Conceptions of "Gospel" and Legitimacy in Early Christianity (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen Zum Neuen Testament) 9783161526367, 9783161529931, 3161526368

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Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Herausgeber / Editor Jörg Frey (Zürich) Mitherausgeber / Associate Editors Markus Bockmuehl (Oxford) James A. Kelhoffer (Uppsala) Hans-Josef Klauck (Chicago, IL) Tobias Nicklas (Regensburg)

324

James A. Kelhoffer

Conceptions of “Gospel” and Legitimacy in Early Christianity

Mohr Siebeck

James A. Kelhoffer, born 1970; 1999 PhD, University of Chicago; 2003 postdoctoral fellow Catholic Biblical Association of America; 2007 postdoctoral fellow Alexander von Humboldt Foundation at Ludwigs-Maximilians-Universität München; currently Professor of New Testament Exegesis at Uppsala University, Sweden.

e-ISBN PDF 978-3-16-152993-1 ISBN 978-3-16-152636-7 ISSN 0512-1604 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament) Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2014  by Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen, Germany. www.mohr.de This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic s­ ystems. The book was printed by Gulde-Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buch­binderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

To the Jesuits, the theologians and the students of Saint Louis University,

with sincere thanks for ten years of fruitful collaboration, dialogue and conviviality

Acknowledgements In 2009, Jörg Frey suggested that I eventually publish a volume of collected essays on Second Clement, a text on which I was, and still am, planning to write a commentary. I responded that, first, work on a different Sammelband – on the themes of “Gospel” and legitimacy – could be commenced straightaway. The result of that spontaneous counterproposal is the present volume. In the years subsequent to Jörg’s suggestion, a move from Munich back to St. Louis (2009) and, sixteen months later, from St. Louis to Uppsala (2010), along with other research projects, shifted my sanguinely hopeful “straightaway” to an “in the not-too-distant future.” I would like to thank Dr. Henning Ziebritzki for accepting this volume for the WUNT series, as well as his staff at Mohr Siebeck for their assistance – in particular, Ilse König, who oversaw the volume’s production. Heartfelt thanks are due to Rosemary Jermann (St. Louis) for carefully reading the entire manuscript, catching innumerable infelicities and suggesting a myriad of more cogent phrasings. Any remaining errors are, of course, my responsibility. At the beginning of each chapter, I acknowledge those who gave feedback on a particular article. Two colleagues in particular – Troy W. Martin and Clare K. Rothschild – have my gratitude for offering comments on several of these studies. For granting permission to reprint these studies, I thank the journals Biblical Research; Currents in Biblical Research; Early Christianity; Ex Auditu; Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies; Journal of Early Christian Studies; Svensk exegetisk årsbok; Vigiliae Christianae; Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum and Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft, as well as the publishers Brill, the Johns Hopkins University Press, SAGE Publications, Walter de Gruyter, and Wipf and Stock Publishers. This volume is dedicated to all those with whom I worked at Saint Louis University, where, in 2001, I began my first tenure track appointment and where most of the articles in this volume were written. I will always be grateful to colleagues there for their trust in me (a Lutheran exegete), their emulation of the Ignatian humanistic and intellectual tradition, and their commitment to educating the whole person ad majorem Dei gloriam. Uppsala, Advent 2013

James A. Kelhoffer

Table of Contents Acknowledgments ............................................................................................... VII Preface: On Method, “Gospel” and Legitimacy ........................................... XIX

I. Methodological Observations Chapter 1: New Testament Exegesis as an Academic Discipline with Relevance for Other Disciplines .............................................................

3

4 A. What Is New Testament Exegesis? ............................................................ B. What Is My Research Profile? ..................................................................... 5 C. Neither Theology’s Handmaiden nor Theology’s advocatus diaboli: What Does It Mean To Call New Testament Exegesis an Academic Discipline? ............................................................................... 7 D. How Can New Testament Exegesis Have Relevance 9 for Other Disciplines? ................................................................................... E. What Is the Relationship between Newer and More Traditional Methods in New Testament Exegesis, and Is the So-Called “Historical-Critical Method” Just One Method? ..................................... 10 F. How Can New Testament Exegesis Have Relevance for All People? 15 G. Epilogue: Academic Disciplines Past, Present and Future ................... 16

Chapter 2: Early Christian Studies among the Academic Disciplines: Reflections on John the Baptist’s “Locusts and Wild Honey” ................. A. Introduction ...................................................................................................... B. The Ongoing Need for Philological Refinement ..................................... C. Moving beyond “Parallelomania” to Cogent Argumentation and Elucidation ................................................................................................ D. Method and Eclecticism: Moving Beyond the Dichotomy between Socio-Historical and “Historical-Critical” ............................... E. John the Baptist (and Other Biblical Characters) in Patristic Interpretation .............................................................................. F. Biblical Literature as a Source of Early Christian Paideia .................. G. Food, Culture and Theology as Ingredients of Self-Definition ...........

19 19 21 22 23 24 27 27

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Chapter 3: The Significance of the Earthly Jesus in Matthew: A Response to Jack Dean Kingsbury ............................................................. A. Summation and Critique ............................................................................... B. Suggestions for Discussion and Further Inquiry ..................................... 1. Redactional Observations as a Complement to a Narratological Approach ..... 2. The Matthean Earthly Jesus as Interpreter and Upholder of the Law ...............

31 31 33 33 35

II. Conceptions of “Gospel” in Early Christianity Chapter 4: “How Soon a Book” Revisited: ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Reference to “Gospel” Materials in the First Half of the Second Century ......................................................................................... A. The Metamorphosis of the Term ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ ................................... B. ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ in Second Clement, and the Implications of Dating Second Clement, Mark 16:9–20, and John 21 prior to Justin Martyr 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

C.

The Witness of Second Clement to NT Gospel Materials ................................ Uncertainty about the Date of Second Clement Relative to Marcion .............. Criteria for Ascertaining Literary Dependence on Gospel Materials ............... The Earliest Gospel Collections and Mark 16:9–20 ....................................... The Earliest Gospel Collections and John 21 ................................................. Implications for the Study of Second-Century Gospel Materials ..................... The Date of Second Clement Revisited ........................................................... Analysis of 2 Clem. 8:5 ................................................................................... Conclusion: Marcion and Second Clement Assume Their Audiences Will Comprehend ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Referent to a Written “Gospel” ................... ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ in the Didache .................................................................... 1. Analysis of Did. 8:2 ........................................................................................ a) ΟΥΝ . . . ΥΜΕΙΣ in Matthew’s Introduction to the Lord’s Prayer ............. b) Matthew’s “Heavens . . . Heaven” and the Didache’s “Heaven . . . Heaven” Excursus: Matt 24:30 as the Source of ΟΥΡΑΝΟΣ in Did. 16:8 ..................... c) Matthew’s “Debts” and the Didache’s “Debt” ........................................... d) ΑΦΙΗΜΙ: Matthew’s Perfect Tense and the Didache’s Present Tense ....... e) The Doxology Concluding the Lord’s Prayer in the Didache ..................... f) Conclusion: ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Reference to a Writing of Some Kind in Did. 8:2 ................................................................................................. 2. Analysis of Did. 11:3–4 ................................................................................. Excursus: The Redaction of Mark 6:11 and 9:37 in Matt 10:40–41 Points to the Use of Distinctively Matthean Material in Did. 11:3–4 ......................... 3. Analysis of Did. 15:4 ..................................................................................... 4. Analysis of Did. 15:3 ..................................................................................... 5. Summation: ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ in the Didache .................................................... 6. The Didache as a Witness to a Prior Recognition of Matthew as ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ ............................................................................................

39 40 44 44 45 46 49 49 51 52 53 55 55 56 57 58 60 60 61 61 62 62 63 65 66 68 69

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D. The Didache as a Window to the Origin of ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Literary Designation .............................................................................. 1. ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as Oral Proclamation in Mark and Matthew ........................... 2. Does John 21 Offer a Key to the Solution? ..................................................... 3. A New Proposal: ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ First Designates a Written “Gospel” before the Didache and after both Mark and Matthew ....................................

XI

70 70 71 72

E. Conclusion: ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Reference to Gospel Materials in the First Half of the Second Century ..................................................... 73 Chapter 5: Basilides’s Gospel and Exegetica (Treatises) .......................... 77 A. Introduction ...................................................................................................... B. Witnesses to Basilides’s Gospel and Exegetica (Treatises) ................. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

77 79 79 81 82 83 85 85

Irenaeus Haer. 1.24.4 ...................................................................................... The Title and Length of Basilides’s Treatises or Exegetica ............................ Clement’s Witness to Basilides’s Exegetica .................................................... The Acta Archelai on Basilides’s Treatises .................................................... Origen on the “Gospel according to Basilides” .............................................. Basilides and Basilidians according to Hippolytus (Ref. VII.20–27; X.14) ..... Epiphanius: Reworking Irenaeus and Encountering the Later (and Amorous) Followers of Basilides ........................................................... C. Did Basilides Write a Gospel? .................................................................... D. The Content and Scope of Basilides’s Treatises (Exegetica) ............. 1. Did Basilides Write a Gospel (or a Biblical) “Commentary”? ......................... 2. ΕΞΗΓΗΤΙΚΑ as a Literary Designation or Title .............................................

87 88 90 90 90

E. Conclusion: Basilides and “Gospel” in the First Half of the Second Century ...................................................................................

93

Chapter 6: The Struggle to Define Heilsgeschichte: Paul on the Origins of the Christian Tradition .............................................

97

A. Introduction ...................................................................................................... 97 1. Addressing the Present Rhetorical Situation ................................................... 2. Paul Compared with Later Christian Apologists on Origins ............................ 3. The Earliest Conceptions of the Origins of the Christian Tradition .................

97 98 99

B. Defining the Recent Past: First Thessalonians, Philippians, Philemon and First Corinthians ................................................................... 101 1. 2. 3. 4.

First Thessalonians: The Positive Grounding of a Congregation’s Origins ...... Philippians: Optimism Rooted in Past Faithfulness ......................................... Philemon: Conversions Re-define Socio-Economic Interactions ..................... One Conception of a Congregation’s Origins Is To Replace Another (1 Cor 6:9–11) ................................................................................................

101 101 102 103

C. Defining both the Recent and the Distant Past: Second Corinthians, Galatians and Romans ............................................. 103 1. Paul and the “Super-Apostles” in Corinth (2 Corinthians 10–13) .................... 103 a) Charges to Which Paul Does Not Respond Directly ................................... 104 b) Charges to Which Paul Does Respond Directly ......................................... 105

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2. Debates about Origins in the Galatian Crisis ................................................... a) The Origin of Paul’s Authority .................................................................. b) Abraham and the Origin of the Gospel(s) (Gal 3:6–4:7; 4:21–31) .............. c) Interrelated Explanations of Origins (Gal 3:1–5; 4:8–11; 4:12–20) ............ i) Reception of the Spirit and Receiving Paul (Gal 3:1–5) ........................ ii) The Galatians’ Potential Rejection of (Any Form of) “Gospel” (Gal 4:8–11) ......................................................................................... iii) Continuing To Receive Paul (Gal 4:12–20) .......................................... Excursus: Acts 1:21–22 as a Pre-Lukan Criterion for Apostolic Authority ........... 3. The Importance of Origins to Paul’s Self-Introduction in Romans .................. a) The Origins of Traditions about Jesus ........................................................ b) Chronological Priority Revised and Augmented with Reference to the Origins of Evil (Romans 4–5) .......................................................... c) The Continuity of a Rejection of the Pauline Gospel with Jewish Scripture (Romans 9–11) ........................................................ D. Summation: Paul on the Origins of the Christian Tradition .................

107 107 109 111 111 112 113 113 114 114 115 117 118

Chapter 7: The Witness of Eusebius’s ad Marinum and Other Christian Writings to Text-Critical Debates concerning the Original Conclusion to Mark’s Gospel .................................................... 121 A. Overview of the ad Marinum and Questions of Authorship, Genre and Preservation ................................................................................. 124 1. Overview ........................................................................................................ 2. Attribution to Eusebius ................................................................................... 3. Genre and Preservation ................................................................................... B. Text and Translation ...................................................................................... C. Biblical Allusions and Conflations ad Marinum I.1–II.1 ..................... D. Discrepancies in ad Marinum I.1–II.1 .......................................................

124 124 125 127 136 138

E. Text-Critical Implications of “Eusebius’s” Claim That Most Manuscripts Lack Mark 16:9–20 ................................................................ 141 F. Assessing the Reliability of ad Marinum I.1 and Similar Claims about the End of Mark in Subsequent Literature .................................... 144 1. The Likelihood That ad Marinum I.1 Is Based on Material Earlier Than “Eusebius” ............................................................................................. 2. From “Eusebius’s” Subjunctive Mood to Jerome’s Indicative Mood ............... 3. Hesychius of Jerusalem: Mark “Ended” at 16:8, but 16:9–13 Can Nonetheless Help Resolve a Chronological Problem ............................................................ 4. Severus of Antioch on the “More Accurate” Copies of Mark .......................... 5. Restoring Mark 16:9–20 in MSS That Lacked It: A Shift in Assessments from Victor of Antioch and a Myriad of Minuscules ....................................... a) Victor of Antioch ....................................................................................... b) Scores of Minuscules Echo Victor of Antioch’s Remarks .......................... 6. Additional Marginal Notes in Minuscules about Mark 16:9–20 ...................... 7. Theophylactus of Ochrida and Euthymius Zigabenus: “It Is Necessary To Interpret” Mark 16:9–20 ............................................................................. 8. Summation: Ad Marinum I.1 and Its Reception History ..................................

145 146 149 151 153 153 155 156 158 159

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G. Conclusion ........................................................................................................ 159 1. ‘Textual Criticism’ as a Tool for Resolving Gospel Incongruities ................... 2. Implications for Scholarship ........................................................................... a) Witnesses for the Omission of Mark 16:9–20 ............................................ b) Ambivalence and Inconsistency in Pre-Modern ‘Textual-Criticism’ .......... c) The Use of Patristic Evidence in Textual Criticism .................................... d) Suggestions for Further Inquiry .................................................................

160 162 162 162 163 163

III. Struggles for Legitimacy Chapter 8: The Maccabees at Prayer: Pro- and Anti-Hasmonean Tendencies in the Prayers of First and Second Maccabees ....................... 167 A. First Maccabees: Supplications Corroborate Hasmonean Legitimacy ........................................................................................................ 170 1. Prayer before Engaging Gorgias in Battle (1 Macc 3:43–4:25; cf. 2 Macc 8:12–20) ........................................................................................ 2. Prayer before Engaging Lysias in Battle (1 Macc 4:30–34; cf. 2 Macc 11:6–15) ............................................................................................. 3. Prayer at the Purification of the Temple Sanctuary (1 Macc 4:36–41; cf. 2 Macc 10:1–4) .......................................................................................... 4. The City Dathema’s “Cry” for Deliverance (1 Macc 5:30–34) ........................ 5. Judas Prays for Repetition of a Biblical Miracle but Achieves Victory without One (1 Macc 7:39–50; cf. 2 Macc 15:21–22) ..................................... 6. Jonathan’s Prayer after a Defeat and prior to Victory (1 Macc 11:67–74) ....... 7. Summation: Pro-Hasmonean Supplications in First Maccabees ......................

170 173 175 176 176 177 178

B. Anti-Hasmonean and Deuteronomistic Counter-Supplications in Second Maccabees ..................................................................................... 179 1. Prayer as a Substitute for Military Preparation To Prevent the Plundering of the Temple (3:13–34) ................................................................................. 2. The Intercession of the “Martyrs” prior to Victory (7:1–8:5) .......................... 3. Praying Warriors throughout Second Maccabees ............................................ 4. A Deuteronomistic Framework Demotes the Hasmoneans (10:1–4) ................ 5. Prayers before the Culminating Battle with Nicanor (14:31–15:37) ................ 6. The Terminology of Prayer in First and Second Maccabees ............................

180 181 182 182 183 184

C. Conclusion: Conflicting Propaganda Established the Rules of Maccabean Supplication .......................................................................... 185 Chapter 9: Suffering as Defense of Paul’s Apostolic Authority in Galatians and 2 Corinthians 11 .................................................................... 187 A. Introduction ...................................................................................................... 187 B. The Galatian Agitators Avoided Persecution, and Paul Authenticates His Authority by His Suffering (Galatians 4–6) ........... 188 C. The Possibility of Rejoinder to Paul’s Claim That His Withstanding of Persecution Corroborates His Authority .................... 190

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D. Paul’s Hardships as Rejoinder to the “Super-Apostles” and Their Supporters in Corinth (2 Cor 11:23c–33) .............................. 192

E.

1. Literary Context: The Charges and Responses in 2 Corinthians 11–12 ........... 2. Exegetical Observations: 2 Cor 11:23c–33 ...................................................... 3. Conclusion: Withstanding Persecution as a Key Asset to Paul’s Self-Defense in 2 Cor 11:23c–33 ......................................................................................... Conclusion: Withstanding Persecution as a Defense of Authority .....

193 195 198 201

Chapter 10: The Apostle Paul and Justin Martyr on the Miraculous: A Comparison of Appeals to Authority ......................................................... 203 A. Occasional References to Miracles in Paul’s Letters ............................. 204

B.

C.

1. Paul, His Opponents and the Corinthians on Miracles (2 Cor 12:11–12) ......... 2. Paul’s “Proof from Experience” (Gal 3:1–5) ................................................... 3. Miracles Accompany Paul’s Ministry “from Jerusalem to Illyricum” (Rom 15:18–19) .............................................................................................. 4. Why Does Paul Not Mention His Miracles More Often? ................................. 5. Two Briefer Allusions to Miracles (1 Thess 1:5 and 1 Cor 2:4–5) .................. 6. An Anomalous Pauline Passage: Ordinary Christians as Miracle Workers in Corinth (1 Cor 12:9–10, 28–30) .................................................................. The Apologist Justin on the Miraculous ................................................... 1. Exorcisms, the “Great Power” of Christ, and the Power To Be Revealed at Christ’s Return (Dial. 30–31) ...................................................................... 2. Contemporary Miracles Support the Claim That Jesus Was “Blameless and Without Reproach” (Dial. 35) ................................................ 3. Miracles Support the Belief That Jesus Is the Messiah (Dial. 39) ................... 4. Miracles Confirm a “Gospel” Prooftext, and the Prooftext Interprets an OT Prophecy (Dial. 76) .............................................................................. Excursus: Possible Text-Critical Implications of Justin’s Distinctive Version of Luke 10:19 (Dial. 76.6a) ............................................................................. 5. Exorcisms Show That Christ Is “the Lord of Hosts” (Dial. 85.1–2) ................ 6. An Explanation of Why Christ Came to Earth (2 Apol. 6.1–6) ........................ 7. Summation: Justin on the Miraculous ............................................................. Conclusion: The Miraculous in Service of Different Goals .................

204 206 207 207 209 210 212 212 213 214 214 215 217 217 218 219

Chapter 11: The Gradual Disclosure of Paul’s Violence against Christians in the Acts of the Apostles as an Apology for the Standing of the Lukan Paul ................................................................................................. 221 A. Introduction ...................................................................................................... B. Paul as Persecutor of the Church: A Partial Disclosure (8:1–3) ......... C. The Necessity That Paul Suffer for Jesus (9:1–19a) .............................. D. Paul’s Speech to the Crowd in Jerusalem: Revisiting Paul as a Former Persecutor (22:1–22) ............................................................... E. New Disclosures Implicating Paul in the Execution of Christians (26:1–11) .................................................................................

221 222 223 227 228

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F. Conclusion: Gradual Divulgence as an Apology for the Pauline Legacy ................................................................................... 230 Chapter 12: The Relevance of Revelation’s Date and the Imperial Cult for John’s Appraisal of the Value of Christians’ Suffering in Revelation 1–3 ................................................................................................. 233 A. The Date, Genre and Socio-Historical Context of Revelation ............. 233

B.

C.

1. An Early Date for Revelation? ........................................................................ 2. Compositional Unity and Compositional Criticism ......................................... 3. The Supposed Domitianic Persecution and the Difficulties of Dating John’s Visionary Apocalypse .......................................................................... 4. Dating Revelation to the Time of Domitian or Trajan ..................................... The Suffering of John and the Congregations He Addresses .............. 1. The Importance of John’s Suffering for Confirming His Prophetic Status ....... 2. The Challenge of Self-Definition in Response to the Imperial Cult ................. 3. The Taboos of Idol Meat and ‘Immorality’ as Precedents for Abstaining from the Imperial Cult .................................................................................... 4. Antipas’s Status as “Witness” and “Faithful One”: A Paradigm for Uncompromising Resistance (Rev 2:13) .................................................... 5. The Response John Demands: Non-Assimilation and Resistance .................... Conditionality in Revelation’s Soteriology ..............................................

234 237 239 243 245 246 250 253 258 261 264

Chapter 13: “Hippolytus” and Magic: An Examination of Elenchos IV.28–42 and Related Passages in Light of the Greek Magical Papyri ............................................................................ 267 A. “Hippolytus” as a Plagiarist Bequeathing a Wealth of Source Materials ........................................................................................ 267

B.

1. Introduction .................................................................................................... 2. Non-Polemical Descriptions of Errors from the Past in Haer. I–IV ................. 3. Previous Scholarship ....................................................................................... Descriptions of Magical Rites and Tricks in Haer. IV.28–42 ............. 1. A Child (ΠΑΙΣ) Assists in Fortune-Telling (Haer. IV.28.1–12a) .................... 2. Overview: The Various Magical Tricks To Be Unveiled ................................. 3. Colorful Burning Salt (Haer. IV.28.12b–13) ................................................... 4. Coloring Eggs (Haer. IV.29) ........................................................................... 5. Sensational Animal Sacrifice: Sheep, Goats and Rams (Haer. IV.30.1–31.1) .. 6. Nature Miracles Involving Fire and Thunder (Haer. IV.31–33) ...................... a) Two Ways of Creating Fire ........................................................................ b) A Thunderous Cacophony .......................................................................... c) Protection from Being Burned ................................................................... 7. A Prayer from a Magical Spell (Haer. IV.32.3) .............................................. 8. Explaining the Tricks (Haer. IV.33) ............................................................... 9. Unsealing Letters (Haer. IV.34) ...................................................................... 10. An Epiphany of Hecate and a Prayer to a God (Haer. IV.35–38) .................... 11. Another Nature Miracle: The Illusion of an Earthquake (Haer. IV.39) ........... 12. Revealing an Inscription on a Liver (Haer. IV.40) ..........................................

267 269 270 272 273 276 277 277 278 279 279 280 280 281 282 283 284 286 287

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13. A Speaking and Vanishing Skull (Haer. IV.41) .............................................. 14. Hippolytus’s Concluding Remarks about Magic (Haer. IV.42) ....................... C. Magic and the Deceptive Tricks of ‘Heretics’ ......................................... 1. The Deceptive Tricks of Alcibiades and the Elchasaites ................................. 2. The Deceptive Tricks of Marcus: Manipulating the Eucharistic Cup ............... 3. The Deceptive Tricks of Carpocrates and His Followers ................................. 4. The Deceptive Tricks of Simon Magus and His Modern-Day Emulators ........ 5. Pope Callistus I as “the Sorcerer” ................................................................... 6. Summation: Hippolytus on the Deceptive Tricks of ‘Heretics’ ....................... D. References to Magic in Other Writings Attributed to Hippolytus ...... 1. Magic and Biblical Interpretation (I): Two Scholia on King Nebuchadnezzar’s Dream in Daniel ................................................................ 2. Magic and Biblical Interpretation (II): King Saul and the “Belly-Myther” at Endor .......................................................................................................... 3. Prohibitions against Magic in the Traditio Apostolica and Canones Hippolyti .................................................................................... E. Conclusion: Magic, Persuasion and Power ..............................................

288 288 289 289 290 291 292 292 293 293 294 295 297 299

Chapter 14: The Search for Confessors at the Council of Nicaea ........... 303 A. Theodoret on “an Assembly of Martyrs” at Nicaea ................................ 306 B. Rufinus and Pseudo-Gelasius on Paphnutius of Egypt and a Kissing Constantine .................................................................................... 307 C. Socrates and Sozomen on Paphnutius: Constantine’s Osculations Revisited ........................................................................................................... 310 D. The Silence of the Nicene Canons, Athanasius, and Eusebius ............ 311 1. The Nicene Canons on Castrated Priests ......................................................... 311 2. Athanasius and Eusebius: Solidarity in Silence (if in Little Else) .................... 311

E. Conclusion: Harmonization vs. Historical Method in the Search for Confessors at Nicaea ............................................................................... 313

IV. Early Christian Virtues in Practice Chapter 15: Suppressing Anger in Early Christianity: Examples from the Pauline Tradition ............................................................. 317 A. Pronouncements about Anger in the Pauline Tradition ......................... 319 1. Restraining Anger in Second Corinthians, Galatians and the Epistle of James .................................................................................. 2. Colossians: A Prohibition of Anger Tied to a Fear of God’s Wrath ................. 3. Ephesians: Reconsidering Anger after Colossians ........................................... 4. First Timothy: Suppressing Anger for the Unity of the Church ....................... Excursus: Jesus’ Anger in Mark 3:5 and the Suppression of Jesus’ Anger in Matthew and Luke ...................................................................................... 5. Summation: The Suppression of Anger in the Corpus Paulinum .....................

319 321 323 326 326 327

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B. Assessing the Helpfulness of Freudian Theory ....................................... 328 C. Epilogue: Paul’s Anger toward Peter in Antioch .................................... 330 Chapter 16: Early Christian Ascetic Practices and Biblical Interpretation: The Witnesses of Galen and Tatian ..................................... 335 A. Overview: John’s Diet in Mark and Matthew .......................................... 335 B. An Ascetic Baptist as a Source of Paideia ............................................... 336 C. Which Came First – Ascetic Practices or Interpretations of Biblical Characters as Ascetics? ................................................................................... 337 1. Galen on the “Self-Discipline” of Contemptible Christians ............................. 338 2. Tatian: Meat-Eating as Murder ....................................................................... 339 3. A Possible Correlation .................................................................................... 339

Original Publications .......................................................................................... 343 Bibliography ......................................................................................................... 345 Index of References ............................................................................................ 369 Index of Modern Authors and Persons ........................................................... 391 Index of Subjects ................................................................................................. 399

Preface: On Method, “Gospel” and Legitimacy This volume comprises sixteen articles and essays originally published between 1998 and 2013. My initial idea to gather studies on conceptions of “gospel” (chapters 4–7) and legitimacy (chapters 9–14) in early Christianity evolved to include a section on method (chapters 1–3), an additional article on legitimacy (chapter 8), and papers on anger in the Pauline tradition and the origins of asceticism (chapters 15–16). For this volume, each study has been reworked and updated – half of them significantly so (chapters 1, 4, 5, 8, 10, 13, 15 and, above all, chapter 7). The opening article is an English translation of my 2011 inaugural lecture at Uppsala University, a central argument of which is that biblical studies has become balkanized to the point that scholars too often talk past, rather than engage with, one another. An ill-founded discourse in our guild pits the so-called “historical-critical method” (which, in fact, is not a single method) against newer methods and approaches. I hold that the adjective “historical-critical” is better, and more accurately, used to describe a particular scholar’s use of one or more methods. After all, no method is, in and of itself, “historical-critical” – as opposed to being, if hypothetically, an “ahistorical-uncritical” method. Some ideas in the aforementioned piece began in an essay prepared for a 2005 conference on “Early Christian Studies and the Academic Disciplines” at the Catholic University of America. In that study (chapter 2), I reflect on the unusual, yet fruitful, combination of philological, traditioncritical, socio-historical, anthropological and reception-historical methods along with data from modern nutritional science in my book The Diet of John the Baptist (2005). At that time, I had already questioned the positing of a dichotomy between socio-historical and historical-critical. Chapter 3 is my response to a paper at a 1998 symposium on the theological significance of the earthly Jesus. My main critiques were that J. D. Kingsbury conflates the Matthean Jesus with the earthly Jesus and that his (singular) use of a theological-literary approach lacks critical acumen. I suggest that redactional observations would serve as a valuable complement to Kingsbury’s approach. Indeed, a narratological analysis would be ideally executed when, following a redactional analysis, one had a deeper understanding of an author’s tendencies and goals.

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Part II (chapters 4–7) examines conceptions of “gospel” in early Christianity, commencing with a study of when εὐαγγέλιον first came to designate a writing (a “Gospel”), rather than oral proclamation of the “gospel.” In Spring 2001, I assigned students at McCormick Theological Seminary (Chicago) to read H. Koester’s Ancient Christian Gospels, which I found unsatisfactory on that subject but to which I did not have an adequate rejoinder. Perhaps the article’s most significant observation is that three early- to mid-second century authors – the Didachist, the author of Second Clement and Marcion – assume their audiences already are familiar with εὐαγγέλιον as a literary designation, an observation that suggests none of those authors innovated a redefinition of εὐαγγέλιον to designate evangelium scriptum. In regard to the earliest attestation to when “Gospel” was used for a writing, my suggestion of a point after the composition of Matthew and prior to the use of Matthew in the Didache is a novel attempt to solve a tricky problem. While researching for the aforementioned article, I noticed that several prominent scholars had remarked, usually in passing, on a Gospel commentary – or even a Gospel – composed by Basilides of Alexandria (fl. 120–140 C.E.). Initially, I planned to add to the article on εὐαγγέλιον a couple paragraphs on Basilides, but it soon became apparent that Basilides’s use, or production, of gospel materials merited a separate examination (chapter 5). A pervasive misstep in scholarship has been that the title Clement of Alexandria gives for Basilides’s writing – Exegetica (Ἐξηγητικά) – supports the notion that Basilides wrote an “exegetical” Gospel commentary. But an analysis of the titles Ἐξηγητικά and Ἐξηγητικόν, as used by Galen and numerous other ancient authors prior to Origen, shows that Exegetica designated an “explanation.” A construal of Clement’s title (Exegetica) as predicating an explanatory, rather than an exegetical, writing by Basilides would be consistent with the surviving fragments that reflect Basilides’s theological-philosophical system of thought. The posing, refining and, sometimes, rejecting of common explanations about origins may be a fundamental component of any shared human consciousness, relationship or religious community. Chapter 6 examines Paul’s struggles to define Heilsgeschichte amidst competing views of other Christ-believers. Although the Acts of the Apostles is the earliest narrative of Christian origins, Paul’s occasional letters attest to an even earlier point in the Jesus movement, when accounts of origins had already become part of a contested and evolving tradition. Understanding how Paul and his Christ-believing opponents defined the past sheds light on how they addressed issues that they and their communities faced in the present. My first published article (chapter 7) examines late-ancient and Byzantine debates about the “(more) accurate” copies of Mark’s Gospel, and

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whether those copies included Mark 16:9–20. (My doctoral advisor A. Y. Collins suggested that this piece would be better as an article on reception history than as a chapter in my dissertation on Mark’s “Longer Ending” in its early-second century milieu.) The ways that patristic (and later) authors approached ‘textual criticism’ shed much light on how a harmonizing principle for the sake of preserving disparate parts of Scripture could contribute to the eventual incorporation of 16:9–20 into nearly all MSS of the Second Gospel. For this volume, the translations of, notes on, and analyses of Eusebius’s ad Marinum I.1–II.1 and other patristic and Byzantine literature have been significantly augmented and revised. Part III, on constructions of legitimacy (chapters 8–14), begins with a comparative analysis of prayer in First and Second Maccabees. Does Judas Maccabaeus belong to a legacy of Israelite leaders sent by the Lord to liberate the covenant people (so First Maccabees), or are the Maccabean military conquests merely a byproduct of the people’s repentance from sin and divine intervention (so Second Maccabees)? To a remarkable extent, the authors’ ideologically constructed prayers reflect their dueling agendas in regard to the legitimacy, or the illegitimacy, of the eventual Hasmonean rulers. Given the rise of different, and competing, constructions of authority among, and within, early Christ congregations, it is easy to understand why a need would arise for additional criteria to authenticate an apostle. Chapters 9 and 10 explore two such criteria in Paul’s writings – the readiness to withstand persecution and the working of miracles. When visiting Uppsala University in Spring 2009 (before I was invited to apply for a position here), I gave a paper on the withstanding of persecution as integral to Paul’s defense of his apostolic authority (chapter 9). In his readiness to suffer for Christ and the sake of the mission, Paul boasted a distinct advantage over his Christ-believing opponents. Significantly, neither Paul nor his opponents would have accepted the other’s accusation of having oppressed, maligned or otherwise unjustly treated the other party, since each side defied the other out of loyalty to its own conception of fidelity to Christ and the Scriptures. Chapter 10 points out that, whereas Paul is usually concerned with defending his authority by virtue of his own miracles, Justin Martyr maintains that healings performed by others validate dogmatic claims in Justin’s apologetic endeavors. The article demonstrates a significant shift in the discussion of miracles as illustrated by representative figures of the first century (Paul) and second century (Justin). A newly added excursus examines the possible text-critical implications of Justin’s distinctive version of Luke 10:19 (Dial. 76.6a), a version mentioned by neither the NA28 nor Reuben J. Swanson.

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If Paul’s readiness to withstand persecution was a source for corroborating his legitimacy (see chapter 9), his past as a persecutor could, mutatis mutandis, give his critics an opportunity to question his legitimacy (cf. 1 Cor 15:9–10; Phil 3:2–7; Gal 1:13–24). Chapter 11 traces, in the Acts of the Apostles, the gradual disclosure of the extent of Paul’s violence against Christians. Luke’s choice to make the fullest admission about the severity of Paul’s persecutions toward the end of Acts (22:4; 26:9–11) is consistent with an apologetic agenda of presenting Paul as a sympathetic figure and of defending Paul’s legacy. As Luke would have it, Paul suffered mistreatment from “the Jews” as Christ’s loyal servant, not as one who had caused the same sorts of suffering for other followers of Christ. The next three chapters examine the legitimacy of Christ-believers who, according to Revelation 1–3, must be prepared to resist participating in the imperial cult (chapter 12); the denigration of ‘heretics’ who utilize magical tricks to gain followers according to Hippolytus’s Refutatio (chapter 13); and the enhanced authority that was (in my view, belatedly) ascribed to maimed “confessors” at the Council of Nicaea (chapter 14). The force of the argument in chapter 12 is that Antipas’s faithful witness, resistance and death (Rev 2:13) are emblematic of the commitment John expects of all believers. A fresh analysis of Tacitus’s statement about an earthquake in 60/61 C.E. strengthens the argument for a later date for Revelation and, as a corollary, increases the likelihood that the imperial cult was already integrated into the polytheistic milieu that, John warns, was perilous to believers who must endure and remain faithful to Christ. Chapter 13 began at the University of Chicago in H. D. Betz’s seminar on the Greek Magical Papyri. A detailed comparison of Hippolytus of Rome’s treatise on magic (Haer. IV.28–42) with the PGM bespeaks an author who had a detailed understanding of actual magical terms (if not also some magical practices). Hippolytus is not primarily interested in magic per se; rather, he ridicules the folly of pagan magicians so that, later in his work, he will have a precedent for excluding recent and contemporary (Christian) ‘heretics,’ who, he alleges, use magical tricks to amaze gullible believers. A fundamental problem with the notion that maimed “confessors” were accorded great authority at the Council of Nicaea (325 C.E.) is the harmonizing principle that scholars, such as T. D. Barnes and R. MacMullen, have applied to the sundry snippets about confessors at the Council written a century or more after the fact (chapter 14). Nevertheless, the apparent growth of traditions about confessors at Nicaea in several later witnesses shows the acknowledgement of some confessors’ standing even in the post-Constantinian church.

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Part IV, on the practice of early Christian virtues (chapters 15–16), examines anger and asceticism. Chapter 15 builds on, and attempts to correct faults in, the important monograph by classicist W. V. Harris on the ideology of anger control in antiquity. Application of Harris’s four increasing levels of restraining anger facilitates the observation of several intriguing developments in terminology and heightened expectations for restraining anger from the time of the undisputed Pauline Letters to the Deuteropauline Letters. Those developments correlate with Harris’s conclusion that appeals for greater and more complete suppression of anger began in the Roman period. Finally, in a brief hommage to D. E. Aune, I probe remarks by Galen and Tatian for clues about the origins of Christian asceticism. Galen’s reluctant acknowledgement of Christians’ moderation and Tatian’s equation of meat eating with murder show that, already in the second century, asceticism had attained a firm foothold in some Christian circles. Scholarly discussions of method, “gospel” and legitimacy deserve to, and undoubtedly will, continue. I hope that the collection and updating of the studies in this volume will contribute to those discussions.

I. Methodological Observations

Chapter 1

New Testament Exegesis as an Academic Discipline with Relevance for Other Disciplines* Distinguished colleagues of the Faculty of Theology Professor emeritus Hartman Honored guests Students Dearest sisters, Gretchen and Beth Dear friends Ladies and gentlemen

Uppsala University lays claim to an esteemed tradition in biblical exegesis.1 It is therefore a great honor to join the Faculty of Theology at Uppsala * Original publication: Currents in Biblical Research 11/2 (2013): 218–33. The Swedish original of this article appeared as “Nya testamentets exegetik som akademiskt ämne med relevans för andra ämnen,” Svensk exegetisk årsbok 77 (2012): 55–70. Since CurBR uses parenthetical citation but not footnotes, in this version I have translated and restored the footnotes of the Swedish original. For non-Scandinavian readers, I have also added the occasional clarification and, within brackets [ ], translations of Swedish terms. For critical feedback and suggestions I am indebted to Erik Birath, Jonas Holmstrand, Clare K. Rothschild, Hanna Stenström, Mia Wålsten and Cecilia Wassén. 1 For a brief history about the professorship in New Testament Exegesis at Uppsala University, see Nya professorer: Installation hösten 2011 [New Professors: Installation Fall 2011] (ed. Per Ström; Skrifter rörande Uppsala universitet. B, Inbjudningar 165; Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, 2011), 41–46. See further, on biblical exegesis in Uppsala and on Swedish biblical scholarship in general, Helmer Ringgren and Lars Hartman, “The Scandinavian School,” art. Anchor Bible Dictionary, 5:1001–1004; Harald Riesenfeld, “Varmed sysslar Nya testamentets exegetik?” [“With What Does New Testament Exegesis Work?”], SEÅ 33 (1968): 179–84; Lars Hartman, “New Testament Exegesis,” in Helmer Ringgren (ed.), Uppsala University 500 Years. Vol. 1: Faculty of Theology at Uppsala University (Uppsala: Uppsala University, 1976), 51–65; Birger Gerhardsson, Fridrichsen, Odeberg, Aulén, Nygren: Fyra teologer [Fridrichsen, Odeberg, Aulén, Nygren: Four Theologians] (Lund: Novapress, 1994); idem, “Anton Fridrichsens bild av den judiska fromheten och dess företrädare” [“Anton Fridrichsen’s View of Jewish Piety and Its Predecessors”], SEÅ 65 (2000): 19–32; idem, “Uppsalaexegetiken” [“Uppsala Exegetes”], in Ingmar Brohed (ed.), Sveriges kyrkohistoria 8. Religionsfrihetens och ekumenikens tid (Stockholm: Verbum, 2005), 392–95; Ernst Baasland, “Neutestamentliche Forschung in Skandinavien (und Finnland),” BTZ 12 (1995): 146–66; Birger Olsson, “Förändringar inom svensk bibelforskning under 1900-talet” [“Transformations within Swedish Biblical Scholarship during the Twentieth Century”], in Håkan

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University and to be given the professorship in New Testament Exegesis that has been held by internationally renowned scholars such as Anton Fridrichsen (1888–1953) and Lars Hartman (b. 1930). In this lecture, I raise six questions: 1. What is New Testament Exegesis? 2. What is my research profile in this area? 3. What does it mean to call New Testament Exegesis an academic discipline? 4. How can this discipline be relevant for other disciplines? 5. What is the relationship between newer and more traditional methods in New Testament Exegesis? 6. How can I say that New Testament Exegesis can have relevance for all people?

I conclude with a brief reflection on academic disciplines in general in the past and present.

A. What Is New Testament Exegesis? In Greek, the verb ἐξηγέοµαι (eksēgeomai) means “to lead out, describe, or expound.” Our modern English word “exegesis” – or, in Swedish, “exegetik”; German: “Exegese”; French: “exégèse” – refers to retrieving from (cf. ἐκ, “from, out of” from ἐξ– in ἐξηγέοµαι) a text what it meant in its context. The antonym of exegesis is eisegesis (cf. εἰς “into, toward, to”), which dysphemistically denotes coming to a text with a modern and possibly theologically or ideologically constructed notion about its meaning. Those who practice the former – or, in our case in the present postmodern zeitgeist,2 those who make this their goal – may be called exegetes. New Testament Exegesis focuses above all on the twenty-seven diverse books written between ca. 50 and 120 CE that eventually came to be included in the early church’s collection of writings, known today as “the New Testament.” Exegetes also include in this discipline other Christian texts composed roughly contemporaneously with, or a little later than, the Eilert et al. (eds.), Modern svensk teologi (Stockholm: Verbum, 1999), 68–135; Samuel Byrskog, “Bibelvetenskap i Sverige” [“Biblical Scholarship in Sweden”], Tro och Liv 5 (2005): 15–21; Jesper Svartvik, Bibeltolkningens bakgator: Synen på judar, slavar och homosexuella i historia och nutid [Biblical Interpretation’s Alleys: The View of Jews, Slaves and Homosexuals in History and Nowadays] (Stockholm: Verbum, 2006), 108–45 (on Hugo Odeberg); Hanna Stenström, “Tidsspeglar: Ett bidrag till samtalet om forskarnas ansvar” [“Mirrors of Time: A Contribution to the Conversation about Scholars’ Responsibility”], in Peter Lundborg and Jonny Karlsson (eds.), Människan är alltid större: Vänbok till biskop Martin Lind (Linköping: Linköpings stift, 2011), 119–44. 2 On the problem and challenge facing biblical scholarship in a postmodern Zeitgeist, see John J. Collins, The Bible after Babel: Historical Criticism in a Postmodern Age (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005).

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New Testament – for example, those of the apologist Justin Martyr and those referred to as “the Apostolic Fathers” (which include Ignatius of Antioch’s seven letters, the First Letter of Clement, and the so-called Second Letter of Clement). Scholarship on this assorted literature deals primarily with three foci – historical, philological, and theological. In regard to history, one can, for example, ask about the author’s and the readers’/listeners’ situation and about their relationship to other Christian congregations and to their Jewish, Greek, and Roman neighbors. Given the Jewish roots of the nascent Jesus movement, one can also ask if there actually was a clearly demarcated boundary between Christian and Jewish (and even between Christian and other) groups. In regard to philology, competency is needed in Classical Greek and other relevant languages (for example, Hebrew, Aramaic, Latin and Syriac), so one can compare New Testament ideas and expressions with those in other ancient literature.3 In regard to theology, scholars must recognize that the discipline of New Testament Exegesis exists because the writings of the New Testament have contributed to a living tradition – in fact, to many living traditions – for nearly 2,000 years. Explorations of the NT authors’ theologies, of the history of interpretation and reception, and of how biblical interpretation has affected ideas and values in later contexts also come within the exegete’s purview. Exegetes thus also give attention, for example, to feminist, postcolonial, and queer hermeneutics in a critical analysis of early Christian literature. As an exegete who engages questions of later reception and interpretation, my task is not to say what the text must (or should) mean for you, but I can at least challenge you to reflect critically and constructively from your tradition, ideology, and situation. And I am thankful if you do the same for me.

B. What Is My Research Profile? I have just presented New Testament Exegesis in general and will now share a little about my research profile within this discipline. For those who are interested in the origins and development of early Christian beliefs and praxes, scholarly studies of biblical (and extrabiblical) literature can deepen and even change how the past is understood – thereby playing a role in contemporary discussions about biblical interpretation, religious identity, and possibilities for interreligious dialogue. I have come to see that the literature eventually included in the New Testament reflects attempts to confirm and defend various constructions of legitimacy within 3

All relevant secondary literature must also be taken into account, whether in English, German or French.

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the early Christ communities. My research, to a large extent, has dealt with how legitimacy is construed. In a dissertation on Mark 16:9–20, I studied, for example, miracle working and its place as a basis for legitimacy in the first three centuries.4 In The Diet of John the Baptist, I highlight, among other things, how food, biblical interpretation and asceticism can play important roles in the formation of religious identity.5 My latest monograph, Persecution, Persuasion and Power, delineates the view in many of the New Testament’s writings that a readiness to be persecuted for Christ offers a basis for authority, standing and legitimacy in the Christian community.6 Today, my research has turned to the so-called Second Letter of Clement, one of “the Apostolic Fathers.” With its many admonitions, Second Clement emphasizes how Christians must render “payback” (ἀντιµισθία, antimisthia) to Christ or God in return for the gift of salvation (2 Clem. 1:3, 5; 9:7; 15:2; cf. 11:6). An analysis of the work reveals a distinctive understanding of legitimacy and Christian religious identity in the second century, construing Christ as patron of salvation and believers as clients indebted to Christ, their heavenly patron.7 I contribute also to the international scholarly discussion of early Christian literature as an associate editor for the monograph series Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament (Verlag Mohr Siebeck) and, within the Society of New Testament Studies, as co-chair of the group that examines Christliche Literatur des späten ersten Jahrhunderts und des zweiten Jahrhunderts / Christian Literature of the Late First Century and the Second Century. At Uppsala University, I am honored to have as my colleagues in New Testament Senior Lecturer Jonas Holmstrand and Senior Lecturer Cecilia Wassén. We have much to offer – both to students (including English-language exchange students) in the way of quality instruction and to researchers from other institutions in the way of scholarly collaboration. 4

Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission: The Authentication of Missionaries and Their Message in the Longer Ending of Mark (WUNT 2:112; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000). 5 Kelhoffer, The Diet of John the Baptist: “Locusts and Wild Honey” in Synoptic and Patristic Interpretation (WUNT 176; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005). 6 Kelhoffer, Persecution, Persuasion and Power: Readiness to Withstand Hardship as a Corroboration of Legitimacy in the New Testament (WUNT 270; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010). 7 Second Clement was presumably written ca. 150 C.E. On the theme that the believer must give some form of “payback” (ἀντιµισθία) to Christ or God, see 2 Clem. 1:3, 5; 9:7; 15:2; cf. 11:6, on “paybacks” that God will give to believers. See also now Kelhoffer, “Reciprocity as Salvation: Christ as Salvific Patron and the Corresponding ‘Payback’ Expected of Christ’s Earthly Clients according to the Second Letter of Clement,” NTS 59/2 (2013): 433–56.

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C. Neither Theology’s Handmaiden nor Theology’s advocatus diaboli: What Does It Mean To Call New Testament Exegesis an Academic Discipline? In (many) previous generations, biblical exegesis was understood to serve as “theology’s handmaiden.” An exegete’s task was simply to clarify what the Bible meant and to hand the result over to constructive, dogmatic or systematic theologians, who would then make pronouncements about orthodoxy for the church (note: singular) at that time. It is fortunate that, within the academy and in ecumenically oriented churches, we are in a completely different situation today. A university shall not allow discrimination based on religious confession or other factors. Opportunities to study and conduct research in theology and religious studies shall be open not just to liberal Lutherans, (liberal) Catholics, and (liberal?) agnostics but, indeed, to all who value critical examination and scholarly methods of inquiry.7a The arrival of the so-called “historical-critical method” in the nineteenth century meant that New Testament Exegesis often formed its identity in contradistinction to traditional dogmas that had been based on dubious interpretations of the Bible. Nowadays, scholarship recognizes that the New Testament reflects many different points of view. Encapsulating various traditions, four different Gospels attest to sundry interpretations of Jesus. The “Paul” whom one can (more or less) ascertain from the apostle’s seven authentic letters contrasts with the “Pauls” (plural) who emerge from the Acts of the Apostles and from the six pseudepigraphic NT letters ascribed to Paul (for example, Second Thessalonians and First Timothy). Additionally, whereas Paul and the pseudepigraphic author of First Peter require that Christians submit to the governing authorities within the Roman Empire (Rom 13:1–7; 1 Pet 2:13–17), the John who wrote Revelation demands that his congregations set themselves apart from the Roman Empire, because after three and a half years “with such violence Babylon the great city [i.e. Rome8] will be thrown down, and will be found no more.”9 Beyond the diversity within the New Testament, an even greater variety is to be found in the reception and interpretation of the New Testament, both in the sundry and sometimes fascinating interpretations of the church fathers and in interpretations made today in various developing 7a

In Sweden, a very secular yet traditionally Lutheran country, approximately threefourths of the population belongs to the (Lutheran) Church of Sweden. 8 On the identification of the city Rome with Israel’s archetypal persecutor Babylon, see esp. Rev 18:10; cf. 14:8; 16:19; 17:5; 18:2; 1 Pet 5:13. 9 Rev 18:21; cf. 12:14; see further Kelhoffer, Persecution, Persuasion and Power, 96, 104, 109, 152–56.

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countries which have never been dominated, or are no longer dominated, by a Christian culture. To take a somewhat recent example of how (most) exegetes have extricated themselves from being “theology’s handmaiden,” we may turn to the legacy of the “Lutheran Paul.” At the time of the Reformation, and for several centuries, Paul’s concept of “righteousness” was often interpreted in accordance with the comparison that Paul was to Judaism as the Reformation was to Roman Catholicism – an illustration of exegesis serving, if subtly, dogmatic (Reformation) theology. But since the emergence of “Paul and the New Perspective” in the 1980s,10 it is clear that Paul did not criticize a different religion (that is, Judaism) but, rather, some of his Christ-believing brethren who had an irreconcilably different perspective from the one he had on the role of the Mosaic Law in the life of nonJewish Christ-believers. From this discourse, we have gained a much better understanding of Paul’s theology, of his Christian opponents’ theology, and of the competition for influence in the earliest church. The improved understanding of Paul’s theology in its original context has had the welcome side-effect of facilitating better dialogue and relationship between ecumenically minded Lutherans and Roman Catholics.11 New Testament Exegesis cannot do its real work if it is a handmaiden to theology. But neither can it forge its identity and raison d’être merely as an advocatus diaboli, in opposition to modern, possibly anachronistic, interpretations and receptions. No, I say: as an academic discipline, New Testament Exegesis must be neither theology’s handmaiden nor theology’s advocatus diaboli. How, then, can we move forward as an academic discipline with relevance for other disciplines? I shall now begin to address this question with reference to “the linguistic turn.” 10

See, e.g., E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1977); James D. G. Dunn, “The New Perspective on Paul,” BJRS 65 (1983): 95–122; idem, Jesus, Paul, and the Law: Studies in Mark and Galatians (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1990); N. T. Wright, “The Paul of History and the Apostle of Faith,” TynBul 29 (1978): 61–88; idem, “The Messiah and the People of God: A Study in Pauline Theology with Particular Reference to the Argument of the Epistle to the Romans” (Dissertation, Oxford University, 1980); idem, The Climax of the Covenant: Christ and the Law in Pauline Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992); idem, What St. Paul Really Said: Was Paul of Tarsus the Real Founder of Christianity? (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997); Magnus Zetterholm, Approaches to Paul: A Student’s Guide to Recent Scholarship (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), 33–67. 11 See esp. the 1999 “Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification” between the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity and the Lutheran World Federation: http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/chrstuni/documents/rc_pc_chrstu ni_doc_31101999_cath-luth-official-statement_en.html (on 10. February 2013), as well as, e.g., David E. Aune (ed.), Rereading Paul Together: Protestant and Catholic Perspectives on Justification (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006).

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D. How Can New Testament Exegesis Have Relevance for Other Disciplines? In her book History, Theory, Text: Historians and the Linguistic Turn, Elizabeth Clark addresses the problem that the discipline of “history,” and, in particular, her own specialty of “late ancient Christianity” (that is, early church history) became mired in scientific and literary paradigms that were rapidly being abandoned by practitioners of those disciplines. . . . [F]or the better part of the twentieth century historians either ignored or rejected the assistance that philosophers and theorists offered in their attempt to render the historical discipline scientific. . . .12

As a promising possibility for moving beyond this impasse, Clark recommends a poststructuralist approach: “Rejecting earlier critics’ desire to uncover a text’s unity and harmony, these theorists, by contrast, explore the ways in which texts incorporate within themselves seemingly contradictory and heterogeneous elements, aporias and ‘splicings’ that trip readers up so as to invite a more complex reading” of premodern texts, including early Christian literature.13 In an attempt to give such “a more complex reading” to texts on John the Baptist’s diet of “grasshoppers and wild honey” (Mark 1:6||Matt 3:4), I used philological, sociological, anthropological, and history-ofinterpretation methods, in order to uncover the most likely meanings of these foods for the historical Baptist, for the evangelists Mark and Matthew, and for the Greek, Syriac and Latin church fathers. At the end of this study, I proposed the following for our discipline: Students of early Christianity need not only be the beneficiaries of philologists’, classicists’ and ancient historians’ hard work. We too can advance these (and other) areas. Indeed, we should make such contributions, lest our scholarship be considered derivative rather than equal in stature to the highest standards of these and other Humanities disciplines. Furthermore, at times we can (and should) bring our work into conversation with the social, and even the natural, sciences.14

In the following section, I return to the relationship between newer and more traditional methodologies. In her article “The Politics of Patronage and the Politics of Kinship: The Meeting of the Ways,” Carolyn Osiek likewise exemplifies how New Testament Exegesis can provide insights to other disciplines.15 The Roman 12

Elizabeth A. Clark, History, Theory, Text: Historians and the Linguistic Turn (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 2004), 17. 13 Clark, History, Theory, Text, 132. 14 Kelhoffer, Diet of John the Baptist, 199. 15 Carolyn Osiek, “The Politics of Patronage and the Politics of Kinship: The Meeting of the Ways,” BTB 39 (2009): 143–52; see further eadem, “Diakonos and prostatis:

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patronage system of relationships, she observes, was based on reciprocal giving and taking between patrons and clients. Our sources from the ancient world preserve good information on how patronage relationships functioned among the elites – above all, between the emperor and his elite clients.16 But if classicists and ancient historians want to understand how this system functioned among ordinary people of the lower classes, a critical analysis of early Christian literature (for example, Paul’s letters) is essential: [W]hile patronage and benefaction among Roman elites has been well studied, little has been done to study the same social structures among non-elites. . . . [W]hat we have in the literary remains of the early Jesus followers is some of the best evidence for the social relations of non-elites in the early Empire, granted, with certain peculiarities not shared with their other contemporaries, but probably having more in common with [than differences from] them. . . .17

For my current research on Second Clement, the description of Christ as patron of salvation and of Christians’ obligations to Christ their heavenly patron is of particular interest.18

E. What Is the Relationship between Newer and More Traditional Methods in New Testament Exegesis, and Is the So-Called “Historical-Critical Method” Just One Method? Contemporary scholarship does not speak of “the scholarly method” for research on the New Testament and other early Christian literature but, more accurately, of a diversity among the methods currently in use. In what follows, I defend two theses: first, that historically oriented methods are fundamental for scholarly studies of the New Testament. Second, while the explosion of various approaches in the last half-century offers a multitude

Women’s Patronage in Early Christianity,” HvTSt 61 (2005): 347–70; eadem and Margaret MacDonald, A Woman’s Place: House Churches in Earliest Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005), 194–219. 16 See, e.g., Jeremy Boissevain, “Patronage in Sicily,” Man n.s. 1/1 (Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, 1966): 18–33; Richard P. Saller, Personal Patronage under the Early Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1982); Jerome H. Neyrey, “God, Benefactor and Patron: The Major Cultural Model for Interpreting the Deity in Greco-Roman Antiquity,” JSNT 27 (2005): 465–92. 17 Osiek, “Politics of Patronage,” 146. 18 See above on 2 Clem. 1:3, 5; 9:7; 15:2; cf. 11:6.

The So-Called “Historical-Critical Method”

11

of possibilities to researchers,19 an unfortunate byproduct has been the balkanization of biblical studies. That development points to an urgent need for a more meaningful exchange of ideas and approaches among exegetes. In practice, scholars who use different methods rarely come together in order to consider seriously the advantages (and disadvantages) of different methods. How can we try to move beyond the current conundrum? It is worth beginning with attentive reflection on the language we use. It is preferable, I would submit, to say that “the historical-critical method” is not just one method. The expression is an umbrella term for a number of historically oriented, comparative and (most often) tradition-critical methods. None of these methods is necessarily critical or uncritical. In the investigation of early Christian literature, the use of any particular method or reading strategy can be, to a lesser or greater extent (or not at all), historical-critical. This is because methods are only a means for answering particular questions or solving particular problems and because a solution to a particular problem can be sought in a variety of more (or less) critical ways. This principle applies not only to tradition-historical methods (for example, source criticism, form criticism and redaction criticism) but also to newer methods and perspectives – for example, narratological, sociological and anthropological studies, as well as various special interest hermeneutics (including feminist, queer theory, and disability studies). In this lecture, I can consider only briefly when, in the history of biblical scholarship, the adjective “historical-critical” (German: “historischkritisch”) came to be so closely associated with the substantive “method” that it came to be understood as a method – “the historical-critical method” (“die historisch-kritische Methode”). The roots of this development can be traced to the German Protestant theologian Ernst Troeltsch (1865–1923), who distinguished between “historical” and “dogmatic” method.20 Conservative (Lutheran) theologians, such as Gerhard Maier, protested that the historical method did not yield a “canon within the canon,” and, for this reason, welcomed “the end of the historical-critical method.”21 Instead of 19 For an overview, see, e.g., Anders Gerdmar and Kari Syreeni, Vägar till Nya Testamentet: Metoder, tekniker och verktyg för nytestamentlig exegetik [Paths to the New Testament: Methods, Techniques and Instruments for New Testament Exegesis] (Lund: Studentlitteratur, 2006). 20 Troeltsch, “Über historische und dogmatische Methode in der Theologie,” in idem, Gesammelte Schriften (Tübingen: Mohr, 1913), 2:729–53. 21 Maier, Das Ende der historisch-kritischen Methode (Wuppertal: Theologischer Verlag Brockhaus, 1974); ET: The End of the Historical-Critical Method (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1977). Instead of “the historical-critical method,” Maier advocated for a return to a (pre-critical) biblicism. Cf. W. Vogels, “Les limites de la méthode historico-critique,” LTP 36 (1980): 173–94; Martin H. Franzmann, “The Historical-Critical Method,” Concordia Journal 6 (1980): 101–102; Alan F. Johnson, “The

12

Chapter 1: New Testament Exegesis as an Academic Discipline

trying to use “the historical-critical method,” Maier advocated a return to a (pre-critical) biblicist theological method (which he called “the historicalbiblical method”). It should give scholars pause that Maier, an outspoken opponent of “the historical-critical method,” contributed to the use of this expression by incorporating its nomenclature into an argument against it. In Anglophone scholarship, the influence of the book The HistoricalCritical Method, by my friend and erstwhile colleague at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago Edgar Krentz, is not to be underestimated.22 Krentz offers a wonderfully concise (and dense) explanation of the need for “the historical-critical method,” as well as its benefits for the church today. Dedicated to the president of the Christ-Seminex Seminary (St. Louis, Missouri) and written to answer objections, above all from conservative pastors and theologians within the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod (LCMS), Krentz’s book emerged within a bitterly polemical context. The 1977 publication of Gerhard Maier’s book in English translation by Concordia Publishing House (see note 21) was apparently the LCMS’s response to Krentz. Even as late as 2008, the distinguished American scholar Joseph A. Fitzmyer, S.J. published a book with the subtitle In Defense of the Historical-Critical Method.23 An unhappy result of such nomenclature is that it divides interpreters into “haves” and “have-nots,” depending on whether they “have” the sym-

Historical-Critical Method: Egyptian Gold or Pagan Precipice?” JETS 26 (1983): 3–15; Willard M. Swartley, “Beyond the Historical-Critical Method,” in Swartley (ed.), Essays on Biblical Interpretation: Anabaptist-Mennonite Perspectives (Text-Reader Series 1; Elkhart, IN: Institute of Mennonite Studies, 1984), 1:237–64; Nico S. L. Fryer, “The Historical-Critical Method: Yes or No?” Scriptura 20 (1987): 41–70; Donald A. Hagner, “The New Testament, History, and the Historical-Critical Method,” in David A. Black and David S. Dockery (eds.), New Testament Criticism and Interpretation (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1991), 71–96; and, especially, Eta Linnemann, Wissenschaft oder Meinung? Anfragen und Alternativen (Neuhausen: Hänssler, 1986); ET: Historical Criticism of the Bible: Methodology or Ideology? Reflections of a Bultmannian Turned Evangelical (trans. Robert W. Yarborough; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1990); R. W. Yarborough, “Eta Linnemann: Friend or Foe of Scholarship?” Master’s Seminary Journal 8 (1997): 163– 89. 22 Krentz, The Historical-Critical Method (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975; reprint: Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2002). See also Paul Achtemeier, “On the Historical-Critical Method in New Testament Studies: Apologia pro Vita Sua,” Perspective 11 (1970): 289– 304; Roland M. Frye, “On the Historical-Critical Method in New Testament Study: A Reply to Professor Achtemeier,” Perspective 14 (1973): 28–33; Hans M. Barstad, “The Historical-Critical Method and the Problem of Old Testament Theology: A Few Marginal Remarks,” SEÅ 45 (1980): 7–18. 23 Fitzmyer, The Interpretation of Scripture: In Defense of the Historical-Critical Method (New York: Paulist, 2008).

