonstrates Jesus’ power over water and its derivatives,” which in turn “creates a connection with the credal or hymn-like passage that immediately precedes the miracle sequence.” Thus, the Jesus who had turned water into wine and demonstrated his power on and around the Sea of Galilee is the same as the preexistent Jesus who founded the earth and established the sea with the boundaries that he set for it (Ep. Apos. .–). If so, the author remembers miracles that Jesus did in the past but presents them in this new context to support his belief in Jesus’s exalted status, above the Cherubim at the right hand of the throne of the Father. It is in order to support his claims about the importance of Jesus in the present that he appeals to apostolic teaching about what Jesus did in the past, creating a new gospel-like text in the process, which shows more attention to the story of Jesus’s earthly ministry than is found in the post-resurrection dialogues with which the Epistle is often compared. For Justin Martyr, Jesus’s miracles and exorcisms were an integral part of his ministry, prophesied in advance ( Apol. , ). He recalls them in creedlike summaries of Jesus’s life and significance but also links what Jesus did in the past to what Justin’s contemporary followers of Jesus continue to do. Thus, he refers to Jesus healing every disease and sickness and raising the dead ( Apol. .) and he refers to Jesus as having in the past destroyed demons ( Apol. .). But his interest is less in the past than in the ongoing practice of exorcism and healing in Jesus’s name ( Apol. ., Dial. ., ., .–), although he insists that those who exorcize in the present do so in the name of Jesus who was crucified under Pontius Pilate ( Apol. ., Dial. ., ., .–) in whom his followers believe as Lord (Dial. .). Hence, Justin remembers the past figure of Jesus as someone who performed
Francis Watson, An Apostolic Gospel: The “Epistula Apostolorum” in Literary Context (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –.
healings and exorcism, but in support of and through the filter of his claim that his followers do today what Jesus did in the past, by the power of Jesus’s name, and not by magic as his opponents assert ( Apol. , Dial. .–). He may also suggest that not Jesus’s name, but a summary of his life, was employed as part of Christian wonder-working and exorcism, a practice that may be presupposed also by Irenaeus, who like Justin refers to Jesus as having been crucified under Pontius Pilate, in a context in which he refers to his followers driving out demons, just as Jesus did (Haer. ..). Accordingly, both Justin and Irenaeus seem to reflect the Christian practice of drawing on a formulaic summary of Jesus’s life but claim that this was not a form of magic, whereas it appears that Celsus asserted that it was (Origen, Cels. .). A range of perspectives on Jesus as a miracle-worker may be found in the disparate body of texts known collectively as apocryphal Acts, some of which themselves now include stories that may have originated in a range of different times and places in the second and third centuries and beyond. The Acts of Andrew pays little attention to Jesus and presents its eponymous apostle as the revealer of the saving knowledge through whom those who respond to his teaching are saved; it presupposes some backstory about Jesus, since Andrew is called his apostle, but there is no reference to Jesus’s teaching, nor any kerygmatic summary of the significance of his life, death, and resurrection. Other Acts give a more prominent role to Jesus, whom they portray as the one in whose power or name miracles and wonders still take place, both explicitly in the apostolic age and by implication in the ongoing life of later Christians. Their emphasis is on Jesus as someone who is somehow present with his apostles and other followers. So, for example, in the Acts of John, John prays to Jesus (Acts John , ) and in his name performs healings and exorcisms and raises the dead (Acts John –, , ); there is no reference to Jesus having done similar miracles or signs in Galilee or Judea, but the depiction of the apostle’s wonder-working clearly reflects that of Jesus. Stories of Jesus’s ministry are remembered, but in a way that shapes a new narrative about John without any explicit reference to Jesus as a figure in the past. In this respect, the Acts of John may be contrasted with the Acts of Peter and with the complex of materials now found in the Acts of Paul. In the latter two texts there is again an emphasis on a living Jesus whose followers address him in prayer (Acts Pet. , Acts Paul ), who appears to them in visions
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(Acts Pet. fr. a, ), and in whose name miracles are performed (Acts Pet. fr. a, , , Acts Paul ). However, Jesus is also presented as someone who was active in the past, as reflected in the preaching of Peter and Paul when they refer to mighty acts that Jesus did (Acts Pet. , , Acts Paul , ). Also, in Corinthians (preserved both independently and as part of the Acts of Paul) Paul presents a creed-like summary of key events in Jesus’s life in which he remembers Jesus as a Jewish Savior, who lived in the past, and is an example for his followers in the present, who is risen and alive, and who will return soon ( Cor. ) to raise those who believe in him ( Cor. –).
Conclusion The further we go from the time of Jesus, the more evidence we find for widespread extensive and demonstrable use of canonical gospels, as may be seen in Tatian’s Diatessaron, Irenaeus’s use of the fourfold Gospel, and in commentaries by authors such as Heracleon and Origen, as well as in Celsus’s hostile use of their content. Jesus remains the risen and living Lord, considered their contemporary by his followers, just as he was by Paul, but alongside this continuing belief in the presence of Christ there is growing interest in (or at least increasing demonstrable reference to) accounts of Jesus’s ministry in Galilee and Judea (and the birth and childhood that preceded it, and postresurrection teaching that followed it) and in the written texts in which those memories were interpreted, structured, and inscribed. Such texts provided one means by which the collective and cultural memory of Jesus was transmitted in the second and third centuries and beyond, as did credal formulae, the developing rule of faith, and shared narratives about the life, death, and enduring significance of Jesus that were encapsulated in liturgical rites such as baptism and the Eucharist that shaped the identity of those who participated in them and listened to the liturgical reading of Scripture. This is precisely what social memory theory would lead us to expect. It maps neatly onto the historical evidence that we have, and its application can help historians to explain the development of early Christian beliefs about Jesus. It does not produce new data but generates new insights by providing a framework within which historians may approach their sources in a responsible and fruitful way that takes account of the social and cultural context in which early Christian texts were written, and in which claims about Jesus were received, memorialized, and re-presented in ways
that met the needs and shaped the self-understanding of those who identified as his followers. Thus, as I have shown in this chapter, social memory theory, and particularly Assmann’s category of cultural memory, has the capacity to illuminate how perceptions of the past are constructed by later authors for their present purposes, at a temporal distance beyond the reach of personal or communicative memory. Social memory theory has already proven itself a useful tool in the study of the earliest written witnesses to Jesus, as seen in a large body of recent work on the New Testament. There is great scope for it be applied in detail to a range of early Christian texts of the second and third centuries and beyond in order to help us to understand better the various ways in which early Christians remembered Jesus, and how they fashioned their self-understanding and identity in relation to the remembered Jesus as the object of their memory and their faith.
Select Bibliography Assmann, Jan. “Communicative and cultural memory.” Pages – in A Companion to Cultural Memory Studies. Edited by Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nünning, in collaboration with Sara B. Young (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). “What is cultural memory?” Pages – in Religion and Cultural Memory (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, ). Augustin, Philipp. Die Juden im Petrusevangelium: Narratologische Analyse und theologiegeschichtliche Kontextualisierung (BZNW ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Beduhn, Jason D. The First New Testament: Marcion’s Scriptural Canon (Salem, OR: Polebridge Press, ). Bellinzoni, Arthur J. The Sayings of Jesus in the Writings of Justin Martyr (NovT Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ). Brankaer, Johanna and Bas van Os. The Gospel of Judas (Oxford Early Christian Gospel Texts; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Broek, Roelof van den. “The gnostic Christ.” Pages – in Alternative Christs. Edited by Olav Hammer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Burke, Tony. “The Infancy Gospel of Thomas.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ). Castelli, Elizabeth. Martyrdom and Memory: Early Christian Culture Making (Gender, Theory and Religion; New York: Columbia University Press, ). Daly, Robert J., S.J. Sacrifice in Pagan and Christian Antiquity (London: T&T Clark, ). Davis, Stephen J. Christ Child: Cultural Memories of a Young Jesus (Synkrisis; New Haven: Yale University Press, ).
Remembering Jesus in the Second and Third Centuries Edwards, J. Christopher. “Epistle of Barnabas.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ). Ferguson, Everett. The Rule of Faith: A Guide (Cascade Companions; Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, ). Foster, Paul M. “Christology and soteriology in apocryphal Acts and Apocalypses.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Apocrypha. Edited by Andrew Gregory and Christopher Tuckett (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Ignatius of Antioch.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ). Fürst, Alfons. “Origen.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ). Gadamer, Hans-Georg. Wahrheit und Methode, repr. of th rev. ed. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Galinsky, Karl. “Introduction.” Pages – in Memory in Ancient Rome and Early Christianity. Edited by Karl Galinsky (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Goodacre, Mark. Thomas and the Gospels: The Case for Thomas’s Familiarity with the Synoptics (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Gregory, Andrew. “Memory as method: Some observations on two recent accounts.” Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus (), –. “First Clement.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Helen K. Bond (London: T&T Clark, ). Hannah, Darrell D. “The four-gospel ‘canon’ in the Epistula Apostolorum,” Journal of Theological Studies (), –. Holmes, Michael. “The Martyrdom of Polycarp and the New Testament passion narratives.” Pages – in Trajectories through the New Testament and the Apostolic Fathers. Edited by Andrew Gregory and Christopher Tuckett (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Huebenthal, Sandra. “‘Frozen moments’: Early Christianity through the lens of Social Memory Theory.” Pages – in Memory and Memories in Early Christianity. Edited by Simon Butticaz and Enrico Norelli (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Reading Mark’s Gospel as a Text from Collective Memory (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). German orig. Das Markusevangelium als kollektives Gedächtnis (FRLANT ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht , nd ed. ). Jensen, Robin M. Understanding Early Christian Art (London: Routledge, ). Jones, Christopher P. New Heroes in Antiquity: From Achilles to Antinoos (Revealing Antiquity ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Keith, Chris. “Public reading of the Gospels.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Chris Keith (London: T&T Clark, ). “Social memory theory and Gospels research: The first decade (Part One),” Early Christianity (), –. Keith, Chris, Helen K. Bond, Christine Jacobi and Jens Schröter (eds.) The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vols. (London: T&T Clark, ).
“Introduction.” Pages xv–xxvii in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries. Edited by Chris Keith, Helen K. Bond, Christine Jacobi, and Jens Schröter, vols. (London: T&T Clark, ). Kinzig, Wolfram. Faith in Formulae: A Collection of Early Christian Creeds and Creed-Related Texts, vol. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Kirk, Alan J. “The Gospel of Peter.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ). Memory and the Jesus Tradition (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, ). Le Donne, Anthony. The Historiographical Jesus: Memory, Typology and the Son of David (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ). Lieu, Judith M. Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Litwa, M. David. Iesus Deus: The Early Christian Depiction of Jesus as a Mediterranean God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Löhr, Wilrich. “Justin Martyr.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ). McGowan, Andrew. “The Eucharist.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Chris Keith (London: T&T Clark, ). Moss, Candida R. The Other Christs: Imitating Jesus in Ancient Christian Ideologies of Martyrdom (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Nicklas, Tobias. “Die Leiblichkeit der Gepeinigten: Das Evangelium nach Petrus und frühchristliche Martyrerakten.” Pages – in Persecution and Martyrdom in Late Antique Christianity. Edited by J. Leeman (BETL ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Noormann, Rolf. “Irenaeus.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ). Osborn, Eric F. Justin Martyr (BHT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Parvis, Paul. “Epistle of the Apostles.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ). Patterson, Stephen. The Gospel of Thomas and Jesus (Sonoma, CA: Polebridge Press, ). Perkins, Pheme. “Christology and soteriology in apocryphal gospels.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Apocrypha. Edited by Andrew Gregory and Christopher Tuckett (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Docetism.” Pages – in Encyclopedia of Early Christianity. Edited by Everett Ferguson, nd ed. (New York: Garland Publishing, ). Riley, Gregory J. One Jesus, Many Christs: How Jesus Inspired Not One True Christianity but Many (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, ). Rodríguez, Rafael. “Baptism.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Chris Keith (London: T&T Clark, ).
Remembering Jesus in the Second and Third Centuries Roth, Dieter T. “Marcion’s Gospel.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ). The Text of Marcion’s Gospel (NTTSD ; Leiden: Brill, ). Schröter, Jens. “The contribution of non-canonical gospels to the memory of Jesus: The Gospel of Thomas and the Gospel of Peter as test cases,” New Testament Studies (), –. “Memory and memories in early Christianity: The remembered Jesus as a test case.” Pages – in Memory and Memories in Early Christianity. Edited by Simon Butticaz and Enrico Norelli (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Memory, theories of history, and the reception of Jesus,” Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus (), –. Skarsaune, Oskar. The Proof from Prophecy. A Study in Justin Martyr’s Proof-Text Tradition: Text-Type, Provenance, Theological Profile (NovT Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ). Stewart-Sykes, Alistair E. The Lamb’s High Feast: Melito, Peri Pascha and the Quartodeciman Paschal Liturgy at Sardis (VC Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ). Thomassen, Einar. “Jesus in the New Testament apocrypha.” Pages – in Alternative Christs. Edited by Olav Hammer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Tuckett, Christopher M. Clement: Introduction, Text and Commentary (OECGT; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Vanden Eykel, Eric M. “Protevangelium of James.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ). Vuong, Lily C. The Protevangelium of James (Early Christian Apocrypha ; Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ). Watson, Francis. An Apostolic Gospel: The “Epistula Apostolorum” in Literary Context (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Westcott, Brooke F. On the Canon of the New Testament, rd ed. (London: Macmillan and Co., ). Wilhite, David E. “Jesus in The Infancy Gospel of ‘the Israelite’ and the God of Israel,” Studia Patristica . (), –. Young, Frances M. The Use of Sacrificial Ideas in Greek Christian Writers from the New Testament to John Chrysostom (PMS ; Cambridge, MA: Philadelphia Patristic Foundation, ). Zelyck, Lorne R. “The Gospel of Judas.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (London: T&T Clark, ).
Paul and His Diverse Champions .
The Pauline Epistles, or some portion of them, provide a remarkably early picture of the Christ movement as it spread through Asia Minor and Greece in the s and s . They render evidence that only a decade or two into the movement’s existence there were serious tensions developing around fundamental problems of Christian identity and culture. Several questions are of primary concern in our earliest Christian documents. How will Gentiles be incorporated into Israel’s eschatological salvation? What is their obligation to Torah? How are prior identities transformed “in Christ”? What obligations do members of Christ’s body have to one another? What can followers of Jesus expect to encounter from a world controlled by hostile principalities and powers? One does not have to read between the lines of the Epistles to understand that their author, a diaspora Jew with a zealous past, was more than a little responsible for the factions developing around these issues. The Apostle Paul possessed what sociologist Gary Alan Fine has called a “difficult reputation.” The Pauline Epistles depict a man who habitually stirred up trouble, both for his fellow Jews and for those they called the “Gentiles” ( Thess. :–; Cor. :–). They also reveal that Paul’s opponents and doubters over time increasingly included those within the
Many scholars since the early nineteenth century have been skeptical of the Pauline authorship of the so-called Pastoral Epistles ( Tim., Tim., Titus), and many also have doubted the authenticity of Thess., Col., and Eph. This chapter does not take up the question of the authenticity of these six texts. The canonical Gospels postdate authentic Pauline Epistles by at least a decade. I use “Christian” here etically. These are Jewish questions in their origin, and Paul approaches them as a Jew (see Gal. :). Gary Alan Fine, Difficult Reputations: Collective Memories of the Evil, Inept, and Controversial (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ). Fine focuses on problematic figures of the American past.
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Christ movement. Paul was regularly questioned, challenged, and abandoned by the very communities he established. Sometimes this was due to the difficulty of remaining in a new and strange religious movement. At other times the tensions arose from the influence of those offering a different Christian message or taking a different approach ( Cor. –; Cor. –; Gal.; Phil. :–, :; Col. :–; – Tim.; Titus). Early suspicions of Paul by his fellow Jewish believers in Jesus were tied to his recent persecution of this group ( Cor. :; Gal. :; Phil. :; Tim. :). Some also doubted his fundamental claim to be Christ’s apostle, particularly since he had never met the earthly Jesus, nor had he been among that early cohort that had seen the risen Christ (Gal. :, –; Cor. :). Rumors about his disassociation from Torah eventually ran rampant, perhaps on account of the considerable time that he spent among the Gentiles (Rom. :–). All of this created tension with his “kinsmen according to the flesh” (Rom. :), particularly those in Judea (Gal. :–). Apostolic rivals took advantage of his imprisonments (Phil. :), and the tone of many of the canonical letters is defensive. Acts offers a similar portrayal of all of this (Acts :; :–; :–, –; ; :–; :, ; :–). The Epistle of James may preserve a rejoinder to a perceived deficiency in Pauline teaching related to faith and works (James :–). In the second century, Irenaeus accused some Jewish believers in Jesus, the Ebionites, of not wanting to touch Paul with a -foot pole. They considered him to be an “apostate from the Law” (Haer. ..). Paul did himself no favors. He staked out offensive positions. It was one thing, for instance, for the Gentiles to participate in Israel’s eschatological salvation. Some of the prophets had envisioned such a scenario (e.g. Isa. :, :, :, :–; Jer. :; Mic. :; Zeph. :; Zech. :–), and it was not uncommon for Jews to hold this view in the Second Temple period (e.g. Tob. :–; En. :; Ezra :, :; Bar. :–:). It was another thing altogether to suggest, as Paul did, that they were children of Abraham, or Israelites, in their uncircumcision (Rom. ; Cor. :–, :; Gal. :–:, :). The notion of a crucified Messiah – “a stumbling block to the
English translations of ancient texts are my own unless otherwise noted. Among many others, see Gerd Lüdemann, Opposition to Paul in Jewish Christianity, trans. M. E. Boring (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –. English translation from Dominic J. Unger, St. Irenaeus of Lyons: Against the Heresies (ACW ; New York: Paulist, ). See Scot McKnight, A Light among the Gentiles: Jewish Missionary Activity in the Second Temple Period (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ).
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Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles” ( Cor. :) – was easier to swallow for some than this ethnic sleight of hand. He argued this position and others relentlessly. His zeal and conviction for what he perceived as true did not founder once he left his “former life in Judaism” (Gal. :). Paul continued to uphold the “zeal of God” for his newly founded assemblies ( Cor. :), to which he often needed to reinforce his integrity ( Cor. ; Cor. :–; Thess. :–). He did a fair dose of humble-bragging ( Cor. :–) and, if needed, brought down curses upon Christ-followers who opposed him (Gal. :). On one occasion he hoped that they might castrate themselves (Gal. :). Paul was not, however, always inflexible. He adopted a highly contingent strategy for evangelization ( Cor. :–). Discerning the nexus of the coherence and contingency of his thought has been the crux interpretum of Pauline studies for generations. His protean ministry clearly left some wondering how to proceed. More than a few might have viewed him as posturing and deceptive. Nevertheless, he persisted. The apostle had the unwavering support of at least one community (the Philippians) and found ways to patch things up with others (the Corinthians). He developed a network of loyal associates to help with the work, whose influence would have outlasted Paul’s death. Timothy, mentioned in all but three of the Pauline Epistles, and the marital team of Prisca and Aquila, who were active in Corinth, Ephesus ( Cor. :), and Rome (Rom. :), seem to have had the greatest staying power. But many others, named and unnamed, were involved in supporting the Pauline gospel. Paul died in the s, apparently in Rome, as a troubler of the empire (Acts :–; Clem. .–; Mart. Paul; Acts Pet. ; Caius, in Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..). Within a generation or two after his death he was remembered, alongside Peter, as one of the two founders of the Christian faith ( Clem. ; Ignatius, Rom. .; Pet. :). By the late second century, Paul had become “the Apostle” (not just an apostle) for an astonishingly diverse set of Christfollowers – from Marcion, Theodotus, and Heracleon to Athenagoras, Clement of Alexandria, Irenaeus, and Tertullian. In this widespread
See Cavan W. Concannon, “When You Were Gentiles”: Specters of Ethnicity in Roman Corinth and Paul’s Corinthian Correspondence (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), –. On the events surrounding Paul’s death, see Armand Puig i Tarrech, John M. G. Barclay, and Jörg Frey (eds.) The Last Years of Paul: Essays from the Tarragona Conference (June ) (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). See Benjamin L. White, Remembering Paul: Ancient and Modern Contests over the Image of the Apostle (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –.
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adoption of “the Apostle” for Paul we find a reputation that, once beleaguered, had become important capital for Christian culture-making. The early growth of the faith in portions of Asia Minor, Greece, and perhaps elsewhere is no doubt indebted to Paul’s indefatigable work. For Paul to overcome such a difficult reputation during his lifetime, however, and become “the divine Apostle” (Clement of Alexandria, Strom. .. et al.) or “the great Apostle” (Nat. Rulers .) at the end of the second century, setting the stage for the widespread enfolding of the Pauline tradition into most forms of early Christianity, requires an explanation. This chapter describes the processes whereby early Pauline traditions developed, the role that reputational entrepreneurs played in managing Paul’s difficult reputation, and the reasons that Paul’s persona could be pulled in so many different directions in early Christianity. It charts, in other words, how Paul became a figure of memory in the early Christian imagination.
The Development of Early Pauline Traditions Depending on how one dates Acts, there is a ten- to thirty-year gap between Paul’s death and our first whiff of his memory in the extant evidence. Acts provides a lengthy narration of Paul’s life, from his persecution of the Way in the s to his imprisonment in Rome in the early s. Scholars have traditionally dated it to the s or s, but some have recently argued that Acts was a product of the second century. Even if Acts is late, Clement provides evidence from the s that Paul was being fixed hagiographically in the Christian cultural memory. Clement is a lengthy epistolary exhortation from Christians in Rome to those in Corinth, requesting that they remain unified under the leadership of properly established elders ( Clem. .). Jealousy, The degree to which Paul’s missions and the congregations produced by them should color our understanding of the development of early Christianity as a whole is an important question. Early Christianity was not Pauline Christianity, whatever the latter might mean. Even Acts, in which Paul functions as the hero, indicates to its readers that the Way was growing in many other places outside of Paul’s influence: Judea (–), Samaria (:–), Ethiopia (:–), Syria (:–, :–), and Rome (:–). The constraints of space prevent a comprehensive analysis of every reception of Paul in the pre-Constantinian era. That would take a multi-volume series. I have focused on the processes of Pauline reception up to and including Irenaeus and Tertullian in the late second century because much of the reception of Paul in the third century is dependent on them. For the later dating, see Rubén R. Dupertuis and Todd Penner (eds.) Engaging Early Christian History: Reading Acts in the Second Century (London: Routledge, ). On the senders and recipients of what we now call Clement, see the letter’s opening lines.
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the Romans claim, has always produced the death of God’s chosen, including Paul, and will surely lead to destruction if unchecked in Corinth: But to stop giving ancient examples, let us come to those who became athletic contenders in quite recent times. We should consider the noble examples of our own generation. Because of jealousy and envy the greatest and most upright pillars were persecuted, and they struggled in the contest even to death. We should set before our eyes the good apostles . . . Because of jealousy and strife Paul pointed the way to the prize for endurance. Seven times he bore chains; he was sent into exile and stoned; he served as a herald in both the East and the West; and he received the noble reputation for his faith. He taught righteousness to the whole world, and came to the limits of the West, bearing his witness before the rulers. And so he was set free from this world and transported up to the holy place, having become the greatest example of endurance. ( Clem. .–, –)
Later in this same work the Corinthians are exhorted to “Take up the epistle of that blessed apostle, Paul” ( Clem. .). The Romans point out that in Corinthians Paul had already addressed the problem of factionalism. The references to Paul in Clement are important for several reasons. First, here is clear evidence of the Roman congregation possessing a copy of Corinthians by the s, thereby allowing us to envision the early contours of the transmission and collection of Pauline texts. Second, at least one of the communities that Paul founded – the Corinthian community – is assumed to have an ongoing regard for him and to still retain at least one of the letters he had sent them forty years earlier. We are thus in position to begin to theorize how that ongoing Pauline connection developed in the decades after Paul left Corinth for the last time in the s. The Pauline identity of the Corinthian congregation was still strong c., as evidenced by the letter written by Bishop Dionysius of Corinth to Soter of Rome (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..). Third, and most important here, we find that the Pauline tradition is evolving from a number of sources. The hagiography of Clement seems dependent on a constellation of narratives about Paul, while the exhortation of Clement is clearly dependent on a Pauline text. Pauline oral and textual traditions come together to provide us with “the Paul of Clement.” Clement provides, according to Richard Pervo, “the outline of a fully developed Paul legend,
Translations from Bart D. Ehrman, The Apostolic Fathers, vol. (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ).
Paul and His Diverse Champions
the focus of which was his universal mission.” This apostolic mission is closely connected with Paul’s martyrdom, and thus the former is viewed as a cause for the latter. The same process, whereby Pauline oral and textual traditions become commingled in the formation of Pauline images, can be seen in other writers in the decades just after Clement (cf. Pet. :–; Ignatius, Eph. .; Polycarp, Phil. .; .–). The historical gap between Paul’s life and his reception in the late first century has been filled by scholars since the early s by recourse to Pauline pseudepigrapha. Differences in language, style, and content among the thirteen Pauline Epistles have been viewed by many as evidence of differences in authorship. Particular individuals connected to the Pauline orbit have occasionally been posited as authors for suspicious texts, but, generally, scholars have tended to chalk Pauline pseudepigrapha up to the production of certain Pauline “schools” that worked to keep the Pauline legacy (i.e., “Paulinism”) “fresh” in the decades after Paul’s death. The discernment of Pauline pseudepigrapha, however, is in many cases highly speculative. Furthermore, the narration of the development of the Pauline tradition between Paul and Clement chiefly in terms of Pauline pseudepigrapha and school-type environments privileges the production and circulation of texts over the transmission of oral traditions about Paul in the immediately post-Pauline period. This is not a surprising result if we think of Paul in a European fashion, primarily as a writer of texts, as we find him in famous portrayals by El Greco () and Rembrandt (s). Letters were such a commonplace in antiquity, however, that it is a misstep to think of Paul’s early effect in chiefly these terms. The notion of Pauline “schools,” moreover, also privileges a view of Paul as philosopher or systematic
Richard I. Pervo, The Making of Paul: Constructions of the Apostle in Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), . On Pauline pseudepigrapha, see Bart D. Ehrman, Forgery and Counterforgery: The Use of Literary Deceit in Early Christian Polemics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. On Pauline “schools,” see, e.g., Angela Standhartinger, “Colossians and the Pauline school,” New Testament Studies (), –. On “Paulinism” as a concept, see already Otto Pfleiderer, Paulinism: A Contribution to the History of Primitive Christian Theology, trans. Edward Peters, vols. (London: Williams and Norgate, ). The production of Pauline pseudepigrapha and the collection and publication of the Pauline Epistles were indicators to Andreas Lindemann that interest in Paul remained strong in the century after his death: Paulus im ältesten Christentum: Das Bild des Apostels und die Rezeption der paulinischen Theologie in der frühchristlichen Literatur bis Marcion (BHT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). See Benjamin L. White, “The Pauline tradition,” in T&T Clark Handbook to the Historical Paul, ed. Ryan Schellenberg and Heidi Wendt (New York: Bloomsbury, ), –.
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theologian, whose thought was to be mediated to the next generation. Romans is, of course, a developed defense of the righteousness of the God of Israel, but it is certainly abnormal in this regard. We are on firmer ground, then, by envisioning the development of early Pauline traditions principally along oral paths in a number of different sociological directions, as the following process makes clear. First, impressions were formed about Paul by eyewitnesses to his ministry, which were then shared with others (oral history) and became part of an initial set of Pauline testimonies that were circulated and reinforced in groups. A diverse range of eyewitnesses produced these early accounts of Paul: coworkers, followers, opponents, and general observers. These testimonies would have included a variety of kinds of information about Paul: his geographical movements; his thoughts about God, Judaism, the nations, Torah, Christ, and the self; his practices as a Jewish believer in Jesus; his relationships with other religious actors and groups around the Mediterranean; and micro-histories of his relationships with individual assemblies of Christ-followers. The vagaries of eyewitness memory, in combination with the range of dispositions for and against Paul adopted by those around him, meant that the initial impressions formed and transmitted about Paul, in addition to the more mundane biographical facts related to his life, bore various levels of correspondence to reality. Second, individual and collective accounts of Paul were, for a period of time, managed by Paul and his colleagues with varying degrees of success. The Pauline Epistles provide evidence that, on occasion, part of this management came in the form of a letter. As with the testimonies being produced about him, testimonies by him corresponded more or less with the truth. Paul’s claims about himself, his assemblies, and anyone causing problems for either of them must be evaluated in light of what might have actually been happening on the ground. Alongside Paul, members of his team functioned as his reputational entrepreneurs, as his “self-interested custodian[s],” who focused attention on Paul’s virtues and authority. Third, oral testimonies became oral traditions once they were transmitted beyond the circle of initial eyewitnesses, whether this transmission was
On the vagaries of eyewitness memory, see Elizabeth F. Loftus, Eyewitness Testimony, nd ed. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Fine, Difficult Reputations, .
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across space (geography) or time (generations). Stories about Paul were thus subject to the typical processes at play in the development of oral traditions. Their dissemination would have outpaced that of Pauline letters in most cases, although there may have been some local letter-sharing from the beginning (see Col. :). When written and oral sources did eventually come into contact, they worked together to form complex imaginaries of the Apostle, as we saw happening already in Clement. We should not assume, however, that hard-to-interpret Pauline letters (see Pet :) were hermeneutically controlling of other oral and written traditions about Paul. In many instances the reverse would have been the case. These complex imaginaries of the Apostle were bricolages of the past and the present – of traditions that had some connection with the life of Paul but that had evolved and become arranged so as to meet the needs of the contemporary moment. Fourth, those communities that had a Pauline foundation and/or remained under the influence of his associates would have been more resistant to accepting Pauline traditions that contradicted their experiences than those communities that were only loosely connected with the Pauline mission or that had no lingering attachment to the Apostle. Early recall, reinforced through frequent group sharing, tends to solidify our memories of people and events. Later and infrequent recall, along with more distant attachments to the persons and events remembered, produces greater variability in the tradition. Thus, the stability of the Pauline tradition varied, depending on the circumstances of its development. Clement and Dionysius’s letter to Soter are indicative of some of the ways that communities with a Pauline history continued to keep their Pauline identities alive. But the diverse and sometimes contradictory narrative portrayals of Paul that On oral history vs. oral tradition, see Samuel Byrskog, Story as History – History as Story: The Gospel Tradition in the Context of Ancient Oral History (Leiden: Brill, ), –. On the nature of oral tradition, see Jan Vansina, Oral Tradition as History (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, ). In addition to Clement, cf. how Irenaeus interprets Galatians alongside the controlling Acts: Benjamin White, “Paul and the Jerusalem church in Irenaeus,” in Irenaeus and Paul, ed. Todd D. Still and David E. Wilhite (Pauline and Patristics Scholars in Debate ; London: T&T Clark, ), –. On the tension between past and present in all Pauline traditions, see White, Remembering Paul, –. Frederic C. Bartlett, Remembering: A Study in Experimental and Social Psychology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), ; Barry Schwartz, “Social change and collective memory: The democritization of George Washington,” American Sociological Review (), –. Cilliers Breytenbach, “Epigraphic evidence for the impact of Paul in central Asia Minor,” in Receptions of Paul in Early Christianity: The Person of Paul and His Writings through the Eyes of His
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appear in canonical Acts, the Acts of Paul and Thecla, and the Martyrdom of Paul suggest that any number of “Pauls” could develop and lay claim to the Pauline tradition. Fifth, by the mid-second century a larger collection of Pauline Epistles to assemblies was circulating widely. Marcion’s Apostolikon is clear evidence of such a collection. The likely impetus for this fuller collection of Pauline texts was an attempt to secure the Pauline tradition when the last of those who knew his associates were nearing death, although the date, location, and contents of such a project have remained a matter of debate. In the century after their widespread dissemination, full commentaries on several of the texts began to appear (e.g., Origen’s commentaries on Romans and Ephesians). Pauline canon and Pauline commentary mark the period (c.–) wherein Pauline texts took on increasing weight in the development of the Pauline tradition (in relation to the earlier, largely oral phase). Much like our theorization of the oral stages of the Jesus tradition, this entire process must be reconstructed from the nature of the surviving literary evidence, in combination with modern psychological, sociological, and anthropological research. At least in the Pauline case that literary evidence is quite early (the Epistles), and we continue to get firmly datable extraPauline signs along the way, beginning at least with Clement. The results are on fullest display in Acts, the various Acts of Paul traditions, and the large corpora of Irenaeus (c.) and Tertullian (c.). The process just described does not preclude the existence of Pauline “schools,” however they are understood, but sets the broader framework for the expansion of
Early Interpreters, ed. Jens Schröter, Simon Butticaz, and Andreas Dettwiler (BZNW ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –, argues for the ongoing Pauline identity of Christian communities in southern Galatia in the second century by recourse to literary (Acts of Paul and Thecla) and epigraphic (the inordinately high number of funerary inscriptions bearing the name Paulos) evidence. Jan Assmann, Das kulturelle Gedächtnis: Schrift, Erinnerung, und politische Identität in frühen Hochkulturen (Munich: C. H. Beck, ), –, describes the need for collective memory to be inscribed in more permanent media as communities face the prospect of the loss of memory at the death of the second generation – those who were in contact with the initial generation of transmitters. On options for the initial collection of the Pauline Epistles, see Stanley E. Porter, “Paul and the Pauline letter collection,” in Paul and the Second Century, ed. Michael F. Bird and Joseph R. Dodson (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ), –. On the multiplicity of Acts of Paul traditions in the second and third centuries, see Glenn E. Snyder, Acts of Paul (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). On the reception of Paul in Irenaeus and Tertullian, see Todd D. Still and David E. Wilhite (eds.) Irenaeus and Paul (Pauline and Patristics Scholars in Debate ; London: T&T Clark, ); Still and Wilhite (eds.) Tertullian and Paul (Pauline and Patristics Scholars in Debate ; New York: T&T Clark, ).
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Paul’s reputation in early Christianity. Given the predominantly oral nature of the initial and thus foundational stages of the development of the early Pauline tradition, scholars both of Paul and his reception must give increasing attention to how eyewitness memory, oral history, oral tradition, and collective remembering operate. Understanding these cognitive and communicative processes is not just germane to Jesus scholarship. Indeed, some authentic Pauline Epistles have been handed down to us – a clear difference from the Jesus tradition. But our earliest manuscripts of the Pauline Epistles date to the late second or early third century, a period when there was ongoing reputational contestation over the Apostle. They are not innocent of and separate from the processes of Pauline image formation. Moreover, as I have argued, they were not always fundamental in the construction of the early Pauline tradition.
Paul’s Diverse Reputation “The Apostle’s” contribution to the formation of Christian identity was not uniformly obvious. In the century after his death, the diversity of oral and written traditions about Paul, in combination with the variety of trajectories in which Christianity was evolving, meant that the number of ways in which he could be inherited was almost limitless. He was constitutive for Christians as wide-ranging in their formulations of the faith as Ignatius of Antioch, Marcion of Sinope, and Valentinus of Alexandria. It is beyond the scope of this essay to chart out all of the ways in which the Pauline tradition developed in the pre-Constantinian world. One example of the different directions Paul could be pulled and how that could happen will have to suffice. If we ask what seems to be a straightforward historical question, On these issues in recent “historical Jesus” scholarship, see Dale C. Allison, Jr., Constructing Jesus: Memory, Imagination, and History (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ); James D. G. Dunn, The Oral Gospel Tradition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ); and Alan Kirk, Memory and the Jesus Tradition (Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries ; London: Bloomsbury, ). The dating of Papyrus is notoriously difficult on merely paleographical grounds. Edgar Ebojo, who has taken into consideration other visual clues and observations about the production of the manuscript, and Don Barker, who has evaluated the larger “graphic stream” of the manuscript, are persuasive for a date between and . See Ebojo, “A scribe and his manuscript: An investigation into the scribal habits of Papyrus (P. Chester Beatty II– P. Mich. Inv. )” (Ph.D. diss., University of Birmingham, ), and Barker, “The dating of New Testament papyri,” New Testament Studies (), –.
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“What was Paul’s relationship to the apostles in Jerusalem?”, we find the tradition moving in a variety of different directions very early on. This question is important for several reasons, not least of which is for our understanding of the degree to which Paul’s gospel and mission were a break from or in continuity with the Judean and Syrian communities that existed prior to his own missionary activity west of these areas. There was a strong “Paul alone” movement in the mid-second century, emanating largely from Marcionite circles and depending on the fiercely independent and polemical language of Galatians (Irenaeus, Haer. ..). The Ebionites were alleged to be on the opposite end of the spectrum, disavowing Paul as an “apostate from the Law” and honoring Jerusalem as a principal marker of their collective identity (Irenaeus, Haer. ..). Despite some prominent scholarship of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, which posited widespread antagonism toward Paul in the second century, the Ebionites – if Irenaeus is a reliable witness – are our only clear example of lingering anti-Paulinism during this period. The weakening of the Judean church after James’s death in and the destruction of the Temple in , in combination with the increasingly gentile character of the Christ movement, caused much of the initial resistance to Paul to subside. Most other texts from the second century position Paul alongside and working in concert with the Judean apostles. Sometimes Paul is pulled into the traditions of those who preceded him ( Pet. :–; Ep. Apos. –; Irenaeus, Haer. ..–..; Cor. ., .; Apoc. Paul). At other times the Judean apostles are drawn in Paul’s direction (Acts ; Pet. :–; Acts Pet. –, ). The end result in both of these latter cases is the same – apostolic harmony (see Clem. .–, .–; Ignatius, Rom. .; Dionysius of Corinth, according to Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..). The variety of representations of Paul and the Judean apostles that we find evidenced in this material corresponds with the diverging evidence from the Pauline Epistles themselves. Galatians depicts Paul trying to establish his
Galatians was at the head of Marcion’s Apostolikon (see Tertullian, Marc. ..; Epiphanius, Pan. ..). See White, Remembering Paul, –. The purported anti-Paulinism of the PseudoClementine literature rests on a number of tenuous assumptions. See Giovanni B. Bazzana, “Paul among his enemies? Exploring potential Pauline theological traits in the PseudoClementines,” in The Early Reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew: Text, Narrative and Reception History, ed. Isaac W. Oliver and Gabriele Boccaccini (LSTS ; London: T&T Clark, ), –, who reads some portions of the Pseudo-Clementine literature in concert with Paul.
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independence from the Judean group. It is not representative, however, of other epistles. Throughout Corinthians Paul works to establish continuity between himself and other apostles, including Kephas and the twelve ( Cor. :–, :–, :, :–). Even in Galatians we find the evidence to be more ambiguous than Marcion and other radical interpreters of Paul would have it. Paul states that on his first trip to Jerusalem he desired to “learn from Kephas” (Gal. :). On his second trip to Jerusalem he eagerly agreed, at the request of James, Kephas, and John, to the collection for the poor there (Gal. :). All of this is from Paul’s perspective. How might others contemporaneous with Paul have interpreted the relationship? It is not hard to imagine that it would depend on when and where one encountered the parties in question. In Jerusalem? In Antioch? In Galatia? In Corinth? Before or after the so-called Jerusalem conference (Gal. :–; Acts )? Toward the beginning of Paul’s ministry in a particular city or a few years later, after other influencers had entered his assemblies? From a distance or up close? If the former, from whose vantage was the information being transmitted? Whatever the case may be, all of the later literary evidence can lay legitimate claim to some part of the very earliest Pauline impact – an impact that was produced through lived experience, reinforced through communicative processes (oral and written), and transmitted to others across time and space. Once the Pauline Epistles had been collected and were beginning to circulate widely in the mid-second century, disputes over the Pauline tradition took on increasingly textual forms. Paul’s reputation was no longer difficult to manage because he was controversial, but because his legacy was so easily being pushed and pulled in a variety of directions – and with textual evidence! Tertullian accused Marcion of “rejecting” certain Pauline texts – the Pastoral Epistles (Marc. ..); moreover, those Pauline texts that Marcion did recognize, he adulterated (Marc. ..). When the number of Pauline texts and their actual wording were not in dispute, differing interpretations became a problem (see Pet. :; Irenaeus, Haer. ..; Tertullian, Marc. ..). Sometimes individual Pauline texts came into competition with one another, as we find in Tertullian’s On Baptism, written Fine, Difficult Reputations, describes three kinds of difficult reputations: negative, contested, and subcultural. On Marcion as reader and redactor of Paul, see Judith M. Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –.
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around the turn of the third century. Toward the end of that text (chapter ) Tertullian takes up the question of women baptizers. He expresses concern that a certain Acts of Paul and its portrayal of Thecla, a female devotee of Paul, will illegitimately lead some women to assume the roles of teaching and baptizing. Tertullian dismisses these Acts by asserting that they had been constructed “falsely” (perperam). They were the product of an Asian presbyter who was subsequently “found out” and who was “deposed from his position,” presumably on account of some impropriety related to his composition of the Acts of Paul. We are told neither on what grounds his composition of the Acts was judged inappropriate (it is not technically a pseudepigraphon) nor by whom they were judged as such. Tertullian only says that the presbyter defended himself by confessing to have composed it out of “love of Paul” (amore Pauli). The Carthaginian lawyer then reminds his readers that the real Paul would not have entertained such fancies as are found in the Acts, citing Corinthians :–: “How could we believe that Paul should give a female power to teach and to baptize, when he did not allow a woman even to learn by her own right? ‘Let them keep silence,’ he says, ‘and ask their husbands at home.’”
Paul’s Reputational Entrepreneurs Tertullian’s dismissal of one Pauline tradition in favor of another is an act of reputational entrepreneurship. The formation of collective memories about figures of the past, particularly of controversial persons whose reputations are in flux, does not happen without the dedicated work of such entrepreneurs. Just as Paul had advocates and detractors during his own lifetime, he has had them ever since. By pausing here to focus on Tertullian’s dismissal of the Acts of Paul, we can observe quite clearly how reputational entrepreneurship works
Tertullian’s Acts of Paul was probably limited to what we now know as the Acts of Paul and Thecla, which later became part of larger Acts of Paul traditions. See Snyder, Acts of Paul, . Latin text and English translation of Tertullian are from Ernest Evans, Tertullian’s Homily on Baptism (London: SPCK, ). Gérard Poupon, “Encore une fois: Tertullien, De baptismo ,,” in Nomen Latinum: Mélanges de langue, de littérature et de civilisation latines offerts au professeur André Schneider, ed. Denis Knoepfler (Neuchâtel: Faculté de lettres, ), –, at , suggests that perperam may be a technical term for forgery, as it is the Latin equivalent of the Greek νόθος in Irenaeus’s description of the false writings of the Marcosians (Haer. ..).
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and how the Pauline tradition evolved and fragmented in various directions over time due to the influence of those in positions of authority. While Tertullian grants that the presbyter was working out of “love of Paul,” he also notes that the presbyter was “add[ing] of his own to Paul’s reputation” (quasi titulo Pauli de suo cumulans). Many interpreters take this latter comment to be a report of the presbyter’s conscious intention, as we find in Ernest Evans’s translation: “thinking to add of his own to Paul’s reputation.” The Latin does not exactly support this reading. Rather, quasi titulo Pauli de suo cumulans should be understood as a parenthetical comment by Tertullian about what he himself thought the presbyter was doing. Tertullian scornfully dismisses the possibility that one could add anything to Paul’s “reputation.” “As if” (quasi), he says. To do so would be to act “of his own” (de suo). De suo was the real problem. Tertullian thought that the Pauline writings were clear about the permissibility of women teachers, as he cited Corinthians :–. And, by implication, if women were not permitted to teach, how could they conduct the sacrament of baptism? Paul’s reputation as a proponent of strict gender roles in the church was an open and shut case, easily defensible by a single proof text. It was a fixed part of the apostolic past, and the reputational work of the presbyter was unnecessary. Paul could speak for himself. Tertullian displays here a simplistic notion of how we receive the past. He implies a homeostatic congruence between historical person and persona. Reputations, however, like all representations of the past, are a negotiation of past and present. They are, as Fine has described them, “socially recognized” personae. Thus, they are not primarily self-projected, self-evident, or fixed. While each of us tries to manage our own public personae, particularly with the advent of social media, others will ultimately determine our reputation, for good or for ill. This begins, as Fine and others have shown, “within circles of personal intimates.” As scholars, we need well-placed friends and associates to cite our work, to put us on prominent panels, and to invite us to speak in their places of influence. Sustained reputational significance then requires Titulus carries a number of possible meanings: “reputation,” “title,” “monument,” “inscription,” etc. See Poupon, “Encore une fois,” –. Emphasis added. See Anthony Hilhorst, “Tertullian on the Acts of Paul,” in The Apocryphal Acts of Paul and Thecla, ed. J. N. Bremmer (Kampen: Kok Pharos, ), –, esp. –. Fine, Difficult Reputations, . Fine, Difficult Reputations, . Cf. Gladys Engel Lang and Kurt Lang, “Recognition and renown: The survival of artistic reputation,” American Journal of Sociology (), –.
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the help of successive generations. In the academic world, we need younger scholars to continue to cite us favorably. Reputations are the result of four factors, according to Fine: the cultural object (facts), the social world (structure), the creator (interest), and the receiver (relations). Tertullian simply addresses the first of these, a Pauline text (fact), as relevant, oblivious to the reality that interest and relations are always involved. This is evident from the number of plausible reputations that can be constructed from the same reservoir of facts about a person. Humans are mixed bags of virtue and vice, of banality and creativity, of conservatism and progressivity. Our lives exhibit coherence and change. People connect with us at various points along the way, forming impressions of us that may or may not be fair to the totality of our lives and what we believe they represent. Impressions become reputations when they are introduced and reinforced to others. Over the course of time, the reputations of some begin to function as “cultural objects” through which groups affirm or disavow values, beliefs, and practices. The role of the Pauline reputational entrepreneur was and is to massage the archive of the past into a manageable and thus productive symbol for the communities they inhabit in the present. Problematic artifacts are left in the archive, while the useful are arranged for display. All reputational work, according to Fine, involves () motivation, () narrative facility, and () institutional placement. For the entrepreneur, the first is always present. The second depends on the artistic skill of the “self-interested custodian.” The last, however, is the most important. One must have sufficient social capital (status) and influence (institutional placement) to ward off rival reputational proposals. Tertullian’s reminder that the author of the Acts of Paul had been deposed as presbyter is an implicit admission that in reputation work, authority matters.
Who Got Paul Right? The evaluation of the Pauline tradition in early Christianity has been too often dominated by the question, “Who got Paul right?” We may be Fine, Difficult Reputations, , following Wendy Griswold, Cultures and Societies in a Changing World (Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge, ), . Fine, Difficult Reputations, . Fine, Difficult Reputations, . Fine, Difficult Reputations, . See the lengthy criticism of this approach in White, Remembering Paul, –.
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tempted, for instance, to judge between the presbyter and Tertullian on whose understanding of Paul was right on the question of women’s authority in the church. Before this question can be answered, if indeed it can, we must ask about their Pauls. Which Paul did they love? As we have said, reputation work selects and organizes material from the past for the sake of the present. To be successful, it must put forward something both recognizable (the past) and rewarding (the present). To ask about who got Paul right is to ask about who has best maximized the former while minimizing the latter. Let us consider, first, the Paul of the Acts of Paul and Thecla. The oral prehistory of the stories found in these Acts is largely lost to us. We can, however, more certainly ask about what earlier Pauline texts the presbyter deployed. There is no clear indication that the presbyter knows canonical Acts. Among the Pauline Epistles, he likely knows Timothy, from which he borrows a number of names for characters, as well as perhaps Paul’s itinerary. The presbyter also echoes Galatians : when having Thecla declare, “he who worked with you for the gospel has also worked with me for my baptism” (Acts Paul .). Paul’s willingness to touch Thecla only after her baptism, as Glenn Snyder has suggested, is an outworking of the consequences of baptism suggested in Galatians :. Corinthians looms the largest in the Acts of Paul and Thecla, as it does for Tertullian in On Baptism . Paul’s preaching on “selfcontrol” and “resurrection” in anticipation of the judgment (Acts Paul .) picks up themes from Corinthians –, and the Acts of Paul and Thecla as a whole appears to be a narrative portrayal of Paul’s teaching in Corinthians on marriage, singleness, sex, and undivided devotion to the Lord. Echoing Corinthians :, Paul says, “Blessed are those who have wives as if they did not have them, for they will become heirs of God” (Acts Paul .). The presbyter’s Paul, then, is a memorialization of the imprisoned-yet-networking Paul of Timothy, combined with the encratic Paul of Corinthians – and the binary-breaking Paul of Galatians. The presbyter has leveraged the Pauline past for the sake of a world-denying present. The echoes of Galatians toward the end of the text, associated with Thecla’s baptism, are particularly Dennis R. MacDonald, The Legend and the Apostle: The Battle for Paul in Story and Canon (Philadelphia: Westminster, ), imagines that the stories first circulated among groups of Christian women. Narrative correspondences between canonical Acts and other portions of what has come to be known as The Acts of Paul are more certain. See Snyder, Acts of Paul, –, –, . See Snyder, Acts of Paul, –. Snyder, Acts of Paul, . Snyder, Acts of Paul, ; Peter Dunn, “The Acts of Paul and the Pauline legacy in the second century” (Ph.D. diss., University of Cambridge, ).
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suggestive of how the presbyter understood Paul’s world-denying message – there are social consequences for present. Tertullian’s use of the Pauline tradition in On Baptism is not atypical of the rest of his literary corpus. References to “Paul” or “the Apostle” occur only in chapters –. The work is not an exposition of a Pauline notion of baptism. Rather, when Paul does appear, he is marshaled forward to authorize unity, order, and traditional hierarchies. Paul’s baptism in Acts is mentioned three times to emphasize the necessity of baptism, even for the apostles (Bapt. ; ; ). Not only was baptism necessary for all, but each individual baptism, if properly administered, was part of the “one baptism” mentioned in “the apostle’s letter” (Bapt. , citing Eph. ). Baptism unified. Paul must have sagaciously realized, however, the potential for division over baptism. His declaration in Corinthians : that “Christ did not send me to baptize, but to proclaim the gospel” is explained by Tertullian as Paul’s being a “lover of peace” (Bapt. ). For Paul, preaching was primary, baptism was secondary. Tertullian infers from this that Paul had the right to baptize, stating that those who can teach can baptize. It is perhaps in this light that we should also understand his citation of Corinthians : earlier in Bapt. – “All things are permissible, but not all things are beneficial.” Like Paul, who as an apostle sparingly used his right to baptize, so laymen ought to think twice before baptizing someone. All things ought to be done in order and in consideration of both hierarchy and unity. The inference that Tertullian makes about the connection between teaching and baptizing is then carried forward to our passage and his citation of Corinthians :–. Of the six citations or allusions to the Pauline Epistles in On Baptism, five are from Corinthians. This is not atypical for Tertullian. While it does not show up so much in On Baptism, Tertullian cites from Corinthians , for instance, more than times elsewhere. First Corinthians : (“let even those who have wives be as though they had none”), the verse echoed in the Acts of Paul and Thecla, is his favorite line from that chapter. He cites it fourteen times in his surviving corpus. Tertullian never, on the other hand,
Again, on the use of Paul in Tertullian, see Still and Wilhite (eds.) Tertullian and Paul. Tertullian groups together teaching, baptizing, and holding ecclesiastical office as “manly” functions denied to women, with a citation of Cor. :–, in On the Veiling of Virgins . Cor. :–, or the similar Tim. :, is also likely in view in the opening chapter of On Baptism, when Tertullian says that the Cainite woman who was teaching against baptism “had no right to teach, even correctly” (Bapt. ). Emphasis added. Tertullian also cites Cor. : (Bapt. ) and alludes to Cor. : (Bapt. ).
Paul and His Diverse Champions
cites Galatians :. He does cite Galatians : in a number of other texts (On Chastity, On Monogamy, On Flight in Persecution, and Against Marcion). Being baptized into Christ and having clothed one’s flesh with Christ are important. But the binary-denying implications of Galatians : never appear in these contexts or others. While both the Acts of Paul and Thecla and Tertullian place Corinthians front and center in their development of the Pauline tradition, they differ on what implications its world-denying message has for gender roles in the present. The Acts pull Corinthians in the direction of Galatians :, while Tertullian consistently argues against women taking on “manly” roles.
Conclusion Who got Paul right on the question of women baptizers? Both of our Pauline champions leverage the written tradition in different ways, combining lineages of the Pauline past for the sake of the present. Tertullian had the benefit of the most explicit Pauline teachings on women, although the specific issue of women baptizers is never raised in them. He does some gymnastics to make his point from the Pauline material. The presbyter, who lived in Asia, was in much closer proximity to communities with a Pauline foundation than the North African, whose Paul was largely textual. The presbyter’s reservoir of Pauline traditions was likely wider and probably included a good number of oral traditions about the life and ministry of the Apostle. Perhaps he was better positioned to understand how women in Paul’s communities, about whom we get some hints in his letters, actually functioned. Asking who got Paul right, then, is not so easy to answer, whether on the issue of Paul’s relationship to the Judean apostles, or on the matter of women baptizers, or on any number of other issues important in early Christianity – the nature of the resurrection, the means of righteousness, the nature of Christian marriage, the summing up of all things in Christ, etc. The question often reveals much more about our historiographical or theological moment.
One wonders whether Tertullian had actually read the Acts of Paul and Thecla. He never mentions Thecla elsewhere in his writings, and he never discusses specific passages from the text. Given the role that Corinthians plays for both writers, one might easily envision Tertullian liking most of the Acts.
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Paul entered the second and third centuries the same way that he entered the twenty-first – as a figure of collective memory, an imaginary filtered through tradition and organized for us through the work of reputational entrepreneurs. The range of resources available for thinking about Paul and his significance for Christian culture-making was much greater in the second century than in ours. I have argued here that the development of early Pauline traditions was informed in large measure by the oral pathways in which Paul’s reputation was spreading alongside the dissemination of Pauline texts. Strangely, many today seem to think that they possess a kind of unfiltered Pauline immediacy, by which the “real” Paul is easily recovered from the intervening years, which have done nothing but distort the Apostle. I ask the reader to return to the evidence of the Pauline Epistles themselves and ask whether they reveal such a predictable, static, and easily manageable individual. Paul’s reputation was difficult in his own day and has remained so ever since.
Select Bibliography Allison, Dale C. Jr. Constructing Jesus: Memory, Imagination, and History (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). The Apostolic Fathers. Edited and translated by Bart D. Ehrman, vols. (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Assmann, Jan. Das kulturelle Gedächtnis: Schrift, Erinnerung, und politische Identität in frühen Hochkulturen (Munich: C. H. Beck, ). Barker, Don. “The dating of New Testament papyri,” New Testament Studies (), –. Bartlett, Frederic C. Remembering: A Study in Experimental and Social Psychology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Bazzana, Giovanni B. “Paul among his enemies? Exploring potential Pauline theological traits in the Pseudo-Clementines.” Pages – in The Early Reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew: Text, Narrative and Reception History. Edited by Isaac W. Oliver and Gabriele Boccaccini (LSTS ; London: T&T Clark, ). Breytenbach, Cilliers. “Epigraphic evidence for the impact of Paul in central Asia Minor.” Pages – in Receptions of Paul in Early Christianity: The Person of Paul and His Writings through the Eyes of His Early Interpreters. Edited by Jens Schröter, Simon Butticaz, and Andreas Dettwiler (BZNW ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Byrskog, Samuel. Story as History – History as Story: The Gospel Tradition in the Context of Ancient Oral History (Leiden: Brill, ). Concannon, Cavan W. “When You Were Gentiles”: Specters of Ethnicity in Roman Corinth and Paul’s Corinthian Correspondence (New Haven: Yale University Press, ).
Paul and His Diverse Champions Dunn, James D. G. The Oral Gospel Tradition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Dunn, Peter. “The Acts of Paul and the Pauline legacy in the second century” (Ph.D. diss., University of Cambridge, ). Dupertuis, Rubén R. and Todd Penner (eds.) Engaging Early Christian History: Reading Acts in the Second Century (London: Routledge, ). Ebojo, Edgar. “A scribe and his manuscript: An investigation into the scribal habits of Papyrus (P. Chester Beatty II–P. Mich. Inv. )” (Ph.D. diss., University of Birmingham, ). Ehrman, Bart D. Forgery and Counterforgery: The Use of Literary Deceit in Early Christian Polemics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Evans, Ernest. Tertullian’s Homily on Baptism (London: SPCK, ). Fine, Gary Alan. Difficult Reputations: Collective Memories of the Evil, Inept, and Controversial (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ). Griswold, Wendy. Cultures and Societies in a Changing World (Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge, ). Hilhorst, Anthony. “Tertullian on the Acts of Paul.” Pages – in The Apocryphal Acts of Paul and Thecla. Edited by J. N. Bremmer (Kampen: Kok Pharos, ). Kirk, Alan. Memory and the Jesus Tradition (Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries ; London: Bloomsbury, ). Lang, Gladys Engel and Kurt Lang. “Recognition and renown: The survival of artistic reputation,” American Journal of Sociology (), –. Lieu, Judith M. Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Lindemann, Andreas. Paulus im ältesten Christentum: Das Bild des Apostels und die Rezeption der paulinischen Theologie in der frühchristlichen Literatur bis Marcion (BHT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Loftus, Elizabeth F. Eyewitness Testimony, nd ed. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Lüdemann, Gerd. Opposition to Paul in Jewish Christianity. Translated by M. E. Boring (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). MacDonald, Dennis R. The Legend and the Apostle: The Battle for Paul in Story and Canon (Philadelphia: Westminster, ). McKnight, Scot. A Light among the Gentiles: Jewish Missionary Activity in the Second Temple Period (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Pervo, Richard I. The Making of Paul: Constructions of the Apostle in Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Pfleiderer, Otto. Paulinism: A Contribution to the History of Primitive Christian Theology. Translated by Edward Peters, vols. (London: Williams and Norgate, ). Porter, Stanley E. “Paul and the Pauline letter collection.” Pages – in Paul and the Second Century. Edited by Michael F. Bird and Joseph R. Dodson (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ). Poupon, Gérard. “Encore une fois: Tertullien, De baptismo ,.” Pages – in Nomen Latinum: Mélanges de langue, de littérature et de civilisation latines offerts au professeur André Schneider. Edited by Denis Knoepfler (Neuchâtel: Faculté de lettres, ).
. Puig i Tarrech, Armand, John M. G. Barclay, and Jörg Frey (eds.) The Last Years of Paul: Essays from the Tarragona Conference (June ) (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Schwartz, Barry. “Social change and collective memory: The democritization of George Washington,” American Sociological Review (), –. Snyder, Glenn E. Acts of Paul (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Standhartinger, Angela. “Colossians and the Pauline school,” New Testament Studies (), –. Still, Todd D. and David E. Wilhite (eds.) Irenaeus and Paul (Pauline and Patristics Scholars in Debate ; London: T&T Clark, ). (eds.) Tertullian and Paul (Pauline and Patristics Scholars in Debate ; New York: T&T Clark, ). Unger, Dominic J. St. Irenaeus of Lyons: Against the Heresies (ACW ; New York: Paulist, ). Vansina, Jan. Oral Tradition as History (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, ). White, Benjamin L. “Paul and the Jerusalem church in Irenaeus.” Pages – in Irenaeus and Paul. Edited by Todd D. Still and David E. Wilhite (Pauline and Patristics Scholars in Debate ; London: T&T Clark, ). “The Pauline tradition.” Pages – in T&T Clark Handbook to the Historical Paul. Edited by Ryan Schellenberg and Heidi Wendt (New York: Bloomsbury, ). Remembering Paul: Ancient and Modern Contests over the Image of the Apostle (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
Peter and His Diverse Champions
Simon Peter is a “key” figure in the truest sense of the word. When he utters his confession, “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God” (Matt. :), Jesus praises him, promises to build his ἐκκλησία on “this rock” and offers him the keys of the kingdom of heaven (Matt. :–). There are certainly not many passages of the New Testament that have generated more controversy than Matt. :–. This is not only due to the text’s many difficulties in detail, but also to the fact that different churches based important aspects of their self-definition (and related claims for authority) on these sayings. The Roman Catholic Church, for example, went so far as to deduce important aspects of the pope’s claim to be Christ’s representative on earth and thus his supremacy over all other churches from this passage. Neither the Orthodox Church nor the churches of the Reformation agree with that. A proper understanding of the figure of Peter and (deeply related to that) the role and authority of his successors has thus been a key obstacle to past and present ecumenical movements. And even if all churches basically agree on the importance of Peter for the beginnings of the Christian movement, he nonetheless remains a contested figure to this day. In the following essay, I will show that this has always been the case: Peter has always been a controversial figure within the variety of movements comprised of believers in Jesus Christ.
See, for instance, Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus . Mt – (EKK; Zurich: Benziger, ), –. From a biblical point of view, see Franz Mußner, Petrus und Paulus, Pole der Einheit: Eine Hilfe für die Kirchen (QD ; Freiburg: Herder, ), and Tobias Nicklas, “Petrus und ‘Johannes’: Dienst am Menschen,” in Identität und Authentizität von Kirchen im “globalen Dorf”: Annäherung von Ost und West durch gemeinsame Ziele?, ed. Dietmar Schon (Schriften des Ostkircheninstituts der Diözese Regensburg; Regensburg: Pustet, ), –.
Before I demonstrate this, a few aspects of the scope of this inquiry must be clarified: () Since little can be said with certainty about the historical Peter, I will focus on Peter as a literary figure. () At the same time, I understand early Christianity as a complex movement of many groups (often very small groups) embedded within very different worlds – with differences owing to distinct historical, social, political, and intellectual milieus. () It is not helpful to speak simplistically of something like an “early Christian identity”; instead, different early believers in Christ constructed varied, partly quite dynamic ideas of what it meant to “follow Christ” or (formulated in a somewhat anachronistic way) to be and live as a “Christian.” () The sources we deal with are not reliable descriptions of “how it was.” Instead, they mirror positions in debates and discourses that can only partly be reconstructed today. With these provisos in view, the following chapter describes how the figure of Peter was used in early Christian debates and in connection with claims about authority. I will focus on writings from the first three centuries , with occasional selective references to the perspectives offered beyond those centuries.
Contested Peter: Epistolary Literature Paul seems to look at Peter (whom he usually calls by his Aramaic name “Kephas”) from a certain distance. He has to acknowledge Peter’s authority, but at the same time he wants to establish his own (very much) contested role as being on a level equal with Peter’s. This can already be shown with the help of Corinthians :–, a passage that contains one of the most ancient “Christian” confessions of Christ’s death and resurrection. According to this text, Kephas is the first witness of the risen Christ ( Cor. :). After him the “Twelve” and many others follow. This is not just part of the collective memory of the groups Paul addresses but has to be remembered as part of the “gospel” Paul had proclaimed to his addressees ( Cor. :). At the same time Paul inscribes himself into this tradition, making himself the See Sean Freyne, “The fisherman from Bethsaida,” in Peter in Early Christianity, ed. Helen K. Bond and Larry W. Hurtado (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –. For a fuller overview with a somewhat different emphasis, see Tobias Nicklas and Wolfgang Grünstäudl, “Petrus II (In der Literatur),” in Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, vol. (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, ), –.
Peter and His Diverse Champions
“last” in the series of witnesses ( Cor. :). He depicts himself as “abnormally born” ( Cor. :), undeserving and small ( Cor. :, and in this way he shows himself to be even more special than all the others) – thereby closing a line of witnesses to the tradition that is decisive for his addressee’s belief (see Cor. :). At least in the way Paul formulates it, Kephas and Paul frame the list of witnesses of the risen Christ; their witness forms the ground on which the argument about future resurrection in Corinthians is based. First Corinthians : serves a comparable goal. The members of the new ἐκκλησία in Corinth seem to have had the problem of how to describe their group appropriately (we should not forget that there is no term “Christians” yet). They thus understand themselves in (partly conflicting) relations as “belonging to Paul,” “to Apollos,” but also “to Kephas” or “to Christ.” We should not conceive of these identities as stable “parties” or “groups” within a well-organized community; instead we are probably witnessing a struggle for the question of who or what is decisive for “us.” Even if we cannot be sure when and for how long Peter/Kephas stayed in Corinth or what role he played for the establishment of this group, Paul mentions him. We cannot omit Peter when speaking about the new movement, but we can put him in context and on a level with Apollos, who seems to have played an important role for the community after its foundation by Paul. According to Paul, however, none of these figures really matters; what matters is unity, a unity defined by Paul by the community’s common relation to the crucified (and risen) Christ. While Corinthians seems to reflect a certain harmony between the highly variegated group of witnesses of the risen Christ, Galatians presents a different picture. Paul is under extreme pressure when he composes this writing. He sees both his way of preaching the gospel and his reputation as an apostle endangered. That is why Paul’s first line of argument is to demonstrate both that he is called by God himself through a vision of the
On the use and development of this term, see Jan N. Bremmer, “Ioudaismos, Christianismos and the parting of the ways,” in Jews and Christians: Parting Ways in the First Two Centuries .. ? Reflections on the Gains and Losses of a Model, ed. Jens Schröter, Benjamin Edsall, and Joseph Verheyden (BZNW; Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter, ), –. For an overview of arguments, see Stephan Witetschek, “Peter in Corinth? A review of the evidence from Corinthians,” Journal of Theological Studies n.s. (), –. Regarding the historical figure of Apollos, see Jürgen Wehnert, “Apollos,” in Alexandria, ed. Tobias Georges, Felix Albrecht, and Reinhard Feldmeier (COMES ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –.
risen Christ (Gal. :–) and that his teaching is in full agreement with the teaching of the so-called “pillars” (that is, James, Peter, and John; see Gal. :). According to Galatians :, Kephas did not object to Paul’s independent teaching of three years. Furthermore, according to Galatians :– Paul understands himself as responsible for the Gospel for the nations, while Peter is the apostle for the circumcision (Gal. :). At least from Paul’s perspective they share unity, but follow different tasks. Paul’s second line of argument goes even a step further. If an apostle (even Peter) goes astray, he is deserving of correction and critique, despite his apostolic identity. This is shown with the help of the famous event in Antioch. In that event, after having shared (obviously regular) meals with the uncircumcised, Kephas withdrew step by step from contact with them after a group of (obviously Jewish) Christ-followers arrived from the circle around James. Paul regards this as a sign of hypocrisy and takes Kephas to task. It is not necessary to discuss the details of this difficult and heavily debated story here. A few things, however, seem to be clear: while premodern interpreters often tried to harmonize this conflict and stressed the unity between the two apostles (and thus ecclesiastical unity), this conflict obviously injured or even ended the relationship between Peter and Paul. But even if Peter turned out to be the “winner” in this debate, the episode probably influenced his role not only in circles around James but in Pauline communities as well. We will observe a counter-voice to this view in the much later Pseudo-Clementines (see below). All this also has another side: while the historical Peter was a probably not very highly educated fisherman from the Sea of Galilee, later tradition developed him into a rhetorically accomplished writer of Epistles like and Peter. While Peter enters the contest with Paul in part by taking over the letter form created by Paul, the pseudepigraphical Peter (probably the latest writing of the New Testament, perhaps written in middle of the second century in Alexandria) is even more interesting for our purpose. Here we meet Peter, named with the rather archaic form Symeon Peter For an overview of ancient authors and their interpretations, see Martin Meiser, Galater (Novum Testamentum Patristicum ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ), –. See also the Letter of Peter to Philip (NH ,). The arguments regarding this date and the provenance of Peter were developed by Wolfgang Grünstäudl, Petrus Alexandrinus: Studien zum historischen und theologischen Ort des zweiten Petrusbriefes (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) and taken over with slight modifications by Jörg Frey, The Letter of Jude and the Second Letter of Peter: A Theological Commentary, trans. Kathleen Ess (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ), –.
Peter and His Diverse Champions
( Pet. :), as a powerful leader who establishes and defends his authority as a witness of Jesus’s transfiguration ( Pet. :–). He warns of wrong teachings about the end of times and strongly emphasizes that Christ’s parousia can be expected with certainty ( Pet. :–:). Toward the end of the letter he also deals with Paul’s letters – and does this in a somewhat ambiguous manner. Paul is “our beloved brother” ( Pet. :), an attribute Pseudo-Peter can reserve for all the addressees of his epistle (see Pet. : and ); moreover, God is said to have given Paul wisdom ( Pet. :). Nonetheless, Pseudo-Peter also describes certain passages in Paul’s letters as δυσνόητα, a term that is usually translated as “difficult to understand.” However, in the few cases where the term has been used in ancient Greek literature, it usually describes phenomena that cannot be understood without the help of an expert. In other words, Pseudo-Peter warns against reading Paul’s letters too easily and without asking for the help of someone who knows how to interpret them correctly – of course, from a perspective that fits the ideas of Peter. Even in the New Testament Epistles, then, the Peter– Paul contest has (at least) two sides.
Contested Peter: Gospel Discourses J. Louis Martyn’s History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel demonstrated that the gospels can be read on two levels (even if we may not follow every detail of his reconstruction). Their stories refer to situations in the life of Jesus, of course, but the ways in which these stories are told mirror situations and problems that confront the addressed group(s) of Christ believers. While Martyn interprets parts of John’s Gospel as a “two-level drama,” the model developed by Sandra Huebenthal is perhaps even more radical (and convincing). Huebenthal understands the Gospel of Mark as a “text of collective memory” that, as a “frozen moment,” offers us insights into which ways and
For a more detailed argument, see Tobias Nicklas, “Der geliebte Bruder: Zur Paulusrezeption im zweiten Petrusbrief,” in Der zweite Petrusbrief und das Neue Testament, ed. Wolfgang Grünstäudl, Uta Poplutz, and Tobias Nicklas (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Martyn, History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel, rd ed. (NTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, [st ed. New York: Harper and Row, ]). Sandra Huebenthal, Reading Mark’s Gospel as a Text from Collective Memory (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) and Huebenthal, “‘Frozen moments’: Early Christianity through the lens of Social Memory Theory,” in Memory and Memories in Early Christianity, ed. Simon Butticaz and Enrico Norelli (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –.
with which reasons a certain community memorized its past and developed this collective memory into a written story about its origins. Huebenthal’s focus is thus even more on the present from the perspective of the addressed community than Martyn’s. The way ancient Christian gospels (but also stories about the apostles) develop figures like Peter may tell us more about how this figure was perceived in later times than about the historical person behind the literary character. Even if most ancient Christian gospels agree that Peter was an important and (probably) leading figure in the earliest Jesus movement, the way his relation to Jesus and to other figures is described in any given text may help us understand how the author(s) or group(s) related to the text defined their position toward the figure of Peter – and thereby to claims of authority. Among the canonical gospels, it is probably Mark who constructs the most ambivalent Peter. Simon and his brother Andrew are the first of Jesus’s disciples (Mark :), and Simon (who is given the epithet Peter according to Mark :) is the first in Mark’s list of the Twelve (Mark :–). He takes the word and confesses Jesus as “Messiah” (according to Mark :) and is present in decisive events like the transfiguration (Mark :–) and the teaching about the end of times (Mark :–) and in the Garden of Gethsemane (Mark :–). In other words, we find him almost throughout the whole of Mark’s story. But even if Peter is described as the leading figure among the Twelve, who witnesses almost all of Jesus’s deeds and receives all possible teaching, he is far from being a perfect or ideal figure. Directly after his confession, for example, Jesus rebukes him in the harshest possible manner, as Peter does not want to accept that Jesus, the Son of Man, has to suffer, die, and rise from the dead (Mark :–). While his somewhat overstrained reaction at Jesus’s transfiguration may be understandable from a human point of view (see Mark :–), the passion story shows his real weakness: although Peter is among Jesus’s closest disciples who follow him to Gethsemane, he falls asleep and seems not to understand anything of the drama of the situation (Mark :–). Together with the others, he flees at Jesus’s arrest (Mark :) and renounces him three times (Mark :–)
Ideas like these also form a background for Markus Bockmuehl, The Remembered Peter in Ancient Reception and Modern Debate (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). For a detailed discussion, see Tobias Nicklas, “Mark’s image of Peter: A distanced portrait,” in Scripture’s Interpretation Is More than Making Science: Festschrift for Vasile Mihoc, ed. Justin Alexandru Mihoc, Martin Tamcke, Marian Vild, and Constantin Preda (Göttingen: LIT, ), –.
Peter and His Diverse Champions
even though he had just sworn to give his life for him (Mark :). This is, of course, only a sketch of a much more complex picture. The main point, however, is that the break between Jesus and Peter is actually never healed within the Gospel. Of course, Mark : prophesies that the disciples (and especially Peter) will see the risen Jesus in Galilee. If we accept that the original Mark ended with :, the story of this reunion is, however, never told. Mark’s Gospel thus acknowledges that Peter was a decisive figure in the early Jesus movement. At the same time, however, it shows that even if Peter was Jesus’s companion throughout his ministry and met the risen one (beyond the parameters of the story), he nonetheless did not fully understand him, abandoned and renounced him, and did not witness Jesus’s death. All this makes quite good sense if we understand Mark as a text coming from a group close to Paul (or Pauline circles), a group that was based on the authority of an apostle who was contested as the absolute opposite of Peter. Paul probably never saw Jesus in his earthly life, but claimed to have special insight because the risen and crucified Lord had appeared to him on the road to Damascus. If we accept the idea of the chronological priority of Mark’s Gospel, then the Gospel of Matthew can be described as taking over many parts of Mark’s ambivalent portrait of Peter but moving it into the more positive role of a rather unchallenged authority. Peter (together with Andrew) remains the firstcalled apostle (Matt. :) and is the first to be mentioned among the Twelve (Matt. :). Only Matthew describes him as walking over the sea (Matt. :–), a fascinating scene that shows both Peter’s strength (as long as he fully trusts in Jesus) and his weakness. While the Markan Jesus does not show any reaction to Peter’s confession about Jesus’s true identity, in Matthew Jesus utters the famous praise mentioned above (Matt. :–) – even if he rebukes Peter only a bit later when the latter does not want to accept Jesus’s future fate (Matt. :–). Of course, the Matthean Peter also fails in Gethsemane and at Jesus’s arrest, and he denies him at his passion (Matt. :–, –). But, even if his name is not mentioned explicitly, Peter meets the risen Lord as one of the eleven remaining apostles at the very end of the Gospel (Matt. :–). The risen Lord’s final words connect the This conclusion is, however, not necessary. For the most recent discussion, see Mar Pérez i Díaz, Mark, a Pauline Theologian: A Re-reading of the Traditions of Jesus in the Light of Paul’s Theology (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), including an overview of the status quaestionis (pp. –).
Matthean community both with the Lord Himself and with the mission of his disciples, among whom Peter seems to play an important role but certainly not as someone who has a principal primacy in relation to the others. While one can discuss Matthew’s possible anti-Pauline stance, Luke (who wants to demonstrate the idea of an overall harmony within the movement of the “new way”) reckons both Peter and Paul among his “heroes,” and (consequently) he never describes them as being in a lasting conflict with each other. Luke portrays Peter in even more positive colors than Matthew. In Luke’s Gospel, Peter’s call to discipleship (without any mention of his brother Andrew) is connected to the story of a miraculous catch of fish (Luke :–) – interestingly, this event happens after the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law (Luke :–). In Luke, Peter acts as the spokesman of the Twelve (see, for example, Luke :–) and (as in Mark and Matthew) as one who is part of a special “inner” group within the Twelve (besides the parallels with Markan and Matthean material cited above, see also Luke :). In contrast to Mark and Matthew’s descriptions, however, Luke does not mention a rebuke by Jesus after Peter’s confession (see Luke :–). Omitting any mention of Peter in the Gethsemane scene, Luke nonetheless has to narrate Peter’s denial of Jesus, but he describes it in milder terms than, for example, Mark. According to Luke :, Jesus himself has prayed for Peter and creates a perspective from which to positively evaluate Peter, who will need to strengthen his brothers. According to Luke :, Jesus turns around and gazes at Peter who just denied him, thus keeping the relationship intact even in this situation. Luke’s Easter stories leave open the possibility that Peter was the first witness of Jesus’s resurrection (see Luke :) and prepare Peter’s leading role in the book of Acts (see also below). This text, finally, reveals the reasons for Luke’s extremely positive image of Peter. In the context of a growing divide between Jewish Christ-followers and an increasingly successful mission of people from the nations, Luke wants to establish Peter as a figure who, as someone who “will be catching people” (Luke : NRSV), can be a bridge between the two
Such an idea would contradict Jesus’s anti-hierarchical sayings in Matt. :–. See, for example, Gerd Theißen, “Kritik an Paulus im Matthäusevangelium? Von der Kunst verdeckter Polemik im Urchristentum,” in Polemik in der frühchristlichen Literatur: Texte und Kontexte, ed. Oda Wischmeyer and Lorenzo Scornaienchi (BZNW ; Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter, ), –. The passage is told in a somewhat ambiguous way: either Jesus appeared first to the disciples going to Emmaus (Luke :–) or to Peter (Luke :; see the relation to Cor. :).
Peter and His Diverse Champions
parts of the movement. For Luke, then, Peter is not a contested figure. However, the fact that Luke’s idea of a unified Christian movement connected by the figure of Peter could be contested shows that Luke’s voice was just one of many. Several other gospels contrast Peter with important other disciples – thus making it evident that Peter was an important but not uncontested figure. The most well-known example is certainly the Gospel of John, which connects Peter several times with the mysterious Beloved Disciple. We should probably not understand their relation in overly simplistic terms, with Peter representing an emerging “mainstream church” (or even a protoorthodoxy) and the Beloved Disciple representing the Johannine community (perhaps even a sectarian community). Nonetheless, it is clear that the Fourth Gospel’s characterization of Peter in relation to the Beloved Disciple is telling. Peter is not the only and decisive speaker of the disciples; instead, he is part of a group wherein he plays an important role alongside others like Andrew (John :, :, :), Philip (John :–, :–, :–, :–), Thomas (John :, :, :–, :), Nathanael (John :–; :), Mary Magdalene (John :; :, –) and, probably most important, but only after Chapter , the Beloved Disciple. The glory of God is revealed to Peter (and the other disciples) already with Jesus’s first sign in Cana in Galilee; together with the others he is understood as a believer from the very beginning (see John :). Comparably to the Synoptic Gospels, Peter utters a decisive confession – in this case to Jesus as the “Holy of God” (John :), and this leads to a distinction between many disciples who leave Jesus and a smaller group (probably the Twelve) who stay with him. The Peter figure of the passion narrative is described in even more vivid colors in John’s Gospel than in the Gospel of Mark: Peter’s denial of Jesus is announced already in John :– and happens in :– (only shortly after Peter tries to defend Jesus with his sword [see John :]). Although in the Gospel of Mark all disciples flee at Jesus’s arrest, this is obviously not the case in John; in his narrative, the Beloved Disciple is found together with Jesus’s mother and other women under the cross of Jesus (John :–); with Peter absent from the narrative at this point, the Beloved Disciple becomes the decisive “witness” of the events around Jesus’s death (John :). But this is not the
See Nicklas and Grünstäudl, “Petrus II,” . For a broader discussion, see Tanja Schultheiss, Das Petrusbild im Johannesevangelium (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ).
end of the story. John’s highly symbolic Easter narratives first contrast Peter and the Beloved Disciple in a footrace to the empty tomb (John :–). The Beloved Disciple is quicker but allows Peter to enter the grave first. Both look into the tomb, both enter it and afterward go home, but only the Beloved Disciple “saw and believed” (John :). It would, however, be too narrow to concentrate on the relationship between Peter and the Beloved Disciple only. Like John :– (where the different disciples’ first encounters with Jesus are described), John offers several Easter stories of encounter: here, Peter is not only contrasted with the Beloved Disciple but also with Mary Magdalene, Thomas, and the whole group of disciples. Mary is the first to meet the risen Jesus. She announces her “I have seen the Lord” to the disciples (John :) while Thomas moves from doubt to confession (John :–). Compared to Matthew :, John :– is especially interesting. The risen Jesus meets all his disciples, sends them out, and empowers them to forgive sins. Where Matthew concentrates on Peter’s leading role, John emphasizes the importance of the overall group of disciples (obviously including women!). John , however, focuses on Peter and the Beloved Disciple once again. Both are part of a bigger group of disciples who meet the risen Lord at the Sea of Tiberias after a night of unsuccessful fishing. While the Beloved Disciple is the first to recognize the risen Jesus, Peter jumps into the sea (John :) – although it is not clear whether Peter wants to meet Jesus as quickly as possible, to be closer to him, or to hide himself from him. When he finally meets Jesus (John :–) at a coal fire (as in the high priest’s court, where he denied him), Peter is asked three times by Jesus whether he loves him (or loves him even more than the others). As he answers three times with a “yes,” Peter receives both the mandate to graze Jesus’s sheep and a prophecy about his future death (John :–). But, although he asks for information about the Beloved Disciple’s future, Peter does not receive it (John :–). Even though John (which is probably a later addition to the original Gospel of John) also starts with a group of disciples (John :), it is much more centered around Peter than the rest of the Gospel. This Peter is certainly not an unchallenged hero, but a disciple with a difficult past. At the same time, even with all his faults he is nonetheless reconciled with Jesus and will become a witness whose own death will (in a manner comparable to Jesus’s death) show God’s glory (John :). The Gospel of John, however, is not the only example that works in this way. In the Gospel of Mary (probably from the middle or late second
Peter and His Diverse Champions
century), the role of the Beloved Disciple is taken by the figure of Mary, who is usually associated with Mary Magdalene but may also be related to Mary the mother of Jesus. The text has often been understood as mirroring the debates between a “Gnostic” kind of Christianity represented by the figure of Mary and a developing proto-orthodoxy represented by Peter and his (male) companions. Mary is described as the person whom Jesus loved more than any other woman (and even more than the other disciples) and who received a special revelation from his side (BG , .–; but see also .–). The text constructs a triangle of characters – all of them having in common a special relation to Jesus the “Savior,” and all of them sharing in the mission to proclaim the gospel (PG , .–.). When his followers are desperate after the Savior’s departure, Mary changes their mood, informing them of the hidden revelation she has received from the Savior. Even if Peter had previously invited Mary to do this, neither Andrew nor Peter can accept her words (and obviously not the idea that he could have preferred her to them; BG , .). When Mary weeps in this situation of conflict and asks Peter whether he thinks she lied about the Savior (BG , .–), Levi takes a mediating position between Mary and the group around Peter. Levi can accept that the Savior “loved her more than us” (BG , .–). That is why she should not be treated as an adversary. Instead, the whole group should follow Jesus’s command to preach the Gospel, “not laying down any other rule or other law beyond what the Savior said” (BG , .–). While the Coptic version Unfortunately, only parts of the text have survived to the present day, partly in Greek fragments (P.Oxy. and P.Ryl. ), partly in Coptic (BG ). Mary is usually identified with Mary Magdalene; see, for example, the arguments offered by Esther de Boer, The Gospel of Mary: Beyond a Gnostic and a Biblical Mary Magdalene (JSNT Suppl. ; London: T&T Clark, ), –. But we should not forget that Tatian’s Diatessaron (and other witnesses related to it) replaces Mary Magdalene from John with Mary the mother of Jesus. If the Gospel of Mary was produced in Syria, such a background may not be impossible. For the text’s character as one not indebted to an extreme form of “Gnostic” influence, see Christopher Tuckett, The Gospel of Mary (Oxford Early Christian Gospel Texts; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. Of course, the opposition between Mary the woman and Peter the man also invites the text to operate as an ancient counternarrative against today’s often male-based ecclesiastical hierarchies. The following overview is based on the broader analysis by Tobias Nicklas, “Petrus als Gegenspieler der Maria von Magdala im Evangelium nach Maria?” in Gegenspieler: Zur Auseinandersetzung mit dem Gegner in frühjüdischer und urchristlicher Literatur, ed. Michael Tilly and Ulrich Mell (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Trans. Tuckett, Gospel of Mary, .
finishes with a vision of a unified group that “began to go out to proclaim and to preach” (BG , .–), the Greek fragment P.Ryl. says that only Levi goes and thus fulfills the Savior’s command. Important to the text is the question whether the woman Mary can be a disciple whom the Savior prefers to the others. At the same time, the text’s major problem pertains to the issue of how new and allegedly “hidden” (ἀπόκρυφος) revelations of Jesus are to be interpreted. While many early Christian authors damned such new revelations as lies and forgeries, the Gospel of Mary takes a more nuanced position. The “contested Peter” in the Gospel of Mary seems to represent a hard-line stance like that of Irenaeus, but the text’s real hero is Levi, who can accept the hidden revelation given to Mary and represents the text’s position on the matter: not every “hidden” revelation is necessarily a forgery, but at the same time, none of these revelations should be addressed to only a small elite. The different extant versions of the text offer different views regarding the legitimacy of the position represented by Levi. The originally Greek Gospel of Thomas, which is completely preserved only in a Coptic version from Nag Hammadi (NHC ,; see the Greek fragments P.Oxy. , , and ), offers an even more complex constellation. The text seems to see Peter as important and not to be neglected, but he is one among others. And his understanding of Jesus is certainly less deep than Thomas’s, who, according to the text’s prologue, is the one to whom “the living Jesus” revealed his “secret sayings.” If we understand at least the Coptic Gospel of Thomas as a unified whole (and thus leave aside the question of possible redactional layers and textual developments in the text), it becomes clear that other disciples are preferred to Peter. When the disciples, for example, ask who will be their leader after Jesus’s departure, Jesus points not to Peter but to “James the Just, for the sake of whom heaven and earth came into being” (Gos. Thom. ). Logion in turn seems to mirror the confession scene we already know (in variations) from the canonical gospels. Here, however, Peter remains the first spokesman of the apostles, but not the
Trans. Tuckett, Gospel of Mary, . For instance, Irenaeus of Lyon (Haer. ..), Ps.-Hippolytus (Haer. .), and Clement of Alexandria (Strom. ., .., ..), among others. See, comparably, Nicklas, “Petrus als Gegenspieler,” . For more details see Tobias Nicklas, “‘Gnostic’ perspectives on Peter,” in Peter in Early Christianity, ed. Helen K. Bond and Larry W. Hurtado (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –, esp. –. Trans. Simon Gathercole, The Gospel of Thomas: Introduction and Commentary (Texts and Traditions for New Testament Study ; Leiden and Boston: Brill, ), .
Peter and His Diverse Champions
only one: While Peter regards Jesus as being “like a righteous angel,” Matthew speaks of him as a “wise philosopher.” While Peter and Matthew are not necessarily wrong, it is obviously Thomas who comes closest to the truth: “Master, my mouth is completely unable to say whom you are like.” Glimpses of Jesus’s rebuke of Peter may be reflected in the Gospel of Thomas as well – in this case, however, in relation to Mary (Magdalene?). While Peter regards her (like other women) as “not worthy of life,” Jesus opens the perspective that “every woman who makes herself male will enter the kingdom of heaven” (Gos. Thom. ). It is not possible to discuss the important questions of gender raised here; for our question, however, it becomes clear that the Gospel of Thomas includes only very limited material about Peter and does this in a way that, compared to the canonical Gospels, leaves only a marginal role for him. The Gospel of Thomas is part of a development we can observe in some (certainly not all) of the texts that have been labelled “Gnostic” (or were seen as related to “Gnostic” or “esoteric” Christian ideas). Some of these writings obviously suppress or replace memories about Peter through a focus on other figures. The most aggressive of these writings is probably the Gospel of Judas, which utters the sharpest polemics against the disciples, their complete misunderstanding of Jesus, and their service of the demonic demiurge Saklas/ Ialdabaoth. The text, extant only in the Coptic version of the Codex Tchacos, only rewrites passion traditions. Not regarding Peter as worth being mentioned as an individual character, the text only references him as a member of the larger group, which is uniformly condemned. If the Gospel of Judas is an extreme example of anti-Petrine polemic, it is not the only text in which Peter does not play a specific role, even in passages where we would perhaps expect him. One could add the “Sethian” Apocryphon of John (NHC ,; ,; ,; BG , ; see also Irenaeus of Lyon, Haer. .), whose lack of passages mentioning Peter is especially striking when compared to the canonical gospel
Trans. Gathercole, Gospel of Thomas, . For a full overview, see Nicklas, “Gnostic perspectives,” but see also (with slightly different results) Wilhelm Pratscher, “Die Bedeutung des Petrus in gnostischen Texten,” in Studien zum Neuen Testament und seiner Umwelt (), –. Current edition: Johanna Brankaer and Bas van Os, The Gospel of Judas (Oxford Early Christian Gospel Texts; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Regarding the Gospel of Judas’s demiurge, see Tobias Nicklas, “Der Demiurg des Judasevangeliums,” in Judasevangelium und Codex Tchacos: Studien zur religionsgeschichtlichen Verortung einer gnostischen Schriftensammlung, ed. Enno Edzard Popkes and Gregor Wurst (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –.
of John; similar are the many writings usually related to the Valentinians (see, for example, the Gospel of Truth [NHC ,], the Treatise on Resurrection [NHC ,], or the Gospel of Philip [NHC ,]).
Contested Peter: Apostle Stories The many different early Christian stories about one or more apostles and their mission(s) in different parts of the world usually depict them in positive ways, as “heroes” proclaiming the gospel in dangers and difficulties, and often facing death. They are seldom portrayed as being “contested” within the Christian movement. The major challenges, instead, come from outside. With the risen Christ and/or the Holy Spirit on their side, Christians have to fight against the challenges of a world of nonbelievers. In many cases they are able to do this with the help of miraculous powers (often “in the name of Jesus” [see Acts :]). We observe this already in the canonical book of Acts, where we meet Peter as a missionary (Acts :; :–), preacher (Acts :–), teacher (Acts :–), apologist (Acts :–, –), and miracle-worker (Acts :–; :–). As we have seen in our treatment of Luke, Peter is the leading figure in the new movement, who, led by God and his Spirit, keeps the movement together; but he also takes decisive steps toward a mission to the “nations” outside Israel (see Acts ). The book of Acts emphasizes the unity of “the new way,” showing how decisive challenges come from outside – that is, often from nonbelieving Jews like members of the Sanhedrin (Acts :–; :–). Acts is the first text where we read about a certain Simon, a magician who turns into a believer, is baptized (Acts :–), but later wants to pay for the gift of the Spirit (Acts :–). It is Peter who rebukes him as he sees him “in the gall of bitterness and the chains of wickedness” (Acts : NRSV). What is only a small episode in the canonical Acts becomes a key structure for several later stories around Peter. Simon Magus, only a minor character in the book of Acts, is developed into Peter’s key antagonist by later writings, the most accessible of which are the Acts of Peter (extant in the Latin form of the so-called Actus Vercellenses). The Greek original of this writing was probably produced at the end of the
See Nicklas and Grünstäudl, “Petrus II,” .
Peter and His Diverse Champions
second century in Asia Minor. If we leave aside the introductory chapters and the stories about Peter’s martyrdom and burial, this text’s main body consists of a series of contests between Peter and Simon Magus. After Paul has left Rome to proclaim the gospel in Spain, Simon Magus comes to the city and deceives large parts of the nascent Roman community with the help of his magical powers. When Peter arrives, he has to defeat Simon and restore the community to the right path. The text presupposes a certain harmony between all apostles (including Paul) and their teachings. Peter is portrayed as an unchallenged leader within the early movement of Christfollowers. The text acknowledges that Peter had his weaknesses during Jesus’s lifetime and especially during his passion (§ ), but it uses this to illustrate both the dangers of evil powers and the idea that even a person who has failed may be completely redeemed. The text’s key question can be formulated quite easily: Who represents the “power of God” (an attribute used for Simon Magus already in Acts :)? It is, of course, Peter. Simon Magus is not only a representative of a special, identifiable heresy, but also of the always present and dangerous powers of Satan, who wants to lead followers of Christ astray. All this creates the image of a rather “uncontested” Peter, at least within the Christian movement. The big contest is an outward one – and it comes from the powers of evil vis-à-vis which unity has to be stressed. If we go a step further, however, and look into the so-called PseudoClementines, wherein the struggle between Peter and Simon Magus takes up an important part of the story as well, the constellation becomes highly fascinating. The struggle still represents the main conflict between “good” and “evil,” but at least some passages reveal that the evil is understood as being “within” what we would call the mainstream church. This Simon Magus is not simply the Simon Magus of Acts but also reveals himself
For the relevant argument, see Jan N. Bremmer, “Aspects of the Acts of Peter: Women, magic, place, and date,” in Maidens, Magic and Martyrs in Early Christianity (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –, esp. –. The extant Latin translation was probably produced in the second half of the fourth century in Northern Africa. Edition: Marietheres Döhler, Acta Petri: Text, Übersetzung und Kommentar zu den Actus Vercellenses (TU ; Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter, ). For the following passages, see also Tobias Nicklas, “Positionen jenseits des Kanons: Antagonismen in apokryphen Apostelerzählungen,” in Antagonismen in neutestamentlichen Texten, ed. Stefan Alkier (Beyond Historicism: New Testament Studies Today ; Paderborn: Brill Deutschland, ), –.
(at least sometimes) to be Paul. The dialogue between Peter and Simon Magus preserved in the Greek version of the text (the so-called PseudoClementine Homilies :–) is mainly an argument against Paul’s claims to be called as an apostle by the risen Christ (see Gal. :–). Playing with Gal. :– (the scene about the Antiochian incident), the text offers Peter’s alleged perspective on the conflict with Paul. How is it possible that someone who is really called by Christ fights against his disciples and even against the one whom Jesus called the Rock, the foundation of his Church (see Matt. :)? Criticizing Peter in this argument means criticizing Jesus himself. This, however, is not allowed for someone who has not followed Jesus during his lifetime and whose alleged vision of the risen one can be misinterpreted. For this text, the real antagonist hidden behind Simon Magus is Paul, who led significant parts of the Jesus Christ movement astray. Peter, on the other hand, is shown to be completely on the right track. This text, then, shows that some Christ-followers must have perceived the developments initiated by important aspects of Pauline theology to be a problem. For these Christ-followers, Paul’s ideas led to an unbridgeable divide between Christianity’s Jewish roots and its non-Jewish (and in large part anti-Jewish) stances, recognizable already a few generations after the first apostles. In this context, only Peter represents a reliable line of tradition connected with the origins.
Contests About Peter: Peter the Visionary and Peter the Evangelist Of course, all this is only part of even more complex (and chronologically extended) discourses on Peter – with a broad range of texts claiming different aspects of Peter’s uncontested authority. Interestingly, even in many of these cases we can watch a certain contest for legitimacy going on. But now the question is not about Peter’s role and authority per se, but about who can claim Peter’s authority. Starting with Jesus’s words in Matthew :
For details, see Jürgen Wehnert, “Antipaulinismus in den Pseudoklementinen,” in Ancient Perspectives on Paul, ed. Tobias Nicklas, Andreas Merkt, and Joseph Verheyden (NTOA ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ), –, and Frédéric Amsler, “La construction de l’homme ennemi ou l’anti-paulinisme dans le corpus pseudo-clémentin,” in Receptions of Paul in Early Christianity: The Person of Paul and His Writings through the Eyes of His Early Interpreters, ed. Jens Schröter, Simon Butticaz, and Andreas Dettwiler (BZNW ; Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter, ), –.
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(“this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood but by my father in heaven”), we can observe a tradition that understands Peter as a visionary.40 This is the background of several apocalyptic writings related to Peter. Interestingly, the two most well-known of these texts presuppose Peter as a largely uncontested figure, but at the same time reveal a contest for Peter: The visionary Peter was claimed by (at least) two different groups. The first can be described as Christ-followers with obviously Jewish background in (perhaps) early second-century Alexandria who produced the Greek Apocalypse of Peter (which today is fully extant only in an Ethiopic translation). The second are Basilidians, who were probably also based in Alexandria or elsewhere in Egypt (but a few generations later) and were responsible for the Revelation of Peter (NHC ,). While the Apocalypse of Peter seems to address readers who know at least the main narrative lines of the Gospel of Matthew, the (quite anti-Pauline) Revelation of Peter strikes a different path, distinguishing between the “crucified Jesus” and the real “Savior.” For this text, the event recounted in Matt. :– does not provide Peter’s real election to primacy; instead, a short scene is provided in which the Savior, who is not the fleshly Jesus, elects Peter (NHC , .–.). In this narrative context, Peter’s denial of the fleshly Jesus who will be crucified is not a sign of his failure; instead, it proves Peter’s special “knowledge” of the divine Savior – a knowledge that makes him superior to others. Peter is also connected to the development of gospel literature. This does not merely refer to the sixth- and seventh-century remains of the originally second-century Gospel of Peter – which in its final verse (Gos. Pet. ) reveals Peter as the teller of its story (but otherwise does not make very much of this special perspective). It also refers to Papias of Hierapolis’s traditions about the origins of Mark’s Gospel (see Eusebius of Caesarea, Hist. eccl. ..). Papias moves Mark as close as possible to the figure of Peter and thus tries to rescue this second-generation (or even later) gospel as written with apostolic authority. This is even more the case if we understand Papias’s description of
For a full treatment, see John Robert Markley, Peter – Apocalyptic Seer: The Influence of the Apocalypse Genre on Matthew’s Portrayal of Peter (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). For a fuller treatment, see Tobias Nicklas, “Petrus-Diskurse in Alexandria: Eine Fortführung der Gedanken von Jörg Frey,” in Peter and the Apocalypse of Peter: Towards a New Perspective, ed. Jörg Frey, Matthijs den Dulk, and Jan G. van der Watt (Biblical Interpretation Series ; Leiden and Boston: Brill, ), –. For more details, see Tobias Nicklas, “Erzähler und Charakter zugleich: Zur literarischen Funktion des ‘Petrus’ in dem nach ihm benannten Evangelienfragment,” in Studien zum Petrusevangelium (WUNT; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –.
Mark as ἑρμηνευτής not as a “translator” but (with Azzan Yadin-Israel) as a tanna (as in rabbinic literature). In this case, Papias describes Mark as a person who accompanied Peter, had to memorize his words by heart like the teachings of an important rabbi, and was able to repeat them word for word. In this case, Mark is, in fact, defended as the real Petrine gospel – an idea that may even have influenced Justin Martyr when he refers to the “memories of Peter,” his ἀπομνημονεύματα (see Dial. .). The idea that Peter is also a kind of “evangelist” is preserved not only in these early texts. Only a few years ago a new genre of gospel-like writings, the so-called “Apostolic Memoirs,” was defined and brought to scholarly attention by Alin Suciu (and others). This group of Coptic writings, going back to the sixth century (and later), was developed to support the Egyptian miaphysite church’s claims to preserve the real Christian tradition going back to the apostolic origins. Several of these writings, for example, tell about the miraculous discovery of manuscripts going back to the apostles themselves, who retell their gospel story. In some of these cases (for instance, PseudoCyril of Jerusalem, On the Life and the Passion of Christ), parts of the story are told by Peter. Writings like this demonstrate how the post-Chalcedonian Church of Egypt claimed to have the real Peter and his authority on its side.
Conclusion – Petrine Discourse: Which Peter? Whose Peter? Of course, even this rather broad overview is only a brief sketch of all that could be said about the multifaceted discourses on the figure of Peter in the ancient church. We have not been able to do much with the witnesses of ancient Christian authors, their tractates, commentaries, and homilies, and we have not discussed many later apocryphal writings. Nor have we been able to consider the topic of Peter the martyr and the fascinating claims
See Azzan Yadin-Israel, “For Mark was Peter’s tanna: Oral tradition versus eyewitness history in Papias,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –. Most importantly, see Alin Suciu, The Berlin-Strasbourg Apocryphon: A Coptic Apostolic Memoir (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Edition, translation, and introduction by Roelof van den Broek, Pseudo-Cyril of Jerusalem: On the Life and Passion of Christ. A Coptic Apocryphon (VC Suppl. ; Leiden and Boston: Brill, ). See, for example, the fascinating overview of martyrdom accounts connected to Peter (and Paul) offered by David L. Eastman, The Ancient Martyrdom Accounts of Peter and Paul (SBL Writings from the Greco-Roman World ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ).
Peter and His Diverse Champions
regarding his relics. We did not mention the transformation of Peter the apostle into Peter the bishop or Peter the first pope. But from what we have been able to canvas, it is nonetheless clear that we cannot make a simple divide between pro- and anti-Petrine writings; instead, we must recognize that the many discourses about Peter were highly nuanced and worked with very different techniques – whether to defend or enhance his authority, to criticize him (or aspects of his life and personality), to put him in context, or even to neglect him. Even many of the texts that marginalize, minimize, or negate Peter’s impact not only stand on their own but also should often be seen as reactions to other texts. Although our image of the ancient variety of voices about Peter will always remain highly fragmentary, we are starting to understand repetitive clusters of motifs in relation to how the figure of Peter is defined. In some early depictions, Peter is the first to be called by Jesus, the spokesman of the Twelve, and a special witness of Jesus’s life, his teachings, and his deeds; he offers an important, but partly controversial confession, receives special teaching and revelation, denies Jesus, is a witness of his resurrection and receives a special mandate from the risen one. Later texts describe him as a miracle-worker, a teacher, a preacher, a martyr, a letter writer, a bishop, an evangelist, a visionary – with each of these motifs able to be used, reused, evaluated, and reevaluated in many different ways. Not every one is used in every text, but they allow an almost endless set of combinations, which both leaves aspects of a memorized Peter figure recognizable, and still keeps the historical Peter hidden behind later claims and developments.
Select Bibliography Amsler, Frédéric. “La construction de l’homme ennemi ou l’anti-paulinisme dans le corpus pseudo-clémentin.” Pages – in Receptions of Paul in Early Christianity: The Person of Paul and His Writings through the Eyes of His Early Interpreters. Edited by
See aspects of this question treated in David L. Eastman, The Many Deaths of Peter and Paul (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), and Tobias Nicklas, “Antike Petruserzählungen und der erinnerte Petrus in Rom,” in Petrusliteratur und Petrusarchäologie, ed. Jörg Frey and Martin Wallraff (Rom und Protestantismus ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. For the Antiochian claims to have Peter as the city’s first bishop, see Paul Parvis, “When did Peter become Bishop of Antioch?” in Peter in Early Christianity, ed. Helen K. Bond and Larry W. Hurtado (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –.
Jens Schröter, Simon Butticaz, and Andreas Dettwiler (BZNW ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Bockmuehl, Markus. The Remembered Peter in Ancient Reception and Modern Debate (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Boer, Esther de. The Gospel of Mary: Beyond a Gnostic and a Biblical Mary Magdalene (JSNT Suppl. ; London: T&T Clark, ). Brankaer, Johanna and Bas van Os. The Gospel of Judas (Oxford Early Christian Gospel Texts; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Bremmer, Jan N. “Aspects of the Acts of Peter: Women, magic, place, and date.” Pages – in Maidens, Magic and Martyrs in Early Christianity (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Ioudaismos, Christianismos and the parting of the ways.” Pages – in Jews and Christians: Parting Ways in the First Two Centuries C. E.? Reflections on the Gains and Losses of a Model. Edited by Jens Schröter, Benjamin Edsall, and Joseph Verheyden (BZNW; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Broek, Roelof van den. Pseudo-Cyril of Jerusalem: On the Life and Passion of Christ. A Coptic Apocryphon (VC Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ). Döhler, Marietheres. Acta Petri: Text, Übersetzung und Kommentar zu den Actus Vercellenses (TU ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Eastman, David L. The Ancient Martyrdom Accounts of Peter and Paul (SBL Writings from the Greco-Roman World ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ). The Many Deaths of Peter and Paul (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Frey, Jörg. The Letter of Jude and the Second Letter of Peter: A Theological Commentary. Translated by Kathleen Ess (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ). Freyne, Sean. “The fisherman from Bethsaida.” Pages – in Peter in Early Christianity. Edited by Helen K. Bond and Larry W. Hurtado (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Gathercole, Simon. The Gospel of Thomas: Introduction and Commentary (Texts and Traditions for New Testament Study ; Leiden: Brill, ). Grünstäudl, Wolfgang. Petrus Alexandrinus: Studien zum historischen und theologischen Ort des zweiten Petrusbriefes (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Huebenthal, Sandra. “‘Frozen moments’: Early Christianity through the lens of Social Memory Theory.” Pages – in Memory and Memories in Early Christianity. Edited by Simon Butticaz and Enrico Norelli (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Reading Mark’s Gospel as a Text from Collective Memory (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Luz, Ulrich. Das Evangelium nach Matthäus . Mt – (EKKNT; Zurich: Benziger, ). Markley, John Robert. Peter – Apocalyptic Seer: The Influence of the Apocalypse Genre on Matthew’s Portrayal of Peter (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Martyn, J. Louis. History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel, rd ed. (NTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, [st ed. New York: Harper and Row, ]). Meiser, Martin. Galater (Novum Testamentum Patristicum ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ). Mußner, Franz. Petrus und Paulus, Pole der Einheit: Eine Hilfe für die Kirchen (QD ; Freiburg: Herder, ).
Peter and His Diverse Champions Nicklas, Tobias. “Antike Petruserzählungen und der erinnerte Petrus in Rom.” Pages – in Petrusliteratur und Petrusarchäologie. Edited by Jörg Frey and Martin Wallraff (Rom und Protestantismus ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Der Demiurg des Judasevangeliums.” Pages – in Judasevangelium und Codex Tchacos: Studien zur religionsgeschichtlichen Verortung einer gnostischen Schriftensammlung. Edited by Enno Edzard Popkes and Gregor Wurst (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Der geliebte Bruder: Zur Paulusrezeption im zweiten Petrusbrief.” Pages – in Der zweite Petrusbrief und das Neue Testament. Edited by Wolfgang Grünstäudl, Uta Poplutz, and Tobias Nicklas (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Erzähler und Charakter zugleich: Zur literarischen Funktion des ‘Petrus’ in dem nach ihm benannten Evangelienfragment.” Pages – in Studien zum Petrusevangelium (WUNT; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “‘Gnostic’ perspectives on Peter.” Pages – in Peter in Early Christianity. Edited by Helen K. Bond and Larry W. Hurtado (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). “Mark’s image of Peter: A distanced portrait.” Pages – in Scripture’s Interpretation Is More than Making Science: Festschrift Vasile Mihoc. Edited by Justin Alexandru Mihoc, Martin Tamcke, Marian Vild, and Constantin Preda (Göttingen: LIT, ). “Petrus als Gegenspieler der Maria von Magdala im Evangelium nach Maria?” Pages – in Gegenspieler: Zur Auseinandersetzung mit dem Gegner in frühjüdischer und urchristlicher Literatur. Edited by Michael Tilly and Ulrich Mell (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Petrus und ‘Johannes’: Dienst am Menschen.” Pages – in Identität und Authentizität von Kirchen im “globalen Dorf”: Annäherung von Ost und West durch gemeinsame Ziele? Edited by Dietmar Schon (Schriften des Ostkircheninstituts der Diözese Regensburg; Regensburg: Pustet, ). “Petrus-Diskurse in Alexandria: Eine Fortführung der Gedanken von Jörg Frey.” Pages – in Peter and the Apocalypse of Peter: Towards a New Perspective. Edited by Jörg Frey, Matthijs den Dulk, and Jan G. van der Watt (Biblical Interpretation Series ; Leiden: Brill, ). “Positionen jenseits des Kanons: Antagonismen in apokryphen Apostelerzählungen.” Pages – in Antagonismen in neutestamentlichen Texten. Edited by Stefan Alkier (Beyond Historicism: New Testament Studies Today ; Paderborn: Brill Deutschland, ). Nicklas, Tobias and Wolfgang Grünstäudl. “Petrus II (In der Literatur).” Pages – in Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, vol. (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, ). Parvis, Paul. “When did Peter become Bishop of Antioch?” Pages – in Peter in Early Christianity. Edited by Helen K. Bond and Larry W. Hurtado (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Pérez i Díaz, Mar. Mark, a Pauline Theologian: A Re-reading of the Traditions of Jesus in the Light of Paul’s Theology (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Pratscher, Wilhelm. “Die Bedeutung des Petrus in gnostischen Texten,” Studien zum Neuen Testament und seiner Umwelt (), –.
Schultheiss, Tanja. Das Petrusbild im Johannesevangelium (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Suciu, Alin. The Berlin-Strasbourg Apocryphon: A Coptic Apostolic Memoir (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Theißen, Gerd. “Kritik an Paulus im Matthäusevangelium? Von der Kunst verdeckter Polemik im Urchristentum.” Pages – in Polemik in der frühchristlichen Literatur: Texte und Kontexte. Edited by Oda Wischmeyer and Lorenzo Scornaienchi (BZNW ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Tuckett, Christopher. The Gospel of Mary (Oxford Early Christian Gospel Texts; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Wehnert, Jürgen. “Antipaulinismus in den Pseudoklementinen.” Pages – in Ancient Perspectives on Paul. Edited by Tobias Nicklas, Andreas Merkt, and Joseph Verheyden (NTOA ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ). “Apollos.” Pages – in Alexandria. Edited by Tobias Georges, Felix Albrecht, and Reinhard Feldmeier (COMES ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Witetschek, Stephan. “Peter in Corinth? A review of the evidence from Corinthians,” Journal of Theological Studies n.s. (), –. Yadin-Israel, Azzan. “For Mark was Peter’s Tanna: Oral tradition versus eyewitness history in Papias,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –.
Jews and Christians in Pagan Antiquity From the First through the Third Centuries “Judaism,” “Christianity,” and “paganism” are terms that historians use to distinguish between antiquity’s different “religions.” These words – all four – have an abstract quality: They suggest unified systems of belief and of doctrine, and clear and stable identities whether for individuals or for groups. Perhaps such formulations fit the modern period. In Roman antiquity, however, different groups of people made various arrangements, both with each other and with the many nonhuman powers that filled the space between the spheres of the heavens and the earth around which they turned. “Paganism” – the larger culture housing all of the empire’s different communities of Jews and of Christians – actually refers to an overwhelmingly diverse assortment of loca sancta, practices, traditions, and convictions. Many of the ancient city’s social activities that we would classify as “government” or as “athletics” or as “entertainment” were in fact “religious,” shaped by ritual displays of respect for and loyalty to those gods guarding the city’s well-being. And, whether as observers or as participants, those people whom we house within our other two abstract categories, “Judaism” and “Christianity,” often and freely – even enthusiastically – joined in. How, given this ancient Mediterranean mixing, do we distinguish different communities one from the other? How, indeed, did they draw these distinctions themselves – and when did they choose to draw them?
Identity and Individuation The core writings that eventually make up the New Testament – the Gospels and the letters of Paul – preserve first-century Hellenistic Jewish traditions
Nicely captured by the title – and the analyses – of Christian Marek’s study of Asia Minor, In the Land of a Thousand Gods (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ).
and, thus, intra-Jewish contestations. Paul rails against his fellow Jews in the Christ movement; Matthew’s Jesus maligns Matthew’s Pharisees (and other Christ-followers), and so on. The same level of intra-Jewish argument marks that much older body of Jewish texts that these later first-century ones referred to and rested upon: the five books of Moses and the various prophets, psalms, and histories of that shifting assemblage of Jewish writings, translated by the second century into Greek, that we refer to as “the” Septuagint. This body of books – specifically in Greek – provided the textual foundation for those forms of Christianity that eventually grew to dominate the Mediterranean region. Translated into Latin, they would serve as Europe’s “Old Testament” from late antiquity until the sixteenth-century Protestant Reformation. If we stand on the eastern edge of the Mediterranean and face toward Persia, however, the languages, the foundational texts, and thus the story of various Christian movements shifts as the fortunes of Rome’s eastern frontier shift as well. West Asia cradles newer Christian revelations. Living as they did on the empire’s margin, those Christians who guarded texts and traditions important for many Palestinian, Syrian-Mesopotamian, and Manichaean communities would be marginalized by the later imperial church. By the fourth and fifth centuries, we can discern the profiles of these and other various groups. But when, where, and how do they first emerge? The roots of what would become (many different kinds of ) Christianity lie in late Second Temple Judaism. At some point, however, we can begin to see evidence of scripture-based communities that are not “Judaism.” When do
E.g., Paul anathematizes other apostles in Gal. :–, : (“false brethren”), :, associating them throughout with “flesh,” “slavery,” and “curse,” wishing self-mutilation on them (:); they are “dogs and mutilators of flesh” (Phil. :); so-called “super-apostles,” fellow Jews who are not as good at serving Christ as Paul is ( Cor. :, –), endangering Paul (:). Matthew’s Jesus foresees that, “on the last day,” he will repudiate some of his followers as “evildoers” (:–); Pharisees and scribes are insufficiently righteous (:); Jesus pronounces the famous “woes against the Pharisees (and scribes and hypocrites)” (:–), specifically as slayers of the prophets (:–); the priests send out a mob the night of Passover to ambush Jesus (:); the Sanhedrin trial features perjury and violence (:–); Jews spread false rumors, post-resurrection, that Jesus’s disciples had stolen his body (:–). Let these examples suffice to make the point: in these writings, Jews fight con brio with other Jews. The importance of the existence of Jewish scriptures in Greek cannot be exaggerated: without it, Christianity as we know it would not have been possible. See Tessa Rajak, on the Jews’ “translation culture” and their “central asset: a large corpus of translated texts” (“The Mediterranean Jewish diaspora in the second century,” Christianity in the Second Century, ed. James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ], –, at ); also Timothy M. Law, When God Spoke Greek: The Septuagint and the Making of the Christian Bible (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
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the intra-Jewish arguments of Hellenistic Jewish texts begin to be perceived as anti-Jewish arguments in now-Christian texts? Two very early secondcentury Greek writings give us glimpses of stages in this process of community individuation: Acts of the Apostles, and the letters of Ignatius of Antioch. Acts relates that “in Antioch the disciples were for the first time called Christianoi” (Acts :; cf. :). Acts’ narrative places this development in the early s. The word “Christian” as a designation for (non-Jewish) followers of Christ, however, does not itself debut until the early second century, the date of Acts’ composition. “Christian” seems to be this second-century author’s retrojection of this term back into the opening decade of the movement’s gentile mission. And while Acts’ narrative does not hesitate to present chief priests and various diaspora Jews as impediments to “the Way,” it also depicts the first generation of Christ-followers as Jews, many living in Jerusalem, Law-observant, even worshiping (thus, sacrificing) in the temple (Paul especially: :–). Hostility toward some Jews (the chief priests; diaspora Jewish groups) is not matched with a generalized hostility toward “the” Jews. With the letters of Ignatius – if the texts that we have actually date to the early second-century figure himself – we see further development of a vocabulary of individuation. The epistolary Ignatius counterposes “Jewishness” (Ioudaïsmos) to “Christianness” (Christianismos), and he clearly sets the two terms in antagonistic relation to each other. In this same period (early second century), Roman writers Tacitus, Suetonius, and Pliny also use the word “Christian” (Latin, Christiani), as does the pseudonymous author of Peter (:: Greek, Christianos). By this point, already – the s and s – no one
For this dating of Acts, see Richard I. Pervo, Acts of the Apostles (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). We doubt, however – as Pervo does not – Luke’s familiarity with Paul’s Epistles. Ignatius’s letters put him in the front ranks of those who expound and embrace an ideology of “martyrdom,” as well as those who are committed to articulated church hierarchies topped by a single “bishop.” These aspects are precisely what has called into question the compositional dating of his letters. See esp. Candida R. Moss, Ancient Christian Martyrdom (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), (on discursive goals and strategies), – (Ignatius); further, n. below. For a recent reconceptualization of these issues, see Éric Rebillard, The Early Martyr Narratives: Neither Authentic Accounts nor Forgeries (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ). On Ioudaïsmos, Ignatius, Magn. ., . (with Christianismos), cf. . (on Sabbath-keeping); cf. Ignatius, Phld. ..
seems to be confusing ex-pagan (that is, gentile) Christ-followers with Jewish Christ-followers. And these ex-pagans already have a distinct designation, used both by outsiders (our Latin authors) and by insiders (Acts, Ignatius, “Peter”). They are now “Christians.” Who are these “Christians”? For Greek-speaking Mediterranean communities, by mid-second century, we begin to see not so much a clear answer to this seemingly simple question, as the development of discursive strategies for how to handle the question. In the process of identity-formation, nothing helps like declaring who you are not. Various gentile Christian intellectuals (do they represent communities?) begin to assume understandings of Hellenistic Jewish texts that distinguish them, often antagonistically, from contemporary Jewish community groups and practices. And some of these Christians begin to produce writings of their own as well; to assemble, comment on, and deploy Septuagint-based testimonia; and to gather collections of earlier first-century Jewish texts (like Paul’s letters, and some gospels), which in their view are “Christian.” All of this textual activity serves to distinguish these gentile groups not only from diaspora Jews, but also – and no less importantly – from each other. In the first half of the second century, emerging from different corners of the empire, three particular post-pagan intellectuals converged on the city of Rome: from Egyptian Alexandria, Valentinus (fl. ); from Sinope in Pontus by the Black Sea, Marcion (fl. ); and from Neapolis in Roman Palestine, Justin (fl. ). Their respective cosmologies all drew from two unrelated sources: Greek Genesis (for a narrative of creation) and Middle Platonism (for theology). Philo of Alexandria, a century earlier, had commented on Genesis with Middle Platonic criteria already in mind. But Philo had read Genesis as a Jew, and so had understood the high god represented in Moses’s books as the god of Israel, assisted in the work of creation by his cosmic lieutenant, the
John Barclay, “‘Jews’ and ‘Christians’ in the eyes of Roman authors c. ,” in Jews and Christians in the First and Second Centuries: How to Write Their History, ed. Peter J. Tomson and Joshua Schwartz (CRINT ; Leiden: Brill, ), –. Philippa Townsend observes that “Christians” may have always and only referred to gentile Christ-followers, never to Jewish ones, in “Who were the first Christians? Jews, Gentiles, and the Christianoi,” in Heresy and Identity in Late Antiquity, ed. Eduard Iricinschi and Holger M. Zellentin (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Peter Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries, trans. Michael Steinhauser (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). For a broader consideration, see Terence L. Donaldson, Gentile Christian Identity, from Cornelius to Constantine (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ).
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divine Logos. When second-century ex-pagan Middle Platonists engage in the same endeavor, the “theological ethnicity” of Philo’s god changes, too. Our three later Christian theologians read the same biblical cosmogony in Greek. And they thought, as had Philo, with boilerplate Middle Platonic theology. The highest god, theos hypsistos, they too maintained, is outside of time, radically transcendent. Cosmos, ordered material creation existing in time, results from work delegated to a lower deity, a divine go-between or demiurge or Logos. The highest god himself, radically perfect, thus changeless, is not himself actively engaged in creation. That job, in Middle Platonic theology, is what a demiurge or Logos is for. Valentinus and Marcion will be treated in separate essays of the current volume. We mention them here to bring into relief their similarities to and differences from Justin. For all three gentile Christians, the highest god was the father of Christ. And for all three, Christ, on behalf of the Father, brings the knowledge of salvation to those living in the sublunar realm. But this purely, perfectly spiritual god, say our gentile interpreters, is not the god of fleshly, ethnic Israel. Who, then, is the active, garrulous deity represented in Jewish scriptures, most particularly the world-shaper of Genesis? Valentinus ventured one identification; Marcion, another. Justin, speaking for his community, maintained that the god of these ancient Jewish texts (in Greek) – clearly not the highest god, since the highest god in Middle Platonism does not “do” – was none other than the preexistent Christ, the highest god’s Logos, before his incarnation. By taking this stand, Justin positioned himself both against common Jewish understandings of Jewish scriptures and against these two other developing Christian communities. Against the (Greek-speaking and -reading) Jews, he urged that fleshly Israel heard its own scriptures without spiritual understanding.
Philo speaks comfortably of God’s demiurgic lieutenant, the Logos, as “angel” (Somn. .–; Cher. –), as God’s firstborn “son” (Conf. ), and as a “second god” (QG .; Leg. .–; Somn. .–). On divine ethnicity, native to traditional gods but leached away by philosophical criteria of divinity, see Paula Fredriksen, “How Jewish is God? Divine ethnicity in Paul’s theology,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –; Fredriksen, Paul: The Pagans’ Apostle (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), – and notes. George Boys-Stones, Platonist Philosophy to : An Introduction and Collection of Sources in Translation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); on theos and cosmos, see John Dillon, The Middle Platonists (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ). Justin, speaking of Christ’s demiurgic functions, describes him as heteros theos (“another god”), kyrios (“lord,” another indication of deity), and angelos (“messenger,” or “angel,” Dial. ., .; Apol. .) as well as logos (.).
Jews took as bodily behavioral directives – circumcision, foodways, keeping the Sabbath – what were actually spiritual allegories for Christ and for his (that is, Justin’s) church. True spiritual understanding is possible only for the (true) Christian, Justin insisted, because only the Christian truly understands that the Jews’ books actually speak about Christ (Dial. ., ; passim). The Jews’ books, in fact, are really the scriptures of the church (.). Jews are vetus Israël, “old,” fleshly Israel. The real people of god, verus Israël, “true” spiritual Israel, are gentile Christians (.–). But which gentile Christians? Here the pagan rhetorical and philosophical formation of these gentile theologians had a profound doctrinal and social effect on the development of these churches – thus, ultimately, on the power politics of post-Constantinian Rome. Philosophy during the Second Sophistic placed a premium on homodoxia, unanimity of thought. Diversity implied error: Truth is one. And forensic rhetoric trained students to frame polarizing disputation, persuading the listener in oral argument that there were only two choices: the speaker’s way, and the wrong way. Intra-Christian diversity, thus, was bitterly condemned. Only one group could be “true” Christians. For Justin, the facts of the matter were plain: True Christians were those who agreed with Justin. Others might call themselves Christians, but they were actually just following their founder’s errors: They were Valentinians, or Marcionites, or Basilidians, “and others by other names” (Dial. .); “so-called Christians who are really godless and impious heretics, teach blasphemy, godlessness, and stupidity in all respects . . . Do not consider them Christians” (.–). Justin’s rhetoric of derogation, born in this mid-second-century contest over the identity and authority of the “true” church, had twin targets: competing fellow gentile Christians (“heretics”), and “the Jews” (other
Marcel Simon, Verus Israel: A Study of the Relations between Christians and Jews in the Roman Empire, –, trans. H. McKeating (New York: Oxford University Press, ); orig. Verus Israël: Études sur les relations entre Chrétiens et Juifs dans l’empire romain (–) (Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome ; Paris: Éditions de Boccard, ). On heresiology’s indebtedness to philosophical polemic, see Matthijs den Dulk, “‘One would not consider them Jews’: Reassessing Jewish and Christian ‘heresy,’” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –, esp. –; on Numenius as pagan “heresiologist” protecting Plato’s legacy from the corruptions of difference, see Kendra Eshleman, The Social World of Intellectuals in the Roman Empire: Sophists, Philosophers and Christians (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. On rhetorical training, Middle Platonic paideia, and agonistic interpretations of Jewish scriptures combined to produce this theology adversus Iudeaos, see Paula Fredriksen, Augustine and the Jews: A Christian Defense of Jews and Judaism (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), –.
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philosophically educated Greek readers of Jewish scriptures, represented in Justin’s Dialogue by Trypho). And Jewish scriptures themselves provided a gold mine of anti-Jewish insults. Stiff-necked, hard-hearted, deaf, unfaithful, erring: Moses and the prophets had said it all before. Justin easily apportioned these biblical terms and tropes: The negative ones described the enemy (Jews, heretics of whatever persuasion, and occasionally pagans). The positive tropes (“beloved,” “my people,” “my own child,” “your maker is your husband,” and so on), Justin assigned to his own group. So scripturebased were so many intra-Christian anti-Jewish insults that, often, the “Jews” who people the treatises, sermons, communications, and commentaries of patristic literature are demonstrably not historical Jews, that is, the writer’s own Jewish Roman contemporaries, but “rhetorical Jews,” agonistic figures rhetorically conjured from Jewish biblical texts. Paul, arguing against Jewish colleagues mid-first century about proselyte circumcision, would be read in the second century as arguing against Jewish practices tout court. Matthew’s Pharisees would serve as stand-ins for all Jews; in current colloquial English, the term still means “hypocrites.” And the Jews of gospel passion narratives would provide a standing indictment of all Jews everywhere as “Christ-killers.” Eventually, these “rhetorical Jews” would wander into various acta martyrum, paired there with pagan mobs who howl for the death of the hero or heroine. This “trail of blood” motif, already
To read Tertullian’s Marc., one would think Jews still performed blood sacrifices, e.g., ..; ..–. Tertullian’s characterization of the synagogue as fontes persecutionum (Scorp. .) seems sketched from Acts, not from contemporary Carthage, on which, T. D. Barnes, “Tertullian’s Scorpiace,” Journal of Theological Studies (), –. Further on homicidally hostile Jews in martyr stories below. This is still the dominant interpretive position within Pauline studies, even among scholars whose respective interpretations are otherwise quite different: cf., e.g., N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God, vols. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), :– (Paul realizes that the Law is, and always was, a “curse”); John Barclay, Paul and the Gift (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), – (Paul realizes that the Law is “defunct currency”), or (Paul realizes that life under the Law is like life under the stoicheia tou kosmou). For a refreshing and persuasive rethinking of these issues, see Matthew V. Novenson’s forthcoming study, The End of the Law and the Last Man: Paul between Judaism and Christianity (New York: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming ), chapter , “Quis dicit justification from works of the Law?” For Jews as deicides, Melito of Sardis typologically renders Exodus an account of Christ’s passion. For examples of wicked Jews as narrative characters in acta martyrum, see Mart. Pol. ., .; Mart. Pion. ., .–.. Historians from Harnack (The Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries, vols. [London: Norgate, –], :–) through W. H. C. Frend (Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church [Oxford: Blackwell, ], , “Jewish malice”; , “trouble-making”; , “lurking in the background”) to Robin Lane Fox (Pagans and Christians [New York: Alfred A. Knopf, ], –) have uncritically taken these Jewish characters as flat fact; cf. Judith Lieu, Neither Jew nor Greek? Constructing Early Christianity
visible in Matthew’s Gospel – Jews as killers of the prophets, of Christ, and of the saints of the church – settled permanently into the Christian imaginaire.
Semitic Variations: Facing East What of those Jews who were themselves followers of Christ? Justin mentions such groups. He was even willing to consider them “Christian,” as long as they did not try to persuade gentile Christians to follow Jewish law (Dial. .–). Does Justin refer here to such a Jewish community in Rome, or to ones back home, nearer to Neapolis (modern Nablus)? The answer is not clear. We know next to nothing of those Jewish, Aramaic-speaking Christfollowers who, especially after the carnage of the last Judean revolt against Rome (– ), would have lived in Jewish Galilee. (No equivalent to the first-century gospels, or to apostolic letters, survived in Aramaic, if they ever existed.) Our problems with exiguous evidence in general are compounded for these people in particular. Our written sources from and for the Galilee are late – the earliest, the Mishnah, not redacted until c. – and rabbinic. The rabbis represent a specific subculture within Palestinian Jewishness. There is no reason to regard them as “normative,” and certainly not in this period (post- to c.). And, further, if Christ-following Jews were living as Jews among Jews (why would they not?), they would be virtually invisible
(Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ), –; also James Parkes, The Conflict of the Church and the Synagogue: A Study in the Origins of Antisemitism (London: Soncino, [repr. Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, ]), –. For the history, development, and social impact of these themes, see David Nirenberg, AntiJudaism: The Western Tradition (New York: W. W. Norton, ). On the elusive “Ebionites,” “the poor” (Heb. evionim) who might trace back to the original community in pre-destruction Jerusalem (cf. Gal. :), see A. F. J. Klijn and G. J. Reinink, Patristic Evidence for Jewish-Christian Sects (Leiden: Brill, ), –; Sakari Häkkinen, “Ebionites,” in A Companion to Second-Century Christian “Heretics,” ed. Antti Marjanen and Petri Luomanen (Leiden: Brill, ), –. Tertullian, earlier (Carn. Chr. ), and Epiphanius, later (Pan. ), trace this “heresy” back to an eponymous founder, the archheretic “Ebion.” Thus Philip Alexander, who notes that the Mishnah “does not offer itself willingly as a basis for narrative history” (“The rabbis and their rivals,” in Christianity in the Second Century, ed. James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ], –, here at ). Among those who have argued for the rabbis’ construction of their authority through the Mishnah, see Mira Balberg, Purity, Body, and Self in Early Rabbinic Literature (Berkeley: University of California Press, ).
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in our evidence, such as it is (whether archaeological, epigraphic, or literary). The relative invisibility of early Christ-following Galilean Jews in these Jewish sources is precisely what we should expect: They would just look and act like other Galilean Jews, though perhaps of odd persuasion. (No odder, though, than “rabbinic” Jews might have looked to them.) These considerations bring us to the rabbinic terms min/minim, often translated as “heretic/heretics,” and its related substantive minut, “heresy.” The word means “type” or “sort,” and it also appears sometimes as “sect.” Englished as “heretic/heresy,” these terms have enjoyed an especially strong scholarly vogue, for two reasons: three references in the Gospel of John to followers of Christ being expelled from the synagogue (John :, :, :); and Justin’s repeated accusations, in his Dialogue with Trypho, that “you Jews” curse “us” in the synagogue. A rabbinic text redacted (probably) in the mid-third century, Tosefta Berakhot ., mentions a birkat ha-minim, a “benediction against Those Other Jews.” Within a liturgical sequence of blessings to be said in daily prayer, this particular text pronounces a malediction on Not-us, that is, on “them,” the minim: May “they” be uprooted – that is, by God. New Testament scholars have argued that the (vague) minim of the Tosefta obliquely provide a social history of the group represented in and by John’s Gospel (written, in Greek, some years earlier): These minim refer to those Jewish Christians of the “Johannine community” whom the
Wally Cirafesi brings together converging lines of evidence to argue for Christian graffiti at a second-century site in Capernaum: see “Jewish Christ-followers in Capernaum before the th century? Reconsidering the texts and archaeology” in Negotiating Identities: Conflict, Conversion, and Consolidation in Early Judaism and Christianity ( – ), ed. Karin Hedner Zetterholm, Anders Runesson, Cecilia Wassén, and Magnus Zetterholm (Coniectanea Biblica; Washington, DC: Rowman and Littlefield, ), –. Dial. ., ., ., ., ., ., ., .. Joshua Ezra Burns, The Christian Schism in Jewish History and Jewish Memory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), n. , lists twenty-two citations to rabbinic writings which use min/minim/minut that seem to register this internal “Us/Them” distinction. Daniel Boyarin’s proposal that Christian heresiology grew together with Jewish heresiology (Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity [Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ], later emended in “Rethinking Jewish Christianity: An argument for dismantling a dubious category (to which is appended a correction of my Border Lines),” Jewish Quarterly Review [], –) has been dismantled by Den Dulk, “‘One would not consider them Jews’”; see also Den Dulk, between Jews and Heretics: Refiguring Justin Martyr’s Dialogue with Trypho (London: Routledge, ).
synagogue had expelled. John’s Gospel, in turn, backdates the malediction: Despite its earliest appearance in a third-century Hebrew text, the “curse” itself, like John’s Gospel, must have originated in the second half of the first century. Justin’s complaints mid-second century reinforced this interpretation. Subsequent research has undermined these associations. True, “they” – whoever they were – were not much liked by the rabbis framing this malediction, but the exact profile of these minim is hard to make out. And third-century Galilean rabbis would hardly be “cursing” ex-pagan gentile Christians, the putative “us” of Justin’s Dialogue, somewhere in Ephesus (the Dialogue’s narrative setting) or in Rome (its place of composition). “Christians”/Notzrim are not specifically named until a much later version of the birkat, discovered among the Cairo Geniza’s fragments (ninth century?). Finally, far from being evidence of “expulsion,” the malediction’s social mechanism seems to be self-exclusion: The (putative Jewish Christian) male reciting the prayer – and then taking offense because he inferred that it was aimed at him and his group – would presumably walk himself away. Mention of “Jewish Christians” living in Jewish Galilee gets louder the further we move away from our period. Post-Constantine, learned “heresy handbooks” articulate the parameters, thus the taxonomies, of newly empowered “orthodoxy.” By the mid- to late fourth century, our question is, does “Jewish Christianity” or “Christian Judaism” represent a living social reality, or has it become chiefly notional, a category for defining the limits of
J. Louis Martyn, History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel, rd ed. (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ), pioneered and promoted this argument. For a heated defense, see Martinus C. de Boer, “The Johannine community under attack in recent scholarship,” in The Ways That Often Parted: Essays in Honor of Joel Marcus, ed. Lori Baron, Jill Hicks-Keeton, and Matthew Thiessen (Atlanta: SBL Press), –, citing (testily) those arguments from across the aisle, –. See too n. . The Babylonian Talmud (a sixth-century text) attributes its composition to a late firstcentury sage as well, b. Berakhot b. Noted long ago by Douglas Hare, The Theme of Jewish Persecution of Christians in the Gospel of Matthew (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), . De Boer’s essay gives all the bibliography for the dissent: N.B. the publications of Kimelman, Langer, and Reinhartz listed there. See too Michal Ben Asher, Jewish–Christian Dialogues on Scripture in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). See Andrew Jacobs, Epiphanius of Cyprus: A Cultural Biography of Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, ); Caroline Humfress, “Ordering divine knowledge in later Roman discourse,” in Emperors and the Divine: Rome and Its Influence, ed. M. Kahlos (Helsinki: Collegium, ), –.
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difference? Even Manichaean Christians, by that point, repudiate Lawkeeping Jewish Christians as “heretics.” A number of scriptural communities in the eastern Mediterranean and in Mesopotamia claimed interpretive space between developing Jewish (that is, rabbinic) and Christian (that is, eventually emperor-sponsored) orthodoxies. This diversity of interpretation was enabled by a diversity of scriptural traditions. Western Christians had had, ready to hand, Jewish scriptures long ago translated into Greek, which was also the language of composition for all of those texts eventually collected as the New Testament. But from the rural agricultural lands outside of Rome’s eastern administrative nerve center, Antioch, to Edessa and further east – the shifting borderlands of the empire stretching across two rivers to the edge of Persia – Aramaic and its regional variant, Syriac, prevailed. Besides the Greek Septuagint, Christians around Edessa relied on the Peshitta, a late second-century Syriac translation drawn from the Hebrew. Syriac New Testament texts, translated from the Greek, were produced even later, although the second-century Diatessaron that told the life of Jesus in a single harmonized version of the canonical Gospels remained authoritative in many Syriac-speaking communities into the fifth century. Syriac interpretive traditions developed in tandem with Greek Paulineinfluenced ones, within a social landscape accommodating many different Christian communities, some “Marcionite,” some influenced by the philosophically limber Bardaisan (Latin: Bardesanes, b. –d. ), some by the more recent revelations of Mani (–[?], about whom more shortly). So various were the teachings of all of these biblically based communities that the famous deacon Ephrem once lamented that his orthodox fourth-century church in Edessa had earlier had to struggle under the name “Palûtians” – socalled after their bishop, Palût – because another community had already appropriated the identifier “Christian” (Hymns against Heresies .). Diverse Christian communities scattered on the eastern frontiers between Antioch and Persia included some whose practices others considered too “Jewish” – a view found, for example, in an early third-century text, the Didascalia Apostolorum (“Teaching of the Apostles”). Composed in Greek but
Thus Faustus, ap. Augustine, Faust. ., on the near-proverbial Nazoreans; also . (“Such people practice circumcision, they keep the Sabbath, they shun swine’s meat and other things like that, all according to the Law. Yet they still claim to be Christians!”). See Fredriksen, Augustine and the Jews, –.
surviving in Syriac, this text may have functioned as “a counter-Mishnah for the disciples of Jesus.” Its author opposes the community practices of other Christ-followers, practices that, in the view of the author, rested upon a now superseded “second legislation” (e.g., DA ). These included distinguishing between foodstuffs (DA ), maintaining particular purification rituals (DA ), and the self-segregation of women who, when menstruating, exempted themselves from community prayer, scriptural readings, and the Eucharist (DA ). Are these practices, here disavowed and disallowed, evidence of another Christian community’s close contact with Jewish contemporaries? Or do they spring from that community’s own understanding of their “Old Testament”? Or is this group comprised of (“ethnic”) Jews who are also Christian? Upon such questions, the inadequacies of our evidence meet with the blunt instruments of our descriptive vocabulary – not least, the term “Jewish Christianity” itself. This area off of Rome’s polyglot eastern frontier, crisscrossed by trade routes, merchant caravans, shifting populations, and the rise and fall of transient quasi-independent kingdoms, nurtured the mid-third-century rise of an extraordinarily vigorous missionary Christianity. Its prophet was Mani, who, like Paul, saw himself as “an apostle of Jesus Christ,” charged to bring the good news of redemption to the nations. Recording his visions, prayers, and ideas on community discipline, this apostle of Jesus stabilized his revelations by establishing his own authoritative canon of holy books. Mani conceived and successfully mobilized a form of Christianity that was built for the road. Charlotte Fonrobert, “The Didascalia Apostolorum: A Mishnah for the disciples of Jesus,” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –, a creative “listening in” to the text’s many voices. On a similarly indeterminate text, see Annette Yoshiko Reed, “‘Jewish Christianity’ after the ‘parting of the ways’: Approaches to historiography and self-definition in the PseudoClementines,” in The Ways That Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, ed. Adam H. Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –; Reed, “‘Jewish-Christian’ apocrypha and the history of Jewish/Christian relations,” in Rediscovering the Apocryphal Continent: New Perspectives on Early Christian and Late Antique Apocryphal Texts and Traditions, ed. Pierluigi Piovanelli and Tony Burke (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. For more on the (fourth-century) Pseudo-Clementines and its (third-century?) Grundschrift, see Karin H. Zetterholm, “Christ assemblies within a Jewish context: Reconstructing a social setting for the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies,” in Negotiating Identities: Conflict, Conversion, and Consolidation in Early Judaism and Christianity ( – ), ed. Karin Hedner Zetterholm, Anders Runesson, Cecilia Wassén, and Magnus Zetterholm (Coniectanea Biblica; Washington, DC: Rowman and Littlefield, ), –. The astonishing range of languages in which Manichaean texts are preserved – Arabic, Chinese, Coptic, Greek, Latin, Middle Persian, Parthian, Syriac (their original medium), Turkic, and more – measures Mani’s success. See Iain Gardner and Samuel N. C. Lieu (eds.)
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But he attracted the hostility of Persia’s Zoroastrian clergy, who arranged for Mani’s execution (c.?). The movement that he so self-consciously founded, however, went on, endured, and flourished. By the late third century, it had already journeyed west, crossing Mesopotamia and Syria into Roman Palestine and Egypt, thence to North Africa, ultimately bringing its message of salvation into Italy to Rome, thence to Gaul and Spain. In the east, via the Silk Road, it eventually reached China, continuing there until the fourteenth century. As with all forms of widely diffused Christianity, “Manichaeism” took on the coloration of its immediate environs. In the West, Manichees voiced a principled rejection of Jews and of “Judaism” – its books, its god, and especially its baneful (because camouflaged) most recent production, the canon of the New Testament (crafted by nescio quibus . . . semi-Iudaeos). If some of our third- and fourth-century Syriac evidence presents us with indecipherably Christian/Jewish texts and communities, contemporary Manichaean Christianity, voiced also originally in Syriac, sounds a clear and principled “No.” The clarity and firmness of that “No” to Jews, Jewish practices, and Jewish scriptures would prompt the complicated affirmation of Augustine’s post-Manichaean “Yes.”
Narratives of Difference We have seen how the meaning of Jewish texts in Greek, whether in the ancient scriptural literatures or in those first-century ones that would eventually be considered Christian, shifted once the ethnicity of their readership changed as well. Intra-Jewish argument became anti-Jewish argument. The surviving treatises of Christian literate elites from the second and third centuries display how tools that lay ready to hand in the broader
Manichaean Texts from the Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); for Manichaean disciplines and, thus, spirituality, see Jason BeDuhn, The Manichaean Body in Discipline and Ritual (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ); on Marcion’s influence on Mani, Michel Tardieu, “Les principes de l’exégèse manichéenne du Nouveau Testament,” in Les règles de l’interprétation, ed. Michel Tardieu (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, ), –, at –. Peter Brown, “The diffusion of Manichaeism in the Roman empire,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –, esp. on Diocletian’s rescript. “By what half-Jews, I do not know,” Faustus’s late fourth-century jibe aimed at thencanonical gospels, ap. Augustine, Faust. .. Fredriksen, Augustine and the Jews, esp. –.
culture – the negative stereotyping of classical ethnographies; the agonistic conventions of rhetorical education; the theological principles of Middle Platonic paideia – combined to articulate interpretive traditions adversus Iudaeos. As various Christian movements spread throughout the empire, Christian diversity only increased; so, too, did the intellectuals’ concerns about doctrinal regularity. This growing double helix of rhetoric against Jews and against heretics would have profound effects on the theologies and the social policies of the fourth- through sixth-century Christian empire. Again: Nothing helps to articulate identity like saying what one is not. What do we see if we lift our eyes from this literature of principled hate speech to survey the situation on the ground? We see, unsurprisingly, the perduring patterns of long-lived Mediterranean urban culture – and complaints about these behaviors in various sermons, letters, commentaries, and conciliar canons. Jews continued to sit in the chambers of town councils. To encourage their participation (such positions usually entailed expensive beaux gestes of public benefactions), an imperial law of the late second/early third century specifies that Jews so serving were to be excused from the council’s regular ritual acts (necessitates, meaning municipal liturgies). Like other free peoples, Jews too were enfranchised as Roman citizens by the Constitutio Antoniana ( CE). And when, mid-third century, the emperor Decius sought to shore up the fortunes of failing imperial frontiers by requiring all citizens to solicit heaven’s goodwill by sacrificing to the gods, Jewish Romans, in light of their ancestral customs, were once again excused (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..). Classical ethnography brought stereotyping to a fine art: see esp. Benjamin Isaac, The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ), specifically on Christian reuse of anti-Jewish stereotyping, . On Jews in particular, see Menachem Stern, Greek and Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism, vols. (Jerusalem: Dorot Press, –); analysis, Peter Shäfer, Judeophobia: Attitudes Toward Jews in the Ancient World (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ); also Louis H. Feldman, Jew and Gentile in the Ancient World (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Jews returned the favor. Nothing in Jewish literature of this period or thereafter approaches the luxuriant hostility of Christian rhetoric adversus Iudaeos; but Tertullian’s Spect. .– preserves a whisper of Jewish anti-Christian slurs, much later to appear in the Toldot Yeshu: see William Horbury, “Tertullian on the Jews,” Journal of Theological Studies (), –. Tertullian’s reuse of his treatise against the Jews in his later opus against Marcion makes the point: Anti-heretical and anti-Jewish rhetoric develops in tandem. See too Geoffrey S. Smith, Guilt by Association: Heresy Catalogues in Early Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Digesta ...; for text and discussion with excellent notes, Amnon Linder, The Jews in Roman Imperial Legislation (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, ), –.
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But gentile Christians were not. As far as Decius was concerned, they could continue doing whatever they did when they did Christian things; but they were obligated, as non-Jewish Romans, to perform supplicatio for the empire’s well-being. Those who declined to do so were penalized variously with loss of property, or of testamentary rights, or, sometimes, with capital punishment. The biggest problem for churches, however, after these punitive episodes, was to devise protocols for dealing with large numbers of the lapsed. Cyprian (c.–), Bishop of Carthage, well illustrates the divisive effects that these disciplinary problems could cause. Cyprian had fled the city and gone into hiding in , directing his church by correspondence and occasionally sending back funds. When he returned, Decius’s death having ended his efforts, Cyprian’s authority was so compromised by defiant lay confessores (Christians who had gone to prison, prepared for death, and then been released) and by his own angry presbyters (who had stayed put) that seismic internal power struggles ensued. Cyprian responded by insisting on party discipline, condemning his critics, corralling other bishops en bloc, insisting that true (that is, efficacious) sacraments could be administered only by clergy whom he recognized, famously arguing extra ecclesiam nulla salus, “outside of the church there is no salvation” – leavened with some version of l’église, c’est moi. Cyprian’s tactics worked only in retrospect, when they were adapted and adopted during the North African churches’ fourth-century civil war. In his own lifetime, Cyprian’s community remained bitterly divided. Thus, in , On Decius’s initiative, see esp. James B. Rives, “The decree of Decius and the religion of the empire,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. These mandated sacrifices aimed to defend the empire, but Christians perceived and memorialized them as “persecution.” For an intimate glimpse at the social effects of Diocletian’s later efforts on a small Egyptian village, see AnneMarie Luijendijk, “Papyri from the Great Persecution: Roman and Christian perspectives,” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. “Decius’s religious rally had left behind a long-lasting legacy of disorder and disarray within the Christian ranks, with dissentions over the proper conditions for readmitting the fallen bitterly dividing the churches everywhere, and with bishops challenged for spiritual leadership by surviving (and, by definition, inspirited) confessors” (Graeme Clark, “Third-century Christianity,” in The Crisis of Empire, .. –, ed. Alan Bowman, Averil Cameron, and Peter Garnsey [CAH ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ], –, at ). For a close-in look at the social traction of Decius’s initiatives, see the chapter on Decian libelli in Christian Oxyrhyncus: Texts, Documents and Sources, ed. Lincoln H. Blumwell and Thomas A. Wayment (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ), –. Ep. ., for the nulla salus slogan; on the identification of the bishop (meaning Cyprian, in Cyprian’s writings) with the church, see De unitate ecclesiae.
when the emperor Valerian began offering another opportunity for martyrdom, Cyprian had little choice. By that point, Carthage had no fewer than three bishops, Rome two – and those were just the prelates of the (self-designated) “orthodox and catholic,” that is, the “right-thinking and universal” church. The more widespread internal Christian difference (for reasons whether political, disciplinary, or doctrinal), the more porous the external boundaries, the more defined by ever-shifting circumstances an individual’s identity, the louder the rhetoric of unity. The louder, too, the discourse of Christian martyrdom, which through dramatic narratives presented idealized views of true, orthodox Christian identity. In the period before , however, anti-Christian persecutions appear to have been random, sporadic, and local; their legal mechanisms remain completely obscure. And Christian enthusiasm for voluntary death seems to have been amplified by later legend. As late as , speaking of martyrs, Origen reports that there are only “few, whose number could be easily counted . . . [who] have died occasionally for the sake of the Christian religion” (Cels. .). The mid-third century’s top-down imperial initiatives, though dragging these social waters with a finer mesh, should not be exaggerated either. A scant few years after Valerian, squabbling Christians For a still valuable orientation in this internecine episode of name-calling, Hans Lietzmann, The Early Church, vols. (London: Lutterworth, ), :–. Éric Rebillard, Christians and Their Many Identities in Late Antiquity (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ), –, on the post-persecution problems when dealing with the large numbers of the lapsed; more generally on the rhetoric of unity, –; cf. too Lane Fox, Pagans, –. Even where we have firsthand evidence, such as Pliny’s famous Ep. Tra. .. The classic (and gold-standard) treatment of the question remains Geoffrey E. M. de Ste. Croix, “Why were the early Christians persecuted?” Past and Present (), –; on pre-Decian persecutions as random, sporadic, and local, see T. D. Barnes, Tertullian (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), . For a revision of Ste. Croix’s periodization of persecutions, now see Oded Irshai and Paula Fredriksen, “Anti-Christian persecutions: Reframing the paradigm,” in Festschrift for Israel Yuval (Jerusalem: Carmel Press, ), –; for reframing the entire effort at dating these “living texts” of the martyr narratives and at using them to reconstruct actual persecutions, see Rebillard, Early Martyr Narratives. The study of martyr literature, especially its dating and its cultural functions, is currently being rethought: see esp. Moss, Ancient Christian Martyrdom, who notes, “Describing martyrdom is about the production of identity categories and the creation of meaning . . . [M]artyrdom [is] a set of discursive practices that shaped early Christian identity, mediated ecclesiastical and dogmatic claims, and provided meaning to the experience described by early Christians as persecution,” . “Persecution” became profoundly important to Christian identity, leading to the lush production of post-Constantinian “martyrs” and martyr stories: Michael Lapidge, The Roman Martyrs (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); also Elizabeth Castelli, Martyrdom and Memory: Early Christian Culture Making (New York: Columbia University Press, ).
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did not hesitate to call upon his imperial successor, Aurelian, to settle an internal doctrinal controversy between warring “orthodox” factions in Antioch. Aurelian responded exactly as an emperor should and would: do, he said, what the Romans (or, rather, their bishops) do. A generation later, on the cusp of the “Great Persecution” of , a Christian basilica stood just across from Diocletian’s palace. Christianities – of whatever sorts – were hardly “underground” movements. These communities had comfortably settled into Roman culture, which was one of the reasons why Diocletian’s actions, aimed at high clergy, came as such a shock. “Identity” as lived (as compared to identity as idealized) seems to have been labile, flexible, and circumstance-dependent. Much to the irritation of the ideologues of separation, be they bishops or rabbis, Christians of all sorts, Jews of all sorts, and pagans (by definition, of all sorts) apparently continued to enjoy each other’s company – in some instances, quite intimately. In the first century, Alexandrian pagans and Jews had come together to celebrate the translation of Jewish scriptures into Greek; three centuries later, Constantine was still trying to disentangle these mixing (and eating and buying and selling) communities at Mamre. Gentile Christians, as well as gentile pagans, continued to frequent synagogues and keep the Sabbath as well as Jewish feast days. Everybody enjoyed a good municipal spectacle, especially gladiatorial combats and horse races; both bishops and rabbis – even, later, Christian emperors –tried to get “their” people to stop attending such spectacles (on the evidence, with small success). The noisome bishop in question, Paul of Samosata, had profited from the protection of Zenobia of Palmyra, which had enjoyed independence when Rome’s eastern frontier had been wobbling again. Once put right, Valerian out of the picture, Aurelian was in charge, Zenobia captive, and Paul’s protection evaporated. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. .–; Fergus Millar, “Paul of Samosata, Zenobia and Aurelian: The church, local culture and political allegiance in thirdcentury Syria,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. On this “Great Persecution,” see Elizabeth DePalma Digeser, A Threat to Public Piety: Christians, Platonists, and the Great Persecution (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ). Philo, Mos. .–, on the Alexandrian celebration at Pharos; on the mixing pagans, Christians (including heretics), and Jews at Mamre, see Eusebius, Vit. Const. .–. Around / , Tertullian, in De spectaculis, complained bitterly about Christian attendance at these events; but he mentions only toward the very end of his denunciations – a strategic afterthought? – that a chief reason not to go to the arena was that sometimes Christians suffered there, Spect. (the treatise ends at , with the happy thought of Christians at the End enjoying the spectacle of Jews burning eternally for having rejected Christ); later pagan and Christian elites continued to criticize theatre attendance (e.g., Libanius, Or. .; John Chrysostom, see Stat. . (PG .), . (PG .); Theod. laps. . (PG .–); Hom. Matt. . (PG .); Severus, Cath. Hom. ). On synagogue-going Christians, e.g., Origen, Hom. Lev. .; Sel. Exod. .; Chrysostom’s famous fulminations in
As the canons of the Council of Elvira reveal (c. ), mixes of Christians (“heretical” and “orthodox”), pagans, and Jews joined in partaking of food, sex, public entertainments, and assorted liturgical acts involving various divinities. Urban celebrations brought everyone together, none more so than Antioch’s famous water festival, the Maiuma, which featured young women, nude and splashing around, before an appreciative and ecumenical audience. (Christian emperors well into late antiquity attempted to legislate more decorous demeanor.) The Roman baths, meanwhile, provided more regular opportunities for people to socialize (unclothed, wet, and in public): no less a personage than Rabban Gamaliel frequented the baths in Akko. And that great star circle, the zodiac, continued to wheel within sacred sites whether pagan, Christian, or Jewish. Sidereal deity and cosmic powers, for all these groups (even the so-called “monotheist” ones), still presided over the vast expanse that stretched between earth and heaven.
his Adversus Iudaeos homilies from – suggest that some in his church in Antioch continued to do so. On Christian irritation with the synagogues’ reception of pagans, Tertullian, Nat. ..–; Commodian, Instr. ... Rabbis warn against Jews’ attending the stadium, shows, and gladiatorial combats, though they approved attendance if Jewish spectators ‘voted’ to preserve the life of the loser, j. ʿAbod. Zar. :b; t. ʿAbod. Zar. :a–c. Going to the amphitheater is given a pass, as long as the sacrifices performed there are finished, :c. Further on Jewish participation, both as spectators and as athletes and actors, Zeev Weiss, Public Spectacles in Roman and Late Antique Palestine (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), who considers diaspora evidence as well. On continuous urban mixing throughout these first three centuries, Paula Fredriksen, “What ‘parting of the ways’?” in The Ways That Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, ed. Adam H. Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. On the frustrations of Christian emperors into the fifth century trying to institute the equivalent of Blue Laws regarding urban entertainments before mixed audiences on Sundays and Christian holy days, see Cod. Theod. .. (in ), also ..; .. (in ). These canons specifically condemn intermarriage (c. ), soliciting Jewish blessings over fields (c. ), accepting Jewish hospitality (c. ), and “interfaith” sexual relations (c. ). Awkwardly, some baptized men of financial means saw no problem with serving as flamines, participating in liturgies directed toward the divine (and at that point, still pagan) emperor (c. –). Rabban Gamaliel bathes – and bests a pagan interlocutor conveniently present – at m. ʿAbod. Zar. :. Scholars debate whether this personage is Gamaliel II or III, but the setting suggests the later, Severan period. On Jews inscribing D.M. – dis manibus, “to the infernal gods” – on funerary stones, see Leonard Rutgers, Jews in Late Ancient Rome: Evidence of Cultural Interaction in the Roman Diaspora (Leiden: Brill, ), –. The catholicity of powers lower than the highest god, across all groups, is striking. See too the following note. On continuing Christian relations with various nonhuman powers, see Laura Nasrallah, “Lot oracles and fate: On early Christianity among Others in the second century,” in Christians in the Second Century: Themes and Developments, ed. James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; Stanley K. Stowers, “The religion of plant and animal offerings versus the religion of meanings, essences and textual mysteries,” in
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Power, Politics, and the End of the “Long” Third Century The “long third century” drew to a close with Constantine’s successful seizure of power, and of the city of Rome, in . The picture of easy social interactions, sketched above, is meant to communicate quotidian complexities and camaraderie, not a generalized – and governmentally endorsed – good cheer. By patronizing one particular sect of Christianity, the new emperor consolidated his own power across the Mediterranean, where it counted most: in the cities. Those bishops so favored now wielded power as well as authority, enriched as they were by the sudden infusion of imperial potestas and publicly funded largesse. Constantine’s efforts to unify his chosen church in terms of doctrine (and personnel) were doomed to failure: Attempts at consolidation only caused further fracturing. Still, to be on the emperor’s good side was to be able to enforce one’s own power locally – and to get one’s ecclesiastical rivals exiled. Learned polemics and inflammatory sermons – against other Christians, against pagans, against Jews, and against “Jews” – continued apace. What changed with Constantine, however, was the nature, and thus the consequences, of the argument. Earlier, in the late first through third centuries, intra-Christian polemic between different haireseis had fundamentally been name-calling. One’s own doxa was always “straight” (orthos); a dissenting other’s, otherwise (heterodox). Now, ecclesiastical invective could inform government policy. And imperial government enjoyed a monopoly of coercive force.
Ancient Mediterranean Sacrifice, ed. Jennifer W. Knust and Zsuzsanna Várhelyi (New York: Oxford University Press, ), –; David Brakke, “Valentinians and their demons: Fate, seduction, and deception in the quest for virtue,” in From Gnostics to Monastics, ed. David Brakke, Stephen J. Davis, and Stephen Emmel (Leuven: Peeters, ), –; Derya Şahin, “The zodiac in ancient mosaics,” Journal of Mosaic Research (), –. H. A. Drake, Constantine and the Bishops (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ), –. Constantine was immediately called in to referee the deteriorating situation dividing catholic communities in North Africa: briefly, Brent Shaw, Sacred Violence: African Christians and Sectarian Hatred in the Age of Augustine (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; at length, and with consideration of the Arius/Athanasius debacle at Nicaea, Drake, Constantine. Powerful bishops in major cities would eventually have their own militias of marauding monks and parabalani. On the bishops’ strategic applications and orchestrations of coercive force, see Michael Gaddis, There Is No Crime for Those Who Have Christ: Religious Violence in the Christian Roman Empire (Berkeley: University of California Press, ).
It comes as no surprise, then, that the first Romans to feel the negative effects of Constantine’s new religious allegiance were Christians of other communions. The emperor disbanded their churches, outlawed their assemblies, exiled their bishops, and burned their books. Such legislation, difficult to enforce, clearly met with uneven success, and “heretical” (that is, non-enfranchised) churches long continued to exist. The point, however, remains: More Christians were persecuted by the Roman government after the conversion of Constantine than before. At the local level, these actions were directed by orthodox bishops; at a macro level, by Christian emperors themselves. The difference was that the imperial church now deemed targeted Christians to be “heretics,” not martyrs; and the coercive force brought against them was not “persecution” but disciplina. At the risk of offering a just-so story, one must observe that Constantine’s choice to patronize the particular Christian group that he did seems no accident. That church – like its imperial matrix, Rome – was itself notionally “universal” (katolika), organized mimetically along provincial diocesan lines; translocally coordinated through epistolary networks of urban leadership; ordered by ranks of hierarchies that concentrated local authority in the bishop and that radiated out in networks of bishops subordinate to the archbishop in the great cities of the empire: Alexandria, Antioch, Carthage, Rome, and eventually Constantinople. The more the imperial church persecuted Christian others, the more lurid the stories of its own heroic past waxed, creating memories of “the church of the martyrs.” The idiom and aesthetic of the martyr’s virtus – masculine self-control (even for female
Eusebius, Hist. eccl. .., ., .; Vit. Const. –; cf. Cod. Theod. ... “Religious coercion on a large scale was mainly practised by Christians on other Christians” (Peter Brown, “Christianization and religious conflict,” in The Late Empire, . . –, ed. Averil Cameron and Peter Garnsey [CAH ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ], –, at ). Geoffrey E. M. de Ste. Croix leans toward this same opinion in “Heresy, schism and persecution in the later Roman empire,” in Christian Persecution, Martyrdom and Orthodoxy, ed. Michael Whitby and Joseph Streeter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. On bishops as impresarios of violence, Drake, Constantine; Gaddis, There Is No Crime for Those Who Have Christ. On the recruitment of Roman law to combat various religious outsiders, see Caroline Humfress, Orthodoxy and the Courts in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –, and Richard Flower, Emperors and Bishops in Late Roman Invective (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), esp. –. North African churches dramatically instantiated intra-orthodox civil war, on which esp. Shaw, Sacred Violence.
Jews and Christians in Pagan Antiquity
saints) in the face of violent (and also gendered) power – as well as the narratives’ voyeuristic attention to violence, were utterly, and aesthetically, Roman. We may think of all these consolidations of imperial and episcopal power as expressing late Roman “religious” policy. In a way, they were. But in their own time, such initiatives would have been governmentally housed within the ancient equivalents of the departments of Defense and of Homeland Security. After , the religious affiliation of heaven might have changed, but the conviction that cultic irregularity alienated divinity – with dire and dangerous consequences – remained exactly as it ever was. We might well query any hard distinction between “Christian” and “Roman” here, especially in light of the chosen communion’s unhesitating embrace of coercive power. The imperially endorsed church had been organized as a top-down hierarchy for generations. Monarchian episcopates (with lifetime, not annual, appointments), provincial hierarchical structures, urban power bases, and a universal totalizing discourse: By Constantine’s period, this church had been administratively duplicating “Roman” imperial lines for generations. It was its intrinsic Romanitas that had commended this particular Christian network to Constantine’s attention. And this church’s efforts to establish and maintain “orthodoxy” by a ready embrace of coercive force evinces its own Romanitas. Why would its bishops not welcome imperial patronage? * * * The “paths” of Christians and Jews, ab origine unitary, remained entangled, even once they eventually become capable of being distinguished. They remained so for centuries, well after . As separate identities for Christfollowing gentiles become visible in the early second century, some forms – like that expressed by Ignatius – belligerently counterpose themselves to Weiss notes how cultural and political Romanization can be traced via urban architecture created specifically for spectacles of violence in his Public Spectacles. On the gendered aspects of these stories, see L. Stephanie Cobb, Dying to Be Men: Gender and Language in Early Christian Martyr Texts (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Cf. J. H. W. G. Liebeschuetz, who remarks: “The basic conception [of this late imperial religious legislation] was Roman rather than Christian. Constantine wished to maintain the pax deorum as his predecessors had done; but he looked to a new divinity and for new [ritual] procedures to maintain it” (Continuity and Change in Roman Religion [New York: Oxford University Press, ], ). For Constantine and his bishops, we argue, we cannot distinguish meaningfully between “Roman” and “Christian.” James B. Rives, “Christian expansion and Christian ideology,” in The Spread of Christianity in the First Four Centuries: Essays in Explanation, ed. William V. Harris (Leiden: Brill, ), –.
Jewishness. Mid-second century, intra-gentile-Christian antagonisms advance a rhetoric of derogation both against other gentile Christians (“godless heretics”) and against Jews as well. Some of these groups (like Justin’s) were in the awkward position of claiming ancient Jewish scriptures as their own, while refusing as a matter of principle to follow many of the behaviors interpreted by Jewish contemporaries as prescribed therein. To an outside observer (like Celsus), the whole matter seemed intrinsically confused. The experience of persecution – memorialized and enlarged especially in the period after Constantine – was a defining idea for the development of Christian identity. But persecution on account of “religion” was an anomaly in ancient empires. Running an empire meant conquering other peoples, who came together with their gods. Again, this was simple common sense, in a world where all gods exist. Nobody went up against a god if he did not have to: Any god was more powerful than any human. Different people groups obviously would have different ancestral customs. Religious difference was business as usual. Gentile Christians, however, in principle renouncing their own “pagan” ancestral customs while eschewing those of the Jews, had none of their own to fall back on. Thus, when things went wrong – and ancient catastrophes were never viewed as theologically neutral events – gentile Christians could be singled out as deviant pagans, allied to a new, rootless superstitio that angered the gods. In the wake of terrestrial disaster, responsible government sought its fundamental cause in heaven. For this reason, ritual protocols were a first resort both to discern the causes of divine alienation and to restore harmonious relations between heaven and earth. Constantine’s Christianity carried forward this ancient view of cosmic causality. But this notion of causality was additionally inflected by a defining intellectual residuum of the Second Sophistic: only one way of being Christian could be the right way. These two convictions, combined, produced the frenzied pursuit and enforcement of “orthodoxy” visible in the councils, creeds, and coercive measures of later Christian Roman antiquity. Creeds, however much they represented a credo, functioned as well and not least as a public declaration of political alignments. (Dogged by the Second Sophistic’s focus on homodoxia, some bishops steamed over how rivals
See esp. Fritz Graf, “Earthquakes and the gods: Reflections on Graeco-Roman responses to catastrophic events,” in Myths, Martyrs, and Modernity: Studies in Honour of Jan N. Bremmer, ed. Jitse Dijkstra, Justin Kroesen, and Yme Kuiper (Leiden: Brill, ), –.
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interpreted the creeds, not whether they signed off on them.) And a certain amount of “interfaith” violence, in the later Christian centuries, just got down to opportunity: the appropriation of (heretics’) basilicas, (pagans’) temples, and (Jews’) synagogues with impunity. If we want to see an unambiguous, socially expressed “parting” of pathways, it lies there. Scholars who study religion – and, more particularly, ancient Christianity – labor under a different legacy from this period. When we study “religion,” we easily think with the idea of “salvation.” And this predisposition, inherited from the birth of the study of “religions” in the post-Reformation Enlightenment, too easily obscures our view of the ways that ancient peoples related to their gods. “Salvation” in Mediterranean antiquity was a specialized concern. It focused particularly on postmortem afterlives: the ascent of the soul through the spheres, the return of the soul to the One, life eternal ad astra, and so on. As a goal to be achieved by certain disciplines and practices, “salvation” was the particular province of philosophers and of initiates of mystery cults. But soteriology does not even begin to exhaust the category ancient “religion,” if we map that term onto its ancient Mediterranean social and cultural topography. There, peoples inherited practices passed down from one generation to the next. “Ancestral custom” – τὰ πάτρια, παραδόσεις τῶν πατέρων, mos maiorum, fides patrum – coordinated relations between heaven and earth, between peoples and their gods, for Jews no less than for pagans. These patrimonies shaped how one lived. They were never primarily about what happened after one died. “Salvation” came to loom large in what we think of as “religion” – the modern construct – because it came to define the goal of Christianity, which, for the West, was the religion. Why? How? A short answer is, because of the freeze-frame of the New Testament. That anthology – definitively canonized only post-Constantine – captured forever a particularly mutagenic mood and moment of late Second Temple Judaism: “The Kingdom of God is at hand!” (Mark :; cf., e.g., Cor. : or :, or Rom. :–). Jewish “apocalyptic eschatology” was indeed energized by (variously conceived
For succinct overviews: Ramsay MacMullen, Christianity and Paganism in the Fourth through Eighth Centuries (New Haven: Yale University Press, ) for the pagan side; Ross Kraemer, The Mediterranean Diaspora in Late Antiquity: What Christianity Cost the Jews (New York: Oxford University Press, ), for the Jewish side.
ideas of ) impending redemption. But “apocalyptic eschatology” never defined ancient Jewishness. To make the same point differently: take “messiah” and “Kingdom” away from late Second Temple Judaism, and most of late Second Temple Judaism remains intact. Take “the ascent of the soul through the cosmos” away from Mediterranean “paganism(s),” and they too remain intact. And “intact” should certainly not be taken to mean “clearly separate.” “What Jews did” (let that substitute for the abstract “Judaism”), they did within the larger matrix of “what pagans did” – as, indeed, eventually, different sorts of Christians would also “do.” Ideologies of individuation, well preserved in our evidence because of their usability for – and weaponization by – the fourth-century imperial church, impose a seeming clarity. Real life, as we have seen, was lived with blurred distinctions.
Select Bibliography Alexander, Philip. “The rabbis and their rivals.” Pages – in Christianity in the Second Century. Edited by James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Balberg, Mira. Purity, Body, and Self in Early Rabbinic Literature (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Barclay, John. “‘Jews’ and ‘Christians’ in the eyes of Roman authors c. .” Pages – in Jews and Christians in the First and Second Centuries: How to Write Their History. Edited by Peter J. Tomson and Joshua Schwartz (CRINT ; Leiden: Brill, ). Paul and the Gift (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Barnes, T. D. Tertullian (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). “Tertullian’s Scorpiace,” Journal of Theological Studies (), –. BeDuhn, Jason. The Manichaean Body in Discipline and Ritual (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ). Ben Asher, Michal. Jewish–Christian Dialogues on Scripture in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Blumwell, Lincoln H. and Thomas A. Wayment (eds.) Christian Oxyrhyncus: Texts, Documents and Sources (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ).
On the distortions done to ancient Judaism by construing it, like Christianity, as a “religion of salvation,” Stanley K. Stowers, A Rereading of Romans (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), –; also Brent Nongbri, “The concept of religion and the study of the Apostle Paul,” Journal of the Jesus Movement in Its Jewish Setting (), –.
Jews and Christians in Pagan Antiquity Boer, Martinus C. de. “The Johannine community under attack in recent scholarship.” Pages – in The Ways That Often Parted: Essays in Honor of Joel Marcus. Edited by Lori Baron, Jill Hicks-Keeton, and Matthew Thiessen (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Boyarin Daniel. Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ). “Rethinking Jewish Christianity: An argument for dismantling a dubious category (to which is appended a correction of my Border Lines),” Jewish Quarterly Review (), –. Boys-Stones, George. Platonist Philosophy to : An Introduction and Collection of Sources in Translation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Brakke, David. “Valentinians and their demons: Fate, seduction, and deception in the quest for virtue.” Pages – in From Gnostics to Monastics. Edited by David Brakke, Stephen J. Davis, and Stephen Emmel (Leuven: Peeters, ). Brown, Peter. “Christianization and religious conflict.” Pages – in The Late Empire, .. –. Edited by Averil Cameron and Peter Garnsey (CAH ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). “The diffusion of Manichaeism in the Roman empire,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. Burns, Joshua Ezra. The Christian Schism in Jewish History and Jewish Memory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Castelli, Elizabeth. Martyrdom and Memory: Early Christian Culture Making (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Cirafesi, Wally. “Jewish Christ-followers in Capernaum before the th century? Reconsidering the text and archaeology.” Pages – in Negotiating Identities: Conflict, Conversion, and Consolidation in Early Judaism and Christianity ( – ). Edited by Karin Hedner Zetterholm, Anders Runesson, Cecilia Wassén, and Magnus Zetterholm (Coniectanea Biblica; Washington, DC: Rowman and Littlefield, ). Clark, Graeme. “Third-century Christianity.” Pages – in The Crisis of Empire, .. –. Edited by Alan Bowman, Averil Cameron, and Peter Garnsey (CAH ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Cobb, L. Stephanie. Dying to Be Men: Gender and Language in Early Christian Martyr Texts (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Digeser, Elizabeth DePalma. A Threat to Public Piety: Christians, Platonists, and the Great Persecution (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ). Dillon, John. The Middle Platonists (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ). Donaldson, Terence L. Gentile Christian Identity, from Cornelius to Constantine (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Drake, H. A. Constantine and the Bishops (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ). Dulk, Matthijs den. Between Jews and Heretics: Refiguring Justin Martyr’s Dialogue with Trypho (London: Routledge, ). “‘One would not consider them Jews’: Reassessing Jewish and Christian ‘heresy,’” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –.
Eshleman, Kendra. The Social World of Intellectuals in the Roman Empire: Sophists, Philosophers and Christians (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Feldman, Louis H. Jew and Gentile in the Ancient World (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Flower, Richard. Emperors and Bishops in Late Roman Invective (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Fonrobert, Charlotte. “The Didascalia Apostolorum: A Mishnah for the disciples of Jesus,” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. Fredriksen, Paula. Augustine and the Jews: A Christian Defense of Jews and Judaism (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). “How Jewish is God? Divine ethnicity in Paul’s theology,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –. Paul: The Pagans’ Apostle (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). “What ‘parting of the ways’?” Pages – in The Ways That Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages. Edited by Adam H. Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Frend, W. H. C. Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church (Oxford: Blackwell, ). Gaddis, Michael. There Is No Crime for Those Who Have Christ: Religious Violence in the Christian Roman Empire (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Gardner, Iain and Samuel N. C. Lieu (eds.) Manichaean Texts from the Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Graf, Fritz. “Earthquakes and the gods: Reflections on Graeco-Roman responses to catastrophic events,” Pages – in Myths, Martyrs, and Modernity: Studies in Honour of Jan N. Bremmer. Edited by Jitse Dijkstra, Justin Kroesen, and Yme Kuiper (Leiden: Brill, ). Häkkinen, Sakari. “Ebionites.” Pages – in A Companion to Second-Century Christian “Heretics.” Edited by Antti Marjanen and Petri Luomanen (Leiden: Brill, ). Hare, Douglas. The Theme of Jewish Persecution of Christians in the Gospel of Matthew (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Harnack, Adolf von. The Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries, vols. (London: Norgate, –). Horbury, William. “Tertullian on the Jews,” Journal of Theological Studies (), –. Humfress, Caroline. “Ordering divine knowledge in later Roman discourse.” Pages – in Emperors and the Divine: Rome and Its Influence. Edited by M. Kahlos (Helsinki: Collegium, ). Orthodoxy and the Courts in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Irshai, Oded and Paula Fredriksen. “Anti-Christian persecutions: Reframing the paradigm.” Pages – in Festschrift for Israel Yuval (Jerusalem: Carmel Press, ). Isaac, Benjamin. The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Jacobs, Andrew. Epiphanius of Cyprus: A Cultural Biography of Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Klijn, A. F. J. and G. J. Reinink. Patristic Evidence for Jewish-Christian Sects (Leiden: Brill, ).
Jews and Christians in Pagan Antiquity Kraemer, Ross. The Mediterranean Diaspora in Late Antiquity: What Christianity Cost the Jews (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Lampe, Peter. From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries. Translated by Michael Steinhauser (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Lane Fox, Robin. Pagans and Christians (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, ). Lapidge, Michael. The Roman Martyrs (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Law, Timothy M. When God Spoke Greek: The Septuagint and the Making of the Christian Bible (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Liebeschuetz, J. H. W. G. Continuity and Change in Roman Religion (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Lietzmann, Hans. The Early Church, vols. (London: Lutterworth, ). Lieu, Judith. Neither Jew nor Greek? Constructing Early Christianity (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ). Linder, Amnon. The Jews in Roman Imperial Legislation (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, ). Luijendijk, AnneMarie. “Papyri from the Great Persecution: Roman and Christian perspectives,” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. MacMullen, Ramsay. Christianity and Paganism in the Fourth Through Eighth Centuries (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Marek, Christian. In the Land of a Thousand Gods (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Martyn, J. Louis. History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel, rd ed. (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ). Millar, Fergus. “Paul of Samosata, Zenobia and Aurelian: The church, local culture and political allegiance in third-century Syria,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. Moss, Candida R. Ancient Christian Martyrdom (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Nasrallah, Laura. “Lot oracles and fate: On early Christianity among Others in the second century.” Pages – in Christians in the Second Century: Themes and Developments. Edited by James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Nirenberg, David. Anti-Judaism: The Western Tradition (New York: W. W. Norton, ). Nongbri, Brent. “The concept of religion and the study of the Apostle Paul,” Journal of the Jesus Movement in Its Jewish Setting (), –. Novenson, Matthew V. The End of the Law and the Last Man: Paul between Judaism and Christianity (New York: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). Parkes, James. The Conflict of the Church and the Synagogue: A Study in the Origins of Antisemitism (London: Soncino, [repr. Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, ]). Pervo, Richard I. Acts of the Apostles (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Rajak, Tessa. “The Mediterranean Jewish diaspora in the second century.” Pages – in Christianity in the Second Century. Edited by James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Rebillard, Éric. Christians and Their Many Identities in Late Antiquity (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ).
The Early Martyr Narratives: Neither Authentic Accounts nor Forgeries (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ). Reed, Annette Yoshiko. “‘Jewish-Christian’ apocrypha and the history of Jewish/Christian relations.” Pages – in Rediscovering the Apocryphal Continent: New Perspectives on Early Christian and Late Antique Apocryphal Texts and Traditions. Edited by Pierluigi Piovanelli and Tony Burke (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “‘Jewish Christianity’ after the ‘parting of the ways’: Approaches to historiography and self-definition in the Pseudo-Clementines.” Pages – in The Ways That Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages. Edited by Adam H. Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Rives, James B. “Christian expansion and Christian ideology.” Pages – in The Spread of Christianity in the First Four Centuries: Essays in Explanation. Edited by William V. Harris (Leiden: Brill, ). “The decree of Decius and the religion of the empire,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. Rutgers, Leonard. Jews in Late Ancient Rome: Evidence of Cultural Interaction in the Roman Diaspora (Leiden: Brill, ). Şahin, Derya. “The zodiac in ancient mosaics,” Journal of Mosaic Research (), –. Shäfer, Peter. Judeophobia: Attitudes toward Jews in the Ancient World (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Shaw, Brent. Sacred Violence: African Christians and Sectarian Hatred in the Age of Augustine (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Simon, Marcel. Verus Israel: A Study of the Relations between Christians and Jews in the Roman Empire, –. Translated by H. McKeating (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Orig. Verus Israël: Études sur les relations entre Chrétiens et Juifs dans l’empire romain (–) (Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome ; Paris: Éditions de Boccard, ). Smith, Geoffrey S. Guilt by Association: Heresy Catalogues in Early Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Ste. Croix, Geoffrey E. M. de. “Heresy, schism and persecution in the later Roman empire.” Pages – in Christian Persecution, Martyrdom and Orthodoxy. Edited by Michael Whitby and Joseph Streeter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Why were the early Christians persecuted?” Past and Present (), –. Stern, Menachem. Greek and Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism, vols. (Jerusalem: Dorot Press, –). Stowers, Stanley K. “The religion of plant and animal offerings versus the religion of meanings, essences and textual mysteries.” Pages – in Ancient Mediterranean Sacrifice. Edited by Jennifer W. Knust and Zsuzsanna Várhelyi (New York: Oxford University Press, ). A Rereading of Romans (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Tardieu, Michel. “Les principes de l’exégèse manichéenne du Nouveau Testament.” Pages – in Les règles de l’interprétation. Edited by Michel Tardieu (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, ).
Jews and Christians in Pagan Antiquity Townsend, Philippa. “Who were the first Christians? Jews, Gentiles, and the Christianoi.” Pages – in Heresy and Identity in Late Antiquity. Edited by Eduard Iricinschi and Holger M. Zellentin (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Weiss, Zeev. Public Spectacles in Roman and Late Antique Palestine (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Wright, N. T. Paul and the Faithfulness of God, vols. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Zetterholm, Karin H. “Christ assemblies within a Jewish context: Reconstructing a social setting for the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies.” Pages – in Negotiating Identities: Conflict, Conversion, and Consolidation in Early Judaism and Christianity ( – ). Edited by Karin Hedner Zetterholm, Anders Runesson, Cecilia Wassén, and Magnus Zetterholm (Coniectanea Biblica; Washington, DC: Rowman and Littlefield, ).
The Marcionite Option .
Introduction: Marcion, the Tradition From the point when Justin Martyr first introduced Marcion (his more-or-less contemporary), as “even now teaching those who are persuaded to acknowledge another God greater than the creator (demiurge)” and causing “many to utter blasphemies” ( Apol. ., .–; cf. Dial. .–), Marcion has been given the role of arch-heretic and even archetypical heretic. Yet, perhaps more than most of his peers in the catalogues of heresies that so preoccupied early Christian writers, he has not just maintained an enduring fascination but among some modern interpreters has enjoyed considerable rehabilitation by symbolizing alternative accounts of early Christianity or the path it might have taken. Although the earliest polemical accounts provide little more biographical information about him than they do about most of those peers, his individual persona was not swallowed up by the system associated with him, but retained its renown as it was augmented in the developing tradition, swiftly becoming part of the received “knowledge” of who he was; from his (probably reliable) origins in Pontus and subsequent presence in Rome as reported by Justin, in the tradition that ensued Marcion becomes a shipmaster or -owner, specifically identified with Sinope, responsible for the seduction of a virgin, even son of a bishop, excluded from the church either at home by his father or/and from the church in Rome, perhaps following disappointment at failing to achieve some sort of status there. Most of this is a combination of widespread heresiological stereotypes and of vivid imagination, but in whole or in part it has too often been simply repeated even by more recent interpreters. This is no doubt largely due to the desire to
A fundamental contribution to understanding heresiological argument was Alain Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie dans la literature grecque IIe–IIIe siècles, vols. (Paris: Études
The Marcionite Option
answer the questions provoked whenever “an author” is supposedly identified – why did they take the precise theological steps and develop the particular theological system with which they were credited? Thus, for his most influential interpreter of the twentieth century, Adolf von Harnack, Marcion was the “only Gentile Christian who understood Paul, and even he misunderstood him.” Harnack’s own account of Marcion’s system prioritized the antithesis of “law” and “grace,” providing his description of him as “a genuine Reformer.” According to Harnack, Marcion was inspired by the properly Pauline recognition of the overwhelming grace of God that consigned to the past sin and the world together with command and law. Further, it was Marcion’s supposed attack on the “Old Testament” that provoked the second-century church to hold onto it, a decision that was then appropriate but which by Harnack’s nineteenth century was an act of paralysis. As will be seen, in recent years, judging by the main choices of the sudden burgeoning list of publications, Marcion has in particular become the figurehead for alternative reconstructions of the sources of the New Testament; in a period where “other gospels” have become major subjects of interest, here attention has focused in particular on his version of the Euangelion or “the Gospel” and of the Pauline corpus or Apostolikon. Harnack had indeed paid augustiniennes, ; ET: The Notion of Heresy in Greek Literature in the Second and Third Centuries, ed. David Lincicum and Nicholas Moore, trans. A. K. M. Adam, Monique Cuany, Nicholas Moore, and Warren Campbell, with Jordan Wood [Oxford: Oxford University Press, ]); for a more recent analysis see Geoffrey S. Smith, Guilt by Association: Heresy Catalogues in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Adolf von Harnack, History of Dogma, vol. , trans. from the rd German ed. (London: Williams and Norgate, ), . Adolf von Harnack, Marcion. Das Evangelium vom Fremden Gott: Eine Monographie zur Geschichte der Grundlegung der katholischen Kirche, nd corrected ed. printed with Neue Studien zu Marcion (TU ; Leipzig: Henrichs, ), [= Marcion]; see also his prizewinning student essay, Harnack, Marcion: Der moderne Glaübige des . Jahrhunderts, der erste Reformator. Die Dorpater Preisschrift (), ed. Friedemann Steck (TU ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ) [= Moderne Glaübige]. Harnack, Marcion, . Harnack, Marcion, –. Kenji Tsutsui, “Das Evangelium Marcions: Ein neuer Versuch der Textrekonstruktion,” Annual of the Japanese Biblical Institute (), –; Jason BeDuhn, The First New Testament: Marcion’s Scriptural Canon (Salem, OR: Polebridge, ); Matthias Klinghardt, Das älteste Evangelium und die Entstehung der kanonischen Evangelien, vols. (TANZ .–; Tübingen: Francke, ); Dieter T. Roth, The Text of Marcion’s Gospel (NTTSD ; Leiden: Brill, ); Markus Vinzent, Marcion and the Dating of the Synoptic Gospels (Studia Patristica Suppl. ; Leuven: Peeters, ); Ulrich Schmid, Marcion und sein Apostolos: Rekonstruktion und historische Einordnung der marcionitischen Paulusbriefausgabe (AZNT ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum . () is dedicated to the theme “Marcion and
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much attention to this, attempting a reconstruction that has served as a model and a source for many successors, but that played a secondary role in his overall assessment; these recent accounts have attempted a more methodologically rigorous approach often as an end in itself. On the other hand, the consequences of the early Christian retention of the “Old Testament,” at least in part in reaction against Marcion, and the strategies through which this was done, have been examined through the lens of the post-Shoah examination of the origins and rhetorical purposes of Christian anti-Judaism, with the result that Marcion has been presented as the ultimate culprit for a tendency that otherwise has been seen as deeply implicated in the formation of Christian identity. These few examples, by no means a comprehensive account of a century or more of scholarship, serve to illustrate how far accounts of Marcion are as much symptomatic of as they are contributory toward any particular identification of core features in the reconstruction of early Christianity. Arguably this has always been the case, just as it was already the case in the various early sources that provide the foundation for subsequent accounts, although the primary evidence has not substantially changed, nor has it been augmented by any new discoveries, despite the diverse kaleidoscopic images generated. It is important to recognize the character of those sources. After the first references by Justin, Marcion features chiefly within the major heresiological accounts of the late second and third centuries: Irenaeus, Against Heresies; Tertullian, Prescription of Heretics, as well as his dedicated work Against Marcion, together with substantial references in his works on the incarnation and on the resurrection (Concerning the Flesh of Christ, Concerning the
his Gospel” (ed. Uta Heil), with essays by several of the main participants in the debate (pp. –). Harnack, Marcion, *–*; in line with his estimation of Marcion, Harnack treats the Apostolikon first. See David P. Efroymson, “The patristic connection,” in Antisemitism and the Foundations of Christianity, ed. Alan Davies (New York: Paulist Press, ), –, and below at n. ; for some this begins already with Marcion as the real opponent behind Justin’s Dialogue with Trypho; e.g., Matthijs den Dulk, Between Jews and Heretics: Refiguring Justin Martyr’s Dialogue with Trypho (London: Routledge, ). A major contributor to recent study of Marcion was Gerhard May: see Gerhard May: Markion. Gesammelte Aufsätze, ed. Katharina Greschat and Martin Meiser (Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Europäische Geschichte Mainz ; Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, ); see also Judith M. Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ) and other works in the bibliography.
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Resurrection); Ps.-Hippolytus, Refutation of All Heresies. He continues through the third and into the fourth century in three works that bear some relationship with each other, Ps.-Tertullian, Against All Heresies; Philastrius, Concerning Heresies; and Epiphanius, Medicine Chest (Panarion); the tradition that was by then well established is further continued in later works such as Theodoret of Cyr, Compendium. Marcion also features as an opponent in works of more systematic thought, such as Clement of Alexandria’s Stromata, and Origen’s On First Principles, as well as serving as a standard dangerous counterexample in numerous exegetical works from Origen onward. Although there is much that is formulaic even in earlier texts, there continues to be some degree of immediacy at least into the fourth-century ones, for example in the distinctive Dialogue of Adamantius, which includes among the protagonists two champions of Marcion, Megethius and Marcus, as well as two followers of Valentinus and one of Bardaisan. The presence of Bardaisan, who came from Edessa, points to the importance of the East and the Syriac tradition for Marcionite polemics; Ephrem associates Marcion with the more immediate Bardaisan and Mani in his Prose Refutations, and the Marcionites feature prominently in his Hymns against Heresies; beyond Ephrem antiMarcionite polemics can be traced in Armenian texts and later into Arabic and beyond. All this cannot simply be ascribed to the persistence of the rhetorically effective bogeyman, although that cannot be ignored. In the late fourth century Ephrem’s writings indicate that followers of Marcion still constituted a realistic threat in Edessa and Nisibis, while Epiphanius claims to have met with individual Marcionites as well as being aware of their wide dissemination (Pan. ..). Even in the fifth century, Theodoret asserts that he has converted whole villages of followers of Marcion, a claim that is undoubtedly designed to buttress his own suspect orthodoxy but that cannot be dismissed entirely (Epist. ). Confirming this, also from the fourth century, a door jamb from the village of Lebaba bears the intriguing inscription, “Synagogue of the Marcionites of the village of Lebaba of the Lord and Savior Jesus Chrestos by the foresight of Paul the elder, year ” (OGIS ). Unfortunately, such material evidence is unparalleled, as too is its apparent self-naming: It is a common trope of heresiological polemic, and, in a different direction, of contemporary exploration of early Christian diversity,
For detailed analysis see Lieu, Marcion, –.
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that all such groups, insofar as they adopted any self-identifying label, claimed that of “Christians”; it was their opponents who denounced them as nothing more than followers of their benighted “founders” (as already in Justin, Dial. ). What sort of distinct organization lies behind the Lebaba inscription, how “the synagogue” related to other groups who claimed allegiance to “the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ,” and how widely, or with how much variation, such a pattern was replicated elsewhere remain a mystery. Despite what may appear to be an abundance of information about Marcion and his later followers, there is considerable uncertainty about the major impulses for his system, and about the overall coherence of its main contours. Polemical accounts are not designed to inform or to debate but to stereotype, to denigrate, and to belittle, at the same time as representing their target as an insidious and lethal danger. Yet despite the monotonous repetition this involves, each author also adopts the lens of his (sic) own concerns. Justin’s lapidary complaint that Marcion denigrates the Creator/ Maker in favor of another, greater God matches his own attempt to hold together the Platonic “Father and Creator of all” (Plato, Tim. C; cf. Justin, Apol. .–), while also finding the preexistent Christ present in the timeand space-bound theophanies of Scripture (e.g., Apol. ). Irenaeus’s more rounded account mirrors Irenaeus’s own salvation-historical exploration of the rule of faith and his urgent desire for divine and ecclesial unity (Haer. .; cf. ..) – moving from Marcion’s blasphemy against the “one announced as God by the law and prophets” (only then identified as “creator of the world”), to his (docetic) Christology, his soteriology (“impossible for the body”), and his unbalanced reliance on a single, mangled, Gospel and on a single apostle, Paul. Tertullian’s author of the “Antitheses,” opposing Law and Gospel and failing to recognize the necessity of just judgment, is a sounding board (perhaps too close for comfort) for his puppet master’s preoccupations, as well as proving particularly alluring for subsequent readers in thrall to Reformation dialectics – and so one might continue with each polemicist in their context. Indeed, Marcion’s longevity might in part be
See Winrich Löhr, “Problems of profiling Marcion,” in Christian Teachers in Second-Century Rome: Schools and Students in the Ancient City, ed. H. Gregory Snyder (VC Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ), –, who concludes that the present state of research is stuck in the impasse of the seeming disconnection between Marcion the scriptural editor and Marcion the secondcentury teacher of a theological dualism.
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due to his malleability, as much to the answers he did not give or the principles that he did not lay down as to those that he did.
Marcionism: A Profile Even if Marcion’s early detractors readily betray their own partisanship, it may still become possible to discern some of the features of the specter who gave rise to them. This does not mean creating a composite account out of all such features, or itemizing the minimal shared elements, but attempting to identify the contours and the questions that offer a plausible profile of basic concerns and principles. This exercise produces three features or coordinates for mapping Marcion, with scholarly debate focusing on which feature marks the starting point for his system, and how they all might be related to each other.
The Father and the Creator The first of these, at least following Justin and Irenaeus, concerns Marcion’s view of God and the interplay between philosophical definition and scriptural heritage in forming or defending it. All sources agree that Marcion distinguished between () the greater God or “Father” who was revealed exclusively through his son, and () the creator God or demiurge, recognizable from the Jewish Scriptures in some part. The distinction can be expressed through a number of oppositions, several of which would have been familiar to philosophical disputants of his time; thus, the Father is defined preeminently as good, as unknown, as “the stranger” (in Ephrem), and spatially configured as residing in a higher heaven. The Creator, or demiurge, garners a wider range of epithets, envious, judgmental, subject to change, ignorant, petty, the source of evil; some of these have similar philosophical precedents, but for Marcion apparently they were substantiated by proof texts garnered from a surprising range of exclusively scriptural narratives: God’s ignorance as to the whereabouts of Adam; God’s regret at the creation of humankind; God’s self-contradiction in mandating the sevenfold, sabbath-breaking, circumambulation of Jericho, or in instructing the Hebrews when fleeing Egypt to thieve the gold and silver of their masters; God’s hubristic claim that there “is no other”; God’s injunction of the killing of the enemies of Israel; the unwarranted killing of the children who mocked God’s prophet Elisha; and,
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perhaps most troublesome, God’s responsibility for natural disaster and for the failure to make humankind incapable of the sin and evil for which he judgmentally condemned them to punishment – the age-old problem of theodicy. Already this aspect of Marcion’s theology poses a number of questions: Is it driven by the Platonic principles and definitions of the divine as not subject to change or emotion, or by a reading of the scriptural narratives (in particular of the more anthropomorphic elements) that refused to adopt the sort of interpretive allegorizing strategies commonly applied to the “myths” of Homer and the Greek gods? Both answers would fit into the intellectual debates of the period, and their combination has some parallel in other writers such as Philo or Justin, even if neither reached the radical solution offered by Marcion. It is also uncertain whether Marcion actively presented the Creator as evil, in effect advocating a dualist theology (as claimed by Hippolytus, Haer. .–), or more ambivalently as responsible for evil (Irenaeus, Haer. ..). Similarly, Tertullian’s opposition of justice versus forgiveness may misrepresent one between unreasoned and wilful judgmentalism over against unprejudiced kindness. Again, other contemporary Christian writers wrestled with these precise distinctions, and it is not always evident whether they are doing so independently or, as is probably too often assumed, in reaction to Marcion. It is here, too, that Marcion’s relationship with “Gnosticism” has been explored, and indeed may contribute to the dismantling of that category. Undoubtedly, Marcion’s system is “demiurgical,” but there is no evidence that he had any interest in the
That he was driven by philosophical questions is argued by E. P. Meijering, Tertullian contra Marcion: Gotteslehre in der Polemik Adversus Marcionem I–II (Philosophia Patrum ; Leiden: Brill, ), –. See Winrich Löhr, “Did Marcion distinguish between a just God and a good God?” in Marcion und seine kirchengeschichtliche Wirkung/Marcion and his Impact on Church History: Vorträge der internationaler Fachkonferenz zu Marcion gehalten vom .–. August in Mainz, ed. Gerhard May and Katharina Greschat, with Martin Meiser (TU ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –; Sebastian Moll, The Arch-Heretic Marcion (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –, identifies Marcion’s God as “the evil God.” See Lieu, Marcion, –. See Barbara Aland, “Marcion: Versuch einer neuen Interpretation,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche (), –, repr. in Was ist Gnosis? Studien zum frühen Christentum, zum Marcion und zu kaiserzeitlichen Philosophie (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –; “Marcion und die Marcioniten,” in Theologische Realenzyklopädie, vols. (Berlin: De Gruyter, –), :–, repr. in Was ist Gnosis?, –. Thus, he is included in the category “biblical demiurgical” championed by Michael A. Williams, Rethinking “Gnosticism”: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ), –.
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origins of the demiurge or in any detailed cosmogonic account of primal disaster; elements of such a myth may have been adopted only in later elaborations of his system, as reported by Eznik of Kolb (De Deo ), and perhaps by then reflect the influence of Manichaeism. This lack of interest in such questions resists further probing, and it offers no grounds for determining whether or not his system was ultimately monist or resolutely dualist.
Scriptures and Gospel The second coordinate for mapping Marcion is what may be generally termed his scriptural focus, to the extent that some have judged him as preeminently a biblical interpreter. One aspect of this is his reading of the scriptures (as noted above). The popular representation of Marcion as “rejecting the Old Testament” lacks the nuance necessary to identify his position. Although it is not possible to determine precisely with which scriptural writings Marcion was familiar, they included narratives from Torah and the Prophets, and probably also at least the Psalms; there is nothing to suggest that he was familiar with other Jewish writings – in contrast, for example, to the importance of Enochic and related literature for some thinkers of the period. Clearly, he took those to which he did appeal as an authoritative and reliable account of the character of the Creator, and, to the extent that as “the God of this age” the Creator continued to have an active negative role in story of Jesus and of the church, it would have been difficult for Marcion or his followers to dismiss the scriptures entirely or to expunge them from all memory. At the very least they served an apologetic and missional purpose, establishing the nature of the human predicament as well as the framework within which discipleship was exercised in the present by believers. For the same reason, however, it is unlikely that Marcion spoke of, still less that he coined the term, “the Old Testament,” a label that otherwise emerges toward the end of the second century (cf. Melito of Sardis
See also Dieter T. Roth, “Prophets, priests, and kings: Old Testament figures in Marcion’s Gospel and Luke,” in Connecting Gospels: Beyond the Canonical/Non-Canonical Divide, ed. Francis Watson and Sarah Parkhouse (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –, who shows that Marcion’s Gospel could include references to “Old Testament” figures not out of oversight, as his critics claimed, but because if “properly” interpreted they could serve his purpose.
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in Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..–); such language would imply a degree of symmetry, albeit unequal, between the “Testaments” that is absent from his system. Yet this chapter, in using the term “scriptures,” has adopted the language of the subsequent church and contemporary interpreters; how Marcion would have described them is unknown. Equally uncertain is whether he thought of them as specifically “Jewish scriptures.” Tertullian did represent Marcion as “an ally of the Jews,” largely because he supposedly denied the application of messianic prophecies to Jesus, but this may be as much a projection by Tertullian or a later development in response to counterappeals to them (Marc. .–). On the other hand, some recent interpreters have understood him as implicitly anti-Jewish in that he denounced the Jews’ allegiance to the Creator and denied them a place in salvation, or perhaps abandoned them to the kingdom of the Creator and his Messiah. However, there is no certain evidence that Marcion himself was as preoccupied with the position of the Jews in God’s purposes as were some of his contemporaries. What united him with “the Jews” lay within the minds and anxieties of those for whom the proof from prophecy and the claim to antiquity were nonnegotiable aspects of Christian apologetic and theology. However, it may well have been as a consequence of this that there developed “a Christian interpretive strategy that supported virulent and frequently disastrous forms of anti-Judaism.” However, the formation of and concentration on a distinctive textual corpus, even if not in deliberate contrast to the existing “scriptures,” is the second and perhaps more creative dimension of Marcion’s scripturality. Although Justin is silent about Marcion’s novel textual authorities, most probably because he himself had no fixed view of such, Irenaeus’s claim that “he mutilates the Gospel according to Luke . . . similarly he cut away at the
That Marcion coined the parallel terms “Old” and “New Testament” is suggested by Wolfram Kinzig, “Καινὴ διαθήκη: The title of the New Testament in the second and third centuries,” Journal of Theological Studies (), –. See further Judith M. Lieu, “Marcion, the writings of Israel and the origins of the ‘New Testament,’” in Authoritative Writings in Early Judaism and Early Christianity: Their Origin, Collection and Meaning, ed. Tobias Niklas and Jens Schröter (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. See Stephen G. Wilson, Related Strangers: Jews and Christians – .. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –, who argues that Marcion and his opponents equally denigrated Judaism, although the former, in leaving “Judaism intact . . . for the Jews,” might seem to be “the lesser of two evils” (p. ). Joseph B. Tyson, Marcion and Luke-Acts: A Defining Struggle (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, ), .
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letters of Paul” (Haer. ..) receives not just regular repetition but detailed investigation and illustration in later writers. Tertullian devoted Books and of his Against Marcion to Marcion’s treatment of his Gospel and Apostolikon respectively, possibly only after gaining direct access to these in the process of completing the earlier books. Tertullian’s account is a mix of occasional quotation, paraphrase, commentary, comparison, and protest, working in and from Latin translations that may or may not be his own work; more than a century and a half later Epiphanius reproduced collations he had previously made of comparison between Marcion’s versions and the New Testament text as he knew both, and of commentary on what he viewed as inconsistencies between principle and practice (Pan. .–). Based on these unbalanced and tendentious accounts, with the support of occasional further snippets drawn more indirectly from other sources, any reconstruction of Marcion’s text can claim degrees of plausibility only; even then the exercise demands some prior principles of selection and judgment, as well as some theory of its relationship with other known textual traditions. As already noted, this has not prevented a flurry of attempts to reproduce “Marcion’s New Testament,” with particular interest being directed to “his Gospel”; much of the inspiration for this has been not so much an interest in Marcion himself as a suspicion (probably reasonable) of the heresiological consensus that he deliberately edited or “corrupted” the Gospel according to Luke, while failing to do so systematically. Although some relationship with canonical Luke seems inescapable, undermining or reversing the simple conventional one of derivation necessarily also undermines the dominant hypothesis of the twentieth century that the interrelationship between the three Synoptic Gospels can be explained entirely in terms internal to themselves (with or without “Q”). Recent discussion has moved between the more unequivocal position that it was canonical Luke that through redaction and supplementation was designed to oppose Marcion and his Gospel, and a mediating one that would reposition (the reconstructed) Marcion’s Gospel as lying on a parallel trajectory to canonical Luke. Either of these solutions
Also relevant but less so than these two is the Dialogue of Adamantius. On the sources and the problems of using them see the works cited in n. , and Lieu, Marcion, –. So in particular Klinghardt, Älteste Evangelium, who locates Marcion at an initial stage rather than final one in the Synoptic solution; also Vinzent, Marcion. For an assessment summarizing the discussion prior to the works in n. , see Tyson, Marcion and Luke-Acts, –, who decides that the anti-Marcionite author of canonical Luke (and Acts) was working with a “pre-Marcionite Gospel” (pp. –).
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can play into two different recent scholarly narratives about early Christian textual traditions and activity in the second century. On the one hand, they lend themselves to models of persistent textual pluriformity and instability, at least into the second century; on the other they can support a model where the formation of the canonical Gospels comes at the end of, and puts an ecclesially authorized end to, any such state of affairs. Marcion’s collection of Paul’s letters carries less ideological freight, although here any reconstruction does not have to contend with the added complications created by inter-Synoptic relationships, so that the working principles are more easily recognized and applied. Yet here too Marcion emerges not as an idiosyncratic manipulator of an otherwise unitary text but as positioned amongst the clustering of textual types that can be traced back from a later period, perhaps closer to some elements in what was once called the Western text. Even so, important questions remain unanswered: Did he, as opponents claimed, adjust the order of the Pauline Epistles so as to position Galatians (undoubtedly of primary importance in his understanding of Paul) at the front, or was this the form in which he received some or all the Pauline letters known to him – which by common agreement did not include the Pastorals? Indeed, is he the first evidence for, and even a prime agent in, a Pauline corpus, not only collected together but also interpreted together? Repeated investigations have demonstrated that many, if not most, of the textual peculiarities ascribed to Marcion cannot be demonstrated to be tendentiously determined by his own theological proclivities but are to be understood in terms of the history of the text; even so, it is probably going too far to deny him any active role in editing the Pauline letters or the Gospel to which he appealed. As shall be seen, it does seem persuasive that he believed that “the Gospel” concerning the savior and as preached by Paul had indeed been distorted – as the latter claimed (Gal. :–) – and that this was
This is implicit in Klinghardt’s position that canonical Luke comes at the end of a process of textual variation and earlier Gospel traditions that belong to the pre-New Testament stage; see his summary in Matthias Klinghardt, Jason BeDuhn, and Judith M. Lieu, “Quaestiones disputatae,” New Testament Studies (), –, at –. In practice it was Schmid, Marcion, who established the methods used by Roth, Text, and to some extent by others listed in n. in relation to the Gospel. So Schmid, Marcion, –. Schmid, Marcion, –, argues for the existence of a pre-Marcionite edition of the “Corpus Paulinum,” which did have Galatians at its head, but keeps open the possibility of different concurrent Pauline editions; see also Lieu, Marcion, –, esp. –.
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in some way evident in the proclamation and the textual productions within the contemporary church. His response therefore was a “philological” one, but alongside textual clarification it must also have required some element of commentary, for example interpreting where references to the demiurge were to be identified, although nothing remains to illustrate whether such commentary was embedded within the texts or offered in tandem with them. Yet within the broader intellectual world of the time, Marcion would not have been alone in such an approach to inherited classical texts, or in responding with both commentary and textual “correction,” addressing manuscriptal inconsistency or more actively helping the authorities of the past to say what they surely intended to. Even so, it is striking that Marcion, unlike some of his contemporaries, claimed no other sources nor any private revelation for his knowledge of the truth of the Gospel; neither did he produce any other authoritative accounts or versions (his “Antitheses” will be discussed below). All this makes it evident that within the context of the mid-second century Marcion was not redacting texts that already had a fixed authority, still less a canonical status; it was not that he rejected the other Gospels but that he was unaware of them. Likewise, it would be wrong to see him as introducing his own “canon,” although undoubtedly there was a reciprocally reinforcing relationship between his foundational principles and the authoritative tradition of the Gospel and Paul’s own preaching of it, in a form that was both nonnegotiable and written. Hence, there is no reason to suppose that he coined the label “New Testament” for his own corpus, a supposition that owes much again to Tertullian and to his use of the language of documentum and instrumentum, which characteristically shifts between “covenant,” “ordinance,” and written document (“two gods, one of each instrumentum or, as is more commonly said, testamentum,” Marc. ..). Yet it is probably equally simplistic to conclude that the “catholic” New Testament, with four Gospels
This is the term used by Christoph Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions in the Early Roman Empire: Prolegomena to a History of Early Christian Theology, trans. Wayne Coppins (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck/Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ), –, although with a somewhat wider field of meaning than in much English usage. See Winrich Löhr, “Editors and commentators: Some observations on the craft of second century theologians,” in Pascha Nostrum Christus: Essays in Honour of Raniero Cantalamessa, ed. Pier Franco Beatrice and Bernard Pouderon (Paris: Beauchesne, ), –. So also Enrico Norelli, Markion und der Biblische Kanon, published with Averil Cameron, Christian Literature and Christian History (Hans-Lietzmann Vorlesungen /; Berlin: De Gruyter, ).
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representing different apostolic voices and with those same apostolic voices embedded in a parallel epistolary corpus, was formulated specifically against Marcion. Rather, Marcion’s own activity and the response of others to it belonged within and also contributed to an ongoing debate within early Christianity, where so much turned on textual discourse, both as to the status of texts and as to the significance of particular verbal choices within them. One result of such debates may have been an increasing appeal to strategies of authority and legitimation amongst and held by received written texts, and certainly Marcion played a retrospective role in such appeals.
Salvation and the Life of the Redeemed The third coordinate for mapping Marcion is his account of the message and character of the savior and of the life of those who responded to and were redeemed by him. The savior Christ is exclusively the one sent by the Father, and so is the sole means of knowing the latter while also being the true representative of his character; furthermore, he is also made known exclusively through the Gospel and its proclamation by Paul. This exclusivity is marked by the thorough independence of Christ from any structure that might be associated with the Creator God; herein lies the absolute newness (a theme that was already part of wider Christian discourse; cf. Luke :–) of the revelation he brought. Marcion’s Gospel began with Jesus’s descent (to Capernaum) in the fifteenth year of the emperor Tiberius (cf. Luke : + :), without any anticipation or birth – it lacked any form of infancy narratives. Partly on the basis of the latter “omission,” Marcion’s accusers regularly accuse him of denying the flesh of the redeemer, and they then gloat over occasions in the Gospel narrative he “retained” which demand some bodily activity or contact. However, they were attempting to interpret his understanding of the person of the Savior in terms determined by more widespread current contests over its “reality” or “in-flesh-ness,” and to describe his own actual Christology as “docetic” is evidently too simplistic, despite Ps.-Hippolytus’s language of “appearance” (Haer. ..). Tertullian
It is only with considerable hindsight that these other writings of what would be the New Testament (including Acts; see n. ) can be seen as part of an anti-Marcionite reaction. Within Justin Martyr’s Dialogue this debate had already focused on the wording of the Septuagint over against the Jews. See also Markschies, Christian Theology, –. See David Wilhite, “Was Marcion a docetist? The body of evidence vs. Tertullian’s argument,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –.
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complains that for Marcion Jesus was “flesh and not flesh, man and not man,” and he questions how Marcion could affirm his death while denying his flesh (Marc. ..–, .). Marcion’s account of Jesus’s resurrection appearance to his disciples (cf. Luke :–) perplexed both Tertullian and Epiphanius, and it remains obscure whether the risen Jesus is indeed understood to be a phantasma, and what sort of substantiality that entailed. It does, however, seem likely that for Marcion Jesus, both before and after the resurrection, was possessed of an appropriate form of bodily-ness, one not defined by its production through the normal process of procreation and “becoming.” In this he may have found some justification in Paul’s account of different kinds of flesh and of resurrection body ( Cor. :–), but also by exploiting Paul’s more extensive nuanced distinction between “flesh” and “body.” Contrary to the convictions of his opponents, for Marcion it was not necessary that as redeemer Jesus should share the human condition and attributes of those whom he came to save; rather, as shall be seen, he modeled and anticipated the transformed existence of those who responded to him. This was not just a matter of an alternative Christological or soteriological preference: For Marcion’s opponents it was fundamental that salvation belongs within the overarching narrative of the relationship between God and fallen humankind, which stretches from creation to the eschatological completion; they could not understand how or why a God who had no relationship with or claim on humankind should suddenly intervene, as if from nowhere, or at least from agelong passivity, to alter the course of their destiny. In Marcion’s account, what Christ brought was deliverance from the regime of the Creator God, to whom, by virtue of their creation, humankind belonged in both body and soul: While his opponents found in the inclusion of the latter a contradiction with Marcion’s supposed affirmation of the resurrection of the soul, for him it marks both the absolute priority of divine goodness and the absence in humankind of any element of or capacity for the divine – the latter a theological conundrum that would exercise many minds. Yet salvation is not just from the constraints of the cycle of birth and death, or from whatever “the world” might denote as the experience of human transience. “The God of this world has blinded the minds of unbelievers” ( Cor. :), and hence deliverance must involve the defeat of that God, the Creator, and the annulment of his enslavement of
Tertullian, Marc. ..; Epiphanius, Pan. .., ; see Lieu, Marcion, –, –.
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human beings, an enslavement that was embodied in part by “law” and by its attendant regime of judgment. The mechanics of that deliverance are uncertain and were probably eclectic, although Marcion would not be alone in this in the second century. It is likely, however, that he drew on metaphorical imagery from his version and reading of the Gospel and Paul. Evidently it could be described as a daring “snatching” (cf. Luke :–, Phil. :–) – which from his opponents’ perspective was an unworthy theft. Some sources point to it as a deal done with the demiurge, apparently adopting the language of ransom or purchase (cf. Gal. :, :; Cor. :), and possibly symbolically enacted in Jesus’s conversation with the representatives of the latter on the mount of transfiguration. Although already through his ministry Jesus had revealed God’s mercy, rejecting the system of judgment represented by the Creator’s Law (Luke :–, :), his death was integral to the act of salvation; however, it was not something that might act on God, for God, the Father, was throughout the instigator and prime actor, so that the work of Christ could also be described as the work of God, especially in claiming or reconciling those who by nature were alien to him (Eph. :–, Col. :–). Such imagery inevitably entailed a degree of realized eschatology: Believers were already redeemed, transformed; the God of this age had lost his control at least over those who responded. This experience may have been described in terms of their participation in Christ’s body, as “limbs of Christ” and those who “bore God” ( Cor. :, – [where Marcion may have read ἄρατε]; cf. Col. : [omitting “of flesh”]), forming, as it were, a sort of “psychic body”; in that sense they were a “new creation,” united or reconciled in the “one new man” ( Cor. :, Eph. :). Indeed, this transformed self may have been what his opponents denounced as “salvation only of the soul.” However, it had very specific consequences for their continuing life where, to Tertullian’s amusement, they continued to suffer not only the natural “thorns and thistles” common to all humanity, but also hatred and even death from others. Their rejection of procreation, and In what follows, the references to the Gospel and Paul refer to how Marcion apparently read them, as implied by his opponents, in particular Tertullian. For fuller discussion and patristic references, see Judith M. Lieu, “Pauline soteriology in early Marcionite thought,” in Sōtēria: Salvation in Early Christianity and Antiquity: Festschrift in Honour of Cilliers Breytenbach, ed. David S. du Toit, Christine Gerber, and Christiane Zimmermann (NovT Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ), –. The latter is more explicit in Ephrem (Prose Refutations .; .) but is hinted at by Tertullian, Marc. ..
The Marcionite Option
perhaps of marriage more generally, and their other ascetical practices were not an exercise in stoic self-abnegation or self-conquest but were the articulation of their new identity bound in asexual marriage to the church, the body of Christ (Eph. :–, ; Luke :–). Although less directly scripturally authorized, they apparently also embodied their rejection of the order of the Creator through their dietary, and perhaps cultic, discipline, avoiding “what belongs to the world” (Clement of Alexandria, Strom. ..). Yet even if such practices were understood in terms of a distinctive salvation and eschatology, similar ascetic tendencies were also to be found in greater or lesser measure in other forms of contemporary early Christianity, so that Marcionites may have been distinguished in degree but not in absolute patterns of lifestyle. Although here interpreted theologically and exegetically, from another perspective these practices could undoubtedly be experienced as a form of resistance, as rejection of the structures and norms of imperial society, so that the lines between mythic world and social world might become dissolved. Such behavioral responses were called for because the God of this age had by no means accepted his displacement, not only in the world at large, but more insidiously within the church that was the heir to Jesus’s disciples. How dominant this last element was in Marcion’s system from the start, or how far it became focalized through the opposition he and his followers encountered cannot be determined, not least because any reconstruction demands a counter-reading of the defenses offered by his opponents. Already for Irenaeus, Marcion is included among those who thought that “Paul alone knew the truth, to whom a mystery was revealed through revelation” (Haer. ..; cf. Gal. :, Eph. :). Regardless of whether there were more widespread tensions between Pauline and Petrine trajectories in early Christianity, Marcion would not be the only one to be perplexed by the account of Paul’s rebuke of Kephas/Peter at Antioch in Gal. :–. He may, however, have been more idiosyncratic in the extensive narrative that he wove around that encounter, which depended on a creative and innovatory intertextual reading of his textual authorities. First, so it would appear, he traced the conflict as indicative of a systematic and persistent opposition to Paul by those labeled “false brothers” or “false apostles” (Gal. :; Cor.
Marcion’s text may have omitted Eph. :; see Lieu, Marcion, –, –. For what follows see Judith M. Lieu, “Marcion and the corruption of Paul’s Gospel,” Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum (), –.
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:–, ) who were responsible for the corruption of the Gospel of Christ and for the deception of believers (Gal. :–, :–; cf. Cor. :); second, he identified behind that opposition the activity of “the God of this age,” who was also represented by synonyms such as “satan” or “the world” ( Cor. :, :–; cf. Gal. :), and against whom believers continued to fight (Eph. :–, ); third, insofar as those who opposed Paul were closely identified with Jesus’s first disciples, especially Peter, he found evidence of their obduracy and misrepresentation of the Gospel already in their failure to properly understand Jesus during the course of his ministry (Luke :; :–, –); finally, the authoritative writings in which that Gospel and the mystery revealed to Paul were encoded had indeed been corrupted by these “defenders of Judaism” – a phenomenon he identified within the church rather than in any contemporary groups outside – and therefore, as has been seen, demanded restoration (Marc. ..; cf. ..).
Message and Method: Antitheses It must be reiterated that this presentation of the three foundational dimensions of Marcion’s teaching is the result of an integrative reading of the diverse sources and perspectives provided by those who opposed him, often within the framework of their own philosophical and theological endeavors; it is a reading that has sought to be sensitive to the intellectual concerns of the period more than to categories of orthodoxy and heresy, even though Marcion undoubtedly contributed to the emergence of such categories. How far his contemporaries or his later followers, not to speak of those who viewed him as a dangerous threat, understood him as offering an overarching system or narrative, is impossible to determine; it is, however, surely most likely that different observers and participants would primarily identify specific aspects that were especially salient for them and in their setting, as would also have been the case (and still is) for most adherents of the various religious and philosophical positions available. The only counterevidence to this assumption would be if Tertullian’s reference to “the Antitheses of Marcion” is taken at face value. Early in writing against Marcion, he appeals to these as evidence for his claim that “the separation of law and gospel is the characteristic and chief work of Marcion.” Playing on the ambiguity of “work” (opus), he immediately asserts that Marcion’s “disciples cannot deny that which for them is their most
The Marcionite Option
significant document (in summo instrumento), by which indeed they are introduced and confirmed into this heresy,” namely “the Antitheses of Marcion”; according to Tertullian, these are “contrasted oppositions which attempt to establish the disparity of gospel with law, in order that they might also demonstrate a diversity of gods from the diversity of principles (sententiae) of each document (instrumentum)” (Marc. ..). Elsewhere Tertullian suggests that the focus was on a contrast between Christ and the Creator on the basis of their “morals, laws, and powers” (..), or that the “Antitheses” served as a “dowry” for his Gospel, perhaps then as a preliminary installment or as a means of validation (..). Most interpreters have assumed that the work constituted (as the title indicates) a catalogue of opposing statements or scriptural references drawn from his two “Testaments” to establish the contrasting profiles of his two Gods, but also that it may have contained some justification for his theory of the corruption of the Gospel (as is suggested by Tertullian, Marc. ..). Tertullian’s own antithetical style has provided an excess of examples of potential Marcionite “oppositions,” but the absence of explicit references by other authors to such an authoritative work, and indeed the near absence of references in Tertullian’s discussion of the Apostolikon, suggest that caution is needed against overestimating its significance. The parading of contradictions was an established technique in contemporary philosophical and religious apologetics and denunciation, and Marcion’s “Antitheses” is more likely to have been a strategic weapon in the developing polemic than a “short guide” for tentative inquirers. As a strategy, and perhaps even a literary genre, antitheses did become a hallmark of Marcionite (and later of Manichaean) argument, probably much more extensively and with more variation than can be attributed to any single work.
Or, less probably, “stands at the head of their document.” On what follows see further Löhr, “Editors and commentators,” –; Lieu, Marcion, –; Eric Scherbenske, “Marcion’s Antitheses and the isagogic genre,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. See Harnack, Marcion, *–*. So Löhr, “Editors and commentators,” , who suggests that they may have been “a late work of Marcion and for this reason all the more precious to his devoted disciples.” It is treated as a characteristic Marcionite strategy by Origen, On First Principles .., by the Dialogue of Adamantius .–, and by the Carmen adversus Marcionitas, without there necessarily being specific reference to Tertullian’s “Antitheses.” On the question of Marcionite influence on Manichaean argument see J. A. van den Berg, Biblical Argument in Manichaean Missionary Practice: The Case of Adimantus and Augustine (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ).
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Marcionism and Christian Diversity Much of the picture painted so far locates Marcion (like his contemporary and opponent Justin Martyr) in second-century Rome within a context of competing and coexisting “schools,” albeit not as formally constituted nor operating at as high an intellectual level as that later associated with Origen or his non-Christian counterparts. This is probably not a model that endured, perhaps even as his teaching spread beyond the confines of Rome. Yet even then, and as elsewhere across the early Christian world, a balance needs to be achieved between the rejection of a model of discrete, reciprocally exclusive, churches, each identified by a particular label or coherent set of beliefs and practices, over against ignoring the evident persistence across time and geography of recognizable patterns of such beliefs and practices, including textual ones. It has been argued here that in relation to Marcion and his followers such persistence is not simply the construction of, and a consequence of routine plagiarism by, the polemicists. However artificial may be the setup of the (so-called) Dialogue of Adamantius, something of the dilemma is captured by Megethius’s insistent claim to the label “Christian,” acknowledging Marcion only as his “bishop,” and his retort that by adopting the label “catholic” his opponent negates his own monopoly of “Christian” (Adam. .). Certainly many believers (perhaps even the majority of them) moved with little discomfort in and out of, or between, communities that others would see as incompatible with each other; Cyril of Jerusalem may have been correct that it was all too easy for someone to enter a Marcionite church unawares – although whether the designation was his own or theirs is precisely the problem (Catech. .). Yet some people sufficiently identified with the implications of the Marcionite narrative of bondage and salvation to adopt the sexual and dietary asceticism that it entailed for those desiring redemption, and on these terms they were admitted to a more formal membership and baptism, as already reported by Tertullian (Marc. ..). Inevitably, even in this last case there is little to help determine whether such commitment was more a matter of happenchance and association than a conscious decision between available options. It is easier to map patterns of
See Winrich Löhr, “Christianity as philosophy: Problems and perspectives of an ancient intellectual project,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Admittedly, “bishop” and “catholic” represent the fourth-century context of Adamantius, or possibly an earlier source.
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religious allegiance than it is to offer an external explanation of them. Recent study has helped us to envisage the Marcionite option not as a grotesque and incoherent perversion of the Christian message, nor yet as an inspired if misdirected reinvention of the Pauline vision, but as anchored within the intellectual debates, literary practices, and religious inventiveness of the period. The long survival of that option is testimony to the satisfaction that its solutions offered, but may also witness to the structures and dynamics of religious and social interaction and affiliation that are so often hidden behind and by the literary records.
Select Bibliography Aland, Barbara. “Marcion: Versuch einer neuen Interpretation,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche (), –. Repr. in Was ist Gnosis? Studien zum frühen Christentum, zum Marcion und zu kaiserzeitlichen Philosophie (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. “Marcion und die Marcioniten,” Theologische Realenzyklopädie, vols. (Berlin: De Gruyter, –), :–. Repr. in Was ist Gnosis? Studien zum frühen Christentum, zum Marcion und zu kaiserzeitlichen Philosophie (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. BeDuhn, Jason. The First New Testament: Marcion’s Scriptural Canon (Salem, OR: Polebridge, ). Berg, J. A. van den. Biblical Argument in Manichaean Missionary Practice: The Case of Adimantus and Augustine (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). Dulk, Matthijs den. Between Jews and Heretics: Refiguring Justin Martyr’s Dialogue with Trypho (London: Routledge, ). Efroymson, David P. “The patristic connection.” Pages – in Antisemitism and the Foundations of Christianity. Edited by Alan Davies (New York: Paulist Press, ). Harnack, Adolf von. History of Dogma, vol. , trans. from the rd German ed. (London: Williams and Norgate, ). Harnack, Adolf von. Marcion. Das Evangelium vom Fremden Gott: Eine Monographie zur Geschichte der Grundlegung der katholischen Kirche, nd corrected ed. printed with Neue Studien zu Marcion (Leipzig: Hinrichs, ). Marcion: Der moderne Glaübige des . Jahrhunderts, der erste Reformator. Die Dorpater Preisschrift (). Edited by Friedemann Steck (TU ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Kinzig, Wolfram. “Καινὴ διαθήκη: The title of the New Testament in the second and third centuries,” Journal of Theological Studies (), –. Klinghardt, Matthias. Das älteste Evangelium und die Entstehung der kanonischen Evangelien, vols. (TANZ .–; Tübingen: Francke, ). Klinghardt, Matthias, Jason BeDuhn, and Judith M. Lieu. “Quaestiones disputatae,” New Testament Studies (), –.
. Le Boulluec, Alain. La Notion d’hérésie dans la literature grecque IIe–IIIe siècles, vols. (Paris: Études augustiniennes, ). ET: The Notion of Heresy in Greek Literature in the Second and Third Centuries, ed. David Lincicum and Nicholas Moore, trans. A. K. M. Adam, Monique Cuany, Nicholas Moore, and Warren Campbell, with Jordan Wood (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Lieu, Judith M. “Marcion and the corruption of Paul’s Gospel,” Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum (), –. Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). “Marcion, the writings of Israel and the origins of the ‘New Testament.’” Pages – in Authoritative Writings in Early Judaism and Early Christianity: Their Origin, Collection and Meaning. Edited by Tobias Niklas and Jens Schröter (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Pauline soteriology in early Marcionite thought.” Pages – in Sōtēria: Salvation in Early Christianity and Antiquity: Festschrift in Honour of Cilliers Breytenbach. Edited by David S. du Toit, Christine Gerber, and Christiane Zimmermann (NovT Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ). Löhr, Winrich. “Christianity as philosophy: Problems and perspectives of an ancient intellectual project,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. “Did Marcion distinguish between a just God and a good God?” Pages – in Marcion und seine kirchengeschichtliche Wirkung/Marcion and His Impact on Church History: Vorträge der internationaler Fachkonferenz zu Marcion gehalten vom .–. August in Mainz. Edited by Gerhard May and Katharina Greschat, with Martin Meiser (TU ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). “Editors and commentators: Some observations on the craft of second century theologians.” Pages – in Pascha Nostrum Christus: Essays in Honour of Raniero Cantalamessa. Edited by Pier Franco Beatrice and Bernard Pouderon (Paris: Beauchesne, ). “Problems of profiling Marcion.” Pages – in Christian Teachers in Second-Century Rome: Schools and Students in the Ancient City. Edited by H. Gregory Snyder (VC Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ). Markschies, Christoph. Christian Theology and Its Institutions in the Early Roman Empire: Prolegomena to a History of Early Christian Theology. Translated by Wayne Coppins (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck/Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ). [May, Gerhard] Gerhard May: Markion. Gesammelte Aufsätze. Edited by Katharina Greschat and Martin Meiser (Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Europäische Geschichte Mainz ; Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, ). May, Gerhard and Katharina Greschat, with Martin Meiser (eds.) Marcion und seine kirchengeschichtliche Wirkung/Marcion and His Impact on Church History: Vorträge der internationaler Fachkonferenz zu Marcion gehalten vom .–. August in Mainz (TU ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Meijering, E. P. Tertullian contra Marcion: Gotteslehre in der Polemik Adversus Marcionem I–II (Philosophia Patrum ; Leiden: Brill, ). Moll, Sebastian. The Arch-Heretic Marcion (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ).
The Marcionite Option Norelli, Enrico. Markion und der Biblische Kanon. Published with Averil Cameron, Christian Literature and Christian History (Hans-Lietzmann Vorlesungen /; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Orbe, Antonio, “Marcionitica,” Augustinianum (), –. Roth, Dieter T. “Prophets, priests, and kings: Old Testament figures in Marcion’s Gospel and Luke.” Pages – in Connecting Gospels: Beyond the Canonical/Non-Canonical Divide. Edited by Francis Watson and Sarah Parkhouse (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). The Text of Marcion’s Gospel (Leiden: Brill, ). Scherbenske, Eric. “Marcion’s Antitheses and the isagogic genre,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Schmid, Ulrich. Marcion und sein Apostolos: Eine Rekonstruktion und historische Einordnung der marcionitischen Paulusbriefaufgabe (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Smith, Geoffrey S. Guilt by Association: Heresy Catalogues in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Tsutsui, Kenji. “Das Evangelium Marcions: Ein neuer Versuch der Textrekonstruktion,” Annual of the Japanese Biblical Institute (), –. Tyson, Joseph B. Marcion and Luke-Acts: A Defining Struggle (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, ). Vinzent, Markus. Marcion and the Dating of the Synoptic Gospels (Studia Patristica Suppl. ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Wilhite, David. “Was Marcion a docetist? The body of evidence vs. Tertullian’s argument,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Williams, Michael A. Rethinking “Gnosticism”: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Wilson, Stephen G. Related Strangers: Jews and Christians – c.e. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ).
The Gnostic Options Routes Back to God Classification systems using terminology or a symbolic system that is not intuitive form the basis of scientific “knowledge.” In this system, particularly unusual phenomena are slotted into established patterns. Then, when features that do not fit present themselves, scholars treat them in different ways: () scrubbing the anomalous data as individual peculiarity, or as contaminated by some outside influence; () engaging in fine-tuning the classification system by subdividing or changing categories or by refining the mathematical analysis; or () declaring the entire approach invalid. As scholars have worked to incorporate a growing corpus of Gnostic texts from third- and fourth-century Coptic codices into patristic accounts of Gnostic sects, older heresiological categories do not fit. Some scholars call for dropping the terms “Gnostic” and “Gnosticism,” but the preferred approach remains fine-tuning or revising categories. A common variant of “scrubbing data” in this field organizes divergent material from a text into editorial layers added to an original core. To “explain” the past, historians use imagination to fill in gaps and tie together discrete bits of information. An historical story can shape the collective memory. The Acts of the Apostles and Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History provided the default picture of early Christianity. The kerygma and David Brakke, The Gnostics: Myth, Ritual, and Diversity in Early Christianity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ); Roelof van den Broek, Gnostic Religion in Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); Kurt Rudolph, Gnosis: The Nature and History of Gnosticism, trans. Robert McLachlan Wilson (San Francisco: Harper One, ). Against retaining the category “Gnostic” as perpetuation of a discourse framed in the binaries of orthodoxy and heresy, Karen L. King, What Is Gnosticism? (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), –; for the inadequacy of proposed replacements, see Einar Thomassen, “There is no such thing as Gnosticism: But what have we got instead?” in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ), ed. Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –.
The Gnostic Options
communal praxis of the apostles defined “true Christianity” with minor regional variations. As that “common core” narrative has been dismantled by contemporary research, some historians challenge any linear genealogical account. Such explanations assemble pieces to fit a defined track and filter out the larger web of connections that individuals and groups form in their sociocultural environment, such as Christians routinely accepting invitations to a sacrificial banquet or the mix of Egyptian religious elements in fifth- and sixth-century Christian artifacts. Rather than incorporate such material into the Christian world-view, scholars use the label “syncretism” as a placemarker for foreign elements that could weaken or cause a deadly mutation in the Christian genome. At the roots of Christian Valentinians, Irenaeus presents a catalogue of destructive tributaries: singled out in Scripture, Simon Magus (Acts ); derived from a specific teacher (e.g. Basilides); labeled by their mythic trope (Ophites), or by the catchall phrase, “claim to be gnostics” (Haer. ..). Hippolytus and Epiphanius developed the encyclopedia of heresies model in subsequent centuries. Clement of Alexandria and Origen preserve additional reports about Valentinian teaching. Until the last century, heresiologists provided our only information about Gnostics. Our Coptic texts from the third to fourth centuries contain works written in the second and third centuries. Greek papyri confirm the hypothesis that these texts were translated from Greek. Thirteen codices from Nag Hammadi show that there was enough interest in this material among intellectuals associated with Pachomian monks to promote translation in
Jeffrey D. Bingham, “Reading the second century,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –. Peter Artz-Grabner, “Why did early Christ groups still attend idol meals? Answers from papyrus invitations,” Early Christianity (), –; David Frankfurter, Christianizing Egypt: Syncretism and Local Worlds in Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Mark J. Edwards, “Gnostics and Valentinians in the Church Fathers,” Journal of Theological Studies (), –; Robert G. T. Edwards, “Clement of Alexandria’s anti-Valentinian interpretation of Gen :–,” Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum (), –; Michael Kaler and Marie-Pierre Bussières, “Was Heracleon a Valentinian? A new look at old sources,” Harvard Theological Review (), –; James A. Kelhoffer, “Basilides’ gospel and Exegetica (treatises),” Vigiliae Christianae (), –; Elaine Pagels, “Conflicting versions of Valentinian eschatology: Irenaeus’ treatises vs. the excerpts from Theodotus,” Harvard Theological Review (), –; Pheme Perkins, “Irenaeus and the Gnostics,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –; Clemens Scholten, “Die Funktion der Hëresienabwehr in der Alten Kirche,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –; Geoffrey S. Smith, Guilt by Association: Heresy Catalogues in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
dialects from different regions of Egypt. Scribes who copied the texts in these codices may have been more interested in their ascetic spirituality of the soul’s ascent to the divine than the elaborate mythologizing that horrified Irenaeus. Our discussion will focus on the Coptic translations of books composed by adherents of Gnostic sects rather than reports from heresiologists. The individual works in question do not represent a particular theological school. Nor are the codices an alternate Scripture as popular media often suggest. Many of these writings probably circulated with other Christian apocrypha. There are multiple copies of Ap. John, Wis. Jes. Chr., Apoc. Jas., Ep. Pet. Phil., Gos. Eg., Eugnostos, and fragments of Orig. World and Gos. Truth. Reasons for copying in these translations need not have been sectarian. Accessing ancient religious wisdom, provision for grave goods, or information about the origins and structure of the cosmos are possibilities that do not even require continued existence of second-century Gnostic groups responsible for the originals.
Features of the Salvation Story Some writings employ a narrative frame recalling gospel scenes of the risen Christ appearing to his disciples in luminous glory. In addition to the Twelve, other New Testament figures appear as tradition-bearers: the seven women disciples in the New Testament, or individuals, Jesus’s brother James, Mary Magdalene, and Judas. Many conclude with recipients sent to disseminate the Savior’s teaching (Wis. Jes. Chr. .–; Ep. Pet. Phil. .–; Gos.
Stephen Emmel, “Religious tradition, textual transmission, and the Nag Hammadi Codices,” in The Nag Hammadi Library after Fifty Years, ed. John D. Turner and Anne McGuire (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ), –; Emmel, “The Coptic Gnostic texts as witnesses to the production and transmission of Gnostic (and other) traditions,” in Das Thomasevangelium: Entstehung– Rezeption–Theologie, ed. Jörg Frey, Enno Edzard Popkes, and Jens Schröter (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –; Hugo Lundhaug and Lance Jenott, The Monastic Origins of the Nag Hammadi Codices (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ); Louis Painchaud, “La production et la destination des codices de Nag Hammadi: Le codex ,” in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ), ed. Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –; Michael A. Williams, “Interpreting the Nag Hammadi Library as ‘collection(s)’ in the history of ‘Gnosticism(s),’” in Les textes de Nag Hammadi et le problème de leur classification, ed. Louis Painchaud and Anne Pasquier (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –.
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Mary .–.). Some explain that most people do not accept this teaching because: () their souls are not “spiritual ones” (Apoc. Pet. .–); () disciples who did not receive the Savior’s revelation became angry with recipients (Ap. Jas. .–, Gos. Mary .–); () time elapsed between the revelation and its proclamation, or the story ends with James’s martyrdom ( Apoc. Jas. .–., Gos. Jud. , James .–., Apoc. Jas. .–.). Topics treated appear elsewhere without the revelation framework: the transcendent God and the divine realms, the origins of the material cosmos and the creation of humanity, and the coming of one or more beings from the light world to awaken the inner core of the human to enable its return to the Pleroma. Jesus describes the emanation of a hierarchy of beings that constitute the eternal, divine Pleroma, a light realm entirely separated from the material or perceivable universe in Apocryphon of John and Wisdom of Jesus Christ (Ap. John, NHC .–.; Wis. Jes. Chr., NHC .–.). This section in Wis. Jes. Chr. is nearly identical to Eugnostos, the Blessed, a didactic tract not a revelation. The framework of Wis. Jes. Chr. invites readers into the world of Christian gospels, while Eugnostos engages that of philosophical schools. Properly understood, philosophy should lead to salvation. Despite their quest for the truth about God and the world, not even the wisest have reached it (NHC .–.). But anyone who grasps the truth presented in Eugnostos “is an immortal living among mortals” (NHC .–). Orig. World opens with a similar philosophical preface; all previous thinkers assumed that “nothing existed before chaos.” Instead of including an account of the divine world, its author expects readers to know that eternal beings emanated from the Infinite (Orig. World .–.). Orig. World opens at the most distinctive point in Gnostic mythopoesis, the emergence of a female Wisdom figure whose flawed passions rupture the primordial unity. What follows as the origin story for the world of human experience draws upon Jewish material, particularly Genesis. Ap. John sets up a counter-hermeneutic by introducing a reading of Genesis against “what Moses said” (Ap. John, NHC .–,
Judith Hartenstein, Die Zweite Lehre: Erscheinungen des Auferstandenen als Rahmenerzählungen frühchristlicher Dialoge (TU ; Berlin: Akademie, ); Hartenstein, “Die Weisheit Jesu Christi (SJC),” in Die Nag-Hammadi-Schriften in der Literatur- und Theologiegeschichte des frühen Christentums, ed. Jens Schröter and Konrad Schwarz (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –.
Gen. :; Ap. John, NHC ., Gen. :; Ap. John, NHC ., Gen. :; Ap. John, NHC .–, Gen. :). Our sources provide many variants of that basic story. Certain structural features are essential: () an arrogant demiurgic creator, ignorant of the divine realm, boasts that he alone is god (Isa. :–); () creation of humans belongs to a complex operation to recover “light substance” from the divine world; () an image of the true human and/or some share in Wisdom’s spirit is bestowed on Adam/Eve; () countermoves by the creator and his powers clothe humans In ignorance, passions, and a mortal body as a trap; () a divine being enters the material world to awaken humans able to respond. The awakening call can be sounded by various figures from the Pleroma like the feminine “Forethought” (Protennoia) in the conclusion to the long version of Ap. John (NHC .–.) or the “Forethought” whose third coming as Word to restore her seed also returns Jesus from the cross to his father’s place in Tri. Prot. (.–). Did the speculative cosmology coupled with revisionist accounts of the Jewish creator essential to this drama originate independently of the Christians who expanded, translated, and preserved them? Scholars who take that position consider this fixation on transforming the creator of Genesis into either a demon or an ignorant, boastful fool evidence of Jewish origins. Other scholars insist that a revisionist Genesis story, “not as Moses said . . . but . . .,” reflects Christians reckoning with a Jewish past. Patristic sources often read the revisionist imaging as equivalent to Marcion’s rejection of the god who inspired Jewish scriptures (Irenaeus, Haer. ..–). However, the creator-demiurge emerges as a more complex, mediating figure in Gnostic stories where Moses and the prophets contain traces of the true account. Reading Gnostic treatises without the books being
David Creech, The Use of Scripture in the Apocryphon of John (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ); Karen L. King, “The Apocryphon of John: Genre and the Christian re-making of the world,” in Die Nag-Hammadi-Schriften in der Literatur- und Theologiegeschichte des frühen Christentums, ed. Jens Schröter and Konrad Schwarz (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –; Gerard P. Luttikhuizen, “The thought pattern of Gnostic mythologizers and their use of biblical traditions,” in The Nag Hammadi Library after Fifty Years, ed. John D. Turner and Anne McGuire (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ), –; Luttikhuizen, Gnostic Revisions of Genesis Stories and Early Jesus Traditions (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). Antti Marjanen, “The Apocryphon of John, its versions and Irenaeus: What have we learned over years?” in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ), ed. Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –; Marjanen, “The relationship between the Valentinian and Sethian Sophia myth revisited,” in Valentinianism: New Studies, ed. Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ), –.
The Gnostic Options
widely accepted as a canon among Christians would be comparable to reading Dante’s Divine Comedy without Virgil or James Joyce’s Ulysses without Homer’s Odyssey. Readers would miss essential pieces in reimagining the landscape and obstacles in a soul’s return journey to its source. Though some writings have the titles “gospel,” “letter,” or “apocalypse” attached to New Testament writings, their authors were not producing a new canon as though churches should scrap the pulpit Bible and read Gospel of Thomas for Jesus’s sayings and parables, Gospel of Judas with its appearances during Passion week for Jesus’s days in Jerusalem and condemnation of eucharistic sacrifice, or Gospel of Mary on the soul’s ascent, shedding the powers that rule its passions for Ascension Thursday. Gnostic reading generates meanings not intended for neophytes who only grasp the literal words or images in the canonical gospels. Rather than scrape away any traces of the second and third centuries in hopes of discovering a first-century counternarrative about Jesus, his teaching, and disciples, as New Testament scholars have often done in treating this material, this essay focuses on the second to fourth centuries, when these writings were composed, circulated, and translated.
Locating “Gnostic” Groups The hermeneutical processing needed to compose and understand Gnostic writings raises questions about their social context. With Christians a small minority in the transient or resident immigrant population of Rome or Alexandria, very few would have sufficient literacy or leisure to study such books. Who is the audience? The “against philosophers” prefaces, together with some philosophical terminology and themes, might suggest a leisured elite that engaged in such activity. But the tracts fail to engage in the sustained debates characteristic of philosophical writers. Would Gnostic
Pheme Perkins, “What is a Gnostic gospel?” Catholic Bible Quarterly (), –; Perkins, “Valentinians and the Christian canon,” inValentinianism: New Studies, ed. Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ), –. On reading Gos. Thom., see Nicola Denzey Lewis, “A new Gnosticism: Why Simon Gathercole and Mark Goodacre on the Gospel of Thomas change the field,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament (), –. Clemens Scholten, “Gibt es Quellen zur Sozialgeschichte der Valentinianer Roms?” Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft (), –; Alan B. Scott, “Churches or books? Sethian social organization,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –.
teachers “sell their revelations” in the general marketplace for revelations, prophecies, initiations, and magicians or seek to grace the salon of a wealthy patron? Would they preach a Gnostic Christ to their neighbors and then provide catechesis in the biblical basics needed to grasp Gnostic reimagining? Or have readers already experienced some form of Christian teaching and ritual prior to engaging in Gnostic study circles or the rituals mentioned in these texts? Origen protested that Celsus could not know what true Christianity teaches because his informants were Valentinians or Gnostics, “nor can those be Christians who introduce strange new ideas which do not harmonize with the traditional doctrines received from Jesus” (Cels. .), but those individuals probably identified themselves as Christian. Some scholars have produced new classifications to integrate these Coptic treatises into patristic accounts. Others would limit investigation to finding patterns that connect Coptic tractates with each other. A cautious historical approach fills gaps in our map with patristic information only when that author is citing sources. Such material includes a letter from a Valentinian teacher in Rome to a neophyte, Flora, on levels of authority in Mosaic law citing Jesus’s words in Matt. (Epiphanius, Pan. ..–); summaries of systems related to that core mythic framework in Ap. John (Irenaeus, Haer. ..– [Barbeloites], ..– [Ophites]); Irenaeus’s detailed summary of a Valentinian system (Haer. ..–., .–.), and selections from Heracleon that Origen includes in his own commentary on John. Irenaeus’s analysis of Valentinian speculation reflects a mastery of detail not evident in his other summaries. He could not have obtained Valentinian books without connections to their owners. Eusebius reports that Irenaeus attempted to have a certain Florinus, a known Valentinian, removed from the circle of presbyters in Rome by writing both letters and a longer tract against him (Hist. eccl. .). Two second-century funerary inscriptions from the Via Latina suggest that the ladies Flavia Sophe and Iulia
For Valentinians within Roman Christianity, see Giuliano Chiapparini, “Irenaeus and the Gnostic Valentinus: Orthodoxy and heresy in the church of Rome around the middle of the second century,” Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum (), –. Based on a subcategory in patristic authors, the Ophites; see Tuomas Rasimus, Paradise Reconsidered in Gnostic Mythmaking: Rethinking Sethianism in Light of the Ophite Evidence (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). Carl Johan Berglund, “Origen’s vacillating stances toward his ‘Valentinian’ colleague, Heracleon,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Niclas Förster, “Florinus: Ein valentinianischer Gnostiker in Rom?” in Valentinianism: New Studies, ed. Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ), –.
The Gnostic Options
Evaresta were Valentinian Christians from well-educated families living on the Caelian hill. Possibly Irenaeus’s alarm is over loss of those affluent enough to be patrons of local churches. A century later Origen writes the John commentary requested by a patron who had once belonged to Valentinian circles. Another Gnostic grouping linked to an Alexandrian teacher, Basilides, and his son Isidore, a group that may have been comparable to the Valentinian network in the second century, is not well represented in the Coptic material. Irenaeus’s summary does not match the longer, detailed source in Hippolytus and comments by Clement and Origen. A view attributed to Basilides, that Simon of Cyrene was the one who died on the cross, appears in Second Discourse of the Great Seth (NHC .–; cf. Irenaeus, Haer. ..). Perhaps writings from this school were never translated into Coptic or, if they were, did not circulate very widely. Evidently there is no original template for these texts that shared a quasiPlatonic ontology, mythological adaptations of Genesis traditions about human origins, and redemption as return to the divine beyond the cosmos.18 Like our term “dinosaur,” referring to a specific text as “Gnostic” provides no information about how to sort the actual remains, to relate them to others in the collection, or to fill in gaps with bones from any other text so labeled. Rather than arrange the exhibits of “Gnostic” remains in linear or branching stemma with approximate dates of evolution from a hypothetical ancestor, one might consider nodes in a network. Each one may have multiple links of varying strength to others in the web. Atypical features noticed in a text may have been passed through some intermediary and not represent a direct connection to an original exemplar. The limited repertoire of Old Testament passages in Sethian or Valentinian texts might represent selective culling of Genesis or simply material H. Gregory Snyder, “Flavia’s neighborhood: Further evidence for a second-century Christian group on the Via Latina,” in Valentinianism: New Studies, ed. Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ), –. Jean-Daniel Dubois, “Les gnostiques basilidiens et deux textes du codex de Nag Hammadi,” in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ), ed. Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –. Anne Pasquier, “La ‘Bibliothèque’ de Nag Hammadi: Traces d’un enseignement gnostique cohérent,” in Les textes de Nag Hammadi et le problème de leur classification, ed. Louis Painchaud and Anne Pasquier (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –. See the application by Cavan W. Concannon, Assembling Early Christianity: Trade Networks and the Letters of Dionysios of Corinth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ).
circulating between local nodes. Portraying the biblical creator and his angelic hosts as arrogant, limited in various ways, and even jealous of the superior divine power hidden in the human is such a pervasive mytheme that any particular text could draw from diverse exemplars. This model also reevaluates Irenaeus’s insistence that ancient churches that can claim a continuous episcopal succession from the apostles should decide serious questions about Christian truth (Haer. ..). It is not a power play favoring monarchic bishops, but a way of reducing noise in the system by prioritizing certain channels.
Characteristics of “Gnostic” Imagination Irenaeus credits Valentinus with turning principles from the “gnostic heresy” into the specific doctrines taught by teachers in that tradition (Haer. .., .). One of those earlier systems (Haer. .) reappears in a Coptic tract, the Apocryphon of John. The Apocryphon of John survives in two distinct translations of a short version and two copies of an expanded edition. Scholars have isolated a group of other Coptic writings that share common characteristics with this material. They use the term “Sethian” for those that reflect on the reimagined Genesis story, identifying the spiritual human beings as “seed of Seth” or “generation without a king over it.” Other Coptic treatises reflect Valentinian speculation that adapted earlier mythologizing to the allegedly Christian form that alarmed Irenaeus. Philosophical
Mythemes often invoked in suggesting that Gnostic interpretations originated in conflicts within or against Judaism. See Birger A. Pearson, Gnosticism, Judaism, and Egyptian Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ); Jaan Lahe, Gnosis und Judentum: Alttestamentliche und jüdische Motive in der gnostischen Literatur und das Ursprungsproblem der Gnosis (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). For discussion of the broad term “Sethian” see John D. Turner, “Typologies of the Sethian Gnostic treatises from Nag Hammadi,” in Les textes de Nag Hammadi et le problème de leur classification, ed. Louis Painchaud and Anne Pasquier (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –; Herbert Schmid, Christen und Sethianer: Ein Beitrag zur Diskussion um den religionsgeschichtlichen und den kirchengeschichtlichen Begriff der Gnosis (VC Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ); Gerard P. Luttikhuizen, “Sethianer?” Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum (), –. Ismo Dunderberg, Beyond Gnosticism: Myth, Lifestyle, and Society in the School of Valentinus (New York: Columbia University Press, ); Dunderberg, “Recognizing Valentinians: Now and then,” in The Other Side: Apocryphal Perspectives on Ancient Christian “Orthodoxies,” ed. Tobias Nicklas, Candida R. Moss, Christopher Tuckett, and Joseph Verheyden (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ), –; Christoph Markschies, “Valentinian Gnosticism: Toward the anatomy of a school,” in The Nag Hammadi Library after Fifty Years, ed. John D. Turner and Anne McGuire (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ), –; Markschies, “Gospel of
The Gnostic Options
topics are incorporated into both “Sethian” and Valentinian material. On the “Sethian” front, Plotinus wrote scathing criticism of Gnostic metaphysics for rupturing the continuity between the beauty of the visible cosmos and the transcendent, divine One (Enn. ., “Against the Gnostics”). Students were reading revelations by “Zoroaster, Zostrianus, Nicotheus, Allogenes, Messos, and others of that sort” (Porphyry, Vit. Plot. ). Sethian treatises include a Zostrianos, Allogenes, and Marsanes. These “Sethian” writings have replaced an earlier identification of Christ with the saving descent of the archetypal human or divine Wisdom figure by neo-Platonic terms for the transcendent. They are moving away from the mythologized Sethianism of the second century toward philosophical abstractions. Sections of Zostrianos repeat Victorinus’s writing against Arians (Zost. .–., .–. = Victorinus, Adversus Arium .–; Zost. .–. = Victorinus, Ad Candidum .–, .–). Valentinian sources engage in Christian theology. Einar Thomassen’s developmental stemma finds two topics that distinguish subtypes: presentation of Wisdom and understanding of the Savior’s body. Wisdom, who is the mother of Christ, was originally a single entity. But in some variants Wisdom splits between a superior part that immediately returns to the Aeons, and a “lower Wisdom” tied to the passions outside the Boundary that separates the divine realm from the cosmos. One view of the Savior’s “suffering” on the cross has him put on a “psychic” Christ upon entering the world without becoming attached. So the Savior does not suffer on the cross. As Irenaeus reports, some Valentinians insisted that the Word could not depart from the Truth: Some new insights into the history of Valentinianism,” in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ), ed. Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –; Einar Thomassen, The Spiritual Seed: The Church of the “Valentinians” (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). Though their philosophical insight can be challenged, see Arthur H. Armstrong, “Gnosis and Greek philosophy,” in Gnosis: Festschrift für Hans Jonas, ed. Barbara Aland (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ), –; Barbara Aland, “Der Demiurge und sein Wirken: Die Deutung des Valentinianismus im Vergleich zu der Platonismus,” in Valentinianism: New Studies, ed. Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ), –; Winrich A. Löhr, “Christianity as philosophy: Problems and perspectives of an ancient intellectual project,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –; John D. Turner, “The reception and transformation of philosophical literary genres,” in Die Nag-Hammadi-Schriften in der Literatur- und Theologiegeschichte des frühen Christentums, ed. Jens Schröter and Konrad Schwarz (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. John D. Turner, Sethian Gnosticism and the Platonic Tradition (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ); Turner, “Plotinus and the Gnostics: The Tripartite Tractate?” in Valentinianism: New Studies, ed. Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ), –.
Pleroma. The “Savior” who appeared on earth was a later formation (Haer. ..). A later Valentinian revision of the older single Wisdom version replaced her with the Word, with whom “the Father is pleased” (Tri. Trac. .–). A few passages in that tract even address third-century trinitarian controversy over whether or not the Father possesses “substance” (ousia) from which He engenders the Son (.–). Unlike the third-century “neo-Platonizing Sethians” who had drifted away from Christian circles, Tri. Trac. has Valentinians in the thick of Christian theological debate. Polemicists like Irenaeus have darkened the outlines of the creatordemiurge to present Gnostic stories as attacks on the “one God, the Father Almighty, the creator of heaven and earth.” But would second- and thirdcentury readers have the same response without that prodding? Perhaps not. Fluidity in how the characters in the creation story function moderates the oppositions attributed to Gnostic mythographers. One variant that appears both in Nat. Rulers (.–.) and Orig. World (.–.) has “Sabaoth,” one of the seven ruler-sons of the demiurgic creator, Ialdabaoth, reject his father’s arrogant boast. Upon hearing the reprimand of “Faith-Wisdom” he praises her and is established in his own kingdom with Wisdom’s daughter, Life, at his side in Orig. World. That figure creates Israel, “the person who sees God,” and “Jesus Christ who is like the Savior above.” Is the Sabaoth insert theologically driven, removing Israel’s deity from the negative characterization of Ialdabaoth and his archons? Perhaps. Such expansions might also develop from a spontaneous imagination enhancing its biblical repertoire. Irenaeus has read his Valentinians closely enough to recognize this expansive characteristic of their imagination. He even mocks it by suggesting “updates” for the fallen Wisdom tale to incorporate the “waters” in Genesis (Haer. ..).
Einar Thomassen and Louis Painchaud, Le Traité Tripartite (NH , ) (BCNHT ; Québec: Presses de l’Université Laval, ), –, –; in other Valentinian texts, Hugo Lundhaug, “Begotten, not made, to arise in the flesh: The post-Nicene soteriology of the Gospel of Philip,” in Beyond the Gnostic Gospels: Studies Building on the Work of Elaine Pagels, ed. Eduard Iricinschi, Lance Jenott, Nicola Denzey Lewis, and Philippa Townsend (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –; Lundhaug, “Textual fluidity and post-Nicene rewriting in the Nag Hammadi Codices,” in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ), ed. Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –; Geoffrey S. Smith, “Anti-Origenist redaction in the fragments of the Gospel of Truth (NHC ,): Theological controversy and the transmission of early Christian literature,” Harvard Theological Review (), –.
The Gnostic Options
Another puzzle concerns what is meant when books style themselves “hidden.” For Gos. Thom. the “hidden words” are a collection of sayings and parables of Jesus, often variants of those in the canonical gospels that were later included in footnotes to gospel synopses. Does “hidden” refer to an unknown referent in the sayings that only a few recognize? Or is “hidden” comparable to the riddles and misunderstanding in the Fourth Gospel, signaling the reader’s superior understanding? The latter category does not require access limited to the initiated. Ap. Jas. sets up the esoteric scenario claiming to be a second “hidden writing” that is to be kept private. Its Hebrew characters provide additional security (.–). “Hidden” could also advertise a book’s content as wisdom from distant antiquity. Several “Sethian” works are presented as angelic revelations from Adam to Seth for the far distant “seed of Seth” (Apoc. Adam .–; Gos. Eg., NHC .–; Allogenes .–, guarded by a demon; Steles Seth .–). A final overtone for “hidden” is captured by our term “underground” for a movement or its writings to suggest opposition to socially established order. When the Gos. Jud. declares itself the “hidden word (logos) of the narration (apophasis)” which Jesus told to Judas Iscariot” (.–), readers anticipate subversion of the publicly circulated gospels. In Ap. Jas. while the Twelve were gathered writing down in books what they remembered him saying, the Savior took Peter and James apart (.–). Both frame stories treat “hidden” as excluded from the apostolic tradition prized by Irenaeus. The semantic possibilities associated with “hidden” or “revelation” caution against hypothesizing a singular psychological or social context for Gnostic texts. Those containing references to baptisms, anointing or “seals,” “hymns” spoken by or in praise of heavenly beings, and strings of letters similar to magical formulae suggest ritualized activity. How much familiarity participants would have with speculative accounts of the Pleroma, Genesis mythemes, or the Savior’s relationship to Wisdom and other entities cannot be determined. Valentinian rituals seem more closely associated with Christian practices than “Sethian” examples. A fragmentary Valentinian tract concludes its salvation story with Wisdom restored to her heavenly partner,
Hans Föster, “Geheime Schriften und geheime Lehren? Zur Selbstbezeichnung von Texten aus dem Umfeld der frühchristlichen Gnosis unter Verwendung des Begriffs ἀπόκρυφος,” Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft (), –; Gregor Wurst, “Apokalypsen in den Nag-Hammadi-Codices,” in Die Nag-Hammadi-Schriften in der Literaturund Theologiegeschichte des frühen Christentums, ed. Jens Schröter and Konrad Schwarz (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –.
Jesus to the Christ, and devotees to their angelic doubles (Val. Exp. .–). Then the scribe appends a series of liturgical prayers for anointing, a first baptism for forgiveness of sins, a baptism that is the symbol through which Christ saves, and eucharistic prayers. Given the expansions and summaries inserted into the narrative (.–, .–., .– [proof from Scripture, the prophets], .–, .–), this text appears to have been for scholastic study, not ritual use.
Returning to God Wisdom’s deficiency cannot be restored without involving humans who are “immortals among mortal beings,” whose souls originate in incorruptible light (Nat. Rulers .–). Once the Revealer has awakened them, the true “image” of the human is expressed. Or, as Mary Magdalene instructs the fearful disciples, “put on the perfect human being” (Gos. Mary .–). To account for the ambiguity in responses to revelation, Valentinian systems employ a triple classification: the “spiritual ones” possessing knowledge of the divine, the “soul-endowed” (psychikoi), who remain in the region of “the Middle” vacated by Wisdom upon her restoration to the Pleroma, and a residual majority of “material ones,” lacking any of the luminous substance (Irenaeus, Haer. ..). These types correspond to levels of reality orchestrated by Word, and to the creator’s patterning according to image, likeness, or imitation. Material substance is subject to diverse, random impulses. “Soulendowed” persons experience evil inclinations through thought but are capable of turning toward what is above. The “spiritual” do not experience such division. They are “one and a single image” (Tri. Trac. .–.). Heresiologists interpreted the categories as individuals predestined for a specific group (Irenaeus, Haer. ..; Clement of Alexandria, Strom. ..).
Zeke Mazur, “‘To try to bring the divine in us back up to the divine in the all’: The Gnostic background of Plotinus’ last words,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –; Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta, “A way of salvation: Becoming like God in Nag Hammadi,” Numen (), –. Ismo Dunderberg, Gnostic Morality: Revisited (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Jean-Daniel Dubois, “Once again, the Valentinian expression ‘saved by nature,’” in Valentinianism: New Studies, ed. Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ), –.
The Gnostic Options
Scholars now recognize a process of moral pedagogy adapted from Stoic philosophers being employed by Valentinian teachers. A “spiritual” person corresponds to the Stoic “wise individual,” while the “soul-endowed” have turned to making progress in virtue following a therapeutic moral pedagogy. This paradigm leaves most people ruled by whoever has power over them or driven by passions afflicting the soul. Those material types worship the gods, goddesses, and divine powers present everywhere in their environment. Valentinian sources ordinarily treat other Christians as “soul-endowed.” A Valentinian application of Matt. :– to the “soul-endowed” presented faith and works as the necessary training of the outward senses. “Spiritual persons” have a perfect knowledge of God. After initiation into the mysteries of Wisdom, their “substance” (or soul) is not affected by the powers of death (Irenaeus, Haer. ..–). Irenaeus’s source even proposed that obeying the creator-demiurge has value for “soul-endowed” believers. Without knowing the truth, Ialdabaoth provided essential formation for humans in appointing prophets, priests, and kings (Haer. ..). Irenaeus ignored the pedagogy presumed by his source. He accused Valentinians of claiming to be “saved by nature,” resulting in flagrant immorality and contempt for the good works of faithful Christians (Haer. ..–). Coptic tracts do not support such statements. They are even more preoccupied with the passions than Stoics. In their ontology, matter derives from Wisdom’s irrational or disordered passion congealed and given form outside the divine realm or the direct operation of reason. For Stoics the cosmic conflagration that returns everything to the original primordial “rational” matter/spirit is a rational cyclic process. Gnostic mythologizing requires that once Wisdom is healed by the Savior and united to her counterpart in the Pleroma, she cannot fall away again. The stability of the “spiritual persons” mirrors that acquired by Wisdom. Our sources provide varied destinies for ordinary Christians. They may achieve the highest spiritual perfection in some
Alexander Kocar, “‘Humanity came to be according to three essential types’: Anthropogony and ethical responsibility in the Tripartite Tractate,” in Jewish and Christian Cosmogony in Late Antiquity, ed. Lance Jenott and Sarit Kattan Gribetz (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –; Kocar, “The ethics of higher and lower levels of salvation in the Excerpts from Theodotus and the Tripartite Tractate,” in Valentinianism: New Studies, ed. Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ), –. Dunderberg, Gnostic Morality, –; Paul Linjamaa, The Ethics of the Tripartite Tractate (NHC , ) (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ), –.
postmortem state. Or returning light trapped by material creation for them ends at a “faith level” lower than full knowledge of God. For example, Ap. John has two levels. Only those who belong to “the immovable race . . . upon whom the Spirit of life comes . . . enter the pure light” (BG .–.). They are purged of all negative emotions characteristic of the flesh. Asked about those who did not achieve these things but received the “Spirit of life,” the Savior allows a salvation for those who have resisted the opposing “counterfeit spirit,” namely, being “taken up into the repose of the Aeons” (BG .–.). Two regions in the four light Aeons that come forth and stand praising the Father–Mother–Son and the “Selfgenerated one” fit the description: in the third, the souls of Gnostics, and in the fourth, those who eventually repented (BG .–). Orig. World concludes with an apocalyptic crescendo in which the entire material universe and its gods driven by a wrathful “Faith-Wisdom” collapses into the Abyss. In this triumphant manifestation of light, those who are not enlightened Gnostics receive glory in “kingdoms of immortals” but do not belong to the “kingless realm” (.–.). Gos. Mary dramatizes the transition between the wavering middle group and the perfect. Jesus’s disciples paralyzed by fear do not immediately obey the Savior’s command to preach the gospels. Mary’s reprimand “turned their hearts to the good” and discussion of the Savior’s words (.–). At Peter’s request, Mary repeats teaching given to her in private through a vision of the Lord (.–). When the text picks up after several missing pages, a soul is negotiating its ascent past a ”erie“ o” gatekeepers – each trying to impede its journey to the divine realm out of a dissolving cosmos. To negotiate the perilous passage out of this world a soul must answer hostile challenge questions (also Apoc. Jas. .–.). Certain Neoplatonizing Sethian traditions describe a spiritual ascent through the ranks of divine beings toward the unknowable God who is beyond them all (Allogenes .–.). Hymns collectively offered at each of the three highest levels prepare those being perfected to experience divine silence before descending (Steles Seth .–). Zost. maps an intricate tour of divine entities that are familiar figures in Sethian lore. Extensive training enabled the visionary to separate from the darkness of embodied experience prior to ascending through the Aeons accompanied by an angelic guide. He receives baptisms and anointing at various points in the ascent until, joined with the highest Aeons, he blesses the triad, “Kalyptos (hidden) Aeon, virginal Barbelo, invisible Spirit” (.–).
The Gnostic Options
Words of the Savior The phrase “words of the Savior” in Gos. Mary . could refer to a collection of sayings such as Gos. Thom. or Bk. Thom., both claiming to be private teaching, transcribed by Thomas and Matthias respectively. Another book has the Savior engaging in a rapid-fire question and answer with male and female disciples. Mary demonstrates her understanding with short phrases referring to three sayings of Jesus: Matt. :, Matt. :, and Luke : (Dial. Sav., NHC .–). Later she asks Jesus to clarify whether the mustard seed (Gos. Thom. , Matt. :–, Luke :–, Mark :–) originates from heaven or from earth (.–). Ap. Jas. had the risen Jesus single out Peter and James to receive an understanding of his words not possessed by the Twelve in writing their books (NHC .–.). An exchange about parable interpretation presumes that readers recognize this list: “The Shepherds, The Seed, The Building, The Lamps of the Young Women, The Wage of the Workers, and The Silver Coins and the Woman” (.–.). It adds additional agricultural parables, the date palm and grain of wheat. This narrative setting provides important clues about the use of sayings collections: () mastery of collected sayings indicates pedagogical or scribal competency, () expansions with new sayings or interpretation demonstrate proficiency, and () written transmission, recording by acknowledged followers of Jesus. Therefore “hidden” when used of such sayings material indicates authority and training, not necessarily antagonism against canonical gospels. Surviving Greek fragments of Gos. Thom. are cheap copies typical of materials for personal or private study. Sayings can shift position or be expanded with additions from the canonical gospels from one copy to the
André Gagné, “L’Évangile selon Thomas après ans: D’où venons-nous, où sommes nous et où allons nous?” in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ), ed. Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –; Denzey Lewis, “A new Gnosticism,” –. Pierre Létourneau, “The Dialogue of the Savior as a witness to the late Valentinian tradition,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. See Daniele Tripaldi, “‘I revealed my mysteries to those who are mine’: Transmission and interpretation of Jesus’ words in some Johannine writings (nd–rd century ),” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Larry Hurtado, “The Greek fragments of the Gospel of Thomas as artifacts: Papyrological observations on Papyrus Oxyrhynchus , Papyrus Oxyrhynchus and Papyrus Oxyrhynchus ,” in Das Thomasevangelium: Entstehung–Rezeption–Theologie, ed. Jörg Frey, Enno Edzard Popkes, and Jens Schröter (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –.
next. Exhortation in Gos. Thom. addresses a singular individual. So rather than imagine Gos. Thom. read out to a gathering, one should picture a training like the disciples in Dial. Sav. The latter incorporates mythological memes and Valentinian ritual into Jesus’s response to Judas’s remark about being dominated by the archons (NHC .–). Training in “words of the Lord” was not necessarily limited to a “Thomasine” subtype of Christianity associated with Gos. Thom. Gos. Phil., a miscellany of Gnostic reflections including Valentinian sacramental theology, has an unidentified “he” (= Jesus?) offer a Thanksgiving prayer (eucharisteia) for the soul’s reunion with its angelic counterpart (.–). Other selections interpret sayings of the Lord. As in Ap. Jas. one finds demonstrable expansions on Jesus’s sayings: enriching a father’s house (.–.); pearl buried in mud (.–); householder provides appropriate foods (.–.). Interpretation of the householder saying uses the educational model, a wise disciple/teacher knows how to adjust to the pupil. Slaves only receive preliminary training, whereas children are completely educated. A combination of Jesus’s salt saying (Matt. :), an exhortation concerning speech (Col. :), and a sacrificial rubric (Lev. :) provide liturgical direction for Jesus’s disciples. Other Jesus sayings include some found in Gos. Thom.: light distinguishes a sighted from a blind guide (.–, Matt. :, Luke :, Gos. Thom. ); beatitude on one who preexists (.–, Gos. Thom. .); make the outer like the inner (.–, Gos. Thom. .). An interpretation offered for uniting outer and inner explains that Jesus’s words about “outer darkness” (Matt. :, :, :) refer to corruption. The “praying to the Father who sees in secret” (Matt. :) refers to souls reunited in the Pleroma. The Gos. Truth consists of examples of Jesus’s sayings including a section on sheep parables combining a search for the one lost together with a Sabbath rescue of a sheep (Gos. Truth .–., Matt. :–, Luke :–; Gos. Thom. , Matt. :, Luke :). Two new images are added to the householder parables: defective jars discarded by movers (.–.) and storage jars with wax seals (.–). Gnostics like other Christian teachers used parables to illustrate their understanding of salvation, not as fossil voice prints from a Jewish past. In the opening narratives none of Jesus’s disciples understood the Savior’s teaching prior to his appearances after the crucifixion/exaltation. Though scribes provided different titles for these books, the distinctive literary genre developed in Gnostic circles is not the life and teaching of Jesus, typically referred to as a gospel, but a
The Gnostic Options
“revelation dialogue” or “appearance narrative” (Wis. Jes. Chr., Ap. John, Gos. Mary, Ep. Pet. Phil., Apoc. Jas., Ap. Jas., Pist. Soph.). Though it shares features with this group, Gos. Judas’s setting in the days before Jesus’s arrest is anomalous. Most peculiar, neither the Twelve nor one or more revered disciples are enlightened by the appearances. Poor preservation of the text makes it difficult to determine whether Judas Iscariot belongs to the Gnostic race, or merely serves to discredit “the Twelve” who continue to serve the creator.
One Apostolic Tradition? Valentinians treated differences in teaching and practice as adaptive pedagogy for healing the soul. Publicly circulated gospels and epistles could be read as entry-level summons to conversion. Guided by teachers, students would learn a story of Wisdom’s travails, awakening of gnosis, and the soul’s restoration to a heavenly counterpart that is encoded in them. Gos. Phil. .–. allegorizes sacrificial structures in the Jerusalem Temple as the three Valentinian sacraments, baptism, redemption, and bridal chamber. Tearing the veil from top to bottom at Jesus’s death (Matt. :) indicates that the earthly “bridal chamber” is an image of a soul’s reunion with its heavenly counterpart in the Aeons. Valentinians circulated didactic treatises and letters rather than producing apocryphal “revelation dialogues.” Consequently, their hermeneutics confirms the authenticity of apostolic traditions. Dial. Sav., diverse materials compiled by a Valentinian teacher, including the bridal chamber (.–.), also includes a selection of the dialogue genre with Mary Magdalene among the participants (.–). The revelation di”logu“s ”xploit anticipations of substantive teaching suggested by familiar resurrection stories (e.g., Luke :, Acts :) to present Gnostic topics as apostolic teaching. Where a Valentinian homilist might represent the cross as the double boundary that divides the material world from the divine and a limit preventing the emanations’ dangerous proximity to the One (Irenaeus, Haer. .., .–, .; Tri. Trac. .–), Judith Hartenstein, “Die literarische Gestalt des Judasevangelium,” in Judasevangelium und Codex Tchacos: Studien zur religionsgeschichtlichen Verortung einer gnostischen Schriftensammlung, ed. Enno Edzark Popkes and Gregor Wurst (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Pierre Létourneau, Le Dialogue du Sauveur (NH , ) (BCNHT ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –.
these Gnostic apocrypha explicitly reject Christ’s death on the cross as apostolic tradition. Instead they provide readers with counternarratives. Ep. Pet. Phil. constructs an elaborate scenario that has Peter summon Philip to a post-resurrection gathering during which the luminous Christ figure appears. He summarizes the familiar origins tale, his descent unknown to the powers to rescue Wisdom’s lost seed, and the inner, spiritual battle against the powers that the apostles told to “come together and teach salvation in the world with a promise” can anticipate (NHC .–.). Once they have returned to begin teaching salvation in the name of Jesus and healing in the Temple, Peter delivers the definitive interpretation of the crucifixion. The Savior did not suffer but did everything symbolically (.–.). Whether their recipient is an individual disciple, the “Twelve,” or an expanded group that includes women, notably Mary Magdalene, most revelations are not engaged in polemics. However, the Apocalypse of Peter, in which Christ previews the crucifixion with the Savior laughing as the powers crucify another (NHC .–.), attacks those who lead people astray “in the name of a dead man,” who espouse martyrdom as a route to perfection, who claim to be the only source of salvation, who call themselves “bishops and deacons” but are the dry canals of Pet. : (.–.). Disc. Seth presents an extended first-person “I Am” discourse by Christ to those who are his own echoing John :– before its definitive rejection of theological claims to salvation through the cross. And Disc. Seth presents those claiming the name of Christ as engaged in persecution (NHC .–). In the Testimony of Truth, there is an even more stunning polemic against other believers, which not only includes “orthodox” Christians but also the names Valentinus, Basilides, Isidore, and their followers (Testim. Truth, NHC .–). Evidently divisions could fracture Gnostic groups internally as well as from the larger population of Christians. For some Sethians that drove a shift toward a Platonic-inspired ascent of the soul. Valentinians with a well-crafted sacramental system even continue to engage in theological debates that involved third-century Christians. Gos. Judas adapts those revelations in which Jesus prepares one of the Twelve to grasp what is really happening during the crucifixion (Apoc. Pet., Apoc. Jas. .–.). Instead of claiming Klaus Koschorke, Die Polemik der Gnostiker gegen das kirchliche Christentum: Unter Berücksichtigung der Nag-Hammadi-Traktate “Apocalypse des Petrus” (NHC , ) und “Testimonium Veritatis” (NHC , ) (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ).
The Gnostic Options
apostolic authority Gos. Jud. attacks the Twelve repeatedly as servants of the creator and his powers. Unlike the Twelve, who stone him in a vision, Judas correctly identifies Jesus’s origins, the Barbelo triad (.–). For that Jesus reveals some mysteries to him alone. The Twelve have a vision of Temple sacrifice that Jesus turns into an extended attack on sacrificial worship conducted in his name (.–.). The text is so fragmentary that details are difficult to interpret, but the Gos. Jud. employs a well-trodden polemic trope: the immoral behavior, child-murder, lawlessness, and false claims to ascetic perfection made by those sacrificing to the ruler of this world in his name. Is Judas among the Gnostic elect? Jesus provides a summary of Sethian mythology (.–.) without indicating whether or not Judas is from the “holy generation.” Though Judas’s part in precipitating the eschatological overthrow of the creator’s realm seems to require turning the physical Jesus over for execution (.–.), the conclusion to this vision is missing a number of lines (.–.). So one cannot decide whether or not Judas actually follows Jesus partway into that final ascent in the light as James and Peter do in Ap. Jas. (NHC .–.). Possibly not. He is not promised life or told to convey Jesus’s teaching to others. Earlier passages also present Judas as an ambiguous figure. Though he is the “thirteenth,” superior to the Twelve, in Apoc. Adam (NHC .–), the “thirteenth” kingdom still falls short of the “generation without a king” (Sethians). In addition the “star” leading Judas as he looks up toward that luminous cloud that Jesus enters belongs to the visible world, not the Aeons from which the “fruit of the great race of Adam” comes (.–).
Conclusion Irenaeus alleged that his detailed study of Valentinian systems provided knowledge of the disease necessary to cure those afflicted by it as well as other heresies (Haer. .pr.). Possibly this distinction between Valentinians and other “gnostics so called” reflects the strength of the former in the Johanna Brankaer and Bas van Os, The Gospel of Judas (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –; on Judas as “Gnostic,” see Herbert Schmid, “Was hat der ‘Judasevangelist’ eigentlich gegen die Eucharistie?” in Judasevangelium und Codex Tchacos: Studien zur religionsgeschichtlichen Verortung einer gnostischen Schriftensammlung, ed. Enno Edzard Popkes and Gregor Wurst (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –.
bishop’s social network. If we employ “Gnostic” as a general term that covers Valentinians and “others” with traits such as: () the unknown deity and divine Pleroma; () a “true account” of the origins of the world, its ruler, and humanity that couples Wisdom, Genesis, and philosophical traditions; () a Savior’s descent from the divine to enable the soul’s return to its origins, then other labels are required for specimens found in the third- to fourth-century Coptic translations. Scholars should employ the label “Sethian” for those writings in which the “perfect humans” belong to a “race” generated by Seth. Older “history of religions” efforts to isolate a pre-Christian redeemer myth splintering off from Jewish religious circles no longer fit the engagement with Christianity represented in Coptic sources. Claiming to isolate unrecognized first- and early second-century “scriptures,” communal and ritual patterns, and theological reflection that could be set against the canonical scriptures, emerging authorities, and the premises of later “orthodox” theology in these third- to fourth-century documents remains problematic. As scholars discover connections between this material and the intellectual culture of Christianity in the second and third centuries, Valentinians, Sethians, and “others” are no longer isolated in the “infectious heresy” wing to which heresiologists assigned them.
Select Bibliography Aland, Barbara. “Der Demiurge und sein Wirken: Die Deutung des Valentinianismus im Vergleich zu der Platonismus.” Pages – in Valentinianism: New Studies. Edited by Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ). Armstrong, Arthur H. “Gnosis and Greek philosophy.” Pages – in Gnosis: Festschrift für Hans Jonas. Edited by Barbara Aland (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ). Artz-Grabner, Peter. “Why did early Christ groups still attend idol meals? Answers from papyrus invitations,” Early Christianity (), –. Berglund, Carl Johan. “Origen’s vacillating stances toward his ‘Valentinian’ colleague, Heracleon,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Bingham, Jeffrey D. “Reading the second century,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –. Brakke, David. The Gnostics: Myth, Ritual, and Diversity in Early Christianity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Brankaer, Johanna and Bas van Os. The Gospel of Judas (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Broek, Roelof van den. Gnostic Religion in Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ).
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Gagné, André. “L’Évangile selon Thomas après ans: D’où venons-nous, où sommes nous et où allons nous?” Pages – in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ). Edited by Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Hartenstein, Judith. “Die literarische Gestalt des Judasevangelium.” Pages – in Judasevangelium und Codex Tchacos: Studien zur religionsgeschichtlichen Verortung einer gnostischen Schriftensammlung. Edited by Enno Edzark Popkes and Gregor Wurst (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Die Weisheit Jesu Christi (SJC).” Pages – in Die Nag-Hammadi-Schriften in der Literatur- und Theologiegeschichte des frühen Christentums. Edited by Jens Schröter and Konrad Schwarz (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Die Zweite Lehre: Erscheinungen des Auferstandenen als Rahmenerzählungen frühchristlicher Dialoge (TU ; Berlin: Akademie, ). Hurtado, Larry. “The Greek fragments of the Gospel of Thomas as artifacts: Papyrological observations on Papyrus Oxyrhynchus , Papyrus Oxyrhynchus and Papyrus Oxyrhynchus .” Pages – in Das Thomasevangelium: Entstehung–Rezeption– Theologie. Edited by Jörg Frey, Enno Edzard Popkes, and Jens Schröter (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Kaler, Michael and Marie-Pierre Bussières. “Was Heracleon a Valentinian? A new look at old sources,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. Kelhoffer, James A. “Basilides’ gospel and Exegetica (treatises),” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. King, Karen L. “The Apocryphon of John: Genre and the Christian re-making of the world.” Pages – in Die Nag-Hammadi-Schriften in der Literatur- und Theologiegeschichte des frühen Christentums. Edited by Jens Schröter and Konrad Schwarz (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). King, Karen L. What Is Gnosticism? (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Kocar, Alexander. “The ethics of higher and lower levels of salvation in the Excerpts from Theodotus and the Tripartite Tractate.” Pages – in Valentinianism: New Studies. Edited by Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ). “‘Humanity came to be according to three essential types’: Anthropogony and ethical responsibility in the Tripartite Tractate.” Pages – in Jewish and Christian Cosmogony in Late Antiquity. Edited by Lance Jenott and Sarit Kattan Gribetz (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Koschorke, Klaus. Die Polemik der Gnostiker gegen das kirchliche Christentum: Unter Berücksichtigung der Nag-Hammadi-Traktate “Apocalypse des Petrus” (NHC vii,) und “Testimonium Veritatis” (NHC ix,) (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). Lahe, Jaan. Gnosis und Judentum: Alttestamentliche und jüdische Motive in der gnostischen Literatur und das Ursprungsproblem der Gnosis (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). Létourneau, Pierre. “The Dialogue of the Savior as a witness to the late Valentinian tradition,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Le Dialogue du Sauveur (NH iii,) (BCNHT ; Leuven: Peeters, ).
The Gnostic Options Linjamaa, Paul. The Ethics of the Tripartite Tractate (NHC i,) (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). Löhr, Winrich A. “Christianity as philosophy: Problems and perspectives of an ancient intellectual project,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Lundhaug, Hugo. “Begotten, not made, to arise in the flesh: The post-Nicene soteriology of the Gospel of Philip.” Pages – in Beyond the Gnostic Gospels: Studies Building on the Work of Elaine Pagels. Edited by Eduard Iricinschi, Lance Jenott, Nicola Denzey Lewis, and Philippa Townsend (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Textual fluidity and post-Nicene rewriting in the Nag Hammadi Codices.” Pages – in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ). Edited by Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Lundhaug, Hugo and Lance Jenott. The Monastic Origins of the Nag Hammadi Codices (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Luttikhuizen, Gerard P. Gnostic Revisions of Genesis Stories and Early Jesus Traditions (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). Luttikhuizen, Gerard P. “Sethianer?” Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum (), –. “The thought pattern of Gnostic mythologizers and their use of biblical traditions.” Pages – in The Nag Hammadi Library after Fifty Years. Edited by John D. Turner and Anne McGuire (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). Markschies, Christoph. “Gospel of Truth: Some new insights into the history of Valentinianism.” Pages – in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ). Edited by Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ). “Valentinian Gnosticism: Toward the anatomy of a school.” Pages – in The Nag Hammadi Library after Fifty Years. Edited by John D. Turner and Anne McGuire (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). Marjanen, Antti. “The Apocryphon of John, its versions and Irenaeus: What have we learned over years?” Pages – in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ). Edited by Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ). “The relationship between the Valentinian and Sethian Sophia myth revisited.” Pages – in Valentinianism: New Studies. Edited by Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ). Mazur, Zeke. “‘To try to bring the divine in us back up to the divine in the all’: The Gnostic background of Plotinus’ last words,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –. Pagels, Elaine. “Conflicting versions of Valentinian eschatology: Irenaeus’ treatises vs. the excerpts from Theodotus,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. Painchaud, Louis. “La production et la destination des codices de Nag Hammadi: Le codex .” Pages – in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag
Hammadi at : What Have We Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ). Edited by Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Pasquier, Anne. “La ‘Bibliothèque’ de Nag Hammadi: Traces d’un enseignement gnostique cohérent.” Pages – in Les textes de Nag Hammadi et le problème de leur classification. Edited by Louis Painchaud and Anne Pasquier (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Pearson, Birger A. Gnosticism, Judaism, and Egyptian Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Perkins, Pheme. “Irenaeus and the Gnostics,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. “Valentinians and the Christian canon.” Pages – in Valentinianism: New Studies. Edited by Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ). “What is a Gnostic gospel?” Catholic Bible Quarterly (), –. Rasimus, Tuomas. Paradise Reconsidered in Gnostic Mythmaking: Rethinking Sethianism in Light of the Ophite Evidence (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). Roig Lanzillotta, Lautaro. “A way of salvation: Becoming like God in Nag Hammadi,” Numen (), –. Rudolph, Kurt. Gnosis: The Nature and History of Gnosticism. Translated by Robert McLachlan Wilson (San Francisco: Harper One, ). Schmid, Herbert. Christen und Sethianer: Ein Beitrag zur Diskussion um den religionsgeschichtlichen und den kirchengeschichtlichen Begriff der Gnosis (VC Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ). “Was hat der ‘Judasevangelist’ eigentlich gegen die Eucharistie?” Pages – in Judasevangelium und Codex Tchacos: Studien zur religionsgeschichtlichen Verortung einer gnostischen Schriftensammlung. Edited by Enno Edzard Popkes and Gregor Wurst (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Scholten, Clemens. “Die Funktion der Hëresienabwehr in der Alten Kirche,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. “Gibt es Quellen zur Sozialgeschichte der Valentinianer Roms?” Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft (), –. Scott, Alan B. “Churches or books? Sethian social organization,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –. Smith, Geoffrey S. “Anti-Origenist redaction in the fragments of the Gospel of Truth (NHC ,): Theological controversy and the transmission of early Christian literature,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. Guilt by Association: Heresy Catalogues in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Snyder, H. Gregory. “Flavia’s neighborhood: Further evidence for a second-century Christian group on the Via Latina.” Pages – in Valentinianism: New Studies. Edited by Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ). Thomassen, Einar. The Spiritual Seed: The Church of the “Valentinians” (NHMS ; Leiden: Brill, ). “There is no such thing as Gnosticism: But what have we got instead?” Pages – in Nag Hammadi à ans: Qu’avons nous appris?/Nag Hammadi at : What Have We
The Gnostic Options Learned? (Colloque international, Québec Université Laval – mai ). Edited by Eric Crégheur, Louis Painchaud, and Tuomas Rasimus (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Thomassen, Einar and Louis Painchaud. Le Traité Tripartite (NH i,) (BCNHT ; Québec: Presses de l’Université Laval, ). Tripaldi, Daniele. “‘I revealed my mysteries to those who are mine’: Transmission and interpretation of Jesus’ words in some Johannine writings (nd–rd century ),” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Turner, John D. “Plotinus and the Gnostics: The Tripartite Tractate?” Pages – in Valentinianism: New Studies. Edited by Einar Thomassen and Christoph Markschies (Leiden: Brill, ). “The reception and transformation of philosophical literary genres.” Pages – in Die Nag-Hammadi-Schriften in der Literatur- und Theologiegeschichte des frühen Christentums. Edited by Jens Schröter and Konrad Schwarz (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Sethian Gnosticism and the Platonic Tradition (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ). “Typologies of the Sethian Gnostic treatises from Nag Hammadi.” Pages – in Les textes de Nag Hammadi et le problème de leur classification. Edited by Louis Painchaud and Anne Pasquier (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Williams, Michael A. “Interpreting the Nag Hammadi Library as ‘collection(s)’ in the history of ‘Gnosticism(s).’” Pages – in Les textes de Nag Hammadi et le problème de leur classification. Edited by Louis Painchaud and Anne Pasquier (BCNHE ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Wurst, Gregor. “Apokalypsen in den Nag-Hammadi-Codices.” Pages – in Die NagHammadi-Schriften in der Literatur- und Theologiegeschichte des frühen Christentums. Edited by Jens Schröter and Konrad Schwarz (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ).
Early Christian Involvement in Classical Education, Literature, and Philosophy Ancient Christianity’s relationship to classical education, literature, and philosophy is oddly tense. To be sure, Christianity originated in a thoroughly Hellenized cultural context in which literary-rhetorical education (paideia) was not only a lofty humanistic ideal but an essential prerequisite for the functioning of society. It existed not only for the social, political, and economic elites in metropolitan centers; members of lower social strata in the provinces, women as well as men, had a stake in it, too. During the first and second centuries , Galilee and Judea, the regions where Christianity can be said to have originated, were thoroughly part of that world.
The phrase “literary rhetorical education” is here intended to mean roughly the same as “classical education.” Regarding studies, Henri-Irénée Marrou, A History of Education in Antiquity (London: Sheed and Ward, ) is perhaps still the single most comprehensive treatment of the subject (with a chapter on Christianity on pp. –). For recent developments in the study of ancient education see W. Martin Bloomer (ed.) A Companion to Ancient Education (Hoboken: Wiley, ). Several contributions relevant for the present chapter are gathered in Matthew Ryan Hauge and Andrew W. Pitts (eds.) Ancient Education and Early Christianity (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, ). Although this aspect should not be neglected either. Werner Jaeger, Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture, vols. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, –) still offers an excellent starting point for its study. For an illustration on how literary rhetoric permeated the cultural life of early Christians see Josef Lössl, “Religion in the Hellenistic and early post-Hellenistic era,” in A Companion to Religion in Late Antiquity, ed. Josef Lössl and Nicholas J. Baker-Brian (Hoboken: Wiley, ), –, at –. For the educational situation in Roman Palestine in its wider socioeconomic context see Catherine Hezser, “The Graeco-Roman context of Jewish daily life in Roman Palestine” and “Private and public education,” in The Oxford Handbook of Jewish Daily Life in Roman Palestine, ed. Catherine Hezser (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –, esp. –, and –; for the socioeconomic context of the educational status of Jesus and his first followers see John S. Kloppenborg, “Jesus, fishermen and tax collectors: Papyrology and the construction of the ancient economy of Roman Palestine,” Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses (), –; Sabine Hübner, Papyri and the Social World of the New Testament (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), – (on women and carpenters).
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These provinces were not located in remote recesses of the Roman empire but firmly “on the map.” The fact that the earliest Christians came from there did not make them alien to Greco-Roman culture or out of place in Rome. It should not surprise us that by the middle of the first century there was a significant Christian presence in the city. What may need explanation, however, is that Christians seemed by this time to have gained notoriety, even to the extent that their very name (Χριστιανοί) might have been “outlawed.” What provoked these negative reactions? Clearly, as a new religious phenomenon it was not considered exceptional in its time. But many of the negative characterizations found in polemical sources of the first three centuries were aimed at its perceived educational deficiencies. For example, while it was agreed that Christians followed similar teachings to As Aelius Aristides put it in his oration In Praise of Rome, Or. , held in Rome in or , there were no more remote corners in the world, no more alien people or exotic things. The empire had brought everything together and made it familiar. Whether in Rome or in the farthest border areas, the oikoumene had become an oikos, one single household; see Daniel S. Richter, Cosmopolis: Imagining Community in Late Classical Athens and the Early Roman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. Although Syria and Palestine remained strongholds and there was also an eastward “expansion,” i.e. to areas dominated by languages other than Greek and Latin, a certain “westwardness” is a striking feature found in sources across the first and second centuries, in the Pauline Epistles, in Acts, and later, e.g., in the Ignatian corpus (“middle recension”), too. For a comprehensive overview see still Peter Lampe, Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries: From Paul to Valentinus (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ). Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, which dates from the late s, is one of the earliest documents attesting a Christian presence at Rome. That this is suggested by Tacitus, Ann. .., Suetonius, Nero ., and similar sources has only recently been reaffirmed by John Granger Cook, “Chrestiani, Christiani, Χριστιανοί: A second century anachronism?” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Implying that anyone confessing in a court of law to bearing that name could be sentenced to death. Following earlier studies, Cook, “Chrestiani,” – cites a senatus consultum de Cnaeo Pisone Patre dating from December , which mentions outlawed groups of soldiers referred to as “Pisonians” and “Caesarians,” as an example for how groups could be outlawed by reference to their names. At the turn to the third century, Tertullian, Apol. . alluded to a senatus consultum from the year that declared the nomen Christianum “illicit.” The historicity of that decree is of course highly dubious; see for this now Mattias Gassman, “On an alleged senatus consultum against the Christians,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –; but its influence on shaping the image and self-image of pre-Constantinian Christianity was considerable; see for this Ilaria Ramelli, “Porphyry and the motif of Christianity as παράνομος,” in Platonism and Its Legacy: Selected Papers from the Fifteenth Annual Conference of the International Society of Neoplatonic Studies, ed. John F. Finamore and Tomáš Nejeschleba (Lydney: Prometheus Trust, ), –. For the “anti-exceptionalist” character of non-Christian (“pagan”) attitudes toward Christians see also John North, “Pagan attitudes,” in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments, ed. James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –.
some of the ancient philosophical schools, they were judged to do so out of madness and stubbornness and not out of philosophical enlightenment. Also, Christianity was known to have originated from a “barbarian,” nonGreek, background. This, too, was perceived as a deficiency in terms of paideia. It seems that Christianity was not seen as a valid contribution to the discourse of religion but dismissed as charlatanry and superstition (superstitio, δεισιδαιμονία), also linked to lack of paideia; Christians were not so much pitied as despised as ἰδιῶται, poor fellows who had been deceived by their own founder figures. Some polemic was directed at Christians’ apparent educational aspirations; this may have been motivated at least in part by social conceit. Such conceit may have been less felt by Christians who
Cf., e.g., Epictetus, Diatr. ..: εἶτα ὑπὸ μανίας μὲν δύναταί τις οὕτως διατεθῆναι πρὸς ταῦτα καὶ ὑπὸ ἔθους οἱ Γαλιλαῖοι, referring to the Stoic virtue of indifference toward loss (of possessions, loved ones, or even one’s life); possibly Marcus Aurelius, Med. ./ (ἄλογως); . (no fear of death, but out of sheer stubbornness, κατὰ ψιλὴν παράταξιν); Galen, Diff. puls. . (. Kühn), . (.), and elsewhere: Christians obeying undemonstrated laws – like physicians and philosophers who stubbornly cling onto their doctrines, νόμων ἀναποδείκτων ἀκούῃ . . . τοὺς ταῖς αἱρέσεσι προστετικότας ἰατρούς τε καὶ φιλοσόφους; on the latter see Rebecca Fleming, “Galen and the Christians: Texts and authority in the second century ,” in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments, ed. James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at . This is suggested by remarks in Christian apologetic writers (e.g., Aristides, Apol. ; Justin Martyr, Apol. ., .; Dial. ., .) as well as in anti-Christian polemicists such as Celsus (Origen, Cels. .), but above all in Tatian’s counter-projection of Christianity as a form of “barbarian paideia”; see for this now Matthew R. Crawford, “Tatian, Celsus, and Christianity as ‘barbarian philosophy,’” in The Rise of the Early Christian Intellectual, ed. Lewis Ayres and H. Clifton Ward (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –. Tacitus, Ann. .. and Suetonius, Nero . refer to Christianity variously as a malum and as a hateful (exitiabilis), new (nova), and harmful (malefica) superstitio. Lucian of Samosata, too, speaks of it as a superstitio and links it specifically with two “religious entrepreneurs” whom he depicts as charlatans and impostors, Alexander of Abonouteichos and Peregrinus Proteus; see Alex. and ; Mort. Peregr. –; for the latter passage see now Peter von Möllendorff, “‘Dieser ans Kreuz geschlagene Sophist’: Vom Umgang mit religiösen Erweckern bei Lukian,” in “Das Paradies ist ein Hörsaal für die Seelen”: Religiöse Bildung in historischer Perspektive, ed. Peter Gemeinhardt and Ilinca Tanaseanu-Döbler (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Lucian surmises in this passage that the Christians were duped by their “protean lawgiver” (ὁ νομοθέτης ὁ πρῶτος), presumably Paul, who had persuaded them to imitate and worship a “crucified sophist” (τὸν δὲ ἀνεσκολοπισμένον ἐκεῖνον σοφιστήν). A well-known passage attesting this is Celsus ap. Origen, Cels. .., where Christian teachers, who are identified as lowly workmen (wool- and leatherworkers), are referred to as being too awkward to discuss their teachings publicly (on the forum) and to target instead uneducated youth, women, and slaves, whom they teach in their humble abodes attached to their workshops at the seedy end of the city. On how this is linked to early Christians’ educational aspirations see Josef Lössl, “Amt als Lehramt: Kirche und Schule im zweiten Jahrhundert,” Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie (), –. It is likely that wool- and
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stayed within the comfort zone of their own social groupings, but from the very outset Christians tended to breach these comfort zones and sought public debate, even if that meant attracting criticism and opprobrium for alleged lack of rhetorical competence or propriety.