The So-Called “Historical-Critical Method”

13

bolic capital and, possibly based upon this, a heightened stature24 because they use “the historical-critical method.” When a scholar’s standing within our discipline is thus classified, both sides will be prone to assume defensive positions and to be suspicious of one another. To say the least, this can make it more difficult to engage in a dialogue among those who use various methods. It is indeed unfortunate that rather few students and, apparently, relatively few scholars see that when we speak of “the historical-critical method,” we perpetuate a methodological nomenclature originally advocated by its opponents.25 I find it more helpful – and more accurate – to speak not of one particular method as “historical-critical” (i.e. “eine [sogenannte] historisch-kritische Methode”) but to speak of the goal of doing “historicalcritical exegesis” (“historisch-kritische Exegese”). With rare exception,26 “historisch-kritische Exegese” has been the standard terminology of German-language scholarship.27 The difference between the two expressions lies primarily in how “historical-critical” is used – whether to describe ex24

On the possible “transfer” of non-economic capital (including “symbolic capital”) to power, see Pierre Bourdieu, “The Forms of Capital,” in John G. Richardson (ed.), Handbook of Theory and Research for the Sociology of Education (New York: Greenwood, 1986), 241–58 at 252–55; see further Kelhoffer, Persecution, Persuasion and Power, 9–24, esp. 14–16. 25 See note 21 above on Maier, Das Ende der historisch-kritischen Methode and similar studies, as well as the most recent critique from Michael C. Legaspi, The Death of Scripture and the Rise of Biblical Studies (Oxford Studies in Historical Theology; Oxford: Oxford University, 2010). According to Legaspi, the historical-critical method bears a large share of the blame for the supposed “death of Scripture” in many churches today. Rhetorically, it is difficult to escape Legaspi’s polemical critique without promising to resuscitate “his” Bible. Scholars usually, however, do not tolerate such ultimatums – and rightly so. Appearing in a series for Historical Theology (not for biblical scholarship), Legaspi’s book betrays a dogmatic agenda that is, nonetheless, eloquently swaddled in postmodern and even anti-nationalist discourses. 26 Gerhard Ebeling, “Die Bedeutung der Historisch-kritischen Methode für die Protestantische Theologie und Kirche,” ZTK 47 (1950): 1–46; ET: “The Significance of the Critical Historical Method for Church and Theology,” in idem, Word and Faith (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1963), 17–61; Heinrich Zimmermann, Neutestamentliche Methodenlehre: Darstellung der historisch-kritischen Methode (Stuttgart: Kath. Bibelwerk, 4th ed. 1974). 27 E.g., Hermann Gunkel, “Ziele und Methoden der Alttestamentlichen Exegese,” in idem, Reden und Aufsätze (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1913), 11–29; Robert Preus, “Offenbarungsverständnis und historisch-kritische Methode,” Lutherischer Rundblick 11 (1963): 170–87; Ernst Käsemann, “Vom theologischen Recht historischkritischer Exegese,” ZTK 64 (1967): 259–81; Martin Hengel, “Historische Methoden und theologische Auslegung des Neuen Testaments,” KD 19 (1973): 85–90; Wilhelm Egger, Methodenlehre zum Neuen Testament: Einführung in linguistische und historischkritische Methoden (Freiburg: Herder, 1987).

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Chapter 1: New Testament Exegesis as an Academic Discipline

egesis in general (German-language) or to denote a purported method (Anglophone). In an earlier publication, I suggested what, I hope, offers a way forward: Unfortunately, certain scholars tout that newer methodologies have somehow superseded traditio-historical analyses or “the historical-critical method,” however construed.28 The future of early Christian studies lies not in antipathy between older and newer approaches but in dynamic interaction between them. Historians of religion have acknowledged as much for decades. It is time that the over-balkanized discipline of biblical studies move beyond such a short-sighted and unnecessary dichotomy.29

If one aims to do something interesting and worthwhile in biblical studies, it is woefully inadequate merely to hype the use of a newer method. And the mere translation of earlier results into a trendy terminology (from one of the social sciences, for example) does not deserve to be called “scholarship.” Apropos of such translation, Troy W. Martin offers a pointed and just warning in his review of a sociologically oriented study of First Peter: The strength of this monograph resides in its sensitivity to modern hermeneutical theory . . . and in its reformulation of prior exegetical insights in the language of the social sciences (e.g., “temporal liminality” instead of “eschatological journey”). It offers, however, few new exegetical insights of its own, and, at times, the social-scientific model controls the text rather than vice versa.30

In all scholarship, regardless of the discipline, the important question is not which method(s) are used. What scholars want to know is whether a colleague has something new, interesting and instructive to present from his or her research. In the classroom, I have found it rather easy to explain this principle to students. We can hope that, among scholars, there will be better possibilities for meaningful conversation and interdisciplinary collaboration in the future.

28 See, e.g., Richard A. Horsley, Hearing the Whole Story: The Politics of Plot in Mark’s Gospel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), p. ix; David M. Rhoads, “Narrative Criticism: Practices and Prospects,” in D. M. Rhoads and Kari Syreeni (eds.), Characterization in the Gospels: Reconceiving Narrative Criticism (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999), 264–85, esp. 265–66. Frances M. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1997), 1–5, offers a more balanced analysis. 29 Kelhoffer, Diet of John the Baptist, 199; see further idem, “Early Christian Studies among the Academic Disciplines: Reflections on John the Baptist’s ‘Locusts and Wild Honey,’” BR 50 (2007): 5–17 (see chapter 2 in the present volume). 30 Troy W. Martin, review of Steven R. Bechtler, Following in His Steps: Suffering, Community, and Christology in 1 Peter (SBLDS 162; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998), in RBL (26. May 2000): http://www.bookreviews.org/pdf/2198_1315.pdf (accessed 25. November 2011); the citation of Martin’s review is from §7 (p. 2).

Relevance for All People

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F. How Can New Testament Exegesis Have Relevance for All People? I now turn to the relevance of New Testament Exegesis for all people.31 Because biblical scholarship shares much in common with other disciplines within the Humanities – above all, with history, literature, and philosophy – every educated person ought to be acquainted with the main insights of biblical scholarship in the last 200 years. Additionally, a basic knowledge of biblical literature is important for comprehending the myriad allusions to the Bible in modern literature, including modern fiction, and for understanding how the Bible has influenced constructions of identity in religious movements through the centuries. Sociologists and historians cannot afford to ignore the fact that biblical mythologies can still play a significant role in the creation of modern mythologies and constructions of identity. I therefore take it as an unintended oversight that our university’s large interdisciplinary research project, “The Impact of Religion,”32 does not have a specialist in biblical studies or reception history. Sometimes – and, we hope, not infrequently – an insight from New Testament Exegesis can have relevance not only for other disciplines but for all people. In The Diet of John the Baptist, I point out how food, biblical interpretation, and asceticism have played a role in the formation of religious identity.33 And in Persecution, Persuasion and Power, I call attention to how a readiness to be persecuted can serve as a basis for standing and legitimacy in many religious traditions: In terms of the philosophy of religion, one may ask which comes first – an experience of persecution, or the concept of salvation history (or salvation mythology34) that persecu31 See, above, that a (public Swedish) university must not tolerate discrimination but must be open to all who embrace principles of critical research and scholarly methods. 32 See http://www.crs.uu.se/Forskning/impactofreligion/ (on 10. February 2013). 33 Kelhoffer, The Diet of John the Baptist, e.g., 203–205. 34 On this problem, see, e.g., Jörg Frey et al. (eds.), Heil und Geschichte: Die Geschichtsbezogenheit des Heils und das Problem der Heilsgeschichte in der biblischen Tradition und in der theologischen Deutung (WUNT 248; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009). In regard to the consequences of one’s choice of terminology, see also Christoph W. Stenschke, review of J. Frey et al. (eds.), Heil und Geschichte, in RBL (20. June 2010): http://www.bookreviews.org/pdf/7570_8272.pdf (accessed 25. November 2011): “It will be difficult for scholars to reappropriate a concept of salvation history when they are at the same time convinced that most of the foundation of this concept, namely, God’s interventions in history for salvation, did not happen and could not have happened in the way that they are recounted in the biblical tradition. In addition to the staunch opponents of salvation history (for this and other reasons), a notion of salvation and myth or salvation mythology is argued for in many quarters of biblical studies, in which the discipline is understood in terms of examining how this myth was formed (by drawing on historical notions and ideas) and how it functioned for the communities that created it.”

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Chapter 1: New Testament Exegesis as an Academic Discipline

tion legitimates? The question is equally pertinent for the apostle Paul, John Foxe, alQaeda, and their opponents/enemies, however construed. . . . The endurance of persecution can become part of a group’s collective memory, reinforcing the identity derived from oppression, whether that oppression is directed against our predecessors or us. One contribution of this monograph is to highlight the role that ascribing value to suffering and transferring that value for the purpose of legitimation can play in the formation of religious identity, including identity derived from salvation history/mythology. It should also give us pause that, once embedded within salvation history/mythology, a persecution can continue either to inspire or to delegitimize the faithful and their perceived oppressors. 35

Sometimes an exegete encounters a problem that requires dialogue with colleagues in other disciplines and even with all people: Critical, careful, and even prayerful reflection on how we construe ourselves in relation to suffering is an agenda inadequately realized in the NT, a task that commends itself for twenty-first century ethics and theology. . . . I make no pretension that an exegetical analysis of the NT could, by itself, solve this problem for contemporary Christian or other religious communities. If experts in other areas of theological and religious studies will add to the conversation, there will be potential for more nuanced reflection and dialogue. This study will have served its purpose if it better defines the task and ethical responsibility of analyzing how our Scriptures, and we today, talk about persecution as a basis of legitimation, and if it leads to further critical reflection, discussion, and even reconciliation.36

We exegetes cannot take for granted that others will appreciate the value and relevance of our work; the burden rests on us to communicate with those outside our guild.

G. Epilogue: Academic Disciplines Past, Present, and Future When I first reflected on what an inaugural lecture might entail, I was quite unsure how to proceed. As an academic ought to do, I went to the Carolina Rediviva university library and eventually came upon a book with the title Lecture Topics at Installations of Professors in Uppsala 1855–

The preceding citation of Stenschke’s review is from §12 (pp. 4–5), emphases original. See further Karl-Heinz Schlaudraff, “Heil als Geschichte”? Die Frage nach dem heilsgeschichtlichen Denken, dargestellt anhand der Konzeption Oscar Cullmanns (BGBE 29; Tübingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1988), esp. 117–46; Kelhoffer, “The Struggle To Define Heilsgeschichte: Paul on the Origins of the Christian Tradition,” BR 48 (2003): 45–67 (see chapter 6 in the present volume). 35 Kelhoffer, Persecution, Persuasion and Power, 385. 36 Kelhoffer, Persecution, Persuasion and Power, 386.

Academic Disciplines Past, Present, and Future

17

1966, by Barbro Marin.37 Marin’s compilation of names, disciplines and lecture titles shows much about our university’s history. It was intriguing to see that already in 1928, when Uppsala University installed a new professor in Sanskrit and Comparative Indo-European Linguistics (Jarl Charpentier), the new professor gave a lecture on “Aposteln Thomas och Indien” [“The Apostle Thomas and India”], which was based on his newly published article “St. Thomas the Apostle and India.”38 Also in 1928, an exception was apparently made to the requirement that an inaugural lecture be given in Swedish when Anton Fridrichsen lectured in Norwegian on “Det Nye testamentets tanker om religiøs mottagelighet og uimottagelighet” [“The New Testament’s Thoughts on Religious Sensitivity and Insensitivity”].39 Sometimes in Barbro Marin’s compendium one encounters an attitude or ideology that, mercifully, has been expunged from today’s academy. For example, we can be glad that, after 1936, our university did not need another professor in “rasbiologi” [“Racial Biology”]. In that year, Gunnar Dahlberg’s inaugural lecture was entitled “Om tvillingfödelser” [“On the Births of Twins”].40 As Marie Ström has recently reported in the newspaper Uppsala Nya Tidning, it was Dahlberg who, in opposition to his predecessor Herman Lundborg, argued that in the discipline of Biology, “race” was not a scholarly concept and that one must oppose Sweden’s then current program of compulsory sterilization of, inter alios, the mentally ill who were judged to be unsuitable to procreate.41 We may indeed wonder how, in eighty or perhaps one hundred years, our successors will view our current areas of research. Scholars do well to attend not only to their own discipline but also to what that discipline can offer to other disciplines and even to all people. I hope that our successors will appreciate our current endeavors.

37

B. Marin, Föreläsningsämnen vid professorsinstallationer i Uppsala 1855–1966 (Skrifter rörande Uppsala universitet. C, Organisation och historia; Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, 1967). 38 Charpentier, “St. Thomas the Apostle and India,” Kyrkohistorisk årsskrift 27 (1927): 21–47; cf. B. Marin, Föreläsningsämnen, 24. 39 Published in Norsk teologisk tidsskrift 30 (1929): 1–14; cf. B. Marin, Föreläsningsämnen, 24. 40 B. Marin, Föreläsningsämnen, 28. 41 Marie Ström, “Uppsalas mörka kapitel” [“Uppsala’s Dark Chapter”], in Uppsala Nya Tidning, 6. November 2011, pp. 6–7: http://www.unt.se/uppsala/uppsalas-morkakapitel-1521710.aspx (accessed 11. November 2011).

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Chapter 1: New Testament Exegesis as an Academic Discipline

Abstract: This English translation of a lecture delivered in November 2011 on the occasion of the author’s installation as Professor of New Testament Exegesis at Uppsala University addresses several conceptual and methodological questions about New Testament Exegesis, including: “What is New Testament Exegesis?”; “What does it mean to call New Testament Exegesis an academic discipline?”; and “How can this discipline be relevant for other disciplines?” Two central arguments are that the current balkanization of biblical studies is undesirable, and that scholars who favor more traditional or newer methods should engage, rather than talk past, each other. It could help to foster that process if we attend to a misconception of the “historical-critical method” as a single method. Additionally, “the linguistic turn” holds promise for future discussions.

Chapter 2

Early Christian Studies among the Academic Disciplines: Reflections on John the Baptist’s “Locusts and Wild Honey”* A. Introduction This article makes no pretense of describing what Early Christian Studies is, let alone definitively prescribing what it should be. Instead, I offer a narrative of my attempts to examine John the Baptist’s “locusts and wild honey” (Mark 1:6c||Matt 3:4c) in its ancient Mediterranean context, as refracted in early Christian biblical interpretation, and in dialogue with several different methods of study.1 To be sure, the topic is rather specialized. This article highlights some of the methods scholars have applied to interpret John’s food; several points at which I ventured in a direction different from those methods; the implications of this study; and suggested avenues for future research. My investigation of John’s “locusts and wild honey” began with the simple query: Why do the Gospels of Mark and Matthew, but not Luke, mention the Baptist’s food? My initial research opened a further, equally fascinating question: How did John’s food come to constitute an ethical model in numerous Christian writings of the patristic, Byzantine, medieval and even later periods? I did not begin those inquiries intending to write a book on the subject but just wanted to resolve vexing questions. My experience with this research may resonate with the experience many scholars have had: I did not wish to try out new methodologies merely for the sake of an arcane intellectual exercise; rather, I endeavored to employ an assortment of methods in the service of addressing an unresolved set of questions. *

Original publication: Biblical Research 50 (2007): 5–17. This article is a revised version of a paper presented at a conference on “Early Christian Studies and the Academic Disciplines” at the Catholic University of America (Washington, DC) in June, 2005. Parts of the paper are taken, reworked and expanded, from my 2005 book on The Diet of John the Baptist: “Locusts and Wild Honey” in Synoptic and Patristic Interpretation. My thanks to Jörg Frey, to those at the conference who offered feedback on the paper, and to those in attendance at the Spring 2004 CSBR Meeting, where I also presented a portion of this study. 1

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Chapter 2: Early Christian Studies among the Academic Disciplines

Some remarks on Mark 1:6c||Matt 3:4c will set the context for this article’s methodological reflections. I have come to the conclusion that each of these passages (as well as other Synoptic passages pertaining to John’s food) should be examined in its own right and that they should not be harmonized.2 Mark 1:6c makes the unremarkable claim that John was in the habit of eating rather common desert foods (καὶ ἦν ὁ Ἰωάννης . . . ἐσθίων ἀκρίδας καὶ µέλι ἄγριον), in order to connect the Baptist with “the voice of one shouting in the wilderness” (Isa 40:3, cited in Mark 1:3) and, by implication, with the wilderness prophet Elijah. The author of Luke omits Mark 1:6 precisely because of how that verse characterizes the Baptist. Throughout his Gospel, Luke consistently retains (and augments) the materials he takes from Mark and Q that associate Jesus with Elijah, and Luke deletes those materials that present the Baptist as Elijah. Matthew’s changing of Mark’s iterative periphrastic (ἦν . . . ἐσθίων) to simply ἦν results in the heightened claim that John’s wilderness provisions “consisted of” (ἦν) only these two foods: ἡ δὲ τροφὴ ἦν αὐτοῦ ἀκρίδες καὶ µέλι ἄγριον (Matt 3:4c). Matthew’s claim finds analogies in accounts of Judeans who had survived entirely on wilderness foods (2 Macc 5:27; Mart. Ascen. Isa. 2.11; Jos. Vita 2§11). The remainder of this article makes several methodological observations and reflects on the implications of my study for Early Christian Studies as a whole. The ultimate validation of any method of study is the fruit that it bears for a field of inquiry – in our case, in the elucidation of a particular question, part of Scripture, or aspect of early Christianity. Methodologies do not exist in a vacuum; all those employed for studying early Christianity are ancillary to both disciplines. David E Aune’s excellent essay, “What Bible Dictionaries Tell Us about Our Discipline,”3 written while writing his 2003 Westminster Dictionary of New Testament and Early Christian Literature and Rhetoric,4 elaborates on this point. Before deciding, among other things, which articles to include, Aune wished to explore what other Bible dictionaries and related reference works had – and had not – accomplished, as well as to discern what rationale, if any, informed other editors’ decisions. Aune’s insightful essay unfortunately did not enjoy a wide circulation in the little-known Proceedings: Eastern Great Lakes and Midwest Biblical Societies. Originally presented as his 2002 Presidential Address to the Midwest regional meeting of the Society 2 On the drawbacks of uncritically harmonizing the Synoptic materials on the Baptist’s food, see my Diet of John the Baptist, 4–12 and below in this article at note 21. On Mark 1:6c, Matt 3:4c, and Luke’s omission of Mark 1:6, see further ibid., 121–32. 3 Proceedings: Eastern Great Lakes and Midwest Biblical Societies 22 (2002): 17–33, esp. 18–22. 4 Aune, The Westminster Dictionary of New Testament and Early Christian Literature and Rhetoric (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2003).

Introduction

21

of Biblical Literature, his remarks made an impression on many of us – and, I dare say, were a source of embarrassment to some – in attendance at that meeting. To be sure, we in Early Christian Studies owe it to ourselves to critique what we do, and why. To this end, we would do well to bear in mind that methods of study are constantly in a state of flux and refinement, depending on developments within a particular discipline – in the academy as a whole, and, we might say, in our current Zeitgeist. I hope that some reflections on the methods employed in my study of John’s diet will contribute to an assessment of what scholars in our discipline (can) do, and why. I address six larger issues of interest to Early Christian Studies in interdisciplinary perspective: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

The ongoing need for philological refinement Moving beyond “parallelomania” to cogent argumentation and elucidation The use of sociological data from recent and contemporary, pre-industrialized peoples John the Baptist (and other biblical characters) in patristic interpretation Biblical literature construed as a source of paideia in patristic literature Food, culture, and theology as ingredients of self-definition

B. The Ongoing Need for Philological Refinement In my study, I found that a significant amount of philological work, especially among the Greco-Roman materials, was a necessary prerequisite. Inquiries into ancient terms for “locusts/grasshoppers” and various sweet substances known as “honey” confirmed my earlier impression that a simple reliance on handbooks, Bible dictionaries, or encyclopedias can all too easily distort a presentation of “NT backgrounds.”5 Moreover, the definitions given in standard lexicons (for example, LSJ, BDAG, Lampe) cannot always be taken as definitive. However indispensable, such resources provide the beginning – not the end – of an exegetical inquiry. Electronic resources, including the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae, can indeed facilitate inquiries, at times making it possible to go beyond studies conducted before electronic resources were available. Scholars of early Christianity need not be only the beneficiaries of philologists’, classicists’ and ancient historians’ hard work; we can and should advance that work, lest our scholarship be considered derivative rather than equal in stature to the highest standards of these and other Humanities disciplines. Furthermore, at times we can (and should) bring our work into conversation with 5 This is not to ignore, however, the many valuable contributions of resources, such as the Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament and the Pauly-Wissowa RealEncyklopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft (along with Der Neue Pauly).

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Chapter 2: Early Christian Studies among the Academic Disciplines

the social, and even the natural, sciences. In light of the role of our discipline, I suggest that we think beyond the title of the conference at which this paper was originally presented (“Early Christian Studies and the Academic Disciplines”) and consider not only what we can accomplish within our field, but also among – or, in furtherance of the work of – other academic disciplines.6

C. Moving beyond “Parallelomania” to Cogent Argumentation and Elucidation By itself, of course, a philological analysis cannot answer all our questions. Almost every writing leaves certain “gaps” for the audience to fill in, in order to make a coherent whole out of a text’s implied or stated narrative. Without such “gaps,” exegetes and expositors would be unnecessary and, thus, in search of a different vocation. An absence of “gaps” in literature would entail an adherence to the arcane standards of logical positivism and would require writing exclusively in simple propositional statements. Narrative would disappear, interpretation would be unnecessary, and life would be boring. That people can, and do, interpret texts differently is empirically verifiable. Historically oriented exegesis maintains that, when bringing to an ancient text an inference not specified in that passage or work, it is desirable, if possible, to supply some ancient analogy to support the elucidation. In my study, I noted numerous scholarly works that do not supply a rationale for their assorted interpretations of John’s diet. To counter assertions without supporting arguments, exegetes today generally recognize – but, sometimes, do not reflect adequately in their research – that the more they know about life, religion and literary expressions in antiquity, the more likely they are to understand an early Christian writing as an ancient audience (yet not necessarily all ancient audiences) most likely would have construed it. This often acknowledged, yet, at times, under appreciated, awareness can be a buffer between scholarly exegesis and pre-critical eisegesis. When diverse interpretations abound, who, if anyone, has the better part of the argument?

6

Thus my choice of “among” in the article title, “Early Christian Studies among the Academic Disciplines.”

Moving beyond an Unnecessary Methodological Dichotomy

23

D. Method and Eclecticism: The Unnecessary Dichotomy between Socio-Historical and “Historical-Critical” The quandary about diverse interpretations suggests the possible benefits of not being restricted to a single methodological approach. The last three decades or so have brought to our guild an assortment of new methodologies and hermeneutical approaches which, when fully brought into conversation with historical-critical methods, can shed new light on early Christian literature. In my study’s Forschungsbericht, I criticize certain literary and ideological interpretations of John’s diet.7 This is not because there is anything wrong with such inquiries per se, but because they have so far consistently misconstrued Mark 1:6c||Matt 3:4c. In particular, literary approaches to this passage, especially when divorced from historicallyoriented methods of study, can be myopic, because they claim to unearth within Mark’s or Matthew’s narrative an explanation for John’s diet when no explanation is given in the text. Socio-historical questions were of particular importance to my investigation of the historical Baptist. To complement the philological investigations of “locusts” and “honey,” I wanted to know about the “real-life” experiences of ancient Mediterranean locust gatherers – such as whether the Baptist or certain Jews at Qumran (CD 12:11b–15a) – and found especially helpful the anthropological studies of locust-eating Native Americans. I also wished to examine the claim of Matt 3:4c (echoed in Justin Dial. 88.6–7; Origen Hom. Luc. 25.2, Philocalia 26.4; Ambr. De Helia et ieiunio 11.40) that John’s food consisted entirely of “locusts and wild honey.” Could this diet actually sustain an adult indefinitely? Three main conclusions emerged from those inquiries: 1. The yield from collecting locusts compares favorably with the benefits of hunting and gathering. 2. A locust gatherer could live comfortably off the protein and calories from these insects. 3. A deficiency in Vitamin C from a diet consisting solely of “locusts and wild honey” would eventually result in scurvy.

Apropos these first two conclusions, we may consider the observation of archaeologist David B. Madsen, who examined the cultures of Native Americans of the Great Basin at “Lakeside Cave, at the western edge of the Great Salt Lake” in Utah, who visited the cave intermittently during the past 5,000 years. . . . Bits of the insects pervaded every stratum we uncovered, and . . . we estimated that the cave contained remains from as many as five million [grass]hoppers. [That most human feces found in the cave] 7

See my Diet of John the Baptist, 19–21, 24–26, 33–34.

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consisted of grasshopper parts in a heavy matrix of sand . . . told us that people ate the hoppers and suggested that the sand was somehow involved in processing them for consumption.8

Significantly, those three main conclusions could not have been reached with recourse solely to ancient literary witnesses. To complete my study, a dialogue with sociological, anthropological, and dietary (that is, nutritional) materials was essential. Unfortunately, certain scholars of early Christianity tout that newer methodologies have somehow superseded traditio-historical analyses or “the historical-critical method,” however construed.9 The future of early Christian studies, I believe, lies not in antipathy between older and newer approaches but in dynamic interaction between them. Historians in other areas of religious studies have acknowledged as much for decades. It is time that the over-balkanized discipline of biblical studies move beyond this short-sighted and unnecessary dichotomy.

E. John the Baptist (and Other Biblical Characters) in Patristic Interpretation We now turn from reflections on method to avenues for future inquiry. In my study on John’s diet in Synoptic and patristic interpretation, I men-

8 Madsen, “A Grasshopper in Every Pot,” Natural History (New York) 98/7 (1989): 22–25 at 22. Likewise, Madsen, ibid., 23, observes: “We found that one person could collect an average of 200 pounds of sun-dried [grass]hoppers per hour. . . . Laboratory analyses of the hoppers indicated a yield of just over 1,365 calories per pound. (For comparison, a pound of medium-fat beef produces about 1,240 calories and a pound of wheat flour about 1,590 calories.) We thus came up with an average return of 273,000 calories per hour of effort invested. Even when we took a tenth of this figure, to be conservative, we found this to be the highest rate of return of any local resource. It is far higher than the 300 to 1,000 calories per hour rate produced by collecting most seeds . . . and higher even than the estimated 25,000 calories per hour for large game such as deer or antelope. Put another way, an hour spent collecting twenty pounds of sun-dried grasshoppers provides the equivalent of about twenty-two pounds of meat.” Madsen’s figures are illustrative, although they pertain only to the collection of locusts, not to the additional time that would be needed to preserve and store them for future consumption. 9 E.g., Richard A. Horsley, Hearing the Whole Story: The Politics of Plot in Mark’s Gospel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), p. ix; David M. Rhoads, “Narrative Criticism: Practices and Prospects,” in D. Rhoads and K. Syreeni (eds.), Characterization in the Gospels: Reconceiving Narrative Criticism (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999), 264–85, esp. 265–66. For a more balanced discussion, see Frances M. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1997), 1–5.

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tioned several items meriting additional attention – indeed, more than any individual scholar could pursue during a lifetime of work.10 I would be most pleased to see other scholars take up any of the three following areas: John the Baptist (among other biblical characters) in early Christian interpretation; biblical literature as a source of paideia in the early church; or attitudes toward food in antiquity. Form criticism posits that the sundry materials incorporated into the NT Gospels survived because they were somehow useful to the primitive church – a principle that any study of biblical figures ought to keep in mind. Much later, with the eventual emergence of a Christian canon of Scripture, the sequence of utility leading to preservation would oftentimes run in the opposite direction. Mutatis mutandis, the abiding interpretive problem for many became – and continues to be even today – in what way(s) the NT Gospels (among other esteemed writings) could be useful to us as Scripture. My study illustrates the benefits of studying the initial reason(s) for (even part of) a passage’s preservation, as well as the various uses derived from that passage in later centuries. Considering a passage both form-critically and in light of its history of interpretation could also provide a fitting epitaph for “canonical criticism,” which myopically employs the (Protestant?) canon of Scripture as a (the?) context for interpreting Scripture without acknowledging either the pre-canonical forms of those writings or the various patristic understandings of Scripture that contributed to the emergence of that very canon.11 Another area meriting further investigation is John’s clothing in patristic interpretation (Mark 1:6a–b||Matt 3:4a–b), which my study mentions only occasionally. From having read many passages in patristic literature on John’s mantle and belt, I have the impression that the patristic authors devoted even more attention to John’s clothing than they did to his diet. Somebody should write an article on the subject. Perhaps there is enough material for a monograph. It would certainly be interesting to know how often monks wore hairy garments like John’s, as well as how many early Christian interpreters exhorted the faithful to dress simply in emulation of John’s example.12 To take just one instance of such an interpretation, Je-

10

In the coming years, my research will not be concerned with any of these areas. See below on biblical interpretation and paideia. 12 Edmondo Lupieri, “John the Baptist: The First Monk. A Contribution to the History of the Figure of John the Baptist in the Early Monastic World,” in Monasticism: A Historical Overview (Word and Spirit 6; Still River, MA: St. Bede’s, 1984), 11–23 at 16–17, touches on this question. See also Christoph G. Müller, “Kleidung als Element der Charakterzeichnung im Neuen Testament und seiner Umwelt: Ein Streifzug durch das lukanische Erzählwerk,” SNTSU 28 (2003): 187–214; Knut Backhaus, “Johannes der Täufer in den Apokryphen” (Unpublished manuscript; Theologische Fakultät Paderborn, 1985). 11

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rome asserts that John’s challenging lifestyle offers a model even to widows, who should find comfort in the difficulties the Baptist experienced: A widow who is “freed from the marital bond” has, for her one duty, to continue as a widow. But, you will reply that a somber dress scandalizes the world. In that case, John the Baptist would scandalize it, too; and yet, among those that are born of women, there has not been [one] greater than he. He was called an angel (angelus); he baptized the Lord Himself, and yet he was clothed in raiment of camel’s hair, and girded with a leather girdle. Is [the world] displeased because a widow’s food is coarse (viliores)? Nothing can be coarser than locusts (nihil vilius locustis).13

More broadly, there is certainly enough material to warrant a handful of monographs on the Baptist (or any number of other biblical figures) in patristic interpretation. Given the abundance of gospel materials on the Baptist and the need to explain his relationship to Jesus, the study of a single author, such as Clement of Alexandria or Origen, let alone Augustine or John Chrysostom, could easily fill a volume.14 It would be interesting to know to what extent later Christian authors recognized the tension between the presentations of Jesus and his “forerunner” in the NT Gospels. Do patristic authors associate the Baptist with the Old Covenant, the New Covenant, or both epochs of salvation history? In what ways do reinventions of John’s persona serve the theological concerns of later centuries? A salutary approach to these questions would be to build on a point of New Testament Introduction (a.k.a. “higher criticism”) and search for an awareness of the topic – and, possibly, reactions to it – already in early Christian biblical interpretation.15

13 Jerome Ep. 38.3 (“to Marcella”). Latin text: Isidor Hilberg (ed.), Sancti Eusebii Hieronymi, Epistulae (CSEL 54–56; Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2nd ed. 1996 [1910–18]); ET (modified): NPNF, II/6:48. 14 Shorter studies by Otto F. A. Meinardus, “The Relics of St. John the Baptist and the Prophet Elisha: An Examination of the Claims of Their Recent Invention in Egypt,” in Leslie S. B. MacCoull (ed.), Coptic Studies (FS Mirrit Boutros Ghali; Cairo: Society for Coptic Archaeology, 1979), 26–63; Lupieri, “John the Baptist: The First Monk”; and idem, “John the Gnostic: The Figure of the Baptist in Origen and Heterodox Gnosticism,” StPatr 19 (1989): 322–27, offer fine examples of such inquiries. Cf. E. R. L. Tinambunan, “Elijah according to the Fathers of the Church,” Carmelus (Rome) 49 (2002): 85–116. 15 See, e.g., Martin Hengel, “Aufgaben der neutestamentlichen Wissenschaft,” NTS 40 (1994): 321–57, esp. 325, 329–33, 340–42; Kelhoffer, “The Witness of Eusebius’ ad Marinum and Other Christian Writings to Text-Critical Debates concerning the Original Conclusion to Mark’s Gospel,” ZNW 92 (2001): 78–112 (see chapter 7 in the present volume).

Biblical Literature as Paideia

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F. Biblical Literature as a Source of Early Christian Paideia Biblical literature as a source of paideia in the early church would be another possible area for research. After several months of collecting, translating and studying numerous early Christian interpretations of John’s food, I remained at a loss about how to explain the widespread phenomenon of construing John as an ethical model. Why so much attention to this rather unremarkable (and, it should be noted, non-ascetic) Synoptic passage? Something clicked when I read Frances M. Young’s statement about Scripture and early Christian paideia: “Once the biblical literature became established as an alternative body of classics, it would soon be seen as the basis of a new paideia.”16 After studying explicit acclamations of several ancient philosophers’ ‘vegetarian’ or simple diets in Greco-Roman writings,17 I became persuaded that such formulations, which, for the most part, predate the patristic interpretations of Mark 1:6c||Matt 3:4c, offered the necessary lens through which John’s diet could be viewed as exemplary.18 Such a connection between philosophers’ virtues and John’s purported example should not come as a surprise, given Gregory Nazianzen’s characterization of Elijah and John as “perfect philosophers” (Or. 43.29 [536B]). In order to understand the various presuppositions that early Christian authors brought to Scripture, we need to have a firm grasp of the classical education and paideia that so many of them embraced and propagated. The ways that Christian and classical paideia may have differed, however, was beyond my study. Much work remains to be done in this area.

G. Food, Culture, and Theology as Ingredients of Self-Definition It is perhaps axiomatic that attitudes toward food are largely defined by culture and environment. Jerome recognizes as much in his work Against Jovinian, maintaining that, however peculiar, the food of various peoples corresponds to what flourishes in their midst: “But who does not know that no universal law of nature regulates the food of all nations, and that each eats those things of which it has abundance?”19 Jerome illustrates with the following example: 16

Young, Biblical Exegesis, 76. My study offers only representative examples in Greco-Roman literature. Much more material of this sort remains to be digested. 18 See my Diet of John the Baptist, 183–86. 19 Jer. Adv. Iovin. 2.7. Lat.: PL 23:221–352 at 308; ET: NPNF, II/6:393. 17

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Again, because throughout the glowing wastes of the desert, clouds of locusts are found, it is customary with the peoples of the East and of Libya to feed on locusts (rursum Orientales et Libyae populos . . . locustis vesci moris est). John the Baptist proves the truth of this. Compel a Phrygian or a native of Pontus to eat a locust, and he will think it scandalous (nefas). (Adv. Iovin. 2.7)

Which peoples Jerome designates as Eastern (or ‘Oriental’) is not entirely clear, since his mention of the non-locust eating peoples in Phrygia and Pontus would exclude, respectively, the southwestern and northern parts of Asia Minor. Whereas people in certain regions regularly eat locusts, Jerome says, others would be repulsed by insects as food. The example is ammunition for Jerome in a polemical debate with Jovinian (fl. late-fourth c.) about ascetic practices which, at Adv. Iovin. 2.7, touches on the practices of different peoples’ eating habits. Broader examinations of food, ethnicity, and culture in early Christianity could indeed be fruitful and would complement the excellent progress made during the last quarter century in understanding early Christian asceticism.20 Because of the multicultural character of and, therefore, the differing eating habits in early Christianity, one question meriting attention is whether the privileging of one culture’s food preferences (biases?) necessarily marginalized believers of other cultures or ethnicities. According to 20

E.g., Elizabeth A. Clark, Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton: Princeton University, 1999); David Brakke, Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism (Oxford: Clarendon/New York: Oxford University Press, 1995); Teresa M. Shaw, The Burden of the Flesh: Fasting and Sexuality in Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998); Vincent L. Wimbush, (ed.), Ascetic Behavior in GrecoRoman Antiquity (Studies in Antiquity and Christianity; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990); V. Wimbush and R. Valantasis (eds.), Asceticism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995); A. Vööbus, History of Asceticism in the Syrian Orient: A Contribution to the History of Culture in the Near East (CSCO 184, 197, 500; Louvain: Secrétariat du Corpus SCO, 1958–88); Andrew B. McGowan, Ascetic Eucharists: Food and Drink in Early Christian Ritual Meals (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999); Conrad Leyser, Authority and Asceticism from Augustine to Gregory the Great (Oxford Historical Monographs; Oxford: Clarendon/Oxford: Oxford University, 2000); John Behr, Asceticism and Anthropology in Irenaeus and Clement (Oxford Early Christian Studies; New York: Oxford University Press, 2000); Hermut Löhr, “Speisenfrage und Tora im Judentum des Zweiten Tempels und im entstehenden Christentum,” ZNW 94 (2003): 17–37; Rudolph Arbesmann, “Fasting and Prophecy in Pagan and Christian Antiquity,” Traditio 7 (1949– 51): 1–71. See further Frederick J. Simoons, Eat Not This Flesh: Food Avoidances from Prehistory to the Present (Madison: University of Wisconsin, 2nd ed. 1994); Dario Sabbatucci, “Dieta Carnea e Vegetarianismo,” in Oddone Longo and Paolo Scarpi (eds.), Homo edens: Regimi, miti e pratiche dell’alimentazione nella civiltà del Mediterraneo (Milan: Diapress/Documenti, 1989), 243–44; Catherine Osborne, “Ancient Vegetarianism,” in J. Wilkins, D. Harvey and M. Dobson (eds.), Food in Antiquity (Exeter: University of Exeter, 1995), 214–24; Cora Diamond, “Eating Meat and Eating People” (1976), in eadem, The Realistic Spirit: Wittgenstein, Philosophy, and the Mind (Representation and Mind; Cambridge [MA]: MIT Press, 1991), 319–34.

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the apostle Paul, already in the 40s C.E. in Antioch, food preferences played a role in a conflict that would have far-reaching implications for the emerging Jesus movement(s) (Gal 2:11–14). As mentioned briefly toward the beginning of this article, the Synoptic Gospels preserve various, sometimes contradictory, anecdotes about the Baptist’s food.21 Since food was a vibrant issue for early Christian authors, we may consider the claim of Q/Matt 11:18a that John did not eat or drink anything at all (ἦλθεν γὰρ Ἰωάννης µήτε ἐσθίων µήτε πίνων), which obviously differs from Matthew’s earlier assertion that John derived all his sustenance from “grasshoppers and wild honey” (ἡ δὲ τροφὴ ἦν αὐτοῦ κ.τ.λ., Matt 3:4c). Despite the contradiction in these two claims (or, perhaps, without realizing the contradiction resulting from the inclusion of both claims), Matthew preserved both traditions (3:4c; 11:18a) because each served a different purpose for him in its respective passage. Numerous later Christian authors attest to the importance of food as an ingredient of theological reflection. I mention two examples, from Clement of Alexandria and John Chrysostom. In his Paedagogos, Clement holds up the Baptist’s diet – and the food of the apostle Matthew – as examples worthy of imitation: [15.4] I for one would not hesitate to call that devil, the devil of the belly, the most wicked and deadly of them all. . . . Happiness is the practice of virtue. [16.1] Matthew the apostle used to make his meal on seeds and plants and herbs, without flesh-meat (σπερµάτων καὶ ἀκροδρύσων καὶ λαχάνων ἄνευ κρεῶν); John, maintaining extreme selfrestraint (ὑπερτείνας τὴν ἐγράτειαν), “used to eat (ἤσθιεν) locusts and wild honey”; and Peter abstained from pork. But “he fell into an ecstasy,” it is written in the Acts of the Apostles.22

In comparison with the practices of Matthew and the Baptist, Peter’s indulgence in meat is taken to be exceptional in Acts 10 and is approved because of the apostle’s higher calling to preach the good news to the family of Cornelius. John Chrysostom, likewise, derives theological significance from food, interpreting the Baptist’s diet (and clothing) eschatologically: It was necessary (ἔδει) that the precursor of the One who was to undo the age-long burdens, such as toil, malediction, pain and sweat, should in his own person be symbolic 21

John ate “locusts and wild honey” (Mark 1:6c). His food consisted exclusively of “locusts and wild honey” (Matt 3:4c). John’s disciples – and presumably John himself – sometimes fasted (Mark 2:18 par.). John was not supposed to imbibe alcoholic beverages (L/Luke 1:15b). John’s diet was unlike that of most Palestinian Jews (Q/Luke 7:33); Matthew’s version of this Q material claims that John survived without eating or drinking anything at all (Q/Matt 11:18). 22 Paed. 2.1 (2.15.4–2.16.1). Greek text: Miroslav Marcovich (ed.), Clementis Alexandrini, Paedagogus (VCSup 61; Leiden: Brill, 2002); ET (modified): Simon P. Wood, [Clement,] Christ the Educator (FC 23; New York: Fathers of the Church, 1954).

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(σύµβολα) of the coming gift, so as to stand above these tribulations. And so it was that he neither tilled the earth nor plowed the furrow, nor did he eat bread (τὸν ἄρτον ἔφαγεν) of his own sweat, but his table was easily prepared (ἀλλ᾽ ἦν ἐσχεδιασµένη αὐτῷ ἡ τράπεζα), and his clothing more easily than his table. For he had need (ἐδήθη) neither of roof, nor bed, nor table, nor any such thing. But even while still within this flesh of ours he lived almost an angelic life. His clothing was put together from the hair of camels, so that even from his garments he might teach [us] to free ourselves of human needs (ἵνα . . . παιδεύσῃ τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων ἀφίστασθαι), and not be bound to this earth, but that we may return to the previous nobility (ἐπί τὴν προτέραν ἐπανατρέχειν εὐγένειαν) in which Adam first lived, before he had need of garments or clothing. Thus John’s clothing itself was symbolic (σύµβολα) of nothing less than the coming kingdom and of repentance. 23

In John the Baptist, Chrysostom finds a teacher (cf. παιδεύσῃ) who reveals the path by which one can return to humanity’s prelapsarian innocence (cf. εὐγένεια23a). What each of the Synoptic evangelists, their sources, the apostle Paul, and many patristic interpreters of John’s diet find is that food serves as a palatable cuisine for theological reflection. My study focuses on one passage (Mark 1:6c||Matt 3:4c) and its history of interpretation. Many other morsels in the HB, the NT and the patristic and matristic literature await attention. Part of the discussion might focus on Christian ‘vegetarians’ – Tatian, Ebionite Christians, or others. Indeed, some inquiries can be both relevant to contemporary issues and ideally suited for scholarly analysis. I hope that both this article and my monograph on John’s diet will have helped to illustrate that, regardless of whether one embraces every part of Scripture as somehow “useful” (2 Tim 3:16), each passage is worth elucidating both in its historical context and for the various interpretations it inspired. At times, the later creative improvisations on Scripture can be inspirational to us today, possibly even more so than the Scriptures themselves.

Abstract: This article reflects on the methodologies employed in the author’s monograph on John the Baptist’s “locusts and wild honey,” with an eye to six larger issues of interest to New Testament and early Christian studies in interdisciplinary perspective. These issues are the ongoing need for philological refinement; moving beyond “parallelomania” to cogent argumentation and elucidation; the use of sociological data from recent and contemporary, pre-industrialized peoples; John the Baptist (and other biblical characters) in patristic interpretation; biblical literature construed as a source of paideia in patristic literature; and food, culture, and theology as ingredients of self-definition. 23

Chrys. Hom. Matt. 10.4. Greek: PG 57:188; ET (modified): M. F. Toal (ed.), The Sunday Sermons of the Great Fathers (Chicago: Regnery, 1957–63), 1:86. 23a See now the analysis of εὐγενέστεροι (“higher born,” Acts 17:11) in Kelhoffer, Persecution, Persuasion and Power, 315–16.

Chapter 3

The Significance of the Earthly Jesus in Matthew: A Response to Jack Dean Kingsbury* A. Summation and Critique I appreciated the opportunity to learn about the development of Matthew’s narrative from Jack Dean Kingsbury’s paper, which builds upon – and, indeed, epitomizes – over twenty years of his work.1 On the other hand, I was somewhat disappointed that the paper says too little about the topics to which this year’s Symposium on the Theological Interpretation of Scripture is devoted, namely the earthly Jesus and his theological significance for the church today. In his introductory remarks, Kingsbury argues that “Matthew . . . makes no apparent attempt to depict the earthly Jesus in a way that could be said to be analogous to that of the critical historian today” (p. 59).1a As support, * Original publication: Ex Auditu 14 (1998): 66–69. This response to Jack Dean Kingsbury’s paper (published as “The Significance of the Earthly Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew,” Ex Auditu 14 [1998]: 59–65) was given at the Symposium on the Theological Interpretation of Scripture at North Park Theological Seminary (Chicago) on October 23, 1998. 1 The bulk of Kingsbury’s paper, which lacks a single footnote or reference to his own, or other, secondary literature, summarizes material that appears in any number of his publications on the narrative of Matthew. See, e.g., Kingsbury, Matthew: Structure, Christology, Kingdom (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1975), esp. 1–83, on the structure of Matthew and the title Son of God; idem, “The Title ‘Son of God’ in Matthew’s Gospel,” BTB 5 (1975): 3–31; idem, Matthew (Proclamation Commentaries; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977), esp. 34–40, on the title Son of God; idem, “The Figure of Jesus in Matthew’s Story: A Literary-Critical Probe,” JSNT 21 (1984): 3–36; idem, “The Figure of Jesus in Matthew’s Story: A Rejoinder to David Hill,” JSNT 25 (1985): 61–81; idem, Matthew as Story (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988), esp. 2–9 and passim on the structure and development of Matthew’s narrative; idem, “The Developing Conflict between Jesus and the Jewish Leaders in Matthew’s Gospel: A Literary-Critical Study,” CBQ 49 (1987): 57–73; idem, “The Plot of Matthew’s Story,” Int 46 (1992): 347–56. Kingsbury articulates his disenchantment with more traditional, historical-critical approaches to the study of the Gospels in his early article, “The ‘Jesus of History’ and the ‘Christ of Faith’ in Relation to Matthew’s View of Time: Reactions to a New Approach,” CTM 37 (1966): 500–10. 1a Parenthetical page numbers refer to Kingsbury’s article in Ex Auditu 14 (1998): 59– 65.

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Kingsbury cites (1) that Matthew “chose not to portray Jesus after the fashion in which Jewish onlookers or disciples regarded him during his ministry” and (2) that the depictions of “Jesus’ virginal conception (1:16, 18– 25) and resurrection (28:1–10)” cannot be based on eyewitness testimony that could be corroborated by texts or archaeological remains (p. 59). Those observations lead Kingsbury to conclude that Matthew, unlike the critically trained historian, describes “the earthly Jesus from the viewpoint that he, Matthew, ascribes to none other than God himself (16:23e)” (p. 60). Moreover, “Matthew’s approach to the life of the earthly Jesus differs remarkably from the approach critical historians today take” (p. 60). I would take exception to these prolegomena to Matthew and the historical Jesus in regard to Kingsbury’s perception of the disciples. His view of the disciples’ lack of understanding (and, therefore, their lack of reliability) seems to be contradicted by the depiction of the disciples as reliable in this Gospel, and his claim that the author of Matthew either did not possess or chose not to use reliable eyewitnesses for information about the earthly Jesus is unsupported.2 The first part of Kingsbury’s paper discusses how God’s perspective is communicated in Matthew’s narrative (pp. 60–61). That narrative includes the story of Jesus’ conflict with Jewish leaders and the story of the crucifixion, as well as numerous discourses. Kingsbury holds that Matthew’s discourse materials describe “the point of view of God” (p. 61) – that is, a (or the) divine perspective. I would contend, however, that both the narrative events in Jesus’ life and the sections containing discourse should be recognized as indicative of a particular point of view about the earthly Jesus. The second part of the paper, “Matthew’s Understanding of Time” (pp. 61–62), focuses on eschatology and helpfully points out how Matthew intends for recipients of this Gospel to respond to its eschatological message. Unexplored in this section, and elsewhere in the paper, is the question of who is construed as the reader of Matthew. Kingsbury seems to address his remarks to modern individuals, who “take leave of the world in which they lead their daily lives . . . [and] enter into the eschatological world of the earthly Jesus” (p. 62). I would be interested to see Kingsbury explore how Matthew hoped the original recipients of this writing would respond to its eschatological message.3 2

Generally speaking, Kingsbury’s thesis is promising but needs elaboration and clarification. One avenue that could be explored is how the author of Matthew has taken over from Mark and modified the motif of secrecy about Jesus’ identity as messiah or Son of God. See, further, below on this possibility. 3 Kingsbury’s article, “Reflections on ‘The Reader’ of Matthew’s Gospel,” NTS 34 (1988): 442–60, suffers from this same oversight.

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With regard to time in Matthew, attention to redaction criticism would show that the author of the Gospel of Mark, whom Matthew mostly follows, highlights the eschatological expectation that “this generation will not pass away until all these things,” including the coming of the Son of Man, “have taken place.”4 One question to be asked, then, is the extent to which Matthew’s presentation of the earthly Jesus’ teaching on eschatology includes a dialogue with views held by the author of Mark or by others in the early church. Furthermore, we see that Mark delineates time parameters at the beginning and end of his Gospel: the coming of John the Baptist (Mark 1:2–11) and the empty tomb (16:1–8; cf. 13:30). In his own Gospel, Matthew extends these time designations by appending the genealogies of ancient Israel at the beginning (Matt 1:2–17) and by turning at the end to a worldwide mission that will culminate at some unspecified point at the end of the age (28:16–20). In the third and, by far, longest section of the paper, “Matthew’s Use of Conflict” (pp. 62–65), Kingsbury offers a very interesting discussion on the growth of the conflict between Jesus and other religious leaders in Matt 9:11–12 and 9:21–23. He also traces, in the Matthean passion narrative, the theme of conflict with regard to Jesus’ fate at the hands of “the religious authorities.” In a final, brief section, Kingsbury concludes that “the significance of the earthly Jesus in Matthew’s gospel story . . . lies in [Jesus’] identity and ministry,” a ministry that includes frequent “conflict with the religious authorities” (p. 65). Based on his analysis in the third and fourth parts of the paper, he infers, first, that Matthew presents Jesus as “the royal Son of God” and, second, that “Matthew invites the reader to receive Jesus as the Son of God” and thereby to become “a disciple of Jesus.” One element of Kingsbury’s conclusion that remains unclear, at least to me, is how Jesus’ identity as Son of God is indicated in the various conflicts with (other) Jewish leaders.

B. Suggestions for Discussion and Further Inquiry 1. Redactional Observations as a Complement to a Narratological Approach In what follows, I suggest two broad interpretive questions that deserve exploration. The first concerns the relationship between Kingsbury’s intro4 Mark 13:30; cf. Mark 13:24–30; Matt 24:29–35. Like most scholars, I assume the priority of the Gospel of Mark, which was later used as a source by the authors of Matthew and Luke.

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ductory remarks about the author of Matthew as historian and the narratological approach that Kingsbury applies to this Gospel in the body of the paper. As Kingsbury rightly observes, “Matthew’s approach to the life of the earthly Jesus differs remarkably from the approach critical historians today take” (p. 60). Matthew, then, does not investigate the historical Jesus. Consequently, the author of the First Gospel, perhaps like the other NT authors, might well be perplexed by this symposium’s discussion of the earthly Jesus. Kingsbury seems to imply that, for the author of Matthew, there is no difference between the Jesus of this Gospel’s narratives and the earthly Jesus himself. Historically speaking, however, such a position must be recognized as wanting in light of the fact that different narratives – each, presumably, offering its own divine perspective about Jesus’ life and teaching – are preserved in the NT and other early Christian writings.5 Why should we privilege Matthew’s divine perspective over other purported divine perspectives? Moreover, it does not follow, as Kingsbury seems to hold, that one either cannot or should not look behind the narrative to learn Matthew’s views on the earthly Jesus. Whereas Kingsbury’s paper has been limited to an analysis of Matthew’s narrative, I would have preferred the inclusion of a comparative methodology, in which Matthew’s thoughtful use of Mark – and, additionally, of the Sayings Source “Q” – would also have been brought to bear. Indeed, much more can be learned about Matthew’s view of the earthly Jesus. At a number of points, when Kingsbury discusses Matthew’s narrative, the prominent similarities to Mark’s narrative could be illuminating. As is well known, about 90% of Mark is reproduced in some form in Matthew. It may be granted that, to the extent that Matthew reproduces Mark’s account, Matthew agrees with the emphases of the Second Gospel. Absent in Kingsbury’s paper, however, is any account taken of the sometimes instructive choices Matthew makes either to omit or to embellish upon Mark’s depictions of the earthly Jesus. A case in point is the re-writing of Mark 10:17–18 in Matt 19:16–17: As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments. . . .” (Mark 10:17–18) Then someone came to him and said, “Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?” And he said to him, “Why do you ask me about what is good? There is only one who is good. If you wish to enter life, keep the commandments. . . .” (Matt 19:16–17)

5 Years later, I would return to a related question in my Persecution, Persuasion and Power, 219–22, sharply critiquing Kingsbury’s narratological approach to interpreting the sudden end of Mark at 16:8.

Suggestions for Further Inquiry

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The Markan account makes perfect sense within Mark’s narrative world and the Jewish context of Jesus’ ministry.6 Also relevant is the fact that, in Mark, no human being ever correctly recognizes Jesus as God’s Son before the (Gentile!) Roman centurion sees Jesus on the cross (Mark 15:39). The author of Matthew, however, who repeatedly speaks of Jesus as Son of God in passages not derived from Mark (for example, Matt 3:17; 4:3, 6; 14:33; 16:16; 28:19; cf. 2:15; 22:2), seems to have been concerned that for Jesus to call “God alone” good (Mark 10:18) might seem to contradict Matthean passages where people recognize Jesus as Son of God. It is especially when the Evangelist’s editorial activity is unmistakable (for example, Mark 10:17–18||Matt 19:16–17) that there is much (more) to be learned about the significance of the earthly Jesus for Matthew. Also noteworthy are the places where Matthew chooses to omit parts of Mark’s depictions of the earthly Jesus – for example, Mark 1:23–28, 1:35– 38, 1:45, 2:2, 2:4, 3:11, 3:20–21.7 These passages from the first three chapters of Mark show the spread of Jesus’ popularity, usually through the performing of miracles, and reveal a concomitant concern for secrecy about Jesus’ identity as God’s Son. Matthew’s choice to omit these parts of Mark seems to have been intentional, because the Markan emphasis on secrecy stands in tension with the many instances in Matthew, where Jesus is openly recognized as Son of God. 2. The Matthean Earthly Jesus as Interpreter and Upholder of the Law A second avenue I would suggest for learning about Matthew’s estimation of the earthly Jesus is how Matthew presents Jesus’ teachings. In Matt 5:20, Jesus makes the striking statement that, “Unless your righteousness (ὑµῶν ἡ δικαιοσύνη) exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” In the various interpretations of the Jewish Law and related customs that follow in Matt 5:21–48, a citation of the Torah is typically followed by an even stricter standard, by which Matthean Christ-followers are to live. For example, one is to refrain not only from murder but also from insulting or maliciously directing one’s anger against another person (Matt 5:21–26). Significantly, the continuing validity of the Jewish Law is never questioned in the Sermon on the Mount. On the contrary, the recurring assumption is that the “hypocrites” do not 6 A good overview of the passage’s function and meaning in Mark appears in Bart D. Ehrman, The New Testament: A Historical Introduction to the Early Christian Writings (New York/Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 76. 7 In this brief response, I mention only Matthew’s use of Mark 1–3. Note that, unlike Matthew, the author of Luke omits all or part of Mark 1:23–28, 1:35–38, 1:45, 2:2 and 2:4. Probably unrelated to the tendency discussed above is the omission of Mark 3:20–21 (on the unpardonable sin) by Matthew (and Luke).

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adhere properly to certain highly regarded laws and traditional practices, such as almsgiving.8 The inclusion in this Gospel of those laws and the stricter requirements for keeping them gives rise to questions about how Matthew understood the earthly Jesus’ view of the Jewish Law, as well as the evangelist’s view of the continued validity of and requirement to keep the Law on the part of those to whom Matthew wrote. For Matthew, Jesus’ earthly significance certainly includes that of Jesus as an interpreter, and an upholder, of the Law. A related quandary concerns Jesus’ missionary instruction that the twelve disciples travel not among the Gentiles or Samaritans but, rather, among “the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matt 10:5–6). By the end of Matthew’s narrative, however, the risen Lord’s commissioning includes “all nations” (πάντα τ ὰ ἔθνη, Matt 28:19–20). An analysis of Matthew’s narrative ought to consider whether non-Jewish converts were to live in conformity with the Mosaic Law. One can indeed wonder whether Matthew’s conceptions of missionary work and of the interpretation of the Jewish Law were different, for example, from those of the Pauline Christ communities. To this day, such issues are integral to Christian selfdefinition, as we continue to seek to understand the significance of the earthly Jesus.

Abstract: J. D. Kingsbury conflates the Matthean Jesus with the historical Jesus. In addition, he posits a false dichotomy between literary and traditio-historical methods. His paper reveals much about the Matthean Jesus but, unfortunately, rather little about the earthly Jesus. Nor does Kingsbury assess the relevance of the earthly Jesus for contemporary theological discussions. I suggest that as a complement to Kingsbury’s approach, attention to redaction-critical observations and to the Matthean Jesus as an interpreter and upholder of the Mosaic Law would make for a more well-rounded and persuasive analysis.