A Teacher–Student Model at the Root of Early Christian Teaching The trope (found in anti-Christian polemics as well as in early Christian writings, for example Acts :) of Christians being “uneducated rustics” (ἀγράμματοι καὶ ἰδιῶται) thus stands in contrast with evidence suggesting that Christianity was in many respects first and foremost an educational movement. “Teacher” (διδάσκαλος) – in one passage even “professor” (καθηγητής) – was a crucial title by which Jesus Christ was addressed in the Synoptic Gospels. Lucian of Samosata therefore had a point speaking of leatherworkers would not have been permitted to teach as philosophers in public; see for this Kendra Eshleman, The Social World of Intellectuals in the Roman Empire: Sophists, Philosophers, and Christians (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, citing Galen, Meth. .. (. Kühn) that “in well-regulated cities it is not permitted for everyone to speak in public.” In that case Celsus’s attack against such people (if it is not just a literary contrivance) would have lacked a certain sense of natural justice and fairness. On the other hand, just like Galen’s complaint, Celsus’s polemic attests to the fact that it would have been infuriating for philosophers of standing, if such people – in spite of their lowly status – had made an impact with their teaching. Some depictions of second-century Christian school life have an almost idyllic feel about them; see, e.g., Tatian, Or. .: “Not only the rich philosophize but the poor, too, are taught – for free . . . Everyone . . . is admitted, old women, young men, in short, every age . . .” On Tatian’s activity as a teacher, see Ulrich Neymeyr, Die christlichen Lehrer im zweiten Jahrhundert: Ihre Lehrtätigkeit, ihr Selbstverständnis und ihre Geschichte (Leiden: Brill, ), –, and, more recently, focusing on a specific aspect, Miguel Herrero de Jáuregui, “Tatian Theodidaktos on mimetic knowledge,” in Christian Teachers in Second-Century Rome: Schools and Students in the Ancient City, ed. H. Gregory Snyder (Leiden: Brill, ), –; for the above cited passage also Jörg Trelenberg, Tatianos: Oratio ad Graecos, Rede an die Griechen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), n. . For example, Acts : has bystanders describe the Apostles Peter and John as uneducated and plain (ἄνθρωποι ἀγράμματοι καὶ ἰδιῶται) despite the fact that they had just listened to their eloquent speech in public. On the incongruence of this see John Kloppenborg, “Literate media in early Christ groups: The creation of a Christian book culture,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –, at –; cf. also the discussion in Lössl, “Amt als Lehramt,” . This is also emphasized by Thomas Söding, Das Christentum als Bildungsreligion: Der Impuls des Neuen Testaments (Freiburg: Herder, ), who covers the same ground as the present essay. Matt. :. Peter Gemeinhardt, “Teaching the faith in early Christianity: Divine and human agency,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –, at – gathers numerous more references. The definitive study on the use of καθηγητής in Matt. : remains John Glucker, Antiochus and the Late Academy (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ), –.
Jesus Christ as a “crucified sophist.” The ignominy of the crucifixion could not be denied. However, neither could the intellectual nature of Jesus’s spiritual leadership. Similar types of spiritual intellectual leadership were known among pagans, too. In Matthew :– Jesus’s “disciples” – literally, “students,” μαθηταί – the apostles, are instructed to become teachers themselves, to recruit students (μαθητεύειν) among all nations (πάντα τὰ ἔθνη), initiate them (βαπτίζειν), and teach them (διδάσκειν). The content of the teaching is qualified as that which Jesus had taught them. This included traditional, Jewish as well as Hellenistic philosophical elements of the kind that could later be qualified as “barbarian philosophy,” but also innovative, prophetic elements or elements that could be qualified as revelations of mysteries. The resulting literature reflects this. As Tobias Nicklas has recently argued, even the author of a book such as Revelation (with its idiosyncratic style and heavy Jewish influence) should be counted among early Christian intellectual teacher–authors such as Justin, Valentinus, Origen, and others. The work is every bit as much informed by classical (e.g., mythological) and philosophical learning as any work of its kind. It plays with Greek language and style and
Mort. Peregr. – (cited above n. ). Famously, for example, Apollonius of Tyana. See Johannes Hahn, “Weiser, göttlicher Mensch oder Scharlatan? Das Bild des Apollonius von Tyana bei Heiden und Christen,” in Literarische Konstituierung von Identifikationsfiguren in der Antike, ed. Barbara Aland, Johannes Hahn, and Christian Ronning (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. On Apollonius as a sophist see the contributions to Kristoffel Demoen and Danny Praet (eds.) “Theios Sophistes”: Essays on Flavius Philostratus’ “Vita Apollonii” (Leiden: Brill, ). See Matt. :–: “Go forth, make pupils out of all nations, baptizing them . . . teaching them everything I have taught you” (πορευθέντες οὖν μαθητεύσατε πάντα τὰ ἔθνη, βαπτίζοντες . . . διδάσκοντες αὐτοὺς τηρεῖν πάντα ὅσα ἐνετειλάμην ὑμῖν). Crawford, “Tatian, Celsus, and Christianity.” According to Rev. : a certain John of Patmos, who was identified with the Apostle John, author of the Fourth Gospel and the Johannine Epistles and teacher of Papias and Polycarp; see Irenaeus, Haer. .; Eusebius, Hist. eccl. .. See Tobias Nicklas, “Crazy guy or intellectual leader? The seer of Revelation and his role for the communities of Asia Minor,” in The Rise of the Early Christian Intellectual, ed. Lewis Ayres and H. Clifton Ward (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –, at . For Greek language and style and classical influences in Revelation see now, e.g., Thomas Paulsen, “Zu Sprache und Stil der Johannes-Apokalypse,” and Jan Willem van Henten, “The intertextual nexus of Revelation and Graeco-Roman literature,” in Poetik und Intertextualität der Johannesapokalypse, ed. Stefan Alkier, Thomas Hieke, and Tobias Nicklas (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), – and –; both discussed by Nicklas, “Crazy guy or intellectual leader?” –.
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uses the epistolary genre as a literary device in a similar way to the author (or compiler) of the middle recension of the Ignatian epistles.
Early Christianity as a Literary and Educational Prophetic Movement In light of these references to literary outputs the impression might be created that ancient Christianity was primarily a literary movement. This is partly true. The works cited so far were indeed intended as literary products. But the reason why we focus on them rather than on oral teaching (and “aural” learning) is one of default. In reality, the latter was the preferred choice among early Christians; and in this respect, too, ancient Christianity found itself fully in line with the traditions of Greco-Roman paideia. The superiority of the “living voice” (ζώση φωνή; viva vox) over the written word was not in doubt in classical antiquity, and it was reaffirmed by Christian teachers such as Papias of Hierapolis and the apologist Quadratus (both flourishing in the s ). Only a short fragment remains of Quadratus’s “apology.” It states that the power of Jesus’s works had been attested to the present day by eyewitnesses, people whom Jesus had healed or even raised from the dead and who had still been alive until fairly recently. Quadratus cites the authenticity of these eyewitnesses as a criterion for the truth and as an explanation for the “impact” of the Christian teaching among his contemporaries. Christian teachers were challenged to maintain this “impact” after the last eyewitnesses had passed away. One way to retain the intensity of the experience was martyrdom, as reflected, for example, in the lives and works of Ignatius, Polycarp, and Justin; another one was
This is also discussed by Nicklas, “Crazy guy or intellectual leader?” –; see also Josef Lössl, “Die Motive Reden, Schweigen und Hören als Mittel brieflicher Kommunikation: Ihre Thematisierung in den Ignatianen,” in Die Briefe des Ignatios von Antiocheia: Motive, Strategien, Kontexte, ed. Thomas Johann Bauer and Peter von Möllendorff (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –. On Papias (including many references to classical antiquity) see now Stephen C. Carlson, “Papias’s appeal to the ‘living and lasting voice’ over books,” in The Rise of the Early Christian Intellectual, ed. Lewis Ayres and H. Clifton Ward (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –; on Quadratus the best introduction remains Adolf von Harnack, Die Überlieferung der griechischen Apologeten des zweiten Jahrhunderts in der alten Kirche und im Mittelalter (Leipzig: Hinrichs, ), –. But see now also Wilhelm Pratscher, Quadratus, Kerygma Petri (Kommentar zu frühchristlichen Apologeten ; Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, ), –. Extant in Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ... The propagandistic character of the martyrdom motif is particularly obvious in Ignatius’s epistles, e.g., when Ignatius anticipates his death in the arena in gory detail (e.g., Rom. .:
prophecy. Quadratus was associated with the latter. Eusebius lists him among a number of revered first- and second-generation prophets, men and women. Eusebius’s reference seems to reflect a situation as it may have existed in the s. Fifty years later, at the “outbreak” of Montanism, prophecy, especially when performed by women, seems to have ceased to be an acceptable form of rhetorical expression for many Christians. The “New Prophecy,” as the movement labelled itself, was accused on the one hand of reviving elements of pre-Christian Phrygian cults while being on the other hand represented mainly by “uneducated” women. The evidence, however, suggests that Montanist women prophets were relatively well educated and referred to as pepaideumenai (“educated women”) even by
“I will be ground by the teeth of wild animals”) or implores his addressees not to intercede on his behalf to prevent him from being executed (Rom. ). A tendency toward “voluntary martyrdom” was also present in early Montanism; see William Tabbernee, “Early Montanism and voluntary martyrdom,” Colloquium: The Australian and New Zealand Theological Review (), –. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ... The others listed are the daughters of Philippus (Acts :), Amnia of Philadelphia, Agabus, Judas, and Silas. Or perhaps a little longer. Mart. Pol. . refers reverently to Polycarp, who died in or , as an “apostolic and prophetic teacher” (διδάσκαλος ἀποστολικὸς καὶ προφητικός). See the discussion in Christoph Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions in the Early Roman Empire: Prolegomena to a History of Early Christian Theology (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ), n. . So strong is the presence of “prophetic rhetoric” in early to mid-second century Christian sources in Asia Minor that it is difficult to say precisely when prophecy, in the form of Montanism, or “New Prophecy,” became controversial. The date suggested by Eusebius’s Chronicle is . Some epigraphic evidence suggests an earlier date; see Heidrun Elisabeth Mader, Montanistische Orakel und kirchliche Opposition (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ); Stephen Mitchell, “An epigraphic probe into the origins of Montanism,” in Roman Phrygia: Culture and Society, ed. Peter Thonemann (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at –. Possible traces in Lucian’s Peregrinus Proteus suggest a date in the s; see Ilaria Ramelli, “Tracce di Montanismo nel Peregrinus di Luciano?” Aevum () –. On Montanism generally, see Christoph Markschies, “Montanismus,” Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, vol. (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, ), –; for the role of Montanism in relation to early Christian intellectual culture see also Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions, –. On possible links between Montanism and pre-Christian Phrygian cults (Apollo and Kybele) see Vera-Elisabeth Hirschmann, Horrenda Secta: Untersuchungen zum frühchristlichen Montanismus und seinen Verbindungen zur paganen Religion Phrygiens (Stuttgart: Steiner, ), critically discussed by Markschies, “Montanismus,” –. On the charge of – among other faults – the women’s lack of education see Christine Trevett, Montanism: Gender, Authority, and the New Prophecy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; on the context see Susan E. Hylen, A Modest Apostle: Thecla and the History of Women in the Early Church (New York: Oxford University Press, ).
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polemical sources. In fact, the way they were represented is similar to the way women philosophers, especially Cynics, were presented in the late Hellenistic period. Undoubtedly, they were spiritual leaders and church leaders. As such they claimed what amounted to clerical leadership status, and they were educated at a level that enabled them to assume such roles and to speak and argue their case effectively in public.
Higher Education at the Service of Community: The Shepherd of Hermas A glimpse of the educational state of a Christian intellectual in Rome in the s can be caught from a few autobiographical references by Hermas, author of the Shepherd of Hermas, with its chapters the longest and arguably hermeneutically most complex work among the Apostolic Fathers. Judging by his own report Hermas was a freedman of moderate means, head of a family, and owner of property. He refers to his education in modest terms. He defers to church leaders and points to limitations in his ability to write. One could interpret this in terms of his low status as a lay Eusebius, Hist. eccl. .. relates an account according to which Zoticus of Cumane, a leader of a neighboring church, tried publicly to refute Maximilla, one of the leading women of the New Prophecy. The word used for “to refute” (διελέγξαι) suggests that he had in mind some kind of dialectical exchange between rhetorically trained participants. The source also mentions followers of Maximilla backing her, another feature of the classical debate format. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. .., , and relates the relatively high social status of the Montanist women prophets, their elegant clothing, their hosting of banquets, and similar features, all suggesting that the women should be seen as pepaideumenai. See Christopher Forbes, Prophecy and Inspired Speech in Early Christianity and Its Hellenistic Environment (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), n. , and the discussion in Josef Lössl, “Between Hipparchian Cynicism and Priscillian Montanism: Some notes on Tatian, Or. .,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –, at –. Trevett, Montanism, –. For a discussion of the probable date and location of the work see Mark Grundeken, Community Building in the Shepherd of Hermas: A Critical Study of Some Key Aspects (Leiden: Brill, ), –. On Hermas’s level of education and the literary quality of the “Shepherd” see Lampe, Christians at Rome, –. See for this Lampe, Christians at Rome, –. Herm. Vis. ..: “I transcribed everything letter by letter; for I did not catch the syllables” (μετεγραψάμην πάντα πρὸς γράμμα· οὐχ ηὕρισκον γὰρ τὰς συλλαβάς). This seems to refer to scribal practice. Hermas was taking down a dictation but he was no professional stenographer. On his low status within the Roman church see Herm. Vis. .., where he turns to “those who hold leading positions in the church and take the preeminent seats” (νῦν οὖν ὑμῖν λέγω τοῖς προηγουμένοις τῆς ἐκκλησίας καὶ τοῖς πρωτοκαθεδρίταις . . .).
prophetic visionary and the predominantly oral nature of his communication. But certain features of his work belie this image of a simple prophet, who is merely the mouthpiece of a divine messenger. It is true, “a learned Logos Christology is foreign to him,” but, as Peter Lampe has pointed out, his prose shows influences of “erotic light fiction,” Virgil’s Bucolica, the Arcadia motif, and other motifs that suggest a degree of familiarity with classical literature. The stylistic quality of the prose is not remarkable, but it is not unappealing either, and it lived up to its function. Hermas may not have belonged to the classical literary elite of Rome, but he was able to express himself in a literary style that is not totally devoid of classical influences. More importantly, perhaps, Hermas would have considered his education less as a status symbol than as a means to an end. He wanted to spread his message. He took a direct interest in the dissemination of his work and produced copies to increase wider distribution. He was at home in a new, early Christian “media world,” in which new types of literature were written, copied, circulated, and read in community gatherings. For Hermas it was not so much classical (or, for that matter, biblical, “Old Testament”) literature that
This is also how Eshleman, Social World, –, presents him, as an authoritative voice in the Roman church, while Carlson, “Papias’ appeal,” – cites him as an example of the preeminence of the living voice, albeit through the lense of Origen, Princ. .., for whom Hermas represents “the plain letter” (αὐτὸ ψιλόν ἐστι τὸ γράμμα) of an unadulterated message, while the copies of his work, which he sends to other places (see Herm. Vis. ..), “deviate” from the original. Hermas himself emphasizes the significance of him speaking “through living words” (διὰ ζώντων λόγων) and not merely through letters (διὰ γραμμάτων). Lampe, Christians at Rome, . Lampe, Christians at Rome, – plays this down because of the popularity of works such as Virgil’s Bucolica or Longus’s novel Daphnis and Chloe, which were made accessible to a wider public through theater, dance, and poetic performances. But this is precisely the point: Classical paideia was not reserved to a privileged (highly educated) few but accessible at all levels of education, through the oral, aural, and visual culture of its day. See, e.g., the discussion in Grundeken, Community Building, and , on Hermas’s use of a dance motif in Sim. ..– that echoes Long. Daphn. ..– (Henderson). Lampe, Christians at Rome, , describes him as a “man from the common folk.” Perhaps more remarkably, Herm. shows little direct influence of Jewish Scriptures. Hermas refers to “the scriptures” (αἱ γραφαί) only once (Herm. Vis. ..), meaning the booklets in which he writes down the revelations he receives. In Herm. Vis. .. he is asked by his angelic source to procure two copies of his book in addition to the original in order to maximize its dissemination in Rome as well as elsewhere. On the educational and cultic use of texts in these early gatherings see Jörg Christian Salzmann, Lehren und Ermahnen: Zur Geschichte des christlichen Wortgottesdienstes in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ); Valeriy A. Alikin, The Earliest History of the Christian Gathering: Origin, Development and Content of the Christian Gathering in the First to Third Centuries (Leiden: Brill, ), –; Grundeken, Community Building, .
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mattered as “the new documents of the church.” When pleading lack of scribal competence he drew attention to the originally oral (and aural) nature of these documents and to their originality and authenticity. They were part of a new canon. In reality, of course, they also contained plenty of intertextual references to both classical and biblical literature. They did not originate in a vacuum but reflect the wider cultural context in which they originated. Classical education was naturally part of this. Thus, even very early Christian writings contain evidence of classical paideia, and even Christian leaders depicted by the sources as uneducated and rustic turn out to have been relatively well educated. How did they acquire their education, considering that literacy rates are thought to have been very low? Did people who could not read themselves perhaps benefit from listening to speeches, lectures, and readings from books, especially if they were allowed to interact with the presenter? Illiterate people could memorize texts and recite them. The predominantly oral character of ancient literary culture makes it problematic to draw a sharp line between illiteracy and literacy. Also, there were levels of literacy, from learning the letters of the alphabet and reading and writing syllables and words, taught by the elementary teacher or γραμματιστής, via secondary-level literary study, taught by the grammarian or γραμματικός, to the higher level of Grundeken, Community Building, ; cf. Kim Haines-Eitzen, Guardians of Letters: Literacy, Power, and the Transmitters of Early Christian Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), . Herm. Vis. .. (quoted above, n. ). For tentative statistical figures (between and percent of the population depending on region) see, e.g., Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions, –. Helpful remarks on literacy rates, especially of Christian women, can be found in Jan N. Bremmer, Maidens, Magic and Martyrs in Early Christianity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Tatian, Or. . (quoted above, n. ) and Or. . (referring to Tatian’s training as a sophist), suggests such scenarios. In Or. . Tatian remarks that Christian women exchange “utterances” (ἐκφωνήματα) concerning God (presumably text passages that they had memorized in the course of their instruction) while sitting together working on the distaff. Latin magister ludi or primus magister; for further details see Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions, – (with further literature under n. ). Hermas, Vis. .. (quoted above, n. ) alludes to this stage. Literally, a “scholar,” “one who knows the letters (γράμματα),” i.e. everything involved in studying them. The latter was a complex (and open-ended) array of items. A list put together by Raffaela Cribiore, Writing, Teachers, and Students in Graeco-Roman Egypt (Atlanta: Scholars Press, ), –, at , and rendered by Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions, n. , includes: letters of the alphabet, entire alphabets, syllabaries, lists of words, writing of exercises, short passages of text (maxims, sayings, short pieces of verse), longer text passages (dictated, copied, [memorized and recited]), scholia minora, compositions, paraphrases, summaries, grammatical exercises, notebooks.
rhetoric, which could also involve study of philosophy and was accessible only to a privileged minority.
Limits of “Christianization”: The Persistence of “Pagan” Culture All teaching in antiquity, however, was steeped in traditional, Greco-Roman, religion. Even the letters of the alphabet were related to the gods. Traditional pagan rituals had to be observed at school, which could involve the wearing of wreaths or taking part in processions and revelries. Some rigorous Christian writers condemned Christian participation in such activities and even declared schools and the profession of schoolteaching off-limits for Christians. But others endorsed classical education as useful even for Christian ends. By and large, despite some evidence of Christian attempts to “Christianize” school education by replacing pagan sample texts and exercises with Christian material, Christians seem to have accepted the “pagan” character of classical education. Many were professional teachers, as is suggested by a rich treasure trove of epigraphic evidence.
For examples see Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions, nn. –. Tatian, Or. . betrays his familiarity with this aspect of teaching by poking fun at various spurious meanings attributed to the letter Δ, “delta,” on grounds of its being the initial of Zeus’s name (Δί or Δία). For examples see Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions, –. See notably Tertullian, Idol. ., . and the discussions in Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions, and (with further literature). Lactantius, Div. inst. .., discussed in Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions, . The examples of exercises containing Christian words or symbols cited by Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions, , are few and date from the fourth century or later. Also, they are not entirely conclusive. The “chi-rho” symbol, for example, cannot be considered unequivocally Christian before the fourth century, especially when found in writing exercises, where it could have been used as a marking sign, meaning “good.” According to Jutta Henner, “Der Unterricht im christlichen Ägypten,” in Christliches mit Feder und Faden: Christliches in Texten, Textilien und Alltagsgegenständen aus Ägypten. Katalog zur Sonderausstellung im Papyrusmuseum der Österreichischen Nationalbibliothek aus Anlaß des . Internationalen Kongresses für christliche Archäologie, ed. Jutta Henner, Hans Förster, and Ulrike Horak (Nilus ; Vienna: ÖVG, ), –, only c. percent of extant school texts contain “Christian” traces. Only with the arrival of monastic schools from the fourth century onward did the situation change and Christian content began to dominate; see for this the essays collected in Lillian I. Larsen and Samuel Rubenson (eds.) Monastic Education in Late Antiquity: The Transformation of Classical Paideia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). See for this Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions, –, including a Roman magister [primus] named Gorgonus, who is remembered in the catacombs of Callistus (ILCV no. = Diehl :), and a σοφίης διδάσκαλος named Aurelius Trophimus from late thirdcentury Altintas/Kurtköy in Phrygia (SEG no. .–). These two examples are also
Early Christian Involvement in Classical Education
How did Christians reconcile the “pagan” culture of their classical education with their biblical faith? Obviously, the religious power of that culture was still strong. It would be mistaken to think that it could be treated as mere folklore. Christians were struggling with the question to what degree they should participate in or opt out of it. But the reason for this was not the weakness of the ancient culture but of Christianity. Culture had not yet “absorbed” Christianity. “Christianization” was still in its infancy. People were not born into a Christianized culture. Christianity was still above all a way of life akin to a philosophy or ethics embraced by mature adults. This is also evident, for example, from the fact that many early Christians continued to bear names of pagan deities such as Phoebe, Apollo, Hippolytus, Serapion, Gorgonus, Demetrias, or Chloe. Clearly, one’s name and social identity were not entirely defined by one’s Christianity. The same was true of other areas of life: entering a profession, getting married, taking part in civic life, and attending school and acquiring an education. In these as in many other respects, Christians were wandering “between two worlds.” mentioned by Robert A. Kaster, Guardians of Language: The Grammarian and Society in Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, ), and . Further examples in Ernst Diehl, Inscriptiones Latinae Christianae veteres (ILCV), rd ed., vols. (Zurich: Weidmann, ), nos. –. Kaster, Guardians contains many more examples, especially from the fourth and fifth centuries; for the situation in the mid-fourth century see also Josef Lössl, “Imperial involvement in education and theology: Constantine to Constantius II,” Journal for Late Antique Religion and Culture (), –. Tatian, Or. ., for example, expresses consternation at the fact that he causes offense and attracts hate just because he does not participate “in some people’s customs.” This suggests that he might have expected some tolerance among his fellow citizens toward his nonparticipatory stance. However, he also seems to have been keenly aware that this tolerance had its limits. On the concept of Christianization see Hartmut Leppin, “Christianisierungen im Römischen Reich: Überlegungen zum Begriff und zur Phasenbildung,” Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum (), –. See for this the comment by Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions, n. , on the remark by Adolf von Harnack, The Mission and Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries (New York: Putnam, ), , that “the martyrs perished because they declined to sacrifice to the gods whose names they bore.” As Markschies adds, Christians not only bore such names, they would also have learned writing by scribbling them over and over in their school exercises. The emphasis here is on “not entirely.” Christians obviously tried to move in this direction. See, e.g., the Acts of the martyr Carpus, who lived in the reign of Marcus Aurelius, cited in Herbert Musurillo, The Acts of the Christian Martyrs (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), –: When Carpus is asked by the magistrate, “What is your name?” he answers: “My first and most distinctive name is ‘Christian,’ but if you want my name in the world, Carpus.” See for this Christoph Markschies, Between Two Worlds: Structures of Early Christianity (London: SCM Press, ); and recently, Hartmut Leppin, Die frühen Christen: Von den Anfängen bis Konstantin (Munich: C. H. Beck, ); also, with a focus on Tatian’s Ad Graecos and the topic of education, Peter Gemeinhardt, “Tatian und die antike Paideia: Ein Wanderer
Higher Education and Inter-Christian Tensions: From Philosophy to Theology The evidence of many Christians’ involvement in education belies the polemical attacks of their opponents who tried to depict them as uneducated (as noted above). However, the involvement of Christian teachers in higher education in particular, which involved the teaching of rhetoric and especially philosophy, eventually caused tensions within Christianity, too. In the latter half of the second century the very words “teacher” and “school” grew suspicious, as is evident in a passage in Irenaeus, dating from just after , where the apologist Tatian, who wrote in the s, is accused of contributing to heresy by founding a school of his own, asserting his role as a teacher and offering a teaching of its own kind, of a unique “character.” What is interesting in Irenaeus’s attack against Tatian in Haer. .. is the distinction between school and church. A generation earlier it was still possible for Justin Martyr to identify the attendance of his philosophical school with church membership. Irenaeus, in contrast, treats Tatian’s foundation of his own school as apostasy. The word “school” seems to have become a synonym for “sect,” or “heresy.” Irenaeus’s statement reflects a general trend in Christianity during that period, which gained further momentum in the third century. It is not that Irenaeus despised education, far from it. He still understood the church as a place of learning and himself, as bishop, in the role of teacher. But as church
zwischen zwei (Bildungs-)Welten,” in Gegen falsche Götter und falsche Bildung: Tatian, Rede an die Griechen, ed. H.-G. Nesselrath (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. For epigraphic evidence of primary and secondary teachers, see above, n. . See Irenaeus, Haer. .., who emphasizes precisely these aspects: Tatian arrogated to himself the role of teacher and offered an innovative teaching all of its own character (οἰήματι διδασκάλου ἐπαρθεὶς . . . ἴδιον χαρακτῆρα διδασκαλείου συνεστήσατο). This at least is suggested by the statement he gave to the magistrate at his trial, which took place in Rome around . He claimed that for the entire time he lived in Rome he had known no other “meeting place” (συνέλευσις) than his school, a flat located above a bath; cf. Act. Iust. . (.– [rec. A]; . [rec. B] Musurillo). Even if we assume that by making this statement Justin tried to protect other groups, the fact remains that he and his companions stood trial as Christians who met at his place, and his place only, a philosophical school. For Irenaeus (Haer. ..), after , church (ἐκκλησία) and school, as in “Tatian’s school” (διδασκαλείον) have become two separate entities. On the possible location of Justin’s school in Rome see H. Gregory Snyder, “‘Above the Bath of Myrtinus’: Justin Martyr’s ‘school’ in the city of Rome,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. Irenaeus, Haer. ..: “After the martyrdom [of Justin Martyr, Tatian] apostatized from the church (ἀποστὰς τῆς ἐκκλησίας) [and] founded a school with its own characteristic teaching (ἴδιον χαρακτῆρα διδασκαλείον συνεστήσατο).”
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structure and discipline grew in strength around the office of bishop, Christianity’s reputational reliance on classical education decreased. Classical education was increasingly seen as something non-Christian, “pagan,” even “secular,” separate from a Christian, biblical education. It was made into an “other” to be “used” as something in contrast to or in comparison with which Christians could explain their own teachings. An early author who made “use” of classical literature in this manner was Clement of Alexandria. He flourished in the late second and early third century and related well-known scenes and symbols from Homeric epic and Euripidean drama to Christ’s crucifixion. Yet he felt that he had to make it very clear that by doing so he did not mean to treat the pagan myths as valid religious traditions. In the s the already mentioned Tatian did not even dream yet of making such comparisons. For him the pagan This is crassly illustrated by the fact that until the fourth century a higher level of literacy was not an essential requirement for a Christian bishop. It was only under Constantius II from the s onward that an attempt was made to lift the educational status of Christian bishops to the level of middle-ranking imperial civil servants; see Lössl, “Imperial involvement,” –. This may also be a reason why in the fourth century attempts at “classicizing” biblical traditions (e.g., Gospel epics in hexameters) remained niche pursuits. By then, a stereotypical perception of what was Christian and what was “pagan,” classical, had already developed; see the discussion in Lössl, “Imperial involvement,” . The concept, developed by early Christian writers, of the “legitimate use” (χρῆσις ὀρθή) of pagan ideas was seminally studied by Christian Gnilka, Der Begriff des “rechten Gebrauchs” (Basel: Schwabe, ); for a more recent discussion see Karla Pollmann, The Baptized Muse: Early Christian Poetry as Cultural Authority (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), . But studies such as these focus on fourth- and fifth-century (or even later) patristic literature (mostly poetry) and tend to neglect the changing Christian attitudes toward pagan culture in the late second and early to mid-third century. Clement of Alexandria, Protr. .. compares Christ’s cross, which saves from corruption, to Odyssey ., where Odysseus is tied to the mast of the ship in order not to yield to the Sirens’ call, while Protr. .. compares the cross to the ceremonial staff (thyrsus) held by the seer Teiresias in Euripides’s Bacchae – to guide him in his blindness. For a recent study see Courtney J. Friesen, Reading Dionysus: Euripides’ Bacchae and the Cultural Contestations of Greeks, Jews, Romans and Christians (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), and passim (on Clement). Right from the beginning (Protr. ..) Clement makes it clear that for him these stories are empty myths (μύθοι κενοί) and the gods acting in them demons (Protr. ..). He even addresses Teiresias in Protr. .. to let go of the thyrsus and hold on to the cross to overcome his blindness and be saved. But from a literalist point of view this is a cruel contrivance, as the “real” Teiresias never had this chance and would have to be considered as one of the damned. While he appeals to the pagans in Or. . not to allegorize their myths, in order not to demean their concept of the divine, he adds in . that to compare the pagan and the Christian concepts of the divine on an equal footing would amount to blasphemy. For further aspects see Josef Lössl, “Hermeneutics and doctrine of God in Tatian’s Ad Graecos,” Studia Patristica (), –.
pantheon, which he knew well, as he was classically educated, was such a powerful demonic reality that it could only be emphatically rejected by a Christian, not studied with an indifferent or curious mind and compared with Christian traditions. Its role in Christian teaching was a purely negative one. In contrast, it seems, Clement had already acquired some of this indifference that detached the classical from the Christian universe. For him it no longer constituted such a threat. It had lost much of its power and mystique and begun to belong to “another” culture.
Toward a “Secularization” of Classical Education in Late Antiquity In the third century this development progressed in two – seemingly contradictory – ways: Classical paideia (including literature and philosophy) was increasingly seen as “other” and “pagan.” At the same time there were endeavors to “classicize” Christianity itself and to raise it to the status of a classical tradition. Because of the first tendency, however, such endeavors met with strict limitations. The perception that the classical tradition was “secular” and separate from the Christian tradition became dominant. This dual development can be traced in the life and career of Origen of Alexandria, who lived from c. to . Growing up in a household that was both well-to-do and Christian, he received a classical and a biblical education already as a child. He became a respected grammarian and Christian teacher and taught pagan and Christian students alongside each other in both areas. The school at which he taught and of which he became head at a fairly young age has traditionally been referred to as “catechetical school.” However, founded by the Christian Stoic philosopher Pantaenus in the s, it seems to have been similar to the schools in Rome, of the type of which a bishop like Irenaeus began to disapprove in the s. It was a school where anyone with paideia, Christian or non-Christian, man or woman, could study the teachings of Christianity as a philosophy, a For a reliable summary see Alfons Fürst, “Origenes,” Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, vol. (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, ), –. See Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..– and : “. . . trained in the divine scriptures already since he was a boy (ταῖς θείαις γραφαῖς ἐξ ἔτι παιδὸς ἐνησκημένος) . . . in addition to the usual comprehensive classical education (πρὸς τῇ τῶν ἐγκυκλίων παιδείᾳ).” Translating the phrase τὸ τῆς κατηχήσεως διδασκαλεῖον used by Eusebius, Hist. eccl. .. and . Irenaeus, Haer. .. (quoted above, nn. and ).
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spiritual-intellectual way of life. It was not primarily a school that prepared catechumens for baptism. By contrast, there were non-Christian schools where Christians could acquire the philosophical teachings of, say, Platonism, or Stoicism. But Origen’s further life story points to the limitations of this project. While he was at first commissioned as head of the school by the Bishop of Alexandria, perhaps in an attempt to dissociate the school from other schools that were deemed heretical, he was later himself accused of teaching “philosophy,” not Christian doctrine, and, eventually, dismissed.84 After moving to Caesarea he was able to continue with his style of learning and teaching. His approach consisted in applying philosophical, philological, and literary techniques to the study of the Bible, thus “marrying” classical and biblical learning in an “explorative” manner, not shutting down debate at a certain point and defining doctrines but continuing to ask questions, if necessary, ad infinitum. Nevertheless, his dismissal from Alexandria does
For further details see the discussion in Alfons Fürst, Christentum als Intellektuellen-Religion: Die Anfänge des Christentums in Alexandria (Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, ), . In a more recent contribution Balbina Bäbler has drawn attention to the fact that women, too, attended the school in Alexandria as well as the library and teaching institute in Caesarea: “Für Christen und Heiden, Männer und Frauen: Origenes’ Bibliotheks- und Lehrinstitut in Caesarea,” in “Das Paradies ist ein Hörsaal für die Seelen”: Religiöse Bildung in historischer Perspektive, ed. Peter Gemeinhardt and Ilinca Tanaseanu-Döbler (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Origen is attested to have attended the lectures of the Platonist Ammonius Saccas, who also taught, among many others, the pagan Plotinus; see Porphyry, fr. (Harnack) = Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..–. Plotinus in turn seems to have taught Christian students; see Porphyry, Vit. Plot. –; Plotinus, Enn. . (Against the Gnostics). See Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..; cf. .. and .. Thus Fürst, Christentum, . In a letter of apology, part of which is extant in Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..–, he claims that he merely wanted to continue the tradition he had inherited from Pantaenus, i.e. teaching Christianity as a philosophical way of life, “second-century style.” For the transformation from philosophical learning to catechetical teaching at the School of Alexandria see Peter Gemeinhardt and Tobias Georges, “Vom philosophischen Schulbetrieb zum kirchlichen Katechumenat: Institutionalisierungen religiöser Bildung im spätantiken Christentum,” in “Das Paradies ist ein Hörsaal für die Seelen”: Religiöse Bildung in historischer Perspektive, ed. Peter Gemeinhardt and Ilinca Tanaseanu-Döbler (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. For the details see Fürst, “Origenes,” –. Origen had visited Caesarea and, in defiance of the authority of his bishop (Demetrius of Alexandria), allowed himself to be ordained presbyter there. When returning to Alexandria he was deposed by Demetrius and barred from teaching, after which he returned to Caesarea. The letter referred to above (ap. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..–) suggests that the reasons for his dismissal had at least partly to do with his (more open and liberal, philosophical) style of teaching. Alfons Fürst refers to this as Origen’s “scientific” approach, “Origen: Exegesis and philosophy in early Christian Alexandria,” in Interpreting the Bible and Aristotle in Late Antiquity: The Alexandrian Commentary Tradition between Rome and Baghdad, ed. Josef Lössl and John W. Watt (Farnham and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, ), –, at –.
point to a fundamental change in the Christian attitude to classical learning and philosophy. Not long after his death Origen began to be treated as a heretic, and by the end of antiquity much of his work was destroyed, his approach discredited. Although many later patristic writers continued to be influenced by him, the high level at which he had integrated Christian (biblical) and classical learning was rarely reached again.
Summary and Conclusion Christianity originated within a world defined and structured by classical education (paideia), literature, and philosophy. Already in its earliest written documents it styled itself as an educational movement. But the educational aspirations of Christians also drew polemics, since their levels of achievement were not perceived as living up to these aspirations. This was at least in part due to elitist and idealistic expectations. In reality, Christians’ performance in the areas of education, literature, and philosophy, as evident from written documents, was comparable to what would be expected from contemporary non-Christians of similar social standing. In a context of literacy rates likely to be generally very low, Christians widely benefited from classical education and were represented among the teaching professions – at all levels, as is supported, among other sources, by epigraphic evidence. Since in Greco-Roman culture classical education was not “ideologically” neutral but involved participation in traditional religious activities and beliefs, Christians were conflicted. Some rejected a “deeper” involvement in classical education, for example as teachers. Others, however, remained engaged, even as teachers and professors. Many also continued to bear the names of pagan deities, a fact that has been interpreted in the sense that they may have
For a brief and comprehensive recent overview of the “reception” of Origen in late antiquity see the volume by Alfons Fürst and Thomas Karmann (eds.) Verurteilung des Origenes: Kaiser Justinian und das Konzil von Konstantinopel (Münster: Aschendorff, ). The scope of several of the contributions contained in this volume is much wider than the title suggests. The focus in the last few sections of this chapter has been on the Greek sphere. There are Latin authors, too, such as Tertullian, Arnobius, and Lactantius, who endeavored to integrate classical and Christian (biblical) learning in their writings, each in their own different way. Notably, their orthodoxy, too, was soon called into question, and their thought worlds do not easily fit with later (orthodox) Christian teaching. This has been investigated particularly well in the case of Lactantius in the now classic study by Antonie Wlosok, Laktanz und die philosophische Gnosis: Untersuchungen zu Geschichte und Terminologie der gnostischen Erlösungsvorstellung (Heidelberg: Winter, ).
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“compartmentalized” their attitude to the classical worldview and rejected some aspects of it while accepting others. Participation in some practices linked originally to traditional religion but in late antiquity increasingly “relativized” as innocuous elements of “folk culture” seems to have been widespread. But the process of perceiving the religious core of classical education increasingly as secular and compatible with Christian (biblical) education seems to have been a slow one. Although the dismissal of the classical pantheon as “empty myths” and “use” (chresis) of classical mythology by some educated Christians in their own teaching began early, in the second century, Christians generally continued to perceive “pagan” culture as a powerful and threatening demonic reality to the end of antiquity. In a similar way, philosophy remained problematic for Christians too. In the second century Christian schools had emerged that taught Christianity as a philosophical way of life, similar to non-Christian philosophical schools. Classical and Christian education was largely integrated in these schools. They often admitted non-Christians as well as Christians. With the growth of church structures and the office of bishop, the existence of such independent schools became a problem. Irenaeus’s condemnation of Tatian and Origen’s failure in Alexandria to include the teaching of classical grammar, literature, and philosophy and of Christian doctrine and biblical studies under one roof were cited as examples for this cultural clash. In later centuries classical education was of course still possible for Christians, but in an increasingly culturally alienated mode. Christians acquired classical education no longer as part of their own culture but as knowledge of what had become for them an alien, “pagan,” past.
Select Bibliography Alikin, Valeriy A. The Earliest History of the Christian Gathering: Origin, Development and Content of the Christian Gathering in the First to Third Centuries (Leiden: Brill, ). Bäbler, Balbina. “Für Christen und Heiden, Männer und Frauen: Origenes’ Bibliotheksund Lehrinstitut in Caesarea.” Pages – in “Das Paradies ist ein Hörsaal für die Seelen”: Religiöse Bildung in historischer Perspektive. Edited by Peter Gemeinhardt and Ilina Tanaseanu-Döbler (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Bloomer, W. Martin (ed.) A Companion to Ancient Education (Hoboken: Wiley, ). Bremmer, Jan N. Maidens, Magic and Martyrs in Early Christianity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ).
Carlson, Stephen C. “Papias’s appeal to the ‘living and lasting voice’ over books.” Pages – in The Rise of the Early Christian Intellectual. Edited by Lewis Ayres and H. Clifton Ward (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Cook, John Granger. “Chrestiani, Christiani, Χριστιανοί: A second century anachronism?” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Crawford, Matthew R. “Tatian, Celsus, and Christianity as ‘barbarian philosophy.’” Pages – in The Rise of the Early Christian Intellectual. Edited by Lewis Ayres and H. Clifton Ward (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Cribiore, Raffaela. Writing, Teachers, and Students in Graeco-Roman Egypt (Atlanta: Scholars Press, ). Demoen, Kristoffel and Danny Praet (eds.) “Theios Sophistes”: Essays on Flavius Philostratus’ “Vita Apollonii” (Leiden: Brill, ). Diehl, Ernst. Inscriptiones Latinae Christianae veteres (ILCV), vols. (Zurich: Weidmann, third edition, ). Eshleman, Kendra. The Social World of Intellectuals in the Roman Empire: Sophists, Philosophers, and Christians (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Fleming, Rebecca. “Galen and the Christians: Texts and authority in the second century .” Pages – in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments. Edited by James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Forbes, Christopher. Prophecy and Inspired Speech in Early Christianity and Its Hellenistic Environment (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Friesen, Courtney J. Reading Dionysus: Euripides’ Bacchae and the Cultural Contestations of Greeks, Jews, Romans and Christians (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Fürst, Alfons. Christentum als Intellektuellen-Religion: Die Anfänge des Christentums in Alexandria (Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, ). “Origen: Exegesis and philosophy in early Christian Alexandria.” Pages – in Interpreting the Bible and Aristotle in Late Antiquity: The Alexandrian Commentary Tradition between Rome and Baghdad. Edited by Josef Lössl and John W. Watt (Farnham and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, ). “Origenes,” Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, vol. (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, ), –. Fürst, Alfons and Thomas Karmann (eds.) Verurteilung des Origenes: Kaiser Justinian und das Konzil von Konstantinopel (Münster: Aschendorff, ). Gassman, Mattias. “On an alleged senatus consultum against the Christians,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Gemeinhardt, Peter. “Tatian und die antike Paideia: Ein Wanderer zwischen zwei (Bildungs-)Welten.” Pages – in Gegen falsche Götter und falsche Bildung: Tatian, Rede an die Griechen. Edited by H.-G. Nesselrath (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Teaching the faith in early Christianity: Divine and human agency,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Georges, Tobias. “Vom philosophischen Schulbetrieb zum kirchlichen Katechumenat: Institutionalisierungen religiöser Bildung im spätantiken Christentum.” Pages – in “Das Paradies ist ein Hörsaal für die Seelen”: Religiöse Bildung in historischer
Early Christian Involvement in Classical Education Perspektive. Edited by Peter Gemeinhardt and Ilinca Tanaseanu-Döbler (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Glucker, John. Antiochus and the Late Academy (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ). Gnilka, Christian. Der Begriff des “rechten Gebrauchs” (Basel: Schwabe, ). Grundeken, Mark. Community Building in the Shepherd of Hermas: A Critical Study of Some Key Aspects (Leiden: Brill, ). Hahn, Johannes. “Weiser, göttlicher Mensch oder Scharlatan? Das Bild des Apollonius von Tyana bei Heiden und Christen.” Pages – in Literarische Konstituierung von Identifikationsfiguren in der Antike. Edited by Barbara Aland, Johannes Hahn, and Christian Ronning (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Haines-Eitzen, Kim. Guardians of Letters: Literacy, Power, and the Transmitters of Early Christian Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Harnack, Adolf von. Die Überlieferung der griechischen Apologeten des zweiten Jahrhunderts in der alten Kirche und im Mittelalter (Leipzig: Hinrichs, ). The Mission and Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries (New York: Putnam, ). Hauge, Matthew Ryan and Andrew W. Pitts (eds.) Ancient Education and Early Christianity (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, ). Henner, Jutta. “Der Unterricht im christlichen Ägypten.” Pages – in Christliches mit Feder und Faden: Christliches in Texten, Textilien und Alltagsgegenständen aus Ägypten. Katalog zur Sonderausstellung im Papyrusmuseum der Österreichischen Nationalbibliothek aus Anlaß des . Internationalen Kongresses für christliche Archäologie. Edited by Jutta Henner, Hans Förster, and Ulrike Horak (Nilus ; Vienna: ÖVG, ). Henten, Jan Willem van. “The intertextual nexus of Revelation and Graeco-Roman literature.” Pages – in Poetik und Intertextualität der Johannesapokalypse. Edited by Stefan Alkier, Thomas Hieke, and Tobias Nicklas (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Herrero de Jáuregui, Miguel. “Tatian Theodidaktos on mimetic knowledge.” Pages – in Christian Teachers in Second- Century Rome: Schools and Students in the Ancient City. Edited by H. Gregory Snyder (Leiden: Brill, ). Hezser, Catherine. “The Graeco-Roman context of Jewish daily life in Roman Palestine.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Jewish Daily Life in Roman Palestine. Edited by Catherine Hezser (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Private and public education.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Jewish Daily Life in Roman Palestine. Edited by Catherine Hezser (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Hirschmann, Vera-Elisabeth. Horrenda Secta: Untersuchungen zum frühchristlichen Montanismus und seinen Verbindungen zur paganen Religion Phrygiens (Stuttgart: Steiner, ). Hübner, Sabine. Papyri and the Social World of the New Testament (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Hylen, Susan E. A Modest Apostle: Thecla and the History of Women in the Early Church (New York: Oxford University Press, ).
Jaeger, Werner. Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture, vols. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, –). Kaster, Robert A. Guardians of Language: The Grammarian and Society in Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Kloppenborg, John S. “Jesus, fishermen and tax collectors: Papyrology and the construction of the ancient economy of Roman Palestine,” Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses (), –. “Literate media in early Christ groups: The creation of a Christian book culture,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –. Lampe, Peter. Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries: From Paul to Valentinus (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ). Larsen, Lillian I. and Samuel Rubenson (eds.) Monastic Education in Late Antiquity: The Transformation of Classical Paideia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Leppin, Hartmut. “Christianisierungen im Römischen Reich: Überlegungen zum Begriff und zur Phasenbildung,” Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum (), –. Die frühen Christen: Von den Anfängen bis Konstantin (Munich: C. H. Beck, ). Lössl, Josef. “Amt als Lehramt: Kirche und Schule im zweiten Jahrhundert,” Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie (), –. “Between Hipparchian Cynicism and Priscillian Montanism: Some notes on Tatian, Or. .,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. “Die Motive Reden, Schweigen und Hören als Mittel brieflicher Kommunikation: Ihre Thematisierung in den Ignatianen.” Pages – in Die Briefe des Ignatios von Antiocheia: Motive, Strategien, Kontexte. Edited by Thomas Johann Bauer and Peter von Möllendorff (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). “Hermeneutics and doctrine of God in Tatian’s Ad Graecos,” Studia Patristica (), –. “Imperial involvement in education and theology: Constantine to Constantius II,” Journal for Late Antique Religion and Culture (), –. “Religion in the Hellenistic and early post-Hellenistic era.” Pages – in A Companion to Religion in Late Antiquity. Edited by Josef Lössl and Nicholas J. Baker-Brian (Hoboken: Wiley, ). Mader, Heidrun Elisabeth. Montanistische Orakel und kirchliche Opposition (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ). Markschies, Christoph. Between Two Worlds: Structures of Early Christianity (London: SCM Press, ). Christian Theology and Its Institutions in the Early Roman Empire: Prolegomena to a History of Early Christian Theology (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ). “Montanismus,” Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, vol. (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, ), –. Marrou, Henri-Irénée. A History of Education in Antiquity (London: Sheed and Ward, ). Mitchell, Stephen. “An epigraphic probe into the origins of Montanism.” Pages – in Roman Phrygia: Culture and Society. Edited by Peter Thonemann (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ).
Early Christian Involvement in Classical Education Möllendorff, Peter von. “‘Dieser ans Kreuz geschlagene Sophist’: Vom Umgang mit religiösen Erweckern bei Lukian.” Pages – in “Das Paradies ist ein Hörsaal für die Seelen”: Religiöse Bildung in historischer Perspektive. Edited by Peter Gemeinhardt and Ilinca Tanaseanu-Döbler (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Musurillo, Herbert. The Acts of the Christian Martyrs (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Neymeyr, Ulrich. Die christlichen Lehrer im zweiten Jahrhundert: Ihre Lehrtätigkeit, ihr Selbstverständnis und ihre Geschichte (Leiden: Brill, ). Nicklas, Tobias. “Crazy guy or intellectual leader? The seer of Revelation and his role for the communities of Asia Minor.” Pages – in The Rise of the Early Christian Intellectual. Edited by Lewis Ayres and H. Clifton Ward (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). North, John. “Pagan attitudes.” Pages – in Christianity in the Second Century: Themes and Developments. Edited by James Carleton Paget and Judith Lieu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Paulsen, Thomas. “Zu Sprache und Stil der Johannes-Apokalypse.” Pages – in Poetik und Intertextualität der Johannesapokalypse. Edited by Stefan Alkier, Thomas Hieke, and Tobias Nicklas (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Pollmann, Karla. The Baptized Muse: Early Christian Poetry as Cultural Authority (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Pratscher, Wilhelm. Quadratus, Kerygma Petri (Kommentar zu frühchristlichen Apologeten ; Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, ), –. Ramelli, Ilaria. “Porphyry and the motif of Christianity as παράνομος.” Pages – in Platonism and Its Legacy: Selected Papers from the Fifteenth Annual Conference of the International Society of Neoplatonic Studies. Edited by John F. Finamore and Tomáš Nejeschleba (Lydney: Prometheus Trust, ). “Tracce di Montanismo nel Peregrinus di Luciano?” Aevum () –. Richter, Daniel S. Cosmopolis: Imagining Community in Late Classical Athens and the Early Roman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Salzmann, Jörg Christian. Lehren und Ermahnen: Zur Geschichte des christlichen Wortgottesdienstes in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Snyder, Gregory H. “‘Above the Bath of Myrtinus’: Justin Martyr’s ‘school’ in the city of Rome,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. Söding, Thomas. Das Christentum als Bildungsreligion: Der Impuls des Neuen Testaments (Freiburg: Herder, ). Tabbernee, William. “Early Montanism and voluntary martyrdom,” Colloquium: The Australian and New Zealand Theological Review (), –. Trelenberg, Jörg. Tatianos: Oratio ad Graecos, Rede an die Griechen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Trevett, Christine. Montanism: Gender, Authority, and the New Prophecy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Wlosok, Antonie. Laktanz und die philosophische Gnosis: Untersuchungen zu Geschichte und Terminologie der gnostischen Erlösungsvorstellung (Heidelberg: Winter, ).
Scriptures and Interpretations in Early Christian History . Early Christians and their Scriptures existed within a complex ecosystem. Christians across all sectors of late ancient Roman society encountered their collections of sacred writings in diverse and sometimes contradictory ways. We detect a spectrum of dispositions, activities, and projects in their engagements with these texts. Their message was continuously adapted to new and disparate forms of life. And discourses quickly emerged around these Scriptures that were sometimes heated – as a central religious artifact, they not surprisingly became the subject of important controversies. Early Christian leaders pronounced increasingly sophisticated accounts of their subject matter, functions, and readers, but often hidden from our sight were the different venues, such as homes, schools, churches, and libraries, that diversely configured an array of textual activities. And, of course, Bibles were themselves pluriform. They circulated in different materials and formats, and their contents – from readings of individual words to the number and order of books they transmitted – were often highly discrepant. In the first part of this chapter I will provide a sketch of this biblical ecosystem. In the second I will turn to the sources from which we reconstruct how early Christians encountered their Scriptures. I will highlight the kinds of sources that survive, flag several that are relevant to our topic but are no longer extant, and identify some of the important editorial work in the field over the last few decades that has brought neglected texts to light. Thereafter I will draw our attention to how we have classified these sources. Our catalogs, overviews, and literary histories are built upon classification systems that themselves have ancient pedigrees and have strongly shaped how we interpret our sources. These systems illuminate and contextualize, but they also obscure. Demonstrating the limitations of our regnant organizational systems is, I believe, a crucial step toward stimulating new classifications and approaches within our field in coming decades. Finally, in the last
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part of this chapter I will identify four important themes that have emerged in the last few decades of scholarship on early Christian biblical interpretation. These themes point to past achievements and suggest future lines of inquiry.
Some Conventional Boundaries But before turning to the main topics of this chapter, a preliminary remark about boundaries is in order. The rough shape of this volume, following certain long-held conventions, marks the early fourth century as the end of early Christianity. There are advantages to such a periodization, as the figures and events it privileges – most notably, the rise of Constantine and the convocation of the Council of Nicaea – became important watersheds in the lives of early Christians. At the same time, in keeping with the rationale of this volume, it is important to note how such boundaries shape our interpretation of evidence. This is especially true when tracing the trajectories of early Christian scriptural collections and how they were interpreted. Most scholars of early Christian biblical interpretation do not use the early fourth century as a line of demarcation for their research. What was sometimes termed the “golden age” of patristic biblical interpretation is usually thought to straddle this line and to run from the early third through the end of the fifth century. This chronological expanse roughly corresponds to the era of commentary writing, with Hippolytus and Origen marking the inauguration of this period and the emergence of catenae signifying its demise or, perhaps, transformation. This expanse also captures prolific commentators beyond these two pioneering scholars, including Eusebius of Emesa, Eusebius of Caesarea, Diodore of Tarsus, Theodore of Mopsuestia, Ephrem, John Chrysostom, Jerome, Augustine, Cyril of Alexandria, and Theodoret of Cyrus. And this periodization acknowledges an important conversation. Arguably the most influential authority in the postConstantinian era of biblical interpretation was a scholar who flourished during the pre-Constantinian era: Origen of Alexandria and Caesarea. His writings were widely disseminated, translated, and debated throughout the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries. To draw, then, a decisive boundary between
For example, Edgar J. Goodspeed, A History of Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ). And more recently, Bart. D. Ehrman, After the New Testament: A Reader in Early Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, ).
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pre- and post-Constantinian biblical interpretation would suppress continuities such as these that scholars have long considered important. In this chapter I will place an accent on pre-Nicene sources whenever possible, though I follow the conventional periodization of my field by drawing upon sources from the second through sixth centuries. Yet I also recognize that these traditional boundaries can be scrutinized. In recent years, some have argued that they have become too restrictive. I will briefly illustrate how two of the boundaries that organize this essay – one chronological and the other thematic – have been contested. There are certainly merits to spotlighting “early” Christianity within a wider history of biblical interpretation. But there are also drawbacks. Such an epochal label distinguishes the biblical interpretation of this period from its successor – “medieval” or “Byzantine” biblical interpretation. This periodization is widely enforced. For instance, the essays collected in The Old Testament in Byzantium make only scattered reference to early Christian biblical interpreters. Similarly, a major reference work, the Handbook of Patristic Exegesis, stops short of the medieval period. Both works give the impression that a meaningful distinction can be drawn between an early Christian approach to the Bible and a Byzantine approach. But we could make the case that such a periodization is highly misleading and that in the case of our topic in particular, a broader periodization would be more appropriate. Byzantine psalters, for instance, regularly included prefatory materials that were excerpted from earlier patristic sources. Several abridge Athanasius’s Letter to Marcellinus, and others draw on Basil of Caesarea, Cyril of Alexandria, Diodore of Tarsus, Eusebius of Caesarea, Gregory of Nyssa, Hesychius of Jerusalem, Hippolytus, John Chrysostom, Origen, and Theodoret, among others. How much sense, then, does it make to draw thick boundaries between early Christian and Byzantine biblical scholarship when such close and sympathetic textual relationships existed, as in the case of these psalters? A wider periodization would create a very different context for studying our sources. Patristic commentaries on the Psalms from the third through fifth centuries would now be examined in concert with these
Paul Magdalino and Robert S. Nelson (eds.) The Old Testament in Byzantium (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, ); Charles Kannengiesser, Handbook of Patristic Exegesis: The Bible in Ancient Christianity, vols. (Leiden: Brill, ). Georgi R. Parpulov, Toward a History of Byzantine Psalters ca. – (Plovdiv: n.p., ), –, Appendix D:.
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psalters and the major Byzantine commentaries on the Psalms, some of which bear striking resemblances to their predecessors (such as Euthymius Zigabenos’s commentary in the eleventh century). We would be invited to engage in productive comparisons and contrasts between these texts, rather than segregate them as is today customarily the case. It is not self-evident that the Christian engagement with the Bible across this expanse of time was so fundamentally varied that a firm demarcation of the “early” from the “Byzantine” is merited. Just as we can entertain alternative chronological boundaries for our topic, so too can we challenge conventional thematic boundaries. Early Christians were not the only community who interpreted authoritative texts. Jews, “pagans,” and Muslims also engaged in exegetical projects on their authoritative writings. And in many cases, members of these communities intermingled and even attended the same schools, where they together learned the dispositions, techniques, and principles of literary analysis. Yet these intimate relationships are easily missed when we focus on early Christian engagements with their sacred writings to the exclusion of these other exegetical communities. Take, for example, Adrian’s Introduction to the Divine Scriptures, a beginner’s guide to biblical interpretation. The treatise examines the poetic language of the Psalms, such as its anthropomorphisms and recurrent use of tropes and figures of speech. Adrian’s treatise is one of the very few early Christian treatises that made what he termed the idiomata, or “literary peculiarities,” of Scripture its central concern, which invites the conclusion that he made a unique contribution. And yet, if we expand the context, we quickly discover that he was anticipated by Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who wrote a similarly themed essay, On the Literary Peculiarities of Thucydides. Even if there are no direct influences between Dionysius and Adrian, these two treatises point to underlying concerns about the tasks of literary scholarship that were shared across different reading communities separated by roughly half a millennium. A more famous example is Philo, the Alexandrian Jew. His writings were transmitted by Christian scribes, cataloged by Christians (e.g., Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..–), stored in libraries run by Christians, read appreciatively by Christians who integrated his insights into their own biblical interpretations, and often excerpted in the Christian
Peter Martens (ed.) Adrian’s Introduction to the Divine Scriptures: An Antiochene Handbook for Scriptural Interpretation (OECT; Oxford: Oxford University, ).
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biblical catenae. Does Philo belong in a discussion of early Christian writings, especially writings on the Bible? Scholarship is ambivalent about this issue. One the one hand, he is generally omitted from the surveys of early Christian literature; but on the other, in those overviews that focus on early Christian biblical interpretation, he is included. Precedent for this inclusion reaches back to Jerome, who reserved a chapter for him in his De viris illustribus, a literary review dedicated to ecclesiastical writers. A compelling case can be made that to ignore Philo, or Dionysius of Halicarnassus, from a discussion of early Christian biblical interpretation is problematic, if not deceptive. While there are certainly merits to treating early Christians as a discrete community of textual interpreters, the above examples highlight a shortcoming with such an approach. When we make “early Christianity” the focus, and accordingly produce reference works, histories, and specialized studies on this particular area, it is very easy to succumb to a fiction that early Christians operated in a cultural vacuum and approached their authoritative texts in ways fundamentally different from how their contemporaries – contemporaries from whom, and with whom, they often learned literary analysis – encountered the texts that mattered to them. We risk losing sight of relevant relationships because the topic draws artificial borders. One of the most important achievements in the scholarship over the last half century has been to correct this shortcoming that an archive focused on early Christian sources creates. A number of interventions (more on these below) have demonstrated that early Christians interpreted the Bible in ways similar to, and usually dependent upon, the strategies for reading culturally authoritative Greek and Latin texts such as Homer’s Iliad and Virgil’s Aeneid. Increasingly, scholars juxtapose early Christian biblical interpretation to Jewish, Marcionite, a variety of “Gnostic,” and Manichaean biblical interpretations. In recent years, Islam has also been brought into the fold. Illustrative
David T. Runia, Philo in Early Christian Literature: A Survey (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Jerome, Vir. ill. . This wider context is prioritized, for instance, in a number of the essays in the recent Paul M. Blowers and Peter W. Martens (eds.) Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). For orientation, see James Carleton Paget, “Christianity and Judaism,” John Granger Cook, “Christians and pagans,” H. Clifton Ward, “Marcion and his critics,” David Brakke, “Gnostics and their critics,” and Jason BeDuhn, “Manichaean biblical interpretation,” in Blowers and Martens, Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation, –.
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of the shifting boundaries I have here discussed, both chronological and thematic, is Garth Fowden’s programmatic book, Before and After Muhammad: The First Millennium Refocused. Fowden argues for a new periodization – the first millennium – that allows him to integrate a new topic into conventional European histories – Islam. These preliminary remarks are intended to show how even a conventional topic such as “early Christian biblical interpretation” contains boundaries that have been deliberately constructed, and that these carry important implications (as indeed do any other boundaries we might propose) for the production of knowledge. These remarks, then, point to ways in which the claims made in this essay about early Christian exegetical activity might be expanded, qualified, or clarified.
Artifacts, Canons, and Authority As physical artifacts, early Christian Bibles customarily assumed the format of a codex, not a roll. These codices were made by stitching together writing sheets made of papyrus (a plant grown primarily in Egypt) or parchment (animal skin). Codices were not uniform in size. Smaller codices might only accommodate a single biblical book, as is the case with Papyrus , a single-quire papyrus codex dating to the late third century, which likely transmits our earliest (partial) copy of the book of Revelation. Larger codices were capable of transmitting a number of biblical books. Toward the early third century, for instance, we find the four canonical gospels collected within a single codex (e.g., Papyrus ). But it was not uncommon for the Gospels to be transmitted independently in their own codices, as is beautifully illustrated by the interior southern mosaic of the Mausoleum of
Garth Fowden, Before and After Muhammad: The First Millennium Refocused (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Along similar lines, Angelika Neuwirth, The Qur’an and Late Antiquity: A Sacred Heritage (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). For a wider discussion of the scope of “late antiquity,” with literature overview, see Mark Humphries, “Late antiquity and world history: Challenging conventional narratives and analyses,” Studies in Late Antiquity (), –. Parts of this section are drawn from my essay, “Scripture,” in The Routledge Companion to Early Christian Thought, ed. D. Jeffrey Bingham (London: Routledge, ), –. See Chapter in the present volume. Colin H. Roberts and T. C. Skeat, Birth of the Codex (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Peter Malik, P. Beatty (P): The Codex, Its Scribe, and Its Text (NTTSD ; Leiden: Brill, ).
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Galla Placidia in Ravenna. Dating to roughly the middle of the fifth century, the mosaic displays an opened cabinet with four codices, each labelled after one of the canonical gospels. Pandects – single codices that accommodated a full range of Old and New Testament writings – were not produced, so far as we know, in the pre-Nicene period. Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Vaticanus, our earliest pandects, date to the fourth century. But the production of such large and expensive Bibles was very rare in late antiquity. It was only in the ninth century that such tomes were produced with any frequency. Early Christians customarily referred to their holy writings in the plural, which mirrored their physical format – their Scriptures did not circulate under a single cover, but rather multiple ones. The writings early Christians gathered into these codices were often labelled as “holy,” “sacred,” or “divine.” By the middle of the second century there was widespread agreement about what writings should receive these labels. The earliest followers of Jesus acknowledged a collection of sacred writings that would, on the whole, have been considered scriptural by other first-century Jews. These were commonly designated the “law and prophets” (Ignatius, Smyrn. .; Irenaeus, Haer. ..; Diognetus .; Tertullian, Praescr. ; Hippolytus, Comm. Dan. .) and only rarely in the pre-Nicene period, “Old Testament” (Irenaeus, Haer. ..; Tertullian, Prax. ; Origen, with reluctance, Hom. Num. .). In turn, many of the writings that Christians began to produce were recognized by the early second century as an expansion of this core collection. These more recent writings – often termed “the gospels and apostolic writings” (Irenaeus, Haer. ..; Theophilus, Autol. .; Clement, Strom. .) – usually included the four Gospels, Paul’s letters, Peter, and John. Was there a “canon” in early Christianity, and if so, when? It depends on what we mean by this term. If a “canon” refers to a collection of sacred writings to which at least some Christians had access, then we can speak of a canon from the very beginnings of Christianity. But if we mean by “canon” a collection of sacred writings that was definitive, evidence indicates that even in the fourth century such a canon had eluded at least some Christian communities. Eusebius famously located books competing for scriptural status into three categories: “accepted,” “disputed,” and “rejected” (Hist. eccl. ..–). The “disputed” category points to confusion, or at least disagreement, about
D. C. Parker, An Introduction to the New Testament Manuscripts and Their Texts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –.
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the scriptural status of certain writings. It is only later, in the fourth century, that we begin to find catalogs in circulation that rise to meet this definition of “canon”: These catalogs provide definitive lists – for their authors and communities at least – of what writings merited status as scripture. And yet many of these lists differed in detail from one another, as Augustine famously remarked in the closing years of the fourth century, where he noted that individual churches had their own lists that often did not agree with one another (Doctr. chr. .). Thus, if we mean something even more by a “canon,” not just definitive lists of sacred writings, but lists that had achieved more than regional acceptance, one must look to the fifth century and later. The writings gathered in Bibles were produced by human authors who were held to have been “moved,” “enlightened,” or “inspired” by God, the Word, or Spirit (Ptolemy, Flor.; Irenaeus, Haer. ..; Theophilus, Autol. .; Origen, Princ. ..–). These Bibles were, thus, central religious artifacts, because, like other such artifacts – for example, martyrs’ relics – they registered the divine in physical objects. The power of the Bible lay primarily in its salvific ordering of lives (Gos. Thom. pr. ; Irenaeus, Epid. ; Clement, Strom. ., Protr. .; Hippolytus, Comm. Dan. .; Origen, Princ. ..). It promulgated sound teachings and pronounced guidelines for human conduct. It contained scripts for prayer. And its words were sometimes invoked for healing and protection (e.g., amulets that contained incantations with scriptural passages). As an authority for early Christians, then, the Bible can be fruitfully juxtaposed with other authorities that also sought to order their lives, authorities with which the Bible sometimes dovetailed and at other times lived in tension, such as creeds and rules of faith, conciliar canons, liturgical manuals, the Lives of saints, and the varieties of leadership provided by charismatics, ascetics, and clergy. Bibles were clearly very important religious artifacts. During Diocletian’s persecution in , edicts were published that targeted these writings for destruction by fire (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..; see also Lactantius, Mort. .). Within Christian communities, their significance is measured by the flurry of activity that surrounded them in homes, churches, scriptoria, and schools.
For comparison of early Christian canon lists, see John D. Meade and Edmon L. Gallagher, The Biblical Canon Lists from Early Christianity: Texts and Analysis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Theodore de Bruyn, Making Amulets Christian (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
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They were read at home, but more commonly, since privately owned copies of Bibles were relatively rare, passages would have been heard and prayed during Christian liturgies. Clergy preached on biblical texts. These texts were copied and corrected by scribes and often found their way into ecclesiastical libraries. Two famous libraries in close proximity to one another were founded in the pre-Nicene period: During his episcopate, Alexander created a library in Jerusalem (–); Origen founded another in Caesarea Maritima after he left Alexandria (–). Bibles were eventually translated into Latin and Syriac and were occasionally paraphrased. Perhaps most impressive were the lengthy line-by-line commentaries that emerged at the turn of the third century, first by Hippolytus, then by his near contemporary Origen, and then one generation later, by Victorinus. Commentary writing – and its adjacent specialized literatures, such as reference works, monographs, and handbooks on interpretation – became so prevalent in the fourth and fifth centuries, that one could argue that biblical scholarship had become a required feature of Christian intellectual activity. These interpreters read, debated, and utilized one another’s biblical scholarship so assiduously that we today can reconstruct complex lineages crisscrossing their commentaries, lineages in which both deference to tradition and bold innovation are put on display. Another indication of how important the Bible was becoming in early Christianity was the discourse that emerged around it. We find piecemeal remarks about how it was to be read, though sustained discussions that anticipated the more robust treatises on biblical interpretation in the fourth and fifth centuries also occurred (especially Clement, Strom. ., .; Origen, Princ. .–). Typical remarks centered on Scripture’s divine authorship (Clement, Strom. .., Paed. ..; Origen, Princ. ..–); on its contemporary relevance for the reader’s salvation (Clement, Strom. .., Protr. ..–, Strom. ..–; Origen, Princ. ..); on the moral qualifications
Private reading of the Bible: Ptolemy, Flor. .; Clement of Alexandria, Strom. .; Tertullian, Apol. ; Origen and his father (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..–); Origen, Hom. Gen. ., ., .; Jerome, Ruf. .. Adolf von Harnack, Bible Reading in the Early Church, trans. J. R. Wilkinson (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, ), –. Public reading of Scripture in the liturgy already by middle of the second century: Justin, Apol. . Office of reader mentioned by Tertullian, Praescr. ; Cyprian, Letters , ., .–; Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ... On Christian libraries, Christoph Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions in the Early Roman Empire: Prolegomena to a History of Early Christian Theology, trans. Wayne Coppins (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –.
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and commitments of ideal readers (Irenaeus, Haer. ..; Theophilus, Autol. .; Origen, Ep. Greg. , Cels. .); and on guidelines that informed proper interpretation, often inflected against competing interpretations from other religious communities, whether heterodox Christians (e.g., Irenaeus, Haer. ..; Origen, Princ. pr.), or Jews (e.g., Justin, Dial. passim; Tertullian, Adv. Jud. passim).
Sources The range of sources for reconstructing early Christian biblical interpretation are as varied as the sources for studying Christianity itself: They include inscriptions, sarcophagi, metal and ivory objects, frescoes and mosaics, amulets, and, most prominently, literature. Most scholarly attention has been directed to this last source, as nearly all early Christian literature reveals traces of an engagement with the Bible. Indicative of its rising status is that early Christians produced an array of writings specifically focused on the Bible. These included homilies on biblical passages (e.g., Melito, On Pascha), line-by-line commentaries (e.g., Hippolytus, Comm. Dan.), brief notes or scholia on biblical books (e.g., Evagrius’s scholia on Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Psalms, and Job), works focused on the problems raised by a biblical book or collection of books (e.g., Origen’s Comm. Gen.), catenae (that is, excerpts from previous biblical commentators organized by the catenist to produce a line-by-line commentary of a biblical text), monographs on particular themes or issues (e.g., Tertullian, On the Garments of Aaron [lost]), and reference works of varying kinds, such as summaries of biblical books (e.g., the Synopses Scripturae Sacrae spuriously attributed to Athanasius and John Chrysostom), discussions of “matters of fact” (e.g., Eusebius’s Onom., a reference work on biblical geography), and studies on language (e.g., Jerome’s Qu. hebr. Gen.). Not surprisingly, the depth of interest in biblical interpretation elicited hermeneutical treatises, that is, treatises about how to interpret the Bible properly, most famously Origen, Princ. .–; Diodore, What Is the Difference Between Theoria and Allegoria? (lost); Tyconius, Reg.; Augustine, Doctr. chr.; and Junillus Africanus, Instituta regularia. The breadth and depth of these sources is impressive. And yet a dour note should also be struck, since many treatises on the Bible survive in fragments or have been entirely lost, especially from Christianity’s early centuries.
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These include Papias, Exposition of Dominical Oracles; Tatian, Problems, which apparently dealt with obscurities in Scripture (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..); Rhodo, On the Six Days’ Work of Creation; Melito, On the Devil and the Revelation of John; Theophilus of Antioch, Commentary on Proverbs (Jerome, Vir. ill. ); Hippolytus produced numerous writings on biblical books that have perished (e.g., The Six Days of Creation, On the Psalms, On the Story of David and Goliath); Origen’s Hex. is almost completely missing, as are large sections of many of his commentaries; only fragments survive of Dionysius of Alexandria, Exposition on Ecclesiastes; Victorinus of Pettau, sometimes regarded as first major Latin commentator on the Bible, produced numerous commentaries on individual biblical books that have mostly disappeared. This list, itself incomplete, is a good reminder that biblical interpretation was far more robust than the surviving evidence indicates. This list also serves as a reminder not to overdraw our conclusions about this literature, since the narratives we tell would undoubtedly be different if the literary record were differently intact. A related point is that many relevant sources have survived, but because they have often been poorly cataloged, edited, or left untranslated, they remain largely invisible to the field. Despite the many well-documented shifts in the field of patristics/early Christian studies over the past few decades, the production of editions remains a stable, centuries-long feature of the field. Over the past few decades, exciting new editions and translations of early Christian treatises on the Bible have been produced. A flurry of activity surrounds the Psalms: A number of Origen’s newly discovered Homilies on Psalms have been edited, as has Adrian’s Introduction to the Divine Scriptures, large sections of Didymus the Blind’s Commentary on the Psalms, and Apollinaris’s Metaphrase of the Psalms. Other noteworthy editions include the Armenian translation of Eusebius of Emesa’s Commentary on the Octateuch, Procopius of Gaza’s Commentary on Genesis, Cyril of Alexandria’s Commentary on First Corinthians, and the Greek catenae on
See the catalog by Goodspeed, A History of Early Christian Literature, –. Lorenzo Perrone in cooperation with Marina Molin Pradel, Emanuela Prinzivalli, and Antonion Cacciari (eds.) Origenes Werke Dritter Band: Die neuen Psalmenhomilien (Berlin: De Gruyter, ); Martens, Adrian’s Introduction to the Divine Scriptures; L. H. Blumell (ed.) Didymus the Blind’s Commentary on Psalms :–: and :– (Turnhout: Brepols, ); Andrew Faulkner (ed.) Apollinaris of Laodicea Metaphrasis Psalmorum (OECT; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
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Genesis. Moreover, a number of promising editions are underway, including the completion of Diodore’s Commentary on the Psalms, the pseudo-Chrysostomic Synopsis Scripturae Sacrae, and a variety of projects funded by the Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften under the heading, “Die alexandrinische und antiochenische Bibelexegese in der Spätantike.” As these texts are edited and translated, new sources gradually enter into the scholarly conversation and, in turn, new opportunities are created to expand our knowledge of early Christian biblical interpretation.
Archive The cataloging of these sources has had a significant, though oft-overlooked, impact on how they are studied. There are many ways in which our sources could be cataloged, but in practice only two classification schemas have achieved widespread acceptance. The standard schema organizes these writings according to their authorship. Charles Kannengiesser’s two-volume Handbook of Patristic Exegesis is representative of this approach. Writings are fundamentally classified according to their authorship: These writings are assigned to Irenaeus, those to Origen, and so on. After they have been bundled in this way, these writings are usually located within more expansive categories that utilize some of their other attributes: by time period (e.g., “The Second Century”), by time period and language (e.g., “The Fourth- and Fifth-Century Greek Christian Literature”), by religious affiliation (“Mani and Manichaeism”), by theme (“Incarnational Hermeneutics”), or by region (“Biblical Exegesis and Hermeneutics in Syria”). The traditional Alexandrian–Antiochene construct merits brief attention here. The attribute of a source’s geography – “Alexandria” or “Antioch” – tends to signify two properties of the writings in question: their provenance, but also their approach to Scripture, where writings from the former region are characterized by symbolic or allegorical Vahan Hovhannessian (ed.) Commentaire de l’Octateuch (Venice: St. Lazare, ); Karin Metzler (ed.) Prokop von Gaza. Eclogarum in libros historicos Veteris Testamenti epitome, Teil : Der Genesiskommentar. Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunderte (Berlin: De Gruyter, ); K. F. Zawadzki (ed.) Der Kommentar Cyrills von Alexandrien zum . Korintherbrief: Einleitung, kritischer Text, Übersetzung, Einzelanalyse (TEG ; Leuven: Peeters, ); Françoise Petit (ed.) La chaîne sur la Genèse, vols. (TEG –; Leuven: Peeters, –). A notable recent exception, Ellen Muehlberger, “On authors, Fathers, and holy men,” Marginalia, September , https://themarginaliareview.com/on-authors-fathers-andholy-men-by-ellen-muehlberger/.
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exegesis, and writings from the latter region are not. Robert Grant, for instance, adopted this classification in A Short History of the Interpretation of the Bible (“The School of Alexandria,” “The School of Antioch”). The second classification of our sources privileges their focus rather than their authorship: that is, the biblical book that is commented upon becomes the crucial attribute for ordering these writings. In this alternative classification, writings are not gathered under the authorship they hold in common, but under a biblical book they hold in common. Thus, under the heading “Genesis,” the reader finds a list of early Christian writings that share a focus on that book. It follows, of course, that if an author produced multiple works on different biblical books, the author’s writings are listed separately under multiple headings. This is a very different way of encountering early Christian writings on the Bible. In this alternative arrangement, writings are no longer presented to readers through the familiar lens of biography, but through the lens of a biblical book’s reception history. Classifications such as these tend to be viewed as authoritative since they are based upon recognizable and usually obvious attributes of their sources. But the archive is not neutral. These classifications are also highly interpretive, since they encourage readers to create knowledge about their sources in very particular ways. For example, by clustering a set of writings under their common author, a context for understanding any one of his writings is created. The authorship-based archive encourages someone to interpret Origen’s Commentary on John in light of the other Origenian texts with which it is grouped, especially his Commentary on Psalms –, his Commentary on the Song of Songs, his Commentary on Genesis, and On First Principles, all works composed at roughly the same time as Origen was interpreting this gospel. But if we were to classify our sources differently, readers would be invited to contextualize them differently. Thus, the alternative classification schema based around biblical books encourages us to compare Origen’s Commentary on John not with his other writings, but with others’ writings on this gospel, such as those by Heracleon, Theodore of Mopsuestia, John Chrysostom, Cyril
Robert M. Grant and David Tracy, A Short History of the Interpretation of the Bible, nd ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –. I am aware of two such attempts at classification. See David L. Balás and D. Jeffrey Bingham, “Patristic exegesis of the books of the Bible,” in Handbook of Patristic Exegesis, vols., ed. Charles Kannengiesser (Leiden: Brill, ), : –; Maurice Geerard and François Glorie, “Index : Biblicus,” in Clavis Patrum Graecorum, ed. Maurice Geerard, vol. (Turnhout: Brepols, ), –.
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of Alexandria, Augustine, Gregory the Great, and so on. This is a very different context for studying the treatise, and it produces different kinds of knowledge. Both of the aforementioned schemas enjoy long histories. Jerome’s De viris illustribus cataloged early Christian writings with regard to their authorship, while Cassiodorus’s Institutiones divinarum et saecularium litterarum cataloged them according to the biblical books they commented upon. The power these taxonomies still exert on our field is palpable. Recent monographs on some facet or another of early Christian biblical interpretation routinely organize their scholarship around an author, a biblical passage or book, or both. But we could plausibly entertain different organizational schemas for early Christian writings about the Bible that don’t prioritize their authorship or the biblical book they comment upon. For example, we might organize writings by their kind or genre (e.g., commentaries, catenae, homilies) or by their life setting (monastery, church, classroom, home). Such alternative schemas are comparatively underdeveloped.
Literature The years immediately following the end of World War II are sometimes identified as the period when a pronounced interest in early Christian biblical interpretation emerged. Yet very important contributions dating to the
Jeffrey Wickes, Bible and Poetry in Late Antique Mesopotamia: Ephrem’s Hymns on Faith (Berkeley: University of California Press, ); Peter W. Martens, Origen and Scripture: The Contours of the Exegetical Life (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); Blossom Stefaniw, Christian Reading: Language, Ethics, and the Order of Things (Berkeley: University of California Press, ); Margaret M. Mitchell, The Heavenly Trumpet: John Chrysostom and the Art of Pauline Interpretation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ); Michael Cameron, Christ Meets Me Everywhere: Augustine’s Early Figurative Exegesis (OSHT; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Judith Frishman and Lucas Van Rompay (eds.) The Book of Genesis in Jewish and Oriental Christian Interpretation: A Collection of Essays (TEG ; Leuven: Peeters, ); Michael Azar, Exegeting the Jews: The Early Reception of the Johannine “Jews” (Leiden: Brill, ); Karl Shuve, The Song of Songs and the Fashioning of Identity in Early Latin Christianity (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). D. Jeffrey Bingham, Irenaeus’s Use of Matthew’s Gospel in Adversus haereses (TEG ; Leuven: Peeters, ); R. B. ter Haar Romeny, A Syrian in Greek Dress: The Use of Greek, Hebrew, and Syriac Biblical Texts in Eusebius of Emesa’s Commentary on Genesis (TEG ; Leuven: Peeters, ); Angela Russell Christman, “What Did Ezekiel See?”: Christian Exegesis of Ezekiel’s Vision of the Chariot from Irenaeus to Gregory the Great (Leiden: Brill, ); Hauna T. Ondrey, The Minor Prophets as Christian Scripture in the Commentaries of Theodore of Mopsuestia and Cyril of Alexandria (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Charles Kannengiesser, “Patristic exegesis: Fifty years of international research,” in Handbook of Patristic Exegesis, vols., ed. Charles Kannengiesser (Leiden: Brill, ), :.
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nineteenth century, especially in the form of editions and histories, can readily be identified. Today the field is large and growing. Over the past decades, a number of sourcebooks, histories, and handbooks have been published on early Christian biblical interpretation. Other initiatives include two monograph series and the research tool Biblia Patristica (and its online successor, Biblindex), which identifies biblical quotations and allusions in early Christian writings. The annual meetings of the North American Patristics Society regularly include papers in this area, as do the meetings of the Society of Biblical Literature, American Academy of Religion, and the quadrennial International Conference on Patristics Studies at Oxford. This field is extraordinarily difficult to overview because it has attracted such diverse interest. Scholars from all over Europe and the Americas work in this area. Even more significant, these scholars have been trained in a variety of academic disciplines, including ancient history, theology, biblical studies, church history, religious studies, classics, and languages and literatures. The field is vibrant and is characterized by a range of questions, methods, and motivations that pose a significant challenge to any attempt to offer an overview. In what follows, I highlight four features of the scholarship that appear noteworthy to me.
Karlfried Froehlich (ed.) Biblical Interpretation in the Early Church (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ); Michael Graves (ed.) Biblical Interpretation in the Early Church (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ); Robert Louis Wilken (ed.) The Church’s Bible, vols. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, –); Thomas C. Oden (ed.) Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, vols. (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, –). Grant and Tracy, A Short History of the Interpretation of the Bible; Bertrand de Margerie, Introduction à l’histoire de l’exégèse, vols. (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, –); Henning Graf Revenlow, Epochen der Bibelauslegung, vols. (Munich: C. H. Beck, –); Manlio Simonetti, Lettera e/o allegoria: Un contribute alla storia dell’esegesi patristica (Rome: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, ); Simonetti, Profilo storico dell’esegesi patristica (Rome: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, ); Simonetti, Biblical Interpretation in the Early Church: An Historical Introduction to Patristic Exegesis, trans. John A. Hughes (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ); James L. Kugel and Rowan A. Greer, Early Biblical Interpretation (Philadelphia: Westminster, ); Frances M. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); Donald K. McKim, Historical Handbook of Major Biblical Interpreters (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, ); Alan J. Hauser and Duane F. Watson (eds.) A History of Biblical Interpretation, vol. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ); Magne Sæbo (ed.) Hebrew Bible/Old Testament: The History of Its Interpretation, vols. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, –). Kannengiesser, Handbook of Patristic Exegesis; Blowers and Martens, Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation. D. Jeffrey Bingham (ed.) The Bible in Ancient Christianity, vols. (Leiden: Brill, –); Françoise Petit et al. (eds.) Traditio Exegetica Graeca, vols. (Leuven: Peeters, –).
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() A number of studies have examined the formative role of schooling, and in particular, how the curricula of grammatical, rhetorical, and philosophical institutions shaped the biblical scholarship of early Christians. Pioneering studies by Christoph Schäublin and Bernhard Neuschäfer demonstrated numerous parallels between how late antique grammarians analyzed Homer’s epics and how Origen, Diodore, and Theodore approached biblical texts. Much of this disciplinary and institutional setting from which early Christian biblical interpretation arose had only been thinly excavated prior to these two monographs. In subsequent years, studies by Frances Young, Kathy Eden, and Margaret Mitchell have drawn similar parallels between rhetorical training and biblical exegesis. My own studies on Origen have identified similarities between philosophical training and biblical interpretation. One of the achievements of this new focus has been to relativize, and in some cases, displace, the “literal-allegorical” analytical schema that had been heavily utilized in older studies of patristic biblical interpretation. Instead, a more granular attention is now directed to a range of interpretive procedures that was cultivated in late antique schools, such as attending to the “sequence” (akolouthia) of wording in a passage, its overarching “theme” or “plot” (hypothesis), establishing meanings that were “fitting” (to prepon), refuting or criticizing a passage’s content (anaskeue), recognizing problems and providing solutions (problemata kai luseis) and deciphering literary “peculiarities” (idiomata) such as tropes and figures of speech. Interest in allegorical exegesis has not abated, but it is increasingly recognized as only one of many interpretive strategies available to late antique readers.
Christoph Schäublin, Untersuchungen zu Methode und Herkunft der Antiochenischen Exegese (Bonn: Hanstein, ); Bernhard Neuschäfer, Origenes als Philologe, vols. (Basel: Reinhardt, ). Frances M. Young, “The rhetorical schools and their influence on patristic exegesis,” in The Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in Honor of Henry Chadwick, ed. Rowan Williams (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. Kathy Eden, Hermeneutics and the Rhetorical Tradition: Chapters in the Ancient Legacy and Its Humanist Reception (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Margaret M. Mitchell, Paul, the Corinthians, and the Birth of Christian Hermeneutics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); Mitchell, The Heavenly Trumpet. Peter W. Martens, “Origen’s institutions and the shape of biblical scholarship,” in The Intellectual World of Christian Late Antiquity: Reshaping Classical Traditions, ed. Lewis Ayres, Michael Champion, and Matthew Crawford (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming ). For example, Robert Lamberton, Homer the Theologian: Neoplatonist Allegorical Reading and the Epic Tradition (Berkeley: University of California Press, ); G. R. Boys-Stones (ed.) Metaphor, Allegory and the Classical Tradition: Ancient Thought and Modern Revisions (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); Peter T. Struck, Birth of the Symbol: Ancient Readers at the Limits of Their Texts (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ).
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() The emergence of social history within the field of early Christian studies has similarly advanced our understanding of biblical interpretation by attending to how the Bible was used to shape the lives of its readers. In Allegorical Readers and Cultural Revision, for instance, David Dawson argued that allegory in the hands of Philo, Clement, and Valentinus was pursued with a view to “cultural revision,” where readers acquired “for themselves and their communities social and cultural identity, authority, and power.” Douglas Burton-Christie and Elizabeth Clark produced substantial studies on the role of the Bible in ascetic environments. Burton-Christie investigated the Sayings of the Desert Fathers, which “present a consistent struggle on the part of the monks to realize in their lives the holiness to which they felt called by Scripture.” Elizabeth Clark drew on a wide spectrum of ascetically inclined readers from the second through fifth centuries to examine how they produced “ascetic meaning” for their own ascetic environments out of biblical texts that often did not endorse their agenda for renunciation. Perhaps representative of this wider shift into social history was Frances Young’s survey of patristic exegesis, the last such survey of the field. The title of her work, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture, points to the kind of social formation that the Bible sponsored: “the generation of a way of life, grounded in the truth about the way things are, as revealed by God’s Word. Exegesis served this end . . .” () A third important contribution to the field in recent decades has been the expansion of the concept of “biblical interpretation” on a number of different fronts. This activity is conventionally associated with explicit remarks made about the biblical text, such as we would find in commentaries or homilies. But scholars have increasingly argued that a far wider spectrum of textual practices harbored interpretation. The very production of biblical editions was an interpretive activity. Marcion’s Evangelium, for instance, significantly redacted Luke’s Gospel, but even more restrained interventions, such as Origen’s Hexapla, introduced
David Dawson, Allegorical Readers and Cultural Revision in Ancient Alexandria (Berkeley: University of California Press, ), . Douglas Burton-Christie, The Word in the Desert: Scripture and the Quest for Holiness in Early Christian Monasticism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), xiii. Elizabeth A. Clark, Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ), –. See especially Young, Biblical Exegesis, .
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modifications into the wording of the Septuagint that reflected editorial interpretation. The copying of Scripture and its translation into vernacular languages like Latin and Syriac also entailed deliberate scribal modifications that expressed Christian points of view. And a number of adjacent editorial practices beyond the production of a biblical text were interpretive, especially the ancillary materials (“paratexts”) that editors supplied in their manuscripts and that shaped how these biblical texts would be read. Closely related to the production of biblical texts, especially translations, was the phenomenon of paraphrase, of which there are several examples from late antiquity. A particularly important example from the pre-Nicene period is Gregory Thaumaturgus’s Metaphrasis on Ecclesiastes, which utilized a number of paraphrastic techniques, especially expansion of the biblical text, to provide readers with his interpretation of the book. Apollinaris of Laodicea produced a noteworthy paraphrase of the Psalms, and Juvencus, Sedulius, and Arator, Christian poets of the fourth, fifth, sixth centuries respectively, transformed the Gospels into elevated Latin epic. The production of narratives provides another example of our expanding concept of biblical interpretation. Christian apocrypha, such as the Acts of Paul and Thecla and the Infancy Gospel of Thomas (Childhood of Jesus), two texts likely produced at the end of the second century, interpreted biblical books by way of supplementing what were evidently deemed to be important omissions in canonical literature. The Lives of saints frequently linked their protagonists to biblical texts. The Passion of Perpetua and Felicity (c. ), for instance, portrays these young women as imitators of Christ in their voluntary acceptance of death. The Life of Antony (c. ) interweaves biblical texts throughout Antony’s solitary sojourn in the Egyptian wilderness, beginning with his obedience to Jesus’s injunction to sell everything and give it to the poor (Matt. :; Vita Ant. ).
For orientation, Reinhart Ceulemans, “The Septuagint and other translations,” in Paul M. Blowers and Peter W. Martens (eds.) Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. On the close association between a range of editorial practices and interpretation, see Eric W. Scherbenske, Canonizing Paul: Ancient Editorial Practice and the Corpus Paulinum (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). John Jarick, Gregory Thaumaturgos’ Paraphrase of Ecclesiastes (Atlanta: Scholars Press, ). Faulkner, Apollinaris of Laodicea; Roger P. H. Green, Latin Epics of the New Testament: Juvencus, Sedulius, Arator (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Peter Brown, “The saint as exemplar in late antiquity,” Representations (), –; Victor Saxer, Bible et hagiographie: Textes et thèmes bibliques dans les Actes des martyrs authentiques des premiers siècles (Berne: Lang, ).
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The expansion of our concept of biblical interpretation also includes the phenomenon of “performative exegesis.” Most of the attention here has focused on the ways in which liturgical poets produced biblical interpretations that were meant to be performed before audiences. Scholars have examined how a range of theatrical and rhetorical conventions not only characterized these performances, but also shaped how audiences heard and engaged the biblical past. Recent studies have sought to reconstruct these performances using “on the page” cues such as ethopoiia (the poet’s creation of a speech attributed to a biblical character), as well as “off the page” cues such as the ritual setting for the performance, the arrangements of performers, their gender, and their use of bodily gestures. () A final feature of the literature that merits attention is the diversity of postures adopted by contemporary scholars toward early Christian biblical interpretation. Biblical scholarship is not, of course, just an ancient phenomenon, but a present reality, and much of the work done on its past has been pursued with a view to its present. The literature on early Christian biblical interpretation has often been colored by two starkly contrasting modes of engagement. Frederic W. Farrar, in his Bampton Lectures delivered at the University of Oxford in , gave classic expression to what is still a commonly held view of “premodern” biblical interpretation. “The task before us,” Farrar wrote, is in some respects a melancholy one. We shall pass in swift review many centuries of exegesis, and shall be compelled to see that they were, in the main, centuries during which the interpretation of Scripture has been dominated by unproven theories, and overladen by untenable results . . . Exegesis has often darkened the true meaning of Scripture, not evolved or elucidated it. This is no mere assertion. If we test its truth by the Darwinian principle of “the survival of the fittest,” we shall see that, as a matter of fact, the vast mass of what has passed for Scriptural interpretation is no longer deemed tenable, and has now been condemned and rejected by the wider knowledge and deeper insight of mankind.
Most of this research has focused on liturgical poetry such as Romanos’s kontakia, the Syriac madrashe, and Hebrew piyyutim. Susan Ashbrook Harvey, “Performance as exegesis: Women’s liturgical choirs in Syriac tradition,” Inquiries into Eastern Christian Worship: Acts of the Second International Congress of the Society of Oriental Liturgy, ed. Basilius J. Groen, Stephanos Alexopoulos, and Steven Hawkes-Teeples (Leuven: Peeters, ), –; Derek Krueger, Liturgical Subjects: Christian Ritual, Biblical Narrative, and the Formation of the Self in Byzantium (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ); Laura Lieber, “Theater of the holy: Performative elements of late ancient hymnography,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. Frederick W. Farrar, History of Interpretation: Eight Lectures Preached before the University of Oxford in the Year on the Foundation of the Late Rev. John Bampton (London: Macmillan, ), –.
Scriptures and Interpretations
Farrar continues, calling to mind recent developments in archaeology, history, and comparative religion, and concludes that these disciplines have resulted in the indefinite limitation, if not the complete abandonment, of the principles which prevailed for many hundreds of years in the exegesis of Scripture, and in the consignment to oblivion – for every purpose except that of curiosity – of the special meanings assigned by these methods to book after book and verse after verse of the sacred writings.
For Farrar, “The history of interpretation” was “to a large extent a history of errors.” His history of biblical interpretation was one of the major Englishlanguage contributions to this topic in the nineteenth century. Such a censorious posture toward the past has, perhaps predictably, encouraged a more sympathetic and approving reaction from others. Rather than being regarded as an obstacle to sound biblical scholarship, patristic exegesis has been held up as a paragon for how readers should engage the biblical text today. The roots for this sentiment go back at least to the mid-s, when among Continental European Catholics a growing dissatisfaction arose with the strongly rationalistic orientation of their theological program, which often lacked clear connections to Scripture. One response was the creation of a new series, Sources Chrétiennes, founded in Lyon, France by the Jesuits Jean Daniélou, Claude Mondésert, and Henri de Lubac. The first volume published in tellingly presented readers with a text and translation of Gregory of Nyssa’s Life of Moses, an allegorical interpretation of Moses’s ascent of Mount Sinai. In recent years, especially in the English-speaking world, a number of related publishing projects have emerged that present readers with continuous commentary on individual biblical books, yet their commentary is drawn not from modern critical scholarship on the Bible, but from patristic biblical interpretation. While these starkly contrasting engagements with early Christian biblical interpretation can still be detected, they do not capture the range of postures to the past that we commonly find in the literature today. Most scholars resist such sweeping judgments, whether denunciations or celebrations, because they recognize that early Christian biblical interpretation was not
Farrar, History of Interpretation, –. Farrar, History of Interpretation, xxxv. Jean Daniélou (ed.) Grégoire de Nysse: Contemplation sur la Vie de Moïse (SC ; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, ). See esp. the series by Thomas C. Oden, Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, and Robert Louis Wilken, The Church’s Bible.
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homogeneous – disparate motivations, assumptions, audiences, and projects can readily be identified across the wide swath of sources. Similar heterogeneity, it might be added, exists within contemporary biblical scholarship. These diversities, then and now, render implausible the straightforward stories of progress or decline. It is also increasingly acknowledged that there are problems with the regnant historiography that undergirds these clashing postures. This historiography narrates the history of biblical exegesis as a linear, sequential, and two-phased schema, in which the “premodern” and “precritical” give way to the “modern” and “critical.” This oft-told story – whether recounted as a tale of ascent or demise – is a holdover of the nineteenth century and is misleading on a number of counts. A good deal of work remains to be done on how we might conceptualize alternative histories of biblical scholarship, including the early Christian engagement with Scripture. But the most important reason why these contrasting postures to the Bible’s past do not dominate the literature today is because of the transformation of concerns within the traditional theological disciplines, as well as the influx of scholars from outside these disciplines who have an interest in this field. Collectively, these new voices have raised the prospect of reimagining the relevance of early Christian engagements with Scripture. As has been demonstrated over and again, its importance transcends traditional boundaries and merits attention wherever texts are engaged.
Select Bibliography Azar, Michael. Exegeting the Jews: The Early Reception of the Johannine “Jews” (Leiden: Brill, ). Balás, David L. and D. Jeffrey Bingham, “Patristic exegesis of the books of the Bible.” Pages – in vol. of Handbook of Patristic Exegesis. Edited by Charles Kannengiesser (Leiden: Brill, ). BeDuhn, Jason. “Manichaean biblical interpretation.” Pages – in Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation. Edited by Paul M. Blowers and Peter W. Martens (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Bingham, D. Jeffrey (ed.) The Bible in Ancient Christianity, vols. (Leiden: Brill, –). Irenaeus’s Use of Matthew’s Gospel in Adversus haereses (TEG ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Blowers, Paul M. and Peter W. Martens (eds.) Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Blumell, L. H. (ed.) Didymus the Blind’s Commentary on Psalms :–: and :– (Turnhout: Brepols, ).
Scriptures and Interpretations Boys-Stones, G. R. (ed.) Metaphor, Allegory and the Classical Tradition: Ancient Thought and Modern Revisions (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Brakke, David. “Gnostics and their critics.” Pages – in Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation. Edited by Paul M. Blowers and Peter W. Martens (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Brown, Peter. “The saint as exemplar in late antiquity,” Representations (), –. Bruyn, Theodore de. Making Amulets Christian (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Burton-Christie, Douglas. The Word in the Desert: Scripture and the Quest for Holiness in Early Christian Monasticism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Cameron, Michael. Christ Meets Me Everywhere: Augustine’s Early Figurative Exegesis (OSHT; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Ceulemans, Reinhart. “The Septuagint and other translations.” Pages – in Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation. Edited by Paul M. Blowers and Peter W. Martens (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Christman, Angela Russell. “What Did Ezekiel See?”: Christian Exegesis of Ezekiel’s Vision of the Chariot from Irenaeus to Gregory the Great (Leiden: Brill, ). Clark, Elizabeth A. Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Cook, John Granger. “Christians and pagans.” Pages – in Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation. Edited by Paul M. Blowers and Peter W. Martens (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Daniélou, Jean (ed.) Grégoire de Nysse: Contemplation sur la Vie de Moïse (SC ; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, ). Dawson, David. Allegorical Readers and Cultural Revision in Ancient Alexandria (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). De Margerie, Bertrand. Introduction à l’histoire de l’exégèse, vols. (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, –). Eden, Kathy. Hermeneutics and the Rhetorical Tradition: Chapters in the Ancient Legacy and Its Humanist Reception (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Ehrman, Bart D. After the New Testament: A Reader in Early Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Farrar, Frederick W. History of Interpretation: Eight Lectures Preached Before the University of Oxford in the Year on the Foundation of the Late Rev. John Bampton (London: Macmillan, ). Faulkner, Andrew (ed.) Apollinaris of Laodicea Metaphrasis Psalmorum (OECT; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Fowden, Garth. Before and After Muhammad: The First Millennium Refocused (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Frishman, Judith and Lucas Van Rompay (eds.) The Book of Genesis in Jewish and Oriental Christian Interpretation: A Collection of Essays (TEG ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Froehlich, Karlfried (ed.) Biblical Interpretation in the Early Church (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ).
. Geerard, Maurice and François Glorie. “Index : Biblicus.” Pages – in vol. of Clavis Patrum Graecorum. Edited by Maurice Geerard (Turnhout: Brepols, ). Goodspeed, Edgar J. A History of Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ). Grant, Robert M. and David Tracy. A Short History of the Interpretation of the Bible, nd ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Graves, Michael (ed.) Biblical Interpretation in the Early Church (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Green, Roger P. H. Latin Epics of the New Testament: Juvencus, Sedulius, Arator (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Haar Romeny, R. B. ter A Syrian in Greek Dress: The Use of Greek, Hebrew, and Syriac Biblical Texts in Eusebius of Emesa’s Commentary on Genesis (TEG ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Harnack, Adolf von. Bible Reading in the Early Church. Translated by J. R. Wilkinson (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock ). Harvey, Susan Ashbrook. “Performance as exegesis: Women’s liturgical choirs in Syriac tradition,” Inquiries into Eastern Christian Worship: Acts of the Second International Congress of the Society of Oriental Liturgy. Edited by Basilius J. Groen, Stephanos Alexopoulos, and Steven Hawkes-Teeples (Leuven: Peeters, ). Hauser, Alan J. and Duane F. Watson (eds.) A History of Biblical Interpretation, vol. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Hovhannessian, Vahan (ed.) Commentaire de l’Octateuch (Venice: St. Lazare, ). Humphries, Mark. “Late antiquity and world history: Challenging conventional narratives and analyses,” Studies in Late Antiquity (), –. Jarick, John. Gregory Thaumaturgos’ Paraphrase of Ecclesiastes (Atlanta: Scholars Press, ). Kannengiesser, Charles. Handbook of Patristic Exegesis: The Bible in Ancient Christianity, vols. (Leiden: Brill, ). Kannengiesser, Charles. “Patristic exegesis: Fifty years of international research.” Pages – in vol. of Handbook of Patristic Exegesis. Edited by Charles Kannengiesser (Leiden: Brill, ). Krueger, Derek. Liturgical Subjects: Christian Ritual, Biblical Narrative, and the Formation of the Self in Byzantium (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ). Kugel, James L. and Rowan A. Greer. Early Biblical Interpretation (Philadelphia: Westminster, ). Lamberton, Robert. Homer the Theologian: Neoplatonist Allegorical Reading and the Epic Tradition (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Lieber, Laura. “Theater of the holy: Performative elements of late ancient hymnography,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. Magdalino, Paul and Robert S. Nelson (eds.) The Old Testament in Byzantium (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, ). Malik, Peter. P. Beatty iii (P): The Codex, Its Scribe, and Its Text (NTTSD ; Leiden: Brill, ). Markschies, Christoph. Christian Theology and Its Institutions in the Early Roman Empire: Prolegomena to a History of Early Christian Theology. Translated by Wayne Coppins (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ).
Scriptures and Interpretations Martens, Peter W. (ed.) Adrian’s Introduction to the Divine Scriptures: An Antiochene Handbook for Scriptural Interpretation (OECT; Oxford: Oxford University, ). Martens, Peter W. Origen and Scripture: The Contours of the Exegetical Life (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Origen’s institutions and the shape of biblical scholarship,” in The Intellectual World of Christian Late Antiquity: Reshaping Classical Traditions. Edited by Lewis Ayres, Michael Champion, and Matthew Crawford (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). “Scripture.” Pages – in The Routledge Companion to Early Christian Thought. Edited by D. Jeffrey Bingham (London: Routledge, ). McKim, Donald K. Historical Handbook of Major Biblical Interpreters (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, ). Meade, John D. and Edmon L. Gallagher. The Biblical Canon Lists from Early Christianity: Texts and Analysis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Metzler, Karin (ed.) Prokop von Gaza. Eclogarum in libros historicos Veteris Testamenti epitome, Teil : Der Genesiskommentar. Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunderte (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Mitchell, Margaret M. The Heavenly Trumpet: John Chrysostom and the Art of Pauline Interpretation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ). Paul, the Corinthians, and the Birth of Christian Hermeneutics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Muehlberger, Ellen. “On authors, Fathers, and holy men,” Marginalia, September , https://themarginaliareview.com/on-authors-fathers-and-holy-men-by-ellen-muehl berger/. Neuschäfer, Bernard. Origenes als Philologe, vols. (Basel: Reinhardt, ). Neuwirth, Angelika. The Qur’an and Late Antiquity: A Sacred Heritage (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Oden, Thomas C. (ed.) Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, vols. (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, –). Ondrey, Hauna T. The Minor Prophets as Christian Scripture in the Commentaries of Theodore of Mopsuestia and Cyril of Alexandria (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Paget, James Carleton. “Christianity and Judaism,” Pages – in Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation. Edited by Paul M. Blowers and Peter W. Martens (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Parker, D. C. An Introduction to the New Testament Manuscripts and Their Texts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Parpulov, George R. Toward a History of Byzantine Psalters ca. – (Plovdiv: n.p., ). Perrone, Lorenzo in cooperation with Marina Molin Pradel, Emanuela Prinzivalli, and Antonion Cacciari (eds.) Origenes Werke Dritter Band: Die neuen Psalmenhomilien (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Petit, Françoise (ed.) La chaîne sur la Genèse, vols. (TEG –; Leuven: Peeters, –). et al. (eds.) Traditio Exegetica Graeca, vols. (Leuven: Peeters, –).
. Revenlow, Henning Graf. Epochen der Bibelauslegung, vols. (Munich: C. H. Beck, –). Roberts, Colin H. and T. C. Skeat. Birth of the Codex (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Runia, David T. Philo in Early Christian Literature: A Survey (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Sæbo, Magne (ed.) Hebrew Bible/Old Testament: The History of Its Interpretation, vols. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, –). Saxer, Victor. Bible et hagiographie: Textes et thèmes bibliques dans les Actes des martyrs authentiques des premiers siècles (Berne: Lang, ). Schäublin, Christoph. Untersuchungen zu Methode und Herkunft der Antiochenischen Exegese (Bonn: Hanstein, ). Scherbenske, Eric W. Canonizing Paul: Ancient Editorial Practice and the Corpus Paulinum (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Shuve, Karl. The Song of Songs and the Fashioning of Identity in Early Latin Christianity (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Simonetti, Manilo. Biblical Interpretation in the Early Church: An Historical Introduction to Patristic Exegesis. Translated by John A. Hughes (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ). Lettera e/o allegoria: Un contribute alla storia dell’esegesi patristica (Rome: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, ). Profilo storico dell’esegesi patristica (Rome: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, ). Stefaniw, Blossom. Christian Reading: Language, Ethics, and the Order of Things (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Struck, Peter T. Birth of the Symbol: Ancient Readers at the Limits of Their Texts (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Ward, H. Clifton. “Marcion and his critics.” Pages – in Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation. Edited by Paul M. Blowers and Peter W. Martens (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Wickes, Jeffrey. Bible and Poetry in Late Antique Mesopotamia: Ephrem’s Hymns on Faith (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Wilken, Robert Louis (ed.) The Church’s Bible, vols. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, –). Young, Frances M. Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). “The rhetorical schools and their influence on patristic exegesis.” Pages – in The Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in Honor of Henry Chadwick. Edited by Rowan Williams (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Zawadzki, K. F. (ed.) Der Kommentar Cyrills von Alexandrien zum . Korintherbrief: Einleitung, kritischer Text, Übersetzung, Einzelanalyse (TEG ; Leuven: Peeters, ).
Early Christians and Their Socioeconomic Contexts .
This essay will assess scholarship from the last two decades on the socioeconomic profile and diversity of the early Christian communities. Several methodological observations about recent studies on social stratification and its implications for early Christian groups in the Greco-Roman world will also be offered, touching on poverty and the dynamics of rank and status in antiquity. The transitions in scholarly consensus prior to twenty-first-century scholarship on social stratification in the early Christian communities are well known and need only be briefly summarized below. The influential consensus on early Christian social stratification attributed to Adolf Deissmann and Karl Kautsky held sway for decades in New Testament scholarship: namely, that Christianity was a lower-class movement, with the chief apostle being a craftsman close to the margins. This depiction of Deissmann’s argument on the social constituency of the first believers is, however, a misrepresentation of his position, which posited a blend of middle and lower classes in the Body of Christ. In E. A. Judge, exploring the social constituency of the early Christians, argued that apart from the depressed classes of Palestine the Christian movement was
On the Gospels and Roman Palestine, see James R. Harrison, “Social stratification and poverty studies in first-century Roman Palestine: An evaluation of recent research on the economic context of the first disciples,” in The Future of Gospels and Acts Research, ed. Peter G. Bolt (Macquarie Park: SCD Press, ), –. On Roman stratification, see Walter Scheidel, “Stratification, deprivation, and quality of life,” in Poverty in the Roman World, ed. Margaret Atkins and Robin Osborn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. Adolf Deissmann, “Primitive Christianity and the lower classes,” Expositor (), –; Deissmann, Light from the Ancient Near East (London: Hodder and Stoughton, ), ; Deissmann, Paul: A Study in Social and Religious History (New York: Harper and Brothers, ); Karl Kautsky, The Foundations of Christianity (New York: Russell and Russell, ). See Deissmann, Paul, –.
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dominated by a socially pretentious group from the large cities. A decade later Gerd Theissen and Abraham J. Malherbe pronounced that Judge’s assessment represented the “new consensus” on the social location of the early Christians. Nevertheless, Ronald F. Hock argued that Judge’s depiction of Paul as a sophist moving among the urban elite overlooked the humiliations, stigma, and poverty associated with the artisan’s daily experience. In Wayne Meeks argued that urbanization paved the way for the rapid spread for early Christianity. The first Christians represented a cross section of society rather than exclusively the poor, with more secure members undergoing “status inconsistency” (i.e., their “achieved status” within the community was more elevated than their ascribed status within society). However, Meeks failed to explain how early Christianity moved from an entirely agrarian base in Roman Palestine to an urbanized constituency in the Pauline churches of the eastern Mediterranean basin. Furthermore, Thomas Robinson has argued that Meek’s “urban thesis” did not sufficiently reckon with the spread of early Christianity into the countryside outside of the major cities, so much so that a substantial rural component comprised the first believers, a dimension overlooked in earlier research. Last, returning to Geza Alföldy’s binary model of upper and lower strata for Roman society, Justin J. Meggitt argued that Paul was located “firmly among the misera ac ieiuna plebecula” (“the wretched and starving rabble,” Cicero, Att. ..), living his life in poverty with other Christians in the
E. A. Judge, The Social Pattern of Christian Groups in the First Century (London: Tyndale Press, ). Abraham J. Malherbe, Social Aspects of Early Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ; nd ed., ), –, –, –, –; Gerd Theissen, The Social Setting of Pauline Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ), –. Ronald F. Hock, The Social Context of Paul’s Ministry: Tentmaking and Apostleship (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ), . Pace, see Todd D. Still, “Did Paul loathe labor? Revisiting the work of Ronald F. Hock on the apostle’s tentmaking and social class,” Journal of Biblical Literature . (), –; L. L. Welborn, Paul, the Fool of Christ: A Study of Corinthians – in the ComicPhilosophic Tradition (JSNT Suppl. ; London: T&T Clark, ), –. Wayne A. Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), –. Meeks, The First Urban Christians, , , . Thomas A. Robinson, Who Were the First Christians? Dismantling the Urban Thesis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. See also Alan Cadwallader, James R. Harrison, Angela Standhartinger, and L. L. Welborn (eds.) The Village in Antiquity and the Rise of Early Christianity (London: T&T Clark, forthcoming). Geza Alföldy, The Social History of Rome, trans. David Braund and Frank Pollock (Totowa: Barnes and Noble, ), .
Early Christians and Their Socio-Economic Contexts
lower economic strata. Meggitt claimed that the Pauline churches lived in destitution (i.e. “at or near subsistence level”) and only survived by mutual assistance among equals. In so arguing, he ruled out all candidates in the Pauline churches who previously had been proposed by scholars to have had elevated economic status. It is beyond our scope to discuss the adequacy of Meggitt’s return to the old “consensus,” though Steven Friesen justifiably praises Meggitt’s polemical contribution in alerting affluent Westerners to the widespread presence of subsistence-level poverty in the ancient world.
Socioeconomic Profiles of the Early Christian Communities: A Survey and Assessment of Recent Scholarship From to a scale of seven economic categories (PS–) have been proposed for measuring poverty in the cities of the Roman empire, drawing upon the sparse economic data of ancient historians as well as data from preindustrial Europe. Several important conclusions have emerged regarding the social stratification of the Roman world and the economic location of the Pauline house churches (though Friesen and Longenecker diverge in their estimates of the precise scales): () The imperial, regional, and municipal elites (PS–) formed a miniscule percentage of the population of the Roman empire: % Friesen (); ~% Scheidel and Friesen (); % Longenecker (, ).
Justin J. Meggitt, Paul, Poverty and Survival (SNTW; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ), . Meggitt, Paul, Poverty and Survival, ; cf. , , , . Meggitt, Paul, Poverty and Survival, , –, –. Meggitt, Paul, Poverty and Survival, –. See the criticisms of Dale B. Martin, “Review essay: Justin J. Meggitt, Paul, Poverty and Survival,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament (), –; Timothy A. Brookins, Corinthian Wisdom, Stoic Philosophy, and the Ancient Economy (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; Brookins, “Economic profiling of early Christian communities,” Paul and Economics: A Handbook, ed. Thomas R. Blanton and Raymond Pickett (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –. Steven Friesen, “Poverty in Pauline studies: Beyond the so-called new consensus,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament . (), –, at . The key studies are Friesen, “Poverty in Pauline studies”; Bruce W. Longenecker, “Exposing the economic middle: A revised economy scale for the study of early urban Christianity,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament (), –; Walter Scheidel and Steven Friesen, “The size of the economy and the distribution of income in the Roman empire,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –; Bruce W. Longenecker, Remember the Poor: Paul, Poverty, and the Greco-Roman World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ).
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() Geza Alföldy’s binary model of the Roman empire has been abandoned because of the presence of a “middling group” (PS), possessing moderate surplus resources, whose size is variously assessed: % Friesen (); % Longenecker (); –% Scheidel and Friesen (); % Longenecker (). () The remaining inhabitants of the Roman empire were either placed near subsistence level (PS: % Friesen []; % Longenecker []; % Longenecker []), at subsistence level (PS: % Friesen []; % Longenecker [, ]), or below subsistence level (PS: % Friesen []; % Longenecker [, ]). For the vast majority of believers in the Pauline assemblies and inhabitants of the Roman empire, poverty was the routine experience of life. () In terms of social stratification, the “middling group” of the Corinthian church, for which we possess the most data (i.e. Erastus, Gaius, Priscilla and Aquila, Stephanus, Crispus, Phoebe, Chloe), are rated variously by Friesen and Longenecker as belonging to PS–. If we consider the economic profile of Paul’s assemblies based on the evidence of the book of Acts, however, individuals of high standing emerge (PS [Acts :–: Sergius Paulus?]; PS– [:, , ]: high-standing men and women), as well as individuals of middling status (PS: : [Titius Justus], : [Crispus], :– [jailer], :– [Lydia]) and above subsistence status (PS–: :– [Jason]). The question immediately arises whether we privilege Paul’s letters as the bedrock for all our historical knowledge of the apostle and his churches and, concomitantly, to what degree we privilege Luke’s strong interest in the urban elites in assessing the social location of the first believers. () The Jerusalem collection, therefore, should not be understood from the perspective of the Roman patronage system and benefit exchange – both inappropriate models for believers mainly living in the PS– poverty
On women as patrons in house churches, see Carolyn Osiek and Margaret MacDonald, with Janet H. Tulloch, A Woman’s Place: House Churches in Earliest Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –. For the Acts evidence, see Steven J. Friesen. “Paul and economics: The Jerusalem collection as an alternative to patronage,” in Paul Unbound: Other Perspectives on the Apostle, ed. Mark D. Given (Peabody: Hendrickson, ), –, at . See David W. J. Gill, “Acts and the urban elites,” in The Book of Acts in Its First Century Setting, vol. , The Book of Acts in Its Graeco-Roman Setting, ed. David W. J. Gill and Conrad Gempf (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –.
Early Christians and Their Socio-Economic Contexts
scale (cf. Cor. :; Cor. :) – but rather as “an economy of voluntary redistribution among the saints.” () Ranging beyond the Pauline evidence, the author of James :– and :– castigates the dominant social and juridical system and, in Old Testament prophetic manner (cf. Jas. :– [Isa. :–; Jer. :]), critiques rich landowners. Elsewhere the Roman ruler’s insatiable consumption of the empire’s resources, along with that of Rome’s merchants, is lambasted in Revelation :–. The rapaciousness of the ruler, the acquisition of overseas slaves by his generals, the gluttony of the gourmands in the capital, and the bloodthirsty crowds enchanted by the daily death of exotic beasts in the arena is also vividly captured in the Roman literature (Tacitus, Agr. ; Seneca, Thy. –; Petronius, Sat. –, –). Thus, the question of the social location of the believers addressed in the diasporic churches outside of Palestine (Jas. :) and in the Asian churches (e.g., Rev. :: τὴν πτωχείαν) comes into sharp focus, the implied audience of James mostly living near subsistence level (PS–) or being destitute (PS) according to Friesen. Indeed, the book of Revelation possibly even envisages the isolation of believers from the market economy because they had not received (or had refused?) the inked entry “mark of the beast” into the upper market of Domitian (Rev. :). However, Alexander Weiß has challenged the scholarly consensus that the early Christian movement belonged to none of the three curial orders in the Roman empire (senators, equites, decurions), positing that Erastus of Corinth was a member, among other candidates in the ensuing centuries,
Friesen, “Paul and economics,” . On benefit exchange, see Stephan Joubert, Paul as Benefactor: Reciprocity, Strategy and Theological Reflection in Paul’s Collection (WUNT .; Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). For discussion, see Steven J. Friesen, “Injustice or God’s will? Early Christian explanations of poverty,” in Wealth and Poverty in Early Church and Society, ed. Susan R. Holman (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ), –. For a possible economic Sitz im leben for James, see Peter Davids, Commentary on James (NIGTC; Exeter: Paternoster, ), –. See James R. Harrison, Reading Romans with Roman Eyes: Studies on the Social Perspective of Paul (Paul in Critical Contexts; London: Fortress Academic, ), –. Friesen, “Injustice or God’s will?” . See E. A. Judge, “The mark of the beast, Revelation :,” in The First Christians in the Roman World: Augustan and New Testament Essays, ed. James R. Harrison (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Alexander Weiß, Soziale Elite und Christentum: Studien zu ordo-Angehörigen unter den frühen Christen (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –.
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of the ordo decurionum (PS). But, although the elite status of Erastus has been heavily contested in recent scholarship, though by no means irretrievably, no such comparable figure emerges from the list of Roman believers greeted by Paul in Romans :–. Another believer who could have belonged to one of the three orders, Weiss contends, is the (hypothetical?) man with the golden ring who enters a Christian assembly in James :. The golden ring identifies him as possessing equestrian rank (e.g., Cicero, Verr. .; ., ; Dio Cassius ..; Pliny the Elder, Nat. .; Suetonius, Jul. ). But, once again, no such candidate is locatable among the Roman believers in the empire’s capital or among the diasporic churches outside of Palestine. Another important issue in terms of the social and economic location of the New Testament churches is the degree to which local benefactors of substantial wealth inhabited them. It is worth asking whether the early Christians would have any interest in sponsoring public buildings, supplying grain, constructing roads, or embarking on civic diplomatic missions in Roman civil society, as Winter has proposed in his “benefaction” hermeneutic for Romans :b– and Peter :–. The idea of ordinary Christian individuals acting as wealthy urban benefactors in the mid-first century is unlikely, as Travis B. Williams has shown, because the early Christians would not normally have come close to having the economic resources of an elite Ephesian or a Corinthian civic benefactor for urban building projects. Moreover, a stratagem of public euergetism facilitated by believers would have been very difficult to mount, because of the complex sociopolitical negotiation required to become involved in civic benefaction. Furthermore, it was “an inappropriate social strategy” anyway, given that the type of persecution envisaged by the author of Peter had probably been
For recent summaries of the scholarship, see L. L. Welborn, An End to Enmity: Paul and the “Wrongdoer” of Second Corinthians (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –; Paul Trebilco, “Epigraphy and the study of polis and ekklēsia in the Greco-Roman world,” in The First Urban Churches : Methodological Foundations, ed. James R. Harrison and L. L. Welborn (Atlanta: SBL Press, ), –, esp. –. Weiß, Soziale Elite und Christentum, –. See also the excellent discussion of Ingeborg Mongstad-Kvammen, Toward a Postcolonial Reading of the Epistle of James: James :– in Its Roman Imperial Context (Biblical Interpretation Series ; Leiden: Brill, ), –. Bruce W. Winter, Seek the Welfare of the City: Christians as Benefactors and Citizens (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –. Travis B. Williams, “Benefiting the community through good works? The economic feasibility of civic benefaction in Peter,” Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism (), –; Williams, Good Works in Peter: Negotiating Social Conflict and Christian Identity in the Greco-Roman World (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –.
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provoked by the separatism of believers ( Pet. :–). More likely Paul is exhorting individual wealthy believers (“middling” households in the view of Friesen and Longenecker, though pace, Welborn, below) to assume traditional benefactor roles within their own believing communities, as well as among their extramural contacts (Gal. :a), including the enemy (Luke :; Rom. :, –; Pet. :–), as opposed to attempting to become esteemed civic benefactors in a highly competitive arena. Last, what does Friesen’s “voluntary redistribution among the saints” mean in terms of the collection ( Cor. :)? What are the factors driving this social innovation on Paul’s part? First, as John Barclay has posited on the basis of LXX Exod. :, the object of equality for Paul is not the possession of goods but rather the opportunity of giving, drawing also upon the socioeconomic implications of the Christ paradigm in Corinthians :. Second, L. L. Welborn has argued that Paul appropriates the idea of equality from Greek thought and has modified it in his thinking about the Jerusalem collection. In this instance, Paul’s ecclesial thought draws from both GrecoRoman influences and the LXX/Second Temple Judaism, tantalizing the Corinthians by the intersection of Jewish Exodus narrative traditions with the ethos of Greek democracy. But we must also recognize Paul’s own Christological and soteriological assumptions here as well. The “equality” of Jesus with God (Phil. :b: τὸ εἶναι ἲσα θεῷ) was not a prize to be clung onto, but rather Christ emptied himself of all privilege, including his rightful assertion of his divine status, in a life of self-sacrificial giving for his dependents, culminating in the shame of the cross (:–). Paul’s cruciform reconfiguration of “equality” in the Jerusalem collection challenged the benefaction mores of Greco-Roman society by wrenching beneficence from the preserve of the elite great man and, paradoxically, placed its responsibility in the hands of poor believers ( Cor. :– [:]: cf. :b; Mark :–) as much as in the hands of those
Williams, Good Works in Peter, –, at . On the expenses of “middling” households in Anatolia, see Williams, Good Works in Peter, –. John M. G. Barclay, “Manna and the circulation of Grace: A study of Corinthians :–,” in The Word Leaps the Gap: Essays on Scripture and Theology in Honor of Richard B. Hays, ed. J. Ross Wagner, C. Kavin Rowe and A. Katherine Grieb (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –. L. L. Welborn, “‘That there may be equality’: The contexts and consequences of a Pauline ideal,” New Testament Studies (), –; Welborn, “Paul’s place in a first-century revival of the discourse of ‘equality,’” Harvard Theological Review (), –.
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currently possessing abundance in the ekklesiai ( Cor. :: e.g., PS), without thereby putting the former at substantial risk through their generosity.
Socioeconomic Diversity of the Early Christian Communities: A Survey and Assessment of Recent Scholarship In this section we will proceed by briefly investigating the socioeconomic diversity of churches in two cities, one in the Latin West (Rome) and the other in the Greek East (Corinth). First, in terms of Rome, Peter Lampe has proposed a servile origin of the vast majority of Roman believers who mostly lived, he suggests, in the poor neighborhood of Transtiberim Rome (i.e. Trastevere, Augustan Region XIV) and the area around Porta Capena, with missionary outreach at Rome being most successful with disenfranchised immigrants. By contrast, Peter Oakes, in a highly original monograph, claims on the basis of analogies from the Pompeiian archaeological evidence that the Christian assemblies at Rome met in a craftsman’s workshop in an apartment block in the Transtiberim region of Rome, proposing that trades models make sense of much of Paul’s rhetoric in Romans. Weiss’s challenge to this consensus of lower social echelon membership, claiming that some Christians in the New Testament belonged to the Roman decurion and equestrian classes, has been already noted above. E. A. Judge, however, investigated the wider entourage associated with the Pauline mission, observing that over one-third bear Latin names. The percentage could be as high as fifty percent, because enfranchised or manumitted slaves still kept and cited their personal or ancestral Greek names for day-to-day purposes. In other words, the Roman citizenship or the preliminary rank of Junian Latin could be concealed behind the mere citation of a So also Bruce W. Longenecker, “Paul, poverty, and the powers: The eschatological Body of Christ in the present evil age,” in One God, One People, One Future: Essays in Honour of N. T. Wright, ed. John Anthony Dunne and Eric Lewellen (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –, esp. –. Peter Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries, trans. Michael Steinhauser (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), . Peter Oakes, Reading Romans in Pompeii: Paul’s Letter at Ground Level (Minneapolis: Fortress Press; London: SPCK, ), passim. E. A. Judge, “The Roman base of Paul’s mission,” in The First Christians in the Roman World: Augustan and New Testament Essays, ed. James R. Harrison (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –, at .
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Greek name. Judge’s research brings into play a much wider epigraphic base for his comparisons, contrasting not only databases from cities of the Greek East (Philippi, Thessalonica, Ephesus), but also data from regional tallies and from the particular people groups and associations of various cities (Ephesus, Corinth, Aphrodisias, Rome). This more comprehensive base of comparanda overcomes some of the limitations posed by a localized examination of epitaphs from Rome. Even though the church at Rome may have originated with proselytes and Jews returning as converts after the Pentecost event at Jerusalem (Acts :), it would have been periodically supplemented by craftsworkers returning to the city (e.g., Aquila and Priscilla: Rom. :; Acts :, , ; Cor. :; Tim. :), as well as by Junian Latins and Roman citizens on business trips or by peregrini settling in the city. The social mix is therefore more diverse than initially suggested in the magnum opus of Lampe. Last, we have to reckon with the possibility that upwardly mobile believers also belonged to the familia Caesaris at Rome (cf. P.Oxy. , below), perhaps inhabiting the lower echelons of the imperial bureaucracy, provided that Philippians : refers to the familia Caesaris at Rome as opposed to Ephesus. The possibility of Roman believers being members of a Herodian household (Aristobulus: Rom. :b; Josephus, BJ ., AJ .; cf. Luke :, Acts :) and an imperial freedmen household at Rome (Narcissus: Rom. :b; cf. Tacitus, Ann. .; Dio Cassius .) has also been viably proposed, again airing the likelihood of a more variegated socioeconomic base of believers in the churches in the Roman capital. In the case of the social constituency of the Corinthian churches, the terrain has been well covered by the pioneering works of Judge and
Judge, “The Roman base of Paul’s mission,” . Judge, “The Roman base of Paul’s mission,” Judge, “The Roman base of Paul’s mission,” . Contra, see E. A. Judge, “The origin of the church at Rome: A new solution?” in The First Christians in the Roman World: Augustan and New Testament Essays, ed. James R. Harrison (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –, at –. Lampe (From Paul to Valentinus, ) argues that the Christian faith arrived in Rome from the east via Puteoli. On the latter, see Michael Flexsenhar III, Christians in Caesar’s Household: The Emperor’s Slaves in the Makings of Christianity (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, ), –. Generally, see J. Albert Harrill, Slavery in the New Testament: Literary, Social, and Moral Dimensions (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ); Katherine Ann Shaner, Enslaved Leadership in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). On the social constituency of the Roman churches, see Harrison, Reading Romans with Roman Eyes, –.
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Meeks, though, as we have seen, Friesen and Longenecker have rated the socioeconomic status of proposed elite Corinthians as belonging to the PS– echelons, not conceding any advance in social rank among Corinthian church members beyond that. As I have argued above, it is unlikely that wealthy Christians in the first century engaged in civic benefactions, focusing instead on intramural and extramural beneficence for the needy. But L. L. Welborn has investigated the putative identity of the shadowy figure of the “wrong-doer” who publicly opposed the Apostle Paul in Corinthians ( Cor. :–, :–), suggesting from a close study of Corinth’s epigraphic evidence that this figure must have belonged to the city elites in order to have held such sway in the church. I have also investigated the values espoused by the Corinthian agonothetai in their public inscriptions, arguing that Paul’s cruciform critique of elite ideology in the Corinthian epistles undermined the seductive pathways of honor and social power experienced by the upwardly mobile members of the house churches at Corinth and Cenchrea. Paul’s boasting in the foolishness of the cross ( Cor. :–, Cor. :–:) reflected not only his rhetorical appropriation of the role of the “fool” from the traveling mime shows, but also emanated from his radical disemboweling of the Greco-Roman boasting tradition because of the culmination of Christ’s cursus pudorum upon the cross. The apostle’s admission that there were few “wise,” “powerful,” and “wellborn” in the Corinthian church ( Cor. :) could only be rhetorically persuasive at Corinth if there was indeed such a prestigious minority amongst the membership. Thus Paul’s adept use of “ambassadorial” and “administrative” imagery from the world of the civic elites in the Corinthian epistles reflects social realities at Corinth (οἰκονόμος: Cor. :–; οἰκονομία: Cor. :; πρεσβέυομεν: Cor. :), though it is reconfigured to denote significant apostolic and evangelistic ministries carried out in the Body of Christ. In sum, it is possible that a very Judge, Social Pattern of Christian Groups, –; Theissen, Social Setting of Pauline Christianity, –. See also Bruce W. Winter, After Paul Left Corinth: The Influence of Secular Ethics and Social Change (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Welborn, An End to Enmity, passim. Welborn, Paul, the Fool of Christ, passim. See Joseph H. Hellerman, Reconstructing Honor in Roman Philippi: Carmen Christi as Cursus Pudorum (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); James R. Harrison, “From Rome to the colony of Philippi: Roman boasting in Philippians :– in its Latin West and Philippian epigraphic context,” in The First Urban Churches : Roman Philippi, ed. James R. Harrison and L. L. Welborn (Atlanta: SBL Press, ), –. Anthony Bash, Ambassadors for Christ: An Exploration of Ambassadorial Language in the New Testament (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ); John K. Goodrich, Paul as an Administrator of God in Corinthians (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ).
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small group of Corinthian believers – landowning householders, merchants, and traders – may have penetrated economic echelons above the PS scale, but at levels and numbers unknown to us, accumulating wealth in mid-first-century Corinth. But this was at the expense of the “have-nots,” entrenching inequality among the membership of the church, inadvertently creating economic divisions in its meetings ( Cor. :–). Some demonstrated airs of cultured superiority over their brothers in Christ by virtue of their privileged and insensitive engagement with the mores, law courts, colonial constitution, gendered sacred spaces, and religious activities of Greco-Roman civil society at large ( Cor. :–; :–, ; :–; :–; :–). Finally, John S. Kloppenborg, Richard S. Ascough, Philip A. Harland, and Richard Last have made an invaluable contribution to New Testament socioeconomic scholarship by situating the Pauline assemblies within the comparanda of the local associations in antiquity. In terms of the Corinthian assemblies, this extensive corpus of epigraphic and papyrological data from the associations has furnished a rich array of insights and new questions regarding the nature of the Corinthian Christ associations: meeting size and places, social constituency, social relations and attitude to the polis, finances and connectivity, collections of See L. L. Welborn, “Inequality in Roman Corinth: Evidence from diverse sources evaluated by a Neo-Ricardian model,” in The First Urban Churches : Roman Corinth, ed. James R. Harrison and L. L. Welborn (Atlanta: SBL Press, ), –. On the integration of gender ideology into the organization of buildings, cult calendars, and religious festivals at Roman Corinth, and how Paul theologically negotiates this in Corinthians, see Jorunn Økland, Women in Their Place: Paul and the Corinthian Discourse of Gender and Sanctuary Space (JSNT Suppl. ; London: T&T Clark, ). On the colonial constitution of Corinth and its impact on Corinthians, see Bradley J. Bitner, Paul’s Political Strategy in Corinthians –: Constitution and Covenant (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). See John S. Kloppenborg, Christ’s Associations: Connecting and Belonging in the Ancient City (New Haven: Yale University Press, ); R. S. Ascough, Paul’s Macedonian Associations: The Social Context of Philippians and Thessalonians (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ); P. A. Harland, Associations, Synagogues and Congregations: Claiming a Place in Ancient Mediterranean Society (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ; nd ed., ); Richard Last, The Pauline Church and the Corinthian Ekklêsia: Greco-Roman Associations in Comparative Context (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); Last and Harland, Group Survival in the Ancient Mediterranean: Rethinking Material Conditions in the Landscape of Jews and Christians (London: T&T Clark, ). See http://philipharland.com/greco-roman-associations/. Kloppenborg, Christ’s Associations, –. Kloppenborg, Christ’s Associations, –. Last and Harland, Group Survival, –; Kloppenborg, Christ’s Associations, –. On societas and Paul’s unique financial arrangement with the Philippian church, see Julien M. Ogereau, Paul’s Koinonia with the Philippians: A Socio-Historical Investigation of a Pauline Economic Partnership (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ).
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funds, and the allocation of beneficence to members. Important exegetical issues have been opened up by this discussion: For example, was Gaius Paul’s “guest” (ξένος) at the Corinthian church’s common meal, as per the practice of association banquets, or, as traditionally conceived, was Gaius the “host” (ξένος) of the meetings of the entire church (Rom. :)? It is beyond the bounds of this essay to interact with the “association” thesis, but in the legitimate and helpful drive to see the organizational commonalities between the Christ associations and the local associations, one must not obscure what is distinctive about the ethos of social relations of the early believers.
Reassessing the Socioeconomic Profiles and Diversity of Early Christian Communities We have seen that there has emerged in recent New Testament scholarship a growing conviction about the existence of a small “middling” group in the socioeconomic stratification of antiquity, notwithstanding the diversity among the early Christian communities and the contested understandings of their social constituencies. What methodological cautions are apposite for future “poverty” and social stratification studies and for an understanding of how assigned rank and acquired status operated in the Greco-Roman social pyramid?
The Language of Poverty: A Slippery Slope Leading Nowhere? There needs to be a closer analysis of the language of “poverty” in the Jewish and Greco-Roman literature. Although poverty terminology is notoriously slippery, an awareness of contextual nuances can be very helpful (e.g., the
On the associations and the Jerusalem collection, see also David J. Downs, The Offering of the Gentiles: Paul’s Collection for Jerusalem in Its Chronological, Cultural, and Cultic Contexts (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –; Kloppenborg, Christ’s Associations, –; Last and Harland, Group Survival, –. Last and Harland, Group Survival, –. Last, The Pauline Church and the Corinthian Ekklêsia, –; John S. Kloppenborg, “Gaius the Roman guest,” New Testament Studies . (), –. See James R. Harrison, Paul and the Ancient Celebrity Circuit: The Cross and Moral Transformation (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. See Gildas H. Hamel, Poverty and Charity in Roman Palestine, First Three Centuries (Berkeley: University of California Press, ), –; Longenecker, Remember the Poor, –, at –; W. V. Harris, “Poverty and destitution in the Roman empire,” in Rome’s Imperial Economy: Twelve Essays (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –, at –; Harrison, Reading Romans with Roman Eyes, –.
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distinction between the indigent widow [Mark :–] and the totally destitute Lazarus [Luke :–]). In this regard, a poverty scale of five levels, based on the terminology of the Mishnah, has been charted by Rosenfeld and Perlmutter. This is a fine example of the close lexical work that needs to be pursued. The difficulty of the task, however, should not be underestimated. As W. V. Harris writes, “Greek ptochos and penes, Latin egens and pauper – and all the other words that refer to persons short on resources – are not of course meaningless terms, but they are highly subjective, flexible, and relative.” Furthermore, the rhetorical contexts of “poverty” references in the Pauline literature have to be taken into account. The rhetorical link between the exemplum of the impoverished Macedonian churches ( Cor. :: ἡ κατὰ βάθους τῆς πτωχεία) and the exemplum of Christ as the “impoverished benefactor” (:: ἐπτώχευσεν [cf. :b]) – a rhetorical motif known from the Greco-Roman literature – poses the question about the precision of Paul’s description of the Macedonian economic situation. Were all the Macedonian churches located at a subsistence level at the time of the writing of Corinthians? If so, how could they have made a meaningful donation to the Jerusalem collection, other than Meggitt’s suggestion of limited mutual assistance, orchestrated in a manner and circumstances now unknown to us? Determining the precise economic context of the Macedonian believers on the basis of one fleeting reference ( Cor. :), a text entwined with a powerful social and theological exemplum (:), is historically challenging. Notwithstanding the terminological difficulties of poverty language in the literary evidence, closer attention has to be paid to the Greco-Roman
See Ben-Zion Rosenfeld and Haim Perlmutter, “The poor as a stratum of Jewish society in Roman Palestine – : An analysis,” Historia . (), –, at –. See Rosenfeld and Perlmutter, “The poor as a stratum,” –. Harris, “Poverty and destitution,” . See L. L. Welborn (“The polis and the poor: Reconstructing social relations from different genres of evidence,” in The First Urban Churches : Methodological Foundations, ed. James R. Harrison and L. L. Welborn [Atlanta: SBL Press, ], –, at –) on inconsistencies in the distinction between πένης (those with nothing in surplus: i.e. the day laborer) and πτωχός (the destitute beggar) in the Greek literature. On the Latin terminology of poverty, see J. J. Esser, “De Pauperum cura apud Romanos” (Ph.D. diss., Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, ), esp. Appendix –. Note the comment of Kloppenborg, Christ’s Associations, : “Paul’s vague and highly rhetorical statements about the ‘extreme poverty’ of some and ‘wealth’ of others.” On the impoverished benefactor, see James R. Harrison, Paul’s Language of Grace in Its Graeco-Roman Context (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –.
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literature and the riches it reveals. Despite instances of poets in antiquity adopting a mendicant facade, the relentless complaints of the equestrian Roman poet Martial about his financial straits seem to have genuine substance when one considers that his writings reveal his continuous need of financial assistance from his amici. Lastly, important literary sources which throw considerable light on the plight of the poor are easily overlooked or undervalued because of the social status of their author (e.g., the equestrian Martial). Welborn’s insightful discussion of the value of the fictitious genres of Martial, Alciphron, and Apuleius is exemplary in this regard.
Paul’s Reassessment of the Dynamics of Social Hierarchy and Association Fraternity: Connectivity and Horizontal Relationships The relational dynamics of Greco-Roman stratification and the social hierarchy expressed in ancient gift-giving rituals are worth considering here. John Kloppenborg has recently argued that below the property-based stratification of the three curial ranks in the Roman empire, economic and social status in the civic hierarchy was determined by connectivity. To cite one example, there is the intriguing case of an Egyptian free citizen called Herminos, mentioned in an early first-century papyrus (P.Oxy. ), who “went off to Rome and became a freedman of Caesar in order to take appointments,” calculatedly accessing pathways of upward social mobility in the imperial bureaucracy. Another avenue of the acquisition of status was to gain prominence in the “celebrity circuit” of antiquity, which, though largely the preserve of the civic elites, was not exclusively so, as the intense popularity of lower-echelon charioteers, entertainers, and athletes demonstrated. John Barclay has also observed that New Testament scholars have been too obsessed with the vertical gift-giving relationships between patron and client at the expense of the equally (perhaps more) important horizontal On all the genres of literary evidence regarding the poor, as well as the epigraphic and visual evidence, see Welborn, “The polis and the poor.” See P. M. W. Tennant, “Poets and poverty: The case of Martial,” Acta Classica (), –. Welborn, “The polis and the poor,” –. Kloppenborg, Christ’s Associations, –. G. H. R. Horsley, “Joining the household of Caesar,” New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity (), –. See Harrison, Paul and the Ancient Celebrity Circuit, –, at –; –.
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networks of reciprocity between kin, friends, and neighbors. This complex network of relationships ensured that the poor could survive apart from the sponsorship of elite benefactors. Crucially, as Barclay argues, it explains why the fictive family of God, motivated by the soteriology of Christ’s selfimpoverishing beneficence ( Cor. :), pooled individual contributions (Acts :–, :–; Cor. :–; Cor. –, esp. :–; Gal. :; Tim. :), supported the weak (Rom. :; Gal. :, ; Eph. :–, ; Thess. :–), and maintained open networks of gift-giving to outsiders and enemies of the church (Rom. :–, Gal. :a, Thess. :). Another prominent model of Greco-Roman hierarchy employed in New Testament scholarship on gift-giving is the sociological construct of God as patron, Christ as broker, and believers as God’s clients. However, as David Downs has argued, this wrenches Paul’s theology of overflowing χάρις (usually translated “grace”) into an alien context. It mistakenly associates Paul’s theology with the semantic domain of patronage avoided by the apostle because of its status-riddled and political associations (e.g., amicitia, φιλία), as well as its exploitative and competitive elements. It overlooks the fact that Paul’s primary metaphor for the beneficent God is “father” (Rom. :, Cor. :, Cor. :, Gal. :, Phil. :, Phlm. ) as opposed to patronus and, consequently, that his beneficiaries See John M. G. Barclay, “Early Christianity, mission, and the survival of the poor in the Graeco-Roman world,” Teologisk Tidsskrift . (), –, at . For examples of family members and friends either looking after or soliciting care for people with disabilities in the Gospels, see Mark :–; :; :–; :–; :–, ; :; :–, –; Luke :–, :. See Louise A. Gosbell, “The Poor, the Crippled, the Blind, and the Lame”: Physical and Sensory Ability in the Gospels and the New Testament (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Barclay, “Early Christianity,” –. Harrison, Paul’s Language of Grace, –. David J. Downs, “Is God Paul’s patron?” in Engaging Economics: New Testament Scenarios and Early Christian Reception, ed. Bruce W. Longenecker and Kelly D. Liebengood (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –. On φιλ- compounds and the New Testament, see E. A. Judge, “Moral terms in the eulogistic tradition,” New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity (), –, at . On the sparse use φιλ- compounds in Paul and his avoidance of “friendship” terminology in comparison to association decrees and the Gospel of John, see Harrison, Paul and the Ancient Celebrity Circuit, –. On φιλαδελφία in Paul ( Thess. :, Rom. :), see Reidar Aasgaard, “My Beloved Brothers and Sisters!” Christian Siblingship in Paul (JSNT Suppl. ; London: T&T Clark International, ), –. Downs, “Is God Paul’s patron?” –, –. Downs, “Is God Paul’s patron?” , –. On the inversion of hierarchical roles in Paul’s understanding of gift exchange, see Thomas R. Blanton IV, A Spiritual Economy: Gift Exchange in the Letters of Paul of Tarsus (Synkrisis; New Haven: Yale University Press, ), –, –, –. On Jesus’s critique of reciprocity rituals in ancient gift-giving (Luke :–), see James R. Harrison, “The historical Jesus as ‘social critic’: An investigation of Luke :–,” Journal of the Gospels and Acts Research (), –.
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are his adopted children (Rom. :, –, , ; :–; Gal. :, :, etc.) as opposed to amici (“friends”). Over against friendship terminology, Paul’s most common form of address to believers is sibling terminology (“brother,” “brothers”: άδελφέ, ἀδελφοί), employed some sixty-four times in Paul’s Epistles, as opposed to the much rarer occurrences of φίλος (“friend”) and ἀδελφός in the association inscriptions. Furthermore, whereas φιλία/φίλοι represents an important dynamic of mutual obligation among the members of local associations (e.g. IG II ; Sokolowski, LSAM, § ), Paul’s only use of “friendship” terminology occurs in Thessalonians and Romans where it is used for love towards fellow siblings in Christ (φιλαδελφία [“brotherly love”]: Thess. :, Rom. :). Significantly, however, φιλαδελφία is not one of the φιλ- compounds used in association inscriptions. Suffice it to say, Paul’s preferred word for the dynamic undergirding sibling relationships, absent from association epigraphy, is ἀγάπη (“love”). This essay has explored recent New Testament scholarship on the socioeconomic context of the Mediterranean churches outside of Roman Palestine, focusing on the contributions of Friesen, Scheidel, and Longenecker. The presence of a “middling” group in the Roman empire has been convincingly established by their innovative scholarship, but the diversity of church membership Corinth in particular indicates that it is likely that there were some believers of higher status than PS in first-century eastern and western Mediterranean churches. It was noted, however, that the urban focus of these studies obscured the urgent need for concentrated study of the surrounding countryside and villages as an equally important area for Christian ecclesial expansion (Robinson; Cadwallader et al.). The contribution of the “Toronto School” of John Kloppenborg and his doctoral graduates (Ascough, Harland, Last) has been groundbreaking in Aasgaard, “My Beloved Brothers and Sisters!”; Reidar Aasgaard, “Paul as a child: Children and childhood in the letters of the apostle,” Journal of Biblical Literature . (), –; Richard B. Lewis, Paul’s “Spirit of Adoption” in Its Roman Imperial Context (LNTS ; London: Bloomsbury, ). Aasgaard, “My Beloved Brothers and Sisters!” . For φίλος, see Richard Ascough, Philip A. Harland, and John S. Kloppenborg, Associations in the Greco-Roman World: A Sourcebook (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press; Berlin: De Gruyter, ), §§ , , , , . For ἀδελφός, see §§ , , . For πατήρ (“father”) in association inscriptions as another case of fictive family language, see §§ , , , , h/k. On hierarchical and non-hierarchical elements in Paul’s self-designation as “father” (πατήρ), see Aasgaard, “My Beloved Brothers and Sisters!” –. Ascough et al. Associations in the Greco-Roman World, .
Early Christians and Their Socio-Economic Contexts
sharpening our understanding of the local associations as socioeconomic comparanda for the first-century churches. However, the suggestion that φιλία (an important social dynamic characterizing the local associations) animated relationships in the Pauline churches is terminologically unjustified. Although “friendship” terminology appears in John’s Gospel (φιλοί: John :, , ; cf. :, :, :), the Johannine and Pauline literature focuses on ἀγάπη and fictive family relationships (Aasgaard, Lewis). Paul’s epistolary sibling address (άδελφέ, ἀδελφοί) appears more abundantly in contrast to familial association terminology. Lastly, the importance of connectivity, as opposed to curial rank, and horizontal relationships in giftgiving, as opposed to patronal dependence, have been substantially discussed by Kloppenborg and Barclay. Other important social issues have periodically surfaced in our survey of the scholarship from –, too many to discuss, but central for any understanding of the cultural context of the New Testament and its exegesis: disability studies and the Gospels (Gosbell); gendered sanctuary space and the Roman colonial charter in Corinthians (Økland, Bitner); Corinthians and the figure of the fool in the traveling mime shows of antiquity (Welborn); elite enmity in Corinthians (Welborn); association practices and the Jerusalem collection in the Corinthian epistles (Downs, Kloppenborg); societas and financial relationships between Paul and the Philippian believers (Ogereau); honor and dishonor in Philippians (Hellerman); Phrygian benefaction culture and the ethics of Peter (Williams); inversions of hierarchy in gift-giving (Blanton); the role of women (Osiek and MacDonald); slavery, Ephesus, and the familia Caesaris (Harrill, Shaner, Flexsenhar); and, last, ancient ambassadors and administrators in antiquity and their metaphorical appropriation in the New Testament writings (Bash, Goodrich). Gratifyingly, many new pathways of research remain to be explored in the socioeconomic profile of early Christianity, but there are still substantial methodological issues to be resolved before genuine clarity emerges.
Select Bibliography Aasgaard, Reidar. “My Beloved Brothers and Sisters!” Christian Siblingship in Paul (JSNT Suppl. ; London: T&T Clark International, ). “Paul as a child: Children and childhood in the letters of the apostle,” Journal of Biblical Literature . (), –.
. Alföldy, Geza. The Social History of Rome. Translated by David Braund and Frank Pollock (Totowa: Barnes and Noble, ). Ascough, Richard S. Paul’s Macedonian Associations: The Social Context of Philippians and Thessalonians (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Ascough, Richard S., Philip A. Harland, and John S. Kloppenborg. Associations in the GrecoRoman World: A Sourcebook (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Barclay, John M. G. “Early Christianity, mission, and the survival of the poor in the Graeco-Roman world,” Teologisk Tidsskrift . (), –. “Manna and the circulation of Grace: A study of Corinthians :–.” Pages – in The Word Leaps the Gap: Essays on Scripture and Theology in Honor of Richard B. Hays. Edited by J. Ross Wagner, C. Kavin Rowe, and A. Katherine Grieb (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Bash, Anthony. Ambassadors for Christ: An Exploration of Ambassadorial Language in the New Testament (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Bitner, Bradley J. Paul’s Political Strategy in Corinthians –: Constitution and Covenant (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Blanton, Thomas R. IV. A Spiritual Economy: Gift Exchange in the Letters of Paul of Tarsus (Synkrisis; New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Brookins, Timothy A. Corinthian Wisdom, Stoic Philosophy, and the Ancient Economy (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). “Economic profiling of early Christian communities.” Pages – in Paul and Economics: A Handbook. Edited by Thomas R. Blanton and Raymond Pickett (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Cadwallader, Alan, James R. Harrison, Angela Standhartinger, and L. L. Welborn (eds.) The Village in Antiquity and the Rise of Early Christianity (London: T&T Clark, forthcoming). Davids, Peter. Commentary on James (NIGTC; Exeter: Paternoster, ). Deissmann, Adolf. Light from the Ancient Near East (London: Hodder and Stoughton, ). Paul: A Study in Social and Religious History (New York: Harper and Brothers, ). “Primitive Christianity and the lower classes,” Expositor (), –. Downs, David J. “Is God Paul’s patron?” Pages – in Engaging Economics: New Testament Scenarios and Early Christian Reception. Edited by Bruce W. Longenecker and Kelly D. Liebengood (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). The Offering of the Gentiles: Paul’s Collection for Jerusalem in Its Chronological, Cultural, and Cultic Contexts (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Esser, J. J. “De Pauperum cura apud Romanos” (Ph.D. diss., Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, ). Flexsenhar, Michael III. Christians in Caesar’s Household: The Emperor’s Slaves in the Makings of Christianity (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, ). Friesen, Steven. “Injustice or God’s will? Early Christian explanations of poverty.” Pages – in Wealth and Poverty in Early Church and Society and Society. Edited by Susan R. Holman (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ).
Early Christians and Their Socio-Economic Contexts “Paul and economics: The Jerusalem collection as an alternative to patronage.” Pages – in Paul Unbound: Other Perspectives on the Apostle. Edited by Mark D. Given (Peabody: Hendrickson, ). “Poverty in Pauline studies: Beyond the so-called new consensus,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament . (), –. Gill, David W. J. “Acts and the urban elites.” Pages – in The Book of Acts in Its First Century Setting, vol. , The Book of Acts in Its Graeco-Roman Setting. Edited by David W. J. Gill and Conrad Gempf (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Goodrich, John K. Paul as an Administrator of God in Corinthians (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Gosbell, Louise A. “The Poor, the Crippled, the Blind, and the Lame”: Physical and Sensory Ability in the Gospels and the New Testament (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Hamel, Gildas H. Poverty and Charity in Roman Palestine, First Three Centuries ce (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, ). Harland, P. A. Associations, Synagogues and Congregations: Claiming a Place in Ancient Mediterranean Society (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ; nd ed., ). Harrill, J. Albert. Slavery in the New Testament: Literary, Social, and Moral Dimensions (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Harris, W. V. “Poverty and destitution in the Roman empire.” Pages – in Rome’s Imperial Economy: Twelve Essays (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Harrison, James R. “From Rome to the colony of Philippi: Roman boasting in Philippians :– in its Latin West and Philippian epigraphic context.” Pages – in The First Urban Churches : Roman Philippi. Edited by James R. Harrison and L. L. Welborn (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). “The historical Jesus as ‘social critic’: An investigation of Luke :–,” Journal of the Gospels and Acts Research (), –. Paul and the Ancient Celebrity Circuit: The Cross and Moral Transformation (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Paul’s Language of Grace in Its Graeco-Roman Context (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Reading Romans with Roman Eyes: Studies on the Social Perspective of Paul (Paul in Critical Contexts; London: Fortress Academic, ). “Social stratification and poverty studies in first-century Roman Palestine: An evaluation of recent research on the economic context of the first disciples.” Pages – in The Future of Gospels and Acts Research. Edited by Peter G. Bolt (Macquarie Park: SCD Press, ). Hellerman, Joseph H. Reconstructing Honor in Roman Philippi: Carmen Christi as Cursus Pudorum (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Hock, Ronald F. The Social Context of Paul’s Ministry: Tentmaking and Apostleship (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ). Horsley, G. H. R. “Joining the household of Caesar,” New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity (), –.
. Joubert, Stephan. Paul as Benefactor: Reciprocity, Strategy and Theological Reflection in Paul’s Collection (WUNT .; Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Judge, E. A. “The mark of the beast, Revelation :.” Pages – in The First Christians in the Roman World: Augustan and New Testament Essays. Edited by James R. Harrison (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Moral terms in the eulogistic tradition,” New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity (), –. “The origin of the church at Rome: A new solution?” Pages – in The First Christians in the Roman World: Augustan and New Testament Essays. Edited by James R. Harrison (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “The Roman base of Paul’s mission.” Pages – in The First Christians in the Roman World: Augustan and New Testament Essays. Edited by James R. Harrison (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). The Social Pattern of Christian Groups in the First Century (London: Tyndale Press, ). Kautsky, Karl. The Foundations of Christianity (New York: Russell and Russell, ). Kloppenborg, John S. Christ’s Associations: Connecting and Belonging in the Ancient City (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). “Gaius the Roman guest,” New Testament Studies . (), –. Lampe, Peter. From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries. Translated by Michael Steinhauser (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Last, Richard. The Pauline Church and the Corinthian Ekklêsia: Greco-Roman Associations in Comparative Context (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Last, Richard, and Philip A. Harland. Group Survival in the Ancient Mediterranean: Rethinking Material Conditions in the Landscape of Jews and Christians (London: T&T Clark, ). Lewis, Richard B. Paul’s “Spirit of Adoption” in Its Roman Imperial Context (LNTS ; London: Bloomsbury, ). Longenecker, Bruce W. “Exposing the economic middle: A revised economy scale for the study of early urban Christianity,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament (), –. “Paul, poverty, and the powers: The eschatological Body of Christ in the present evil age.” Pages – in One God, One People, One Future: Essays in Honour of N. T. Wright. Edited by John Anthony Dunne and Eric Lewellen (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Remember the Poor: Paul, Poverty, and the Greco-Roman World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Malherbe, Abraham J. Social Aspects of Early Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ; nd ed., ). Martin, Dale B. “Review essay: Justin J. Meggitt, Paul, Poverty and Survival,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament (), –. Meeks, Wayne A. The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Meggitt, Justin J. Paul, Poverty and Survival (SNTW; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ).
Early Christians and Their Socio-Economic Contexts Mongstad-Kvammen, Ingebord. Toward a Postcolonial Reading of the Epistle of James: James :– in Its Roman Imperial Context (Biblical Interpretation Series ; Leiden: Brill, ). Oakes, Peter. Reading Romans in Pompeii: Paul’s Letter at Ground Level (Minneapolis: Fortress Press; London: SPCK, ). Ogereau, Julien M. Paul’s Koinonia with the Philippians: A Socio-Historical Investigation of a Pauline Economic Partnership (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Økland, Jorunn. Women in Their Place: Paul and the Corinthian Discourse of Gender and Sanctuary Space (JSNT Suppl. ; London: T&T Clark, ). Osiek, Carolyn and Margaret MacDonald, with Janet H. Tulloch. A Woman’s Place: House Churches in Earliest Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Robinson, Thomas A. Who Were the First Christians? Dismantling the Urban Thesis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Rosenfeld, Ben-Zion, and Haim Perlmutter. “The poor as a stratum of Jewish society in Roman Palestine – : An analysis,” Historia . (), –. Scheidel, Walter. “Stratification, deprivation, and quality of life.” Pages – in Poverty in the Roman World. Edited by Margaret Atkins and Robin Osborn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Scheidel, Walter and Steven Friesen. “The size of the economy and the distribution of income in the Roman empire,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. Shaner, Katherine Ann. Enslaved Leadership in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Still, Todd D. “Did Paul loathe labor? Revisiting the work of Ronald F. Hock on the apostle’s tentmaking and social class,” Journal of Biblical Literature . (), –. Tennant, Peter, and P. M. W. Tennant. “Poets and poverty: The case of Martial,” Acta Classica (), –. Theissen, Gerd. The Social Setting of Pauline Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ). Trebilco, Paul. “Epigraphy and the study of polis and ekklēsia in the Greco-Roman world.” Pages – in The First Urban Churches : Methodological Foundations. Edited by James R. Harrison and L. L. Welborn (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Weiß, Alexander. Soziale Elite und Christentum: Studien zu ordo-Angehörigen unter den frühen Christen (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Welborn, L. L. An End to Enmity: Paul and the “Wrongdoer” of Second Corinthians (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). “Inequality in Roman Corinth: Evidence from diverse sources evaluated by a NeoRicardian model.” Pages – in The First Urban Churches : Roman Corinth. Edited by James R. Harrison and L. L. Welborn (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Paul, the Fool of Christ: A Study of Corinthians – in the Comic-Philosophic Tradition (JSNT Suppl. ; London: T&T Clark, ). “Paul’s place in a first-century revival of the discourse of ‘equality,’” Harvard Theological Review (), –. “The polis and the poor: Reconstructing social relations from different genres of evidence.” Pages – in The First Urban Churches : Methodological Foundations. Edited by James R. Harrison and L. L. Welborn (Atlanta: SBL Press, ).
. “‘That there may be equality’: The contexts and consequences of a Pauline ideal,” New Testament Studies (), –. Williams, Travis B. “Benefiting the community through good works? The economic feasibility of civic benefaction in Peter,” Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism (), –. Good Works in Peter: Negotiating Social Conflict and Christian Identity in the Greco-Roman World (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Winter, Bruce W. After Paul Left Corinth: The Influence of Secular Ethics and Social Change (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Seek the Welfare of the City: Christians as Benefactors and Citizens (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ).
Early Christians and Roman Imperial Ideology
Although the Christian movement of the first century was birthed under the shadow of Rome’s empire, it was only in the late twentieth century that New Testament scholars began giving serious consideration to the ways in which that movement engaged and challenged Roman imperial power. This relatively recent avenue of scholarly inquiry, which many refer to as “empire criticism,” is the focus of this essay. In particular, this essay will consider the emergence of this criticism, discuss diverse ways early Christian writings engaged the Roman empire, recognize and respond to scholarly criticism, and offer a concluding note on empire criticism and the Christian movement in the second and third centuries.
Emergence of Empire Criticism: A Brief History Interpreters have long recognized the Roman imperial world as a crucial background for reading the New Testament. Roman laws, customs, economy, cities, and rulers have long been perceived as vital and obvious contextual pieces for New Testament interpretation. Even similarities between the language and concepts of the Roman imperial world and that of the New Testament (noted below) were often given significant attention by New Testament interpreters. Yet, despite the recognition of these similarities and the possible influence they might imply, few interpreters prior to the last thirty years considered how the early Christian movement might have been directly responding to and challenging the realities of the Roman imperial order. There are at least two reasons why biblical interpreters have not been attentive to possible critiques of the Roman empire in early Christian literature. First, the separation of church and state is deeply ingrained in
western culture, a separation that has resulted in the Bible being located in the ecclesiastical sphere and largely separated from the political sphere. The Bible’s primary purpose was perceived to be the teaching of theological truth, with little interest in the world of politics. Second, as the property of the West, critical biblical interpretation was the property of those who themselves were citizens and beneficiaries of powerful nations. Such a social location for virtually all critical biblical scholarship brought with it a built-in blindness to the possibility that some voices in the early Christian movement might have been engaged in critiquing Roman imperial power. Perhaps not surprisingly, it was criticism of western culture, particularly western colonialism, that paved the way for perceiving challenges to Roman imperial power in the early writings of the Christian movement. The academic discipline of postcolonial criticism (i.e., the formal study of the impact, effects, and legacy that colonialism and imperialism have on the colonized) began to make advances into New Testament studies. An awareness began to grow that the authors, audiences, and most people described within the New Testament were themselves subordinate to processes of imperial colonization, and so the New Testament was perceived as fertile ground for the growing discipline of postcolonial criticism. The methods and tools of postcolonial criticism (as discussed below) gave New Testament scholars new ways for assessing how early Christians might be responding to the domination of Rome’s empire. Alongside the development of postcolonial criticism were developments in classical studies of the Roman empire. Whereas traditional treatments of Rome’s empire focused on dynastic politics, Roman law, and military exploits, new studies began to recognize the great breadth and scope of Roman imperial power, power that was intricately intertwined with religion, ritual, economic realities, social institutions, provincial and municipal elites, architecture, and literature. Such developments opened up new avenues for perceiving ways that early Christians might have encountered and responded to Rome’s empire. No longer was Christian engagement with Roman power strictly limited to places in which New Testament authors directly addressed Roman rulers, laws, or governance.
See, for example, Simon R. F. Price, Rituals and Power: The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); Peter Garnsey and Richard Saller, The Roman Empire: Society, Economics, and Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press, ).
Early Christians and Roman Imperial Ideology
Aided with methodology from postcolonial criticism as well as a greater awareness of the scope and reach of Rome’s imperial power, an increasing number of pioneering scholars began to engage in the enterprise of empire criticism during the late s and into the s. The last two decades have seen a proliferation of monographs, edited volumes, and journal articles that apply empire criticism to first-century Christian texts. As a result, empire criticism now represents a significant subfield of the guild of New Testament studies. Although it is not without its problems and challenges, it has made a substantial contribution to the field of New Testament interpretation and has shed light on an important aspect of the early Christian movement that was long ignored. Empire criticism is not to be understood as merely detecting the criticism of empire in the New Testament; rather it is interested discovering the ways in which the writings of the New Testament and the early Christian movement engaged with and responded to the Roman imperial order – whether negatively, positively, or in hybrid fashion, as considered below.
Negative Assessments of Rome’s Empire The Destruction of Rome’s Empire One means by which a negative assessment of Rome’s empire is communicated is the prediction of its destruction. Perhaps the most obvious example of such a prediction comes in the book of Revelation. Well before the emergence of empire criticism, interpreters had long identified Rome as one object of the book’s criticism, particularly in chapters –. The beast that features prominently in these chapters is identified by most commentators as a symbol of either Rome’s emperors (perhaps a specific one) or Roman imperial power, an identification that seems justified by the text’s explicit connection between the seven heads of the beast and both a city on seven hills (Rome) and seven kings. The “great whore” (Rev. ) is also widely recognized as a symbol of Rome’s empire. That she bears the name Babylon the Great (:), a common code word for Rome in Jewish and Christian literature (see Pet. :; Bar. :, :, :, passim; Ezra :,
See for instance Richard A. Horsley, Jesus and the Spiral of Violence: Popular Jewish Resistance in Roman Palestine (San Francisco: Harper and Row, ); Neil Elliot, The Justice of God and the Politics of the Apostle (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, ).
, ; Sib. Or. .), and sits on the first beast strongly supports such an identification. Through such symbols, Rome is depicted as both an enemy of God and his people as well as an agent of Satan (Rev. :; :, ). Rome’s many sins, including blasphemy, idolatry, arrogance, greed, and the taking of human life, are vividly described. That such sins will result in Rome’s destruction is repeated throughout these chapters (:, :, :), but it finds its most vivid depiction in chapter . Thus, in the book of Revelation, empire critics can point to a clear and widely recognized example of a Christian critique of Roman imperial power, one that culminates in Rome’s destruction. Such critics then naturally question whether predictions of Rome’s destruction can be found in other first-century Christian texts. One such example might be found in Thessalonians :: “When they say, ‘There is peace and security,’ then sudden destruction will come upon them, as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman, and there will be no escape.” Many commentators note that Paul’s reference to “peace and security” likely alludes to the common Roman imperial claim to offer the faithful within its empire pax et securitas, a Roman imperial slogan that appear on coins and statues, as well as in inscriptions and literature. If such an allusion is intended, then how is Paul’s promise of sudden destruction best understood? Much rests on one’s interpretation of the ambiguous thirdperson subject of the phrase “when they say.” Perhaps Paul’s purview is primarily those who place their trust in the Roman promise of peace and security, and who, as a result of such trust, will experience destruction. Yet, Paul could have his eye on the very institution that makes the promise of “peace and security,” the Roman empire. Thus, this passage could be read as a prediction of the destruction of Rome itself, as well as all who trust in it. This reading creates a degree of continuity between Paul and Revelation. Another example offered by empire critics is Corinthians :: “Then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and every power. For he must For a good introductory essay on anti-imperial readings of Revelation, see Greg Carey, “The book of Revelation as counter-imperial script,” in In the Shadow of Empire, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ), –. All biblical citations are from the NRSV unless otherwise noted. See, for example, Eugene M. Boring, I and II Thessalonians: A Commentary (NTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ); J. A. Weima, “‘Peace and security’ ( Thess .): Prophetic warning or political propaganda?” New Testament Studies . (), –; et al. For a dissenting position, see J. R. White, “‘Peace and security’ ( Thessalonians .): Is it really a Roman slogan?” New Testament Studies . (), –.
Early Christians and Roman Imperial Ideology
reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet.” The question of who Paul includes in the category of “every ruler and every authority and every power” becomes important. Many commentators interpret these rulers and authorities to be supernatural rather than natural forces. Such a conclusion might be justified when the description of these rulers as God’s enemies (:) is combined with Paul’s claim in Romans :– regarding God’s appointment of earthly authorities for the benefit of humanity. If this is Paul’s position on earthly authorities, how then could he conclude that such rulers are enemies of God? But if one brackets out Romans :–, a text that was clearly not in the purview of Paul’s Corinthian audience, there seems little reason to understand these rulers and authorities in strictly supernatural terms. It would seem quite natural that a reference to “every ruler and every authority,” without additional qualification, would include the present earthly rulers, i.e. Roman rulers. These rulers would then be identified as God’s enemies in verse . Read in this way, there would exist another point of continuity between Paul and Revelation. Such a reading may indeed create tension with Romans :–, but a tension that, as will be demonstrated below, is not neglected by empire critics.
Co-opted Language Empire critics also argue that at times, New Testament authors challenge aspects of Rome’s empire by co-opting Roman imperial language and then using that language to promote the kingdom of God and his messiah. Examples are numerous. The term εὐανγέλιον or “gospel/good news” is frequently used by New Testament authors to describe the story of the inbreaking of God’s kingdom and its future culmination through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Yet, before this term was adopted by Christians, εὐαγγέλιον was already deeply ingrained in the language of Rome’s empire, being used to describe the “good news” regarding the ascension of a new emperor, the birthday of an emperor, or Roman military
See Neil Elliot, Liberating Paul: The Justice of God and the Politics of the Apostle (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), ; et al. Empire critics would also see such a critique of Rome in Corinthians :. See C. K. Barrett, Commentary on the First Epistle to the Corinthians (New York: Harper and Row, ); Gordon D. Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ); et al.
victory. Empire critics argue that Christian proclamations of “the gospel of Jesus Christ” would, for a Greco-Roman audience, carry implicit challenges to the gospel of Rome. Similar claims can be made regarding titles that Christians used for Jesus, titles such as “Son of God,” “Lord,” and “Savior.” All of these titles were commonly applied to Roman emperors. Thus, some argue that when these titles are applied to Jesus they would carry particular resonances for GrecoRoman readers, resonances of challenge – i.e., Jesus is the true Son of God or true savior, rather than Caesar. In certain contexts, particularly contexts in which other links to Roman power are present, such resonances would be quite strong. A number of examples can be given. In Mark :, a Roman centurion declares that Jesus truly is “Son of God.” While debates have raged as to the nature of this confession, empire critics note that here a Roman centurion attributes to Jesus a title that such a centurion would regularly attribute to the emperor. Given the context of this confession, it seems likely that Mark’s readers would hear a political resonance in this confession, one that claims Jesus (not Caesar) is Son of God. Similarly, Mark’s Gospel opens with the incipit, “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, Son of God.” The reading “Son of God” is textually uncertain, but if accepted, then in this Markan incipit, the reader finds two terms commonly associated with Rome’s emperors, “gospel” and “Son of God,” being applied instead to Jesus. In fact, the Priene Calendar Inscription, an inscription that promoted Augustus’s birthday as the first day of a new year, offers a striking parallel with the Markan incipit: “the birthday of the god Augustus was the beginning
For discussion and examples, G. Friedrich, “Εὐαγγέλιον,” in Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, vol. , ed. G. Kittle and G. Friedrich, trans. G. W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –. See, for example, Craig A. Evans, “Mark’s incipit and the Priene Calendar Inscription: From Jewish gospel to Greco-Roman gospel,” Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism (), –; N. T. Wright, “Paul’s Gospel and Caesar’s empire,” in Paul and Politics. Ekklesia, Israel, Imperium, Interpretation: Essays in Honor of Krister Stendahl, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ), –; Neil Elliott, The Arrogance of the Nations: Reading Romans in the Shadow of Empire (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), esp. –. See, for example, Michael Peppard, The Son of God in the Roman World: Divine Sonship in Its Social and Political Context (New York: Oxford University Press, ); Joseph Fantin, The Lord of the Entire World: Lord Jesus, a Challenge to Lord Caesar? (NTMS ; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, ); Elliot, Arrogance of the Nations, –; N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –. See for example Adam Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology Under Caesar: Jesus the Messiah and Roman Imperial Ideology (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, ), –; Peppard, Son of God, ; Allan T. Georgia, “Translating the triumph: Reading Mark’s crucifixion narrative against a Roman ritual of power,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament . (), –.
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of the good tidings (gospel) for the world that came by reason of him.” Again, it seems Greco-Roman readers might well hear in this Markan text a challenge to Roman power and a claim that Jesus, not the emperor, is Son of God. Philippians : offers another example: “But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” There are a number of contextual clues that suggest Paul is using the titles “savior” and “lord” in a way that implicitly challenges Roman power. First, Paul is writing to Christians living in the city of Philippi, a Roman colony, and thus many in his audience likely possessed Roman citizenship. Such colonies of Roman citizens had particular privileges, one of which was a promise from the emperor to come to their aid as “savior” should the need arise. Arguably, Paul is drawing on this colonial reality and is contrasting Roman citizenship with heavenly citizenship, a contrast in which the latter citizenship brings greater benefits than the former. While the Roman citizens of Philippi relied on the Roman emperor (or Lord) to be their savior in times of need, the heavenly citizens living in Philippi were to rely on a greater heavenly savior who would come to their aid and deliver them. Christian citizenship is superior to Roman citizenship, precisely because Christians have a superior “savior” and “lord.” Thus, again we find a possible example of Christian co-opting of Roman imperial titles and language for the sake of challenging the Roman imperial system. Empire critics have also noted Christian usage of the words “faith” (Latin: fides; Greek: πίστις), “justice” (Latin: iustitia; Greek: δικαιοσύνη) “hope” (Latin: spes; Greek: ἐλπίς), and “peace” (Latin: pax; Greek: εἰρήνη) – words that are prominent in early Christian proclamation and in the Roman imperial narrative. Fides or “faith/faithfulness” was a virtue commonly attributed to the Roman emperor. The emperor’s faithfulness promised the For this English translation see Evans, “Mark’s incipit,” . For the entire Greek inscription, see W. Dittenberger (ed.) Orientis Graecae inscriptiones selectae, vols. (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, –; repr. Hildesheim: Olms, ), :–. See Evans, “Mark’s incipit”; Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, –. See Elliott, Liberating Paul, ; Wright, “Caesar’s empire,” –. See Wright, “Caesar’s empire,” –; Michael F. Bird and Nijay K. Gupta, Philippians (NCBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. For discussion and references to primary sources, see Brigitte Kahl, Galatians Re-imagined: Reading with the Eyes of the Vanquished (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), esp. –; Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God, esp. – and –; James R. Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities at Thessalonica and Rome: A Study in the Conflict of Ideology (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ).
people of the empire justice, peace, and hope for the future. This faithfulness of the emperor required reciprocation from the empire’s inhabitants. Thus, the faithfulness of the Roman emperor begot the faithfulness of those over whom he ruled. The parallels between Roman and Christian uses of these concepts are striking. Paul puts great emphasis both on the faithfulness of Jesus and the faithfulness of those who count him “Lord” (Gal. :, ; :; Rom. :, ; Phil. :). Closely tied to the faithfulness of Jesus is the establishment of God’s δικαιοσύνη (Rom. :, :–, :). While this word is often translated “righteousness,” at times such tendencies obscure the word’s common meaning in the Greco-Roman world. The Latin virtue of iustitia or “justice,” which the good Roman emperor was to ensure for all imperial subjects, was regularly translated as δικαιοσύνη in Greek. Thus, there is a strong parallel between the Roman emperor who brings about the δικαιοσύνη of Rome, and Jesus who brings about the δικαιοσύνη of God. Jesus does not only bring justice but, like the Roman emperor, he also brings peace and hope (Rom. :–). Interestingly, all of these blessings (justice, peace, and hope) are made available for those who express faith in, or faithfulness to, God’s Son – and thus another strong parallel is created between the Christian proclamation and the Roman imperial narrative. In light of such parallels, it seems reasonable to ask whether Paul (and other early Christians) used this language to intentionally contrast the gospel of Jesus with the gospel of Rome and, in the process, sought to demonstrate the superiority of the former over the latter. That early Christians living within Rome’s empire would perceive such contrasts is highly plausible, opening new and interesting avenues for the interpretation of certain New Testament texts.
Hidden Transcripts As noted above, empire criticism has been significantly influenced by the field of postcolonial studies. The work of James C. Scott has been particularly influential. Scott’s work focuses on the way in which colonized people I favor the “subjective genitive” or “Christological” reading of πίστις χριστοῦ (“faith of Christ”). For an overview of the debate and the arguments on both sides, see M. C. Easter, “The pistis Christou debate: Main arguments and responses in summary,” Currents in Biblical Research . (), –. See James C. Scott, Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (New Haven: Yale University Press, ); Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance (New Haven: Yale University Press, ).
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respond to the dominating power. Scott demonstrates that those who subjugate others with their power generally create an ideological narrative that explains and justifies the subjugation. The narrative also explains the benefits of its power and makes a case that the subjugated are better off under the control of the colonizers than they are on their own. Scott refers to this narrative as a “public transcript.” The colonizing powers continually circulate and promote the “public transcript” and expect the colonized to embrace it. The colonized regularly meet this expectation by offering public affirmation of the “public transcript.” Yet, according to Scott, such affirmation cannot be perceived as reflecting the genuine attitudes and beliefs of the colonized, because the affirmation is regularly motivated by fear of negative repercussions from the colonizers. Because public resistance to the narrative of the colonizers would likely result in harm to the colonized, colonized resistance is done privately. Such resistance involves the creation of a counternarrative and ideology to that of the colonizers. Although this “hidden transcript” circulates among the subjugated people, it does so primarily “backstage” and out of the watchful eye of the dominating power. Yet, Scott argues, there are times when even the “hidden transcript” can break through into the public sphere. Scott’s work offered interpreters a new framework for understanding how Christians in the Roman world might resist the abuse of Roman power, providing a lens for detecting such resistance in New Testament texts. Classical studies over the past several decades have demonstrated that Scott’s postcolonial analysis suits the Roman period quite well. The Roman empire and its power brokers crafted a powerful narrative in which, because of Roman virtues, their power was divinely sanctioned. Through this sanction, Roman power brokers were thought to bestow these virtues on those over whom they ruled. Thus, they presented the Roman empire as a blessing to all. They claimed that Rome brought its inhabitants peace, security, justice, liberty, and stability – all of which resulted in material abundance for everyone. Seneca captures this Roman narrative well when he writes:
For a single collection of studies that reflect this influence, see Richard A. Horsley (ed.) Hidden Transcripts and the Arts of Resistance: Applying the Work of James C. Scott to Jesus and Paul (Semeia Studies ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ). For an overview of this narrative, see Bruce W. Longenecker, “Peace, prosperity, and propaganda: Advertisement and reality in the early Roman empire,” in An Introduction to Empire in the New Testament, ed. Adam Winn (RBS ; Atlanta: SBL Press), –.
Today your subjects one and all are constrained to confess that they are happy, and too, that nothing further can be added to their blessing, except that these may last. Many facts force them to this confession, which more than any other man is loath to make: a security deep and abounding, and justice enthroned above all injustice; before their eyes hovers the fairest vision of a state which lacks no element of complete liberty except the license of self-destruction. (Clem. .., trans. Basore, LCL)
A Roman inscription captures a similar sentiment: Land and sea have peace, the cities flourish under a good legal system, in harmony and with an abundance of food, there is an abundance of all good things, people are filled with happy hopes for the future and with delight at the present.
This narrative, though approximating the experience of some who were well placed within Roman society, had little foothold for vast swaths of the population. Thus, the existence of “hidden transcripts” throughout Rome’s empire is a virtual certainty. That Christians would have their own versions of such “hidden transcripts” is probable, and it is just such “hidden transcripts” that many empire critics have sought to identify. At times the appearance of a “hidden transcript” is fairly obvious, as in the case of Revelation –. But at other times, a “hidden transcript” might be more subtle, for example, Paul’s co-opting of Roman imperial language in attempts to convey the superiority of the Christian gospel to the Roman one.
Formation of Alternative Communities and Subversion of Sociocultural Institutions While Rome’s military and political power played a significant role in the establishment and maintenance of its empire, its stability and strength largely Gustav Hirschfeld (ed.) The Collection of Ancient Greek Inscriptions in the British Museum, vol. (London: Clarendon Press, ), inscription . Drew Strait contends that while Scott’s concept and language of “hidden transcript” has served empire critics well, Scott’s work is focused on oral responses to colonial power in a modern context, whereas empire critics are analyzing literary responses in an ancient context. For this reason, Strait favors the concept of “figured speech” over “hidden transcript,” as the former is grounded in the literary world of ancient rhetoricians and was widely used to critique political figures and power. See Strait, Hidden Criticism of the Angry Tyrant in Early Judaism and the Acts of the Apostles (New York: Lexington Books; Minneapolis: Fortress Academic, ), –. See also Jason A. Whitlark, Resisting Empire: Rethinking the Purpose of the Letter to “the Hebrews” (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ), –.
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relied on social, cultural, and civic institutions. Administration over Rome’s many provinces rarely involved military action or force but rather was facilitated through a complex web of patron–client relationships. Roman emperors made alliances with regional and civic elites, demonstrating the value of a relationship with Rome through generous arrangements and gifts. In this way, Rome herself became, in a sense, the patron to these elites. Generosity flowed out from the halls of Roman power, fostering great loyalty from provincial clients – including the maintenance of civic peace and harmony without Roman military oversight; the full-throated support of the Roman imperial narrative; the erection of temples, inscriptions, and festivals in celebration of Rome’s legitimating deities; and compliance with Rome’s economic system and agenda. Such loyalty fostered further benefaction toward the provincial elites, and the cycle perpetuated itself. Additionally, the provincial elite had their own clients, to which they granted benefaction and from which they expected cooperation in support of their own Roman patrons. These clients had their own clients which they could direct to the same ends, and so on and so forth. This intricate structure of patron–client relationships was incredibly successful in maintaining the peace of the empire, allowing Rome to thrive and avoid the costly need of military intervention. This system was dependent on a well-established social pyramid, one in which there was proper recognition of one’s social superiors. Failure to properly recognize status would be a threat to this complex social structure, and as such would be a threat to the Roman empire itself. The role that patron–client relationships and social stratification played in sustaining the success of Roman hegemony allows recognition of other forms of resistance to the hegemony of Roman power. Voices in the early Christian movement push against the strict social stratification of Rome’s empire, at times seeming to eradicate such distinctions altogether. In Romans , for instance, Paul calls Jesus-followers in Rome to “outdo one another in showing honor,” “bless those who persecute you,” “extend hospitality to strangers,” and “associate with the lowly” – thereby undermining the notions
For discussion of Roman patronage and Roman imperialism, see Price, Rituals and Power, –; Peter Garnsey and Richard Saller, “Patronal power relations,” in Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ), –; Richard A. Horsley, “Patronage, priesthood and powers: Introduction,” in Horsley, Paul and Empire, –; Claude Eilers, Roman Patrons of Greek Cities (New York: Oxford University Press, ).
of status, reciprocity, and obligation that were integral to the patron–client structure that undergirded Rome’s empire. The Lukan Jesus calls for disciples to invite to dinner social inferiors who cannot reciprocate (Luke :–), and James commands that equal treatment be granted to both rich and poor (Jas. :–) – these stand in sharp conflict with the system of patronage that Rome relied upon for maintaining peace and stability throughout it empire. While twenty-first-century readers would see nothing political in these texts, a case can be made that first-century audiences would, potentially perceiving them as dangerous and subversive to Rome’s political aims. Closely associated with the stability of Rome’s empire was the social institution of the family. Both Greeks and Romans linked the success of cities, nations, and empires to the stability of families (Aristotle, Pol. ..–; Cicero, Off. .; Arius Didymus, Epitome .–). The Roman family was organized around the paterfamilias, or “father of the family,” who had absolute legal authority over those in his household. The empire itself was in some ways modeled after this paterfamilias structure, with the emperor functioning as the father over his imperial subjects. The ideal emperor modeled for his people the ideal paterfamilias. A stable father, who governed his household with wisdom, justice, and clemency would produce a stable family (Aristotle, Pol. ..–). Stable families were necessary for stable cities, and stable cities were necessary for a stable empire. Thus, undermining the role of the paterfamilias would not merely have small-scale social implications; it could well be perceived as rending one of
On Galatians :, see Kahl, Galatians Re-imagined, –. On Colossians :, see Harry O. Maier, Picturing Paul in Empire: Imperial Image, Text, and Persuasion in Colossians, Ephesians, and the Pastoral Epistles (London: Bloomsbury; New York: T&T Clark, ), –; On Romans , see Robert Jewett, “Response: Exegetical support from Romans and other letters” in Paul and Politics. Ekklesia, Israel, Imperium, Interpretation: Essays in Honor of Krister Stendahl, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ), –, at ; Elliot, Arrogance of the Nations, –. For such assessments of Luke, see Amanda C. Miller, Rumors of Resistance: Status Reversal and Hidden Transcript in the Gospel of Luke (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), , . On James, see Matthew Ryan Hauge, “Empire in James: The crown of life,” in An Introduction to Empire in the New Testament, ed. Adam Winn (RBS : Atlanta: SBL Press, ), –. While the term paterfamilias was a legal term that only applied to Roman citizens, for nonRomans (Greeks, Jews, etc.) the father essentially held the same authority over his family as the paterfamilias. In Roman society, the wife of the paterfamilias legally belonged to her father, even after marriage. This legal arrangement was meant to protect the property of families. But the paterfamilias maintained functional authority over his wife in the daily life of the home.
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the basic fabrics of societal stability, stability that could not be separated from the political sphere. When one understands the concept of the paterfamilias and its association with both societal and political stability, early Christian teaching regarding marriage and family takes on possible imperial implications. To what extent early Christian families mutated against the paterfamilias structure is a matter of significant debate, with some contending that certain expressions of early Christianity exhibited a radical relationality between men and women in marriage and others offering more cautious assessments. The complexity of the debate prohibits thorough exploration here. However, if early Christian communities were indeed reducing or removing societal distinctions between husbands and wives, the formation of such communities could, intentionally or unintentionally, subvert an important Roman imperial institution.
Positive Assessments of Rome’s Empire and Christian Accommodation While the fruit of empire criticism has largely focused on early Christian criticism of Rome’s empire, positive assessments of that empire and Christian For discussion of Roman families and their connection to the larger empire, see Beth Severy, Augustus and the Family at the Birth of the Roman Empire (New York: Routledge, ); Margaret Y. MacDonald, “Beyond identification of the topos of household management: Reading the household codes in light of recent methodologies and theoretical perspectives in the study of the New Testament,” New Testament Studies (), –; Maier, Picturing Paul, –; Kate Cooper, “Closely watched households: Visibility, exposure, and private power in the Roman domus,” Past and Present (), –. For more radical views, see, for example, Lucy Peppiatt, Women and Worship at Corinth: Paul’s Rhetorical Arguments in Corinthians (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ); Brian J. Robinson, Being Subordinate Men: Paul’s Rhetoric of Gender and Power in Corinthians (Lanham, MD: Lexington/ Fortress Academic, ). More cautious assessments will be considered below. A handful of recent studies on the anti-imperial nature of early Christian communities should be noted. Contra Richard Horsley’s claim that Paul’s use of the term ekklesia was inherently political, setting the church at odds with Rome’s empire (“Building an alternative society: Introduction,” in Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ), –), Ralph J. Horner has recently argued that the term’s use by both civic and non-civic groups in the Greco-Roman world was never regarded as subversive by Roman authorities (The Origin and Meaning of Ekklēsia in the Early Jesus Movement [Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity ; Leiden: Brill, ], –). In favor of early Christians forming politically subversive communities are two recent monographs by Alan Street, who argues that the church’s practice of both baptism and Eucharist were inherently anti-imperial; see Subversive Meals: An Analysis of the Lord’s Supper Under Roman Domination During the First Century (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, ); Caesar and the Sacrament. Baptism: A Rite of Resistance (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ).
accommodation of it can also be found in the New Testament. In Romans , for instance, Paul teaches that every person be subject to existing governing authorities (:), that all such authorities have been instituted by God, and that to resist them is to resist God himself (:). He presents the governing authorities (clearly Roman authorities) as God’s servant to bring about the good of God’s people (:). As a result of this assessment, Paul instructs his readers to pay their taxes and to give respect and honor to governing officials (:–). First Peter also instructs Christians to accept the authority of human institutions, including that of emperors and governors (:–), and to honor the emperor (:). Both texts are relatively positive assessments of Roman authority and those who wield it. It would, of course, be a mistake to absolutize these texts in a way that understands that the government can do no wrong or that Paul envisions no situation in which his reader should not be obedient to the commands of Roman authority; no one should conclude, for instance, that Paul would see Nero’s persecution of Christians as bringing about good, or that Paul would affirm being obedient to political edicts that commanded idolatry. Nonetheless, Paul does envision Roman authority as an instrument that God uses to bring about good, so that rebellion against this divinely ordained instrument would be sinful. As noted previously, there are examples of Christian communities engaging in practices that subvert traditional social institutions, social institutions that are themselves inseparable from Roman political machinations (e.g., social stratification, client–patron relations, and possibly family units). But also present in the New Testament are instructions that seem to reinforce some of these social institutions. Corinthians :– and :– both seem to reinforce the familial hierarchy that undergirded Roman imperial society. The household codes of both Ephesians and Colossians seemingly do the same. For those who see in some New Testament texts evidence of a radical revisioning of familial relationships, these texts present a significant challenge. These texts make it clear that, at the very least, early Christian responses to Rome’s empire were complex, nuanced, and multivalent, and so the work of empire critics must answer in kind. In examining the texts considered here and others like them, some empire critics have argued that they only appear to affirm Roman power, but when examined carefully, they do not
See Carter, Roman Empire, –; see also Elliott, Liberating Paul, –.
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ultimately do so. Others have argued these texts are evidence of ambivalent responses to empire, ones which both accommodate and resist, which brings us to instances where we should consider the reactions to the Roman empire to be neither positive nor negative, but ambivalent.
Ambivalent Response to Empire and the Concept of Hybridity Once again, the field of postcolonial studies has proven a helpful resource for empire critics in their assessment of responses to empire that seem ambivalent. Particularly helpful has been the work of Homi K. Bhabha. Bhabha’s work demonstrates that outright resistance rarely characterizes responses to colonization or imperial expansion; rather, most responses are ambivalent in nature. Bhabha notes that despite resistance, the colonized cannot avoid being permanently affected by their colonizers. What results is a people group that are hybrids of two different cultures, their own culture and that imposed on them. “Hybridity” is the term that Bhabha uses to describe this reality and the resulting responses of the colonized. These hybrid responses often involve embracing some aspect of the colonizers’ culture, but then altering that aspect in a way that reflects the cultural values of the colonized. Through such cultural alteration, the colonized subtly resist colonization. Bhabha refers to a particular form of hybrid expression as “mimicry,” a response in which the colonized appease the colonizers by embracing various forms of the colonizers’ culture – for instance, education, values, or governmental systems. Yet, the colonized enact these various forms of cultural expression imperfectly or incompletely. By stopping short of full and perfect imitation, the colonized are resisting the colonizers. For Bhabha,
See, for example, Neil Elliott, “Romans :– in the context of imperial propaganda,” in Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ), –; T. L. Carter, “The irony of Romans ,” Novum Testamentum . (), –. Homi K. Bhabha, “Signs taken for wonders: Questions of ambivalence and authority under a tree outside Delhi, May ,” Critical Inquiry (), –; Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, ). Homi K. Bhabha, “Of mimicry and man: The ambivalence of colonial discourse,” October (), –, esp. –. See Stephen D. Moore, Empire and Apocalypse: Postcolonialism and the New Testament (Bible in the Modern World; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, ), .
“mimicry” is a common form of ambivalent resistance, one that combines both “resemblance and menace.” These concepts of “hybridity” and “mimicry” are helpful in assessing apparent ambivalent responses to empire in the New Testament. For example, the household codes of Colossians and Ephesians, which seem to espouse a view of marriage that strongly parallels the legal institution of the paterfamilias, might be a good example of hybridity and mimicry. The basic tenets of the paterfamilias structure are endorsed, such as the headship of the husband over the wife, and the wife’s submission to the husband. But the imitation of the paterfamilias is imperfect. Ephesians calls for a mutual submission of all members of the household (:), which would be a mutation against Greco-Roman social norms. It also calls for a sacrificial love of the husband for the wife, one that resembles Christ’s sacrifice for the church (Eph. :–) – again, a possible mutation against paterfamilias norms. Such hybridity might also explain tension between this seeming accommodation of a Roman institution and what some interpreters see as a radical revision of familial hierarchies. While some early Christian communities may have embraced socially transgressive forms of relationality between men and women, the church existed in a world that found those initiatives to be dangerously subversive. The household codes could be understood in terms of hybrid mimicry, by which Christian assemblies protected themselves from imperial reprisal and simultaneously resisted the full encroachment of an imperial institution. Hybridity might also be helpful in assessing Paul’s seeming endorsement of Roman political authority in Romans . In important ways, Paul’s explicit assessment of Rome aligns with Rome’s own assessment of itself: Rome’s political power is the result of divine sanction, Roman power brings about good for those it governs, and as a result of both all should be faithful to Rome in paying taxes and showing honor to its rulers. But woven into Paul’s parroting of this Roman narrative are imperfections that undermine it. Paul places all the authority which Rome possesses within the power, authority, and will of the God of Israel. Thus, while Paul affirms that Rome rules by divine sanction, he departs from the Roman narrative in his understanding of whose divine sanction Rome rules under. Rome is not powerful because its
Bhabha, “Of mimicry and man,” . See Harry O. Maier, “A sly civility: Colossians and empire,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament . (), –; MacDonald, “Beyond identification,” –.
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great virtues have impressed the gods and won their favor. It is powerful because it is the political entity that the God of Israel is currently using to accomplish his purposes in the world. Whereas the Roman narrative presents Rome as a deserving recipient of divine favor, Paul presents it as a mere pawn in the inscrutable plans of Israel’s God. When Bhabha’s concept of “hybridity” is combined with Scott’s concepts of “public” and “hidden transcripts,” the apparent ambivalence in the Pauline corpus regarding Rome’s empire becomes easier to understand. Paul’s predictions of Rome’s judgment and destruction as well as any efforts to promote the gospel of Jesus over that of Rome represent the “hidden transcript” of the Pauline community. This “hidden transcript” is contrasted with the subversive “mimicry” of Rome’s “public transcript” in Romans . Romans need not be read then as a full-throated accommodation and acceptance of Rome’s power, one that negates negative assessments of Rome found elsewhere in Paul’s writings; rather, it gives guidance to Paul’s readers regarding how to navigate Rome’s power. While Paul’s readers will follow him in rejecting the gospel of Rome in favor of the superior gospel of Jesus, doing so will not involve overt insubordination (e.g., violent rebellion, refusal to pay taxes, dishonoring public officials, etc.). Instead, their response involves a subversive mimicry of Rome’s public transcript, one that places that narrative within the readers’ own hidden transcript of Israel’s God and his Christ.
Considering Criticisms While empire criticism has produced significant results that have been embraced by many interpreters, it has also received varying degrees of resistance. For instance, if early Christian texts are indeed engaged in a critique of Rome’s empire, why do they not contain explicit condemnations
For the applications of such hybridity to Paul and his relationship to the Roman empire, see Tarcisius Mukuka, “Reading/hearing Romans :– under an African tree: Towards a lectio postcolonica contexta Africana,” Neotestamentica . (), –; John W. Marshall, “Hybridity and reading Romans ,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament (), –; William R. Herzog, “Dissembling, a weapon of the weak: The case of Christ and Caesar in Mark :– and Romans :–,” Perspectives in Religious Studies . (), –. See Wright, “Caesar’s empire,” .
of Rome? No New Testament text names Rome or any Roman emperor as an object of criticism, and the only texts that explicitly mention Rome or its emperor seem to be favorable to both, e.g., Romans and Peter . Can one legitimately argue that early Christians are critiquing Rome’s empire in light of the absence of any explicit reference to Rome or its emperors? Postcolonial studies offer a way forward in addressing this criticism. Because of the power dynamics between the colonized and the colonizers, the colonized have limitations in their ability to respond to their situation. Resistance to and criticism of the colonizers regularly results in an unfavorable outcome for the colonized. Therefore, explicit criticism is extremely rare. For the sake of the safety of the colonized themselves, criticism must be implicit, veiled, and characterized by layers of self-protection. Thus, to expect New Testament texts to offer explicit challenges to Roman power is to miss the inherent nature of the way in which the powerless must respond to the powerful. Yet, the implicit nature of responses to imperial power leads to an additional criticism – namely the problem of verifiability. How can one verify that a text does in fact criticize Roman power, albeit by means of a “hidden transcript”? When Paul describes the faithfulness of Jesus that brings about justice and peace, how can one be confident that he is co-opting the language of Roman imperial ideology for the sake of imperial critique? Critics will quickly point out that the language of faithfulness, justice, and peace all have robust meaning and significance in a Jewish context. This being the case, is there any need to go beyond that context to determine the meaning of these terms? Closely related to this criticism is the charge that empire critics are excessive in their identification of responses to empire in the New Testament. Critics perceive a tendency in this new criticism to find empire lurking in every verse, and particularly in verses that might be understood quite well apart from appeal to the Roman imperial order. These critiques are not without merit and must be taken seriously by those engaged in empire criticism. Such critiques should push empire critics to
See John M. G. Barclay, Pauline Churches and Diaspora Jews (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ; repr. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –; Seyoon Kim, Christ and Caesar: The Gospel and the Roman Empire in the Writings of Paul and Luke (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –. One might also note Mark :– and parallels, though whether this passage offers a positive assessment of Caesar is debated. See Barclay, Pauline Churches, –; Kim, Christ and Caesar, –. See Kim, Christ and Caesar, esp. – for the charge of “parallelomania.” See also Barclay, Pauline Churches, –.
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formulate clear and objective criteria for establishing the probability of a text’s engagement with the Roman imperial world. In the last three decades, significant work has been done on establishing criteria for evaluating the New Testament’s intertextual engagement with the Hebrew Bible and other Second Temple Jewish literature. Similar work in establishing criteria for assessing engagement with Roman political realities seems a necessary development in the maturation of empire criticism. With this concession to the critics of empire research, an important qualification is necessary, namely that the same standards be used to assess the influence of both the first-century Jewish matrix and the Roman imperial matrix. This qualification is not to say that one cannot see the influence of the Jewish matrix being greater than the Roman – in many instances it may indeed be. But at times, interpreters who are willing to see an intertextual relationship between Jewish literature and the New Testament are, when faced with a similar quality of evidence, reluctant to see a relationship between the New Testament and the Roman imperial world. Such a double standard ought to be avoided. Some critics also claim that empire criticism is largely missing the primary aim of New Testament authors, who (it is claimed) primarily seek to make theological rather than political claims. For example, Scot McKnight and Joseph Modica see the primary drama of the New Testament being the triumph of the kingdom of God over the kingdom of Satan. John Barclay argues that Paul’s primary interest is the proclamation of Jesus’s lordship, and that this proclamation had no significant interest in the political particulars of Paul’s world. Similarly, Seyoon Kim argues that Paul is far more interested in the enemies of sin and death than he is in the enemies of Rome and its emperors. Yet, setting theological readings in opposition to political readings seems to be imposing a reality on the New Testament text that, though quite familiar in a twenty-first-century western context, was completely foreign in first-century Jewish or Greco-Roman context. In the ancient Near Eastern and Mediterranean world, religious and political commitments were complexly intertwined. According to the dominant Roman imperial narrative, For empire critics who have sought to establish such criteria, see Cynthia Briggs Kittredge, “Reconstructing ‘resistance’ or reading to resist: James C. Scott and the politics of interpretation,” in Hidden Transcripts and the Arts of Resistance: Applying the Work of James C. Scott to Jesus and Paul, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Semeia Studies ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ), –; and Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities, –. Scot McKnight and Joseph B. Modica, Jesus Is Lord, Caesar Is Not: Evaluating Empire in New Testament Studies (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, ), –. Barclay, Pauline Churches, –. Kim, Christ and Caesar, .
Roman political power was sanctioned by the gods, and thus religious commitments were deeply interwoven into Roman imperial thought and expression. Jewish apocalyptic thought and many expressions of Jewish messianic hope anticipated the transformation of the geopolitical landscape through the actions of Israel’s God. Early Christianity, which emerged out these very expressions of Judaism, proclaimed a new universal Lord that was appointed by God and his inaugurated kingdom that would one day subdue all other earthly powers. Christian convictions, like those of Jews and Romans, were thus inherently both religious and political. Indeed, Christians saw a conflict between the kingdom of God and that of Satan, but there is also evidence that Christians identified Satan and demonic forces with Roman imperial power (see Rev. – and Mark :–). It should not be the objective of empire criticism to replace religious readings with political ones or to set such readings at odds with each other; rather, the objective should be to identify places where New Testament authors are or could be engaging Roman imperial realities. Ideally, empire criticism can illustrate ways in which both religious and political concerns intertwine in a particular text. Empire criticism should, without rejecting out of hand previous interpretive work, seek to open interpreters’ eyes to new interpretive possibilities that have long been neglected. Another critique is that empire critics are often imposing their own modern political ideology and agenda on an ancient text that would have been quite unfamiliar with either. There is some truth in this critique. One catalyst for empire criticism was the political realities of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. To be sure, many interpreters have and continue to engage in empire criticism with an interest in speaking to modern political concerns. Yet, it is a mistake to invalidate the fruit of empire criticism simply because modern cultural realities and/or current events were a catalyst for the emergence of such inquiry. Quite often modern realities are catalysts for interpretive and hermeneutical sea changes, as they can open the interpreters’ eyes to realities to which for one reason or another they have long been shut. While scholars must always guard against the dangers of anachronism, it does not follow that, simply because the modern experience of scholars aids them in seeing something new in an ancient text, they are inappropriately imposing those experiences onto the
On Mark :–, see Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, –. Barclay, Pauline Churches, –.
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text. Additionally, that some empire critics seek to bring the fruit of their research to bear on modern political realities should in no way invalidate their interpretive conclusions. If such were the case, the research of many biblical interpreters would need to be deemed null and void, as a great many are guilty of seeking modern relevance in ancient Christian texts.
Rome’s Empire and the Ongoing Christian Movement of the Second and Third Centuries While empire criticism only recently emerged in the field of New Testament studies, Christian engagement with Rome’s empire has long been understood as an important foreground for those studying the Christian movement of the second and third centuries. Such is not surprising, as Christian engagement with Rome is far more explicit in the second and third centuries than it is in the first. This engagement included Christian attitudes to Roman law and military participation, Christian apologies that respond to false accusations and persecution, Christian criticism of immoral Roman behavior and policies, and Christian subversion of societal norms and institutions that were closely tied to the Roman imperial order. The research in these areas is vast and cannot be adequately addressed here. Yet, while scholarship of the post-apostolic period beat New Testament scholarship to the punch regarding Christian engagement with Rome’s empire, the latter might still have something to contribute to the former. Certain fruits of empire criticism, as exercised in the field of New Testament studies, have not yet made significant inroads into the study of the second- and third-century Christian movement. Although studies of later Christian development have seen numerous examples where postcolonial understandings of identity and power help inform the research, these works have not coalesced into a uniform movement in the way that empire criticism has done in the field of biblical studies. The broader application of insights from empire studies of the New Testament to Christian writings of the second and third centuries Studies of power, ethnicity, gender, identity, etc. have been variously categorized as part of the linguistic turn or cultural turn in the field of the Christian movement of the second and third centuries. For recent reviews of the secondary literature, see Kim Haines-Eitzen, “Reimagining patristics: Critical theory as a lens,” in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Patristics, ed. Ken Parry (Oxford: Wiley Blackwell, ), –, esp. –; and Averil Cameron, “Patristics and late antiquity: Partners or rivals?” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –, esp. .
might add greater texture to work that has already been done with respect to these writings’ engagement with empire. It might also result in the recognition of the imperial engagement or the subversion of imperial power where it has yet to be seen. Another important area of exploration also remains – namely, tracing and explaining the development of Christian attitudes toward empire from the writings of the first century to the writings of the second and third centuries. Studies of this nature would be a fruitful next step in the assessment of early Christian engagement with and response to Roman imperial power.
Select Bibliography Barclay, John M. G. Pauline Churches and Diaspora Jews (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ; repr. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Barrett, C. K. Commentary on the First Epistle to the Corinthians (New York: Harper and Row, ). Bhabha, Homi K. The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, ). “Of mimicry and man: The ambivalence of colonial discourse,” October (), –. “Signs taken for wonders: Questions of ambivalence and authority under a tree outside Delhi, May ,” Critical Inquiry (), –. Bird, Michael F. and Nijay K. Gupta. Philippians (NCBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Boring, M. Eugene. I and II Thessalonians: A Commentary (NTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ). Cameron, Averil. “Patristics and late antiquity: Partners or rivals?” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. Carey, Greg. “The book of Revelation as counter-imperial script.” Pages – in In the Shadow of Empire. Edited by Richard A. Horsley (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ). Carter, T. L. “The irony of Romans ,” Novum Testamentum . (), –. Carter, Warren. John and Empire: Initial Explorations (New York: T&T Clark, ). Matthew and Empire: Initial Explorations (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ). The Roman Empire and the New Testament: An Essential Guide (Nashville: Abingdon, ). Cooper, Kate. “Closely watched households: Visibility, exposure, and private power in the Roman domus,” Past and Present (), –. Crossan, John Dominic. The Historical Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peasant (San Francisco: HarperCollins, ). Crossan, John Dominic and Jonathan L. Reed. In Search of Paul: How Jesus’ Apostle Opposed Rome’s Empire with God’s Kingdom (New York: HarperCollins, ).
Early Christians and Roman Imperial Ideology Dittenberger, W. (ed.) Orientis Graecae inscriptiones selectae, vols. (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, –; repr. Hildesheim: Olms, ). Easter, M. C. “The pistis Christou debate: Main arguments and responses in summary,” Currents in Biblical Research . (), –. Eilers, Claude. Roman Patrons of Greek Cities (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Elliott, Neil. The Arrogance of the Nations: Reading Romans in the Shadow of Empire (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). The Justice of God and the Politics of the Apostle (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, ). Liberating Paul: The Justice of God and the Politics of the Apostle (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). “Romans :– in the context of imperial propaganda.” Pages – in Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society. Edited by Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ). Evans, Craig A. “Mark’s incipit and the Priene Calendar Inscription: From Jewish gospel to Greco-Roman gospel,” Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism (), –. Fantin, Joseph D. The Lord of the Entire World: Lord Jesus, a Challenge to Lord Caesar? (NTMS ; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, ). Fee, Gordon D. The First Epistle to the Corinthians (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Friedrich, G. “Εὐαγγέλιον.” Pages – in volume of Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. Edited by G. Kittle and G. Friedrich. Translated by G. W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Garnsey, Peter and Richard Saller. “Patronal power relations.” Pages – in Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society. Edited by Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ). The Roman Empire: Economy, Society, and Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Georgia, Allan T. “Translating the triumph: Reading Mark’s crucifixion narrative against a Roman ritual of power,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament . (), –. Giorgi, Dieter. Theocracy in Paul’s Praxis and Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Haines-Eitzen, Kim. “Reimagining patristics: Critical theory as a lens.” Pages – in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Patristics. Edited by Ken Parry (Oxford: Wiley Blackwell, ). Harrison, James R. Paul and the Imperial Authorities at Thessalonica and Rome: A Study in the Conflict of Ideology (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Hauge, Matthew R. “Empire in James: The crown of life.” Pages – in An Introduction to Empire in the New Testament. Edited by Adam Winn (RBS : Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Herzog, William R. “Dissembling, a weapon of the weak: The case of Christ and Caesar in Mark :– and Romans :–,” Perspectives in Religious Studies . (), –. Hirschfeld, Gustav (ed.) The Collection of Ancient Greek Inscriptions in The British Museum (London: Clarendon Press, ).
Horner, Ralph J. The Origin and Meaning of Ekklēsia in the Early Jesus Movement (Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity ; Leiden: Brill, ). Horsley, Richard A. “Building an alternative society: Introduction.” Pages – in Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society. Edited by Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ). (ed.) Hidden Transcripts and the Arts of Resistance: Applying the Work of James C. Scott to Jesus and Paul (Semeia Studies ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Jesus and the Spiral of Violence: Popular Jewish Resistance in Roman Palestine (San Francisco: Harper and Row, ). “Patronage, priesthood and powers: Introduction.” Pages – in Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society. Edited by Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ). Jewett, Robert. “Response: Exegetical support from Romans and other letters.” Pages – in Paul and Politics. Ekklesia, Israel, Imperium, Interpretation: Essays in Honor of Krister Stendahl. Edited by Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ). Kahl, Brigitte. Galatians Re-imagined: Reading with the Eyes of the Vanquished (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Kim, Seyoon. Christ and Caesar: The Gospel and the Roman Empire in the Writings of Paul and Luke (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Kittredge, Cynthia Briggs. “Reconstructing ‘resistance’ or reading to resist: James C. Scott and the politics of interpretation.” Pages – in Hidden Transcripts and the Arts of Resistance: Applying the Work of James C. Scott to Jesus and Paul. Edited by Richard A. Horsley (Semeia Studies ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Longenecker, Bruce W. “Peace, prosperity, and propaganda: Advertisement and reality in the early Roman empire.” Pages – in An Introduction to Empire in the New Testament. Edited by Adam Winn (RBS ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ). MacDonald, Margaret Y. “Beyond identification of the topos of household management: Reading the household codes in light of recent methodologies and theoretical perspectives in the study of the New Testament,” New Testament Studies (), –. Maier, Harry O. “A sly civility: Colossians and empire,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament . (), –. Maier, Harry O. Picturing Paul in Empire: Imperial Image, Text and Persuasion in Colossians, Ephesians and the Pastorals Epistles (London: Bloomsbury; New York: T&T Clark, ). Marshall, John W. “Hybridity and reading Romans ,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament (), –. McKnight, Scot and Joseph B. Modica (eds.) Jesus Is Lord, Caesar Is Not: Evaluating Empire in New Testament Studies (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, ). Miller, Amanda C. Rumors of Resistance: Status Reversal and Hidden Transcript in the Gospel of Luke (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Moore, Stephen D. Empire and Apocalypse: Postcolonialism and the New Testament (Bible in the Modern World; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, ).
Early Christians and Roman Imperial Ideology Mukuka, Tarcisius. “Reading/hearing Romans :– under an African tree: Towards a Lectio postcolonica contexta Africana,” Neotestamentica . (), –. Peppard, Michael. The Son of God in the Roman World: Divine Sonship in Its Social and Political Context (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Peppiatt, Lucy. Women and Worship at Corinth: Paul’s Rhetorical Arguments in Corinthians (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ). Price, Simon R. F. Rituals and Power: The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Robinson, Brian J. Being Subordinate Men: Paul’s Rhetoric of Gender and Power in Corinthians (Lanham, MD: Lexington/Fortress Academic, ). Scott, James C. Domination and the Arts of Resistance (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Seneca the Elder. Moral Essays, vol. , De Providentia. De Constantia. De Ira. De Clementia. Edited and translated by John W. Basore (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Severy, Beth. Augustus and the Family at the Birth of the Roman Empire (New York: Routledge, ). Strait, Drew J. Hidden Criticism of the Angry Tyrant in Early Judaism and the Acts of the Apostles (New York: Lexington Books; Minneapolis: Fortress Academic, ). Street, Alan R. Caesar and the Sacrament. Baptism: A Rite of Resistance (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ). Subversive Meals: An Analysis of the Lord’s Supper Under Roman Domination during the First Century (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, ). Weima, J. A. “‘Peace and security’ ( Thess .): Prophetic warning or political propaganda?” New Testament Studies . (), –. White, J. R. “‘Peace and security’ ( Thessalonians .): Is it really a Roman slogan?” New Testament Studies . (), –. Whitlark, Jason A. Resisting Empire: Rethinking the Purpose of the Letter to “the Hebrews” (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ). Winn, Adam. Reading Mark’s Christology Under Caesar: Jesus the Messiah and Roman Imperial Ideology (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, ). Wright, N. T. Paul and the Faithfulness of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). “Paul’s Gospel and Caesar’s empire.” Pages – in Paul and Politics. Ekklesia, Israel, Imperium, Interpretation: Essays in Honor of Krister Stendahl. Edited by Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ).
Martyrdom between Fiction and Memory .
The stories of the martyrs occupied a place in early Christian thought and practice that at times rivaled scripture itself. Christians honored figures such as Paul and Peter as apostles of the gospel message, but their reputations and influence were magnified by the accounts of their gruesome deaths. They had stood up for the faith at the cost of their own lives, and in doing so they sealed their places in the celestial hierarchy. But they were not alone. The stories of martyrdom opened the gates of glory to a wide cast of characters. Some had been prominent members of Christian society during their lifetimes, including bishops such as Polycarp of Smyrna, Cyprian of Carthage, and Simeon bar S ̣abba‘e of Seleucia-Ctesiphon. Others were previously unknown. The slave Blandina paid the ultimate price for her faith in Lyon in . Speratus, Vestia, and Secunda were among a group of twelve Christians from an obscure village who were tried and executed in Carthage in . Perpetua and Felicity, a noble and a slave, were young mothers in the church of Carthage before they were arrested and eventually killed as public entertainment in . History would have forgotten their lives, but they became heroes of the Christian faith because of their courage and sacrifice. There is no denying the rhetorical power that these stories enjoyed in the ancient church. Beyond the stories themselves, these traditions prompted the establishment of shrines to the martyrs across the Christian world, even in the pre-Constantinian period, through which Christians boasted connections to these heroes of the faith – connections that were magnified after the peace of the church. These stories have in many ways dominated reconstructions of the first few centuries of the church. Christians were not persecuted constantly and everywhere, yet the threat of persecution was never far away. Being a Christian meant being willing to suffer and die, an impression confirmed
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by the writings of the early apologists. However, some scholars have called into doubt some or even all of these stories. They claim that these accounts reflect not historical realities but rhetorical fictions. Christians exaggerated, created, and imagined the accounts of the martyrs in order to elevate their own importance, attack heretics, or justify the foundation and control of sacred spaces. This essay is unable to plumb the depths of all these issues, so my objectives remain modest. After a short history of the study of the martyrdom accounts beginning in the early modern period, we will turn to the motivations for this scholarship and to the impact of historical positivism. The essay will then move into several recent critiques of these texts from an alternative positivist position. But many other approaches have also characterized scholarship on martyrdom within the past few decades, so we will examine the rise of contextualized readings within several broad categories. The essay will close with some reflections on the terms “fiction” and “memory” and their role in ongoing scholarship.
A Brief History of Early Scholarship While stories about martyrs and their corresponding cults were prominent features of Christian piety into the Middle Ages, the study of the sources themselves did not begin until the latter half of the fifteenth century. In , Bonino Mombrizio published a two-volume collection entitled Sanctuarium seu vitae sanctorum (The Lives of the Saints). Mombrizio applied close philological analysis to his work on the relevant manuscripts, and many consider this the first modern edition of martyrdom texts. Protestant polemicists targeted the veneration of the saints during the Age of Reform. The critiques of Martin Luther, John Calvin, and Ulrich Zwingli are well known. We may add to these the writings of the German reformer Johannes Brenz and his Swiss contemporary Heinrich Bullinger, who compared the Catholic cult of the saints to pagan rituals and idolatry. For some Protestants, these veneration practices grew not out of sola scriptura but out
See, e.g., D. H. Williams, Defending and Defining the Faith: An Introduction to Early Christian Apologetic Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Bonino Mombrizio, Sanctuarium seu vitae sanctorum (Milan, ). A new edition was edited by Albin Brunet and Henri Quentin (Paris: Fontemoing, ). Johannes Brenz, Ein Sermon von den Heiligen (Ulm: Matthias Hoffischer, ); Heinrich Bullinger, De origine erroris in divorum ac simulachrorum cultu (Basel: Thomae Wolffij, ).
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of later distortions of New Testament faith. Catholic authors understood this (correctly) as an attack not just on the practices linked to the veneration of the martyrs, but also on the authority of the Roman church itself. From their perspective, the martyrs were part of an unbroken line of faithful witnesses that began with the apostles and continued down to the pope and clergy of their own day. In response to this challenge, a group of philologists within the Jesuit Order began focused study of saints’ lives and hagiography in the seventeenth century. Led by Jean Bolland, the Society of Bollandists set about the work of gathering stories about the lives (vitae), miracles and trials (acta), and deaths (passiones) of the early Christian martyrs from manuscripts across Europe. The collection was organized by feast day, and Bolland attempted to provide historical introductions and encyclopedic entries on each account. The project evolved into the multivolume Acta sanctorum, a project that extended far beyond the lifetime of Bolland. By , the Bollandists had published fifty-three volumes covering January through October. A sense of historical reliability was crucial, for these texts were meant to prove the legitimacy and authority of the Roman Catholic Church through its association with these martyrs. The texts were seen as clear windows into the experience of the early church. This positivist approach served as a rhetorical weapon against the challenges from Protestants (who, ironically, developed their own martyrological traditions through John Foxe’s Book of Martyrs and Thieleman J. van Braght’s Martyrs’ Mirror). Other Catholics also took up the study of the martyrs. The French Benedictine monk Thierry Ruinart published his Acta primorum martyrum sincera et selecta in . In this collection Ruinart applied philological standards that would be more recognizable to the scholars of today, and thus in some ways we may identify Ruinart as the father of the modern critical study of martyrdom texts. Meanwhile, the Bollandist project continued. In the nineteenth century, the Bollandists produced updated editions of previous volumes as well as new volumes. They also established a journal dedicated to the study of hagiography, Analecta Bollandiana (), and a corresponding monograph series, Subsidia Hagiographica ().
Thierry Ruinart, Acta primorum martyrum sincera et selecta (Paris, ). Éric Rebillard, Greek and Latin Narratives About the Ancient Martyrs (Oxford Early Christian Texts; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –.
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Around the turn of the twentieth century, Hippolyte Delehaye ushered in a new era for the Bollandists and hagiography as a whole. He began to apply some of the then newer critical methodologies to the study of martyrdom accounts. Delehaye did not accept all these accounts as being of equal historical value, and genre was a key element in making these distinctions. He gave greater credence to the typically more mundane vitae than to the typically more fantastic acta and passiones (which include talking animals, miraculous escapes, immunity to pain). Delehaye produced a number of works that have impacted the study of martyrdom over the past century.
Modern Work and the Question of Historicity The desire to establish the historical facts of martyrdoms has never disappeared from scholarly discourse and continues down to today. We see two opposing arguments along these lines: deconstruction and affirmation. Deconstruction attacks the historicity of the accounts and brings into question the narrative that Christians suffered as Christians. The martyrdom accounts may be described as fictions and/or forgeries, and therefore not reliable sources of any historical information. The most articulate application of this approach has come in the writings of Candida Moss. In Ancient Christian Martyrdom, Moss critiques a monolithic reading of martyrdom stories. One goal is to show the lack of uniformity in these texts in terms of ideology and practice. Another goal is to demonstrate that some martyrdom stories have no connection to “any historically verifiable persecution.” These are not historical texts but rhetorical ones, produced in particular contexts for particular reasons – and in some cases much later than the alleged events. Thus, employing these texts for historical reconstruction is an error. Moss has, for example, argued for a third-century date for the Martyrdom of Polycarp, instead of the traditional
As Candida Moss has pointed out, the value of this distinction has largely eroded under scrutiny since the time of Delehaye. See “Current trends in the study of martyrdom,” Bulletin for the Study of Religion . (), . E.g., Les légendes hagiographiques (; nd ed., ; rd ed., ; th ed., ); Les origines du culte des martyrs (; nd ed., ); Les passions des martyrs et les genres littéraires (; nd ed., ); Sanctus: Essai sur le culte des saints dans l’antiquité (). Candida R. Moss, Ancient Christian Martyrdom: Diverse Practices, Theologies, and Traditions (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Moss, Ancient Christian Martyrdom, .
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second-century date. From her perspective, the Martyrdom reveals only third-century reconstructions of the second century, not the authentic experience of second-century Christians in Asia Minor. The arguments in Ancient Christian Martyrdom serve as the foundations for her more controversial book, The Myth of Persecution: How Early Christians Invented a Story of Martyrdom. The impetus for this book lay not in ancient traditions but in her critique of contemporary Christian claims of persecution surrounding issues such as the Affordable Care Act and its required provisions for birth control. She maintains that some (especially American) Christians label any social or political unpleasantness persecution (a point on which I agree with her). The book becomes contentious, however, due to its claim that imagined persecution now can be directly correlated to imagined persecution in the early church. Early Christians were prosecuted, not persecuted, so their punishments and deaths resulted from legitimate legal processes, not religious oppression. The claim that Christians were targeted as Christians is misleading and disingenuous, an invention of the authors themselves. But her rhetoric cuts much deeper. In a rather brief discussion, she dismisses the account of Nero’s persecution of Christians as reported by the Roman historian Tacitus. This leads her to reject the notion that the persecution of Christians began in the middle of the first century. She also labels the Martyrdom of Polycarp a “pious fraud” and the figure of Polycarp in the text “the invention of the author . . . a pious, appreciative, and earnest invention, but an invention nonetheless.” Similarly, the accounts of the martyrdoms of the Apostles are dismissed as “the stuff of legend, not
Candida R. Moss, “On the dating of Polycarp: Rethinking the place of the martyrdom of Polycarp in the history of Christianity,” Early Christianity (), –. Cf. Gerd Buschmann, Das Martyrium des Polykarp (KAV ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ), –; Paul A. Hartog, Polycarp and the New Testament (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Candida R. Moss, The Myth of Persecution: How Early Christians Invented a Story of Martyrdom (New York: HarperCollins, ). This distinction reflects an idea that was debated between A. N. Sherwin-White and Geoffrey E. M. de Ste. Croix in a series of articles in the middle of the twentieth century. See A. N. Sherwin-White, “The early persecutions and Roman law again,” Journal of Theological Studies . (), –; Geoffrey E. M. de Ste. Croix, “Why were the early Christians persecuted?” Past and Present (), –; Sherwin-White, “Why were the early Christians persecuted – an amendment,” Past and Present (), –; Ste. Croix, “Why were the early Christians persecuted? A rejoinder,” Past and Present (), –. Moss, Myth of Persecution, –.
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history.” This all serves the larger project of discrediting the Christian perception of persecution from antiquity to the present. The Myth of Persecution prompted strong reactions. Brent Shaw furthered Moss’s case against the historicity of Tacitus. To do so, however, as Christopher P. Jones has pointed out, Shaw committed the elementary error of conflating Tacitus’s account of the fire in with traditions linking the deaths of Peter and Paul to the reign of Nero; in fact, no account of the death of either Apostle makes any reference to the fire. Others attacked Moss in print and on social media, questioning not only her work but (incredibly) her religious faith. The intent of Moss’s approach is to undermine the historical positivism of previous generations of scholars, but deconstructionism is itself implicitly committed to a positivist project. The goal is to decide what did and did not happen and therefore to adjudicate Christian historical claims. As Éric Rebillard has put it, deconstruction sometimes falls into its own trap and “participates in exactly the same assumption of authenticity” that it seeks to correct. Other recent work has taken the stance of affirmation and continued to embrace a positivist approach in favor of the historicity of the martyrdoms. In The Fate of the Apostles, Sean McDowell examines the evidence for the traditional claim that all or nearly all of the Apostles died as martyrs. (John is the usual exception, although a martyrdom tradition for him also developed later.) After gathering the sources available to him, McDowell gives each Apostle’s martyrdom tradition a score on a scale of one to nine,
Moss, Myth of Persecution, , . Brent D. Shaw, “The myth of the Neronian persecution,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –; Christopher P. Jones, “The historicity of the Neronian persecution: A response to Brent Shaw,” New Testament Studies (), –. Indeed, the ancient martyrdom stories of Peter and Paul make no connection to the fire. See David L. Eastman, The Ancient Martyrdom Accounts of Peter and Paul (WGRW ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Shaw has responded to Jones in a subsequent article, although his arguments continue to lack convincing evidence: “Response to Christopher Jones: The historicity of the Neronian persecution,” New Testament Studies (), –. Other critiques of Moss and Shaw on the passage in Tacitus can be found in Birgit van der Lans and Jan N. Bremmer, “Tacitus and the persecution of the Christians: An invention of tradition?” Eirene: Studia Graeca et Latina (), –; David Álvarez Cineira, “La persecución neroniana de los cristianos tras el incendio de Roma (Tácito, Anales XV),” Salmanticensis (), –. Rebillard, Greek and Latin Narratives, . Sean McDowell, The Fate of the Apostles: Examining the Martyrdom Accounts of the Closest Followers of Jesus (Farnham: Ashgate, ).
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from “not possibly true” to “the highest possible probability.” Many of the traditions fare well in his assessment, apart from the “improbable” Johannine martyrdom tradition. Lying behind this entire project is the historicity of the resurrection of Jesus. McDowell is ultimately testing the familiar argument that if the apostles knew that Jesus had not risen from the dead, they would have abandoned their stories under pressure instead of facing death. Because in his reckoning the evidence supports the martyrdom traditions as authentic, this means that the apostles “really thought Jesus had risen from the grave, and they bet their lives on it.” This book displays not one, but two layers of argument through a positivist lens. McDowell sets out to prove the veracity of the deaths of the apostles and the resurrection of Jesus. Both deconstruction and affirmation seek to establish the facts as a means of testing the validity of associated beliefs. If Christians were not persecuted, then one of the rhetorical threads woven throughout the history of Christianity, the “myth of persecution,” should be severed. On the other hand, if the apostles truly died for their beliefs, then it supports the idea that their beliefs were based in what they knew to be historical reality. These are two sides of the same positivist coin, and both approaches risk overplaying a sense of certainty and underplaying the inherent gaps and ambiguities in the historical records.
Martyrdoms in Context The “linguistic turn” of the twentieth century had profound effects for the study of the early Christian martyrdoms. It brought with it a perceived weakening, even potential fracture, between events of the past and the retelling of those events. But on the positive side, it opened the door to a rich variety of approaches to studying martyrdom traditions within, and as products of, their contexts. The question becomes not, “What really happened?” but, “Why would the story have been told this way in this context?” Here social memory theory plays a key role. This approach has the virtue of taking historical For a quite similar approach to much of the same material, see another book published in the same year: Bryan Litfin, After Acts: Exploring the Lives and Legends of the Apostles (Chicago: Moody Publishers, ). McDowell, Fate of the Apostles, .
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context seriously, while also not dismissing an entire source out of hand because it contains some elements that we find fantastic. An account of, for example, Thecla’s miraculous escape from death at the hands of flesh-eating seals prompts us to ask questions about the community that produced this text, rather than simply labeling it fact or fiction. This rhetorical approach may leave us feeling that we know less about the martyr herself but more about the thought world of some early Christians. As a social historian, I find this redirection of our focus quite fruitful. These contextualized readings have come in many forms, and I will organize examples in broad categories. These categories are meant to serve as heuristic tools, so the boundaries are necessarily arbitrary. Some works could fit into multiple categories, and we cannot discuss every potentially relevant study and approach. But it is my hope that this flexible taxonomy will provide an overview of much of the scholarly landscape.
Martyrdom as a Cultural Product W. H. C. Frend set out to explain the roots of the fourth-century Donatist Controversy in North Africa in Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early
Acts Paul Thec. . Because this essay focuses on the pre-Constantinian period, some important works on martyrdom in late antiquity are not included here. A select list of these volumes, however, includes the following: Timothy D. Barnes, Early Christian Hagiography and Roman History (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ); Peter R. L. Brown, The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ); Éric Fournier and Wendy Mayer (eds.) Heirs of Roman Prosecution: Studies on a Christian and Para-Christian Discourse in Late Antiquity (London: Routledge, ); Albert C. Geljon and Roukema Riemer (eds.) Violence in Ancient Christianity: Victims and Perpetrators (VC Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ); Lucy Grig, Making Martyrs in Late Antiquity (London: Duckworth, ); Susan Ashbrook Harvey, “Martyr passions and hagiography,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –; Johan Leemans (ed.) More than a Memory: The Discourse of Martyrdom and the Construction of Christian Identity in the History of Christianity (Leuven: Peeters, ); Joyce E. Salisbury, The Blood of Martyrs: Unintended Consequences of Ancient Violence (New York: Routledge, ); James C. Skedros, Saint Demetrios of Thessaloniki: Civic Patron and Divine Protector, th–th Centuries (HTS ; Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ); Kyle Smith, Constantine and the Captive Christians of Persia: Martyrdom and Religious Identity in Late Antiquity (Transformation of the Classical Heritage ; Oakland: University of California Press, ); Geoffrey E. M. de Ste. Croix, Michael Whitby, and Joseph Streeter, Christian Persecution, Martyrdom, and Orthodoxy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); Raymond Van Dam, Saints and Their Miracles in Late Antique Gaul (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ); Robin Darling Young, In Procession Before the World: Martyrdom as Public Liturgy in Early Christianity (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, ).
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Church. Frend describes early Christian ideology about martyrdom as a competition between opposing models of reception of the Maccabean tradition. In the East, the influence of Platonism and preexistent ascetic traditions led to the notion that hermitic or monastic existence could be spiritually equivalent to martyrdom; thus, death was not the only option for those attempting to atone for their sins through self-sacrifice. The western churches, however, maintained a rigid idealization of the Maccabean tradition and its unwavering commitment to death over apostasy. Thus, for Frend, the entire corpus of early Christian martyr texts should be read through the lens of Jewish antecedents, especially the stories of the Maccabees. This contextualization of Christian martyrdom through the lens of Judaism is still present in scholarship today. To be clear, no scholar doubts that the Maccabean traditions influenced early Christian thought about their own experiences of suffering and persecution, but not all see these Jewish antecedents as being equally determinative. Judith Lieu argues that the Jewish roots of martyrdom were a critical element of early Christian identity formation. While the text of the Martyrdom of Polycarp presents some Jews as being part of the persecuting crowd – although not the instigators of the persecution – the text also displays significant interaction with the Jewish martyrological tradition. Lieu demonstrates that the author of Polycarp emphasizes continuity in appealing to the legacy of and Maccabees, while also revealing an element of competition in presenting Polycarp as a rival to martyrological traditions linked to the near-sacrifice of Isaac in Genesis . Lieu interprets Polycarp as evidence that the Christian story of martyrdom cannot be properly understood unless we consider the relevant Jewish backgrounds. A similar assumption undergirds the argument of Daniel Boyarin in Dying for God: Martyrdom and the Making of Christianity and Judaism. Boyarin’s sights are set on attacking two particular ideas: that Judaism and Christianity were separate and distinct religions prior to the fourth century, and that the
W. H. C. Frend, Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church: A Study of a Conflict from the Maccabees to Donatus (Oxford: Blackwell, ). Judith Lieu, Image and Reality: The Jews in the World of the Christians in the Second Century (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ). Daniel Boyarin, Dying for God: Martyrdom and the Making of Christianity and Judaism (Palo Alto: Stanford University Press, ).
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idea of martyrdom was invented by Christians. He appeals to the Jewish martyrological tradition in assaulting the first idea as much as the second. The second idea is perhaps more easily addressed through references to Christian reception and adaptation of the Maccabean martyr story, yet Boyarin goes beyond this. He argues against the “parting of the ways” narrative in the pre-Constantinian period by showing dynamic interaction between what he calls Christian Jews and non-Christian Jews. The rabbis saw Christianity not as a separate religion but as a Jewish heresy, so overlap should be expected. Both Jewish and Christian sources show a tension between escaping martyrdom (R. Eli’ezer and initially Polycarp) and provoking it (R. Hanina ben Teradyon and willful martyrdom in many Christian texts). Both also reflect an idealization of virgins, the development of lists of martyrs, and the use of a clear, self-condemning statement of identity (the Shema and “I am a Christian”). Boyarin effectively demonstrates that scholars must recognize the dynamic relationship between Jewish and Christian approaches to martyrdom, rather than seeing one as simply coming from the other or the two as separate, parallel, and competing tracks. More recently, Silke-Petra Bergjan, a theologian with specialization in the early church, and Beat Näf, an ancient historian, coauthored Märtyrerverehrung im frühen Christentum: Zeugnisse und kulturelle Wirkungsweisen. Bergjan and Näf argue for a new and unique Christian ideology of martyrdom linked to sacrifice and the militia Christi. In order to build their case, they provide a traditional account of the backgrounds of Christian martyrdom, featuring Jewish antecedents prominently but also noble death traditions in Greek and Roman literature. They are not the first to make such connections, but this volume is notable for the amount of attention they dedicate to the issue of antecedents. For the authors in this category, Christian martyrological ideology develops along lines of trajectory mapped out earlier in the various cultural contexts of the Mediterranean world, especially Judaism (the Maccabees) and Greco-Roman noble death traditions.
Here he particularly has in mind G. W. Bowersock, Martyrdom and Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). See, e.g., Candida R. Moss, “Suicide and martyrdom among Christians and Jews,” in The Cambridge World History of Violence, ed. Garrett G. Fagan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. Silke-Petra Bergjan and Beat Näf, Märtyrerverehrung im frühen Christentum: Zeugnisse und kulturelle Wirkungsweisen (Wege zur Geschichtswissenschaft; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, ).
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Martyrdom, Gender, and Sexuality Another recent trend has been reading the early martyrdom accounts in light of theories concerning gender and sexuality. Virginia Burrus has been a key figure in this regard. Although she has not produced a monograph dedicated to martyrdom, the topic has played a key role in several of her publications. In The Sex Lives of Saints, for example, Burrus dedicates a chapter to the study of female holy figures. She explores the “eroticized death” of female figures as told by male authors. Female martyrs somehow surmount the cultural expectations and limitations attached to their sex through their fortitude, and in doing so they become spectacles. The reader, like the original audiences of the martyrdoms, looks on in voyeuristic fashion at the fate of the bodies of these holy women. Although her focus is on the post-Constantinian figures Paula, Macrina, and Monica, Burrus introduces concepts that have influenced subsequent research on the topic. Stephanie Cobb’s Dying to Be Men turns our attention toward the connection between masculinization and power. In the second and third centuries, Christians were in a culturally weak position, having virtually no power over their Roman oppressors. Writing martyrdom accounts became for some a gendered act of resistance. In the moment of testing, Polycarp famously receives from heaven the instruction: “Be strong, Polycarp, and be a man.” The eighty-six-year-old bishop, whom we would expect to be frail in his old age, is told to overcome the violence against him through virility. Rhetorically, the body of the martyr becomes masculinized, strong, and ironically victorious as he willingly faces his tormenters. In the case of female martyrs, the picture is more complex. On the one hand, women such as Perpetua and Blandina partake in the process of masculinization to the point of “defeating” their male pagan oppressors. On the other hand, these women are never totally masculinized, for they continue to display culturally expected feminine characteristics and emotions. Authors of these texts therefore create “the paradox of the manly woman.” Perpetua rejects her traditional role as a mother and chooses martyrdom over caring for her infant son; she has a dream in which she is Virginia Burrus, The Sex Lives of Saints: An Erotics of Ancient Hagiography (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ). L. Stephanie Cobb, Dying to Be Men: Gender and Language in Early Christian Martyr Texts (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Mart. Pol. .. Cobb, Dying to Be Men, .
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changed into a man and goes on to defeat a huge Egyptian gladiator, the devil himself; and she has to guide the blade of her hesitant executioner to her own neck. In all these ways, she is culturally masculinized. At the same time, the editor of the Passion of Perpetua highlights that she fills traditional roles (wife and mother): She still cares for her baby until her death, even to the point of bringing the child into prison so she can nurse; and although the crowd in the arena is crying for blood, they are still shocked to see a young mother stripped and exposed for public view. By giving such attention to the physical spectacle of Perpetua’s exposed body, the author has drawn the reader’s attention back to her femininity. Gail Streete’s Redeemed Bodies appeared the following year and focuses on the stories of Thecla and Perpetua, along with the subsequent reception of those stories. This study bears some resemblance to the issues raised by Burrus and Cobb, although on a different trajectory. Streete shares Burrus’s concern with the embodiedness of the martyrs and the ways in which the female body serves as a locus of subjection, voyeurism, or identity erasure. With Cobb, Streete sees the female martyrs as idealized women on one level – “tough mothers and female contenders” – but also those in need of redemption (as the title suggests) by becoming more like idealized males. Her development of these ideas is not as extensive as Cobb’s, because Streete’s ultimate goal is to turn the reader’s attention to contemporary discussions of martyrdom. Thinking through the tragedy at Columbine and female suicide bombers in the Middle East represents the telos of the book, with the ancient martyrs representing heuristic tools for modern reflection about issues of gender and violence. Other studies have highlighted the significance of women as a whole in the martyrdom tradition, but the three discussed above all share an attention to gender bending in various ways. This stream of scholarship reminds us that ancient cultures, like modern ones, had expectations for and from the categories “male” and “female.” Martyrdom stories could be socially transgressive in some ways, but conventional in others. A female martyr such as Perpetua may be empowered as a female when viewed through one lens, exploited as a female when viewed through another, and even desexed if Gail Streete, Redeemed Bodies: Women Martyrs in Early Christianity (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ). Streete, Redeemed Bodies, . E.g., Nicola Denzey, The Bone Gatherers: The Lost Worlds of Early Christian Women (Boston: Beacon, ).
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viewed through the manipulation or erasure of her identity in the shadow of idealized masculinity. Burrus, Cobb, Streete, and others compel us to read the martyrdom accounts not as simply fact or fiction, but as stylized history. Despite the emphasis in these studies on the transgression of gender categories, no major study has applied Queer or Transgender Theory to these texts. For example, Sebastian is popularly identified as the patron saint of homosexuals – the description of his death by being shot with arrows has made him into a gay icon – but this has not been the focus of scholarly attention. Given the current surge in the public discourse on such issues, it seems likely that the coming years will witness contributions from this theoretical perspective.
Martyrs and Ecclesiastical Authority Another contextualized approach to the early martyrdom accounts reads them as serving ecclesiastical authority claims. This is a point of emphasis for Candida Moss in The Other Christs. While other scholars have noted the motif of the imitatio Christi in early Christianity (e.g., the Pauline Epistles), Moss expands the analysis by considering the implications of this imitatio for our understanding of early Christian history. Moss views early Christianity as having a “mimetic economy.” As in any economy, certain goods and resources are of greater value than others, and for Moss martyrdom as an act of imitation was a powerful asset: “Within the ‘mimetic economy’ of the early church, suffering like Christ was ‘cultural capital.’” The language of sacrifice certainly contributed to this capital, but so did the claim that the martyrs were engaged in resistance not just against earthly powers; they were in fact partakers in a cosmic struggle against evil. This gave their suffering and deaths even more significance. Moss highlights Ignatius of Antioch and Polycarp of Smyrna as being among those who appealed to this capital in establishing their own authority to instruct others in the way of faith and model for others an ideal death. A Christ-like death increased the power of the bishop and his letters or other
Candida R. Moss, The Other Christs: Imitating Jesus in Ancient Christian Ideologies of Martyrdom (New York: Oxford University Press, ). She credits this expression to Elizabeth A. Castelli, Imitating Paul: A Discourse of Power (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ). Moss, Other Christs, .
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teaching left behind, as well as the prestige of his episcopal seat moving forward. But other, lesser-known martyrs are also discussed, such as Dasius, Marian and James, and Montanus and Lucius. As Moss notes, the martyrs’ “successful imitation of the suffering and death of Christ ensures that they themselves become models.” This raised their status in the community and in the stories that early Christians told about them. In fact, Moss pushes the Christ image even farther and argues that martyrs become “saviors” in their own right. They are not just Christ-like but “Other Christs.” Justin Buol explores the issue of episcopal authority in martyr texts in his book Martyred for the Church. Building upon an extensive study of Jewish and Greco-Roman backgrounds (in the spirit of Lieu, Boyarin, and Bergjan and Näf), Buol focuses on the explicit and implicit connections between the martyrdoms of the second-century bishops Ignatius, Polycarp, and Pothinus and the authority claims of subsequent bishops, including Irenaeus of Lyon. Buol describes these martyrdoms as “effective deaths.” The death of Ignatius, as explained in his authentic letters, underscores the authority of the ecclesiastical hierarchy (bishops and deacons). The martyrdom of Polycarp is juxtaposed with the faithlessness and/or apostasy of false believers, embodied by the Phrygian (Montanist?) Quintus; thus the authority of bishops of the true church is reinforced. Pothinus, the predecessor of Irenaeus, likewise represents true Christianity, and his death grants authority to Irenaeus in his battle against heresy. In Buol’s reading, these three martyrdom traditions are linked by their role in establishing hierarchy and combating heterodoxy. They are rhetorically “effective” (to borrow his terminology), whether or not they are historically accurate. Michael Lapidge approaches the connection between martyrdom texts and ecclesiastical authority through the connection to sacred spaces. His study The Roman Martyrs presents translations of forty passions, accompanied by short introductions and notes, of martyrs honored in late An important contribution of Moss’s volume is the Appendix, which provides a summary of a wide range of often ignored and largely pre-Constantinian martyrdom accounts. Moss, Other Christs, . The imitatio Christi was also an important element discussed in Nicole Hartmann, Martyrium: Variationen und Potenziale eines Diskurses im Zweiten Jahrhundert (Early Christianity in the Context of Antiquity ; Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, ). Hartmann particularly highlights the eucharistic implications of this imitation. Justin Buol, Martyred for the Church: Memorializations of the Effective Deaths of Bishop Martyrs in the Second Century (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Michael Lapidge, The Roman Martyrs: Introduction, Translations, and Commentary (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
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antiquity in intramural churches or at shrines in cemeteries just outside Rome. Although the stories claim to recount the deaths of almost exclusively pre-Constantinian martyrs, Lapidge dates all the texts to a period well after Constantine. He views the texts and their authors with contempt (the application of a positivist lens is prominent here). These accounts are “the work of anonymous clerics who show little sign of advanced training in Latin and who were seldom capable of anything more than pedestrian prose.” Individual accounts are “pure fiction with no verifiable historical content,” “pedestrian and highly derivative,” and “at best a piece of uninspired hackwork.” The texts may have no historical value, but Lapidge still sees them as having cultic and political value as foundation myths for popular local shrines. Roman Christians and those who visited the city knew well the shrines of many of these holy dead, which include Agnes and the thirdcentury bishops Cornelius and Stephen I. For Lapidge, the texts tell us little or nothing about the lives and deaths of the so-called martyrs themselves, but they are still useful for our understanding of ecclesiastical power structures in Rome as negotiated through the promotion and control of martyr shrines by the clergy. Every visit to these shrines implicitly reinforced the prominence of the ecclesiastical authorities. Attention to ecclesiastical politics has also influenced my own work on the martyrdom and burial traditions of Paul and Peter. In the process of collecting, translating, and commenting on the accounts of the apostles’ deaths, I became aware of the variety of details among the stories. In I published an extensive analysis of these texts, The Many Deaths of Peter and Paul. Benefiting from the insights of social memory theory, I attempt to contextualize the great variety within these accounts of allegedly the same events, e.g., diverse descriptions of why they died, when they died, and what happened to their bodies. The memory approach helps explain why these deaths were remembered with different details across time. Ecclesiastical politics played a central role, for at the heart of these stories was the position of the Roman church, which claimed ecclesiastical privilege as the city in which the two greatest apostles had preached and died. Authors in late antiquity went so far as to rewrite the stories to create a joint martyrdom tradition. These authors focused on apostolic unity (the concordia apostolorum)
Lapidge, Roman Martyrs, , , , . Eastman, Ancient Martyrdom Accounts. David L. Eastman, The Many Deaths of Peter and Paul (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
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under the authority of the Roman church and its bishop, who also controlled the multiplicity of spaces associated with the apostles’ deaths and burials. Shrines at the Vatican (Peter), on the Ostian (Paul) and Appian (Peter and Paul) Roads, and at Tre Fontane (Paul) attracted pilgrims from near and far. This cultic reality, supported by the textual traditions, justified and reinforced Rome’s claims. The various stories did not remember the deaths and burials with the same details, but within the variety ran a common thread of the privileged position of the Roman church, even in periods when Rome’s influence vis-à-vis other ecclesiastical centers had demonstrably waned. All these authors share hesitations about the historical realities that lay behind certain martyrdom accounts, but they all agree that these stories served a powerful rhetorical function. They elevated the prestige and authority of the episcopal structure by praising faithful bishops, and they justified and promoted martyr shrines that were often under clerical control, particularly in Rome.
Reception History: Individual Martyrs and Cults Another approach to martyrdom traditions has been to follow the afterlives of these stories and their role in promoting cults of individual martyrs. In view of the limitations of this essay, I will highlight one book as an example of this category of research. Stephen Davis took this approach in his study of The Cult of Saint Thecla: A Tradition of Women’s Piety in Late Antiquity. According to the Acts of Paul and Thecla, this young woman from Iconium abandons her fiancé and family to follow the apostle after hearing him preach. Although her relationship with the apostle is complicated – Paul does not seem interested in having her around – she is remembered as a companion of the apostle and the female
Other books that fit into this category include Skedros, Saint Demetrios of Thessaloniki; David L. Eastman, Paul the Martyr: The Cult of the Apostle in the Latin West (WGRW Suppl. ; Atlanta: SBL Press; Leiden: Brill, ). Methodologically, all such works rely on insights from Raymond Van Dam’s Saints and Their Miracles, but Van Dam focused on the postConstantinian period (and therefore outside the chronological concentration of this volume) and the cult of Martin of Tours. Davis, The Cult of Saint Thecla: A Tradition of Women’s Piety in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
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protomartyr. Davis tracks the later reception and retelling of Thecla’s story as a catalyst for the development of cultic practices in her honor. According to the Acts of Paul and Thecla, Thecla ends her travels at Seleucia in southeastern Asia Minor. The details surrounding her death are vague; the author states only that “after enlightening many with the word of God, she slept with a noble sleep” (Acts Paul Thec. ). At least as early as the fourth century, a shrine in her honor was established at the site and attracted pilgrims from all over the Mediterranean. As the shrine grew, so did her legend. By the fourth century, the pilgrim Egeria (c. ) recounts that they read “the Acts of Saint Thecla” during her visit to the cult site. Thecla had become a venerated figure in her own right, no longer in need of an apostolic connection, and the literary corpus about her grew. The Life and Miracles of Saint Thecla and an expanded version of the Acts of Paul and Thecla give more alleged biographical information about Thecla, specifically about the final days of her life. According to the Life and Miracles, Thecla did not die normally but “sank and entered secretly into the earth” (Life .–). Davis highlights the irony of honoring a martyr with a story that denies a conventional physical death, but he explains that this account was used to justify the placement of her shrine. After the emperor Zeno enlarged and relocated the shrine to a nearby cave, the author of the expanded Acts of Paul and Thecla relocated Thecla’s death to the site of the emperor’s new church. According to this later addition, some local physicians hire a group of ruffians to attack and rape Thecla, because she is undermining their business. These scoundrels surround her cave “like lions” and wait to attack, but God opens up a rock, and Thecla sinks down into it. The text does not say she dies, but the implication is clear based upon multiple references to her as a “martyr.” This retelling of Thecla’s demise places her in a type of arena scene. Like Polycarp, Perpetua, Blandina, and others who were exposed to wild beasts, Thecla must face these “lions.” But also like each of these other martyrs, she dies not in the mouths of the beasts but in some other way. Her story is recast into a more conventional – even if not totally conventional – account. Davis demonstrates how the story of a martyr’s death could become polyvalent through interpretation and retelling. This prosopographical approach reminds us that martyrdom traditions were not static or stable. Rather than asking a question about historicity, we find more profit in what we can learn about the communities that received, applied, and modified martyrdom traditions.
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Martyrs, Memory, and Identity Another function of martyrdom stories was promoting a particular idea of what it meant to be a Christian, and this included suffering. The experience of persecution was not an anomaly for Christians, but evidence of their faith. In The Suffering Self: Pain and Narrative Representation in the Early Christian Era, Judith Perkins argues that the early Christian period saw a reversal of the particularly Stoic notion of self-control and self-mastery. Whereas authors such as Seneca and Marcus Aurelius idealize a self that is distanced from suffering, Christians reimagined an identity with suffering as a central element. The Passion of Perpetua and Felicity and the Acts of Peter occupy an important place in her analysis. She contends that the suffering in these texts – which was ironically not painful – was part of a discourse that helped identify what it meant to be Christian. Suffering was the hallmark of Christian identity not just internally but externally, for non-Christians at that time “knew that Christians belonged to a sect whose members suffered and died because that was how the sect defined and presented itself.” Perkins reads the martyrdom texts as rhetorical constructs in the service of a larger goal. They need to be seen as more than reports of events; they need to be considered as key documents in early Christian self-fashioning. The early martyr acts not only narrate events, but they work to create and project a new “mental set toward the world.”
Questions of historicity are of little concern when the texts are viewed through this functional lens. The connection between martyrdom and identify formation is also central to Elizabeth Castelli’s Martyrdom and Memory. Castelli identifies collective memory as her “central interpretive framework” and argues that “the memory work done by early Christians on the historical experience of persecution and martyrdom was a form of culture making.” Questions of what really happened are “often unresolvable” and can distract from the more generative question “of how particular ways of construing the past
Judith Perkins, The Suffering Self: Pain and Narrative Representation in the Early Christian Era (New York: Routledge, ). Perkins, The Suffering Self, . Perkins, The Suffering Self, . Elizabeth A. Castelli, Martyrdom and Memory: Early Christian Culture Making (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Castelli, Martyrdom and Memory, .
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enable later communities to constitute and sustain themselves.” The stories of martyrs create a vision of reality that goes beyond the details of legal proceedings to the heart of the Christian struggle – not against human rulers, but against spiritual forces. Public humiliation and death are not the final story, for Christians are ultimately triumphant. Stephanie Cobb explores in more depth Perkins’s motif of painlessness in martyr texts in Divine Deliverance. Cobb demonstrates that immunity to pain is a ubiquitous feature of martyrdom texts. Either martyrs are insensitive to it (e.g., Martyrdom of Polycarp), protected by divine anesthesia (e.g., Letter of the Churches of Vienne and Lyon), or spiritually present but somehow absent from their flesh (e.g., Martyrdom of Eulalia), or they represent the fulfillment of a future eschatological hope of an existence without pain (e.g., Martyrdom of Montanus and Lucius). But unlike Perkins, Cobb interprets these stories as attempts to create a Christian identity rooted in an alternative reality. The martyrs transcended the expectations of the normal physical world to point to a higher spiritual reality, so it should be no surprise that their bodies would also transcend common corporality and the experience of pain. Moreover, their stories are ultimately not about the martyrs themselves, so it is a mistake to read them historically. We should instead read them theologically. The ultimate actor in all these stories is God, “the central narrative figure, without whom the story would be dramatically different and excruciatingly painful.” The painlessness of the martyrs points not to them but to God, and this theological reality defines what it means to be a Christian. Paul Middleton’s Radical Martyrdom and Cosmic Conflict in Early Christianity engages from a different perspective questions of identity and reality in the martyrdom texts. He is particularly concerned with what he calls “radical martyrdom,” the act of seeking out arrest and death. While Clement of Alexandria condemned this practice – martyrdom must be endured, but never sought out – Middleton argues that it was ubiquitous and popular beginning in the second century. Christians embraced and even provoked radical martyrdom because they saw themselves as “soldiers in a
Castelli, Martyrdom and Memory, . L. Stephanie Cobb, Divine Deliverance: Pain and Painlessness in Early Christian Martyr Texts (Oakland: University of California Press, ). Cobb, Divine Deliverance, . Paul Middleton, Radical Martyrdom and Cosmic Conflict in Early Christianity (London: T&T Clark, ).
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cosmic war.” Their persecutors were not just human beings; they were agents of Satan working against the followers of Christ. When the martyrs triumphed over their enemies through their deaths, they took part in the ultimate victory of Christ. Martyrdom embodied this eschatological drama, and physical death led to ultimate life. Middleton proposes that this ideology was deeply rooted in various New Testament texts, especially Mark, the Pauline Epistles, and Revelation. “Radical martyrdom” was therefore not radical at all; it was merely one stream of reception of the Christian rhetoric of suffering. For all these authors, martyrdom stories represent efforts at identity creation. Some authors ground this identity in the relationship of martyrs to their own bodies, while others connect it to an alternate spiritual reality in which God’s martyrs are engaged in warfare with the forces of evil.
Fiction and Memory As we have seen in this essay, the approach to studying the texts of early Christian martyrdom has changed over time. In previous centuries, claims of historical veracity were used as polemical weapons in intra-Christian debates. Historical positivism was the underlying principle, and although the apex of that approach has past, it is still present in some recent work that evaluates the martyrdom accounts as either fictions or proof of Christian doctrine. As my analysis above demonstrates, such approaches raise methodological concerns. The various categories of contextualized readings share a commitment to interpreting sources through perspectival lenses. Social (or collective) memory underlies many of these approaches, for scholars have studied the texts as artifacts of the authors’ and editors’ cultural moments in which their questions (not ours) were being addressed. Authors/editors did not produce these stories in a vacuum; they did so with certain issues in mind (e.g., debates over gender roles, ecclesiastical authority, etc.). This gives the texts intrinsic value, for they illuminate the thought worlds of those periods. Perhaps, for example, we cannot verify the details of the death of Paul, but the various retellings provide windows into the communities that honored
Middleton, Radical Martyrdom, .
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the apostle by “remembering” and retelling his story. What were their motives? How did these stories serve them? Memory theory also reminds us that we as interpreters are encountering the martyrs in our own cultural moments, when the questions and debates of our day can and do influence our readings and interpretations. This is in my view the advantage of the contextualized approach: It allows us to ask our questions without claiming that they are the only ones that can be asked, or that our viewpoints are the only ones that are legitimate. The stories of the deaths of Peter and Paul, for example, have been profitably read through nearly all the lenses discussed in this essay. Likewise, the traditions surrounding Thecla and Perpetua inform our understanding of early Christianity on issues beyond just representations of gender roles. The contextualized approaches allow us to offer a reading, without claiming to offer the reading. In this way, they appear to me to be a more fruitful approach than attempting to adjudicate “fact and fiction” concerning events for which our evidence is so limited – particularly when such judgments risk being predetermined by the biases and agendas that we bring to the texts.
Select Bibliography Álvarez Cineira, David. “La persecución neroniana de los cristianos tras el incendio de Roma (Tácito, Anales XV),” Salmanticensis (), –. Barnes, Timothy D. Early Christian Hagiography and Roman History (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Bergjan, Silke-Petra and Beat Näf. Märtyrerverehrung im frühen Christentum: Zeugnisse und kulturelle Wirkungsweisen (Wege zur Geschichtswissenschaft; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, ). Bowersock, G. W. Martyrdom and Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Boyarin, Daniel. Dying for God: Martyrdom and the Making of Christianity and Judaism (Palo Alto: Stanford University Press, ). Brown, Peter R. L. The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ). Buol, Justin. Martyred for the Church: Memorializations of the Effective Deaths of Bishop Martyrs in the Second Century ce (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Burrus, Virginia. The Sex Lives of Saints: An Erotics of Ancient Hagiography (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ). Buschmann, Gerd. Das Martyrium des Polykarp (KAV ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ).
Martyrdom between Fiction and Memory Castelli, Elizabeth A. Imitating Paul: A Discourse of Power (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ). Castelli, Elizabeth A. Martyrdom and Memory: Early Christian Culture Making (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Cobb, L. Stephanie. Divine Deliverance: Pain and Painlessness in Early Christian Martyr Texts (Oakland: University of California Press, ). Dying to Be Men: Gender and Language in Early Christian Martyr Texts (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Davis, Stephen. The Cult of Saint Thecla: A Tradition of Women’s Piety in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Delehaye, Hippolyte. Les légendes hagiographiques, th ed. (SHG ; Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, ). Les origines du culte des martyrs, nd ed. (SHG ; Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, ). Les passions des martyrs et les genres littéraires, nd ed. (SHG B; Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, ). Sanctus: Essai sur le culte des saints dans l’antiquité (SHG ; Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, ). Denzey, Nicola. The Bone Gatherers: The Lost Worlds of Early Christian Women (Boston: Beacon, ). Eastman, David L. The Ancient Martyrdom Accounts of Peter and Paul (WGRW ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ). The Many Deaths of Peter and Paul (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Paul the Martyr: The Cult of the Apostle in the Latin West (WGRW Suppl. ; Atlanta: SBL Press; Leiden: Brill, ). Fournier, Éric and Wendy Mayer (eds.) Heirs of Roman Prosecution: Studies on a Christian and Para-Christian Discourse in Late Antiquity (London: Routledge, ). Frend, W. H. C. Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church: A Study of a Conflict from the Maccabees to Donatus (Oxford: Blackwell, ). Geljon, Albert C. and Roukema Riemer (eds.) Violence in Ancient Christianity: Victims and Perpetrators (VC Suppl. ; Leiden: Brill, ). Grig, Lucy. Making Martyrs in Late Antiquity (London: Duckworth, ). Hartmann, Nicole. Martyrium: Variationen und Potenziale eines Diskurses im Zweiten Jahrhundert (Early Christianity in the Context of Antiquity ; Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, ). Hartog, Paul A. Polycarp and the New Testament (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Harvey, Susan Ashbrook. “Martyr passions and hagiography.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies. Edited by Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Jones, Christopher P. “The historicity of the Neronian persecution: A response to Brent Shaw,” New Testament Studies (), –. Lans, Birgit van der and Jan N. Bremmer. “Tacitus and the persecution of the Christians: An invention of tradition?” Eirene: Studia Graeca et Latina (), –.
. Lapidge, Michael. The Roman Martyrs: Introduction, Translations, and Commentary (OECS; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Leemans, Johan (ed.) More than a Memory: The Discourse of Martyrdom and the Construction of Christian Identity in the History of Christianity (Leuven: Peeters, ). Lieu, Judith. Image and Reality: The Jews in the World of the Christians in the Second Century (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ). Litfin, Bryan. After Acts: Exploring the Lives and Legends of the Apostles (Chicago: Moody Publishers, ). McDowell, Sean. The Fate of the Apostles: Examining the Martyrdom Accounts of the Closest Followers of Jesus (Farnham: Ashgate, ). Middleton, Paul. Radical Martyrdom and Cosmic Conflict in Early Christianity (London: T&T Clark, ). Mombrizio, Bonino, Sanctuarium seu vitae sanctorum, ed. Albin Brunet and Henri Quentin (Paris: Fontemoing, ). Moss, Candida R. Ancient Christian Martyrdom: Diverse Practices, Theologies, and Traditions (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). “Current trends in the study of martyrdom,” Bulletin for the Study of Religion . (), –. The Myth of Persecution: How Early Christians Invented a Story of Martyrdom (New York: HarperCollins, ). “On the dating of Polycarp: Rethinking the place of the martyrdom of Polycarp in the history of Christianity,” Early Christianity (), –. The Other Christs: Imitating Jesus in Ancient Christian Ideologies of Martyrdom (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Suicide and martyrdom among Christians and Jews.” Pages – in The Cambridge World History of Violence. Edited by Garrett G. Fagan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Perkins, Judith. The Suffering Self: Pain and Narrative Representation in the Early Christian Era (New York: Routledge, ). Rebillard, Éric. Greek and Latin Narratives about the Ancient Martyrs (Oxford Early Christian Texts; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Salisbury, Joyce E. The Blood of Martyrs: Unintended Consequences of Ancient Violence (New York: Routledge, ). Shaw, Brent D. “The myth of the Neronian persecution,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. “Response to Christopher Jones: The historicity of the Neronian persecution,” New Testament Studies (), –. Sherwin-White, A. N. “The early persecutions and Roman law again,” Journal of Theological Studies . (), –. “Why were the early Christians persecuted: an amendment,” Past and Present (), –. Skedros, James C. Saint Demetrios of Thessaloniki: Civic Patron and Divine Protector, th–th Centuries (HTS ; Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ).
Martyrdom between Fiction and Memory Smith, Kyle. Constantine and the Captive Christians of Persia: Martyrdom and Religious Identity in Late Antiquity (Transformation of the Classical Heritage ; Oakland: University of California Press, ). Ste. Croix, Geoffrey E. M. de. “Why were the early Christians persecuted?” Past and Present (), –. “Why were the early Christians persecuted? A rejoinder,” Past and Present (), –. Ste. Croix, Geoffrey E. M. de, Michael Whitby, and Joseph Streeter. Christian Persecution, Martyrdom, and Orthodoxy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Streete, Gail. Redeemed Bodies: Women Martyrs in Early Christianity (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ). Van Dam, Raymond. Saints and Their Miracles in Late Antique Gaul (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Williams, D. H. Defending and Defining the Faith: An Introduction to Early Christian Apologetic Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Young, Robin Darling. In Procession Before the World: Martyrdom as Public Liturgy in Early Christianity (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, ).
The Emergence(s) of Christian Material Culture(s) .
Asking about the emergence of Christian material culture is something like asking when a river becomes a river. Countless drops of water fall on innumerable hillsides and plains, and make their way downhill, following the pull of gravity until they coalesce into rivulets and trickles. Those in turn gather into larger flows – streams, creeks, and washes – which combine and combine again into stronger and fuller courses. All the rivers of the world (the Nile, the Danube, the Congo, the Ganges, and the Yangtze, as well as the smaller and more anonymous ones) begin this way, fed by tributaries and histories of rain. When does the river become a river? We can point confidently to the mouth of the delta where the river empties out into the Gulf of Mexico and call that “the Mississippi,” but we must also recognize that its outflow represents a watershed draining a substantial part of a continent. So too with “Christianity” and its material culture. The discourse of Christian origins is always about following a broad river (a mature tradition, even as it exists in multiple complementary, competing, and mutually exclusive forms) in search of its headwaters. We cannot fully map the watershed of Christianity or its material culture, because time has obscured and erased many of its tributaries. Likewise, we are limited in our ability to say when those many sources and tributaries became the river (i.e., the tradition) both because of the paucity of our evidence and because the answer depends on our perspective and the way we frame our inquiry. Although much scholarship on the origins of Christian material culture has focused on following the river back to its source in a quest to determine a chronology for the emergence of Christian art, architecture, and related material, a set of more basic questions lies beneath this chronological search: What counts as “Christian?” What counts as material culture? And what would count as evidence of these things? As if following a river back to its
The Emergence(s) of Christian Material Culture(s)
sources, we pursue those questions by extrapolating the parts from the evidence of the whole, tracing our sources back uphill, always asking whether this part is yet the thing that the whole will eventually become. In this essay, I will proceed by asking these questions in turn, hoping to expand as much as to constrain our inquiry into the emergence of Christian material culture, and expecting to witness multiple emergences of multiple cultures. Having done so, I will conclude by turning to the central concern, chronology, and survey the state of the question of the origins of Christian material culture. This final step will be something like choosing a point at which a river becomes a river; it is arbitrary in one sense, but nevertheless informed by one view of when the parts become a whole.
Discourses of Christianity Beginning our inquiries into the origins of a Christian material culture by tracing it back to its sources means that our answers will always be ideologically conditioned. Many of the scholars who have worked to uncover the beginnings of Christian material culture live downstream of the headwaters they explore and map, and are influenced by the history of thinking about Christianity in theological terms. In the last several decades scholars have begun to interrogate the effect that the discourses of orthodoxy and heresy have had on the study of early Christianity. But even as some scholars have noted that proto-orthodoxy was only one among multiple streams within the early Jesus traditions, the guilds of early Christian studies have largely focused on the figures who ultimately prevailed and established orthodoxy in the fourth century and beyond. One side effect of this focus has been the privileging of textual sources above other kinds of evidence, causing many scholars to reflexively think of Christianity as essentially a discursive realm. Early Christian writers,
For example, Graydon Snyder’s overview of early Christian archaeology critiques the religious and theological commitments of archaeologists and scholars. Snyder is quick to point out that early investigators were likely to interpret evidence in ways that supported their Catholic or Protestant presuppositions and biases (Ante Pacem: Archaeological Evidence of Church Life Before Constantine, nd ed. [Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, ], –). Bart D. Ehrman, Lost Christianities: The Battle for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew (New York: Oxford University Press, ); Justo L. González, The Story of Christianity: The Early Church to the Dawn of the Reformation, rev. and updated ed. (New York: HarperOne, ); Elaine H. Pagels, The Gnostic Gospels, st ed. (New York: Random House, ).
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including the authors of the New Testament texts, have had an outsized influence on the way we have described early Christianity. Scholars have privileged texts for many good reasons, but by centering the study of early Christianity on texts, we view a broad social, practical, embodied, and lived movement through the narrow aperture of the extant written materials that it produced. When we speak of “Christianity,” we must remember that most of what we know is extrapolated from a collection of texts, limited in its scope and incapable of providing a full view of the lived experiences contained within a movement. Our accounts of the emergence of Christianity are drawn nearly exclusively from written sources, and only from later generations do other forms of evidence about early Christianity survive. For an essay like this, we are in the predicament of asking about the origins of a material culture for a movement that we know almost exclusively from texts for its first two centuries, but that was material from the very beginning. Given the evidence we possess today, we cannot tell a history of Christianity’s emergence that is centered on material culture. Instead, we are forced into telling the history of a material culture emerging into an already fully formed theological and literary tradition, which arrives to us in the form of canonical and allied texts. We should recognize that such histories are at least incomplete and quite possibly wrong, potentially distorting the story and thereby making Christianity seem to be a thing that it never was to begin with – that is, a disembodied textual and discursive phenomenon. The strongest distortion produced by the textualized history of early Christianity is the discourse of orthodoxy and heresy. Because early Christian texts are often centered on questions of belief, we surmise that Christianity’s first centuries were consumed with the projects of establishing orthodoxy and stamping out heresy, depicting Christianity as implicitly dogmatic. But close attention to early Christian texts reveals that the textual evidence is often or even usually engaged in fierce debate about material and practice. Even characteristically theological texts like those in the New Testament presuppose and dispute material and practical realities. A lived
Irenaeus represents the former option, seeing heresy as willful departure from truth (Haer. .–). To choose only a couple of examples from among many, Shelly Matthews provides an excellent account of this undertow of violence through Acts’ account of Stephen’s martyrdom in Perfect Martyr: The Stoning of Stephen and the Construction of Christian Identity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Likewise, Maia Kotrosits traces the affective reverberations of violence in the text in Rethinking Early Christian Identity: Affect, Violence, and Belonging (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –.
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and embodied experience lies behind the production of texts and the theologies they contain and propound. When thinking about the word “Christian” in the phrase “the emergence of Christian material culture,” the textual evidence of earliest Christianity ought to pull us toward an acknowledgment that those texts themselves were already attempting to explain and adjudicate a variety of material and practical expressions of what it meant to be “Christian.” Paul could not write Corinthians without diverse Corinthian practices as grist, and Irenaeus could not write Adversus Haereses without the embodied lives of others against whom he was arguing. Perhaps most significantly, the growth of adversus Judaeos literature in Christianity’s formative centuries signals that what it meant to be “Christian” was being defined not just theologically but in contradistinction to Christianity’s original Other, Judaism, and its myriad practices decried by Christian apologists. The origins of Christianity, so often supposed to be doctrinal and textual, are revealed to be material and practical at their source, and that materiality always already contested. With this in mind, we turn to the question of material culture.
Material and Culture What counts as material, and when does an assembly of material begin to count as material culture – a representative and characteristic material output of a group? I am attempting to draw the boundaries of material culture generously, thinking beyond the kinds of material traditionally considered in archaeology to sketch a broader account of how early Jesus-followers lived within a world, asking what traces of that living can be recovered. I will
The Pseudo-Clementines and the sermons of John Chrysostom are illuminating on this point, describing the intersections of belief and practice in the production of identities; see Deborah Forger, “Interpreting the Syrophoenician woman to construct Jewish–Christian fault lines: Chrysostom and the Ps-Cl homilist in chrono-locational perspective,” Journal of the Jesus Movement in Its Jewish Setting (), –. On sexuality and the othering of Jews, see Susanna Drake, Slandering the Jew: Sexuality and Difference in Early Christian Texts (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ). I am indebted to an introductory chapter that lays out much of the rationale I pursue; see Dan Hicks and Mary C. Beaudry, “Introduction. Material culture studies: A reactionary view,” in The Oxford Handbook of Material Culture Studies, ed. Dan Hicks and Mary C. Beaudry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. Regrettably, I was only able to review prepublication excerpts of Maia Kotrosits’s then forthcoming book on this topic before submitting this essay: The Lives of Objects: Material Culture, Experience, and the Real in the History of Early Christianity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ).
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address traditional categories of material culture like art, architecture, and everyday objects, but also include others like landscape and geography, urbanism, textual production, consumption and exchange, affect and power, and practice.
Christian Fascination with Objects and Places The Christian fascination with Christian objects and places might have coemerged with the movement itself, but the pious Christian focus on materiality reached a certain prominence and visibility with the journeys of Helena, the mother of Constantine, in the fourth century. Helena’s travels to Jerusalem and other “holy land” sites concretized a Christian concern with the “stuff” of the Christian tradition (like her encounter with the “true cross”) and a sacred geography associated with it. The preoccupations with geography and objects burgeoned with the relics trade in late antiquity and pilgrimage of various kinds in several periods, and remains an important part of Christian devotional tradition today – an instance of the influence of a tributary still being visible at the mouth of a river hundreds or thousands of miles later. In the academic study of early Christianity, this has manifested in a steady appetite for archaeology and its spoils; the realia uncovered by digs are breathlessly reported in conference papers and articles, and introductory textbooks are peppered with images of objects like mosaics from synagogue floors, models of Roman-style homes, and catacomb paintings. This is the most obvious layer of material culture: objects like art, architecture, and everyday things that have found their way under the trowels of archaeologists. This is certainly an extremely important kind of evidence for the emergence of Christian material culture (as we will see in further detail below), but by no means is it the only evidence.
Landscape and Geography Keeping our view trained on Helena and her heirs, we can see the place of geography and landscape. This too is material. Sacred space is no less a Andrew S. Jacobs notes the ways that Helena’s travels and those of others like her served to crystallize Christian self-conception over and against Jews and Judaism, and the ways that this new Christian concern with materiality, space, and place was substantially an imperial concern; see Jacobs, Remains of the Jews: The Holy Land and Christian Empire in Late Antiquity (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, ), –.
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contributor to the Christian imagination and self-understanding than Christology or eschatology; it is a part of the watershed that drains into the tradition. Already in the Acts of the Apostles, the writings of Paul, and other apocryphal Acts texts, we can see Jesus-followers asking how geography relates to their religious lives, as the movement pushes westward and works to insinuate itself into spaces dominated by other religious ideologies and sensibilities. In this way, Christianity emerges materially into the courtrooms of Roman officials, the streets of Ephesus, and debates about circumcision (an intensely embodied practice, even as it is often treated as a discursive realm) as it moves outward from its beginnings. Both by looking forward and outward, as in these texts, and by looking backward to the spaces of its origins, as in the travels of Helena and others like her and the spatial imaginaries that were presupposed and produced by them, the Christian tradition gathers tributaries from the materialities of space and place, leaving traces of embodied and lived experience from a time before many objects belonging to the movement have been preserved.
Urbanism Similarly, there is something worth noticing about early Christianity’s predilection for urban spaces. Recent decades have seen an increased interest in the urban character of the Jesus movement, noticing that Christianity flourished in the large cities that ringed the Mediterranean and was less successful in rural areas in the period of its origins. This perspective has not gone
Peter-Ben Smit, “Negotiating a new world view in Acts .? A note on the expression ἕως ἐσχάτου τῆς γῆς,” New Testament Studies (), –; also Eric D. Barreto, “A gospel on the move: Practice, proclamation, and place in Luke-Acts,” Interpretation (), –. On Paul’s journeys, see Jill Hicks-Keeton, “Putting Paul in his place: Diverse diasporas and sideways spaces in Hellenistic Judaism,” Journal of the Jesus Movement in Its Jewish Setting (), –. Much of this work has flowed from the writings of Wayne Meeks, and responses to it: Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, ); Meeks, In Search of the Early Christians: Selected Essays (New Haven: Yale University Press, ); L. Michael White, O. Larry Yarbrough (eds.) The Social World of the First Christians: Essays in Honor of Wayne A. Meeks (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ); G. P. Brogiolo and Bryan Ward-Perkins (eds.) The Idea and Ideal of the Town Between Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Leiden: Brill, ); Neil J. Christie and Simon T. Loseby (eds.) Towns in Transition: Urban Evolution in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Aldershot: Ashgate, ); and Kim Bowes, “Early Christian archaeology: A state of the field,” Religion Compass (), –. Using insights from Peter Lampe and others into the nature of urban Christianity, Robert Jewett thought carefully about how the urban environment in Rome influences our
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unchallenged, however, as Thomas A. Robinson has recently noted deficiencies and limitations in the so-called urban thesis. Regional variation accounts for some of this difference; in North Africa, Christianity flourished in rural areas in ways that it does not seem to have done in Asia Minor, Greece, and Italy. This is more than a demographic curiosity; it speaks to the ways Christianity was constituted materially and as a network of and among other networks. Communities of Jesus-followers sprang up in cities among displaced populations – those who had been enslaved, those who had emigrated seeking opportunity, and those who had been swept up by the economies of the Roman empire. This hyperlocal and translocal dichotomy, in which small communities of Jesus-followers coalesced in urban environments among people who had themselves been displaced and then connected and interacted with one another at a distance, had a profound influence on the development of the tradition. Rhetorics of fictive kinship might proliferate in early Christianity precisely because other forms of kinship had been eroded or severed by the realities of life in large cities. Architecturally and spatially, Christian gathering and worship was profoundly constrained and shaped by
understanding of Christianity there and the role and impact of Paul’s letter there; see Peter Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries, trans. Michael Steinhauser (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ); Robert Jewett, Romans: A Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –. Increasing attention is devoted to the ways urban environments functioned as spaces of Christian encounter with imperial signifiers; see Laura Salah Nasrallah, Christian Responses to Roman Art and Architecture: The Second-Century Church amid the Spaces of Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); J. B. Ward-Perkins, Roman Imperial Architecture (London: Penguin, ). Bruce Longenecker has spent considerable effort understanding the economics of urban Christianity; see Longenecker, Remember the Poor: Paul, Poverty and the Greco-Roman World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Thomas A. Robinson, Who Were the First Christians? Dismantling the Urban Thesis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Among other important works on this subject, see Leslie Dossey, Peasant and Empire in Christian North Africa (Berkeley: University of California Press, ); and David Wilhite, Ancient African Christianity (London: Routledge, ). Harry O. Maier provides an overview of these kinds of networks and their intersections; see Maier, New Testament Christianity in the Roman World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. The study of enslaved persons in early Christianity indirectly but substantially contributes to our understanding of how Christianity’s urban nature influenced its material and embodied existences; see Katherine A. Shaner, Enslaved Leadership in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); and Jennifer Glancy, Slavery in Early Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, ). William Tabbernee considers material contexts of Christianity in locally specific ways that nevertheless speak to the ways the tradition functions translocally; see Tabbernee (ed.) Early Christianity in Contexts: An Exploration Across Cultures and Continents (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ).
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the kinds of spaces available in urban landscapes. “House” churches were likely often “apartment” churches or else gatherings in semipublic spaces, and not the cloistered, private enclaves of popular imagination, in which churches could meet in privacy away from the curiosity of neighbors. Christians lived cheek by jowl with everyone else in ancient cities, and their practices and material cultures were implicated and embedded in urban landscapes as much as those of any other group. In thinking of the material existences, lives, and cultures of early Christianity, we see constant emergences from, into, and across urban contexts; the economics and social realities and physical conditions of cities were foundational to the origins of Christianity. Even before there are objects and buildings remaining from the Christian tradition, in the first two centuries of the movement’s history, the texts of Christianity tell us how profoundly its material culture was predicated on and mediated through urban landscapes.
Textual Production, Consumption, and Exchange The texts of Christianity also tell us a great deal beyond what their words convey. Scholars of Christian origins pore over biblical and other texts for their content, but the material objects of biblical texts might be, to quote Larry Hurtado’s title, “the earliest Christian artifacts.” By treating early Christian texts as canon and scripture, we can miss that they are also objects arising out of complex webs of production, consumption, and exchange, and that the scraps of papyrus and vellum codices that attest to biblical texts are also some of our earliest exemplars of Christian material culture. Recent attention to early Christian book culture and modes of book production and reproduction has revealed the ways that books were products of complex processes of collaboration, mimesis, and trade within networks, and how those books were economic products that consumed resources and labor.
Bowes advances the idea that the house church in Dura Europos might not have been an exemplar of a genre of buildings, or a forerunner, but an unusual exception to the usual architectures of Christian meetings; see Bowes, “Early Christian archaeology.” The correspondence between Pliny and Trajan suggests that Christian practices were not invisible to neighbors and officials, and that engagement in these practices had material and embodied consequences; see Pliny, Ep. Tra. .. Larry Hurtado, The Earliest Christian Artifacts: Manuscripts and Christian Origins (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). See also Harry Y. Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church: A History of Early Christian Texts (New Haven: Yale University Press, ); Anthony Grafton and Megan Williams,
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A well-known letter (itself preserved on papyrus and excavated from Oxyrhynchus) from one sister to another requests the lending of a text. This short letter attests to a culture and practice of sharing books among Christians, and it underscores those books’ materiality. They are things that can be lent and borrowed, tokens of relational capital and pietistic significance. Sites like Oxyrhynchus show that early Christian book production was sometimes a professional matter, and at other times it was an amateur pursuit, with books (and abstracted sections of books lifted out for use in amulets and other “magical” purposes) copied in both trained and conspicuously untrained hands. Distinctive features of Christian books include nomina sacra, staurograms, and the use of the codex. Nomina sacra imply a culture of book production with quasi-abbreviations traveling within the “bookish” circles of lending and copying that permeated early Christianity and appearing in manuscripts across diverse geographies. Staurograms likewise proliferated within Christian texts and seldom or never elsewhere; these monograms (or “Christograms” in Hurtado’s usage) superimpose Greek letters to create a likeness of a cross or a person on a cross. Staurograms might be among the earliest depictions of cross imagery in the Christian tradition, stretching backward the Christian depiction of crosses and crucifixion to the late second or early third centuries. Finally, the use of the codex is a signal that the production and consumption of books occurred within networks that reproduced material forms as much as discourse and ideas. Christian books seem to have been distinctively Christian, constituting their own kind of material culture that flourished in the movement’s first several centuries.
Christianity and the Transformation of the Book: Origen, Eusebius, and the Library of Caesarea (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ); and Brent Nongbri, God’s Library: The Archaeology of the Earliest Christian Manuscripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Lincoln H. Blumell, Lettered Christians: Christians, Letters, and Late Antique Oxyrhynchus (Leiden: Brill, ), . For more on this letter and similar letters, covering a range of manuscripts and texts, see AnneMarie Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord: Early Christians and the Oxyrhynchus Papyri (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Theological Studies, ). Kim Haines-Eitzen, “Imagining the Alexandrian Library and a ‘bookish’ Christianity,” in Reading New Testament Papyri in Context, ed. Claire Clivaz and Jean Zumstein (Leuven: Peeters, ), –. Hurtado, The Earliest Christian Artifacts, –. Hurtado, The Earliest Christian Artifacts, –. See, however, Bruce Longenecker’s argument that crosses appear as indicators of Christian identity before the Constantinian period (Longenecker, The Cross Before Constantine: The Early Life of a Christian Symbol [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ]).
The Emergence(s) of Christian Material Culture(s)
Affect, Domination, and Power Before considering the extant evidence and evaluating what it can tell us about the emergence of a distinctive Christian material culture, I want to draw attention to a final set of categories of materiality: affect, power, and practice. These are the least concrete of the categories, but they might be the most important, and are probably the most enduring. The advent of empire studies and postcolonial analysis and the influence of affect studies in the study of early Christianity have revealed how much the traditions, texts, and lives of early Jesus-followers were conditioned by systemic power. Empire studies has settled into the mainstream of biblical scholarship, often being leveraged to uncover structures of power and resistance within biblical texts. The use of postcolonial discourse within the study of early Christianity is still understood (wrongly, in my analysis) as the domain of “situated” or otherwise marginal readings of text and tradition. This close examination of both ancient and
Examples are too many to list here, but see Neil Elliott, The Arrogance of Nations: Reading Romans in the Shadow of Empire (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ); Richard A. Horsley (ed.) Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ); Elaine Pagels, Revelations: Visions, Prophecy, and Politics in the Book of Revelation (New York: Viking, ); Jaś Elsner, Imperial Rome and Christian Triumph (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); and Laura Nasrallah and Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (eds.) Prejudice and Christian Beginnings: Investigating Race, Gender, and Ethnicity in Early Christian Studies (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Many pieces from this last volume are extremely helpful, especially Sze-Kar Wan, “To the Jew first and also to the Greek: Reading Romans as ethnic construction,” –. Postcolonial theory most frequently makes its way into the study of early Christianity as a lens through which modern readers understand the use (and misuse) of biblical texts in colonial and postcolonial relationships. However, the close study of modern European colonialism has also led to insights into the ways ancient Roman structures of control and domination mirrored or prefigured later European ones. Classic texts in this field include works authored (and edited) by Sugirtharajah, Dube, Segovia, and Liew, but the literature is growing quickly. See R. S. Sugirtharajah (ed.) Voices from the Margin: Interpreting the Bible in the Third World (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, ); Clark Hopkins, The Discovery of Dura-Europos (New Haven: Yale University Press, ); Sugirtharajah (ed.) The Postcolonial Bible (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, ); Sugirtharajah (ed.) The Bible and the Third World: Precolonial, Colonial, and Postcolonial Encounters (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); Musa W. Dube, Postcolonial Feminist Interpretation of the Bible (St. Louis: Chalice, ); Stephen D. Moore and Fernando F. Segovia (eds.) Postcolonial Biblical Criticism: Interdisciplinary Intersections (London: T&T Clark, ); Franciso Lozada Jr. and Fernando F. Segovia (eds.) Latino/a Biblical Hermeneutics: Problematics, Objectives, Strategies (Atlanta: SBL Press, ); Randall C. Bailey, Tat-Siong Benny Liew, and Fernando F. Segovia (eds.) They Were All Together in One Place: Toward Minority Biblical Criticism (Atlanta: SBL Press, ); Musa W. Dube and Jeffrey Lloyd Staley (eds.) John and Postcolonialism: Travel, Space and Power (London: Sheffield Academic Press, ); and Roland Boer and Fernando F. Segovia (eds.) The Future of the Biblical Past: Envisioning Biblical Studies on a Global Key (Atlanta: SBL Press, ).
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modern empire is augmented by affect theory, which in recent years has begun to inflect scholars’ accounts of power and domination with the lived experiences of persons. The cumulative effect of these still emerging ways of reading early Christian texts and traditions is to bring into relief the contours and structures of power within and around early Christianity. Imperial domination, long known as part of the background of the New Testament, is newly recognizable in the foreground, as a member of the same genus of political life as modern imperialisms. The implications are profound for modern reception of the Bible and its associated traditions, but this work also provides insight into the ways Christianity and its cultures (material and otherwise) emerged into the Roman world. There is little we can say about earliest Christian life, and especially earliest Christian materiality, that is not “beset with the losses of the nation,” in the words of Kotrosits, or backlit by the flames of the Jewish War, to paraphrase Paula Fredriksen. The exertions of power and control by the Roman empire are like canyon walls hemming in the flow of a tributary, forcing it to intensify and rise. Though the water will have smoothed out farther down the river, it still carries the sediment and silt broken loose by the erosion from the turbulence upstream. Life under imperial and colonizing domination profoundly shaped earliest Christianity, and its material expressions always arose out of the conditions of its subjugation.
Practice A final category, practice, returns to some of the claims made earlier in this chapter. Although it has often been contemplated as a discursive realm or a collection of texts, early Christianity was always practiced. While embodied experience has not usually been thought of in the broader study of “material culture,” it is as material as any artifact. Already in the earliest writings of the New Testament, questions of practice dominate. Questions of practice do not inform the theologies of the early Jesus tradition, they constitute them, and
Robinson, Who Were the First Christians?; Denise Kimber Buell, “God’s own people: Specters of race, ethnicity, and gender in early Christian studies,” in Prejudice and Christian Beginnings: Investigating Race, Gender, and Ethnicity in Early Christian Studies, ed. Laura Nasrallah and Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –. Kotrosits, Rethinking Early Christian Identity, ; Paula Fredriksen, When Christians Were Jews: The First Generation (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), .
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they undergird them as preconditions for any other kind of reflection on belonging or identity. The Christian tradition was practiced before it was credal. I want to draw attention to the durability of practice as a way of framing the sections on evidence and chronology that follow, and as a reiteration of my earlier claim that the Christian tradition was material from its beginning. While we have tended to think of material culture as something that emerged into or out of an already ongoing theological or discursive tradition, that perspective is an artifact of our available evidence. Jesus devotion was always already practiced, always already material, and always already tangible, whether or not we possess evidence of those things in the form of extant objects. The essential practicedness and livedness of early Christianity is the context for any consideration of particular things that have come into scholars’ hands today.
From River to Watershed With an expansive and inclusive view of material culture, we can begin to sort through the evidence that bears witness to the emergence(s) of Christian material culture(s). We find that the river that ultimately becomes Christian material culture is fed by many tributaries, and can be difficult to discern when a particular flow becomes part of or contributes to the greater river. Conversely, it takes care to trace the river back to all of its headwaters, when some of them are hidden from us, their output subsumed into the larger tradition. Working backward from the whole to the parts, or from the river to its watershed, I will attempt to account for the ways the waters of Christian material culture gathered and combined.
The Fourth Century The period of Constantine is a crucial moment. It is common in scholarship to consider Christian material culture along pre-Constantinian Dating to the first and third centuries respectively, the Didache and the Didascalia Apostolorum are centered on questions of practice. Andrew McGowan overviews Christian worship in material, practical, and theological perspectives; see McGowan, Ancient Christian Worship: Early Church Practices in Social, Historical, and Theological Perspective (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ).
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and post-Constantinian lines. The period of Constantine’s rule and its aftermath are widely acknowledged as the moment at which the Christian tradition emerges into view, substantially formed and complete. At that point the Christian tradition possesses relatively mature symbols and iconography. Imperial attention to architecture (the building of basilicas under imperial patronage) and sacred objects (the fifty books commissioned by Constantine, reported by Eusebius) show the influence of imperial patronage on the creation and durability of material culture. There are enough buildings, baptisteries, decorated catacombs, and objects like gold glasses, lamps, amulets, sarcophagi, crosses, jewelry, and other realia from this period that we can confidently identify the period of Constantine and his successors as a time by which a discrete and identifiable Christian material culture had become visible. By this time Helena and others like her were helping to conceptualize Christian sacred geography through their travels, and the Christianization of Mediterranean space was well underway. The fourth century is where the tradition founded by followers of Jesus three centuries earlier becomes fully visible and embodied in an extant material culture.
The Third Century Moving upstream into the third century we find strong evidence of emerging Christian material cultures. Complex and distinctive symbols and visual This divide is often evident even at first glance at a work’s title, where references to preConstantinian materials signify “early” Christianity and references to post-Constantinian materials suggest a view of the mature tradition. For example, see Snyder, Ante Pacem; and Longenecker, The Cross Before Constantine. Richard Krautheimer, “The Constantinian basilica,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers (), –. Eusebius narrates this period with elation: Hist. eccl. .. Gregory Allan Robbins, “‘Fifty copies of the sacred writings’ (VC :): Entire Bibles or Gospel books?” Studia Patristica (), –. A marvelous pictorial compendium of North African baptisteries, along with analysis of them, is available in J. Patout Burns Jr. and Robin M. Jensen, Christianity in Roman Africa: The Development of Its Practices and Beliefs (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –, associated images. Everett Ferguson has produced a comprehensive overview of baptismal practice; see Ferguson, Baptism in the Early Church: History, Theology, and Liturgy in the First Five Centuries (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). On the pitfalls of linking iconography with identity, see Jaś Elsner, “Archaeologies and agendas: Reflections on late ancient Jewish art and early Christian art,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –; and Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, The Iconography of the Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus: Neofitus iit ad Deum (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). See the cautions of Ross S. Kraemer on connecting religious identity to material objects: “Jewish tuna and Christian fish: Identifying religious affiliation in epigraphic sources,” Harvard Theological Review (), –.
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narratives were in use in Christian spaces in this period, representing a maturing symbolic world expressed in art and architecture. In places like the catacombs of Rome and the house church in Dura Europos, symbols (like the orante, the shepherd, anchors, and bread and fish) and narrative depictions (like the Jonah cycle, Daniel in the lions’ den, Susanna and the elders, the men in the furnace, the raising of Lazarus, the miracle at Cana, and Noah in the ark) portray a coalescing Christian visual culture. Curiously, many of these symbols and narratives do not cross the Constantinian divide; their usage diminishes and disappears as the Christian-imperial iconography of the fourth and fifth centuries takes hold. This shift is abrupt, with many of the pre-Constantinian motifs disappearing and being replaced with new iconography within the space of a generation or two, and it suggests that even as we trace Christian art and other material to its source, there are disjunctions in the tradition that are difficult to explain or navigate. The production and claiming of Christian space followed a similar trajectory. The church at Dura Europos is the oldest extant identifiable building that was purposed for Christian use, dating no later than with the destruction of the city. Also in the third century, the catacombs of Rome have been understood as evidence of dedicated, identifiable Christian space before the advent of Christian architecture, though recent years have seen challenges to that view. Notably, Nicola Denzey Lewis has challenged the characterization of Christian catacombs as “Christian,” asking whether and how our evidence allows us to make such confident identifications. This
Snyder, Ante Pacem, –; Robin Jensen, Understanding Early Christian Art (New York: Routledge, ). This view is complicated by the arguments of Felicity Harley-McGowan and Bruce Longenecker, who argue that the Alexamenos inscription found on the Palatine hill (probably dating to the third century) is evidence that outsiders associated Christians with the cross. See Felicity Harley-McGowan, “The Constanza Carnelian and the development of crucifixion iconography in late antiquity,” in Gems of Heaven: Recent Research on Engraved Gemstones in Late Antiquity c. –, ed. Chris Entwistle and Noël Adams (London: British Museum Press, ), –, esp. –; and Longenecker, The Cross Before Constantine, –. Michael Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church: Bible, Art, and Ritual at Dura-Europos, Syria (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). See also Hopkins, The Discovery of Dura-Europos; Kurt Weitzmann and Herbert Kessler, The Frescoes of the Dura Synagogue and Christian Art (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, ); and Snyder, Ante Pacem, –. Nicola Denzey Lewis, “Reinterpreting ‘pagans’ and ‘Christians’ from Rome’s late antique mortuary evidence,” in Pagans and Christians in Late Antique Rome: Conflict, Competition, and Coexistence in the Fourth Century, ed. Michele Renee Salzman, Marianne Sághy, and Rita Lizzi Testa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. The degree to which the socalled “Christian” catacombs can be thought of as “Christian” is the subject of debate, and is implicated in the larger debate around identity, belonging, and Christian distinctiveness. See
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perspective is aligned with the work of other scholars who ask about the basis for speaking confidently about something like identity in antiquity, particularly when our categories do not correspond with those used in the ancient world. Alongside the third-century emergences of art and architecture, Christian material culture also produced books and other texts with distinctive features, and a vibrant lived experience that was constrained and conditioned by its place within geographies and polities. Hurtado’s claim that “the foremost value of manuscripts is that they convey texts” is true, but it is also true that those manuscripts bear witness to networks and systems of tradents and producers that made the conveyance possible. The dating of early Christian manuscripts is notoriously difficult, and it often relies on subjective judgments like handwriting analysis. Every so often controversy will erupt over claims of an especially early date for a manuscript, most recently with claims of a “first-century Mark” text that ignited both scholarly recriminations and legal proceedings. Most commonly, scholars give dates in the second and third centuries for the earliest extant fragments of Christians scriptures, and the fourth century for the larger and more complete collections of texts in codices like Codex Vaticanus and Codex Sinaiticus. But these dates are subject to wide differences between the estimates of different scholars, and it is difficult to know for certain when a particular manuscript was produced. It does seem likely that the production of Christian books began to flourish in
Éric Rebillard, The Care of the Dead in Late Antiquity, trans. Elizabeth Trapnell Rawlings (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ), –; and Nicola Denzey, The Bone Gatherers: The Lost Worlds of Early Christian Women (Boston: Beacon, ). The work of Maia Kotrosits, Todd Berzon, David Brakke, Daniel Boyarin, Denise Kimber Buell, and others has demonstrated the failures of the identities we assign to ancient persons. The same failures pertain to spaces like catacombs, which resist and defy attempts to label them simply as “Christian” or “pagan” or “Jewish.” See Kotrosits, Rethinking Early Christian Identity; Todd S. Berzon, Classifying Christians: Ethnography, Heresiology, and the Limits of Knowledge in Late Antiquity (Oakland: University of California Press, ); David Brakke, The Gnostics: Myth, Ritual, and Diversity in Early Christianity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ); Daniel Boyarin, Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ); and Denise Kimber Buell, Why This New Race: Ethnic Reasoning in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Hurtado, The Earliest Christian Artifacts, . Nongbri encourages epistemological humility in the dating of manuscripts; see Nongbri, God’s Library, –. Ariel Sabar, “A biblical mystery at Oxford,” The Atlantic, June , www.theatlantic.com/ magazine/archive///museum-of-the-bible-obbink-gospel-of-mark//. Hurtado (The Earliest Christian Artifacts, –) collects witnesses to the texts of the New Testament dated to the second and third centuries in nn. –.
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the second century, as both material remains from that period and literary references to books and book production attest. Distinctive practices like the nomina sacra and the use of the staurogram point to a vibrant Christian book culture, which is itself a material culture as well as a literary one. Books were sometimes implicated in another aspect of third-century Christian material culture: life under imperial domination. In his Ecclesiastical History, Eusebius includes the destruction of scriptures as part of the persecution of the church, and books are highlighted in other tales of persecution. Though empire-wide persecution was not a matter of continuous policy within the Roman empire, as it has sometimes appeared in the Christian imagination, local and temporary persecutions (instigated by both state powers and mobs) were common enough to the experiences of Jesus-followers. The crescendo of this violence came in the mid- to late third century, when the Decian and Diocletianic persecutions impacted Christians across the empire. Persecution and the experience of state power thus appear as one of the steadiest and most identifiable tributaries to Christian material culture, shaping other material aspects of the tradition in profound ways from its origins in Roman-occupied Palestine to the martyrdom narratives of the late third century. The collection of symbols and narratives depicted in the Christian art of the third century exposes these anxieties, with stories about persecution, peril, and deliverance dominating the repertoire. The material culture of third-century Christianity within the Roman empire reflected a people with few certain places and deep
Papias in the first or second century already spoke of books as a potential source of Christian knowledge, as noted in Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..– (quoted in Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church, ). The exchange between sisters, cited above, reflects an ongoing book culture. Eusebius’s scriptorium is evidence not only of the vigorous production of books in his own time, but also that of his past; see Grafton and Williams, Christianity and the Transformation of the Book, –. John S. Kloppenborg, “Literate media in early Christ groups: The creation of a Christian book culture,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –. Hist. eccl. .; Timothy David Barnes, Early Christian Hagiography and Roman History (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –; and Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church, . Candida R. Moss, The Myth of Persecution: How Early Christians Invented a Story of Martyrdom (San Francisco: HarperOne, ); Moss, Ancient Christian Martyrdom: Diverse Practices, Theologies, and Traditions (New Haven: Yale University Press, ); and Moss, The Other Christs: Imitating Jesus in Ancient Christian Ideologies of Martyrdom (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Judith Perkins contemplates the role of suffering in the formation of Christian identity; see Perkins, The Suffering Self: Pain and Narrative Representation in the Early Christian Era (New York: Routledge, ).
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experiences of marginalization, but who were also beginning to assert themselves materially in a way that is visible in the archaeological record.