8 Matt 6:1–4. Note also the rejection of certain exorcists and prophets in Matt 7:21– 23, according to which doing the will of the Father is intrinsically related to one’s living in accordance with a certain interpretation of the Law or some analogous ethical issue. Cf. Ehrman, The New Testament, 86–90, esp. 88–89; contrast Kingsbury’s article, “The Place, Structure, and Meaning of the Sermon on the Mount within Matthew,” Int 41 (1987): 131–43, esp. 136–42, which seems not to grasp several implications of the passage’s interpretations of the Jewish Law.

II. Conceptions of “Gospel” in Early Christianity

Chapter 4

“How Soon a Book” Revisited: ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Reference to “Gospel” Materials in the First Half of the Second Century1 λέγει γὰρ ὁ κύριος ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ (2 Clem. 8:5) ὡς ἔχετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ (Did. 15:3b, 4b)

The subject of gospel quotations in the “Apostolic Fathers” has attracted much attention from scholars of early Christianity. Since the late 1950s, H. Koester and several others have justifiably questioned the traditional supposition that “gospel” materials in the Apostolic Fathers typically stem from written Gospels (evangelia scripta), especially those eventually incorporated into the NT.2 The extremes of Koester’s minimalist approach have rightly been disputed by more recent inquiries, however.3 1

Original publication: Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 95 (2004): 1–34. This article is a revision of a paper presented in the New Testament Textual Criticism section of the 2001 SBL Annual Meeting in Denver, Colorado, and at the 2002 North American Patristics Society Annual Meeting in Chicago. My thanks to Clayton N. Jefford and Larry W. Hurtado for feedback and suggestions. 2 Seminal studies by H. Koester (Köster), Synoptische Überlieferung bei den apostolischen Vätern (TU 65, Berlin, 1957); R. Glover, “The Didache’s Quotations and the Synoptic Gospels,” NTS 5 (1958): 12–29; J.-P. Audet, La didachè: Instructions des apôtres (ÉBib, Paris, 1958), 166–86; J. Bligh, “Compositio Didaches eiusque relatio ad Evangelium scriptum,” VD 36 (1958): 350–56; and F. E. Vokes, “The Didache and the Canon of the New Testament,” in F. L. Cross (ed.), Papers Presented to the Second International Congress on New Testament Studies (Studia Evangelica 3, TU 88, Berlin, 1964), 427–36 have, more recently, been followed by J. S. Kloppenborg, “Didache 16,6– 8 and Special Matthean Tradition,” ZNW 70 (1979): 54–67; W. Rordorf, “Does the Didache Contain Jesus Tradition Independently of the Synoptic Gospels?” in H. Wansbrough (ed.), Jesus and the Oral Gospel Tradition (JSNTSup 64, Sheffield, 1991), 394–423; R. H. Gundry, “Εὐαγγέλιον: How Soon a Book?” JBL 115 (1996): 321–25; A. Yoshiko Reed, “Εὐαγγέλιον: Orality, Textuality, and the Christian Truth in Irenaeus’ Adversus Haereses,” VC 56 (2002): 11–46, esp. 15–19 (following Koester). Additionally, K. Niederwimmer, The Didache: A Commentary (Hermeneia, Minneapolis, 1998), 46–52, concurs with Koester (Synoptische Überlieferung [see above], 159–60) on the use of oral gospel materials other than Matthew in the Didache: “[T]he sources of the Didache reveal no literary dependence on the Synoptic Gospels” (49, emphasis original). 3 C. M. Tuckett, “Synoptic Tradition in the Didache,” in J.-M. Sevrin (ed.), The New Testament in Early Christianity (BETL 86, Leuven, 1989), 197–230; C. N. Jefford, The Sayings of Jesus in the Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (VCSup 11, Leiden, 1989); C. T.

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Our study addresses a related, but more focused, question, namely the instances in which the term εὐαγγέλιον refers to a written document of some kind (a “Gospel”). We devote particular attention to the referents of εὐαγγέλιον in Marcion, Second Clement, and the Didache. A primary concern of this article is to move beyond the methodological impasse of Édouard Massaux’s problematic maximalist approach4 and Helmut Koester’s minimalist approach to recognizing the use of written gospel material. We take full account of Koester’s valid criticisms of Massaux and aim to offer a more satisfactory explanation for the transition of εὐαγγέλιον from consistently designating oral proclamation (the “gospel”) to, occasionally, referring to a written “Gospel.” We argue that the Didache offers a window into the earliest use of the term εὐαγγέλιον to designate written gospel material, a time period between the compositions of Matthew and the Didache.

A. The Metamorphosis of the Term ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ Koester argues persuasively that, in the writings of the apostle Paul and the authors of the Deuteropauline Letters and Acts, εὐαγγέλιον does not refer to an authoritative writing, such as, for example, any of the NT Gospels. He also demonstrates5 that this is the case for the rest of the NT and Brown, The Gospel and Ignatius of Antioch (Studies in Biblical Literature 12, New York, 2000). 4 E. Massaux, Influence de l’évangile de saint Matthieu sur la littérature chrétienne avant saint Irénée (ed. F. Neirynck, BETL 75, Leuven, 2 nd ed. 1986); ET: The Influence of the Gospel of Saint Matthew on Christian Literature before Saint Irenaeus (ed. A. J. Bellinzoni, New Gospel Studies 5.1–3, Macon [GA], 1990–93). Cf. W.-D. Köhler, Die Rezeption des Matthäusevangeliums in der Zeit vor Irenäus (WUNT 2.24, Tübingen, 1987); J. M. Court, “The Didache and St. Matthew’s Gospel,” SJT 34 (1981): 109–20; V. Bartlet and K. Lake (eds.), The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers (Oxford Society of Historical Theology, Oxford, 1905). It is not our purpose to defend the views of Massaux or to warrant an application of his method of inquiry to the passages we examine in this article. Cf. P. Perkins’s review of Massaux’s book in SecCent 8 (1991): 247–48. 5 H. Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (Philadelphia, 1990), 1–34; on Paul, the Deuteropauline Letters, and Acts: 4–9. Cf. M. Hengel, The Four Gospels and the One Gospel of Jesus Christ (Harrisburg, 2000), 61–65. See also, e.g., Barn. 5:9, 8:3; 14:9 (citing Isa 61:1); Ign. Phld. 5:1–2; cf. 1 Clem. 42:1, 3; 47:2 (alluding to Phil 4:15); Pol. Phil. 6:3. Koester’s conclusion is also valid concerning uses of the verb εὐαγγελίζοµαι in these writings. Koester’s interest in this area began with his doctoral dissertation (Synoptische Überlieferung [see n. 2]) and has continued in subsequent studies: Septuaginta und synoptischer Erzählungsstoff im Schriftbeweis Justins des Märtyrers (Theol. Hab.schr. Heidelberg, 1956); “Apocryphal and Canonical Gospels,” HTR 73 (1980): 105–30; “Überlieferung und Geschichte der frühchristlichen Evangelienliteratur,” ANRW 2.25.2:1463–1542; “From the Kerygma-gospel to Written Gospels,” NTS 35 (1989): 361–

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numerous other early Christian writings. Mark 16:9–20 offers an additional example in support of Koester’s generalization.6 These observations, however, are not decisive for another issue, namely whether some early Christian authors may have used written gospel materials without referring to them as εὐαγγέλιον or, for that matter, by any other fixed name.7 Albeit correctly, Koester shows only that εὐαγγέλιον was not a recognized designation for such written materials, if they were used. Following H. von Campenhausen, Koester maintains that, presumably in the 130s or early 140s C.E., Marcion of Sinope was the first ancient author to use εὐαγγέλιον to refer to an esteemed or authoritative document.8 More recently, R. H. Gundry has argued in favor of von Campenhausen and Koester’s position that Marcion was an innovator in this respect.9 Those scholars maintain correctly that Marcion was influenced by, and derived authority from, the legacy of the apostle Paul. We might add that the same was true for the authors of the Acts of the Apostles, the Deuteropauline Letters, and Second Peter.10 Marcion apparently took Paul’s reference 81; “The Text of the Synoptic Gospels in the Second Century,” in W. E. Petersen (ed.), Gospel Traditions in the Second Century (Notre Dame, 1989), 19–37; “Written Gospels or Oral Tradition?” JBL 113 (1994): 293–97. This is not the place, however, for a complete evaluation of the above writings. For instructive reviews of Koester’s Ancient Christian Gospels, see J. K. Elliott, NovT 34 (1992): 207–208 and U. Luz, Int 47 (1993): 87–88. 6 The author of this appendix to Mark uses τὸ εὐαγγέλιον (Mark 16:15b) and, additionally, ὁ λόγος (16:20c) in reference to preaching rather than to one or more written sources. See Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 124–25. 7 Koester remarks that “Polycarp [Philippians], who knew the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. . . . [I]t is remarkable that Polycarp never uses the term ‘gospel’ for these documents and that the words of Jesus are still quoted as if they were sayings drawn from the oral tradition” (Ancient Christian Gospels [see n. 5], 20). 8 According to Tertullian Marc. 1.19, Marcion (ca. 85–160 C.E.) was excommunicated in the summer of 144. See further Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 35; H. von Campenhausen, The Formation of the Christian Bible (Philadelphia, 1972 [1968]), 147–63. Cf. G. N. Stanton, “The Fourfold Gospel,” NTS 43 (1997): 317–46 at 317 (emphasis original): “More recently, particularly under the influence of Hans von Campenhausen, most scholars have accepted that the fourfold Gospel emerged in the second half of the second century and that the Muratorian Fragment and Irenaeus are our primary witnesses.” 9 Gundry, “Εὐαγγέλιον” (see n. 2), 322, argues that “subapostolic literature,” such as the Didache, Second Clement, and Ignatius’s letters, “borrows from books that became canonical but does not use εὐαγγέλιον for any of those books.” 10 Von Campenhausen, Formation (see n. 8), 153 (cf. 154–55) holds that “the strange construction of Marcion’s Bible is explicable solely in terms of his dogmatic Paulinism.” See further B. D. Ehrman, The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture: The Effect of Early Christological Controversies on the Text of the New Testament (New York, 1993), 185– 87.

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to God’s future judgment of the world “in accordance with [Paul’s] gospel” (κατὰ τὸ εὐαγγέλιόν µου, Rom 2:16) as a recognition of a written document, a “Gospel,” which Marcion (mis)construed as a reference to a writing very similar to, if not the same as, the Gospel of Luke. Removing what he regarded as an aberrant, ‘Judaizing’ tendency of later Christbelieving redactors, Marcion published his own, corrected edition of eleven esteemed writings – namely, Luke’s Gospel and all but three of the thirteen NT letters attributed to Paul.11 Koester infers, moreover, that Marcion’s Christ communities represent the first church with its own “scripture.”12 This generalization, however, overlooks the presumably earlier statement in 2 Pet 3:15b–16, which equates some collection of Pauline Letters with Scripture (γραφή). The pseudonymous author of Second Peter obviously had some concept of Scripture, which, like Marcion’s, included a collection of some Pauline Letters.13 Yet the author of Second Peter differs from Marcion in two significant ways. Second Peter does not mention Gospel literature as belonging to τὰς λοιπὰς γραφάς but, instead, ascribes to (some of) Paul’s writings the same authority accorded to Jewish Scripture. The exception of Second Peter notwithstanding, the subsequent controversy stemming from Marcion’s Lukan-Pauline canon had a profound impact on later Christian authors, such as Justin Martyr. The controversy also impacted subsequent Christian understandings of Scripture and canon.14 11 Apparently, these Pauline Letters correspond to the NT’s thirteen-letter Pauline corpus, minus the Pastoral Epistles. On this collection of letters, G. Lüdemann, Heretics: The Other Side of Early Christianity (Louisville [KY], 1996), 167, clarifies: “As the two letters to the Corinthians and the Thessalonians and Colossians and Philemon (because of the striking similarity of the lists of greetings in both letters) were regarded as a unity, this gave a collection of seven letters of Paul.” Additionally, Marcion’s canon contained only one “Gospel,” namely his own edited version of Luke. See further Lüdemann, Heretics (see above), 164–66; von Campenhausen, Formation (see n. 8), 153; Ulrich Schmid, “Marcions Evangelium und die neutestamentlichen Evangelien: Rückfragen zur Geschichte und Kanonisierung der Evangelienüberlieferung,” in G. May et al. (eds.), Marcion und seine kirchengeschichtliche Wirkung – Marcion and His Impact on Church History (TUGAL 150, Berlin, 2002), 67–77. 12 Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 36, apparently following von Campenhausen, Formation (see n. 8), 163. 13 The author of Second Peter indicates that he is part of an inner-Christian controversy involving the interpretation of Paul’s writings, which are mentioned in connection with the Jewish Scriptures (ὡς καὶ τὰς λοιπὰς γραφάς, 2 Pet 3:15b–16). The same claim about the authority of Paul’s letters might well apply also to the Paulinist Christians whom the author of Second Peter accuses of ‘heresy’ (cf. 2 Peter 2). Additionally, M. Hengel, Four Gospels (see n. 5), 32, points to the four NT Johannine writings and, less persuasively, Luke-Acts as additional examples of ‘canons’ of Scripture that circulated before the time of Marcion. 14 With Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 37–41.

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Justin can, at times, mention the title “Gospel” as if it were the designation by someone else: ἃ καλεῖται Εὐαγγέλια (1 Apol. 66.3) ἐν τῷ λεγοµένῳ Εὐαγγελίῳ (Dial. 10:2)

Elsewhere, the apologist seems to embrace the term as his own: ἐν τῷ Εὐαγγελίῳ δὲ γέγραπται εἰπών (Dial. 100.1).15 To demonstrate his thesis that Marcion is to be credited with the novelty of using εὐαγγέλιον to refer to a written Gospel (that is, Luke), Koester must argue that no Christian writings prior to the Marcionite controversy use εὐαγγέλιον to designate a written document. In this article, we critique Koester’s (over)generalization in the light of passages in Second Clement and the Didache. Already in 1958–59, R. McL. Wilson called attention to the difficulty of postulating a sudden and widely recognized transition during the mid-second century: One major problem emerges: how was it that the canonical Gospels, which on Köster’s showing (p. 257) played in the first half of the second century ‘nur eine ganz untergeordnete Rolle’, had become by the time of Justin almost the only source (p. 267)? The picture here is, as Köster says, entirely different, yet the transition was effected in a few decades.16

Scholarship has yet to resolve satisfactorily this conundrum raised decades ago by Wilson. Marcion’s alleged novelty in this respect would, indeed, come as a surprise because, as von Campenhausen observes, “Marcion supplied no attribution for his corrected text of Luke, but described it simply as ‘Gospel.’”17 Significantly, Marcion assumes that εὐαγγέλιον is already intelligible as a designation for Luke. At the very least, Marcion’s assumption bespeaks a common understanding within his own constituency that εὐαγγέλιον refers to a writing. That later Christian writers, such as Justin and Irenaeus, never question εὐαγγέλιον as a fitting designation for Luke or other Gospels also shows the need for caution in too quickly crediting Marcion as an innovator in this regard. For Koester, however, the change allegedly ushered in by Marcion comes, as it were, out of the blue. Marcion’s purportedly innovative use of εὐαγγέλιον is said to predate all other such Christian uses of this term in the second century, and it is primarily on the basis of this crite15

In Dial. 100.1, Justin introduces a citation of material similar to, or the same as, Matt 11:27. See further T. K. Heckel, Vom Evangelium des Markus zum viergestaltigen Evangelium (WUNT 120, Tübingen, 1999), 313–15. 16 R. McL. Wilson, review of Koester (Köster), Synoptische Überlieferung (see n. 2), in NTS 5 (1958–59): 144–46 at 146. See also F. E. Vokes, “Didache and the Canon,” (see n. 2), 434. Von Campenhausen, Formation (see n. 8), 159–61, touches upon this problem but does not resolve it. 17 Von Campenhausen, Formation (see n. 8), 159.

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rion that Koester presents his larger diachronic argument. Thus, in this article, we devote particular attention to chronology in regard to Marcion’s written “Gospel” and references to evangelium scriptum in other, roughly contemporary, Christian literature. We argue, contrary to Koester’s assertion, that the earliest use of εὐαγγέλιον as a literary designation predates not only Marcion but also Second Clement and the Didache.

B. ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ in Second Clement, and the Implications of Dating Second Clement, Mark 16:9–20, and John 21 prior to Justin Martyr 1. The Witness of Second Clement to NT Gospel Materials The author of Second Clement refers in four passages to what the Lord “says” (λέγω).18 As Koester observes, in Second Clement “[t]he present tense [λέγει] is customarily employed for the introductions of quotations from scripture or from any written document. This would suggest that the author of Second Clement quotes sayings of Jesus from a written work.”19 Koester’s insight that Second Clement cites a written document is helpful, but his basis for that claim – the distinction in Second Clement’s uses of the present (λέγει) and second aorist tenses (εἶπεν) – is untenable.20 In 2 Clem. 2:4, a citation of Mark 2:17||Matt 9:13 (“I did not come to call the just but sinners”) is introduced as “another [part of] Scripture” (ἑτέρα δὲ γραφὴ λέγει). The adjective ἑτέρα refers back to the citation and interpretation of Isa 54:1 (2 Clem. 2:1–3). Significantly, 2 Clem. 2:4 attaches the same authority to the prophet Isaiah as to this word of Christ (see also 2 Clem. 2:5–7; cf. 19:1). In addition, the reference to Christ who

18 2 Clem. 3:2: λέγει δὲ καὶ αὐτός, before a saying much like Matt 10:32 (“The one who confesses me before human beings I will confess before my Father”). 2 Clem. 4:2: λέγει γάρ, before a saying much like Matt 7:21 (“Not everyone who says to me, Lord, Lord will be saved, but [only] the one who does what is just”). 2 Clem. 6:1: Λέγει δὲ ὁ Κύριος, before a saying identical to Luke 16:13a (“No servant can serve two masters”). Cf. 2 Clem. 9:11: καὶ γὰρ εἶπεν ὁ Κύριος, possibly referring to Mark 3:35 par. (“My brothers are those who do the will of my Father”). Greek text: M. W. Holmes, The Apostolic Fathers: Greek Texts and English Translations (Grand Rapids, 2nd ed. 2007). 19 Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 18. 20 Cf. 2 Clem. 9:11 (εἶπεν [see n. 18]). The Fourth Gospel, however, offers several precedents for the second aorist εἶπεν referring to Jewish Scripture: John 1:23 (καθὼς εἶπεν Ἠσαΐας ὁ προφήτης); 7:38 (καθὼς εἶπεν ἡ γραφή); 7:42 (οὐχ ἡ γραφὴ εἶπεν); 12:38– 41 (three occurrences of εἶπεν).

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“became flesh” (ἐγένετο σάρξ, 2 Clem. 9:5) is apparently indebted to John 1:14.21 Koester notes correctly, “Several of the sayings of Jesus quoted in 2 Clement indeed reveal features which derive from the redactional activities of the authors of Matthew and Luke.”22 We would dispute whether the presence of such redactional marks is an absolute necessity for ascertaining use of material stemming from a NT Gospel.23 In any case, Koester is certainly right to conclude that parts of Second Clement are ultimately indebted to at least two, if not all four, of the NT Gospels. Moreover, Second Clement reflects an interest in a variety of sayings attributed to Jesus, sayings that are not preserved in the NT Gospels. For example, 2 Clem. 4:5 (εἶπεν ὁ Κύριος) and 12:2 (ἐπερωτηθεὶς γὰρ αὐτὸς ὁ Κύριος . . . εἶπεν) introduce sayings possibly derived from the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of the Egyptians, or both of these writings.24 Likewise, 2 Clem. 11:2–4 gives heed to a “prophetic word” (λέγει γὰρ καὶ ὁ προφητικὸς λόγος, 11:2) presumably drawn from a non-NT document that is cited with authority. As is done in 2 Clem. 11:2–4, the (different) author of First Clement gives authority to this otherwise unknown writing, introducing the same saying as “this Scripture” (ἡ γραφὴ αὕτη, ὅπου λέγει, 1 Clem. 23:3).25 2. Uncertainty about the Date of Second Clement Relative to Marcion There is much uncertainty about the date of Second Clement. In his Ancient Christian Gospels, Koester dates Second Clement to 150 C.E. or “probably even later.” Notably, Koester’s proposed date is later than that generally given for Marcion’s collection of ‘Scripture’ (130s or early 140s 26 C .E .). Elsewhere, Koester argues the following in support of this position:

21 Note the use of non-sayings material (John 1:14) in 2 Clem. 9:5. Cf. the possible reference to John 13:34 in 2 Clem. 9:6 (ἀγαπῶµεν οὖν ἀλλήλους). 22 Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 18, summarizing idem, Synoptische Überlieferung (see n. 2), 70–99. 23 For a critique of Koester on this point, see Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 123–30; cf. 130–37. The presence of redactional elements in Second Clement demonstrates a positive case for literary dependence, but the lack of the same would not necessarily dismiss the possibility. 24 See further T. Baarda, “2 Clement 12 and the Sayings of Jesus,” in J. Delobel (ed.), Logia: Les Paroles de Jésus – The Sayings of Jesus (Leuven, 1982), 529–56. 25 See above on the occurrence of γραφή in 2 Clem. 2:4. 26 Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 17–18. See now the recent discussion in C. Tuckett, 2 Clement: Introduction, Text, and Commentary (Oxford Apostolic Fathers, Oxford, 2012), 62–64, who notes much “uncertainty” on this date (62–63) and proposes, “[a]s a tentative conclusion,” that Second Clement was written “at some stage in the early–middle 2nd century” (64).

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[T]here is evidence that 2 Clement cannot have been written in the earliest period of Christianity. The sayings of Jesus that are quoted in the writing presuppose the New Testament Gospels of Matthew and Luke; they [those sayings] were probably drawn from a harmonizing collection of sayings that had been composed on the basis of these two gospels. 2 Clem. 8:5 refers to the written “gospel” as a well-established entity. . . .27

Koester’s inference has some merit; the harmonization of materials from Matthew and Luke would presumably have taken some time after the writing, collection, and comparison of the two Gospels. The uncertainty that we endeavor to address concerns just how many years can be assumed to have elapsed between the writing of Matthew and Luke and the emergence of harmonized Gospel quotations such as those reflected in Second Clement. In the following sections, we argue that the witnesses of Mark 16:9–20 and John 21 disprove Koester’s somewhat arbitrary conclusion that the terminus post quem for this development – and, thus, for the date of Second Clement – must be placed after Marcion and not, possibly, earlier than Justin Martyr’s harmonized Gospel citations. 3. Criteria for Ascertaining Literary Dependence on Gospel Materials Second Clement is by no means the only early- to mid-second century Christian writing to presuppose more than one of the NT Gospels. Elsewhere, I have argued that the composer/compiler of the Longer Ending of Mark (Mark 16:9–20) knew and drew heavily from the four Gospels that were eventually incorporated into the NT canon.28 The work of Koester in ascertaining literary dependence is both well known and influential. Although many of Koester’s criticisms of E. Massaux’s more traditional approach for determining such dependence are indeed valid,29 a number of Koester’s own methodological starting points for doing so are also questionable. For example, Koester assumes that written materials were not foundational to the earliest Christ congregations, which, instead, he says, tended to emphasize the “cult narrative” of the Eucharist and preferred the authority of living apostles. According to Koester, the use of Gospel material in congregations was only one of a number of ways to continue oral traditions from or about Jesus. With regard to whether a particular second-century author reflects knowledge of a NT text, Koester is so confident about the early church’s preference for oral tradition that he shifts the burden of proof to those who would argue to the contrary: “Unless it can be proved otherwise, it must be assumed that authors who referred to and quoted such materials were dependent on these life situations 27

H. Koester, Introduction to the New Testament (Berlin, 2nd ed. 1995), 2:241–42. Cf. idem, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 18 n. 1. 28 Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 48–156. 29 Koester, “Written Gospels” (see n. 5); Massaux, Influence (see n. 4).

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of the church and did not quote from written documents.”30 One significant implication of Koester’s approach is that there would be a smaller number of writings that could bear witness to the text of the NT and that could, thus, be consulted for reconstructing a NT passage’s original wording or a passage’s reception in the second century. For Koester, form and redaction criticism provide the negative and positive criteria respectively for ascertaining exceptional cases where literary dependence may be clearly shown. Form criticism aims to reconstruct the history of a piece of tradition before a writer incorporated it into a larger work. If, for example, someone in the second century cites a saying of Jesus which reflects a Sitz im Leben that can be shown to be earlier than the Sitz im Leben reflected, for example, in Matthew literary dependence of the saying on Matthew cannot be confirmed. One problem with a traditional form-critical approach is that it presumes to know more about the early Christian “kerygma” than the ancient sources attest.30a Redaction criticism, which studies how different individuals worked as editors of tradition, is the only positive means for Koester of confirming literary dependence: “Whenever one observes words or phrases that derive from the author or redactor of a gospel writing, the existence of a written source must be assumed.”31 The noteworthy working hypotheses in Koester’s approach are not only that those second-century authors who happened to possess texts of one or more “Gospels” had access to comparable and, possibly, earlier and more highly esteemed oral traditions, but also that such authors usually preferred to cite oral traditions rather than written documents. This inference is indeed justified in the cases of Papias’s stated preference for oral tradition (apud Euseb. Hist. eccl. 3.39.4) and, later, Clement of Alexandria’s non-standard Gospel citations. Nonetheless, the predilections of certain early Christian authors should not

30

Koester, “Written Gospels” (see n. 5), 297, emphases added. Koester describes these “materials” as traditions “from and about Jesus in ritual, instruction, and missionary activity” (p. 297). 30a See, further, on the difficulty in this presumption, Kelhoffer, “If Second Clement Really Were a ‘Sermon,’ How Would We Know, and Why Would We Care? Prolegomena to Analyses of the Writing’s Genre and Community,” forthcoming in J. Verheyden and M. Grundeken (eds.), Second Century Christian Communities: Between Idea(l) and Reality (Tübingen, 2014). 31 Koester, “Written Gospels” (see n. 5), 297. For Koester, then, similarities in wording do not, by themselves, offer a sufficient criterion for deciding about literary dependence. One must show that a citation of Matthew or Luke, for example, reflects the editorial work of these evangelists and not just the traditions incorporated into their writings.

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be construed as determinative for how others may have used gospel materials.32 These methodological issues, aptly addressed by E. P. Sanders, are part of a larger debate on how Synoptic traditions developed in a number of later Christian writings.33 Sanders shows that, in numerous early extracanonical Christian writings, the Synoptic tradition does not reflect developments in accordance with what would be expected, based on an application of the four-source hypothesis to other early Christian writings.34 What this means for our inquiry is that no theory of the relationship and later reception of the Synoptic Gospels, including that posed by Koester, can necessarily predict how other early Christian authors might have been inclined to make use of written traditions, including the NT Gospels. Koester’s pioneering work of the 1950s is to be praised for numerous insights gained from applying form and redaction criticism to ascertain the possible use of Gospels and other writings in second-century Christian literature. In the decades subsequent to his work, however, the call from Sanders and others for awareness about the limits of form and redaction criticism for ascertaining literary dependence has resulted in a methodological impasse. Given the present state of the discussion, the burden of proof should not necessarily rest with those who tend to argue either for or against literary dependence. If there are obvious similarities between a second-century writing and a NT passage, scholars like Koester should have the opportunity to demonstrate the probability that comparable oral tradition(s) or other written material(s) survived until the likely compositional dates in question. Moreover, it must be recognized that authors may have reasons for borrowing from a written text and adapting it for their own purposes, thus possibly disguising the redactional markers of a source that, whenever possible, all scholars would like to identify. Even in instances where redactional features of a NT author are not readily identifiable, there may be good reason to infer that literary dependence is highly probable. Given the diversity of expression in second-century Christian literature, any single methodological approach to these authors’ uses of source material(s) is 32 See W. L. Petersen, “The Genesis of the Gospels,” in A. Denaux (ed.), New Testament Textual Criticism and Exegesis (FS J. Delobel, BETL 161, Louvain, 2002), 41–73. 33 E. P. Sanders, The Tendencies of the Synoptic Tradition (SNTSMS 9, London, 1969), 37–39, 89, 296 n. 1, critiques Koester’s approach, critiques which need not be repeated in this discussion. In his study, Sanders applies the categories of increasing length, increasing detail, diminishing Semitism, use of direct discourse and conflation to the analysis of ‘Synoptic’ materials in other early Christian literature. 34 Sanders concludes that some of the assumptions behind the two-source hypothesis are questionable and far from proven. However intriguing, this particular finding does not bear directly on this article.

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prima facie suspect. We thus hold that any possible witnesses to the text of the NT in the second century must be examined on a case-by-case basis. 4. The Earliest Gospel Collections and Mark 16:9–20 The unknown author of an appendix to Mark (16:9–20) made use of the four ‘NT’ Gospels, in order to make the addition resemble documents that had attained at least some level of popularity in certain Christian communities.35 This author wrote around 120–150 C.E., after a collection (but not necessarily a fixed “canon”) of the NT Gospels had become available. Consistent with the argument we present, below, about the date of Second Clement’s Gospel citations, this date for Mark 16:9–20 is prior to that of Justin Martyr’s First Apology.36 Thus, Mark 16:9–20 points to a collection of (at least) four Gospels before Justin alluded to Mark 16:20a in 1 Apol. 45.5.37 In other words, before Justin wrote his First Apology (ca. 155–161 C .E .), the four NT Gospels had already been collected and were available for the writer of Mark’s Longer Ending. The author of this later addition to Mark wanted to forge an authentic-looking passage by epitomizing other Gospel pericopes that, presumably, would have been familiar to the audience. 5. The Earliest Gospel Collections and John 21 Theo K. Heckel makes a similar argument that John 21, as an appendix to the Fourth Gospel, witnesses to an earlier collection of Gospels. Even if, in our view, Heckel’s study of John 21 is only partially persuasive, his work is valuable for the additional evidence it uncovers for the existence of Gospel collections in the period contemporary with, or possibly earlier than, Marcion and Second Clement. Heckel argues convincingly that, since the NT Gospels were intended to be read individually, the four of them as a lone unit cannot, by themselves,

35

Compare, e.g., Luke 8:2b with Mark 16:9b; Mark 6:12 and Luke 9:6 with Mark 16:20a, and see Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 48–156. On the reason for which this Markan appendix was composed, namely to follow the narrative that ends abruptly at Mark 16:8, see ibid., 157–69, 238–44. 36 See Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, esp. 169–77. The terminus post quem for Mark 16:9–20 is set by this author’s use of material from the four NT Gospels, which, presumably, were not collected before ca. 110–120 C.E. The terminus ante quem is established by Justin Martyr’s knowledge of Mark 16:20a in 1 Apol. 45.5. Thus, the Longer Ending predates Justin, but the earliest possible date for its composition, namely some point after the NT Gospels had been written and collected, cannot be ascertained exactly. Cf. Iren. Haer. 3.10.5, citing Mark 16:19. 37 T. K. Heckel, Evangelium (see n. 15), 283–85, apparently came to the same conclusion independently of Kelhoffer (see n. 36).

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account for a collection of different Gospels.38 Despite the secondary character of John 21, Heckel concurs with G. Strecker and U. Schnelle that its author “gehört . . . des Nachtrages zur johanneischen Schule.”39 More significant, if also tenuous, is Heckel’s argument that the author of John 21 knew all four of NT Gospels and, using them, combined Johannine with ‘Synoptic’ elements in this appendix to the Fourth Gospel.40 In assigning a date to this four-Gospel collection, Heckel makes the most of relative chronology, placing John 21 at 110–120 C.E. (against W. Schmithals’s later date of 160–180). Heckel’s date for John 21 is later than those for the Fourth Gospel (90–100) and First John (100–110) but earlier than the time of Papias (ca. 120 C.E.).41 Heckel concludes that John 21 witnesses to the existence of a four-Gospel collection prior to Marcion’s canon of (edited versions of) Luke and ten Pauline Letters. Heckel’s innovative approach to the study of Gospels in the second century makes numerous contributions, although his central arguments about the literary dependence and chronological priority of John 21 need further examination.42 Even if Heckel fails to demonstrate that John 21 points to a fourGospel collection, the use of Luke 5:1–11 (special Lukan material) in John 21 implies that there was at least a two-Gospel collection of Luke and John.

38

Heckel, Evangelium (see n. 15), 32–104, 144–57. Heckel, Evangelium (see n. 15), 217; cf. John 21:24. 40 Heckel, Evangelium (see n. 15), esp. 190–92, on βιβλία in John 21:25. 41 Heckel, Evangelium (see n. 15), 199–207. 42 See Kelhoffer, Review of Heckel, Evangelium, in CBQ 64 (2002): 377–78. We mention briefly two problems and one major flaw in Heckel’s larger argument. First, Heckel does not argue persuasively for the chronological priority of John 21 to other second-century witnesses to Gospel collections (e.g., Epistula Apostolorum; Mark 16:9–20; Papias). In particular, the grounds he offers for dating John 21 before Papias – whom Heckel connects with the Johannine school and the Fourth Gospel, including John 21 – are not compelling. Second, Heckel’s rather comprehensive study neglects the possible witness of writings like Second Clement, the Didache, and Ignatius’s letters to collections of NT (and other) gospel materials. Finally, concerning John 21 and the Synoptics, knowledge of special Lukan material, namely Luke 5:1–11 (on the calling of Peter, James and John, which seems to be rewritten in John 21) is both clear and intriguing in that it shows at least a two-Gospel collection of Luke and John. More cautiously, Heckel acknowledges the use of Matt 16:17–19 (on the authority of Peter) as “nur . . . wahrscheinlich” (p. 166). Yet even this level of probability is strained in the case of both Matt 16:17–19 and Mark 9:1||Matt 16:28||Luke 9:27 (on the transfiguration). This is where Heckel’s thesis is most vulnerable: his inference of a four-Gospel collection stands or falls with his all too brief arguments for John 21’s literary dependence upon these two Synoptic passages (or some such written collection of pre-Synoptic sources). 39

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6. Implications for the Study of Second-Century Gospel Materials Certain implications of our observations in regard to literary dependence and forgery become evident with the consideration of Mark 16:9–20 and John 21 relative to Helmut Koester’s generalizations about “differences between a second-century user of a Gospel and a fourth- or fifth-century quotation in a Church Father.” Koester calls attention to three purported distinctions: 1. Before “200 CE, the Gospels were usually transmitted separately” and were not “available as part of the four-Gospel canon.” 2. “In the later period, the Gospels were usually considered holy scripture; no such respect was accorded them in the earliest period.” 3. “Beginning only with the third century can we assign quotations to certain text types. . . .”43

The first two of Koester’s three generalizations bear upon the present discussion. We contend that Mark 16:9–20 and John 21 offer exceptions to both of them. Mark’s Longer Ending and John 21 witness against Koester’s first claim that the four NT Gospels were usually transmitted separately in the second century. The judgment by the author of Mark 16:9–20 that the end of Mark was deficient and by the author of John 21 that the end of John required a narrative relating the restoration of Peter imply situations in which different Gospels had been collected and compared with one another. We concur with Paul Rohrbach, who, over a century ago, argued on different grounds that Mark 16:9–20 indicates the existence of a four-Gospel collection prior to the composition of Mark’s Longer Ending.44 We also agree with Martin Hengel that Mark 16:9–20 “and the Epistula Apostolorum . . . are thus probably the earliest Christian texts to presuppose all the Gospels and Acts.”45 43

Koester, “Text of the Synoptic Gospels” (see n. 5), 19. To date, there exists no study of the use of the NT Gospels in Mark 16:9–20 in terms of text types or variant MS readings. In the future, such a line of inquiry would likely prove fruitful. 44 See P. Rohrbach, Der Schluss des Markusevangeliums, der Vier-Evangelien-Kanon und die Kleinasiatischen Presbyter (Berlin, 1894), esp. 38–40. 45 M. Hengel, Die Evangelienüberschriften (SHAW.PH 1984.3, Heidelberg, 1984), 22: “Der sekundäre Markusschluß [16,9–20] und die ebenfalls in der 1. Hälfte des 2. Jh.s anzusetzende epistula apostolorum sind so die frühesten christlichen Texte, die alle Evangelien und die Apg voraussetzen”; ET: “The Titles of the Gospels and the Gospel of Mark,” in idem, Studies in the Gospel of Mark (London, 1985), 64–84 at 72. Hengel offers Mark 16:9–20 and the Epistula Apostolorum as exceptions to Koester’s generalization that most second-century writers, many of whom Koester dates later than Mark 16:9–20 and the Epistula Apostolorum, preferred to use one Gospel (εὐαγγέλιον), rather than materials drawn from two or more Gospels (Evangelienüberschriften, 8–13 = “Titles” 65–67). See also K. Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” in

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Furthermore, that additions to Mark and John46 were made both supports and calls for a modification of Koester’s second point about the alleged lack of respect in any way accorded to the NT Gospels in the second century. On the one hand, Koester’s observation has merit in that the Gospels of Mark and John were not considered “holy scripture” in the sense that they could never be changed or augmented by later authors. However, the conception of ‘Scripture’ as textually sacrosanct is an anachronism, even for copies of the NT made in the fourth century or later.47 On the other hand, we infer that the text of ‘Scripture’ was modified precisely because it was esteemed. The efforts of later authors of Gospel appendices to imitate the NT Gospels bespeak a high respect for those writings. Such labors also suggest that the authors of these additions to Mark and John, as well as the author of Mark’s Shorter Ending (itk), considered the Gospels of Mark and John valuable enough to be improved, in order to meet the needs of their generations and generations of the future. It would thus be inaccurate to generalize, as Koester does, that “no such respect was accorded” to the NT Gospels “in the earliest period” before 200 C.E.48 7. The Date of Second Clement Revisited We have shown how Mark 16:9–20 – and, to a somewhat lesser extent, John 21 – counter Koester’s rationale for the dating of Second Clement to the mid-second century and after Marcion.48a The fact that a writing used a NT Gospel is not a reliable basis for dating Second Clement after Marcion. Although the date of Second Clement remains an open question, two main arguments used to support a later date for Second Clement are weak. That posed by Koester – Second Clement’s use of written Gospel materials – does not take into account Mark 16:9–20 or John 21 (nor, perhaps, the Epistula Apostolorum48b), which predate Justin Martyr. Additionally, because Second Clement is not a letter, it cannot be dated later on the basis of a claimed identification with a lost letter of Bishop Soter of Rome (166– M. Sabbe (ed.), L’Évangile selon Marc (BETL 34, Gembloux, 2nd ed. 1988), 435–70, esp. 453–55. 46 In the case of Mark, we refer to the Longer Ending and the Shorter Ending (it k), not to mention the interpolation following Mark 16:14 preserved in Codex Freerianius (W, 032). See J. Frey, “Zu Text und Sinn des Freer-Logion,” ZNW 93 (2002): 13–34. 47 See, e.g., Ehrman, Corruption (see n. 10), 7–25. 48 Koester, “Text of the Synoptic Gospels” (see n. 5), 19, emphasis added. In a sense, Koester sets up his argument so that it is beyond refutation: because no second-century Christian author reflects a view of Scripture like those represented in later centuries, there thus must have been no such concept in the second century. 48a See note 27, above. 48b See note 45, above.

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174 C.E.).49 Given that, already in the early second century, there were collections – but, again, not necessarily fixed “canons” – of Gospels, we proceed to consider what can be learned from a writing like Second Clement, whose author cites a variety of written gospel materials, once in conjunction with the term εὐαγγέλιον (2 Clem. 8:5). 8. Analysis of 2 Clem. 8:5 The only place Second Clement uses εὐαγγέλιον is in 8:5. As mentioned above, Koester correctly acknowledges that here there is “some proof for the use of the term ‘gospel’ as a designation of written documents.”50 Indeed, this single occurrence of εὐαγγέλιον does refer to written gospel material. In fact, 2 Clem. 8:5 cites some extracanonical gospel material, as do 2 Clem. 4:5, 11:2 and 12:2. In 8:5, this extracanonical material belongs to “the gospel” (λέγει γὰρ ὁ Κύριος ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ). Such an attribution has bearing on the dating of Second Clement for at least three reasons. First, despite the myriad of gospel traditions cited in Second Clement (both ‘canonical’ and ‘extracanonical’), 2 Clem. 8:5 refers to “the Gospel” in the singular. Although acknowledging the possibility, Koester thinks it “highly unlikely that ‘a sayings collection’” drawing upon Matthew, Luke and “some non-canonical materials . . . was called a ‘gospel’” by the author of Second Clement.51 Koester offers no argument for this position, which can plausibly be construed as special pleading for the originality of Marcion’s use of this term.

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Against A. von Harnack, “Zum Ursprung des sog. 2. Clemensbriefs,” ZNW 6 (1905): 67–71, that Second Clement was written in Rome by Soter (cf. Euseb. Hist. eccl. 2.25.8; 4.23.11), and with C. N. Jefford, Reading the Apostolic Fathers (Peabody, 1996), 119: “Traditionally 2 Clement has been called a letter or epistle. Yet, unlike the letters of 1 Clement and Ignatius, those elements typical of the ancient letter structure – such as a greeting, words of thanksgiving, closing concerns – are absent. . . . In many respects the structure of 2 Clement resembles that of Barnabas, though it [2 Clement] never assumed the form of a letter and, presumably, was never intended to circulate widely.” Likewise, M. Holmes, Apostolic Fathers (see n. 18), 103, observes that Harnack’s “ingenious suggestion faces the difficulty that [2 Clement] is certainly not a letter.” See further V. Bartlet, “The Origin and Date of 2 Clement,” ZNW 7 (1906): 123–35, following J. B. Lightfoot (The Apostolic Fathers [Reprinted: Peabody, 1989 = London, 1889–90], I/2:201–204), dismissing Harnack’s argument ascribing authorship to Soter and arguing for a date of 120–140 C.E., primarily on the basis of an early “pneumatic” Christianity attested in 2 Clement 14. 50 I agree with Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 17, although he suggests that in Second Clement “the evidence is somewhat ambiguous” (18). See the discussion in the following section of 2 Clem. 8:5 (λέγει γὰρ ὁ Κύριος ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ) and other passages in Second Clement. 51 Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 18.

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Second, in 2 Clem. 8:5, we see a noteworthy similarity with Marcion’s Gospel: the lack of an explanation about the use of εὐαγγέλιον to refer to a writing. Both authors presume that the term is intelligible, that its reference to a writing of some kind is perspicuous. This lack of an explanation by either Marcion or the author of Second Clement suggests the likelihood that neither author was an innovator in using εὐαγγέλιον to designate a writing. Since neither Marcion nor the author of Second Clement gives any indication of trying to redefine the meaning of εὐαγγέλιον, it is plausible that the writing cited in 2 Clem. 8:5 had already received that name from an earlier author, redactor or copyist of this extracanonical gospel material. The same explanation could apply equally to the version of Luke known to Marcion.52 If these inferences about Marcion’s copy of Luke and the (sayings) source of Second Clement are correct, then εὐαγγέλιον would not necessarily be an indication of specific contents – and certainly not of proto-orthodoxy, but only of some written collection of teachings of, or about, Jesus. Such a designation would likely have arisen from the need of an author or copyist to distinguish one useful, and only possibly authoritative, writing from other pieces of esteemed literature (for example, the LXX or, perhaps, one or more of Paul’s letters; cf. 2 Pet 3:15b–16). Third, our discussion of the temporal priority of Second Clement to Marcion could perhaps be pressed a step further. In 2 Clem. 8:5, εὐαγγέλιον is used in a context devoid of debate about authoritative writings or canon. That is to say, there is no trace of the Marcionite debate in Second Clement. Rather, Second Clement reveals an author who drew freely from a variety of sources without concern for canon, authority, or inappropriate editing by later ‘Judaizing’ Christians – all of which came to receive greater attention in much Christian literature after Marcion.53 52

So Hengel, “Titles” (see n. 45), 72. Koester, however, is appropriately cautious on this point, although he grants that the names of the evangelists may well have circulated earlier (Ancient Christian Gospels [see n. 5], 26–27). It is not clear, however, why Hengel takes the knowledge of “all the [NT] Gospels and Acts” in Mark 16:9–20 to indicate that Mark’s Longer Ending “must be dated to the first decades of the second century,” while the Epistula Apostolorum belongs to the middle of the second century (Evangelienüberschriften [see n. 44], 21 n. 47 = “Titles” 167–68 n. 47). 53 If Second Clement was, indeed, written later than Marcion, this lack of concern is not what one would expect from an author who cared about the unity of Christians who must heed the warnings of the presbyters against false teachings (cf. 2 Clem. 17:2–3). Given this author’s eclectic use of gospel materials – or, his use of a written Gospel comprising eclectic traditions – it follows that the author of Second Clement would have had objections to the narrower Marcionite canon if he had known about it. The silence of Second Clement about any such canon thus offers a supporting argument for the chronological priority of this writing to Marcion’s Gospel. Although Second Clement does not

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9. Conclusion: Marcion and Second Clement Assume Their Audiences Will Comprehend ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Referent to a Written “Gospel” We have argued that, at approximately the same time in the second quarter of the second century, both Second Clement and Marcion assume that their addressees already recognize εὐαγγέλιον as a referent for written Gospel materials. This conclusion casts doubt upon Koester’s characterization of Marcion as an innovator. We have also noted that in 2 Clem. 8:5 εὐαγγέλιον refers not to a ‘NT’ Gospel but to some other writing, which may well already have been called “the Gospel” by its author, compiler, redactor or copyist before at least one part of it came to be cited in Second Clement. In the following section, we argue that similar uses of εὐαγγέλιον referring to a written Gospel may also be seen in the materials incorporated into the Didache.54

C. ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ in the Didache Christopher Tuckett rightly observes that, since the Didache is a composite document – comprising Wisdom teaching about the Two Ways (Did. 1:1– 6:2), instructions for community leaders (6:3–15:4), and a brief section of eschatological and ethical warnings (16:1–8) – source-critical questions pertaining to each part of this writing must be studied independently of the other parts. Any conclusions about the use of gospel materials in one section of the Didache may not necessarily hold for such use in the others.55 Our analysis is concerned primarily with the four occurrences of εὐαγγέλιον in the instructions for community leaders (6:3–15:4) at 8:2, 11:3–4, 15:3 and 15:4. The first of these passages, Did. 8:2, contains materials about hypocrisy, prayer and fasting that parallel parts of Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount (Matt 6:1–18, esp. 6:9–13). However, Did. 11:3–4 and 15:3–4 imply a four-Gospel ‘canon,’ its author, like Marcion, assumes that the intended audience would recognize εὐαγγέλιον as a reference to written Gospel material. 54 See further Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 149–60. Greek text for the Didache: Holmes, Apostolic Fathers (see n. 18), 250–68. 55 Tuckett, “Synoptic Tradition” (see n. 3), 198: “[A]ny theories about the origins of synoptic tradition in one part of the Didache will not necessarily apply to the Didache as a whole.” Tuckett concentrates on Didache 1–2, 11 and 16, “arguing that the Didache presupposes the finished form of the synoptic gospels, or at least that of Matthew” (197– 98). Below, our analysis of Did. 8:2, 11:3–4 and 15:3–4 comes to a similar conclusion, complementing Tuckett’s study. Cf. Stanton, “Fourfold Gospel” (see n. 8), 334; Jefford, Sayings of Jesus (see n. 3), 18, who rightly questions whether “the Didache . . . must represent a single community within Christian history whose ideas and approaches quickly disappeared before the encroachment of developing orthodoxy.”

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use εὐαγγέλιον in contexts that do not parallel any NT material as strikingly. These passages deal with proper treatment of apostles and prophets (11:3–4), correcting one another (15:3), and prayers and almsgiving (15:4). We endeavor to ascertain what the Didachist’s referent is when using εὐαγγέλιον in these sundry passages. Contrary to Kurt Niederwimmer’s conclusion that “[t]he jury is still out” on whether the Didache “refers to a gospel in written form (evangelium scriptum),” we side with Clayton N. Jefford,56 arguing that the Didachist does designate a written document similar to Matthew in at least three passages (8:2; 11:3–4; 15:4). The Didache would then offer the earliest surviving witness to the use of εὐαγγέλιον to designate a written Gospel of some kind. 1. Analysis of Did. 8:2 In 8:2, the Didachist substantiates the message about prayer with an appeal to Jesus’ teaching. The addressees are to give credence to this rather brief passage on prayer, because it contains instruction “as the Lord commanded in his Gospel” (ὡς ἐκέλευσεν ὁ Κύριος ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ αὐτοῦ). The Didachist thus introduces some traditional material, material that coincides, with minor variations, with most of the Matthean Lord’s Prayer. The two prayers differ in five ways: 1. The οὖν . . . ὑµεῖς in Matthew’s introduction is not in the Didache’s version. 2. Matthew’s plural “heavens” (ἐν τοῖς οὐρανοῖς) is singular in the Didache (ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ). 3. Again, Matthew uses the plural (τὰ ὀφειλήµατα, “debts, obligations”), whereas the Didache uses the singular of a related term (τὴν ὀφειλήν, “debt, obligation, duty”). 4. Matthew’s perfect (ἀφήκαµεν) differs from the Didache’s present (ἄφες) tense for ἀφίηµι, “forgive.” 5. The doxology concluding the Lord’s Prayer in the Didache (“for yours is the power and the glory forever”) does not appear in Matthew’s version.

Clearly, the Didache’s prayer cannot be traced to Luke 11:2–4 (or to QLk). Given the high degree of verbal overlap between the versions of the prayer in Matthew and the Didache, there is likely some relationship – quite possibly literary – between them. If the Didachist did not know Matthew, then he perhaps made use of QMt or some even earlier version of what came to be the Sermon on the Mount.57 56 Niederwimmer, Didache (see n. 2), 50–52 at 51; so also H. van de Sandt and D. Flusser, The Didache: Its Jewish Sources and Its Place in Early Judaism and Christianity (CRINT 3.5, Assen, 2002), 293–96; W. L. Petersen, “Genesis of the Gospels” (see n. 32), 51–53; Jefford, Sayings of Jesus (see n. 3), 143. 57 Cf. H. D. Betz, The Sermon on the Mount: A Commentary on the Sermon on the Mount, Including the Sermon on the Plain (Matthew 5:3–7:27 and Luke 6:20–49) (Hermeneia, ed. A. Y. Collins, Minneapolis, 1995), 5–10.

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Koester’s discussion of Did. 8:2 conflates two different questions, namely whether the NT Gospel of Matthew is cited in Did. 8:2 and whether some writing is cited as εὐαγγέλιον in Did. 8:2.58 Whatever their merit, Koester’s arguments concerning the former question do not speak directly to the latter. Our examination of the five differences in wording between Matt 6:9–13 and Did. 8:2 will clarify the relationship between these two versions of the Lord’s Prayer and will elucidate what it is that the author of the Didache refers to as “the Lord’s Gospel” (. . .ὁ Κύριος ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ αὐτοῦ). a) ΟΥΝ . . . ΥΜΕΙΣ in Matthew’s Introduction to the Lord’s Prayer In the opening command to pray, the longer introduction of Matt 6:9a (Οὕτως οὖν προσεύχεσθε ὑµεῖς) could be regarded as a redactional expansion of the earlier, and shorter, tradition preserved in the Didache (οὕτως προσεύχεσθε).58a More likely, the Didache’s introduction to the prayer may be a conflation of Matt 6:5a and 6:9a. The similar language of Matt 6:5 (before the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew) and at the beginning of Did. 8:2 suggests that such a conflation is a more plausible rationale for the Didachist’s brevity.59 If the Didache’s introduction to the prayer is taken as a conflation of Matt 6:5a and 6:9a, the Didache’s lack of οὖν . . . ὑµεῖς would then leave open the possibility that the Didachist made use of Matthew. In both Matt 6:9a and Did. 8:2, an explicit expression of the subject of the imperative (ὑµεῖς) is unnecessary. Moreover, if the Didache’s µηδὲ 58 Against Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 16, who begs the question of the popularity of a particular version of the Lord’s Prayer in the early church: “It is also most unlikely that a Christian writer would have to copy from any written source in order to quote the Lord’s Prayer.” Cf. idem, Synoptische Überlieferung (see n. 2), 103–109. Similarly, J. A. Draper, “The Jesus Tradition in the Didache,” in J. A. Draper (ed.), The Didache in Modern Research (Leiden, 1996), 72–91 at 85, views such similarities and differences as pointing to the use of “a written or oral gospel close to the present text of Matthew,” but not necessarily the same as Matthew, in Didache 8. It is unclear whether many in the early church actually put into practice the assorted moral exhortations of Matthew 5–7 or the Didache. The instruction of Did. 8:2 reflects the Didachist’s view of how the faithful should be (but, apparently, are not) praying. It is precisely for this reason that the Lord’s commandment “in the Gospel” is cited at length – namely, because the Didachist’s audience needs this information. 58a So, unpersuasively, Alan J. P. Garrow, The Gospel of Matthew’s Dependence on the Didache (JSNTSup 254, London, 2004), 171–73. For a critique, see Kelhoffer, Review of Garrow, Matthew’s Dependence (see above), in JECS 13 (2005): 388–91. 59 Matt 6:5a: Καὶ ὅταν προσεύχησθε, οὐκ ἔσεσθε ὡς οἱ ὑποκριταί, ὅτι φιλοῦσιν ἐν ταῖς συναγωγαῖς καὶ ἐν ταῖς γωνίαις τῶν πλατειῶν ἑστῶτες προσεύχεσθαι, ὅπως φανῶσιν τοῖς ἀνθρώποις· Did. 8:2a: µηδὲ προσεύχεσθε ὡς οἱ ὑποκριταί, ἀλλ᾿ ὡς ἐκέλευσεν ὁ Κύριος ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ αὐτοῦ, οὕτως προσεύχεσθε·

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προσεύχεσθε reflects a shortening of Matthew’s somewhat obtuse introduction (καὶ ὅταν προσεύχησθε, οὐκ ἔσεσθε ὡς οἱ ὑποκριταί, Matt 6:5a), we would have two consistent examples of shortening Matt 6:5a and 6:9a into a single statement in Did. 8:2. Finally, unlike in Matt 6:9a, the οὖν would be awkward in Did. 8:2 following µηδὲ . . . ὡς . . . ἀλλ᾿ ὡς. . . . We conclude that the Didache’s shorter introduction to the prayer does not weaken, but actually strengthens, our argument that the Didachist cites as εὐαγγέλιον either Matthew or some written tradition, in which a teaching about how “hypocrites” pray (cf. Matt 6:5–8) preceded the Lord’s Prayer (Matt 6:9–13).60 The same inference might also be suggested for not fasting like the hypocrites in Matt 6:16–18 and Did. 8:1, although the order of the pericopes in Matthew (after the Lord’s Prayer) and the Didache (before the Lord’s Prayer) is different. Given that Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount itself reflects a combination of materials from “Q” (including those preserved in the Lukan Sermon on the Plain), from Mark, and from other sources, some written document is most likely cited at the beginning of Did. 8:2. If the Didachist’s source was not the First Gospel, it was, presumably, a writing (for example, QMt or some other source used by Matthew) that had undergone the same type of expansions as those reflected in Matthew. b) Matthew’s “Heavens . . . Heaven” and the Didache’s “Heaven . . . Heaven” The argument we present here is that, since Matt 6:9b (τοῖς οὐρανοῖς) and Matt 6:10c (ἐν οὐρανῷ) reflect formulations commonly associated with Matthean redaction, the plural in Matt 6:9b (“heavens”), as compared with the singular in Did. 8:2 (“heaven”), does not weaken a case for direct dependence of the Didache on Matthew. The plethora of occurrences of οὐρανός in Matthew reveals certain tendencies in this author’s preferred uses of this term. Most frequently, Matthew uses the plural for “heaven” to designate ἡ βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν (lit. “the kingdom of the heavens”)61 or ὁ πατὴρ ὑµῶν ὁ ἐν τοῖς οὐρανοῖς (lit. “[your] Father who is in the heavens”; 60

With Köhler, Rezeption (see n. 4), 30–36; and Massaux, Influence (see n. 4), 3:154: “Christ directs his disciples not to pray like the hypocrites; he gives them the exemplary prayer, and he then prohibits them from fasting like the hypocrites. The context of Did. 8 is, therefore, that of Mt. 5:5–18.” This conclusion would be valid even if the author of Matthew and the Didachist have somewhat different groups in mind; e.g., Matthew may be thinking of ultra pious Jews while the Didachist may be addressing Jews of a more specifically Pharisaic bent. 61 See Matt 3:2: ἤγγικεν γὰρ ἡ βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν (altering Mark 1:15: ἤγγικεν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ); Matt 4:17; 5:3, 10, 19 (two occurrences), 20; 7:21 (first occurrence); 8:11; 10:7; 11:11, 12; 13:11, 24, 31, 33, 44, 45, 47, 52; 16:19 (first occurrence); 18:1, 3, 4, 23; 19:12, 14, 23; 20:1; 22:1; 23:13.

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numerous occurrences, including Matt 7:11).62 The latter expression occurs repeatedly in Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount in contexts not paralleled in Luke’s Sermon on the Plain (Luke 6:20–49) or other common “Q” materials used by these two evangelists. By contrast, numerous singular occurrences of οὐρανός in Matthew – for example, Matt 6:10c (ὡς ἐν οὐρανῷ καὶ ἐπὶ γῆς) – reflect a parallel construction with another singular noun, such as “earth” (γῆ).63 Matthew also refers to the birds of the sky (τὰ πετεινὰ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ, Matt 6:26; 8:20; 13:32) and, occasionally, retains the singular for “heaven” from his source material, whether Mark or the Jewish Scriptures.64 These general statements about Matthean tendencies in regard to οὐρανός/οὐρανοί do not apply to every occurrence of the term in Matthew,65 but they illustrate that both Matt 6:9b and Matt 6:10c reflect formulations commonly associated with Matthean redaction – that is, Matthew’s preferred designation for “the kingdom of [the] heaven[s]” (Matt 6:9b) and use of the singular for “heaven” to parallel singular nouns, such as “earth” (6:10c). Our observations could support either of two hypotheses. First, and less likely (for reasons to be given in the following excursus), the author of Matthew could have changed a common source (QMt?) to the plural. Or, more likely, the author of the Didache could well have changed Matthew’s plural (ἐν τοῖς οὐρανοῖς) to the singular (ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ), for the sake of consistency with the prayer’s later petition that God’s will be done ὡς ἐν οὐρανῷ [Sg.] καὶ ἐπὶ γῆς [Sg.]. Such a redactional move toward uniformity within the prayer would make sense for an author like the Didachist, who may not have appreciated Matthew’s nuanced and rather consistent uses of οὐρανός. That editorial move on the part of the Didachist would also be consistent with our explanation, above, for the improved syntax, shortening, and combination of Matt 6:5a and 6:9a at the beginning of Did. 8:2. 62 Matt 5:16, 45; 6:1, 9; 7:21; 7:11: ὁ πατὴρ ὑµῶν ὁ ἐν τοῖς οὐρανοῖς (cf. Luke 11:13: ὁ πατὴρ [ὁ] ἐξ οὐρανοῦ). See further Matt 10:32: ἔµπροσθεν τοῦ πατρός µου τοῦ ἐν [τοῖς] οὐρανοῖς (cf. Luke 12:8: ἔµπροσθεν τῶν ἀγγέλων τοῦ θεοῦ); Matt 10:33; 12:50; 16:17; 18:10, 14, 19; cf. Matt 3:17. 63 A singular form of “heaven” used with “earth” occurs in Matt 5:18; 6:10c (ὡς ἐν οὐρανῷ καὶ ἐπὶ γῆς); 6:19; 11:25; 18:18 (two occurrences); 24:35; 28:18. Note also a singular form of “heaven” used with God’s throne: Matt 5:34b (ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ, ὅτι θρόνος ἐστὶν τοῦ θεοῦ); 23:22. The evangelist uses once a singular form of “heaven” with “Hades” (Matt 11:23). 64 Matt 14:19||Mark 6:41; Matt 16:1||Mark 8:11; Matt 24:49 (reflecting a combination of Isa 13:10 and 34:4); Matt 24:30 (τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐν οὐρανῷ), assimilated to, and then citing, Dan 7:13 (ἐπὶ τῶν νεφελῶν τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ὡς υἱὸς ἀνθρώπου ἤρχετο). 65 See Matt 21:25 and 22:30. Cf. the three occurrences in Matt 16:2b–3, a text whose authenticity is dubious on text-critical grounds because of its absence in ‫א‬, B and other important witnesses. In addition, note the stylistic peculiarity of using οὐρανός in the singular three times in two verses.