The Second Century and First Century As we follow the tributaries back in time, we begin to encounter real difficulty in identifying remains of Christian material culture in the second century, and in the first century the tradition is invisible in the archaeological record. While there are some manuscripts and some early parts of the catacombs of Rome that might be dated to the late second century, there are few other material remains of the tradition dating from that period, and none from the first century. Two main options may explain this absence. First, it is possible that Christians did not produce identifiable material culture before the late second century – that the material lives of Christians before this time were indistinguishable from any others, and that while objects and images and buildings owned and used by Christians do persist from this time, we simply have no way to identify them. In this case, Christianity is mostly invisible in the archaeological record until the third century, when Christians began to produce distinctively Christian things. Second, it is possible that Christians were scarce enough in the second century and earlier that evidence of their material culture simply has not survived. In this case, Christians possessed and produced a distinctive material culture from the beginning, but their small numbers and the vagaries of survival of material remains (including the destruction of some Christian buildings, objects, and texts during the Diocletianic persecution) has meant that they remain invisible. I prefer the second option, because it helps
Nestle-Aland (th ed.) places P “ca. ,” P, P, P, in the second century (with P often cited as the earliest biblical manuscript fragment), and P and uncial as possibly in the second century. The writings of Hippolytus suggest that a “cemetery” that is likely the site known today as the Callistus Catacomb was administered by its namesake in the very early third century, which implies that the site was already in use in the late second century, “presumably by Christians,” although, as Snyder puts it, “there is nothing to indicate that” in the archaeological record (Snyder, Ante Pacem, ). This vagueness is precisely what some scholars object to, such as Rebillard (The Care of the Dead) and Lewis (“Reinterpreting ‘pagans’ and ‘Christians’”). Snyder (pp. –) cites “almost universal agreement” that the earliest nucleus of the Priscilla Catacomb, known as the Capella Greca, dates to the late second or early third century. Such agreement may have eroded somewhat since Snyder’s last revision in . Here I follow Snyder’s reasoning, Ante Pacem, –.
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account for how Christian texts attest to a robust Christian material culture in the second and first centuries, even as the archaeological record is silent. There is textual evidence of Christian use of non-extant spaces going as far back as the New Testament. Certain texts (Acts :–, Cor. :, Rom. , and Acts :, inter alia) suggest that, as early as the first century, Christian meetings occurred in provisional spaces borrowed from other uses. Many early Christian gatherings must have occurred in spaces like these, but the transition from insula spaces and other borrowed spaces to devoted buildings like the church in Dura Europos remains murky, with little evidence bridging the chronological or architectural gap between the two. As was the case with art and symbols, the imperial Christianity of the fourth century displaced and erased much that had come before, with basilica-style buildings coming into vogue and the more provisional and temporary spaces from the first, second, and third centuries becoming less visible. Likewise, we have no direct physical evidence of the embodied and lived material practices within those spaces, although there is ample textual evidence of the ways Christians occupied them. Snyder enumerates some of this evidence: distinctive meals, particular clothing, alternative legal proceedings, and unusual family and community relationships. The odd practices of Jesus-followers were distinctive enough to draw the attention of Pliny in about , when he wrote to Trajan to inquire about how to handle them (Ep. Tra. .–). Pliny reported that the Christians met together, sang hymns, swore oaths to an ethical code, and shared meals. This comports with evidence from the New Testament and other early Christian writings that points to a well-formed tradition with embodied practices even at an early date. Pliny’s letter also reveals the influence of some of Christian material culture’s most important headwaters, the constant presence of state power and violence that feeds the development of Christianity from Jesus’s presence on a cross until the rise of Constantine, shaping and contributing to the Christian tradition in visible and invisible ways. The invisibility of Christianity in the archaeological record of the first and second centuries might be a function of Christians’ own intentional invisibility in the presence But note also Ramsay MacMullen’s argument that the large buildings produced by imperial patronage could not have been sufficient for housing all Christians, and that therefore a more popular form of Christianity must have flourished in informal spaces and contexts; see MacMullen, The Second Church: Popular Christianity .. – (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Snyder, Ante Pacem, –.
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of empire. This is hardly surprising, given the movement’s origins among Jews who lived in occupied territory and rebelled several times, and who lived in far-flung diasporic networks connected by shared belonging and loss. Christianity emerged among these people and along those networks, always inflected with violence and loss, and often at the margins of the broader cultures. The lacunae in the record are wounds and scars, and the hidden headwaters of Christian material culture are places where the flow ran hidden from sight, underground and in twisting canyons, fleeing from notice.
Conclusion Having followed the material culture backwards through time in detail, it is easier to turn around and follow it back downhill, chasing the trickles into the flood. Followers of Jesus spread and multiplied along the networks of diaspora and trade in large cities, producing distinctive ways of life preserved in texts but not in the archaeological record. They remain invisible to us in many ways, but beginning in the late second century and early third century they emerge into view, occupying increasingly public spaces and using those spaces to tell their stories of peril and deliverance. In the third century they thrived in robust networks of exchange and produced art and books that carried their narratives, even as they came under increasing violence and pressure. In the fourth century they emerge into full view as a client group of Emperor Constantine and his successors, with all the grand material effects produced by that relationship. Because the preponderance of evidence is and always has been textual, scholars have traditionally treated Christianity as a discursive realm devoted to questions of orthodoxy and heresy and only secondarily producing material culture at some late point of maturity. But this was a material and embodied movement from the beginning, even if evidence for its materiality appears only occasionally and incompletely. Christianity was a practice and a materiality that produced and harbored a discourse, not the other way around. Recognizing this to have been the case from the beginning helps us understand the whole that the tradition would become. Even where it empties into the sea, the river is always a collection of rain, and even when the Christian tradition flows from a distance of two thousand years, it nevertheless inherits its earliest and least visible tributaries.
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Select Bibliography Bailey, Randall C., Tat-Siong Benny Liew, and Fernando F. Segovia (eds.) They Were All Together in One Place: Toward Minority Biblical Criticism (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Barnes, Timothy David. Early Christian Hagiography and Roman History (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Barreto, Eric D. “A gospel on the move: Practice, proclamation, and place in Luke-Acts,” Interpretation (), –. Berzon, Todd S. Classifying Christians: Ethnography, Heresiology, and the Limits of Knowledge in Late Antiquity (Oakland: University of California Press, ). Blumell, Lincoln H. Lettered Christians: Christians, Letters, and Late Antique Oxyrhynchus (Leiden: Brill, ). Boer, Roland, and Fernando F. Segovia (eds.) The Future of the Biblical Past: Envisioning Biblical Studies on a Global Key (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Bowes, Kim. “Early Christian archaeology: A state of the field,” Religion Compass (), –. Boyarin, Daniel. Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ). Brakke, David. The Gnostics: Myth, Ritual, and Diversity in Early Christianity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Brogiolo, G. P. and Bryan Ward-Perkins (eds.) The Idea and Ideal of the Town Between Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Leiden: Brill, ). Buell, Denise Kimber. “God’s own people: Specters of race, ethnicity, and gender in early Christian studies.” Pages – in Prejudice and Christian Beginnings: Investigating Race, Gender, and Ethnicity in Early Christian Studies. Edited by Laura Nasrallah and Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Why This New Race: Ethnic Reasoning in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Burns, J. Patout Jr. and Robin M. Jensen. Christianity in Roman Africa: The Development of Its Practices and Beliefs (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Christie, Neil, and Simon T. Loseby (eds.) Towns in Transition: Urban Evolution in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Aldershot: Ashgate, ). Denzey, Nicola. The Bone Gatherers: The Lost Worlds of Early Christian Women (Boston: Beacon, ). Denzey Lewis, Nicola. “Reinterpreting ‘pagans’ and ‘Christians’ from Rome’s late antique mortuary evidence.” Pages – in Pagans and Christians in Late Antique Rome: Conflict, Competition, and Coexistence in the Fourth Century. Edited by Michele Renee Salzman, Marianne Sághy, and Rita Lizzi Testa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Dossey, Leslie. Peasant and Empire in Christian North Africa (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Drake, Susanna. Slandering the Jew: Sexuality and Difference in Early Christian Texts (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ). Dube, Musa W. Postcolonial Feminist Interpretation of the Bible (St. Louis: Chalice, ).
. Dube, Musa W. and Jeffrey Lloyd Staley (eds.) John and Postcolonialism: Travel, Space and Power (London: Sheffield Academic Press, ). Ehrman, Bart D. Lost Christianities: The Battle for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Elliott, Neil. The Arrogance of Nations: Reading Romans in the Shadow of Empire (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Elsner, Jaś. “Archaeologies and agendas: Reflections on late ancient Jewish art and early Christian art,” Journal of Roman Studies (), –. Imperial Rome and Christian Triumph (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Ferguson, Everett. Baptism in the Early Church: History, Theology, and Liturgy in the First Five Centuries (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Forger, Deborah. “Interpreting the Syrophoenician woman to construct Jewish–Christian fault lines: Chrysostom and the Ps-Cl homilist in chrono-locational perspective,” Journal of the Jesus Movement in Its Jewish Setting (), –. Fredriksen, Paula. When Christians Were Jews: The First Generation (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Gamble, Harry Y. Books and Readers in the Early Church: A History of Early Christian Texts (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Glancy, Jennifer. Slavery in Early Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, ). González, Justo L. The Story of Christianity: The Early Church to the Dawn of the Reformation, rev. and updated ed. (New York: HarperOne, ). Grafton, Anthony and Megan Williams. Christianity and the Transformation of the Book: Origen, Eusebius, and the Library of Caesarea (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Haines-Eitzen, Kim. “Imagining the Alexandrian Library and a ‘bookish’ Christianity.” Pages – in Reading New Testament Papyri in Context. Edited by Claire Clivaz and Jean Zumstein (Leuven: Peeters, ). Harley-McGowan, Felicity. “The Constanza Carnelian and the development of crucifixion iconography in late antiquity.” Pages – in Gems of Heaven: Recent Research on Engraved Gemstones in Late Antiquity c. ad –. Edited by Chris Entwistle and Noël Adams (London: British Museum Press, ). Hicks, Dan and Mary C. Beaudry. “Introduction. Material culture studies: A reactionary View.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Material Culture Studies. Edited by Dan Hicks and Mary C. Beaudry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Hicks-Keeton, Jill. “Putting Paul in his place: Diverse diasporas and sideways spaces in Hellenistic Judaism,” Journal of the Jesus Movement in Its Jewish Setting (), –. Hopkins, Clark. The Discovery of Dura-Europos (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Horsley, Richard A. (ed.) Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ). Hurtado, Larry. The Earliest Christian Artifacts: Manuscripts and Christian Origins (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Jacobs, Andrew S. Remains of the Jews: The Holy Land and Christian Empire in Late Antiquity (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, ).
The Emergence(s) of Christian Material Culture(s) Jensen, Robin. Understanding Early Christian Art (New York: Routledge, ). Jewett, Robert. Romans: A Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Kloppenborg, John S. “Literate media in early Christ groups: The creation of a Christian book culture,” Journal of Early Christian Studies (), –. Kotrosits, Maia. The Lives of Objects: Material Culture, Experience, and the Real in the History of Early Christianity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ). Rethinking Early Christian Identity: Affect, Violence, and Belonging (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Kraemer, Ross S. “Jewish tuna and Christian fish: Identifying religious affiliation in epigraphic sources,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. Krautheimer, Richard. “The Constantinian basilica,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers (), –. Lampe, Peter. From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries. Translated by Michael Steinhauser (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Longenecker, Bruce W. The Cross Before Constantine: The Early Life of a Christian Symbol (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Remember the Poor: Paul, Poverty and the Greco-Roman World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Lozada Jr., Franciso and Fernando F. Segovia (eds.) Latino/a Biblical Hermeneutics: Problematics, Objectives, Strategies (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Luijendijk, AnneMarie. Greetings in the Lord: Early Christians and the Oxyrhynchus Papyri (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Theological Studies, ). MacMullen, Ramsay. The Second Church: Popular Christianity a.d. – (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Maier, Harry O. New Testament Christianity in the Roman World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Malbon, Elizabeth Struthers. The Iconography of the Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus: Neofitus iit ad Deum (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Matthews, Shelly. Perfect Martyr: The Stoning of Stephen and the Construction of Christian Identity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). McGowan, Andrew B. Ancient Christian Worship: Early Church Practices in Social, Historical, and Theological Perspective (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). Meeks, Wayne A. The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). In Search of the Early Christians: Selected Essays (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Moore, Stephen D. and Fernando F. Segovia (eds.) Postcolonial Biblical Criticism: Interdisciplinary Intersections (London: T&T Clark, ). Moss, Candida R. Ancient Christian Martyrdom: Diverse Practices, Theologies, and Traditions (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). The Myth of Persecution: How Early Christians Invented a Story of Martyrdom (San Francisco: HarperOne, ). The Other Christs: Imitating Jesus in Ancient Christian Ideologies of Martyrdom (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
. Nasrallah, Laura Salah. Christian Responses to Roman Art and Architecture: The Second-Century Church amid the Spaces of Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Nasrallah, Laura and Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (eds.) Prejudice and Christian Beginnings: Investigating Race, Gender, and Ethnicity in Early Christian Studies (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Nongbri, Brent. God’s Library: The Archaeology of the Earliest Christian Manuscripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Pagels, Elaine. The Gnostic Gospels, st ed. (New York: Random House, ). Revelations: Visions, Prophecy, and Politics in the Book of Revelation (New York: Viking, ). Peppard, Michael. The World’s Oldest Church: Bible, Art, and Ritual at Dura-Europos, Syria (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Perkins, Judith. The Suffering Self: Pain and Narrative Representation in the Early Christian Era (New York: Routledge, ). Rebillard, Éric. The Care of the Dead in Late Antiquity. Translated by Elizabeth Trapnell Rawlings (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ). Robbins, Gregory Allan. “‘Fifty copies of the sacred writings’ (VC :): Entire Bibles or Gospel books?” Studia Patristica (), –. Robinson, Thomas A. Who Were the First Christians? Dismantling the Urban Thesis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Sabar, Ariel. “A biblical mystery at Oxford,” The Atlantic, June . www.theatlantic.com/ magazine/archive///museum-of-the-bible-obbink-gospel-of-mark//. Shaner, Katherine A. Enslaved Leadership in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Smit, Peter-Ben. “Negotiating a new world view in Acts .? A note on the expression ἕως ἐσχάτου τῆς γῆς,” New Testament Studies (), –. Snyder, Graydon. Ante Pacem: Archaeological Evidence of Church Life Before Constantine, nd ed. (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, ). Sugirtharajah, R. S. (ed.) The Bible and the Third World: Precolonial, Colonial, and Postcolonial Encounters (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). (ed.) The Postcolonial Bible (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, ). (ed.) Voices from the Margin: Interpreting the Bible in the Third World (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, ). Tabbernee, William (ed.) Early Christianity in Contexts: An Exploration Across Cultures and Continents (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). Wan, Sze-Kar. “To the Jew first and also to the Greek: Reading Romans as ethnic construction.” Pages – in Prejudice and Christian Beginnings: Investigating Race, Gender, and Ethnicity in Early Christian Studies. Edited by Laura Nasrallah and Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Ward-Perkins, J. B. Roman Imperial Architecture (London: Penguin, ). Weitzmann, Kurt and Herbert Kessler. The Frescoes of the Dura Synagogue and Christian Art (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, ). White, L. Michael and O. Larry Yarbrough (eds.) The Social World of the First Christians: Essays in Honor of Wayne A. Meeks (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Wilhite, David. Ancient African Christianity (London: Routledge, ).
Manuscripts and the Making of the New Testament
The authors of ancient Christian literature all wrote their distinct stories about Jesus, their letters to churches, and other types of literature on manuscripts. Consequently, any serious study of ancient Christianity must take textual transmission into account. Since the New Testament books, in particular, became widely copied and read, the extant textual tradition is rich in comparison with other ancient works (a cause for optimism as to the recovery of the text). Today, no less than , manuscripts ( papyri, majuscules, , minuscules, and , lectionaries) have been assigned a Gregory-Aland number in the official registry of manuscripts maintained by the Institut für neutestamentliche Textforschung (INTF) in Münster.
As David C. Parker has demonstrated, Gospel texts, for example, have been affected by textual transmission from the inception of their literary history (The Living Text of the Gospels [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ]). Thus, the interrelationship between textual criticism and the Synoptic Problem has been presupposed in most Synoptic studies. See Peter Head, “Textual criticism and the Synoptic Problem,” in New Studies in the Synoptic Problem: Oxford Conference . Essays in Honor of Christopher M. Tuckett, ed. Paul Foster, Andrew F. Gregory, John S. Kloppenborg, and Jozef Verheyden (BETL ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –. The difference between the New Testament textual tradition and other ancient works has often been exaggerated, not seldom for apologetic reasons to uphold the reliability of the New Testament text. For a critique of such exaggerations, see James B. Prothro, “Myths about classical literature: Responsibly comparing the New Testament to ancient works,” in Myths and Mistakes in New Testament Textual Criticism, ed. Elijah Hixson and Peter J. Gurry (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press Academic, ), –. In the end, it is not the quantity of extant material but the quality that is crucial for the task of restoring the text. The registry was published as Kurt Aland (ed.) Kurzgefaßte Liste der griechischen Handschriften des Neuen Testaments (ANTF ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ), but the Liste has migrated online, where it is regularly updated, at https://ntvmr.uni-muenster.de/liste. In some cases, the same manuscript has been registered twice for various reasons, often because a manuscript has been divided and different parts are held by several institutions, and therefore some redundant numbers in the list have later been deleted, so that the actual number of individual manuscripts is approximately , (according to personal correspondence with Greg Paulson of the INTF, who currently maintains the Liste). Curiously, minuscule (“Archaic Mark”) was removed
In addition, there are the early translations, in particular in Latin, Syriac, and Coptic, and the citations of Church Fathers to take into account. On the other hand, there are no preserved manuscripts from the first century, and only forty or so that survive from the second and third centuries (the exact number, as we will see, depends on the complicated issue of dating). That era was characterized by a degree of scribal freedom, at least in certain circles, so that the text may have been subject to many changes. In addition, the problem remains regarding how the text should be reconstructed at each point of variation choosing from the rich evidence in Greek manuscripts, early versions, and patristic citations. According to the best estimate, there are some , textual variants in the manuscripts of the New Testament (not counting spelling differences). There are principles and criteria to evaluate readings that are accepted by most text critics today, but, nevertheless, scholars often come to different conclusions when they apply these various criteria. Thus, there are diverse opinions about the history of the New Testament text, the date and quality of the preserved material, as well as the methods used to survey the textual history and to choose between the many variant readings in order to reconstruct the New Testament. In fact, some scholars have even challenged the very legitimacy of reconstructing a single transcendent text separated from the material manifestation in Greek manuscripts, versional or patristic material. In my opinion, however, these different approaches, focusing either on the reconstruction of the text or on the artifacts in all their manifoldness, can and should complement rather than exclude each other.
because it turned out to be a modern forgery, the text of which was copied from a printed edition. Peter J. Gurry, “The number of variants in the Greek New Testament: A proposed estimate,” New Testament Studies (), –. This is well illustrated in Bruce M. Metzger’s widely known A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, nd ed. (New York: United Bible Societies, ), where individual members of the United Bible Societies’ editorial committee sometimes expressed a different opinion on the preferred textual variant than the majority. For an overview of this debate, see Jennifer W. Knust, “In pursuit of a singular text: New Testament textual criticism and the desire for the true original,” Religion Compass (), –. See also Matthew D. C. Larsen, “Accidental publication, unfinished texts and the traditional goals of New Testament textual criticism,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament . (), –; Larsen, Gospels Before the Book (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); and the response by Chris Keith, The Gospel as Manuscript: An Early History of the Jesus Tradition as Material Artifact (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –.
Manuscripts and the Making of the New Testament
The Disputed Goal(s) of New Textual Criticism The traditional goal of New Testament textual criticism is to restore the “original text,” but today most scholars hesitate to use that term, since it has become increasingly problematic. Some instead prefer to talk about the earliest recoverable text, or the “initial text” (“Ausgangstext”), which they seek to reconstruct on the basis of generally accepted criteria as well as new and sophisticated computer-assisted methods, such as the Coherence-Based Genealogical Method (CBGM). The real difference of opinion, however, concerns the nature of the earliest recoverable text and its relationship to the hypothetical autographs – a term that in turn needs further definition. Some scholars think there is virtually a gulf that separates the initial text from the now lost autographs, because of massive textual corruption that took place during the first hundred years of the transmission history, before the time of our oldest extant witnesses, whereas others think it is indeed possible to reconstruct a text that is not far removed from what the authors wrote in the
See Eldon J. Epp, “The multivalence of the term ‘original text’ in New Testament textual criticism,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. For an overview of criteria for evaluating textual variants, see Tommy Wasserman, “Criteria for evaluating readings in New Testament textual criticism,” in The Text of the New Testament in Contemporary Research: Essays on the Status Quaestionis, ed. Bart D. Ehrman and Michael W. Holmes, nd ed. (NTTSD ; Leiden: Brill, ), –, which includes a basic description of the CBGM developed by Gerd Mink of the INTF. For a full introduction to the CBGM, see Tommy Wasserman and Peter Gurry, A New Approach to Textual Criticism: An Introduction to the Coherence-Based Genealogical Method (RBS ; Atlanta: SBL Press; Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, ). For definitions of the “initial text” as opposed to “autograph” and “archetype,” see Gerd Mink, “Problems of a highly contaminated tradition: The New Testament; stemmata of variants as a source of a genealogy for witnesses,” in Studies in Stemmatology II, ed. Pieter van Reenen, August den Hollander, and Margot van Mulken (Philadelphia: Benjamins, ), –, at –. The term “autograph” needs further definition, depending on which book is under consideration, since there might be cases of multiple autographs or various stages of production. In relation to Paul’s letters, for example, the earliest substantial witness, P, is a witness not to the individual writings in isolation but to a collection, reflecting a basic editorial activity that has more or less influenced the extant textual tradition. For this reason, Günther Zuntz, The Text of the Epistles: A Disquisition upon the Corpus Paulinum. The Schweich Lectures of the British Academy, (Oxford: Oxford University Press; London: British Academy, ), –, has argued that the goal of textual criticism in this case is to restore not the text of Paul’s letters as he sent them to various destinations, but the text of a collected edition from c. . See further Ulrich B. Schmid, “Marcion and the textual history of Romans: Editorial activity and early editions of the New Testament,” in Papers Presented at the Sixteenth International Conference on Patristic Studies Held in Oxford , vol. , Biblical Quotations in Patristic Texts, ed. Laurence Mellerin and Hugh A. G. Houghton (Studia Patristica ; Leuven: Peeters, ), –.
first century, because of the tenacity of the tradition, and the superior quality of the kind of text represented by P and Codex Vaticanus – that is, the B-text, or “Alexandrian text.” These different views of the history of the text and its state of preservation are even reflected among the editors of the major edition of the Greek New Testament, Novum Testamentum Graecum: Editio Critica Maior (ECM), an undertaking that in turn affects the text in the dominant editions (the Nestle-Aland and United Bible Societies’ editions of the Greek New Testament).
The “Living Text” and the “Initial Text” In his groundbreaking study The Living Text of the Gospels (), David C. Parker, editor of the ECM of John and cofounder of the Institute for Textual Scholarship and Electronic Editing (ITSEE) in Birmingham (which cooperates with the INTF in Münster to edit the ECM), demonstrated how the Gospel texts have been affected by textual transmission from the very beginning of their literary history. He regards the wealth of textual variation that developed, mainly during the first two centuries in the manuscript tradition of the Gospels, as proof that early Christian users of these writings treated them as “living texts” that could be reworded, expanded, and reduced in various places. Thus, he gives examples from a number of key passages in order to demonstrate the apparent diversity in the early textual tradition. The textual freedom, he suggests, implies that the early church was not concerned to transmit a controlled, authoritative and reliable text. For Parker,
Kurt Aland and Barbara Aland, The Text of the New Testament: An Introduction to the Critical Editions and to the Theory and Practice of Modern Textual Criticism, trans. Erroll F. Rhodes, nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), , refer to the “tenacity” (“Tenazität”) of the New Testament textual tradition, arguing that practically every reading that has ever occurred in the textual tradition is stubbornly preserved; cf. their fuller explanation, “When an alteration was made in the text of the New Testament – however strategically important the text, however extensively it was adopted for theological or pastoral reasons, and even if it became the accepted text of the Church – there always continued to be a stream of the tradition . . . which remained unaffected, and this for purely technical reasons” (). For the status of this debate, see Tommy Wasserman, “Was there an Alexandrian recension of the living text?” in Liturgy and the Living Text: Papers from the Tenth Birmingham Colloquium on the Textual Criticism of the New Testament, ed. H. A. G. Houghton (TS .; Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, ), –. For a brief description of the “Alexandrian text,” see Tommy Wasserman, “Alexandrian text,” Bible Odyssey, www.bibleodyssey.org/places/related-articles/ alexandrian-text. Parker, Living Text. Parker, Living Text, –.
Manuscripts and the Making of the New Testament
then, the goal of textual criticism is “the reconstruction of the development of the text,” with later developments not being regarded as irrelevant but as “significant, since they are interpretations of the text by a user or group of users.” It may seem contradictory that scholars, like Parker, who believe that the original text is out of reach are still occupied with the reconstruction of what the author wrote in a given passage. Naturally, skepticism toward the extant manuscript evidence will increase the weight of internal criteria, including intrinsic evidence relating to what an author likely wrote in a certain passage in light of his overall style and theology. Hence, in Parker’s discussion of the complex passages known as the “Western noninterpolations” (mostly in the last chapters of Luke), he frequently appeals to Lukan style and theology. Does this not presume a Luke that we regard as at least approximating the original Luke? In a recent article, Parker discusses this paradox, asking whether exegetical method (specifically, the appeal to the style and thought of the author) can offer a tool for bridging the gulf between the initial text and the authorial text: It is worth observing that the boundaries are certain to be obscured, since textual critics use judgments on style and thought in comparing readings in order to reconstruct the textual history. But only rarely does such analysis depart beyond the readings known in the extant witnesses.
Thus, it seems to me that, for Parker, the “initial text” is much closer to the archetype of the tradition than to the presumed authorial text, and this,
See David C. Parker, “Textual criticism and theology,” Expository Times (), –, at . In the second edition of Bart Ehrman’s The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture: The Effect of Early Christological Controversies on the Text of the New Testament, nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), he discusses this issue in an afterword (“Recent work on scribal corruptions”), under the heading “A resulting theoretical problem” (–). I had previously brought up this issue in a discussion with Ehrman in as well as in a conference paper, which was published as “The implications of textual criticism for understanding the ‘original text,’” in Mark and Matthew I: Comparative Readings. Understanding the Earliest Gospels in Their First-Century Settings, ed. Eve-Marie Becker and Anders Runesson (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –, at . Wasserman, “Criteria for evaluating readings,” . Parker, Living Text, –. See especially his treatment of Luke :– and :–. David C. Parker, “Is ‘living text’ compatible with ‘initial text’? Editing the Gospel of John,” in The Textual History of the Greek New Testament: Changing Views in Contemporary Research, ed. Klaus Wachtel and Michael W. Holmes (TCSt ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ), –, at .
I believe, is connected to his view of the history of the text and the idea that there was an early second-century textual recension that resulted in the B-text. In a subsequent article in the same edited volume, Holger Strutwolf, director of the INTF and editor of the ECM of Acts as well as the Catholic Letters, expresses a very different view of the status of the “initial text” corresponding to a different view of the textual history. He concludes that “[i]n most cases we are able to produce a valid and stable hypothesis about the original text where there are variant readings in the text of the Greek New Testament.” Thus, the impression is that the editorial team in Münster is far more optimistic in reaching closer to the approximate authors than the team in Birmingham.
A Variant-Conscious Approach to Textual Criticism With the rise of New Philology from the late s there has been an increasing awareness that literary works do not exist independently of their material embodiments (i.e., manuscripts). One of the pioneers of this movement, Bernard Cerquiglini proposed that textual variants should not been seen as deviations from a norm – an ideal text to be printed – that are just to be hidden in a textual apparatus, as if in a prison. Instead, he argued for a shift of focus away from an elusive original text to the actual textual variants as preserved in manuscripts. Cerquiglini’s praise of the textual variant was soon echoed in the field of New Testament textual criticism by Eldon J. Epp, who called for a “variant-conscious” approach that did not isolate the task of establishing an initial text as merely a first step in the exegesis:
Parker, Living Text, : “The first attempt to establish a controlled text of which we know is the early Alexandrian text of P, from about the last decade of the second century.” Holger Strutwolf, “Original text and textual history,” in The Textual History of the Greek New Testament: Changing Views in Contemporary Research, ed. Klaus Wachtel and Michael W. Holmes (TCSt ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ), –, at . Cf. Mink, “Problems of a highly contaminated tradition,” –. The term “New Philology” itself was coined by Stephen Nichols in his article “Introduction: Philology in a manuscript culture,” Speculum (), –, introducing an issue entirely devoted to and entitled “The New Philology.” For a recent survey and various applications of New Philology in the context of late antique Jewish and early Christian literature, see Hugo Lundhaug and Liv Ingeborg Lied (eds.) Snapshots of Evolving Traditions: Jewish and Christian Manuscript Culture, Textual Fluidity, and New Philology (TUGAL ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Bernard Cerquiglini, In Praise of the Variant: A Critical History of Philology, trans. Betsy Wing (Parallax: Re-Visions of Culture and Society; Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, ), . French orig. Éloge de la variante: Histoire critique de la philologie (Paris: Seuil, ).
Manuscripts and the Making of the New Testament
When that goal is defined as restoring the original text of the various authors, variants tend to have a binary character – they are either in or out, that is, accepted or rejected . . . At the opposite end of the spectrum, when the goal of textual criticism is to explore the wealth of information about the history and thought of the early churches that is disclosed by variant readings, then all meaningful variants are held in much higher esteem.
Epp himself exemplified this interest in the history of thought and theology, as reflected in the text of a physical manuscript, already in his pioneering study in of the Bezan text of Acts, in which he identified an anti-Judaic tendency. Following in Epp’s footsteps, Bart D. Ehrman has proposed that the textual variants in manuscripts offer “windows” into the social history of early Christianity in various ways. In his own groundbreaking monograph on the “orthodox corruption of Scripture,” he has examined theological tendencies on the part of the scribes, as reflected in textual changes during the Christological controversies of the second and third centuries. However, Ehrman’s work has been criticized from a methodological point of view. For example, Ulrich Schmid objects to his presentation of the scribes
Eldon J. Epp, “It’s all about variants: A variant-conscious approach to New Testament textual criticism,” Harvard Theological Review (), –, at . In my article “Bringing sisters back together (Luke :–),” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –, I discuss a typical case, where François Bovon in his commentary, Luke : A Commentary on the Gospel of Luke :–: (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –, treats the textual problem in Luke :– in an exegetical section where he first rejects the long reading as “an awkward conflation” (undoubtedly influenced by Bruce Metzger and the UBS Committee), but then, in the subsequent section on the history of interpretation, explains how Origen’s interpretation was to have “a long and lasting success” without realizing that Origen had the long reading of the passage that Bovon had rejected in his first section. Thus, for scholars who examine patristic interpretations, a variant-conscious approach promotes attentiveness to which form of the text a certain interpretation presupposes, as far as it can be determined. It goes without saying that the Church Fathers used manuscripts. Eldon J. Epp, The Theological Tendency of Codex Bezae Cantabrigiensis in Acts (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Bart D. Ehrman, “The text as window: New Testament manuscripts and the social history of early Christianity,” in The Text of the New Testament in Contemporary Research: Essays on the Status Quaestionis, ed. Bart D. Ehrman and Michael W. Holmes, nd ed. (NTTSD ; Leiden: Brill, ), –. Bart D. Ehrman, The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture: The Effect of Early Christological Controversies on the Text of the New Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Ehrman assembles an impressive number of examples of “orthodox corruption,” specifically anti-adoptionistic, anti-separationist, anti-docetic, and anti-patripassianist corruptions, respectively. A second edition with an added chapter (otherwise unchanged) appeared in .
as authors intentionally modifying reading x to reading y. Schmid instead proposes “a typology of literary production/reproduction” and urges the critic to clearly distinguish the various stages and roles of the composition and transmission process (authors, editors, scribes, correctors, readers), in order to prevent modern critics from making sweeping statements about the intentions of individual scribes. From this also follows the necessity of distinguishing between how a certain textual variant originated, perhaps by accident, and why it became further disseminated and prevailed in the textual transmission – perhaps because it was more attractive from a particular theological viewpoint. Nevertheless, I think it is still justifiable to discuss possible intentions behind scribal alterations, without necessarily assigning them to an individual scribe and manuscript. Consequently, the lectio difficilior is a useful criterion, as long as it is not used in a mechanical fashion. In order to understand how ancient scribes might have struggled with the text, it is furthermore crucial to attend to a passage’s wider history of interpretation – not least in patristic writings. In this connection, I want to emphasize that a variant-conscious approach to the textual tradition does not have to exclude an interest in the initial text of the New Testament. I regard the resurgence of interest in manuscripts,
See Ulrich B. Schmid, “Scribes and variants – Sociology and typology,” in Textual Variation: Theological and Social Tendencies? ed. H. A. G. Houghton and David C. Parker (TS .; Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, ), –, at –. Ehrman has conceded that he has portrayed the scribes as authors (Orthodox Corruption, nd ed., ). Schmid, “Scribes and variants,” –. For additional critique of Ehrman, see Tommy Wasserman, “Misquoting manuscripts? The orthodox corruption of Scripture revisited,” in The Making of Christianity: Conflicts, Contacts, and Constructions. Essays in Honor of Bengt Holmberg, ed. Magnus Zetterholm and Samuel Byrskog (ConBNT ; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, ), –. Aland and Aland, The Text, –, specifically reject a mechanical application of the rules of the harder reading, the shorter reading, and harmonization; cf. Alfred E. Housman, “The application of thought to textual criticism,” Proceedings of the Classical Association (), –, at : “every problem which presents itself to the textual critic must be regarded as possibly unique.” For a discussion of cases in the Gospels where we know that ancient interpreters struggled with the text, see Tommy Wasserman, “Scribal alterations and the reception of Jesus in early manuscripts of the Gospels,” in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. , ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (Edinburgh: T&T Clark; London: Bloomsbury, ), –. It is of course possible to “choose to privilege texts as they have been preserved in actual manuscripts . . . over the wish to get back to an approximation of earlier text-forms,” as Hugo Lundhaug and Liv Ingeborg Lied suggest, in “Studying snapshots: On manuscript culture, textual fluidity, and New Philology,” in Snapshots of Evolving Traditions: Jewish and Christian Manuscript Culture, Textual Fluidity, and New Philology, ed. Hugo Lundhaug and Liv Ingeborg Lied (TUGAL ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –, at , but I firmly believe that an awareness
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scribes and textual variants as a welcome broadening of the field and believe, based on my own experience, that the different perspectives can be mutually fruitful. In his recent overview of New Testament textual criticism (), Michael W. Holmes suggests that my own work with Jennifer W. Knust, To Cast the First Stone: The Transmission of a Gospel Story, devoted to the pericope adulterae which at some point crept into the Gospel of John, is a primary example of “the gradual shifting of the ethos of the discipline,” but, at the same time, he notes that our book “remains resolutely ‘text-critical’ in perspective.” Thus, Holmes concludes: The “debate” about whether New Testament textual criticism has a single goal or multiple goals – in effect, a conversation between those who tend to lose interest in variants once they prove to be secondary, and those who view the “afterlives” of (at least some) secondary readings as a worthy topic of research – is unlikely to reach a definitive conclusion, largely because it involves a matter of opinion rather than fact. Furthermore, the conversation goes astray to the extent that it frames the debate as an “either-or” question.
The Battle over the New Testament Papyri: Their Dating and Significance At the end of the nineteenth century, when the two Cambridge professors B. F. Westcott and F. J. A. Hort developed their ideas about the textual history of the New Testament in their groundbreaking edition of The New Testament in the Original Greek (), they largely took over a tripartite scheme of textual groupings as developed by J. A. Bengel, and refined by J. S. Semler and J. J. Griesbach in the previous century. These scholars had of the wider textual tradition can also inform the study of individual manuscripts, “in all their idiosyncratic glory” (Lundhaug and Lied, “Studying snapshots,” ). See, for example, my study of “Papyrus and the Bodmer Miscellaneous Codex,” New Testament Studies (), –. It would have been impossible to understand the unique habits of this scribe without reference to the rest of the textual tradition. Michael W. Holmes, “New Testament textual criticism in : A (selective) survey of the status quaestionis,” Early Christianity (), –, at –. In addition, an interest in the initial text does not automatically presuppose a view that it has a superior status and should be considered a norm. Holmes, “New Testament textual criticism,” –. Brooke Foss Westcott and Fenton John Anthony Hort (eds.) The New Testament in the Original Greek, vols. (London: Macmillan, ). For an extensive survey and discussion of the text types, see Eldon J. Epp, “Textual clusters: Their past and future in New Testament textual
connected the groupings, or text types, to geographical locales where the text might have been revised at some point (apart from the normal copying): Alexandrian (derived from Origen), Western (Latin versions and Fathers), and Eastern (used by Antiochian and Constantinopolitan churches). However, Westcott and Hort preferred to label the earliest stage of the Alexandrian text type a “Neutral text,” that is unchanged, which successively became more corrupt and thus labeled “Alexandrian text.” The “Neutral text,” chiefly represented by the fourth-century codices Vaticanus (B ) and Sinaiticus (ℵ ), formed the basis of their new edition. However, new papyrus discoveries from the s and onward caused many scholars to question whether the “Neutral” text really represented a pure line of transmission from the earliest time, as Westcott and Hort had assumed. Some papyri did not align clearly with any of the established text types and, thus, reflected a more diverse and fluid state of transmission than expected. Therefore, Frederic G. Kenyon suggested that the “Neutral text” of Codex Vaticanus must be the product of a scholarly recension that probably took place in Alexandria in the fourth century. With the discovery and publication of P in , the question of an Alexandrian recension came into a new perspective. The first editors, Victor Martin and Rodolphe Kasser, assigned it a date between and based on a paleographic assessment. Subsequent studies of P in Luke by Carlo M. Martini and in John by Calvin L. Porter demonstrated that the text of P was almost identical to the text of Codex Vaticanus. If the datings of P criticism,” in The Text of the New Testament in Contemporary Research: Essays on the Status Quaestionis, ed. Bart D. Ehrman and Michael W. Holmes, nd ed. (NTTSD ; Leiden: Brill, ), –. Frederic G. Kenyon, “Hesychius and the text of the New Testament,” in Mémorial Lagrange, ed. L. H. Vincent (Paris: J. Gabalda, ), –, at . Cf. Kenneth W. Clark, “The effect of recent textual criticism upon New Testament studies,” in The Background of the New Testament and Its Eschatology, ed. W. D. Davies and David Daube (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at ; Zuntz, Text of the Epistles, –; Paul Feine and Johannes Behm, Introduction to the New Testament, ed. Werner G. Kümmel, trans. A. J. Mattill, th ed. (Nashville: Abingdon, ), ; Bruce M. Metzger, The Text of the New Testament: Its Transmission, Corruption and Restoration (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), –. Victor Martin and Rodolphe Kasser, Papyrus Bodmer XIV: Évangile de Luc chap. – (Geneva: Bibliotheca Bodmeriana, ); and Martin and Kasser, Papyrus Bodmer XV: Évangile de Jean chap. – (Geneva: Bibliotheca Bodmeriana, ). Calvin L. Porter, “A textual analysis of the earliest manuscripts of the Gospel of John” (Ph.D. diss., Duke University, ); Porter, “Papyrus Bodmer XV (P) and the text of Codex Vaticanus,” Journal of Biblical Literature . (), –; Carlo M. Martini, Il problema della recensionalità del codice B alla luca del papiro Bodmer XIV (AnBib ; Rome: Biblical Institute Press, ).
Manuscripts and the Making of the New Testament
and Vaticanus were correct, their close relationship demonstrated the stability of the B-text during at least a century and a half in an era of textual transmission that was presumably uncontrolled. Thus, the central question whether this type of text is the result of a recension or of a strict transmission was pushed back into the second century. As Epp explains, “the longstanding conviction of a fourth-century recension of what had been called the B-text was freely given up – no struggle, no strife.” Recently, however, Brent Nongbri has attempted to reopen the case by challenging the accepted dating of P, which he places in the fourth century, and, consequently, suggests that “textual critics of the New Testament may need once again to entertain the idea that the ‘B Text’ is indeed the result of some sort of recensional activity in the fourth century.” Subsequently, he has also redated three other important papyri, P (Luke) and P+ (Matthew), most likely copied by the same scribe, with a text very close to Codex Vaticanus. These papyri have been dated by several (but not all) authorities to around . For example, two acknowledged experts on paleography, Pasquale Orsini and Willy Clarysse, have assigned P++ to the initial phase of the Biblical Majuscule, dating them to – . Nongbri, however, is Eldon J. Epp, “The twentieth-century interlude in New Testament textual criticism,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –, at . Eldon J. Epp, “Decision points in past, present, and future New Testament textual criticism,” in The New Testament and Its Modern Interpreters, ed. Eldon J. Epp and George W. MacRae (Philadelphia: Fortress Press; Atlanta: Scholars Press, ), –, at . Brent Nongbri, “Reconsidering the place of Papyrus Bodmer XIV–XV (P) in the textual criticism of the New Testament,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –, at . Brent Nongbri, God’s Library: The Archaeology of the Earliest Christian Manuscripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), – (the Bodmer papyri including P), – (“Fabricating a second-century codex of the four Gospels [P++]”). In general, Nongbri and others have argued that the range of dates assigned to Christian literary papyri on the basis of paleography in general have been too narrow (God’s Library, –); cf. Don Barker, “The dating of New Testament papyri,” New Testament Studies [], –). Brent Nongbri, God’s Library, –. Pasquale Orsini and Willy Clarysse, “Early New Testament manuscripts and their dates: A critique of theological paleography,” Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses (), –, at . In their case study they state, “P++ is written in a biblical majuscule belonging to the early phase of the canon. The writing angle is still uncertain, so that sometimes no shading is visible. This writing is similar to that of P. Vindob. G (late II–early III; LDAB ), as noted by Skeat, and may be attributed, therefore, to a period between the second and third centuries” (). See also Pasquale Orsini, Manoscritti in maiuscola biblica: Materiali per un aggiornamento (Studi archeol., artistici, fil. e storici; Cassino: Università di Cassino, ), –, where P.Vindob. G is offered as an additional comparison (end of the second century). Orsini further refers to the datable witness P.Ryl. I , with a terminus ante quem of or (because of a dated letter on the reverse side) arguing persuasively that the script of P++ is earlier.
highly suspicious of such a narrow date range and criticizes this particular methodology as a result of an evolutionary construct of a certain style of writing, as if manuscripts could neatly be assigned along a timeline to the rise, peak, and decline of the style in question, in this case the Biblical Majuscule. Instead, Nongbri argues for a broad range from the middle of the second century to the middle of the fourth century. In this connection, he discusses another feature of these papyri, beyond paleography – the presence of textual division by means of ekthesis (letters projecting into the left margin) and paragraphos (a horizontal stroke above the outset characters), also present in P, which Nongbri notes is common in fourth- and fifth-century manuscripts like Sinaiticus (ℵ ), Bezae (D ), and Washingtonianus (W ). Whereas C. H. Roberts, who made the same observation, suggested that the system of division found in P++ could “now be carried back a couple of centuries if our dating of the papyrus [late second century] is correct,” Nongbri draws the opposite conclusion – these features “should, if anything, make us lean toward a rather later date for these fragments, although not much stress can be placed on this kind of argumentation.” At the time when Roberts wrote his article, few other examples of these markers of textual division were known to scholars. Now, however, mainly thanks to the work of Emanuel Tov, we have a slightly larger body of evidence found in early Jewish Greek manuscripts. For example, the Nahal Hever Greek Minor Prophet scroll ( – ) features both paragraphos and ekthesis to mark textual divisions, and so does P.Oxy. ., an Esther scroll from the first or early second century. According to Tov, “no pattern, such as
Nongbri, God’s Library, –. Nongbri, God’s Library, –. Nongbri, God’s Library, . C. H. Roberts, “An early papyrus of the First Gospel,” Harvard Theological Review (), –, at . Nongbri, God’s Library, . C. H. Roberts does discuss this practice, citing a few examples in his later monograph Manuscript, Society and Belief in Early Christian Egypt (London: Oxford University Press, ), –. Emanuel Tov, Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert (Leiden: Brill, ), . The following four manuscripts display both paragraphos and ekthesis (see table in Tov, Scribal Practices, appendix , –): HevXII gr (end of first century ); P.Oxy. . of Esther Add E and ch. (late first or early second century ); P.Chester Beatty V () of Genesis (second half of third century ); P.Oxy. . of Leviticus (fourth century ). Nongbri elsewhere accepts that this manuscript is likely pre-Christian, because of its “early date and the roll format” (God’s Library, n. ).
Manuscripts and the Making of the New Testament
frequent occurrence in a certain type of text or period, is detectable.” In light of this evidence, we should avoid the notion of an evolutionary development of these features in Christian manuscripts. I find it likely that Christian scribes inherited this and other practices from Greek-speaking Jews, and the presence of these features in Christian manuscripts is not necessarily indicative of a late date, say in the fourth century. Whereas I agree with Nongbri that Orsini and Clarysse’s date range of years (–) for P++ is an “unrealistically narrow window,” I think his own proposed range of years is too wide. In my opinion, P++ can be assigned a date in the late second or first half of the third century (– ) on paleographic grounds. Significantly, Robert A. Kraft has challenged the appeal to a number of presumed markers of Christian identity when it comes to LXX/OG papyri, including paragraphos/ekthesis, but most prominently the codex format; the presence of nomina sacra, abbreviations of certain divine names or titles; and the use of Greek language (instead of Hebrew). Kraft argues for the continuity of Jewish and Christian scribal practice, which has bearing even
Tov, Scribal Practices, . Cf. P. J. Parsons’ comment in regard to the Greek Minor Prophets scroll: “the use of enlarged initials at line-beginning (hands A and B) and phrase-beginning (hand A) and (set out in the margin) to mark a new section (hand A) gives this manuscript a documentary look . . . The fact is itself remarkable. Early Christian books show the same characteristic; copies of the Greek classics do not. It has therefore been tempting to argue that the texts of the Early Church stood closer to the world of business than to that of literature, and to draw conclusions about the social milieu in which the texts circulated or the esteem in which they were held. Now we see the same thing in a Jewish manuscript of pre-Christian date. This may suggest that the Christians inherited the practice, rather than inventing it; the problem remains, why Greek-speaking Jews should have adopted it in the first place” (Emanuel Tov [ed.] with the collaboration of R. A. Kraft and P. J. Parsons, The Greek Minor Prophets Scroll from Nahal Hever [HevXIIgr] [DJD ; Oxford: Clarendon Press, ], –). Nongbri, God’s Library, . Robert A. Kraft, “The ‘textual mechanics’ of early Jewish LXX/OG papyri and fragments,” in The Bible as Book: The Transmission of the Greek Text, ed. Scot McKendrick and Orlaith A. O’Sullivan (London: Oak Knoll, ), –; cf. Nongbri, God’s Library, n. : “Texts of the Septuagint present the most difficulties in this regard . . . Given our changing ideas about Jewish and Christian identities, I have some doubts about the traditional ways of distinguishing Jewish and Christian copies of the Septuagint (that is to say, some codices might be Jewish, some rolls might be Christian, the use of nomina sacra might not be strictly Christian after the fourth century).” Jonas Leipziger, “Ancient Jewish Greek practices of reading and their material aspects,” in Material Aspects of Reading in Ancient and Medieval Cultures: Materiality, Presence and Performance, ed. Anna Krauß, Jonas Leipziger, and Friederike Schücking-Jungblut (Materiale Textkulturen ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –, has recently presented more evidence that gives cause to question the codex format and nomina sacra as Christian identity markers. His research confirms Kraft’s position pointing to shared traditions and reading practices in ancient Jewish and early Christian communities in terms of literatures (Greek Bible), and material aspects.
on the origin of the style known as Biblical Majuscule. Thus, he says, concerning P.Oxy . (third century, Gen. ): This is an especially important text for the discussion of Jewish or Christian scribal practice. [C. H.] Roberts sees the evidence as ambiguous, finally concluding that “It is perhaps more likely to be Christian than Jewish” . . . [Kurt] Treu is less sure. If this text is Jewish in origin, it suggests that the “biblical majuscule” style may have come into Christianity from Judaism, and that the use of nomina sacra was no less Jewish than Christian in this early period!
In any case, the “battle over the papyri” will continue, as is evident from the rival assessments of their dates as well as their relative worth for the history of the New Testament text, and the related question whether the B-text reflects an early recension or a line of strict transmission reaching back to the second century and beyond.
A New Approach to Textual Criticism: The Coherence-Based Genealogical Method (CBGM) In , Gerd Mink of the Institute for New Testament Textual Research (INTF) published an essay that described a new method to survey the genealogical structure of the manuscript tradition. Since then, the method, subsequently known as the “Coherence-Based Genealogical Method” (CBGM), has been further developed and described. The method has been adopted by the INTF and the ITSEE in their ongoing work on a major critical edition, the Novum Testamentum Graecum: Editio Critica Maior (ECM). So far, only the Catholic Letters and Acts have been newly edited in the ECM, but work is currently being done on Mark, John, the Pauline Epistles and Revelation. In the years to come, each of these books, along with the remaining books of the New Testament, will be
Kraft, “Textual mechanics,” . Epp, “Decision points,” . Gerd Mink, “Zur Stemmatisierung neutestamentlicher Handschriften,” in Bericht der Hermann Kunst-Stiftung zur Förderung der neutestamentlichen Textforschung für die Jahre – (Münster: Institut für neutestamentliche Textforschung, ), –. For an extensive introduction to the CBGM including an annotated bibliography, see Wasserman and Gurry, A New Approach to Textual Criticism; and Peter Gurry and Tommy Wasserman, “Textual criticism and the Editio Critica Maior of James,” in Reading the Epistle of James: A Resource for Students, ed. Eric F. Mason and Darian R. Lockett (RBS ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ), –.
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completely revised and published in new volumes of the ECM, and these in turn will be used to produce new editions of the Novum Testamentum Graece (Nestle-Aland [NA]) and Greek New Testament (United Bible Societies [UBS]). The implementation of the CBGM has brought a number of changes. Apart from the goal to reconstruct the initial rather than the original text, perhaps the most apparent result of the CBGM is a number of changes to the most popular editions of the Greek New Testament, the NA and UBS editions. In the Catholic Letters, there are a total of thirty-four such changes, and in Acts there are fifty-two changes. Along with the changes to the text, there has also been a slight increase in the ECM editors’ uncertainty about the text, an uncertainty that has been de facto adopted by the editors of NA/ UBS, so far in the Catholic Letters, where these passages are marked with a diamond (♦). This symbol marks places where the ECM editors “formally refrain from any rating” as to which reading is preferred, and in these instances, the text of the primary line is split in the ECM edition. Another change is a significant reevaluation of the Byzantine text, which is given more weight than in the past. The Byzantine manuscripts apparently have early roots, and this has put them in a position, in some cases, to preserve the earliest reading in isolation from the rest of the tradition. A fourth change concerns the text types to which textual critics have referred in order to group and evaluate the manuscripts. If one reads Bruce Metzger’s widely used textual commentary that accompanies the UBS Greek New Testament, the notion of text types is absolutely essential to his explanation of the history of the New Testament text and, with it, to the practice of textual criticism itself. Although few scholars today would still associate these text types with distinct locales, most do still associate them with distinct levels of importance. The Alexandrian (or B-text) is typically
These are listed in the introductions of each edition. It should be noted, however, that textual changes will not automatically be transferred from the ECM to the future NA/UBS editions. The NA/UBS editorial committee will assess the textual changes including the passages marked with a diamond in the ECM and decide independently (as a committee) which text to adopt and which passages to mark as uncertain. Barbara Aland, Kurt Aland, Gerd Mink, Holger Strutwolf, and Klaus Wachtel (eds.) Novum Testamentum Graecum: Editio Critica Maior, vol. ., Catholic Letters: Text, nd ed. (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, ), . This was suggested already by Zuntz, Text of the Epistles, . Metzger, Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament.
considered the most reliable text type, with the “Western” (sometimes the Caesarean), and Byzantine generally following in that order. However, the application of the CBGM has convinced the ECM editors to abandon the concept of text types altogether, replacing them with the relationships and value of individual textual witnesses. Because the computer can keep track of all these witnesses and their place in the transmission, there is no need to group them into a few text types. Moreover, by focusing on individual witnesses, the difficult problem of defining text types and their boundaries is bypassed. The rejection of the concept of text types as a means of understanding the history of the text is significant. What fruit this will bear in the long term remains to be seen. It also remains to be seen whether New Testament scholars more generally will accept the CBGM as a viable replacement for text types. The issues are important and will, no doubt, be debated for some years to come. In addition, the adoption of the CBGM will have consequences for the practical application of external and internal criteria for evaluating readings. In relation to external evidence, I have suggested the following new criterion:
Eldon Epp prefers the term “textual clusters” (“Textual clusters,” ). The editors still recognize the Byzantine text as a distinct text form in its own right, but they want to avoid the term “text type” to describe the Byzantine text because it brings with it the notion of a textual revision (or “recension”), a notion that persists in spite of the attempt to redefine text types as a process. On this point, see Klaus Wachtel, “Colwell revisited: Grouping New Testament manuscripts,” in The New Testament in Early Christianity: Proceedings of the Lille Colloquium, July , ed. Christian-Bernard Amphoux and J. K. Elliott (HTB ; Lausanne: Zèbre, ), –. As for the “Western” text type, the ECM editors prefer to speak about a “‘Western’ cluster of variants” (rather than witnesses), a stratum of the New Testament textual transmission that requires other methods than the CBGM to further explore because () the Greek witnesses attesting to “Western” readings lack coherence; and () these readings are attested partly by versional witnesses. For further discussion of a new approach to the “Western” text in Acts and the limitation of the CBGM in relation to this phenomenon, see Holger Strutwolf et al. (eds.) Novum Testamentum Graecum: Editio Critica Maior, vol. .., Acts of the Apostles: Text, Chapters – (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, ), *–*; Georg Gäbel’s special study, “‘Western text’, ‘D-text cluster,’ ‘Bezan trajectory,’ or what else? – A preliminary study,” in Holger Strutwolf et al. (eds.) Novum Testamentum Graecum: Editio Critica Maior, vol. ., Acts of the Apostles: Studies (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, ), –; and Klaus Wachtel’s special study, “On the relationship of the ‘Western text’ and the Byzantine tradition of Acts – A plea against the text-type concept,” in Holger, Acts of the Apostles: Studies, –.
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Prefer a reading to the extent that (a) it is supported by witnesses that have the initial text as their closest potential ancestor; and (b) the resulting local stemma is coherent with the predominant textual flow in the book or corpus.
And, in relation to internal evidence, specifically transcriptional probability, another criterion: A reading with imperfect genealogical coherency among its attesting witnesses is more likely the creation of scribes, since it seems to have arisen several times in the tradition by coincidence.
Finally, it is important to keep in mind that the CBGM is far from perfect and does not solve the problem of contamination once and for all. Nonetheless, in my opinion it is currently the best way of dealing with it. Elsewhere, I have discussed a number of limitations and suggested future improvements. Already in my work on the Epistle of Jude, I raised the issue of a possible bias within the CBGM for Codex Vaticanus and , as these were the only two manuscripts counted among first-rank witnesses in all the Catholic Letters. Most recently, Stephen C. Carlson has attempted to expose in detail a bias at the heart of the method (favoring in his test case in John :), specifically the way in which it identifies a potential ancestor of a text. However, the inventor of CBGM, Gerd Mink, has given a preliminary response suggesting that Carlson has seriously misunderstood the overall concept of the method and its key components. The debate about a proper methodology for evaluating textual relationships in general and the influential CBGM in particular will need to continue.
Wasserman, “Criteria for evaluating readings,” . Wasserman, “Criteria for evaluating readings,” . For applications of this criterion, see Tommy Wasserman, “Historical and philological correlations and the CBGM as applied to Mark :,” Journal of Biblical Textual Criticism (), –; and Wasserman, “The Coherence Based Genealogical Method as a tool for explaining textual changes in the Greek New Testament,” Novum Testamentum (), –. Tommy Wasserman, “Methods of evaluating textual relationships: From Bengel to the CBGM and beyond,” in The Future of Textual Scholarship on the New Testament, ed. Garrick V. Allen (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –, at –; cf. Wasserman and Gurry, A New Approach to Textual Criticism, –. Tommy Wasserman, The Epistle of Jude: Its Text and Transmission (ConBNT ; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, ), ; cf. Wasserman, “Criteria for evaluating readings,” . Stephen C. Carlson, “A bias at the heart of the Coherence-Based Genealogical Method,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –. Gerd Mink, “Remarks on Carlson, ‘A bias at the heart of the CBGM,’” INTF blog, August , http://ntvmr.uni-muenster.de/intfblog/-/blogs/remarks-on-carlson-a-bias-at-the-heartof-the-cbgm-guest-post-by-gerd-mink-.
Conclusion In this chapter I have addressed some key topics in the field of New Testament textual criticism as discussed in the most recent decades of scholarship. First, I have highlighted the rich sources to the New Testament text in extant manuscripts, early translations, and patristic citations. As we have seen, however, there are different opinions about the quality of the preserved material, since virtually no witnesses survive from the earliest era of transmission. Some scholars have even questioned the traditional goal of the discipline – to reconstruct a hypothetical and transcendent initial text – and prefer to focus instead on the individual textual witnesses in all their manifoldness. I have argued that both approaches have their place and can complement each other. Under all circumstances, the increased interest in manuscripts, scribes, and readers as well as interest in textual variants as windows into the social history of the church – these developments have not only broadened the field but revitalized it, so that the discipline in the broader sense has boomed in terms of practitioners and research output in recent decades. One special area of controversy concerns the earliest extant New Testament papyri, their dates and place in the history of the text. Some scholars have rightly criticized the too narrow date ranges assigned to some of these papyri. However, there is also the risk of assigning too broad ranges. In any case, the dating of the papyri reflecting the B-text has great significance for the question whether there was an early second-century recension of the New Testament text, or whether this type of text reflects a faithful copying on the part of some scribes. The battle over the papyri will continue. In addition, there is the challenge how to survey the manuscript relationships and evaluate the many textual variants. In recent decades, the CBGM has gradually been adopted by the INTF and the ITSEE in their ongoing work on the ECM, which will in turn affect the main editions used widely by New Testament scholars and students. This method has brought a number of changes not only to the text itself but to how textual criticism is done. The method, however, has its limitations and is still being developed and evaluated. It is my hope that more scholars in the future will be able to understand how the CBGM works and continue to scrutinize it. In my opinion, however, it is currently the best available method to survey the textual tradition of the New Testament.
Manuscripts and the Making of the New Testament
The task to restore the New Testament text, however, will never be completed as long as we do not have the autographs. As Richard Evans reminds us, our historical knowledge is always contingent on “the extent to which it is possible to reconstruct the past from the remains it has left behind.” What is left behind to text critics are literally fragments, chance survivals from the past – we are trying to assemble the puzzle with only some of the pieces.
Select Bibliography Aland, Barbara, Kurt Aland, Gerd Mink, Holger Strutwolf, and Klaus Wachtel (eds.) Novum Testamentum Graecum: Editio Critica Maior, vol. ., Catholic Letters: Text, nd ed. (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, ). Aland, Kurt (ed.) Kurzgeftaßte Liste der griechischen Handschriften des Neuen Testaments (ANTF ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Available online at https://ntvmr.unimuenster.de/liste. Aland, Kurt and Barbara Aland. The Text of the New Testament: An Introduction to the Critical Editions and to the Theory and Practice of Modern Textual Criticism. Translated by Erroll F. Rhodes, nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Barker, Don. “The dating of New Testament papyri,” New Testament Studies (), –. Bovon, François. Luke : A Commentary on the Gospel of Luke :–: (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Carlson, Stephen C. “A bias at the heart of the Coherence-Based Genealogical Method,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –. Cerquiglini, Bernard. In Praise of the Variant: A Critical History of Philology. Translated by Betsy Wing (Parallax: Re-Visions of Culture and Society; Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, ). French orig. Éloge de la variante: Histoire critique de la philologie (Paris: Seuil, ). Clark, Kenneth W. “The effect of recent textual criticism upon New Testament studies.” Pages – in The Background of the New Testament and Its Eschatology. Edited by W. D. Davies and David Daube (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Ehrman, Bart D. The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture: The Effect of Early Christological Controversies on the Text of the New Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ; nd ed., ). “The text as window: New Testament manuscripts and the social history of early Christianity.” Pages – in The Text of the New Testament in Contemporary Research: Essays on the Status Quaestionis. Edited by Bart D. Ehrman and Michael W. Holmes, nd ed. (NTTSD ; Leiden: Brill, ).
Richard J. Evans, In Defense of History (London: Granta Books, ), .
Epp, Eldon J. “Decision points in past, present, and future New Testament textual criticism.” Pages – in The New Testament and Its Modern Interpreters. Edited by Eldon J. Epp and George W. MacRae (Philadelphia: Fortress Press; Atlanta: Scholars Press, ). “It’s all about variants: A variant-conscious approach to New Testament textual criticism,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. “The multivalence of the term ‘original text’ in New Testament textual criticism,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. “Textual clusters: Their past and future in New Testament textual criticism.” Pages – in The Text of the New Testament in Contemporary Research: Essays on the Status Quaestionis. Edited by Bart D. Ehrman and Michael W. Holmes, nd ed. (NTTSD ; Leiden: Brill, ). The Theological Tendency of Codex Bezae Cantabrigiensis in Acts (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). “The twentieth-century interlude in New Testament textual criticism,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –. Evans, Richard J. In Defense of History (London: Granta Books, ). Feine, Paul and Johannes Behm. Introduction to the New Testament. Edited by Werner G. Kümmel. Translated by A. J. Mattill, th ed. (Nashville: Abingdon, ). Gäbel, Georg. “‘Western text’, ‘D-text cluster,’ ‘Bezan trajectory,’ or what else? – A preliminary study.” Pages – in Novum Testamentum Graecum: Editio Critica Maior, vol. ., Acts of the Apostles: Studies. Edited by Holger Strutwolf, Georg Gäbel, Annette Hüffmeier, Gerd Mink, and Klaus Wachtel (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, ). Gurry, Peter J. “The number of variants in the Greek New Testament: A proposed estimate,” New Testament Studies (), –. Gurry, Peter and Tommy Wasserman, “Textual criticism and the Editio Critica Maior of James.” Pages – in Reading the Epistle of James: A Resource for Students. Edited by Eric F. Mason and Darian R. Lockett (RBS ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Head, Peter. “Textual criticism and the Synoptic Problem.” Pages – in New Studies in the Synoptic Problem: Oxford Conference . Essays in Honor of Christopher M. Tuckett. Edited by Paul Foster, Andrew F. Gregory, John S. Kloppenborg, and Jozef Verheyden (BETL ; Leuven: Peeters, ). Holger Strutwolf et al. (eds.) Novum Testamentum Graecum: Editio Critica Maior, vol. .., Acts of the Apostles: Text, Chapters – (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, ). Holmes, Michael W. “New Testament textual criticism in : A (selective) survey of the Status Quaestionis,” Early Christianity (), –. Housman, Alfred E. “The application of thought to textual criticism,” Proceedings of the Classical Association (), –. Keith, Chris. The Gospel as Manuscript: An Early History of the Jesus Tradition as Material Artifact (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Kenyon, Frederic G. “Hesychius and the text of the New Testament.” Pages – in Mémorial Lagrange. Edited by L. H. Vincent (Paris: J. Gabalda, ).
Manuscripts and the Making of the New Testament Knust, Jennifer W. “In pursuit of a singular text: New Testament textual criticism and the desire for the true original,” Religion Compass (), –. Knust, Jennifer W. and Tommy Wasserman, To Cast the First Stone: The Transmission of a Gospel Story (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Kraft, Robert A. “The ‘textual mechanics’ of early Jewish LXX/OG papyri and fragments.” Pages – in The Bible as Book: The Transmission of the Greek Text. Edited by Scot McKendrick and Orlaith A. O’Sullivan (London: Oak Knoll, ). Larsen, Matthew D. C. “Accidental publication, unfinished texts and the traditional goals of New Testament textual criticism,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament . (), –. Larsen, Matthew D. C. Gospels Before the Book (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Leipziger, Jonas. “Ancient Jewish Greek practices of reading and their material aspects.” Pages – in Material Aspects of Reading in Ancient and Medieval Cultures: Materiality, Presence and Performance. Edited by Anna Krauß, Jonas Leipziger, and Friederike Schücking-Jungblut (Materiale Textkulturen ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Lundhaug, Hugo and Liv Ingeborg Lied (eds.) Snapshots of Evolving Traditions: Jewish and Christian Manuscript Culture, Textual Fluidity, and New Philology (TUGAL ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Lundhaug, Hugo and Liv Ingeborg Lied. “Studying snapshots: On manuscript culture, textual fluidity, and New Philology.” Pages – in Snapshots of Evolving Traditions: Jewish and Christian Manuscript Culture, Textual Fluidity, and New Philology. Edited by Hugo Lundhaug and Liv Ingeborg Lied (TUGAL ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Martin, Victor and Rodolphe Kasser. Papyrus Bodmer XIV: Évangile de Luc chap. – (Geneva: Bibliotheca Bodmeriana, ). Papyrus Bodmer XV: Évangile de Jean chap. – (Geneva: Bibliotheca Bodmeriana, ). Martini, Carlo M. Il problema della recensionalità del codice B alla luca del papiro Bodmer XIV (AnBib ; Rome: Biblical Institute Press, ). Metzger, Bruce M. The Text of the New Testament: Its Transmission, Corruption and Restoration (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, nd ed. (New York: United Bible Societies, ). Mink, Gerd. “Problems of a highly contaminated tradition: The New Testament; stemmata of variants as a source of a genealogy for witnesses.” Pages – in Studies in Stemmatology II. Edited by Pieter van Reenen, August den Hollander, and Margot van Mulken (Philadelphia: Benjamins, ). “Remarks on Carlson, ‘A bias at the heart of the CBGM,’” INTF blog, August . http://ntvmr.uni-muenster.de/intfblog/-/blogs/remarks-on-carlson-a-bias-at-theheart-of-the-cbgm-guest-post-by-gerd-mink-. “Zur Stemmatisierung neutestamentlicher Handschriften.” Pages – in Bericht der Hermann Kunst-Stiftung zur Förderung der neutestamentlichen Textforschung für die Jahre – (Münster: Institut für neutestamentliche Textforschung, ). Nichols, Stephen. “Introduction: Philology in a manuscript culture,” Speculum (), –.
Nongbri, Brent. God’s Library: The Archaeology of the Earliest Christian Manuscripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). “Reconsidering the place of Papyrus Bodmer XIV–XV (P) in the textual criticism of the New Testament,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –. Orsini, Pasquale. Manoscritti in maiuscola biblica: Materiali per un aggiornamento (Studi archeol., artistici, fil. e storici; Cassino: Università di Cassino, ). Orsini, Pasquale and Willy Clarysse. “Early New Testament manuscripts and their dates: A critique of theological paleography,” Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses (), –. Parker, David C. “Is ‘living text’ compatible with ‘initial text’? Editing the Gospel of John.” Pages – in The Textual History of the Greek New Testament: Changing Views in Contemporary Research. Edited by Klaus Wachtel and Michael W. Holmes (TCSt ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ). The Living Text of the Gospels (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). “Textual criticism and theology,” Expository Times (), –. Porter, Calvin L. “Papyrus Bodmer XV (P) and the text of Codex Vaticanus,” Journal of Biblical Literature . (), –. “A textual analysis of the earliest manuscripts of the Gospel of John” (Ph.D. diss., Duke University, ). Prothro, James B. “Myths about classical literature: Responsibly comparing the New Testament to ancient works.” Pages – in Myths and Mistakes in New Testament Textual Criticism. Edited by Elijah Hixson and Peter J. Gurry (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press Academic, ). Roberts, C. H. “An early papyrus of the First Gospel,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. Manuscript, Society and Belief in Early Christian Egypt (London: Oxford University Press, ). Schmid, Ulrich B. “Marcion and the textual history of Romans: Editorial activity and early editions of the New Testament.” Pages – in Papers Presented at the Sixteenth International Conference on Patristic Studies Held in Oxford , vol. , Biblical Quotations in Patristic Texts. Edited by Laurence Mellerin and Hugh A. G. Houghton (Studia Patristica ; Leuven: Peeters, ). “Scribes and variants – Sociology and typology.” Pages – in Textual Variation: Theological and Social Tendencies? Edited by H. A. G. Houghton and David C. Parker (TS .; Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, ). Strutwolf, Holger. “Original text and textual history.” Pages – in The Textual History of the Greek New Testament: Changing Views in Contemporary Research. Edited by Klaus Wachtel and Michael W. Holmes (TCSt ; Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Tov, Emanuel. Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert. Leiden: Brill, . (ed.) with the collaboration of R. A. Kraft and P. J. Parsons. The Greek Minor Prophets Scroll from Nahal Hever (HevXIIgr) (DJD ; Oxford: Clarendon Press, ).
Manuscripts and the Making of the New Testament Wachtel, Klaus. “Colwell revisited: Grouping New Testament manuscripts.” Pages – in The New Testament in Early Christianity: Proceedings of the Lille Colloquium, July . Edited by Christian-Bernard Amphoux and J. K. Elliott (HTB ; Lausanne: Zèbre, ). “On the relationship of the ‘Western text’ and the Byzantine tradition of Acts – A plea against the text-type concept.” Pages – in Novum Testamentum Graecum: Editio Critica Maior, vol. ., Acts of the Apostles: Studies. Edited by Holger Strutwolf, Georg Gäbel, Annette Hüffmeier, Gerd Mink, and Klaus Wachtel (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, ). Wasserman, Tommy. “Alexandrian text,” Bible Odyssey. www.bibleodyssey.org/places/ related-articles/alexandrian-text. “Bringing sisters back together (Luke :–),” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –. “The Coherence Based Genealogical Method as a tool for explaining textual changes in the Greek New Testament,” Novum Testamentum (), –. “Criteria for evaluating readings in New Testament textual criticism.” Pages – in The Text of the New Testament in Contemporary Research: Essays on the Status Quaestionis. Edited by Bart D. Ehrman and Michael W. Holmes, nd ed (NTTSD ; Leiden: Brill, ). The Epistle of Jude: Its Text and Transmission (ConBNT ; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, ). “Historical and philological correlations and the CBGM as applied to Mark :,” Journal of Biblical Textual Criticism (), –. “The implications of textual criticism for understanding the ‘original text.’” Pages – in Mark and Matthew I: Comparative Readings. Understanding the Earliest Gospels in Their First-Century Settings. Edited by Eve-Marie Becker and Anders Runesson (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Methods of evaluating textual relationships: From Bengel to the CBGM and beyond.” Pages – in The Future of Textual Scholarship on the New Testament. Edited by Garrick V. Allen (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “Misquoting manuscripts? The orthodox corruption of Scripture revisited.” Pages – in The Making of Christianity: Conflicts, Contacts, and Constructions. Essays in Honor of Bengt Holmberg. Edited by Magnus Zetterholm and Samuel Byrskog (ConBNT ; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, ). “Papyrus and the Bodmer Miscellaneous Codex,” New Testament Studies (), –. “Scribal alterations and the reception of Jesus in early manuscripts of the Gospels.” Pages – in The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries, vol. . Edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (Edinburgh: T&T Clark; London: Bloomsbury, ). “Was there an Alexandrian recension of the living text?” Pages – in Liturgy and the Living Text: Papers from the Tenth Birmingham Colloquium on the Textual Criticism of the New Testament. Edited by H. A. G. Houghton (TS .; Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, ).
Wasserman, Tommy and Peter Gurry. A New Approach to Textual Criticism: An Introduction to the Coherence-Based Genealogical Method (RBS ; Atlanta: SBL Press; Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, ). Westcott, Brooke Foss and Fenton John Anthony Hort (eds.) The New Testament in the Original Greek, vols. (London: Macmillan, ). Zuntz, Günther. The Text of the Epistles: A Disquisition upon the Corpus Paulinum. The Schweich Lectures of the British Academy, (Oxford: Oxford University Press; London: British Academy, ).
Contesting Creator and Creation .
Investigating Greco-Roman intellectual culture in the first three centuries of the Common Era, the historian looks in vain for a consolidated or thoroughly well-defined “Christian cosmology,” or a fully agreed-upon doctrine of creation. Indeed, as Christian apologists and theologians of the pre-Nicene age entered in earnest into the fray of long-standing philosophical debates over the nature of the universe, they had no antecedent interpretive synthesis of biblical sources on creation, though some consulted Hellenistic-Jewish writings while others willingly accessed doxographies containing the abbreviated opinions of the philosophical sages, or else read their works directly. More than one alternative, it seems, lay open to early-generation Christian thinkers. They could attempt to start from scratch with the biblical sources (including the gradually emerging New Testament writings) in constructing a Christian understanding of the cosmos that, in fideistic fashion, thoroughly ignored or circumvented traditions of Greco-Roman cosmology. Or, on the other hand, they could surrender to the fact that their sacred scriptures were not preoccupied with problems of theoretical cosmology and turn exclusively to other more immediate concerns of human salvation and the gospel of the eschatological “new creation.” Or, for better or worse, representing a religious faith having no philosophical past or pedigree solely to call its own, these pioneering Christian intellectuals could venture a critical but constructive engagement with the revered classical and Hellenistic authorities, staking out the philosophical plausibility of a distinctly Christian cosmology – all the more importantly since sophisticated pagan speculation about the god–world relation and the nature of the cosmos enjoyed resurgences well into the Byzantine age. Actually, we can find impulses in all these directions in early Christian sources. But the last alternative prevailed, since the optimal scenario was not a retreat from cosmological debates but the elucidation of Christian thinking
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and biblical interpretation in response to them. Unlike our own context, where cosmological theorizing carries on publicly and scientifically in fairly complete isolation from religious concerns, the ancient Greco-Roman disputes rarely divorced religion and “natural philosophy” or physics. Already in preclassical and classical Greek literature, cosmology was caught up in theology and religion, even if certain tensions between them accrued over time. Whether in mythopoeic form, as with Hesiod’s Theogony (c. ), which interweaves cosmogony with the genealogy of the gods themselves, or in properly philosophical form, such as various Presocratic thinkers’ attempts to identify a divine basis of cosmic order, Greek religion and cosmology were fused and largely grew up together. More immediately in the background of the rise of Christianity, the theological as well as philosophical dimension of cosmological theory was enhanced especially in Middle Platonic authors, among them Philo of Alexandria, the prolific Hellenistic-Jewish scholar of the first century whose deep integration of biblical interpretation and speculative philosophy was so revered among patristic writers that he earned monikers like “Philo the Bishop” and, by virtue of legends touted by Eusebius of Caesarea, “Philo Christianus.” Philo’s contribution to Christian claims about divine creation of the world will be noted in due course, but Philo’s writings crucially exemplified to their early Christian devotees a cosmological vision focused teleologically on the revelation of divine Wisdom as realized, through the mediating Logos, both in the structure of the cosmos and in sacred history. Here, in essence, was a sophisticated paradigm for Christian interpreters, in their turn, to employ philosophical cosmology and natural philosophy in the exposition of Scripture, though the Christocentric reorientation of such exposition was to remain a work in progress well into the medieval period East and West. In what follows below, then, I will focus on some select issues of sustained controversy that marked the early church’s cosmology-in-themaking and its multifaceted campaign to render Christian ideas compelling in the ongoing, lively engagement with Greco-Roman philosophical traditions. That said, the campaign was hardly restricted to scholastic contexts, as the emerging Christian cosmology registered itself in liturgy, preaching, morality
On these intermittent tensions, see Edward Grant, Science and Religion, to : From Aristotle to Copernicus (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ), ‒. See David Runia, Philo in Early Christian Literature: A Survey (CRINT; Assen: Van Gorum; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), ‒; also J. Edgar Bruns, “Philo Christianus: The debris of a legend,” Harvard Theological Review (), ‒.
Contesting Creator and Creation
and ethics, and other concrete aspects of ecclesial life, and so too in a wide array of literary texts beyond apologetical/polemical and theological treatises.
Contesting the Identity and Agency of a Divine Creator Early Developments Is there a creator at all? Is that creator immanent in the world or does such an agent transcend the world’s substance? Is that creator a “principle” (ἀρχή), a metaphysical causality, a logical starting point for fathoming order in the universe, or does the creator have something approaching a persona, perhaps identifiable as a god? These and other questions had roots in Presocratic sources, which, as David Sedley has demonstrated, betrayed the earliest creationist impulses in Greco-Roman philosophy. The crucial breakthrough in Greek philosophical creationism, however, was Plato’s cosmogonic myth in his Timaeus from the fourth century , a text that would generate all new discussions of a divine creator figure. For Plato, the Presocratics had presented only an embryonic cosmology, and he was disappointed, for example, with Anaxagoras’s inability to elucidate the superior causal role of divine Mind in giving order and purpose to material things – a teleological failure (Phaedo D‒ C). Such thinkers ultimately “give no thought to the Good (τὸ ἀγαθόν), which must embrace and hold all things together” (Phaedo C). With Plato’s creation story, which deftly entwines “myth, fable, prayer, scientific analysis, and philosophical argument,” we have a candidly teleological cosmogony, a new model of intentional divine creation (Timaeus C–B). Suddenly the Cause (τὸ αἴτιον) is a Demiurge (δημιουργός), or meticulous Craftsman (A, A), who, contemplating the Eternal, fashions the cosmos according to a pure pattern (λόγος) discernible only through prudent reason (φρόνησις) (A). But especially intriguing so far as later Christian claims were concerned was the beneficent character of Plato’s Demiurge, reflecting a God who did not “envy” anything the privilege to exist (E), that is, refuse to share the gift of being (an idea Athanasius of Alexandria and other patristic writers echo). Such a God willed all things to be good and to share a certain likeness to the Sedley, Creationism and Its Critics in Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, ); for the Presocratics, see pp. ‒ (esp. on Anaxagoras and Empedocles). Sedley, Creationism and Its Critics, . See Athanasius, C. Gent. .
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Divine, and, with providence (πρόνοια), brought sustainable order out of the chaos of matter (E‒A). Christian reception of Plato’s cosmogony was both protracted and mixed. Its most appealing aspect, especially in the light of the elaborate Greek philosophical traditions concerning divine causality, was the character of the Demiurge as independent of the creation itself, and as generous and provident. The ultimate difficulty in harmonizing the Platonic account with the Hexaemeral creation story in Genesis was that the Demiurge appeared not as identical with the transcendent divine Father but as a subordinate or intermediary divine agent. The challenges of either rejecting or critically appropriating Plato’s insights began to play out in second- and third-century Christian authors. Theophilus of Antioch, the first Christian commentator on the Hexaemeron, suggests that Plato’s Demiurge was indeed the transcendent Father but took issue with his attribution of eternity to matter itself. Other Christian writers, anxious to draw out the latent theological riches of Genesis and other biblical testimonies to the Creator, paid varying degrees of attention to those Middle Platonic thinkers who had provided their own rich elucidations of the Timaeus. Clement of Alexandria and Origen, for example, paid significant attention to Middle Platonic speculation on the Demiurge. Both of them – and later Eusebius too, with heightened scrutiny – referenced the “Neopythagorean” Middle Platonist Numenius of Apamea (Syria, midsecond century ), since, rather remarkably, Numenius utilized HellenisticJewish sources and was ostensibly friendly to the Mosaic cosmogony. Though not identifying the “First God” (or First Principle) as Demiurge, Numenius at least honored him as “Father” of the Second God, who is both Demiurge and Lawgiver. Meanwhile, Clement and Origen found in Philo’s teaching on the Logos a worthier, albeit still inadequate, model connecting the Demiurge ontologically with the Father while also positioning him in the role of divine agent in
Autol. .. On these speculations, see Charlotte Köckert, Christliche Kosmologie und kaiserzeitliche Philosophie: Die Auslegung des Schöpfungsberichtes bei Origenes, Basilius und Gregor von Nyssa vor dem Hintergrund kaiserzeitlicher Timaeus-Interpretationen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), ‒; John Dillon, The Middle Platonists (London: Duckworth, ), , ‒, ‒, ‒, , , ‒, , , ‒; Carl Séan O’Brien, The Demiurge in Ancient Thought: Secondary Gods and Divine Mediators (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), ‒. Cf. Clement, Strom. .. (SC :); Origen, Cels. . (SC :), . (SC :), ., . (SC :, ). Fr. and , in Eusebius, Praep. ev. ..‒ (SC :‒).
Contesting Creator and Creation
creating and ordering the world. Philo’s Logos was an admittedly elusive figure, since he refers to the Logos as a superior “power” of God, as virtually equatable with the divine Wisdom, as sower of the seeds of divine reason in the world, as the very mind of God containing the ideas whereby the world is formed, but also, in clearly personified form, as “Second God,” as God’s “Son,” and as mediator or “High Priest” between Creator and creation. Clement for his part was preoccupied less with the precise ontological relation between the Father and his Logos than with the revelatory and providential function of the all-seeing “paternal Logos” who orders all things in creation according to the Father’s will, and who is the very intersection of all the divine powers. Using Philo’s elevated depiction of Moses as lawgiver, Clement credits the Logos (Christ) himself as the true Lawgiver, be it of the natural, Mosaic, or higher “spiritual” law hidden in Scripture’s oracles, respectively through all of which he tutors the creation. Clement refrains, however, from calling the Logos Demiurge, properly reserving the title of Creator/Demiurge for the Father. Origen had all of Clement’s (and Philo’s) concern to honor the Father as preeminent Creator. He insists, for example, on respecting the biblical language of the world being created “through” (διά) the Logos/Christ (John :, Heb. :, cf. Cor. :, Col. :) rather than “by” (ὑπό) him since he is not the primary divine subject of creative activity. This is not, however, a diminution of the Logos’s status and function in creation. Replying to Celsus’s derision of the biblical Creator’s pure fiat (“Let there be”) in making things during the six days (Gen. : et al.), Origen avers that though the Father creates primarily (πρώτως), the Son/Logos still acts on his own (αὐτουργός) in creation, at the command of the Father (Ps. :, LXX). Origen scrupulously pushed back against extreme Monarchianism, such as would collapse the Logos into the Father’s (primal Creator’s) being, and against the postulation of a “separate” divine demiurge such as appeared in Sethian and Valentinian Gnosticism. In the rare instances that Origen refers to the Logos as “Second God” (δεύτερος θεός), it is not to “rank” his divinity but to accentuate his privileged position as comprising all the
Cf. QE .; Opif. ‒; Fug. ‒; Cher. ‒. Leg. ., .. Her. ; cf. Leg. .. Opif. . QG .. Agr. ; Conf. , . Conf. ‒. Strom. ..‒ (SC :‒). Strom. ..‒ (SC :). Strom. .. (SC :). Strom. ..‒ (SC :‒). Strom. ..‒.. (SC :‒). Paed. ..‒.. (SC :‒). Comm. Jo. ..‒ (SC :‒). Cels. . (SC :), . (SC :).
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divine virtues, and including in himself “every logos whatsoever of the beings which have been made according to nature, both those which are primary and those that exist for the benefit of the whole.” The Logos constitutes the very intelligibility of the Father’s creative purposes, but he does so not simply as a transcendent Mind but as a divine hypostasis destined to incarnation. Immediately after the statement just quoted from the Contra Celsum, Origen references the fact that the Logos who contains the logoi of all creatures is the very one who “dwelt in the soul of Jesus and was united with it in a closer union than that of any other soul, because he alone has been able perfectly to receive the highest participation in him who is the very Logos (αὐτολόγος) and the very Wisdom (αὐτοσοφία) and the very Righteousness (αὐτοδικαιοσύνη) himself.” The point is that the agency of the Father’s Logos in the creation of the world, and his incarnate work in revealing the Father’s virtues to the creation, were a continuous action. On this same point, moreover, Clement, Origen, and other pre-Nicene theologians, especially Irenaeus of Lyon, deferred to the authoritative witness of John’s Gospel, which associated the Logos immediately with the Father/Creator “in the beginning” (John :), dignified the Logos as the one “through whom” all things were made (:), and affirmed this Logos as the incarnate bearer of the Father’s glory (:, :‒). John had modeled a vision of Creator and creation in which the perspectives of theologia (contemplation of the proper identity of the Creator) and oikonomia (the purview of the Creator’s workings in creation and redemption) were seamlessly integrated, melded into a single revelatory drama. At the same time, other New Testament sources seemed less preoccupied with the original act of divine creation than with how Jesus Christ revealed the Creator’s ultimate faithfulness and his power to transform the state of the world. The creation “narrative” was a drama in progress, extending well beyond Genesis to
Cels. . (trans. Chadwick, ) (SC :); cf. ., . (SC :‒, ‒), . (SC :‒). In his identity as divine Wisdom too, the Son/Logos is said by Origen to contain the “beginnings, reasons (rationes = λόγοι), and species” of all created things: Princ. .. (trans. Behr, ). Princ. ... Cels. . (trans. Chadwick, ) (SC :‒). See esp. Athanasius, C. Gent. ‒; Inc. ‒; later Maximus the Confessor, Q.Thal. (CCSG :–). Cf. Irenaeus, Haer. ..‒ (SC :‒); Theophilus, Autol. .; Clement, Protr. ..‒ .. (GCS :); Paed. .., .. (SC :‒, ); Strom. .. (SC :), ..‒ (SC :); Origen, Princ. ..; Comm. Jo. .. (SC :‒). For a fuller demonstration, see John Behr, John the Theologian and His Paschal Gospel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
Contesting Creator and Creation
include the “new creation” in Jesus Christ (cf. Cor. :, Gal. :, Eph. :, Rev. :). The full identity of the Creator was being eschatologically disclosed in the oikonomia. This is why, in the face of Gnostic and Marcionite cosmogonies, some of which scorned the Genesis creation account altogether and instead reinvented Plato’s Demiurge as an ignorant or deranged figure actually alienated from the one high God, Irenaeus and Origen took them to task less for their erroneous identification of the Creator than for their convoluted portrayal of the oikonomia. As Irenaeus determines, they got the “plot” (ὑπόθεσις) all wrong, particularly by depicting, with the use of random scriptural proof texts, a pre-cosmic dereliction within the spiritual realm before creation of the material world, which perverted the proper interconnection of creation and redemption within the divine providence.
Later Developments: The Uncreated Triune Creator Intensifying trinitarian debates leading up the Council of Nicaea () foregrounded the questions of precisely how the Son/Logos was generated from the Father, and, even more vexing, whether the Son himself was created. Origen had referred to the Son/Logos/Wisdom as the Father’s own “creature” (κτίσμα; δημιούργημα), but in relatively innocent terms given his strong emphasis on the eternal generation of the Son and on the Son’s hypostatic dignity. As Rowan Williams observes, Origen saw creation as primarily divine self-expression: there is nothing arbitrary about it. And since the generation of the Logos is the archê of all rational beings, the first “expression” of God’s will and the most perfect, there is no particular reason that Origen should not speak of him as “created.” Yet he most probably repudiated the idea that the Son was created out of nothing.
On Irenaeus’s multifaceted explication of the oikonomia, see Jacques Fantino, La théologie d’Irénée: Lecture des Écritures en réponse à l’exégèse gnostique (Paris: Cerf, ), esp. ‒. On Gnostic profiles of the Demiurge, see O’Brien, The Demiurge in Ancient Thought, ‒; Dillon, The Middle Platonists, ‒; Kurt Rudolph, Gnosis: The Nature and History of Gnosticism (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ), ‒. Haer. .. (SC :). Haer. ..‒.. (SC :‒). On Irenaeus’s anti-Gnostic exegesis, see also Stephen Presley, The Intertextual Reception of Genesis ‒ in Irenaeus of Lyons (Leiden: Brill, ). Princ. .. (fr. from Justinian, Ep. ad Menam); Cels. . (SC :), referencing Col. :. Williams, Arius: Heresy and Tradition, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), ‒.
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Eusebius of Caesarea, who, before Nicaea, had affirmed the Son’s generation from the Father, protecting the ineffability of this generation while resisting Origen’s notion of “eternal” generation (for fear of implying two utterly eternal deities), still allowed even after Nicaea, on the basis of Proverbs :, that the Son/Logos (qua Wisdom) was “created” by the Father in the strict sense of being appointed ruler over creation. But in no way did the Father create the Son/Logos ex nihilo; quite the contrary: the Son is the one who sustains all things created ex nihilo. The theology of the Alexandrian presbyter Arius, however, was a lightning rod of new controversy. Arius, it was alleged, asserted that the Son/ Logos was himself created by the Father ex nihilo, even though he and subsequent Arian exponents seem to have modified or retracted that view since the Son’s status as “beginning” of God’s creative acts (Prov. :) and “firstborn of creation” (Col. :) implied an ontological uniqueness or regency among created beings. Still, the positive thrust of Arian theology, in defense of the divine Monad, was to subordinate the Son, to emphasize his existence as utterly contingent on the will of the Father, and to assert his otherness of being as the basis for his participation in God by grace. After Nicaea, Athanasius and his pro-Nicene sympathizers gave the Arians no benefit of the doubt. To speak of the Son himself in any sense as “created” defied the consubstantiality (τὸ ὁμοούσιον) of the uncreated Father and Son. The Father generated the Son by nature; he created the world ex nihilo as an act of will. How could the Son/Logos be the Father’s agent in creating the cosmos without himself being uncreated? His primordial announcement of having been created as the beginning of God’s ways (Prov. :) now applied only to his created humanity in the incarnation. The Son/Logos was not just
Dem. ev. ..‒ (GCS :‒); later (after Nicaea) Marc. ..‒ (GCS :); Eccl. theol. ., ..‒, .. (GCS :, ‒, ‒). Dem. ev. ..‒ (GCS :‒); Marc. ..‒ (GCS :‒); Eccl. theol. ..‒ (GCS :‒). Eccl. theol. ..‒, ..‒ (GCS :‒, ). For the extracts from Arius’s poetic theological work, the Thalia, see Williams, Arius: Heresy and Tradition, ‒. Athanasius’s excerpt of the text includes the accusation that, for Arius, the Son was created ex nihilo (Oratio contra Arianos . (PG :C‒C). Athanasius, C. Ar. .– (PG :A‒A); cf. Gregory of Nyssa, Eun. ..‒ (GNO :‒). See also Gregory of Nazianzus, Or. .–; Ambrose of Milan, Fid. Grat. .; John Damascene, De fide orthodoxa .. Athanasius, C. Ar. .‒ (PG :C‒C); cf. Gregory of Nyssa, Eun. ..‒ (GNO :–).
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the agent through whom all things came into being (as John :, , Heb. :, Rom. :, Cor. :, Col. :), he was truly co-Creator with the Father, his very peer in producing matter itself and in forming a cosmos of sensible and intelligible (“seen and unseen”) dimensions. To the extent that the work of Christ in the incarnation was viewed by theologians before and after Nicaea as a “recapitulation” of God’s purposes in creating the world (cf. Eph. :), with the New Adam (Rom. :‒; Cor. :‒, ‒) as pioneer of the “new creation,” it became increasingly acceptable to portray Jesus Christ as himself “Creator,” and to discern in his earthly actions – his birth, baptism, miracles, passion, resurrection, and ascension – the deliberate signs and gestures of that transformed world. A lingering question, nevertheless, was the Holy Spirit’s status and agency in creation. The Spirit too had been considered a creature by some preNicene authors. Origen spoke of the Spirit as coming into being through his “elder,” the Logos. Eusebius also postulated that the Holy Spirit, like all creatures, was made through the Son, though again, this was a transcendent mystery and did not necessarily imply that the Spirit was created ex nihilo. But Arius allegedly positioned the Spirit beneath the Son as a separate being, and the later Arian dialectician Eunomius spoke candidly of the Spirit as created by the Father through the Son. The great danger for pro-Nicene advocates, however, lay with constituencies in the East broadly dubbed Pneumatomachi (“contenders against the Spirit”), who, though favorable to the consubstantiality of Father and Son, treated the Holy Spirit as a creature pure and simple. Besides official condemnation by the Council of Constantinople of , response to the Pneumatomachi came in a formidable array of letters, treatises, and orations on the Holy Spirit by Athanasius, Didymus the Blind, all three of the Cappadocian Fathers, Ambrose of Milan, and Augustine. The aggregate strategy of these authors was to recover the biblical witness to the Holy Spirit’s salvific and creative role, and to enhance the Spirit’s intimate relation to the Son in fulfilling the Father’s purposes in the shared
Athanasius, Decr. (PG :A‒D); Cyril of Jerusalem, Catech. . (PG :B‒A). For expanded discussion see my Drama of the Divine Economy: Creator and Creation in Early Christian Theology and Piety (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), ‒. Comm. Jo. .‒ (SC :‒). Praep. ev. .. (SC :); Eccl. theol. ..‒ (GCS :‒). Apol. , , (Vaggione, ‒, ‒, ); Exp. fid. (ed. Vaggione, ).
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creative power (δύναμις; potestas) and “activity” (ἐνέργεια) of the Trinity. But they were also following the example of their pre-Nicene forebears, such as Irenaeus, who, explaining the plural “Let us create” in Genesis :, famously called the Son and the Spirit the “hands” of the Father in fashioning humanity. An ever growing consensus of patristic exegetes understood the “spirit” hovering over the watery chaos in the primordial moment of creation (Gen. :) as the Holy Spirit, while recognizing also the abiding work of the Spirit to renew and perfect the creation as already attested by prophets (e.g., Ezek. :‒) and by the Psalmist (e.g., :‒, LXX). “For, creation is slave,” writes Basil of Caesarea, “but the Spirit sets free (Rom. :); creation is in need of life, while ‘it is the Spirit that gives life’ (John :); creation also needs teaching, the Spirit is the Teacher (cf. John :); creation is sanctified, the Spirit is the Sanctifier (cf. Rom :).” By the end of the fourth century, then, a normative Christian language for the identity and agency of the triune Creator was relatively secure.
Contesting Creation Early Christian claims that God created the world “from nothing” and set time in motion along with it were among the most primary Christian convictions but also among the most controversial in the philosophical and religious culture of the Roman world. They appear pervasively in martyr testimonies, homilies, liturgical texts, biblical commentaries, theological treatises, and other literary genres. As a hallmark of the gospel, these claims about divine creation of the world encountered substantial pagan ridicule, so
See Gregory of Nyssa, Eust. (GNO /:, ); Ambrose, Spir. ..–, ..– (CSEL :‒, –); Augustine, Trin. ..‒ (CCSL :–). See also Blowers, Drama of the Divine Economy, ‒. Haer. .. (SC :‒); also Matthew Steenberg, Irenaeus on Creation: The Cosmic Christ and the Saga of Redemption (Leiden: Brill, ), ‒. E.g., Tertullian, Bapt. –; Origen, Princ. ..; Athanasius, Ep. Serap. . (PG :C– A); Basil of Caesarea, Hom. in Hexaemeron . (GCS NF :); Augustine, Gen. litt. ..–.. (CSEL .:–). E.g., Ambrose, Spir. ..– (CSEL :–); Jerome, Comm. Ezech. ..– (CCSL :). See Athanasius, Ep. Serap. . (PG :A‒B). Ep. . (PG :A–B). Translation adapted from Basil, Letters, vol. (–), trans. Agnes Clare Way (Fathers of the Church ; Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ), . See also Basil, Spir. . (PG :A–B); Eun. . (SC :–); cf. Gregory of Nazianzus, Or. theol. .– (SC :–).
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I turn now to two significant aspects of Christian teaching on creation that led to sustained debate, some of it in response to pagan criticism and innuendo, some of it intramural as Christian communities labored toward normative interpretations of their shared sacred Scripture.
A World Bounded by Beginning and End As David Furley has shown, ancient Greco-Roman cosmologies can be distinguished between two general paradigms: “infinite universe” and “closed world.” The former, beginning with certain Presocratic thinkers, shied away from finding any inherent purpose or teleology in the cosmos, even if not necessarily relegating its existence to sheer randomness or removing any possibility of divinities’ involvement in organizing the world. The cosmos in this case was not bounded by beginning or end but was a pure continuum. Platonists, Stoics, and Aristotelians variously illustrated a closed world model. Even though Aristotle denied that the world had a beginning or end, he did posit that the Prime Mover gave definition to the continuum of nature. Plato’s creation myth, however, presented a certain kind of “beginning,” insofar as the Demiurge had fashioned a new cosmic scheme according to the divine forms. It was a beginning in purposive order rather than in time, since the matter used in forming the world was itself an eternal substratum at the Creator’s disposal. Early Christian theories of creation certainly fell within a “closed world” cosmological model, but with some radically different perspectives. The model is explicit in the Shepherd of Hermas’s oft-quoted avowal of the Creator who is himself “uncontained” (ἀχώρητος) but “contains” all things.56 Patristic exegesis of Genesis’s opening phrase – “in the beginning” (ἐν ἀρχῇ; in principio, :) – ultimately affirmed both a teleological (purpose-focused) and a temporal beginning of the world. Origen among others projected the telos of the world as immanent in its arche. Early on, numerous Christian
David Furley, The Greek Cosmologists, vol. , The Formation of the Atomic Theory and Its Earliest Critics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. On “infinity” and the possibility of a beginning of the world in ancient philosophy, see Richard Sorabji, Time, Creation, and the Continuum: Theories in Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ), ‒. Herm. .– (Mand. .–); cited in Irenaeus, Haer. .. (SC :); Origen, Princ. ..; Athanasius, Inc. . Princ. ..‒. See also Köckert, Christliche Kosmologie und kaiserzeitliche Philosophie, ‒.
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commentators identified the true arche in Genesis : as the Son/Logos/ Wisdom himself, who holds the key to the preservation, redemption, and eschatological transformation of creation. Origen, and Ambrose later, went a step further and specified this arche as the Logos incarnate. “What is the beginning of all things except our Lord and ‘Savior of all,’ Jesus Christ ‘the firstborn of every creature’ (Col. :) . . . as the evangelist John also says in the beginning of his Gospel (John :) . . .?” This fits with Irenaeus’s earlier insight that God’s very rationale in creating the cosmos was to reveal himself in Jesus Christ, the Lamb destined to be slain for the sake of the world (Rev. :). This Christocentric definition of the “beginning” in Genesis :, however, did not preclude consideration of a temporal beginning. A temporal beginning of the world was complicated from the outset by Christian assumptions concerning the Creator’s own absolute eternity (transcendence of time) vis-à-vis the time-bound creation. As Gregory of Nyssa, among others, insisted during the post-Nicene trinitarian debates, the uncreated Creator is adiastemic, immune to the spatio-temporal extension (διάστημα) intrinsic to created nature. Did the Creator interrupt or compromise this transcendence by creating the world? Did the intelligible creation share in his eternity? Depending on how one reads him, Origen either answered or further aggravated this problem by arguing that there never was a “when” that the Creator was not Almighty over a creation. On the face of it, he seemed to be conceding the eternity at least of spiritual creatures; his subsequent critics like Methodius of Olympus accused him accordingly. A fairer reading, however, is that Origen was rhetorically expounding a fortiori the power of the Creator, a power not constrained by times and ages, and made ultimately manifest, as Origen expressly confesses, in the incarnate servanthood of the Son (Phil. ). The philosophical conundrum nonetheless did not vanish. Later on Augustine confronted Manichaeans who questioned what the biblical Creator was doing in his private eternity before he created
E.g., Theophilus, Autol. .; Tertullian, Herm. .– (SC :–); Clement of Alexandria, Strom. ..‒ (SC :); Basil, Hom. in Hexaemeron . (GCS NF :); Gregory of Nyssa, Eun. .. (GNO :). Hom. Gen. . (trans. Heine) (SC :); cf. Origen, Comm. Jo. ..‒.., .. (SC :‒, ); Ambrose, Hex. .. (CSEL .:). Haer. .. (SC :–). Eun. .‒ (GNO :). Princ. .., ... De creaturis, preserved in Photius, Bibliotheca cod. . As emphasized from the text of Princ. .. by Behr, lviii‒lix.
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the world, and why he did not create it sooner, a cynical way of rendering superfluous the Christian claims about the Creator’s transcendence of time and creation. The end of time and the destiny of creation also invited substantial debate. Intramurally, Christian thinkers disputed biblical testimonies to the end of the world and the eschatological shape of the “new creation.” Jesus said that “heaven and earth will pass away” (Matt. :); but Paul further clarified that the Creator subjected the whole non-human creation to vanity in hope of its participation in the final bodily redemption of humanity (Rom. :‒), and that only the present outward veneer (σχῆμα) of creation would pass away ( Cor. :), not the creation itself, since it is destined for transformation, not annihilation. Irenaeus quoted both these Pauline passages toward the end of his Against Heresies, in support of his chiliastic hope that all of creation would participate in the resurrection of the righteous and final revelation of a “new heavens and new earth” (Isa. :, Pet. :, Rev :). By contrast, Origen averred that the “creation” subject to vanity and waiting for redemption in Romans :‒ was actually the angelic “ministering spirits” (Heb. :) and “elemental spirits of the universe” (Gal. :‒) who have perennially aided and instructed human beings in the long-awaited redemption. Despite a certain speculative hesitancy on his part, however, Origen could not imagine non-human creation not participating in the final consummation. He referenced the Psalmist’s image of the heavens being “changed like a garment” (Ps. :, LXX) and Isaiah’s vision of the “new heavens and the new earth” (Isa. :, :) – together with Paul’s comment on the change in the outward form of creation ( Cor. :) – as prophetic evidence that its destiny is one of transformation, not annihilation (exterminatio) or the “destruction of material substance” (perditio substantiae materialis). The growing consensus of patristic interpretation affirmed that the Creator would renew and remake the whole of creation. The much later Byzantine commentator Andrew of Crete concluded that “the renewal of Conf. ..‒.. (CCSL :‒). See also Sorabji, Time, Creation, and the Continuum, ‒. E.g., Irenaeus, Haer. .. (SC :‒), .. (SC :‒); Origen, Princ. ..; Methodius, Res., fr. . (GCS :); Eusebius, Praep. ev. ..‒ (SC :‒), claiming to find a compatible teaching in Plato; Ambrosiaster, Comm. Corinthos (CSEL /:). Haer. .. (SC :‒), .. (SC :‒), .. (SC :‒). See also my “The groaning and longing of creation: Variant patterns of patristic interpretation of Romans :–,” in Studia Patristica, vol. , ed. Markus Vinzent (Leuven: Peeters, ), –. Cf. Comm. Rom. ..‒.. (SC :‒). Princ. .. (trans. Behr, ).
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that which has grown old means not a disappearance from existence, but it means the stripping-off of old age and wrinkles. It is our custom to say about people that they have become either better or worse. ‘One has become another.’” Time as such might end, but the new creation would, by divine grace, have its own mysterious dimensionality or extension. Extramurally, too, early Christian theologians also fended off pagan philosophical claims about the end as well as the beginning of the cosmos (not just matter itself ). Origen, for example, though being accused of sympathizing with the Stoic doctrine of “world cycles,” each one an identical repeat performance ending with a total destruction by fire and the commencement of a new order according to the enduring logoi spermatikoi, repudiated the idea as inconsistent with divine providence and freedom. All the while, pagan notions of the future of the cosmos did not quickly fade. By the sixth century, the Alexandrian theologian John Philoponus was still answering resurgent Aristotelian views of the eternity of the cosmos, and countering the Neoplatonist Proclus, who had himself reworked Aristotelian arguments to the same effect. Divine infinity could not be transferred to the temporal creation unless the Creator was himself finite, according to the logic of creation ex nihilo.
Creation ex nihilo and Materiality The signature principle of early Christian cosmology was creation ex nihilo, and though affirmed by virtually every major patristic authority on creation, it perpetuated vast interpretive issues, both in the exegesis of Genesis and other relevant biblical texts, and in the confrontation of pagan philosophical traditions that rendered such a notion patently absurd. Even within canonical Scripture there is no unanimous definition of its meaning. Wisdom of Solomon :, glossing Genesis :, declares that God “created the world
Comm. Apoc. . (on :) (trans. Constantinou, –). Cels. .; .‒ (SC :‒), .‒ (SC :‒); cf. Princ. ... See De aeternitate mundi contra Proclum .‒. See also the comprehensive study by Michael Chase, “Discussions on the eternity of the world in antiquity and contemporary cosmology,” ΣΧΟΛΗ (), ‒. For background on creation ex nihilo, see Gerhard May, Creatio ex nihilo: The Doctrine of “Creation out of Nothing” in Early Christian Thought, trans. A. S. Worrall (London: T & T Clark, ); Gary Anderson and Markus Bockmuehl (eds.) Creation ex nihilo: Origins, Development, Contemporary Challenges (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, ); Blowers, Drama of the Divine Economy, ‒.
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from formless matter,” an invitation to metaphysical speculation. Maccabees :, Romans :, and Hebrews : in their various ways speak of God creating “what is” from “what is not,” a creation ex nihilo in the more philosophically innocent sense of emphasizing the Creator’s resourcefulness in creation and redemption alike. In fact, most early patristic exposition of creation ex nihilo associated it with divine omnipotence (Luke :), a first line of defense against traditional pagan claims best summarized in the Epicurean Lucretius’s phrase “nothing can be created from nothing” (nil posse creari de nihilo). Tertullian, in his treatise Against Hermogenes, develops this principle full force, targeting his opponent’s insistence on the preexistence of matter as an absolute affront to the Creator since it necessarily implies the deification of matter, or even matter’s superiority to the Creator since he would have been dependent on it. He was doubtless concerned that Hermogenes had a point: If matter was not coexistent with God, God would have had to create matter from his own being! Meanwhile, most early Christian creationists understood that merely touting the Creator’s omnipotence was philosophically insufficient, and therefore they speculated on the substratum of creation and the precise character of God’s incipient creative act. Genesis : left an open door, with its tableau of a divine spirit hovering over the primeval abyss. Some Christian writers, like Justin Martyr, Athenagoras of Athens, Clement of Alexandria, as well as Hermogenes – all intent on finding compatibility between Genesis and Plato’s myth of the Demiurge working with the “receptacle” of formless matter – allowed that the Creator had preexistent matter at his disposal when he began to fashion the cosmos. Confluence with the Platonic concept of matter as coeternal with God was nevertheless untenable in normative Christian doctrine by the fourth century, thus pressuring patristic thinkers all the more to explain the “what,” “where,” and “when” of the material substratum and to define the “nothing” from which the Creator made the world. Theophilus of Antioch and Irenaeus illustrate two of the earliest views of the origin of the material substratum. For Theophilus it is a two-staged creative act, the Creator first miraculously producing matter from a veritable
Cf. Theophilus, Autol. ., ; Irenaeus, Haer. .. (SC :); Tertullian, Herm. (SC passim); Lactantius, Inst. ..– (SC :). De rerum natura ..– (trans. Rouse, LCL). Herm. ‒ (SC :‒). Cf. Justin, Apol. , ; Athenagoras, Leg. .‒; Clement, Strom. :., ..‒ (SC :, ‒); Hermogenes, as abundantly cited in Tertullian, Herm. For helpful background, see Richard Norris, God and World in Early Christian Theology (New York: Seabury Press, ).
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ontological void and then fashioning it into the fully outfitted heaven and earth. Irenaeus, who was reacting to Valentinian notions of a prior cosmic chaos below the spirit world to which a demiurge attended, envisioned a singular action of God fabricating matter and forming the world. He was satisfied that the metaphysical origins of matter were not revealed in Scripture and were thus unknowable and should not be objects of pious conjecture. But conjecture and speculation hardly ceased. Exegetically, this played out in debate over whether the primaeval stuff of creation (Gen. :‒ ) was a raw material awaiting form, or instead, because inchoate matter would reflect poorly on the Creator, material creation came as fully formed, a fait accompli of good order simply waiting to be uncovered from darkness once light was created. By the fourth century, the origin and nature of matter became an even more intense issue of theological cosmology. Already Irenaeus had proposed that God created matter “from himself” (a semetipso), that his own will was “the substantia of all things” and that he drew “from himself” both the substantia and pattern (exemplum) of created things. Still, he tried to avoid insinuating that creation was made out of God’s essence itself. Gregory of Nyssa later pressed further by suggesting that the substratum (ὑποκείμενον) of creation was mysteriously “in” God insofar as God internally preconceived matter’s “qualities” (ποιότητα), which effectively gave matter real existence “from God” (ἐκ θεοῦ), just as Gregory’s brother, Basil of Caesarea, similarly determined that matter materializes only through the Creator combining its peculiar qualities. Still later, John Philoponus reiterates that “it is enough for [the Creator] to will, in order to bring about the substantification (οὐσίωσις) of realities.” An abiding emphasis in Christian speculation was the dignity of matter as an instrument of the divine purpose. Irenaeus insinuates not only by stressing the divine commitment to incarnation but also by emphasizing the graced materiality of human creatures, the “temple” of the body, the salvation of “all
Autol. .–. Haer. ..‒.. (SC :‒). Haer. .. (SC :). Haer. ..‒ (SC :‒); also .. (SC :). Augustine, Conf. .. (CCSL :–); Genesi litt. .. (CSEL .:–); Theodoret of Cyrus, Quaest. Gen. . Cf. Basil of Caesarea, Hom. in Hexaemeron .– (GCS NF :–); Gregory of Nazianzus, Poemata arcana (De mundo). Haer. .. (SC :). Hom. opif. ‒ (PG :B‒C). Hom. in Hexaemeron . (GCS NF :). De aeternitate mundi contra Aristotelem, fr. , in Chase, “Discussions on the eternity of the world,” .
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flesh,” and bodily resurrection. On the other hand, Genesis seemed to view matter in its inception as fragile or chaotic, whereas Platonic tradition considered it, not morally evil as such, but certainly ontologically deficient, teetering just this side of nothingness. Irenaeus sees here, in particular, the “human of dust,” frail in its own right until insufflated with the divine spirit (Gen. :). Later authors like Athanasius, who follows Irenaeus’s lead, accordingly emphasized the ontological poverty whereby what is material is in flux (ῥευστός), weak (ἀσθενής), and mortal (θνητός), needing the Creator’s nurturing grace to remain in existence and flourish. Augustine calls matter “practically nothing” (prope nihil), a kind of “nothing something” (nihil aliquid) in its purely contingent status. But divine creation, then, was itself a salvific event, redeeming matter from chaos, preserving its stability and revealing its subservience to the Creator’s purposes. Divine incarnation in Jesus Christ, as Athanasius again echoed from Irenaeus, validated once for all the Creator’s devotion to material, corporeal creation, especially as regarded the vulnerability and corruptibility of human nature. Indeed, some patristic commentators on the miracles of Jesus showed considerable interest in how these wonders conveyed not only Christ’s lordship over the material elements of the cosmos (e.g., rebuking the winds and calming a storm at sea [Matt. :‒]) but also his creative and transformative fiat, his ability to do new things with material existents, as in turning water into wine (John :‒). Creation ex nihilo, then, was not just about divine omnipotence; it was about divine generosity and resourcefulness, and the depths of divine investment in the world. Looking ahead to much later developments, when Dionysius the Areopagite, Maximus the Confessor, and John Scottus Eriugena all spoke of creation ex nihilo as a kind of creation “from God” (ἐκ θεοῦ; ex Deo), they were not implying, any more than Gregory of Nyssa before them, that the Creator derived matter from his own essence in some baldly emanationist sense. God was the “nothing” in creation ex nihilo because God is “no-thing,” no mere entity in an ontological hierarchy. Dionysius sets out a careful dialectical argument on this point. Apophatically rendered, the “superessential” (ὑπερούσιος) God is “non-being” in the sense that he is never reducible to
Much of Book of the Adversus haereses expounds these themes. Haer. .. (SC :‒). C. Gent. . Conf. .. (CCSL :). Inc. ‒. E.g., Ambrose, Exp. Luc. .– (CSEL .:); Fid. ..–.. (CSEL :–); Peter Chrysologus, Sermo (CCSL A:). E.g., Irenaeus, Haer. .. (SC :–); Hilary of Poitiers, Trin. . (SC :).
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being but enjoys “excess” of being. And yet “Being” is appropriately one of God’s names because God is the sole source of being for creatures. Creation ex nihilo is God’s bid to become “all things and in all” ( Cor. :). Maximus envisions this as the Creator-Logos, in his cosmic ministry, becoming embodied in all created things, saturating the world through the logoi of beings and thereby transfiguring the cosmos, providentially and eschatologically, according to the Trinity’s good purpose. Eriugena in his eventual turn speaks of God “creating himself” ex nihilo with the world, a seemingly scandalous notion unless one follows its precise nuance. Rather than totally erasing the distinction between uncreated Creator and the creation, for Eriugena this became a radical metaphor of divine theophany and of the pure freedom of the gracious Creator to inhere in the creation.
Conclusion This essay has scarcely covered every element of debate in the struggle for consensus over Christian cosmology in late antiquity, but hopefully it has set in relief some of the most definitive developments along the way. Consensus in Christian doctrine concerning creation (its origins, nature, and telos) was, from the outset, inextricable from the struggle for coherence in other defining aspects of Christian theology: the Trinity, Christ, salvation, human nature, eschatology, and more; additionally, as in the patterns of Greek philosophy and Hellenistic Judaism, so too for early Christianity, cosmology also informed piety (including liturgy) and ethics, factoring into what today we call a worldview, an encompassing vision of the world. At the core of the early Christian cosmological consensus, in the wake of sustained controversies over the identity of the Creator and the dynamics of creation, I would include the following affirmations or commitments: • The whole Trinity as initiating and nurturing the creation, and the action of creation as at bottom a revelation of the triune Creator; • Creation ex nihilo, construed in terms of the Creator’s unique power to produce and fashion the world, to dignify the material as well as spiritual
Div. nom. .; . (PTS :, ); similarly Maximus, Mystagogia, prooemium (CCSG :). Div. nom. .‒ (PTS :‒); De caelesti hierarchia . (PTS :). Div. nom. . (PTS :‒). Ambiguum (PG :C‒A). Periphyseon, lib. (CCCM :‒); lib. (CCCM :, ).
Contesting Creator and Creation
creation, and to preserve and nurture the material and corporeal order amid its penchant toward resolving into chaos; • The teleology of creation as intrinsic to its beginning, whether that “beginning” (ἀρχή) be interpreted as the priority of Christ the Logos in the creational economy or else as the temporal inception of the cosmos (or both); • The deep mutual insinuation of creation and redemption in the Creator’s purpose, as “recapitulated” in the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ; • Despite the attrition caused by evil and sin, the providential and eschatological resolve of the Creator to renew and transform, rather than annihilate, the creation. With all of these came corollary negations (such as of alternative or semidivine demiurges, notions of the preexistence of matter or eternity of the world, etc.), but much of early Christian theological commentary on creation, and on biblical creation texts, revolved around these themes or related subthemes. Their precedence has endured in Eastern and Western Christian thought, and they still contribute to the critical theological framework for responding to modern scientific challenges to theories of divine creation of the world.
Select Bibliography Anderson, Gary and Markus Bockmuehl (eds.) Creation ex nihilo: Origins, Development, Contemporary Challenges (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, ). Andrew of Caesarea. Commentary on the Apocalypse. Translated by Eugenia Constantinou (Fathers of the Church ; Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). Athanasius. Contra gentes and De Incarnatione. Edited and translated by Robert Thomson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Athenagoras. Legatio and De Resurrectione. Edited and translated by William Schoedel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Basil of Caesarea. Letters, vol. (–). Translated by Agnes Clare Way (Fathers of the Church ; Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). Behr, John. John the Theologian and His Paschal Gospel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Blowers, Paul. Drama of the Divine Economy: Creator and Creation in Early Christian Theology and Piety (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
. “The groaning and longing of creation: Variant patterns of patristic interpretation of Romans :–.” Pages – in vol. of Studia Patristica. Edited by Markus Vinzent (Leuven: Peeters, ). Bruns, J. Edgar. “Philo Christianus: The debris of a legend,” Harvard Theological Review (), ‒. Chase, Michael. “Discussions on the eternity of the world in antiquity and contemporary cosmology,” ΣΧΟΛΗ (), ‒. Dillon, John. The Middle Platonists (London: Duckworth, ). Eunomius. The Extant Works. Edited and translated by Richard Vaggione (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Fantino, Jacques. La théologie d’Irénée: Lecture des Écritures en réponse à l’exégèse gnostique (Paris: Cerf, ). Furley, David. The Greek Cosmologists, vol. , The Formation of the Atomic Theory and Its Earliest Critics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Grant, Edward. Science and Religion, bc to ad : From Aristotle to Copernicus (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ). Gregory of Nazianzus. Poemata arcana. Edited by Claudio Moreschini. Translated by D. A. Sykes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Holmes, Michael (ed.) The Apostolic Fathers, rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). Justin. Justin, Philosopher and Martyr: Apologies. Edited by Denis Minns and Paul Parvis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Köckert, Charlotte. Christliche Kosmologie und kaiserzeitliche Philosophie: Die Auslegung des Schöpfungsberichtes bei Origenes, Basilius und Gregor von Nyssa vor dem Hintergrund kaiserzeitlicher Timaeus-Interpretationen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Lucretius. On the Nature of Things. Translated by W. H. D. Rouse. Revised by Martin F. Smith (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). May, Gerhard. Creatio ex nihilo: The Doctrine of “Creation out of Nothing” in Early Christian Thought. Translated by A. S. Worrall (London: T&T Clark, ). Norris, Richard. God and World in Early Christian Theology (New York: Seabury Press, ). O’Brien, Carl Séan. The Demiurge in Ancient Thought: Secondary Gods and Divine Mediators (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Origen. Contra Celsum. Translated by Henry Chadwick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Homilies on Genesis and Exodus. Translated by Ronald E. Heine (Fathers of the Church ; Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). On First Principles. Edited and translated by John Behr (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Philoponus. Against Proclus’ On the Eternity of the World –. Translated by Michael Share (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ). Presley, Stephen. The Intertextual Reception of Genesis ‒ in Irenaeus of Lyons (Leiden: Brill, ). Rudolph, Kurt. Gnosis: The Nature and History of Gnosticism (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ).
Contesting Creator and Creation Runia, David. Philo in Early Christian Literature: A Survey (CRINT; Assen: Van Gorum; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Sedley, David. Creationism and Its Critics in Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Sorabji, Richard. Time, Creation, and the Continuum: Theories in Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ). Steenberg, Matthew. Irenaeus on Creation: The Cosmic Christ and the Saga of Redemption (Leiden: Brill, ). Tertullian. Homily on Baptism. Edited and translated by Ernest Evans (London: SPCK, ). Theodoret. Questions on the Octateuch, vol. , On Genesis and Exodus. Greek text revised by John Petruccione. Translated by Robert Hill (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). Theophilus. Ad Autolycum. Edited and translated by Robert Grant (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Williams, Rowan. Arius: Heresy and Tradition, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ).
The Trinity in the Making
In recent decades, the letter “r” has dominated literature on the doctrine of the Trinity. Numerous articles, edited volumes, and monographs begin with the claim that trinitarian doctrine is undergoing a renaissance, revival, restoration, revolution, ressourcement, reemergence, resuscitation, or rehabilitation. Such assertions find their footing in the recognition that trinitarian theology is not a complex theology that few engage, but is the foundation for all theology. The doctrine of the Trinity – God as one ousia or being and three hypostases or persons – is how early Christians, and the church still today, make sense of their experience of God. Scholars such as Lewis Ayres, Sarah Coakley, Michel Barnes, and Rebecca Lyman affirm the foundational position of the Trinity, while also challenging the assumption that the narrative of the development of pre-Nicene trinitarian doctrine is simplified, linear, and progressive. Those who refer to a renaissance are quick to point out numerous binary opposites driving the resurgence of trinitarian scholarship: immanent and economic; East and West; high and low Christology; systematic and historical theology;
See, for example, Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Thought (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); Sarah Coakley, “Introduction: Disputed questions in patristic trinitarianism,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –; Peter C. Phan (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to the Trinity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); Christophe Chalamet and Marc Vials (eds.) Recent Developments in Trinitarian Theology: An International Symposium (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). While these examples describe a flourishing of trinitarian theology, Stephen Holmes laments the “renaissance” that he describes as a claim to ancient trinitarian faith that is actually ancient heresy. He warns, “We returned to the Scriptures, but we chose (with Tertullian’ Praxeas, Noetus of Smyrna . . .) to focus exclusively on New Testament texts, instead of listening to the whole of Scripture with Tertullian, Hippolytus . . .” (Holmes, The Quest for the Trinity: The Doctrine of God in Scripture, History, and Modernity [Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, ], ).
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scriptural and philosophical foundations. Scholarship also examines the impact of trinitarian doctrine on creation, liturgy, feminist theology, ecumenism, and global contexts. Unfortunately for the limits of this chapter, many of these texts skip over the pre-Nicene period and set the starting point for trinitarian doctrine with Augustine and the Cappadocians. Nevertheless, through focus on scriptural exegesis and its place in early Christian writings, recognition of the diversities in early Christian doctrine and language, and contextual questions raised by global voices and ecumenical studies, new work on the doctrine of the Trinity and its making emerges.
The Trinity and Scripture Two approaches to the Trinity and Scripture stand out in recent scholarship, each of which will be reviewed in what follows. The first engages directly with Scripture and examines names for God and seeds of trinitarian doctrine within the Old and New Testaments. The second engages Scripture within early Christian writings, identifying significant passages used by early Christian writers to develop trinitarian doctrine. This dual approach focuses both on the way Scripture was used to support trinitarian doctrine and on what within the texts led to such interpretation. As Hill writes, “If trinitarian theology can assist in the task of interpreting [Scripture], it is equally the case that interpreting [Scripture] is of benefit to trinitarian theology.” The central place of Scripture in the making of theological doctrine cannot be an afterthought.
The Old and New Testaments Much truth lies in the statement that no one wants to find the Nicene Creed in the Old or New Testaments, and yet such a worry has led many scholars to avoid engagement with Scripture from a trinitarian point of view. Francis
The discussion of whether trinitarian doctrine is founded in scriptural interpretations or in response to Greco-Roman philosophy is, for Mark Edwards and Holmes, a false dichotomy. Both challenge the notion that “there was a Hellenistic distortion of Christian theology early on” (see Holmes, Quest for the Trinity, ; Edwards, “Exegesis and the early Christian doctrine of the Trinity,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Trinity, ed. Gilles Emery O.P. and Matthew Levering (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –, at . Wesley Hill, Paul and the Trinity: Persons, Relations, and the Pauline Letters (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), .
Watson observes that “modern biblical scholarship has no great love for the doctrine of the Trinity.” Because the word “Trinity” and the identification of God as “one ousia and three hypostases” are not found in Scripture, some scholars argue that the Trinity is not biblical and only emerged from GrecoRoman philosophical ideas. Thus, trinitarian doctrine is “a later, secondorder, interpretation of the happenings of salvation history.” This is not the only approach to trinitanian doctrine and Scripture. Some scholars who focus on God as Father, Son, and Spirit within Scripture offer caveats that Scripture gives us all the ingredients to speak about the triune God, but a trinitarian recipe, as such, has not yet been devised. Yet even with these cautions and their accompanying assumptions, the importance of Scripture as the foundation of trinitarian doctrine and as the fodder for trinitarian debate is unmistakable. While Colin Gunton laments that “it is remarkable how little exegesis of Scripture, as distinct from the Fathers, is to be found in the major treatments of trinitarian themes,” Watson urges colleagues to “resist this scholarly anti-trinitarianism” and stop living in a world that is “hermetically sealed against current theological trends.” Focusing on the Old Testament as a starting point for trinitarian theology in Scripture may seem impolitic and anachronistic, and yet the relationship between the making of trinitarian doctrine and the Old Testament is especially significant concerning questions of monotheism, divine persons, and the use of the Old Testament in the New. Some of this focus has been helped by recent scholarship that recognizes the Jewishness of Jesus and his disciples and the Jewishness of Paul. Conference sessions – and whole conferences – revolve around debates concerning Paul in Judaism and the use of the Old Testament in the New. Thus it is no surprise that challenging studies such as
Francis Watson, “Trinity and community: A reading of John ,” International Journal of Systematic Theology . (), –, at . Declan Marmion and Rik Van Nieuwenhove, An Introduction to the Trinity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), . Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, The Trinity: Global Perspectives (London: Westminster John Knox, ), . See Jennifer Strawbridge, “Knowing and loving the triune God in the Pauline Epistles,” in Knowing and Loving the Triune God, ed. George Westhaver (London: Canterbury Press, ), –, at . Colin E. Gunton, Father, Son and Holy Spirit: Fully Trinitarian Theology (London: Bloomsbury and T&T Clark, ), . Note this is a particular criticism levelled at Thomas Torrance. Watson, “Trinity and community,” . For example, a conference “Paul and Judaism” at Houston Baptist University and a conference on anti-Judaism and anti-Semitism in biblical scholarship at Oriel College, Oxford.
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Matthew Bates’s The Birth of the Trinity devote as much attention to the triunity of God in the Old Testament as in the New. Similarly, the muchanticipated second volume in Katherine Sonderegger’s threefold systematic theology begins its analysis of trinitarian doctrine in Israel and Scripture. As Gerald O’Collins writes, “a theology of the Trinity that ignores or plays down the Old Testament can only be radically deficient.” Older approaches to God’s triunity in the Old Testament (and, to be fair, the New Testament) are described as proof-texting exercises to show that God is three. Recent scholarship has challenged this method with the call to allow Scripture to speak on its own terms. Scholars like O’Collins, therefore, focus on agents of divine action in the Old Testament, such as “Wisdom,” “Word,” and “Spirit” in order to demonstrate diversity within a monotheistic understanding of God and pave the way for the triunity of God. In a similar vein to O’Collins, Richard Bauckham argues that an early Jewish definition of God could include an understanding of God as Father and as Son while still adhering to monotheism. The oneness of God drawn out in these studies demonstrates that this essential element of trinitarian doctrine is not derived from a Hellenistic philosophical category, but grounded in the names of God in the Old Testament. This, however, does contribute to early Christian debates about God, especially those that revolve around the description of Wisdom as a divine agent in Proverbs :. While on the one hand such an understanding of Wisdom, alongside God’s Word and God’s Spirit, offers a threefold perspective on God; on the other hand, this same passage from Proverbs, describing Wisdom as the first act of God’s creation, is used to argue for the subordination of the Son (as the firstborn of all creation) to the Father by the time of Arius and his followers. Similar concerns are found in New Testament scholarship on God’s triunity, especially concerning Paul’s writings, where the assumption is made that as a Jew, Paul had to fit his understanding of the divinity of Christ and
Matthew Bates, The Birth of the Trinity: Jesus, God, and Spirit in New Testament and Early Christian Interpretations of the Old Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); Katherine Sonderegger, Systematic Theology, vol. , The Doctrine of the Holy Trinity: Processions and Persons (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Gerald O’Collins S.J., The Tripersonal God: Understanding and Interpreting the Trinity (New York: Paulist Press, ), . O’Collins, Tripersonal God, –. Richard Bauckham, God Crucified: Monotheism and Christology in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), . See also Larry Hurtado, One God, One Lord: Early Christian Devotion and Ancient Jewish Monotheism (London: T&T Clark, ), .
Spirit into and around his monotheism. Studies increasingly demonstrate, however, the role that exegesis of Paul’s letters plays in the making of the Trinity. As Fee concludes, while the language of “Trinity” might be “anachronistic for Paul,” Paul’s language “is part of the stuff out of which the later articulations and language arose.” Focus on the triunity of God in Paul’s writings has especially challenged assumptions within scholarship that Christology and trinitarian theology can be separated and that early Christians were binitarian due to a weak understanding of the Spirit. The focus on Paul’s strong pneumatology is a growing area in Pauline studies. To illustrate some of these trends, two recent monographs are worth further engagement. The first is Matthew Bates’s The Birth of the Trinity, in which he applies “prosopological exegesis” – finding the persons of the Trinity – to the Old and New Testaments. For Bates, prosopological exegesis is a method drawn from Scripture itself, where, for example, Hebrews :– asserts that Psalm :– (LXX) concerning “Your throne, O God” is addressed to the Son. This exegetical approach suggests for Bates that trinitarian doctrine is not a postbiblical development but is found within Scripture. The “prosopological exegesis . . . evidenced in the New Testament and other early Christian writings was irreducibly essential to the birth of the Trinity.” Through engagement with New Testament and early Christian use of the Old Testament, Bates concludes that it is “probable that the earliest Christians regarded Jesus both as a distinct divine person in relation to God the Father and as the Son before time.” While Bates faces criticism for his proposal that such views might begin with the historical Jesus, his focus is primarily
Gordon Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), n. . For example, Schnelle concludes that Paul and John both “stand firmly in the tradition of Old Testament monotheism” but “represent an exclusive monotheism in a binatarian form” (Udo Schnelle, The First One Hundred Years of Christianity: An Introduction to Its History, Literature, and Development, trans. James W. Thompson (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ), ). For an overview, see Strawbridge, “Knowing and loving the triune God,” and the work of Volker Rabens and Troels Engberg-Pedersen on Paul’s pneumatology: Volker Rabens, The Holy Spirit and Ethics in Paul (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ); Troels Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology and Self in the Apostle Paul: The Material Spirit (New York: Oxford University Press, ). The Pauline Theology sessions at the Society of Biblical Literature meeting in San Francisco were devoted to Paul’s pneumatology. Bates, Birth of the Trinity, –. Bates, Birth of the Trinity, . Bates, Birth of the Trinity, .
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Christological and has limited engagement with the relation of the Spirit within the divine persons of the Trinity. The second is Wesley Hill’s Paul and the Trinity, which demonstrates that the relations between God, Christ, and Spirit are essential for reading Paul’s letters. Hill challenges the approach to Paul’s understanding of God described above, which assumes that Jesus and the Spirit fit around Paul’s monotheistic belief. What is novel about Hill’s approach is his conscious use of early Christian understandings of the Trinity, especially those leading to Nicaea, to engage with Paul’s letters. This, in Hill’s words, shows that “Pauline interpreters ought to return to the ‘trinitarian’ model when it comes to the task of explicating the identities of God, Jesus, and the Spirit,” and he critiques those who “distance their reconstructions of New Testament christology from later trinitarian theology.” For Hill, early Christian trinitarian writings leading to Nicaea need to be “hermeneutical resources” for reading and understanding Paul rather than “liabilities.” Another concern that dominates recent scholarship on the Trinity and Scripture, which is a focus across Hill’s monograph, is the question of whether a biblical text has a “high” or “low” Christology. The language of high/low Christology is not simply about whether Christ’s nature is more divine or more human, but is intimately connected with questions of his preexistence, an essential element of trinitarian doctrine. Biblical texts with a “high” Christology, suggesting that Christ was with God before time and was involved in creation – such as the so-called Christological “hymns” in Paul’s writings (e.g., Phil. :–; Col. :–) – are pivotal texts in early Christian trinitarian debates. Moreover, that the Christology in Paul’s writings – the earliest texts in the New Testament – is “high” challenges the assumption that Christology must move along a vertical axis from “low” to “high.” George Caird writes against such assumptions, arguing instead that “the highest Christology of the NT is also its earliest.” Hill problematizes the idea of Christology on a vertical axis, suggesting that arguments about low/high Christology are based on distorted ideas
Bates admits that Jesus speaks from the person of the Spirit only “rarely,” thus making the process of prosopological exegesis in relation to the Spirit difficult (Birth of the Trinity, –). Hill, Paul and the Trinity, . Hill, Paul and the Trinity, . Hill especially focuses on the writings of James Dunn and Larry Hurtado. Hill, Paul and the Trinity, . G. B. Caird and L. D. Hurst, New Testament Theology (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), .
about first-century monotheism. He argues that the idea of Christology as “low” or “high” is a scholarly construct imposed on Scripture and finds that early Christian writers – including Paul, who for Hill sets up a clear relationality between God, Jesus, and Spirit – preferred to name God relationally as Father, Son, and Spirit rather than as degrees along a “vertical axis.” Low/ high descriptions are “at some remove from patristic discussions of Jesus’ oneness with and exaltation by the Father” and “[threaten] to obscure the way in which, for Paul, the identities of God, Jesus, and the Spirit are constituted by their relations with one another.”
Reception of Scripture in Early Christian Writings Christopher Beeley and Mark Weedman begin the introduction to their edited volume, The Bible and Early Trinitarian Theology, with the observation that “the past thirty years have seen an unprecedented level of new interest in early Christian biblical interpretation.” As the reception of Scripture in early Christian writings has gained momentum and respect in biblical and patristic studies, it is clear that trinitarian doctrine and Scripture are intimately and inextricably connected. So John Behr’s The Way to Nicaea draws out early Christian focus on Scripture and Lewis Ayres’s Nicaea and Its Legacy focuses on the influence of Scripture in pro-Nicene theology. To demonstrate the “decisive role” that biblical exegesis plays in the making of the Trinity, Beeley and Weedman turn to Tertullian’s Against Praxeas and Origen’s On First Principles, “seminal texts in the respective Latin and Greek traditions of trinitarian theology” that “are each de facto extended works of biblical interpretation.” As the three monographs just mentioned demonstrate, recent scholarship on the use of Scripture in the formation of trinitarian doctrine takes a range
Hill, Paul and the Trinity, . See also pp. – for a discussion of the high/low Christology debate in biblical and early Christian studies, and the recent work on Christology by C. Kavin Rowe, Early Narrative Christology: The Lord in the Gospel of Luke (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ); “Biblical pressure and trinitarian hermeneutics,” Pro Ecclesia (), –. Hill discusses Rowe’s work in Paul and the Trinity, –. Bates still relies on the language of high/ low Christology but does so from a starting point similar to Caird’s: “the Christology of our earliest Christian sources is as high as the later sources” (Bates, Birth of the Trinity, ). Christopher A. Beeley and Mark Weedman, “Introduction: The study of early Christian biblical interpretation,” in The Bible and Early Trinitarian Theology (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ), –, at . Beeley and Weedman, “Introduction,” .
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of approaches. Some focus on the use of one word (such as “image”) or one passage (such as John .–). Others focus on the process of early Christian biblical exegesis, pointing out that there is not one single interpretation of a scriptural passage and that patristic writers engage with Scripture in ways that are different from modern exegetical – especially historical-critical – methods. Stephen Holmes, for example, suggests that to the modern reader, early Christian use of Scripture is at best foreign and at worst illogical. He agrees that “the history of the early development of the doctrine of the Trinity is largely a history of biblical exegesis” and that “patristic exegesis worked by rather different rules from our own”; however, this is an “exegesis of a kind that is unconvincing, obscure, or seemingly arbitrary to the modern reader.” In contrast, Behr begins his work with the caveat that engaging with early Christian theology “is an exegetical exercise,” and so he advocates trying to understand how they read Scripture, not how we want them to read Scripture. For those who engage the range of early Christian exegetical practices, fascinating conclusions about trinitarian theology come to light. In Andrei Dragoș’s Pre-Nicene Christology in Paschal Contexts, the connection early Christians make between the “image” language of Colossians and Genesis leads to conclusions about the connection between the creation of humankind and God revealed in Christ. In a slightly different approach to early Christian exegesis, my own research engages the history of interpretation of Colossians : and how it is affects and is shaped by the Arian controversy, so much so that when early Christians write about the divine nature and preexistence of the Son, Colossians : is one of the main texts to which they turn. However, because the same text was also used by those upholding Arian views of the Son, early Christians used this text not only to think about the Son’s divine nature and unity of God, but also the limits of sola scriptura in that enterprise.
Holmes, Quest for the Trinity, . Holmes, Quest for the Trinity, xvi. Holmes, Quest for the Trinity, . John Behr, Formation of Christian Theology, vol. , The Nicene Faith, Part I (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ), . See Behr’s discussion in Nicene Faith, –. Andrei Giulea Dragoș, Pre-Nicene Christology in Paschal Contexts: The Case of the Divine Noetic Anthropos (Leiden: Brill, ), . Jennifer Strawbridge, “The image and unity of God: The role of Colossians in theological controversy,” in The Bible and Early Trinitarian Theology, ed. Christopher A. Beeley and Mark Weedman (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ), –, at –. Strawbridge, “Image and unity of God,” .
For Beeley and Weedman, the use of Scripture in early Christian writings “illustrates . . . the complex relationship between the Bible and theological development in the early church.” The very language of “development of doctrine” and even “making of the Trinity” can lead to assumptions that early Christianity moved along a clear trajectory starting with Scripture and ending with God as one ousia and three hypostases. But just as the assumption that Christology moves from low to high along a vertical axis is problematic, so too is the assumption that trinitarian doctrine moves in a unified manner along a horizontal axis, especially once we grasp that patristic use of Scripture “ran in multiple and sometimes circuitous channels.” Thus, a focus on the distinctiveness of the Father and Son in response to Sabellianism stands in contrast to the unity of the Father and Son in response to Arianism. So too the subordination of the Son and Spirit to the Father in the writings of Irenaeus and Origen stands in contrast to the equality and consubstantiality of Father, Son, and Spirit in the writings of Athanasius. As Beeley and Weedman conclude, Patristic trinitarian doctrine was not a grand effort to define the categories of ousia and hypostasis, or any other metaphysical construct, let alone to establish the veracity of the creed of Nicaea, as it has often been imagined. Rather, what unites the orthodox theologians of the patristic period is their attempt to make sense of the biblical texts within the lived practice of the catholic faith and vice versa.
That a singular interpretation of a biblical text rarely exists across early Christian writings opens space for continued research in this area, such as close readings of patristic use of a passage and its influence on trinitarian doctrine, the relationship between Scripture in early Christian liturgy and trinitarian theology, the relationship between key biblical texts used by early
Beeley and Weedman, “Introduction,” . Beeley and Weedman, “Introduction,” . Sabellianism, from the third-century priest Sabellius, is also known as “modalism” and is the belief that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are three different modes/aspects of God. Arianism, attributed to the fourth-century priest Arius, is belief that God the Son is distinct from God the Father and thereby subordinate to the Father. While for some the views of those ultimately labelled “heterodox” serve as foils to an “orthodox” position, playing the role of villain in the doctrinal narrative, something that is “wrong” is still an essential part of the narrative. Heterodox views have historical value and play an active role in shaping that history. Trinitarian doctrine is a product of controversy and the faithful attempts of Christians to put their experience of God into words. See Franz Dünzl, A Brief History of the Doctrine of the Trinity in the Early Church, trans. John Bowden (London: T&T Clark, ), xi–x. Beeley and Weedman, “Introduction,” –.
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Christians in trinitarian doctrine (such as John and Cor. :), or the use of Scripture in the earliest creeds. The focus on Scripture and its influence on trinitarian doctrine also raises questions about the biblical canon and the names of God. Christoph Schwöbel suggests that the dependence of New Testament writers on the Old Testament for their discourse on God is crucial for understanding both the making of the Trinity and the unity of Scripture. He concludes that “The unity of the Christian canon of the Old and New Testament stands or falls with the truth of trinitarian discourse on God.” Early Christian discourse against Marcion, for example, supports the connection between the unity of the two testaments and the unity of God and Jesus. Nevertheless, the importance of trinitarian doctrine for canonical unity and formation is only briefly engaged by Schwöbel, leaving space for further study on Scripture, canon, and the Trinity. The different names used for God in Scripture also speak to questions surrounding the names of God in the trinitarian formula. Elizabeth Johnson and Janet Soskice have drawn on descriptions of God found in Scripture to challenge the identity of God as predominantly male, especially within the trinitarian formula. For Johnson, language describing God and God’s actions across Scripture is paternal and maternal, male and female, and thus the dominance of male-only imagery and language, she argues, has led to the exclusion of many when speaking about God. For Soskice, that the divine is understood to be male and the adjectives used to describe God are selectively ones of power and dominance instead of kindness and empathy is equally problematic. An argument against the expansion of trinitarian language and Christoph Schwöbel, “The Trinity between Athens and Jerusalem,” Journal of Reformed Theology (), –, at . See, for example, Irenaeus, Haer. ... See also Alvin Kimel Jr. (ed.) This Is My Name Forever: The Trinity and Gender Language for God (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, ). See Elizabeth Johnson, She Who Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Discourse (London: SCM Press, ), . See also her lecture, Johnson, “Naming God She: The theological implications,” Boardman Lectureship in Christian Ethics (), https://repository.upenn.edu/ boardman/. See Janet M. Soskice, The Kindness of God: Metaphor, Gender, and Religious Language (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), . Johnson makes a similar argument, challenging the association of order, agency, and transformation with the masculine aspect of God and empathy, suffering, and receptivity with the feminine aspect. See Elizabeth Johnson, “The incomprehensibility of God and the image of God male and female,” Theological Studies . (), –, at , and Soskice, “Naming God: Or why names are not attributes,” New Blackfriars . (), –.
the use of other names for God drawn from Jewish and Christian traditions is that “tradition has privileged the names Father, Son, and Holy Spirit to express the triune God’s self-disclosure to humanity.” At the same time, the diversity within early Christian trinitarian debates and their struggle to hold together the names for God in Scripture (e.g., Father, Son, Spirit, Word) with the use of nonbiblical terms to describe God (e.g., homoousios, ousia, hypostasis) suggests that the challenges raised by Johnson and Soskice are not new. While the presenting questions may not be identical, the issues raised around naming God and describing God’s actions in the world are challenges found not only in the twenty-first century, but even in the earliest Christian centuries. Perhaps the struggles and the diversity found in early Christian engagement with Scripture can, therefore, inform new dimensions in such debates today.
The Trinity, Christ, and the Spirit One significant effect of the increasing focus within scholarship on the Trinity and Scripture is a greater awareness of the central roles that Christology and pneumatology play in understanding God’s triunity. Many recent studies begin with laments against the lack of engagement with the Trinity in Christological studies and against the assumption that early Christians did not have a clear understanding of the Spirit. The latter argument can easily lead to a binitarian understanding of God, as we saw in the last section. In a description of twelve issues in recent trinitarian scholarship, O’Collins observes that Christological scholarship “has often failed to [engage] in a trinitarian way, or at least has failed to acknowledge the trinitarian face of the entire history of Jesus.” Ayres directly addresses the division between trinitarian theology and Christology in Nicaea and Its Legacy. Behr makes a similar move in The Mystery of Christ, emphasizing the importance of Christ’s passion and death within early Christian doctrine. Such concern is also found
Marmion and Van Nieuwenhove, Introduction, . Scholars also use Basil of Caesarea to support such conclusions: “We are bound to be baptized in the terms we have received and to profess faith in the terms in which we are baptized, and as we have professed faith in, so to give glory to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” (Ep. . [trans. Way]; see also Gerald O’Collins S.J., “The Holy Trinity: The state of the questions,” in The Trinity: An Interdisciplinary Symposium on the Trinity, ed. Stephen T. Davis, Daniel Kendall S.J., and Gerald O’Collins S.J. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –, at ). O’Collins, “Holy Trinity,” .
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in Brian Daley’s Christological study, which concludes, “Christology is about God – it is necessarily trinitarian.” For O’Collins, failures in Christological studies are often connected with poor pneumatology, like studies of Christ and salvation that neglect the Holy Spirit. Such neglect leads at best to a binitarian understanding of God and, at worst, a unitarian one. O’Collins points to the work of Gordon Fee on the trinitarian nature of the New Testament and the significance of the Spirit for its – and especially Paul’s – understanding of God and Christ. Since O’Collins’s article, numerous contributions have appeared on Paul’s pneumatology and his understanding of the triunity of God, such as that by Hill in the previous section. In many of these writings, the separation of Christology and pneumatology from one another and from trinitarian doctrine is addressed. Recent scholarship on the Spirit and the Trinity, in particular, focuses on the filioque, a term that means “and from the Son,” which was later added to the Nicene–Constantinopolitan creed by Western Christians to describe the procession of the Spirit. Many of the issues raised by the filioque (the East/ West divide is discussed in the next section) are found in early Christian writings describing the procession of the Spirit from the Son and from the Father, arguably leading to a subordinationist view of the Spirit. For Gunton, this subordinationist view does not mean that early Christian trinitarian views must then be avoided. Gunton examines one of the classic examples of early Christian subordination of the Son and Spirit in Irenaeus’s theology to draw conclusions about sexual ethics and personal relations. Irenaeus describes God’s creative action in the world through God’s “two hands,” the Son and the Spirit. For Gunton, this “extremely subtle” image, a “trinitarian vision of God’s creation and redemption of the world . . . has much to teach us about . . . what we do with our bodies in relation to one another and in relation to our world.” While some scholars argue that subordinationist views lead to a weaker Christology and pneumatology in early Christian writings, Gunton reads such views as part of a wider narrative with broad theological implications.
Brian E. Daley S.J., God Visible: Patristic Christology Reconsidered (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), . Gordon Fee, Pauline Christology: An Exegetical-Theological Study (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ). Irenaeus, Haer. ... Gunton, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, –.
Sarah Coakley examines early Christian debates concerning the Spirit and emphasizes the significance and the problems raised by “questions of the ‘hypostatic’ status of the Spirit.” With a focus on the connection between the Spirit and charismatic gifts such as prophecy, Coakley challenges the notion that early Christians possessed an inadequate understanding of the Spirit’s “hypostatic” or personal distinctness. As she reasons, “the charismatic connotations of a doctrine of the Spirit with experiential priority and authority could, if not carefully checked and contained, lead to sectarian aberration.” She compares the charismatic gifts described in Corinthians with the phenomenon of Montanism, the latter of which “gave the Spirit a bad name” and “discouraged explicit or apologetic use of a trinitarianism giving experiential priority to the Spirit.” This led some early Christian writers to be cautious when writing about the Spirit and could account for the perception of a “weak” pneumatology. Nevertheless, Coakley shows through careful reading of the trinitarianism in Irenaeus’s soteriological theory of “recapitulation” that the Spirit “enables the transformative process of ‘recapitulation’” and that the Spirit was also essential for Tertullian’s On Baptism, which contains a “careful treatment of the theology of the Holy Spirit.” While Origen offers a cautious note about the necessity for divine reason and the rationality of the reader when he writes of the Spirit in On First Principles, a caution that Coakley attributes to the influence of Montanism on early Christian pneumatology, Origen elsewhere places the Spirit at the center of his understanding of prayer and preparation for martyrdom. Pneumatology formed an important aspect of early Christian understandings of God and God’s activity. As Coakley sets out, the Spirit didn’t become contentious when the filioque was introduced; it was already divisive within the diversity of early Christianity. Early Christian understanding of the Spirit Sarah Coakley, “Why three? Some further reflections on the origins of the doctrine of the Trinity,” in The Making and Remaking of Christian Doctrine: Essays in Honour of Maurice Wiles, ed. Sarah Coakley and David A. Pailin (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), –, at (italics original). Coakley, “Why three?” –. Coakley distinguishes “personal distinctness” from divinity, which “was never adequately or relationally faced at all in the early centuries” (). Coakley, “Why three?” (italics original). Montanism is a second-century heretical movement, also called the “New Prophecy,” whose followers believed the Spirit gave them a new revelation concerning Christian morality. Coakley, “Why three?” . Coakley, “Why three?” –. Coakley, “Why three?” –. Here she refers to his treatises On Prayer and Exhortation to Martyrdom.
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was not weak, therefore, but cautious and robust as it responded to apparent misunderstandings such as that thought to be exemplified by the Montantists.
The Trinity and Systematic Theology One of the most contentious binaries in recent scholarship on early trinitarian doctrine is the split between historical and systematic theological approaches. While biblical and patristic studies have found significant places for collaboration, especially in reception historical studies, the links between systematic and historical theology are not as amenable. Khaled Anatolios and Lewis Ayres both attack distinctions between systematic and historical theology and the priority given by many to a systematic approach, where the historical is, in their view, secondary at best. This distinction assumes that “scholars of a more historical bent will want to stress that all theology must be historical, while most systematic theologians insist that theology requires strong ethical and political commitment.” Despite such divisions, scholars of early Christianity challenge this “polarizing hermeneutic of doctrine” and call for a renewed focus on historical theology and what systematic understandings can contribute. They offer the warning, however, that “the more tightly controlled a reading is by an ideological end the more damaged is the historical sensitivity.” With the introduction of immanent and economic understandings of the Trinity, made prominent by Karl Rahner’s claim that the immanent is the economic and the economic is the immanent, early Christian writers were judged accordingly. Rahner’s warning against the separation of the immanent and economic Trinity spilled into patristic and biblical studies. Some
Marmion and Van Nieuwenhove, Introduction, . See also Khaled Anatolios, Retrieving Nicaea: The Development and Meaning of Trinitarian Doctrine (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ), . Michel René Barnes, “Augustine in contemporary trinitarian theology,” Theological Studies (), –, at –. Karl Rahner, The Trinity, trans. J. Donceel, nd ed. (New York: Crossroad, ; st ed., ). As Emery and Levering clarify, the economic Trinity is “the Trinity in its work of creation and grace” and the immanent Trinity is “the Trinity in its inner life” (Emery and Levering, “Introduction,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Trinity, ed. Gilles Emery O.P. and Matthew Levering [Oxford: Oxford University Press, ], –, at ). For more on Rahner’s trinitarian theology, see Fred Sanders, The Image of the Immanent Trinity: Rahner’s Rule and the Theological Interpretation of Scripture (New York: Peter Lang, ).
scholars have examined Scripture to conclude, for example, that the emphasis in Scripture is on God’s activity and “early Christians were primarily concerned with Christ’s message of salvation, not abstract speculation . . . that is, not the economic Trinity.” Others, like Schwöbel, argue that scriptural exegesis about the relationship of God, Christ, and Spirit is essential for both the economic Trinity and its relationship to the immanent. Rahner’s focus on the internal structure of trinitarian doctrine and the inner-trinitarian relations between Father, Son, and Spirit have had a substantial impact on ecumenical conversations as well, especially concerning how the Son and Spirit proceed from the Father. This division revolves most significantly around an East/West divide, and while scholars normally locate the breach between the persons of Augustine and the Cappadocians, it has now been shown not only that the breach is less drastic than previously claimed, but also that the sources for this alleged divide stem further back to earlier writers, as will be documented below. Criticism in scholarship is heaped mostly on the West, accused of confessing a different trinitarian faith and placing the doctrine of the Trinity as “an appendix” to the one God (de Deo uno). On the other hand, the East is praised for being more “biblical” and less unitarian in its trinitarian understanding. Such division is attributed to systematic theologians who align Augustine and the West with the unity of the divine nature and the Cappadocians and the East with the reality of three divine persons. As Gunton summarizes, “in the East discussion of the Trinity moves from the three to the one, whereas in the West the reverse is the case.” This division and the assumption that the West’s focus on oneness makes the persons indistinguishable is intimately connected with Rahner’s worry that the actions of God as Trinity are separated from God’s triune nature. Rahner, however, is not the main scapegoat for those who oppose the East/West division; that role instead falls upon the nineteenth-century theologian Théodore de Régnon, though such blame has been questioned
Marmion and Van Nieuwenhove, Introduction, . Christoph Schwöbel, “The renaissance of trinitarian theology: Reasons, problems and tasks,” in Trinitarian Theology Today: Essays on Divine Being and Act, ed. Christoph Schwöbel (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ), –, at . Kärkkäiken, The Trinity, . Ayres offers a footnote in Nicaea and Its Legacy listing recent studies that maintain this division ( n. ). Gunton, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, .
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by Coakley amongst others. As she points out, contextually de Régnon’s observation about trinitarian understandings of the East and West were made about medieval theology and then applied by others to the patristic period. Ayres argues that such a division does not work for fourth-century trinitarian doctrine and highlights the continuity between Augustine, the Cappadocians, and their pre-Nicene influences. For Ayres, the relationship between Latin and Greek theology should not “be understood as one between two distinct traditions known in their essences by particular and secure tokens.” Rather, the “origins of any particular unitary vision” must be considered along with “precision about which text or theologian or particular part” of the tradition is brought into dialogue. For Ayres, those who are pro-Nicene in the East and the West, including the Cappadocians and Augustine, share a similar “culture” and are committed to defending the divine mystery of the Trinity. Therefore, he concludes that the East/West division “is of far less significance than is usually thought.” A number of other scholars offer a critique similar to Ayres in their studies of pre-Nicene trinitarian theology. Anatolios does so by tracing the preNicene influences on both Augustine and Gregory of Nyssa. John McGuckin does so through his argument about the importance of Origen as a common influence in trinitarian theology so that the development of the doctrine of the Trinity “through the fourth century . . . is a direct reaction to Origen’s scholarly agenda.” Michel Barnes makes a similar argument with Tertullian’s theology, which he argues “is a paradigm for Latin trinitarian theology thereafter.” Not only are Augustine and the Cappadocians not the
See Coakley, “Introduction,” , and Kristen Hennessy, “An answer to de Régnon’s accusers: Why we should not speak of ‘his’ paradigm,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –. See the discussion, too, by Christoph Schwöbel, “Where do we stand in trinitarian theology? Resources, revisions, and reappraisals,” in Recent Developments in Trinitarian Theology: An International Symposium, ed. Christophe Chalamet and Marc Vials (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –, at . Lewis Ayres, “Into the cloud of witnesses: Latin trinitarian theology beyond and before its modern ‘revivals,’” in Rethinking Trinitarian Theology: Disputed Questions and Contemporary Issues in Trinitarian Theology, ed. Giulio Maspero and Robert Woźniak (London: T&T Clark, ), –, at . Ayres also includes Russian theology with Greek theology in his argument. Ayres, “Into the cloud of witnesses,” . Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy, . Anatolios, Retrieving Nicaea, chs. and . John Anthony McGuckin, “The Trinity in the Greek Fathers,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Trinity, ed. Peter C. Phan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at . Michel René Barnes, “Latin trinitarian theology,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Trinity, ed. Peter C. Phan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at .
starting point for trinitarian theology, they are also influenced by a deep and diverse discussion on the nature, persons, and activities of God in the centuries before them. Such scholarship stresses both the continuity between the East and the West often missed by the assumption that “Latin theology is inherently corrupt” and the internal diversities within each trajectory. This stress on continuity and diversity has an ecumenical impact. Because “The Fathers are an authority which all branches of the Church have in common,” the impact of patristic understandings of God’s triunity has significant consequences. In her engagement with Ayres, Coakley identifies one of the most important effects of challenges like his to the East/West divide: “Once the false wedge between East and West in this period is removed, certain sorts of polemicizing about the innate superiority of one approach over another becomes suspect, and we are returned to the texts themselves with fresh eyes, and . . . fresh possibilities for ecumenical engagement.” Nevertheless, diversity in early Christian doctrines cannot be swept under the rug in the name of unity. Certainly there are ecumenical attractions to breaking down the walls between East/West doctrinal understandings, but, as Coakley warns, such attempts risk “artfully smudg[ing] differences which do indeed still remain between a biblically rooted understanding of God as ‘Father,’ maintained consistently in the early Greek writers . . . and an emerging discourse of divine ‘triunity.’” Such differences are to be embraced along with the diversity found within early Christian writings on all sides of trinitarian debates. Such diversity prevents the cookiecutter, smooth, cumulative narrative to dominate the story of the Trinity’s making and emphasizes the many facets of the divine mystery and its impact on Christian life and worship across time.
Ayres, “Into the cloud of witnesses,” . Gunton, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, . Coakley, “Introduction,” . An interesting area for further study concerning East/West divisions in trinitarian doctrine that has been minimally explored is the differences between East/Greek and West/Latin in the development of a written creed. Wolfram Kinzig writes with surprise in his magisterial fourvolume collection of credal formulae that a comment by Hilary, the fourth-century bishop of Poitiers, makes clear that written creeds did not exist in large parts of the Western empire, while they were written in the East. The dichotomy between credal (which Kinzig defines as trinitarian) confessions in the East and West as written and oral, respectively, is a difference that has not been addressed in discussions of the East/West divide in patristic studies. See Kinzig (ed.) Faith in Formulae: A Collection of Early Christian Creeds and Creed-Related Texts, vol. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. Coakley, “Introduction,” .
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The Trinity and Context This final section on context focuses on scholarship in the majority world and the impact of context and language on early trinitarian doctrine. This section concludes with a brief discussion of the liturgical context of the Trinity in early Christian writings. Approaching the Trinity from a particular culture or context takes at least two forms. In the first, the context of an early Christian writer is engaged in terms of his location (for example, Africa). Work in this area begins with “early African theologians such as Tertullian, Origen, Arius, Athanasius, and St Augustine” and examines the “interplay between Christian tradition and African religio-cultural heritage, including contemporary experience.” A. Okechukwu Ogbonnaya, for example, offers an “African interpretation of the Trinity” through the writing of one of Africa’s earliest Christian theologians: Tertullian. For Ogbonnaya, Tertullian’s focus on the divine as community, and the foundation of his theology in biblical revelation, challenge hierarchical views of God found in African culture. He observes that the way Tertullian holds together God’s triunity as community also relates to African understandings of God as the “One” and the “Many.” Though his work has sparked debate over what makes a theological focus uniquely “African,” and been criticized for reading contemporary notions of community into Tertullian’s theology and neglecting Tertullian’s Greco-Roman context, this approach has also drawn much praise for its novelty and for the reciprocity between ancient and modern contexts that Ogbonnaya draws out. In a second form of approach, the context of early Christian writers and their engagement with Greco-Roman philosophy – one of the critiques of Ogbonnaya’s study – is used to support contemporary language to address God’s triunity. Just as early Christians used philosophical terms to describe trinitarian concepts – such as ousia, hypostasis, and persona – so scholars like Study of the Trinity from a global, and especially non-English-speaking context, is another area ripe for further study. Roger E. Olson and Christopher A. Hall, for example, set out a comprehensive annotated bibliography on the Trinity that is limited to English-only texts, a gap that the authors themselves recognize (see Olson and Hall, The Trinity [Guides to Theology; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ], –). The global voice cannot be an afterthought in contemporary theology. Teddy Chalwe Sakupapa, “The Trinity in African Christian theology: An overview of contemporary approaches,” HTS Teologiese Studies . (), –, at . A. Okechukwu Ogbonnaya, On Communitarian Divinity: An African Interpretation of the Trinity (New York: Paragon House, ), . See also Bengt Hoffman, “Review of On Communitarian Divinity: An African Interpretation of the Trinity,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies (), .
James Kombo reframe trinitarian doctrine in African categories, with God as the Great Muntu, the Supreme Vital Force. Similarly to the earlier section on gendered language and God, the diversity of ways God is understood and addressed in early Christian texts is illuminated. As Teddy Chalwe Sakupapa writes, “the development of the classic doctrine of the Trinity was a creative process that included not only linguistic borrowings but also that the language and grammar of Trinitarian theology has been developed in the context of debate.” He agrees with the work of those like Kombo who reinterpret the Trinity, but only attempt to do so with terms related to sacred texts, just as early Christians did in their trinitarian writings. Kombo’s starting point, as well, is the understanding that even though the doctrinal statements of the early church are historically contingent, they “must be reinterpreted for our specific contexts,” which for his work is an African context. In order to do that, one must first understand the development of trinitarian doctrine, since a new trinitarian formula is not the goal but rather an understanding of the formula in and for a new context. Jung Young Lee offers a similar argument when engaging historical doctrines of God in an Asian context that, he argues, is meant to complement rather than replace early Christian perspectives on the Trinity. This focus on the importance of context and the interpretation of early Christian trinitarian theology within new contexts raises questions more broadly in recent scholarship about language and the Trinity. The last few decades have included an increased wariness of trinitarian language, not only in terms of gender and culture, but also with the importation of early Christian terminology into modern writings and the importation of modern definitions into early Christian doctrine. For example, Coakley warns against using contemporary understandings of “person” to explain early trinitarian doctrine. Holmes also emphasizes the contextual significance of words, especially “person,” which he clarifies means a particular existence within the
James Henry Owino Kombo, The Doctrine of God in African Christian Thought: The Holy Trinity, Theological Hermeneutics, and the African Intellectual Culture (Leiden: Brill, ), . Sakupapa, “Trinity in African Christian theology,” . Kombo, Doctrine of God, . Jung Young Lee, The Trinity in Asian Perspective (Nashville: Abingdon Press, ). Sarah Coakley, “‘Persons’ in the ‘social’ doctrine of the Trinity: A critique of current analytic discussion,” in The Trinity: An Interdisciplinary Symposium on the Trinity, ed. Stephen T. Davis, Daniel Kendall S.J., and Gerald O’Collins S.J. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. Kombo offers a similar warning for language like “being” and “substance” in a contemporary African context, detached from its Greco-Roman philosophical foundation. See Kombo, Doctrine of God, .
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Godhead and not an individual will or reason. He warns against the use of a technical term in early Christian doctrine to satisfy a modern desire to understand God as personal. The language of “person” is not only a technical term, but early Christians also could not agree on its use, nor did they have a single understanding of “person.” This diversity is significant and leads Ayres to conclude that “[t]he more we become aware of the range of ways in which person has been discussed and used – the more it should become clear that attention to this history may well turn out to be the best source of creative and faithful thinking in the present circumstances.” These recent debates, therefore, point to fruitful avenues for future study. Revisiting the meanings of concepts like “person” and “substance” in the earliest Christian writers, writers such as Irenaeus and Tertullian, will help to illuminate further how the doctrine of the Trinity emerged. The complexity of trinitarian language and its context are a central feature in recent works on early Christian liturgy as well. As Frances Young concludes, trinitarian theology is “the product of exegesis of the biblical texts, refined by debate and argument, and rhetorically celebrated in liturgy.” Scholars like to emphasize that early Christian understandings of God are linked to baptism, credal statements, and doxologies, but just as more work could be done on credal statements and the Trinity (see n. ), another area for further study is the Trinity and early Christian liturgy. Focus on the biblical foundations of the Trinity has also contributed to the liturgical context of early formulations of the Trinity, with Matthew : as a baptismal formula and Philippians as a Christian “hymn” often providing the examples for such a connection. Morwenna Ludlow draws out how significant liturgical practice was for doctrinal development such as “the very widespread early use of a three-fold formula in baptism – ‘in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit’” – which clearly “influence[s] the development of the doctrine of the Trinity.” She observes, as well, that
Holmes, Quest for the Trinity, –. Ayres, “Into the cloud of witnesses,” –. The language of “persons” has also caused problems in recent biblical scholarship on the Trinity where, for example, one of the chief criticisms of God’s triunity in Paul’s letters is that Paul does not address the Father, Christ, or the Spirit as “persons.” Fee, Young, and Watson separately rebut such criticism as anachronistic and shortsighted. See Strawbridge, “Knowing and loving the triune God,” –. Frances Young, “The Trinity and the New Testament,” in The Nature of New Testament Theology: Essays in Honour of Robert Morgan, ed. Christopher Rowland and Christopher Tuckett (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, ), –, at . See Marmion and Van Nieuwenhove, Introduction, .
this influence is multidirectional since “arguments against the Arians about the doctrine of the Trinity had an impact on liturgy, since they condemned those who did not use the three-fold formula in baptism.” The doctrine of the Trinity therefore not only undergirds all of Christian theology, it also has significant consequences for Christian practice.
Concluding Challenges According to Behr, there is not a single “legacy” of Nicaea, but only “legacies.” With a focus on the Trinity and Scripture, Christology, pneumatology, systematic theology, global contexts, and language, one of the biggest challenges encountered in each of these sections is how to engage with the binaries that dominate this area of study. The temptation to advocate for unity is ever present, but if we succumb, we risk losing sight of the plurality and diversity of doctrine and exegesis that influenced the concept’s making. Ludlow begins The Early Church with a plea not to neglect the diversity of early Christianity, since too many narratives of doctrinal formation are oversimplified. Similarly, Anatolios writes that “the story of the development of trinitarian doctrine and the main voices within that narrative are treated principally in terms of their use of . . . key terms, their use or lack of use of certain analogies, and similar considerations.” But this, he warns, “simply narrates earlier traces of the final formulas of the doctrine” and is no longer a creative process but is “a lexical archaeological expedition.” Certainly, early Christian writers have “certain fundamental commitments in common in explicating the doctrine of the Trinity, but a good deal of significant variations remain between them as well.” As we have seen, diversity, distinction, and disruption of a singular, simple narrative help to rethink doctrinal boundaries and enable “the mystery of which these texts
Morwenna Ludlow, The Early Church (London: I. B. Tauris, ), xv. John Behr and Khaled Anatolios, “Final reflections,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –, at . Ludlow, Early Church, xiii–xiv. Anatolios, Retrieving Nicaea, . Anatolios has a particular aversion to trinitarian analogies that he argues lead to a Trinity detached from the mystery of God’s triunity revealed in Scripture (see p. ). Coakley, “Introduction,” .
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attempt to speak” to be expressed. Noticing and engaging the diversity in early Christian writings is essential for future research in this area. While we might be in the midst of a trinitarian renaissance, the importance of the doctrine of the Trinity has never gone away. As this chapter demonstrates through numerous approaches and contemporary studies, the doctrine of the Trinity is the foundation for all theology. And while some theologians perceive a gap in trinitarian scholarship after Aquinas (or even Augustine!), for patristic scholars, the significance and centrality of trinitarian doctrine was never in question. From the New Testament to the “hands” of Irenaeus, from the trinitas of Tertullian to the eternal generation of Origen, and from the earliest baptismal formula to the language of the creeds, the Trinity has been and continues to be at the heart of exegesis, doctrine, liturgy, and practice. There is no singular point in time when the doctrine of the Trinity was “made”; the question of how God, Christ, and the Spirit relate was already present in the earliest Christian circles, and even today it is a doctrine still in the making.
Select Bibliography Anatolios, Khaled. Retrieving Nicaea: The Development and Meaning of Trinitarian Doctrine (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). Ayres, Lewis. “Into the cloud of witnesses: Latin trinitarian theology beyond and before its modern ‘revivals.’” Pages – in Rethinking Trinitarian Theology: Disputed Questions and Contemporary Issues in Trinitarian Theology. Edited by Giulio Maspero and Robert Woźniak (London: T&T Clark, ). Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Thought (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Barnes, Michel René. “Augustine in contemporary trinitarian theology,” Theological Studies (), –. “Latin trinitarian theology.” Pages – in The Cambridge Companion to the Trinity. Edited by Peter C. Phan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Basil of Caesarea. Letters, vol. (–). Translated by Agnes Clare Way (Fathers of the Church ; Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). Bates, Matthew. The Birth of the Trinity: Jesus, God, and Spirit in New Testament and Early Christian Interpretations of the Old Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Bauckham, Richard. God Crucified: Monotheism and Christology in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ).
Ayres, “Into the cloud of witnesses,” .
Ayres, “Into the cloud of witnesses,” .
Beeley, Christopher A. and Mark Weedman. “Introduction: The study of early Christian biblical interpretation.” Pages – in The Bible and Early Trinitarian Theology (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). Behr, John. Formation of Christian Theology, vol. , The Nicene Faith, Part I (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). The Mystery of Christ: Life in Death (Crestwood, NY: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). The Way to Nicaea (Crestwood, NY: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). Behr, John and Khaled Anatolios. “Final reflections,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –. Caird, G. B. and L. D. Hurst. New Testament Theology (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Chalamet, Christophe and Marc Vials (eds.) Recent Developments in Trinitarian Theology: An International Symposium (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Coakley, Sarah. “Introduction: Disputed questions in patristic trinitarianism,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –. “‘Persons’ in the ‘social’ doctrine of the Trinity: A critique of current analytic discussion.” Pages – in The Trinity: An Interdisciplinary Symposium on the Trinity. Edited by Stephen T. Davis, Daniel Kendall S.J., and Gerald O’Collins S.J. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Why three? Some further reflections on the origins of the doctrine of the Trinity.” Pages – in The Making and Remaking of Christian Doctrine: Essays in Honour of Maurice Wiles. Edited by Sarah Coakley and David A. Pailin (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Daley, Brian E. S.J. God Visible: Patristic Christology Reconsidered (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Dragoș, Andrei Giulea. Pre-Nicene Christology in Paschal Contexts: The Case of the Divine Noetic Anthropos (Leiden: Brill, ). Dünzl, Franz. A Brief History of the Doctrine of the Trinity in the Early Church. Translated by John Bowden (London: T&T Clark, ). Edwards, Mark. “Exegesis and the early Christian doctrine of the Trinity.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of the Trinity. Edited by Gilles Emery O.P. and Matthew Levering (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Emery, Gilles O.P. and Matthew Levering, “Introduction.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of the Trinity. Edited by Gilles Emery O.P. and Matthew Levering (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Engberg-Pedersen, Troels. Cosmology and Self in the Apostle Paul: The Material Spirit (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Fee, Gordon. The First Epistle to the Corinthians, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Pauline Christology: An Exegetical-Theological Study (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ). Gunton, Colin E. Father, Son and Holy Spirit: Toward a Fully Trinitarian Theology (London: Bloomsbury and T&T Clark, ). Hennessy, Kristen. “An answer to de Régnon’s accusers: Why we should not speak of ‘his’ paradigm,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –. Hill, Wesley. Paul and the Trinity: Persons, Relations, and the Pauline Letters (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ).
The Trinity in the Making Hoffman, Bengt. “Review of On Communitarian Divinity: An African Interpretation of the Trinity,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies (), . Holmes, Stephen R. The Quest for the Trinity: The Doctrine of God in Scripture, History, and Modernity (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, ). Hurtado, Larry. One God, One Lord: Early Christian Devotion and Ancient Jewish Monotheism (London: T&T Clark, ). Irenaeus. Contre les Hérésies . Translated by Adelin Rousseau, Louis Doutreleau, and Charles Mercier (SC ; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, ). Johnson, Elizabeth. “The incomprehensibility of God and the image of God male and female,” Theological Studies . (), –. “Naming God She: The theological implications,” Boardman Lectureship in Christian Ethics (), https://repository.upenn.edu/boardman/. She Who Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Discourse (London: SCM Press, ). Kärkkäinen, Veli-Matti. The Trinity: Global Perspectives (London: Westminster John Knox, ). Kimel, Alvin Jr. (ed.) This Is My Name Forever: The Trinity and Gender Language for God (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, ). Kinzig, Wolfram (ed.) Faith in Formulae: A Collection of Early Christian Creeds and CreedRelated Texts, vol. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Kombo, James Henry Owino. The Doctrine of God in African Christian Thought: The Holy Trinity, Theological Hermeneutics, and the African Intellectual Culture (Leiden: Brill, ). Lee, Jung Young. The Trinity in Asian Perspective (Nashville: Abingdon Press, ). Ludlow, Morwenna. The Early Church (London: I. B. Tauris, ). Marmion, Declan and Rik Van Nieuwenhove. An Introduction to the Trinity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). McGuckin, John Anthony. “The Trinity in the Greek Fathers.” Pages – in The Cambridge Companion to the Trinity. Edited by Peter C. Phan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). O’Collins, Gerald S.J. “The Holy Trinity: The state of the questions.” Pages – in The Trinity: An Interdisciplinary Symposium on the Trinity. Edited by Stephen T. Davis, Daniel Kendall S.J., and Gerald O’Collins S.J. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). S.J. The Tripersonal God: Understanding and Interpreting the Trinity (New York: Paulist Press, ). Ogbonnaya, A. Okechukwu. On Communitarian Divinity: An African Interpretation of the Trinity (New York: Paragon House, ). Olson, Roger E. and Christopher A. Hall. The Trinity (Guides to Theology; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Phan, Peter C. (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to the Trinity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Rabens, Volker. The Holy Spirit and Ethics in Paul (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Rahner, Karl. The Trinity. Translated by J. Donceel, nd ed. (New York: Crossroad, ; st ed., ).
Rowe, C. Kavin. “Biblical pressure and trinitarian hermeneutics,” Pro Ecclesia (), –. Early Narrative Christology: The Lord in the Gospel of Luke (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). Sakupapa, Teddy Chalwe. “The Trinity in African Christian theology: An overview of contemporary approaches,” HTS Teologiese Studies . (), –. Sanders, Fred. The Image of the Immanent Trinity: Rahner’s Rule and the Theological Interpretation of Scripture (New York: Peter Lang, ). Schnelle, Udo. The First One Hundred Years of Christianity: An Introduction to Its History, Literature, and Development. Translated by James W. Thompson (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). Schwöbel, Christoph. “The renaissance of trinitarian theology: Reasons, problems and tasks.” Pages – in Trinitarian Theology Today: Essays on Divine Being and Act. Edited by Christoph Schwöbel (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ). “The Trinity between Athens and Jerusalem,” Journal of Reformed Theology (), –. “Where do we stand in trinitarian theology? Resources, revisions, and reappraisals.” Pages – in Recent Developments in Trinitarian Theology: An International Symposium. Edited by Christophe Chalamet and Marc Vials (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Sonderegger, Katherine. Systematic Theology, vol. , The Doctrine of the Holy Trinity: Processions and Persons (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Soskice, Janet M. The Kindness of God: Metaphor, Gender, and Religious Language (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Naming God: Or why names are not attributes,” New Blackfriars . (), –. Strawbridge, Jennifer. “The image and unity of God: The role of Colossians in theological controversy.” Pages – in The Bible and Early Trinitarian Theology. Edited by Christopher A. Beeley and Mark Weedman (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). “Knowing and loving the triune God in the Pauline Epistles.” Pages – in Knowing and Loving the Triune God. Edited by George Westhaver (London: Canterbury Press, ). Watson, Francis. “Trinity and community: A reading of John ,” International Journal of Systematic Theology . (), –. Young, Frances. “The Trinity and the New Testament.” Pages – in The Nature of New Testament Theology: Essays in Honour of Robert Morgan. Edited by Christopher Rowland and Christopher Tuckett (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, ).
Resurrection, Transformation, and Deification .
In the earliest period of the Christian movements, resurrection meant many things to many people. Claims that resurrection is unique to Christian discourse or unattested in Greco-Roman thought are based on overly determined understandings that respect neither the diversity of early Christian conceptions nor the breadth of Greco-Roman lore. The explosion of research on resurrection forbids a comprehensive survey. In this essay, the focus will be on ontology – what resurrection meant for the body, a body different from yet in continuity with the celestial and deathless body it becomes. From this discussion follows an inquiry as to what resurrection meant with regard to human identity: Do resurrected individuals remain human, or do they transcend humanity to become a higher entity?
Resurrection and the Body Although the language of “rising” (anistemi) or “waking” (egeiro) from the dead was widespread in the ancient Mediterranean, it has long since been
N. T. Wright, The Resurrection of the Son of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), , , , , countered by Dag Øistein Endsjø, Greek Resurrection Beliefs (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, ); Stephen J. Bedard, “A nation of heroes: From apotheosis to resurrection,” in Resurrection of the Dead: Biblical Traditions in Dialogue, ed. Geert van Oyen and Tom Shepherd (Leuven: Peeters, ), –; M. David Litwa, Iesus Deus: The Early Christian Depiction of Jesus as a Mediterranean God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –; Outi Lehtipuu, Debates over the Resurrection of the Dead: Constructing Early Christian Identity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –; Richard C. Miller, Resurrection and Reception in Early Christianity (London: Routledge, ); Mark T. Finney, Resurrection, Hell and the Afterlife: Body and Soul in Antiquity, Judaism and Christianity (London: Routledge, ), –, –; Frederick S. Tappenden and Carly Daniel-Hughes (eds.) Coming Back to Life: The Permeability of Past and Present, Mortality and Immortality, Death and Life in the Ancient Mediterranean (Montreal: McGill University, ); John Granger Cook, Empty Tomb, Apotheosis, Resurrection (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ).
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baptized by Christians, and has collected, like unto a rolling snowball, a motley host of associations. Instead of having our discussion dyed by these associations, it is better to redescribe resurrection using a fresh, working definition that will open up rather than shut down comparison. Henceforth, “resurrection” will denote any theory of postmortem corporeal immortalization. Resurrection is not mere resuscitation (the case of Lazarus in John ). Persons are not resurrected to ordinary life, but to a deathless life with an enhanced corporeality. “Corporeality” in this definition refers of course to bodies, and by bodies we cannot simply assume the likes of the Vitruvian Man with two arms, two legs, and a rotating head. A body (Latin, corpus; Greek, soma) had a much wider range of signification in antiquity. It could include any kind of thin or subtle matter including air or ether (the exceedingly hot or fiery air of the upper atmosphere). The other key term, “flesh” (sarx), could also refer to a body. But here there was ambiguity, for sarx often also designated the corruptible, morally deficient body ( Cor. :–, Gal. :–, Col. :). Even when authors referred to the resurrection of the “flesh” in the sense of the body as such, they often assumed a transformed body, and one not necessarily composed of corruptible elements. To a great extent, the Christian imagination regarding resurrection was fertilized by Jewish apocalyptic traditions that envisioned an enhanced corporeality in photonic, sidereal, or angelic terms. In Daniel : (mid-second century ), sages resurrected from the earth beam with the light of the stars. Baruch (late first century ) speaks of the resurrected righteous as “glorified in transformations.” Their very faces turn into light, which enables them to acquire the immortal world (:–:). At the end of the Parables of Enoch (first century ), the patriarch’s flesh melts away and his spirit is transformed as he sees the snowy visage of the Head of Days (:–). In Enoch (also first century), the same patriarch is extracted from his earthly clothing, anointed with photonic ointment, and clothed with a glorious garment, all of which makes him visibly indistinguishable from angels. It seems that these righteous dead modeled a superior kind of corporeality
On the Greek vocabulary, see James Ware, “The resurrection of Jesus in the pre-Pauline formula of Cor :–,” New Testament Studies (), –, at –; Cook, Empty Tomb, –. See further Philip Alexander, “From son of Adam to second God: Transformations of the biblical Enoch,” in Biblical Figures Outside the Bible, ed. Michael E. Stone and Theodore A. Bergren (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ), –.
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received in heaven, though the authors of these works never offered a precise compositional description of it. Origen of Alexandria (d. circa ) was perhaps the most (in)famous ancient theorist of the resurrection body. Only God, he believed, was properly bodiless. Entities less than God inhabited a corporeality that fit both their environment and (to some degree) their moral status. In interpreting a remark of Jesus in the (now lost) Preaching of Peter (“I am not a bodiless daimon”), Origen observed that Jesus was not using “bodiless” in its strictly philosophical sense to mean immaterial (like the Platonic soul). “Bodiless” here meant “invisible,” “something naturally subtle like thin air.” It was an adjective meant to distinguish the body of a daimon (what moderns would call a “spirit”) from a “solid and palpable” body of flesh and sinews. Perhaps the key feature of the resurrection body is what it shared with Greek gods – deathlessness. Survival in this case is not dependent on food consumption or reproduction. Resurrected peoples, even if they are said to dine in a heavenly banquet, do not actually require sustenance for energy. Jesus announced that resurrected people will, like angels, not marry (Mark :, par.). They do not marry because they do not reproduce. They do not reproduce because immortality ceases to require the replenishment of the race. Jesus said that people do not marry because they will be “like angels in heaven” (hos aggeloi en ouranois). It is of course true that being like an angel does not mean that one becomes an angel. At the same time, it does seem to be the case that the author of Luke upped the ante by having Jesus declare that the resurrected will be “equal to angels” (isaggeloi, Luke :). To be “equal” to an angel does suggest some form of equivalence or ontological parity. Thus, it was no surprise when some Christians concluded that,
On Jewish notions of resurrection, see C. D. Elledge, Resurrection of the Dead in Early Judaism, – (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); Jan A. Sigvartsen, Afterlife and Resurrection Beliefs in the Apocrypha and Apocalyptic Literature (London: Bloomsbury: ); Sigvartsen, Afterlife and Resurrection Beliefs in the Pseudepigrapha (London: Bloomsbury, ). Origen, Princ. pr. (naturaliter subtile quoddam et velut aura tenue). Cf. Irenaeus, Haer. ..; Clement, Exc. .. See further Gregory A. Smith, “How thin is a demon?” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. See further Lawrence R. Hennessey, “A philosophical issue in Origen’s eschatology: The three senses of incorporeality,” in Origeniana Quinta, ed. Robert J. Daly (Leuven: Peeters, ), –. Tertullian makes this point in Res. ..
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because angels are not made of flesh, resurrection bodies will not be fleshly (oude sarkike anastasis genesetai). Despite certain polemics, ancient Christian theories of resurrection typically do not question whether immortalized people will have a body, but – in the famous inquiry put in the mouths of the Corinthians – “with what sort of body” they will come ( Cor. :). Paul taught that the resurrection body could, materially speaking, be quite different than the present human body – as different as a “naked” seed is from the bushy tree that it becomes (vv. –). The apostle insisted that the heavy element of flesh and the liquid element of blood could not inherit (we might say “inhabit”) the heavenly realms ( Cor. :). There will be a “change” from present bodily corruptibility to future incorruptibility (v. ), from an “earthly body” to “a heavenly body” (soma epouranion, v. ), from a body of humiliation to a body of glory (soma tes doxes, Phil. :), like unto the change from a tent upheld by poles to a house built out of mortar and brick ( Cor. :–). The body of dust will become a “pneumatic body” (soma pneumatikon, Cor. :), which – like the present body made from dust (Gen. :) – refers to a body characterized and perhaps even constituted by pneuma. Pneuma in this case probably refers to a material element akin to solar fire, a subtle body also believed to be the engine of intelligence. Origen observed that “It is a custom of holy scripture, when it wishes to point to something of an opposite nature to this dense and solid body, to call it pneuma.” Cf. Heb. : // Ps. : LXX: God “makes his angels pneumata”; Asc. Isa. :–. Both PseudoJustin (Res. ., .) and Methodius (Res. ., ..) preferred the hos aggeloi reading. In fact, Methodius openly shunned any sense of human equivalence with the angels to avoid the inference that resurrected humans will transcend flesh (..). Cf. Tertullian, Res. .–, .–. On angelification, see M. David Litwa, Posthuman Transformation in Ancient Mediterranean Thought: Becoming Angels and Demons (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Lehtipuu, Debates, . See further M. David Litwa, We Are Being Transformed: Deification in Paul’s Soteriology (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –. To say that the pneumatic body is simply a body ruled or animated by pneuma (Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ], ) does not, I think, significantly distinguish it from the present earthly body, which can (or should) also be ruled by pneuma (Rom. :–). Ware opposes the idea that the pneumatic body is made of pneuma since the “soulish body” ( Cor. :) is not made of soul (“Resurrection,” –). He fails to note that the soulish body is parallel to the “earthen (χοϊκός) human from soil (ἐκ γῆς)” ( Cor. :), where “from soil” likely signifies material composition (Gen. :). Origen, Princ. ..; cf. .., ... See further Riemer Roukema, “Origen’s interpretation of Corinthians ,” in Gelitten-Gestorben-Auferstanden: Passions- und Ostertraditionen im antiken Christentum, ed. Tobias Nicklas, Andreas Merkt, and Joseph Verheyden (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –.
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A vast amount of recent work has gone into understanding the nature of pneuma, and here the name of Troels Engberg-Pedersen deserves special mention. Taking on the long tradition of Platonizing and modernizing readings that understand Pauline pneuma to refer to immaterial “spirit,” Engberg-Pedersen argues that this is not the way Paul or his contemporaries would have understood the term. Pneuma did not designate Platonic soul, nor was it spongy flesh; it was, rather, a “third thing” akin to the “glory (Hebrew, kabōd; Greek, doxa) of the Lord” spoken of in Hebrew scripture (Exod. :–; Ezek. :). It is the best of all the substances this universe can support, a substance naturally residing in the highest echelon of the universe – the very substance of the stars. It was thus no mistake or mere poetic license when Paul said that believers “beam like stars in the universe” (Phil. :, phainesthe hos phosteres; cf. Dan. :, En. :). He was anticipating their postmortem destiny.
The Resurrection of Christ For most Christians, Christ was the forerunner and model of resurrection, the “trial run” of believers elected to transcend mortal life. Through faith and baptism, the elect shared in the pneuma of Christ just as Christ participated in their flesh. Thus, there was a mutual participation, allowing the destinies of both parties to intertwine. Christ was the first to defeat death and surmount corruption. All who believe in him were destined to follow. “Just as we bore the image of the one of soil, so we will bear the image of the heavenly one” ( Cor. :). Insofar as Christ became (egeneto) “lifemaking pneuma” ( Cor. :), believers will become pneumatic (luminous, glorious) as well.
Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology and Self in the Apostle Paul: The Material Spirit (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. See further Dale Martin, The Corinthian Body (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), –; Litwa, We Are Being Transformed, –; Frederick S. Tappenden, Resurrection in Paul: Cognition, Metaphor, and Transformation (Atlanta: SBL Press, ), –. As Lehtipuu (Debates, n. ) notes, Clement of Alexandria called the stars “pneumatic bodies” (Ecl. .). Some Christians claimed that Adam and Eve had pneumatic bodies (spiritalia corpora) before being thrust into the “fatter and more sluggish” bodies on earth (Irenaeus, Haer. ..). On the theme of mutual participation, see Einar Thomassen, The Spiritual Seed: The Church of the ‘Valentinians’ (Leiden: Brill, ), –.
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Christ the first fruits ( Cor. :) gave a “sneak peek” of his resurrection body in the bursting light of his Transfiguration (Mark :–, par.). He was transfigured, wrote Clement of Alexandria (fl. ), on account of the church, so that the church might learn of “his advancement after his exodus from the flesh” (ten prokopen autou meta ten ek tes sarkos exodon). That is, Christ showed what kind of improved body believers would inherit. His transformed body, which shone with the brightness of the sun, no longer appeared as flesh strung together with nerves and sinews, plumped up with water and fueled by glucose. For a brief but infinitely intense moment, Christ’s body beamed with overwhelming luminescence. In the words of Gregory of Nazianzus, “Light was that Godhead shown on the mountain to the disciples, too strong for their eyes.” According to Origen, when Jesus “was suspended on the wood [of the cross], the dispensation of the flesh was finished; rising from the dead (resurgens a mortuis), he ascended to heaven where again his fiery nature (natura ignis) is evident.” After his resurrection, Jesus’s body was “changed into an ethereal and divine quality,” a quality suited for “the purer, ethereal, and heavenly regions.” The resurrection body of believers, accordingly, was destined to be sun-like and ethereal.
Methodius, Res. ... Clement, Exc. .. François Sagnard, following earlier scholars, sees this section as the comment of Clement (Extraits de Théodote [Paris: Cerf, ], –, –). Gregory of Nazianzus, Or. .. Origen, Hom. Lev. ... Origen, Cels. . (μεταβαλεῖν εἰς αἰθέριον καὶ θείαν ποιότητα). Origen, Cels. .; cf. . (Jesus’s flesh changes its quality so that it can live in the ether “and the realms above it”). Origen, Comm. Matt. .–: “In my opinion . . . those counted worthy . . . will become such as are the bodies of angels, ethereal, as brilliant light” (ἐγὼ δ’ οἶμαι . . . οἱ καταξιούμενοι . . . γίνεσθαι τοιαῦτα, ὁποῖά ἐστι τὰ τῶν ἀγγέλων σώματα, αἰθέρια καὶ αὐγοειδὲς φῶς). Earlier in this same commentary, Origen interprets Matt. : (“the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father”) to mean that the righteous will become “a single solar light” (ἕν γενόμενοι ἡλικαὸν φῶς, ..). Origen referred to “those in an ethereal body” (τοῦς ἐν αἰθερίῳ σώματι) in his Comm. Jo. .. For the character of the spirit body, see also Princ. ..–; cf. .., ... Origen believed that Plato taught that the soul subsists “in a luminous body” (αὐγοειδεῖ σώματι) (Cels. .; cf. .). Cf. PseudoPlato, Epinomis B–C. See further Alan Scott, Origen and the Life of the Stars: A History of an Idea (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), –; Hermann S. Schibli, “Origen, Didymus, and the vehicle of the soul,” in Origeniana Quinta, ed. Robert J. Daly (Leuven: Peeters, ), –; Paul B. Decock, “The resurrection according to Origen of Alexandria,” in Resurrection of the Dead: Biblical Traditions in Dialogue, ed. Geert van Oyen and Tom Shepherd (Leuven: Peeters, ), –.
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Case Studies In a recent survey of Jewish and Christian theories of resurrection, Nag Hammadi sources appear only in an appendix, as if an afterthought. In this essay, I would like to highlight Nag Hammadi sources, since certain misconceptions still persist when we tacitly bring to the table a schema of “orthodox vs. heretical” notions of resurrection. Three sources in particular – dated from the second to the fourth centuries – come from creative Christian authors whose writings were preserved, it seems, by later monks.
Wisdom of Jesus Christ First, we take a brief peek at the paradigm, the resurrected body of Christ. In the Wisdom of Jesus Christ, the resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples as “an invisible pneuma” (pep͞n͞a enahoraton). It is a paradoxical phrase, since the disciples clearly see Christ. Evidently Christ was “invisible” in the way that Origen defined “bodiless”; Christ was not made up of heavy or dense material. His form was “as a great angel of light.” Earthly flesh could not bear to see it, only “pure and perfect flesh” (ousarx enkatharon enteleion). This is the pure and perfect flesh that Christ himself inhabited and modeled for the resurrected believer. Claudia Setzer, Resurrection of the Body in Early Judaism and Early Christianity (Leiden: Brill, ). Finney fails to treat any Nag Hammadi sources in his survey (Resurrection). Kevin J. Madigan and Jon D. Levenson still refer to “Gnostic” as a global term, and depict “Gnostic” resurrection as “docetic” and dualistic (Resurrection: The Power of God for Christians and Jews [New Haven: Yale University Press, ], –). A similar conflation of “Gnostic” and “docetic” occurs in Finney, Resurrection, , . Riemer Roukema continues to refer to “the menace of the Gnostics” in contradistinction to “orthodox” and “mainstream” Christians (“The resurrection according to Corinthians :– as understood and debated in ancient Christianity,” in “If Christ Has Not Been Raised”: Studies on the Reception of the Resurrection Stories and the Belief in the Resurrection in the Early Church, ed. Joseph Verheyden, Andreas Merkt, and Tobias Nicklas [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ], –, at , ). Although Lehtipuu’s Debates, –, is a model of careful scholarship, her use of the sociological model of “deviance” still (as she is well aware) has the potential to reinscribe heresiological discourse. Determining who is “deviant” virtually requires that one take up the perspective of the party trying to establish itself as “mainstream” (often a replacement term for “orthodox”). The reuse of heresiological clichés has slowly lost its grip due in large part to the work of Michael Allen Williams (Rethinking “Gnosticism”: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category [Princeton: Princeton University Press, ]) and Karen King (What Is Gnosticism? [Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, ]). Hugo Lundhaug and Lance Jenott, The Monastic Origins of the Nag Hammadi Codices (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Wis. Jes. Chr. (NHC ,) .–.
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Treatise on the Resurrection Rhetorically speaking, the author of the Treatise on Resurrection tried to present his position as the golden mean between two extremes. He distinguished three kinds of resurrection: of flesh, soul, and pneuma (tanastasis e npneumatikē). The resurrection of the pneuma “swallowed up” the resurrection of the soul and of the flesh. Here was a deliberate rejection of Platonic immortality of the soul as well as any vision of corruptible flesh inhabiting the heavenly realm. The resurrection of pneuma transcended both positions and strongly recalled Paul’s language of “pneumatic body” ( Cor. :). The pneumatic body, for the author of the Treatise, is the inner self, the “living limbs” (enmel[o]s etaaneh) inside the present body, like unto the “inner person” spoken of by Paul (esō anthropos, Cor. :, Rom. :). The inner, living limbs are said to be superior to the present, mortal flesh. At the same time, the author of the Treatise still called the living limbs “flesh” (sarx), a flesh that one receives in the “eternal realm.” The author, in other words, attempted to articulate an embodied ontology of resurrection life – one not totally realized until one ascends to the “fullness” in heaven.
Gospel of Philip The author of the Gospel of Philip also blazed a middle path between what he thought were literalist and immaterialist theories of resurrection.
Treat. Res. (NHC ,) .–.. Cf. Clement, Exc. .. For dating Treat. Res., see Jacques Ménard, Le traité sur la resurrection (NH , ) (Quebec: University of Laval, ), –; Mark Edwards, “The Epistle to Rheginus: Valentinianism in the fourth century,” Novum Testamentum . (), –, at –. Treat. Res. .–. Treat. Res. .–. Treat. Res. .– with the commentary of Malcolm Peel in Nag Hammadi Codex (The Jung Codex) Notes, ed. Harold W. Attridge (Leiden: Brill, ), –; Hugo Lundhaug, “‘These are the symbols and likenesses of the resurrection’: Conceptualizations of death and transformation in the treatise on the resurrection (NHC ,),” in Metamorphoses: Resurrection, Body and Transformative Practices in Early Christianity, ed. Turid Karlsen Seim and Jorunn Økland (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –; Einar Thomassen, “Valentinian ideas about salvation as transformation,” in Seim and Økland, Metamorphoses, –; Taylor Petrey, Resurrecting Parts: Early Christians on Desire, Reproduction, and Sexual Difference (London: Routledge, ), –; Lehtipuu, Debates, –, –; Christine Jacobi, “‘Dies ist die geistige Auferstehung’: Paulusrezeption im Rheginusbrief und im Philippusevangelium,” in Receptions of Paul in Early Christianity: The Person of Paul and His Writings Through the Eyes of His Early Interpreters, ed. Jens Schröter, Simon Butticaz, and Andreas Dettwiler (Berlin, De Gruyter, ), –.
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He criticized those who said that the flesh will not rise. He likewise censured those who believed that they would rise in the garment of mortal flesh. Quoting Paul, he insisted that “flesh and blood will not inherit the kingdom” ( Cor. :). Christ indeed rose in flesh, but it was not the present corruptible stuff, but an incorruptible material called “true flesh.” This flesh is also called “perfect light,” and the “garment” that is better than the one who wears it. It is necessary, said the author, “to arise in this [true] flesh,” namely the flesh of Jesus, which is also called “Word.” The author understood Word to be the flesh of Jesus consumed in the Eucharist. Consumption of the eucharistic elements evidently made the believer into Word-flesh. This Word-flesh re-expressed the true identity of the believer and is what survives when the mortal body perishes.
Evaluation The authors of all three texts attempted to maintain a teaching about the resurrection of the flesh while redefining “flesh.” And they were hardly alone. Origen, who upheld the transformation of the flesh into ethereal substance, still insisted that the “underlying factor” (hypokeimenon) of the flesh does not perish. He commented: “although flesh, which has no profit (John :), and blood, which is akin to it, cannot inherit the kingdom of
Gos. Phil. (NHC ,) .–. Gos. Phil. .–. For taking off flesh, see Gos. Phil. .. Gos. Phil. .–. Gos. Phil. .. Gos. Phil. .. Gos. Phil. .–. Gos. Phil. ., , ; cf. Clement, Paed. ..: “the Lord is pneuma and Word. Our food, that is the Lord Jesus, that is the Word of God, pneuma made flesh (πνεῦμα σαρκούμενον) is sanctified heavenly flesh (σάρξ οὐράνιος).” Gos. Phil. .. Cf. .–: “When we drink it [the cup of prayer], we take to ourselves the perfect human [Christ].” On consuming the immortalizing Word in the Eucharist, cf. Irenaeus, Haer. ..; Clement, Paed. ..; Origen, Or. .; ., , . See further Herbert Schmid, Die Eucharistie ist Jesus: Anfänge einer Theorie des Sakraments im koptischen Philippusevangelium (NHC , ) (Leiden: Brill, ), –; Hugo Lundhaug, Images of Rebirth: Cognitive Poetics and Transformational Soteriology in the Gospel of Philip and the Exegesis of the Soul (Leiden: Brill, ), –; Lundhaug, “Begotten, not made, to arise in this flesh: The post-Nicene soteriology of the Gospel of Philip,” in Beyond the Gnostic Gospels: Studies Building on the Work of Elaine Pagels, ed. Eduard Iricinschi, Lance Jenott, Nicola Denzey Lewis, and Philippa Townsend (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –, esp. –; AnneMarie Luijendijk, “Buried and raised: Gospel of Thomas Logion and resurrection,” in Iricinschi et al., Beyond the Gnostic Gospels, –; Lehtipuu, Debates, –, ; Thomas D. McGlothlin, Resurrection as Salvation: Development and Conflict in Pre-Nicene Paulinism (Cambridge: Cambridge University, ), –. Origen, Princ. ..; cf. .., ...
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heaven ( Cor. :), they will be chosen to inherit it, if they transform from flesh, earth, dust, and blood to a heavenly substance (epi ten ouranion ousian).” In fact, most authors who wrote on the resurrection subtly modified the concept of “flesh” as well. Such retooling was necessary, since both Paul and Jesus had preached the transformation of the mortal body to a body considered superior to the current platform – a body that was deathless, ageless, and angelic. This deathless and ageless body could also live in a heavenly ecology. Evolving from a mortal, earthly platform to an immortal, celestial platform necessitated the transition, we might say, from “corpus .” to “corpus ..” It would be a mistake to assume that there was no continuity between corpus . and ., just as it would be wrong to assume that an acorn cannot become a towering oak. The continuity between present and future bodies was variously imagined, described, and negotiated by early Christians. Even if it was not fully described, it was usually assumed; since writers who insisted on the resurrection of the “flesh” (a truly dancing signifier) were in fact insisting on the continuity between the earthly and heavenly platforms, the identity that persisted even if – given the obvious and sometimes total decay of corpses – the body needed to be entirely remade particle by particle, as on the day of Adam’s creation (Gen. :). Yet continuity, no matter how much it was stressed, never amounted to the exact sameness of the pre- and post-resurrection bodies. The resurrection body was perfect in several ways: sinless, deathless, glorious, impassible, indestructible, and (in many cases) suited to a celestial ecology. In the kingdom of heaven, the resurrection body could have tear ducts with no crying, intestines with no digestion, genitals with no reproduction – but it
Or. .. Cf. Clement, Paed. ..: “he wants to save my flesh by wrapping around it the robe of incorruptibility”; cf. Paed. .... Pamphilus, Apol. Orig. . See further Nikolai Kiel, “Auferstehung des Fleisches in der Epistula Apostolorum,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Lehtipuu, Debates, : “the tension between continuity and change was present in all Christian resurrection discussion” (original emphasis). “The body – be it of flesh or not – will somehow be transformed and made perfect, but at the same time identity will somehow remain” (, original emphasis). Origen, Comm. Matt. .: “the soul does not take up that body again, but is clothed in something heavenly and better.” Cf. his Cels. .: “Neither we nor the divine scriptures maintain that those long dead will rise up from the earth and live in the same bodies without undergoing any change for the better” (trans. Chadwick); cf. Origen, Comm. Matt. .; Lehtipuu, Debates, .
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was not and never would be “the same” as the earthly body that really did sob, digest, and copulate. The change from a mortal to an immortal body – even if everything down to the last hair and freckle be preserved – had in some way to alter the makeup of the earthly body in such a way that it transcends tiredness, hunger, and decay – and such differences require major (we would say biological) alterations to the body far beyond the dreams of the most audacious genetic engineers today. Irenaeus of Lyon (c.– ) is a good example of a thinker who emphasized fleshly continuity while assuming change. He taught that resurrected persons participate in incorruption and divine life, are transmuted into something better (melius), become capable of bearing God (capere deum), participate in the glory of God the Father, enjoy union with spiritual beings, contain the Word of God, ascend to the Word, pass beyond angels, cease to grow old, and enjoy everlasting renewal in perpetual communication with God. Simply put: Resurrected persons who enjoy these astounding benefits will have a resurrected flesh that is demonstrably superior to this present corporeal platform. Tertullian of Carthage (c.– ) is another example of this rhetorical trend. (He was, by the way, well aware that his opponents spoke of a resurrection of “this flesh.”) Tertullian himself believed that resurrected flesh would have a “future splendor,” that it would be clothed “with that power of incorruptibility and immortality without which” it could not approach God’s kingdom. Flesh and blood will be changed (demutata). The change will be from a “soul-informed body” (corpus animale) to a “spiritinformed body” (corpus spiritale). People with spirit-informed bodies, even if they were disables on earth, will be made whole in heaven and incapable of suffering. Again, Christ served as the model of transformed flesh, and his resurrection body was not portrayed as exactly the same as his pre-resurrection body. His pre-resurrection body did not walk through walls, teleport across great
Tertullian, Res. –. Irenaeus, Haer. ..–. Haer. ... Haer. ... Haer. ... Haer. ... Haer. ... Cf. Athenagoras (Res. .): “Resurrection is the last of all transformations [for the body] . . . a transformation to what is superior” (πρὸς τὸ κρεῖττον μεταβολή); cf. Athenagoras, Leg. .. See further Caroline Walker Bynum, The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christianity, – (New York: Columbia University Press, ), –; McGlothlin, Resurrection, –. Haer. .. Haer. ., .. Haer. .. Haer. .–. Haer. .–.
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distances, and appear out of thin air; his post-resurrection body did vanish, rematerialize elsewhere, and glide through locked doors (Luke :–, John :). To be sure, even as Christ slipped through solid matter, he claimed not to be a pneuma, ate a side of broiled fish, and welcomed an autopsy (Luke :–). Interestingly, Paul called the resurrected Christ “life-making pneuma” ( Cor. :). If Christ was not pneuma, he was evidently pneumatic – palpable to the touch and able to eat, yet subtle enough to walk through walls. Epiphanius, bishop of Cyprus (around ) put it this way: The resurrected Christ “changed his own actual body to pneumatic fineness (eis leptoteta metabalon pneumatiken) and came together into a pneumatic whole so as to enter locked doors, something impossible for our bodies because they are coarse (pachumeres).” Origen – no surprise by now – had a theory for how the self was preserved despite the body’s radical enhancement: The form (eidos) which molds the body is the same, just as the features remain, the very features which present the bodily character of Peter and Paul such that even scars from childhood remain on the body along with other identity markers like moles . . . This form, according to which Peter and Paul are informed, is bodily, and in the resurrection it is woven again round the soul, transforming the body into something superior . . . Just as the form (eidos) remains from infancy to old age even though one’s features appear to change considerably, so the present form remains the same in the future, however extraordinary the transformation into what is more superb . . . There will be a body fortified for holiness and formed by the one who once formed the flesh. Flesh will be no longer. Still, the very form (eidos) once impressed on the flesh will be impressed onto the pneumatic body.
The form (eidos) is an underlying structure. In modern terms, one can think of it as a kind of genetic code that preserves the blueprint of the body. This
I read Jesus’s pre-resurrection ability to walk on water much as I take his Transfiguration: A preview of his post-resurrection body’s capabilities. Epiphanius, Pan. ..–. This quote from Origen’s Commentary on Psalm comes thirdhand from Methodius’s On Resurrection via Epiphanius, Pan. ..–, ... Cf. fr. of Origen’s Homilies on Luke: “When the just will rise in glory at the second coming of Christ, they will not have sensible garments (ἱμάτια αἰσθητά), but they will be clothed in luminous envelopes (λαμπραί τινες περιβολαί). Just as their form (εἶδος) was not different at the Transfiguration, in the same way, in the resurrection, the form (εἶδος) of the saints will be much more glorious (πολλῷ ἐνδοξότερον) than what they had in this life, but it will not be different (οὐχ ἕτερον δέ).” Cf. also the “seminal principle” in Origen, Cels. .. Note the Aristotelian usage (e.g., Gen. corr. ., a–).
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genetic code is what guarantees identity, even if the building blocks of the body are radically upgraded, so that the current heavy elements of bodies on earth are replaced by light and fiery ones in heaven. Even in this scenario, the “genes” of the body code for the same sequences, ensuring the continuity of identity.
Resurrection and Deification One way for modern people to affirm the continuity between pre- and postresurrected persons is to say that the self remains human on earth as it does in heaven. Some ancient Christians, however, framed the issue differently. In line with Pseudo-Phocylides, who wrote that the resurrected dead will become “gods” (theoi), some early Christians were also willing to say that resurrected persons become gods. In the modern period, there is an overwhelming temptation to take this language as (mere) metaphor. That temptation should be resisted, if only for the sake of clearing the ground for historical understanding. For some Christians, resurrection really was a form of deification (“becoming god”), and resurrected persons who transcend corpus . also transcend humanity to become something ontologically superior. In what remains, we dip into the writings of three Christian authors who used the language of deification when redescribing the resurrected believer: Clement, Origen, and the Naassene Preacher.
The Naassene Preacher The voice of the Naassene Preacher still sounds in a report copied out in the Refutation of All Heresies, a polemical work completed about by an This sentiment is common among Orthodox writers. According to John Zizioulas, “Theosis, as a way of describing this unity of personhood, is, therefore, just the opposite of a divinization in which human nature ceases to be what it really is” (Being as Communion: Studies in Personhood and Church [Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ], ). For Daniel M. Rogich, the “authentication and self-realization of human nature is the raison d’être of deification” (Becoming Uncreated: The Journey to Human Authenticity [Minneapolis: Light and Life, ], ). Yet compare Panayiotis Nellas: To be created in God’s image means “to transcend the limited boundaries of creation and to become infinite” (Deification in Christ: Orthodox Perspectives on the Nature of the Human Person [Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ], ). Pseudo-Phocylides, Sent. –; see further Litwa, We Are Being Transformed, –. See further Litwa, We Are Being Transformed, –. See further M. David Litwa, Becoming Divine: An Introduction to Deification in Western Culture (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ).
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unknown but fiery bishop of Rome. The report itself derives from what looks to be a second-century Christian discourse, a discourse that used allegory to supply new meaning to Greco-Roman lore. The Preacher said that when Christ rose from the dead (hotan ek nekron anastas) and ascended into heaven, he became a god (theos) by transformation (ek metaboles). Here we overhear an echo of Romans :, where Christ was “designated son of God . . . from the resurrection of the dead” (ex anastaseos nekron).” The parallelism of “gods” and “children of God” was integral to biblical language, specifically Psalm : (cf. John :–): “I [God] declared you all are gods and children of the Most High.” Tertullian commented: “Scripture did not fear to designate as gods (deos) human beings who have become children of God (filios dei) by faith.” For the Naassene Preacher, the resurrected Christ was not the only one to be deified. In fact, Paul had the same experience when he was “seized by an angel and carried” into paradise ( Cor. :–). Paul did not know whether he ascended “in the body or out of the body” – but if he could live and move in a celestial ecology, then he was evidently unhindered by the present biological platform and clothed with what he called a “pneumatic body” ( Cor. :). (Indeed, Paul’s heavenly jaunt may have inspired his concept of “pneumatic body” in the first place.) The language of the Naassene Preacher wherein Christ and Paul become “gods” was in part governed by a hymn to Attis (a Phrygian deity), which the Preacher took as referring to Christ. But the Preacher also appealed to biblical language, namely Psalm :. His use of the Psalm came in an allegorical interpretation of the god Hermes leading souls down to Hades in Homer’s Odyssey (.–). The Preacher took Hermes to be a symbol of
See further Maria Grazia Lancellotti, The Naassenes: A Gnostic Identity Among Judaism, Christianity, Classical and Ancient Near Eastern Traditions (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, ), –; Tuomas Rasimus, Paradise Reconsidered in Gnostic Mythmaking: Rethinking Sethianism in Light of the Ophite Evidence (Leiden: Brill, ), –. The Christian identity of the Naassene Preacher must be emphasized against attempts to deprive him of it (e.g., Mark Edwards, “The naming of the Naassenes: Hippolytus, Refutatio V.– as hieros logos,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik [], –). Edwards’s theory that the name “Naassenes” goes back to an “eponymous founder of pagan mysteries” lacks evidence. Even if it were true, it would not mean that he Naassenes “cannot be regarded as a branch of Christianity” (). His idea that the Jewish and Christian texts used by the Naassenes “ceased to be Jewish or Christian as soon as they are cited to endorse . . . other cults” assumes that allegorization is endorsement (). Tertullian, Prax. ., commenting on Ps. :. Ref. ..–. Ref. ... Ref. ..–. For the interpretation of this passage, see Lancellotti, Naassenes, –; cf. –.
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the Word (John :), the guide of souls (or psychopomp). With the flick of his wand, he awakened sleeping souls to their true, divine nature (citing Eph. :). As psychopomp, Hermes-Christ leads the resurrected into eternal realms removed from all evil. This leading upward is represented as a deification. The human is reborn as a “god.” Mention of divine birth segues into Psalm :: “I declared you all are gods and children of the Most High.” The Naassene Preacher linked this verse to the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt. If souls flee from Egypt, he says, and cross the Red Sea, they will attain the heavenly Jerusalem. Egypt represents the world of mixture and birth. Crossing the Red Sea allegorically portrays their removal from earth to heaven. To support his interpretation, the Preacher turned to John: “For all generation below, he says, is mortal, whereas that which is born above is immortal. For the pneumatic one – not the fleshly – is born from water alone and spirit” (John :, ). He then cited Jesus’s statement in John :: “What is born from flesh is flesh, and what is born from pneuma is pneuma.” These texts nicely sum up the Preacher’s theory of resurrection as deification: It is a form of pneumatic rebirth promised by the Christian Savior.
Clement of Alexandria A second author who speaks of resurrection as deification is Clement. As it turns out, he also interpreted Psalm : as a reference to deification. He referred to the verse, for instance, in the second book of his Stromateis of Gnostic Explanations According to the True Philosophy (...–). Clement began by quoting Psalm :: “‘God took his stand in the congress of gods; in the midst of the gods he judges.’ Who are these gods?” Clement asked. “Those superior to pleasure, those who prevail over the passions, those who understand each of their deeds, the gnostics who are superior to the world.” Clement then fast-forwarded to verse :
Ref. .., quoting Homer, Od. .–. Ref. ... Ref. ... Cf. Clement, Strom. ..., .... Ref. ... On pneuma in John, see Troels Engberg-Pedersen, John and Philosophy: A New Reading of the Fourth Gospel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –, –. See further M. David Litwa, “‘You are gods’: Deification in the Naassene writer and Clement of Alexandria,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –, at –.
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“I have said you are all gods and children of the Most High.” To whom does the Lord speak? To those who have renounced as far as they can everything human (tois paraitoumenois hos hoion te pan to anthropinon). Indeed, the apostle says: “You are no longer in the flesh, but in pneuma” (Rom. :). Again he says: “Though in flesh we do not wage war in a fleshly manner” ( Cor. :), for “flesh and blood shall not inherit God’s kingdom, nor shall corruption inherit incorruption” ( Cor. :). “But see how you die as humans” (Ps. :).
It is important to observe here how closely Clement associated being human with being mortal flesh. To “renounce everything human” is to renounce the mortal flesh with its passions. It is an ethical stance – as Clement emphasizes – but also an ontological ideal. Transcending the flesh ultimately means triumphing over corruption and death itself. This point becomes clear when Clement returns to Psalm : in the seventh book of his Stromateis. Those suspended from the Lord through faith, love, and gnosis, he says, will rise with the Word to God. In heaven, gnosis is handed over to those who are fit and selected for it by virtue of their preparation and training to advance beyond the righteousness according to law. This gnosis leads to an endless and perfect end, teaching about a future godlike life with the other gods. After being freed from punishments due to sin, divine honors are bestowed on the perfect. These are the pure in heart, restored to their heavenly station, eternally contemplating God while in proximity to Christ. In this state, they are called gods (theoi) – for that is what they are. Their station and rank confirm it: They are enthroned along with the other gods subordinate to the Savior alone.
Origen Origen, when commenting on the passage that God’s wrath is inflicted on all humans (Rom. :), made the point that those who escape wrath are “superhuman” (supra homines). Humans, the natural children of wrath, came into being from the “gods and children of the Most High” (Ps. :). God, in destroying human sin, destroys that which makes humanity human For reaching fulfillment out of humanity into godhood (hoion ex anthropou theos apoteleitai), cf. Clement, Strom. ...–. Clement, Strom. ...–. Bogdan Gabriel Bucur interprets deification in this passage as a form of angelification (Angelomorphic Pneumatology: Clement of Alexandria and Other Early Christian Witnesses [Leiden: Brill, ], –).
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(delens eum secundum hoc quod homo est) and makes the human into a god (deum) when God becomes “all in all” ( Cor. :). The one who transcends humanity to enter a “superior order” (superiorem ordinem) is made a god (deum) when the day of resurrection dawns (cum dies resurrectionis advenerit). This is how Origen understood Jesus’s promise that the children of the resurrection will be as angels of God. Origen considered “gods” to be the highest rank of rational being. But the “gods” that humans become are not ontologically distinct from angels. For Origen, equality with the angels (Luke :) did not simply mean becoming “like” them in disposition or quality. “Those who will be like angels,” he preached, “will be angels.” Becoming angels did not simply mean becoming non-sexual; it meant entering a state in which one’s body is transformed into the body of angels, an ethereal stuff like the stars. As a result of this transformation, one ceases to be human. “Anyone who can follow Christ . . . and ascend to the heights of heaven,” Origen avowed, “will not be human, but, according to his word, be ‘as an angel of God.’”
Conclusion Talk of resurrection as deification puts the question of ontology at the forefront because it forces us to think about change on a material or biological level. When we talk about the preservation of the self, is this really the same as the preservation of what makes us human? Or does God rather preserve the best version of humanity – the “true self” – by making people higher than humanity? To be sure, it is possible to think in Aristotelian categories and claim that the quality of the body changes whereas one’s substance does not. But if one takes this route, one might ask how many fundamental qualities need to
Origen, Comm. Rom. ..–. Cf. Jean Scherer, Le Commentaire d’Origène sur Rom. III.–V. d’après les extraits du papyrus du Musée du Caire (Cairo: French Institute of Archaeology, ), , lines –: ὅταν γένηται ὁ θεὸς πάντα ἐν πᾶσιν, τότε οὐκέτι ἔσται ἄνθρωπος, πάντων γενομένων θεῶν (“when God becomes all in all, then there will no longer be humans; all will become gods”). Origen, Comm. Jo. .. Origen, Hom. Luc. .: qui erunt sicut angeli, utique angeli erunt. Origen also referred to the “transformation of the saints into angels” (τῆς τῶν ἁγίων εἰς ἀγγέλους μεταβολῆς, Comm. Jo. .). Origen, Comm. Matt. :. Origen, Hom. Lev. ..; cf. Comm. Joh. ., .. E.g., Ware, “Resurrection,” . Even Tertullian spoke of “transmutation of substance” (per substantiae . . . demutationem) (Res. .).
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change before one’s substance changes. Is one really the same substance if one becomes a body that cannot age, cannot die, cannot grow sick, cannot get hungry, cannot marry, and – evidently – cannot sin? Add to this the potential that one’s resurrection body glows with the divine light that shone in Christ’s flesh at the Transfiguration. The Transfiguration implies dramatic corporeal change. There is an ambiguity in the term “substance,” which could mean “bodily stuff” or “self.” I am referring solely to bodily stuff. This means that one’s substance can fundamentally change while the self perdures. If we think in terms of modern genetic alteration, we can change our genes – the fundamental code for making us who we are – while preserving the self, since we think of the self as constituted more by cognitive factors like memory and personality that could survive major biological alterations (for instance, genetically modifying our lungs to breathe on Mars). In a scintillating essay, James Ware makes the point that even though Paul in Corinthians wanted to emphasize the discontinuity of pre- and postresurrection bodies, he still employed the same grammatical subject: “sown in corruption, raised in glory, sown in dishonor, raised in honor, sown in weakness, raised in power” ( Cor. :–). Interestingly, Paul never really clarifies what the grammatical subject is: What, exactly, is sown and raised? It is not the mortal body (which ceases to be a mortal body when it is raised immortal); nor is it the soul (Paul did not admit Plato’s immortal soul). Perhaps one could say that it was the human pneuma infused with divine pneuma in baptism. Whatever the case may be, Paul needed to assume at least some kind of continuity for his argument to work, though he did not explain what exactly was continuous beyond the grammatical subject itself. Yet even if the only continuity was the bare grammatical subject, Paul evidently believed in the importance of continuity. Indeed, he began a trend in Christian theories of resurrection by insisting on continuity in change while never quite explaining the continuity of the pre- and post-resurrected self. One might even question the justice of using the modern language of
Ware, “Resurrection,” –. Ware, I believe, does not sufficiently take account of this point (“Resurrection,” ). To put it in the words of Vigdis Songe-Møller: “If the change is total, if each individual changes from what she is (perishable and mortal) into what she is not (imperishable and immortal), then what remains the same?” (“‘With what kind of body will they come?’ Metamorphosis and the concept of change: From Platonic thinking to Paul’s notion of the resurrection of the dead,” in Metamorphoses: Resurrection, Body and Transformative Practices in Early Christianity, ed. Turid Karlsen Seim and Jorunn Økland (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –, at ).
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“self” if the subject assumed is not actually stable. Indeed, if the preresurrected person (a human) really is the post-resurrected person (a god), then continued identity can only be called malleable in the extreme. Nevertheless, identity need not be fixed – or even fully understood – in order to perdure.
Select Bibliography Alexander, Philip. “From son of Adam to second God: Transformations of the biblical Enoch.” Pages – in Biblical Figures Outside the Bible. Edited by Michael E. Stone and Theodore A. Bergren (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ). Attridge, Harold W. (ed.) Nag Hammadi Codex I (The Jung Codex) Notes (Leiden: Brill, ). Baker, Lynne Rudder. “Resurrecting material persons.” Pages – in The Palgrave Handbook of the Afterlife. Edited by Yujin Nagasawa and Benjamin Matheson (London: Palgrave Macmillan, ). Bedard, Stephen J. “A nation of heroes: From apotheosis to resurrection.” Pages – in Resurrection of the Dead: Biblical Traditions in Dialogue. Edited by Geert van Oyen and Tom Shepherd (Leuven: Peeters, ). Bucur, Bogdan Gabriel. Angelomorphic Pneumatology: Clement of Alexandria and Other Early Christian Witnesses (Leiden: Brill, ). Bynum, Caroline Walker. The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christianity, – (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Clement of Alexandria. Paedagogus. Edited by M. Marcovich (Leiden: Brill, ). Cook, John Granger. Empty Tomb, Apotheosis, Resurrection (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Decock, Paul B. “The resurrection according to Origen of Alexandria.” Pages – in Resurrection of the Dead: Biblical Traditions in Dialogue. Edited by Geert van Oyen and Tom Shepherd (Leuven: Peeters, ). Edwards, Mark. “The Epistle to Rheginus: Valentinianism in the fourth century,” Novum Testamentum . (), –. On the question of post-resurrection identity, see further Jorunn Økland, “Genealogies of the self,” in Metamorphoses: Resurrection, Body and Transformative Practices in Early Christianity, ed. Turid Karlsen Seim and Jorunn Økland (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –; Candida R. Moss, Divine Bodies: Resurrecting Perfection in the New Testament and Early Christianity (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), –; Troels Engberg-Pedersen, “Philosophy of the self in the Apostle Paul,” in Ancient Philosophy of the Self, ed. Pauliina Remes and Juha Sihvola (London: Springer, ), –; Engberg-Pedersen, “A Stoic concept of the person in Paul? From Galatians : to Romans :–,” in Christian Body, Christian Self: Concepts of Early Christian Personhood, ed. Clare K. Rothschild and Trevor W. Thompson (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –; Lynne Rudder Baker, “Resurrecting material persons,” in The Palgrave Handbook of the Afterlife, ed. Yujin Nagasawa and Benjamin Matheson (London: Palgrave Macmillan, ), –, at –.
. “The naming of the Naassenes: Hippolytus, Refutatio V.– as hieros logos,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik (), –. Elledge, C. D. Resurrection of the Dead in Early Judaism, – (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Endsjø, Dag Øistein. Greek Resurrection Beliefs (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, ). Engberg-Pedersen, Troels. Cosmology and Self in the Apostle Paul: The Material Spirit (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). John and Philosophy: A New Reading of the Fourth Gospel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Philosophy of the self in the Apostle Paul.” Pages – in Ancient Philosophy of the Self. Edited by Pauliina Remes and Juha Sihvola (London: Springer, ). “A Stoic concept of the person in Paul? From Galatians : to Romans :–.” Pages – in Christian Body, Christian Self: Concepts of Early Christian Personhood. Edited by Clare K. Rothschild and Trevor W. Thompson (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Finney, Mark T. Resurrection, Hell and the Afterlife: Body and Soul in Antiquity, Judaism and Christianity (London: Routledge, ). Hennessey, Lawrence R. “A philosophical issue in Origen’s eschatology: The three senses of incorporeality.” Pages – in Origeniana Quinta. Edited by Robert J. Daly (Leuven: Peeters, ). Irenaeus. Contre les Hérésies. Edited by Adelin Rousseau and Louis Doutreleau, vols. (Paris: Cerf, ). Jacobi, Christine. “‘Dies ist die geistige Auferstehung’: Paulusrezeption im Rheginusbrief und im Philippusevangelium.” Pages – in Receptions of Paul in Early Christianity: The Person of Paul and His Writings Through the Eyes of His Early Interpreters. Edited by Jens Schröter, Simon Butticaz, and Andreas Dettwiler (Berlin, De Gruyter, ). Kiel, Nikolai. “Auferstehung des Fleisches in der Epistula Apostolorum,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. King, Karen. What Is Gnosticism? (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, ). Lancellotti, Maria Grazia. The Naassenes: A Gnostic Identity Among Judaism, Christianity, Classical and Ancient Near Eastern Traditions (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, ). Layton, Bentley (ed.) Nag Hammadi Codex ii,–, vol. (Leiden: Brill, ). Lehtipuu, Outi. Debates over the Resurrection of the Dead: Constructing Early Christian Identity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Litwa, M. David. Becoming Divine: An Introduction to Deification in Western Culture (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ). Iesus Deus: The Early Christian Depiction of Jesus as a Mediterranean God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Posthuman Transformation in Ancient Mediterranean Thought: Becoming Angels and Demons (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). (ed. and trans.) Refutation of All Heresies Translated with an Introduction and Notes (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). We Are Being Transformed: Deification in Paul’s Soteriology (Berlin: De Gruyter, ).
Resurrection, Transformation, and Deification “‘You are gods’: Deification in the Naassene writer and Clement of Alexandria,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –. Luijendijk, AnneMarie. “Buried and raised: Gospel of Thomas Logion and resurrection.” Pages – in Beyond the Gnostic Gospels: Studies Building on the Work of Elaine Pagels. Edited by Eduard Iricinschi, Lance Jenott, Nicola Denzey Lewis, and Philippa Townsend (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Lundhaug, Hugo. “Begotten, not made, to arise in this flesh: The post-Nicene soteriology of the Gospel of Philip.” Pages – in Beyond the Gnostic Gospels: Studies Building on the Work of Elaine Pagels. Edited by Eduard Iricinschi, Lance Jenott, Nicola Denzey Lewis, and Philippa Townsend (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Images of Rebirth: Cognitive Poetics and Transformational Soteriology in the Gospel of Philip and the Exegesis of the Soul (Leiden: Brill, ). “‘These are the symbols and likenesses of the resurrection’: Conceptualizations of death and transformation in the treatise on the resurrection (NHC ,).” Pages – in Metamorphoses: Resurrection, Body and Transformative Practices in Early Christianity. Edited by Turid Karlsen Seim and Jorunn Økland (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Lundhaug, Hugo and Lance Jenott, The Monastic Origins of the Nag Hammadi Codices (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Madigan, Kevin J. and Jon D. Levenson. Resurrection: The Power of God for Christians and Jews (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Martin, Dale. The Corinthian Body (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). McGlothlin, Thomas D. Resurrection as Salvation: Development and Conflict in Pre-Nicene Paulinism (Cambridge: Cambridge University, ). Ménard, Jacques. Le traité sur la resurrection (NH I,) (Quebec: University of Laval, ). Miller, Richard C. Resurrection and Reception in Early Christianity (London: Routledge, ). Moss, Candida R. Divine Bodies: Resurrecting Perfection in the New Testament and Early Christianity (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Nellas, Panayiotis. Deification in Christ: Orthodox Perspectives on the Nature of the Human Person (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). Økland, Jorunn, “Genealogies of the self.” Pages – in Metamorphoses: Resurrection, Body and Transformative Practices in Early Christianity. Edited by Turid Karlsen Seim and Jorunn Økland (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Origen. Contra Celsum. Translated by Henry Chadwick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Contra Celsum libri VIII. Edited by M. Marcovich (Leiden: Brill, ). Die Homilien zu Lukas in der Übersetzung des Hieronymus und die griechischen Reste der Homilien und des Lukas-Kommentars. Edited by Max Rauer (GCS ; Berlin: Akademie, ). On First Principles. Edited by John Behr, vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Petrey, Taylor. Resurrecting Parts: Early Christians on Desire, Reproduction, and Sexual Difference (London: Routledge, ). Pseudo-Justin. Über die Auferstehung. Edited by Martin Heimgartner (Berlin: De Gruyter, ).
. Rasimus, Tuomas. Paradise Reconsidered in Gnostic Mythmaking: Rethinking Sethianism in Light of the Ophite Evidence (Leiden: Brill, ). Rogich, Daniel M. Becoming Uncreated: The Journey to Human Authenticity (Minneapolis: Light and Life, ). Roukema, Riemer. “Origen’s interpretation of Corinthians .” Pages – in GelittenGestorben-Auferstanden: Passions- und Ostertraditionen im antiken Christentum. Edited by Tobias Nicklas, Andreas Merkt, and Joseph Verheyden (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). “The resurrection according to Corinthians :– as understood and debated in ancient Christianity.” Pages – in “If Christ Has Not Been Raised”: Studies on the Reception of the Resurrection Stories and the Belief in the Resurrection in the Early Church. Edited by Joseph Verheyden, Andreas Merkt, and Tobias Nicklas (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ). Sagnard, François (ed. and trans.) Extraits de Théodote (Paris: Cerf, ). Scherer, Jean. Le Commentaire d’Origène sur Rom. III.–V. d’après les extraits du papyrus du Musée du Caire (Cairo: French Institute of Archaeology, ). Schibli, Hermann S. “Origen, Didymus, and the vehicle of the soul.” Pages – in Origeniana Quinta. Edited by Robert J. Daly (Leuven: Peeters, ). Schmid, Herbert. Die Eucharistie ist Jesus: Anfänge einer Theorie des Sakraments im koptischen Philippusevangelium (NHC II,) (Leiden: Brill, ). Scott, Alan. Origen and the Life of the Stars: A History of an Idea (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Setzer, Claudia. Resurrection of the Body in Early Judaism and Early Christianity (Leiden: Brill, ). Sigvartsen, Jan A. Afterlife and Resurrection Beliefs in the Apocrypha and Apocalyptic Literature (London: Bloomsbury: ). Afterlife and Resurrection Beliefs in the Pseudepigrapha (London: Bloomsbury, ). Smith, Gregory A. “How thin is a demon?” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. Songe-Møller, Vigdis. “‘With what kind of body will they come?’ Metamorphosis and the concept of change: From Platonic thinking to Paul’s notion of the resurrection of the dead.” Pages – in Metamorphoses: Resurrection, Body and Transformative Practices in Early Christianity. Edited by Turid Karlsen Seim and Jorunn Økland (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Tappenden, Frederick S. Resurrection in Paul: Cognition, Metaphor, and Transformation (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Tappenden, Frederick S. and Carly Daniel-Hughes (eds.) Coming Back to Life: The Permeability of Past and Present, Mortality and Immortality, Death and Life in the Ancient Mediterranean (Montreal: McGill University, ). Tertullian. Opera. Edited by A. Kroymann and E. Evans, vols. (CCSL .–; Turnhout: Brepols, ). Thiselton, Anthony C. The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Thomassen, Einar. The Spiritual Seed: The Church of the ‘Valentinians’ (Leiden: Brill, ).
Resurrection, Transformation, and Deification “Valentinian ideas about salvation as transformation.” Pages – in Metamorphoses: Resurrection, Body and Transformative Practices in Early Christianity. Edited by Turid Karlsen Seim and Jorunn Økland (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Ware, James. “The resurrection of Jesus in the pre-Pauline formula of Cor :–,” New Testament Studies (), –. Williams, Michael Allen. Rethinking “Gnosticism”: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Wright, N. T. The Resurrection of the Son of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Zizioulas, John. Being as Communion: Studies in Personhood and Church (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ).
The Eucharist in the First Three Centuries
What can we know of the ritual that came to be known as the Eucharist during the first three centuries of Christianity? Are there any clear features that can be discerned amid the limited, fragmentary, and diverse character of the sources? In the past century, liturgical scholarship has produced many valuable and specialized studies in which the evidence has been examined through different methodological lenses. After the pioneering studies from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the major approach (a “first quest,” so to speak) was a deductive one, in which the sources of the early liturgy were thoroughly studied from a certain theological idea or liturgical paradigm. The influential works of Gregory Dix and Joseph Jungmann are examples of this approach, in which encyclopedic knowledge of the sources served the search for the original shape of the Eucharist, trying to discern the monolinear roots of its rites. A possible risk of such an approach (especially in studying the first three centuries) could be to rearrange the evidence in the quest for a uniform structure that can satisfactorily explain the celebration of the Eucharist as we know it today. Writing his Comparative Liturgy around the same years as Dix and Jungmann, Anton Baumstark said that liturgical studies “rarely . . . succeed in giving the historical reasons for the facts.” His search for the laws of A review of methods in recent liturgical scholarship can be found in Paul Bradshaw, The Search for the Origins of Christian Worship: Sources and Methods for the Study of the Early Liturgy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. Dix, The Shape of the Liturgy, new ed., with an introduction by Simon Jones (London: Bloomsbury, ). Jungmann, The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origins and Development (Notre Dame: Christian Classics, ). Baumstark, Comparative Liturgy, trans. Bernard Botte (Westminster, MD: Newman Press, ), .
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liturgical development, borrowing methodological tools from philology and evolutionary biology, has been highly influential in later attempts to reconstruct, based on his comparative approach, the original forms and growth of early liturgies. A “new quest” came in response to the search for monolinear development, which aimed to mitigate the risk of an etiological organization of the evidence, following what could be termed an inductive approach. Prominent studies have analyzed the sources in impressive detail, including relevant material that would not fit within predetermined schemes, such as apocryphal literature. The works of Paul Bradshaw and Maxwell Johnson, among many others, are examples of this methodological shift, more interested in the contribution of sociological and other multidisciplinary studies. An ecumenical and non-confessional disposition is another mark of recent liturgical scholarship, which has attempted to fill the gaps and to reconstruct the shape of early Christian worship, with a particular emphasis on diversity and on the importance of meal rituals in the ancient Mediterranean world. The goal of filling the gaps between the isolated remains of the early edifice of eucharistic practice, however, implies the potential weakness that many of the valuable contributions depend on conclusions based on long chains of hypotheses, leading to reconstructions with limited scientific probability. Based on the monumental work of recent decades, it might be time to try a “third quest,” a sort of via media: to study the sources of early Christian worship without rearranging them or trying to fill the unavoidable gaps, but rather focusing on what can be plausibly known with a good degree of certainty and admitting what cannot. When patterns can be detected in the ancient evidence, a reasonable inference can be devised. But reconstructions of liturgical development cannot always be formulated. Simply put: When there is not enough contextual information, the fact is the conclusion. Accordingly, in what follows, the first step for this via media will be to review the remaining evidence, taking into account recent historical and
See, for example, Bradshaw, Eucharistic Origins (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, ). See, for example, Johnson, The Rites of Christian Initiation: Their Evolution and Interpretation, rev. and expanded ed. (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ). See Juliette Day and Benjamin Gordon-Taylor (eds.) The Study of Liturgy and Worship (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ) and Cheslyn Jones, Geoffrey Wainwright, Edward Yarnold, and Paul Bradshaw (eds.) The Study of the Liturgy (London: SPCK and Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
literary studies of the sources and their contexts, but paying more attention to what they say, rather than to how they were written or transmitted. As we do this, some areas in need of further research will appear. Finally, we will see if some common features in these different witnesses can be discerned.
A Review of the Sources New Testament The first source for the study of the early Eucharist is the New Testament (NT), not only because of its general chronological priority but also because of the influence of NT studies in the liturgical field. If three decades ago liturgical scholarship tended to follow the “hermeneutics of suspicion” prevalent in many NT studies, today the study of early liturgy must also pay attention to new developments in Pauline and historical Jesus scholarship, considering as well their historical methodology. In the study of NT evidence for the Eucharist, the central question is whether the words and actions of Jesus at the supper before his passion are the origin of the Eucharist of early Christians. Corinthians is the earliest and perhaps most significant evidence within the NT from a historian’s perspective, as this letter was written probably a decade before the earliest extant Gospel. Paul claims that the observance of the Lord’s Supper is a preexisting practice that was handed down to him. Is it probable that knowledge of this practice was limited to Paul and his community? Scholarship since the nineteenth century, often based on the reference to different factions in Cor. :–, has seen Paul as an isolated figure, in constant conflict with other apostles, which would distance Paul’s practice from that of other cities or churches. Recent Pauline scholarship tends to trust Paul’s insistence that
See Bradshaw, Search for the Origins of Christian Worship, . A common reading of the scene behind Cor. :– is that the home of a relatively welloff Christ-follower is being used for a common meal, with the host and some attendees treating the meal as though it is a regular social party, seating and serving first (and with more food) the higher-status attendees. This befits Paul’s comments about disparity between the rich and poor. It has been argued that the divisions relate more to factions within the Corinthian church, and the meal’s patron accorded higher status to his faction than others. See, for instance, Jamir Lanuwabang, Exclusion and Judgment in Fellowship Meals: The Socio-historical Background of Corinthians :– (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, ).
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he and the others cooperated (see Gal. :–, Cor. :–). It is odd to think that Paul and his community were isolated with respect to this tradition, for he was not disinterested in individual churches’ conformity with the beliefs and practices of others (see Cor :, :, :, :b, :). The fact that he does not mention the Lord’s Supper in other letters tells us nothing of the geographical distribution of eucharistic practice. Paul’s claim to have received his eucharistic tradition from others using typical language of transmitting teaching or tradition (παραδίδωμι, “hand on”; παραλαμβάνω, “receive”) suggests that at least some outside his circle received the same. The account of the institution of the Eucharist is, interestingly, “the only significant narrative overlap” between Paul and the Gospels. The eucharistic tradition received by Paul was already theologically understood based on the death of Jesus. Paul presents the Lord’s Supper as a sacrificial event, using cultic temple language: covenant, blood, remembrance, sacrifice, proclamation (:–). Israel’s temple cult is the background for participation in the blood and body of Christ: “are not those who eat the sacrifices participants in the altar?” (:). Thus, Paul’s use of Malachi’s prophecy of the “table of the Lord” where the pure sacrifice will be offered (Mal. :–), in contrast with “the table of demons” (:), is significant. After reciting the words of institution (“This is my body; this cup is the new covenant in my blood”), Paul indicates that believers should assemble and partake with self-reflection in relation to the corporate body of believers,
Baur’s portrait of “Pauline Christianity” in constant fight with the “Jewish Christianity” of Peter and the other apostles depicted a de-Judaized Paul: a view overturned in the late twentieth century by the “New Perspective” on Paul and more recently with the “Paul within Judaism” school. See an overview in Magnus Zetterholm, Approaches to Paul: A Student’s Guide to Recent Scholarship (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). As an example of the latter, see Paula Fredriksen, Paul: The Pagans’ Apostle (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Paul speaks more often about baptism, but not in every letter. See Everett Ferguson, Baptism in the Early Church: History, Theology, and Liturgy in the First Five Centuries (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –; Michael Wolter, Paulus: Eine Grundriss seiner Theologie (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, ), –. Scott Hahn, Consuming the Word: The New Testament and the Eucharist in the Early Church (New York: Image, ), . See Brant Pitre, Michael Barber, and John Kincaid, Paul, A New Covenant Jew: Rethinking Pauline Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –. See E. P. Sanders, Paul: The Apostle’s Life, Letters, and Thought (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), . Altar and table were used synonymously in antiquity; see Hans-Josef Klauck, Herrenmahl und Hellenistischer Kult (Münster: Aschendorff, ), .
for “whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will be held liable for the body and blood of the Lord” (:). Paul clearly has a developed theological interpretation of this meal. Thus, the “cup which we bless” is a “participation in the blood of Christ” and the “bread which we break” a “participation in the body of Christ” (:); believers ought to partake in it in comparison with Israel’s fellowship in her sacrifices and in distancing themselves from pagan sacrifice. Three conclusions are noteworthy: First, the Lord’s Supper is a sacrificial meal; second, the Lord’s Supper is connected to Passover (“Christ our Passover Lamb has been sacrificed,” :); and third, it is rooted in the supper which occurred “on the night when he was betrayed” (:). The next NT sources to consider are the Synoptic Gospels, which narrate the Last Supper with similarities and differences (Matt. :–, Mark :–, Luke :–). In each account, the bread and wine are identified with Jesus’s body and blood, and participation in them leads to a salvific benefit. The interpretations embedded in the words are parallel, though distinct. Luke’s inclusion of a command to repeat the event for his audience (:) in the place of the disciples suggests that they were, like the Corinthians, already doing so. Similarly, Matthew and Mark don’t seem to be introducing new information to their audiences. What can be known of what Jesus did on that night? Assuming that Jesus did have a last supper, it would still be difficult to determine his exact wording, the ipsissima verba. A reaction to this difficulty is to posit that what we read as the Last Supper is the creation of early believers reconstructing or even inventing Jesus’s actions the night before his death. Indeed, previous generations of Jesus scholarship have tended toward methodological doubt about the historicity of whatever could not meet certain criteria of historical probability. However, since recent developments in historical
For Paul’s theological understanding of the Supper, see Michael Lakey, The Ritual World of Paul the Apostle: Metaphysics, Community and Symbol in Corinthians – (London: Bloomsbury, ). See Joseph Fitzmyer, First Corinthians (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), –. A “lamb” was not a common symbol for the Messiah. Was the influence of eucharistic practice around the Passover offering of Jesus’s body the origin of the conceptions of Jesus as a lamb slain to save (John :; Pet. :; Rev. :, :)? See the attempt by Joachim Jeremias, The Eucharistic Words of Jesus (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Scholars who deny the historicity of the Last Supper accounts explain the origins of the Eucharist from other multiple sources. E.g., Hans Lietzmann, Mass and Lord’s Supper: A Study in the History of the Liturgy (Leiden: Brill, ); for other proposals and a synthesis of Chilton’s
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Jesus scholarship have shown that the approbation only of data that meet criteria of authenticity is flawed, more attention is now being paid to multiple attestation, contextual plausibility, and plausibility of effects in the early church. Rather than looking for Jesus’s exact words, recent research seeks the “voice” or the “substance” of Jesus’s words, approaching traditions about Jesus from theories of “social memory,” looking primarily to how Jesus was remembered by groups that knew or heard about him, how those traditions were passed down, and what that might say about the historical Jesus. Given other historically probable acts of Jesus, it would be in character for him to add a self-referential meal to the Passover, with its associations of blood, bread, sacrifice, and divine deliverance. It is difficult to imagine another cause explaining all the common elements of the tradition. Finally, even if one can only affirm that Jesus probably did something like this supper the night before his death, the study of the origins of the Eucharist must at least contend with the fact that this is the only way in which the event is remembered and seems to have been passed on by Paul’s time. While we cannot see an exact record of what Jesus did during his last supper, we can see with a fair degree of substantial uniformity a common core of beliefs and practices that will develop in diverse ways. The strength of this tradition and its theological interpretation appears to be reflected in other NT sources as well. Jesus’s discourse in John , identifying himself as the “bread of life,” is significant. Jesus compares his own body here not with the Passover lamb but with manna – heavenly bread that nourishes. However, unlike manna, the bread that is Jesus will provide sustenance unto “eternal life” (:–). This might be read as a mere “six eucharists” see Robert Daly, “Eucharistic origins: From the New Testament to the liturgies of the Golden Age,” Theological Studies (), –. J. P. Meier, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, vol. (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), . Brant Pitre, Jesus and the Last Supper (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), . See Dale C. Allison Jr., Constructing Jesus: Memory, Imagination, and History (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ); Chris Keith and Anthony Le Donne (eds.) Jesus, Criteria, and the Demise of Authenticity (London: T&T Clark, ). See also Chapter in this volume. On the transmission of tradition prior to the Gospels, see Richard Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony, nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). The most thorough argument for the historicity of the Last Supper is found in Pitre, Jesus and the Last Supper. While some argue that anything in the gospels that could have grown out of the church’s practice is likely not historical, others respond that a reconstruction of Jesus’s life and teaching that does not explain the rise of the church’s practices is even less likely to be accurate. See N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –.
typological link were it not for the following verses: Although “the Jews” are scandalized at the apparently cannibalistic comment, Jesus reinforces the need to eat his body for eternal life, transitioning from speaking in terms like “body” and “eat” to the more carnal “flesh” and “chew,” heightening rather than removing the scandal (:–). We have again an identification of the bread and “drink” with Jesus’s body and blood, and a salvific interpretation of its significance for partakers, suggesting the strength of the tradition in the early communities. John is also aware of the paschal interpretations of Jesus’s death (cf. :; :, ). Several other NT passages are worthy of consideration. Jude’s mention of communities’ “loves” or “love feasts” (ἐν ταῖς ἀγάπαις, Jude ) is intriguing, as such terminology was later used for a meal that included or accompanied the Eucharist, especially in North Africa. Some instances of the church’s communal “bread-breaking” in Acts should also be taken into account (:, :, along with Luke ). The reference in Hebrews to the Christian altar in contrast to the old rituals is relevant, particularly if the Sitz im Leben of Hebrews is the Lord’s Supper: “We have an altar (θυσιαστήριον) from which those who officiate in the tent have no right to eat” (:). Finally, Revelation (:–) can be considered as well, due to its resemblance to some eucharistic prayers (Addai et Mari and Liturgy of St. Mark; see also :–).
Other Early Evidence We turn now to other sources in chronological order, highlighting their main features. The Didache (c., Syria) provides evidence of the utmost importance. Chapters , , and – perhaps older than the other parts of the document – speak of a kind of eucharistic ritual. Chapters and , while Metaphorical accounts detached from the eating of Jesus in eucharistic traditions are, therefore, difficult to sustain. See Johannes Beutler, A Commentary on the Gospel of John, trans. Michael Tait (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –. See Knut Backhaus, Der Hebräerbrief (Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, ), –. For a review of studies on the Eucharist in the Didache see Jonathan Draper, “The Didache in modern research: An overview,” in The Didache in Modern Research, ed. Jonathan A. Draper (Leiden: Brill, ), –. See also Shawn J. Wilhite, The Didache: A Commentary (Apostolic Fathers Commentary Series ; Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, ). Latin and Greek in Anton Hängii and Irgmand Pahl (eds.) Prex eucharistica: Textus e variis liturgiis antiquoribus selecti, nd ed. (Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires Fribourg Suisse, ), – (henceforth: Prex eucharistica). English version from Ronald C. D. Jasper and G. J. Cuming
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containing what might be one of the most ancient eucharistic prayers, remain the subject of much discussion in regard to their genre and meaning. Assuming that these chapters do contain some form of reference to a Eucharist in conjunction to a meal (whether to one of the many diverse forms of its celebration or to an incomplete description of some of its rites), a noteworthy connection can be found with some of the elements seen in Corinthians: there is a combination of a sacred ritual with a regular meal where the participants have “their fill” (); benedictions precede the consumption of the bread and wine; the Eucharist demands self-examination; and there is an explicit relationship between eating the Eucharist and ecclesial unity (.). The eucharistic references of Didache – indicate a thanksgiving to God through Jesus. A significant difference between Corinthians and Didache – is the absence in the latter of any explicit reference to the death of Jesus. However, the sacrificial character of the Eucharist is clearly present in chapter , a text which is a certain witness to a very early understanding of the Eucharist, described as an event that occurs at a special time (the “Lord’s day”) and includes conditions for reception, such as confession of sins () and baptism (). The Didache describes a sacred event that is a sacrifice (this word appears three times in chapter ): In parallel to Corinthians , the Eucharist is comprehended in light of the prophecy of Malachi :– as a pure sacrifice. While taking place in the context of a full meal, the Eucharist is a sacred event that is not open to everyone, occurs only on a certain day of the week, and demands an interior sacrifice. Another source to consider is Ignatius of Antioch, who wrote seven letters en route to his martyrdom in Rome during the reign of Trajan (–). (ed. and trans.) Prayers of the Eucharist: Early and Reformed. Texts Translated and Edited with Introductions, th ed., ed. Paul F. Bradshaw and Maxwell E. Johnson (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press Academic, ), – (henceforth: Prayers of the Eucharist). See Johannes Betz, “The Eucharist in the Didache,” in The Didache in Modern Research, ed. Jonathan A. Draper (Leiden: Brill, ), –; Enrico Mazza, “Elements of a eucharistic interpretation,” in Draper, Didache, –. See Valeriy Alikin, The Earliest History of the Christian Gathering: Origin, Development and Content of the Christian Gathering in the First to Third Centuries (Leiden: Brill, ), –. Revelation : also speaks of “the Lord’s day.” See Huub van de Sandt, “Why does the Didache conceive of the Eucharist as a holy meal?” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Texts from The Apostolic Fathers, vol. , trans. Bart D. Ehrman (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), –. For a recent historical-critical introduction, see Helmut Löhr, “The Epistles of Ignatius of Antioch,” in The Apostolic Fathers: An Introduction, ed. Wilhem Pratscher (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ), –. For Ignatius’s eucharistic
Ignatius vividly interprets his martyrdom in a eucharistic way: “I am the wheat of God and am ground by the teeth of the wild beasts that I may be found to be the pure bread of Christ” (Rom. .); “I desire the bread of God, which is the flesh of Jesus Christ, from the seed of David; and for drink I desire his blood, which is imperishable love” (Rom. .). Ignatius emphasizes unity when he speaks of one Eucharist, one cup, and one altar: Be eager to celebrate just one eucharist. For there is one flesh of our Lord Jesus Christ and one cup that brings the unity of his blood, and one altar, as there is one bishop together with the presbytery and the deacons, my fellow slaves. (Phil. .; see also Eph. .)
The repeated mention of an altar (θυσιαστήριον; Eph. ., Trall. ., Magn. .) indicates a sacrificial understanding of the Eucharist, a cultic event to be offered only in communion with the bishop and thus not simply a common meal: “Let that eucharist be considered valid that occurs under the bishop or the one to whom he entrusts it” (Smyrn. .; also Eph. .–, Trall. .). The sacred character of the eucharistic gathering is further highlighted when Ignatius describes the Eucharist as “a medicine that brings immortality, an antidote that allows us not to die but to live at all times in Jesus Christ” (Eph. ), being “the flesh of our savior Jesus Christ, which suffered on behalf of our sins” (Smyrn. .; cf. John :–). The realistic tone of these words aligns with the other emphases in Ignatius’s letters and reveals a robust belief in the eucharistic presence of Christ, which, as in Cor. :–, unites believers by their partaking (Smyrn. ., Eph. .). Another Christian leader who leaves an account of early eucharistic practice is Justin Martyr. He writes from Rome and offers a developed view
theology see Lothar Wehr, Arznei der Unsterblichkeit: Die Eucharistie bei Ignatius von Antiochen und im Johanesevangelium (Munster: Aschendorff, ), –. Similarly, in the Martyrdom of Polycarp () the fire made Polycarp look not like flesh being burned but “as bread that is baked.” For another eucharistic interpretation of martyrdom see Elizabeth Klein, “Perpetua, cheese, and martyrdom as public liturgy in the Passion of Perpetua and Felicity,” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. On the relation between the bishop, the church, and the Eucharist see Gregory Vall, Learning Christ: Ignatius of Antioch and the Mystery of Redemption (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ), . Some years before Ignatius, Clement of Rome (., .) also writes about the altar (θυσιαστήριον) with Old Testament references in the context of the disciplinary issues of the Corinthian church.
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of the rites and understanding of the Eucharist in his First Apology (c.) and Dialogue with Trypho (c.–). The Old Testament types are fulfilled in the Eucharist: the offering of fine flour (Lev. :– – Dial. .); the promise of the supply of bread (Isa. : – Dial. .); and the pure sacrifice offered from the rising of the sun to its setting (Mal. :– – Dial. .). The Eucharist is the remembrance (ἀνάμνησις) of the suffering of Christ (Dial. ., .) and of his incarnation (Dial. .). It is the act of thanksgiving (εὐχαριστία) for creation and redemption (Dial. .) that is offered “at length” ( Apol. ), according to the ability of the presider ( Apol. ). The thanksgiving is the pure sacrifice prophesied by Malachi (Dial. .), offered “in every place” (Dial. .) in God’s name (Dial. .), and pleasing to him when offered by those who are worthy (Dial. .). Apology describes the rites of a Eucharist after baptism. At Apology , Justin quotes Jesus’s words of institution of the Eucharist and speaks of the Eucharist in relation to the incarnation: Just as in his incarnation Christ “took flesh and blood for our salvation,” so too “the food over which thanks have been given through [a] word of prayer which is from him, from which our blood and flesh are fed by transformation, is both the flesh and blood of that incarnate Jesus.” In parallel with the incarnation, the act of thanksgiving, through words that come from the Logos, transforms the bread and wine into Jesus’s flesh and blood: The bread and wine are “eucharistized.” Because they are not common food or drink, there are conditions for participation: faith and baptism. Apology describes what was likely the shape of a Sunday eucharistic gathering in Rome in the mid-second century, in which we find some recognizable elements: readings from the apostles and prophets, homily, intercessions, kiss of peace, offertory, consecratory prayers received with an amen, communion to those present and those absent, and collection. As an offering with a defined ritual, the Eucharist happens on a special day (Sunday) and in “one place” to which those from town and country come ( Apol. ). Justin’s witness hardly fits with the common idea of a Eucharist celebrated in a domestic setting in the context of a normal meal. In recent decades, important volumes have studied in detail the meals in the Mediterranean world as the context for the understanding of the
Texts in Prex eucharistica, –; English version in Prayers of the Eucharist, –.
Eucharist. Needless to say, not all Christian meal gatherings were proper Eucharists. Was there a special time and place for the Eucharist? Didache, Ignatius, and Justin indicate so. Therefore, the question about the existence and function of “house churches” and the resulting familiar character of the domestic Eucharist in contrast to a more sacred, sacrificial, and hierarchical view is an area of great importance for research, in which recent scholarship is witnessing a noteworthy shift and in which new contributions could offer progress to an ongoing conversation. Moving toward the third century, Irenaeus of Lyon (d. ) in his Against Heresies, also sees the Eucharist as the fulfillment of OT offerings: the firstfruits of creation (Deut. : – Haer. ..), the sacrifice of Abel (Gen. : – Haer. ..), and again, Malachi’s pure sacrifice (Mal. : – Haer. ..). The Eucharist is an acceptable sacrifice that praises God’s name among the nations (Haer. ..), offered by the church with a pure mind (..), on an altar, which is both here and in heaven (..). While the core of the Eucharist is the inward sacrifice (..), its celebration includes the material elements of bread and wine, from which our flesh is supported (..).
For example, David Hellholm and Dieter Sänger (eds.) The Eucharist – Its Origins and Contexts: Sacred Meal, Communal Meal, Table Fellowship in Late Antiquity, Early Judaism, and Early Christianity, vol. , Near Eastern and Graeco-Roman Traditions, Archaeology (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ); Andrew McGowan, Ancient Christian Worship: Early Church Practices in Social, Historical and Theological Perspective (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ), –; Soham AlSuadi and Peter-Ben Smit (eds.) T&T Clark Handbook to Early Christian Meals in the Greco-Roman World (London and New York: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, ). On the context of the early Christian gathering, see Alikin, Earliest History of the Christian Gathering. For recent critiques of the idea of “house churches” see, among many, Stefan Heid, Altar und Kirche: Prinzipien Christlicher Liturgie (Regensburg: Schnell und Steiner, ), –; Edward Adams, The Earliest Christian Meeting Places: Almost Exclusively Houses? (London: Bloomsbury, ); Gisella Wataghin Cantino, “Domus Ecclesiae, Domus Orationis, Domus Dei: La chiesa, luogo delle comunità, luogo dell’istituzione,” in Chiese locali e chiese regionali nell’alto Medioevo: Atti delle Settimane di studio (), –; Jenn Cianca, Sacred Ritual, Profane Space: The Roman House as Early Christian Meeting Place (Montreal and Kingston: McGill–Queen’s University Press, ); Georg Schöllgen, “Hausgemeinden, OIKOC-Ekklesiologie und monarchischer Episkopat,” Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum (), –. The critique to Peter Lampe’s From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries (London: Continuum, ) by Schöllgen should be considered: “Probleme der frühchristlichen Sozialgeschichte: Einwände gegen Peter Lampes Buch ‘Die stadtrömischen Christen in den ersten beiden Jahrhunderten,’” Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum (), –. Texts from The Apostolic Fathers with Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, vol. , The Ante-Nicene Fathers, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo: Christian Literature Company, ). On the sources and dating of Irenaeus see M. C. Steenberg, Irenaeus on Creation: The Cosmic Christ and the Saga of Redemption (Leiden: Brill, ), –. Irenaeus is refuting here the so-called “Gnostics,” who “disallow the salvation of the flesh.” For recent developments on the study of these diverse early Christian ideas and practices, see David Brakke, The Gnostics: Myth, Ritual, and Diversity in Early Christianity (Cambridge, MA:
The Eucharist in the First Three Centuries
A spiritual understanding of the Eucharist, however, does not mean for Irenaeus a metaphorical one. Like Justin, he sees the Eucharist in relation to the incarnation and in the context of salvation (..–), being “the new oblation of the new covenant” (..). He relates the Eucharist to the Last Supper when he quotes some of Jesus’s institution words (..) and uses realistic language in regard to the presence of Christ in the consecrated elements: The bread is the flesh and body, and the cup gives us his blood (..). As in Justin, the sacrifice is effected through the Word, and a transformation occurs when the bread and wine receive “the invocation of God” (..): “When, therefore, the mingled cup and the manufactured bread receives the Word of God, and the Eucharist of the blood and the body of Christ is made” (..). The Eucharist – “no longer common bread” – gives our bodies “the hope of resurrection to eternity,” and “establishes our opinion” (..). Also in this period, Tertullian (c.–) gives us indications of North African eucharistic understanding and practice. The Eucharist is a sacrifice in which Christians participate when they stand at the altar (Or. ): “It is to God’s altar, together with a display of good works and amid the singing of psalms and hymns, that we are to bring this prayer” (Or. .). As a sacrifice in the Spirit offered by priests (Or. .), it is a true thanksgiving (Marc. .). Tertullian also understands Christ’s presence in a realistic manner: Using the institution narratives, he says that Jesus made the bread his own body when he said “this is my body,” affirming the “reality [substantia] of his body,” and similarly sealing the new testament in his blood in the cup (Marc. .). “Christ is our bread because Christ is life and bread is life” and thus has become our daily bread, as we pray in the Our Father (Or. ). Because it’s not common food, “the body feeds on Christ’s Body and Blood so that the soul also may be fattened on God” (Res. .). Tertullian also gives us some practical information: The kiss of peace was part of the celebration (Or. ); idolaters should not receive communion lest they give scandal to the Lord’s body (Idol. ); before daybreak, the Harvard University Press, ). For a short overview of eucharistic practices in different groups commonly called Gnostics, see Kurt Rudolph, Gnosis: The Nature and History of Gnosticism, trans. Robert McLahan Wilson (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ), –. Texts from Lawrence J. Johnson, Worship in the Early Church: An Anthology of Historical Sources, vol. (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ), –. On Tertullian and the Eucharist see Patout Burns and Robin Jensen, Christianity in Roman Africa: The Development of Its Practices and Beliefs (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –.
Eucharistiae sacramentum ought to be taken only from the hands of the presiders (Cor. ); and it must be received with reverence to avoid the pain of any wine or bread being cast upon the ground (Cor. ). Communion, which does not affect the practice of fasting, can be taken at home if the Eucharist, previously celebrated by the priest, was “reserved” (Or. ). In continuity with all previous witnesses, Cyprian of Carthage (d. ) sees the Eucharist as a sacrifice but makes a more developed connection to the passion of Christ. The Eucharist is “the very sacrament of the Passion of the Lord and of our redemption” (Ep. .). “The Lord’s passion is the sacrifice we offer” (Ep. .). This oblatio is offered by priests, following the example of Christ, “who offered sacrifice to God the Father” (Ep. .). Therefore, a priest “offers the true and full sacrifice in the Church of God the Father, if he thus begins to offer according to what he sees Christ Himself offered” (Ep. .). In his influential Epistle , Cyprian criticized the practice of using only water and not wine for the Eucharist, saying that it contradicted the OT prophecies, the example of the NT (both the Last Supper and the passion), and tradition. “The Blood of Christ is not offered if wine is lacking in the chalice and the sacrifice of the Lord is not celebrated with lawful sanctification unless the oblation and our sacrifice correspond to the passion” (Ep. .). In this context, Cyprian quotes the words of institution from Matthew and Paul. The Eucharist can be received daily “for the food of salvation” (Dom. or. ), becoming a safeguard in the face of warfare and martyrdom (Ep. ., .). Finally, another fruit of the Eucharist is unity. The people of the new This ought to be kept in mind when considering the possibility that the gathering before daybreak was not a eucharistic celebration but one for distribution of the sacrament. See Andrew McGowan, “Rethinking agape and Eucharist in early North African Christianity,” Studia liturgica (), –. Relatedly, Apologia . describes an evening worship gathering that includes washing of hands, lighted lamps, reading of scripture, hymns, drinking, and eating. While this is certainly a prayer gathering, the other clear eucharistic terms used by Tertullian elsewhere are absent from his description, and it cannot be said with certainty whether this gathering included the Eucharist. Letters from Saint Cyprian: Letters, trans. Rose Bernard Donna (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ); other texts from Saint Cyprian: Treatises, trans. Roy DeFerrari (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). On Cyprian’s textual tradition see On the Church: Select Treatises, trans. Allen Brent (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ), –. See an interpretation in Andrew McGowan, Ascetic Eucharists: Food and Drink in Early Christian Ritual Meals (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), –. This is a point already present in Didache ..
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covenant are symbolized in the many grains and grapes used for the bread and wine (Ep. .), and the celebration of the Eucharist is the fulfillment and expression of ecclesial unity (Unit. eccl. ). The Eucharist does not only symbolize but causes this unity: It is the “sacrament of unity” (Ep. .). “Christ is the bread of those of us who attain to his body” (Domin. or. ). Another important source usually dated to this period is the Apostolic Tradition, the subject of much academic discussion. Because of its traditional (and contested) attribution to Hippolytus of Rome, its anaphora has been supposed to be the most primitive witness of Roman eucharistic prayer and became the source of recent liturgical reforms. There is little consensus about its title, authorship, or geographical origin. Its dating, while still being discussed, seems to be the third century, although it probably includes some earlier material (e.g., as in Didache, Jesus is called servant or “child” (puer/παῖς). Even with these uncertainties, Trad. ap. is a significant witness of preConstantinian eucharistic practice. As a church order, whether reflecting actual practice or an ideal pattern, it communicates an early and developed eucharistic prayer. In chapter , after a liturgical greeting (“the Lord be with you”/“hearts on high”/“let us give thanks” – .; see also .–), a long and rich prayer integrates the incarnation of Christ, his birth of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin, and his passion, in a thanksgiving to God for sending us a savior and redeemer, who “when he was handed over to voluntary suffering . . . took bread and giving thanks to you he said: take, eat, this is my body which will be broken for you. Likewise with the cup saying: this is my blood which is poured out for you. Whenever you do this, you perform
See a good summary of the discussions in Paul Bradshaw, Maxwell Johnson, and Edward Phillips, The Apostolic Tradition: A Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –. In a different direction, Stewart-Sykes has proposed that Trad. ap. is the fruit of two redactors named Hippolytus from the same school in Rome. See Hippolytus, On the Apostolic Tradition, trans. Alistair Stewart-Sykes (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ), –. See also Matthieu Smyth, “The anaphora of the so-called ‘Apostolic Tradition’ and the Roman eucharistic prayer,” in Issues in Eucharistic Praying in East and West: Essays in Liturgical and Theological Analysis, ed. Maxwell E. Johnson (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ), –. The conclusion that some parts are from the fourth century because only then were certain topics common (epiclesis, trinitarian doxology, institution narrative) is certainly possible but not conclusive, as some texts contain topics that only later become dominant. The late dating of some parts is proposed by Bradshaw and Johnson in Prayers of the Eucharist, . Latin text from Prex eucharistica, –; English version from Stewart-Sykes’s translation, –.
my commemoration” (.–). Because Trad. ap. is likely the oldest complete surviving anaphora, the presence of the institution narrative is noteworthy. Other elements found in the anaphora of Trad. ap. are the anamnesis of the death and resurrection of Christ, which motivates the offering and thanksgiving, and its doxology. The Eucharist is an antitype of the body and likeness of the blood of Christ (.) that the presider offers according to his ability (.). It is not normal food, and thus a catechumen cannot partake of the Lord’s Supper (.). Finally, the epiclesis asks for the Holy Spirit to come upon the church and not over the offerings (.). Another anaphora to study is that of Addai et Mari (AM). It contains material from the second to the fourth centuries, as well as evidence of East Syrian prayers which developed in relative independence from Roman and Byzantine influences. Thus, alongside its manifest differences, the elements it shares in common with the foregoing texts are also significant. The greeting (“Let us give thanks”/“Lift up your minds”/“it is fit and right,” –) is an example of this, along with the celebrant’s praise to God for being “gathered and stand before thee” (). The similarity with Trad. ap. . (astare coram te) is noticeable. AM emphasizes thanksgiving and praise to the Trinity for creating and redeeming “the sons of men in his mercy,” for the incarnation, and forgiveness of sins. The Eucharist is a remembrance, the “commemoration of the body and blood of thy Christ, which we offer to thee upon the pure and holy altar” (–). Although here the Last Supper reference to the body and blood is present, no manuscript of AM contains an institution narrative. AM asks the Holy Spirit to “rest upon this offering of thy servants, and bless it and sanctify it that it may be to us, O my Lord, for the pardon of sins” (–). This epiclesis prays for the fruits of the Eucharist in the participants. The next texts we will consider also have a Syrian provenance. Two NT apocrypha, attributed to apostles, transmit beliefs and practices from
Even if some parts were added to the original second- to third-century core, we cannot know if those were in fact a later composition. See Bradshaw et al., The Apostolic Tradition, . The use of future tense (“will be broken”; confringetur) is curious, as it is also found in the Canon quoted by Ambrose. A similar expression is found in Didascalia Apostolorum ., which contains material from the second to the fourth centuries. Prayers of the Eucharist, . Syrian and English text from Anthony Gelston, The Eucharistic Prayer of Addai et Mari (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Gelston also offers an introduction to the text and its tradition (–).
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communities in Syria. The Acts of John (late second or early third century) describe John taking and breaking bread (wine is not mentioned) and offering praises to Christ for the oblation before distributing the Eucharist (–, –). The Acts of Thomas (third century) speak of “the eucharist of your holy body and blood” () in strong connection with the passion: “We eat your holy body, crucified for us; and we drink your blood shed for us for redemption” (). It contains a robust epiclesis: “Let the power of blessing rest upon the bread, that all the souls who partake of it be delivered from their sins” (). The fact that here only bread is mentioned should not be overstated. If we compare this epiclesis with those from Trad. ap. and AM we can note that in Trad. ap. the invocation is over the church, in AM over the offerings for the pardon of sins, and in Acts of Thomas over the bread, asking for the power of blessing. While the epiclesis is a common trait of early anaphoras, its function and addressee are not uniform. The understanding of the meaning and nature of the epiclesis in the eucharistic ritual is an ongoing discussion which would benefit from new contributions. Origen of Alexandria (d. ) writes about the Eucharist as the divine mysteries in which we know the flesh and blood of the Word of God (Hom. Lev. ..). The new paschal feast is kept by eating the flesh of the Word
See Harald Buchinger, “Liturgy and early Christian apocrypha,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Apocrypha, ed. Andrew Gregory and Christopher Tuckett (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. J. K. Elliot, The Apocryphal New Testament: A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), –. Greek text from Prex eucharistica, –. English text: Elliot, The Apocryphal New Testament, –. See Buchinger, “Liturgy and early Christian apocrypha,” . DA . indicates a prayer “that the eucharist is sanctified by the Holy Spirit.” For a comprehensive study see Anne McGowan, Eucharistic Epicleses, Ancient and Modern: Speaking of the Spirit in Eucharistic Prayer (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ). On the consecratory function of the epiclesis see Michael Zheltov, “The moment of Eucharist consecration in Byzantine thought,” in Issues in Eucharistic Praying in East and West: Essays in Liturgical and Theological Analysis, ed. Maxwell E. Johnson (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ), –. On the problem of the Roman epiclesis, see Daniel Cardó, The Cross and the Eucharist in Early Christianity: A Theological and Liturgical Investigation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. Melito’s Peri Pascha is another example of the Christological reading of Passover in eucharistic context. See Melito of Sardis, On Pascha, trans. Alistair Stewart-Sykes (New York: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). See Stewart-Sykes, The Lamb’s High Feast: Melito, Peri Pascha and the Quatrodeciman Paschal Liturgy at Sardis (Leiden: Brill, ). For a recent and different view see Matthew Colvin, The Lost Supper: Revisiting Passover and the Origins of the Eucharist (Lanham, MD: Fortress Academic, ), –.
(Cels. .). Origen’s allegorical language does not conflict with the concrete reality of the Eucharist: “when you receive the body of the Lord, you protect it with all caution and veneration lest any small part fall from it, lest anything of the consecrated gift be lost” (Hom. Exod. .). Origen speaks of two sanctuaries: one invisible and one visible and open to the priests (Hom. Lev. ..). Similarly, altars are one of the things that Gentiles see when they come into the faith (Hom. Jes. Nav. .). What kind of altar did the Gentiles see? Given the sparse archaeological evidence of pre-Constantinian churches, we should limit our comments to note that the orientation of churches and the permanence of their altars are areas in which there have been noteworthy contributions and which could receive further attention.
Conclusion After looking at the sources of the early Eucharist, a few elements regularly appear amid their diversity. The Eucharist is a sacrifice offered at the altar with pure thanksgiving on a special day and in a special place. While initiated in the context of a meal, from the very beginning the Eucharist was a proclamation of Christ’s death; as food for eternal life, it was treated with Origen, Homilies on Genesis and Exodus, trans. Ronald Heine (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ), . Another Alexandrian, Clement (c.–) also combines the allegorical and sacrificial approaches: The Word is a cluster of grapes that gives his blood to drink and gain incorruption (Paed. ..); the Eucharist is a sacrifice (Strom. .., ..) and an offering (Strom. .., ..). See Veronika Černušková, “The mystery of the Eucharist and childhood in Clement of Alexandria,” Eastern Theological Journal . (), –. Eusebius of Caesarea (–) writes of new and more spacious church buildings in the third century (Hist. eccl. .). See Olof Brandt, La Croce e il capitello: Le chiese paleocristiane e la monumentalità (Vatican City: Pontificio di Archeologia Cristiana, ), –. The only undisputed pre-Constantine church building is the church of Dura Europos. See Carl Kraeling, The Christian Building: The Excavations at Dura Europos. Final Report . (New Haven: Dura-Europos Publications, ). On the Christian prayer hall of Megiddo see Adams, The Earliest Christian Meeting Places, –. The main arguments in favor of ancient orientation are found in Stefan Heid, “Gebetshaltung und Ostung in frühchristlicher Zeit,” Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana (), –; and Uwe Michael Lang, Turning Towards the Lord: Orientation in Liturgical Prayer (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, ), esp. – for the first three centuries. For an argument against, see Robin Jensen, “Recovering ancient ecclesiology: The place of the altar and the orientation of prayer in the early Latin church,” Worship (), –. See Heid, Altar und Kirche, , –, , ; for an example of what is interpreted as a portable communion table, see Bruce W. Longenecker, The Cross Before Constantine: The Early Life of a Christian Symbol (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –.
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reverence, requiring self-examination and conditions for reception, and not merely as common food and drink. In any area of ancient history, a full reconstruction using fragmentary evidence might not be possible. This is true of the Eucharist, beginning with the Last Supper: A via media helps us recognize that the Last Supper cannot simply be identified with the Christian Eucharist nor be seen as the matrix for all the diverse eucharistic practices. However, it also allows us to see that the Last Supper – with its connotations of thanksgiving, offering, sacrifice, and cultic Passover, quite recognizable for a first-century Jew – does appear as the “generative moment of the institution of the Eucharist,” and the historically substantial root of its content. Certainly, the fact that the institution narrative is not present in all cited texts might seem surprising to our modern minds. Besides the possible accidents of history, the selections of writers, or the lack of need to describe what was already known, it is significant that the growing explicit presence of the narrative in the fourth century did not appear as a disruption. Basil, for instance, mentions the unwritten traditions known to all, such as the sign of the cross, eastward prayer, and the words pronounced over the bread and wine: “As everyone knows, we are not content in the liturgy simply to recite the words recorded by St. Paul and the Gospels, but we add other words both before and after, words of great importance for this mystery. We have received these words from unwritten teaching.” Along with the achievements of historical knowledge, we should also keep in mind Basil’s advice: “reverence for the mysteries is best encouraged by silence.”
Select Bibliography Adams, Edward. The Earliest Christian Meeting Places: Almost Exclusively Houses? (London: Bloomsbury, ). Alikin, Valeriy. The Earliest History of the Christian Gathering: Origin, Development and Content of the Christian Gathering in the First to Third Centuries (Leiden: Brill, ). Allison, Dale C. Jr. Constructing Jesus: Memory, Imagination, and History (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). Al-Suadi, Soham and Peter-Ben Smit (eds.) T&T Clark Handbook to Early Christian Meals in the Greco-Roman World (London and New York: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, ).
Daly, “Eucharistic origins,” . Basil of Caesarea, On the Holy Spirit . (trans. Anderson, ). Basil of Caesarea, On the Holy Spirit . (trans. Anderson, ).
The Apostolic Fathers, vol. . Translated by Bart D. Ehrman (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). The Apostolic Fathers with Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, vol. , The Ante-Nicene Fathers. Edited by Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo: Christian Literature Company, ). Backhaus, Knut. Der Hebräerbrief (Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, ). Basil of Caesarea. On the Holy Spirit. Translated, with an introduction by David Anderson (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). Bauckham, Richard. Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony, nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Baumstark, Anton. Comparative Liturgy. Translated by Bernard Botte (Westminster, MD: Newman Press, ). Betz, Johannes. “The Eucharist in the Didache.” Pages – in The Didache in Modern Research. Edited by Jonathan A. Draper (Leiden: Brill, ). Beutler, Johannes. A Commentary on the Gospel of John. Translated by Michael Tait (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Bradshaw, Paul. Eucharistic Origins (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, ). The Search for the Origins of Christian Worship: Sources and Methods for the Study of the Early Liturgy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Bradshaw, Paul, Maxwell Johnson, and Edward Phillips. The Apostolic Tradition: A Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Brakke, David. The Gnostics: Myth, Ritual, and Diversity in Early Christianity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Brandt, Olof. La Croce e il capitello: Le chiese paleocristiane e la monumentalità (Vatican City: Pontificio di Archeologia Cristiana, ). Buchinger, Harald. “Liturgy and early Christian apocrypha.” Pages – in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Apocrypha. Edited by Andrew Gregory and Christopher Tuckett (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Burns, Patout and Robin Jensen. Christianity in Roman Africa: The Development of Its Practices and Beliefs (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Cardó, Daniel. The Cross and the Eucharist in Early Christianity: A Theological and Liturgical Investigation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Černušková, Veronika. “The mystery of the Eucharist and childhood in Clement of Alexandria,” Eastern Theological Journal . (), –. Cianca, Jenn. Sacred Ritual, Profane Space: The Roman House as Early Christian Meeting Place (Montreal and Kingston: McGill–Queen’s University Press, ). Colvin, Matthew. The Lost Supper: Revisiting Passover and the Origins of the Eucharist (Lanham, MD: Fortress Academic, ). Cyprian. Letters. Translated by Rose Bernard Donna (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). On the Church: Select Treatises. Translated by Allen Brent (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). Treatises. Translated by Roy DeFerrari (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ).
The Eucharist in the First Three Centuries Day, Juliette and Benjamin Gordon-Taylor (eds.) The Study of Liturgy and Worship (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ). Daly, Robert. “Eucharistic origins: From the New Testament to the liturgies of the Golden Age,” Theological Studies (), –. Dix, Gregory. The Shape of the Liturgy. New ed., with an introduction by Simon Jones (London: Bloomsbury, ). Draper, Jonathan A. “The Didache in modern research: An overview.” Pages – in The Didache in Modern Research. Edited by Jonathan A. Draper (Leiden: Brill, ). Elliot, J. K. The Apocryphal New Testament: A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Ferguson, Everett. Baptism in the Early Church: History, Theology, and Liturgy in the First Five Centuries (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Fitzmyer, Joseph. First Corinthians (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Fredriksen, Paula. Paul: The Pagans’ Apostle (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Gelston, Anthony. The Eucharistic Prayer of Addai et Mari (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Hahn, Scott. Consuming the Word: The New Testament and the Eucharist in the Early Church (New York: Image, ). Hängii, Anton and Irgmand Pahl (eds.) Prex eucharistica: Textus e variis liturgiis antiquoribus selecti, nd ed. (Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires Fribourg Suisse, ). Heid, Stefan. Altar und Kirche: Prinzipien Christlicher Liturgie (Regensburg: Schnell und Steiner, ). “Gebetshaltung und Ostung in frühchristlicher Zeit,” Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana (), –. Hellholm, David and Dieter Sänger (eds.) The Eucharist – Its Origins and Contexts: Sacred Meal, Communal Meal, Table Fellowship in Late Antiquity, Early Judaism, and Early Christianity, vol. , Near Eastern and Graeco-Roman Traditions, Archaeology (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Hippolytus. On the Apostolic Tradition. Translated by Alistair Stewart-Sykes (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). Jasper, Ronald C. D. and G. J. Cuming (ed. and trans.) Prayers of the Eucharist: Early and Reformed. Texts Translated and Edited with Introductions, th ed. Edited by Paul F. Bradshaw and Maxwell E. Johnson (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press Academic, ). Jensen, Robin. “Recovering ancient ecclesiology: The place of the altar and the orientation of prayer in the early Latin church,” Worship (), –. Jeremias, Joachim. The Eucharistic Words of Jesus (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Johnson, Lawrence J. Worship in the Early Church: An Anthology of Historical Sources, vol. (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ). Johnson, Maxwell. The Rites of Christian Initiation: Their Evolution and Interpretation. Rev. and expanded ed. (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ). Jones, Cheslyn, Geoffrey Wainwright, Edward Yarnold, and Paul Bradshaw (eds.) The Study of the Liturgy (London: SPCK and Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Jungmann, Josef A. The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origins and Development (Notre Dame: Christian Classics, ).
Keith, Chris and Anthony Le Donne (eds.) Jesus, Criteria, and the Demise of Authenticity (London: T&T Clark, ). Klauck, Hans-Josef. Herrenmahl und Hellenistischer Kult (Münster: Aschendorff, ). Klein, Elizabeth. “Perpetua, cheese, and martyrdom as public liturgy in the Passion of Perpetua and Felicity,” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. Kraeling, Carl. The Christian Building: The Excavations at Dura Europos. Final Report . (New Haven: Dura-Europos Publications, ). Lakey, Michael. The Ritual World of Paul the Apostle: Metaphysics, Community and Symbol in Corinthians – (London: Bloomsbury, ). Lampe, Peter. From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries (London: Continuum, ). Lang, Uwe Michael. Turning Towards the Lord: Orientation in Liturgical Prayer (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, ). Lanuwabang, Jamir. Exclusion and Judgment in Fellowship Meals: The Socio-historical Background of Corinthians :– (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, ). Lietzmann, Hans. Mass and Lord’s Supper: A Study in the History of the Liturgy (Leiden: Brill, ). Löhr, Helmut. “The Epistles of Ignatius of Antioch.” Pages – in The Apostolic Fathers: An Introduction. Edited by Wilhem Pratscher (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ). Longenecker, Bruce W. The Cross Before Constantine: The Early Life of a Christian Symbol (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Mazza, Enrico. “Elements of a eucharistic interpretation.” Pages – in The Didache in Modern Research. Edited by Jonathan A. Draper (Leiden: Brill, ). McGowan, Andrew. Ancient Christian Worship: Early Church Practices in Social, Historical and Theological Perspective (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). Ascetic Eucharists: Food and Drink in Early Christian Ritual Meals (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). “Rethinking agape and Eucharist in early North African Christianity,” Studia liturgica (), –. McGowan, Anne. Eucharistic Epicleses, Ancient and Modern: Speaking of the Spirit in Eucharistic Prayer (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ). Meier, J. P. A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, vol. (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Melito of Sardis. On Pascha. Translated by Alistair Stewart-Sykes (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). Origen. Homilies on Genesis and Exodus. Translated by Ronald Heine (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). Pitre, Brant. Jesus and the Last Supper (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Pitre, Brant, Michael Barber, and John Kincaid. Paul, A New Covenant Jew: Rethinking Pauline Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Rudolph, Kurt. Gnosis: The Nature and History of Gnosticism. Translated by Robert McLahan Wilson (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ).
The Eucharist in the First Three Centuries Sanders, E. P. Paul: The Apostle’s Life, Letters, and Thought (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Sandt, Huub van de. “Why does the Didache conceive of the Eucharist as a holy meal?” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Schöllgen, Georg. “Hausgemeinden, οἶκος-Ekklesiologie und monarchischer Episkopat,” Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum (), –. “Probleme der frühchristlichen Sozialgeschichte: Einwände gegen Peter Lampes Buch ‘Die stadtrömischen Christen in den ersten beiden Jahrhunderten,’” Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum (), –. Smyth, Matthieu. “The anaphora of the so-called ‘Apostolic Tradition’ and the Roman eucharistic prayer.” Pages – in Issues in Eucharistic Praying in East and West: Essays in Liturgical and Theological Analysis. Edited by Maxwell E. Johnson (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ). Steenberg, M. C. Irenaeus on Creation: The Cosmic Christ and the Saga of Redemption (Leiden: Brill, ). Stewart-Sykes, Alistair. The Lamb’s High Feast: Melito, Peri Pascha and the Quatrodeciman Paschal Liturgy at Sardis (Leiden: Brill, ). Vall, Gregory. Learning Christ: Ignatius of Antioch and the Mystery of Redemption (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). Wataghin Cantino, Gisella. “Domus Ecclesiae, Domus Orationis, Domus Dei: La chiesa, luogo delle comunità, luogo dell’istituzione,” Chiese locali e chiese regionali nell’alto Medioevo: Atti delle Settimane di studio (), –. Wehr, Lothar. Arznei der Unsterblichkeit: Die Eucharistie bei Ignatius von Antiochen und im Johanesevangelium (Munster: Aschendorff, ). Wilhite, Shawn J. The Didache: A Commentary (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, ). Wolter, Michael. Paulus: Eine Grundriss seiner Theologie (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, ). Wright, N. T. Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Zetterholm, Magnus. Approaches to Paul: A Student’s Guide to Recent Scholarship (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Zheltov, Michael, “The moment of Eucharist consecration in Byzantine thought.” Pages – in Issues in Eucharistic Praying in East and West: Essays in Liturgical and Theological Analysis. Edited by Maxwell Johnson (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ).
Office, and Appointment to Office, in Early Christian Circles . In an earlier essay on the interplay between charisma and office, I listed the questions I had left unanswered: the origin of bishops, deacons, and presbyters, the precise extent and scope of their duties (as part of which we should pose the, as much unasked as unanswered, question of how bishops and/or presbyters come to have the exclusive right of presidency at the Eucharist), the fate of the teacher in the second century, and the manner in which, despite the opposition of such figures as Clement, Hermas and Ignatius, the episcopate takes on an intellectual role in the second century.
Although this list is not exhaustive, as new questions arise, this provides a starting point for an examination of questions related to office, and appointment to office, in early Christian communities, that had yet to receive satisfactory treatment. The first item on the list, however, the origin of bishops, deacons, and presbyters, was the subject of my recent monograph that sought to explode the consensus, arising from the Reformation and originating with Edward Stillingfleet and Campegius Vitringa, that Christian leaders were known as presbyteroi or episkopoi (the terms being synonymous), that Christian leadership was originally collective in the first century, that such collective leadership gave way to leadership by a single episkopos, and that this development, called monepiscopate, is first recognizable early in the second century in the writings of Ignatius of Antioch. This consensus was developed, restated, adjusted, but never significantly questioned until recent years. In response I suggest that Christian leadership was never collective although governance “Prophecy and patronage: The relationship between charismatic functionaries and household officers in early Christianity,” in Trajectories through the New Testament and the Apostolic Fathers, ed. Christopher Tuckett and Andrew Gregory (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –.
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might be, that the terms were never synonymous (but overlapped semantically), that Ignatius was not a representative of monepiscopacy, and that monepiscopacy emerged in urban areas a century later than the consensus suggested. As the work is relatively recent there has been no major critique; in one important respect, however, some of my narrative may need to be revised. Following Roger Gehring I located leadership in a domestic context in the first generation, and on this premise suggested that office comes about when the church moves out of the household and thus takes on aspects of associational behaviour. Thus, householders might have acted as episkopoi without holding that title. However, Edward Adams has challenged the widely shared assumption that the earliest meeting places of Christian groups were domestic, an assumption that gives a foundation to the narrative. This is not fatal to the hypothesis; indeed, it may even strengthen my argument at some points. Thus, I struggled with the status of Onesimus at Ephesus, and although I concluded that Onesimus is an episkopos in a single congregation, I found it hard to square with Ignatius’s suggestion that they should gather more tightly and that there may be households that are being corrupted that are within the church but are not Onesimus’s own household. If, however, we were to accept that the regular meeting place of this congregation was not domestic, then it is easier to see that alongside the “single Eucharist” of the Ephesian Christians there might be gatherings in other groupings and in individual households and that this might take place without regard to Onesimus’s episkope, even while Onesimus remains an episkopos in a single congregation and without subordinate ministers apart from his deacons.
Alistair C. Stewart, The Original Bishops: Office and Order in the First Christian Communities (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). The nearest to such is Kevin Giles, Patterns of Ministry Among the First Christians, nd ed. (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ), –. Apart from my own work, note Jochen Wagner, Die Anfänge des Amtes in der Kirche: Presbyter und Episkopen in der frühchristlichen Literatur (Tübingen: Francke, ), who comes close to a number of positions that I have taken. Also important is R. Alastair Campbell, The Elders: Seniority within Earliest Christianity (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ). Roger W. Gehring, House Church and Mission: The Importance of Household Structures in Early Christianity (ETr; Peabody MA: Hendrickson, ). Edward Adams, The Earliest Christian Meeting Places: Almost Exclusively Houses? (London: Bloomsbury, ). Stewart, Original Bishops, –. A position already espoused by Harry O. Maier, The Social Setting of the Ministry as Reflected in the Writings of Hermas, Clement and Ignatius (Waterloo, ON: Wilfred Laurier University Press, ), –.
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Thus, although Adams’s insight might lead to some refinements in the details of my reconstruction, it does not lead to any abandonment of any significant aspect. Indeed, my tentative conclusion regarding the Asian congregations addressed by Ignatius (i.e., that each of these still know a single episkopos who is a congregational leader) is strengthened now by Koet’s observations that the ministry of the church at the time of Ignatius was driven by bishop and deacons.
Prophets and Teachers The questions cataloged in my essay (cited above) were intended to undermine another widely held consensus, that the emergence of office in early Christian circles was the result of the failure of charisma, and the emergence of office (where there had previously been none) thus the replacement of charismatically legitimated leaders by bureaucratically legitimated officers. This may be termed the Sohm–Harnack hypothesis. As part of this narrative of routinized charisma as the explanation for the formation of office, the emergence of office is often seen as a cause of the decline of prophecy. Although prophecy does not disappear, it seems to become more marginal to the life of the church. I have suggested that this is not because of the formation of offices, but because ordered communication and the reading of Scripture come to predominate in the assemblies of the church. Less, however, is said about the fate of the teacher. Teachers are found alongside prophets in the Didache, and in the Antiochene community of Acts, but appear thereafter with relative rarity. Whereas teachers have
Bart J. Koet, “The bishop and his deacons. Ignatius of Antioch’s view on ministry: Two-fold or three-fold?” in Deacons and Diakonia in Early Christianity: The First Two Centuries, ed. Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy, and Esko Ryökäs (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, ), –. So called after its early progenitors. The debate may be accessed through Enrique Nardoni, “Charism in the early church since Rudolph Sohm: An ecumenical challenge,” Theological Studies (), –. Thus by Adolf von Harnack, Die Lehre der zwölf Apostel (TU .–; Leipzig: Hinrich, ), –; Eduard Lohse, “Die Entstehung des Bischofsamtes in der frühen Christenheit,” Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft (), –, at . The hypothesis set out by Alistair Stewart-Sykes, From Prophecy to Preaching: A Search for the Origins of the Christian Homily (Leiden: Brill, ). Did. .–. Acts ..
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been classed with prophets as “charismatics” (possibly on the grounds of their linkage with prophets), there are no grounds for doing so; the linkage is made because both communicate and because, according to Didache ., both have entitlement to subvention by the congregational officers. If the Sohm–Harnack hypothesis is not sustained and is seen as irrelevant to the role of the teacher in any event (because the teacher is not a charismatic communicator), we may ask anew the reason for the disappearance of the teacher. One possibility is that it lies in the changing role of the episkopos and presbyters. When the role of episkopoi was fundamentally economic, then teachers (like the prophets) would operate independently and without the structures of episcopate and diaconate. But once the episkopos takes on teaching functions (as we observe in particular within the Pastoral Epistles, in Alexandria, and in the Roman community represented by Traditio apostolica), then the episkopos might become the teacher, leading to the disappearance of the independent teacher; such independent teachers that survive, such as Origen in the third century, stand anomalously apart. So, in these scholasticized communities, teachers become episkopoi and presbyteroi, and the former economic role of the episkopos is left to the diakonos. Thus, we may note the role of Malchion in the condemnation of Paul of Samosata; Malchion is made a presbyter on the basis of his learning, and so guides the episcopal synod. However, outside these scholasticized Christian communities it is still possible to meet the phenomenon of the illiterate bishop. We may express this hypothesis another way by referring to the recent work of Emiliano Rubens Urciuoli. Urciuoli describes a complex conflict between what he terms “the ecclesiastical party” on the one hand, and variously the charismatic group, the “great laymen,” and the “enlightened.” The “great laymen” and the “enlightened” are those I characterized as “patron-householders” and “teachers”; the charismatic group are prophets.
So by, e.g., Hermann-Ad. Stempel, “Der Lehrer in der ‘Lehre der zwölf Apostel,’” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ... Apostolic Church Order .. This is not an isolated example; according to the author of the Refutatio Zephyrinus was agrammatos (Ref. .), and Cornelius refers to bishops who are aploustatoi (ap. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..). Emiliano Rubens Urciuoli, “Enforcing priesthood: The struggle for the monopolisation of religious goods and the construction of the Christian religious field,” in Beyond Priesthood: Religious Entrepreneurs and Innovators in the Roman Empire, ed. Richard L. Gordon, Georgia Petridou, and Jörg Rüpke (Religionsgeschichtliche Versuche und Vorarbeiten ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –.
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However, this assumes that there is an “ecclesiastical party” separate from the three groups, and thus is little more than a sophisticated version of the Sohm–Harnack hypothesis. I suggest that there is no “ecclesiastical party” as such; rather that those who claim leadership on the basis of convention and patronage (“patron-householders,” “great laymen”) are in conflict with those who claim leadership on the basis of knowledge and teaching (“teachers,” “the enlightened”). In some settings the “great laymen” retain their position, whereas elsewhere the “enlightened” triumph. Urciuoli characterizes the “enlightened” as “gnostics”; possibly some were but, more importantly, it is possible that in communities where traditionally legitimated leaders retain their position, teachers are labelled as heterodox due to their threat to the leadership. We may also suggest that the office of reader originated in this context, given that unlettered bishops would require somebody to read in the absence of a teacher. Although no final answer is given, an avenue for research is opened up.
The Restriction of Eucharistic Presidency By contrast to the recently challenged consensus, a relatively unstudied question is that of the development of “liturgical presidency” – that is to say, the process by which the celebration of the eucharistic meal became the preserve of episkopoi or presbyteroi. The exploration may begin with the Didache. Much is made of the statement at Didache . that the prophets are exempt from the use of the table prayers set out in chapters –; this is taken to mean that the prophets had previously presided at the Eucharist but that the episkopos had taken over. However, here we have the remains of the assumption that the local officers took over the responsibilities of the prophets and teachers. Although the mention of episkopoi and diakonoi in chapter is, on redactional grounds, to be seen as an intrusion, this does not mean that these officers replaced prophets and teachers. Didache . says that prophets should not be bound by the forms suggested earlier in the chapter and says nothing about the
This is explicit in H. Lietzmann, “Zur altchristlichen Verfassungsgeschichte,” in Kleine Schriften, vol. (TU ; Berlin: Akademie, ), –, at . R. Knopf, Die Lehre der zwölf Apostel (Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, ), , suspects a redactional seam. So also, more recently, Nancy Pardee, The Genre and Development of the Didache: A Text-Linguistic Analysis (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, ), .
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normal presidency at the meal. We cannot see a particular prophetic privilege here, as the function of a prophet is to communicate messages from God, whereas eucharistic praying is communication in the opposite direction, simply a statement that, should a prophet be invited to offer the prayers, he might use whatever form he desires. It is possible, but not necessarily the case, that the patron supplying the meal and the location might say the grace. But we should also note that graces are said individually over the cups beyond the first cup in a Jewish context, and it is entirely possible that this is what is meant by the Didachist. There is a variety of practice within forming Judaism with regard to who led the graces. In the Letter of Aristeas the grace is said by Eleazar, who is introduced as “the oldest of our priests.” Essene practice was similar, with a priest saying the blessing. However, with the disappearance of priesthood, later Jewish sources are less explicit, simply legislating that one should say a common grace on behalf of all. There is a tendency for the responsibility in later Judaism to fall upon the senior person present, though there is provision for that to be a guest. Since the Didachistic community had no priests (the statement that prophets are priests simply referring to their right to first fruits), we may suspect that there was no one with a right to offer graces. We may suspect that the episkopos came to offer the prayers once the office had been established, since (we argue) it had been established to obviate dispute over precedence and patronage. If the original function of the episkopos was economic, then we might see him as president of the meal, taking over this role from the original patronhouseholders. What that meant in practice, however, is less certain. Perhaps he functioned as a host would function at any other meal, directing the diakonoi, and also perhaps regulating the proceedings after the completion of the meal, in which context discussion, teaching, and prayer might be found,
So, correctly, Aaron Milavec, The Didache: Faith, Hope, and Life of the Earliest Christian Communities, – .. (New York: Newman, ), –. In agreement on this point with Georg Schöllgen, “The Didache as a church order: An examination of the purpose for the composition of the Didache and its consequences for its interpretation,” in J. A. Draper (ed.), The Didache in Modern Research (Leiden: Brill, ), –, at n. . m. Ber. :; t. Ber. :. Let. Aris. –. QS .–; Josephus, BJ .–. t.b. Ber. a. t.b. Ber. a. Schöllgen, “Didache as a church order,” , notes that nothing is really said on this matter.