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Excursus: Matt 24:30 as the Source of ΟΥΡΑΝΟΣ in Did. 16:8 The preceding discussion on Matthew’s plural and the Didache’s singular for “heaven(s)” is broadened and further supports our argument for the Didache’s dependence on Matthew when we consider the Didache’s only other use of οὐρανός (Did. 16:8). In many respects, Did. 16:8 parallels Matt 24:30c, which is a partial citation of Dan 7:13 drawn from Mark 13:26. Matt 24:30c: καὶ ὄψονται τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐρχόµενον ἐπὶ τῶν νεφελῶν τοῦ οὐρανοῦ µετὰ δυνάµεως καὶ δόξης πολλῆς· Did. 16:8: τότε ὄψεται ὁ κόσµος τὸν κύριον ἐρχόµενον ἐπάνω τῶν νεφελῶν τοῦ οὐρανοῦ.

Of the three Synoptic Gospels, only Matthew follows the LXX of Dan 7:13 in placing the Son of man “upon (ἐπί) the clouds of heaven.” These two Matthean modifications of Mark 13:26, which are not attested in Luke 21:27, are reproduced in Did. 16:8 (with ἐπάνω instead of ἐπί). It is unlikely that the authors of Matthew and the Didache have, in the light of the LXX, independently modified the material (taken from Mark or some other source) and that they have done so in an identical way by adding ἐπὶ τῶν νεφελῶν τοῦ οὐρανοῦ. The evidence points to two possibilities – that Matthew and the Didachist used some common written source, or that the Didachist used Matthew for this citation of Dan 7:13. In either case, the Didache’s particular wording – having “the world” see “the Lord” – reflects a generalizing tendency away from “the Son of man” as a christological title and from the specific context of Mark 13 par. To summarize, there are three occurrences of οὐρανός in the Didache. Two reflect distinctively Matthean uses of οὐρανός (Did. 8:2, with Matt 6:10c [ἐν οὐρανῷ]; Did. 16:8 with Matt 24:30 [ἐπὶ τῶν νεφελῶν τοῦ οὐρανοῦ]). The other deviates from typical Matthean style (Did. 8:2 [ὁ ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ], Matt 6:9b [ὁ ἐν τοῖς οὐρανοῖς]), most likely because the Didachist chose to consistently use the singular for “heaven” within the Lord’s Prayer. c) Matthew’s “Debts” and the Didache’s “Debt” The third difference between the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew and in the Didache concerns the forgiveness of “our debts/obligations” (τὰ ὀφειλήµατα ἡµῶν, Matt 6:12a) and “our debt/obligation/duty” (τὴν ὀφειλὴν ἡµῶν, Did. 8:2). Stemming from the same root (ὀφειλ–), the terms ὀφείληµα and ὀφειλή belong to a closely related group of words66 and are easily distinguished from Luke 11:4a (on the forgiveness of “sins,” τὰς ἁµαρτίας 66

According to BDAG, 743, ὀφείληµα and ὀφειλή are nearly synonymous. Cf. the occurrences of ὀφειλέτης, ὀφειλή, and substantive participial forms of ὀφείλω in Matthew’s Parable of the Unforgiving Servant (18:21–35): εἷς ὀφειλέτης (18:24); τὸ ὀφειλόµενον (18:30); πᾶσαν τὴν ὀφειλὴν ἐκείνην (18:32); πᾶν τὸ ὀφειλόµενον (18:34).

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ἡµῶν).67 Although a motivation for the shift from ὀφείληµα to ὀφειλή may be difficult to ascertain, such a small difference in wording does not preclude either a common written source or another switch from Matthew’s plural to the singular by the author of the Didache (cf. above on οὐρανός/οὐρανοί in Matthew). d) ΑΦΙΗΜΙ: Matthew’s Perfect Tense and the Didache’s Present Tense With regard to forgiving others in the Lord’s Prayer, Matthew, the Didachist, and Luke all use different forms of ἀφίηµι. The use of the present tense in both Luke 11:4b (ἀφίοµεν) and Did. 8:2 (with alternate spelling, ἀφίεµεν) stands out as the single instance of agreement between Luke and the Didache on the wording of the Lord’s Prayer. We maintain, however, that the different spellings in Luke and the Didache suggest the independence of Luke and the Didachist from each other. In Matt 6:12b, the reading of the perfect tense ἀφήκαµεν is attested by ‫*א‬, B, the Peshitta and Harclean Syriac and other witnesses, and is preferable to the textual variants ἀφίοµεν (probably reflecting assimilation to Luke 11:4b) and ἀφίεµεν (perhaps due to the influence of Did. 8:2). In Matthew, the choice of the perfect tense appears to be intentional because it refers to a completed act – an act that, according to Matt 6:14–15, is a necessary prerequisite for receiving God’s forgiveness.68 If, knowing Matthew, the author of the Didache objected to such a conditional understanding of forgiveness in Matt 6:12–15, it would have been easy to change the ἀφήκαµεν to the present tense (ἀφίεµεν) and to deliberately omit the redactional expression of Matt 6:14–15 as well.69 Our case for some literary connection between Matthew and the Didache, then, remains strong. e) The Doxology Concluding the Lord’s Prayer in the Didache The final difference between these two prayers is that the doxology at the end of Did. 8:2 is lacking in Matthew. This doxology is probably a redactional addition penned by the Didachist, who is fond of doxologies.70 In67 These terms are also to be differentiated from Origen of Alexandria’s text for Luke 11:4 (Ἄφες ἡµῖν τὰ παραπτώµατα ἡµῶν) in Frag. Jo. 139.2 and Frag. Luc. 125.11, a text that likely reflects a secondary assimilation to Matt 6:14–15. 68 Matt 6:14–15: Ἐὰν γὰρ ἀφῆτε τοῖς ἀνθρώποις τὰ παραπτώµατα αὐτῶν, ἀφήσει καὶ ὑµῖν ὁ πατὴρ ὑµῶν ὁ οὐράνιος· [15] ἐὰν δὲ µὴ ἀφῆτε τοῖς ἀνθρώποις, οὐδὲ ὁ πατὴρ ὑµῶν ἀφήσει τὰ παραπτώµατα ὑµῶν. 69 It is also possible, albeit less likely, that the Didachist knew a later copy of Matthew with the reading ἀφίεµεν, which is attested in ‫א‬1 f13 and the Textus Receptus. In addition, a common source, reading ἀφίεµεν and used by both authors, could, hypothetically, have been consistently modified and expanded by the author of Matthew. 70 See further Niederwimmer, Didache (see n. 2), 170–73, and Did. 8:2 (ending the Lord’s Prayer); 9:2, 3, 4; 10:2, 4, 5.

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deed, the doxologies of Did. 8:2 and 10:5 are identical. That of Did. 9:4 is also quite similar, with the order of “power” and “glory” reversed and the addition of διὰ Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ. Appearing at the end of the Lord’s Prayer, the doxology in Did. 8:2 could well function as a substitute for the theology of God’s conditional forgiveness in Matt 6:14–15.71 At any rate, the addition of a doxology to the Didache’s prayer does not exclude the possibility of some literary connection between the two prayers. f) Conclusion: ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Reference to a Writing of Some Kind in Did. 8:2 The rather minor differences between Matt 6:9–13 and Did. 8:2 involve a small omission (Matthew’s οὖν . . . ὑµεῖς) in light of Matt 6:5a; two instances of different forms of the same word (“heaven,” “forgive”); and a single example of a different form of a similar word (ὀφειλήµατα, “debts, obligations”; ὀφειλή, “debt, obligation, duty”). The presence of a doxology at the end of Did. 8:2 neither supports nor discounts a possible literary relationship to the Mathean Lord’s Prayer. For each of these differences, our analysis has supported the likelihood that the Didachist used either Matthew or a pre-Matthean source. Such use of written material leads to the conclusion that, in Did. 8:2, the term εὐαγγέλιον designates a writing of some kind. In the next two subsections, we proceed to test this conclusion in light of three other occurrences of εὐαγγέλιον, in Did. 11:3–4, 15:3 and 15:4. 2. Analysis of Did. 11:3–4 The second of four occurrences of εὐαγγέλιον in the Didache is in Did. 11:3–4, which mentions “the rule of the gospel” within a series of short pericopes on the welcoming of itinerant teachers, apostles and prophets (Did. 11:1–13:7). After urging that heterodox teachers be shunned (Did. 11:1–2), the author turns to the treatment of those who are to be welcomed: And concerning the apostles and prophets, act as in accordance with the rule of the gospel (κατὰ τὸ δόγµα τοῦ εὐαγγελίου). Let every apostle who comes to you be received as the Lord (δεχθήτω ὡς κύριος). (Did. 11:3–4)

Having based an ethical mandate on “gospel” material, the Didachist adds a prohibition against such visitors’ staying long or asking for money (Did. 11:5–6). Although Did. 11:3 is not particularly specific about what the faithful are to ‘do’ (ποιέω) for apostles and prophets, Did. 11:4 offers some instruc71

That several witnesses to Matthew (k, sa, syc) also reflect doxologies could suggest that the Didache influenced some later copies of Matthew.

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tion on how to receive (δέχοµαι) them. Six occurrences of the verb δέχοµαι in a single Matthean saying (Matt 10:40–41) match the type of instruction given in Did. 11:4.72 In the excursus following this subsection, we show that these six occurrences of δέχοµαι are distinctively Matthean. For the present, we call attention to the following comparisons: Matt 10:40–41 1. On the reception of the Twelve (cf. Matt 10:5), of prophets and of a just person. 2. Receiving such people is likened to receiving both Jesus and the One who sent him (that is, God).

Did. 11:3–4 1. On the reception of apostles and prophets. 2. Receiving such people is likened to receiving “the Lord.”

Matt 10:41b is distinctive for mentioning also the reception of a righteous individual (δίκαιος), a concept the Didachist may not have understood (at least in Matthean terms) or may have chosen to omit. Likewise, there is a difference in the meanings of προφήτης, with Matt 10:41a referring to an (ancient) Israelite prophet, and Did. 11:3 to a contemporary Christian prophet. What is decisive for our query is the similarity of terminology and the Didachist’s attempt to incorporate gospel material in the section on church order. Additionally, Did. 11:4b may be intentionally vague in not specifying whether κύριος refers to Jesus or God, since Matt 10:40 (ἐµέ . . . τὸν ἀποστείλαντά µε) mentions both Jesus and God. Our analysis of Matt 10:40–41 and Did. 11:3–4 could support but does not, by itself, offer a compelling argument that Did. 11:3–4 reflects literary dependence on Matthew. The verbal correspondences of the two passages do, however, plausibly suggest that the “Gospel” mentioned in Did. 11:3 was evangelium scriptum and contained some form of Matt 10:40–41. Excursus: The Redaction of Mark 6:11 and 9:37 in Matt 10:40–41 Points to the Use of Distinctively Matthean Material in Did. 11:3–4 Our argument that the Didachist made use of distinctively Matthean, rather than Markan or Lukan, material in Did. 11:3–4 becomes stronger when we consider the verb δέχοµαι in two other Synoptic sayings. When Jesus sends out the Twelve on a mission (Mark 6:11 par.), he warns them to depart from whatever place that (Mark 6:11), or from whomever (Matt 10:14; Luke 9:5), does not “receive” (δέχοµαι) them.73 In another saying (Mark 9:37||Matt 18:5||Luke 9:48), the receiving (δέχοµαι) of a little child is lik-

72 Matt 10:40–41: Ὁ δεχόµενος ὑµᾶς ἐµὲ δέχεται, καὶ ὁ ἐµὲ δεχόµενος δέχεται τὸν ἀποστείλαντά µε. [41] ὁ δεχόµενος προφήτην εἰς ὄνοµα προφήτου µισθὸν προφήτου λήµψεται, καὶ ὁ δεχόµενος δίκαιον εἰς ὄνοµα δικαίου µισθὸν δικαίου λήµψεται. 73 E.g., Matt 10:14: καὶ ὃς ἂν µὴ δέξηται ὑµᾶς µηδὲ ἀκούσῃ τοὺς λόγους ὑµῶν, ἐξερχόµενοι ἔξω τῆς οἰκίας ἢ τῆς πόλεως ἐκείνης ἐκτινάξατε τὸν κονιορτὸν τῶν ποδῶν ὑµῶν.

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ened to the receiving of Jesus and, ultimately, of the One who sent him.74 Of the Synoptic evangelists, only Matthew seems to have noticed (or cared) that Jesus’ saying about receiving a little child (Mark 9:37 par.) carries a warning about consequences greater than those of ignoring Jesus’ apostolic emissaries (Mark 6:11 par.). Matthew, then, is distinctive for taking the corrective measure of combining in Matt 10:40–42 elements of both sayings from Mark. The second of these Matthean doublets (Matt 10:42), like Mark 9:37 par., is concerned with little ones.75 But instead of focusing on the importance of “receiving” them (δέχοµαι), Matt 10:42 highlights giving them a drink (ποτίζω) of cold water. Perhaps after mentioning the Twelve (Matt 10:40–41), it would not have made sense, in the same passage, to speak of “receiving” a little child in the same way one would “receive” an apostle (10:42). Matt 10:40–41 shifts the mandate from receiving the children (Mark 9:37 par.) to receiving the Twelve whom Jesus sent out (Mark 6:11||Matt 10:14), as one would “receive” Jesus himself. Within the history of the Synoptic tradition, the developments evident in Matt 10:40–42 about being rewarded for receiving a prophet or a just person or for giving water to a child would most likely not have been incorporated into the earliest gospel materials. On the contrary, such redactional tendencies assume that two different sayings were taken from Mark and that, in Matthew, they reflect a development of the instructions given to the Markan disciples, instructions attested only in Matthew. The tradition alluded to in Did. 11:3–4 would have existed only subsequent to the advanced type of redactional activity that underlies Matt 10:40–41. When Did. 11:3–4 is compared with Synoptic sayings in Mark 6:11 par. and Mark 9:34 par. and then with Matt 10:40–41, its correspondence to Matt 10:40–41 is further indication that the Didachist most likely did refer to a “Gospel” that either was Matthew or some writing dependent upon Matthew. Those persuaded by the above analysis of Did. 8:2 on the Lord’s Prayer, which showed that the Didachist did know either Matthew or a preMatthean source for the prayer, may agree that the balance now tips toward the hypothesis that the Didachist knew Matthew, since Matt 10:40– 41 stems from a section of this Gospel entirely different from the Sermon on the Mount, namely the Matthean Mission Discourse (Matt 9:35–11:1).

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E.g., Matt 18:5: καὶ ὃς ἐὰν δέξηται ἓν παιδίον τοιοῦτο ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόµατί µου, ἐµὲ δέχεται. 75 Matt 10:42: καὶ ὃς ἂν ποτίσῃ ἕνα τῶν µικρῶν τούτων ποτήριον ψυχροῦ µόνον εἰς ὄνοµα µαθητοῦ, ἀµὴν λέγω ὑµῖν, οὐ µὴ ἀπολέσῃ τὸν µισθὸν αὐτοῦ.

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3. Analysis of Did. 15:4 The other two occurrences of εὐαγγέλιον in the Didache appear in Did. 15:3–4, which follows a short pericope about appointing bishops and deacons (15:1–2) and precedes a different section (and microgenre) on readiness for the Lord’s coming (16:1–8). The Didache, then, does not provide a pertinent context for interpreting the following admonitions: [15:3a] Furthermore, correct one another, not in anger but in peace;76 [3b] as you have [it] in the gospel (ὡς ἔχετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ), [3c] let no one speak with anyone who should wrong another. Nor let him hear from you until he repents. [4] As for your prayers and acts of charity (τὰς δὲ εὐχὰς ὑµῶν καὶ τὰς ἐλεηµοσύνας) and all your deeds, do [them] as you have [it] in the gospel of our Lord (ὡς ἔχετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ τοῦ κυρίου ἡµῶν).

As was the case in Did. 11:3, twice in 15:3–4 the Didachist assumes a common knowledge in his audience of the content of “the gospel.” In fact, the audience is presented as “having” (ὡς ἔχετε, 15:3b, 4b) this “gospel” and, thus, as not dependent on the Didachist for knowledge of its content. With regard to the second of these two occurrences of εὐαγγέλιον, the imperative in Did. 15:4 that they “act” (ποιέω) in accordance with the gospel is reminiscent of the written Gospel similarly alluded to in Did. 11:3 (κατὰ τὸ δόγµα τοῦ εὐαγγελίου).77 Koester acknowledges the possibility that the prescriptions in Did. 15:3–4 suggest “that there was a document in which the respective instructions were written down,” but he immediately dismisses this possibility: “[N]othing in the context of these references indicates the presence of materials which were derived from any known gospel writing.”78 Although he does not exclude the Didachist’s use of some sort of writing, Koester overlooks that both Did. 8:2 and 15:4 are concerned with prayer, and that Did. 8:2 has numerous similarities to Matt 6:5–13.79 The other action enjoined in Did. 15:4 concerns acts of charity (ἐλεηµοσύνη), which are taken up in the Sermon on the Mount by the pericope preceding the Lord’s Prayer (Matt 6:2–4). Significantly, Matt 6:2–4 contains this Gospel’s only three occurrences of ἐλεηµοσύνη. Elsewhere in the NT, the word is used only in Luke-Acts (Luke 11:41; 12:33; Acts 3:2– 3, 10; 9:36; 10:2, 4, 31; 24:17) in contexts different from those in Matt 6:2–4 and Did. 15:4. These observations do not conclusively demonstrate that the Didachist used Matt 6:2–4. They do, however, disprove Koester’s 76 See our suggestion, below (note 81), in regard to the punctuation of Did. 15:3 – first with a semicolon (after 15:3a), then with a comma (after 15:3b). 77 Contrast Did. 8:2, in which the gospel material is cited explicitly (cf. Matt 6:5–13 and the discussion above). 78 Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 17. 79 See, e.g., the discussion above on prayer and hypocrisy in Matt 6:5–8 and Did. 8:2. We discuss Did. 15:3 below.

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contention that “nothing in the context of these references [Did. 15:3–4] indicates the presence of materials which were derived from any known gospel writing.”80 In fact, Matt 6:2–4||Did. 15:4 (and Matt 10:40–41||Did. 11:3–4) answers precisely Koester’s objection, in that Matt 6:2–4 (and Matt 10:40–41) contains phrases and terminology that are specific to Matthew. As we argued above, the Didache’s introduction to the Lord’s Prayer combines elements of Matt 6:5a and 6:9a. In the Sermon on the Mount, an admonition against hypocrisy in prayer (οὐκ ἔσεσθε ὡς οἱ ὑποκριταί, Matt 6:5a; cf. Did. 8:2; 15:4) is closely related to avoiding hypocrisy when one gives alms: Ὅταν οὖν ποιῇς ἐλεηµοσύνην, µὴ σαλπίσῃς ἔµπροσθέν σου, ὥσπερ οἱ ὑποκριταὶ ποιοῦσιν (Matt 6:2a; cf. Did. 15:4). It is thus not at all implausible that, in addition to Matt 6:5–13, the Didachist knew some written version of Matt 6:2–4. In addition, Did. 8:3 (“Pray in this way three times per day”) is analogous to the use of material like, or the same as, Matt 6:2–4 in Did. 15:4. The teaching on prayer in Did. 8:1–2 appears in a series of directives about baptism (Did. 7:1–4), fasting (8:1), the Eucharist (9:1–10:7), and welcoming itinerant teachers, apostles and prophets (11:1–13:7). For the Didachist, the Matthean Lord’s Prayer exemplifies how one is to pray. In Did. 15:4, the same ideal is upheld by appealing to Matt 6:2–4: Jesus’ teaching “as [they] have it in the Gospel” establishes the norm for the giving of alms without “hypocrisy.” These analogous uses and interpretations of Matt 6:2–13, as elaborated partially in Did. 8:2–3 and referenced in Did. 15:4, thus strengthen our argument that Did. 8:2–3 and 15:4 cite as an authoritative writing, if not Matthew itself, some pre- or post-Matthean written εὐαγγέλιον. 4. Analysis of Did. 15:3 In Did. 15:3,81 the evidence for the use of a written Gospel, recognized as εὐαγγέλιον, is not as compelling as it is in Did. 8:2, 11:3–4 and 15:4. The first admonition (15:3a) emphasizes correcting one another in peace rather than with anger (cf. 1 Tim 2:8). The directive is consistent with, but does not necessarily stem from, Matt 5:22, a warning about not becoming angry with one’s “brother.”82 80

Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 17, alluding also to Did. 11:3. We refer to phrases in Did. 15:3a, 3b and 3c as follows: Did. 15:3a: Ἐλέγχετε δὲ ἀλλήλους µὴ ἐν ὀργῇ, ἀλλ᾿ ἐν εἰρήνῃ Did. 15:3b: ὡς ἔχετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ Did. 15:3c: καὶ παντὶ ἀστοχοῦντι κατὰ τοῦ ἑτέρου, µηδεὶς λαλείτω µηδὲ παρ᾿ ὑµῶν ἀκουέτω, ἕως οὗ µετανοήσῃ. 82 See Matt 5:21–26, esp. 5:22a: πᾶς ὁ ὀργιζόµενος τῷ ἀδελφῷ αὐτοῦ ἔνοχος ἔσται τῇ κρίσει· 81

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The second admonition (Did. 15:3c), to shun anyone in their congregation(s) who has wronged another and not repented, has obvious similarities to Jesus’ teaching in Matt 18:15–17 about the unrepentant brother, especially with regard to the verb ἐλέγχω.83 In addition, not speaking with such a person is consonant with treating a (former) brother or sister as “a pagan or a tax collector” (Matt 18:17b). We conclude that, although there are more congruities between Did. 15:3c and Matt 18:15–17 than there are between Did. 15:3a and Matt 5:22a, neither Did. 15:3a nor 15:3c, by itself, demonstrates a literary relationship with the Gospel of Matthew. Nonetheless, the similarities of 15:3a, 3c to Matthew are consistent with our hypothesis that in 8:2, 11:3–4 and 15:4 the Didachist used a written “Gospel” either similar to or the same as Matthew. A syntactical ambiguity in Did. 15:3 concerns whether 15:3b (“as you have [it] in the gospel” [ὡς ἔχετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ]), refers to the first (15:3a) or the second (15:3c) instruction. If it refers back to the first admonition, Did. 15:3a–b could be an exception to the ways εὐαγγέλιον is used in Did. 8:2, 11:3–4 and 15:4, since 15:3a cannot be traced with confidence to any surviving gospel material. Yet, it is equally possible that ὡς ἔχετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ refers to what follows (15:3c), not what precedes (15:3a). We propose punctuating 15:3 with a semicolon after 15:3a and a comma after 15:3b: [3a] Ἐλέγχετε δὲ ἀλλήλους µὴ ἐν ὀργῇ, ἀλλ᾿ ἐν εἰρήνῃ· [3b] ὡς ἔχετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ, [3c] καὶ παντὶ ἀστοχοῦντι κατὰ τοῦ ἑτέρου, µηδεὶς λαλείτω µηδὲ παρ᾿ ὑµῶν ἀκουέτω, ἕως οὗ µετανοήσῃ. 84

Punctuated thus, Did. 15:3b–c (“As you have [it] in the gospel, let no one speak with anyone who should wrong another. Nor let him hear from you until he repents”) is compatible with our argument that, in directions given to community leaders (Did. 6:3–15:4), all four of the Didachist’s uses of εὐαγγέλιον refer to some written “Gospel.”85 The other three occurrences 83 Matt 18:15–17: Ἐὰν δὲ ἁµαρτήσῃ εἰς σὲ ὁ ἀδελφός σου, ὕπαγε ἔλεγξον αὐτὸν µεταξὺ σοῦ καὶ αὐτοῦ µόνου. ἐάν σου ἀκούσῃ, ἐκέρδησας τὸν ἀδελφόν σου· [16] ἐὰν δὲ µὴ ἀκούσῃ, παράλαβε µετὰ σοῦ ἔτι ἕνα ἢ δύο, ἵνα ἐπὶ στόµατος δύο µαρτύρων ἢ τριῶν σταθῇ πᾶν ῥῆµα· [17] ἐὰν δὲ παρακούσῃ αὐτῶν, εἰπὲ τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ· ἐὰν δὲ καὶ τῆς ἐκκλησίας παρακούσῃ, ἔστω σοι ὥσπερ ὁ ἐθνικὸς καὶ ὁ τελώνης. 84 Our proposal differs from the punctuation in W. Rordorf and A. Tuilier, La Doctrine des Douze Apôtres (Didachè). introduction, texte critique, traduction, notes, appendice, annexe et index (SC 248, Paris, 2nd ed. 1998), 194; A. Lindemann et al. (eds.), Die Apostolischen Väter: Griechisch-deutsche Parallelausgabe (Tübingen, 1992), 18; M. Holmes (ed.), Apostolic Fathers (see n. 18), 266; K. Lake (ed.), The Apostolic Fathers (LCL, Cambridge, MA/London, 1980 [= 1912]), 1:330. 85 Cf. U. Schnelle, The History and Theology of the New Testament Writings (Minneapolis, 1998 [2nd Ger. ed. 1994]), 222, who regards the attestation of Matthew in Did. 7:1, 7:8, 10:5, and 10:16 as grounds for dating this Gospel to around 90 C.E. Schnelle

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of εὐαγγέλιον in the Didache support our punctuation of Did. 15:3, suggesting the author’s probable allusion to Matt 18:15–17. 5. Summation: ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ in the Didache Our investigation of the four occurrences of εὐαγγέλιον in the Didache has yielded compelling evidence for use of a written source in Did. 8:2, 11:3–4 and 15:4 – and, as such, is additional evidence for the thesis articulated by Jefford.86 In a fourth passage (Did. 15:3b–c), the case for a written source is not nearly as strong, but is consistent with our thesis. We conclude that in the Didachist – not in Marcion or the author of Second Clement – we find the earliest surviving use of εὐαγγέλιον to designate a written “Gospel.” With regard to the nature of the Gospel used by the Didachist, we have underscored the similarities between the Didache and distinctively Matthean materials from various parts of this Gospel. The Didachist’s combination of Matt 6:5a and 6:9a to introduce the Lord’s prayer (Did. 8:2) and the use of Matt 10:40–42, which reflects a Matthean harmonization of Mark 6:11||Matt 10:5 and Mark 9:37||Matt 18:5 (cf. Did. 11:3–4), demonstrate that the Didachist knew either Matthew or some writing based upon various sections of the evangelist’s writing. The use in the Didache of preMatthean written sources that may have survived well into the second century, although possible, is less plausible because of the Matthean redactional elements that are combined in Did. 8:2 and 11:3–4.87 The likely use (222) offers a similar argument in the case of Ignatius’s knowledge of Matthew (Ign. Smyr. 1:1; Phld. 3:1). 86 Against Niederwimmer, Didache (see n. 2), 50–52, but concurring with Jefford, Sayings of Jesus (see n. 3), 143: “Because the general nature of the texts in chaps. 7–15 [of the Didache] is consistent with parallels that occur throughout the Synoptic Gospels (and are consistent especially with the parallels that are preserved in the Matthean Gospel), it must be assumed that the majority of these materials were influenced by the written form of those Gospels or, at least, that these materials were introduced into the Didache after the composition of the Gospels.” Jefford focuses primarily on Didache 1–5 and 16, arguing that Didache 7–15 was written around 80–100 C.E., after the Gospel of Matthew. 87 G. N. Stanton, “The Early Reception of Matthew’s Gospel: New Evidence from Papyri?” in The Gospel of Matthew in Current Study: Studies in Memory of William G. Thompson, S.J. (Grand Rapids, 2001), 42–61 at 60 (emphasis original), calls attention to this third (hypothetical) possibility: “If Christian missionaries and teachers continued to use papyrus or parchment notebooks with Jesus traditions (and Old Testament passages) alongside copies of the Gospels and oral traditions, we should not be surprised at the varied ways Matthean traditions are cited or alluded to in the Apostolic Fathers and in Justin Martyr.” In his thoughtful discussion of the “Matthean” Oxyrhynchus papyri, Stanton does not argue that Justin or any of the Apostolic Fathers did, in fact, make use of such a papyrus or parchment notebook.

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of Matt 6:2–4 as “Gospel” in Did. 15:4 further supports this conclusion, as does the probable allusion to Matt 18:15–17 as “Gospel” in Did. 15:3b–c. We may further ask whether it is simpler to infer the Didachist’s use, with small modifications, of Matthew (a known entity) than to postulate the existence of another otherwise unknown writing so markedly similar to, but distinct from, Matthew. Logically, one would need to show that the citations in Didache could not be explained on the hypothesis of using Matthew, before one could credibly postulate the existence and use of another source. In the case of Did. 8:2, 11:3–4 and 15:3–4, there is no need to multiply hypothetical sources, since Matthew, a known source, can explain the data – oftentimes by using Koester’s criterion of observing Matthean redactional elements in the Didache. We find it more likely that the Didachist made use of Matthew than of a pre-Matthean source or later writing based upon the First NT Gospel. 6. The Didache as a Witness to a Prior Recognition of Matthew as ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ As we did in evaluating Marcion’s and Second Clement’s uses of εὐαγγέλιον, we may likewise consider the possible novelty of the occurrences of εὐαγγέλιον in the Didache. At no point in Did. 8:2, 11:3–4, 15:3, or 15:4 is it suggested that any use of εὐαγγέλιον is an innovation. On the contrary, the Didachist assumes that the audience can verify the contents of the Lord’s Prayer, cited in Did. 8:2. More significantly, the allusions to gospel material in Did. 11:3–4 and 15:4 (possibly also 15:3b–c) are predicated upon a common understanding of teachings elucidated, respectively, in Matt 10:40–41 and 6:2–13 (cf. 18:15–17). Accordingly, the metamorphosis of the term εὐαγγέλιον as a designation for a written Gospel is not to be found within the Didache, either. Since the Didachist used a written Gospel, probably Matthew, and assumed that εὐαγγέλιον was a recognizable term for the audience, it would follow that Matthew was already known as (a) εὐαγγέλιον.88 That numerous other Christian writers before Marcion and Justin Martyr did not use εὐαγγέλιον in this way suggests that the Didache could attest a local phenomenon, where this particular “Gospel” had gained popularity.

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See, below, a similar argument for Marcion’s copy of Luke.

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D. The Didache as a Window to the Origin of ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Literary Designation 1. ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as Oral Proclamation in Mark and Matthew Since neither Marcion nor Second Clement nor even the Didache shows how, or when, εὐαγγέλιον became a literary designation, we proceed backwards chronologically, looking at writings that were eventually called “Gospels” for a clue about the term by which these writings came to be known. We will see that, in their uses of εὐαγγέλιον, the NT Gospels likewise give no indication of why they, and other writings, would later be called “Gospels.” In the Gospel of Mark, εὐαγγέλιον occurs seven times in six passages.89 Mark uses εὐαγγέλιον in the title of his work (1:1), with reference to Jesus’ preaching (1:14; 1:15) and others’ preaching (13:10; 14:9), and as a cause for the persecution of Jesus’ followers (10:29–30a; 13:10). Udo Schnelle takes the distinctiveness of these Markan passages to indicate that “Mark created this new genre” of Gospel literature.90 Against connecting the term εὐαγγέλιον with this allegedly new genre is the fact that, in Mark, four of the seven occurrences of εὐαγγέλιον refer to oral proclamation (Mark 1:14; 1:15; 13:10; 14:9). In two other places (10:29–30a; 13:10), the content of “the gospel” is not specified. It is most implausible, however, that those enduring hardship “because of Jesus and the gospel” (10:29b) face persecution because they possess a Gospel book or scroll. The remaining passage, Mark 1:1, introduces Mark’s work but does not make an explicit claim about (a new!) literary genre.91 Mark, then, reflects no understanding 89

Mark 1:1: Ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ. Mark 1:14–15 (two occurrences): ἦλθεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἰς τὴν Γαλιλαίαν κηρύσσων τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ [15] καὶ λέγων . . . πιστεύετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ. Mark 8:35b: ὃς δ᾿ ἂν ἀπολέσει τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ καὶ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου σώσει αὐτήν. Mark 10:29–30a: οὐδείς ἐστιν ὃς ἀφῆκεν οἰκίαν ἢ ἀδελφοὺς ἢ ἀδελφὰς ἢ µητέρα ἢ πατέρα ἢ τέκνα ἢ ἀγροὺς ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ καὶ ἕνεκεν τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, [30] ἐὰν µὴ λάβῃ ἑκατονταπλασίονα. Mark 13:10: εἰς πάντα τὰ ἔθνη πρῶτον δεῖ κηρυχθῆναι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον. Mark 14:9: ὅπου ἐὰν κηρυχθῇ τὸ εὐαγγέλιον . . . ὃ ἐποίησεν αὕτη λαληθήσεται εἰς µνηµόσυνον αὐτῆς. 90 Schnelle, History (see n. 85), 153; cf. 161. 91 With Hengel, Four Gospels (see n. 5), 93–96, and Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 14: “Mark 1:1 says that the proclamation of Christ’s death and resurrection began with the preaching of John the Baptist and with Jesus’ own call for repentance. Thus there is no indication whatsoever that . . . Mark . . . thought that ‘gospel’ would be an appropriate title for the literature they produced.” Cf. Schnelle, History (see n. 85), 153, who plausibly suggests that Mark 1:1 makes Jesus “at one and the same

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of εὐαγγέλιον as a reference to a written “Gospel” or as an indication of a new genre. The same may be said for the earliest-known interpreters of Mark – namely, the authors of Matthew, Luke, and Mark 16:9–20. Luke, who incorporated roughly one-third of Mark into his first volume, omits all seven Markan references to εὐαγγέλιον. The two occurrences of the term in Acts point to oral, kerygmatic contexts.92 Nor does εὐαγγέλιον even occur in the Fourth Gospel. In Matthew, it appears four times, always with the sense of oral proclamation and in connection with the verb κηρύσσω.93 A similar kerygmatic context is to be noted for the use of εὐαγγέλιον in the Longer Ending of Mark.94 Thus, none of these first interpreters of Mark can be credited with developing a new definition of εὐαγγέλιον as designating a writing. Thus far, our quest for the origin of εὐαγγέλιον in reference to a written Gospel points to a vague time period after Matthew but before the Didache was written, since the Didachist could cite Matthew (or a writing much like Matthew) as εὐαγγέλιον and could be confident that the reference would be understood by the addressees. 2. Does John 21 Offer a Key to the Solution? One might seek, as T. K. Heckel does, to construe John 21 as a witness to a collection of the four NT Gospels during this vague time period. Above, we concurred with Heckel that John 21 reflects a use of Luke 5:1–11 (“L”) time both the proclaimer and content of the Gospel, with the genitive Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ expressing both the subject and the object of the Gospel.” 92 The speech attributed to Peter in Acts 15:7 refers to hearing “the word of the gospel” (τὸν λόγον τοῦ εὐαγγελίου). Moreover, in Acts 20:24 Paul “bears witness to the gospel (διαµαρτύρασθαι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον),” a clear indication of an oral context rather than the presentation of a document by the itinerant evangelist. 93 In Matthew, two of the four uses of εὐαγγέλιον are drawn from Mark, and the other two are expansions of Markan material. Matt 24:14 (κηρυχθήσεται τοῦτο τὸ εὐαγγέλιον; cf. Mark 13:10) and Matt 26:13 (ὅπου ἐὰν κηρυχθῇ τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦτο; cf. Mark 14:9) are from Mark. The other two occurrences, Matt 4:23 (κηρύσσων τὸ εὐαγγέλιον; cf. Mark 1:39) and Matt 9:35b (κηρύσσων τὸ εὐαγγέλιον; cf. Mark 6:6b), are redactional expansions of Mark. Moreover, the term εὐαγγέλιον most probably was not used in “M” or, given its absence in Luke, in “Q.” Our analysis stands in counterpoint to G. N. Stanton, “Matthew: βίβλος, Εὐαγγέλιον, or βίος?” in F. Van Segbroeck et al. (eds.), The Four Gospels 1992 (FS Frans Neirynck, BETL 100, Leuven, 1992), 2:1187–2001, esp. 1188–95 at 1188, who argues “that the evidence . . . points more clearly to Matthew than either to Marcion or to Mark as the innovator in the use of εὐαγγέλιον for a written account of the story and significance of Jesus.” Stanton does not argue convincingly that the author of Matthew uses εὐαγγέλιον as a literary designation or that this author assumes his audience’s familiarity with such a use of εὐαγγέλιον. 94 Mark 16:15b: κηρύξατε τὸ εὐαγγέλιον πάσῃ τῇ κτίσει. See further Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 97–100.

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and, thus, that John 21 attests to the existence of a two-Gospel collection comprising Luke and John 1–20. Accepting the thesis, which we have questioned above, that John 21 assumes a four-Gospel collection, Heckel builds on Martin Hengel’s study of the titles of the Gospels in the second century, and suggests that the author of John 21 was responsible for adding the Gospel titles.95 Heckel’s explanation collapses from an unpersuasive argument for literary dependence on all three Synoptic Gospels. It also fails to account for why the author of John 21, who (like the author of the Fourth Gospel) does not use the term εὐαγγέλιον, would add this ascription to John and other Gospels. 3. A New Proposal: ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ First Designates a Written “Gospel” before the Didache and after both Mark and Matthew The Didache’s witness to Matthew assumes, of course, the prior existence of Mark. As the most likely explanation for the origin of using εὐαγγέλιον as a title for written Gospels, we infer that a reader or copyist of Mark and Matthew (mis)interpreted Mark’s Ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου (1:1) as a literary title and applied the designation εὐαγγέλιον also to Matthew. This reader of two early Gospels is most probably to be distinguished from the authors of the Didache’s sundry parts, since there is no clear evidence for the use of Mark in the Didache. Although an exact date cannot be ascertained for this development in the use of εὐαγγέλιον, it must have occurred rather shortly after the composition of Matthew, given the early attestation in the Didache referring to Matthew as εὐαγγέλιον. Since the date of Matthew itself can be placed only between the times of Mark and the Didache, the development of using εὐαγγέλιον to designate a written “Gospel” must also be placed roughly within that same range. Furthermore, neither the anonymous copyist of Mark and Matthew nor the Didachist seems to have associated the name “Matthew” with what came to be the First NT Gospel.96

95

45).

Heckel, Evangelium (see n. 15), 207–17. Cf. above on M. Hengel, “Titles” (see n.

96 The assigning of a name to this Gospel’s supposedly apostolic author thus appears to have been a subsequent development, although it could have stemmed from Matt 9:9, 10:3. This terminus ante quem might, perhaps, be assigned to Papias’s testimony (ca. 110–120 C.E.) about an originally “Hebrew/Aramaic” Gospel of Matthew (apud Euseb. Hist. eccl. 3.39.16), although Papias refers to the sayings (τὰ λόγια) and not a written Gospel by the author of Matthew. Pace Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 26–27, who criticizes M. Hengel’s argument that the Gospel titles were as early as the early second century; Koester considers it possible that the names, too, may well have circulated at this early point. See further Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (see n. 5), 33; Schnelle, History (see n. 85), 219.

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E. Conclusion: ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Reference to Gospel Materials in the First Half of the Second Century We have addressed the questions of when and how εὐαγγέλιον came to be a literary designation in the first half of the second century and have shown that the Didachist, the author of Second Clement, and Marcion all assume that the term εὐαγγέλιον is already comprehensible as a reference to a written “Gospel.” Because none of those second-century Christian authors clarifies any supposed novel use of εὐαγγέλιον as a literary designation (“Gospel”) rather than a reference to oral proclamation (“gospel”), none of them should be construed as an innovator in the way the term is used. Rather, since none of these authors defines εὐαγγέλιον when clearly referring to written materials, the innovation in the use of this term is more plausibly traced to the documents known to them – to Marcion’s copy of Luke, to Second Clement’s eclectic collection of Gospel materials, and to the edition of Matthew used in the Didache. Accordingly, the earliest use of εὐαγγέλιον to designate a written Gospel must have arisen before the writing of the Didache, Second Clement and Marcion’s Gospel. At issue in this article is the thesis of H. von Campenhausen, H. Koester and R. H. Gundry on the novelty of Marcion’s role in redefining the term εὐαγγέλιον as evangelium scriptum. It is primarily on the basis of chronological priority that Koester makes his larger diachronic argument. On the same basis, we have called his argument into question. Nonetheless, there is much to be said for aspects of the work of von Campenhausen, Koester and Gundry. In particular, those scholars rightly highlight the incalculable influence of Marcion’s canon on subsequent (proto-)orthodox conceptions of canon. We concur with von Campenhausen that “the idea and the reality of the Christian Bible were the work of Marcion, and the Church which rejected his work, so far from being ahead of him in this field, from a formal point of view simply followed his example.”97 Yet questions about canon, on the one hand, and εὐαγγέλιον designating either an esteemed document or (part of a) canon, on the other hand, need to be distinguished to the extent possible. A. J. Bellinzoni has observed that “[m]odern studies of the development of the New Testament canon tend to divide the second century into two parts: the period before Marcion, and the period between Marcion and Irenaeus (or the Muratorian Canon).”98 We call for a nuancing of the division that Bellinzoni points out and for a fresh assessment of Christian literature before, and roughly contemporary with, Marcion. 97 Von Campenhausen, Formation (see n. 8), 148, summarizing arguments presented in idem, “Marcion et les origines du Canon Néotestamentaire,” RHPR 46 (1966): 213–26. 98 Bellinzoni, Preface to E. Massaux, Influence (see n. 4), ix.

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However much scholars may wish to document diachronic developments, the search for definitive moments of change may not always produce clear demarcations. Our investigation suggests that a linear progression from the 70s to the 150s C.E. cannot be shown for how documents about Jesus’ life and teachings came to be called “Gospels.” Nor did a uniform shift in the meaning of εὐαγγέλιον occur either during this period or, as A. Y. Reed observes in the case of Irenaeus, later in the second century.99 Organized diachronically, our arguments may be summarized as follows: 1. Mark 1:1 (Ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου) gives a title, but not a genre, for this writing. In Matthew (4:23; 9:35b; 24:14; 26:13), εὐαγγέλιον always occurs with the verb κηρύσσω, designating oral proclamation. The Gospels of Luke and John never use the term εὐαγγέλιον. 2. Mark 16:9–20 and John 21 point to the existence of collections of written Gospels in the first half of the second century (that is, before Justin Martyr) but do not use εὐαγγέλιον to refer to those writings. In counterpoint to Koester, we find that the harmonized Gospel citations in Second Clement give no support whatsoever for the dating of Second Clement after Marcion. 100 3. At some point between the compositions of Matthew and the Didache, the term εὐαγγέλιον came to be associated with (some form of) Matthew. During this same period or, perhaps, shortly afterward, the title εὐαγγέλιον was added to the collection of Gospel materials used by the author of Second Clement and to a (prototype of a) copy of Luke that Marcion eventually edited. 4. The Didachist assumes, and thus did not invent, εὐαγγέλιον as a recognized term for written Gospel materials that reflect Matthean redaction (Did. 8:2; 11:3–4; 15:4; cf. 15:3). 5. The author of Second Clement, like the Didachist, assumes that his audience knows to what εὐαγγέλιον refers. Second Clement cites a variety of (probably written) Gospel materials, only some of which are preserved in the ‘NT’ Gospels, and reflects no knowledge of the Marcionite controversy. 6. As von Campenhausen, Koester, and Gundry rightly observe, Marcion represents an important turning point in the second century. Marcion did not create εὐαγγέλιον as a literary designation. Nevertheless, his use of this term only for his edited version of Luke implicitly excludes the term and status for other Gospels. As a result, Marcion ignited a debate that resulted in responses that would prove formative for the later church. 7. Justin Martyr makes the first surviving reference to written Gospels (plural: ἃ καλεῖται Εὐαγγέλια, 1 Apol. 66.3). With Εὐαγγέλια, Justin recognizes a collection of 99 As Reed, “Εὐαγγέλιον” (see n. 2), 11–46, notes, Irenaeus occasionally employs εὐαγγέλιον as a literary designation, but the majority of his uses of this term include a kerygmatic element and thus reflect the influences of both the Pauline and Marcionite traditions. 100 We have not argued (or questioned) that the Didachist made use of Matthew as part of a larger Gospel collection. Moreover, the dates of John 21, Second Clement, and the Didache need further study.

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writings, each meriting the name “Gospel” and a place within an emerging body of esteemed literature. 8. Only later in the second century does Irenaeus reject Gospels other than Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, claiming that Christ the Word gave to the Church “the gospel in four parts.”101

The series of developments we have outlined was by no means an organized or sequential progression whose effects immediately prevailed throughout second-century Christian communities. Nor were these developments the subject of wide discussion or interest, let alone unanimity, in the first half of the second century. An eventual shift toward unanimity is part of Marcion’s legacy, subsequent to the musings of an unknown copyist of Mark and Matthew and foreshadowed in the meditations of the Didache and Second Clement.

Abstract: The article questions the thesis of H. von Campenhausen, H. Koester and R. Gundry that Marcion of Sinope was an innovator in using the term εὐαγγέλιον as a reference for an authoritative document, i.e., a written Gospel. This inference of recent scholarship is dubious because both Marcion and the possibly earlier author of Second Clement assume that εὐαγγέλιον is already intelligible as a literary designation to their audiences. Additionally, the Didache assumes εὐαγγέλιον as an appropriate term for citing and referring to gospel materials reflecting Matthean redaction. Consequently, the earliest use of εὐαγγέλιον to designate a written Gospel is to be traced – prior to Marcion, the author of Second Clement and the Didachist – to a point between the composition of Matthew and the writing of the Didache.

101 Iren. Haer. 3.11.8. Greek: ἔδωκεν ἡµῖν τετράµορφον τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον. In this passage, τετράµορφον is a predicate, not an attributive, adjective. The phrase is thus not to be translated as “the four-formed Gospel” (so Reed, “Εὐαγγέλιον” [see n. 2], 11) but, rather (as above) “the gospel in four parts”. In her fine study, Reed (p. 19) insightfully calls attention to Irenaeus’s apparent reticence to refer to Εὐαγγέλια in the plural: “Irenaeus uses εὐαγγέλιον . . . 101 times in the five books of Adversus haereses. Of these, only seven occurrences are plural (2.22.3, 3.11.7, 11.8 [twice], 11.9 [thrice]).”

Chapter 5

Basilides’s Gospel and Exegetica (Treatises)1 A. Introduction Relatively little is known for sure about the life of Basilides of Alexandria (fl. 120–140 C.E.). Apparently, he was active in Alexandria during the 130s 2 C .E . The paucity of evidence and the contradictory nature of the late ancient Christian witnesses to Basilides have not, however, stopped scholars from describing with some confidence the early Christian Gospel and, especially, the Gospel commentary that he allegedly wrote. In the Synopsis Quattuor Evangeliorum, for example, Kurt Aland cites the Gospel according to Basilides as the source of a distinctive witness to Matt 7:6a–b. 3 Von Campenhausen exemplifies this common position about 1

Original publication: Vigiliae Christianae 59 (2005): 115–34. This article is a revision and expansion of a paper presented at the 2002 North American Patristics Society Annual Meeting in Chicago. The author’s thanks are due to William L. Petersen (✝) and Matyás Havrda for their suggestions and feedback on this paper. 2 B. A. Pearson, “Pre-Valentinian Gnosticism in Alexandria,” in B. A. Pearson et al. (eds.), The Future of Early Christianity (FS Helmut Koester; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 455–66 at 461, summarizes the evidence for Basilides’s activity in Alexandria in 132 C.E.: “According to Clement of Alexandria (Stromateis 7.106) he was active in Alexandria during the reigns of the emperors Hadrian (117–138) and Antoninus Pius (138– 161). . . . Eusebius, in his Chronicle (according to Jerome’s Latin version), lists as one of the items for the sixteenth year of Hadrian’s reign (132) the following notation: ‘Basilides the heresiarch was living in Alexandria. From him derive the Gnostics.’” Jerome Vir. ill. 21 (apparently following Eusebius of Caesarea), writes, “Basilides died at Alexandria in the reign of Hadrian, and from him the Gnostic sects arose. In this tempestuous time also, Cochebas leader of the Jewish faction put Christians to death with various tortures” (ET: NPNF, II/3:368). Jerome’s allusion to the “tempestuous time” of the Second Jewish Revolt led by Bar Kokhba suggests that Basilides was active 132–135 C.E. Cf. the observation of W. A. Löhr, Basilides und seine Schule: Eine Studie zur Theologie- und Kirchengeschichte des zweiten Jahrhunderts (WUNT 83; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 20 (cf. 326), that “aus den übrigen Quellen erhebt sich kein Widerspruch gegen die Datierung des Clemens.” 3 Aland (ed.), Synopsis Quattuor Evangeliorum (15th rev. ed.; Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1996), 93, referring to the ultimate source of Epiphan. Pan. 24.5.2 as “Evang. sec. Basilidem” (“the Gospel according to Basilides”). Aland’s Synopsis (481– 82) does not, however, call attention to the parallel (discussed below) to Mark 15:21||Matt 27:32 attributed to Basilides (Iren. Haer. 1.24.4; Epiphan. Pan. 24.3.1–5).

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Basilides’s alleged Gospel: “In all probability it was at first, as Agrippa Castor says . . . referred to by them simply as ‘the Gospel’. The designation κατὰ βασιλείδην εὐαγγέλιον . . . may not originally have been attached to it.”4 Walter Bauer, Werner Foerster, Gerhard May, Everett Procter and Andrew F. Gregory concur that Basilides did, in fact, write a Gospel.5 A number of other scholars affirm that Basilides wrote a Gospel commentary, rather than a Gospel. For instance, in an important monograph Winrich A. Löhr asserts about Basilides and Basilides’s son and disciple Isidore: Basilides . . . kommentierte eine selbst erstellte Evangelienrezension in 24 Büchern; . . . So kann man in dürren Worten das Wesentliche an biographischen Informationen über Basilides und Isidor zusammenfassen. Basilides und Isidor werden damit christliche Lehrer in die erste Hälfte des 2. Jahrhunderts eingeordnet. . . .6

Others, including Theodor Zahn, Hans Windisch, Robert M. Grant, Bentley Layton, Everett Procter, M. J. Edwards and Christoph Markschies, likewise characterize Basilides as an exegete of gospel materials, or as an exegete of other early Christian literature.7 4

Von Campenhausen, The Formation of the Christian Bible (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1972 [1968]), 139 n. 161; cf. 139 n. 158. 5 Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1971 nd [2 Ger. ed. 1964]), 66, 170, 190; cf. 203; May, Creatio ex nihilo: The Doctrine of “Creation out of Nothing” in Early Christian Thought (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1994 [1978]), 65: “And certainly he [Basilides], who had written a gospel himself, was greatly interested in the gospels that were available” (German original: 66). Additionally, Procter, Christian Controversy in Alexandria: Clement’s Polemic against the Basilideans and Valentinians (American University Studies VII.172; Frankfurt am Main/New York: Lang, 1995), 1, follows Foerster, “Basilides,” in idem, Gnosis: A Selection of Gnostic Texts (ed. R. McL. Wilson; Oxford: Clarendon, 1972–74 [1969–71]), 1:59–83 at 74: “From . . . the Church Fathers we learn above all that Basilides was a copious writer. . . . [A] gospel originated with him” (German original: 1:99). So also A. Gregory, The Reception of Luke and Acts in the Period before Irenaeus: Looking for Luke in the Second Century (WUNT 2.169; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 77–80 (albeit with some caution); cf. Löhr, Basilides, 271. 6 Basilides und seine Schule, 325–26. Löhr also writes, “Wir vermuteten, daß die Evangelienrezension des Basilides seinem Kommentar als der Text beigegeben war, auf den sich der Kommentar bezog. Dieser Kommentar . . . behandelte eher anhand einer Perikope ein theologisches Thema” (329; cf. 12, 34, 215). 7 Zahn, Geschichte des Neutestamentlichen Kanons (Erlangen: Deichert, 1889), 1:763–74; Windisch, “Das Evangelium des Basilides,” ZNW 7 (1906): 236–46; Grant, Second-Century Christianity: A Collection of Fragments (Translations of Christian Literature 6; London: SPCK, 1946), 18: “He [Basilides] composed the first commentary on the gospels, with the exception of that of his contemporary Papias.” Similarly, Layton, “The Significance of Basilides in Ancient Christian Thought,” Representations (Berkeley, CA) 28 (1989): 135–51 at 136: “Basilides must have set a stunning precedent in educated Christian circles as the first Christian philosopher and one of the earliest New

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This article offers a critical assessment of the two claims about Basilides’s alleged Gospel and Gospel commentary. We argue that if a writing of Basilides did receive the designation “gospel” (εὐαγγέλιον), it was not a narrative or sayings Gospel primarily on the life and teachings of Jesus. This inquiry is of obvious (potential) interest to any study of the use of the term εὐαγγέλιον as a literary designation in the first half of the second century.8 Our study also considers the relationship of Basilides’s Exegetica (Treatises) to other early Christian literature. A central thesis is that the characterization of Basilides as an exegete of Christian Scripture is based on precious little evidence and, at times, on a misinterpretation of certain witnesses to Basilides and his writing(s). In what follows, we offer a (mostly) diachronic survey of the main witnesses to Basilides’s life and writings, after which we assess the claims scholars have made about Basilides’s Gospel and Gospel commentary.

B. Witnesses to Basilides’s Gospel and Exegetica (Treatises) 1. Irenaeus Haer. 1.24.4 Irenaeus attributes to Basilides the following description of Jesus’ crucifixion: Testament expositors . . .” (cf. 144–45). So also Procter, Christian Controversy in Alexandria, 1; Edwards, review of Löhr, Basilides in JTS 48 (1997): 238–41 at 241: “After a perusal of this study we see clearly what he [Basilides] was: a Christian exegete who was ready to employ eclectic methods for the better understanding of the Scriptures.” Likewise, Markschies, Gnosis: An Introduction (London/New York: T & T Clark, 2003 [2001]), 79: “It emerges from the fragments that in all probability Basilides published under the title ‘Expositions’ his own version of the Gospel of Luke with a relatively free commentary in 24 volumes.” See also J. C. Ayer, A Source Book for Ancient Church History, from the Apostolic Age to the Close of the Conciliar Period (New York: Scribner’s, 1913), 82: “Of his [Basilides’s] Gospel, Commentary on that Gospel in twenty-four books (Exegetica), and his odes only fragments remain of the second, preserved by Clement of Alexandria and in the Acta Archelai.” 8 In the ‘NT’ writings and in many of the other earliest Christian writings, εὐαγγέλιον designates oral proclamation (good news), rather than a writing or a (new) genre or literary designation. See, e.g., H. Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (London: SCM/ Philadelphia: TPI, 1990), 1–34; R. H. Gundry, “ΕΥΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ: How Soon a Book?” JBL 115 (1996): 321–25; W. L. Petersen, “The Genesis of the Gospels,” in A. Denaux (ed.), New Testament Textual Criticism and Exegesis (FS Joël Delobel; BETL 161; Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 33–65; A. Yoshiko Reed, “εὐαγγέλιον: Orality, Textuality, and the Christian Truth in Irenaeus’ Adversus Haereses,” VC 56 (2002): 11–46; Kelhoffer, “‘How Soon a Book’ Revisited: ΕΥΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Reference to ‘Gospel’ Materials in the First Half of the Second Century,” ZNW 95 (2004): 1–34 (see chapter 4 in the present volume).