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much like the symposiarch. This would not necessitate his saying the grace after the meal, or before, but it would tend to point in that direction. Nonetheless, Paul Bradshaw reads Clement as indicating the restriction of eucharistic presidency to the clergy. Clement is writing to the Corinthian church on behalf of the Roman church as a result of the deposition of some Corinthian presbyters. In this light he writes of the necessity of good order in the church and draws reference to the law of the old covenant. Thus, Clement suggests, the law directs that the offerings and gifts (prosphoras kai leitourgias) were to be offered, and fixed both the places where they were to be performed, and by whom ( Clem. .–). Thus, he goes on, “to the high priest his proper services have been assigned, and to the priests their proper office is appointed, and upon the Levites their proper ministrations are laid. The layman is bound by the layman’s ordinances.” From this he goes on to state: “Let each of you, brothers, in his own order, be pleasing to God (euaristeito to theo; .).” This latter phrase Bradshaw translates as “offer the Eucharist to God,” accepting Lightfoot’s emendation of euaristeito to eucharisteito. In commenting on this, Lightfoot thinks, as Bradshaw does, that this indicates an allocation of tasks to differing orders, with the consequent restriction of eucharistic presidency. However, even if the emendation is accepted, this does not necessarily refer to eucharistic presidency as subsequently understood. In my discussion of the passage, I have suggested that the prosphoras kai leitourgias are precisely offerings for the church made by the officers as patrons, and liturgies. Thus, the text is discussing the economic support given to the church by its officers, rather than referring to their ritual expertise. If the emendation is accepted, then we might see that the Eucharist is the occasion on which the liturgy (in its ancient sense) is
On the role of symposiarch see Plutarch, Quaest. conv. .. We may also note the extent to which Plutarch conforms the symposiarch’s role and qualifications to those of a political leader; see Philip A. Stadter, “Leading the party, leading the city: The symposiarch as politikos,” in Symposion and philanthropia in Plutarch, ed. José Ribeiro Ferreira, Delfim Leão Manual Troster, and Paula Barata Dias (Coimbra: CECH, ), –. Paul F. Bradshaw, Liturgical Presidency in the Early Church (Bramcote: Grove, ), –. J. B. Lightfoot (ed. and trans.) The Apostolic Fathers, vol. , part , repr. (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ), . Stewart, Original Bishops, –. Thus I note Barbara Bowe’s comment (A Church in Crisis [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ], –) that when Clement concludes that it would be sinful to remove a leitourgia from anyone who had “blamelessly and in a holy manner offered the gifts” (amemptos kai hosios prosenegkotas ta dora; .), the language is that of ethical behavior rather than ritual purity; moreover, when the presbyters are said to have given good service (kalos politeumenous; .), the language employed is not that of cultic officials but of public servants.
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offered, and see the episkopos as a eucharistic president only in the sense that he is acting as host. Part of the answer to the question, however, must lie in ongoing research into the eucharistic meal and its developments. In a later period there is a single celebrant of a single act, with a prayer of consecration incorporating words over both bread and cup (though no other foodstuffs), preceded by readings and with a distribution of token or ritual amounts of food. In the earliest eucharistic rites there might be separate berakoth over bread and cup; readings and speech might follow the meal, or take place at the same time; there might, arguably, be foodstuffs beyond bread and wine, and these were probably in substantial amounts. The process by which these changes came about is a current field of ongoing research in which the matter of eucharistic presidency is necessarily bound up. In this context we may note the suggestion of Clemens Leonhard that the restriction of eucharistic presidency (among other aspects that cause the later Eucharist to differ from the mealeucharist of the first centuries) derives from the Roman custom of the salutatio, at which a sportula might be given. This is the direct responsibility of the patron, who must perform the act in person; thus, Leonhard suggests that it is by this means that the celebration of the Eucharist becomes the preserve of one person. Even if we are unconvinced that the changes to the Eucharist came about due to the adoption of the salutatio, we may nonetheless note that this explanation derives from the same nexus of patronage as that which attributes the custom to the practice of the triclinium. Given the uncertainties of the manner in which the development of the Eucharist from evening to morning with its consequent changes came about, or indeed the time at which it occurred, there is little more that can be said here. Nonetheless, that the episkopos would say the blessings is a reasonable suggestion. One point for consideration may, however, be offered. If the suggestion above that presbyters (qua patrons) might host meals and gatherings separately from that over which the episkopos presides (understanding presidency as acting as symposiarch), then this would account for the manner in which, in a later period, a presbyter would preside at the (developed) Eucharist without reference to the episkopos. In stating that a Eucharist might only be held by the bishop, or under the bishop’s delegation (ho an autos epitrepse), Clemens Leonhard, “Morning salutationes and the decline of sympotic Eucharists,” Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum (), –, at –. Ignatius, Smryn. ..
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we might almost say that Ignatius is reversing the direction of travel (the episkopos being more regularly the agent of the presbyters), but is also setting the trend for what would become normal once monepiscopate had been established. Thus, the fermentum (the custom by which eucharistic celebrants at Rome would manifest their unity through sharing bread) is in time restricted to the bishop, who would send to the local presbyters.
Ordination Rites If the evidence for ministry in the first three centuries is sparse, that for ordination rites is sparser. As Bradshaw points out, beyond Traditio apostolica and its derivatives, the only surviving ordination prayers earlier than the seventh century are those found in the fourth-century Sacramentary of Sarapion, and this contains prayers only, and no rubric. Bradshaw further points out that the relevant passages of Traditio apostolica raise significant questions, not the least being the implication that the compiler has attempted to adjust earlier practice, which in turn leads us to ask whether such a rite as that described there even took place. Moreover, a great deal depends on whether it is taken as a record of a Christian community within Rome, or whether it is taken to be a compilation of material gathered from a wider geographical area and over an extended period. This argument cannot be rehearsed here. However, there is one significant point of agreement between the two schools, namely that both in the episcopal ordination and in the presbyteral ordination, the participation of presbyters has been reduced. Thus, in the episcopal ordination prayer the presbyters are bidden
So Irenaeus ap. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ... So Innocent to Decentius; according to the Liber pontificalis . the receipt of this bread was a form of consent to continue as presbyter under the bishop. See also Liber pontificalis .. Paul F. Bradshaw, Rites of Ordination: Their History and Theology (London: SPCK, ), . This must now be revised in the light of Alberto Camplani and Federico Contardi, “Remarks on the textual contribution of the Coptic codices preserving the Canons of Saint Basil with edition of the ordination rite for the bishop (canon ),” in Philologie, herméneutique et histoire des textes entre orient et occident: Mélanges en hommage à Sever J. Voicu, ed. Francesca P. Barone, Caroline Macé, and Pablo Alejandro Ubierna (Turnhout: Brepols, ), –. Thus, compare the different approaches in Paul F. Bradshaw, Maxwell Johnson, and L. Edward Philips, The Apostolic Tradition: A Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –, and Alistair C. Stewart, Hippolytus: On the Apostolic Tradition, nd ed. (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). See the summary of the argument in Alistair C. Stewart, “The ordination prayers in Traditio apostolica: The search for a Grundschrift,” St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly .– (), –.
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to remain silent, and in the presbyteral ordination prayer the presbyters lay a hand on the new presbyter while it is a bishop who says the ordination prayer. This is followed by the statement in the next chapter that on a presbyter however the presbyters also lay their hands because of the common and like spirit of their order. For the presbyter has authority in this matter only, that he may receive; he does not, however, have the authority to give. Therefore he does not appoint clergy.
Both the strange rubric enjoining silence and the statement that the presbyters do not ordain clergy indicate that a change is being enforced and that the presbyters in the past had appointed members of their own number, as well as ordaining their bishop. However, this gives way to a more widespread election, as the candidate for the episcopate is elected by all the people. In the rubrics relating to presbyters and deacons there is also reference to election, though there are significant issues both with the text and its interpretation. We may perhaps surmise that as part of his agendum of reducing the power of presbyters the redactor is encouraging election by the congregation for all ordained officers. Certainly there were other methods of selection, both for episkopoi and for the other offices; in Didascalia Apostolorum the bishop appoints presbyters and deacons, whereas Cyprian attests to a practice of the episcopus making appointments subject to wider ratification, mirroring ordinatio in wider Roman society. Episcopal election is certainly widespread: Cyprian refers to his own election and to that of Cornelius, the Vita of Gregory Thaumaturgus has an account of an episcopal election in Komana, Fabian is acclaimed at an election gathering, and the Vita Polycarpi describes the manner in which the deacons go among the people inquiring about their choice, whereas once monepiscopate is established it seems more common for the bishop alone to make other appointments, as Vita Polycarpi again illustrates. Origen, as Everett Ferguson points out, refers to other methods besides election, in particular the testimonium of a predecessor, and the very fact that the Council of Antioch in attempts to outlaw this practice in canon indicates that it was current. Thus, we
Trad. ap. .. Trad. ap. .–a. Cyprian, Ep. ... Ep. ... Ep. .., .., ... PG .–. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..–. Vit. Pol. . Thus, at Vit. Pol. and Vit. Pol. , Polycarp is appointed as deacon, and then presbyter, by the bishop Boukolos. Everett Ferguson, “Origen and the election of bishops,” Church History (), –.
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may suggest that various methods were employed across the church with regard to the selection of officers, but that these came about once the episkopos ceased to be a congregational officer, and became responsible for multiple congregations across a defined area. In time episcopal elections died out; they are forbidden by the Council of Laodicea in the mid-fourth century, and although this may have been observed more in the breach (Ambrose was elected by acclamation a few years later), it suggests that the growth in numbers of the church might make elections as formerly held difficult. One set of issues relating to appointment that has perhaps not been sufficiently discussed in the literature is the extent of participation in appointment of those from outside a given Christian community. Thus Traditio apostolica legislates for the ordination of an episkopos by another episkopos among those who are present; although these are other domestic episkopoi from within Rome, we may see that these have taken the place of the local presbyters. Apostolic Church Order tends to prefer internal appointment, by men who would appear to form a board of patronage, but states that if there are fewer than twelve such men, then three “chosen” men should come from nearby churches to make the appointment. And Whei Moriarty has argued that a much discussed passage in Clement provides evidence for “apostolic delegates” making appointments within Roman and Corinthian churches. An assessment of this view can only be made in the light of the examination of the practice of external involvement in ecclesial appointments elsewhere in the period. The ritual action associated with the ordinations in Traditio apostolica is the laying on of a hand, here by the episkopos, though arguably originally by presbyters. Support for this view of the original practice of ordination by presbyters through handlaying may be found in the statement of Timothy :, that Timothy had been appointed “by the laying on of hands (meta epitheseos ton cheiron) by the council of presbyters.” Even this presents
Canons and . So Stewart, Hippolytus, –, P. F. Bradshaw, “The participation of other bishops in the ordination of a bishop in the Apostolic Tradition of Hippolytus,” in Studia Patristica, vol. , ed. E. A. Livingstone (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, ), –, at . Apostolic Church Order . In this light we may note the provision of canon of Nicaea that all the bishops of a province should participate in an episcopal appointment, but if this is not possible then three might provide a quorum for such appointment. Whei F. Moriarty, “ Clement’s view of ministerial appointments in the early church,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –, with reference to Clement .–.
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a puzzle, however, as Timothy : speaks of Paul alone laying his hand on Timothy. Again, the Pastoral Epistles present a question that only further disinterested research can solve. Nonetheless, ordination by handlaying is extensively witnessed in the ante-Nicene period beyond Traditio apostolica and its derivatives, not the least in Acts. This does not mean that it was universally practiced, though Cyrille Vogel demonstrates that from the third century on it appears to have been universal, even if it is not necessarily the central element in every rite. Indeed, it is possible that in Vita Polycarpi the handlaying is an element that has been introduced to conform the ordination rite in this community to Scripture. Many mentions of handlaying are mentions in passing; nonetheless, it is clear that the laying of a hand as a gesture in ordination is reserved to certain offices within Traditio apostolica. This may imply a certain understanding, or a genesis in particular forms of appointment, though this is yet another unexplored area. It is unexplored because, in the past, the search for the origins of this ritual gesture were sought within forming Jewish practice and in the “ordination” of rabbis, though the evidence was thin and the conclusions uncertain. As an alternative Markos A. Siotis explores the gesture as the appointment of a shaliah, or emissary, but concludes that _ are nothing more, and there is although the parallels are suggestive they nothing that enables us to connect this earlier practice to ordination by handlaying as it later emerges. Thus Ferguson, in summary of earlier discussion, seeing that handlaying in forming Jewish circles cannot be the source of Christian practice, is forced to suggest that it derived from an action of blessing by Jesus, even while insisting that the origins of the practice are
See Acts : and :. In a later period, in addition to the Pseudo-Clementine literature noted above, note Cyprian, Ep. .; Acts Pet. ; DA .. (which also makes mention of the seating of a bishop). Cyrille Vogel, “L’imposition des mains dans les rites d’ordination en orient et en occident,” Maison-Dieu (), –, at –. See in particular the treatment of Lawrence A. Hoffmann, “Jewish ordination on the eve of Christianity,” Studia liturgica (), –, at –. Hoffmann suggests that the discussion of Jewish “ordination” has been controlled by a narrative derived from Christianity, with the effect that the wrong questions have consistently been asked. Markos A. Siotis, “Die klassische und die christliche Cheirotonie in ihrem Verhältnis,” Theologia (), –, –, –; (), –, –, –, –; (), –, – (), –. Ferguson, “Jewish and Christian ordination: Some observations,” Harvard Theological Review (), –, at , and at greater length his “Laying on of hands: Its significance in ordination,” Journal of Theological Studies n.s. (), –.
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Jewish. There is indeed evidence for an imposition of hands accompanying prayer as a blessing, though we are entitled to ask whether this is necessarily its meaning in ordination. The unfounded assumption that the gesture originated in Jewish ordination practice means that the discussion has never properly begun. If any root is to be sought in Jewish circles, then it must be in the common ground and inheritance of the two communities, which in each instance led to the employment of the gesture in appointment. We might also wonder to what extent the narrative of Numbers :– might have influenced Christian practice, and also inquire into the relationship between this and post-baptismal handlaying in Acts :–. Given the suggestion that Christian office was formed entirely within a Hellenistic context, an avenue for research is the significance and use of this gesture within the wider Hellenistic world. In particular the means and methods of appointment within associations and the polis might provide fruitful avenues of investigation, as part of which an exploration of the use of the term cheirotonia and its cognates might be undertaken, though the task of exploration is not eased by the fact that there is little systematic vocabulary and the fact that we are often reliant on secondary versions of the church order literature. A study of this nature was undertaken by Siotis, who suggests that the classical polis had to an extent fed the means by which the church came to appoint clergy, though the evidence that he discusses is largely that of classical Athens. Nonetheless, we may note his conclusion that cheirotonia in the earliest sources refers principally to election, rather than to a rite of laying hands in ordination as such. We may thus wonder whether the handlaying is, in origin, a mark of choice in origin, a cheirotonia in terms of indication, rather than a blessing or sacramental sign. Such was tentatively suggested by C. H. Turner; thus, Clement in referring to ordination, stating that the presbyter is not ordained (cheirotonoumenos) by people, is certainly referring to election, as Siotis rightly states, since the whole context is surrounded by other words indicating selection or choice. In the fourth century, Siotis notes, as the word is found more frequently, So, e.g., in his “Selection and installation to office in Roman, Greek, Jewish and Christian antiquity,” Theologische Zeitschrift (), –, at . All points raised by Wagner, Anfänge, –. The particular observations of Vogel, “L’imposition des mains.” Siotis, “Die klassische und die christliche Cheirotonie.” C. H. Turner, “χειροτονία, χειραθεσία, ἐπίθεσις χειρῶν,” Journal of Theological Studies (), –, at . Strom. .. Siotis, “Die klassische und die christliche Cheirotonie,” (), .
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there are occasions when it is not clear whether the reference is to the ordination itself or the election only, but it is also apparent that the word does not refer to the handlaying on its own as a liturgical act. Thus, even when Cornelius speaks of ordaining (cheirotonesantes) replacements for Novatian’s consecrators, it might be possible to see this as implying choice, rather than the action of handlaying, since the electorate had been reduced to one by circumstance. It may not be that the state of the evidence allows any further insights into the origin of the laying of a hand in ordination rites, but the investigation of the gesture in Hellenistic societies, and possibly its use in associational and political life in the Hellenistic world, is more likely to bring results than the search for origins in Judaism has done. A distinct Jewish influence is, however, possible in the rite of seating of the bishop. In the account of Fabian’s election it is said that the electors “took him and placed him on the episcopal seat (thronon tes episkopes) without delay.” It is to be observed that no mention is made here of any other rite, cheirotonia here simply referring to election. Seating of a bishop as part of the ordination rite is also to be observed in Vita Polycarpi, and we may note that passing reference is made in the Canones Hippolyti. Twice, moreover, in the Pseudo-Clementine literature is reference made to a rite of seating.. This leads Ferguson to suggest that the two rites are independent, and that they have been joined together to form the ordination rite represented in the Pseudo-Clementines. I have argued that this seating is a derivative of Jewish ordination practice, drawing support from Arnold Ehrhardt’s observation that in rabbinic “ordinations” seating was the fundamental liturgical act, rather than a laying on of hands, which is hardly to be found. We may,
Siotis, “Die klassische und die christliche Cheirotonie,” (), –. ap. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ... Cf. the treatment of Turner, “χειροτονία,” , who suggests that since this was the bishop’s action alone it refers to sacramental ordination. Novatian had been ordained in Rome by three rural bishops whom he brought to Rome for that purpose. This put them out of communion with Cornelius, bishop of Rome. Because their sees were at a distance, Cornelius ordains new bishops for these sees. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. ..–. Ad Jac. (after the laying on of hands), Hom. .– (beforehand). Ferguson, “Jewish and Christian ordination,” ; Ferguson, “Selection and installation,” . Arnold Ehrhardt, “The seating of Polycarp in Vita Polycarpi: A liturgy of scholastic Christianity in third-century Smyrna,” in Studia Patristica, vol. , ed. M. Wiles and E. J. Yarnold (Leuven: Peeters, ), –, referring to Ehrhardt, “Jewish and Christian ordination,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History (), –; apart from m. Sanh. : he points to the discussion concerning the “ordination” of R. Eleazar b. Hisma and R. Johanan b. Nuri at t.b.
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moreover, note that, in forming Jewish and wider Hellenistic circles alike the chair was the seat of a teacher, and the rite of seating thus indicates a scholastic orientation to the ministry of the episkopos who is seated in it.
Slave Officers and Female Officers in Ancient Christian Communities If we are to see the process of appointment to office in early Christian communities as well as its formation in the light of the practices of the polis, we may note that certain individuals, notably slaves and women, were excluded. Whereas there has been some recent discussion of female officeholders in early Christian circles, the issue of the possible leadership roles in early Christianity of enslaved persons has only recently been canvassed. Credit for raising this question may be given to Katherine A. Shaner and Daniel Vaucher, whose distinct works emerged almost simultaneously. Shaner limits her examination to the earliest period, arguing that a number of references to enslaved persons may be found in the literature. Thus, she points to Pliny’s interrogation of ministrae who were enslaved persons in the Christian circle of Bithynia. It is perhaps pushing the evidence too far to suggest that these ministrae were “leaders” (a term Shaner leaves undefined) in this circle, but it is likely that they exercised ministry, namely that they had been diakonoi in the Christian cult. The nature of their duties is less clear, but it is arguable that they assisted the episkopos (a figure who must be assumed in the absence of other evidence) in the administration of the cult. Albert Harrill argues that they are menial, “servile,” cult officers; Shaner that they are “leaders” (though, as we have seen, this undefined term is of
Horayot a–b, which is actually a seating. See also Ferguson, “Jewish and Christian ordination,” ; and Ferguson, “Selection and installation,” . Katherine A. Shaner, Enslaved Leadership in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); Daniel Vaucher, Sklaverei in Norm und Praxis: Die frühchristlichen Kirchenordnungen (Hildesheim: Olms, ). Shaner, Enslaved Leadership, xxvii–xxviii. So John Granger Cook, “Pliny’s tortured ministrae: Female deacons in the ancient church?” in Deacons and Diakonia in Early Christianity: The First Two Centuries, ed. Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy, and Esko Ryökäs (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, ), –. J. Albert Harrill, “Servile functionaries or priestly leaders? Roman domestic religion, narrative intertextuality, and Pliny’s reference to slave Christian ministrae (Ep. ,,),” Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft (), –.
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dubious value). The reality perhaps lies somewhere between these extreme characterizations. John Granger Cook establishes that Pliny thought of them as cultic functionaries, and that this is the meaning of Pliny’s term ministrae; thus, it is quite probable that they were diakonoi in the Bithynian cultus. As such we may see them assisting the episkopos in some way, possibly in the serving of the meal, on the basis of the appearance of the term in inscriptions relating to civic sacrifice. Whether this is a menial task or not is a matter of perception, for whereas this might be seen as the duty of a slave in an elite household, and menial on that basis, the fact that the diakonoi of civic sacrifice have their names recorded may indicate that the function might be a source of honor within the Christian community. Vaucher similarly points out that when the deacon brings in the lights in Traditio apostolica , he is performing a role generally played by slaves. Sadly this is the only secure evidence; Shaner suggests that Onesimus had become a diakonos on the basis of Philemon :: “so that he might be of service (diakone) to me in your place during my imprisonment for the gospel.” This, however, says nothing of formal office but only that Onesimus had assisted Paul on behalf of Philemon. Similarly uncertain is Shaner’s suggestion that another Onesimus, addressed by Ignatius in Eph., was enslaved; it is a possibility, on the basis of the name, and so this might give some insight into Ignatius’s language concerning him: in particular the statement in Eph. . that the bishop should be looked on as God as well; also the description of Burrhus as Ignatius’s syndoulos as being rather more than an image of servitude to God. However, we cannot be sure on these points. Above all we must be clear that office, particularly in the subordinate role of diakonos, need not equate to leadership; Shaner seems to treat leadership and office as synonymous. A similar warning may be sounded regarding the reader, an office that does not explicitly appear before the Traditio apostolica, but it was a function that might well have been exercised by a slave, on the basis of normal practice of slaves reading at meals. Against this must be set the statements of Timothy regarding those suitable for appointment to office (which here is taken as episkopos and diakonos), which imply that these should be males of a free status. This does
Shaner, Enslaved Leadership, xxvii. Cook, “Pliny’s tortured ministrae.” So Vaucher, Sklaverei, –. Vaucher, Sklaverei, . Shaner, Enslaved Leadership, . Shaner, Enslaved Leadership, . Pliny, Ep. ., ..
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not mean, however, that the provisions of Timothy were necessarily followed, as it is entirely possible to read Timothy as excluding slaves (and women) from office, whereas previously they had held offices. Indeed, if we accept that leadership in the community might in some way be tied up to the ability to offer patronage, then it is entirely possible to see these patrons employing their slaves or freedmen as their officers, even promoting their own honor in doing so. In this light we may understand the strategy of Timothy as the restriction of office to those of relative wealth and free male status. The Pastoral Epistles are frequently enough seen as witnesses to the institutionalization of Christianity. If the presbyters of Timothy are indeed to be seen as patrons, we must certainly agree that organization has occurred within this church, and that multiple house-church congregations have been gathered, and thus that some degree of organization and resulting institutionalization must have taken place. But what is interesting is the amount of household imagery that is employed, even as the church seems to have left behind the household and adopted scholastic interests. We may wonder whether this is intended to promote not simply the interests of free males (who may be householders) but the office of free males, excluding women and slaves through the use of the rhetoric of domesticity. The interest in this emerges from Shaner’s treatment of pagan evidence, particularly the Parthian reliefs and the sacred law inscriptions. There she points out that prytaneis, or “presidents,” who accumulated honor by their public sacrifices, were mostly untrained, since they changed every year. So it was the function of the mostly servile “personnel” to teach and oversee the priests. They “provided continuity for sacrificial practices,” and therefore she concludes that “enslaved persons held important positions in religious practices.” But this does not amount to leadership; indeed, their role may be readily enough compared to that of the diakonoi in Christian communities. In a later period there is ample evidence of attempts to exclude slaves from office, which may imply that the strategy of the author of Timothy was Such is hinted at by Lone Fatum, “Christ domesticated: The household theology of the Pastorals as political strategy,” in The Formation of the Early Church, ed. Jostein Ådna (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –, though Fatum does not observe the oddity of the adoption of the model as the church grows out of the household. Korinna Zamfir, “Once more about the origins and background of the New Testament episkopos,” Sacra scripta (), –, at –, points out correctly that the domestic imagery should not be read naively, but that it is part of a political strategy. Shaner, Enslaved Leadership, . Vaucher, Sklaverei, –.
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ultimately successful. Nonetheless, we must observe the possibility that Laurence, in third-century Rome, was either a slave or a freedman. He dies being roasted on hot plates; that he should be tortured in this way (we suggest that his death was a death under torture, the use of hot plates being an attested method) indicates his servile status. In terms of looking forward to future research, this new field is one that demands further investigation; the works of Shaner and Vaucher are a beginning. By contrast, there is already a great deal of discussion of women in office in early Christian communities, even though there is little consensus. Paul’s letter to the Philippians is unique in the Pauline correspondence in that it mentions congregational officers in the prescript, being addressed to those at Philippi along with the episkopoi and diakonoi. I have recently followed a long line of interpretation in arguing that the rationale for the address is that the episkopoi and diakonoi are the agents of the gift that the Philippians have sent to Paul, in line with what he sees as the economic role of episkopoi and diakonoi elsewhere. It may be suggested that Euodia and Syntyche, who are named in the letter, are to be numbered among these congregational officers. We may also observe the possibility experience of female leadership and office lies behind the exempla within Clement. To this early evidence of female officeholding, we may add, once again, the evidence of Pliny regarding the ministrae whom he had questioned, though the question of whether this is menial service or leadership is raised again. Attempts to find female office-bearers in a later period are rather less successful. I have examined the subject briefly but found attempts in a later period to assign office to named women somewhat strained. The restriction in Timothy of office to free males might be seen as opposing female
So Augustine, Serm. (PL .); Leo, Tractatus .. Valerius Maximus ..; Cicero, Verr. ... tois ousin en Philippois sun episkopois kai diakonois (Phil. :). Stewart, Original Bishops, –, enunciating a view going back to Chrysostom, Hom. Phil. .D. Martin Dibelius, An die Thessalonicher I II, an die Philipper (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –, suggests that these officers are the agents of the collection but that this does not mean that they had any leadership role. See the argument of Janelle Peters, “Rahab, Esther, and Judith as models for church leadership in Clement,” Journal of Early Christian History (), –. Stewart, Original Bishops, –. In particular, I discuss the examples brought by Karen J. Torjesen, When Women Were Priests (San Francisco: Harper, ), and Ute E. Eisen, Women Officeholders in Early Christianity: Epigraphical and Literary Studies (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ).
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office, and the fact that Montanist communities knew female officeholders might indicate a degree of conservatism within these Asian communities, both indicating that female officers were far from unknown in the first generations. Later periods, however, present no convincing evidence of female office, beyond the institution of a specifically female diaconate, possibly originating in Syria around the turn of the fourth century. In answer to the question of the disappearance of female office, Giles relates this to the movement out of the household, suggesting that whereas women might hold a domestic position, a public position is less tenable. Whereas previous research has sought to discover elements of female office in both the earlier and the later period, it might be better to redirect the question to ask why it is that female officers are not found within the Grosskirche beyond the first generations. One suggestion may be offered. Although occasionally women may be found in public office, such as Menodora in Sillyon, it is to be noted that not only was Menodora an extremely lavish patron, but she was herself closely tied up to the leading families of the city. A study of female patronage at a lower level among the associations of western cities similarly indicates that many of these female patrons were closely tied to the other patrons of the association, either as wives, widows, or children of male patrons. We thus suggest that the evidence of female patronage and honor within the wider Greco-Roman world is simply an extension of that offered by male relatives. As such, within a Christian context, this need not lead so readily to the assumption of office.
Conclusion The questions posed at the beginning of this essay were those regarding the origin of bishops, deacons, and presbyters, the extent and scope of their The date of the birth of this institution is uncertain, though the first literary evidence is that of canon of Nicaea, referring to deaconesses in the context of a canon regarding the reception of Paulianist clergy. The office is widespread across Syria and Asia in the fifth and later centuries. See, with references, Alistair C. Stewart, “The deaconess in Testamentum Domini: A window on women’s ministry in fourth-century Asia,” in Masculum et feminam creavit eos (Gen. ,): Paradigmi del maschile e femminile nel cristianesimo antico (SEA ; Lugano: Nerbini, ), –. Giles, Patterns, . This was also the argument of Torjeson, When Women Were Priests. IGR .–. Menodora appears in Giles, Patterns, , as Mendora. Thus, see the study of Menodora’s family network in R. van Bremen, “A family from Sillyon,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik (), –. Emily Hemelrijk, “Patronesses and ‘mothers’ of Roman collegia,” Classical Antiquity (), –.
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duties, the question of how bishops and/or presbyters come to have the exclusive right of presidency at the Eucharist, the fate of the teacher in the second century, and the manner in which, despite opposition, the episcopate takes on an intellectual role during the second century. Whereas the first questions were put to one side, some attempt has been made to answer the others (in some instances more decidedly than in others) and further issues have been identified, particularly with regard to those who might be selected for office and the manner in which they were appointed. There are few firm conclusions, but numerous avenues for further inquiry.
Select Bibliography Adams, Edward. The Earliest Christian Meeting Places: Almost Exclusively Houses? (London: Bloomsbury, ). Bowe, Barbara. A Church in Crisis (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Bradshaw, Paul F. Liturgical Presidency in the Early Church (Bramcote: Grove, ). “The participation of other bishops in the ordination of a bishop in the Apostolic Tradition of Hippolytus.” Pages – in vol. of Studia Patristica. Edited by E. A. Livingstone (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, ). Rites of Ordination: Their History and Theology (London: SPCK, ). Bradshaw, Paul F., Maxwell Johnson, and L. Edward Philips. The Apostolic Tradition: A Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Bremen, R. van. “A family from Sillyon,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik (), –. Campbell, R. Alastair. The Elders: Seniority Within the Earliest Christianity (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, ). Camplani, Alberto and Federico Contardi. “Remarks on the textual contribution of the Coptic codices preserving the Canons of Saint Basil with edition of the ordination rite for the bishop (canon ).” Pages – in Philologie, herméneutique et histoire des textes entre orient et occident: Mélanges en hommage à Sever J. Voicu. Edited by Francesca P. Barone, Caroline Macé, and Pablo Alejandro Ubierna (Turnhout: Brepols, ). Cook, John Granger. “Pliny’s tortured ministrae: Female deacons in the ancient church?” Pages – in Deacons and Diakonia in Early Christianity: The First Two Centuries. Edited by Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy, and Esko Ryökäs (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, ). Dibelius, Martin. An die Thessalonicher I II, an die Philipper (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Ehrhardt, Arnold. “Jewish and Christian ordination,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History (), –. “The seating of Polycap in Vita Polycarpi: A liturgy of scholastic Christianity in thirdcentury Smyrna.” Pages – in vol. of Studia Patristica. Edited by M. Wiles and E. J. Yarnold (Leuven: Peeters, ).
. Eisen, Ute E. Women Officeholders in Early Christianity: Epigraphical and Literary Studies (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, ). Fatum, Lone. “Christ domesticated: The household theology of the Pastorals as political strategy.” Pages – in The Formation of the Early Church. Edited by Jostein Ådna (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Ferguson, Everett. “Jewish and Christian ordination: Some observations,” Harvard Theological Review (), –. “Laying on of hands: Its significance in ordination,” Journal of Theological Studies n.s. (), –. “Origen and the election of bishops,” Church History (), –. “Selection and installation to office in Roman, Greek, Jewish and Christian antiquity,” Theologische Zeitschrift (), –. Gehring, Roger W. House Church and Mission: The Importance of Household Structures in Early Christianity (ETr; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ). Giles, Kevin. Patterns of Ministry Among the First Christians, nd ed. (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ). Harnack, Adolf von. Die Lehre der zwölf Apostel (TU .–; Leipzig: Hinrich, ). Harrill, J. Albert. “Servile functionaries or priestly leaders? Roman domestic religion, narrative intertextuality, and Pliny’s reference to slave Christian ministrae (Ep. ,,),” Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft (), –. Hemelrijk, Emily. “Patronesses and ‘mothers’ of Roman collegia,” Classical Antiquity (), –. Hoffmann, Lawrence A. “Jewish ordination on the eve of Christianity,” Studia liturgica (), –. Knopf, R. Die Lehre der zwölf Apostel (Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, ). Koet, Bart J. “The bishop and his deacons. Ignatius of Antioch’s view on ministry: Twofold or three-fold?” Pages – in Deacons and Diakonia in Early Christianity: The First Two Centuries. Edited by Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy, and Esko Ryökäs (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, ). Leonhard, Clemens. “Morning salutationes and the decline of sympotic Eucharists,” Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum (), –. Lietzmann, H. “Zur altchristlichen Verfassungsgeschichte.” Pages – in Kleine Schriften, vol. (TU ; Berlin: Akademie, ). Lightfoot, J. B. (ed. and trans.) The Apostolic Fathers, vol. , part , repr. (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ). Lohse, Eduard. “Die Entstehung des Bischofsamtes in der frühen Christenheit,” Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft (), –. Maier, Harry O. The Social Setting of the Ministry as Reflected in the Writings of Hermas, Clement and Ignatius (Waterloo, ON: Wilfred Laurier University Press, ). Milavec, Aaron. The Didache: Faith, Hope, and Life of the Earliest Christian Communities, – c.e. (New York: Newman, ). Moriarty, Whei F. “ Clement’s view of ministerial appointments in the early church,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –.
Office in Early Christian Circles Nardoni, Enrique. “Charism in the early church since Rudolph Sohm: An ecumenical challenge,” Theological Studies (), –. Pardee, Nancy. The Genre and Development of the Didache: A Text-Linguistic Analysis (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, ). Peters, Janelle. “Rahab, Esther, and Judith as models for church leadership in Clement,” Journal of Early Christian History (), –. Schöllgen, Georg. “The Didache as a church order: An examination of the purpose for the composition of the Didache and its consequences for its interpretation.” Pages – in The Didache in Modern Research. Edited by J. A. Draper (Leiden: Brill, ). Shaner, Katherine A. Enslaved Leadership in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Siotis, Markos A. Die klassische und die christliche Cheirotonie in ihrem Verhältnis,” Theologia (), –, –, –; (), –, –, –, –; (), –, –. Stadter, Philip A. “Leading the party, leading the city: The symposiarch as politikos.” Pages – in Symposion and Philanthropia in Plutarch. Edited by José Ribeiro Ferreira, Delfim Leão Manual Troster, and Paula Barata Dias (Coimbra: CECH, ). Stempel, Hermann-Ad. “Der Lehrer in der ‘Lehre der zwölf Apostel,’” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Stewart, Alistair C. “The deaconess in Testamentum Domini: A window on women’s ministry in fourth-century Asia.” Pages – in Masculum et feminam creavit eos (Gen. ,): Paradigmi del maschile e femminile nel cristianesimo antico (SEA ; Lugano: Nerbini, ). Hippolytus: On the Apostolic Tradition, nd ed. (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, ). “The ordination prayers in Traditio apostolica: The search for a Grundschrift,” St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly .– (), –. The Original Bishops: Office and Order in the First Christian Communities (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). “Prophecy and patronage: The relationship between charismatic functionaries and household officers in early Christianity.” Pages – in Trajectories through the New Testament and the Apostolic Fathers. Edited by Christopher Tuckett and Andrew Gregory (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Stewart-Sykes, Alistair. From Prophecy to Preaching: A Search for the Origins of the Christian Homily (Leiden: Brill, ). Torjesen, Karen J. When Women Were Priests (San Francisco: Harper, ). Turner, C. H. “χειροτονία, χειραθεσία, ἐπίθεσις χειρῶν,” Journal of Theological Studies (), –. Urciuoli, Emiliano Rubens. “Enforcing priesthood: The struggle for the monopolisation of religious goods and the construction of the Christian religious field.” Pages – in Beyond Priesthood: Religious Entrepreneurs and Innovators in the Roman Empire. Edited by Richard L. Gordon, Georgia Petridou, and Jörg Rüpke (Religionsgeschichtliche Versuche und Vorarbeiten ; Berlin: De Gruyter, ).
. Vaucher, Daniel. Sklaverei in Norm und Praxis: Die frühchristlichen Kirchenordnungen (Hidlesheim: Olms, ). Vogel, Cyrille. “L’imposition des mains dans les rites d’ordination en orient et en occident,” Maison-Dieu (), –. Wagner, Jochen. Die Anfänge des Amtes in der Kirche: Presbyter und Episkopen in der frühchristlichen Literatur (Tübingen: Francke, ). Zamfir, Korinna. “Once more about the origins and background of the New Testament episkopos,” Sacra scripta (), –.
Masculinity, Femininity, and Sexuality The Construct of Self-Control in Early Christianity . A central premise of this chapter is that masculinity, femininity, and sexuality are socially constructed. Across history, cultures have arrived at many different understandings of what it means to be a man or a woman, and many ways to order and direct sexual desire. Instead of assuming that attributes of masculinity or femininity are enduring, then, the historian should articulate how the ancients thought about these topics, even when their approaches differed from our own. The construction of gender or sexuality consists of more than what people say or write; it includes political, economic, and social forces. Although much of the evidence for a historical study will inevitably come from written sources, it is important to consider how written ideals reflect larger social patterns. As many scholars have agreed, reliance on the writings of elite men presents a problem because they reflect the author’s narrow perspective. But an additional problem is that discourse is only one aspect of the construction of gender. An ideal of masculinity or femininity expressed in writing might be shaped in practice by legal norms, economic status, and the local political situation. In the sections that follow, I flesh out the social and political context in which statements of ancient gender norms resonated. One methodological assumption of this study is that scholars describing masculinity and femininity should look at similarities as well as differences in traits or roles assigned to men and women. Studies of masculinity and femininity often focus on the differences between male and female traits or roles. A large body of research in the late twentieth century set out to show inherent differences in men and women. The bestselling book Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus is a classic example of this approach. Historians
See Raewyn Connell, Gender in World Perspective (Malden, MA: Polity, ), –. John Gray, Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus (New York: HarperCollins, ).
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of the early Christian period have also frequently portrayed masculinity and femininity as opposites. The approach of this chapter is shaped by research that shows men and women share a good deal in common. As Raewyn Connell argued, “In fact the main finding, from about eighty years of research, is a massive psychological similarity between women and men in the populations studied by psychologists.” Although many researchers look for and emphasize differences between masculine and feminine norms, it is important to consider the extent to which these norms and traits may overlap. There were multiple ways to be masculine or feminine in the early Christian period, but by necessity this chapter can only focus on a few. In the culture at large, the dominant mode of constructing both masculinity and femininity centered on the exhibition of self-control. Self-control was a popular virtue throughout this period, and although it was culturally defined as a masculine trait, social norms encouraged its practice by both men and women. There were some differences in practices of self-control based on existing social habits – differences in men’s and women’s dress, for example. But these differences should not prevent us from seeing the similarities in the construction of masculinity and femininity. The writings of many Christfollowers amplified this central virtue of self-control, and in doing so they reshaped the construction of sexuality.
Masculinity There were many ways of being a man in the Roman period. Although the extant writings primarily support two dominant modes, they also show that a much wider array existed. One predominant form of masculinity was military dominance and control over others. The second was control over one’s own response to emotion and one’s use of resources. These two modes E.g., Holt N. Parker, “The teratogenic grid,” in Roman Sexualities, ed. Judith P. Hallett and Marilyn B. Skinner (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ), –, esp. ; Brittany E. Wilson, Unmanly Men: Refigurations of Masculinity in Luke-Acts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), . Raewyn Connell, Gender and Power: Society, the Person and Sexual Politics (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, ), (italics original); cf. Bobbi J. Carothers and Harry T. Reis, “Men and women are from Earth: Examining the latent structure of gender,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology . (), –. E.g., Kelly Olson, Masculinity and Dress in Roman Antiquity (London: Routledge, ), .
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were sometimes in tension. For example, the ruler who crushed an opponent could be viewed as manly according to the first definition. However, if he acted out of anger or impulse, or lived a lavish lifestyle as his troops conquered others, he could also be characterized as unmanly according to the second mode of masculinity. Although both forms had strong social support, I argue below that the second came to be the more important of the two during the period of the early church, and that this second mode was adopted and developed by Christ-believers as the definition of manliness. Roman and Greek cultures saw virtue as inherently masculine. Indeed, the Latin and Greek words often translated as “virtue” or “manliness” (virtus, ἀνδρεία) were semantically related to the word “man” (vir, ἀνήρ). The idea that men were inherently virtuous was also expressed explicitly. Seneca the Younger wrote, “If we had the privilege of looking into a good man’s soul, oh what a fair, holy, magnificent, gracious, and shining face should we behold – radiant on the one side with justice and temperance, on another with bravery and wisdom!” (Ep. ., trans. Gummere, LCL). Virtues like these were commonly presented as the innate possessions of high-standing men. Furthermore, attributes deemed superior were labeled masculine while the less beneficial were feminine. Philo of Alexandria frequently contrasted higher and lower elements in this way, for example, in portraying the human mind as male and the senses as female (e.g., Opif. ). In a union of male and female elements the feminine would be elevated by association with the male: not that the masculine thoughts may be made womanish and relaxed by softness, but that the female element, the senses, may be made manly: by following masculine thoughts and by receiving from them seed for procreation, that it may perceive (things) with wisdom, prudence, justice and courage, in sum, with virtue. (QG ., trans. Marcus, LCL)
Philo labeled “masculine” those elements he deemed superior. While virtue was inherently more masculine, men were also portrayed as less likely to succumb to emotions. Plutarch characterized both grief and anger as womanly. For example, writing on the control of anger, he stated,
Myles McDonnell, Roman Manliness: Virtus and the Roman Republic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), chs. and .
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“women are more inclined to anger than men, and sick people than healthy, and old people than those in their prime, and those experiencing misfortune than the fortunate” (Cohib. ira ; cf. Cons. Apoll. , Cons. ux. ; see also Seneca, Ira ., .). Statements like these asserted the status of men and characterized women as prone to emotion. Yet although virtues were characterized as masculine, there is ample evidence that they were practiced by both men and women. Indeed, Seneca and Plutarch discussed these masculine virtues as something women could and should cultivate. Both writers explicitly stated that the virtues were common to men and women. Seneca denied the argument that women’s virtues were restricted by nature (Marc. .). Plutarch began a treatise on the virtues of women by asserting “that the virtues of a man and a woman are one and the same” (Mulier. virt. E). One reason for this similarity, as I describe below, was the prominence of self-control among the virtues. Throughout the first three centuries, ideals of masculinity – and of virtue – were dominated by the notion of self-control. A wide variety of Greek and Latin words conveyed the notion of self-control. One central Greek term, sophrosune, is often translated into English as “modesty.” There is no single Latin equivalent of sophrosune, but a number of terms, like pudicitia, modestia, temperantia, and verecundia, were used to suggest similar notions. The selfcontrolled person was not carried away by passions. He controlled displays of anger and grief, spoke persuasively and with integrity, consumed food and drink in moderation, and was not carried away by ambition or greed. Selfcontrol also meant pursuing only certain sexual relationships and positions (I take up this topic below in the section on sexuality). One’s social status often affected the expectations surrounding self-control. For example, highstanding people could speak at greater length than others without being considered garrulous, and wealthy people’s adornment was considered “modest” relative to their means. Roman writers of the imperial period emphasized this kind of masculine virtue. Many authors derided luxurious living as effeminate and criticized men who took up various fashions. Seneca the Elder complained, Look at our young men . . . Libidinous delight in song and dance transfixes these effeminates. Braiding the hair, refining the voice till it is as caressing as
All translations are the author’s unless otherwise indicated. E.g., Craig A. Williams, Roman Homosexuality: Ideologies of Masculinity in Classical Antiquity (New York: Oxford Universtiy Press, ), –.
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a woman’s, competing in bodily softness with women, beautifying themselves with filthy fineries – this is the pattern our youths set themselves. Which of your contemporaries – quite apart from his talent and diligence – is sufficiently a man? (Controv. .–, trans. Winterbottom, LCL)
Plutarch created a story in which Odysseus spoke with one of the men Circe had turned into an animal. That man criticized human irrationality – for example, in their pursuit of expensive fragrances, “buying at great cost girlish luxury unworthy of a man (anandron), useful for nothing at all. But . . . it has corrupted not only every woman, but recently the greater part of men” (Brut. an. ). Both authors conveyed nostalgia for a simpler, rustic past, which they used as a basis for ongoing standards of manliness. Three aspects of the social context are especially important for understanding the construction of masculinity. First, the civil wars that led to the rise of an emperor were interpreted as times of unchecked ambition and assertion of military power. Although Rome’s military power remained strong, the masculinity that sustained the new regime emphasized self-control over physical violence. The self-controlled person judged wisely with an eye to the common good rather than asserting his needs. He was not carried away by anger or greed but looked to the needs of his family and city. As head of a household, he exercised authority over slaves through a restrained use of force, and he guided all those in his influence to work together for their common good. Promoting this kind of masculinity helped Romans distinguish the emperor from tyrannical kings of the past. Even as Rome moved away from the more democratic form of government of the Republican period, the notion that the emperor displayed self-control suggested he would not trample on individual freedoms. Thus, constructing masculinity in this way helped Roman society maintain notions of freedom under less democratic rule. Meanwhile, downplaying military control as an aspect of masculinity for elite men made it less likely a rival to the emperor could spark another civil war. Second, the relative prosperity of the imperial period made it possible for many people across the Mediterranean to pursue a fashionable lifestyle. Frequent trips to baths, elaborate meals, soft or colored clothing, jewelry, and new hairstyles were among the trends of the times. Although elites certainly amassed all of these in greater quantities, many people of lower income also partook in smaller ways in these goods and services. There was a
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good deal of criticism of those partaking in such luxury. Extravagance was wasteful; it consumed resources that could otherwise be put to use in different ways. Often, writers contrasted such finery with the virtue of selfcontrol. The self-controlled person exercised judgment to use resources for the sake of the community, not only for personal enjoyment. In a time when local building projects were largely undertaken by the wealthy on behalf of the city, the emphasis on self-control reinforced such benevolence by declaring it evidence of the patron’s virtue. Third, although luxury and ambition often drew criticism, these practices were not only viewed negatively. Displays of wealth were crucial to establishing one’s class status. The upper classes gave large dinner parties, dressed in fine clothes, appeared in the square accompanied by slaves, and in other ways distinguished themselves visually. In this hierarchical society, displaying status reinforced the perception of one’s honor and had tangible benefits. Thus, the masculine virtue of self-control represents a tension in Roman culture. Criticism of self-indulgence reinforced notions of civic-mindedness. But such statements did not indicate that luxury goods should cease to exist, or that they should never be displayed. Some display – of an amount appropriate to one’s class status – was fundamental to the functioning of society. But too much display, either by overstepping one’s position or overtaxing resources, was a danger to the social order. Authors of the period described good men – and especially good leaders – as those who exhibited self-control. For example, the second-century Roman author Aulus Gellius quoted a speech by an earlier politician, Gaius Gracchus, regarding his service as governor of Sardinia. Gaius declared his fiscal and sexual self-control: “There was no tavern at my establishment, nor did slaves of conspicuous beauty wait upon me, and at an entertainment of mine your sons were treated with more modesty than at their general’s tent” (Noct. att. ., trans. Rolfe, LCL). Gaius could have used his authority to live grandly but argued instead he was a virtuous leader. Although the most elite men were the only people in a position to exercise the kind of authority Gaius had, the discourse on masculinity suggested that those of less fortunate circumstances could also exercise self-control. Seneca the Younger described the man distraught by social slights as pampered and self-indulgent and contrasted him with the wise man, who paid no attention to such trifles and overcame more serious ills, such as infirmity or the death of those near to him (Constant. .–). Indeed, it was often those in dire circumstances who were counted as “manly” through their wise counsel or
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brave acceptance of death. Valerius Maximus commemorated Cato’s death: “Falling resolutely on your sword, you gave a great testimony to mankind how much more desirable to men of worth should be dignity without life than life without dignity” (.., trans. Bailey, LCL). Loss of status did not automatically indicate a loss of one’s manliness, for masculinity was indelibly tied to the exercise of self-control. This context may help explain why women who exhibited courage in the face of danger or endurance of hardship or grief were praised for being “manly.” Courage in the face of death was something that exhibited one’s status and virtue, and women were often praised as manly for showing acceptance of death. Lucretia, whose noble death was retold as a founding story of the Republic, was described as having a “manly spirit” (Valerius Maximus ..). Horace also described Cleopatra as not having womanly fear in her own death (Carm. ..–; cf. Velleius Paterculus, Hist. ..; Valerius Maximus ..; Tacitus, Ann. .). Some women were described as manly when they showed courage in military battle (e.g., Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ant. rom. ..; Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. .; Plutarch, Pomp. .). The social construction of manliness displays a deep tension that was present within the culture. On the one hand, rhetoric around manliness reinforced a gender hierarchy: Whatever was tagged as masculine was inherently superior to anything feminine. On the other hand, masculinity was constructed in ways that women could also practice. Virtuous women could be praised for their manliness.
Masculinity in Early Christian Writings New Testament authors drew on standards of masculinity to portray characters in ways their readers would recognize as positive or negative. For example, Herod’s behavior at the dinner party in Mark :– (cf. Matt. :–) drew on social conventions associating luxury, passions, and uncontrolled speech. Herod, carried away by the pleasures of the moment, made a promise he was obliged to keep, even though he did not wish to kill John the Baptist. This passage of the Gospel stands in a long line of stories about leaders whose self-indulgence produced grave results. The masculinity of many biblical characters is difficult to assess, however, due to the complexity of their situation and the multiple norms of
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masculinity operating in the culture. For example, many scholars have interpreted Luke-Acts as upholding social norms of masculinity. But Brittany Wilson has argued that Paul’s blindness and subordination to God’s will were emasculating. Modern readers assess the cues in the text differently – some see accommodation to social norms, while others see an alternative standard of masculinity. Ancient readers were no less likely to have multiple assessments of these characters. A wide variety of Christ-confessing groups touted similar standards of masculine behavior. As noted above, the Greek and Latin words for manliness could indicate bravery in battle. And in some cases, the manliness of Christ-believers entailed similar fortitude. The Martyrdom of Polycarp recorded how, upon entering the arena, Polycarp heard a voice from heaven, saying, “Be strong, Polycarp, and be a man” (Mart. Pol. ). The persecution of Christians created opportunities for such demonstrations of courage, and writers often described martyrs as manly. But many Christ-followers also spoke of manliness as self-control and avoidance of luxury. Clement of Alexandria identified as manly “those who despise wealth and are quick to share it” (Paed. ..). Origen also wrote that the decision to follow Jesus “is not produced from everyday manly courage.” Those who followed changed their former way of life, as for example “one who was formerly self-indulgent denies his self-indulgence and thus becomes self-controlled” (Comm. Matt. .). At the close of the period, Lactantius’s words summarized a perspective held by many: “he alone ought to be judged a brave man (vir fortis) who is temperate, moderate, and just” (Inst. .). Writers instructed men to avoid luxury in all its forms. Pseudo-Justin wrote that Christ taught patience and called the divine word a “city of refuge from dangerous passions” (Cohortatio ad Graecos ). The second letter of Clement warned listeners that the current age teaches “adultery, destruction, greed, and deceit,” but the age to come renounces them. Tertullian wrote
Todd Penner and Caroline Vander Stichele, “Gendering violence: Patterns of power and constructs of masculinity,” in A Feminist Companion to the Acts of the Apostles, ed. Amy-Jill Levine with Marianne Blickenstaff (Cleveland: Pilgrim, ), –; Colleen M. Conway, Behold the Man: Jesus and Greco-Roman Masculinity (New York: Oxford University Press, ), –. Wilson, Unmanly Men, –. Colleen M. Conway, “Masculinity studies,” in New Testament, Gender, and Sexuality, ed. Benjamin H. Dunning (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), .
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numerous treatises on subjects like fasting, modesty, and chastity. Hermas (Mand. , Sim. ) and Clement of Alexandria (e.g., Paed. .–.) foregrounded similar themes. Writers also praised men for modesty. Cyprian lauded Aurelius and Celerinus, newly ordained readers who had confessed and survived, for both their courage (or manliness, virtus) and for modesty (pudor, verecundia, Ep. ., .). Cyprian was in turn praised by others for his modesty (Ep. .; cf. ., .). Just as self-control was characterized as masculine, self-indulgence was labeled feminine. Arnobius posed a rhetorical question whether God sent souls to earth only to adorn themselves with finery and makeup, or even for males to curl their hair or smooth their skin, “and with every other kind of wantonness, both to lay aside the strength of their manhood, and to grow in effeminacy to a woman’s habits and luxury” (.). Other writers, like Cyprian (Ep. .) and Lactantius (Inst. .), spoke of the theatre as emasculating. Men could be labeled unmanly or effeminate if they did not exhibit self-control. Manliness was not a result of anatomical sex but was socially constructed through particular practices, especially those that were thought to exhibit self-control. Women were also “manly” when they exhibited this virtue. Hermas described one of the virgins he saw in a vision who was “acting like a man” (ἀνδριζομένη). She represented self-restraint (ἐγκράτεια, Vis. ..). Clement cited Judith and Esther as examples of women who performed “many manly deeds” (πολλὰ ἀνδρεῖα, Clem. .). In the Acts of Andrew, Andrew addressed Maximilla as a “wise man,” and “you whom I entreat as a man” (, trans. Elliott). Tertullian encouraged women to discard “such delicacies as tend by their softness and effeminacy to unman the manliness of faith (deliciae quarum mollitia et fluxu fidei virtus effeminari potest)” (Cult. fem. ., trans. ANF :). Each of these sources viewed manliness positively, and it corresponded to acts of courage and self-control. For Christ-believers, manliness shared a great deal in common with the dominant form of manliness in the wider culture. One form of masculinity, physical dominance, was not available for believers in the same way it was for the Roman state. However, the faithful drew on the more prominent construction of masculinity as control over one’s desires. They praised those who exhibited self-control over the passions, and who constrained their consumption of luxury goods. They did not display fear when faced with death. In doing so, Christ-confessors cultivated manliness as an important virtue.
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Femininity Across many centuries, the ideal woman was modest, industrious, and loyal to her family. Although many social and legal practices changed throughout the Roman period and across its various provinces, these feminine ideals remained constant. In inscriptions, art, and literature, ancient people invoked these social norms to attribute honor and establish a woman’s virtue. Modern interpreters have often viewed this constellation of virtues as something that placed sharp restrictions on ancient women’s agency. Many have portrayed women as working tirelessly for their families, often without leaving their homes. Scholars have suggested women had little power in their relationships with family and were completely subordinate to and dependent upon their husbands. The evidence for this restrictive interpretation comes largely from literary sources. Some writers defined a narrow set of female roles. For example, Philo argued against women taking up their husbands’ disputes. His writing suggested a bright line existed that deterred women’s participation, and even their movement outdoors: “Women are suited for housekeeping and abiding within” (Leg. .). Many modern readers have interpreted comments like this as indications that women had a very narrow field of action and influence. In addition, philosophical writings often labeled negative characteristics, such as passivity, luxury, and succumbing to passions, as “womanish” or “soft.” For example, Seneca the Younger described how wise men were not troubled by minor insults. Men who complained of disrespect were “generally the pampered and prosperous . . . By reason of too much leisure natures which are naturally weak and effeminate and, from the dearth of real injury, have grown spoiled, are disturbed by these slights” (Const. ., trans. Basore, LCL). For Seneca and others, living in luxury corresponded to having an effeminate nature. By gendering attributes as feminine, writers like Philo reinforced the social hierarchy between men and women. Things that were considered lesser could be labeled feminine, while those that were worthy of honor were masculine. Looking at these sources alone, many interpreters concluded that femininity was constructed as passive and weak, and that feminine virtue consisted in subordination to men. While these aspects of ancient discourse had real cultural effects, the performance of femininity included a much wider array of behaviors than
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these sources suggest. For example, an inscription praising Turia cited her classic feminine virtues, such as modesty, compliance, and wool-working. But her husband went on to praise her for her successful intervention on his behalf in a political dispute with Lepidus, one of the triumvirate alongside Octavian and Mark Antony. Although Philo’s writing provides evidence of one kind of cultural expectation for women, the acclamation by Turia’s husband shows that women not only undertook the kind of action that Philo deemed unacceptable but were praised for doing so. The rhetoric of femininity must be interpreted alongside practices that enabled women’s broader participation in society. Scholars estimate women owned about one-third of the property in the imperial period. The disparity in wealth again reinforces the idea that women were not the equals of men. Nevertheless, women’s ownership was part of the landscape of everyday life. Like men, women were increasingly wealthy in the Roman period, and this created new possibilities for status displays, which writers in turn critiqued as lack of self-control. Women owned property in widely varying amounts depending on their social status. Women’s ownership brought social expectations of patronage, just as it did for men. People sought those of higher standing as personal benefactors – granting loans, making introductions, providing business connections – and as patrons for associations and cities. Both women and men filled these roles, and although men did so more frequently, inscriptions show that women often held the same titles as men. Ancient people did not understand women’s active roles as contradictions of feminine virtues. Instead, they understood the virtues to include many possibilities for women’s action and even leadership. The classic feminine virtue, modesty, was the same concept articulated above in the discussion of masculinity. Feminine modesty was directly related to the virtue of selfcontrol. Self-control represented one’s ability to look to the interests of the household or city rather than indulging one’s own desires. Because of this it was a qualification for leadership, and not only something that placed
Hermann Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae (Chicago: Ares, ), .. Richard P. Saller, “Household and gender,” in The Cambridge Economic History of the GrecoRoman World, ed. Walter Scheidel, Ian Morris, and Richard Saller (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, esp. . Emily A. Hemelrijk, Hidden Lives, Public Personae: Women and Civic Life in the Roman West (New York: Oxford University Press, ); Riet van Bremen, The Limits of Participation: Women and Civic Life in the Greek East in the Hellenistic and Roman Periods (Amsterdam: J. C. Gieben, ).
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restrictions on women. A woman who exhibited self-control might marshal resources from her household to seek a magistracy or priesthood in her city. Doing so did not render her “immodest.” Indeed, women who actively pursued their families’ interests were still commonly praised with traditional virtues – as in the example of Turia cited above. As was the case with men, the virtue of self-control was often expressed through dress and grooming. The habits of adornment were different for men and women: Men were criticized for shaving their beards or wearing fussy clothing, women for jewelry and elaborately braided hair. But writers expressed the same rationale in either case. The self-controlled person showed good judgment by refraining from excess. Thus, the social construction of femininity was considerably more complex than modern scholarship has often acknowledged. It was not simply the case that women were subject to and dependent upon men. Social norms supported the deference of wives to husbands, but other conventions also encouraged these women to manage household resources, advocate for their families, and take on leadership roles for the sake of their communities. As they did so, they exhibited attributes that were also praised in men.
Femininity in Early Christian Writings Writings of Christ-confessors show the same variety of cultural norms of femininity as the culture at large, and the same emphasis on self-control. In the New Testament, a number of passages expressed the assumption of women’s inferiority to men. The notion of women’s lower status was expressed through their deference to husbands (Eph. :–, Col. :, Pet. :) and control of speech ( Tim. :–, Cor. :). Being “soft” or effeminate was a negative characteristic ( Cor. :). Alongside these stereotypes, New Testament texts also indicated that women exerted agency and took on a variety of leadership roles. Women were deacons (Rom. :, Tim. :–) and apostles (Rom. :). They prophesied ( Cor. , Acts
Susan E. Hylen, Women in the New Testament World (Essentials of Biblical Studies; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. Ria Berg, “Wearing wealth: Mundus muliebris and ornatus as status markers for women in imperial Rome,” in Women, Wealth and Power in the Roman Empire, ed. Päivi Setälä, Ria Berg, Riikka Hälikkä, Minerva Keltanen, Janne Pölönen, and Ville Vuolanto (Rome: Acta Instituti Romani Finlandiae, ), –, esp. .
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:), hosted churches (Col. :), and worked for the spread of the gospel (Rom. :, , ). New Testament texts mentioned women’s property ownership and social influence as something readers would recognize. Luke described Lydia as a business owner and head of her household (Acts :–) and spoke of highstanding women who either accepted (Acts :, ) or rejected (:) Paul’s message. Readers would not be surprised to hear of patrons like Martha, who hosted Jesus (Luke :), because women’s ownership and patronage were not unusual. Paul’s commendation of Phoebe in Romans :– likewise assumes that the Roman church is familiar with women patrons. The authority expressed in the intervention of Pilate’s wife (Matt. :) and the presence of Bernice, the sister of King Agrippa, during Paul’s defense (Acts :, ; :) underscore the conventional influence of elite women. Although the New Testament contains only glimpses of women’s patronage and leadership, early readers would have used their cultural understanding to fill in the gaps. Cities and social groups sought the patronage of women of high standing because of their wealth, connections, and influence. New Testament writings indicate the same social patterns were present in Christ-confessing communities. Outside the New Testament, similar tensions are seen in other works. These texts show considerable variety, and certainly came from communities that had different practices of women’s leadership and involvement. Indeed, a number of texts make it clear that members of the same community did not agree. For example, Tertullian appears to be in the minority of those in his community who desired virgins to cover their heads in worship (Virg. , ). The statement in the Didascalia Apostolorum disapproving of women who baptize (DA ) suggests women played that role in some communities (cf. Tertullian, Bapt. ). Amidst the diversity of opinions, however, many writings affirmed a hierarchical gender order. Some authors suggested inherent differences in masculine and feminine traits. For example, Origen, distinguishing the Hebrew words “man” and “woman” from “male” and “female” in Genesis :, wrote, “For at no time is it ‘woman’ or ‘man’ after the image, but the surpassing [category], the male, and the second, the female” (Comm. Matt. .). Although Origen was simply discussing the differences in the words woman/female and man/male, his description reinforced a hierarchical order. Many writers explicitly described self-indulgence as a “female” trait. Clement wrote of a saying attributed to the Gospel of the Egyptians, “I am come to destroy the works of the female,” arguing that “female” refers to sexual desire or lack of self-control (Strom. .; cf. .). Methodius’s
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Symposium cited Thallousa as saying that a virgin should not “give herself up to womanish weakness and laughter” (Symp. ..–). In the same work, Thecla argued that the flight from the dragon of Revelation took place “so that the spiritual Zion might bring forth a masculine people, who move from womanish passions and feebleness to arrive at the unity of the Lord” (Symp. ..–). The Teachings of Silvanus cautioned readers to live according to the mind rather than the flesh: “if you cast out of yourself the substance of the mind, which is thought, you have cut off the male part and turned yourself to the female part alone” (Teach. Silv. , trans. Pearson). In each case the trait labeled feminine was the one of lesser value. Even though self-indulgence was designated as “female,” females were not all viewed as lacking self-control. The categorization of negative traits as “feminine” certainly reflected the gendered hierarchy of the time: When other social factors were equal, men were considered superior to women. But it is a mistake to conclude that all women were assumed to be enslaved to passion. To the contrary, many stories were told of women’s extraordinary virtue, bravery, and faithfulness. This was true in the culture at large (e.g., Plutarch, Mulier. virt.) as well as in the writings of Christ-believers. A number of authors viewed the biblical stories of Susanna, Esther, and the mother of Maccabees as exemplars for believers to follow (e.g., Clement, Strom. .; Origen, Princ. .., Cels. .; Cyprian, Ep. ., Eleem. .). Virtuous women were examples for both men and women. The Passion of Perpetua and Felicity framed the martyrs’ story as providing examples from contemporary times and declared “anyone who praises, honors, and adores [Christ’s] glory surely should read these deeds” (, trans. Heffernan). Clement also lifted up the bravery of Judith and Esther ( Clem. .–). Tertullian lifted up the prophet Anna as evidence “that Christ is understood by none more than those married once and often fasting” (Jejun. ). Women led Christ-believing communities in various ways. Some, like the Montanists Priscilla and Maximilla, cofounded popular movements. Some women had the gift of prophecy (e.g., Acts :; Tertullian, An. ). Numerous women served as deacons (see, e.g., Herm. Vis. ..; Pliny the Younger, Ep. .; CIG .; Cyprian, Ep. .) and at least a few as presbyters. Many communities had an order of widows, and some of these groups viewed their widows as clergy (e.g., Acts Pet. ; Tertullian, Mon. .).
For discussion and sources, see Kevin Madigan and Carolyn Osiek, Ordained Women in the Early Church: A Documentary History (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ), –.
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These women did not escape the society’s widespread prejudices. However, as in the culture at large, beliefs in women’s lower status did not prevent women from taking up such roles. Although some texts reinforced the social superiority of men, considerably more exhorted women and men to exhibit the same virtues. Clement of Alexandria’s work Christ the Educator began with a statement that “man and woman are not different in the practice of virtue” (Paed. .). He went on to teach about the cultivation of self-control, including moderate eating and drinking (.–, ), refraining from speech that defiles or insults (.–), avoiding ostentatious display, whether in household vessels (.) or clothing (.–, .–). In Clement’s view, both men and women were capable of virtue, but its achievement required training (cf. Strom. .). Many writers shared Clement’s understanding of the importance of self-control. Common topics included controlling displays of emotion like anger, grief, and laughter. Avoidance of luxury was a related topic because it represented the ability to restrain greed and ambition. The frequent instructions to women regarding modest dress should be read as a part of this larger discourse on self-control. As I discussed above, grooming was also a topic addressed to men, and for the same reasons. There were differences in the instructions given to men and women, because practices of dress and grooming were gendered. But all of the teachings on adornment were shaped by the desire to display self-control. Instructions to women included directions regarding expensive fabrics, jewelry, elaborate hairstyles, and makeup. All four topics were common ways of signifying status. Modest dress was relative to one’s class status. Indeed, Tertullian’s statements associating adornment with ambition (Cult. fem. .) underscored the significance of dress in maintaining status. There was no single standard of proper dress but a sliding scale based on social class. Women who owned jewels and an enslaved hairdresser but who dressed relatively simply would have been understood as “modest,” even if they wore some jewelry or expensive fabrics. Some writers associated women’s adornment with prostitution (e.g., Apoc. Pet. ; Tertullian, Cult. fem. .; Cyprian, Hab. virg. ). However, it was not the case that adornment was practiced only or even primarily by prostitutes.
Berg, “Wearing wealth,” –, –.
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Women of various class levels likely participated in standards of beauty to the extent they were able. Criticisms associating adornment with prostitution made sense because both implied indulgence in passion – whether with regard to luxury items or lust. In summary, the traditional social norms of modesty, industry, and loyalty continued to shape the performance of femininity in this period. However, the evidence conveys remarkable variety in how women embodied these norms. Women advocated for their needs, ran farms and other businesses, made legal transactions, and supported religious groups. Although they were widely viewed as inferior to men, women were also praised for exhibiting the same virtues that were valued in men. Christ-confessing groups encouraged women and men to develop the same virtue, self-control. Although some of the expressions of self-control were gendered (especially with regard to dress), many were the same for both.
Sexuality Although the title of this section is “Sexuality,” the subject more precisely is the social construction of sexual desire in Christ-believing groups. As many scholars have argued, there was no concept parallel to the modern notion of sexuality as an enduring aspect of a person’s identity or as an “orientation” directing sexual desire toward homosexual and/or heterosexual relationships. The challenge for the modern historian is to understand how people within the culture understood sexual desire rather than imposing our own categories upon the ancient sources. This section will include evidence regarding people’s attitudes toward same-sex intercourse but will also explore what they deemed important about the subject of sexual desire, a topic that writers of the period discussed at length. Acceptable expressions of sexual desire differed for men and women. There was cultural support for men having a variety of sexual relationships outside of marriage, including sex with prostitutes, concubines, and enslaved men or women. For example, giving conventional advice for a happy marriage, Plutarch drew a parallel with Persian kings who sent their wives away during their drunken parties:
Parker, “The teratogenic grid,” –; Williams, Roman Homosexuality, –.
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So, if a private citizen, intemperate and dissolute with regard to pleasures, errs with a mistress or a maidservant, his wife should not be vexed or angry, but reflect that his regard for her makes her husband share his drunken, self-indulgent, lewd behavior with another woman. (Conj. praec. )
Writers expressed little surprise over this behavior by men, and the general counsel was for wives to ignore it. Social conventions shaping women’s desire were more restrictive. Both legal and social norms restricted a married woman from having sex with anyone other than her husband. Augustus’s marriage laws criminalized adultery and demanded that husbands divorce unfaithful wives. Societies placed a high value on harmony within marriage and expressed anxiety over even the appearance of a wife’s infidelity (e.g., Juvenal, Sat. .–). However, some literary sources acknowledge married women with sexual partners outside of marriage and thus suggest that a wider range of practices existed for women as well as men. Yet, alongside these norms, there was also a broad tradition advocating male sexual continence as evidence of self-control. For example, the quote from Plutarch advising wives to put up with their husband’s sexual infidelity evaluated that behavior negatively, calling him “intemperate” (akrates) and “self-indulgent” (akolasias). Although the wife was expected to allow such behavior, there were also expectations that virtuous men would not be compelled by desire. Plutarch also wrote that husbands should procreate only with their wives, “not sowing seed where they wish nothing would grow” (Conj. praec. ). Husbands who exercised self-control contributed to harmony in marriage, a quality reinforced by social norms of the time. Sexual self-control was also a quality of an ideal ruler. Valerius Maximus wrote praising abstinence and continence: With much care and special zeal must we relate how effectively the onsets of lust and greed, resembling madness, have been repelled by good sense and reason from the hearts of famous men. For a household or a community or a kingdom will hold its ground easily and for all time where and only where
Judith Evans Grubbs, Women and the Law in the Roman Empire: A Sourcebook on Marriage, Divorce, and Widowhood (London: Routledge, ), . B. Diane Lipsett, “Celibacy and virginity,” in New Testament, Gender, and Sexuality, ed. Benjamin H. Dunning (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –, esp. –. Susan Treggiari, Roman Marriage: Iusti coniuges from the Time of Cicero to the Time of Ulpian (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), –.
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the desire for carnal pleasure and for money asserts for itself a minimum of strength. For where these most sure plagues of the human race have penetrated, injustice is master, infamy is flagrant, violence dwells, wars are engendered. (..pr., trans. Bailey, LCL)
As Valerius indicated, a ruler’s sexual self-control correlated to his ability to act with justice. Thus, society had different social norms for sexual fidelity of husbands and wives, but there were norms that promoted sexual self-control for both. A number of ancient sources mention sexual desire for a person of the same sex, almost always between two male partners. Many of these writers discussed same-sex desire between males as conventional or natural. For example, the Latin poet Martial put it succinctly: “Nature divided the male: one part was created for girls, one for men. Use your part” (Epigrams ., trans. Bailey, LCL). The philosopher Lucretius, describing the causes of sexual desire, wrote, If one is wounded by the shafts of Venus, whether it be a boy with girlish limbs who launches the shaft at him, or a woman radiating love from her whole body, he tends to the source of the blow, and desires to unite and to cast the fluid from body to body; for his dumb desire presages delight. (De rerum natura .–, trans. Rouse, LCL)
These authors convey the sense that it was common and expected for a man to have sex with either a male or female partner. Lucretius’s statement underscored the notion that the nature of the desire was the same in either case. When authors of the period conveyed disapproval of same-sex relations, they did so for two reasons. First, same-sex sexual relationships could be framed as evidence of self-indulgence. Such encounters were not illicit but were viewed as a result of excessive desire. For example, Valerius Maximus told the story of a man accused of having sex with another man’s wife who was acquitted because he claimed to have been in the married man’s bedroom in pursuit of an enslaved male. Valerius concluded, “the confession
For discussion of female partners see Bernadette J. Brooten, Love Between Women: Early Christian Responses to Female Homoeroticism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ), –; Judith P. Hallett, “Female homoeroticism and the denial of Roman reality in Latin literature,” in Roman Sexualities, ed. Judith P. Hallett and Marilyn B. Skinner (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ), –; Marilyn B. Skinner, Sexuality in Greek and Roman Culture (Malden, MA: Blackwell, ), –.
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of incontinence (intemperentiae) cleared the charge of lust” (..absol., trans. Bailey, LCL). Here, a same-sex relationship was not a crime but a failure to exercise self-control. In other cases, male–male sex was framed as a kind of luxury. The historians Suetonius and Dio described Nero’s wideranging sexual desires alongside other behavior they viewed as debauchery (Suetonius, Nero –; Cass. Dio .; cf. Sallust, Bell. Cat. ). A second reason same-sex intercourse might be criticized was distaste for the idea of an upper-class male citizen being sexually penetrated. Men could penetrate other non-citizen or enslaved boys or men, but for an adult citizen to desire penetration entailed a decrease in status that was viewed as inappropriate. Desire to be penetrated was often attributed to foreigners, as in the case of Diodorus’s discussion of the Gauls: Although their wives are comely, they have very little to do with them, but rage with lust, in outlandish fashion, for the embraces of males . . . They feel no concern for their proper dignity, but prostitute to others without a qualm the flower of their bodies; nor do they consider this a disgraceful thing to do, but rather when anyone of them is thus approached and refuses the favor offered him, this they consider an act of dishonor. (.., trans. Oldfather, LCL)
Diodorus expected his readers would instead attribute dishonor to a male who was sexually penetrated. Thus, there were multiple norms at play in the ancient context to shape sexual desire. Married women were expected to exercise self-control in their desire and maintain sexual fidelity to their husbands. For married men, sex with other partners was not illegal, but it could be criticized as showing incontinence. Desire for a sexual partner of the same sex was acceptable when it reinforced the social hierarchy. However, a man’s desire for other men could also be criticized as evidence of excessive passion.
Sexuality in Early Christian Writings Christ-confessing writers amplified the conventional virtue of sexual selfcontrol. In apologetics and treatises, they described desire as something that
Williams, Roman Homosexuality, –; Benjamin H. Dunning, “Same-sex relations,” in New Testament, Gender, and Sexuality, ed. Benjamin H. Dunning (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –, esp. –.
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turned a person from God. Sexual desire was akin to other passions like greed and anger, as it was for many non-Christian moralists. Instead of being “enslaved” by passions, believers were to find freedom through the cultivation of self-control. Although this topic is less prominent in the New Testament, a number of passages emphasized the importance of sexual self-control. Jesus’s teaching regarding those who make themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven (Matt. :) seems to support sexual abstinence as a spiritual practice. Luke’s version of the Sadducees’ question about the resurrection suggests that those who are unmarried in this life earn a place in that future age (Luke :–). Paul recommended marriage as a way of controlling desire, but asserted it was even better to remain unmarried ( Cor. :–, –). He mentioned same-sex relations as a result of humans turning from God and completely succumbing to passion (Rom. :–). These writings reflect the social construction of desire in which sexual restraint was a virtue and same-sex desire was associated with excess. Later Christ-confessors considerably expanded the attention given to the control of sexual desire. Similarly to other writers of their time, Christbelievers deemed sexual intemperance as a luxury akin to a lavish feast or extravagant clothes. Describing harmful luxury, Hermas included adultery, drunkenness, greed, slander, and so forth (Sim. ..). Tertullian argued that Christ-believers who approved of remarriage were likely also gluttons, because he saw the two pleasures as intertwined (Jejun. ). Some authors accused other Christ-confessing groups of embracing sexual pleasure. For example, Clement of Alexandria criticized the Carpocratians for holding wives in common (Strom. ..–; cf. Irenaeus, Haer. ..) and wrote of other groups that he said encouraged licentious behavior (Strom. ..–; cf. Tertullian, Mon. ). It is possible that there were Christbelievers who preached a kind of sexual freedom. However, writings conveying such beliefs do not survive to verify these accusations. In addition, it was common at the time to accuse opponents of sexual license, and thus it is hard to confirm whether such descriptions conveyed the practices of existing groups.
Cf. Dunning, “Same-sex relations,” –; Dale B. Martin, Sex and the Single Savior: Gender and Sexuality in Biblical Interpretation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ), –. Jennifer Wright Knust, Abandoned to Lust (New York: Columbia University Press, ), –.
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In the extant writings, authors overwhelmingly advocated sexual selfcontrol, although they differed on some questions, such as whether one should marry (or remarry if widowed). Some Christ-confessing groups eliminated marriage altogether. One author noted that Marcion forbade marriage and dissolved existing marriages (Haer. .; cf. Tertullian, Marc. .) and that other groups also prohibited marriage (Haer. .). Thus, at one end of the spectrum of Christian belief, self-control may have been promoted in order to eliminate sex (and sexual desire) altogether. Quite a few writers taught that believers could marry but should not remarry after a divorce or the death of their spouse. Justin Martyr wrote that those who married twice were sinners ( Apol. ). Tertullian wrote three treatises on this subject (Exh. cast., Mon., Ux.). He called a second marriage an “indulgence” and “a type of fornication (species stupri)” (Exh. cast. , ; cf. Athenagoras, Leg. ). Some authors argued that a second marriage was allowed – for example, “to those who are weighed down with the disease of the passions” (Methodius, Symp. .–) – though they agreed it was better not to remarry (cf. Hermas, Mand. .). There were also many proponents of chastity within marriage. A number of the apocryphal Acts told stories of married people seeking to avoid sex with their spouses (Acts Thom. ) or instructed to do so (Acts Andr. Paul , Acts Thecla ). In the Acts of Andrew, Maximilla prayed to be rescued from intercourse with her husband (Acts Andr. ). Clement wrote extensively instructing the faithful to discipline themselves with chastity: “Pleasure alone, even within marriage, is wrongdoing and contrary to law and reason” (Paed. ..; cf. .., Strom. ..; Methodius, Symp. .; Athenagoras, Leg. ). For Christ-confessors of this period, self-control did not only restrict sex to marriage but also shaped sexual desire within marriage. Even married Christ-believers should control desire. The embrace of sexual self-control led to an innovation in the social construction of sexuality, the promotion of virginity as a lifetime commitment. In the culture at large, individuals might choose to avoid sexual intercourse for a time. The Vestal Virgins, who pledged their chastity for a thirty-year period, had the lengthiest time of virginity. Other priestly officers may have practiced self-control during a time of a religious observance. But, for the most part, sexual self-control did not involve avoidance of sex altogether. Early Christ-believers applied the virtue of self-control in a new way, by designating some as “virgins” for the course of their lives.
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Many authors reserved their highest praise for those who did not marry and sought the virgin life. According to Novatian, Virginity puts itself on par with the angels – in truth . . . it even exceeds the angels, since it fights against the flesh and brings back a victor against a nature which the angels do not have. What is virginity, but a glorious meditation on the future life? (De bono pudicitiae .–, trans. Papandrea)
Methodius praised virginity as “something exceedingly great, wonderful and glorious” and wrote that “for a virgin, all the irrational longings of the body are dried up by the instruction she receives” (Symp. .). The practice of virginity was a development of early Christ-confessing groups and something that was not found in the culture at large. However, the rationale for the practice, the banishment of passions through self-control, was well known in popular philosophies of the time. The control of desire was a spiritual practice, and the virgin was one who excelled in this divine training and way of life. Cyprian addressed virgins, saying that all who are baptized are cleansed, “but the greater sanctity and truth of the second birth belong to you who no longer have desires of the flesh and of the body” (Cyprian, Hab. virg. , trans. Keenan). Authors conveyed the benefits of chastity. Cyprian said that in heaven, the faithful believer would meet “triumphant virgins who have subdued the concupiscence of the flesh and body by the strength of their continency” (Cyprian, Mort. ., trans. Mahoney). Methodius wrote that “for those who flee from maddening lust and pleasure, from women, the tree of chastity grows as a lodging and a protection, ruling over people ever since the arrival of the archvirgin, Christ (archiparthenou Christou)” (Methodius, Symp. .). Writers rarely mentioned same-sex sexual relations, but when they did, they evaluated them negatively, as evidence of excessive passions. Novatian’s treatise on the benefits of chastity discussed the person overcome by unchastity as one who first descended into sex with other women, and then further into sex with men: “This impurity often burns regardless of sex, when it does not limit itself to keep within the bounds of what is allowed. It considers itself unsatisfied until everyone turns to the bodies of men” (De bono pudicitiae ., trans. Papandrea). Arnobius wrote in criticism of the Greek gods’ lust: “not content to have ascribed to the gods love of women, do you also say that they lusted after men?” (Arnobius, Adv. nat. , trans. Bryce). In each case the author viewed same-sex relations as a result of excessive desire.
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In sum, extant writings agreed that the control of sexual desire was essential to the life of faith. Authors disagreed on whether one should marry at all, or remarry if widowed, although they affirmed that the goal was selfcontrol. The practice of this virtue did not simply limit sex to marriage, but also shaped sexual desire within marriage. In a social context where same-sex relations were often viewed as excessive desire, it is not surprising that Christ-followers defined such acts as unacceptable signs of intemperance.
Conclusion Ancient people performed masculinity and femininity in a variety of ways. However, a large number reserved praise for those modes of being male or female that emphasized self-control. Men and women expressed some aspects of self-control differently. For example, modesty in dress reflected gendered habits of adornment and grooming. The same virtue also dominated the discourse about sexuality. Many writers described the control of sexual desire as virtuous. Sexual relations with someone other than one’s spouse, while not illicit for men, could be criticized as intemperance. Authors attributed male–male sex to an excess of desire (rather than a different type of desire). Writers grouped sexual extravagance with other forms of luxurious living such as lavish dinner parties, exotic foods, or rare jewelry. Christ-believing groups also had multiple views regarding the ideals of masculine, feminine, and sexual behaviors. However, the extant writings concur that self-control was a central virtue for believers. Many authors extolled the manliness of those men and women who showed no fear in the face of death, disdained elaborate attire, and practiced sexual continence. Although social factors favored men with higher status, many Christconfessing teachers cultivated the same virtues for men and women. All were encouraged to practice sexual restraint, and this virtue took a new form in the development of virginity as a lifelong practice.
Select Bibliography The Ante-Nicene Fathers. Edited by Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, vols. (–; repr., Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ). Arnobius. The Seven Books of Arnobius Adversus gentes. Translated by Archibald Hamilton Bryce and Hugh Campbell (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, ).
. Berg, Ria. “Wearing wealth: Mundus muliebris and ornatus as status markers for women in imperial Rome.” Pages – in Women, Wealth and Power in the Roman Empire. Edited by Päivi Setälä, Ria Berg, Riikka Hälikkä, Minerva Keltanen, Janne Pölönen, and Ville Vuolanto (Rome: Acta Instituti Romani Finlandiae, ). Bremen, Riet van. The Limits of Participation: Women and Civic Life in the Greek East in the Hellenistic and Roman Periods (Amsterdam: J. C. Gieben, ). Brooten, Bernadette J. Love between Women: Early Christian Responses to Female Homoeroticism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ). Carothers, Bobbi J. and Harry T. Reis. “Men and women are from Earth: Examining the latent structure of gender,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology . (), –. Connell, Raewyn. Gender and Power: Society, the Person and Sexual Politics (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, ). Gender in World Perspective (Malden, MA: Polity, ). Conway, Colleen M. Behold the Man: Jesus and Greco-Roman Masculinity (New York: Oxford University Press, ). “Masculinity studies.” Pages – in New Testament, Gender, and Sexuality. Edited by Benjamin H. Dunning (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Cyprian. Treatises. Translated by Roy J. Deferrari, Angela Elizabeth Keenan, Mary Hannan Mahoney, and George Edward Conway. Edited by Roy J. Deferrari (FC ; Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, ). Dessau, Hermann. Inscriptiones Latinae selectae (Chicago: Ares, ). Diodorus Siculus. Library of History, vol. , Books –.. Translated by C. H. Oldfather (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Dunning, Benjamin H. “Same-sex relations.” Pages – in New Testament, Gender, and Sexuality. Edited by Benjamin H. Dunning (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Elliott, J. K. The Apocryphal New Testament: A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature in an English Translation (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Evans Grubbs, Judith. Women and the Law in the Roman Empire: A Sourcebook on Marriage, Divorce, and Widowhood (London: Routledge, ). Gellius. Attic Nights, vol. , Books –. Translated by J. C. Rolfe (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Gray, John. Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus (New York: HarperCollins, ). Hallett, Judith P. “Female homoeroticism and the denial of Roman reality in Latin literature.” Pages – in Roman Sexualities. Edited by Judith P. Hallett and Marilyn B. Skinner (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Hallett, Judith P., and Marilyn B. Skinner (eds.) Roman Sexualities (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Heffernan, Thomas J. (ed. and trans.) The Passion of Perpetua and Felicity (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Hemelrijk, Emily A. Hidden Lives, Public Personae: Women and Civic Life in the Roman West (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Hylen, Susan E. Women in the New Testament World (Essentials of Biblical Studies; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
Masculinity, Femininity, and Sexuality Knust, Jennifer Wright. Abandoned to Lust (New York: Columbia University Press, ). Lipsett, B. Diane. “Celibacy and virginity.” Pages – in New Testament, Gender, and Sexuality. Edited by Benjamin H. Dunning (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Lucretius. On the Nature of Things. Translated by W. H. D. Rouse. Revised by Martin F. Smith (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Madigan, Kevin, and Carolyn Osiek. Ordained Women in the Early Church: A Documentary History (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ). Martial. Epigrams, vol. , Spectacles, Books –. Edited and translated by D. R. Shackleton Bailey (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Martin, Dale B. Sex and the Single Savior: Gender and Sexuality in Biblical Interpretation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ). McDonnell, Myles. Roman Manliness: Virtus and the Roman Republic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Olson, Kelly. Masculinity and Dress in Roman Antiquity (London: Routledge, ). Papandrea, James (trans.) Novatian: On the Trinity, Letters to Cyprian of Carthage, Ethical Treatises. Translation with Introduction (Turnhout: Brepols, ). Parker, Holt N. “The teratogenic grid.” Pages – in Roman Sexualities. Edited by Judith P. Hallett and Marilyn B. Skinner (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Pearson, Birger A. (trans.) “The Teachings of Silvanus.” Pages – in The Nag Hammadi Scriptures. Edited by Marvin Meyer (New York: HarperOne, ). Penner, Todd, and Caroline Vander Stichele. “Gendering violence: Patterns of power and constructs of masculinity.” Pages – in A Feminist Companion to the Acts of the Apostles. Edited by Amy-Jill Levine with Marianne Blickenstaff (Cleveland: Pilgrim, ). (eds.) Mapping Gender in Ancient Religious Discourses (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Philo. Questions on Genesis. Translated by Ralph Marcus (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Saller, Richard P. “Household and gender.” Pages – in The Cambridge Economic History of the Greco-Roman World. Edited by Walter Scheidel, Ian Morris, and Richard Saller (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Seneca the Elder. Declamations, vol. , Controversiae, Books –. Translated by Michael Winterbottom (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Seneca the Younger. Epistles, vol. , Epistles –. Translated by Richard M. Gummere (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Moral Essays, vol. . Translated by John. W. Basore (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Skinner, Marilyn B. Sexuality in Greek and Roman Culture (Malden, MA: Blackwell, ). Treggiari, Susan. Roman Marriage: Iusti coniuges from the Time of Cicero to the Time of Ulpian (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). Valerius Maximus. Memorable Doings and Sayings, vol. , Books –. Edited and translated by D. R. Shackleton Bailey (LCL ; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Williams, Craig A. Roman Homosexuality: Ideologies of Masculinity in Classical Antiquity (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Wilson, Brittany E. Unmanly Men: Refigurations of Masculinity in Luke-Acts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
Christian Slavery in Theology and Practice Its Relation to God, Sin, and Justice . . The condition of being a slave in antiquity, marked by “social death” and “the permanent, violent domination of natally alienated and generally dishonored persons,” was so miserable as to be excluded from the ancient ideal of happiness (εὐδαιμονία): “How can a man be happy when he must serve someone as a slave [δουλεύειν]?” says Callicles to Socrates (Plato, Gorg. E). Families in the Greco-Roman world often included slaves, although manumission in the Roman world was more frequent than once thought. Slavery in early Christianity has been the focus of important work in current scholarship. In these studies, the early Christians can be found to speak in a variety of ways and to adopt a number of practices in relation to the ancient institution of slavery, from adhering fully to this institution to rejecting it –
Orlando Patterson, Slavery and Social Death (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), . Noel Lenski, “Framing the question: What is a slave society?” in What Is a Slave Society? The Practice of Slavery in Global Perspective, ed. Noel Lenski and Catherine M. Cameron (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, defines a slave system on the basis of the use of humans as property. I also used and confirmed Patterson’s definition of slavery in Social Justice and the Legitimacy of Slavery: The Role of Philosophical Asceticism from Ancient Judaism to Late Antiquity (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, –). Many thanks to the audiences of the presentations of this monograph in – at Columbia, the University of Chicago, Erfurt MWK, Holy Cross, Stanford, Oxford, Berkeley, and Santa Barbara. Ray Laurence and Agneta Stromberg (eds.) Families in the Greco-Roman World (New York: Continuum, ); Sabine Huebner and Geoffrey Nathan, Mediterranean Families in Antiquity: Households, Extended Families, and Domestic Space (Malden, MA: Wiley–Blackwell, ). See Rose MacLean, Freed Slaves and Roman Imperial Culture: Social Integration and the Transformation of Values (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Especially Jennifer Glancy, Slavery in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ); Glancy, “Slavery and the rise of Christianity,” in The Cambridge World History of Slavery, vol. , The Ancient Mediterranean World, ed. Keith Bradley and Paul Cartledge (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; Carolyn Osiek and David Balch (eds.) Early Christian Families in Context: An Interdisciplinary Dialogue (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ); and Ramelli, Social Justice.
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such as (as we shall see) in the case of the Jewish Therapeutae and of Christian ascetics like Gregory of Nyssa, Naucratius, Macrina, and others. “Ideology allows social injustice to go unseen, even by – or especially by – its perpetrators.” Slavery was a major instance of social injustice. In my book Social Justice, I asked whether in antiquity there existed a notion of Justice, or whether this is only a modern concept (arguing for the former option). Moreover, I considered whether there was merely a juxtaposition between the rejection of slavery and that of social injustice, or whether there was a more profound connection between the two. In that regard, I argued that in some cases (including the Sentences of Sextus, Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and Evagrius) the connection is evident, with emphasis given to voluntary poverty as an instance of social justice. The Christian ascetics who made the most of the renunciation of oppression and injustice were also more likely to renounce both slave ownership and wealth, which was perceived as the cause of the poverty of others and thereby social injustice.
Backgrounds to Christian Views on Slavery The background to early Christian views concerning slavery and social justice lies in the ideas in Greek philosophy and in ancient, Hellenistic, and Rabbinic Judaism. The sophists and Socrates were aware that slavery is against nature and is promulgated simply by convention. Against unnamed sophists, Aristotle elaborated his theory of “natural slavery,” which proved to be very influential on subsequent theorizations and justifications of slavery. For Aristotle, the “natural” inferiority of slaves paralleled the “natural” inferiority of women to men and of barbarians to Greeks. All of these were for him defective humans, so it was better for them to have a master (owner, spouse). Aristotle assimilated slaves to animals, and even to inanimate objects: A slave is a “living possession.” Since there can exist neither friendship nor justice (δίκη) between a human and an object, or an animal, and since a slave is a living tool (ὄργανον), then “there can exist no friendship between a slave owner and a slave qua slave, although it can exist between an owner and a slave qua human being.” Virtue friendship
Judith Perkins, Roman Imperial Identities in the Christian Era (London: Routledge, ), . Ramelli, Social Justice, ch. . On Rabbinic Judaism: Catherine Hezser, Jewish Slavery in Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Pol. a–. Eth. Nic. b–.
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(“an essentially human kind of relationship” and “an essential relationship for human beings”) among master and slave cannot exist if the slave is regarded as a non-person, while it can exist if the slave is regarded as a person. Aristotle expresses a tougher position in the Politics, which theorizes slavery “by nature” and rules out a relation of virtue friendship between master and slave. The understanding of slavery as a relationship of property goes back to Aristotle’s theory of “natural slavery,” but Kostas Vlassopoulos suggests that most Greeks considered slavery to be a relationship of domination, which Aristotle reformulated as a relationship of property. Aristotle linked slavery to what we call racism, since “natural” slaves for him were non-Greeks, a subhuman category with respect to the superior Greeks. Aristotle’s arguments, like those (mostly opposite) of the Stoics, exerted a remarkable influence on early Christian thinkers, and perhaps, e contrario, on St. Paul, as we shall see. The position of Plato, Aristotle’s teacher, toward slavery was problematic, like that of his inspirer Socrates. They give philosophical expression to the awareness that the institution of slavery, far from being “natural,” originated in violence and overpowering. Socrates, who was poor and is not recorded to have been a slave owner, besides casting doubts on the legitimacy of slavery as an institution, also developed a notion of moral slavery that would be at the core of the reflection of his followers, the Stoics, concerning slavery. Plato problematized the institution of slavery, including in the Laws: the question of slave ownership is “very difficult,” because what we say about slaves is both consistent with how we use them in practice and inconsistent (C–C). Nora Kreft, “Aristotle on friendship and being human,” in Aristotle’s Anthropology, ed. Geert Keil and Nora Kreft (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at . See my Social Justice, –; Geert Keil and Nora Kreft (eds.) Aristotle’s Anthropology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), esp. Kreft, “Aristotle on friendship,” on virtue friendship as “not just a uniquely human feature, but an essential one” (). Vlassopoulos, “Greek slavery: From domination to property and back again,” Journal of Hellenic Studies (), . See my Social Justice, ch. , and Benjamin Isaac, Empire and Ideology in the Graeco-Roman World: Selected Papers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), esp. ch. , on the relation between proto-racism and ancient slavery; also his The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ), and my review in Laverna (), –. On slavery in the Laws and the Statesman (Politicus), besides the analysis and argument of Ramelli, Social Justice, ch. , see now Étienne Helmer, “Le sens de l’esclavage dans les Lois et dans le Politique de Platon,” Méthexis (), –.
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The connection between justice and asceticism, which strongly influenced early Christian philosophical asceticism, goes back to Plato. Plato explained that “the paradigm of the virtuous city” reflects “the perfectly just man” (Resp. .C). Injustice is the first of all vices listed in Resp. .B. In Book , Plato described justice as the harmony of the three faculties of the soul: The harmony of the perfect philosophical soul is the perfectly ascetic soul. This soul detaches itself from the body as much as possible, as Plato showed in his Phaedo, the dialogue that Gregory of Nyssa would choose for his Christian remake in De anima. In Plato’s Timaeus, well known to Christian Platonists, Plato maintained that the soul errs if it adheres to the body and its senses (B). Asceticism in Plato is thus connected with detachment from the body and with justice. The perfect philosopher is the perfect ascetic, whose perfection consists in justice – hence the link between philosophical asceticism and justice. Plato’s portrait of the tyrant in his Republic is the depiction of the opposite of asceticism, which he wants to construct and link with justice. Coleen Zoller shows that Plato’s asceticism does not really stem from hatred of the body, but from the desire for justice (as I had argued). Plato denounced poverty as the cause of war and problems in human affairs; this was a matter of injustice. The prioritizing of the graveness of moral slavery (the enslavement to passions and vices, which Philo used repeatedly, for instance in Deus , and which in Christianity became the enslavement to sins) over legal slavery led the Stoics to pay little or no attention to the question of the legitimacy of juridical slavery. Their treatises On Anger aimed more at the moral improvement of masters than at the well-being or liberation of slaves. But one important achievement of the Stoics is their square opposition to Aristotle’s notion of “natural slavery.” The Stoic and Cynic ideal of self-sufficiency (αὐτάρκεια) logically implied the rejection of slave ownership and wealth. This deduction, however, was not drawn by the Stoics, apart from possible
C, C–E, C, A, and passim. A reconsideration of Plato’s soul–body relation is in order: See Chad Jorgenson, The Embodied Soul in Plato’s Later Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); Svetla S. Griffin and Ilaria L. E. Ramelli, Lovers of Souls, Lovers of the Body: Philosophical and Religious Perspectives in Late Antiquity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Besides my Social Justice, ch. , see now a confirmation (on Plato’s concept of the tyrant) in Cinzia Arruzza, A Wolf in the City: Tyranny and the Tyrant in Plato’s Republic (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Coleen Zoller, Plato and the Body: Reconsidering Socratic Asceticism (Albany, NY: SUNY, ). In Social Justice, ch. . Zoller, Plato, ch. . Ramelli, Social Justice, ch. .
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exceptions, such as Dio Chrysostom. Rather, it was drawn by early Christian ascetics, who were inspired by the ideal of self-sufficiency and of asceticism as a matter of justice. For the Stoics, juridical slavery was a morally indifferent thing (ἀδιάφορον), whereas moral slavery was the real evil. Therefore, the Stoics did not fight for the abolition of legal slavery. In fact, there were Stoics, such as Seneca or Marcus Aurelius, who were very rich and possessed many slaves, while practicing frugality. Other Stoics, such as Chaeremon, elected strict voluntary poverty and seem to have owned no slaves. Still others, such as Epictetus, were slaves themselves. Epicureanism was antiascetic, but also advocated moderation in the ideal of catastematic pleasure. Epicureans also abhorred moral slavery but do not seem to have been committed to the abolition of legal slavery or of social injustice. Epicurean treatises On Anger included reflections on angry masters’ behavior toward their slaves: Philodemus deplores the punishment of slaves in anger, lacking logismos, so that slaves will threaten the lives of their masters and family and their house. Like the Stoics, the Epicureans regularly admitted slaves and women at their school, and rejected Aristotle’s theory of the “natural” inferiority of slaves, women, and barbarians. In Platonism, Aristotle’s views concerning slavery became increasingly less influential, in contrast to the rising influence of the Stoic position. “Middle” and Neoplatonists displayed a special interest in moral and spiritual slavery, which for them was not only enslavement to passions but also to the (heavy, mortal) body itself. Also, the increasing role that asceticism played in the Platonic tradition can sometimes be connected with a renunciation of possessions and of slave ownership – as in the case of Plotinus. It is conceivable that Plotinus’s behavior was dictated by concern for other humans. The refusal to own slaves and the rejection of institutional slavery as contrary to justice was supported by the Jewish ascetic groups of the Essenes and the Therapeutae: The descriptions of these groups proved influential upon early Christian ascetics of the Origenian stripe. Indeed,
Ramelli, Social Justice, –; Ari Z. Bryen, “Politics, justice and reform in Dio’s Euboicus,” Transactions of the American Philological Association (), –. Ir. .–, .–. On the Essenes and Therapeutae, besides Ramelli, Social Justice, ix, –, –, , –, –, –, –, –, and the relevant literature there, see Johannes Bernhardt, Die jüdische Revolution: Untersuchungen zu Ursachen, Verlauf und Folgen der hasmonäischen Erhebung (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), ch. on the Essenes; Jean Riaud, “Une communauté mystérieuse dans les environs d’Alexandrie,” Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa (), –; Elizabeth
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while in ancient, Hellenistic, and Rabbinic Judaism slavery was accepted and regulated, the only remarkable exception is found among ascetics, according to Jewish Hellenistic sources (Philo and Josephus). These groups denounced the institution of slavery as unjust and refrained from keeping slaves and possessing wealth. Their choice of rejecting slavery went hand in hand with their ascetic lifestyle, which, in the case of the Essenes, according to Philo, entailed a total dispossession: the embrace of voluntary poverty. The Essenes may have influenced Jesus and the early Christians. The link between asceticism, poverty, renunciation of slavery, and philosophy, which would be taken over in the tradition of Origen, Pamphilus, Eusebius, Gregory of Nyssa, and Evagrius, is clear in Philo’s description of the Therapeutae. Their rejection of both slavery and wealth historically might have been determined by needs of ritual purity. In this case, Philo and Josephus (who personally did not share their positions and practices) translated these reasons into Hellenistic philosophical terms. Such transposition proved foundational for the trend of Christian philosophical asceticism that drew inspiration from Philo’s description of the Therapeutae in De vita contemplativa as philosophical ascetics who rejected slavery and wealth in their choice of voluntary poverty and rejection of slavery. Christians from Eusebius onward noticed remarkable similarities with Christian monastic circles. Especially Philo’s depiction of the Therapeutae proved enormously influential on Christian philosophical asceticism, the importance of which in the criticism of slavery and social injustice is paramount.
DePalma Digeser, Heidi Marx-Wolf, and Ilaria Ramelli (eds.) Problems in Ancient Biography: The Construction of Professional Identities in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). Analysis in Hezser, Jewish Slavery; Ramelli, Social Justice, –; “Social justice and slavery in the Bible,” in Oxford Biblical Studies Online (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, ). Bernhardt, Die jüdische Revolution, ch. , on the Essenes alongside the Pharisees and Hasmoneans. Simon Joseph, Jesus, the Essenes, and Christian Origins: New Light on Ancient Texts and Communities (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ) asks whether Jesus was an Essene and whether the Essenes influenced the earliest Christians. Jesus’s exegesis of Scripture and adherence to celibacy are similar to those of the Essenes (, ). Ramelli, Social Justice, –, –, –; Moshe Blidstein, Purity, Community, and Ritual in Early Christian Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ) on purity in Judaism and Christianity; ch. on the Origenist synthesis. Argument in Ramelli, Social Justice.
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Early Christian Trajectories Regarding Slavery Together with ancient philosophy and Judaism, important sources of inspiration for Christian authors of the second and third centuries were key passages from New Testament (NT) texts. I am not concerned with the dating of the NT or the historical Jesus, but in the source material that shaped Christian thinking. Jesus is not reported to have owned slaves and, although in the NT he never speaks directly of the abolition of slavery or poverty, his teaching about the poor who are blessed, his denunciation of “mammon” as an idol alternative to God and an impediment to salvation, and his saying about the rich who cannot enter Paradise (in the “eye of the needle” saying) are not easily used to promote slave ownership or the accumulation of wealth. Jesus’s followers should serve rather than being served; power is service among his followers, and is rooted in his crucifixion. Jesus himself performs a slave’s task such as washing his disciples’ feet in John :–. His message of service was taken up by many Christians. In Mark :–, Jesus declares: “whoever wants to be the first among you will have to be the slave of all. For the Son of the Human Being did not come to be served, but to serve and give his life as a ransom for the liberation of many.” Λύτρον was the payment for the liberation of a slave. Humans were enslaved to evil; Christ’s life became the price for their liberation, and his death on the cross was that of a slave. Jesus in the synagogue of Nazareth read Isaiah :–, where God is said to have sent his anointed one to proclaim freedom to those enslaved; Jesus claims he is the one sent to do so (Luke :–). This enslavement is enslavement to sin, but also to captivity, slavery, and oppression. Jesus’s exhortation to remit one’s debts in the Lord’s Prayer has sometimes been taken literally as a defense of the poor, in opposition to debt slavery. The Gospels point to a society under stress, where the rich
Ramelli, Social Justice, –. See Alberto de Mingo Kaminouchi, But It Is Not So Among You: Echoes of Power in Mark :– (London: T&T Clark, ). E.g., Lyndon Drake, “Did Jesus oppose the prosbul in the forgiveness petition of the Lord’s Prayer?” Novum Testamentum (), –; Douglas Oakman, Jesus, Debt, and the Lord’s Prayer: First-Century Debt and Jesus’ Intentions (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ), , : Jesus’s agenda against debt slavery was “revolutionary.” See also John Goodrich, “Voluntary debt remission and the parable of the Unjust Steward,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –.
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flourished at the expense of the poor. Instead of the priestly elites, Jesus turned to the needs of the “multitude.” The Palestine of Jesus’s day, especially Galilee, had high rates of poverty and slavery. During Jesus’s ministry in Galilee and the first three centuries of Christianity, poverty persisted in Rome’s agrarian economy; the Christians would create an alternative subsistence strategy in the cities on the basis of each person’s need. Jesus’s parables often included slaves, sometimes slave–managers, such as in Luke :–. Greco-Roman slave ideology is crucial to understanding the NT slave parables. The poor are honored especially in Luke. In Luke :–, for instance, Lazarus is a poor beggar, but is compensated in heaven and functions as a type of Christ (his name means “God helps”), while the rich is left hungry. There is a long tradition of incorporating Jesus (and Paul) within Cynic philosophy, or of drawing parallels between Jesus and ancient Cynicism. In Luke :, “blessed are the πτωχοί” refers to
Rosemary Margaret Luff, The Impact of Jesus in First-Century Palestine: Textual and Archaeological Evidence for Long-Standing Discontent (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). See Paula Fredriksen, When Christians Were Jews: The First Generation (New Haven: Yale University Press, ); for his miracles on the disabled etc. see my “Soma (Σῶμα),” in Das Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, vol. (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, ), –. See my Social Justice, ch. , with bibliography, and Jonathan L. Reed, “Instability in Jesus’ Galilee: A demographic perspective,” Journal of Biblical Literature . (), –, also with bibliography. K. C. Robinson, Early Christian Care for the Poor: An Alternative Subsistence Strategy Under Roman Imperial Rule (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ). On this see Fabian Udoh, “The tale of an unrighteous slave,” Journal of Biblical Literature . (), –. For slaves in Jesus’s parables see Jean-Dominic Crossan, “The servant parables of Jesus,” Semeia (), –; Goodrich, “Voluntary debt remission,” –, with relevant literature; Ramelli, Social Justice, –. Mary Ann Beavis, “Ancient slavery as an interpretive context for the NT servant parables,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –. Rachel Coleman, The Lukan Lens on Wealth and Possessions: A Perspective Shaped by the Themes of Reversal and Right Response (Leiden: Brill, ). See Reuben Bredenhof, “Looking for Lazarus,” New Testament Studies (), –. See F. G. Downing, “A Cynic preparation for Paul’s Gospel for Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female,” New Testament Studies (), –; Downing, Cynics, Paul, and the Pauline Churches (London: Routledge, ); Bernhard Lang, “Jesus among the philosophers: The Cynic connection explored and affirmed, with a note on Philo’s Jewish-Cynic philosophy,” in Religio-Philosophical Discourses in the Mediterranean World: From Plato, Through Jesus, to Late Antiquity, ed. Anders Klostergaard Petersen and George van Kooten (Leiden: Brill, ), –; Stanley Porter, When Paul Met Jesus (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ); Runar Thorsteinsson, Jesus as Philosopher: The Moral Sage in the Synoptic Gospels (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), who sees an influence of Hellenistic philosophy on the Synoptics and Paul especially in the realm of virtue ethics; on Cynics and the NT, see chs. –.
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people who lived by begging. This was the ideal of the Cynics, and also of many very poor people, although parallels with the larger Stoic tradition, especially with Musonius, are missing. But some parallels with Seneca (on the front of Stoic imperial philosophy) are impressive. So, for instance, Matthew :– and Luke : uphold loving one’s enemies like the Father, who has the sun rise upon the good and the evil alike, and Seneca (Ben. ..) upholds imitating the gods by bestowing benefits upon the grateful and the ungrateful, since the sun rises upon the wicked and the good. Not accidentally, a pseudepigraphic correspondence between Seneca and Paul, whose dating and intertextual issues are the object of recent and ongoing scholarship, was ascribed to the two thinkers. Timothy Brookins agrees with me that Seneca confined real slavery to the moral sphere and did not urge people to emancipate slaves, and that Paul viewed slavery as an adiaphoron, but one to be rejected if circumstances permit. For Brookins, Paul moved more in the direction of change than Seneca did, due to his idea that the end of time was close, something Seneca did not contemplate. The approach of the end of time could also induce Paul to think that social changes in the present world were not so important. Acts :– and :– exerted a remarkable influence on patristic thinkers and monastic communities. Here, the first Christians are represented as holding all possessions in common (ἅπαντα κοινά, :; πάντα κοινά, :). People sold their possessions, lands, and houses, and brought the revenues to the apostles. This money was distributed to all, according to their needs, so nobody called anything their own property, and nobody was indigent (ἐνδεής, :). Ananias and Sapphira, who withheld a part of their wealth
Lang, “Jesus,” –. Parallels are pointed out in my Musonio Rufo (Milan: Bompiani, ) and Stoici romani minori (Milan: Bompiani, ), esp. –. My “The pseudepigraphic correspondence between Seneca and Paul: A reassessment,” in Paul and Pseudepigraphy, ed. Stanley Porter and Gregory Fewster (Leiden: Brill, ), –; “A pseudepigraphon inside a pseudepigraphon? The Seneca–Paul correspondence and the letters added afterwards,” Journal for the Study of Pseudepigrapha (), –. See my argument in Social Justice, – on Seneca, – on Paul and adiaphora; Timothy Brookins, “(Dis)correspondence of Paul and Seneca on slavery,” in Paul and Seneca in Dialogue, ed. Joseph Dodson and David Briones (Leiden: Brill, ), –. On patristic reception see Bruce Longenecker and Kelly Liebengood (eds.) Engaging Economics: New Testament Scenarios and Early Christian Reception (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Roman Montero, All Things in Common: The Economic Practices of the Early Christians (Eugene, OR: Resource, ) argues that what is described in Acts :– and :– is a long-term practice by early Christians. See also Fiona Gregson, Everything in Common? The Theology and Practice of the Sharing of Possessions in Community in the New Testament (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, ).
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for themselves, died (Acts :–). Second-century Christians are also attributed with commonality of possessions by Lucian, De morte Peregrini : Every magician, charlatan, and man capable of taking advantage of circumstances exploited the Christians and became rich at their expense, since these were gullible people and held all things in common (ἅπαντα κοινά, as in Acts :). It is unknown whether Lucian’s observations derive from direct knowledge of second-century Christian communities, from the reading of Acts, or from hearsay. The author of Revelation is also critical about wealth and human trafficking such as slavery (:), and the Gospel of Thomas likewise reflects sayings of Jesus against wealth. Paul in Gal. :, by affirming the equality of slaves and free, men and women, and Jews and Greeks, in fact rejected Aristotle’s theory of the “natural” inferiority of slaves, women, and non-Greeks. Paul might have adhered to the Stoic position of slavery as “morally indifferent” (ἀδιάφορον): This, along with Paul’s relatively imminent eschatology, may account for his lack of a clear “abolitionist” position. Paul’s Letter to Philemon has been subject to diverging interpretations, which range from Paul as an “abolitionist” ante litteram to Paul as a keeper of the social status quo – or even (but less probably) as a slave owner. Likewise, the identity of Onesimus as a runaway slave or other options is debated. Bruce Longenecker accepts the traditional notion that Onesimus was Philemon’s slave: “Onesimus had originally fled from Philemon as a runaway but subsequently rethought his strategy, seeking out Paul . . . to act as a mediator between the slave and his master,” as does Scot McKnight. Likewise, the meaning of
Gos. Thom. reworks Jesus’s saying, “give to Ceasar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God” (Mark :–): Kimberley Fowler, “Reading Gospel of Thomas in the fourth century,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –, interprets Gos. Thom. in light of a conflict between Pachomian material wealth and asceticism. Examination in my “Gal : and Aristotelian (and Jewish) categories of inferiority,” Eirene (), –. See Will Deming, “Paul and indifferent things,” in Paul in the Greco-Roman World, ed. J. Paul Sampley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ), –; Ramelli, Social Justice, –; Panayiotis Coutsoumpos, “Paul’s view of ἀδιάφορα in Corinthians –,” in Paul and Scripture, ed. Stanley Porter and Christopher Land (Leiden: Brill, ), –. James W. Thompson and Bruce W. Longenecker, Philippians and Philemon (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ), . Scot McKnight, The Letter to Philemon (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), who also thinks () that Paul persuaded Philemon not to manumit Onesimus, but to welcome him back home after he had run away, to build a fellowship of equals in Christ. Discussion of Philemon in my Social Justice, –. In addition to the literature there, and to Thompson and Longenecker, see: Alex Ip, A Socio-Rhetorical Interpretation of the Letter to Philemon in Light of the New Institutional Economics: An Exhortation to Transform a Master–Slave Economic Relationship into a Brotherly Loving Relationship (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), who
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Cor. : is disputed: Paul may be exhorting slaves to take advantage of the opportunity of being emancipated, or of their condition of servitude. The first alternative may reflect the view of legal slavery as adiaphoron, but with freedom as a (Stoic) “preferable adiaphoron,” to be preferred if circumstances permit. Prescriptions regarding slaves and masters evolved from Paul to the disputed Paulines, with prescriptions given to slaves alone in the Pastoral Epistles, as well as in Peter. These later letters have no recommendation for masters and even exhort slaves to serve and be happy in their condition, and reflect a trend to preserve the social status quo (slavery and the submission of women).
Early Christianity and the Perpetuation of Slavery Slavery and slave mistreatment were generally perpetuated in early Christianity. Kyle Harper shows that Christians largely accepted and endorsed the slave system, to the point that “Christian and Roman ideologies became enmeshed” in this regard. Although Paul might have advised the manumission of slaves, and notwithstanding Jesus’s recommendations to serve and not be served, to avoid oppressing others, and to love poverty, such indications seem to have been little followed, apart from some ascetics. Rich Christians regularly owned slaves, and domestic violence against slaves
rejects the runaway hypothesis; Laura Nasrallah, Archaeology and the Letters of Paul (New York: Oxford University Press, ), ch. on Philemon, in which slavery and kinship language seem to be confused; Harry Maier, “Paul’s Letter to Philemon: A case study in individualisation, dividuation, and partibility in imperial spatial contexts,” in Religious Individualisation: Historical Dimensions and Comparative Perspectives, vol. , ed. Martin Fuchs, Antje Linkenbach, Martin Mulsow, Bernd-Christian Otto, Rahul Bjørn Parson, and Jörg Rüpke (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –. Besides my Social Justice, –, on these letters, see on Peter’s house code Jeannine Brown, “Just a busybody? A look at the Greco-Roman topos of meddling for defining allotriepiskopos in Peter :,” Journal of Biblical Literature . (), –. My “ Tim : and the notion and terminology of spiritual death: Hellenistic moral philosophy in the Pastoral Epistles,” Aevum (), –; “The Pastoral Epistles and Hellenistic philosophy: Tim :–, Hierocles, and the ‘contraction of circles,’” Catholic Bible Quarterly (), –; Harry Maier, “The entrepreneurial widows of Timothy,” in Patterns of Women’s Leadership in Ancient Christianity, ed. Joan E. Taylor and Ilaria L. E. Ramelli (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –; Manabu Tsuji, “Persönlische Korrespondenz des Paulus: Zur Strategie der Pastoralbriefe als Pseudepigrapha,” New Testament Studies (), –. Kyle Harper, Slavery in the Late Roman World, – (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), part : quotation from .
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was perpetuated in Christian households, although there is also evidence of masters who were kind to slaves. In the first two centuries , slave women were estate managers, business managers, and physicians; some accrued wealth, but they remained the possession of others, exposed to all sorts of exploitation, including sexual, even in Christian households. The equality of slaves and free “in Christ” (Gal. :), in the religious sphere, contrasted with their legal status in society. At the religious level, people had to regard slaves as persons, although they were “objects” from the juridical standpoint. The Christian slave ministrae cited by Pliny (Ep. .) were legally slaves, but religiously deacons or presbyters. Slaves participated in Christian liturgies, received the same sacraments, could marry under a true coniugium and obtain the same ecclesiastical offices, including the episcopate, as free people did. Christian slaves were in the imperial household from the beginning: Already the final salutations in Philippians mentions Christians in “the house of Caesar,” probably slaves or freedmen in Nero’s household. The first Christian emperor, Constantine, like his successors, did not abolish slavery, although he endeavored to introduce Christian ethics
See John Fitzgerald, “Early Christian missionary practice and pagan reaction,” in Renewing Tradition: Studies in Texts and Contexts in Honor of James W. Thompson, ed. Mark Hamilton, Thomas Olbricht, and Jeffrey Peterson (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, ), –, who draws on John Chrysostom. I find further attestations in pre-Constantinian times, e.g., in Cyprian. Katherine Bain, Women’s Socioeconomic Status and Religious Leadership in Asia Minor in the First Two Centuries (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), ch. ; Kristina Sessa, Daily Life in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), ch. , on the household and domestic slaves, noting the minimal impact of Christianity on the family. On sexual exploitation of slaves even in Christian times: Michael Flexsenhar III, “Sought out for luxury, castrated for lust: Mistress–slave sex in Tertullian’s Ad uxorem ..,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. See my “Apuleius and Christianity,” in Echoes of Myth, Religion and Ritual in the Ancient Novel, ed. Marília P. Futre Pinheiro, Anton Bierl, and Roger Beck (Berlin: De Gruyter ), –; Katherine Shaner, Enslaved Leadership in Early Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, ), esp. ch. on Christian slave leaders. On women officeholders in early Christianity: Kevin Madigan and Carolyn Osiek, Ordained Women in the Early Church: A Documentary History (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ); Ilaria L. E. Ramelli, “Theosebia: A presbyter of the Catholic Church,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion . (), –, and Joan E. Taylor and Ilaria L. E. Ramelli (eds.) Patterns of Women’s Leadership in Ancient Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). See my “Tristitia: Indagine storica, filosofica e semantica su un’accusa antistoica e anticristiana del I secolo,” Invigilata Lucernis (), –; “Cristiani e vita politica: Il criptoCristianesimo nelle classi dirigenti romane nel II secolo,” Aevum (), –; and Michael Flexsenhar III, Christians in Caesar’s Household: The Emperors’ Slaves in the Making of Christianity (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, ).
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in his law. As Harper has argued, during the fourth century the Roman empire was still a slave society.
The Sentences of Sextus: Influence on Christian Philosophical Asceticism Christian philosophical asceticism is at work in the Sentences of Sextus – a Christianized version of Pythagorean asceticism well known to Origen. These Sentences are interested not only in ascetic practices, but also in voluntary poverty. The latter is emphasized and connected with selfsufficiency and freedom, against the backdrop of a concern to avoid injustice toward fellow humans. In Sent. Sext. –, whoever commits injustice (ἀδικῶν) against a human is said not to be allowed to worship God. The link between holiness toward God and justice toward men is also found in Philo: “the same person will contemplate both holiness toward God and justice toward humans” (Abr. ). Ascetic practices such as dispossession and fasting are said in the Sentences to be in the service of the poor (Sent. Sext. ). Here asceticism is related not only to self-restraint and piety, but also to love for humans, respect and solidarity, and renouncing oppression. Sextus grounds piety toward God in love of humanity (φιλανθρωπία), care for humans, and prayer for all. Love of humanity also implies that one should not amass wealth, presumably on account of the principle (which was widespread among Christian philosophical ascetics, from Origen to Gregory of Nyssa to Evagrius) that whatever exceeds one’s needs is stolen from other people’s needs. Asceticism aims at purification, but the best form of purification consists in not committing injustice (ἀδικεῖν) against anyone.
Karl Noethlichs, “Christliche Ethik in der Gesetzgebung Konstantins,” in Ethik im antiken Christentum, ed. Hans-Christoph Brennecke and Johannes van Oort (Leuven: Peeters, ), –. Harper, Slavery. See Daniele Pevarello, The Sentences of Sextus (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck ), and my review, Gnomon (), –; my “The Sentences of Sextus and the Christian transformation of Pythagorean asceticism,” in Pythagorean Knowledge, ed. Almut-Barbara Renger and Alessandro Stavru (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, ), –; Dietmar Wyrwa, “SextosSentenzen,” in Die Philosophie der Antike /–. Philosophie der Kaiserzeit und der Spätantike: Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie, ed. Christoph Riedweg, Christoph Horn, and Dietmar Wyrwa (Basel: Schwabe, ), –. On the Sentences’ attitude toward poverty, slavery and asceticism: Ramelli, Social Justice, – and passim.
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The lack of passions (ἀπάθεια, the goal of asceticism) goes hand in hand with benefiting all humans and avoiding the oppression of others. The principle of avoiding injustice and oppression is the same that can be found in the tradition of Christian philosophical asceticism of the Origenian line, especially in Gregory of Nyssa and Evagrius. The closeness of the Sentences of Sextus to the Origenian ascetic-philosophical tradition is best shown by the attribution of one of these sentences to Origen in Regula Magistri . In this whole strand of asceticism, the ascetic must avoid oppressing fellow humans and committing injustice, and this is done in part through the rejection of slave ownership and the embrace of voluntary poverty, or at least the refusal to possess more than the necessary.
Pre-Constantinian Christian Attitudes Toward Slavery Let us consider briefly some second-/third-century Christian authors in their position toward slavery. Ignatius of Antioch, like many other patristic thinkers, recommended moderation and humaneness with slaves (Pol. .–). This view was not distinctively Christian and was shared by Stoics such as Seneca. Ignatius’s exhortation (like that of the Stoics) did not imply any opposition to the institution of slavery. Cyprian of Carthage, besides reproaching brutal masters, expressed a doubt concerning the legitimacy of slavery (Demetr. ). Nevertheless, there is no trace of his active engagement against the institution of slavery. Likewise, Cyprian did not denounce social injustice leading to the dire poverty of many. Like many Christians, he encouraged almsgiving (in De opere et eleemosynis). This was a milder strategy that did not aim at justice for the oppressed themselves, since it does not address the systemic injustice that made the poor poor; instead, it was a strategy primarily to assist in the salvation of the souls of the rich. Clement of Alexandria advocated neither a rigorous asceticism nor the renunciation of slave ownership or wealth, which he tended to treat as Stoic adiaphora. He tried hard to reconcile his attitude with Jesus’s sayings against wealth. Clement may have avoided denouncing the possession of wealth and slaves also because of his polemic against Epiphanes (Strom. ..–..), the son of Carpocrates, who supported a communalism of properties and wives (Strom. ..) and opposed slavery. Epiphanes’s On Justice interpreted the justice of God as “a certain commonality/fellowship/sharing together with equality” (..–..). Drawing on Gal. :, Epiphanes remarked that
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“there is no difference between rich and poor, people and ruler, stupid and intelligent, woman and man, free people and slaves” (..). God “establishes his justice to both good and bad by seeing that none is able to get more than his share and to deprive his neighbor, so that he has twice the light his neighbor has,” so the possessions of all should belong to all equally (Strom. ..–). Getting more than one’s own share means depriving others of their share. The Didache, similarly, observed: “You will never turn away from the indigent, but you will put your possessions in common with your brother, and you will not state that these are your own (ἴδια)” (.). Origen’s stance on asceticism and condemnation of wealth as tantamount to theft can be seen as the expression of a principle of social equality that was later shared by other ascetics in the Origenian tradition. The Shepherd of Hermas’s critical attitude toward wealth was well known to Origen. The latter’s philosophical asceticism was taken over by Pierius (who voluntarily embraced strict poverty and, like Origen, owned no slaves), Pamphilus, and other Origenians, such as Evagrius and Rufinus. It is also the kind of asceticism that is reflected in the above-mentioned Sentences of Sextus, and was valued by Origen and other Origenian ascetics. Bardaisan of Edessa (d. ) was admired by many followers of Origen. Like the position of Clement on slavery and Justice, that of Bardaisan reflects the influence of Stoicism. Bardaisan was a courtier and a friend of the king of Osrhoene, probably rich and a slave owner: He was no ascetic. But a passage from a Syriac dialogue that reflects his ideas, the Book of the Laws of Countries, seems to have been inserted in the Acts of Thomas, a work that shows much more sympathy toward asceticism. Here, a section denounces the treatment of slaves like beasts, while before God all humans are equal. These Acts do not explicitly stigmatize rich people and slave owners, but praise the choice of voluntary poverty by the protagonist, Thomas, who had no slaves and is himself the slave of Christ. The attitude toward slavery in the Acts of Peter and other early Christian narratives, instead, was much more conventional and comfortable with the social status quo. On Epiphanes see my Social Justice, –; Izabela Jurasz, “Carpocrate et Epiphane: Chrétiens et platoniciens radicaux,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Examined in my Social Justice, –. See my Social Justice, –; on slavery in ‘pagan’ and Christian narrative: Stelios Panayotakis and Michael Paschalis (eds.) Slaves and Masters in the Ancient Novel (Groningen: Barkhuis, ); William Owens, The Representation of Slavery in the Greek Novel (London: Routledge, ); Ronald Charles, The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts (London: Routledge, ).
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Peter of Alexandria condemned servile obedience. Aphrahat, an early Syriac ascetic, like his community of ascetics, embraced poverty and seems to have renounced slave ownership. He denounced rich people’s greed for money, which he associated with injustice and the tendency to oppress others. He strongly advocated care for the poor, regarding them as images of Christ (reminiscent of Matthew ). Renunciation of slave ownership, and of wealth, would seem here to have been dictated by a will to avoid injustice and oppression: This can be detected also in later Syriac ascetics, such as in Jacob of Sarugh’s appeal to justice as the basis for relieving poverty.
Later Trajectories The attitudes toward slavery and social injustice in early Christian thinkers vary, from an endorsement of slavery as divinely decreed (Augustine) through to the denunciation of slavery and poverty as unjust and impious (Gregory of Nyssa and, partially, other ascetics). A clear link emerges between asceticism and renunciation of slavery (and, in some cases, condemnation of institutional slavery) and of social inequality leading to many people’s poverty. The founder of monasticism, Anthony the Great, who was familiar with Origen’s views, renounced wealth and slaves when he embraced asceticism. And so did a number of ascetics (cenobitic, hermits, stylites, or couples) in antiquity and late antiquity. Cenobitic asceticism sometimes allowed for the possession of slaves and wealth by the community (not by individuals privately). Other monasteries did not, as is clear, for instance, from Cassian’s directions to monasteries to own no possessions, even collectively. In these monasteries, just as in that of Macrina, there were no slaves or slave owners. Some monasteries followed bishop Eustathius of Sebaste, a rigorous ascetic who supported the liberation of slaves independently of their owners’ consent. The Gangra Synod, which condemned Eustathius’s policy, also condemned the use of the philosopher’s mantle for Christian ascetics. Gangra opposed the line of Christian philosophical asceticism that condemned both slavery as unjust and impious and wealth as a theft against the poor, establishing that asceticism is not simply a set of practices of self-restraint, but is the renunciation of injustice and oppression. Daniel Vaucher, “Glaubensbekentniss oder Sklavengehorsam? Petrus von Alexandrien zu einem christlichen Dilemma,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Analysis in Ramelli, Social Justice, ch. . Argument in Ramelli, Social Justice, chs. –.
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Lactantius and Ambrose received Stoic, Philonic, and Origenian ideas about slavery. Lactantius insists on the injustice entailed by both slavery and poverty, but he only notes that such injustices disappear before God – just as the Stoics observed that legal slavery and material poverty are moral adiaphora but did not fight to abolish them. Ambrose’s views on slavery and poverty also reveal a Stoic and Philonic flavor, which does not make him radical about the extirpation of slavery and social injustice. As a senator, Ambrose was rich and owned many slaves. Much changed in his later religious life, but we do not know whether he kept possessions and slaves, or to what extent. As a bishop, he encouraged the rich to support the poor. In his exegesis of Luke, which depends on Origen, he even urged people to leave all of their wealth and follow Christ, according to Jesus’s exhortation. Early Christian thinkers were often interested in slavery as a moral metaphor, did not advocate the abolition of the institution of slavery, did not contribute to social justice by embracing poverty, and were rather uninterested in asceticism. But Origen’s and his followers’ philosophical asceticism condemned wealth as a factor of social injustice by equating it with theft. Origen insisted that, if one acquires much wealth, this is necessarily acquired through injustice: “One of the following two alternatives must necessarily be the case: either to gain a lot by means of injustice (iniustitia), or only a little, but with justice (iustitia) . . . abundant riches are tantamount to iniquity (iniquitate).” Evagrius, who knew Origen’s views well and was a strict ascetic, condemned the love of money in several places (Praktikos ; On Evil Thoughts : “Whoever keeps excessive wealth must know that he has stolen the food and dress of the blind, the cripples, and the lepers, and will have to give account of this to the Lord on the day of the judgment”). Excessive wealth is wealth that exceeds one’s needs. The ascetic must avoid oppressing anyone by keeping slaves or robbing the poor by possessing wealth. The model of compassion and solidarity is the divinity. For Evagrius, thus, as for his inspirer Gregory of Nyssa, and for the ascetics in the Origenian tradition, asceticism is not only a matter of dispossession and imperturbability, but also of love and mercy, service and solidarity. In a homily on Timothy :–, John Chrysostom asserts that “it is utterly
E.g., Inst. ..–..; ... I am not entering into the metaphor of slavery in early Christianity. On it see Marianne Bjelland Kartzow, The Slave Metaphor and Gendered Enslavement in Early Christian Discourse: Double Trouble Embodied (London: Routledge, ).
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impossible to be rich without committing injustice”; and in a homily on Corinthians, he states that one cannot become rich unless another first becomes poor. Wealth is tantamount to theft, since “its origin must have come from an injustice (ἀδικία) against someone.” Gregory of Nyssa, who belonged to the Christian philosophical-ascetic tradition and was an insightful follower of Origen, supported the embrace of voluntary poverty, with the giving up of everything beyond one’s necessity, and the rejection of slavery. He used the same theological arguments in both cases, since, in his view, slavery and social injustice meant the oppression of humans. Slaves were no possessions, but persons in God’s image, owning whom was an offence against God. Gregory based his rejection of social injustice and slavery on Genesis : for his “theology of the image,” Matthew :– for the identification of the poor with Christ, and Timothy :: “the root of all sins is greed for money.” The “theology of the image” implies that nobody is less worthy than others, since all are the image of Christ. Every human is free and self-determining, being God’s image. On the basis of Matthew :–, Gregory observes that God has given the goods of this world to all humanity equally: Those who possess more than they need deprive others of what they need. Wealth is tantamount to theft, as Origen taught, and Gregory exhorts his flock to refrain from unjust acquisitions. Gregory celebrated voluntary poverty and the renunciation of slavery in his own family. In Macrina’s domestic monastery, all were “of equal dignity” and shared the same works. The embrace of ascetic life implied renunciation of slave ownership and wealth in the case of Macrina and other members of her family (such as Emmelia and Naucratius), but also, for instance, in the cases of deaconess Olympias, Melania the Elder, Therasia and Paulinus of Nola, and Melania the Younger and Pinianus – the last two being ascetic couples who renounced their slaves and most property. This aspect of
Ramelli, Social Justice, , –. Argument in Ramelli, Social Justice, chs. –. On the basis of Ezek. . Gregory cites it in Hom. in Eccl. .. Benef. GNO ..–. Argument in Ilaria L. E. Ramelli, “The case of asceticism in antiquity and late antiquity and the rejection of slavery and social injustice,” in Religious Individualisation: Historical Dimensions and Comparative Perspectives, vol. , ed. Martin Fuchs, Antje Linkenbach, Martin Mulsow, Bernd-Christian Otto, Rahul Bjørn Parson, and Jörg Rüpke (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –. See also Francesca Catarinella, “Terasia, ovvero ‘la sposa apportatrice di fortezza,’” Auctores nostri (), –.
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Gregory’s ascetic family is seen as a deeper level of asceticism – the renunciation of the oppression and injustice that occurs either through claiming to own humans or through accumulating wealth, which meant stealing the necessary from the poor. Gregory reinforced the link between asceticism and justice and the renunciation of the oppression of fellow humans. Among patristic authors of the fourth to early fifth century, an endorsement of slavery comes from Augustine and Theodoret, while Basil and John Chrysostom were more critical. Augustine’s premise, that slavery is not by nature, but a consequence of sin, is the same as in many patristic thinkers. But Augustine’s conclusion, that slavery is not a lamentable general consequence of the “original sin” (a concept maybe derived from the notion of servi originales) but God’s right punishment for individual sins, differs. Slavery is no evil, but is just: Gregory’s position is the opposite. Augustine limited himself to recommending almsgiving as a means for saving one’s soul. He did not embrace, or advocate, strict asceticism. Theodoret did not claim that being a slave was God’s just punishment for individual sins. But he maintained, in an Aristotelian fashion, that the subordination of slaves to masters was useful to the order of life, to reduce sins through fear in people in whom passions prevailed over reason (an Aristotelian commonplace). Therefore, Theodoret criticized those Christian bishops who urged manumitting all the slaves who converted to Christianity. Basil condemned the possession of many slaves, lampooned the owning of specific slaves for every single task, and rejected all cruel punishments inflicted by masters on slaves. He alleviated social inequalities and poverty:77 His Basileiad was a hospice for the poor outside Caesarea. Gregory of
Ramelli, “The case of asceticism.” Ramelli, Social Justice, ch. ; Chris de Wet, Preaching Bondage: John Chrysostom and the Discourse of Slavery in Early Christianity (Oakland: University of California Press, ); De Wet, The Unbound God: Slavery and the Formation of Early Christian Thought (Oxford: Routledge, ). So Susanna Elm, “Sold to sin through origo: Augustine of Hippo and the late Roman slave trade,” in Studia Patristica, vol. , ed. Markus Vinzent (Leuven: Peeters, ), –. See my Social Justice, –; Pauline Allen and Edward Morgan, “Augustine on poverty,” in Preaching Poverty in Late Antiquity, ed. Pauline Allen, Bronwen Neil, and Wendy Mayer (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, ), –. Andrew Crislip, From Monastery to Hospital: Christian Monasticism and the Transformation of Healthcare in Late Antiquity (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, ); Ramelli, Social Justice, –, , –, , , –, –, –. Sozomen, Hist. eccl. .. (SC .); Susan Holman, The Hungry Are Dying: Beggars and Bishops in Roman Cappadocia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –; Mario Maritano,
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Nyssa extolled this endeavor. However, Basil did not condemn slave ownership or excessive wealth as against God. Chrysostom agreed with most patristic theologians that slavery is a general consequence of the original sin, not a punishment for individual sins. On the basis of the Stoic–Cynic ideal of self-sufficiency (αὐτάρκεια), he recommended that one should have as few needs as possible and one or two slaves – possibly none: Slaves are not needed, and keeping many slaves goes against love for humanity (φιλανθρωπία). Chrysostom suggested buying slaves, teaching them a job, and emancipating them. He used Stoic points when he reminded masters that slaves were humans and could be morally better than their masters. An ascetic, Chrysostom praised his teacher Diodore for his ascetic poverty; he owned no slaves. Diodore was for John a paradigm of the angelic life, without wealth or slaves. John was charged with having excluded John the Deacon from communion because he had beaten his own slave, and of having ordained bishops some slaves. Sometimes, instead, depending on rhetorical needs, John yielded to common Aristotelianizing lore. Chrysostom promoted care for the poor and almsgiving as means of liberation from damnation, although he relied on the goodwill of the individual rich person and slave owner. In the case of Gregory of Nazianzus and other ascetics, the importance of asceticism in the rejection of slavery and social injustice is evident. Gregory advocated a radical form of asceticism, consisting in total renunciation of possessions, for some, and a less radical form for the rest of the Christians, consisting in keeping one’s possessions but sharing them with the poor, i.e. Christ (this equation, drawn by Nyssen, and based on Matthew , is highlighted in Gregory of Nazianzus’s Orations on the Poor). The former option involved renouncing slave ownership; the latter, owning few slaves. Gregory followed the latter course, acknowledging the excellence of the former. God created all humans free and rich. Juridical slavery is not “natural,” but arose as a result of some people’s arrogance and greed – an “injustice” resulting from the devil’s “tyranny.” “Basileiad,” in Brill Encyclopedia of Early Christianity Online, ed. Paul van Geest et al. (print version Leiden: Brill, ; online version http://dx.doi.org/./-_EECO_SIM_ ). Or. Bas. (SC .–). Ramelli, Social Justice, ch. . Susan Wessel, Passion and Compassion in Early Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). On slavery in late antiquity see Chris L. de Wet, Maijastina Kahlos, and Ville Vuolanto (eds.) Slavery in the Late Antique World, – (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ).
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An interrelationship emerges from a profound understanding of asceticism’s commitment to justice in early Christian philosophical ascetics. The renunciation of slave ownership, in some ascetics, was not merely a consequence of the renunciation of possessions, but was based on the denunciation of the injustice, and impiety, of a human’s pretension to owning another human, in Jewish ascetic groups, and in Christian ascetics such as Gregory of Nyssa, and other monastics. Some monastics were condemned by the “Church of the Empire” for their destabilizing theories and practices at Gangra. The same was the case with the critique and rejection of wealth as the producer of poverty in others, utterly unjust, and tantamount to theft, from Origen onward. A richer notion of asceticism was at work in both voluntary poverty and the giving up of slavery: not simply practices of self-restraint, such as fasting or sexual abstinence, but the principle of renouncing oppressing humans and committing injustice, either by claiming the ownership of persons or by accumulating wealth, which meant stealing the necessary from the poor. This is what Gregory of Nyssa called “spiritual fasting, immaterial selfrestraint”: “to no avail you keep strict frugality, if you rob the poor with injustice” (Benef. , apparently echoing the Sentences of Sextus). Justice was the focus of an important discourse in the late Roman empire. The renunciation of oppression and injustice seems to have been the common root of both the rejection of slavery and of social injustice through the embrace of voluntary poverty in the tradition of philosophical asceticism, mainly the Christian ascetics of the Origenian line, including Gregory, and probably Hellenistic Jewish ascetics such as the Essenes and Therapeutae (possibly some ‘pagan’ philosophers, such as Plotinus). Here, deeper motivations were at work, such as the respect for fellow humans and the giving up of their oppression.
Olivier Hekster and Koenraad Verboven (eds) The Impact of Justice on the Roman Empire (Leiden: Brill, ). Some scholars follow the justice–asceticism connection I have pointed out in Social Justice: Inbar Graiver, Asceticism of the Mind: Forms of Attention and Self-Transformation in Late Antique Monasticism (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, ), and Ramsay MacMullen, “The place of the holy man in the later Roman empire,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –, at , –, and n. . MacMullen highlights the link between asceticism and poverty, and mentions ascetics’ concern for justice, which I had extensively argued for in Social Justice.
Christian Slavery in Theology and Practice
Select Bibliography Allen, Pauline, and Edward Morgan. “Augustine on poverty.” Pages – in Preaching Poverty in Late Antiquity. Edited by Pauline Allen, Bronwen Neil, and Wendy Mayer (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, ). Arruzza, Cinzia. A Wolf in the City: Tyranny and the Tyrant in Plato’s Republic (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Bain, Katherine. Women’s Socioeconomic Status and Religious Leadership in Asia Minor in the First Two Centuries ce (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Beavis, Mary Ann. “Ancient slavery as an interpretive context for the New Testament servant parables,” Journal of Biblical Literature (), –. Bernhardt, Johannes Christian. Die jüdische Revolution: Untersuchungen zu Ursachen, Verlauf und Folgen der hasmonäischen Erhebung (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Blidstein, Moshe. Purity, Community, and Ritual in Early Christian Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Bredenhof, Reuben. “Looking for Lazarus,” New Testament Studies (), –. Brookins, Timothy. “(Dis)correspondence of Paul and Seneca on slavery.” Pages – in Paul and Seneca in Dialogue. Edited by Joseph Dodson and David Briones (Leiden: Brill, ). Brown, Jeannine. “Just a busybody? A look at the Greco-Roman topos of meddling for defining allotriepiskopos in Peter :,” Journal of Biblical Literature . (), –. Bryen, Ari Z. “Politics, justice and reform in Dio’s Euboicus,” Transactions of the American Philological Association (), –. Catarinella, Francesca. “Terasia, ovvero ‘la sposa apportatrice di fortezza,’” Auctores nostri (), –. Charles, Ronald. The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts (London: Routledge, ). Coleman, Rachel. The Lukan Lens on Wealth and Possessions: A Perspective Shaped by the Themes of Reversal and Right Response (Leiden: Brill, ). Coutsoumpos, Panayiotis. “Paul’s view of ἀδιάφορα in Corinthians –.” Pages – in Paul and Scripture. Edited by Stanley Porter and Christopher Land (Leiden: Brill, ). Crislip, Andrew. From Monastery to Hospital: Christian Monasticism and the Transformation of Healthcare in Late Antiquity (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, ). Crossan, Jean-Dominic. “The servant parables of Jesus,” Semeia (), –. de Mingo Kaminouchi, Alberto. But It Is Not So Among You: Echoes of Power in Mark :– (London: T&T Clark, ). Deming, William. “Paul and indifferent things.” Pages – in Paul in the Greco-Roman World. Edited by J. Paul Sampley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, ). Digeser, Elizabeth DePalma, Heidi Marx-Wolf, and Ilaria Ramelli (eds.) Problems in Ancient Biography: The Construction of Professional Identities in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). Downing, F. G. “A Cynic preparation for Paul’s Gospel for Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female,” New Testament Studies (), –.
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Christian Slavery in Theology and Practice Ip, Alex. A Socio-rhetorical Interpretation of the Letter to Philemon in Light of the New Institutional Economics: An Exhortation to Transform a Master–Slave Economic Relationship into a Brotherly Loving Relationship (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Isaac, Benjamin. Empire and Ideology in the Graeco-Roman World: Selected Papers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton University Press ). Jorgenson, Chad. The Embodied Soul in Plato’s Later Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Joseph, Simon. Jesus, the Essenes, and Christian Origins: New Light on Ancient Texts and Communities (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ). Jurasz, Izabela. “Carpocrate et Epiphane: Chrétiens et platoniciens radicaux,” Vigiliae Christianae (), –. Kartzow, Marianne Bjelland. The Slave Metaphor and Gendered Enslavement in Early Christian Discourse: Double Trouble Embodied (London: Routledge, ). Keil, Geert, and Nora Kreft (eds.) Aristotle’s Anthropology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Kreft, Nora. “Aristotle on friendship and being human.” Pages – in Aristotle’s Anthropology. Edited by Geert Keil and Nora Kreft (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Lang, Bernhard. “Jesus among the philosophers: The Cynic connection explored and affirmed, with a note on Philo’s Jewish-Cynic philosophy.” Pages – in ReligioPhilosophical Discourses in the Mediterranean World: From Plato, through Jesus, to Late Antiquity. Edited by Anders Klostergaard Petersen and George van Kooten (Leiden: Brill, ). Lenski, Noel. “Framing the question: What is a slave society?” Pages – in What Is a Slave Society? The Practice of Slavery in Global Perspective. Edited by Noel Lenski and Catherine M. Cameron (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Longenecker, Bruce, and Kelly Liebengood (eds.) Engaging Economics: New Testament Scenarios and Early Christian Reception (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Luff, Rosemary Margaret. The Impact of Jesus in First-Century Palestine: Textual and Archaeological Evidence for Long-Standing Discontent (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). MacLean, Rose. Freed Slaves and Roman Imperial Culture: Social Integration and the Transformation of Values (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). MacMullen, Ramsay. “The place of the holy man in the later Roman empire,” Harvard Theological Review . (), –. Madigan, Kevin, and Carolyn Osiek. Ordained Women in the Early Church: A Documentary History (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ). Maier, Harry O. “The entrepreneurial widows of Timothy.” Pages – in Patterns of Women’s Leadership in Ancient Christianity. Edited by Joan Taylor and Ilaria L. E. Ramelli (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Paul’s Letter to Philemon: A case study in individualisation, dividuation, and partibility in imperial spatial contexts,” Pages – in Religious Individualisation:
. . Historical Dimensions and Comparative Perspectives, vol. . Edited by Martin Fuchs, Antje Linkenbach, Martin Mulsow, Bernd-Christian Otto, Rahul Bjørn Parson, and Jörg Rüpke (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). Manabu Tsuji, “Persönlische Korrespondenz des Paulus: Zur Strategie der Pastoralbriefe als Pseudepigrapha,” New Testament Studies (), –. Maritano, Mario. “Basileiad.” In Brill Encyclopedia of Early Christianity Online. Edited by Paul van Geest et al. (print version Leiden: Brill, ; online version http://dx.doi .org/./-_EECO_SIM_). McKnight, Scot. The Letter to Philemon (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Montero, Roman. All Things in Common: The Economic Practices of the Early Christians (Eugene, OR: Resource, ). Nasrallah, Laura. Archaeology and the Letters of Paul (New York: Oxford University Press, ). Noethlichs, Karl. “Christliche Ethik in der Gesetzgebung Konstantins.” Pages – in Ethik im antiken Christentum. Edited by Hans-Christoph Brennecke and Johannes van Oort (Leuven: Peeters, ). Oakman, Douglas. Jesus, Debt, and the Lord’s Prayer: First-Century Debt and Jesus’ Intentions (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ). Osiek, Carolyn, and David Balch (eds.) Early Christian Families in Context: An Interdisciplinary Dialogue (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Owens, William. The Representation of Slavery in the Greek Novel (London: Routledge, ). Panayotakis, Stelios, and Michael Paschalis (eds) Slaves and Masters in the Ancient Novel (Groningen: Barkhuis, ). Patterson, Orlando. Slavery and Social Death (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Perkins, Judith. Roman Imperial Identities in the Early Christian Era (London: Routledge, ). Pevarello, Daniele. The Sentences of Sextus (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck ). Porter, Stanley. When Paul Met Jesus (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Ramelli, Ilaria L. E. “ Tim : and the notion and terminology of spiritual death: Hellenistic moral philosophy in the Pastoral Epistles,” Aevum (), –. “Apuleius and Christianity: The philosopher-novelist in front of a new religion.” Pages – in Intende, Lector: Echoes of Myth, Religion and Ritual in the Ancient Novel. Edited by Marília P. Futre Pinheiro, Anton Bierl, and Roger Beck (Berlin: De Gruyter ). “The case of asceticism in antiquity and late antiquity and the rejection of slavery and social injustice.” Pages – in Religious Individualisation: Historical Dimensions and Comparative Perspectives, vol. . Edited by Martin Fuchs, Antje Linkenbach, Martin Mulsow, Bernd-Christian Otto, Rahul Bjørn Parson, and Jörg Rüpke (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). “Cristiani e vita politica: Il cripto-Cristianesimo nelle classi dirigenti romane nel II secolo,” Aevum (), –.
Christian Slavery in Theology and Practice “Gal : and Aristotelian (and Jewish) categories of inferiority,” Eirene (), –. “Gregory of Nyssa on the soul (and the Restoration): From Plato to Origen.” Pages – in Exploring Gregory of Nyssa: Historical and Philosophical Perspectives. Edited by Anna Marmodoro and Neil McLynn (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Musonio Rufo (Milan: Bompiani, ). “Origen.” Pages – in A History of Mind and Body in Late Antiquity. Edited by Anna Marmodoro and Sophie Cartwright (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). “The Pastoral Epistles and Hellenistic philosophy: Tim :–, Hierocles, and the ‘contraction of circles,’” Catholic Biblical Quarterly . (), –. “The pseudepigraphic correspondence between Seneca and Paul: A reassessment.” Pages – in Paul and Pseudepigraphy. Edited by Stanley Porter and Gregory Fewster (Leiden: Brill, ). “A pseudepigraphon inside a pseudepigraphon? The Seneca–Paul correspondence and the letters added afterwards,” Journal for the Study of Pseudepigrapha (), –. Review of Benjamin Isaac, The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity, Laverna (), –. Review of Daniele Pevarello, The Sentences of Sextus, Gnomon (), –. “The Sentences of Sextus and the Christian transformation of Pythagorean asceticism.” Pages – in Pythagorean Knowledge. Edited by Almut-Barbara Renger and Alessandro Stavru (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, ). “Social justice and slavery in the Bible.” In Oxford Biblical Studies Online (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, ). Social Justice and the Legitimacy of Slavery: The Role of Philosophical Asceticism from Ancient Judaism to Late Antiquity (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, –). “Soma (Σῶμα),” in Das Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, vol. (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, ), –. “Some aspects of the reception of the Platonic tradition in Origen.” Pages – in The Neoplatonists and Their Heirs: Christian, Jewish, and Muslim. Edited by Ken Parry and Eva Anagnostou (Leiden: Brill, ). Stoici romani minori (Milan: Bompiani, ). “Theosebia: A presbyter of the Catholic Church,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion . (), –. “Tristitia: Indagine storica, filosofica e semantica su un’accusa antistoica e anticristiana del I secolo,” Invigilata Lucernis (), –. Ray, Laurence and Agneta Stromberg (eds.) Families in the Greco-Roman World (New York: Continuum, ). Reed, Jonathan L. “Instability in Jesus’ Galilee: A demographic perspective,” Journal of Biblical Literature . (), –. Riaud, Jean. “Une communauté mystérieuse dans les environs d’Alexandrie aux alentours de l’ère chrétienne,” Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa (), –. Robinson, K. C. Early Christian Care for the Poor: An Alternative Subsistence Strategy Under Roman Imperial Rule (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, ).
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Wealth, Almsgiving, and Poverty
The study of wealth, poverty, and almsgiving in early Christianity has been burgeoning for the last two decades, and it has made significant strides in our knowledge of Christian identity formation in interaction with the Roman imperial society in the first three centuries of the Principate. This chapter examines the indispensable role and comprehensive impact of wealth and poverty on the journey of salvation through the lens of patristic authors, seeking to treat the topic’s salient issues and provide brief surveys of the status quaestionis for the noted topic when relevant.
Wealth, Almsgiving, and Salvation Creation, Material Wealth, and Salvation The early Church Fathers articulated clear views about God’s intent in creating the material world and God’s absolute ownership of the created world. While patristic authors in general hardly denied the legitimacy of private property, they considered it to be a share of the common creation intended for the common use and the common good (koinopheles); all material goods (which were never to substitute for spiritual goods and virtues, but were vehicles of spiritual goods) are God’s gracious gifts intended for the sustenance and sufficiency of all humans through common access. Therefore, human possession of earthly wealth is good when it fulfills God’s creational purpose – that is, the sufficient provisioning of needs (the needs of oneself and of others) for common enjoyment and flourishing. On the one hand, this affirmation validates the material dimension of complex
For an anthology on this topic, see Helen Rhee (ed.) Wealth and Poverty in Early Christianity (Ad Fontes: Early Christian Sources; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ).
human need and legitimates the appropriateness and necessity of material sufficiency, as well as the common enjoyment of earthly goods for life on earth, a reflection of the heavenly good itself. On the other hand, the needs of others should be taken into consideration with regard to human stewardship of God-given possessions, with those needs impacting decisions about the proper use of money or property. Human ownership is always conditional in light of God’s absolute ownership and creational purpose – that is, the common good. Beyond sufficiency and common enjoyment, “the rich” do not have a “natural right” to the accumulation and conspicuous display of wealth, which are symptoms of the love of wealth; this is because people’s possessions (even as the fruit of their labor) are always contingent upon human social responsibility and creaturely witness to God’s ownership. Furthermore, while all wealth ultimately comes from God (for most patristic theologians), it is also threatened by real and powerful temptations, dangers, and deceitfulness, which are actualized in those manifestations of avarice against which the Church Fathers repeatedly warn. Clement of Alexandria in the late second century was the first theologian to probe God’s creational intent for material goods, and he constructed his theology of wealth in dialogue with Greco-Roman classical tradition. God created all things for all people; appropriating and hoarding an undue share of resources beyond what is necessary and useful would be to oppose God’s very creational purpose and intent for human flourishing (Paed. ..). Thus, avarice and luxury result in the eternally damning consequences in both vertical relationship with God and horizontal relationship with humanity. Clement of Alexandria’s doctrine of creation informs his argument for the common use of property as a principle against avarice and luxury: God created our race for sharing (koinonia) beginning by giving out what belonged to God, God’s own Word (logos), making it common (koinos) to all humans, and creating all things for all. Therefore all things are common (koina) . . . To say therefore, “I have more than I need, why not enjoy?” is neither human nor proper to sharing (koinonikon) . . . For I know quite well that God has given us the power to use; but only to the limit of that which is necessary; and that God also willed that the use be in common. (Paed. ..; trans. González, –) Clement of Alexandria’s understanding of natural or proper wealth based on its “use” and “necessity” in contrast to unnatural or irrational wealth, i.e., superfluity with illiberality (nonuse) or luxury (misuse), is very much like the Middle Platonist Plutarch’s line of argument in his On Love of Wealth, who in turn follows that of classical authors.
Wealth, Almsgiving, and Poverty
God created humanity for the purpose of sharing, which is demonstrated first by God’s sharing of the divine logos. What makes us human is our sharing in this logos. Hence, for anyone not to share with others what is meant to be shared (i.e., “all things” created) rebels against the very koinonia that is a foundation and principle of our creation and flourishing. Although we are created for a higher order than mere material things of the world, which are transient, God has made them for our use, and all humans are given access to these material things as a means of necessary sustenance (Strom. .). Thus, our “right” of property is limited by the legitimate use made of it (i.e., meeting our needs and the needs of fellow humans) “avoiding all excess and inordinate affection” (Strom. .; cf. Quis div. , ). Based on this God’s creational intent on material wealth, when addressing or making references to wealth (and poverty), early Christian authors typically directed their comments to Christians who were already on the journey of Christian faith and yet were expected to persevere to the end. Baptism was a “seal” of salvation that brings about remission of sins, rebirth, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. It marked a new beginning of a lifelong upward journey toward maturity and perfection in imitation of God – a journey that requires constant vigilance, discipline, and struggle against temptations and vices, as well as the cultivation of virtues until the end. In order not to fall from grace after baptism, a Christian was expected to refrain from sin and to progress in sanctity by assiduous discipline and good works. Tertullian characteristically understood this life of salvation as involving consistency between the inner reality and virtue of Christianity on the one hand and, on the other hand, its outer expression and conduct/lifestyle. The salvific faith must show itself in the world and carry an exact external or visible form, Cf. Peter of Alexandria, On Riches : “He [God] did not give it [wealth] to you [a rich man] for you to revel in it with worthless men and frivolous people or mocking theater performers. Nor did he give it to you so you could hide it in the earth, nor did he give it to you so you could spend it on large houses beyond the standard of life of the men of old. But he has given it to you so you (could) eat and give to the poor with it and those who are in need.” E.g., Tertullian, Praescr. .; Clement of Alexandria, Quis div. –; John Chrysostom, Hom. Matt. ; Hom. Tim. ; ; Augustine, Ep. , ; Enarrat. Ps. . Tertullian, Paen. .. Cf. other contemporary Christian understandings of baptism, e.g., Hermas, Vis. ., Sim. .., Mand. ., Sim. .; Justin, Apol. ; Theophilus, Autol. .; Origen, Hom. Lev. ..; Acts Paul ; Acts Thom. . Cf. Clement of Alexandria, Strom. .., ..–..; Quis div. , ; Origen, Hom. Jes. Nav. ., Or. .. E.g., Tertullian, Paen. ., Pud. .. Dennis E. Groh, “Tertullian’s polemic against social co-optation,” Church History (), –, at .
otherwise it is not faith at all. Clement of Alexandria presents Christian salvation more explicitly as a two-stage spiritual and ethical process of selfcare: first, a struggle with and cure of pleasure (hedone), passion (pathos), and desire (epithumia) through purification and self-control (autarkeia and metriopatheia) (Strom. ..); eventually moving on to, second, a perfect state of passionless contemplation and imitation of God (apatheia) where the snares and traps of desire are no longer dangers to the soul (Strom. ..–; ..–..). With baptism every believer embarks on an arduous journey of healing of passions (Paed. ..., .., ..), and an advanced baptized believer should grow and develop to reach the perfect gnostic state. As Harry Maier aptly puts it, for Clement of Alexandria, “[t]he redeemed self is engaged in a life and death struggle [agon] with the old sinful self of the passions” and cultivates freedom by applying the law and Christ’s truth; this struggle itself testifies to the salvation of the self.
Detachment, Greed, and Luxury In this understanding of salvation, ethics is always a part of soteriology, since the redeemed, spiritual self entails and demands ethical transformation and internalization of virtues as well as shedding of old vices. Expounding on the Markan account of the “rich young man” (together with the Matthean text of :), Clement of Alexandria, in his famous treatise Salvation of the Rich (Quis dives salvetur), internalizes the young man’s problem for his wealthy Alexandrian audience. In response to the rich man’s quest for eternal life, Jesus apparently demanded dispossession of his wealth and ultimately declared the virtual impossibility of the rich entering the kingdom of God as the rich. Is there hope for the rich? If so, how can they be saved? Using a figurative interpretation, he internalizes salvation, as that which “does not depend upon outward things” but upon the “soul’s virtue” (); purging L. Raditsa, “The appearance of women and contact: Tertullian’s De habitu feminarum,” Athenaeum (), –, at . Cf. Harry O. Maier, “Clement of Alexandria and the care of the self,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion . (), –, at . Cf. Maier, “Clement of Alexandria,” . Maier, “Clement of Alexandria,” . Maier, “Clement of Alexandria,” . On further treatment of Clement of Alexandria’s Salvation of the Rich, see Helen Rhee, Loving the Poor, Saving the Rich: Wealth, Poverty, and Early Christian Formation (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ), –.
Wealth, Almsgiving, and Poverty
oneself of the soul’s passions is the key to entering the kingdom of God. Since the rich man’s fulfillment of the law was good but not perfect, Christ’s counsel of perfection to the rich man, i.e., to sell his possessions, does not mean any external act of divestment but rather inner detachment: “to strip the soul itself and the will of their lurking passions and utterly to root out and cast away all alien thoughts from the mind” (). If the Christ’s words were to be taken literally, they are no more than an extension of the law, and therefore would have “no life-giving” effect (), being no more than a reiteration of what the Greek philosophers had already articulated prior to his coming (). Therefore, Christ’s teaching must be “more divine and more perfect,” new and unique, superseding all human teachings before him (). Thus, it cannot mean the literal renunciation of wealth, which points to mere natural human capacity. In fact, the literal renunciation of wealth could rather create a “double annoyance, the absence of means of support and the presence of regret” simply due to basic human needs (). Therefore, it could result in false pretension of cure riddled with even greater passions and anguish. Both voluntary and involuntary poverty have no intrinsic value apart from the attendant poverty of the soul, which is available for the rich as well as for the poor. This internalization of salvation and Christ’s commandment demystifies the traditional assumption of “the pious poor and the wicked rich” and spiritualizes wealth and poverty. As Clement deconstructs the tradition of the pious poor and the wicked rich, he constructs a model of the pious rich and the wicked rich on the one hand and the noble poor and the wretched poor on the other. The pious rich are the ones who are “rich in virtues and able to use every fortune in a holy and faithful manner” (); they are contrasted with the “spurious rich” who are “rich according to the flesh” but pursuing the life of transitory outward possessions (). Likewise, the genuine poor (ptochoi) are the ones who are “poor in spirit” with “the inner personal poverty,” whereas the spurious poor consist of the poor “in worldly goods, the outward alien poverty,” but full of vices (). Clement in this way connects the true, pious rich with the genuine, spiritual poor and shows how “the same man can be both poor and wealthy” (). Christ’s call to “sell one’s possessions” then is a universal call not only to the spurious, outwardly rich
Cf. Strom. .... Later, Augustine closely follows Clement in spiritualizing wealth and poverty, and the rich and the poor in Serm. B, A; Enarrat. Ps. ; Serm. ., A.
but also to the spurious, outwardly poor to detach themselves from the “alien possessions that dwell in [their] soul[s], in order that [they] may become pure in heart and may see God” (). This is in fact what Peter exactly demonstrated in his life. When he said, “Lo, we have left all and followed [Christ],” he meant “by flinging away the old possessions of the mind and diseases of the soul that [the disciples] are following in the track of their teacher” (). This is indeed how one follows Christ: “we seek after [the Christ’s] sinlessness and perfection, adorning and regulating the soul before Him as before a mirror and arranging it in every detail after His likeness (homoiosis)” (). Again, salvation in this paradigm is passionless imitation of Christ, overcoming the insidious inner persecutions – godless lusts, manifold pleasures, and greed (). This is the life of a true Gnostic, which is the costly result of the disciplined care of the self (heautou epimelomenos) and can never be achieved by a single act of external renunciation. As Clement and other early Christian authors primarily see the effect of possessions in terms of one’s attitude toward one’s own possessions, the greatest challenge to achieving this inner detachment and self-care, which is necessary for salvation, is greed or the love of wealth. Merging a moral and theological problem together, they construct the problem of avarice (love of money: pleonexia, philargyria, avaritia, cupiditas) essentially as idolatry, and thus as something intrinsically antithetical to Christian faith and identity with external (social) consequences. Clement of Alexandria’s North African contemporary, Tertullian, deals with greed or cupiditas (cf. “the desire of money” in Tim. .) in the context of addressing Christian patience in the face of many ills in life, including the loss of property. On the one hand, Jesus, who himself was poor and always justified the poor and condemned the rich, is a model of patience through his indifference toward money (Pat. .–). On the other hand, greed is an acquisitive spirit, which by nature is never satisfied with one’s own but always crosses a boundary of one’s private property for something that belongs to another and to God (Pat. .). If Christians are unable to bear their material loss, they “will be found to possess a desire for money, since [they] grieve over the loss of that which is not [their] own” (Pat. .). In that case, they sin against God and behave like pagans by confusing the priority of heavenly goods over earthly goods (Pat. ., );
Cf. Strom. .., ... Cf. Strom. ..–. Cf. Col. .; Tertullian, Idol. ..
Strom. ...
Wealth, Almsgiving, and Poverty
for greed is essentially an offence to God’s sovereign ownership and a false and pretentious claim to our non-ownership. Then, an impatient Christian behaves like a pagan by prioritizing earthly goods over heavenly goods and thus exhibiting a serious attachment to the world (Pat. .), which is manifest in reluctance in almsgiving to the needy (Pat. .); but patience to endure loss is a “training in giving and sharing,” since the one “who does not fear loss is not reluctant to give” (Pat. .). Therefore, just as patience is a virtue that defines the Christian’s relationship with God and his/her “neighbors,” impatience in loss is a vice that disrupts and eventually destroys both vertical and horizontal relationships. It only befits Christians “to give up not our life for money but money for our life, either by voluntary charity or by the patient endurance of loss” (Pat. .). For Cyprian, a famous bishop of Carthage, greed (cupiditas) had collectively fatal consequences. As the Decian persecution of and caught the churches off guard and demoralized them to internal chaos and crisis that escalated eschatological anxiety, Cyprian in On the Lapsed ( ) saw the persecution (however evil it may be) rather as God’s testing of God’s household that had been growing complacent in the years of peace (Laps. ). He blames the mass apostasy (which provoked God’s testing) on the rich believers’ “insatiable greed” (insatiabili cupiditatis) and “blind attachment to their patrimony (patrimonii sui amor caecus)” (–, ); this was to the neglect of generous charity for the needy, which had been, by this time, centralized under Cyprian as the bishop. Cyprian speaks of them as slaves to profit and money, tethered to the chain of their wealth (). During the persecution, the rich elites (honestiores) would have been the more visible target of the authorities because of their sociopolitical position and property. Nonetheless, they should have confessed Christ by letting go of their properties and withdrawing to exile, Cyprian writes (). Yet many wealthy Christians did not follow that expected course of action but instead complied
Demetr. , . It would have been so especially if the authorities used a census roll with registered property (for tax) – however haphazardly. The probability of the use of Caracalla’s citizenship census (Constitutio Antoniniana, ) for taxation purposes is strongly suggested by Allen Brent, Cyprian and Roman Carthage (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; and W. H. C. Frend, The Rise of Christianity (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, ), . Contra G. W. Clarke, “Some observations on the persecution of Decius,” Antichthon (), –; Clarke, The Letters of St. Cyprian of Carthage, vol. (ACW ; New York: Newman, ), –.
with the edict on behalf of entire households and thereby sought to protect their dependents and properties (). Others avoided the actual act of sacrifice and therefore regarded themselves as guiltless by obtaining the certificates of sacrifice (libelli) by proxy or bribery or purchasing forged certificates either in person or by agents (). Apparently, this was an attractive option because it was a clever way to keep their Christian commitment and to keep their properties and position – or so they thought. However, Cyprian considered such fictive certificates as “confession of apostasy” and regarded both groups – sacrificers (sacrificati) and the certified (libellatici) – as the lapsi (, ). Even in times of peace, says Cyprian, the rich who preserve their worldly wealth while neglecting the want of the poor sin gravely with their covetousness and can only expect eternal loss and punishment like the rich fool in the Lukan Gospel (Eleem. ).
Detachment, Almsgiving, and Salvation If greed and luxury, which manifest in various contexts and ways, are the principal vices against salvific self-care and detachment from wealth, almsgiving is the fundamental practice necessary for detachment and thus for salvation. The early Christian authors present consistent yet developing theologies of redemptive almsgiving in their specific contexts. David Downs’s careful study on redemptive almsgiving anchors the early Christian notion of atoning almsgiving on their faithful engagement with scriptural traditions of promised reward for an individual’s or community’s care of the poor. Critical among these scriptural texts are the passages from the Septuagint of Daniel (Th .) and Proverbs (:), from Tobit (:–) and Sirach (:), and from the Gospel of Luke (:) and Peter (:) that were interpreted to support “the idea that sins could be redeemed, cleansed, purged, expiated, or covered by merciful deeds.” For example, Clement is the first early Christian text that explicitly links Peter : to almsgiving and almsgiving to the pardon of sin: “almsgiving (eleemosune) is good, as is repentance from sin. Fasting is better than prayer, while almsgiving is better
Cf. Cyprian, Ep. .., Laps. –. Cf. Cyprian, Ep. .., ... Cyprian treated the certified more sympathetically in Ep. ..–; on the problem of the certified in the Roman church, see Ep. ... David J. Downs, Alms: Charity, Reward, and Atonement in Early Christianity (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ). Downs, Alms, .
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than both, and ‘love covers a multitude of sins’ . . . [A]lmsgiving relieves the burden of sins” (.). The famous parable of the elm and the vine in the Shepherd of Hermas is to be seen in this context of redemptive almsgiving. There is affirmation of earthly wealth as God’s gift, but God’s specific intent for that wealth expressed in his commandments (Sim. .–) thematically leads to this parable: mutual cooperation and dependence between the rich and the poor in preparation for the world to come. The elm and the vine, representing the rich and the poor (penetes), bear much fruit only when they are attached to each other and function together, not on their own. The shepherd, Hermas’s revelatory guide, takes for granted the traditional notion that the rich are deficient in the things of the Lord due to their wealth and its attendant problem of distraction, while the poor are rich in intercession and praise with effectual power (Sim. .; cf. Mand. ..). Therefore, the rich (should) “unhesitatingly” provide for the needs of the poor and the poor intercede for the rich; in this way they “complete” their work, which is “great and acceptable to God” (Sim. .). As Carolyn Osiek notes, this “is a spiritualization of the institution of patronage: the obsequium and operae owed by the client to a patron takes the form of intercessory prayer.” This mutual partnership between the rich and the poor is spiritualized, with a view to the end that both “will be enrolled in the books of the living” (Sim. .). The thrust of this parable is that “the rich man understands about his wealth and works for the poor man by using the gifts of the Lord, and correctly fulfills his ministry (diakonia)” (Sim. .). Those rich who fulfill their God-given ministry/service here and now and thus secure their heavenly riches are the ones who overcome double-mindedness and therefore survive the great tribulation (cf. Mand. ., , ; Sim. ., .., .., ..). Hence, the parable concludes with the beatitude for the rich: “Blessed are the rich who also understand that they have been made rich by the Lord, for the one who comprehends this will be able to do some good service” (Sim. .; cf. Sim. .). In her commentary, Carolyn Osiek makes a point that although the elm and the vine are traditionally understood as the rich and the poor respectively, this interpretation is not conclusive; according to her, the point of the parable is their interdependence, not exact correlation of symbols (The Shepherd of Hermas: A Commentary [Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, ], ). See also Carolyn Osiek, Rich and Poor in the Shepherd of Hermas: An Exegetical-Social Investigation (CBQMS ; Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, ), . Osiek, The Shepherd of Hermas, –.
Returning to Clement of Alexandria’s Salvation of the Rich, his main concern is how the Christian rich can arrive at the perfect, Gnostic state by using their wealth, which is through almsgiving. For Clement, the theological ground for almsgiving is the greatest commandment of loving God and loving one’s neighbor as oneself (–; cf. Matt. :–). By giving relief to fellow Christians in need (), the rich love Christ as their neighbor as they love God; they also fulfill Christ’s injunction to make friends with unrighteous mammon for their eternal life (Luke :) and secure their heavenly reward (). In so doing, the rich should not just “yield to a request or wait to be pestered” but “should personally seek out men whom [they] may benefit” for their progress toward salvation, “men who are worthy disciples of the Savior” (). Thus, Clement champions the redemptive effect of almsgiving in the following way: What splendid trading! What divine business! You buy incorruption with money. You give the perishing things of the world and receive in exchange for them an eternal abode in heaven . . . Spare not dangers or toils, that here you may buy a heavenly kingdom ().
Giving to poor Christians promises a sure return of abundant reward and spiritual wealth to the rich to the extent that Clement freely uses an economic language of transaction and exchange – a notion already heavily featured in the Shepherd of Hermas. However, Clement qualifies this great exchange: The rich should be mindful that “the Lord did not say, ‘give,’ or ‘provide,’ or ‘benefit,’ or ‘help,’ but ‘make a friend’” (). Just as ridding one’s soul of passions takes a continual struggle and training, making friends with one’s wealth and building relationships with the recipients of one’s alms take sustained work. Furthermore, in doing so, the rich should not try to distinguish the worthy from the unworthy poor, for God and Christ dwell within the poor (). What is necessary and important for the rich is to find those among their recipients “who have power to save [them] with God” (). What is noteworthy is the fact that, contrary to his earlier effort to deconstruct the tradition of “the pious poor and the wicked rich” in interiorizing and spiritualizing wealth and poverty, Clement presupposes and counts on that very tradition here in promoting redemptive almsgiving for the rich
This understanding of Christ in the poor, based on Matt. :–, would be a key common element especially in the post-Constantinian exhortations to almsgiving with a universal application to all poor (not just the Christian poor). See the last paragraph of this chapter.
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Christians. The pious poor’s role is absolutely vital, and their spiritual services are both specific and comprehensive: “One is able to beg your life from God, another to hearten you when sick, another to weep and lament in sympathy on your behalf before the Lord” (). If one-time renunciation would not be a solution for the salvation of the rich, then ongoing generous almsgiving is a palpable way to obtain their salvation as a necessary part of the care of the self. The redemptive efficacy of almsgiving is rooted in the reciprocal exchange of love among believers, which “covers a multitude of sins” ( Pet. :), and as such, that love is in turn rooted in God’s love and a reciprocal demand of Christ’s sacrifice (). In this sense, almsgiving is a quintessential, positive demonstration of loving God and neighbor as well as of using one’s wealth properly. With an unabashed appeal to the self-interest of the rich giver, a more fundamental appeal for almsgiving is love of God and love for God, without which no one can gain salvation (cf. ). Through consistent and generous almsgiving, the rich cultivate inner detachment and freedom, as the race to salvation takes a laborious training and perseverance (, ). Because God receives and forgives everyone who turns to him in genuine repentance, almsgiving is an effective means of repentance and rooting out of the soul the postbaptismal sins leading to death (). Tertullian takes up almsgiving and salvation of the rich in his massive work Against Marcion, where he defends the fundamental unity of God in the Old and New Testaments as both the Creator and the Redeemer, against Marcion’s dichotomy between the two and against his radical asceticism in rejection of the material world. Commenting on the discourse between Jesus and the rich young man (Luke :–) who asked Jesus of God’s commandment, Tertullian indicates the significance of Jesus’s answer in pointing the rich man to the “Creator’s commandments [pl.], in such form as to testify that by the Creator’s commandments [pl.] eternal life is obtained” (..; italics added). To the rich man’s answer that he had kept them since his youth, Christ did not rescind those former commandments (the Decalogue) but “both retained these and added what was lacking,” namely, selling all
On this topic, see Downs, Alms, –. Cf. Paed. ..–. On Tertullian’s interpretation of Luke : and of almsgiving as God’s commandment leading to the kingdom/eternal life in the story of a rich ruler in Luke , see J. Ramsey Michaels, “Almsgiving and the kingdom within: Tertullian on Luke :,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly (), –.
that he had and giving to the poor (..–). “And yet,” Tertullian writes, “even this commandment [sg.] of distributing to the poor is spread about everywhere in the law and the prophets,” so that it led to “the boastful commandment-keeper’s” conviction of “having money in much higher esteem” and, therefore, not to his attainment of salvation (..; italics added). In this context, Tertullian’s idea of God’s commandment [sg.], without which eternal life could not be obtained, is precisely “distributing [one’s possessions] to the poor”; and, with that addition, Jesus “both conserved and enriched” the Decalogue and proved that he fulfilled the Mosaic law (..). By “distributing to the poor” Tertullian does not mean literal abandonment of wealth (voluntary poverty) but almsgiving. Thus, almsgiving fulfills both doing justice and the loving mercy of Micah : and the “one thing” required by Christ for salvation (..; cf. ..–). For Cyprian the “apostolic solution” to the (wealthy) lapsi was to scorn worldly possessions and leave them for the kingdom of God and heavenly compensation (Laps. ). The (wealthy) lapsi, as the sign of true repentance, should apply themselves to “just deeds (iustis operibus) which can wash away [their] sins, be constant and generous in giving alms, whereby souls are freed from death” (). In the new dire situation of the dreadful plague that swept through Carthage with such great force (summer, ), Cyprian augmented his theological argument for almsgiving in On Works and Almsgiving (De opere et eleemosynis). It was another demoralizing blow to Christians who had just gone through the imperial persecution and especially those Christians who felt that the sweeping deaths by the plague had stripped (or would strip) them of the possibility of either a second chance for salvation (reconciliation) or perfection through martyrdom. Cyprian addressed their anxiety and pessimism and highlighted another way to purge sin other than martyrdom – not as heroic as martyrdom but certainly effective: almsgiving to the poor (Eleem. ). Out of his great compassion, God himself “labored” for our salvation through the advent and death of his Son Christ, but his Compare “all that you have” (quaecunque habes) in .. with “what you have” (quae habes) in ... For the most recent study on almsgiving in this work, see Downs, Alms, –. Mort. . Cf. Michael M. Sage, Cyprian (Cambridge, MA: Philadelphia Patristic Foundation, ), . Although the early church generally opposed voluntary martyrdom, it made an exception for the lapsed Christians who needed to “wash away their former fault” (apostasy) through offering themselves up for martyrdom, and Cyprian himself attested to its occurrence (Ep. ); see also Ep. .., Laps. . Cf. Sage, Cyprian, .
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providence also provided for his people remedies for sin “after [they were] already redeemed!” (Eleem. ): Nor would the infirmity and weakness of human frailty have any resource, unless the divine mercy, coming once more in aid, should open some way of securing salvation by pointing out works of justice and mercy (iustitiae et misericordiae operibus), so that by almsgiving we may wash away whatever foulness we subsequently contract (ut sordes postmodum quascumque contrahimus eleemosynis abluamus). (Eleem. ; italics added)
Notice Cyprian’s understanding of the inner logic of salvation and almsgiving. For Cyprian, far from almsgiving being a human work in danger of threatening or supplanting the divine work of salvation, it was God’s own mercy and design that he provided for us this particular way out for our postbaptismal sins. Almsgiving and Christ’s death never compete with each other, and the former does not undermine the salvific significance or sufficiency of the latter. Both are the expressions of God’s abundant grace, condescension, and providence, and it is only by God’s grace that almsgiving can be meritorious and satisfactory in his sight (, , ). Here Cyprian cites both Prov. : (LXX, “by alms and faith sins are purged away”) and Sirach : (“As water will quench fire, so alms will quench sin”) to show the efficacy of redemptive almsgiving. In this sense, almsgiving (i.e., “works of righteousness”) becomes “the likeness of baptism” because “in baptism remission of sins is granted once for all” (). However, the difference between baptism and almsgiving is that the former is non-repeatable for forgiveness of sins and formal entrance to the church, but almsgiving is not just repeatable but requires “constant and ceaseless labor” for remission of sins and readmission to the church (, ). In this way, Cyprian preemptively deals with the rich Christians’ possible excuses from and objections to almsgiving and links the right motive of almsgiving squarely to their hope of heavenly glory. Like Clement of Alexandria and the author of the Acts of Thomas, Cyprian audaciously
Cf. Clement of Alexandria, Quis div. . Cyprian later changed (or at least clarified) his position on the validity of baptism received in a schismatic church (the Novatian church) during his baptismal controversy with Stephen of Rome. Cyprian insisted on “rebaptism” of the schismatic upon their readmission to the Catholic church since they forfeited the Holy Spirit due to their schism; but Stephen recognized the validity of schismatic baptism and required only reconciliation with laying on of hands, since baptism should not be repeated. Cf. Clement of Alexandria, Quis div. .
describes it as an economic transaction; givers of alms are “merchant[s] of the heavenly grace” whose gain is none other than eternal life () in partnership with Christ (), and who make God their debtor (, , ). And this God in turn will never fail to pay divine wage for their labors () – that is, “a white crown” in peace as an equivalent to a purple one for martyrdom during persecutions (). Although Cyprian rarely condemns wealth as such and advocates its divestment, he (like his fellow North African Tertullian but in contrast to the Alexandrians) does take Jesus’s words to the rich young man (Matt. :) literally: “the Lord tells us that he becomes perfect and complete who sells all his goods, and distributes them for the use of the poor, and so lays up for himself treasure in heaven” (Dom. or. ). In fact, in On Works and Almsgiving, he cites Jesus’s command “to sell your possessions and give alms” (Luke :), which is given to all of his followers. Ultimately for Cyprian, almsgiving as lifelong penance provided an absolutely necessary (pre)condition for and with the reconciliation of the lapsed; and their “conspicuous almsgiving” was to be a means that should sustain the care of the poor in the financially strapped situation of his congregation. Thus, as William Countryman fittingly expresses, earthly “riches offered the remedy for the very harm they caused” for the wealthy.
Poverty, Perfection, and the Poor If self-care and detachment from wealth through almsgiving is a way for the rich to enter eternal life and contribute to the common good, self-care and detachment from wealth through patient endurance of poverty and prayer for the rich is a way for the poor to gain salvation and participate in the common good. And this latter point makes sense in the context of internalized and spiritualized poverty. However, as some Christians pursued economic poverty as part of their Christian commitment in obedience to Christ’s call, early Christian authors also developed a theology of poverty. The Christian call to poverty in the second and third centuries is also found in Gnostic and encratic literature, in which particular apostles
This economic or transactional notion of almsgiving would be a standard theme for later Church Fathers. See, for example, Basil of Caesarea, Hom. ., .; Gregory of Nazianzus, Or. ., ; Augustine, Serm. A.; ., .., .; Enarrat. Ps. ... I am grateful to David Wilhite for pointing this out to me. L. William Countryman, The Rich Christians in the Church of the Early Empire: Contradiction and Accommodations (New York: Edwin Mellen, ), .
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portrayed as the revealers of the Christian God practice voluntary poverty. In the encratic Acts of Thomas, Thomas, who fills the role of a mediator and revealer of the one true God, Jesus Christ, takes up “evangelical poverty,” while all his converts take up redemptive almsgiving. Jesus Christ, the “true riches” (, ), is “Lord of undefiled possessions” (), a giver of great gifts and abundant riches (, , , ). At the same time, Jesus is also the “poor one” (ptochos) () and ascetic (); he is the “hope of the poor” (), “hope of the weak and trust of the poor, refuge and shelter of the weary” (); he is “the support of the orphans and the nourisher of the widows and rest and repose to all who are afflicted” (). As an imitator of Christ, Thomas lives a life of poverty on earth so that he can obtain heavenly riches (). Just like his twin Lord, Thomas is known for his poverty (, , , , ), ascetic practices and preaching (, , , , ), and generosity to the poor (, , ). In fact, this imitation of Christ accords him spiritual authority and mediating power as an apostolic “stand-in” for his “new God,” Christ. Thomas regards his earthly poverty as a necessary condition for revealing Christ and for gaining and dispensing his heavenly wealth. It is also his “evangelical poverty” that enhances his status as the dispenser of alms, thereby warranting the certainty of his claim on his heavenly riches: “for my recompenser is righteous; he knows how I ought to receive my reward; for he is not grudging nor envious, but is rich in his gifts; . . . for he has confidence in his possessions which cannot fail” (). Renunciation of earthly riches does serve as an ideal of imitating Christ; and in Acts’s context of resistance to the worldly (i.e., Greco-Roman) values, it also serves as a countercultural statement, which affords the pursuer a unique status and power for paradoxically embodying heavenly wealth. In the late third century, Anthony of Egypt imitated Christ in a similar way to the radical ascetic Thomas of the early third century. Although his biography was written by Athanasius in the mid-fourth century, we can still examine his poverty as a pioneer and model of the anchoritic movement in the late third and early fourth centuries. Athanasius’s Life of Anthony championed a literal interpretation of Christ’s commandment to the rich young
On wealth and poverty in Acts of Thomas, including Thomas’s voluntary poverty, see Helen Rhee, “Wealth and poverty in Acts of Thomas,” in Prayer and Spirituality in the Early Church, vol. , Poverty and Riches, ed. Geoffrey D. Dunn, David Luckensmeyer, and Lawrence Cross (Strathfield, NSW: St. Pauls, ), –. Cf. Martin Hengel, Property and Riches in the Early Church (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ), –.
man, exemplified by Anthony. Anthony, upon hearing the story of the rich young man (Matt. :), immediately divested himself of his inheritance and gave it to the villagers, “so that [it] should no longer be a burden upon himself and his sister” (Vit. Ant. ). Pursuing prelapsarian perfection, the focus of his approach was not so much helping out the poor by generous giving as wanting to rid oneself of the burden of worldly possessions as a symbol of one’s freedom from the world (cf. Vit. Ant. ). As opposed to Clement of Alexandria’s call to inner detachment through sustained and rigorous almsgiving, his approach (later adopted by the monastics) emphasized a decisive break with the world by renunciation of wealth as the way to the life of virtue (i.e., passionless perfection). However, in the monastic sources and material culture, monastics’ voluntary poverty betrays not destitution but non-wealth and freedom. Despite his earlier divestment of his property, Anthony (portrayed by Athanasius as the model hermit) eventually practiced economic self-sufficiency through producing his own bread and vegetables, and repeatedly provided alms for the poor and hospitality for his visitors, supposedly throughout his life (Vit. Ant. .–). Thus, whether one was an anchorite, semi-anchorite, or a cenobitic, a monk would not necessarily live in destitution with “total” renunciation of private property. The monastic poverty pioneered and exemplified by Antony in reality was more patterned after economic self-sufficiency than destitution. Most recent scholarship deals with poverty, the poor, and almsgiving in the fourth and fifth centuries, which is beyond the timeframe of this volume. Nonetheless, we can retroactively trace the notions of poverty, the poor, and almsgiving from that later period back into the pre-Constantinian timeframe. Firstly, according to Peter Brown and others, it was late antiquity (i.e., the post-Constantinian fourth century) that invented “the poor” as a distinct social group, worthy of civic concern in the increasingly Christianized empire. Whereas we find little account of the poor in early civic discourse of the Greco-Roman world, Christian bishops in particular “gave the poor new visibility in the late empire” through their repeated sermons, letters, and
See Peter Brown, Poverty and Leadership in the Later Roman Empire (Menahem Stern Jerusalem Lectures; Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, ); Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, – (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ); Richard Finn, Almsgiving in the Later Roman Empire: Christian Promotion and Practices – (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Cf. Susan R. Holman, The Hungry Are Dying: Beggars and Bishops in Roman Cappadocia (Oxford Studies in Historical Theology; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ).
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treatises. However, I have already shown how the “invention of the poor” as the recipients and agents of redemptive almsgiving had already been taking place in early Christian discourses in the second and third centuries – as in Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, and Cyprian of Carthage, with the last being the prototype for the fourth-century bishop. “The invention of the poor” by the Constantinian Church Fathers had already had a developing historical root in the previous centuries; and in the pre-Constantine time the poor were not simply portrayed as stock characters, in contrast to the later patristic works, but as relatively active in their role for the salvation of the rich. Furthermore, the Christian church had already been known for its care for the poor, as the bishops had already emerged as “lovers of the poor” in cities like Rome and Carthage in the midthird century and onward. What Constantine would do was to make the church not only officially visible but also accountable to the public for the very public gifts it received. Secondly, Richard Finn has shown further developments in the theme of Christian almsgiving in the later Roman empire, noting the following emphases: almsgiving as a means of expiation for post-baptismal sins, with the donors winning God’s forgiveness and other benefits through the prayers offered on their behalf by the grateful recipients of their alms; the “revalorization of the poor recipient” as the pious poor with spiritual power; the identification of the poor with Christ; a relationship of friendship struck between the donor and the recipient; and the recasting of almsgiving as civic euergetism. Apart from the last, all of these meanings of almsgiving already existed in the pre-Constantinian time, showing a continuity in the significance of almsgiving on either side of Constantine. Familiar (and interconnected) themes from the pre-Constantinian time continued to appear in the writings of the Latin, Greek, and Syriac Fathers in the fourth and fifth centuries as the established church tradition: for instance, almsgiving as effecting atonement for sin and as pious lending to God; the symbiotic exchange between the rich and the poor, the pious poor and the wicked rich; God’s creational intent of common use for humanity; and identification of the poor with Christ. The last point, which had been seen in Clement of
Richard Finn, “Portraying the poor: Descriptions of poverty in Christian texts from the late Roman empire,” in Poverty in the Roman World, ed. Margaret Atkins and Robin Osborne (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –, at . See Finn, Almsgiving, especially ch. .
Alexandria (Quis div. , Strom. ...) and Cyprian (Eleem. ), would receive particular attention and undergo significant development in the post-Constantinian period and beyond. Based on Matthew :–, a classic message now with universal application would be set for the rest of Christian history: In every poor person (regardless of one’s Christian faith), Christ is fed, given to drink, and welcomed as a guest, so that “whatever is given to the poor is given to him [Christ].”
Conclusion This chapter has examined the early Christian understandings of wealth, almsgiving, and poverty with a broad stroke, presenting representative perspectives in shifting contexts rather than a focused or exhaustive study. I offer the following concluding thoughts and points. Firstly, early Christians consciously and intentionally constructed their self-definition revolving around their understanding and practice of wealth and poverty, understanding wealth as part of God’s creation and providence (for the most part) and focusing on its proper use. Secondly, their denunciation of greed and luxury points to their concern for distributive justice, which should constitute the journey of salvation for the faithful. However impractical or unreasonable it may sound, this gives impetus (at least theologically and ethically) to meeting basic human needs (others’ and our own) in terms of providing real access to means of sustenance, with this principle being a fundamental ground and goal for economic and sociopolitical choices, activities and system(s). It also implies that the concern to meet others’ needs takes priority over the accumulation of one’s surplus assets or the display of one’s refined taste for luxury items. Thirdly, in calling for redemptive almsgiving, the early Christian authors looked toward the future, the new creation and the eschatological reality in which God’s justice would reign and God’s reward would be bountiful. The apparent appeals to the self-interest of the givers should be seen in this context. Redemptive almsgiving was an act of faith and hope in God’s
Pelagius, ep. ad Cor. .– (PL .). Cf. Nicholas Worterstorff, “Has the cloak become a cage? Charity, justice, and economic activity,” in Rethinking Materialism: Perspectives on the Spiritual Dimension of Economic Behavior, ed. Robert Wuthnow (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), .
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promise and God’s restoration of the world in their present reality of socioeconomic inequalities and oppression. Fourthly, a Christian “renunciation of wealth” and assumption of “evangelical poverty” was not an end in itself but also had social ramifications as redemptive almsgiving. As a dramatic act of the imitation of Christ and the pursuit of perfection, the embracing of external poverty did not deliver the voluntary poor from an internal struggle with wealth, but it would provide them with radical freedom to perfect their faith and contribute to almsgiving. Their denial of the world in pursuit of prelapsarian perfection would not be a rejection of the created world but would ultimately be a way to envision and embody the eschatological restoration of God’s shalom on earth. As such, their voluntary poverty as an expression of their yearning and freedom would serve as a penultimate ideal pointing to the ultimate restoration. Finally, there is a fundamental continuity in the teachings on the rich, the poor, and almsgiving between the pre-Constantinian era and the Constantinian and post-Constantinian era – more so than discontinuity. In the fourth and fifth centuries, the scale of the church’s charity and wealth were enlarged and their impact on Roman society was greatly enhanced, but these were not novel developments in a post-Constantinian world; instead, there were expansions of initiatives that the church had been intently undertaking even in the previous three centuries.
Select Bibliography Brent, Allen. Cyprian and Roman Carthage (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Brown, Peter. Poverty and Leadership in the Later Roman Empire (Menahem Stern Jerusalem Lectures; Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, ). Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, – ad (Princeton: Princeton University Press, ). Clarke, G. W. The Letters of St. Cyprian of Carthage, vol. (ACW ; New York: Newman, ). “Some observations on the persecution of Decius,” Antichthon (), –. Countryman, L. William. The Rich Christians in the Church of the Early Empire: Contradiction and Accommodations (New York: Edwin Mellen, ). Downs, David J. Alms: Charity, Reward, and Atonement in Early Christianity (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, ).
Much of this essay reiterates views I articulated in “Philanthropy and human flourishing in patristic theology,” Religions . (), –.
Finn, Richard. Almsgiving in the Later Roman Empire: Christian Promotion and Practices – (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). “Portraying the poor: Descriptions of poverty in Christian texts from the late Roman empire.” Pages – in Poverty in the Roman World. Edited by Margaret Atkins and Robin Osborne (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Frend, W. C. H. The Rise of Christianity (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, ). González, Justo L. Faith and Wealth: A History of Early Christian Ideas on the Origin, Significance, and Use of Money (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock Publishers, ). Groh, Dennis E. “Tertullian’s polemic against social co-optation,” Church History (), –. Hengel, Martin. Property and Riches in the Early Church (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ). Holman, Susan R. The Hungry Are Dying: Beggars and Bishops in Roman Cappadocia (Oxford Studies in Historical Theology; Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Maier, Harry O. “Clement of Alexandria and the care of the self,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion . (), –. Michaels, J. Ramsey. “Almsgiving and the kingdom within: Tertullian on Luke :,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly (), –. Osiek, Carolyn. Rich and Poor in the Shepherd of Hermas: An Exegetical Social Investigation (CBQMS ; Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, ). The Shepherd of Hermas: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, ). Raditsa, L. “The appearance of women and contact: Tertullian’s De habitu feminarum,” Athenaeum (), –. Rhee, Helen. Loving the Poor, Saving the Rich: Wealth, Poverty, and Early Christian Formation (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ). “Philanthropy and human flourishing in patristic theology,” Religions . (), –. “Wealth and poverty in Acts of Thomas.” Pages – in Prayer and Spirituality in the Early Church, vol. , Poverty and Riches. Edited by Geoffrey D. Dunn, David Luckensmeyer, and Lawrence Cross (Strathfield, NSW: St. Pauls, ). Rhee, Helen (ed.) Wealth and Poverty in Early Christianity (Ad Fontes: Early Christian Sources; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Sage, Michael M. Cyprian (Cambridge, MA: Philadelphia Patristic Foundation, ). Worterstorff, Nicholas. “Has the cloak become a cage? Charity, justice, and economic activity.” Pages – in Rethinking Materialism: Perspectives on the Spiritual Dimension of Economic Behavior. Edited by Robert Wuthnow (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ).
Power, Authority, the Living, and the Dead .
In his treatise On the Soul, Tertullian remarks on certain long-established beliefs that a part of the soul survived the body after death. He explains that the practice of keeping a portion of the deceased body intact rather than cremating it with the rest of the corpse is intended to maintain a place for the soul’s continued habitation: But not a particle of the soul can possibly remain in the body, which is itself destined to disappear when time annihilates the body’s entire sphere of action. And yet, because some still hold the belief in a partial survival of the soul, they will not permit burning of the dead body, in order to spare that small residue of the soul.
Tertullian cites a passage in Plato’s Republic in which the warrior Er was slain in battle and his body was found intact after ten days, brought home, and revived just as it was laid on the funeral pyre. He cites this myth as an example of the belief that an unburied body might retain its link with the soul, which in turn could prevent the body’s decay. This conviction, that some portion of the soul remains linked with the body so long as even a bit of the body is preserved, may be why members of the Pythagorean sect or other religious groups refused to cremate. Elsewhere, Tertullian clearly contrasts the Christian view of death with the Pythagorean belief in reincarnation, the Platonic denial that the soul retains any link with the body, and the Epicurean assertion of the complete annihilation of both body and soul at
Tertullian, An. . (CCL :). Tertullian here implies that the belief that the body and soul are linked after death is widespread among his contemporaries. Translations are by the author unless otherwise noted. Plato, Resp. .B. Tertullian notes the irony of Plato’s telling this story considering that Plato did not believe in the posthumous connection of bodies and souls.
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death. In On the Soul, Tertullian contends that unlike others, Christians do not believe that any part of the soul remains with the corpse after death and maintain that death entirely separates the body from the immortal and indivisible soul. Thus, Christians practice inhumation simply out of pious respect for the body and not in order to preserve bodily remains. Nevertheless, Tertullian acknowledges that some Christians mistakenly believe that a portion of the soul remains with and is able to animate the corpse. To illustrate, he recounts the story told about a young woman already laid in her grave whose body raised its hands into the prayer position as the priest began the petitions for the dead (orationes sepultura) and returned them to her sides when the service ended. He further notes the tale about a body voluntarily moving aside in the tomb to make room for a second corpse. Tertullian allows that he prefers to think that, if true, such miracles were the work of God rather than actions of the deceased’s souls. Otherwise, death is not actually death but some kind of semi-living state.
Christian Burial, Bodily Resurrection, and the State of the Soul in the Interim Tertullian’s treatise On the Soul primarily focuses on establishing the soul’s corporeality along with its imperishability and indivisibility. Furthermore, Tertullian’s declaration that the body and soul are completely separated at death does not contradict his essential belief in the body’s physical resurrection at the Last Judgment. Tertullian consistently states that in the end time, the flesh, in whatsoever its state of decay, will be restored to wholeness and made immortal by God’s creative power. Tertullian never doubts God’s ability to raise bodies that were lost at sea or devoured by wild animals. No matter what its condition or location, God can reclaim and restore the body to its original state. In the interim period between death and final resurrection, however, the soul and body are separated. The soul undergoes either
Tertullian, Test. . Assertions of body–soul separation and belief in the immortality of the soul after death varied in the early period. Contrast Tertullian’s assertions with Theophilus, Autol. .; Tatian, Or. ; and Justin Martyr, Dial. . Tertullian, An. . See David Wilhite, “Only martyrs are in heaven and other misunderstandings,” Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum . (), –. Tertullian, Res. –, –; An. –. Tertullian, Res. .
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punishment or refreshment, reaping the rewards of its good deeds or retribution for its bad ones before its ultimate reunion with the flesh. Yet, as Tertullian explains, Christian belief in bodily resurrection was not why they buried rather than cremated their dead. Nor were they substantially different from their non-Christian neighbors in this regard, since by the late first century, traditional Romans also had begun to bury rather than cremate, returning to an ancient custom of the oldest and most respected Roman families. This is confirmed by Tertullian’s contemporary, Marcus Minucius Felix, whose fictional dialogue, Octavius, presents the pagan antagonist, Caecilius, scoffing at Christian condemnation of cremation and assuming that it arises from their belief in bodily resurrection. The Christian Octavius replies that their practice of inhumation is not prompted by worry that flames will inflict damage or suffering upon the corpse but simply because burial is a venerable and superior tradition. Like Tertullian, Octavius insists that decay or damage cannot impede the body’s eventual resurrection: Whether a corpse dries into dust, dissolves into liquid, is reduced to ashes, or disperses into smoke; it is removed from us. Yet by God, its elements are preserved and kept safe. And we do not, as you believe, fear any harm to it from cremation, even if our practice is to adhere to the old, and preferable, custom of inhumation.
Thus, these early third-century Christians believed in caring for and preserving the body in the tomb if possible but did not believe the body maintained a connection with the immortal soul in the waiting period before the Last Judgment.
Can the Living Assist the Dead? The Christian custom of inhumation, although intended mainly to honor the body, also provided a place for Christians, following ancestral customs, to
Tertullian, An. –, Test. . On the antiquity of burial among Romans see Pliny the Elder, Nat. .. Discussion in J. M. C. Toynbee, Death and Burial in the Roman World (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ), –; and Éric Rebillard, The Care of the Dead in Late Antiquity (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ), –. Minucius Felix, Oct. . –. Caecilius cites the Christian belief that the world will end in conflagration but then accuses Christians contrarily trying to preserve corpses. Minucius Felix, Oct. .–. Minucius Felix, Oct. . (CSEL :).
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Figure . Funerary banquet with baskets of bread. From G. Wilpert, Roma sotterranea: Le pitture delle catacombe romane (Rome: Desclée Lefebure and C., ), , tav. .
visit the graves of their deceased relatives and friends and to share meals with the dead as if they were in some way present. While Tertullian denounced many traditional Roman funeral rites, including crowning corpses and funding gladiatorial games, he conceded that Christians continued the custom of celebrating feasts at the grave, so embedded as they were in traditional mourning rituals. In his treatise On the Crown, Tertullian refers to Christians making annual offerings (oblationes) on behalf of the dead on the date of their “actual birth” (their death date). He commented that a Christian widow would observe the anniversaries of her husband’s death by praying for his soul’s refreshment in the waiting period and hoping that she might rejoin him in the resurrection. He appears even to regard it as the surviving spouse’s obligation. Early Christian tombs, located outside the city walls in surface cemeteries as well as underground tunnels and chambers like those found in the Roman catacombs, provided places for visitors to gather and to share a meal or drink a toast to their dearly departed during the customary Roman days of mourning or on traditional festivals of the dead. Remains of funeral tables near Christian tombs and paintings of banquet scenes on the walls of the Christian catacombs of Rome replicate those found in Roman funeral art and are physical evidence for these continuing practices (Fig. .). Most
Tertullian, Spect. , Apol. . Tertullian, Cor. .. Tertullian, Mon. , Exh. cast. . See also Cyprian, Ep. ... A useful survey of Roman practices in Valerie Hope, Roman Death (London: Continuum UK, ). See Robin M. Jensen, “Dining with the dead: From the mensa to the altar in Christian late antiquity,” in Commemorating the Dead: Texts and Artifacts in Context, ed. Laurie Brink and Deborah Green (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), –.
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Christian graves were marked by simple inscriptions that mentioned only the deceased’s name, age, date of burial, and, occasionally, a brief expression of praise. By omitting mention of family relationships or the names of dedicators or patrons, they differed from contemporary inscriptions of their nonChristian neighbors. However, rare funerary inscriptions refer to gatherings of family and friends at the tomb, including the famous late thirdcentury epitaph of Aelia Secundula from the African province of Mauretania Sitifensis, which describes mourners setting up a table, laying out food and drink, reciting eulogies, and telling stories about the deceased long into the night: To the memory of Aelia Secundula We all sent many worthy things for her funeral. Further near the altar dedicated to Mother Secundula, It pleases us to place a stone table On which, we, placing food and covered cups, Remember her many great deeds. In order to heal the savage wound gnawing at our breast We freely recount stories at a late hour, And give praise to the good and chaste mother, Who sleeps in her old age. She, who nourished us, lies soberly forever. She lived to be years of age and died in the th year of the province. Made by Statulenia Julia.
The purpose of sharing meals at the grave was clearly for the consolation of surviving mourners. Whether these communal meals, offerings, and prayers for the refreshment of the souls of the deceased were presumed to alleviate those souls’ trials in the interim between death and the final judgment is harder to discern. While Tertullian regarded these practices as obligatory, he apparently doubted that the souls of the dead would be aided by food shared at the graveside or gifts brought to the church. Tertullian also maintained that funerary banquets are more for the gratification of the living
See Brent D. Shaw, “Latin funerary epigraphy and family life in the later Roman empire,” Historia (), –. At page , Shaw writes: “The refusal to note secular relationships between the living and the deceased is clearly a deliberate and conscious act.” Diehl ILCV :; CIL ... The text does not indicate whether Aelia was Christian or pagan, but nevertheless gives a helpful instance of how funeral meals would have been conducted. Other examples are found at Tipasa; see J. Patout Burns Jr. and Robin M. Jensen, Christianity in Roman Africa: Its Practices and Beliefs (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), –.
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than of benefit to the departed but that to wish the dead “repose to his ashes” or “have a pleasant rest” is meaningless if the dead have no feeling.
Can the Dead Assist the Living? As noted above, Tertullian offers apparently contradictory views on whether or not the living can assist the dead (and if the dead have any awareness of the living ones’ imprecations). Consistently, in his treatise On the Soul, Tertullian insists that the dead are unable to return to the living in order to bring them help or information about the afterlife. While God (and only God) can raise the dead, as Christ raised Lazarus (John :–) or the widow’s son (Luke :–), according to Tertullian the story of the rich man and Lazarus demonstrates that no one in Hades can be dispatched to report to those still alive on what they might do to avoid the sinner’s fate (Luke :–). As in that story, Tertullian mainly argues against sorcery, but reiterates that such a great chasm separates the realms of the living and the dead that neither sorcerers nor necromancers can revive the dead or summon their spirits. Hades’s gates only open for those entering; no souls can leave and, as he says, no demon or magician can bring up the soul of any saint or prophet from the underworld. Yet, while the ordinary dead were unable to assist the living, early Christians believed that martyrs and confessors who refused to deny or recant their Christian faith during episodes of persecution were in an exceptional class. In his early works, Tertullian allowed that both dead martyrs and living confessors could secure forgiveness for living penitents of major sins like adultery, murder, idolatry, and apostasy. In his Address to the Martyrs, he particularly exhorts confessors to come to the aid of sinners whom church authorities had excommunicated, telling them that since they had the power to offer reconciliation within themselves, they ought to share it with others. The belief that martyrs and confessors are empowered to grant absolution for sins is partially founded upon Christ’s declaration he will acknowledge before God the one who acknowledges him before others (Matt. :–).
Tertullian, Test. . Tertullian, An. .. Tertullian, An. .. Here he cites the stories of Simon Magus raising dead (the apocryphal Acts of Peter ) and the witch of Endor’s summoning the spirit of Samuel ( Sam. :–) as a deceitful trick. Tertullian, Mart. ..
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Because of their witness, the souls of those who remained faithful to Christ under trial and torture were both granted immediate entrance into heaven and admitted to the heavenly tribunal. There, by virtue of their privileged position, they were able to petition Christ for mercy on certain sinners. Moreover, confessors were also believed to hold this power by virtue of their steadfastness and so could act on the basis of the anticipated posthumous status of their souls. This, of course, fostered a system of power, prestige, and patronage that challenged and even bypassed the authority of the church. Later on, Tertullian apparently adopted a more rigorist position, speaking as if he no longer accepted that living confessors or even dead martyrs possessed the authority to grant absolution for mortal sins. This power, he argued, was reserved to the “spiritual Church” alone, as distinct from the “Church of the bishops.” In his treatise On Modesty, Tertullian complains that the moment a confessor is put into bonds, that confessor is circled around by adulterers, fornicators, and sinners of all kinds, who weep and petition and seek absolution. This, he allows, is founded on the belief that, in their suffering, Christ is joined to and working in them and thereby granting them access to his own power to forgive. Nevertheless, he insists that only God can give pardon and God does not delegate this power; not even the apostles (so far as he knows) could forgive major sins. Christ alone redeemed another’s sin by his own death. Through their heroic witness and willingness to suffer, martyrs certainly absolve their own sins, but they are not able to extend their reward to those who have not earned it the hard way. Thus, the only path to sainthood is through shedding one’s own blood; only death by martyrdom annuls sins. Otherwise, one’s soul remains in Hades until the Day of the Lord. Tertullian’s rigorist position was not widely held, however. For example, the roughly contemporary account of the Passion of Perpetua and Felicity reports that while in prison and awaiting her execution in Carthage’s amphitheater, Perpetua was able to intercede for the deliverance of her predeceased and unbaptized brother. This belief in the power of saints to assist living sinners was especially potent in the middle of the third century, during the empire-wide persecution of the emperor Decian. Like Tertullian,
Tertullian, Pud. . Tertullian, Pud. , An. . Pass. Perp. –. According to Éric Rebillard, the Pass. Perp. should be dated somewhat later than Tertullian’s works. See Rebillard, Greek and Latin Narratives About the Ancient Martyrs (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –.
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Cyprian, bishop of Carthage, did not accept that aid could be given to sinners’ souls awaiting their resurrection in Hades, although he assumed they could throw themselves on the mercy of Christ at the final judgment. Nevertheless, the common belief that being safely within the church (and in good standing) was necessary for salvation prompted a desire among penitents to be reconciled to the church before death. Thus, the laity pressed Cyprian to readmit those who had failed in persecution, just before they died. Cyprian allowed that living confessors might advocate for sinners, but he claimed that the authority to grant such readmission belonged to the bishop alone. Despite Cyprian’s desire for a clerically controlled process for reconciliation and readmission to communion, the Decian persecution in the midthird century had created a crisis. The lapsed increased in numbers, epidemics were spreading, and the belief that living confessors along with martyrs in heaven were empowered to absolve mortal sins was gaining momentum among certain factions of the church. Anticipating their deaths and thus obtaining their crowns of martyrdom, confessors might hand out certificates of peace (libelli pacis) to penitent petitioners that would become effective upon their deaths. In line with Tertullian’s earlier position, living confessors understood that they were not only authorized to provide such letters but were morally obligated to do so. Cyprian objected to the confessors interceding before their deaths to grant pardon apart from the authority of the bishop, however. Whereas Tertullian had objected to any but Christ or the Spirit offering such forgiveness, Cyprian was facing a different kind of power struggle with confessors challenging the exclusive role of the bishops to grant readmission to communion. This struggle became especially fraught during a time of plague when the church was facing the loss of mortally ill penitents who had not yet been reconciled. Thus, Cyprian proposed a compromise. He allowed the martyrs’ certificates of absolution to be received but reserved the granting of peace to the bishop, or in emergencies presbyters or – if none were available – even to deacons, acting as his agents. This acknowledged the special
Cyprian, Ep. ..–., ... Tertullian, Mart. . (noted above), and see Cyprian, Ep. for an example. Cyprian, Ep. ... This situation is detailed in J. Patout Burns Jr., Cyprian the Bishop (London: Routledge, ), especially chs. –. Cyprian, Ep. .
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powers of the martyrs while guarding the position of the bishop as the final arbiter and leader of the church. Nevertheless, some confessors close to death began to act more independently and sometimes blurred the distinction between the roles of living confessors and martyrs in heaven. One, a Roman confessor named Lucianus, did not grant certificates of forgiveness in his own name but rather in the name of a dead martyr named Paulus. According to Lucianus, Paulus had entreated him to do so, saying, “Lucianus, before Christ I say to you that should anyone seek peace from you after I have been called away, grant it in my name.” Evidently, a letter issued prior to death by a now-dead martyr carried more weight than one from a still-living confessor. Lucianus went even further by asserting that all the imprisoned martyrs, acting in unity, had issued joint letters granting universal peace to all sinners. Cyprian granted that Lucianus and his companions had added a stipulation that the sinners’ good conduct would be subject to examination, but he realized that the penitents believed they had already received absolution from the martyrs. Resentments boiled over and, according to Cyprian, angry mobs attacked church leaders, who, without any means of resisting, were forced to grant forgiveness and reconcile sinners immediately. Once most of the crisis had passed, Cyprian reverted to his earlier position. While not denying that the martyrs were revered heroes and held a place in heaven, he did not grant them an independent status vis-à-vis the church on earth. Essentially, he argued that the dead no longer hold a role in the community. At the final judgment the martyrs may be advocates for sinners before Christ, but in the meantime the management of communicants was in the hands of the officially designated authorities. In other words, he maintained that while martyrs may forgive sins in the afterlife, they (or their issued certificates) are not to readmit sinners to communion on earth. On earth, the final decision about who is in and who is out of the church must be ceded to the bishop. In his view, the powers of the dead to help the living are, ultimately, quite limited.
Cyprian, Ep. , .., ..–. Cyprian, Ep. , ..–.. Cyprian, Ep. ..–.. Cyprian, Ep. .. (a letter from Fortunatus). In his Ep. , Cyprian gives instructions for how to write up the certificates and to avoid vague or open-ended documents, asking that they note the kind and gravity of sins the petitioners had committed as well as enumerating the sinners’ good deeds.
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The Cult of Saints in the Cemeteries: Pre-Constantinian Evidence The role of the martyrs thus contributed to the popular veneration of saints during the third century. Tertullian reports that the deaths of the martyrs were praised in song. The anniversaries of their deaths or “heavenly birthdays” (dies natales) were recorded and added to the calendar of regular church celebrations. One of Cyprian’s letters from exile specifically exhorts his presbyters and deacons to take special care of the bodies of those confessors who die in prison and to record the dates on which they died because even though they were not tortured, they should also be regarded as martyrs. He specifically assigned a certain Tertullus the task of gathering and burying the bodies. Leaving the bodies of martyrs unburied, he says elsewhere, courts danger. In another letter, Cyprian mentions celebrating these anniversary dates, when the community unfailingly offers sacrifices on behalf of those who overthrew the devil by their confession of Christ and earned their palms and crowns. Perhaps, as a way of managing the potentially conflictual power of the martyrs over the prerogatives of the bishop, Cyprian made himself into a patron of the cult and the one who assured its continuation. Christians also continued to maintain the enduring links between the living and the ordinary dead, as exemplified in such practices as sharing meals with deceased ancestors at their tombs and observing festivals of the dead, although church leaders often tried to curtail them. Tertullian had acknowledged the obligations of spouses to offer the customary, annual memorials, but he also recognized that they were vestiges of paganism and, as such, associated with idolatry. Citing the text from Corinthians, “you cannot partake of the table of the Lord and the table of demons” ( Cor. :), he compared the funeral banquet to dining with demons. Gradually, the practices associated with honoring one’s deceased relatives at their graves were extended to include the Church’s honored dead – martyrs and, often, revered bishops – at their tombs. Once the funerary customs that honored ancestors, spouses, and friends at private burial sites began to incorporate the community’s celebration of their saintly heroes, their tombs and their contents became primary and public loci for venerating the martyrs. Concurrently, the saints’ physical remains began
Tertullian, Scorp. .. Cyprian, Ep. ...
Cyprian, Ep. . Cyprian, Ep. ... See Tertullian, Spect. ; see also Apol. .
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to be regarded as distinctly powerful insofar as they created a material link to the saints in heaven. As Christian devotees began to attach special importance to the graves of the saints and those saints’ physical remains, they found a new place – the cemetery – to pray and to offer praise in addition to their usual houses of worship. Although the earliest known commemorations of the saints in cemeteries are difficult to date, certain instances reflect the character of this practice. One example appears at the end of the account of Saint Polycarp’s martyrdom. Although Polycarp’s death is dated to the mid-second century, the story of his trial and execution may have been composed a century later. Even with a revised date to the third or early fourth century, it is one of the earliest witnesses to the faithful collecting of a martyrs’ physical remains, giving them reverent burial, and making anniversary visits to the site: So we later took up his bones – more valuable than precious stones and finer than gold – and laid them where it was fitting. The Lord will grant that we, as far as we can, shall gather there in joy and gladness, and celebrate the birthday of his martyrdom (ἡμέραν γενέθλιον ), both in remembrance of those who have already fought the contest, and for the training and preparation of those who will do so in the future.
The text here does not mention any special rituals, feasts, or miracles performed at Polycarp’s grave, but simply the fact that his followers gathered to remember him on the date of his death. Similarly, the narrative of Justin Martyr and his companions’ trials and execution (c.) reports that after the saints were beheaded, some of the faithful secretly took up their bodies and buried them in a suitable place. Likewise, according to their Acts, Christians secretly gathered and protected the relics of Saints Carpus, Paplyus, and Agathonice, executed at Pergamum in the Decian persecution. The record of Cyprian’s execution is similar.
Scholars have argued for different dates for the text of the Martyrdom of Polycarp, from being written immediately after the saint’s death to a century later. Because Eusebius refers to it (Hist. eccl. ..–), however, it must have been compiled at least no later than the early fourth century. For discussion and bibliography on the dating problem, see Candida R. Moss, “On the dating of Polycarp: Rethinking the place of the Martyrdom of Polycarp in the history of Christianity,” Early Christianity (), –. Mart. Pol. , trans. Efthymios Rizos, in Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity Database, E: http://csla.history.ox.ac.uk/record.php?recid=E. Mart. Justin and comp. . Act. Carpus, Paplyus, and Agathonice (Greek recension).
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Possibly because of Cyprian’s social status, the Roman governor allowed Cyprian’s followers to attend his execution, to spread cloths to catch his blood and, once his body had been exposed to the view of the curious, to bear it in a solemn torchlight procession to a cemetery just outside of Carthage, along the Mappalian Way. It appears that some Christian cemeteries in Rome may have been owned and managed by delegated officials of the church. According to PseudoHippolytus, Pope Zephyrinus (–) assigned the management of a cemetery to the deacon and eventual successor, Callistus (–), who was, himself, buried in the Catacomb of Calepodius on the Via Aurelia. Although an extensive early Christian catacomb is named for him, Callistus’s assignment may have been to oversee the installation of a papal cemetery on Zephyrinus’s own land and not a cemetery for the Christian community generally. In addition, monuments of victory (tropaia) appear to have been erected to honor Peter and Paul in Rome during Zephyrinus’s pontificate. According to Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History, probably completed in the mid-s, a certain Gaius claimed to be able to locate the sites of those monuments, at the Vatican and along the Ostian Way. No information survives regarding how the remains of Rome’s two founding apostles were retrieved or where they were actually entombed. Gaius’s testimony does not say that these “trophies” were connected to their tombs, although that has been a traditional interpretation and, of course, underlies the belief that Peter’s bones are still underneath the high altar at St. Peter’s basilica in Rome. To complicate matters, in addition to these third-century monuments set up to honor Rome’s two founding apostles is evidence for another shrine, known as the Memoria Apostolorum, associated with the Catacomb of Saint Sebastian, along the Appian Way. Discovered here, in a small dining area (triclia), were some third-century graffiti asking Saints Peter and Paul for
Act. Cyp. Pseudo-Hippolytus, Ref. ... See Peter Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ), –. Eusebius, Hist eccl. .. See Anna Maria Nieddu, La Basilica Apostolorum sulla via Appia e l’area cimiteriale circostante (Vatican City: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana, ); and Antonio Ferrua, La basilica e la catacomba di S. Sebastiano (Vatican City: Pontificia Commissione di Archeologia Sacra, ).
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prayers. That some kind of commemoration of these two apostles seems to have existed in this cemetery area is supported by an entry in the Depositio martyrium (a list of martyrs’ death dates) incorporated into the Chronograph or Codex-Calendar of , which mentions a cult of Peter on the Appian Way along with a cult of Paul on the Ostian Way on the third before the Kalends of July ( June), and omits any mention of a shrine at the Vatican. Graves, whether in open-air cemeteries or in underground tunnels and chambers like those in the Roman catacombs, continued to be traditional places for family gatherings to honor their dead. Thus, Christians frequenting the tombs of their heroes in place of family members would not have appeared out of place to their contemporaries. Yet, despite urging that the martyrs’ bodies receive reverent burial, Christian authorities voiced concerns about the nature of the gatherings at these tombs. These activities might have looked too much like pagan celebrations or – more problematically – include unregulated, impromptu, and possibly promiscuous goings-on. Later church leaders like Augustine, Ambrose, and Jerome strenuously objected to many of these practices, and on one instance Augustine acknowledged the accusations of the Manichaean Faustus that Christians were behaving almost exactly like pagans at the tombs. Yet, even at the beginning of the fourth century, a local Spanish council apparently took steps to curb aspects of these funerary customs. Two canons from the Council of Elvira decree that Christians should not bring lit candles into the cemeteries in the daytime, nor should women spend the night in them under the pretext of offering prayers to the saints. Evidently, bearing tapers into the cemetery was something that polytheists did and, the canon asserts, would also disturb the spirits of the saints. Those who did were subject to excommunication, See discussion and references in Elisabeth Jastrzebowska, Untersuchungen zum christlichen Totenmahl aufgrund der Monumente des . und . Jahrhunderts unter der Basilika des Hl. Sebastian in Rom (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, ). Chronograph of , MGM Auct. Ant. .. For more see Michele Renee Salzman, On Roman Time: The Codex-Calendar of and the Rhythms of Urban Life in Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, ), –. Scholars have proposed that apostles’ remains were transferred to the Vatican and the Via Appia sites during the persecution of Valerian. For a summary of various theories, See David L. Eastman, Paul the Martyr: The Cult of the Apostle Paul in the Latin West (Atlanta: SBL Press, ), –. Jerome, Vigil. ; Augustine, Faust. ... Augustine’s efforts to control the behavior of revelers at the shrines of Saint Cyprian in Carthage are also evident in his sermons preached at those sites: Serm. A, , , , , , A, B, C, D, and F. For other references and discussion see Jensen, “Dining with the dead,” –; and Rebillard, Care of the Dead, –. See also Augustine, Conf. . regarding Monica’s bringing food to the martyrs’ shrines in Milan without awareness of Ambrose’s prohibition.
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perhaps for involvement in idolatry, but it also suggests that those who promulgated the canon believed that the spirits of the saints might linger near their remains. Distinguishing Christian memorial practices from those observed by their non-Christian contemporaries may have been difficult. According to Eusebius’s record of an oration by the emperor Constantine around Easter, sometime in the mid- to late s, Constantine contrasted the commemoration of Christian martyrs with pagan funerary festivities, describing the Christian ceremonies as including a bloodless and harmless sacrifice of thanksgiving in honor of the saints, requiring neither frankincense nor fire but only enough light as needed to illuminate the assembled worshippers’ sober banquets. Constantine also claimed these events not only consoled the grieving but also benefited the needy and the homeless. As solemn occasions for almsgiving, Constantine remarks that both pagans and less devout Christians would find them tedious or burdensome.
Burial ad sanctos The earliest surviving evidence for the ordinary faithful seeking burial near the tombs of saints probably dates to the mid-fourth century, but the practice may have begun somewhat before then. The belief that proximity to the body of a martyr would give spiritual benefit or special access to the saint’s good graces on Judgment Day simply extends the idea of the efficacious intercession of the martyrs for living penitents. Scholars sometimes assume this practice existed at the end of the third century, mainly due to a controversially dated document, the Acts of Maximilian, which recounts the trial and execution in Theveste (modern Tebessa in Algeria) of a young Christian for refusing conscription into the army. According to the text, after his death in March of , a woman named Council of Elvira, cc. and . The Latin text of c. reads, cereos per diem placuit in coemeterio non incendi, inquietandi enim sanctorum spiritus non sunt. qui haec non observaverint arceantur ab ecclesiae communione. On dating this council’s canons, see the essay by Ste. Croix and appendix of Joseph Streeter in Geoffrey E. M. de Ste. Croix, Christian Persecution, Martyrdom, and Orthodoxy, ed. Michael Whitby and Joseph Streeter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. Coet. sanct. . Regarding the date, occasion, and place of this speech, as appended to Eusebius’s Vit. Const., see T. D. Barnes, “‘Constantine’s ‘Speech to the Assembly of the Saints’: Place and date of delivery,” Journal of Theological Studies . (), –.
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Pompeiana sought permission from the magistrate to remove his body in order to bury it near the grave of Saint Cyprian near the governor’s palace in Carthage. Although the text does not give a reason for Pompeiana’s action, she was either prescient or planning ahead, as she died thirteen days later and was herself buried in the same spot. However, historical inaccuracies in the story militate against regarding this story as early evidence for depositio ad sanctos by this date. The almost implausible ending may have been added much later. Nevertheless, an anonymous author may have pieced his narrative together from having seen existing Carthaginian tomb inscriptions near the shrine of Cyprian identifying Pompeiana and a young martyr, Maximilian, from Theveste. Clearly datable, but much later, cases of burial ad sanctos come from the mid- to late fourth century. Around , Ambrose of Milan arranged for his brother, Satyrus, to be interred near the tomb of Saint Victor and provided an epitaph that included a prayer that the saint’s holy blood should seep through the tomb and wash his brother’s remains. He planned that he himself would be buried next to two martyrs, Gervasius and Protasius, in the basilica he had constructed for this purpose. In the s, Gregory of Nyssa preached a homily commemorating the Forty Martyrs of Sebaste in which he claims to have buried his own parents near the relics of those martyrs, so “they may rise in the company of highly influential helpers at the time of the resurrection.” Some visual evidence corresponds to this practice as well. A mid-fourth-century painting discovered in Rome’s Catacomb of Domitilla
Act. Maximilian . Older scholarship includes the work of Y. Duval, Auprès des saints corps et âme: L’inhumation “ad sanctos” dans la chrétienté d’Orient et d’Occident du IIIe au VII siècle (Paris: Études augustiniennes, ), –. More recent scholarship argues against the early dating of the Acts of Maximilian; see David Woods, “St. Maximilian of Tebessa and the Jizra,” in Hommage à Carl Deroux, vol. , ed. Pol Defosse (Brussels: Latomus, ), –; and T. D. Barnes, Early Christian Hagiography and Roman History (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ), –. Discussion in Robert Wiśniewski, The Beginnings of the Cult of Relics (Oxford: Oxford University Pres, ), –. Wiśniewski, Beginnings, . Ambrose, Exc. Epitaph: ILCV : Uranio Satyro supremum frater honorem Martyris ad lævam detulit Ambrosius. Hæc meriti merces, ut sacri sanguinis humor Finitimas penetrans adluat exuvias. Ambrose, Ep. , . Gregory of Nyssa, In sanctos XL martyres II, trans. Efthymios Rizos (CSLA E).
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Figure . St. Petronilla leading Veneranda into Paradise, Catacomb of Domitilla, Rome. From G. Wilpert, Roma sotterranea: Le pitture delle catacombe romane (Rome: Desclée Lefebure and C., ), , tav. .
shows the deceased, Veneranda, being escorted into paradise by Saint Petronilla, whose own tomb was somewhere nearby (Fig. .). By the early fifth century, seeking burial near a saint’s tomb must have become pretty well established, at least among those of the Christian community who had the means or the influence to acquire privileged burial plots. This is evident in Augustine of Hippo’s treatise On the Care to Be Taken for the Dead, written at the request of Paulinus of Nola. Paulinus had been asked by a certain Flora for permission to bury her son near the tomb of Saint On the practice of inserting graves within Christian churches, especially in Africa, see Ann Marie Yasin, Saints and Church Spaces in the Late Antique Mediterranean: Architecture, Cult and Community (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. Augustine, Cur. ..
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Felix. Paulinus had granted her request, as he deemed that it was an acceptable custom. Augustine allowed that the practice might give some consolation to the living, but he denied that proximity to the tomb was of particular benefit to the dead, since the buried bodies had no connection to the souls of the saints, much less to their own souls awaiting the final resurrection. As he explains, the only benefit to being buried near the saints was that the living would then venerate the martyrs in the same place where their loved ones are buried, thus being prompted to commend those souls to the saints, as if to patrons. Here Augustine echoes Tertullian’s similar insistence on the absolute separation of body and soul at death. Nevertheless, the fact that figures like Gregory of Nyssa, Ambrose, and even Paulinus seemed to regard burial ad sanctos as in some way advantageous for the dead shows that the practice was clearly not limited to the lower classes, the laity, or the theologically naive.
Extra-urban Cemetery Basilicas and Later Developments Burial of the saints, like almost all burials in antiquity, would have been in cemeteries outside the city walls. Their graves soon drew the pious wishing to express their devotion or to petition the holy souls now in heaven for their intercession. Perhaps, for some, it was a slightly thrilling pastime. For example, Jerome reports that when he was a youth, studying in Rome (c.), he and his friends customarily visited the tombs of the apostles and martyrs on Sundays. He then describes the dread that he felt while wandering in the catacombs in the dark among the dead. For whatever reason, tombs of the saints became both desirable sites for the burial of the ordinary dead and popular destinations for pilgrims, creating a concrete link between ancient ancestor veneration and the cult of the saints. In time, roofed structures were built into cemeteries either adjacent to or enclosing these martyrs’ shrines. These have been found in all regions of the Christian world and evolved from places for local veneration of the saints into pilgrimage destinations. A basilica dedicated to the Eight Martyrs was constructed in Hippo during Augustine’s episcopate, but earlier African examples include those at Uppenna (Tunisia) and Castellum Tingitanum
Augustine, Cur. ., and see also . and .. Jerome, Comm. Ezech. ..– (CCL : –).
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Figure . Fourth-century cemetery Chapel of Bishop Alexander (with tombs of his predecessor bishops), Tipasa (Algeria). Photo: Author.
(Algeria). In a cemetery basilica, in Tipasa (Algeria), the honored graves of the city’s bishops (Fig. .) were marked by special mosaic inscriptions to distinguish them from tombs of privileged laity. Salona in Dalmatia had at least five extramural cemetery basilicas. Because these cemetery basilicas accommodated relatives of the ordinary dead along with pilgrims coming to venerate the saint, they included banquet tables. In some places, the site of the martyr’s tomb was separated or marked off from the commonplace graves. In Rome, these cemetery basilicas were primarily founded by the emperor and, though mostly constructed at the sites of existing martyr’s graves, incorporated mausolea for members of the imperial family. The Liber pontificalis attributes the founding of five of these cemetery basilicas, St. Peter, St. Paul, SS Marcellus and Peter, St. Agnes, and St. Laurence, to Constantine.
Burns and Jensen, Christianity in Roman Africa, –. See Ann Marie Yasin, “Reassessing Salona’s churches: Martyrium evolution in question,” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. Lib. Pont. (Sylvester) ., , , .
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A sixth, the Basilica Apostolorum, may have been pre-Constantinian, perhaps established by the emperor Maxentius around . All of these were built outside the city walls and were likely already sites of pilgrimage to the graves of the saints with which they were associated. By contrast, Constantine’s first major church construction, the Lateran Basilica, was built inside the city wall and neither had an association with any known saint nor housed any previous or subsequent burials. Two additional cemetery basilicas that may not have been connected with the tomb of a particular saint include one on the Via Ardeatina, which the Liber pontificalis associates with Pope Damasus (–). The founder of the other on the Via Praenestina (the Tor de’ Schiavi) remains a mystery. Excepting St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s, the six other Roman covered cemeteries have distinctive U-shaped, or circiform (circus-shaped), footprints. They feature a single apse at one end of the main hall that extends from the side aisles, or deambulatories (Fig. .). The interior spaces of these structures were filled with graves, often covered with stone epitaphs. In some instances, the entrance wall is slightly angled in relation to the hall’s main axis. Scholars sometimes have suggested that these canted walls might have been intended to replicate the starting gates (carceres) of a hippodrome, and thus made a symbolic link between martyrs winning their crowns and charioteers winning theirs (cf. Tim. :). Others disagree, arguing that ancient occupants would not have noticed the similarity, especially in a covered space.
For discussion and extended bibliography on these basilicas see Tomas Lehman, “‘Circus basilicas,’ ‘coemeteria subteglata’ and church buildings in the suburbium of Rome,” Acta ad archaeologiam et artium historiam pertinentia (), –; Eugenio La Rocca, “Le basiliche cristiane ‘a deambulatorio’ e la sopravvivenza del culto eroico,” in Ecclesiae urbis: Atti del Congresso internazionale di studi sulle chiese di Roma (IV–X secolo); Roma, – settembre , ed. Federico Guidobaldi and Alessandra Guiglia Guidobaldi (Vatican City: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana, ), –; and R. Ross Holloway, Constantine and Rome (New Haven: Yale University Press, ), –. La Rocca’s essay emphasizes the similarities between these basilicas and shrines to pagan heroes and gods. These include SS Marcellinus and Peter, St. Agnes, the Basilica Apostolorum, St. Laurence, the Basilica of Tor de’ Schiavi, and the Basilica on Via Ardeatina. For an excellent discussion of these churches and their various scholarly interpretations, see Monica Hellström, “On the form and function of Constantine’s circiform funerary basilicas in Rome,” in Pagans and Christians in Late Antique Rome, ed. Michele Renee Salzman, Marianne Sághy, and Rita Lizzi Testa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. For arguments for the symbolic connection between the circus and the basilicas see Lynda L. Coon and Kim Sexton, “Racetrack to salvation: The circus, the basilica, and the martyr,” Gesta . (), –. For a recent summary of the evidence, scholarly analyses, and dissenting arguments see Lehman, “Circus basilicas.”
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Figure . Reconstruction (drawing) of the Basilica of Saints Peter and Marcellinus, via Casilina, Rome (with the adjoining mausoleum of Helena). Photo credit: Agefotostock, America, from De Agostini Editore Collection.
A special feature of many, if not most, of the Roman examples were the annexed mausolea, built as memorials for members of the imperial family. A notable example, the mausoleum of Constantine’s mother Helena (died c.), adjoined the catacomb of Saints Marcellinus and Peter on Rome’s Via Labicana, although it may initially have been intended for Constantine himself (Fig. .). As at least one scholar has argued, this mausoleum actually may have been the main element of the complex, rather than the martyrs’ shrine. Constantine’s daughter Constantina (d. ) was buried in the mausoleum attached to the cemetery basilica of St. Agnes, possibly along with her sister Helena. The monumental domed mausoleum attached to the basilica on the Via Praenestina was likely also intended for a dynastic burial,
Rita Volpe, “Via Labicana,” in Suburbium: Il suburbio di Roma dalla crisi del Sistema delle ville a Gregorio Magno, ed. Philippe Pergola, Riccardo Santangeli Valenzani, and Rita Volpe (Rome: École française de Rome, ), –, esp. . Jean Guyon, “A l’origine de la redécouverte et de l’interprétation du monument de la Via Labicana: L’iconographie de la basilique cémétériale des saints Marcellin-et-Pierre,” in Ecclesiae urbis: Atti del Congresso internazionale di studi sulle chiese di Roma (IV–X secolo); Roma, – settembre , ed. Federico Guidobaldi and Alessandra Guiglia Guidobaldi (Vatican City: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana, ), –; also Hellström, “Form and function,” –.
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Figure . Mausoleum of Helena, Rome, c.. Photo: Author.
possibly dating to the reign of Maxentius or Galerius. Later on, the emperor Honorius (d. ) may have intended the mausoleum attached to the south transept of the Constantinian basilica of St. Peter for himself, although it was used first for his wife Maria (died c.) and eventually entombed the remains of Galla Placidia’s infant son Theodosius (died c.). Thus, these structures were some combination of martyrium, covered cemetery, and – in some instances – a type of shrine to the ruling dynasty. The martyrial basilica of St. Peter’s on the Vatican was an especially popular pilgrimage destination and feasting venue. Even from a distance, Augustine disparaged the commonplace spectacle of disorderly and drunken feasting at the site. He noted that while such behavior was supposed to be forbidden, the rules were hard to enforce when the bishop’s residence was at a distance from the activities. But St. Peter’s could also be a place for the
See Hellström, “Form and function,” –. Augustine, Ep. .–. This letter is addressed to Alypius, bishop of Thagaste, recounting how he (Augustine) had tried to curb the excesses of celebrations of the saints’ feasts.
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distribution of alms. Paulinus of Nola recounts a famous instance of this in a letter written around the year to Roman aristocrat Pammachius. Pammachius sponsored a funeral banquet in that basilica to honor his dead wife, Paulina, to which he invited a huge company of Rome’s poor. Paulinus describes seeing swarms of people, filling all areas of the basilica, seated at tables and being filled with an abundance of good food. He compares it to the story of Jesus and the miraculous feeding of a hungry crowd by the multiplying of five loaves and two fish (cf. Matt. :–). While Paulinus, who heard about this event from a mutual friend, Olympius, does not tell us, it seems likely the guests also included many of Pammachius’s upper-class friends and relatives of his wife, who belonged to one of Rome’s richest, noble families. While these spaces were certainly used for funeral feasts and the commemoration of saints at the sites of their tombs, whether or when they were initially also used for regular eucharistic celebrations is less certain. It is likely that they were sites for formal liturgical services on the saints’ feast days, possibly by the later fourth century. Although it is difficult to know for sure, little evidence exists for their having assigned or permanent clergy. Yet, it seems that at some point a few, like the Basilica Apostolorum (later – in the sixth century – the Basilica of San Sebastiano), acquired fixed altars within dedicated chancel areas that would have been used for eucharistic celebrations. Moreover, according to the Liber pontificalis, Constantine donated two altars to the basilica of Peter and Marcellinus, both of solid silver. One set in front of his mother’s tomb (ante sepulchrum) suggests the celebration of memorial masses on her death anniversary. The Liber pontificalis also states that Constantine donated patens, chalices, and pitchers to this basilica as well as to the basilicas of St. Agnes and St. Laurence, additionally suggesting that eucharistic celebrations were observed also in these basilicas. Damasus’s own program of identifying the bodies of saints and establishing shrines to them
Paulinus, Ep. .–. After his wife’s death, Pammachius entered a monastery and dedicated his life to aiding the poor. Note that the almsgiving aspect of this event corresponds to Constantine’s description of saints’ feasts in the Coet. sanct. noted above; and the late fourthcentury church order, the Apostolic Constitutions, makes alms for the poor an expected aspect of decorous and sober Christian funerals. See Apos. Con. .–. Augustine also commends almsgiving as part of the funeral ritual instead of feasting, Serm. ., .–, and Ep. ... Hugo Brandenburg, Ancient Churches of Rome: From the Fourth to the Seventh Century (Turnhout: Brepols, ), –. Lib. pont. (Sylvester)..
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around Rome includes a vast above-ground shrine dedicated to Saint Hippolytus on the Via Tiburtina, which was equipped with an altar. According to the poet Prudentius, Hippolytus’s remains were placed beside an altar that functioned both as a table for the Blessed Sacrament and a shelter for his bones. Above, in the church, large enough to accommodate huge crowds of pilgrims, was a raised ambo from which a priest could proclaim God’s praise. Similarly, baptisteries are attested in some of these structures, at least by the late fourth century. Prudentius refers to a baptistery at a martyrs’ shrine and implies that there was also one at St. Peter’s. An inscription attributed to Damasus also refers to a baptistery at St. Peter’s. According to the Liber pontificalis Bishop Boniface I (–), having been forced out of the Lateran by the emperors Honorius and Valentinian III, conducted Easter baptisms in the basilica of Saint Agnes. If one regards the text as reliable, it suggests that by then, at least, that basilica would have had some kind of font. The foundation of these basilicas by imperial patrons or Roman pontiffs and their inclusion of imperial mausolea or bishops’ tombs almost certainly advanced the status of the dynasty and the episcopate along with the cult of the martyrs. Some scholars have concluded that they integrated the erstwhile emperor cult into the veneration of the saints just as Constantine designed his own mausoleum in Constantinople as a shrine for the apostles with himself at the center. What began as a series of traditional rituals to honor deceased family members and gradually evolved into the veneration of Christian saints was clearly a custom that crossed social classes and belonged as much to the wealthy as to the humble members of the community, clergy and lay alike. The gatherings in these places would have included members
Prudentius, Perist. .–, –. Prudentius, Perist. , .–. The mausoleum of Constantina, adjacent to the cemetery basilica of St. Agnes, was almost certainly not built to be a baptistery, despite its description as such in the Lib. pont. .. As Brandenburg notes, no evidence for any water installations have been excavated there. See Olof Brandt, “The early Christian baptistery of St. Peter’s,” in Old St. Peters, Rome, ed. Rosamond McKitterick, John Osborne, Carol M. Richardson, and Joanna Story (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. Lib. pont. .. This contradicts the general thesis of Ramsay MacMullen, who posits a distinction between a “first” and “second” church, the one served by church officials and populated by the social elite, the other the church of the masses, who primarily gathered in the cemeteries. See MacMullen, The Second Church: Popular Christianity .. – (Atlanta: SBL Press, ).
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of almost every social class. On special feasts of the saints, they likely were the sites of formal, clergy-led eucharistic celebrations. Gradually, the relics of saints began to be divided and moved to be inserted into altars rather than having altars built near or over them. Most of the circiform basilicas fell into disuse in the fifth and sixth centuries and were replaced in the early Middle Ages by smaller “pilgrim” churches on top of the actual martyr’s tomb (e.g. Sant’Agnese and San Lorenzo). St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s continued to be places of pilgrimage, but were no longer the sites of concurrent, multiple funerary banquets. The living still cared for their dead but gradually ceased to honor them by meals in cemeteries; they still asked for the prayers of the saints in heaven and believed that one day all would be reunited, but they gradually did this in the church rather than at the grave.
Select Bibliography Barnes, T. D. “‘Constantine’s ‘Speech to the Assembly of the Saints’: Place and date of delivery,” Journal of Theological Studies . (), –. Early Christian Hagiography and Roman History (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). Brandenburg, Hugo. Ancient Churches of Rome: From the Fourth to the Seventh Century (Turnhout: Brepols, ). Brandt, Olof. “The early Christian baptistery of St. Peter’s.” Pages – in Old St. Peters, Rome. Edited by Rosamond McKitterick, John Osborne, Carol M. Richardson, and Joanna Story (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Burns, J. Patout Jr. Cyprian the Bishop (London: Routledge, ). Burns, J. Patout Jr. and Robin M. Jensen, Christianity in Roman Africa: Its Practices and Beliefs (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Coon, Lynda L. and Kim Sexton, “Racetrack to salvation: The circus, the basilica, and the martyr,” Gesta . (), –. Duval, Yvette. Auprès des saints corps et âme: L’inhumation “ad sanctos” dans la chrétienté d’Orient et d’Occident du IIIe au VII siècle (Paris: Études augustiniennes, ). Eastman, David L. Paul the Martyr: The Cult of the Apostle Paul in the Latin West (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Ferrua, Antonio. La basilica e la catacomba di S. Sebastiano (Vatican City: Pontificia Commissione di Archeologia Sacra, ). Guyon, Jean. “A l’origine de la redécouverte et de l’interprétation du monument de la Via Labicana: L’iconographie de la basilique cémétériale des saints Marcellin-et-Pierre.” Pages – in Ecclesiae urbis: Atti del Congresso internazionale di studi sulle chiese di
See Robin M. Jensen, “Saints’ relics and the consecration of church buildings in Rome,” in Studia Patristica, vol. , ed. J. Day and M. Vinzent (Leuven: Peeters, ), –.
Power, Authority, the Living, and the Dead Roma (IV–X secolo); Roma, – settembre . Edited by Federico Guidobaldi and Alessandra Guiglia Guidobaldi (Vatican City: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana, ). Hellström, Monica. “On the form and function of Constantine’s circiform funerary basilicas in Rome.” Pages – in Pagans and Christians in Late Antique Rome. Edited by Michele Renee Salzman, Marianne Sághy, and Rita Lizzi Testa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). Holloway, R. Ross. Constantine and Rome (New Haven: Yale University Press, ). Hope, Valerie. Roman Death (London: Continuum UK, ). Jastrzebowska, Elisabeth. Untersuchungen zum christlichen Totenmahl aufgrund der Monumente des . und . Jahrhunderts unter der Basilika des Hl. Sebastian in Rom (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, ). Jensen, Robin M. “Dining with the dead: From the mensa to the altar in Christian late antiquity.” Pages – in Commemorating the Dead: Texts and Artifacts in Context. Edited by Laurie Brink and Deborah Green (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). “Saints’ relics and the consecration of church buildings in Rome.” Pages – in vol. of Studia Patristica. Edited by J. Day and M. Vinzent (Leuven: Peeters, ). La Rocca, Eugenio. “Le basiliche cristiane ‘a deambulatorio’ e la sopravvivenza del culto eroico.” Pages – in Ecclesiae urbis: Atti del Congresso internazionale di studi sulle chiese di Roma (IV–X secolo); Roma, – settembre . Edited by Federico Guidobaldi and Alessandra Guiglia Guidobaldi (Vatican City: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana, ). Lampe, Peter. From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, ). Lehman, Tomas. “‘Circus basilicas,’ ‘coemeteria subteglata’ and church buildings in the suburbium of Rome,” Acta ad archaeologiam et artium historiam pertinentia (), –. MacMullen, Ramsay. The Second Church: Popular Christianity a.d. – (Atlanta: SBL Press, ). Moss, Candida R. “On the dating of Polycarp: Rethinking the place of the Martyrdom of Polycarp in the history of Christianity,” Early Christianity (), –. Nieddu, Anna Maria. La Basilica Apostolorum sulla via Appia e l’area cimiteriale circostante (Vatican City: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana, ). Rebillard, Éric. The Care of the Dead in Late Antiquity (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ). Greek and Latin Narratives About the Ancient Martyrs (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Salzman, Michele Renee. On Roman Time: The Codex-Calendar of and the Rhythms of Urban Life in Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, ). Shaw, Brent D. “Latin funerary epigraphy and family life in the later Roman empire,” Historia (), –. Ste. Croix, G. E. M. de. Christian Persecution, Martyrdom, and Orthodoxy. Edited by Michael Whitby and Joseph Streeter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Toynbee, J. M. C. Death and Burial in the Roman World (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ).
. Volpe, Rita. “Via Labicana.” Pages – in Suburbium: Il suburbio di Roma dalla crisi del Sistema delle ville a Gregorio Magno. Edited by Philippe Pergola, Riccardo Santangeli Valenzani, and Rita Volpe (Rome: École Française de Rome, ). Wilhite, David. “Only martyrs are in heaven and other misunderstandings,” Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum . (), –. Wiśniewski, Robert. The Beginnings of the Cult of Relics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). Woods, David. “St. Maximilian of Tebessa and the Jizra.” Pages – in Hommage à Carl Deroux, vol. . Edited by Pol Defosse (Brussels: Latomus, ). Yasin, Ann Marie. “Reassessing Salona’s churches: Martyrium evolution in question,” Journal of Early Christian Studies . (), –. Saints and Church Spaces in the Late Antique Mediterranean: Architecture, Cult and Community (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ).
Ancient Sources
Old Testament Sam. :–, Dan. : (LXX), :, , Deut. :, Exod. :, :–, Ezek. :, , :–, Gen. , :, :–, :, , , – :, :, , :, :, , , :, :, :, , in toto, Isa. :, :–, :, :, :, :–, ,
:–, :–, :, :, Jer. :, :, Lev. :, :–, Mal. :–, :–, :, :–, Mic. :, :, Num. :–, Prov. :, , : (LXX), , Ps. :, :–, :, :, – :, – :, :, :–, in toto, Zech. :–, Zeph. :,
Indexes
New Testament Cor. –, :, :–, :–, :–, :, :–, :, :, :, :–, :–, , :–, :, :, –, :–, :, :, :, :–, :, :–, :, :, :, :, –, :, :–, –, :–, :, , , :, :–, :, :, :, :–, :–, :, :, :–, :, :–, :, :, , ,
:–, :–, :, :, :–, , :–, :, , :, :–, :–, :, :, :–, :, :, :–, :b, :, :–, –, , :, :–, , :–, :, , :, , :, , :–, :, :, :, :, :, :, :–, :–, :, :–, :, , , :, , :–, :, :, :, :, , –, :, :, :–, :, :, , in toto, , , John in toto,
Indexes Pet. :, , :–, :–, :, :–, :–, :, :–, :, , :, , :–, :, in toto, , , , Thess. :–, :–, :, – :–, :, :, Tim. :, :–, :–, :, :, :, , :–, in toto, , , – Cor. :, :–, :, :, , :, :–, :, , :, :, :b, :–, –, :–, :, :, , , :, , :–, :, –,
:–, :, :–, :, :–, :–, :–:, :–, :–, :, , :–, :–, in toto, , Pet. :, :–, :, :–:, :, :, :, :, , :–, , :, , :, in toto, Thess. :, Tim. :, :, :, in toto, , , Acts –, :, :, :, :–, :–, :–, :, :–, :–, :, :–, :–, :–, :, :–, :–,
Indexes Acts (cont.) :–, :, :–, :, :, :, , :–, :–, :–, :–, :, :–, :–, :–, :, :–, , :–, , :–, :–, , :–, :, , :, , :, :–, :, , , – :, :, :, :–, :, , :–, :, , :, :, , :, :, :–, :, :–, :, :, :, :–, :–, :, :, , ,
:–, :–, :, :, :, :, :, :, :, :, :–, :, , :, :–, :, in toto, , , , , , , Col. , :–, :, –, , :, , :–, :, :–, :, :, :, :, :–:, , :, :, :, Eph. :, :–, :, :, , :–, :–, :, :, :, :, :–:, , :–, :–, :–, :, :, :–,
Indexes :, Gal. :, :, :–, , , :, :, :, :, – :–, , :–, :, , :–, , , , :, , :, , :, :, , :–, , :, :, :, , :, :–:, :, :, :, :, :, , , , , , :–, :, :–, :, :–, :, , :–, :, , :, :, :, :a, :, :, in toto, Heb. :, , :, :–, :, :, :, in toto,
Jas. :, :–, :–, :, :–, :–, :–, John , :, , , :–, :, –, :, :, :, , :–, :, :–, :–, :–, :, :, :, :, :, :, :–, :, :–, :–, :–, :, :, :, :, :–, , :, :, :–, :–, :, :, –, :–, :–, :, :–, :, :–,
Indexes John (cont.) :, :–, :–, :–, :, :–, :, :, :, :–, :, :, :, :–, :, :–, :, :, :–, :–, – :, – :, :–, :–, :, :–, in toto, Jude , in toto, Luke :, , :–, :, , :–, :–, :, :–, :–, :, :, :, :, :, :–, :–, :, :–, :–, :, :–,
:, :, :–, :, :–, :, :–, :–, :, :–, :–, :–, :, :, :–, , :, :–, :, :–, :–, :, , :–, :, :, :, :, , :–, , :, :, :–, :–, in toto, –, Mark :–, :–, :, :, :–, :, :–, :, :, :–, :, :–, :–, :–, :–, :–, :, :,
Indexes :, :–, :–, :–, :–, :–, :–, :–, :–, :–, , :, :–, :–, :–, :–, :, :–, :, :–, , :, :, :, in toto, , Matt. :, :, :–, :, :–, :, :, :, , :–, :, :–, :, :, :–, :, :–, :, :–, :–, :–, :, :, , :, :–, , , :, :, :–,
:–, , :, :, , , , :, :–, :–, :, :–, :–, :–, :, :, :, :–, :–, :, :, , :, :–, :–, :–, :–, :–, :, :–, :–, :, :, :–, :–, :, :–, in toto, Phil. :, :, :–, :, , , :–, :–, :b, :–, :, :, , :, :, :, :,
Indexes Phil. (cont.) :, in toto, Phlm. , , Rev. :, :, :, , :, :, :–, :, :, :–, :, :–, :, , :, –, , , :, :, :, :, :, :, , :, :, , :–, :, :, , – in toto, , , Rom. :–, –, , – :, :–, :, :, :, :, :–, :, :–,
:–, :, :, , :, :, :–, :–, :, :, :, :–, :, :–, :–, :, :, :, :–, :, , :, – :, :, :–, :–, :–, , – :, :–, :, :b–, :, :–, :–, :, , :, :–, :, , , , :–, :, :, :b, :, , :, :, Tit. in toto, ,
Indexes
Early Jewish En. :–, :, :, Bar. :, :, :, :–:, :–:, passim, En. in toto, Macc. :, in toto, Ezra :, :, :, :, :, Macc. in toto, Damascus Document (CD) in toto, Josephus AJ ., ., BJ .–, ., Let. Aris. –, Mishnah ʿAbod. Zar. :, Ber. :, Sanh. :, Philo Abr. , Agr. , Cher.
–, –, Conf. , , –, , Contempl. in toto, Fug. –, Her. , Leg. ., ., ., ., .–, Mos. .–, Opif. –, –, , QE ., QG ., ., , Somn. .–, .–, Pseudo-Phocylides –, Rule of the Community (QS) .–, Sib. Or. ., Sir. :, , Talmud b. Ber. b, a, a, b. Hor. a–b,
Indexes Talmud (cont.) y. ʿAbod. Zar. :b, Tob. :–, :–, Tosefta Ber. :, :, ʿAbod. Zar. :c, :a–c, Wis. :,
Early Christian Apoc. Jas. .–., .–., .–., in toto, , Clem. , , .–, .–, .–, ., ., .–, ., ., ., ., ., , ., .–, ., –, ., .–, Apoc. Jas. .–., Clem. ., Cor. ., .,
, –, Acts Andr. , , in toto, Acts Andr. Paul , Acts John , , –, , , –, .–, Acts of Carpus, Paplyus, and Agathonice in toto, Acts of Cyprian in toto, Acts of Justin and Companions ., , Acts of Maximilian , Acts Paul , ., ., , , , , Acts Paul Thec. ., , , , in toto, , , , Acts Pet. , –, , , , , , , , , , in toto, –,
Indexes Acts Thom. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Addai et Mari –, –, , –, Adrian Introduction to the Divine Scriptures in toto, , Allogenes .–., .–, Ambrose Ep. , , Exc. in toto, Exp. Luc. .–, Fid. Grat. ., ..–.., Hex. ..,
Spir. ..–, ..–, ..–, Ambrosiaster Comm. Cor. in toto, Ap. Jas. .–, .–, .–., .–., .–., .–, .–., in toto, Ap. John .–., .–, ., ., .–, .–., .–, .–., .–., BG , in toto, , , , , Apoc. Adam .–, .–, .–, Apoc. Paul in toto, Apoc. Pet. , .–., .–., , .–., .–, in toto, , Apollinaris Metaphrase of the Psalms in toto, Apostolic Church Order , .,
Indexes in toto, Enarrat. Ps. , .., , Ep. .., .–, , , Faust. ., .., ., Gen. litt. .., ..–.., Serm. ., ., ., A, .., .–, A., B, A, , , , , , A, B, C, D, F, ., B, Trin. ..–, Barn. ., .–, ., Basil of Caesarea Contra Eunomium ., De Spiritu Sancto ., .,
Aristides Apol. , Arnobius Adversus nationes ., , Ascen. Isa. .–, Athanasius C. Ar. ., .–, .–, C. Gent. –, , , Decr. , Ep. Marcell. in toto, Ep. Serap. ., ., Inc. , –, , Vit. Ant. , , , .–, Athenagoras Leg. .–, ., , Res. ., Augustine Conf. ., ..–.., .., .., Cur. ., ., ., ., Doctr. chr. .,
Indexes ..., .–, ..–, Protr. .., ..–.., .., .., .., Quis div. –, , , , , , , , , , , , , –, , , , , , , , , , , , , Strom. .., .., ., ...–, ..–, ..–, .., .., ..–, ..–, ..–, ..–.., ..–, .., ..., ..., ..–.., ., ...,
., Ep. ., ., Hom. ., ., Hom. in Hexaemeron .–, ., ., ., Bk. Thom. in toto, Carmen adversus Marcionitas in toto, Cassiodorus Institutiones divinarum et saecularium litterarum in toto, Chronograph of , CIG ., Clement of Alexandria Ecl. ., Exc. ., ., Paed. ., ..., .., .., .., ..–.., .., .., .–, .–., ., ., .–, .., .., .–, .., .., .., , ..,
Indexes Clement of Alexandria (cont.) .., ., ., ., – ..–, .., ., .., ..–.., .., ..–, ..–, ., ..., .., ..–, , ..–., – .., – .., ..–, ...–, ..–, .., ...–, .., .., .., .., Cod. Theod. .., .., .., .., Commodian Instructiones .., Const. ap. .–, Council of Antioch c. , Council of Elvira cc. –, c. , cc. –, c. , c. , c. , Council of Nicaea c. , Cyprian
Demetr. , , , Dom. or. , , Eleem. , , , , , ., , , , , , , , , in toto, Ep. .., ., .., , ..–., , .., , .., , .., , – , ..–, ..–., , ., .., .., ., ., .., .., ., .., ., .–, ..,
Indexes .., .., ., ., .., .., .., ..–, .., ., ., ., ., ., ., ., ., ., ., ., Hab. virg. , , Laps. , –, , , , , , , –, , , Mort. ., , Unit. eccl. , Cyril of Alexandria Comm. Cor. in toto, Cyril of Jerusalem Catech. ., ., DA .., ., ., ,
, , in toto, , Dial. Sav. .–, .–., .–, .–, .–, Dialogue of Adamantius ., .–, in toto, , Did. ., ., , ., , ., –, , ., , , .–, in toto, , Didymus Comm. Ps. in toto, Diogn. ., in toto, Disc. Seth .–., .–, .–, Ep. Apos. , ., ., –, .–, .–, .–, .–, , .–, ., ., .,
Indexes ..–, .., ..–, ..–, ..–, Hist. eccl. ..–, ..–, ., .., .., , ..–, .., ., ..–, .., .., , ..–, ..–, ..–, .., .., .., .., .., ., .., ..–, ..–, .., .., .., .., ., .., .., ..–, ..–, .., ..–, , .., .., .., ., ., .–, .., .., .., ., .,
Ep. Apos. (cont.) –, ., ., Ep. Pet. Phil. .–., .–., .–, in toto, , , Ephrem Hymns against Heresies ., in toto, Prose Refutations ., ., in toto, Epiphanius Pan. , ..–, .., .., .–, .., ..–, .., ..–, , in toto, Eugnostos .–., .–, in toto, – Eunomius Apol. , , , Expositio fidei , Eusebius Coet. sanct. , , , Dem. ev. ..–, ..–, Eccl. theol. ., ..–,
Indexes .., ..–, .., .., ., .., .., in toto, , Marc. ..–, ..–, Onom. in toto, Praep. ev. ..–, .., ..–, Vit. Const. .–, –, in toto, Eusebius of Emesa Commentary on the Octateuch in toto, Evagrius On Evil Thoughts , Praktikos , Eznik of Kolb De Deo , Gos. Eg. .–, in toto, Gos. Jud. , .–, ., .–, ., ., .–., .–., .–., .–., in toto, , , Gos. Mary .–., .–, .,
.–, .–, ., .–, .–, .–, .–, .–., .–, .–, in toto, , Gos. Pet. , in toto, , Gos. Phil. .–., .–, .–, ., .–, ., ., .–, .–, .–, ., .–, .–, ., .–, .–, ., .–., ., .–, .–., in toto, Gos. Thom. pr. , , , ., , ., , , , , in toto, , , , , ,
Indexes Gos. Truth .–., .–., .–, in toto, , , Gospel of the Savior in toto, Gregory of Nazianzus Or. ., ., ., Or. Bas. .–, Orationes theologicae .–, Poemata arcana , Gregory of Nyssa Ad Eustathium de sancta Trinitate in toto, Contra Eunomium .–, ..–, ..–, .., De beneficentia , in toto, De hominis opificio –, Hom. in Eccl. ., In Basilium fratrem , In Sanctos XL Martyres II in toto, Vita Mosis in toto, Gregory Thaumaturgus Metaphrasis in toto, Hilary of Poitiers De Trinitate ., Hippolytus Comm. Dan. ., ., in toto, Trad. ap.
., ., .–, ., ., .–a, ., ., , .–, ., in toto, , Hippolytus of Rome Haer. , .pr.–, .pr.–, .pr., .pr., , –, .., ..–, .., ..–, .., .., .., ..–, .., .., ., .–, ., .–, .., , .., .., .–, in toto, , Ignatius Eph. ., ., .–, ., ., ., ., .,
Indexes ., .–., .–, , ., Magn. ., ., ., ., , Phld. ., ., ., Pol. .–, Rom. ., , ., , , ., ., Smyrn. ., .–, ., ., ., ., , ., Trall. ., ., ., .–, Inf. Gos. Thom. in toto, , Irenaeus Epid. , Haer. .–, .., ..–.., ..–., .., .., .., ..–, ..,
.., ..–, .., .., .., .., .., , .., , , .., ., .., ., .., , .., ., , ..–, .., .., .., , .., ., , ..–, ..–, .., ..–, .., .., ..–.., .., – ., .., ..–, .., .., .., .–, .., .., .., .., ..–.., .., , .pr., ., .., .., .., .., .., – .., ..,
Indexes John Chrysostom Adv. Jud. in toto, Hom Phil. .D, Hom. Tim. , , Hom. Matt. , ., Stat. ., ., Theod. laps. ., John Damascene De fide orthodoxa ., John Philoponus De aeternitate mundi contra Aristotelem fr. , De aeternitate mundi contra Proclum .–, Junillus Africanus Instituta regularia in toto, Justin Apol. ., ., ., , ., ., , –, ., , ., ., , ., .–, ., ., , ., , ., .,
Irenaeus (cont.) .., .., .., .., – .., .., .., , ..–, .., .., , – .., ..–, .., .., .., .., .., , ., .., .., .., , .., .., , ., ., .–., ., ., ., ., ., .–, .–, in toto, –, , Jerome Comm. Ezech. ..–, ..–, Qu. hebr. Gen. in toto, Ruf. ., Vigil. , Vir. ill. , , in toto,
Indexes ., , ., , .–, , , ., ., ., , ., , , ., , .–, ., , , in toto, , Apol. ., .–, Dial. .–, , ., ., ., ., , ., ., .–, ., , ., –, ., .–, ., ., ., .–, ., , ., ., .–, ., ., , ., .,
.–, .–, ., .–, .–, ., ., ., ., ., ., ., ., , ., ., ., ., ., ., .–, ., ., ., in toto, , , passim, Lactantius Inst. .., ., ..–, .., ..–.., .., ., Mort. ., ., ., , , ., ., Leo Tractatus ., Liber pontificalis ., ., ., ., ,
Indexes Liber pontificalis (cont.) ., , ., ., Life and Miracles of Saint Thecla .–, Mart. Paul in toto, , Mart. Pol. ., ., , , ., ., ., ., ., ., , ., ., in toto, –, , Martyrdom of Pionius ., .–., Maximus the Confessor Ambiguum , Ep. , Mystagogia prooemium, Quastiones ad Thalassium , Melito Peri Pascha , , , –, –, , fr. –, in toto, , Methodius of Olympus De creaturis in toto, Res. ., ..,
.., .., fr. ., Symp. ., .–, ..–, ..–, ., ., Minucius Felix Oct. .–, ., Nat. Rulers ., .–., .–, Novatian De bono pudicitiae ., .–, Optatus Against the Donatists .., Orig. World .–., .–., .–., in toto, Origen Cels. ., ., ., ., ., ., ., ., ., .., ., ., ., .–, ., .–, ., ., .,
Indexes ., ., ., ., , ., ., Comm. Apoc. ., Comm. Cant. in toto, Comm. Gen. in toto, , Comm. Jo. ., ..–.., .., ., ., .., ..–, .–, ., ., in toto, Comm. Matt. .., ., ., ., .–, ., Comm. Ps. in toto, Comm. Rom. ..–, ..–.., Ep. Greg. , Hom. Exod. ., Hom. Gen. ., , ., ., ., Hom. Jes. Nav. ., ., Hom. Lev. ..,
.., ., .., .., .., Hom. Luc. ., fr. , Hom. Num. ., Hom. Ps. in toto, Mart. in toto, Or. ., ., ., ., ., ., in toto, Princ. pr., pr. , .., .., .., , .., – .., ..–, .., , .., .., .., .., .., .., .., ..–, .., .., .–, – ..–, – .., , .., .., in toto, , , ,
Indexes Origen (cont.) Sel. Exod. ., Pamphilus Apology for Origen , Passion of Perpetua and Felicity –, , in toto, , , Paulinus Ep. .–, Peter Chrysologus Sermones , Peter of Alexandria On Riches , Philastrius Concerning Heresies in toto, Pionius Vita Polycarpi , , , in toto, , Pistis Sophia in toto, Polycarp Phil. ., ., ., ., .–, Procopius of Gaza Commentary on Genesis in toto, Prot. Jas. in toto, Prudentius Peristephanon , .–, .–, .–, Pseudo-Clement Ep. Jacobum ,
Hom. .–, .–, Pseudo-Cyril On the Life and the Passion of Christ in toto, Pseudo-Dionysius De caelesti hierarchia ., De divinis nominibus ., ., .–, ., Pseudo-Justin Cohortatio ad Graecos , Resurrection ., ., Pseudo-Phocylides –, Pseudo-Tertullian Adversus omnes haereses in toto, , Ptolemy Flor. ., in toto, Regula Magistri , Sent. Sextus , –, Severus Cathedral Homilies , Shepherd of Hermas in toto, Mand. .–, ., ., , ., ., ., .., Sim. .–,
Indexes ., ., ., ., ., ., , .., .., .., ..–, ., .., .., Vis. .., , .., , ., .., .., .., Sozomen Hist. eccl. .., Steles Seth .–, .–, Tatian Or. ., ., , ., ., ., , ., ., Teach. Silv. , Tertullian Adv. Jud. ., passim, An. , ., –, , –, .,
., Apol. ., , , , ., Bapt. –, –, , , , in toto, Carn. Chr. , in toto, Cor. , ., Cult. fem. ., ., Exh. cast. , , , in toto, , Fug. in toto, Herm. –, .–, passim, Idol. , ., ., ., Jejun. , , Marc. .., ., ., .., .., .., .., .–, .., ..–, –,
Indexes , , in toto, Prax. , ., , in toto, Pud. ., , , Res. –, ., , .–, –, –, .–, ., in toto, Scorp. ., ., Spect. , , , , .–, Test. , –, , Ux. in toto, Virg. .–, , , Testim. Truth .–, Theodoret Ep. , Haer. fab. in toto, Quaestiones in Genesim , Theodotus Exc. .,
Tertullian (cont.) .., , .., .., – ..–, .., ., ..–, ..–, .., ..–, .., .., ., .., .., .., ., in toto, , Mart. ., , Mon. , , ., in toto, , Nat. ..–, Or. , , , – ., ., Paen. ., Pat. .–, ., ., ., ., ., ., ., Praescr. ., , , , , ,
Indexes Theophilus Autol. ., ., ., , ., , ., .–, ., ., ., Three Forms .–, Treat. Res. ., .–, .–, in toto, Tri. Trac. .–, .–, .–, .–., Tyconius Reg. in toto, Val. Exp. .–, .–., .–, .–, .–, .–, Victorinus Ad Candidum .–, .–, Adversus Arium .–, Vincent of Lérins Commonitorium ., , Wis. Jes. Chr. .–., .–, in toto, , , Zost. .–., .–., .–., .–,
Greco-Roman Aelius Aristides Or. , Apuleius Metam. in toto, Arius Didymus Epitome .–, Aristotle Eth. Nic. b–, Gen. corr. ., a–, Pol. ..–, ..–, a–, Aulus Gellius Noct. att. ., Cicero Att. .., Off. ., Verr. ., .., ., ., Dio Cassius Hist. Rom. .., ., ., Diodorus Siculus Bib. hist. .., Dionysius of Halicarnassus Ant. Rom. .., Thuc. in toto, Epictetus Diatr. ..,
Indexes Euripides Bacch. –, Galen De differentiis pulsuum ., ., De methodo medendi .., Hesiod Theog. in toto, Homer Il. in toto, Od. ., .–, .–, Horace Carm. ..–, Justinian’s Digest ..., Juvenal Sat. .–, Libanius Or. ., Longus Daphn. ..–, Lucian Alex. , , Peregr. –, , , in toto, Lucretius De rerum natura ..–, .–, Marcus Aurelius Med. ., .,
., Martial Epigrams ., Petronius Sat. –, –, Philodemus of Gadara Ir. .–, .–, Philostratus Vit. Apoll. ., Plato Gorg. E, Leg. C–C, Phaed. C, C–E, C, A, D–C, Resp. .C, .b, C, Tim. C–B, A, C, A, E, E–A, B, in toto, – Pliny the Elder Nat. ., ., Pliny the Younger Ep. ., ., ., , , ,
Indexes .., .–, Plotinus Enn. ., , Plutarch Brut. an. , Cohib. ira , Conj. praec. , , Cons. Apoll. , Cons. ux. , Cupid. divit. in toto, Mulier. virt. E, in toto, Pomp. ., Quaest. conv. ., Porphyry Vit. Plot. , –, Pseudo-Plato Epin. B–C, Sallust Bell. Cat. , Seneca the Elder Controv. .–, Seneca the Younger Ben. ..,
Clem. .., De constantia sapientis .–, Ep. ., Ira ., ., Marc. ., Thy. –, Suetonius Jul. , Nero ., , – –, Tacitus Agr. , Ann. ., ., , .., – ., Valerius Maximus Facta et dicta memorabilia .., ..pr., .., .., .., ..absol., Velleius Paterculus Hist. .., Virgil Aen. in toto, Ecl. in toto,
Modern Authors
Aasgaard, Reidar, , Adams, Edward, , , Aland, Barbara, , , , Aland, Kurt, , Alexander, Philip, , Alexis-Baker, Andy, Alfödy, Geza, Alikin, Valeriy A., , , Allen, Garrick V., Allison, Dale C., Jr., , Allworthy, Thomas B., Álvarez Cineira, David, Amsler, Frédéric, Anatolios, Khaled, , , Armstrong, Arthur H., Arruzza, Cinzia, Artz-Grabner, Peter, Ascough, Richard S., , , Assmann, Jan, , , , Augustin, Philipp, Ausbüttel, Frank M., – Ayres, Lewis, , , , , , –, , Azar, Michael, Babcock, William S., Bäbler, Balbina, Backhaus, Knut, Bae, Junghun, Bain, Katherine, Baird, William, Baker, Lynne Rudde, Bakhtin, Mikhail, Balás, David L., Balberg, Mira, Barber, Michael, Barclay, John M. G., , , , , , ,
Barker, Don, Barnes, Michel René, , , Barnes, Timothy D., –, , , , – Barreto, Eric D., Barrett, Charles Kingsley, , Bartlett, Frederic C., Bash, Anthony, , Bates, Matthew, , Bauckham, Richard, –, , Bauer, Walter, , , Baumstark, Anton, Baur, Ferdinand Christian, Bazzana, Giovanni B., Beard, Mary, , Beaudry, Mary C., Beavis, Mary Ann, Beck, Roger, Bedard, Stephen J., BeDuhn, Jason D., , , , Beeley, Christopher A., , , Behm, Johannes, Behr, John, , –, , Bellinzoni, Arthur J., Ben Asher, Michal, Bengel, Johann Albrecht., Berg, Jan Albert van den, Berg, Ria, Bergjan, Silke-Petra, , Berglund, Carl Johan, Bernhardt, Johannes, Berzon, Todd S., Betz, Johannes, Beutler, Johannes, Bhabha, Homi K., – Bingham, D. Jeffrey, , – Bird, Michael F., Bitner, Bradley J.,
Indexes Blanton, Thomas R., IV, , Blasi, Anthony J., Blidstein, Moshe, Blois, Lukas de, Blowers, Paul M., , –, – Blumell, Lincoln H., Bockmuehl, Markus, Boer, Esther A. de., Boer, Martinus C. de, Bøgh, Birgitte, Boin, Douglas, Bond, Helen K., Bond, Sarah, Boring, Eugene, Bourdieu, Pierre, Bovon, François, Bowe, Barbara, Bowersock, G. W., Bowes, Kim, , Boyarin, Daniel, –, –, , , , Boys-Stones, George R., , Bradshaw, Paul F., –, , , , Brakke, David, , , , , , , , , Brandenburg, Hugo, Brandt, Olof, , Brankaer, Johanna, , , Bratož, Rajko, Bredenhof, Reuben, Bremen, Riet van, , Bremmer, Jan N., , , , , , Brent, Allen, , Brewer, Brian C., Breytenbach, Cilliers, Broek, Roelof van den, , , , Brookins, Timothy A., , Brooten, Bernadette J., Brower, Jeffrey E., Brown, Jeannine, Brown, Peter, , , , , , , , , Bruns, J. Edgar, Bruyn, Theodore de, Bryen, Ari Z., Buchinger, Harald, Bucur, Bogdan Gabriel, Buell, Denise Kimber, , Buol, Justin, Burke, Tony, Burns, J. Patout Jr., , , , ,
Burns, Joshua Ezra, Burrus, Virginia, – Burton, Philip, Burton-Christie, Douglas, Buschmann, Gerd, Bussières, Marie-Pierre, Bynum, Caroline Walker, Byrskog, Samuel, , , Cadwallader, Alan, Caird, George, Cameron, Averil, , , , , , , , Cameron, Michael, Campbell, R. Alastair, Camplani, Alberto, Camporeale, Salvatore I., Cantino, Gisella Wataghin, Cardó, Daniel, Carey, Greg, Carleton Paget, James, , , Carlson, Stephen C., , , Carothers, Bobbi J., Carter, T. L., Carter, Warren, Castelli, Elizabeth A., , , , Černušková, Veronika, Cerquiglini, Bernard, Ceulemans, Reinhart, Charles, Ronald, Chase, Michael, Cheung, Alex T., Chiapparini, Giuliano, Chilton, Bruce D., Christman, Angela Russell, Cianca, Jenn, Cifasi, Wally, Clark, Elizabeth A., , , , , , Clark, Kenneth W., Clarke, Graeme W., , , Clarysse, Willy, Clivaz, Claire, – Coakley, Sarah, , , –, , Cobb, L. Stephanie, , –, Cohick, Lynn H., Coleman, Rachel, Colvin, Matthew, Concannon, Cavan W., , , Connell, Raewyn, – Contardi, Federico, Conway, Colleen M.,
Indexes Dunn, Geoffrey D., , Dunn, James D. G., , , , Dunning, Benjamin H., , – Dünzl, Franz, Duval, Yvette,
Conybeare, Catherine, , – Cook, John Granger, , , –, Coon, Lynda L., Cooper, Kate, Corke-Webster, James, Coulie, Bernard, Countryman, L. William, Coutsoumpos, Panayiotis, Craig, Hugh, Crawford, Matthew R., , Creech, David, Cribiore, Raffaela, Crislip, Andrew, Crook, Zeba A., , Crossan, Jean-Dominic, Cuming, G. J., Daley, Brian, Daly, Robert J., , , Davids, Peter, Davis, Stephen J., , – Dawson, David, de Mingo Kaminouchi, Alberto, Decock, Paul B., Deissmann, Adolf, Deming, Will, Denzey Lewis, Nicola, , , , , Denzey, Nicola, See Denzey Lewis, Nicola Dewey, Joanna, Dibelius, Martin, Digeser, Elizabeth DePalma, Dilley, Paul, Dillon, John, , , Dix, Gregory, Döhler, Marietheres, Donaldson, James, Donaldson, Terence L., Dossey, Leslie, Downing, F. G., Downs, David J., , , , , – Dragoș, Andrei, Drake, Harold A., , – Drake, Lyndon, Drake, Susanna, Draper, Jonathan A., Drobner, Hubertus R., Droz, Yvan, Dube, Musa W., Dubois, Jean-Daniel, , Dulk, Matthijs den, , , Dunderberg, Ismo, , , –
Easter, M. C., Eastman, David L., , , , , , Ebojo, Edgar, Eckhardt, Benedikt, Eden, Kathy, Edwards, J. Christopher, Edwards, Mark J., , , , Edwards, Robert G. T., Efroymson, David P., Ehrhardt, Arnold, Ehrman, Bart D., , , , , , , , Eilers, Claude, Eisen, Ute E., Elledge, C. D., Elliot, Neil, , –, , Elm, Susanna, Elsner, Jas, , Emmel, Stephen, Endsjø, Dag Øistein, Engberg-Pedersen, Troels, , , , Epp, Eldon J., , , , , Erll, Astrid, –, Eshleman, Kendra, , –, , , , Esser, J. J., Evans, Craig A., – Evans, Richard J., Evans, William B., Fantin, Joseph, Fantino, Jacques, Farrar, Frederic W., – Fatum, Lone, Fédou, Michel, , , Fee, Gordon D., , , , Feine, Paul, Feldman, Louis H., Ferguson, Everett, , , , , , Ferrua, Antonio, Fine, Gary Alan, , , , – Finn, Richard, – Finney, Mark T., , Fiorenze, Elizabeth Schüssler, Fiormonte, Domenico,
Indexes Fitzgerald, John, Fitzmyer, Joseph, Flambard, Jean-Marc, Fleming, Rebecca, Flexsenhar, Michael, III, , , Flower, Richard, , Foley, John Miles, Fonrobert, Charlotte, Forbes, Christopher, Forger, Deborah, Förster, Niclas, Föster, Hans, Foster, Paul M., , Fouilloux, Étienne, Fowden, Garth, Fowler, Kimberley, Frankfurter, David, Frankling, Carmela Vircillo, Fredriksen, Paula, –, , , , , , Frend, W. H. C., , , Frey, Jörg, Freyne, Sean, Friedrich, Gerhard, Friesen, Courtney J., Friesen, Steven J., –, , , Furley, David, Fürst, Alfons, , – Gäbel, Georg, Gadamer, Hans-Georg, Gaddis, Michael, – Gagné, André, Galinsky, Karl, Gallagher, Edmon L., , Gamble, Harry Y., , Garnsey, Peter, Gassman, Mattias, Geerard, Maurice, Gehring, Roger, Gelston, Anthony, Gemeinhardt, Peter, , , Georges, Tobias, Georgia, Allan T., Gerhardsson, Birger, Gez, Yonatan N., Giardina, Andrea, , Giles, Kevin, , Gill, David W. J., Glancy, Jennifer, , Glorie, François,
Glucker, John, Gnilka, Christian, Goldhill, Simon, , – González, Justo L., Goodacre, Mark, Goodrich, John K., , , – Goodspeed, Edgar J., , Gosbell, Louise A., , Graf, Fritz, Grafton, Anthony, , Graiver, Inbar, Grant, Edward, Grant, Robert M., , Graumann, Thomas, Gray, John, Green, Roger P. H., Greer, Rowan A., Gregory, Andrew, , Gregson, Fiona, Griesbach, Johann Jakob., Grig, Lucy, Groh, Dennis E., Grubbs, Judith Evans, Grundeken, Mark, – Grünstäudl, Wolfgang, , , , Guilfoy, Kevin, Guinot, Jean-Noël, Gunton, Colin E., , , , Gupta, Nijay K., Gurry, Peter J., –, Güthenke, Constanze, , Guyon, Jean, Haar Romeny, R. B. ter, Hahn, Johannes, Hahn, Scott, Haines-Eitzen, Kim, , , Häkkinen, Sakari, Halbwachs, Maurice, , Hall, Christopher A., Hall, Edith, Hallett, Judith P., Halpern, Baruch, Hamel, Gildas H., Hamidovič, David, Hängii, Anton, Hannah, Darrell D., Hare, Douglas, Harland, Philip A., , , Harley-McGowan, Felicity,
Indexes Harnack, Adolf von, , , , , , , , , , , , Harper, Kyle, Harrill, J. Albert, , , Harris, William V., , Harrison, James R., , , –, –, – Hartenstein, Judith, , Hartmann, Nicole, Hartog, François, Hartog, Paul A., Harvey, Susan Ashbrook, Hauge, Matthew Ryan, Head, Peter, Heid, Stefan, , Hellerman, Joseph H., , Hellström, Monica, , Helmer, Étienne, Hemelrijk, Emily A., , Hemer, Colin J., Henessey, Lawrence R., Hengel, Martin, , Henner, Jutta, Hennessy, Kristen, Herrero de Jáuregui, Miguel, Herzog, William R., Hezser, Catherine, , , , , Hicks, Dan, Hicks-Keeton, Jill, Hilhorst, Anthony, Hill, Wesley, – Hirschmann, Vera Elisabeth, Hock, Ronald F., Hoffmann, Lawrence A., Holloway, R. Ross, Holman, Susan R., , Holmes, Michael W., , Holmes, Stephen, , , Hoover, Jesse A., Hope, Valarie M., Hopkins, Clark, , Hopkins, Keith, Horbury, William, Horne, Ryan, Horner, Ralph J., Horrell, David G., , Horsley, G. H. R., Horsley, Richard A., , , Hort, Fenton John Anthony, Housman, Alfred E., Hubbard, Douglas W.,
Huebenthal, Sandra, –, Huebner, Sabine, , Hughes, Amy Brown, Humfress, Caroline, , Humphries, Mark, Hunt, Thomas E., Hurst, L. D., Hurtado, Larry W., –, , , –, , Hylen, Susan E., , , Inglebert, Hervé, , Ip, Alex, Irshai, Oded, Isaac, Benjamin, , Jackson-McCabe, Matt, Jacobi, Christine, , Jacobs, Andrew S., , Jaeger, Werner, Janssens, Bart, Jarick, John, Jasper, Ronald C. D., Jastrzebowska, Elisabeth, Jenott, Lance, , Jensen, Robin M., , –, , , –, , , Jeremias, Joachim, Jewett, Robert, , Johnson, Elizabeth, Johnson, Gary J., Johnson, Maxwell, , Jones, Christopher P., , Jorgenson, Chad, Joseph, Simon, Joubert, Stephan, Judge, E. A., , , –, Jungmann, Joseph, Jurasz, Izabela, Kahl, Brigitte, , Kaler, Michael, Kannengiesser, Charles, , –, , , , , , , – Kärkkäinen, Veli-Matti, Kartzow, Marianne Bjelland, Kasser, Rodolphe, Kaster, Robert A., Kautsky, Karl, Keith, Chris, , , , –, , Kelhoffer, James A.,
Indexes Kelly, Joseph E., Kenyon, Frederic G., Kessler, Herbert, Kiel, Nikolai, Kim, Seyoon, – Kimelman, Reuven, Kincaid, John, King, Karen L., , , , , Kinzig, Wolfram, Kirk, Alan, , , , , , Kittredge, Cynthia Briggs, Klager, Andrew P., Klauck, Hans-Josef, Klein, Elizabeth, Klijn, A. F. J., Klinghardt, Matthias, , – Kloppenborg, John S., –, , , , –, , Knapp, Robert C., Knipfing, John R., Knopf, Rudolf, Knust, Jennifer Wright, , , Kocar, Alexander, Köckert, Charlotte, , Koet, Bart J., Kombo, James, Koschorke, Klaus, Kotrosits, Maia, , –, , Kraeling, Carl, Kraemer, Ross S., , Kraft, Robert A., Krautheimer, Richard, Kraye, Jill, Kreft, Nora, Kreider, Alan, Krueger, Derek, Krüger, Gustav, Kugel, James L., La Rocca, Eugenio, Lahe, Jaan, Lakey, Michael, Laks, André, Lamberigts, Mathijs, , , Lamberton, Robert, Lampe, Peter, , , –, –, , , Lancellotti, Maria Grazia, Lane Fox, Robin, , , Lang, Bernhard, – Lang, Gladys Engel,
Lang, Kurt, Lang, Uwe Michael, Langer, Ruth, Lans, Birgit van der, Lanywabang, Jamir, Lapidge, Michael, , Larsen, Matthew D. C., Last, Richard, , Law, Timothy M., Le Boulluec, Alain, –, –, –, Le Donne, Anthony, , , , Lee, Jung Young, Leemans, Johan, Lehman, Tom, Lehtipuu, Outi, , –, – Leipziger, Jonas, Lenski, Noel, Leonhard, Clemens, Leppin, Hartmut, Létourneau, Pierre, , Levenson, Jon D., Lewis, Richard B., – Licciardello, Pierluigi, Lieber, Laura, Liebeschuetz, J. H. W. G., , , Lied, Liv Ingeborg, Lietzmann, Hans, , , Lieu, Judith M., , , –, , , , , , –, , –, –, , , Lightfoot, J. B., , Lindemann, Andreas, Linder, Ammon, Linjamaa, Paul, Lipsett, B. Diane, Litfin, Bryan, Litwa, M. David, , , , , Loftus, Elizabeth F., Löhr, Helmut, Löhr, Winrich A., –, , , , , , –, Lohse, Eduard, Longenecker, Bruce W., –, –, , , , , , –, , Longenecker, Richard, Lössl, Josef, , –, , , , Lüdemann, Gerd, Ludlow, Morwenna, – Luff, Rosemary, Luijendijk, AnneMarie, , , Lundhaug, Hugo, , , , –
Indexes Luttikhuizen, Gerard P., , Luz, Ulrich, Lyman, Rebecca, , MacDonald, Dennis R., MacDonald, Margaret Y., , , , Mack, Burton L., , MacLean, Rose, MacMullen, Ramsay, –, , , , , Mader, Heidrun Elisabeth, Madigan, Kevin J., , , Maier, Harry O., –, , , , , Malbon, Elizabeth Struthers, Malherbe, Abraham J., Malik, Peter, Mandouze, André, , Mansfeld, Jaap, Marek, Christian, Margerie, Bertrand de, Marjanen, Antti, Markley, John Robert, Markschies, Christoph, , –, –, , , –, Marmion, Declan, , Marrou, Henri-Irénée, , , Marshall, John W., Martens, Peter W., , – Martin, Dale B., , , , Martin, J. Louis, Martin, Victor, Martini, Carlo M., Martyn, J. Louis, Mathisen, Ralph W., , Matthews, Shelly, May, Gerhard, , Mazur, Zeke, Mazza, Enrico, McCaulley, Esau, McDonald, Grantley, McDonnell, Myles, McDowell, Sean, – McGlothlin, Thomas D., , McGowan, Andrew, , , , McGowan, Anne, McGuckin, John, McKim, Donald K., McKnight, Scot, , , Meade, John D., , Meeks, Wayne A., , ,
Meggitt, Justin J., , Meier, John P., , Meijering, E. P., Meiser, Martin, Ménard, Jacques, Metzger, Bruce M., , , , Meyendorff, John, Michaels, J. Ramsey, Middleton, Paul, , Milavec, Aaron, Millar, Fergus, , Miller, Amanda C., Miller, Patricia Cox, Miller, Richard C., Mink, Gerd, , , Mitchell, Margaret M., , Mitchell, Stephen, Modica, Joseph B., Moll, Sebastian, , Möllendorff, Peter von, Mongstad-Kvammen, Ingeborg, Montero, Roman, Moore, R. Laurence, Moore, Stephen D., Moriarty, Whei, Moss, Candida R., , , , , –, , –, , , Muehlberger, Ellen, Mukuka, Tarcisius, Munier, Charles, Mußner, Franz, Musurillo, Herbert, Näf, Beat, , Nardoni, Enrique, Nasrallah, Laura Salah, , , Nathan, Geoffrey, Nellas, Panayiotis, Neuschäfer, Bernhard, Neuwirth, Angelika, Neymeyr, Ulrich, Nichols, Stephen, Nicklas, Tobias, , –, –, , –, , , Nieddu, Anna Maria, Nirenberg, David, Nock, Arthur Darby, , – Noethlichs, Karl, Nongbri, Brent, , , , – Noormann, Rolf, Norelli, Enrico,
Indexes Norris, Richard A., , North, John A., , , Novenson, Matthew V., O’Brien, Carl Séan, , O’Collins, Gerald, , – Oakes, Peter, Oakman, Douglas, Ogbonnaya, A. Okechukwu, Ogereau, Julien M., , Økland, Jorunn, , , Old, Hughes Oliphant, Olson, Kelly, Olson, Roger E., Ondrey, Hauna T., Opelt, Ilona, Orsini, Pasquale, Os, Bas van, , , Osborn, Eric F., Osiek, Carolyn, , , , , Owen, William, Pagels, Elaine H., , , Pahl, Irgmand, Painchaud, Louis, , Pardee, Nancy, Parker, David C., , , – Parker, Holt N., Parkes, James, Parpulov, Georgi R., Parsons, P. J., Parvis, Paul, , Pasquier, Anne, Patterson, Orlando, Patterson, Stephen, Paulsen, Thomas, Pearson, Birger A., Peebles, Bernard M., Peel, Malcolm, Pelikan, Jaroslov, Penner, Todd, Peppard, Michael, , Peppiatt, Lucy, Pérez i Díaz, Mar, Perkins, Judith, , , , Perkins, Pheme, , , Perlmutter, Haim, Pervo, Richard I., , Peters, Janelle, Petrey, Taylor, Pevarello, Daniele,
Pfaff, Richard W., Pfleiderer, Otto, Phillip, Peter, Phillips, Edward, Pihlava, Kaisa-Maria, Pitre, Brant, , Pollmann, Karla, Porter, Calvin L., Porter, Stanley E., , Poupon, Gérard, Praet, Danny, Pratscher, Wilhelm, Presley, Stephen, Price, Simon R. F., , , , Domínguez, Óscar Prieto, Prothro, James B., Quasten, Johannes, , Rabens, Volker, Radde-Gallwitz, Andrew, Raditsa, L., Rahner, Karl, – Rajak, Tessa, Ramelli, Ilaria L. E., , , Ranke, Leopold von, Rasimus, Tuomas, , Rebillard, Éric, , –, , , , , , , , , Reed, Annette Yoshiko, Reed, Jonathan, Reinhartz, Adele, Reinink, G. J., Reis, Harry T., Revenlow, Henning Graf, Rey, Jeanne, Rhee, Helen, , Riaud, Jean, Richter, Daniel S., Riley, Gregory J., Rives, James B., , , Robbins, Gregory Allan, Roberts, Colin H., , Robinson, Brian J., Robinson, K. C., Robinson, Thomas A., , , , , Rodríguez, Rafael, , , , Rogich, Daniel M., Roig Lanzillotta, Lautaro, Roldanus, Johannes, Rosenfeld, Ben-Zion,
Indexes Roth, Dieter T., , , , Roukema, Riemer, , Rousselle, Aline, Rowe, C. Kavin, Royalty, Robert M., –, Rudolph, Kurt, , , Ruether, Rosemary Radford, Runia, David T., , , Rutgers, Leonard, Sabar, Ariel, , Sage, Michael M., , Sagnard, F., Sahin, Derya, Saint-Laurent, Jeane-Nicole, Sakupapa, Teddy Chalwe, Saller, Richard P., , , Salzman, Michele Renee, Salzmann, Jörg Christian, Sanders, E. P., Sanders, Jack T., – Sandt, Huub van de, Saxer, Victor, , Schaff, Philip, , Schäublin, Christoph, Scheid, John, Scheidel, Walter, , Scherbenske, Eric W., , Scherer, Jeanf, Schibli, Hermann S., Schmid, Bernard, Schmid, Herbert, , , Schmid, Ulrich B., , , , Schnelle, Udo, Schöllgen, Georg, , Scholten, Clemens, , Schor, Adam M., Schott, Jeremy, Schröter, Jens, , , , Schubert, Paul, Schudson, Michael, –, Schultheiss, Tanja, Schwartz, Barry, Schwartz, Seth, Schwöbel, Christoph, , – Scott, Alan B., , Scott, James C., , Sedley, David, Selinger, Reinhard, Semler, J. S., Sessa, Kristina,
Setzer, Claudia, Severy, Beth, Sexton, Kim, Shäfer, Peter, Shaner, Katherine A., , , , –, Shaw, Brent D., , –, , Sheidel, Walter, Sherwin-White, Adrian N., , Shin, Min Seok, Shuve, Karl, Sigvartsen, Jan A., Siker, Jeffrey S., Simon, Marcel, –, –, , Simonetti, Manlio, Siniscalco, Paolo, Siotis, Markos A., – Sivan, Hagith S., , Skarsaune, Oskar, Skeat, T. C., Skedros, James C., Skinner, Marilyn B., Smit, Peter-Ben, Smith, Eric C., Smith, Geoffrey S., , –, –, , , Smith, Gregory A., Smith, Kyle, Smyth, Matthieu, Snyder, Glenn E., , , Snyder, Graydon F., , , –, – Snyder, H. Gregory, , Soares, Edio, Söding, Thomas, Sonderegger, Katherine, Songe-Møller, Vigdis, Sorabji, Richard, Soskice, Janet, Staden, Heinrich von, –, Stadter, Philip A., Standhartinger, Angela, Stark, Rodney, , , Ste. Croix, G. E. M. de, , , , , Steenberg, Matthew C., , Stefaniw, Blossom, Stempel, Hermann-Ad., Stern, Menachem, Stewart, Alistair C., , , , , , , , Stewart-Sykes, Alistair, See Stewart, Alistair C.
Indexes Vanden Eykel, Eric M., Vander Stichele, Caroline, Vansina, Jan, Vaucher, Daniel, , Versnel, Henk, Vessey, Mark, , Vinzent, Markus, , , , , Vlassopoulos, Kostas, Vogel, Cyrille, – Volpe, Rita, Vos, Craig Steven de, Vuong, Lily C.,
Still, Todd D., Stinger, Charles L., Stowers, Stanley K., , , Straeten, Joseph van der, Strait, Drew, Strawbridge, Jennifer, , , , Street, Alan, Streete, Gail, – Streeter, Joseph, Struck, Peter T., Strutwolf, Holger, Suciu, Alin, Sutton, Ben, Swete, Henry Barclay, – Tabbernee, William, Tannous, Jack, Tappenden, Frederick S., Tardieu, Michel, Tennant, P. M. W., Theissen, Gerd, , Theißen, Gerd, See Theissen, Gerd Thiselton, Anthony C., Thomassen, Einar, , , –, , Thorsteinsson, Runar, Tombeur, Paul, Torjesen, Karen J., – Torrance, Thomas, Tov, Emanuel, Townsend, Philippa, Toynbee, J. M. C., Tracy, David, , Tran, Nicolas, Trebilco, Paul, , Treggiari, Susan, Trelenberg, Jörg, Trevett, Christine, – Tripaldi, Daniele, Tuckett, Christopher M., Tulloch, Janet H., Turner, C. H., – Turner, John D., – Tyson, Joseph B., , Udoh, Fabian, Ullucci, Daniel C., , Urciuoli, Emiliano Rubens, Vall, Gregory, Van Dam, Raymond, Van Nieuwenhove, Rik, , , –,
Wachtel, Klaus, Wagner, Jochen, , Wallraff, Martin, Walsh, Joseph J., Walsh, Robyn Faith, Wan, Sze-Kar, Ward, H. Clifton, Ward, Mary Augusta, Ward-Perkins, John Bryan, Ware, James, , , – Wasserman, Tommy, , , , –, –, Watson, Francis, , , Weedman, Mark E., , , Wehnert, Jürgen, , Wehr, Lothar, Weima, J. A., Weiss, Zeev, Weiß, Alexander, – Weitzmann, Kurt, Welborn, L. L., , –, –, –, Wessel, Susan, Westcott, B. F., , White, Benjamin L., , , , White, J. R., Whitlark, Jason A., Wickes, Jeffrey, Wilhite, David E., , , , , , , , , , Wilhite, Shawn J., Wilken, Robert Louis, Williams, Craig A., Williams, D. H., , Williams, Megan, , Williams, Michael Allen, , , , Williams, Rowan, , – Williams, Travis B., , Wilson, Brittany E., ,
Indexes Wilson, Stephen G., , Winn, Adam, , Winter, Bruce W., , Wiśniewski, Robert, Wisse, Frederik, Witetschek, Stephan, Wittgenstein, Ludwig, Wlosok, Antonie, Wolf, Abraham, Wolter, Michael, Woods, David, Worterstorff, Nicholas, Wright, N. T., , –, , , Wurst, Gregor, Wyrwa, Dietmar, Wysocki, Marcin R.,
Yadin-Israel, Azzan, Yamauchi, Edwin M., Yasin, Anne Marie, , Yerushalmi, Yosef Hayim, Young, Frances M., , –, Young, Robin Darling, Zamfir, Korinna, Zelyck, Lorne R., Zerubavel, Yael, , Zetterholm, Karin H., Zetterholm, Magnus, Zheltov, Michael, Zizioulas, John, Zoller, Coleen, Zuntz, Günther, ,