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He [Christ] appeared on earth as a man and performed miracles (apparuisse eum . . . virtutes perfecisse). Thus, he himself did not suffer. Rather, a certain Simon of Cyrene was compelled (Simonem quendam Cyrenaeum angariatum) to carry his cross for him. It was he [Simon] who was ignorantly and erroneously crucified (et hunc . . . crucifixum), being transfigured by him [Jesus], so that (ut) he [Simon] might be thought to be Jesus. Moreover, Jesus assumed the form of Simon and stood by, laughing at them. 9

In regard to Jesus’ laughter, R. M. Grant plausibly suggests that it is in light of Psalm 2 that Irenaeus (or his source) interprets Jesus’ derisive response to his would-be executors.10 Apud Irenaeus, Basilides’s Docetic christology appears to be based upon a conflation of material preserved in Mark 15:2111 and the Matthean parallel.12 Mark has the (historic) present active indicative (ἀγγαρεύουσιν), which Matthew changed to the aorist (ἠγγάρευσαν). At the very least, the perfect passive participle reflected by Irenaeus (angariatus) stems from Irenaeus’s use of Matthew and/or Mark or, perhaps, from a harmonized version of this gospel material.13 With regard to assessing the historical Basilides’s interest in gospel materials, however, the testimony of Irenaeus is of questionable value.14 Before continuing with other late ancient Christian witnesses to Basilides, we consider some specifics about his writing. 9 Iren. Haer. 1.24.4. ET (modified): B. Layton, The Gnostic Scriptures: A New Translation with Annotations and Introductions (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1987), 423; Lat.: A. Rousseau and L. Doutreleau, Contre les hérésies (SC 264; Paris: Cerf, 1979), 326–28. Layton’s translation incorrectly construes apparuisse eum . . . perfecisse (I.24.4, l. 11) as a reference to “intellect” (nous); it is, rather, a reference to “Christ” (Christus, mentioned in I.24.4, l. 8). 10 Grant, “Gnostic Origins and the Basilidians of Irenaeus,” VC 13 (1959): 121–25 at 123–24: “Why was he [Jesus] laughing? The answer seems to be provided by the words of a Psalm which we know was interpreted messianically by early Christians. Psalm 2 begins with a picture of the ‘archons’ (LXX) conspiring ‘against the Lord and his Anointed,’ and it goes on to say that ‘he who sits in the heavens laughs; the Lord has them in derision’ (verse 4). Here is, or may well be, the source of the notion that the Savior derided his enemies” with laughter. See also Löhr, Basilides, 265 n. 38. 11 Mark 15:21: “They compelled (ἀγγαρεύουσιν) a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross; it was Simon of Cyrene (τινα Σίµωνα Κυρηναῖον), the father of Alexander and Rufus.” 12 Matt 27:32: “As they went out, they came upon a man from Cyrene named Simon (εὗρον ἄνθρωπον Κυρηναῖον ὀνόµατι Σίµωνα); they compelled (ἠγγάρευσαν) this man to carry his cross.” In contrast to Mark 15:21||Matt 27:32, which use a form of a form of ἀγγαρεύω, Luke 23:26 has ἐπιλαβόµενοι . . . ἐπέθηκαν. 13 G. N. Stanton, “The Fourfold Gospel,” NTS 43 (1997): 317–46, esp. 319–22, calls attention to widespread scholarly acknowledgement of these sources for Irenaeus. On the existence of harmonized Gospel citations as early as Second Clement, see, e.g., Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels, 17–18, 349–60; cf. Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 169–70. 14 With Löhr, Basilides, 255–73, who argues that Iren. Haer. 1.24.3–7, which includes the testimony about Jesus and Simon of Cyrene at the crucifixion (1.24.4), derives from source material that can plausibly be dated to the mid-second century. Despite Irenaeus’s

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2. The Title and Length of Basilides’s Treatises or Exegetica We have some rather reliable information about existence and contents of certain parts of Basilides’s Treatises or Exegetica. Two extended portions and one short passage from this work survive. In his Stromateis, Clement of Alexandria preserves one of the two longer sections.15 The other two passages appear in Hegemonius’s Acta Archelai et Manetis (ca. 330/348 16 C .E .), an anti-Manichaean writing that survives in Latin. Whatever its original contents and foci, this writing of Basilides must have been sizeable, since Clement claims to quote from its twenty-third book (βασιλείδης δὲ ἐν τῷ εἰκοστῷ τρίτῳ τῶν Ἐξηγητικῶν, Strom. 4.12.81.1). Eusebius of Caesarea credits Agrippa Castor with having written a response to Basilides in the second century (Hist. eccl. 4.7.6–8) and quotes Castor to the effect that Basilides’s work comprised a total of twenty-four books. As we argue below, the claim at least about the length of this work is credible.17 Arguably the surest indication that Basilides’s work was extensive is the Acta Archelai ’s citation of Basilides’s own reference to its thirteenth book. The author of the Acta Archelai (Hegemonius) claims to be familiar with Basilides’s writing and cites Basilides’s references to the thirteenth book of Basilides’s “Treatises” (Lat.: tractatuum eius, 67.5a; nobis tractatuum, 67.5b).18

early date, Löhr (272–73) doubts that Haer. 1.24.3–7 is a reliable witness to the historical Basilides. So also F. Legge, Philosophumena, Or the Refutation of All Heresies (2 Vols.; New York: Macmillan, 1921), 2:79 n. 2; D. Wanke, Das Kreuz Christi bei Irenäus von Lyon (BZNW 99; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2000), 75–76. 15 Greek text: C. Mondésert and A. van den Hoek, Clément d’Alexandrie, Les Stromates IV (SC 463; Paris: Cerf, 2001), 188–92. An ET of the relevant passages is conveniently available in Layton, Gnostic Scriptures, 442–43. 16 Lat.: C. H. Beeson (ed.), Hegemonius, Acta Archelai (GCS 16; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1906); ET: M. Vermes and S. N. C. Lieu, Acta Archelai (Manichaean Studies 4; Turnhout: Brepols, 2001). The Acta Archelai purports to relate a disputation between Bishop Archelaus and Mani. Beeson, Hegemonius, Acta Archelai, ix–xix, argues that the surviving Latin edition of the Acta Archelai (ca. 392/400 C.E.) is a translation of a Greek work by Hegemonius of Chalcedon, about whom nothing more is known, except that he wrote after the Council of Nicaea (325 C.E.). See also E. Spät, “The ‘Teachers’ of Mani in the Acta Archelai and Simon Magus,” VC 58 (2004): 1–23 at 1; Löhr, Basilides, 219–21; Foerster, “Basilides,” 74; J. Quasten, Patrology, 3:357–58, 4:209; Ayer, Source Book, 82–84. 17 Euseb. Hist. eccl. 4.7.7: “In expounding his [Basilides’s] mysteries he [Agrippa Castor] says that he [Basilides] compiled twenty-four books on the gospel.” See the analysis of this testimony below. 18 Acta Archelai 67.5b: “As we are writing the thirteenth book of our treatises (nobis tractatuum) the word of salvation (salutaris sermo) will provide for us the necessary and fruitful content.”

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The Acta Archelai attributes to Basilides himself not only the title (“Treatises”)19 but also the organization of the work into individual books. In the future, it may thus be helpful for scholars to refer to Basilides’s work by this title (Treatises) or, at least, to include it along with Exegetica (Gk.: Ἐξηγητικά, Clem. Strom. 4.12.81.1). In what follows, we evaluate what can be ascertained about the work’s content and genre from its three extant fragments, arguing that these fragments do not support the view that this work was a Gospel commentary. Further, we hold that Clement’s title (Ἐξηγητικά) denotes not “exegesis” but, rather, an “explanation” of Basilides’s philosophical system. 3. Clement’s Witness to Basilides’s Exegetica Of the surviving portions of Basilides’s Exegetica, the passage best known to scholars, from Clement’s Stromateis, addresses human suffering.20 According to Clement, Basilides maintained that no person’s tribulations are ordained by God. They are, rather, God’s punishment for a person’s sinfulness, either in this or a previous life (Strom. 4.12.81.2–3). In this fragment, Basilides seeks above all to defend the goodness of Providence (τὸ προνοοῦν).21 As test cases for his position, he discusses the suffering of Christian martyrs, of a newborn baby, and of Jesus during the course of his life as a whole (but not specifically the crucifixion).

19

The original Greek title used by Basilides is open to question. Zahn, Geschichte des Neutestamentlichen Kanons, I/2:764, suggests ὁµιλία (“speech, lecture, homily”); cf. Löhr, Basilides, 226. As additional possibilities, I would suggest µεταχειρίσεις ([or perhaps µεταχειρήσεις] “pursuits, studies, treatments”) and ψηλαφήσεις (“inquiries, searchings”). Clement of Alexandria (Strom. 4.12.81.1) uses the title Ἐξηγητικά, which is also possible in light of our argument that Ἐξηγητικά need not denote an “exegetical” biblical commentary. It is of interest that at Strom. 6.6.53.2, 4 (see the citation, below, in n. 55) Clement uses Ἐξηγητικά and σύνταξις interchangeably. 20 Clem. Strom. 4.12.81.2–83.1. Layton, Gnostic Scriptures, 418, observes that, in contrast to Irenaeus and Hippolytus of Rome, “St. Clement is not entirely hostile to Basilides, and in general his conciliatory attitude toward thinkers he disagrees with adds to his trustworthiness as a reporter.” On this basis, Layton infers that, as compared with the other patristic evidence, Clement’s witness is “[m]ost trustworthy of all the reports about Basilides.” Note, e.g., that Clement is careful to attribute a citation of Matt 19:11–12 to Basilides’s followers (οἱ . . . ἀπὸ Βασιλείδου, Strom. 3.1.1.1), rather than to Basilides himself. Similarly, according to Clem. Strom. 1.21.146.1, followers of Basilides (οἱ . . . ἀπὸ Βασιλείδου) hold a festival on the (supposed) day of Jesus’ baptism and spend the night reading (προδιανυκτερεύοντες [ἐν] ἀναγνώσεσι). For additional references to οἱ ἀπὸ Βασιλείδου, see Clem. Strom. 2.3.10.3; 2.6.27.2; Excerpta ex Theodoto 1.16.1; 1.28.1. 21 Basilides, Exegetica, apud Clem. Strom. 4.12.82.2–83.1: “For I will say anything (πάντ’) rather than say that Providence (τὸ προνοοῦν) is evil.” Cf. Löhr, Basilides, 131– 32; Procter, Christian Controversy in Alexandria, 88–93.

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With the possible exception of the citation in Stromateis 4.12.81.2,22 there is no indication that Basilides is attempting to ‘exegete’ a written Gospel.23 Nor is there any such indication in three other parts of the Stromateis that allude briefly to Basilides’s view of suffering.24 Thus, concerning the portions of Basilides’s work that Clement cites and paraphrases, Clement’s title (Ἐξηγητικά, Strom. 4.12.81.1) does not support the inference that Basilides wrote a commentary on Gospel or other biblical literature, a conclusion that we take up in greater detail below. 4. The Acta Archelai on Basilides’s Treatises The other portions of Basilides’s surviving work appear in the early-fourth century anti-Manichaean Acta Archelai et Manetis 67.5–11. The Acta Archelai reveals two things about Basilides’s work: an interest in the Parable of the Rich Man and the Poor Man (cf. Luke 16:19–31), and a discussion, grounded in dualism, of light and darkness, good and evil. On the interpretation of the parable, Basilides writes: “By means of the parable of the rich man and the poor man,25 it [the word of salvation]26 22

Basilides, Exegetica, apud Clem. Strom. 4.12.82.2 (“Indeed, someone who intends to commit adultery is an adulterer even without succeeding in the act, and someone who intends to commit murder is a murderer even without being able to commit the act.”) has obvious similarities to Matt 5:27–28 and 5:21–22 (with Löhr, Basilides, 128 n. 16, that these are “vermutlich biblisch inspirierten (vgl. z. B. Mt 5,21.27) Beispiele. . . .”). Nonetheless, the majority of Basilides’s excerpted discussion on human suffering is not “exegetical” of gospel or other biblical materials (see Löhr, Basilides, 131). 23 Although Löhr recognizes this as the case for Clem. Strom. 4.12.81.2–3, he and other scholars persist in identifying Basilides as an exegete of Christian Scripture. See Löhr, Basilides, 12–13, 34, 215, 325–26, 329; Grant, Second-Century Christianity, 18; Ayer, Source Book, 82; Windisch, “Evangelium des Basilides.” 24 Clem. Strom. 4.12.86.1; 4.12.88.3, 5. See further Y. Tissot, “À propos des fragments de Basilide sur le martyre,” RHPR 76 (1996): 35–50. 25 Lat.: per parabolam divitis et pauperis. In Luke 16:19a, τις . . . πλούσιος is translated as quidam . . . dives (VL and Vg). In Luke 16:20a, πτωχὸς δέ τις is rendered quidam mendicus (Vg). According to W. Matzkow and K. Aland (eds.), Itala: Das Neue Testament in altlateinischer Überlieferung (Vol. 3: Lucas-Evangelium; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2nd ed. 1976), 3:188, the Vetus Latina and the Vulgate consistently translate πλούσιος (Luke 16:19a) as dives (so also Basilides apud Hegemonius’s Acta Archelai). In the case of πτωχός (Luke 16:20a), a majority of the second-century Old Latin MSS (aur b c f ff 2 q) and the Vulgate differ with Hegemonius’s translation of Basilides and attest mendicus. Certain Old Latin MSS, however, have pauper (a d i l; also Basilides apud Hegemonius), and one VL version has pauperculus (r1). Thus, the key terms used by Basilides for identifying this parable (dives and pauper) are attested, respectively, by all (πλούσιος, Luke 16:19a) and some (πτωχός, Luke 16:20a) of the Old Latin MSS. Such similarities in wording suggest the likelihood that Basilides did, in fact, refer to the Lukan Parable of the Rich Man and the Poor Man (Luke 16:19–31). 26 If it is correct to infer that Basilides used distinctively Lukan material, he would be an early witness to the Gospel of Luke in the first half of the second century. Further in-

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demonstrates the source of the nature that comes upon things without a root or a place” (Acta Archelai 67.5c). In Luke 16:19–31, the Parable of the Rich Man and the Poor Man (Lazarus) is special Lukan material (L), which, moreover, reflects this evangelist’s particular interest in the poor.27 It is thus plausible to infer that Basilides came into contact with this special Lukan material from Luke’s source(s), from some writing dependent upon Luke, or, more probably, from the Gospel of Luke itself.28 In his Treatises, Basilides apparently gave an allegorical interpretation of the parable that the author of the Acta Archelai chose to cut off abruptly (67.6). Acta Archelai 67.5c thus provides evidence for connecting at least part of Basilides’s Exegetica (or Treatises) with some written Gospel material.29 The extended section from Basilides’s work quoted in Acta Archelai 67.7–11 deals with a topic different from that in 67.6 – namely, a dualistic discussion of light and darkness, good and evil.30 The passage reflects the view that “perfect good” is not to be found “in this world” (67.10), where only a portion of the Light is visible to humans.31 Unlike 67.5, the citation in 67.7–11 reveals no effort to exegete any ‘biblical’ text (not even Genesis 1!).

dication that Basilides uses Lukan material is his allusion to “the word of salvation” (salutaris sermo [see n. 18]), mentioned in Acta Archelai 67.5b. Cf. Gregory, Reception of Luke and Acts, 78. 27 See, e.g., Luke 6:20b, 21, 24–26; 12:13–21; 14:12–24; 16:1–9; 18:22; 19:8; 21:2; F. Bovon, Luke 1: A Commentary on the Gospel of Luke 1:1–9:50 (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002 [1989]), 223–25. 28 Basilides’s knowledge of Lukan Gospel material might contribute to an explanation for why (the non-Gnostic) Marcion, who canonized an edited version of Luke, came to be criticized along with others, including Basilides, who were deemed to be ‘Gnostics.’ See Justin Dial. 35.6; Clem. Strom. 7.17.106.4–107.1; 7.17.108.1; Muratorian Canon; Hegesippus apud Euseb. Hist. eccl. 4.22.4–6. 29 I concur with Löhr’s arguments in favor of the authenticity of this citation of Basilides’s work (Basilides, 248–49), but disagree with Löhr’s inference that this material would be representative of a sort of Gospel commentary by Basilides: “Das alles paßt gut zu Basilides und seinem Evangelienkommentar” (Basilides, 248; cf. 227–29). 30 According to Acta Archelai 67.7, Basilides mentions the view of some “barbarians,” who “have said that all things have two beginnings (initia omnium duo), to which they have associated good and evil (bona et mala), stating that these beginnings themselves are without beginning and unbegotten (sine initio esse et ingenita). In other words, there was in the beginning Light and Darkness (in principiis lucem fuisse ac tenebras), which existed of themselves, which were not said to be begotten.” 31 Acta Archelai 67.11. The Acta Archelai summarizes the importance of this dualistic cosmogony to Basilides’s system as follows: “So if anyone is able to demolish the unbegotten dualism (subvertere . . . ingenitam dualitatem), which he propounds, then I say he would at the same time cut down the entire forest of his words” (68.2).

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As noted above, Acta Archelai 67.7–11 offers a more extended citation from Basilides’s work of a markedly different sort of material. According to Acta Archelai 67.6, this material appears in Basilides’s work after an interval of some “five hundred lines.” It is unclear whether the five hundred lines omitted in Acta Archelai 67 were devoted to the Lukan parable (cf. Luke 16:19–31) or to some other matter. 5. Origen on the “Gospel according to Basilides” A question of significance equal to that of the extent to which Basilides’s work may have been ‘exegetical’ is whether Basilides or his followers would have acknowledged the designation εὐαγγέλιον for a Gospel that he allegedly wrote. Origen gives the earliest testimony to a Gospel written by Basilides: The church has four Gospels. Heretics have very many. One of them is entitled According to the Egyptians, another According to the Twelve Apostles. Basilides, too, dared to write a Gospel according to Basilides (Ἤδη δὲ ἐτόλµησε καὶ Βασιλείδης γράψαι κατὰ Βασιλείδην εὐαγγέλιον). “Many have tried” to write, but only four Gospels have been approved. 32

Neither Origen nor any subsequent witness to the existence of Basilides’s Gospel reveals anything about its content, however.33 6. Basilides and Basilidians according to Hippolytus (Haer. VII.20–27; X.14) The author of the Refutatio33a cites eight uses of εὐαγγέλιον in six passages from Basilides: 32 Orig. Hom. Luc. 1.2, alluding to Luke 1:1: πολλοὶ ἐπεχείρησαν. Greek and Latin texts: M. Rauer (ed.), Origenes Werke (GCS 9: Die Homilien zu Lukas in der Übersetzung des Hieronymus und die Griechischen Reste der Homilien und des LukasKommentars. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 2nd ed. 1959), 9:4–5; ET: J. T. Lienhard, [Origen,] Homilies on Luke; Fragments on Luke (FC 94; Washington: Catholic University of America, 1996), 5–6; cf. Windisch, “Evangelium des Basilides,” 236. 33 H.-C. Puech (revised by B. Blatz), “The Gospel of Basilides,” in W. Schneemelcher (ed.), New Testament Apocrypha (trans. ed. R. McL. Wilson; Louisville [KY]: Westminster/John Knox, 1991 [6th Ger. ed. 1990]), 1:397–99 at 397, calls attention to later references to Basilides’s Gospel in Jerome’s Latin translation of Origen’s homily, as well as in Jerome, Comm. Matt. Prologue (on the Evangelium Basilidis); Ambrose, Expositio euangelii Lucae i.2; the Venerable Bede, In Lucae euangelium Expositio I, Prologue; and Philip of Side’s partially preserved Church History. Cf. Löhr, Basilides, 31: “Gegen den historischen Wert der Notiz spricht vor allem ihre Singularität. Weder Justin, noch Irenäeus, noch Agrippa Castor, noch Clemens oder Hippolyt nennen wie Origenes ausdrücklich ein Evangelium des Basilides.” 33a Scholars are not of one mind about whether Hippolytus of Rome (ca. 170–235/236 C . E .) wrote the Refutatio. The question of authorship does not, however, bear directly upon our analysis of the occurrences of εὐαγγέλιον attributed to Basilides in the Refutatio. I

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Haer. VII.25.5: When then, he says, it was necessary for the children (τέκνα) of God to be revealed to us . . . the gospel came into the world (ἦλθε τὸ εὐαγγέλιον εἰς τὸν κόσµον). . . . Haer. VII.26.1: Therefore the gospel came [first] from the Sonhood (ἦλθεν οὖν τὸ εὐαγγέλιον [πρῶτον] ἀπὸ τῆς υἱότητος), he says to the Ruler, through his Son who sits beside him. . . . Haer. VII.26.4: It was still necessary for the gospel to come (ἔδει λοιπὸν . . . ἐλθεῖν τὸ εὐαγγέλιον) also to the Hebdomad, in order that the Ruler of the Hebdomad might be taught in like manner and evangelized (ἵνα . . . παραπλησίως διδαχθῇ καὶ εὐαγγελισθήσεται). Haer. VII.26.5: And the Son of the Ruler of the Hebdomad was enlightened, and he proclaimed the gospel (ἐφωτίσθη . . . καὶ εὐηγγελίσατο τὸ εὐαγγέλιον) to the ruler of the Hebdomad. . . . Haer. VII.27.7 (three occurrences): In order that we may omit nothing from their [doctrines], I will set forth what they say also about [the?] gospel (περὶ εὐαγγελίου). Gospel is, according to them, the knowledge of hyper-cosmic things (εὐαγγέλιόν ἐστι κατ’ αὐτοὺς ἡ τῶν ὑπερκοσµίων γνῶσις), as has been made plain, which the Great Ruler did not understand. When then there was manifested to him what are the Holy Spirit (that is, the Boundary), and the Sonhood (ἡ υἱότης) and [the] God-who-is-Not (θεός . . . ὁ οὐκ ὤν), who is the cause of all these, he rejoiced at the things that had been said and exulted. And this according to them is the gospel (τοῦτ’ ἔστι κατ’ αὐτοὺς τὸ εὐαγγέλιον). 34 Haer. X.14.9: And [Basilides] says that on Jesus who was born of Mary the power of [the] gospel came (τὴν [τοῦ] εὐαγγελίου δύναµι(ν)), which descended and illumined the Son of the Ogdoad and the Son of the Hebdomad for the illumination and separation and purification of the Sonhood left behind that he might benefit and receive benefits from the souls.

These citations in the Refutatio construe εὐαγγέλιον as a revelation (Haer. VII.25.5, 26.1, 26.4), as oral proclamation (Haer. VII.26.5), as the knowledge (ἡ γνῶσις) of things revealed (Haer. VII.27.7) and as the manifestation of divine power (Haer. X.14.9).

find most persuasive the arguments of M. Marcovich, Hippolytus, Refutatio Omnium Haeresium (PTS 25; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1986), 8–17, that Hippolytus did write the Refutatio. See further Kelhoffer, “‘Hippolytus,’ Magic and ‘Heretical’ Miracle Workers: An Examination of Elenchos IV. 28–42 and Related Passages in Light of the Greek Magical Papyri,” ZAC 11 (2007): 517–548 at 517 (see chapter 13 in the present volume). 34 Hippolytus’s description continues in Haer. VII.27.8, where he calls attention to similarities between Basilides’s (supposed) conception of Jesus and the reports of the ‘NT’ Gospels: “But Jesus according to them was born, as we have before said. And after he came into being by the birth before explained, all those things likewise came to pass with regard to the Savior, as it is written in the Gospels (ὡς ἐν τοῖς εὐαγγελίοις γέγραπται).” At this point, however, Hippolytus compares Basilides with the ‘NT’ Gospels and does not claim to represent Basilides’s own interest in written Gospels. Cf. the Greek text edited by Marcovich, Hippolytus, Refutatio Omnium Haeresium, 301, which begins a new paragraph at Haer. VII.27.8, to illustrate this shift in the discussion from VII.27.7 to VII.27.8. Greek: Marcovich, Hippolytus; English translations of the Refutatio are from Legge, Philosophumena and, as necessary, are modified to conform more accurately to the Greek.

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Unlike Origen (Hom. Luc. 1.2, discussed above) and other late ancient Christian authors, Hippolytus reflects no knowledge of any Gospel (εὐαγγέλιον) according to Basilides. Nor does Hippolytus suggest that the various gospel citations attributed to Basilides were understood as εὐαγγέλιον.35 Hippolytus’s silence about a Gospel by Basilides is somewhat surprising, since his (secondary) testimony36 shows a “Basilides” – or, perhaps, rather later Basilidians – who made extensive use of numerous ‘NT’ writings, including the Gospels. 7. Epiphanius: Reworking Irenaeus and Encountering the Later (and Amorous) Followers of Basilides In his Panarion (ca. 374–377 C.E.), Epiphanius of Salamis (ca. 310/320– 402/3 C.E.) seems to know some form of the tradition preserved by Irenaeus:37 He [Basilides] claims that not Jesus, but Simon of Cyrene, has suffered. When the Lord was taken (ἐκβάλλεσθαι) from Jerusalem, as the sequence of the Gospel has it (ὡς ἔχει ἡ ἀκολουθία τοῦ εὐαγγελίου), they compelled a certain Simon of Cyrene38 to bear the cross. . . . While he [Simon] was being crucified, Jesus stood opposite him unseen, laughing at those who were crucifying Simon (ἐκείνου δὲ σταυρουµένου ἕστηκεν καταντικρὺς ἀοράτως ὁ Ἰησοῦς, καταγελῶν τῶν τὸν Σίµωνα σταυρούντων). But he himself flew off on 35 According to the Refutatio, Basilides’s use of the ‘NT’ Gospels is, for the most part, limited to their opening chapters. See Haer. VII.21.3 (possibly alluding to Mark 4:30–32 par.); VII.22.3–4 (citing John 1:9 after Gen 1:3); VII.26.9 (citing Luke 1:35); VII.27.5 (citing John 2:4b, and then mentioning the Magi of Matt 2:1–6 [οἱ µάγοι . . . τὸν ἀστέρα τεθεαµένοι]). At no point is the term εὐαγγέλιον used in connection with any of these Gospel citations or allusions, however. Cf. Hipp. Haer. VII.22.13 (possibly alluding to Eph 1:21); VII.23.5 (apparently alluding to 1 Cor 3:10); VII.25.2 (citing a combination of Rom 5:13, 14a); VII.25.3 (citing Exod 6:2–3; Eph 3:5a); VII.25.5 (citing parts of Rom 8:22, 19; Eph 1:21); VII.26.2 (citing Prov 1:7; 9:10; Ps 110:10); VII.26.3 (citing 1 Cor 2:7, 13); VII.26.4 (citing a combination of Pss 31:5–6; 51:11); VII.26.7 (citing Eph 3:5a, 3a; 2 Cor 12:4). 36 Concurring with Löhr, Basilides, 313–23, that Hippolytus does not offer a reliable witness to the historical Basilides. 37 With Löhr, Basilides, 273: “Der Basilidesbericht bei Irenäus, haer. 1,24,3–7 ist direkt oder indirekt die Quelle weiterer häresiologischer Referate bei Pseudotertullian, Epiphanius v. Salamis sowie Filastrius von Brescia.” 38 Gk.: ἠγγάρευσάν τινα Σίµωνα Κυρηναῖον. Notable in Epiphanius’s paraphrase of this gospel material is the mixture of materials that are distinctively Matthean (ἠγγάρευσάν, apparently from Matt 27:32; cf. Mark 15:21: ἀγγαρεύουσιν) and Markan (τινα Σίµωνα Κυρηναῖον, apparently from Mark 15:21; pace Matt 27:32: ἄνθρωπον Κυρηναῖον ὀνόµατι Σίµωνα). Greek text: K. Holl, Epiphanius (GCS 25; Vol. 1; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1915). English translations may be found in F. Williams, The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis (NHS 35; Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies 36; Leiden: Brill, 1987–94); and P. R. Amidon, The Panarion of St. Epiphanius, Bishop of Salamis: Selected Passages (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990).

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high once he had delivered Simon to crucifixion, and returned to heaven without suffering.39

It is doubtful that Epiphanius’s version of Irenaeus’s (questionable) testimony is a reliable source for the historical Basilides, however. 40 Epiphanius visited Egypt around 335 C.E. and came into contact there with Basilidians, who apparently tried both to convert and to seduce him (see Panarion 26.17.4–9). At one point, Epiphanius quotes Basilides as follows: But the vagabond [Basilides] says (ἀλλά φησιν ὁ ἀγύρτης), “We are [the ones who are] the human beings (ἐσµὲν οἱ ἄνθρωποι), and all the others are pigs and dogs (ὕες καὶ κύνες). Therefore he/it40a said (διὰ τοῦτο εἶπεν), ‘Do not cast pearls before the swine or give what is holy to the dogs (µὴ βάλητε τοὺς µαργαρίτας ἔµπροσθεν τῶν χοίρων µηδὲ δῶτε τὸ ἅγιον τοῖς κυσίν [= Matt 7:6b, a]).’” (Panarion 24.5.2)

Here, the two imperatives of Matt 7:6a–b appear in reverse order (!), without the possessive pronoun ὑµῶν.41 Epiphanius includes none of the remainder of the saying as preserved in Matt 7:6c–d.42 Although this saying is not attested in the other ‘NT’ Gospels, Did. 9:5 contains part of it (Μὴ δῶτε τὸ ἅγιον τοῖς κυσί), possibly from some form of Matt 7:6a. In the Gospel of Thomas 93, moreover, a version of the saying reflects redactional expansion that interrupts the flow of the version of the saying as preserved in Matthew.43 We infer that if a written source lies behind this testimony of Epiphanius, it is most probably either Matthew or some writing based upon Matthew. Of course, our analysis of Panarion 24.5.2 does not imply anything in regard to Basilides’s own use of ‘gospel’ materials.

C. Did Basilides Write a Gospel? As we mentioned in the introduction to this article, von Campenhausen is cautious concerning what can be known about the content of Basilides’s Gospel but is nevertheless persuaded that such a writing did circulate with 39

Epiphan. Pan. 24.3.2, 4; cf. 24.4.1; 24.8.6–8; 24.9.3–24.10.4. With Löhr, Basilides, 37, 275–80; see above on Iren. Haer. 1.24.4. 40a The subject of εἶπεν is unclear. It could be, e.g., Basilides himself, Jesus, or even a ‘Gospel.’ 41 Matt 7:6a–b: Μὴ δῶτε τὸ ἅγιον τοῖς κυσὶν µηδὲ βάλητε τοὺς µαργαρίτας ὑµῶν ἔµπροσθεν τῶν χοίρων. Cf. Grant, Second-Century Christianity, 21. 42 Matt 7:6c–d: µήποτε καταπατήσουσιν αὐτοὺς ἐν τοῖς ποσὶν αὐτῶν καὶ στραφέντες ῥήξωσιν ὑµᾶς. 43 Gos. Thom. 93: “[Jesus said,] ‘Do not give what is holy to dogs, lest they throw them on the dung heap. Do not throw the pearls [to] swine, lest they . . . it [. . .].’” ET: T. O. Lambdin in J. M. Robinson (gen. ed.), NHL, 136. 40

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the title εὐαγγέλιον.44 He bases this inference upon the testimony of Agrippa Castor, as preserved by Eusebius of Caesarea: “In expounding his [Basilides’s] mysteries he [Castor] says that he [Basilides] compiled twenty-four books on the gospel (φησὶν αὐτὸν εἰς µὲν τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τέσσαρα πρὸς τοῖς εἴκοσι συντάξαι βιβλία)” (Hist. eccl. 4.7.7; cf. 4.7.4–6). Von Campenhausen’s inference rests, of course, upon the reliability of this testimony. Whether this passage in Eusebius means that Basilides compiled gospel materials (presumably, from sundry Gospels), or materials about the gospel (that is, commentaries), hangs on the interpretation of the verb συντάσσω. Elsewhere in his Church History, Eusebius uses this verb in a citation of the (notoriously problematic) testimony of Papias of Hierapolis, that “Matthew compiled the sayings (τὰ λόγια συνετάξατο) in the Hebrew/Aramaic language, and each one interpreted them as he was able” (Hist. eccl. 3.39.16). Here, the meaning of συντάσσω is quite straightforward: Matthew is said to have “compiled” or “organized” a collection of Hebrew/Aramaic sayings of Jesus. If this understanding of συντάσσω45 is applied to Hist. eccl. 4.7.7, it would follow that Eusebius (perhaps also Agrippa Castor) views Basilides’s work as primarily a compilation and/or an arrangement of gospel materials, not commentaries “on the Gospel.” The fragments of Basilides’s surviving work, however, cannot be used to verify the accuracy of the testimony of Agrippa Castor (or at least Eusebius’s presentation of it). Moreover, it would be mistaken to claim that, in the absence of polemic against Basilides, Eusebius’s testimony could be taken at face value.46 We conclude that von Campenhausen’s inference – based on uncorroborated testimony (Hist. eccl. 4.7.7) that Basilides’s Gospel was known as τὸ εὐαγγέλιον – is tenuous.47

44 Von Campenhausen, Formation, 139 n. 161: “In all probability it was at first, as Agrippa Castor says . . . referred to by them simply as ‘the Gospel’. The designation κατὰ βασιλείδην εὐαγγέλιον . . . may not originally have been attached to it.” 45 Cf. BDAG, 974, s.v. συντάσσω. 46 Pace Löhr, Basilides, 11–12. 47 With Löhr, Basilides, 33; cf. 33–34 on the work of Psalms that Origen elsewhere (Comm. Job 21.12) attributes to Basilides. Löhr, Basilides, 211, further opines in regard to Orig. Comm. ser. Matt. 38 (on Matt 24:7): “Unser Fragment gibt uns also keinen Aufschluß über eine positive Lehre des Basilides und seiner Anhänger. . . .” H.-C. Puech, “Gospel of Basilides,” 399 (cf. 398), likewise voices caution about what can be known about this work: “In short, it must be said that all conjectures concerning the Gospel of Basilides remain uncertain.”

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D. The Content and Scope of Basilides’s Treatises (Exegetica) 1. Did Basilides Write a Gospel (or a Biblical) “Commentary”? As noted above, Zahn, Windisch, Grant, Layton, Löhr, E. Procter and M. J. Edwards maintain that Basilides wrote a Gospel (or a biblical) commentary.48 It remains to consider whether the evidence could support their view. Indeed, it does not. Two of the three surviving portions of Basilides’s work do not engage in biblical interpretation or ‘exegesis’ of any kind. One is a treatise on Providence (Clem. Strom. 4.12.81.2–83.1), and the other reflects a dualistic understanding of good and evil (Acta Archelai 67.7–11). How much interest Basilides may have had in the Parable of the Rich Man and the Poor Man (Luke 16:19–31) is not clear from the short allusion in Acta Archelai 67.5c. Thus, the surviving portions of Basilides’s Treatises (or Exegetica) do not commend a characterization of Basilides’s work as ‘exegesis’ of the Gospel(s) or, for that matter, as any kind of a biblical commentary. Nor do they support Löhr’s description of Basilides’s oeuvre as taking Scripture for the starting point to explore various theological topics. 49 Although someone like Irenaeus in the second century could be described as an exegete without having produced an entire work comprising a biblical commentary, the surviving evidence does not support an analogous description of Basilides. 2. ΕΞΗΓΗΤΙΚΑ as a Literary Designation or Title If Basilides did not write a Gospel (or a biblical) commentary, why did he come to be credited with having done so? The origins of this influential position in scholarship are perhaps indebted to Clement of Alexandria’s use of Exegetica as the title for Basilides’s work (Ἐξηγητικά, Strom. 4.12.81.1). Unlike the title that the Acta Archelai says that Basilides himself supplied (“Treatises,” Acta Archelai 67.5a [tractatuum eius]; 67.5b [nobis tractatuum]), Clement’s title may have suggested to some scholars that Basilides was an “exegete” of Scripture. As we will see, even if one were to suppose that Exegetica served as a title for Basilides’s work, an inference on this basis that he was an exegete would be unnecessary and, possibly, unwarranted. Prior to Origen in the mid-third century, the term Ἐξηγητικά almost never connotes a commentary on an esteemed body of literature. Rather, the adjective ἐξηγητικός designates a “narrative” or, more aptly for the sur-

48 49

See above, nn. 5–7. Löhr, Basilides, 12–13; cf. 34, 215, 325–26, 329.

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viving fragments of Basilides’s writing, an “explanation.”50 The physician Galen (d. 199/200 C.E.), for example, uses the adjective to refer to his own and others’ medical works as ἐξηγητικὰ ὑποµνήµατα (“explanatory treatises”).51 The only possible exception I have found is Eusebius of Caesarea’s description of a work by the Hellenistic Jewish author Aristobulus of Alexandria (2nd c. B.C.E.): βίβλους ἐξηγητικὰς τοῦ Μωυσέως νόµου (“books that explain [or: ‘exegete’] the Law of Moses,” Hist. eccl. 7.32.16).52 We note that Eusebius (d. ca. 340 C.E.) is later than Basilides (and Origen), but may well have used ἐξηγητικά to describe Aristobulus’s work as explanatory of the Jewish Law in relation to Aristotelian philosophy (cf. Euseb. Praep. evang. 8.9) rather than as a commentary on the Law. Moreover, Ἐξηγητικά (less frequently, the singular Ἐξηγητικόν) is attested as the title of works, for example, by the historian Autocleides (fl. early-3rd c. B.C.E.) on Alexander the Great.53 Unfortunately, like that of 50

LSJ, s.v. ἐξηγητικός. See also, e.g., Acusilaus (Hist.; 5 th c. B.C.E.) Test. 5.2; Antigonus (Paradox.; 3rd c. B.C.E.) Hist. mir. 60b.1.11; Chrysippus Soleus (Phil.; 3 rd c. B.C.E.) Frag. logica et physica 174.9; 1018.2; Frag. moralia 613.5; 614.4; Diogenes Babylonius (Phil.; 2nd c. B.C.E.) Frag. 64.3; Arius Didymus (Doxogr.; 1 st c. B.C.E.) Liber de philos. sectis 77.1.16; 80.1.3; Aristonicus Alex. (Gramm.; 1st c. B.C.E.–1st c. C.E.) De sig. Od. 16.18.3. 51 Gal. De sanitate tuenda 6.107.8–9 (διὰ τῶν ἐξηγητικῶν ὑποµνηµάτων, in the context of defending the views of ‘Hippocrates’ from the criticisms of Theon of Smyrna [fl. 130 C . E .]); cf. 6.106.4; Gal. De difficultate respirationis 7.764.11–12 (ἐξηγητικά τε γραφόντων ὑποµνήµατα τῶν συγγραµµάτων αὐτοῦ, on writings by Hippocratic physicians); Gal. In Hippocratis de victu acutorum 15.749.6–7 (summarizing a point that Galen has made in greater detail elsewhere: λέλεκται γὰρ ἤδη περὶ τούτου πολλάκιϲ ἐν ἄλλοιϲ τέ τιϲιν ὑποµνήµαϲιν ἐξηγητικοῖϲ καὶ ἐν τοῖϲ Περὶ κρίϲεων); Greek texts: K. G. Kühn (ed.), Claudii Galeni, Opera omnia (Hildesheim: Olms, 2001 [1821]). 52 Greek: M. Black and A.-M. Denis (eds.), Apocalypsis Henochi Graece; Fragmenta pseudepigraphorum quae supersunt Graeca (PVTG 3; Leiden: Brill, 1970), 217–28 at 227. 53 The loci classici cited in LSJ (s.v. ἐξηγητικά) are incomplete and not entirely correct. The title of Autocleides’s work is attested in Plutarch Nicias 23.9.2–3 (Αὐτοκλείδης διέγραψεν ἐν τοῖς ἐξηγητικοῖς). The Greek text is available, e.g., in B. Perrin, Plutarch’s Lives (LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 1916), 3:292. Plutarch may have derived this information from Philochorus of Athens (Hist.; 4th–3rd c. B.C.E.) Frag. 3b.328.F.135b. Other references to works with the title Exegetica (or Exegeticon) include Aeschylus (Trag.; 6th–5th c. B.C.E.) Frag. 42.A.480a.2, on a work by Timosthenes. On an Exegetica by Anticledes, see Demon of Athens (Hist.; 4th–3rd c. B.C.E.) Frag. 22.6–7 (ὡς Ἀντικλείδης ἐν τοῖς ἐξηγητικοῖς ὑποσηµαίνει); Crates of Athens (Hist.; 1st c. B.C.E.) Frag. 3.5; Harpocration of Alexandria (Gramm.; 1st or 2nd c. C.E.?) Lex. 233.5; 258.2 (cf. 200.11; 224.1). See also Clidemus of Athens (Hist.; 5th c. B.C.E.) Frag. 20.4–5 (ὡς καὶ Κλείδηµος ἐν τῷ ἐπιγραφοµένῳ Ἐξηγητικῷ); Phaenias Eresius (Phil.; 4th c. B.C.E.) Frag. 22b.4; Aristophanes Byzantius (Gramm.; 3rd–2nd c. B.C.E.) Frag. 76.4; Erotianus

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Basilides, the Exegetica of Autocleides’s and of so many others do not survive. For the present study, it suffices to note that what can be ascertained about these Exegetica does not support the classification of Basilides’s Exegetica as a commentary on an esteemed body of Christian literature, but it does commend the straightforward inference that Basilides’s work provided “explanations” (ἐξηγητικά) of his own theology. In fact, even though Clement gives Ἐξηγητικά as the title of Basilides’s work, he never claims that the work is “exegetical.” In his Stromateis, Clement uses Ἐξηγητικά in reference to two different works other than that of Basilides: an Exegetica by Julius Cassian (fl. late-2nd c.) and the Explanations of the Prophet Parchor by Basilides’s son Isidore. In neither case does the term Ἐξηγητικά suggest that its use for Basilides’s work refers to exegesis. Clement mentions Julius Cassian’s work in connection with his own argument that the philosophy of the Hebrews will be demonstrated beyond all contradiction to be the most ancient of all wisdom. This has been discussed with accuracy (ἀκριβῶς) by Tatian in his book To the Greeks, and by Cassian in the first book of his Exegetica (ἐν τῷ πρώτῳ τῶν Ἐξηγητικῶν).54

Although Cassian’s (lost) writing would obviously have reflected interest in the Mosaic Law, Clement presents the work not exclusively (or primarily) as a biblical commentary but as a discussion of Scripture in relation to Hellenistic philosophic literature. Nor do Clement’s three citations from Isidore’s Explanations of the Prophet Parchor indicate that Isidore’s work is in any way exegetical.55 It is intriguing that, when citing from Isidore’s (Gramm. et Med.; 1st c. C.E.) Vocum Hippocr. 85.6, 10; 115.5; 116.12; Frag. 40.2; Athenaeus (Soph.; 2nd–3rd c. C.E.) Deipn. 9.78.7–8; 11.34.18; 11.46.4 (ὡς καὶ Κλείδηµος ἐν τῷ ἐπιγραφοµένῳ Ἐξηγητικῷ). 54 Clem. Strom. 1.21.101.2; ET (modified): ANF 2:324. Little is known about Clement’s apparent contemporary in Alexandria, Julius Cassian, whose encratism Clement criticizes elsewhere (Strom. 3.14.95.2–3). 55 Clem. Strom. 6.6.53.2–5: “And Isidore, at once son and disciple to Basilides, in the first book of the Expositions of the Prophet Parchor (ἐν τῷ πρώτῳ τῶν τοῦ προφήτου Παρχὼρ Ἐξηγητικῶν), writes also in these words: ‘The Attics say that certain things were intimated to Socrates, in consequence of a demon attending on him. And Aristotle says that all men are provided with demons, that attend on them during the time they are in the body – having taken this piece of prophetic instruction and transferred it to his own books, without acknowledging whence he had abstracted this statement.’ And again, in the second book of the same work (ἐν τῷ δευτέρῳ τῆς αὐτῆς συντάξεως), he thus writes: ‘And let no one think that what we say is peculiar to the elect was said before by any philosophers. For it is not a discovery of theirs. For having appropriated it from our prophets, they attributed it to him who is wise according to them.’ Again, in the same (ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ): ‘For to me it appears that those who profess to philosophize, do so that they may learn what is the winged oak, and the variegated robe on it, all of which Pherecydes has employed as theological allegories, having taken them from the prophecy of Chum.’”

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Explanations, Clement uses interchangeably the terms Ἐξηγητικά (Strom. 6.6.53.2) and σύνταξις (6.6.53.4).55a Our inference that Basilides’s writing gave “explanations” of (Ἐξηγητικά), or “treatises” on (cf. tractatuum eius, Acta Archelai 67.5a), his system accords with what the surviving fragments reveal about his work, and with the customary use of ἐξηγητικά until Origen in the midthird century. However tempting it may be to interpret Basilides’s socalled Ἐξηγητικά in proto-Orthodox terms,56 or to highlight his purported innovation, the notion that he wrote an extensive Gospel (or biblical) commentary is unfounded and most probably inaccurate. This conclusion does not, however, dispute (or confirm) the importance of Jesus in Basilides’s thought. In an analogous way, the apostle Paul places much weight on Jesus’ significance, but reflects rather little interest in written Gospel materials.

E. Conclusion: Basilides and “Gospel” in the First Half of the Second Century We view as highly unlikely the possibility that Basilides wrote a “Gospel” focused primarily on the life and teachings of Jesus. Nor is there credible evidence that he applied the name εὐαγγέλιον to (any of) his own work(s) (cf. Hipp. Haer. VII.25.5; 26.1, 4, 5; 27.7; X.14.9; Epiphan. Pan. 24.5.2). These conclusions do not necessarily set aside another possibility, however, namely that Basilides wrote a Gospel whose content differed significantly from that, for example, of the ‘NT’ Gospels and the Gospel of Thomas. First, it must be pointed out that in the second century an evangelium scriptum need not have been a narrative Gospel (like, for example, the ‘NT’ Gospels or the Gospel of Peter). A possible indication that a work bearing the designation εὐαγγέλιον could also be a theological work is the ‘Gnostic’ Gospel of Truth found at Nag Hammadi, and sometimes attributed to Valentinus (ca. 105–165 C.E.).57 Irenaeus, moreover, mentions the acceptance of a (the?) Gospel of Truth among the Valentinians, as well as 55a

See the citation above (n. 55) of Strom. 6.6.53.2–5. E.g., Euseb. Praep. evang. 6.10.50.7, referring to Orig. Comm. Gen. (ἐν τοῖς Εἰς τὴν Γένεσιν ἐξηγητικοῖς ὁ θαυµάσιος Ὠριγένης). 57 This is only a hypothetical possibility, however. On the uncertainties concerning the authorship of the Gospel of Truth and its original title (if it had one in antiquity), see Markschies, Valentinus Gnosticus? Untersuchungen zur valentinianischen Gnosis mit einem Kommentar zu den Fragmenten Valentins (WUNT 65; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992), esp. 339–47. 56

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differences in content between whatever Gospel he knows by this name and the “Gospels of the apostles” (Haer. 3.11.9). At least for Irenaeus in the late second century, there was no problem with using the term εὐαγγέλιον even for a ‘heretical’ Gospel whose content differed significantly from that of the ‘NT’ Gospels.58 As a consequence, our conclusions about what kind of a Gospel Basilides did not write should be qualified. But if one understands Gospel as a narrative type of text (like the ‘NT’ Gospels), then any support for the contentions of K. Aland, W. Bauer, W. Foerster, G. May, E. Procter, H. von Campenhausen and A. Gregory that Basilides wrote a Gospel is meager. There is no use of the term “gospel” (εὐαγγέλιον) in connection with any writing by Basilides prior to Origen. Moreover, Hippolytus (especially Haer. VII.27.7) consistently attributes to Basilides understandings of εὐαγγέλιον as oral proclamation or revelation, not as a writing. Although it is possible that Basilides wrote a Gospel like the Gospel of Truth, again, there is no evidence of it. Epiphanius’s citation of “Basilides,” reproduced by K. Aland in his Synopsis Quattuor Evangeliorum and regarded as indication for the existence of a “Gospel of Basilides,” must therefore be viewed with skepticism: The citation and the explanation of the text is, in essence, no different than what any number of patristic witnesses – from Irenaeus to John Chrysostom – preserve, namely a passage quoted from the “common” text of the author’s time and place, and then interpreted according to that author’s understanding. Scholars do not presume that these Church Fathers were quoting their own Gospel – a “Gospel of Irenaeus,” for example. Why, then, make such a presumption in regard to Basilides? We therefore suggest that if Basilides ever did write a Gospel, a possible literary analogy could be the Gospel of Truth. Indeed, the latter work bears some resemblance to the ‘narrative’ or ‘explanation’ that Basilides provides for his system in his Treatises (Exegetica). Although we dismiss the notions that Basilides wrote either a Gospel commentary or a Gospel like Mark, John or Thomas, these conclusions do not discount Basilides’s prominence as a Christian leader in early-second century Alexandria. If anything, our study highlights the distinctiveness of Basilides among the many voices and writings that flourished in early Christianity. 58

Thus, Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels, 22, does not persuade when he assumes a connection between the designation εὐαγγέλιον and the content of a written “gospel”: “This book [the Gospel of Truth] may have been composed by the famous Gnostic teacher Valentinus, and must be dated in the middle of the [second] century. It is not a writing that belongs to the gospel literature; but it is a homily or meditation. It uses the term ‘gospel’ in its incipit. . . .” An ET of the Gospel of Truth by H. W. Attridge and G. W. MacRae is available in J. M. Robinson (gen. ed.), NHL, 40–51. See further H.-J. Klauck, Apocryphal Gospels: An Introduction (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 2003 [2002]), 106, 123.

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Abstract: The surviving witnesses to Basilides of Alexandria (fl. 120–140 C.E.) reflect considerable variety and confusion in regard to what he may have written. Attempts to present Basilides as the author of a “Gospel,” or as an “exegete” of Christian Scripture, are based on precious little evidence, which has at times been misinterpreted. This article argues that the surviving portions of Basilides’s Exegetica (Treatises) show only a limited interest in gospel materials. If Basilides did indeed write a Gospel, it was not a narrative or sayings Gospel primarily on the life or teachings of Jesus. Finally, prior to Origen in the mid-third century C.E., the designation (or title) Exegetica did not denote an “exegetical” commentary. Clement of Alexandria’s title for Basilides’s work (Ἐξηγητικά, Strom. 4.12.81.1) supports instead the inference that this writing comprised “explanations” of Basilides’s theological system.

Chapter 6

The Struggle to Define Heilsgeschichte: Paul on the Origins of the Christian Tradition* A. Introduction The posing, refining, and, sometimes, rejecting of explanations about origins may be a fundamental component of any shared human consciousness, relationship, or religious community. This article analyzes the extent to which defining the origins of the Christian tradition played a role in Paul’s theology and responses to his opponents. Our study takes its point of departure from Paul A. Holloway’s approach to the apostle’s rhetoric in Philippians, and from Arthur J. Droge’s study of the (later) Christian apologists’ interpretations of the history of culture.1 1. Addressing the Present Rhetorical Situation Holloway’s work on Philippians is noteworthy for moving beyond the methodological impasse of “mirror reading” a Pauline letter. According to Holloway, rhetoric serves to define the current situation, as the author wishes to present it. The attempt to analyze a particular rhetorical situation must be differentiated from historical reconstruction, which seeks to proceed beyond an author’s presentation of the situation and to assess, to the extent possible, ‘what actually happened.’2 Our study examines Paul’s at*

Original publication: Biblical Research 48 (2003): 45–67. Dedicated with thanks and appreciation to Gerald F. Hawthorne, whose many years of teaching and service at Wheaton College (IL) have touched so many, myself included. This article is a revision of a paper presented to the Chicago Society of Biblical Research Winter 2003 meeting. I am indebted to Troy W. Martin and Matthew C. Baldwin, whose comments have sharpened the analysis of the present study. I am also grateful for support from the Catholic Biblical Association of America and the Society of Biblical Literature for research in this area. 1 Holloway, Consolation in Philippians: Philosophical Sources and Rhetorical Strategy (SNTSMS 112; Cambridge: Cambridge University, 2001); Droge, Homer or Moses? Early Christian Interpretations of the History of Culture (HUT 26; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1989). 2 Without this distinction between the goals of a rhetorical analysis and historical reconstruction, the aims of a rhetorical analysis, on the one hand, and the pitfalls of mirror reading, on the other hand, can be confused. See Holloway, Consolation, 34–41, esp. 35

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tempts to define the distant past and how competing attempts to define that past affected sometimes dueling theological statements and presentations of the rhetorical situation in Paul’s day. 2. Paul Compared with Later Christian Apologists on Origins In his innovative and erudite work on the Christian apologists’ indebtedness to Second Temple Jewish historiographers (for example, Eupolemus, Artapanus and Philo), Arthur Droge studies “how, in the last centuries of antiquity, Christianity was able to fashion a new beginning of the world and of mankind – a beginning based not on the myths of Homer or Hesiod, but on those of Moses.”3 Starting with Justin Martyr, Droge calls attention to the apologists’ desires “to refute the objection that Christianity was ‘new’ and therefore suspect,” to introduce “Greeks and Romans . . . to the ‘history’ of Moses,” and “to explain why Christianity diverged from the traditional religion of the Jews.”4 Writing generations after Paul and (most of) the NT authors, these apologists aimed to demonstrate the historical priority of (Judeo-)Christianity to Classical antiquity, thanks in large part to a supersessionist appropriation of a pre-Classical Moses. At the beginning of his study, Droge suggests that the quest for an individual’s or group’s “beginning” may be a universal characteristic of all humanity.5 Moreover, Droge intimates that, within early Christianity, taking up such a search was an innovation of the apologists.6 These two theses of Droge stand in tension with one another: Is the quest for beginnings or defining one’s origins to be found in all human experience – and thus, presumably, in much (if not all) religious literature, including the HB and NT? Or, are these developments within Judaism and Christianity to be credited to postbiblical authors – respectively, Jewish historians such as Eupolemus and Josephus, and Christian apologists such as Justin and Theophilus? We argue that, well before the second-century apologists, the earliest surviving Christian author, Paul, shows a vested interest in defining the n. 5, “that the ‘rhetorical situation’ exists ultimately as a conclusion in the mind of an author. . . .” Cf. Scott Consigny, “Rhetoric and Its Situations,” Philosophy and Rhetoric 7 (1974): 175–86. 3 Droge, Homer, p. vii. Droge argues that Theophilus of Antioch was the first Christian author to make “explicit use of these Jewish writers” (Homer, 8; cf. 102–18). 4 Ibid., p. vii. We could, question, however, whether the task of introducing “Greeks and Romans . . . to the ‘history’ of Moses” (ibid.) was for the benefit of outsiders or of the Christians themselves. 5 Ibid., quoting George Eliot, Daniel Deronda: “Men can do nothing without the make-believe of a beginning.” 6 Droge, Homer, 200: “In the view of educated Greeks and Romans Christianity’s Hellenic credentials were at best suspect and at worst nonexistent. It was the achievement of the apologists to bring Christianity within the pale of Hellenism and antiquity.”

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distant past. Although Paul did not engage the same range of issues as the apologists did, the work of Justin and others to trace Christian beginnings is not to be regarded as a completely new development in early Christian literature. Rather, the apologists’ interest in origins has roots not only in Hellenistic/Roman Judaism but also in a preoccupation with origins already in the NT. 3. The Earliest Conceptions of the Origins of the Christian Tradition A final prolegomenon concerns what we mean by the origins of the Christian tradition (or “Christian Origins”). Specialists in Christian Origins seek to explain how a small group of Jewish followers of a prophet named Jesus eventually became separate from Judaism, a religion with its own rituals and literature. There is no shortage of learned studies explaining the origins of the Jesus movement in terms of its relation to (other) forms of Judaism and to ancient Greco-Roman society as a whole, as well as the reasons for the success of the early Christian mission.7 Most modern studies of Christian Origins reflect little interest in whether, let alone in how, the earliest Christ-believers themselves construed the origins of their religion. Some NT writings, then, may be harvested for the light they shed on Christian Origins, but the theological reflections on origins by the ancient authors themselves receive scant attention, if any. The Acts of the Apostles, with its (historicized) presentation of the nascent Jesus movement, points, however, to more than a casual interest in the origins of the Jesus movement. In this article, we seek to address a lacuna in 7

The scholarly literature on this subject is vast and reflects an astonishing range of methodological variety. See, e.g., Ramsay MacMullen, Christianizing the Roman Empire: A.D. 100–400 (New Haven: Yale University, 1984); R. Joseph Hoffmann (ed.), The Origins of Christianity: A Critical Introduction (Buffalo, NY: Prometheus Books, 1985); Jonathan Z. Smith, “On the Origin of Origins,” in idem, Drudgery Divine: On the Comparison of Early Christianities and the Religions of Late Antiquity (Jordan Lectures in Comparative Religion 14; Chicago Studies in the History of Judaism; Chicago: University of Chicago, 1990), 1–35; F. Gerald Downing, Cynics and Christian Origins (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1992); Burton L. Mack, The Lost Gospel: The Book of Q & Christian Origins (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1993); Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity: A Sociologist Reconsiders History (Princeton: Princeton University, 1996). Étienne Nodet and Justin Taylor, The Origins of Christianity: An Exploration (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1998); Michael L. Humphries, Christian Origins and the Language of the Kingdom of God (Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University, 1999); Ross Shepard Kraemer and Mary Rose D’Angelo (eds.), Women & Christian Origins (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999); Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Dead Sea Scrolls and Christian Origins (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000); W. W. Meissner, The Cultic Origins of Christianity: The Dynamics of Religious Development (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2000); Gregory J. Riley, The River of God: A New History of Christian Origins (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2001).

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NT studies, with attention to how Paul and his opponents developed dueling conception(s) of Christian Origins. An understanding of how some preLukan Christ-believers defined their past can shed light on how they addressed issues they and their communities faced in their present. Our study gives full weight also to debates about early Christian selfdefinition which took place over time as a result of dynamic interactions with the Greco-Roman world, with (other) Jews, and with other sorts of Christ-believers. To the extent that the earliest conceptions of the origins of the Christian tradition have been studied, however, scholarship has usually been focused on NT Theology, which all too often has presumed, or sought to establish, an essential unity of thought in the NT and other early Christian literature. Our working hypothesis is that questions of selfdefinition and of origins vis-à-vis defining the past are dynamically related. As soon as an author or a community begins to define who “we” are, questions pertaining to “our” origins are likely to follow (or vice-versa). Thus, the title for this study, “The Struggle to Define Heilsgeschichte,” is intentional, allowing full scope for the diversity that existed in earliest Christianity and for the impact of that diversity on early Christian selfdefinition. Constructions of origins did not occur in a vacuum and oftentimes reflected an author’s attacks on a competing construction of origins, or a rejoinder to another’s objection (whether actual or anticipated). Our analysis of Paul’s presentations of Christian Origins gives particular attention to how the apostle appeals to the following in order to forge explanations for the origins of the Christian tradition: – – – –

Hebrew Scripture Traditions about Jesus Apostolic Figures and Their Authority Converts to the Paulinist Jesus Movement

Whereas most scholars have tended to focus on how an early Christian author addressed a current situation, we examine how defining the past in connection with these four areas impacted issues faced in early Christianity. We proceed inductively through portions of each of the seven undisputed Pauline Letters, after which we consider synthetically what can be said about Paul’s presentations of the origins of the Christian tradition.

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B. Defining the Recent Past: First Thessalonians, Philippians, Philemon, and First Corinthians 1. First Thessalonians: The Positive Grounding of a Congregation’s Origins Paul defines the origins of individual Christian communities and describes his relations with those communities to support his sundry aims in several of his letters (1 Thess 1:9–10; Phil 1:3–6; Phlm 10–19; 1 Cor 6:9–11; Gal 3:1–5; 4:8–20). For example, he summarizes a report of the Thessalonian Christians’ conversion early in his letter in the statement of thanksgiving (or proemium): For they8 report about us what kind of welcome we had among you, and how you turned to God from idols, to serve a living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead. . . . (1 Thess 1:9–10)

Besides citing the Thessalonians’ conversion from polytheism, Paul emphasizes his earlier warm reception from the Thessalonians and, subsequently, his longing to visit them (2:1–3:13), who are now confused about his teaching about the end of the world. Paul’s response in 1 Thess 4:13– 5:11 reveals that the deaths of some of the Thessalonian Christians gave rise to the fear that either the dead had been lost or those still alive had missed Christ’s return. Paul’s reference to this community’s origins (1 Thess 1:9–10) – in particular, their waiting “for [God’s] Son from heaven” – recalls Paul’s past role in the Thessalonians’ (still) legitimate faith and connects that faith to the Thessalonians’ continued hope for the parousia. In the body of this letter, Paul expands on his past and more recent relations with this community (2:1–3:13) before turning to the issue that requires a clarification about his teaching on Christ’s imminent return (4:13– 5:11). If Paul cannot affirm the two central tenets of the Thessalonians’ legitimate conversion (1:9–10) and the sincerity of his relations with them (2:1–3:13), he will not have credibility when addressing the grief and perplexity of those who lost loved ones prior to Christ’s anticipated parousia. 2. Philippians: Optimism Rooted in Past Faithfulness A second instance where Paul refers to a congregation’s origins is in Phil 1:3–6: “I thank my God every time I remember you . . . because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now” (Phil 1:3, 5). Because of 8 In 1 Thess 1:9a, Paul alludes to the saints in Macedonia and Achaia, mentioned explicitly in 1:7–8. That other believers also attest to this account of the past lends additional credibility to Paul’s implicit claims about the past in 1 Thess 1:9–10.

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the Philippian Christians’ auspicious beginning in the faith and their continued faithfulness, Paul is “confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ” (1:6). Paul’s inclusion of the Philippians’ origins already in his thanksgiving shows his eagerness to use these origins as a basis for addressing contemporary issues. We observed a similar eagerness in 1 Thess 1:9–10 and will see it again below (Gal 1:1; Rom 1:2–4). 3. Philemon: Conversions Re-define Socio-Economic Interactions In Philemon, Paul serves as a civil mediator between Philemon and Philemon’s slave, Onesimus, who had come to Paul as a fugitivus (v. 10). In Philemon’s view, Onesimus has been “useless” and untrustworthy in some financial matter and thus deserves to be punished (vv. 11, 18–19a). In seeking to set aside the determinative force of these past occurrences for Philemon’s present attitude toward Onesimus, Paul states that two other past occurrences – Paul’s conversion of Philemon and, more recently, of Onesimus (vv. 19b, 10) – call for a different perspective. Although Paul addresses the house church as a whole at the beginning and end of this letter (vv. 3, 22b, 25), the consistent use of the second person singular in vv. 4–22a indicates that the body of the letter addresses only Philemon, the benefactor (and leader?) of this community. Mention of Philemon’s conversion is tantamount to alluding to the origin of the congregation. Where would they be without their benefactor, Philemon? And where would Philemon be without his spiritual benefactor, Paul? In determining Philemon’s treatment of Onesimus, two past events (the conversions of Philemon and Onesimus) should take precedence over other past social and economic interactions (most notably, Onesimus’s failure9 in his duties as a slave). A redefining of what is significant from the past is arguably the dominant force in this short letter: Since both Onesimus and Philemon and, by extension, the congregation as a whole owe their existence in Christ to Paul, Paul has the authority to prioritize some parts of the past over others and to lay down the different ethical mandates that ensue for the present.

9

That shortcoming – and Paul’s affirmation that it would otherwise be regarded as such – is historically credible, since Paul does not dispute in Phlm 18–19a that it occurred. See further John G. Nordling, “Onesimus Fugitivus: A Defense of the Runaway Slave Hypothesis in Philemon,” JSNT 41 (1991): 97–119.

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4. One Conception of a Congregation’s Origins Is To Replace Another (1 Cor 6:9–11) In 1 Corinthians 6, Paul reminds the Corinthians of their former ways: Do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived! Fornicators, idolaters, adulterers, male prostitutes, sodomites, thieves, the greedy, drunkards, revilers, robbers – none of these will inherit the kingdom of God. And this is what some of you used to be (καὶ ταῦτά τινες ἦτε). (1 Cor 6:9–11a)

The Corinthians must not return to their former ways, for greater weight is allotted to their more recent experiences in Christ: “But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified (ἀλλὰ ἀπελούσασθε, ἀλλὰ ἡγιάσθητε, ἀλλὰ ἐδικαιώθητε) in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God” (6:11b–c). In 1 Cor 6:9–11, one conception of origins (identity from washing, sanctification, etc.) is to replace another (identity derived from a ‘pagan’ way of life). Paul further implores the Corinthians to choose between two mutually exclusive modes of conduct that follow from these two different origins. Even if some of the Corinthians may have objected that Paul poses a false dichotomy in 1 Cor 6:9–11, Paul senses that he now has the upper hand in the argument and, in 6:12, has confidence to cite with sarcasm the slogan of some in this congregation that “All things are lawful for” them.

C. Defining both the Recent and the Distant Past: Second Corinthians, Galatians, and Romans 1. Paul and the “Super-Apostles” in Corinth (2 Corinthians 10–13) Given the perhaps inevitable (and eventually recognized) diversity in the early Christ congregations, different versions of the “good news” would sooner or later come into conflict with one another. Such conflict would naturally give rise to a comparison of the origins of Christian leaders’ associations with the faith and hence to questions about those leaders’ authority. A prime example of a debate about dueling conceptions of apostolic authority is in Paul’s defense against the accusations of the “super-apostles,” who had come to the Corinthians subsequent to his own stay with them (2 Corinthians 10–13). Paul’s remarks about his own authority and that of the super-apostles are linked to different conceptions of the origins of the two authorities. In his defense, Paul appeals to the source of his calling and its relevance for his continued authority within the Pauline congregations and other Christian communities. Earlier, when Paul had written his second letter to the Corinthian Christians (our First Corinthians; cf. 1 Cor 5:9), he had shown an awareness on-

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ly of the congregation’s internal problems.10 Subsequent to the visit of Paul’s co-worker Timothy (1 Cor 4:17) and, later, Paul’s own painful visit to Corinth (2 Cor 2:1–3), the apostle had to, in 2 Corinthians 10–13, engage the Corinthians on a different front in regard to his authority. Understandably, the plethora of directives in response to individual and community issues that Paul had given in First Corinthians did not initially receive a favorable reaction, at least in part because there was not adequate support in the Corinthian church for Paul’s apostolic standing to issue those directives. a) Charges to Which Paul Does Not Respond Directly Two of the charges that Paul names in 2 Corinthians 10–13 – accusations about his lack of eloquence and not having collected money from the Corinthians – offer a view of the past that counts against Paul’s apostolic authority. Notably, Paul cannot deny the character of some of his past dealings with this congregation. From the beginning of 2 Corinthians 10– 13,11 he is on the defensive: “I who am humble when face to face with you, but bold toward you when I am away!” (2 Cor 10:1b). The problem is the Corinthians’ reception of other Christian leaders, whose speech was judged to be superior to his own.12 Since Paul is accused of being “bold” in his letters but unimpressive as an interlocutor, he retorts that, even if he himself is not an eloquent rhetorician (ἰδιώτης τῷ λόγῳ, 11:6a: “untrained in speech”), this purported deficiency does not render him inferior to the super-apostles.13 Because Paul cannot deny the Corinthians’ experience of

10 Paul wrote First Corinthians largely in response to the Corinthians’ letter to him (e.g., 1 Cor 7:1) and oral reports he had received, for example, from those sent by Chloe (1 Cor 1:10–11). 11 Against Udo Schnelle, The History and Theology of the New Testament Writings (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 79–87 (cf. 73–74), the following analysis assumes the composite nature of Second Corinthians. Paul’s incomplete understanding of the situation in Corinth when he wrote First Corinthians accounts for the disparity of materials addressed in First Corinthians and 2 Corinthians 10–13. See further: Dieter Georgi, The Opponents of Paul in Second Corinthians (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986), 9–18. 12 2 Cor 11:4: “For if someone comes and proclaims another Jesus (ἄλλον Ἰησοῦν) than the one we proclaimed, or if you receive a different spirit (πνεῦµα ἕτερον) from the one you received, or a different gospel (εὐαγγέλιον ἕτερον) from the one you accepted, you submit to it readily enough.” In 2 Cor 11:1–3, Paul hopes that the Corinthians will not be deceived, as Eve was in Genesis 3. 13 In 2 Cor 10:10, Paul summarizes this charge: “For they say (ὅτι . . . φησίν), ‘His letters are weighty and strong, but his bodily presence is weak, and his speech contemptible.’” See further Donald Dale Walker, Paul’s Offer of Leniency (2 Cor 10:1): Populist Ideology and Rhetoric in a Pauline Letter Fragment (WUNT 2.152; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), esp. 299–312.

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his weak face-to-face demeanor, he seeks, instead, to dismiss its relevance.14 An additional uncontested charge against Paul is that not having taken advantage of a patron/client relationship with the Corinthians by collecting money in support of his ministry shows that he did not have the authority of a legitimate apostle to do so (2 Cor 11:7–11). At this charge as well, Paul can only balk, stating simply that his opponents, who apparently did collect money from the Corinthians, are “false apostles” no less deceiving than is Satan himself.15 b) Charges to Which Paul Does Respond Directly Paul does, however, contest three other charges – about Jewish ethnicity, the reception of visions, and performing miracles. Like the other charges, these three are intricately related to different conceptions of apostolic authority and its origins. Paul’s Judeo-Christian opponents apparently boasted of their ethnicity: “Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they descendants of Abraham? So am I. Are they ministers of Christ? I am talking like a madman – I am a better one” (2 Cor 11:22–23a). On the face of it, Paul’s rejoinder may not seem cogent: Paul’s opponents would almost certainly have known that Paul, too, was an “Israelite,” given his “former way of life” (Gal 1:13) as a Pharisee. The opponents must have claimed a greater authority based on their origins than Paul is willing to acknowledge for them. If the super-apostles tried to exert authority based not only on Jewish ethnicity but also on association with the earthly Jesus (cf. Acts 1:21–22, discussed below), Paul’s need to boast about his sufferings for Christ (2 Cor 11:16–33) would be understandable. Paul’s argument would be that, even if his opponents knew Christ “according to the flesh” (cf. 2 Cor 5:16), Paul, too, has attained such knowledge through his sufferings as an apostle. His entitlement to authority, he maintains in 2 Corinthians 11, is different from, but nonetheless equal to, that of his opponents, who wished to exclude Paul from exercising authority on the basis of his inferior standing as a late-coming minister of Christ.

14 2 Cor 10:12: “We do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some of those who commend themselves. But when they measure themselves by one another, and compare themselves with one another, they do not show good sense.” 15 2 Cor 11:12–15; cf. 1 Cor 9:1–18. Paul must revisit a problem that he had previously acknowledged in 1 Corinthians 9, but now in 2 Cor 11:12–15 with greater awareness of the charges laid against him. Seemingly related to this second charge is the allegation, addressed in 2 Cor 12:14–18, that Paul had taken financial advantage of the Corinthians.

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Two additional criteria for the legitimacy of an apostle are the reception of “visions and revelations from the Lord”16 and the performing of miracles (2 Cor 12:11–13). With regard to the latter, Paul writes: I have been a fool! You forced me to it. Indeed you should have been the ones commending me, for I am not at all inferior to these super-apostles, even though I am nothing. The signs of a true apostle (τὰ . . . σηµεῖα τοῦ ἀποστόλου) were performed among you with utmost patience, signs and wonders and mighty works. How have you been worse off than the other churches, except that I myself did not burden you? Forgive me this wrong! (2 Cor 12:11–13)

When Paul insists that “the signs of a [genuine] apostle were performed among” the Corinthians, he emphasizes that he lives up to the criterion, given by his rivals, of performing miracles. His claim commends the inference that this criterion was likewise accepted by many of the Corinthians. Such broad acceptance of this standard suggests that the phrase τὰ σηµεῖα τοῦ ἀποστόλου was “a slogan” of Paul’s opponents and that the criterion of 2 Cor 12:12a did not originate with the apostle himself.17 Significantly, in 12:11–13 Paul moves effortlessly from discussing miracle working (vv. 11–12) to his not having asked the Corinthians for money (v. 13). The easy segue between miracles and money can be understood in light of Lucian of Samosata’s parody of a certain exorcist, the Syrian from Palestine, who was said to have restored the demon-possessed “for a large fee.”18 Lucian’s poking fun at the greediness of exorcists could ex16 2 Cor 12:1–10. In 12:5, Paul distinguishes between himself and the individual who was called up to the third heaven fourteen years ago. Paul may nonetheless be referring to his own ecstatic experience(s), since 12:5 may be a literary device, and since Paul returns to the first person in 2 Cor 12:6–10, citing his own sufferings (cf. 11:23–33). 17 With Bernd Kollmann, Jesus und die Christen als Wundertäter: Studien zu Magie, Medizin und Schamanismus in Antike und Christentum (FRLANT 170; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996), 328 (“ein Schlagwort”), and H. D. Betz, Der Apostel Paulus und die sokratische Tradition: Eine exegetische Untersuchung zu seiner “Apologie” 2 Korinther 10–13 (BHT 45; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1972), 70–100, esp. 70–71; but against J. Jervell, “The Signs of an Apostle: Paul’s Miracles” (1980), in idem, The Unknown Paul: Essays on Luke-Acts and Early Christian History (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg, 1984), 77–95 and 169–72 at 171 n. 35, who wonders, “Why cannot Paul himself have invented the label?” It is highly unlikely that Paul’s opponents would have applied to themselves (but not to Paul!) a slogan that ultimately stemmed from Paul himself. See further Kelhoffer, “The Apostle Paul and Justin Martyr on the Miraculous: A Comparison of Appeals to Authority,” GRBS 42 (2001): 163–84, esp. 165–67 (see chapter 10 in the present volume). 18 Gk.: ἐπὶ µισθῷ µεγάλῶ, Lover of Lies 16. This Syrian communicates directly with the demons, asking them whence and how they came into the victim, and subsequently drives them out. Lucian quickly dismisses Ion’s credulous ‘testimony’ to having seen “one coming out, black and smoky in color” as unremarkable (οὐ µέγα) and the type of phenomenon readily discerned from Platonic philosophy. The remainder of this passage is also helpful for understanding Lucian’s critique of exorcists and their adherents in

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plain the connection between miracles (12:11–12) and asking for money (12:13).19 It is plausible to envision the claim of Paul’s opponents that, because Paul does not receive from the Corinthians monetary reciprocity for his miracle working, he did not, in fact, act as a genuine worker of signs who merited compensation.20 2 Corinthians 10–13 reflects a battle of dueling presentations on the authority of Paul and of the super-apostles and on the differences between the relations of these authority figures with the believers in Corinth.21 Paul criticizes some of the super-apostles’ credentials and defends his own. The credentials on both sides are linked to different conceptions of the origins of their respective authorities.22 2. Debates about Origins in the Galatian Crisis a) The Origin of Paul’s Authority Paul begins his letter to the Galatians with a key affirmation about the origins of his authority as an apostle sent neither by human commission nor from human authorities (οὐκ ἀπ᾿ ἀνθρώπων οὐδὲ δι᾿ ἀνθρώπου), but through (ἀλλὰ διά) Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised him from the dead. (Gal 1:1)

His opening statement on not having been sent by human authority (1:1) anticipates the subsequent assertion that his authority is derived from his divine calling. He writes in the wake of rival missionaries who have preached a “gospel” that was “different” from his message to the Galatians.23 These other Christ-believers not only required circumcision for Lover of Lies 16: “‘It is nothing much (οὐ µέγα),’ I remarked, ‘for you, Ion, to see that kind of sight, even when the “forms” that the father of your school, Plato, points out are plain to you, a hazy object of vision to the rest of us, whose eyes are weak.’” Greek text and ET: A. M. Harmon, LCL, Vol. 3. 19 Paul has already mentioned the latter problem of his ‘robbing’ other churches, in order not to be a burden to the Corinthians (2 Cor 11:7–12). He returns to this issue to address his own conduct (12:13–16) and that of those Paul sent to Corinth (12:17–19). 20 These signs presumably could, but not necessarily would, include exorcism. That these two items – miracles and entitlement to payment – were linked in the minds of Paul’s opponents as a basis for critiquing Paul cannot be proved, but Lucian’s Lover of Lies 16 suggests the plausibility of such an explanation. In addition, this solution accounts for why Paul would move so quickly between the apparently unrelated subjects of miracles (2 Cor 12:11–12) and his not asking for money (2 Cor 12:13–16). 21 Pace Paul’s earlier statement in 1 Cor 1:11–17, which may be the only place where the apostle resists the attribution of too much authority to him. 22 To these observations could be added Paul’s redefinition in 2 Corinthians 1–7 of his (now past) conflict with the believers in Corinth. 23 Gal 1:6–7: “I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel (εἰς ἕτερον εὐαγγέλιον) –

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male Gentile converts but also rejected the conclusions about Paul’s apostleship that he drew from his calling. The response to these other Christ-believers in Gal 1:11–2:10 elaborates the result of the fact that Paul’s gospel “is not of human origin” (1:1). His gospel is not subject to the scrutiny and approval of anyone, including the Jerusalem church, because Paul “received it through a revelation (ἀποκάλυψις) of Jesus Christ.”24 In regard to interpreting a “revelation (ἀποκάλυψις)” from Jesus Christ (1:12) as an exemption of his gospel from being subject to human approval, Paul may not have been entirely consistent, however. During an earlier visit to Jerusalem (Gal 2:2), he had sensed a need to have his message examined by the leaders in Jerusalem: “Then I laid before them (ἀνεθέµην αὐτοῖς), though only in a private meeting with the acknowledged leaders, the gospel that I proclaim among the Gentiles, in order to make sure that I was not running, or had not run, in vain.” At the time he writes Galatians, Paul seeks to redefine what transpired in Jerusalem, now repudiating any connection between his revelation (Gal 1:11–12) and the need for authentication by human authority (Gal 2:2b), a need that he had apparently once affirmed, presumably in agreement with the Jerusalem leadership. In Gal 1:15–17, Paul further underscores his distance from the Jerusalem church, highlighting periods of approximately three years spent in Arabia and Damascus and another fourteen years in Syria and Cilicia.25 These activities outside of Palestine stand in sharp contrast to his two brief visits to Jerusalem, one lasting fifteen days and the other having occurred “in response to a revelation” (Gal 2:2). Apparently, Paul and his opponents had presented to the Galatians conflicting depictions of the origin of Paul’s calling and subsequent interactions with the Jerusalem church. In the view of his opponents, Paul’s agreement to collect money from Gentile congregations for the poor saints in Judea (cf. Gal 2:10) was a concession reflecting his submission to the authority of the Jerusalem church. Paul, of course, presents a very different

not that there is another gospel (ὃ οὐκ ἔστιν ἄλλο), but there are some who are confusing you and want to pervert the gospel of Christ.” 24 Gal 1:11b–12: “The gospel that was proclaimed by me is not of human origin; [12] for I did not receive it from a human source, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation (ἀποκάλυψις) of Jesus Christ.” 25 Gal 1:15–17: “But when God, who had set me apart before I was born and called me through his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son to me (ἐν ἐµοί), so that I might proclaim him among the Gentiles, I did not confer with any human being, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were already apostles before me, but I went away at once into Arabia, and afterwards I returned to Damascus.”

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view in Gal 2:9–10.26 Depending on which conceptions of origins were attached to Paul’s authority, calling, and interactions with the Jerusalem church, both sides (Paul and his opponents) had much to gain (or lose) in terms of the acceptance of their overall messages by the Galatian churches. As mentioned above, the interest reflected in Galatians 1–2 and 2 Corinthians 10–13 in Paul’s calling was perhaps inevitable, given the diversity among the earliest Jesus movement(s). Once two – or more – versions of the good news came into conflict, the origins of Christian leaders’ authority were likely to be scrutinized. Since Paul could not derive authority from association with the earthly Jesus (cf. Acts 1:21–22, discussed below), his plea for recognition stands or falls with the unprovable claim of direct revelation from the risen Christ.27 b) Abraham and the Origin of the Gospel(s) (Gal 3:6–4:7; 4:21–31) Of the various arguments Paul offers in Galatians 3–4, all but two (Gal 3:1–5 and 4:8–20, discussed in the next subsection) concern OT interpretation. In what follows, we argue that Paul’s interpretation of Jewish Scripture in Gal 3:6–4:7 and 4:21–31 should not be understood as an attempt to “prove” the fulfillment of Scripture, as is done, for example, in Matt 1:18– 2:23.28 Rather, the apostle claims that the Pauline gospel itself is rooted in, and consistent with, Hebrew Scripture. To the extent that Paul can trace the origins of his message back to Abraham and the patriarch’s legacy, he prevents his Christ-believing opponents from doing so. In Gal 3:6–4:7 and 4:21–31, Paul is arguably more interested in Abraham than in Christ. The origins of Abraham as the first believer (Gen 15:6, cited in Gal 3:6) and first justified person (Gen 12:3, cited in Gal 3:8) set the paradigm for Paul’s argument that those who have faith in Christ are Abraham’s legitimate heirs: “Those who believe (οἱ ἐκ πίστεως) are the descendants of Abraham” (Gal 3:7), and “those who believe (οἱ ἐκ πίστεως) are blessed with Abraham who believed” (3:9). Both Paul and his opponents would agree that, as the original person of faith, Abraham is the archetype and standard for faithful Christ-believers, 26

Gal 2:9–10: “When James and Cephas and John, who were acknowledged pillars, recognized the grace that had been given to me, they gave to Barnabas and me the right hand of fellowship, agreeing that we should go to the Gentiles and they to the circumcised. They asked only one thing, that we remember the poor, which was actually what I was eager to do (ὃ καὶ ἐσπούδασα αὐτὸ τοῦτο ποιῆσαι).” 27 Gal 1:11b–c: τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τὸ εὐαγγελισθὲν ὑπ᾿ ἐµοῦ ὅτι οὐκ ἔστιν κατὰ ἄνθρωπον. Cf. Gal 2:2. 28 Cf. Matthew’s formulaic reference to such instances of fulfillment associated with the birth of Jesus. E.g., Matt 2:23b (NRSV): “. . .so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, ‘He will be called a Nazorean.’” Cf. Matt 1:22–23; 2:6, 14, 18.

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both Jewish and Gentile. A paradigmatic interpretation of the covenant of circumcision in Gen 17:1–14, apparently held by Paul’s opponents, would mean that becoming circumcised and adhering to the Law follow necessarily from the promises given to Abraham and his descendants in Genesis 12 and 15. In order to circumnavigate this account of origins, Paul holds for the chronological priority of the promise and belief that Genesis credits to the uncircumcised (!) Abraham. 29 Dispensing with a universal application of Genesis 17, Paul claims that the distinctions resulting from the different classifications of human beings under the covenant of circumcision have been abolished in Christ: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”30 Paul returns to the subject of Abraham and Abraham’s offspring in his allegory on Hagar and Sarah (Gal 4:21–31), in which he poses a dichotomy of origins based on the two women who conceived, respectively, in states of slavery and freedom (4:22). This dichotomy applies also to their sons, born either “according to the flesh” (κατὰ σάρκα) or “through a promise” (δι᾿ ἐπαγγελίας, 4:23). Paul’s allegorical interpretation of offspring in terms of two mutually exclusive covenants (δύο διαθῆκαι, 4:24) backs up the apostle’s intolerance of the “other gospel” proclaimed by his opponents (cf. 1:6–7). Just as there can be only one true covenant, so can there be only one sanctioned version of the (Pauline) gospel and one legitimate account of origins connecting contemporary Christ-believers with the patriarch Abraham, the matriarch Sarah, and their freeborn son. If the Galatians are to live in a way consistent with Paul’s view of the past, they must be loyal to the gospel whose origins are rooted in freedom rather than a gospel rooted in slavery. Paul’s final mandate leaves no middle ground for how these emissaries from the Jerusalem church are to be treated: “Drive out (ἐκβάλλω) the slave and her child; for the child of the slave will not share the inheritance with the child of the free woman” (Gal 4:30b–c, citing Gen 21:10). Because the Galatians should accept Paul’s as29 E.g., Gal 3:17: “My point is this: the law, which came four hundred thirty years later, does not annul a covenant previously ratified by God, so as to nullify the promise.” 30 Gal 3:28, and following Troy W. Martin, “The Covenant of Circumcision (Genesis 17:9–14) and the Situational Antitheses in Gal 3:28,” JBL 122 (2003): 111–25; cf. idem, “Pagan and Judeo-Christian Time-keeping Schemes in Gal 4:10 and Col 2:16,” NTS 42 (1996): 105–19. According to Genesis 17, Jewish men, male babies, and male slaves owned by Jews must be circumcised; Gentile and freeborn men could choose whether to become circumcised. Women (whether Jewish or Gentile, slave or free), however, could not receive the sign of the Abrahamic covenant. Martin’s interpretation of Gal 3:28 explains Paul’s unusual use of καί in οὐδὲ . . . οὐδὲ . . . καί (οὐκ ἔνι Ἰουδαῖος οὐδὲ Ἕλλην, οὐκ ἔνι δοῦλος οὐδὲ ἐλεύθερος, οὐκ ἔνι ἄρσεν καὶ θῆλυ). Cf. Gen 1:27b, LXX: ἄρσεν καὶ θῆλυ ἐποίησεν αὐτούς.

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sertion that the Abrahamic covenant is rooted in freedom, they can turn away from the agitators’ arguments and claim identity as “children, not of the slave but of the free woman” (Gal 4:31b). We conclude that Paul’s interpretations of the OT in Galatians 3–4 cannot be reduced to an attempt to ‘prove’ the fulfillment of Scripture. Rather, Paul argues that the Pauline gospel itself – and not the message of his opponents – is rooted in, and consistent with, Hebrew Scripture. c) Interrelated Explanations of Origins (Gal 3:1–5; 4:8–11; 4:12–20) Three additional appeals to origins appear in Galatians to address this congregation and the apostle’s experiences with them. Paul twice refers to their origins (3:1–5; 4:8–11), and elsewhere recalls his own experience with them (4:12–20). These arguments based on the congregation’s conversion from paganism (3:1–5), on the patriarch Abraham (3:6–4:7; 4:21– 31), and on the apostle’s own dealings with the Galatians (4:12–20) are intrinsically linked. Throughout Galatians 3–4, Paul moves effortlessly from recounting the distant or primordial past to more recent events. In doing so, he tries to forge a cogent narrative linking the Galatians to Hebrew Scripture and his own apostolic authority. i) Reception of the Spirit and Receiving Paul (Gal 3:1–5) The first reference to this congregation’s origins is in Paul’s opening rejoinder to his opponents’ criticisms.31 The apostle narrates the Galatians’ initial acquaintance with the gospel and pleads for them to recall how they received the Spirit at that time (3:1–2).32 Because they received the Spirit at the beginning with Paul present, and because the Spirit continues to work miracles (δυνάµεις) in their midst, the Galatians should realize that the false “gospel” more recently proclaimed by others does not add anything to what they have already received. H. D. Betz appreciates well Paul’s linking of the past to the Galatians’ present situation: “‘Miracles’ (δυνάµεις) can be named as evidence for the fact that the Spirit is ‘at work’ 31 Gal 3:1–5: “You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? It was before your eyes that Jesus Christ was publicly exhibited as crucified! The only thing I want to learn from you is this: Did you receive the Spirit by doing the works of the law or by believing what you heard? Are you so foolish? Having started with the Spirit, are you now ending with the flesh? Did you experience so much for nothing? – if it really was for nothing. Well then, does God supply you with the Spirit and work miracles (δυνάµεις) among you by your doing the works of the law, or by your believing what you heard?” 32 See H. D. Betz, Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Churches in Galatia (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 131–32 (on Gal 3:1): “Paul, in a case of self-ironic exaggeration, makes use of this topos, reminding the Galatians of his initial efforts to proclaim the gospel of ‘Jesus Christ [the] crucified’ (Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς [. . .] ἐσταυρωµένος) to them.” See further Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 272–74.

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(ἐνεργῶν) among them. Consequently, God must now be at work among them.”33 Such wonders should serve as a reminder that the Pauline gospel still has validity vis-à-vis the “other gospel,” which the apostle seeks to repudiate. By maintaining a continuity of the Spirit’s earlier and present action among the Galatians, Paul issues a call to action: the earlier conversion experience defines proper conduct in the present. After 3:1–5, Paul moves effortlessly from the Galatians’ conversion to the example of Abraham in Gal 3:6 (καθὼς Ἀβραὰµ κ.τ.λ.). Gal 3:1–6, then, shows that the origins of this congregation and of the Pauline gospel in the Abrahamic covenant were linked in the apostle’s (developing) theological system. ii) The Galatians’ Potential Rejection of (Any Form of) “Gospel” (Gal 4:8–11) After Paul argues for the chronological priority of Abraham’s faith and righteousness over the (temporary) covenant of circumcision (Gal 3:6–4:7, discussed above), he returns to the status of the Galatian community and its origins. If Gal 3:1–5 focuses on the positive aspects of their conversion and reception of the Spirit, 4:8–9 reminisces about the contrast with their former way of life.34 In contrasting the positive (receiving the Spirit, 3:1– 5) with the negative (not knowing God, 4:8–9), Paul makes the most of a dichotomy of different origins, as he did in 1 Cor 6:9–11.35 Although Paul follows a similar line of argumentation in Galatians 3–4 and 1 Corinthians 6, his assessment of the situations in Corinth and Galatia are different. As we discussed above, the apostle expects different conduct from the Corinthians because they were washed, sanctified, and justified (1 Cor 6:11b). In Galatians 4, however, he is fearful that the Galatians have abandoned their more recent Christian origins for their traditional pagan religious practices: “You are observing special days, and months, and seasons, and years. I am afraid that my work for you may have been wasted.”36 This 33

Betz, Galatians, 135 (on Gal 3:5). Gal 4:8–9: “Formerly, when you did not know God, you were enslaved to beings that by nature are not gods. Now, however, that you have come to know God, or rather to be known by God, how can you turn back again (πῶς ἐπιστρέφετε πάλιν) to the weak and beggarly elemental spirits (στοιχεῖα)? How can you want to be enslaved to them again?” 35 Moreover, the argumentation of Gal 3:1–5 and 4:8–9 anticipates the dichotomy that Paul poses between slavery and freedom in Gal 4:21–31 (discussed above). 36 Gal 4:10–11. With T. W. Martin, “Apostasy to Paganism: The Rhetorical Stasis of the Galatian Controversy,” JBL 114 (1995): 437–61; idem, “Pagan and Judeo-Christian Time-keeping Schemes.” The possibility that the Galatians had relapsed into paganism (and that they had not been converted to the different form of Christianity preached by Paul’s opponents!) is consistent with Paul’s charge that his opponents wish “to exclude” the Galatians: “they want to exclude you (ἐκκλεῖσαι ὑµᾶς θέλουσιν), so that you may make much of them” (Gal 4:17). The opponents, who required circumcision, want to exclude the Galatians from Paul’s gospel, which dispensed with circumcision for male Gen34

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inference about the Galatians’ potential rejection of any Christian “gospel” follows from the explanation that the Galatians had embraced the version of Christian origins presented by Paul’s opponents and, as a result, were in danger of apostatizing from the Pauline gospel back into paganism. In order to win back these converts, Paul must refute his opponents’ arguments. In so doing, he delineates the differences between this congregation’s pagan (Gal 4:8–11) and Christian (Gal 3:1–5) roots. iii) Continuing To Receive Paul (Gal 4:12–20) Paul’s personal appeal in Gal 4:12–20 expands on the origins of the apostle’s relationship with this congregation.37 In shifting the discussion from the Galatians’ reception of the Spirit (Gal 3:1–5) to their reception of Paul (Gal 4:12–20), the apostle implies that, just as they have continued to enjoy manifestations of the Spirit, so should they continue to welcome Paul as their sincere and beneficent apostle. One narrative about origins (receiving the Spirit) undergirds an implied narrative (continuing to receive Paul). Since, from the beginning, Paul has looked out for the good of the Galatians, they should be reticent to follow the other teachers, who “make much of you, but for no good purpose; they want to exclude you, so that you may make much of them” (Gal 4:17). We have seen that Galatians 3–4 intrinsically links arguments based on the congregation’s conversion from paganism, on the patriarch Abraham, and on the apostle’s own interactions with the Galatians. These passages (and others) focus first and foremost on (re-)definitions of origins – those of Paul’s authority, the Pauline gospel, and the Galatians’ conversion. Excursus: Acts 1:21–22 as a Pre-Lukan Criterion for Apostolic Authority The challenges about the origin of Paul’s authority, which Paul had to address in Galatians and 2 Corinthians 10–13, are later recognized implicitly by none other than the author of Acts, himself a Paulinist. When placing in the apostle Peter’s mouth a criterion for candidates who might replace the apostle Judas, the author of Acts assumes that legitimate apostles trace the tile converts. Since the Galatians had an aversion to circumcision, they could have resolved the tension by following Paul’s gospel. 37 Gal 4:12–16, 20: “Friends, I beg you, become as I am, for I also have become as you are. You have done me no wrong. [13] You know that it was because of a physical infirmity that I first announced the gospel to you; [14] though my condition put you to the test, you did not scorn or despise me, but welcomed me as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus (ὡς ἄγγελον θεοῦ ἐδέξασθέ µε, ὡς Χριστὸν Ἰησοῦν). [15] What has become of the good will you felt? For I testify that, had it been possible, you would have torn out your eyes and given them to me. [16] Have I now become your enemy by telling you the truth? . . . [20] I wish I were present with you now and could change my tone, for I am perplexed about you.”

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origins of their authority back to the beginnings of Jesus’ public ministry.38 According to this standard, Paul would not have qualified for the position in the apostolic cohort given to Matthias. Perhaps for this reason, in Acts Paul is not counted among the apostles, except in Acts 14:4 and 14:14.39 Although Paul is named as an apostle in Acts 14:14a (“the apostles Barnabas and Paul”), Acts 15:2–4 implies that Paul actually does not belong to this group: if Paul is to speak “with the apostles” (15:2) and be “welcomed by . . . the apostles” (15:4), he is not one of them.40 An advocate of Paulinism, none other than the later author of Acts sensed the very tension that Paul had addressed about the origin of his apostolic authority. 3. The Importance of Origins to Paul’s Self-Introduction in Romans a) The Origins of Traditions about Jesus The apostle Paul, presumably like most early Christ-believers, was concerned to affirm the continuity of his gospel about Jesus with what God had “promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures” (Rom 1:2). Early Christians stressed not only Jesus’ lineage from king David but also, in regard to Jesus’ origin, the authentication of God’s Son by the resurrection. The epistolary prescript to Romans reflects Paul’s eagerness to affirm this continuity in “the gospel concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be Son 38 Acts 1:21–22: “So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that (ἐν παντὶ χρόνῳ ᾧ) the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, [22] beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us – one of these must become (δεῖ . . . γενέσθαι) a witness with us to his resurrection.” See now, on the rhetorical function of δεῖ in Luke-Acts, Clare K. Rothschild, Luke-Acts and the Rhetoric of History: An Investigation of Early Christian Historiography (WUNT 2.175; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 185–208, esp. 202–203. 39 E.g., Acts 14:4–6a: “But the residents of the city [Iconium] were divided; some sided with the Jews, and some with the apostles. [5] And when an attempt was made by both Gentiles and Jews, with their rulers, to mistreat them and to stone them, [6a] [the apostles] learned of it and fled (συνιδόντες κατέφυγον) to Lystra and Derbe.” In Acts 14:6a, a subject is not specified for συνιδόντες κατέφυγον. The supplying of a subject (“the apostles”) in the NRSV offers a clarification in English that runs contrary to the preferred terminology of the author of Acts. In Acts, moreover, only the plural “apostles” (ἀπόστολοι) occurs. A better clarification for Acts 14:6a in English translation would be to list the names “Paul and Barnabas” (cf. 14:4a), rather than their unusual designation as “the apostles” (cf. 14:4b) in Acts. See further Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 268–71. 40 Acts 15:2, 4: “And after Paul and Barnabas had no small dissension and debate with them, Paul and Barnabas and some of the others were appointed to go up to Jerusalem to discuss this question with the apostles and the elders (πρὸς τοὺς ἀποστόλους καὶ πρεσβυτέρους). . . . [4] When they came to Jerusalem, they were welcomed by the church and the apostles (ἀπὸ τῆς ἐκκλησίας καὶ τῶν ἀποστόλων) and the elders, and they reported all that God had done with them.”

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of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord” (Rom 1:3–4). In fact, if Paul cannot show how his understanding of Jesus is in harmony with the probably prePauline formulations of Rom 1:2–4, his message and work as a missionary run two risks – rejection by the Roman Christians he hopes to meet (Rom 15:22–29) and continued opposition from other Christ-believers.41 Significantly, the same authentication offered for Christ (that is, the resurrection) in Rom 1:3–4 is given for Paul’s calling by the risen Christ in Gal 1:1. In two Pauline epistolary prescripts, Paul shows his eagerness to address questions of origins, whether about Christ (Rom 1:3–4) or his own apostolic authority (Gal 1:1). Inasmuch as Paul is in dialogue with pre-Pauline Jesus traditions, he affirms that his gospel stands in continuity with the conceptions of origins that non-Paulinist believers also affirmed. Later in Romans, Paul states that Christ came as a servant of the circumcised and for the benefit of Gentiles (Rom 15:8–9a). Christ’s benefits for both Jews and Gentiles are offered as proof that the Pauline gospel is consistent with Hebrew Scripture: For I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the circumcised (διάκονον . . . περιτοµῆς) on behalf of the truth of God in order that he might confirm the promises given to the patriarchs (τὰς ἐπαγγελίας τῶν πατέρων), [9] and in order that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy. As it is written, “Therefore I will confess you among the Gentiles, and sing praises to your name” [10] and again he says, “Rejoice, O Gentiles, with his people”; [11] and again, “Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles, and let all the peoples praise him”; [12] and again Isaiah says, “The root of Jesse shall come, the one who rises to rule the Gentiles; in him the Gentiles shall hope.”42

In support of 15:8–9a, Paul cites four OT passages on inclusion of the Gentiles (Ps 18:49; Deut 32:43 [LXX]; Ps 117:1; Isa 11:10 [LXX]). Despite his relative lack of interest in the earthly Jesus (but see Phil 2:5–8; 2 Cor 8:9), Paul goes to great length to show how his understanding of Jesus and the gospel to the Gentiles are rooted in the promises of Hebrew Scripture. b) Chronological Priority Revised and Augmented with Reference to the Origins of Evil (Romans 4–5) Elsewhere in Romans, Paul refines subject matter he had treated in Galatians 3–4 in regard to Abraham’s faith and standing. The modifications indicate that constructions of origins continued to be a preoccupation for the apostle after the Galatian crisis. 41

On Paul’s opponents, see the following section on the (earlier) conflict that Paul addresses in Galatians. 42 Rom 15:8–12. In my view, this passage reflects upon Jesus’ significance and does not reflect a Pauline understanding of the historical ministry of Jesus.

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As he did in Gal 3:6–4:7, Paul calls attention to the chronological priority of the promises Abraham received before the patriarch became circumcised (Rom 4:1–5), but in Romans he drops the allegory of Sarah and Hagar (Gal 4:21–31) and, instead, emphasizes Abraham’s faith as an old man who trusted in the Lord’s promise of offspring.43 Also for the first time, Paul draws an analogy between Abraham’s faith and the Christian’s belief in Christ’s resurrection.44 Moreover, the apostle reflects on the new life given Christians reconciled to God by Christ (Rom 5:1–11). Paul also offers an entirely new discourse, a discourse about Adam. In Rom 5:12–21, he augments his earlier arguments on the chronological priority of the uncircumcised Abraham’s faith (Gal 3:6–4:7; 4:21–31; cf. Rom 4:1–5) with recourse to an even earlier – indeed, the earliest – human figure, Adam. By turning to Adam, Paul reinforces his appeal with an additional pre-Mosaic figure. In his view, “death exercised dominion from Adam to Moses” (Rom 5:14a), and “Adam is a type (τύπος) of the one who was to come” (5:14c) – views with which Paul’s detractors may have concurred.45 For Paul, Adam’s sin offers a window into the origins of evil: And the free gift is not like the effect of the one man’s sin. For the judgment following one trespass brought condemnation, but the free gift following many trespasses brings justification. [17] If, because of the one man’s trespass (δι᾿ ἑνὸς ἁµαρτήσαντος), death exercised dominion through that one, much more surely will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness exercise dominion in life through the one man, Jesus Christ. (Rom 5:16–17)

Evil, from its antediluvian origins, finds its ultimate solution in Christ. Genesis 3 thereby becomes connected directly to the contemporary situation of Paulinist believers. E. P. Sanders is on the right track in his attempt to understand the reasoning behind Paul’s soteriology in Romans 4–5 and elsewhere: Paul’s logic seems to run like this: in Christ God has acted to save the world; therefore the world is in need of salvation; but God also gave the law; if Christ is given for salvation, it must follow that the law could not have been [for salvation]; is the law then

43

E.g., Rom 4:19: “He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was already as good as dead (for he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah’s womb.” 44 Rom 4:24b–25: “It will be reckoned to us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead, who was handed over to death for our trespasses and was raised for our justification.” 45 We are not attempting to interpret Rom 5:14c in light of the (earlier) situation addressed in Galatians. Rather, we infer that Paul’s experience during the Galatian crisis naturally shaped the presentation of his views in Romans. The writing of Galatians did not ipso facto silence Paul’s opponents. Hence in Romans Paul must continue to be aware of his detractors’ potential or actual objections.

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against the purpose of God which has been revealed in Christ? No, it has the function of consigning everyone to sin so that everyone could be saved by God’s grace in Christ.46

Paul’s statements in Galatians 3–4 and Romans 4–5 have sometimes been interpreted as suggesting that the apostle’s opponents did, in fact, view the Law as a source of righteousness, and hence a solution for sin, but we have no non-Christian evidence to support the existence of such a legalistic theology in ancient Judaism(s).47 Paul’s aim in probing – some might say exploiting – the origins of evil in Rom 5:12–21 is to be found in this very point, that the Law does not offer a solution for sin. As a consequence, it becomes untenable for Paul’s Christ-believing opponents to find authentication for their gospel in the pre-Mosaic patriarch Abraham. It is not likely that in Rom 5:12–21 Paul is mirroring the actual theology of his opponents; rather, he seems to be exploiting a “hole” that he perceives in a rival theological system.48 From Romans 4–5, then, we see that many, but not all, of Paul’s arguments about origins in Gal 3:6–4:7 and 4:21–31 remain constant. Nor were Paul’s assertions about origins – of his gospel and calling, for example – fixed in stone. Rather, they are the subject of continued reflection, redaction, evolution, and debate. The revised and expanded arguments of Romans 4–5 seek to put additional distance between Paul’s gospel and a normative interpretation of Genesis 17 that would require circumcision for male Gentile Christ-believers. The interest in Adam and the origins of evil is augmented with yet another (for Paul) new venture into the Jewish origins of the Pauline gospel in Romans 9–11, to which we now turn. c) The Continuity of a Rejection of the Pauline Gospel with Jewish Scripture (Romans 9–11) Another example of the way Paul creates and appeals to explanations of origins is his affirmation that the roots of his gospel are within Judaism. In 46 Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977), 475, emphasis original. It does not necessarily follow, as Sanders maintains, that “Paul did not preach about men, but about God. It is true that, in the press of explaining the implications of his gospel, he comes closer to working out what can be called an ‘anthropology’ than any other New Testament author, but that is only the implication of his theology, Christology and soteriology. It is not worked out for its own sake, for man’s plight does not seem to be primarily what Paul preached about” (446, emphases original). 47 With Sanders, Judaism: Practice and Belief: 63 BCE – 66 CE (Philadelphia: TPI, 1992), 275–78, who correctly identifies Judaism of the Hellenistic-Roman period as “a religion of grace.” 48 Perhaps, as a consequence, Sanders’s attempt (Judaism: Practice and Belief, 262– 75) to set the record straight about the actual perspective of Paul’s opponents and other Jews in terms of their purported “covenantal nomism” is unnecessary.

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Romans 9–11, he seeks to demonstrate that, despite the unbelief of many Jews, “it is not as though the word of God has failed” (Rom 9:6a). Paul writes in response to a perceived (or an anticipated) critique of his conception of origins49 – a critique that denied a continuity between OT promises and their fulfillment in his gospel. To Paul’s detractors, the disparity between the success of Paul’s missionary endeavors among the Gentiles, on the one hand, and the enduring reality that many Jews had not become Christ-believers, on the other hand, required one of the following explanations: 1. Paul’s theology was correct (cf. Romans 1–8), and thus the word of God to ancient Israel has indeed “failed,” because so many Jews remain excluded by the Pauline gospel. 2. The promises to ancient Israel did remain valid, indicating that Paul’s theology is seriously flawed, because Paul excuses (uncircumcised) Gentiles from obeying numerous aspects of the Mosaic law.

Paul defends his assertion in Rom 9:6a – that “it is not as though the word of God has failed” – with two arguments: – “Not all Israelites truly belong to Israel.” (9:6b) – At the eschaton, “all Israel will be saved.” (11:26)

With this “both-and” approach of welcoming uncircumcised Gentiles into the church and affirming the continued validity of OT promises, Paul can show the consistency of his gospel with Jewish Scripture, with the continuing validity of promises made to ancient Israel, and with the unbelief of many Jews.

D. Summation: Paul on the Origins of the Christian Tradition The posing, refining and, sometimes, rejecting of explanations of origins may be a fundamental component of the human psyche and of any shared human consciousness, relationship or religious tradition. We have argued that Paul’s occasional letters assume, interact with, revise, and attempt to forge explanations for the origin of his gospel vis-à-vis (1) Hebrew Scripture, (2) traditions about Jesus, (3) apostolic figures and their authority, and (4) Gentile converts to the Paulinist Jesus movement. We have also argued that these explanations are both interrelated and are a central preoccupation of the apostle’s sundry purposes in his occasional letters.

49 Paul’s uses of the diatribe in reference to the Jewish people and law indicate that he is responding to criticisms (whether actual or anticipated) of others (Rom 3:1–2, 8, 9; 6:1–2; 9:19–21; 11:1, etc.).

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1. In Romans 9–11 and Gal 3:6–4:7, 4:21–31, as well as the revisions in Romans 4–5 of Paul’s arguments from Galatians, Paul asserts that his message to the Gentiles stands in continuity with promises and precedents in Hebrew Scripture. 2. In addition, Rom 1:2–4 and 15:8–12 shed light on the importance Paul attached to traditions about Jesus. For whatever reason, Paul discusses christological origins far less than the origins of his own authority and of his congregations. Although traditions about Jesus would eventually receive much more attention in early Christian Gospels, 50 it was nonetheless important for Paul to show how his understanding of Jesus and the gospel to the Gentiles were rooted in the promises of Hebrew Scripture. The Pauline good news is presented as a continuation of the OT, and thereby finds confirmation (not cross-examination) in the OT. 3. In Galatians 1–2 and 2 Corinthians 10–13, Paul highlights the source of his calling and its relevance for his continued authority within the Pauline congregations and elsewhere in the early church. The criterion that association with the earthly Jesus is what validates the authority of legitimate apostles (Acts 1:21–22) – a criterion which Paul’s opponents may have used against him – best accounts for Paul’s assertions in Galatians and 2 Corinthians about the origin of his authority. 51 4. The origins of individual Christian communities and of Paul’s relations with them is treated in 1 Thess 1:9–10, Phil 1:3–6, 1 Cor 6:9–11, Gal 3:1–5, and Gal 4:8–20. Paul’s account of the Thessalonians’ origins (1 Thess 1:9–10) affirms both Paul’s past role in their (still) legitimate faith and the Thessalonians’ continued hope for Christ’s return. In Phil 1:3–6, Paul praises these believers’ past faithfulness to “the one who began a good work among” them, which gives him confidence that their faithfulness will continue until “the day of Jesus Christ.” In his moral exhortation to the Corinthians, however, he contrasts one conception of origins (identity derived from ‘pagan’ ways of life) with another (washing, sanctification, etc.; 1 Cor 6:9–11). Finally, throughout Galatians 3–4, Paul presumes a system of interrelated accounts of origins about a congregation’s conversion from paganism, a connection with the promises of Hebrew Scripture, and the apostle’s own dealings with the Galatians.

A fuller understanding of Paul’s various explanations for the origins of the Christian tradition sheds much light on the disputes the apostle addresses. One implication of this study is that debates concerning one element of Heilsgeschichte – for example, the Christ event (however construed) – cannot be separated from what came before (ancient Israel and the Jewish Scriptures) or afterward (apostolic authority and the origins of congregations). We have shown that, although the Acts of the Apostles offers the earliest narrative of Christian origins, Paul’s occasional letters attest an even earlier point in the life of the Jesus movement(s), when accounts of origins were a living part of the contested and evolving tradition. 50 For example, Mark, the earliest Gospel, explains the beginning of Jesus’ ministry in terms of the coming of John the Baptist in fulfillment of the Jewish Scriptures (Mark 1:2–4, citing Mal 3:1 and Isa 40:3). 51 Much could also be said about the NT Gospels’ interest in the authority of Jesus’ disciples (e.g., Mark 6:7–13 par.; 10:35–45 par.; Matt 16:13–19; 18:15–20; John 20:21– 23; cf. John 21:20–24, which shows the increasing tenacity of this tendency in this addition to the Fourth Gospel).

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A key difference between Paul’s statements and the allegedly coherent narrative of Acts should not be effaced, however. The allusions and brief references to origins in Paul’s occasional letters, although numerous, do not allow for an exhaustive reconstruction of Paul’s conceptions of Christian origins. Despite the contentious nature of many of his statements, Paul himself did not sense the need to offer a systematic explanation on the subject. The closest he comes in this regard is in Galatians 1–4. A literary enterprise about the origin of the church and its apostolic authority would be left to the later author of Acts, to apologists such as Aristides and Justin Martyr, and to the authors of the various apocryphal acts. Disagreements about origins and their interpretation are, of course, not limited to the earliest Christian writings. The types of disputes outlined above in Paul’s letters are crucial in more recent conflicts, as, for example, in those between the Israelis and the Palestinians, whose dispute over land is intertwined with dueling narratives about origins, the past, and, as a consequence, legitimacy. There is much to be learned – and for scholars to continue learning – from posing such questions to texts that have proved to be formative in Christianity.

Abstract: This article probes Paul’s presentation of the origins of the Christian tradition with reference to (1) Hebrew Scripture, (2) traditions about Jesus, (3) apostolic figures and their authority, and (4) Gentile converts. It is argued that, although the Acts of the Apostles offers the earliest narrative of Christian origins, Paul’s occasional letters attest to an even earlier point in the Jesus movement(s), when accounts of origins had already become a living part of the contested and evolving tradition. Understanding how Paul and his Christ-believing opponents defined the past sheds light on how they addressed issues that they and their communities faced in the present.

Chapter 7

The Witness of Eusebius’s ad Marinum and Other Christian Writings to Text-Critical Debates concerning the Original Conclusion to Mark’s Gospel* In comparison with Greek manuscripts and early versions, patristic sources for the text of the New Testament have, for the most part, suffered from benign neglect. . . . Their value is nonetheless beyond dispute.1

Attributed to Eusebius of Caesarea (ca. 260–340 C.E.), the ad Marinum (“To Marinus”; CPG 3470) testifies that, already in the fourth century, there was a debate about the original conclusion to the Gospel of Mark. The relatively little-explored text is therefore of great interest to NT textual criticism and to the reception of Mark in the early church. In response to Marinus’s question “How is it that the risen Savior appears ‘on the evening of the Sabbath’ in Matthew [28:1] but ‘early on the first day of the week’ in Mark [16:2, 9],” the second of two explanations given is that, whereas Matthew refers to the resurrection “late” Saturday evening, Mark (16:9– 14) reports the time of the risen Lord’s appearances “early” Sunday morning (ad Marinum I.2). But the first answer to that question proposes a re* Original publication: Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 92 (2001): 78–112. Many thanks to Adela Yarbro Collins, David Brakke and Stephen C. Carlson for reading earlier versions of this article. I wish also to thank those who gave feedback in the New Testament Textual Criticism Section of the 1999 SBL Annual Meeting, in the University of Chicago Divinity School Bible Club, in the Association of Chicago Theological Schools New Testament Group and, most recently, at the research seminar for Patristics at the Newman Institute (Uppsala). Originally, I had anticipated including an analysis of the ad Marinum in my dissertation on Mark 16:9–20 (University of Chicago, 1999), which was published as Miracle and Mission (Tübingen, 2000). Because the dissertation interprets the Longer Ending in its (early) second-century context and does not focus on later external attestation to this Markan appendix, I decided to return to the ad Marinum shortly after I had finished the dissertation. The initial inquiry into the ad Marinum has since been expanded to include a number of other late-ancient and Byzantine discussions of Mark’s original conclusion. 1 B. D. Ehrman, “The Use and Significance of Patristic Evidence for NT Textual Criticism,” in B. Aland and J. Delobel (eds.), New Testament Textual Criticism, Exegesis, and Church History (Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology 7, Kampen, 1994), 118–35 at 118.

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markably different solution, dismissing as a moot point the apparent discrepancy in timing between Matthew and Mark and questioning, on the basis of the conflicting manuscript evidence, whether 16:9–20 was originally part of Mark (I.1). Rather than needing to resolve the alleged contradiction, one could simply “reject the pericope [16:9–20] that says this” (ὁ . . . τὴν τοῦτο φάσκουσαν περικοπὴν ἀθετῶν), which “does not appear in all the copies of the Gospel according to Mark, [that is,] the ‘accurate’ copies” (τὰ ἀκριβῆ τῶν ἀντιγράφων). Ad Marinum I.1–2 is of particular significance because the first answer (I.1) corroborates the testimony of Vaticanus (B), Sinaiticus (‫)א‬, and several other witnesses (for example, sys, itk), which do not contain Mark 16:9–20. The second answer (I.2) reflects an approach to Scripture that can contribute to an explanation of how a reading that had previously been attested in only a distinct minority of MSS (the inclusion of 16:9–20) eventually came to be attested in almost all of the surviving witnesses. Belying the testimony of ad Marinum I.1, roughly 99% of the surviving copies of the Second Gospel agree with the Textus Receptus and include 16:9–20 at some point after 16:8.2 The ad Marinum, then, seems to give access to a point in time when “nearly all the copies” of Mark ended at 16:8. Such a striking awareness of disparate NT MS readings calls for a full examination of ad Marinum I.1– II.1. Moreover, we will study the reception of ad Marinum I.1 in lateancient Christian authors, including Jerome, Hesychius of Jerusalem and Severus of Antioch, as well as in the marginal notes in numerous Byzantine copies of Mark. We also give attention to which copies of Mark the author of the ad Marinum (and subsequent authors) may have known, to the practice of ‘textual criticism’ in the late-ancient and Byzantine church, and to the significance of claims about the original conclusion to Mark for scholarship on the Markan endings and Markan reception history. An explanation as to why so much of the surviving external evidence includes the Longer Ending as a part of Mark will also be given. The Jesuit (and, later, Cardinal) Angelo Mai (1782–1854) published in 1825 the Greek text and a Latin translation of a Vatican MS containing the

2

For this figure, see K. Aland and B. Aland, The Text of the New Testament (Revised and enlarged ed., Grand Rapids/Leiden, 1987), 287: “It is true that the longer ending of Mark 16:9–20 is found in 99 percent of the Greek manuscripts as well as the rest of the tradition, enjoying over a period of centuries practically an official ecclesiastical sanction as a genuine part of the gospel of Mark”; also earlier K. Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” in M. Sabbe (ed.), L’Évangile selon Marc (BETL 34, Gembloux, 2 nd ed. 1988), 435–470 at 446. The Longer Ending appears in MSS either immediately after Mark 16:8 or after Mark’s “Shorter Ending” (e.g., in L, d 12, [0112], Y).

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ad Marinum (Codex Vat. Palat. 220, s. x, f. 61–96)3 and published a revised text in 1847. Previously, the writing had been known to only a handful of scholars such as Andreas Birch and Karl Lachmann.4 No one to date has provided a thorough study of this writing. John W. Burgon (1871) and William R. Farmer (1974) discussed selected parts of ad Marinum I.1–II.1 to support their ill-founded arguments for the Markan authorship of 16:9– 20.5 B. F. Westcott and F. J. A. Hort (1881–82) responded to many of Burgon’s questionable inferences.6 Although other scholars have referred, usually in passing, to the testimony of “Eusebius” about the end of Mark, they have not taken the context of the ad Marinum into account. Since the original publication of our article in 2001, significant progress has been made – above all, by Claudio Zamagni in his 2003 Lausanne dissertation subsequently published in the Sources chrétiennes series.7 Acknowledgement is also due to Roger Pearse, whose collaboration with D. J. D. Miller, A. C. McCollum, C. Downer, and others, provided a welcome resource by collecting and translating into English the Greek, Latin, Syriac, Coptic and Arabic witnesses to the ad Marinum (and to two related writings addressed ad Stephanum [“to Stephanus”]).8 The works of Zamagni and Pearse provide the necessary prerequisites for producing a critical text of the ad Marinum (and the ad Stephanum) and for making a thorough study of these writings, tasks that remain scholarly desiderata. 3

A. Mai, Scriptorum Veterum Nova Collectio e Vaticani Codicibus (Rome, 1825), 1:61–82, copied the Greek text from a Vatican manuscript and made minor emendations of probable scribal errors, the more significant of which we mention below in the footnotes. Mai subsequently published a revised edition of the ad Marinum in idem, Novae patrum bibliothecae (Rome, 1847), 4:255–68, which was later appropriated in PG 22:937–53. Unless otherwise noted, the Greek text (and Latin translation) cited here are from Mai’s 1847 revised edition. We call attention below to a number of infelicities in Mai’s editions of the ad Marinum. Mai’s posthumously published text of Codex Vaticanus (1857, 1859) is renowned (see, e.g., F. G. Kenyon, Handbook to the Textual Criticism of the New Testament [Grand Rapids, 2nd ed. 1953], 77–85). 4 A. Birch, Variae Lectiones ad Textum IV Evangeliorum (Hauniae [Copenhagen], 1801), 226; K. Lachmann, “Rechenschaft über seine Ausgabe des Neuen Testaments,” TSK 3 (1830): 843–45; idem, Novum Testamentum Graece et Latine (Berlin, 2nd ed. 1842), 1:314. 5 Burgon, The Last Twelve Verses of the Gospel According to S. Mark Vindicated Against Recent Critical Objectors and Established (Oxford/London, 1871); Farmer, The Last Twelve Verses of Mark (SNTSMS 25, Cambridge, 1974). 6 Westcott and Hort, The New Testament in the Original Greek (Cambridge, 2nd ed. 1896), Appendix, 2:30–35. 7 Zamagni, “Les ‘Questions et réponses sur les évangiles’ d’Eusèbe de Césarée: étude et édition du résumé grec” (D.Th. Thesis, Lausanne, 2003), published as idem, Eusèbe de Césarée: Questions évangéliques (SC 523, Paris, 2008). 8 Eusebius of Caesarea: Gospel Problems and Solutions. Quaestiones ad Stephanum et Marinum (CPG 3470) (Ancient Texts in Translation 1, Ipswich [UK], 2010).

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A. Overview of the ad Marinum and Questions of Authorship, Genre and Preservation In what follows, we introduce the ad Marinum, provide in parallel columns the Greek text and a new translation of I.1–II.1, and analyze the claims about the textual history of Mark’s original conclusion and Longer Ending. We begin these introductory comments on the ad Marinum with the recognition that much remains to be considered in this important Christian writing dating to the fourth century or earlier. 1. Overview The ad Marinum addresses four questions, the first two of which are relevant for our investigation. The first question asks why (or whether) the timing of the resurrection in Matt 28:1 (ὀψὲ σαββάτων) contradicts that of Mark 16:2 (πρωῒ τῇ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων) and Mark 16:9 (πρωῒ πρώτῃ σαββάτου). The importance of answering such questions is easily recognized for a time when the four NT Gospels had been collected, when considerable questions of canon remained unresolved, and when alleged discrepancies in Scripture were alternately scrutinized by critics like Celsus (ca. 170 C.E.) and Porphyry (ca. 232/233–305 C.E.) and addressed by Christians, including Eusebius. In ad Marinum I.1–2, two different answers are given to resolve the first question about Matthew 28 and Mark 16. The first answer (I.1) claims that the “accurate copies” of Mark end at 16:8. Any alleged contradiction does not pose a problem since the Longer Ending is not an authentic part of Mark. By contrast, the second answer (I.2) denies that there is an actual discrepancy between Matt 28:1–20 and Mark 16:1–20; rather, each evangelist refers to a different event – Matthew to the resurrection, and Mark to subsequent appearances of Jesus. Because, according to I.2, the accounts of Matthew and “Mark” complement one another, one does not need to – and should not – question the status of the Longer Ending as an integral part of Mark. As a result, the text-critical observations in I.1 become superfluous. 2. Attribution to Eusebius The ad Marinum is attributed to Eusebius of Caesarea and receives its name because it ostensibly responds to the questions of a certain Marinus. On the basis of rather little evidence, for nearly two centuries scholars have unquestioningly accepted its Eusebian authorship. That attribution to Eusebius, the full investigation of which lies beyond the scope of our

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study,9 has never been questioned and needs to be tested. The evidence for Eusebian authorship stems primarily from the superscription in the Vatican codex that Mai published. The ascription is also attested in later Syriac fragments of this material and in certain later Christian writings.10 Jerome’s extensive use of the ad Marinum (Ep. 120.3 [ad Hedybiam]; ca. 406–407 C.E., approximately sixty-five years after Eusebius’s death) provides a terminus ante quem for the writing and could support the case for Eusebian authorship (although Jerome does not cite Eusebius as his source). 3. Genre and Preservation The ad Marinum belongs to the little-studied genre of Quaestiones et responsiones on Scripture.11 A superscription in the manuscript that Mai ed9

In what follows, we refer to the author as “Eusebius.” For earlier discussions of the ad Marinum and the unquestioned attribution of this writing to Eusebius, see Birch, Variae Lectiones, 226; K. Lachmann, “Ausgabe,” 843–45; idem, Novum Testamentum, 1:314; S. P. Tregelles, An Account of the Printed Text of the Greek New Testament (London, 1854), 247–51; J. W. Burgon, Last Twelve Verses, 41–51; Westcott and Hort, NT in the Original Greek, 2:30–33; C. R. Williams, “The Appendices to the Gospel according to Mark,” Transactions of the Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences 18 (Feb. 1915): 444–47; G. Bardy, “La littérature patristique des ‘QUAESTIONES ET RESPONSIONES’ sur l’Écriture Sainte,” RB 41 (1932): 211–36 at 228–36; J. Quasten, Patrology, 3:337; J. K. Elliott, “The Text and Language of the Endings to Mark’s Gospel” (1971), in The Language and Style of the Gospel of Mark: An Edition of C. H. Turner’s “Notes on Marcan Usage” together with Comparable Studies (NovTSup 71, Leiden, 1993), 203–11 at 204; W. Farmer, Last Twelve Verses, 3–13; J. Hug, La finale de l’évangile de Marc: Mc 16,9–20 (Études Bibliques, Paris, 1978), 11–12, 193–94; K. Aland, “Bemerkungen zum Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” in E. E. Ellis and Max Wilcox (eds.), Neotestamentica et Semitica (FS Matthew Black, Edinburgh, 1969), 157–80 at 160; idem, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 438; Aland and Aland, Text of the NT, 287; Pieter W. van der Horst, Review of Pearse, Gospel Problems and Solutions in Bryn Mawr Classical Review (2012.04.39); online: http://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/2012/2012-04-39.html (on 24 Nov. 2013). Cf. on the ad Stephanum, Rajiv Bhola, “Dating Eusebius’ Quaestiones ad Stephanum,” in Marie-Pierre Bussières (ed.), La littérature des questions et réponses dans l’antiquité profane et chrétienne: de l’enseignement à l’exégèse (Instrumenta patristica et mediaevalia 64, Turnhout, 2013), 153–76, who likewise assumes Eusebian authorship and suggests a date for the ad Stephanum “in or around 314” (p. 176) – somewhat earlier than the consensus of “the late-310s to early-320s” (p. 154). 10 See A. Baumstark, “Syrische Fragmente von Eusebios Περὶ διαφωνίας εὐαγγελίων,” OrChr 1 (1901): 378–82; G. Beyer, “Die evangelischen Fragen und Lösungen des Eusebius in jakobitischer Überlieferung und deren nestorianische Parallelen: Syrische Texte herausgegeben, übersetzt und untersucht,” OrChr n.s. 12–14 (1922–24): 30–70; OrChr 3 rd ser. 1 (1926): 80–97, 284–92; 2 (1927): 57–69. 11 The question-answer format of the ad Marinum can be compared with many similar late-ancient Christian writings addressing a plethora of other questions. A number of these can be found in the volumes edited by Mai and in volume 22 of Migne’s Patrologia

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ited describes the work as a “brief epitome” (ἐπιτοµὴ ἐν σύντοµῳ) of a longer work. Assuming Eusebian authorship, it is possible that the ad Marinum, as well as the ad Stephanum (“to Stephanus”), represent parts of Eusebius’s lost work On the Inconsistencies of the Gospels.12 Westcott and Hort observe that, in some places, the compact and awkward syntax in the ad Marinum would be consistent with the condensing work of an epitomizer.13 However, William Farmer’s characterization of the writing as fragmentary is inaccurate.14 We call attention to several instances (below, in the notes) where the Greek is awkward or unclear, possibly the result of an epitomizer’s abridgments. Ironically, this work, devoted to elucidating problems in the Gospels, seems to survive in a clumsily truncated and vexingly aporetic version. An additional question is how much of this abridged work may have been lost. As mentioned above, Burgon and Farmer conclude that a significant portion of Eusebius’s work does not survive. The ad Stephanum (presumably from the same author) addresses inconsistencies near the graeca. On this genre, see G. Bardy, “QUAESTIONES ET RESPONSIONES,” RB 41 (1932): 341–69, 515–37; 42 (1933): 14–30, 211–29, 328–52; C. Curti, Art. “Quaestiones et Responsiones on Holy Scripture,” in Angelo Di Berardino (ed.), Encyclopedia of the Early Church (trans. Adrian Walford, New York, 1992), 2:727–28; and, most recently, Annelie Volgers and Claudio Zamagni (eds.), Erotapokriseis: Early Christian Questionand-Answer Literature in Context (CBET 37, Leuven, 2004), including essays by Zamagni on methodology for examining this genre and on Eusebius’s technical terms. See further C. Zamagni, “Eusebius’ Exegesis between Alexandria and Antioch: Being a Scholar in Caesarea (a Text Case from Questions to Stephanos I),” in S. Inowlocki and C. Zamagni (eds.), Reconsidering Eusebius: Collected Papers on Literary, Historical, and Theological Issues (VCSup 107, Leiden, 2011), 151–76; M.-P. Bussières (ed.), La littérature des questions et réponses dans l’Antiquité profane et chrétienne: de l’enseignement à l’exégèse. Actes du séminaire sur le genre des questions et réponses tenu à Ottawa les 27 et 28 septembre 2009 (Turnhout, 2013). 12 So Burgon, Last Twelve Verses, 30–31; Westcott and Hort, NT in the Original Greek, 2:30–31 at 31 (the surviving extracts “are extant in a condensed form”); Farmer, Last Twelve Verses, 3. 13 Westcott and Hort, NT in the Original Greek, 2:31–32. Aware of the redactional influences that may have shaped such an epitome, Burgon, Last Twelve Verses, 42–43, suggests that it “may reasonably be doubted” that the first question-and-answer section “came [exactly] from the pen of Eusebius” and that “in some instances amputation would probably be a more fitting description of what has taken place” (43, emphasis original). In a somewhat curious assertion, Burgon expresses confidence that a complete copy of this lost work by Eusebius, once discovered, will not “exhibit anything essentially different from what is contained in” the first section (44). 14 Farmer, Last Twelve Verses, 3, typically refers to this writing as “the Mai fragments.” For example, he infers that “the four questions in the text published by Mai represent only a small selection from the latter portion of a much larger work” (ibid.). “Fragments” is not an apt designation for this writing’s extended arguments in response to questions raised. In short, an epitome differs significantly from isolated “fragments.”

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beginning of the Gospels.15 In his Preface to the ad Marinum, the author states that he is “skipping over the middle parts” (τὰ µέσα παρελθών) and “proceeding next to the questions . . . at the end of” the Gospels. It is unclear, however, whether it was “Eusebius” himself or the later epitomizer who was doing the “skipping.” Did the original author “skip” over the middle sections of the Gospels, or did the epitomizer “skip” over the middle part of Eusebius’s On the Inconsistencies of the Gospels? Burgon and Farmer could be correct in their inference that the epitomizer has omitted numerous answers to perplexities among the middle parts of the Gospels. But if the original author had chosen to address, only in the opening and concluding pericopes of the Gospels, questions about the Savior’s birth and resurrection (after the pattern of the Apostle’s Creed, for example), no significant portion of the work(s) need have been lost. Since Jerome (Ep. 120, discussed below) mentions twelve questions, the original content of the ad Marinum must remain an open question. Despite the many uncertainties about the work’s authorship, origin, and original content, there is much to be gained from an examination of ad Marinum I.1–II.1.

B. Text and Translation The Greek text we provide here is based on Mai’s 1847 revised text. In the footnotes, we discuss some differences, especially in regard to apparent errors in the MS or alternate possibilities for punctuation, in Mai’s 1825 and 1847 editions and in the text subsequently published in J.-P. Migne’s Patrologia graeca. We also call attention to differences from the text that Zamagni published in 2008.16 The number references given here for individual sections of the ad Marinum (I.1, I.2, etc.) correspond to the minimalist numbering system in Mai’s edition. The translation of the ad Marinum I.1–II.1 is our own. Words supplied in the translation which do not have explicit equivalents in Greek are placed in brackets [ ]. The reason for making a translation of only the initial sections of this writing, which comprise approximately one-fourth of the ad Marinum, is twofold. First, the writing is too long to be translated and analyzed in a single article. Second, only Part I of the ad 15

The sixteen questions addressed in the ad Stephanum focus on the birth narratives of Matthew and Luke and especially on the genealogies. For the Greek text of the ad Stephanum, see Mai, Novae patrum bibliothecae, 4:219–54 (= PG 22:879–936); Zamagni, Questions évangéliques, 80–192 (= Pearse, Gospel Problems, 6–92). 16 Zamagni, Questions évangéliques, 80–231. Pearse, Gospel Problems, 6–128, reproduces Zamagni’s text with a new, colloquial translation by David J. D. Miller.

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Marinum discusses the Longer Ending in any detail. We include ad Marinum II.1 here because it bears upon our analysis of I.1–2.17 Τῶν18 ἐν τοῖς θεοπνεύστοις εὐαγγελίοις19 περὶ τὴν ἀρχὴν ἀπορουµένων ζητηµάτων καὶ λύσεων δύο πεπονηκὼς ἤδη πρότερον συγγράµµατα,20 πάρειµι νῦν, τὰ µέσα παρελθὼν, ἔπειτα πρὸς τῷ τέλει τῶν αὐτῶν πάντοτε τοῖς πᾶσι ζητούµενα· τάχα που τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ βουλῆς διὰ τῶν σῶν ἐπιταγµάτων ἐπὶ τοῦτο ἡµᾶς παρορµησάσης, Μαρῖνε υἱὲ τιµιώτατέ µοι καὶ φιλοπονώτατε. Ἠρώτας δὲ τὸ πρῶτον· I. Πῶς παρὰ µὲν τῷ Ματθαίῳ ὀψὲ σαββάτων21 φαίνεται ἐγηγερµένος ὁ

Having already formerly labored over two compositions made up of perplexing questions in the divinely inspired Gospels near the beginning and [their] resolutions, I am now, skipping over the middle parts, proceeding next to the questions that are always being raised by everyone at the end of the same texts. [I do so] without much delay since the will of God spurs us on to this through your commands, Marinus, my most honored and most industrious son. You asked first, I. How is it that in Matthew the Savior appears to have been raised

17 The rest of ad Marinum II develops similar arguments about the compatibility of the chronologies of Matthew 28 and John 20. Part III, like Part II, discusses the timing of Jesus’ appearance in Matthew and John and compares when “the Magdalene and the other Mary” touched Jesus’ feet (Matt 28:9) with when Jesus told Mary Magdalene not to touch him (John 20:17). Part IV (περὶ τοῦ τάφου καὶ τῆς δοκούσης διαφωνίας, “on the [empty] tomb and the seeming inconsistency”) addresses the timing of Jesus’ burial. 18 Our translation begins with the participle πεπονηκώς and construes τῶν . . . ἀπορουµένων ζητηµάτων καὶ λύσεων as dependent upon δύο . . . συγγράµµατα. Moreover, ἐν τοῖς θεοπνεύστοις εὐαγγελίοις is to be taken with ζητηµάτων but not λύσεων. The other “inquiries,” or “questions” (ζητήµατα), arise from the Gospels’ opening pericopes, and the two works addressed “to Stephanus” (see note 15, above) provide the resolutions. 19 Θεοπνεύστοις εὐαγγελίοις: cf. πᾶσα γραφὴ θεόπνευστος (2 Tim 3:16a). 20 Mai’s editions (1825 and 1847) read συγγάµµατα rather than συγγράµµατα. This apparent mistake, either on the part of Mai or an earlier copyist of the MS, is corrected in PG 22:957 (also, more recently, in Zamagni, Questions évangéliques, 194 line 3; Pearse, Gospel Problems, 96 line 2). 21 The adverb ὀψέ (Matt 28:1) means “after a long time” or “late.” It is to be differentiated from πρωΐ (“early,” Mark 16:2). In Matt 28:1, ὀψὲ σαββάτων indicates a time “late on the Sabbath” – that is, on Saturday evening. A dubious, yet commonly suggested, rendering of ὀψέ in Matt 28:1, which may reflect an underlying desire to harmonize Matt 28:1 with Mark 16:2, is of ὀψέ as an improper preposition meaning “after” (so BDAG, 743, s.v. ὀψέ def. 3). By contrast, LSJ, 1282, s.v. ὀψέ (def. 4), after entries on ὀψέ meaning “late” (defs. 1–3), suggests that ὀψέ could “perh[aps]” mean “after” in Matt 28:1, in contrast to the standard meaning of ὀψέ as “late.” See further, on terms for time in the NT (with apt critique of the NRSV translation), T. W. Martin, “Time and Money in Translation: A Comparison of the Revised Standard Version and the New Revised Standard Version,” BR 38 (1993): 55–73 at 67–69.

Text and Translation

Σωτὴρ, παρὰ δὲ τῷ Μάρκῳ πρωῒ τῇ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων.22 αʹʹ. Τούτου διττὴ ἂν εἴη ἡ λύσις· ὁ µὲν γὰρ τὸ κεφάλαιον αὐτὸ τὴν τοῦτο φάσκουσαν περικοπὴν ἀθετῶν,23 εἴποι ἂν µὴ ἐν ἅπασιν αὐτὴν φέρεσθαι τοῖς ἀντιγράφοις τοῦ κατὰ Μάρκον εὐαγγελίου· τὰ γοῦν ἀκριβῆ τῶν ἀντιγράφων τὸ τέλος περιγράφει τῆς κατὰ τὸν Μάρκον ἱστορίας24 ἐν τοῖς λόγοις τοῦ ὀφθέντος νεανίσκου ταῖς γυναιξὶ καὶ εἰρηκότος αὐταῖς, «Μὴ φοβεῖσθε,25 Ἰησοῦν ζητεῖτε τὸν Ναζαρηνόν·» καὶ τοῖς ἑξῆς, οἷς ἐπιλέγει·26 «καὶ ἀκούσασαι27 ἔφυγον, καὶ οὐδενὶ οὐδὲν εἶπον, ἐφοβοῦντο

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“late on the Sabbath” but in Mark [it is] “early on the first day of the week”? 1. The solution to this might be twofold. For, on the one hand, the one who rejects the passage itself, [namely] the pericope that says this, might say that it does not appear in all the copies of the Gospel according to Mark. At any rate, the accurate [ones] of the copies define the end of the account according to Mark at the words of the young man who appeared to the women and said to them, “Do not fear. You are seeking Jesus the Nazarene” and the [words] that follow. In addition, it [Mark] re-

22 The question refers to the whole of Mark 16 and is a conflation of Mark 16:2 and 16:9. Although πρωῒ τῇ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων is an exact citation of Mark 16:2 (not 16:9, πρωῒ πρώτῃ σαββάτου), the words φαίνεται ἐγηγερµένος seem to have been drawn from the Longer Ending (ἐφάνη, 16:9; ἐγηγερµένον, 16:14). 23 Westcott and Hort, NT in the Original Greek, 2:31, explain the compact syntax and redundancy of τὸ κεφάλαιον αὐτὸ τὴν τοῦτο φάσκουσαν περικοπήν as the work of a later epitomizer who brought similar parts of this writing together: “Some slight roughnesses in the Greek of this passage are evidently due to condensation. Thus the duplicate phrases in the apposition, τὸ κεφάλαιον αὐτό and τὴν τοῦτο φάσκουσαν περικοπήν. . . , may very possibly have been brought together from different sentences.” Less helpful is Burgon, Last Twelve Verses, 45 note r, who calls into question the originality of τὴν τοῦτο φάσκουσαν περικοπήν as “probably a gloss, explanatory of τὸ κεφάλαιον αὐτό.” 24 Here, ἱστορία and εὐαγγέλιον (two lines above) seem to be used interchangeably. We translate ἱστορίας as “account” (rather than “history,” which is also possible), because the author calls attention not to the genre of history but to Mark’s version (or narrative, account) in contrast to Matthew’s version. 25 The citation of Mark 16:6 (Μὴ φοβεῖσθε, Ἰησοῦν ζητεῖτε τὸν Ναζαρηνόν) reflects assimilation to Matt 28:5 (µὴ φοβεῖσθε ὑµεῖς, οἶδα γὰρ ὅτι Ἰησοῦν τὸν ἐσταυρωµένον ζητεῖτε). Cf. Mark 16:6: µὴ ἐκθαµβεῖσθε· Ἰησοῦν ζητεῖτε τὸν Ναζαρηνόν. One can wonder whether the author of the ad Marinum might have been influenced by a harmony of the Gospels or by one or more Gospel MSS that had been edited in keeping with with a harmonizing principle. 26 Ἐπιλέγει seems to call attention to the reading of Mark – i.e., what Mark “recounts” orally. See LSJ, 642–43 at 643, s.v. ἐπιλέγω (def. III.3). 27 The reading καὶ ἀκούσασαι ἔφυγον agrees with Codex Freerianius (W, 032), 099, and some of the Sinaitic Syriac MSS (sys[p.hmg]). Cf. καὶ ἐξελθοῦσαι ἔφυγον in the NestleAland28 text of Mark 16:8.

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γάρ.» Ἐν τούτῳ28 γὰρ σχεδὸν ἐν ἅπασι τοῖς ἀντιγράφοις τοῦ κατὰ Μάρκον εὐαγγελίου περιγέγραπται τὸ τέλος·29 τὰ δὲ ἑξῆς σπανίως ἔν τισιν ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἐν πᾶσι30 φερόµενα περιττὰ ἂν εἴη, καὶ µάλιστα εἴπερ31 ἔχοιεν32 ἀντιλογίαν τῇ τῶν λοιπῶν εὐαγγελιστῶν µαρτυρίᾳ· ταῦτα µὲν οὖν εἴποι ἄν τις παραιτούµενος καὶ πάντη ἀναιρῶν33 περιττὸν34 ἐρώτηµα.

Ἄλλος δέ τις οὐδ᾽ ὁτιοῦν35 τολµῶν ἀθετεῖν τῶν ὁπωσοῦν36 ἐν τῇ τῶν εὐαγγελίων γραφῇ φεροµένων, 28

counts, “And having heard [this] they fled. And they said nothing to anyone because they were afraid.” For in nearly all the copies of the Gospel according to Mark the end is concluded here. But the [words] that follow, since they are borne seldom in some but not in all [the copies], may be spurious, especially if they should pose a contradiction to the testimony of the rest of the evangelists. This then [is what] someone might say to avoid and completely do away with a superfluous question. On the other hand, someone else, who does not dare to set aside anything whatsoever from the things that

We construe ἐν τούτῳ as a locative dative (with περιγέγραπται τὸ τέλος, at the end of the sentence) indicating the place where Mark ended; thus, “at this place” or, in our translation, “here.” 29 Note the repetitive hendiadys περιγέγραπται τὸ τέλος, apparently for emphasis. 30 On an epitomizer’s possible changes to the syntax of περιγέγραπται τὸ τέλος and of σπανίως ἔν τισιν ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἐν πᾶσι, see Westcott and Hort, NT in the Original Greek, 2:31. 31 There is an element of ambiguity in εἴπερ, which can mean “if,” “if indeed” or “since.” The first of these is most apt for the passage above because the author presents the alleged contradiction only as a hypothetical possibility in the optative mood. See further Kelhoffer, Persecution, Persuasion and Power, 38–40, on εἴπερ συµπάσχοµεν (Rom 8:17). 32 On the translation of ἔχοιεν, see LSJ s.v. ἔχω, A. def. I.4. 33 Note the hendiadys παραιτούµενος καὶ πάντη ἀναιρῶν. We construe the participle παραιτούµενος as expressing purpose (LSJ, II.2.a). 34 Περιττὰ . . . περιττόν: the (consistent) argument is that, if the Longer Ending is spurious/false/superfluous, so also is the question about a possible contradiction between Matthew and a spurious part of Mark. 35 Ὁτιοῦν: neut. of ὁστισοῦν (“anything whatsoever”), negated by οὐδ᾽. Mai’s 1847 edition contains an apparent misprint: ὀτιοῦν, a misprint that is not present in his 1825 edition or in later editions (PG 22:957; Zamagni, Questions évangéliques, 196 line 19; Pearse, Gospel Problems, 98 line 1). 36 The adverb ὁπωσοῦν (“by whatever means”) could also be construed as meaning “ever so little,” “ever so seldom,” or even “however seldom.” Here, it could refer either to the brevity of Mark 16:9–20 as compared with the length of the Second Gospel or, more likely, to the means by which the Longer Ending may have come to be associated with the Gospel of Mark. That is to say, “someone else” would never consider setting aside a passage like Mark 16:9–20, regardless of whether Mark himself wrote it and, moreover, regardless of how it came to be added to the Second Gospel.

Text and Translation

διπλὴν37 εἶναί φησι38 τὴν ἀνάγνωσιν, ὡς καὶ ἐν ἑτέροις πολλοῖς, ἑκατέραν39 τε παραδεκτέαν ὑπάρχειν, τῷ µὴ µᾶλλον40 ταύτην ἐκείνης, ἢ ἐκείνην ταύτης, παρὰ τοῖς πιστοῖς καὶ εὐλαβέσιν ἐγκρίνεσθαι.

βʹʹ. Καὶ δὴ τοῦδε τοῦ µέρους41 συγχωρουµένου εἶναι ἀληθοῦς, προσήκει τὸν νοῦν διερµηνεύειν τοῦ ἀναγνώσµατος· εἰ γοῦν διέλοιµεν42 τὴν τοῦ λόγου διάνοιαν, οὐκ ἂν εὕροιµεν αὐτὴν43 ἐναντίαν τοῖς παρὰ τοῦ Ματθαίου ὀψὲ σαββάτων ἐγηγέρθαι τὸν Σωτῆρα λελεγµένοις· τὸ γὰρ ἀναστὰς δὲ πρωῒ τῇ µιᾷ τοῦ

37

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are recorded, by whatever means, in the text of the Gospels, says that the reading is double – as [it is] also in many other [cases], and [that] each [reading] is to be accepted in that [they both] are approved in the opinion of the faithful and pious – not this [reading] rather than that one, or that [reading] rather than this one. 2. And what is more, if it is granted that this position is correct, it is fitting to interpret the sense of the reading. If then we should determine the meaning of the expression, we would not find it [to be] contrary to the things said by Matthew, [that] “late on the Sabbath” the Savior was raised. For the [passage], “and having

Διπλήν . . . τὴν ἀνάγνωσιν: i.e., there are two (different) readings, as the author goes on to explain. 38 Φησι: Note the change from the earlier optative mood (εἴποι), suggesting a hypothetical answer, to the indicative mood (φησι) in the second explanation, indicating that the author prefers the second explanation to the first one. See our discussion, below, on the possibility that “Eusebius” inherited the first answer (I.1) from an earlier tradition but favored the second one. If that inference is correct, the text-critical information in ad Marinum I.1 could stem from the third century (prior to Eusebius in the early-fourth century). 39 Ἑκατέραν, referring to ἀνάγνωσιν (which governs the gender and number of ταύτην ἐκείνης, ἢ ἐκείνην ταύτης). 40 Mai indicates that the codex reads ἄλλον. 41 Concurring with the inference of D. J. D. Miller (in Pearse, Gospel Problems, 99), who translates “the latter point of view,” construing τοῦδε τοῦ µέρους as a reference to the preceding sentiment that the believer is not to choose one part of Scripture over another. Alternately, τοῦδε τοῦ µέρους (“the one part”) could be viewed as awkward (possibly reflecting the work of an epitomist) and as an oblique reference to Matthew 28, asserting that if one part of Scripture is “true” (ἀληθοῦς), another part (Mark 16) can also be shown to be true. 42 Reading διέλοιµεν (from διαιρέω), following the conjecture of Migne, PG, 22:940 (so also Zamagni, Questions évangéliques, 198 line 27; Pearse, Gospel Problems, 98 line 8). Mai’s 1825 and 1847 editions read διελοίµην (first person singular, middle voice), rather than διέλοιµεν (first person plural, active voice). 43 Αὐτήν, referring to τὴν . . . διάνοιαν (“the meaning”).

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σαββάτου κατὰ τὸν Μάρκον,44 µετὰ διαστολῆς ἀναγνωσόµεθα· καὶ µετὰ τὸ ἀναστὰς δὲ, ὑποστίξοµεν· καὶ τὴν διάνοιαν ἀφορίσοµεν τῶν ἑξῆς ἐπιλεγοµένων· εἶτα τὸ µὲν ἀναστὰς ἂν ἐπὶ τὴν45 παρὰ τῷ Ματθαίῳ ὀψὲ σαββάτων· τότε γὰρ ἐγήγερτο· τὸ δὲ ἑξῆς ἑτέρας, ὂν46 διανοίας ὑποστατικὸν,47 συνάψωµεν48 τοῖς ἐπιλεγοµένοις· πρωῒ γὰρ τῇ µιᾷ τοῦ σαββάτου ἐφάνη Μαρίᾳ τῇ Μαγδαληνῇ·49

τοῦτο γοῦν ἐδήλωσε καὶ ὁ Ἰωάννης πρωῒ καὶ αὐτὸς τῇ µιᾷ τοῦ σαββάτου ὦφθαι αὐτὸν τῇ Μαγδαληνῇ µαρτυρήσας· οὕτως οὖν καὶ παρὰ τῷ Μάρκῳ πρωῒ50 ἐφάνη αὐτῇ· οὐ πρωῒ ἀναστὰς, ἀλλὰ πολὺ πρότερον κατὰ 44

risen early on the first day of the week” according to Mark, we shall read aloud with a pause: after the “and having risen” we shall insert a comma. And we shall separate the meaning from the [words] that are read afterward. Thus, on the one hand, [we may read] the [expression] “having risen” with reference to the [meaning] in Matthew, “late on the Sabbath.” For that is when he was raised. On the other hand, we would join what follows (which gives rise to a different meaning) to the [words] that are read afterward: for “early on the first day of the week he appeared to Mary Magdalene.” Indeed, John himself has also made this clear [about] “early” when he bore witness, “Early on the first day of the week” he [Christ] appeared to the Magdalene. In this manner, then, he appeared “early” to

Once again (see note 22, above), the text cited is a conflation of Mark 16:9 (ἀναστὰς δὲ πρωῒ πρώτῃ σαββάτου, prior to an appearance to Magdalene) and 16:2 (λίαν πρωῒ τῇ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων, prior to the women’s discovery of the empty tomb). 45 Ἐπὶ τήν, referring to the preceding τὴν διάνοιαν. 46 It appears that ὃν is a mistake that should be corrected to ὂν. So also (apparently following our suggestion) Zamagni, Questions évangéliques, 198 line 35; Pearse, Gospel Problems, 98 line 15. 47 On ὑποστατικόν see LSJ, s.v. ὑποστατικός, II.2. 48 In ὑποστίξοµεν . . . ἂν . . . συνάψωµεν (rather than συνάψοµεν), D. Miller (in Pearse, Gospel Problems, 99 n. 2) points out that ἄν “does not fit into the syntax of the sentence.” We do not, however, follow Miller (ibid.), who proposes a textual emendation here to solve the problem posed by ἄν. More likely, ἂν . . . συνάψωµεν is a conditional subjunctive (“we would, or could, join”). Less plausible would be to construe συνάψωµεν as a hortatory subjunctive (“let us join”) and ἄν as a remnant of an awkward epitome. Since συνάψωµεν follows the indicative verbs ἀναγνωσόµεθα . . . ὑποστίξοµεν . . . ἀφορίσοµεν, and because the placement of ἂν is highly unusual, any inference (including ours) is conjectural. 49 “Eusebius” omits the adverb πρώτῃ in the citation of Mark 16:9 when distinguishing chronologically the two parts of Mark 16:9a–b – first, ἀναστὰς δὲ πρωῒ πρώτῃ σαββάτου (16:9a) and, later, ἐφάνη Μαρίᾳ τῇ Μαγδαληνῇ (16:9b). 50 I.e., the evangelist John “made clear” that “early” (πρωΐ) Sunday morning points to the time of an appearance – not to the (earlier) resurrection.

Text and Translation

τὸν Ματθαῖον ὀψὲ τοῦ σαββάτου· τότε γὰρ ἀναστὰς ἐφάνη τῇ Μαρίᾳ, οὐ τότε,51 ἀλλὰ πρωΐ· ὡς52 παρίστασθαι ἐν τούτοις καιροὺς δύο· τὸν53 µὲν γὰρ τῆς ἀναστάσεως, τὸν ὀψὲ τοῦ σαββάτου· τὸν δὲ τῆς τοῦ σωτῆρος ἐπιφανείας, τὸν πρωῒ, ὃν ἔγραψεν ὁ Μάρκος εἰπὼν ὃ καὶ µετὰ διαστολῆς ἀναγνωστέον «ἀναστὰς δέ·» εἶτα ὑποστίξαντες, τὸ ἑξῆς ῥητέον, «πρωῒ τῇ µιᾷ τοῦ σαββάτου ἐφάνη54 Μαρίᾳ τῇ Μαγδαληνῇ, ἀφ᾽ ἧς55 ἐκβεβλήκει ἑπτὰ δαιµόνια.»

II. Πῶς κατὰ τὸν Ματθαῖον ὀψὲ σαββάτων ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ τεθεαµένη τὴν ἀνάστασιν, κατὰ τὸν Ἰωάννην ἡ αὐτὴ ἑστῶσα κλαίει παρὰ τῷ µνηµείῳ τῇ µιᾷ τοῦ σαββάτου. αʹʹ. Οὐδὲν ἂν ζητηθείη κατὰ τοὺς τόπους, εἰ τὸ ὀψὲ σαββάτων µὴ τὴν ἑσπερινὴν ὥραν τὴν µετὰ τὴν ἡµέραν τοῦ σαββάτου56 λέγεσθαι

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her also in Mark. It is not “early” [that] “he rose” but much earlier, according to Matthew, “late on the Sabbath.” For at that time, “having arisen,” he appeared to Mary – not at that [same] time, but “early.” The consequence is that two points in time are presented in these [accounts], for the one [is the time] of the resurrection, which was “late on the Sabbath.” The other [is the time] of the manifestation of the Savior, which was “early,” about which Mark wrote when he said what is to be read with a pause: “And having risen. . .” Then, after inserting a comma, what follows is to be spoken: “Early on the first day of the week he appeared to Mary Magdalene, from whom he had cast out seven demons.” II. How is it that according to Matthew the Magdalene saw the resurrection “late on the Sabbath,” [but] according to John she cried while standing at the tomb “on the first day of the week?” 1. Nothing would have been disputed about these passages, if we would not suppose the [expression] “late on the Sabbath” to designate the

51 That is, at the same time as he had risen. Both occurrences of the adverb τότε refer to the same point in time, namely the resurrection “late on the Sabbath” (Matt 28:1). 52 Construing ὡς . . . δύο as a consecutive clause (Smyth, Greek Grammar §3000). 53 The accusative case of τόν is governed by καιροὺς δύο. 54 With the omission (if that is the right word) of πρῶτον after ἐφάνη, the citation corresponds to Codex Washingtonius (W). 55 Cf. Mark 16:9b: Μαρίᾳ τῇ Μαγδαληνῇ, παρ᾿ ἧς ἐκβεβλήκει ἑπτὰ δαιµόνια. The above reading (ἀφ᾽ ἧς) agrees with Luke 8:2b (Μαρία ἡ καλουµένη Μαγδαληνή, ἀφ᾿ ἧς δαιµόνια ἑπτὰ ἐξεληλύθει), as well as several (presumably harmonized) witnesses to Mark 16:9 (e.g., A C 3 SY f 1.13). 56 That is, on Saturday evening. “Eusebius” distinguishes between the evening of Saturday (µὴ τὴν ἑσπερινὴν ὥραν τὴν µετὰ τὴν ἡµέραν τοῦ σαββάτου) and, subsequently,

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ὑπολάβοιµεν, ὥς τινες ὑπειλήφασιν, ἀλλὰ τὸ βραδὺ καὶ ὀψὲ τῆς νυκτὸς τῆς µετὰ τὸ σάββατον·57 οὕτω γὰρ καὶ ὀψὲ τῆς ὥρας εἰώθαµεν λέγειν, καὶ ὀψὲ τοῦ καιροῦ, καὶ ὀψὲ τῆς χρείας· οὐ τὴν ἑσπέραν δηλοῦντες, οὐδὲ τὸν µετὰ ἡλίου δυσµὰς χρόνον,58 τὸ δὲ σφόδρα βράδιον τούτῳ σηµαίνοντες τῷ τρόπῳ· ὅθεν ὥσπερ διερµηνεύων αὐτὸς ἑαυτὸν ὁ Ματθαῖος µετὰ59 τὸ ὀψὲ σαββάτων, ἐπήγαγε τῇ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ·60 φησί δηλαδὴ ὥρᾳ τῇ λοιπὸν61 ἤδη ὑποφαινούσῃ62 καὶ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ εἰς τὴν κυριακὴν ἡµέραν, ἥτις ἦν ὀψὲ καὶ πόῤῥω λοιπὸν ἐλαύνουσα τῶν σαββάτων· λέλεκται δὲ ὀψὲ τοῦ σαββάτου παρὰ τοῦ ἑρµηνεύσαντος τὴν γραφήν·63

evening hour which is after the day of the Sabbath, as some have understood [it], but a point advanced and “late” in the night that [was] after the Sabbath. For in this way also we are accustomed to say “late in the hour” and “late in the season” and “[too] late in the time of need.” We are not signifying the evening nor the twilight. Rather, we are indicating in this manner something absolutely later. Accordingly, Matthew, as though he were interpreting himself, added “at the lighting up” after “late on the Sabbath.” He clearly says at the hour that was then already glimmering and “lighting up” into the Lord’s day, which was “late” and was then far

a point late during the night between Saturday and Sunday (ὀψὲ τῆς νυκτὸς τῆς µετὰ τὸ σάββατον). 57 Farmer, Last Twelve Verses, 5, gathered into a single paragraph Burgon’s partial and fragmentary translation (Burgon, Last Twelve Verses, 46–47). Farmer’s reproduction, however, does not indicate (!) that Burgon omits the lines after the end of the last sentence (βραδὺ καὶ ὀψὲ τῆς νυκτὸς τῆς µετὰ τὸ σάββατον) and begins again (some twentytwo lines below) with ὥστε τὸν αὐτὸν σχεδὸν νοεῖσθαι καιρόν. Farmer also seems not to be aware that Burgon’s translation ends with ἕνα καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν δηλοῦσι χρόνον διαφόροις ῥήµασι (see, below, the last 13–14 lines of II.1). 58 Lit.: “the time after the setting of the sun.” 59 Cf. Matt 28:1 (ὀψὲ δὲ σαββάτων τῇ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ εἰς µίαν σαββάτων κ.τ.λ.), where τῇ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ is said to follow ὀψὲ δὲ σαββάτων. 60 We construe δηλαδή as an adverb modifying φησί and have thus altered Mai’s punctuation (also the punctuation of Zamagni, Questions évangéliques, 200 line 13; Pearse, Gospel Problems, 100 line 12) from ἐπήγαγε τῇ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ φησί· δηλαδή, placing the break prior to φησί: ἐπήγαγε τῇ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ· φησί δηλαδὴ κ.τ.λ. 61 The two occurrences of λοιπόν in this sentence appear in contexts referring to a future point in time (cf. LSJ, 477, def. 3). We leave both occurrences of λοιπόν untranslated because an English equivalent would make both phrases overly redundant. 62 Presumably following the codex, Mai (so also Zamagni, Questions évangéliques, 200 line 14; Pearse, Gospel Problems, 102 line 1) punctuates this phrase with a comma after ὑποφαινούσῃ (ὑποφαινούσῃ, καὶ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ εἰς τὴν κυριακὴν ἡµέραν). Mai does not, however, include a comma here in his Latin translation (suberat atque illucescebat in diem dominicum). Above, we have removed this comma and translated ὑποφαινούσῃ καὶ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ as part of the same phrase. 63 Mai’s Latin translation is quite different at this point: Id vero tempus a scripturae evangelicae interprete sero sabbati appellatum est (“In truth this time is pronounced by the interpreter of the Gospel Scripture [as] ‘late on the Sabbath.’”).

Text and Translation

ὁ µὲν γὰρ εὐαγγελιστὴς Ματθαῖος Ἑβραΐδι γλώττῃ παρέδωκε τὸ εὐαγγέλιον· ὁ δὲ ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλήνων φωνὴν64 µεταβαλὼν αὐτὸ, τὴν ἐπιφωσκοῦσαν ὥραν εἰς τὴν κυριακὴν ἡµέραν, ὀψὲ σαββάτων προσεῖπεν,65 ὥστε τὸν αὐτὸν σχεδὸν νοεῖσθαι καιρὸν, ἢ τὸν σφόδρα ἐγγὺς παρὰ τοῖς εὐαγγελισταῖς66 διαφόροις ὀνόµασι67 τετηρηµένον· µηδέν τε διαφέρειν Ματθαῖον εἰρηκότα· «Ὀψὲ δὲ σαββάτων τῇ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ εἰς µίαν σαββάτων ἦλθε Μαρία68 ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ καὶ ἡ ἄλλη Μαρία θεωρῆσαι τὸν τάφον,» Ἰωάννου φήσαντος· «τῇ δὲ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων ἔρχεται Μαρία ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ πρωῒ εἰς τὸ µνηµεῖον, ἔτι οὔσης σκοτίας.» Πλατυκῶς γὰρ ἕνα καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν δηλοῦσι69 χρόνον διαφόροις ῥήµασι· ὁ µὲν Ματθαῖος ὀψὲ, ἀντὶ τοῦ βράδιον· καὶ ὀψὲ τῆς νυκτὸς ὀνοµάσας πρωῒ, ὁ

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advanced into the Sabbath. “Late on the Sabbath” was said by the one who interprets the Scripture. For the evangelist Matthew handed down the Gospel in the Hebrew language, and the one who translated it into the Greek language called the hour “lighting up” into the Lord’s day “late on the Sabbath.” As a result, it is [to be] understood that nearly the same time, or a very close one, was observed by the evangelists [but] by different expressions. Further, [what] Matthew said, “Late on the Sabbath, at the lighting up into the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb,” differs in no way from [what] John says, “On the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb while it was still dark.” For, broadly speaking, they signify with different words one and the same time. For Matthew [wrote] “late” instead of later, and [John]

64 Cf. Euseb. Hist. eccl. 3.39.16, ostensibly summarizing Papias: “Matthew collected (συντάσσω) the oracles in the Hebrew language (διάλεκτος), and each person interpreted (ἑρµηνεύω) them as he was able.” See also below in ad Marinum II.1 (the 12th–11th last lines), where the author of the Fourth Gospel is referred to as an “interpreter” of Matthew (ὁ διερµηνεύων). 65 We punctuate with a comma (,) rather than a semicolon (·) here, because ὥστε . . . νοεῖσθαι (“. . .so that it is understood that. . .”) is a dependent clause. For τηρέω meaning “to watch, observe” see LSJ, 1789 s.v. τηρέω def. II.1–2. Another possible translation for τετηρηµένον would be “preserved” (LSJ, 1789 s.v. τηρέω def. III.2). In any case, the author’s point is clear: the evangelists “observed/preserved” nearly the same time using different expressions. 66 That is, Matthew and John. 67 Cf. διαφόροις ῥήµασι, some 11 lines below in II.1. 68 Compare with Matt 28:1b (NA 28): ἦλθεν Μαριὰµ ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ καὶ ἡ ἄλλη Μαρία θεωρῆσαι τὸν τάφον. The Nestle-Aland 28 lists no variant reading corresponding to ἦλθε. In addition, the spelling of Μαρία (rather than Μαριάµ) agrees with A D Q f 1.13 and the Textus Receptus. 69 Mai indicates that the codex reads δηλοῦν.

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διερµηνεύων70 ἐπήγαγε τὸ σκοτίας οὔσης,71 ἵνα µή τις τὸν ὄρθρον λέγειν αὐτὸν ὑπολάβοι· ὡς καὶ ὁ Ματθαῖος τῷ ὀψὲ σαββάτων, ἵνα µὴ τὴν ἑσπερινὴν ὥραν νοµίσειέ τις λέγεσθαι, προσέθηκε τὸ τῇ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ εἰς µίαν σαββάτων. Ἐπεὶ καὶ ἀκριβῶς οὗτος σαββάτου εἶπεν τὴν ὀψίαν, µή τις τὴν ἑσπέραν ὑπολάβοι λέγεσθαι τὴν µετὰ ἡλίου δυσµὰς, ἀλλὰ σαββάτων φησὶν ὀψέ.

(who interprets [Matthew]) called late in the night “early” and added the [expression] “while it was still dark,” lest someone should suppose that he referred to the dawn. So also Matthew [28:1] added the [expression] “at the lighting up into the first day of the week” to “late on the Sabbath,” lest someone should think that the evening hour was meant. Since this [evangelist] also spoke precisely about the evening of the Sabbath, no one should suppose that twilight is meant; he says, rather, “late on the Sabbath.”

C. Biblical Allusions and Conflations in ad Marinum I.1–II.1 Ad Marinum I.1–2 aims to reconcile the disparity between the time of the resurrection as reported by Matt 28:1 (ὀψέ, “late” Saturday evening) and Mark 16:2, 9 (πρωΐ, “early” Sunday morning). A brief overview of key temporal expressions in those Gospel passages and in John 20:1 will set the stage for our analysis of how, and why, “Eusebius” refers to one or more of these verses, often in abbreviated or even harmonized form. Ὀψὲ δὲ σαββάτων, τῇ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ εἰς µίαν σαββάτων ἦλθεν Μαριὰµ ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ καὶ ἡ ἄλλη Μαρία θεωρῆσαι τὸν τάφον. Late on the Sabbath, at the lighting up of the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to behold the tomb. (Matt 28:1) Καὶ διαγενοµένου τοῦ σαββάτου Μαρία ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ καὶ Μαρία ἡ [τοῦ] Ἰακώβου καὶ Σαλώµη ἠγόρασαν ἀρώµατα ἵνα ἐλθοῦσαι ἀλείψωσιν αὐτόν. [2] καὶ λίαν πρωῒ τῇ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων ἔρχονται ἐπὶ τὸ µνηµεῖον ἀνατείλαντος τοῦ ἡλίου. And after the Sabbath had passed, Mary Magdalene and Mary the [mother] of James and Salome bought spices in order that they might come and anoint him. [2] And very early on the first day of the week they came to the tomb after the sun had risen. (Mark 16:1–2)

70

An anacoluthon: after ὁ µὲν Ματθαῖος, one would expect ὁ δὲ διερµηνεύων. Apparently referring to John 20:1 (Μαρία ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ ἔρχεται πρωῒ σκοτίας ἔτι οὔσης). It is intriguing that “Eusebius” seems to presuppose Matthew was a source interpreted by the author of the Fourth Gospel. 71

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Ἀναστὰς δὲ πρωῒ πρώτῃ σαββάτου ἐφάνη πρῶτον Μαρίᾳ τῇ Μαγδαληνῇ, παρ᾿ ἧς ἐκβεβλήκει ἑπτὰ δαιµόνια. And having risen early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he had cast out seven demons. (Mark 16:9) Τῇ δὲ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων Μαρία ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ ἔρχεται πρωῒ σκοτίας ἔτι οὔσης εἰς τὸ µνηµεῖον καὶ βλέπει τὸν λίθον ἠρµένον ἐκ τοῦ µνηµείου. On the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came early while it was still dark to the tomb and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. (John 20:1)

Mark 16:2 (also 16:9) begins “early” Sunday morning. In his narration of what happened “early” Sunday morning, John 20:1 (cf. Luke 24:1) agrees with the timing of Mark 16:2.72 With ὀψὲ σαββάτων (“late on the Sabbath”), Matt 28:1 designates an earlier point in time – “late” in the night on Saturday. Among the NT Gospels, then, Matthew’s chronology is distinctive. For the early Christ-believers, that would probably not have posed a problem until the NT Gospels had been collected and compared with one another – a time assumed to have occurred in the ad Stephanum and the ad Marinum.73 The first answer (ad Marinum I.1) maintains that, since the “accurate” copies of Mark (τὰ ἀκριβῆ τῶν ἀντιγράφων) end at 16:8, the difficulty could be resolved by omitting 16:9–20, since that passage occurs only “seldom” (σπανίως) in certain copies of Mark. In an approach very different from the first, the second answer (I.2) proposes that, whereas Matthew refers to the timing of Jesus’ resurrection, “Mark”74 describes an appearance subsequent to the resurrection. “Eusebius’s” explanation hinges on the occurrences in Mark 16:2 and 16:9 of the adverb πρωΐ (“early”). In 16:2, women come “early” to the empty tomb. The opening verse of the Longer Ending (16:9), however, relates the timing not only of the resurrection but also of a post-resurrection appearance to Mary Magdalene. In his elucidation, “Eusebius” ignores the occurrence of πρωΐ in Mark 16:2, focusing instead on its use in 16:9.75 Since these “two points in time” (καιροὺς δύο) – late on the Sabbath (Matt 28:1) and early on the first day of the week (Mark 16:9) – refer to different events, they pose no contradiction (ad Marinum I.2).

72

Recognizing the many similarities between Jesus’ appearance to Mary Magdalene in Mark 16:9–11 and John 20:11–18, ad Marinum I.2 observes correctly that John 20:1 agrees with the timing of Mark 16:2, 9. (Likewise, Luke 24:1 [τῇ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων ὄρθρου βαθέως, which is not discussed in ad Marinum I.2] follows the timing of Mark.) 73 See, below, on the likely date of Mark 16:9–20 (ca. 120–150 C.E.) – an early witness to a four-Gospel collection (albeit not a fixed “canon”). 74 That is, Mark 16:1–20 (vv. 1–8 together with vv. 9–20). 75 Westcott and Hort, NT in the Original Greek, 2:31 point out that Mark 16:9 is “incorrectly combined with” Mark 16:2.

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Ad Marinum II.1 addresses the chronology of Jesus’ appearance to Mary Magdalene in Matt 28:1 (ὀψὲ σαββάτων) and in John 20:1 (τῇ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων), explaining that Matthew and John refer to the same event rather than to two different appearances of Jesus to Mary Magdalene. According to “Eusebius,” Matthew’s “late on the Sabbath” corresponds to John’s “on the first day of the week” (II.1; pace I.2!). Again, “Eusebius” concludes there is no contradiction among the NT Gospels.76

D. Discrepancies in ad Marinum I.1–II.1 An analysis of any one part of the ad Marinum – for example, the discussion on Mark’s original conclusion (I.1) – must take into account puzzling elements in the composition as a whole. In this section, we consider the inconsistency between ad Marinum I.1 and I.2 and between I.2 and II.1. We also note that the answers given in I.1 and II.1 are consistent with one another. In ad Marinum I.1–2, two strikingly different – and contradictory – solutions are given. The author clearly prefers the second to resolve an alleged contradiction. The first answer calls for discarding what is deemed a spurious passage (Mark 16:9–20), especially if it should contradict (another) part of Scripture (in this case, Matthew 28). The second answer (I.2), remarkably at odds with what will immediately follow (II.1), (correctly) points out that the Gospels of Mark (πρωῒ τῇ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων, 16:2; πρωῒ πρώτῃ σαββάτου, 16:9) and John (τῇ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων . . . πρωΐ, 20:1) both designate the same point in time and that that point in time refers to an appearance rather than to the resurrection. But “Eusebius” immediately seems forget that he has just said that the passages of Mark and John refer to the same time (I.2), for in II.1 he now maintains that the event in Matt 28:1 occurred prior to that in one of those passages (“Mark”) but at the same time as that in the other passage (John). Addressing the chronology of Jesus’ appearance to Mary Magdalene (Matt 28:1; John 20:1), the author explains how, with different phrasing, Matthew and John refer to the same point in time when Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene. Matthew’s

76 With additional examples and argumentation, “Eusebius” goes on to defend the compatibility of the chronologies of Matthew 28 and John 20 (ad Marinum II.2–3), as well as of the identity of the women (Matthew) or woman (John) who visited the empty tomb (II.4–7). For example, Matthew “did not say the evening of the Sabbath but ‘late on the Sabbath’” (οὐκ εἰπὼν ἑσπέραν τοῦ σαββάτου, οὐδὲ ὀψὲ σαββάτου, ad Marinum II.2). Cf. the allusion to Mark 16:9 in ad Marinum II.7 (albeit not mentioning the text-critical problem of the ending of Mark).

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“late on the Sabbath,” we are told, corresponds to what in John took place “on the first day of the week” (ad Marinum II.1). Each of these three answers – the two answers to question one and the first answer to question two – could, by itself, claim to have resolved a single alleged discrepancy between two (or more) biblical passages. Since the answers are not logically compatible, it is startling to find them together one after the other. With regard to the tension within ad Marinum I, the two answers to the first question cannot be harmonized: one either rejects the Longer Ending as a part of Mark or distinguishes between the timing of Matthew’s reference to the resurrection and Mark’s (also John’s) description of the subsequent appearance to Mary. “Eusebius’s” initial suggestion, then, that “the solution to this might be twofold” (τούτου διττὴ ἂν εἴη ἡ λύσις), is untenable.77 Also puzzling is the fact that the second answer to question one (I.2) clashes not only with the first answer (I.1) but also with the answer immediately following (II.1). In I.2, the event related in Matthew (the resurrection) is said to be prior to that in Mark (the appearance to Mary), and that in Mark is said to be the same as in John.78 The first response to question two (II.1), however, maintains that the Gospels of Matthew and John depict, in complementary ways, the same timing of the appearance to Mary. Thus, we find at least two conspicuous contradictions among “Eusebius’s” three answers. Despite the contradictions between ad Marinum I.1 and I.2 and between I.2 and II.1, the answers given in I.1 and II.1 are compatible with one another. Were one to regard ad Marinum I.2 (that is, the second answer to question one) as a later addition to the ad Marinum, both of the contradictions we have noted could be accounted for. Alternately, one could propose, as John Burgon did over a century ago, that the first answer to question one (I.1) reflects an opinion different from that of the author of the ad Marinum. Burgon thought that the first answer probably came from Origen of Alexandria, and the second from Eusebius himself, who corrected his predecessor.79 Westcott and Hort often criticize Burgon’s conclu77

Against Farmer, Last Twelve Verses, 6–7, who takes the statement at face value. An oft-overlooked problem, moreover, is that many scholars who cite “Eusebius” as a witness either “for” or “against” the authenticity of the Longer Ending highlight the answer that is more congenial to their argument without explaining the origin of the other conflicting testimony. Indeed, the ultimate origin of the various traditions collected in this and other Quaestiones et responsiones is a daunting and promising, yet unfortunately neglected, area of research. 78 According to the second answer to question one, the event related in Matthew would have to be different from, and thus prior to, that in John. 79 Burgon, Last Twelve Verses, 38–69, esp. 38–51, argued that Eusebius himself had both added and championed the second answer, which implicitly affirms the authenticity

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sions, but they agree – albeit cautiously – with his source-critical inference: they “strongly suspect” that only the second answer (I.2) reflects Eusebius’s own opinion, but in their view, the source-critical question “cannot be decided.”80 There is much to be said for the inference of Burgon, Westcott and Hort: the use of the optative mood for the first answer (I.1) indicates that the (final) author has reservations about it. Whereas Burgon explored the different answers to the first question in I.1–2, William Farmer has more recently focused on the contradiction between ad Marinum I and II.81 Farmer maintains that “fragment two” (Part II) stems from Eusebius himself and that the testimony pertaining to the Longer Ending in “fragment one” (I.1) is even older. Farmer gives no reason, however, why ad Marinum I should be considered older than ad Marinum II.82 Of primary interest to our study is the fact that the final – or, perhaps more likely, the original – author of the ad Marinum was content to include these three answers in the same writing. Such inconsistencies within the ad Marinum support the inference that “Eusebius’s” main interest lies of Mark 16:9–20 and, in Burgon’s view, may be as old as Origen in the mid-third century. Burgon’s interpretation of the ad Marinum, moreover, follows two lines. First, Burgon questions whether Eusebius himself actually doubted the authenticity of the Longer Ending, maintaining that this church father merely quoted others’ opinions without agreeing with them. Second, Burgon argues that other patristic witnesses were dependent upon the ad Marinum and, like “Eusebius,” merely quoted a position which was not their own. This line of reasoning apparently comes in response to Tischendorf and Tregelles, who portrayed I.1 (the first solution) as the opinion of Eusebius. Burgon merely suggests the opposite point of view. For a more detailed critique of Burgon’s larger argument on the authenticity of the Longer Ending, see S. L. Cox, A History and Critique of Scholarship Concerning the Markan Endings (Lewiston, 1993), 60–61; M. H. Heuer, “An Evaluation of John W. Burgon’s Use of Patristic Evidence,” JETS 38 (1995): 519–30; see also Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 17–20. 80 That is, proven. Westcott and Hort, NT in the Original Greek, 2:31, 32 (see further note 93, below); so also Williams, “Appendices to Mark,” 445. 81 As we discussed above, the second answer to question one (I.2) explains that the event Matthew purportedly relates (the resurrection) is prior to that in Mark and John (the appearance to Mary). Farmer calls attention to differences between “fragments” one and two but actually compares only ad Marinum I.2 and II.1. 82 Farmer, Last Twelve Verses, 5–6. Building upon the conjecture of a third-century date (that is, before Eusebius) for “fragment one” (that is, ad Marinum I.2), Farmer suggests that scribes in Origen’s Alexandria probably deleted the Longer Ending from early copies of Mark (pp. 59–75). He begins his assessment of the external evidence arguing for that conjecture (on I.2, pp. 3–13) and then proceeds to interpret numerous other patristic witnesses in light of it. His interpretation of the ad Marinum is thus crucial to his larger (and dubious) hypothesis that Alexandrian scribes deleted the Longer Ending. Since Farmer, like Burgon, offers no credible reason for his dating of the traditions within the ad Marinum I.2–II.1, the inferences Farmer draws about the Longer Ending’s textual history are also tenuous.

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not, for example, in presenting text-critical observations about Mark’s Longer Ending but, as the Preface states, in resolving perplexing questions arising from the accounts of the NT Gospels (ἀπορουµένων ζητηµάτων καὶ λύσεων . . . συγγράµµατα) – that is, in defending the integrity of Scripture. Thus, the author need not insist upon one particular solution, as long as the perplexity is resolved.83 It is probably for this reason that in I.1 “Eusebius” can write, “the solution to this might be twofold.” Although he seems to favor the second answer to question one (I.2), it is not of primary concern to him whether one accepts the first or the second answer, parts of both solutions or, possibly, some other resolution. As long as it is agreed that alleged contradictions are indeed resolved, “Eusebius” would presumably not care about any particular view of the manuscript evidence pertaining to Mark 16:9–20. The witnesses of certain MSS to Mark receive attention in I.1 only because they could be of use in resolving a perplexity. Had this particular question about Matthew 28 and Mark 16 not been a concern, it is likely that the precious information about the content of Markan MSS would not have been preserved here. The same would hold for subsequent Christian writings that seem to know the ad Marinum’s claims about the end of the Second Gospel. Having considered the discrepancies addressed in, and within, ad Marinum I.1–II.1, we proceed to examine in greater detail the claim of ad Marinum I.1 that most MSS of Mark lack 16:9–20.

E. Text-Critical Implications of “Eusebius’s” Claim That Most Manuscripts Lack Mark 16:9–20 One reason that the harmonizing second answer to the first question (I.2) could have been deemed necessary is that some in the early church would not have welcomed the first answer’s information about disparate readings in Gospel MSS (I.1). The use of the optative mood in that first answer (for example, εἴποι) calls attention to the tentative nature of the suggestion. 84 83

Thus, if there were any overt bias in “Eusebius’s” testimony about the Longer Ending, it would be that he takes part in this apologetic enterprise. Such an undertaking should not necessarily discredit the value of this person’s testimony, for it is highly unlikely that an apologist would have fabricated, or highly exaggerated, the solution of ad Marinum I.1 when other resolutions were possible and, arguably, less controversial. Alternate solutions could include explaining the apparent discrepancy (cf. I.2) or denying that the contradiction exists (cf. II.1), and could also incorporate an allegorical reading of the text. The issue, then, is not that “Eusebius” wrote with apologetic motives but how he chose to do so. 84 Contrast the change to the indicative mood (Ἄλλος δέ τις . . . φησι) in the second answer.

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The optative mood could also anticipate the rejoinder that, although a certain question on Matthew 28 and Mark 16 could be answered by rejecting the authenticity of 16:9–20, other more troubling queries about the reliability of the text of the Gospels could be raised in light of such a rejection. Significant for our purposes, the second answer suggests an explanation of why nearly all the surviving manuscripts of the Second Gospel include Mark 16:9–20 at some point after 16:8. “Eusebius” objects to the favoring of one passage over another as the more accurate account (τῷ µὴ µᾶλλον ταύτην ἐκείνης, ἢ ἐκείνην ταύτης). All readings, even rare or suspect ones, should be preserved and esteemed. By implication, one should regard positively the view of “someone else, who does not dare to set aside anything whatsoever from the things that are recorded, by whatever means, in the text of the Gospels.” Such a primary criterion complements the position (which we have shown, above, to be inconsistent) “that the reading is double” (I.1, last paragraph). That primary criterion correlates with the corresponding elaborate program of showing that the various readings do not contradict one another, so that one need not embrace one biblical reading against another. By recourse to harmonization, the danger posed by disparate manuscript readings is nullified. Such a harmonizing approach to Scripture likely had profound implications for the eventual prevalence of Mark 16:9–20 in nearly all MSS of Mark. In contrast to the unusually judicious attitude toward textual evidence in ad Marinum I.1, the blatantly uncritical perspective of I.2 reveals something important about the argument for retaining the Longer Ending as an integral part of Mark’s Gospel: if such a passage can be shown to agree with other received texts, its authenticity should not be questioned. Elsewhere, we have argued that the author of the Longer Ending knew, and drew heavily from, the four Gospels that eventually were incorporated into the NT, in order to make his addition to Mark resemble those writings that had gained at least some level of acceptance in certain Christian communities.85 The author of this Markan ending wrote around 120–150 C.E. – after the collection of the NT Gospels and before Justin Martyr’s First Apology.86 By the middle of the second century, then, at least one copy of Mark ended with 16:9–20. Assuming that the earliest recoverable ending to Mark is ἐφοβοῦντο γάρ (16:8), the addition of the Longer Ending must, 85

Compare, e.g., Luke 8:2b with Mark 16:9b; Mark 6:12 and Luke 9:6 with Mark 16:20a. For a discussion of these and additional examples, see Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 48–156. 86 See Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, esp. 169–77. The terminus post quem for Mark 16:9–20 is set by the author’s use of material from the four NT Gospels, which were probably not collected before ca. 110–120 C.E. Α terminus ante quem may be inferred from Justin Martyr’s knowledge of Mark 16:20a (1. Apol. 45.5; cf. Iren. Haer. 3.10.5, citing Mark 16:19).

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at least initially and, perhaps, for some decades, have been a minority reading. Certain rather distinctive features of Mark 16:9–20 notwithstanding,87 numerous parts of the passage clearly resemble other passages of the NT Gospels. Due to the many similarities of the Longer Ending to other esteemed writings, it would be theologically (or hermeneutically) objectionable for someone with the perspective of the second answer to raise doubts about the Longer Ending’s authenticity. If a principle of harmonization were later applied to this minority reading (the inclusion of 16:9–20), there would be a significant impetus for adding the passage to additional copies of Mark (which eventually did occur).88 If it is also granted that the harmonizing perspective of answer two was far from unique in emerging Christendom, it can be inferred that, over time, such an attitude contributed to the inclusion of a minority reading (16:9–20) in the majority of later witnesses. Scholars have long known, as John Burgon put it, that the early church fathers were “but very children in the Science of Textual Criticism.”89 The ad Marinum clearly attests to such naiveté: since an alleged discrepancy between Matthew 28 and Mark 16 can be resolved (ad Marinum I.2), it is appropriate, and even preferable, to ignore manuscript evidence that calls into question the authenticity of one of the passages (cf. I.1). That principle could also shed light on the eventual prevalence of other additions or expansions – for example, the “Shorter Ending” of Mark (itk),90 John 7:53– 8:11, John 21:1–25, 1 John 5:7–8, and perhaps even Romans 15–16. As is evidenced by the interpolation between Mark 16:14 and 16:15 in Codex Freerianius (W, 0,32), the Longer Ending itself was not immune to expansion by a later author.91 Indeed, if the manuscript evidence presented in the 87 In particular, the expectation that ordinary believers will perform “signs” (σηµεῖα, Mark 16:17a, 20), including the picking up of snakes (v. 18a) and the drinking of a deadly substance with impunity (v. 18b). See Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 245–472. 88 See our analysis, below, of Victor of Antioch, who reports that he had “added” (συντίθηµι) 16:9–20 to copies of Mark on the basis of a reliable “Palestinian” version of Mark. 89 Burgon, Last Twelve Verses, 49. Burgon, ibid., makes the dubious suggestion that the testimony of ad Marinum I.1 on Mark 16:9–20 is unreliable. See further note 93, below. 90 The “Shorter Ending” of Mark (itk) may be translated as follows: “And all that had been commanded them they told briefly [or: promptly; Gk.: συντόµως] to those around Peter. And afterward Jesus himself sent out through them, from east to west, the sacred and imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation.” 91 After the Longer Ending was written, and apparently before the time of Jerome in the early-fifth century (Pelag. 2.15), the author of the interpolation known as the “FreerLogion” placed into the mouths of Jesus and the disciples (between Mark 16:14 and 16:15) the following exchange: “And they replied, saying, ‘This age of lawlessness and unbelief is under Satan, who by means of evil spirits does not permit the true power of

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first answer were regarded as immaterial by those who affirmed the second answer, there would conceivably be no limit to the types of additions, corrections and alterations that could be introduced to esteemed early Christian writings, especially if changes were made to resolve perplexities arising from a comparison of these same writings with one another.92

F. Assessing the Reliability of ad Marinum I.1 and Similar Claims about the End of Mark in Subsequent Literature Westcott and Hort are correct to point out that, despite “Eusebius’s” primary concerns in ad Marinum I.2–II.1, the answer given in I.1 about Markan MSS has “an independent value.”93 In this section, we assess the historical value and the reception of the ad Marinum’s testimony about MSS of Mark and argue that ad Marinum I.1 is credible and was, to a certain extent, verifiable in the fourth century – or, quite possibly, even earlier. There is no reason that the ad Marinum (or the material incorporated by its author or epitomizer) could not date to even the third century.94 In addiGod to be apprehended; therefore reveal your righteousness now.’ They were speaking to Christ, and Christ said to them in reply, ‘The limit of the years of the authority of Satan has been fulfilled, but other terrible things draw near, even for the sinners on whose behalf I was delivered up to death, that they might turn to the truth and sin no more, in order that they might inherit the spiritual and incorruptible glory of righteousness which is in heaven.’” ET: V. Taylor, The Gospel According to St. Mark (London, 1957), 614–15. 92 See B. D. Ehrman, The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture (New York/Oxford, 1993), esp. 274–83; cf. H. Y. Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church (New Haven/London, 1995), 123–28, esp. 125–26. 93 NT in the Original Greek, 2:31, 32: “Whatever may have been [the author’s] own judgement, the textual facts stated by Eusebius . . . have an independent value, and require to be carefully noted.” Unpersuasive, however, is John Burgon’s dismissal of the first answer’s (I.1) testimony: “The exaggeration” that most MSS do not contain the Longer Ending “is so gross that it refutes itself” (Last Twelve Verses, 49). Burgon argues this point on two grounds (ibid.). First, the perspective of ad Marinum I.1 clashes with other church fathers and many other MSS. Second, since the early church fathers were generally “but very children in the Science of Textual Criticism,” the testimony of I.1 cannot be reliable. We find that, although the practice of ‘textual criticism’ in the early church does not compare with modern standards (with Burgon), the historian ought to use judiciously all relevant pieces of evidence (in this case, against Burgon, ibid.). 94 If one grants that the Longer Ending is not an authentic part of Mark, that the earliest copies closest to the autograph of Mark lacked this passage, and that the witness of I.1 about MSS of Mark is reliable, it would follow that the author of the ad Marinum probably wrote at a time when most MSS still lacked the Longer Ending – quite possibly in the third century or earlier. If, on the other hand, I.1 is much later (i.e., early-fourth century, around the time of Eusebius), the first answer would suggest that 16:9–20 won only regional acceptance during the first two centuries after it was added to Mark.

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tion, statements about the end of Mark like those in ad Marinum I.1 occur in a number of later Christian writings and MSS – from the fifth to the sixteenth centuries. We proceed, then, to examine the ad Marinum’s testimony on the conclusion of Mark in relation to analogous statements made by other Christian authors and scribes, including Jerome, Hesychius of Jerusalem and Severus of Antioch. 1. The Likelihood That ad Marinum I.1 Is Based on Material Earlier Than “Eusebius” According to the ad Marinum, the person who rejects Mark 16:9–20 would do so because the passage does not appear in most of the “accurate” copies of the Second Gospel. Rather, those “accurate” MSS of Mark end at 16:8: The one who rejects (ὁ . . . ἀθετῶν) the passage itself, [namely] the pericope that says this [16:9–20], might say that it does not appear in all the copies of the Gospel according to Mark. At any rate, the accurate [ones] of the copies (τὰ ἀκριβῆ τῶν ἀντιγράφων) define the end of the account according to Mark at the words of the young man who appeared to the women and said to them, “Do not fear. You are seeking Jesus the Nazarene” [16:6a] and the [words] that follow. In addition it recounts, “And having heard [this] they fled. And they said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid” [16:8]. For in nearly all the copies (σχεδὸν ἐν ἅπασι τοῖς ἀντιγράφοις) of the Gospel according to Mark the end is concluded here. But the [words] that follow, since they are borne seldom in some but not in all [the copies] (σπανίως ἔν τισιν ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἐν πᾶσι), may be spurious, especially if they should pose a contradiction to the testimony of the rest of the evangelists. (I.1)

We will consider the possible identity of the manuscripts this author may have known and the extent to which the author’s observations are attested in subsequent Christian literature.95 Nowadays, the manuscripts of Mark that do not include the Longer Ending at some point after Mark 16:8 could hardly be described as comprising a majority of the surviving witnesses. But those MSS are some of the earliest and best witnesses. Perhaps most significantly, Sinaiticus (‫ )א‬and Vaticanus (B) end promptly with ἐφοβοῦντο γάρ (Mark 16:8). The same is true for 304, 1420 and 2386, as well as for the Sinaitic Syriac (sys), itk,96 numerous Old Armenian translations (about one hundred MSS), and the two

95

Our analysis builds on Williams, “Appendices to Mark,” 356–419; Aland, “Bemerkungen zum Schluß,” 157–80; idem, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 435–70; Hug, La finale de l’évangile de Marc, 187–216, esp. 187–97. See further T. Zahn, Geschichte des neutestamentlichen Kanons (Erlangen, 1888–92), 2:910–38; J. K. Elliott, “Text and Language of Mark,” 255–56; Farmer, Last Twelve Verses, 3–75; B. M. Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament (London/New York, 1971), 102–106; Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 1–46. 96 After Mark 16:8, the Old Latin of Codex Bobbiensis (itk) has (instead of 16:9–20) Mark’s Shorter Ending (see note 90, above).

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oldest Georgian translations of Mark.97 The survival of such diverse witnesses to Mark that reflect no knowledge of 16:9–20 suggests the likelihood that the testimony of ad Marinum I.1 was, in fact, both credible and, to a certain extent, verifiable in the fourth century (or earlier).98 Since “Eusebius” is clearly uncomfortable with the solution given in I.1, that solution could have arisen in the third century.99 The possibility must, of course, be recognized that ad Marinum I.1 claims, perhaps as a rhetorical device, to have knowledge about an “accurate” textual tradition for the end of Mark but that the author did not, in fact, have such knowledge. We discuss, below, the strikingly similar claims of later Christian authors about the “accurate” (and even the “more accurate”) MSS of Mark in order to defend the authenticity of the Longer Ending. Both claims supporting or rejecting the authenticity of 16:9–20 could have been consistent with the MSS available in different times and places. Observations like those in ad Marinum I.1 on the textual history of the Second Gospel and of Mark 16:9–20 appear in numerous other Christian writings and manuscripts. The late-ancient and Byzantine sources we examine have received attention from J. W. Burgon, B. F. Westcott and F. J. A. Hort, C. R. Williams, K. Aland, J. Hug and others, who assessed the authorship, or authenticity, of the Longer Ending. We focus, instead, on the extent to which the ad Marinum’s claims about 16:9–20 found both supporters and dissenters, as well as on how other authors and scribes in the early and Byzantine church approached ‘text-critical’ matters. As much as possible, we discuss these writings chronologically and with reference to each author’s larger argument or agenda. Certain similarities between some of these writings and MSS will be noted in passing and will be summarized at the end of this article. 2. From “Eusebius’s” Subjunctive Mood to Jerome’s Indicative Mood Jerome’s letter ad Hedybiam de quaestionibus duodecim (Ep. 120, “to Hedybia concerning twelve questions”; ca. 406–407 C.E.) reflects knowledge of the ad Marinum. Questions 3–6 in Jerome’s letter corre97 In Codex Vaticanus, the large space following Mark 16:8 might suggest one copyist’s decision to leave room for the possible later inclusion of Mark 16:9–20. Moreover, a page is missing after Mark 16:8 in 1420 and in 2386. One could also mention witnesses that, after Mark 16:8, include both the Shorter Ending and the Longer Ending – a fact that suggests neither conclusion was original to Mark – e.g., L d 12 (0112) Y T 1 (099) 0112 579 274 (mg). 98 On dating the ad Marinum prior to Jerome, see, below, on Jerome Ep. 120. 99 A possible third-century origin for ad Marinum I.1 would be predicated upon the Eusebian authorship of the ad Marinum – which authorship, we have said, needs to be examined.

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spond to the order and content of the four questions of the ad Marinum. Throughout Jerome’s answers, there appear numerous instances of borrowing from, and perhaps paraphrasing of, the ad Marinum. The fact that Jerome’s letter tackles many more questions than the ad Marinum does (twelve rather than four) and the likelihood, discussed above, that the ad Marinum is an epitome of a longer work suggest the possibility – worthy of a full investigation – that Jerome is an early witness to the writing upon which the ad Marinum is based. Of particular interest is Jerome’s comment about the Longer Ending: Cuius quaestionis duplex solutio est. Aut enim non recipimus Marci testimonium, quod in raris fertur euangeliis, omnibus Graeciae libris paene hoc capitulum in fine non habentibus, praesertim cum diuersa atque contraria euangelistis certis narrare uideatur. . . . The solution to this question is twofold. Either we do not receive Mark’s testimony, which is borne [only] in rare [copies of] the Gospels, while almost all books in Greek do not have this pericope at the end, especially since it seems to narrate things different and contrary to the indisputable evangelists. . . . 100

Jerome uses the indicative mood in reference to the content of most Greek MSS at Mark 16 (est . . . recipimus . . . fertur), which contrasts with the cautious (if not purely hypothetical) use of the optative mood in ad Marinum I.1 (εἴη . . . εἴποι). One can only guess why Jerome was more confident on this point than “Eusebius” was.101 Jerome’s letter is the earliest terminus ante quem for the ad Marinum. Since Jerome had already traveled widely in the East before he wrote this letter, his knowledge of the ad Marinum could have arisen from his journeys in any of a number of different regions.102 A fourth-century date for the ad Marinum would be consistent with the claim that Eusebius wrote it (although Jerome’s letter cannot, by itself, confirm a Eusebian authorship).

100

Jer. Ep. 120.3. However unintentionally, the above citation may give the impression of an anacoluthon. Jerome argues that one accepts “either” (aut, in the above citation) the witness of most manuscripts “or” (aut, not in the above citation) the harmonization. Such a claim, of course, stands in tension with his initial statement, Cuius quaestionis duplex solutio est. As happens in the ad Marinum, Jerome’s statement occurs after the question is raised and, moreover, follows a citation of Mark 16:9–11 (which does not occur in the ad Marinum). Afterward, again as in the ad Marinum, the second answer to this question follows. Lat.: I. Hilberg, Sancti Eusebii Hieronymi Epistulae (CSEL 55, Vienna, 2nd ed. 1996), 470–515 at 481; cf. PL 22:986–87. ET: mine. 101 Perhaps, with time, it would not be unusual for confidence in that tradition about Markan MSS to grow. 102 Jerome does not, however, say where the ad Marinum might have been composed. On Jerome’s travels in Palestine (e.g., in ca. 387 C.E.) and his access to the famous library at Caesarea, see J. N. D. Kelly, Jerome: His Life, Writings and Controversies (London, 1975), 135, 164; cf. 116–40.

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Equally significant, Jerome betrays no indication that he himself possesses,103 independently of the ad Marinum, any knowledge of the Longer Ending’s textual history. He may have seen MSS that concluded with Mark 16:8, but his letter does not claim (or deny) having done so.104 As did ad Marinum I.1 (σχεδὸν ἐν ἅπασι τοῖς ἀντιγράφοις), Jerome refers to the MS evidence against the passage’s authenticity (omnibus Graeciae libris paene). Nonetheless, Jerome’s translation and inclusion of Mark 16:9–20 in his Vulgate accords with “Eusebius’s” plea (later in ad Marinum I.1) that no one “dare (τολµάω) to set aside anything whatsoever” from Scripture.105 The inclusion of the Longer Ending in the Vulgate likely had a positive effect on the subsequent reception of the passage in the Latin West. Due to the influence of Tatian’s Diatessaron (ca. 172 C.E.), which likewise incorporates the Longer Ending, one can infer the same was also the case for the Syriac-speaking East by the time of the late-second century.106

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Jerome Ep. 120.3–5. See also Burgon, Last Twelve Verses, 51–57; Farmer, Last Twelve Verses, 22: Jerome’s “letter to Hedibia is secondary to the text attributed to Eusebius”; and Hug, La finale de l’évangile de Marc, 12, 194. The argument of S. L. Cox, Markan Endings, 34–36, that Jerome had knowledge independent of the ad Marinum is unpersuasive. Cox seems to be responding to Burgon, who had discounted the significance of certain church fathers who questioned the authenticity of Mark 16:9–20. According to Burgon, those writers were dependent on the opinion that “Eusebius” cited the passage, but like “Eusebius” himself they did not think it was authentic. In responding to Burgon’s dubious inference, Cox overlooks the obvious verbal similarities between the ad Marinum and Jerome Ep. 120. 104 Against Williams, “Appendices to Mark,” 446, who argues, “Jerome, likewise, would not have repeated this statement unless he too was familiar with MSS of this type.” Nor can it be proven that the author of the ad Marinum possessed such first-hand knowledge of Markan MSS. 105 Cf. Williams, “Appendices to Mark,” 446. Such an inclusion in the Vulgate, of course, says nothing about Jerome’s own view of the Longer Ending, for Jerome translated, under protest, books like Judith and Tobit. 106 This issue for the Syriac-speaking East is somewhat more complicated in that, for many Syrian congregations, the Diatessaron seems to have constituted a substitute for the liturgical use of the individual NT Gospels. Nonetheless, familiarity with the Diatessaron could well have contributed to the prevalence of the Longer Ending in Syriac translations of Mark, where a rare exception to the inclusion of the Longer Ending is the Sinaitic Syriac (sys). On Tatian’s use of the Longer Ending, see Zahn, Geschichte des neutestamentlichen Kanons, 2:553–54; cf. 2:924; T. Baarda, “An Unexpected Reading in the West-Saxon Gospel Text of Mark 16.11,” NTS 41 (1995): 458–65; C. McCarthy, Saint Ephrem’s Commentary on Tatian’s Diatessaron: An English Translation of Chester Beatty Syriac MS 709 with Introduction and Notes (JSSSup 2, Oxford, 1993), 289. On the date of the Diatessaron, see, e.g., W. L. Petersen, “Tatian’s Diatessaron,” in H. Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (London/Philadelphia, 1990), 403–30 at 403, 428–29.

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3. Hesychius of Jerusalem: Mark “Ended” at 16:8, but 16:9–13 Can Nonetheless Help Resolve a Chronological Problem Writing a generation or two after Jerome, Hesychius of Jerusalem (d. ca. 450 C.E.) unambiguously states that the Gospel of Mark did not originally include post-resurrection appearances. Question 52 of his Collectio difficultatum et solutionum discusses the various accounts of the vision (ὀπτασία) beheld by the women who visited Jesus’ tomb.107 Part of Hesychius’s response discusses the identity of those to whom Jesus later appeared. Although Hesychius says that Mark “ended” (καταπαύω) with the appearance to the women (presumably, at 16:8), he seems to use parts of 16:9–13 to explain when Jesus appeared to which women. Διαφόρως 108 γὰρ πρὸς τὸ µνῆµα δραµούσαις, οὐ ταῖς αὐταῖς γυναιξίν, 109 ἀλλὰ ποτὲ µὲν δυσὶν ἐξ αὐτῶν, 110 ποτὲ δὲ µιᾷ ἑτέρᾳ παρ᾽ αὐτὰς τυγχανούσῃ, ποτὲ δὲ ἄλλαις, διαφόρως καὶ ὁ Κύριος ἐφάνη· ὧν τῇ µὲν ὡς ἀσθενεστέρᾳ, τῇ δὲ ὡς τελειοτέρᾳ τυγχανούσῃ· καταλλήλως111 ἐµέτρει τὸν ἑαυτοῦ ἐµφανισµὸν ὁ Κύριος. Ὅθεν112 Μάρκος µὲν ἐν ἐπιτόµῳ τὰ µέχρι τοῦ ἑνὸς ἀγγέλου διελθών, τὸν λόγον κατέπαυσεν. For [he appeared] differently to the women who were running to the tomb. The Lord appeared not to the same women but, at one point, to “two of them” and, at another point, to one other woman who happened to be with them and, at yet another point, to other women differently. Of those women, [he appeared] to one who was rather weak, and to another who was more mature. The Lord apportioned the manifestation of himself in stages. For this reason, Mark, after he narrated briefly the [events] up to the one angel,113 ended his account.114

As does the author of the ad Marinum, Hesychius refers to the Second Gospel’s conclusion in a work comprising questions and answers on Scripture. Unlike “Eusebius” and Jerome, however, Hesychius gives no indica107 See Mark 16:1–8 par. Discrepancies that Hesychius seeks to resolve include whether the woman, or women, saw one individual (so Matthew 28 and Mark 16) or two (so Luke 24 and John 20), as well as whether the messenger(s) is (are) described as human (Mark and Luke) or angelic (Matthew and John). 108 Διαφόρως . . . διαφόρως . . . ἐφάνη: the twofold occurrence of διαφόρως is odd with the one verb ἐφάνη. 109 Presumably, Hesychius means the women in 16:8, although he could refer to those in Mark’s Shorter Ending (itk). 110 Δυσὶν ἐξ αὐτῶν: see below on Luke 24:13 and Mark 16:11. 111 On the adverb καταλλήλως (“in stages”), cf. LSJ, 899, s.v. κατάλληλος (def. II: “one after another, in succession”). 112 Hesychius’s use of ὅθεν seems arbitrary: from what he has just said, there is no obvious reason why (ὅθεν) Mark would “end” after the appearance to the women. 113 Mention of “the one angel” (τοῦ ἑνὸς ἀγγέλου) suggests that Hesychius interprets the “young man” (νεανίσκος) in Mark 16:5 as synonymous with Matthew’s “angel” (ἄγγελος κυρίου, Matt 28:2; ὁ ἄγγελος, 28:5). 114 Hesychius Coll. 52. Greek: Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 575 = PG 93:1391–1448 at 1440.

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tion that he knows a MS tradition like that mentioned in ad Marinum I.1. Nor does he call attention to disparate MS readings at the end of Mark. For Hesychius, the ending of Mark is not even a problem requiring an explanation. The likelihood of Hesychius’s independence vis-à-vis the ad Marinum is strengthened by his silence about the Longer Ending at two other places in his Collectio. His answer to question 50, like the answer to question one in ad Marinum I.1, delves into the timing of the resurrection.115 Although the goal of resolving inconsistencies is the same, Hesychius never repeats either of the two solutions given to the ad Marinum’s first question. In addition, the question in his Coll. 54, like question 52, presupposes that Mark ends at 16:8. Question 54 asks why in Mark – differently from Matthew, Luke and John – the women are silent (σιωπάω) and do not relate the news of the resurrection to the apostles.116 To explain the difference, Hesychius nowhere resorts to Mark 16:9–11 (according to which at least Mary Magdalene reported the news). Coll. 52 thus adds a significant testimony about the end of Mark, as known to at least one author in the first half of the fifth century. Coll. 50 and 54 corroborate Hesychius’s independence relative to “Eusebius.” Whereas Hesychius distinguishes between the Second Gospel and Mark 16:9–20, he nonetheless seems to incorporate parts of the Longer Ending into his discussion of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances. Perhaps most clearly, his reference to an appearance to two of the women (ποτὲ µὲν δυσὶν ἐξ αὐτῶν) seems to draw from the Longer Ending’s second appearance.117 In Mark 16:12 (δυσὶν ἐξ αὐτῶν), the genitive αὐτῶν could (if hypothetically) be masculine or feminine. In construing an appearance to “two of them” as an appearance to two women, Hesychius seems to overlook the masculine forms in the following verse (κἀκεῖνοι ἀπελθόντες) 16:13a), which indicate that at least one, if not both, of the two individuals in Mark 16:12–13 was male.118 Since in the Second Gospel, Mark 16:12–13 follows an appearance to Mary Magdalene (16:9–11), and since the women are the focus of attention in Mark 15:42–16:8, Hesychius infers that those to whom Jesus appeared in 16:12 were two of the women who had visited Jesus’ tomb. Moreover, Hesychius’s mention of an appearance to a different

115 Greek: PG 93:1433–37. Whereas ad Marinum I.1–2 compares only Matthew and Mark, Hesychius discusses the accounts of all four NT Gospels. 116 Hesychius Coll. 54; Greek: PG 93:1441. 117 Cf. Mark 16:12: µετὰ δὲ ταῦτα δυσὶν ἐξ αὐτῶν περιπατοῦσιν ἐφανερώθη κ.τ.λ. 118 Luke 24:13–35 narrates a similar appearance to two of Jesus’ disciples (δύο ἐξ αὐτῶν, 24:13), where at least one of the two (if not both) was male (cf. the masculine forms in πορευόµενοι . . . αὐτοὶ . . . αὐτοὺς . . . αὐτοῖς, 24:13–15).

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woman who had been with the initial group (µιᾷ ἑτέρᾳ . . . τυγχανούσῃ) may be an adaptation of Mark 16:9.119 As we observed with Jerome, then, there is an implicit ambiguity in Hesychius’s testimony about the ending of Mark and the canonical status of Mark 16:9–20. Although Mark did not include material like that of the Longer Ending, one or more parts of the pericope can still help to resolve an alleged inconsistency about the Lord’s post-resurrection appearances (Coll. 52). Such an apologetic use of Mark 16:9–20 could well have provided an additional impetus for later Christian authors to preserve this pericope, despite reports that it was spurious. Appeals to the Longer Ending for dogmatic purposes arose as early as Irenaeus’s citation of Mark 16:19 (Haer. 3.10.5, ca. 180 C.E.) on Jesus’ ascension – not quite three centuries before Hesychius.120 What is new with Hesychius is the use of the Longer Ending despite an awareness of the ‘text-critical’ problem. 4. Severus of Antioch on the “More Accurate” Copies of Mark A homily by Severus of Antioch (465–534 C.E.) is the earliest surviving writing to build on both the ad Marinum and Jerome’s letter: Ἐν µὲν οὖν τοῖς ἀκριβεστέροις ἀντιγράφοις τὸ κατὰ Μάρκον εὐαγγέλιον µέχρι τοῦ ἐφοβοῦντο γὰρ ἔχει τὸ τέλος. Ἐν δὲ τισὶ, πρόσκειται καὶ ταῦτα· Ἀναστὰς δὲ πρωῒ πρώτῃ σαββάτου, ἐφάνη Μαρίᾳ τῇ Μαγδαληνῇ, ἀφ’ ἧς ἐκβεβλήκει ἑπτὰ δαιµόνια. Thus, in the more accurate copies, the Gospel according to Mark ends at the [passage], “For they were afraid” [16:8c]. But in some [copies] this too is added: “And having risen early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene” [16:9a–b]. 121

119 In this case, Hesychius would have reversed the order of the appearances as presented in Mark 16:9–11 and 16:12–13. Note also Hesychius’s use of ἐφάνη, which occurs also in Mark 16:9. This appearance to one woman could, however, be based upon John 20:1–18 rather than on the Longer Ending. 120 Moreover, at 1. Apol. 45.5 Justin Martyr cites Mark 16:20a. On Irenaeus and the Longer Ending see Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 169–70. In Haer. 3.10.5, Irenaeus discusses only two passages from Mark’s Gospel, 1:1–3 and 16:19. Unlike Hesychius, however, Irenaeus never reflects an awareness of MSS that omit Mark 16:9–20, and he assumes that the passage rightly belongs in fine . . . Euangelii. Lat.: A. Rousseau et al. (eds.), Irénée de Lyon: Contre les Hérésies (SC 210–211, Paris, 1974). 121 Severus Hom. 77. Severus’s cathedral homilies date to 512–526 C.E. A Greek text of this homily does survive and appears in E. Triffaux and M.-A. Kugener (eds.), Les Homiliae cathédrales de Sévère d’Antioche: Traduction syriaque de Jacques d’Édesse (PO 16.5, Paris, 2nd ed. 1976), 840, lines 7–9. The Greek text also appears in Burgon, Last Twelve Verses, 31 note c and p. 268, and in Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 574. In parallel columns, Burgon, Last Twelve Verses, 267–68, lists the numerous correspondences between the Greek of the ad Marinum and of Severus’s writing. Burgon, ibid., 39–41, 57–59, also calls attention to the mistaken attribution of this writing as Gregory of Nyssa’s (b. 335/340; d. after 394) second Homily on the Resurrection.

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Additionally, a later catena on the Gospel of Matthew makes a nearly identical statement.122 Two peculiarities in the citation of Mark 16:9a–b suggest a close, if not a direct, literary relationship between Severus’s testimony and ad Marinum I.1. Like “Eusebius,” Severus omits πρῶτον after ἐφάνη, a reading that corresponds only to Codex Washingtonius. Severus also has ἀφ’ ἧς (instead of παρ᾿ ἧς), a reading attested in many witnesses, including Washingtonius. Later in his homily, Severus seems to follow ad Marinum I.2 in asserting the need “to pause” (ὑποστίξαι χρή) between reading about Jesus’ resurrection and Jesus’ appearance in Mark 16:9.123 Toward the end of the homily, Severus demonstrates further his own acceptance of the Longer Ending as an authentic part of Mark when he cites Mark 16:19 as τὸ παρὰ τῷ Μάρκῳ γεγραµµένον.124 Once again, despite an awareness of the ‘textcritical’ problem about the Longer Ending’s canonical status, the passage may nonetheless be cited for the edification of the congregation. Such a use of Mark 16:9–20 in a liturgical setting (similar to its use by Hesychius of Jerusalem for apologetic purposes) could also have contributed to the acceptance of this passage as an original part of the Second Gospel. Returning to what Severus says about the canonicity of 16:9–20, we call attention to a notable change – the comparative adjective ἀκριβεστέροις (“more accurate”) for describing MSS without the Longer Ending. The claim is now amplified relative to “Eusebius’s” substantival use of ἀκριβής (“accurate”; τὰ ἀκριβῆ τῶν ἀντιγράφων, ad Marinum I.1). Since Severus affirms the authenticity of 16:9–20, we infer that an amplification of the claim, from “accurate” to “more accurate,” had already occurred prior to Severus in the early-sixth century. That change would have occurred with-

122 The catena on Matthew (preserved in cod. Paris. Coislin. gr. 23) restores the reading of πρῶτον after ἐφάνη: Ἐν µὲν οὖν τοῖς ἀκριβεστέροις ἀντιγράφοις τὸ κατὰ Μάρκον εὐαγγέλιον µέχρι τοῦ ἐφοβοῦντο γὰρ ἔχει τὸ τέλος. Ἐν δὲ τισὶ, πρόσκειται καὶ ταῦτα· Ἀναστὰς δὲ πρωῒ πρώτῃ σαββάτων, ἐφάνη πρῶτον Μαρίᾳ τῇ Μαγδαληνῇ, ἀφ’ ἧς ἐκβεβλήκει ἑπτὰ δαιµόνια. Greek: J. A. Cramer, Catenae Graecorum patrum in Novum Testamentum (Hildesheim, 1967 [= Oxford, 1840]), 250 lines 22–24. What follows in the catena also corresponds closely to Severus’s remarks on the end of Mark. 123 Greek: Triffaux and Kugener, Homiliae cathédrales de Sévère d’Antioche, 840 line 9 – 842 line 5. Cf. the similar position taken in ad Marinum I.2: καὶ µετὰ τὸ ἀναστὰς δὲ, ὑποστίξοµεν· καὶ τὴν διάνοιαν ἀφορίσοµεν τῶν ἑξῆς ἐπιλεγοµένων. 124 As Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 574, observes. Greek: Triffaux and Kugener, Homiliae cathédrales de Sévère d’Antioche, 858 lines 7–9. Severus calls attention to similarities of Mark 16:19 (ἀνελήµφθη εἰς τὸν οὐρανόν) to Luke 24:51 (ἀνεφέρετο εἰς τὸν οὐρανόν) and to Acts 1:2, 11, 22.

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in 200 years of Eusebius’s lifetime125 and could be based on an even earlier topos about which copies were the “more accurate” ones: the use of a comparative form of ἀκριβής with ἀντιγράφων occurs already in the first century B.C.E., had arguably become a common expression by the second century C.E., and is abundantly attested in Byzantine literature.126 The use of the topos in Severus’s source (late 3rd–5th c.) would have required only a slight modification of ad Marinum I.1. In both Jerome and Hesychius of Jerusalem we have observed precedents for Severus’s principle of distinguishing between the Gospel of Mark and the Longer Ending, on the one hand, and of nevertheless affirming the canonicity of Mark 16:9–20, on the other hand. The disassociation of questions about authenticity and canonicity has found a host of followers among scholars of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries as well.127 Just because a late-ancient, a Byzantine or even a modern author deems that Mark 16:9–20 should not be denied some association with the Second Gospel and thus be interpreted as Scripture, such an evaluation does not necessarily bespeak his or her view of the passage’s authorship or origin. 5. Restoring Mark 16:9–20 in MSS That Lacked It: A Shift in Assessments from Victor of Antioch and a Myriad of Minuscules a) Victor of Antioch We have just discussed affirming echoes of the tradition against the Longer Ending’s authenticity – a tradition preserved in ad Marinum I.1. But those reverberations were not universal in the early church. A striking exception to the testimonies of Jerome, Hesychius of Jerusalem and Severus 125 In positing this 200-year period, we suppose (however hypothetically) Eusebian authorship and that τὰ ἀκριβῆ (“the accurate ones,” ad Marinum I.1) is the original reading and not the work of a subsequent epitomist. 126 See, for example, Tryphon I (Gramm.; 1st c. B.C.E.) Frag. 2.12.2 (τοῖς ἀκριβεστέροις ἀντιγράφοις); Philoxenus (Gramm.; 1st c. B.C.E.) Frag. 339.25 (ἐν ἀκριβεστέροις ἀντιγράφοις); Aelius Dionysius (2 nd c. C.E.) Attic Words Δ.30.4 (ἐν µέντοι τοῖς ἀκριβεστέροις ἀντιγράφοις); Aelius Herodianus (Gramm., Rhet. 2nd c. C.E.) De prosodia catholica 3/1:324.15–16 (ἐν µέντοι, φησί, τοῖς ἀκριβεστέροις ἀντιγράφοις ὀξεῖα ἐπίκειται); Origen Hom. in Jeremiam 14.4.1–2 (διὰ τὰ ἀντίγραφα τὰ ἀκριβέστερα οὕτως ἔχοντα) and Selecta in Psalmos (ἐν τοῖς ἀκριβεστέροις δὲ τῶν ἀντιγράφων Ἑβραίοις [PG 12:1104.24–25]); Joannes Philoponus (6th c. C.E.) In Aristotelis physicorum libros commentaria 16:468.10 (τοῖς ἀκριβεστέροις τῶν ἀντιγράφων); Arethas (Philol. et Scr. Eccl.; 9th/10th c. C.E.) Fragmenta in epistulam ad Romanos 654.14 (τὰ ἀκριβέστερα τῶν ἀντιγράφων); Eustathius Thessalonicensis (Philol., Scr. Eccl.; 12th c. C.E.) used the two words together at least eleven times, including in his Commentarii ad Homeri Iliadem 1:98.11 (τὰ τῶν ἀντιγράφων ἀκριβέστερα). In the course of revising this article, our brief search in the TLG turned up the aforementioned, and numerous additional, examples touting what the “more accurate of the copies” say, all of which merit a thorough examination. 127 See Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 12–13.

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of Antioch survives in a catena attributed to Victor of Antioch (fl. ca. 500 C .E .). Rather little is known about Victor, and even less is certain about the origin and date of the catena to which his name was eventually attached. One statement in that catena, which also appears in a plethora of Byzantine minuscules, notes the disparate witnesses to Mark’s original conclusion, whether at 16:8 or continuing from 16:9: Εἰ δὲ καὶ τὸ ἀναστὰς δὲ πρωῒ πρώτῃ σαββάτου ἐφάνη πρῶτον Μαρίᾳ τῇ Μαγδαληνῇ, καὶ τὰ ἑξῆς ἐπιφερόµενα, ἐν τῷ κατὰ Μάρκον εὐαγγελίῳ παρὰ πλείστοις ἀντιγράφοις οὐ κεῖνται, ὡς νόθα128 νοµίσαντες αὐτά τινες εἶναι· ἡµεῖς δὲ ἐξ ἀκριβῶν ἀντιγράφων ὡς ἐν πλείστοις εὐρόντες αὐτὰ κατὰ τὰ παλαιστιναῖον εὐαγγέλιον Μάρκου, ὡς ἔχει ἡ ἀλήθεια συντεθείκαµεν, καὶ τὴν ἐν αὐτῷ ἐπιφεροµένην δεσποτικὴν ἀνάστασιν µετὰ τὸ ἐφοβοῦντο γάρ, τούτεστιν ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀναστὰς δὲ πρωῒ πρώτῃ σαββάτου καὶ καθ᾽ ἑξῆς µέχρι τοῦ διὰ τῶν ἐπακολουθούντων σηµείων. Ἀµήν. 129 Even if the [reading], “and having risen early on the first day of the week he appeared first to Mary Magdalene” [16:9a–b] and what follows afterward in the Gospel according to Mark, does not occur in most copies, with the result that some people think it to be spurious, we, since we have found it in most of the accurate copies in accordance with the Palestinian Gospel of Mark, have added [it] in accordance with the truth. And [we have also included] the resurrection of the Master which follows in it after the [passage], “For they were afraid” [16:8c], that is, from the [passage], “and having risen early on the first day of the week” [16:9a] and what follows, until the [passage] ‘through the accompanying signs. Amen’ [16:20c].130

We highlight above the strikingly different uses of the superlative adjective πλεῖστος. Initially, it is said that some people “suppose” (νοµίζω) that “most copies” (παρὰ πλείστοις ἀντιγράφοις) do not contain Mark 16:9–20. In the very next sentence, however, Victor of Antioch claims that “most” (again, πλείστοις) of the “accurate copies” (ἀκριβῶν ἀντιγράφων) do, in fact, have the passage.

128

The extremely pejorative force of νόθα is difficult to convey in translation. In literary works, νόθος denotes what is “spurious” (LSJ, 1177 [def. II.2]). In other contexts, νόθος is used for a “bastard” child, for the child of a slave, for a child whose mother is not a citizen, or even for crossbred animals (ibid. [def. I.1–4]). 129 Presumably, in Victor of Antioch’s text, Ἀµήν had already been added after Mark 16:20, an addition attested in a plethora of witnesses according to NA 28 (C * D s K L W Γ Δ Θ Ψ ƒ13 28. 565. 579. 700. 892. 1241. 1424. 2542s M c o vgww bo). Victor’s witness to the addition of Ἀµήν arguably merits inclusion in the NA 28 apparatus. 130 Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 444–45, lists the middle part of the Greek text cited above along with certain variant readings; Burgon offers more of the Greek text and a discussion of the passage (Last Twelve Verses, 288–89; cf. 59–65, 269– 90; cf. Farmer, Last Twelve Verses, 24–26). Different from a commentary, a catena is a collection of authoritative interpretations of one or more esteemed documents, e.g., Scripture (C. Curti, Art. “Catenae, Biblical,” in A. Di Berardino [ed.], Encyclopedia of the Early Church, 1:152–53; cf. J. Irmscher, Art. “Victor of Antioch,” in ibid., 2:868).

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Victor’s first reference to “most copies” is probably an echo of ad Marinum I.1,131 albeit clearly not an approving echo. Whereas “Eusebius” had said that both the majority of, and the “accurate,” copies of Mark lack the Longer Ending, Victor of Antioch takes the opposite position – that the “accurate copies” do, in fact, include Mark 16:9–20. Victor’s substantival use of ἀκριβής, “accurate,” also suggests a close (if not a direct) relation to ad Marinum I.1. Victor betrays no knowledge of the shift by his contemporary Antiochene colleague Severus to the comparative adjective ἀκριβεστέροις (“more accurate,” discussed immediately above). At the turn of the sixth century in Antioch, such competing views from Severus and Victor bespeak an ongoing debate about which MSS of Mark are the (more) “accurate” ones. Victor’s echo of a statement like, or the same as, ad Marinum I.1 (τὰ ἀκριβῆ τῶν ἀντιγράφων) points to an author who sought to discredit an earlier writing’s132 claims. Unlike the principle of harmonization advocated in ad Marinum I.2, the material incorporated into this catena cites a superior textual tradition – a “Palestinian” version of Mark, which trumps the witness of other manuscripts that lack Mark 16:9–20. Much is unknown about the origin and content of the edition of Mark to which the catena refers. One or more copies of Mark labeled as “Palestinian” may, in fact, have existed in Palestine – or in Antioch – at some point. In light of the reading of this allegedly Palestinian edition of Mark, this author, ostensibly along with others (note that συντεθείκαµεν is first person plural), has even taken the liberty of “adding” the Longer Ending to witnesses that previously had not contained it. b) Scores of Minuscules Echo Victor of Antioch’s Remarks Kurt Aland points out that, with certain minor variations, statements much the same as the one that the catena attributes to Victor of Antioch occur in over forty minuscules dating from the tenth to the sixteenth centuries.133 One can only wonder how many scribes may likewise have appended Mark 16:9–20 to MSS of Mark during the Byzantine period. A perhaps insoluble puzzle is whether the assertion in the catena attributed to Victor was borrowed from one or more of these minuscules (or, perhaps, their prototypes) 131

With Hug, La finale de l’évangile de Marc, 196–97, who finds “un écho d’Eusèbe”; so also Westcott and Hort, NT in the Original Greek, 2:35. 132 Whether the comment responds directly to “Eusebius” or, perhaps more likely, to some intermediate tradition is an open question. 133 For example, Minuscules 24, 36, 37, 40, 63, 108, 129, 137, 143 (Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 445). The latest of these is Minuscule 2579, which dates to the sixteenth century. Aland writes, “Auch diese Zahl ist, wie gesagt, vorläufig; dennoch ist es aufschlußreich, daß von 51 Handschriften nur 8 diese Notiz auslassen” (446).

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or whether the copyists of the minuscules were ultimately dependent upon this catena (or its source). Whatever the origin of the testimony, an awareness of different Markan endings must have been rather prevalent during the Byzantine period. Like the solution of harmonization advocated in the ad Marinum, the textual emendation advocated in light of a “Palestinian” version of Mark suggests an additional reason why witnesses lacking the Longer Ending (such as Sinaiticus, Vaticanus and the Sinaitic Syriac) are, numerically speaking, in the distinct minority. The widespread occurrence of a positive view of the Palestinian Mark in the catena and in over forty minuscules may well have given the impetus for any number of scribes to add Mark 16:9–20 to their edition(s) of the Second Gospel. It might have had an effect, for example, on Minuscules 138 and 264, where Mark 16:9–20 appears to have been “zwar jeweils von späterer Hand.”134 6. Additional Marginal Notes in Minuscules about Mark 16:9–20 The eleventh-century Minuscules 20 and 215 reflect an understanding of the manuscript tradition similar to what we have observed in Victor of Antioch and many other minuscules: ἐντεῦθεν ἕως τοῦ τέλους ἔν τισι τῶν ἀντιγράφων οὐ κεῖται· ἐν δὲ τοῖς ἀρχαίοις πάντα ἀπαράλειπτα κεῖται. From here until the end [16:9–20] does not occur in some of the manuscripts; but in the old ones the entire passage occurs without omission.135

In these two minuscules, the ancient tradition attesting the Longer Ending is deemed not specifically as Palestinian but rather is said to reflect the text of “the old” manuscripts as opposed to those of more recent origin. In addition, a note in Minuscule 199 (12th c.) voices the following caution before Mark 16:9: ἐν τισι τῶν ἀντιγράφων οὐ κεῖται τοῦτω 136 [sic]‚ αλλ᾽ ἐνταῦθα καταπαύει· In some of the copies this does not occur, but it concludes here [i.e., at 16:8].137

134

Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 443. The Greek text is cited by Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 443, who seems not to grasp the positive estimation given in regard to the Longer Ending’s authenticity. 136 Instead of the misspelled τοῦτω, one would expect τοῦτο. Cf. above (on Minuscules 20 and 215) the claim ἐντεῦθεν ἕως τοῦ τέλους ἔν τισι τῶν ἀντιγράφων οὐ κεῖται. In Minuscule 199 (above), the possible omission of ἐντεῦθεν ἕως τοῦ τέλους would create the need for supplying a subject – in this case, τοῦτο, which a scribe more adept at copying Greek than at composing in Greek apparently misspelled as τοῦτω. 137 Greek: Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 443. See further G. W. Horner, The Coptic Version of the New Testament in the Northern Dialect (Oxford, 1898), 480 on the Bohairic version, in which Mark 16:8 is followed by a break, after 135

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No explanation is given why “some manuscripts” lack the Longer Ending, or even whether one set of witnesses should be accepted over another. One can also wonder when in the tradition the assertion came to mention only “some of the copies” – a far less sweeping claim than what the “(more) accurate” copies of Mark hold. Of particular interest among these minuscules is Minuscule 22 (12th c.), in which the following appears between Mark 16:8 and 16:9: ἐφοβοῦντο γάρ τελος ἐν τισι τῶν ἀντιγράφων ἕως ὧδε πληροῦται ὁ εὐ αγγελιστής· ἐν πολλοῖς δὲ καὶ ταῦτα φέρεται· Αναστὰς δὲ πρωῒ πρώτη σαββάτων. . . .138 For they were afraid. [The] end. In some of the copies, the evangelist is finished at this point [i.e., 16:8]. But in many [copies] this [pericope] also occurs: “And, having risen early on the first day of the week, . . .”139

As C. R. Williams observes, the word τελος appears in red ink. On the next line, the note follows – still in red ink and in the same hand but written in shorter lines – before the text of the Longer Ending is given. Calling attention with red ink to the problem of where Mark ended could suggest that the copyist sides with “some of the copies” that omit 16:9–20, although he dutifully transmits the claim that “most” copies of Mark include 16:9–20. Another eight minuscules claim (with certain variations in wording): ἐν τισι µὲν τῶν ἀντιγράφων ἕως ὧδε πληροῦται140 ὁ εὐαγγελιστής· ἕως οὗ καὶ Ἐυσέβιος ὁ Παµφίλου141 ἐκανόνισεν· ἐν πολλοῖς δὲ καὶ ταῦτα φέρεται· On the one hand, in some of the copies the evangelist is finished at this point. Eusebius Pamphili has canonized [this writing] as far as here. On the other hand, in many [copies] this [pericope] also occurs.142

which appears a gloss written in Arabic: “this is the chapter expelled in the Greek.” Cf. Williams, “Appendices to Mark,” 392. 138 Σαββάτων is plural (cf. the singular σαββάτου in Mark 16:9). Greek text: Williams, “Appendices to Mark,” 364. See further Williams, ibid.; Burgon, Last Twelve Verses, 230–31; Westcott and Hort, NT in the Original Greek, 2:30. 139 Williams, “Appendices to Mark,” 364. The Greek text appears in Williams (ibid.) and is discussed also by both Burgon (Last Twelve Verses, 230–31) and Westcott and Hort (NT in the Original Greek, 2:30). 140 Cf. συµπληροῦσθαι in Theophylactus and Euthymius (discussed immediately below). 141 As is well known, Eusebius of Caesarea referred to himself by the name of his beloved teacher, Pamphilus of Caesarea (d. 310 C.E.). 142 The minuscules are 15, 22, 205, 205abs, 209, 1110, 1192, 1210, 1582; they date from the tenth to the fifteenth centuries. Greek text: Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 443; cf. Williams, “Appendices to Mark,” 365–66.

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Noteworthy is the reference to an ancient and esteemed church leader who recognized the canonicity of Mark 1:1–16:8 but not of the Longer Ending. The authority cited here is the Eusebian Canons, which do not, in fact, include material from Mark 16:9–20.143 Moreover, although sometimes postulated, a direct literary, or authorial, connection between the testimonies of the Eusebian Canons and the ad Marinum cannot necessarily be assumed.144 7. Theophylactus of Ochrida and Euthymius Zigabenus: “It Is Necessary To Interpret” Mark 16:9–20 Despite the measure affirmed in the catena attributed to Victor of Antioch and in over forty Byzantine minuscules, Theophylact(us) of Ochrid(a) (ca. 1055/56–1107/08 or 1125/26 C.E.) still recognizes a disparity among MSS of Mark. Nonetheless, he advocates that 16:9–20 be interpreted along with the rest of Scripture: Cod. 26 pergit: φασὶ τινες τῶν ἐξηγητῶν ἐνταῦθα συµπληροῦσθαι 145 τὸ κατὰ Μάρκον εὐαγγέλιον, τὰ δὲ ἐφεξῆς εἶναι µεταγενέστεραν. 146 Χρὴ δὲ καὶ ταύτην ἑρµηνεῦσαι, µεδὲν τῇ ἀληθείᾳ λυµαινοµένους. Codex 26 continues: Some of the interpreters say that the Gospel according to Mark is completed here [at 16:8], and that the [words] that follow are of a later time. It is necessary to interpret even this [passage; 16:9–20] in order not to harm the truth.147

Perhaps writing shortly after Theophylactus, Euthymius Zigabenus (11th or 12th c. C.E.) makes nearly the same declaration: φασὶ δέ τινες τῶν ἐξηγητῶν ἐνταῦθα συµπληροῦσθαι τὸ κατὰ Μάρκον εὐαγγέλιον· τὰ δὲ ἐφεξῆς προσθήκην εἶναι µεταγενέστεραν. Χρὴ δὲ καὶ ταύτην ἑρµηνεῦσαι, µεδὲν τῇ ἀληθείᾳ λυµαινοµένην.148

143

On the content and organization of the Eusebian Canons, see Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 443–44; Farmer, Last Twelve Verses, 61–63. 144 Against Westcott and Hort, NT in the Original Greek, 2:33. 145 See LSJ, 1684, s.v. συµπληρόω (def. II.4). 146 Μεταγενέστεραν: lit. “born afterward,” referring to the origin of that later addition to Mark. See LSJ, 1108, s.v. µεταγενής; cf. Kelhoffer, Persecution, Persuasion and Power, 315–16, on the related comparative adjective εὐγενέστεροι (the Jews in Beroea as “higher born,” Acts 17:11). In Theophylactus’s text, one would expect µεταγενέστερα (agreeing with τὰ ἐφεξῆς), rather than µεταγενέστεραν. But see, immediately below, on προσθήκην µεταγενέστεραν (“an addition of a later time”) in Euthymius Zigabenus. 147 Theophylactus Enarratio in Evangelium Marci Note 90 (Greek: PG 123:677; also Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 574). 148 Euthymius Zigabenus Comm. in Marcum 48. Greek: Hug, La finale de l’évangile de Marc, 197; Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 439 (= PG 129:765–852 at 845). Euthymius may have altered the participle λυµαινοµένους (apud Theophylactus) so that λυµαινοµένην would agree with the preceding προσθήκην . . . µεταγενέστεραν . . . ταύτην in gender, number and case.

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Once again, care must be taken to interpret 16:9–20, holds Euthymius, despite the fact that some say Mark did not include post-resurrection appearances. Not to interpret that part of Scripture would somehow do “harm to the truth.” The hermeneutical principle is similar to what “Eusebius” had advocated some eight centuries earlier – that one “not [approve] this [reading] rather than that one, or that [reading] rather than this one” (ad Marinum I.1). 8. Summation: Ad Marinum I.1 and Its Reception History The late-ancient and Byzantine patristic and manuscript evidence we have examined supports the conclusion that, despite intense pressures from a variety of areas to resolve problems concerning the end of the Gospel of Mark, the difficulties continued to be recognized throughout the early and Byzantine periods.149 Just as passages like Mark 16:9–20 were preserved because they were known to be ancient, so, perhaps also, were notices about the original conclusion to Mark passed along because they, too, had become part of the tradition.

G. Conclusion What began as an analysis of one late-ancient Christian author’s apologetic responses to a question about the chronology of the resurrection and appearances in Matthew 28||Mark 16 has given rise to a fuller understanding of widely contrasting perspectives in the early and Byzantine church about the original conclusion to the Gospel of Mark. We have also weighed the importance – or, alternately, the irrelevance – of text-critical observations for the judgments of those who took part in such debates. The first reAlthough uncertainties remain about the dates of both Theophylactus and Euthymius, Aland, “Der Schluß des Markusevangeliums,” 574, describes Theophylactus as having been “einen wortgleichen Vorgänger” of Euthymius. Which wording reflects the earlier tradition – that of Theophylactus or Euthymius Zigabenus – is a matter of guesswork. Within a codex (apud Theophylactus), space could have been limited, fostering an awkward shortening of Euthymius Zigabenus’s text. Relative to Theophylactus’s µεταγενέστεραν (without a corresponding antecedent), Euthymius Zigabenus’s προσθήκην µεταγενέστεραν could be taken as the earlier tradition. On the other hand, it could be that Euthymius Zigabenus (or his source) corrected an awkward formulation in an earlier source. 149 Aland and Aland, Text of the NT, 287, aptly call attention to the “tenacity” of MSS ending at Mark 16:8 in the face of formidable pressure to include one or more of the secondary endings to Mark: “The widespread practice in the early Church of concluding the gospel of Mark at 16:8 was suppressed by Church tradition, but it could not be eradicated. It persisted stubbornly. . . . This is a striking example of what is called tenacity in the New Testament textual tradition.”

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sponse given to the ad Marinum’s first question (I.1) is striking both for its apparent awareness of text-critical information and for its drawing on that information to clear up the chronological difficulty. The “accurate copies” of the Second Gospel (τὰ ἀκριβῆ τῶν ἀντιγράφων), we are told, do not contain Mark 16:9–20, a passage that occurs only “seldom” (σπανίως) in certain witnesses. Subsequently, analogous statements about which “accurate” copies of Mark did or did not contain 16:9–20 resounded in quite a number of other early and Byzantine writings and manuscripts. The significance of such text-critical observations in ad Marinum I.1 and in other writings seems not to have been recognized in the modern period prior to the work of the Danish textual critic Andreas Birch at the turn of the nineteenth century.150 In subsequent centuries (albeit with rare exception), scholars have discussed ad Marinum I.1 without giving attention to the passage’s literary context or to the author’s agenda. Nowadays it is recognized that any potential patristic witnesses to the text of the NT (or to its transmission) must, to the extent possible, be analyzed in relation to what is known about the author and the writing as a whole. Much of this article comprises an effort to fill this lacuna.151 Our discussion of ad Marinum I.1–II.1 and statements that are similar to ad Marinum I.1 in subsequent Christian writings and manuscripts has yielded a number of insights about the practice of ‘textual criticism’ in the early and Byzantine church. 1. ‘Textual Criticism’ as a Tool for Resolving Gospel Incongruities In ad Marinum I.1–2, “Eusebius” is interested primarily not in ‘textual criticism’ per se but in explaining a discrepancy about the timing of Jesus’ resurrection and appearance to the women. His task is not an easy one. Whereas Matt 28:1 narrates their visit “late” Saturday evening (ὀψὲ σαββάτων), Mark 16:2 had placed it “early” Sunday morning (λίαν πρωῒ τῇ µιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων; cf. 16:9; Luke 24:1; John 20:1). In addressing this difficulty, “Eusebius” declares that Mark 16:9–20 occurs in only a few, less reliable manuscripts (ad Marinum I.1). Written consistently in the optative mood, however, this first solution is given with some reservation. The author’s primary interest is that the difficulty be resolved, not that others in the church pay greater attention to one or the other variant reading among divergent textual witnesses. This main interest seems also to be the reason that a second, and markedly different, solution is proposed to the same question about Matt 28:1 150

6–7.

A. Birch, Variae Lectiones, 225–27. See further Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission,

151 Since the ascription of the ad Marinum to Eusebius of Caesarea, however plausible, has never been tested, we have discussed only in passing the life and works of this prolific and influential author.

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and Mark 16:2, 9. Ad Marinum I.2 supports an alternate theory about how a spurious minority reading like Mark 16:9–20 could – as we know it eventually did – find a place in the majority of later MSS. The primary rationale undergirding answer two is the reluctance to “dare” to omit any contested part of Scripture under any circumstances (especially if the questionable passage can be harmonized with other Scripture). If an ostensibly problematic text can be shown to agree with other Gospel accounts, one must never consider dispensing with it. On the basis of such a criterion, the general tendency would be to include, rather than exclude, questionable passages like Mark 16:9–20, Mark’s Shorter Ending (Codex Bobbiensis [itk]), and John 7:53–8:11. Despite the dogmatic purposes of “Eusebius,” the first answer given (ad Marinum I.1) on the “accurate” Markan MSS was likely credible and, to a certain extent, verifiable in the fourth century (or, quite possibly, in the third century). A perhaps unanswerable question is whether the author himself possessed direct knowledge of the manuscripts or incorporated information from an earlier source. Of arguably equal significance for the reception history of Mark 16 are statements of a host of subsequent authors and scribes about that Gospel’s conclusion. After “Eusebius,” the earliest of these is Jerome, whose letter ad Hedybiam (Ep. 120.3) concurs with the ad Marinum that “almost all books in Greek” do not contain Mark 16:9–20. Jerome discusses in the indicative mood Markan MSS that lack 16:9–20, thereby removing the caution denoted by the optative mood in ad Marinum I.1. Apparently independently of both the ad Marinum and Jerome, Hesychius of Jerusalem contends that Mark did not include post-resurrection narratives, although this observation does not stop Hesychius from drawing from parts of 16:9–20 to address a question about to which women the risen Jesus appeared (Coll. 52; cf. 50, 54). Severus of Antioch (Hom. 77) also affirms unequivocally that the “more accurate copies” (ἐν τοῖς ἀκριβεστέροις ἀντιγράφοις) of Mark end at 16:8. In using the comparative adjective ἀκριβεστέροις, Severus uses a formulation well attested in secular Greek literature, heightening the claim of ad Marinum I.1 about “the accurate [ones] of the copies” (τὰ ἀκριβῆ τῶν ἀντιγράφων). Part of a catena attributed to Victor of Antioch and a note in over forty Byzantine minuscules (the latest of which dates to the sixteenth century) call attention to an ostensibly Palestinian version of Mark that concluded with 16:9–20. According to Victor and those minuscules, that Palestinian version of Mark justifies adding (!) the Longer Ending to copies of Mark that lack the passage. Likewise, the nearly identical statements of Theophylactus of Ochrida and Euthymius Zigabenus call for the Longer End-

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ing to be interpreted along with other Scripture, despite an awareness of a (now discounted) report of “some” that Mark originally ended at 16:8. Despite the apparent practice of adding the Longer Ending to manuscripts that previously had not contained it, the tenacity of other MSS concluding Mark at 16:8 is evident in cautionary notes in other Byzantine witnesses – for example, in Minuscules 22 and 199 – which likewise point to an awareness of unresolved problems about Mark’s ending. It may well be that, by the Byzantine period, marginal manuscript notes about the Markan endings had themselves become part of the tradition that, like Scripture, was routinely passed down from generation to generation. There is more work to be done in the analysis of these and other scribal notes about variant readings. 2. Implications for Scholarship a) Witnesses for the Omission of Mark 16:9–20 As an appendix to this study, we point out several aspects of Early Christian Studies for which an informed approach to the ad Marinum is significant – witnesses for the omission of Mark 16:9–20, pre-modern approaches to ‘textual-criticism,’ the use of patristic evidence in textual criticism, and some subjects ripe for additional research. With regard to the earliest recoverable conclusion to the Gospel of Mark, the surviving manuscript witnesses to the ending at Mark 16:8 need to be evaluated alongside statements in the ad Marinum, Jerome’s letter, Hesychius of Jerusalem’s Collectio and Severus of Antioch’s homily. Those four writings date to within two centuries of the approximate dates for Sinaiticus (‫ )א‬and Vaticanus (B), and each preserves a presumably accurate tradition about the content of the earliest manuscripts of Mark. One or more of those authors (or their sources) could well have been able to verify firsthand information about MSS of Mark. b) Ambivalence and Inconsistency in Pre-Modern ‘Textual-Criticism’ We have also discussed a variety of conflicting approaches to text-critical issues and their implications. A prime example of dueling views is seen in the two answers given in ad Marinum I.1–2. The harmonizing approach of answer two (I.2) could have profoundly affected the subsequent reception of Mark 16:9–20. We have also called attention to similar inconsistencies in several later authors. Jerome, for example, could concur with the ad Marinum I.1 but still include the Longer Ending in his Latin Vulgate. Likewise, Hesychius of Jerusalem could, in the same context, state that Mark did not include post-resurrection appearances (Coll. 52), but nonetheless use material from the Longer Ending to clarify to which women – and when – Christ appeared (Coll. 50, 54). Part of the catena attributed to

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Victor of Antioch (preserved also in scribal notes in a plethora of Byzantine minuscules) mentions a claim like that of the ad Marinum I.1 only in order to refute it by referring to an alleged Palestinian edition of Mark. Finally, Theophylactus and Euthymius acknowledge the opinion of “some” interpreters that Mark ends at 16:8 but nonetheless maintain that the Longer Ending must be interpreted along with other Scripture. In all these writings, a discernible pattern is evident: an awareness of the text-critical problem of Mark 16:9–20 does not lead to a decision to refrain from making use of the passage. c) The Use of Patristic Evidence in Textual Criticism Due to the ambivalence and inconsistencies in late-ancient and Byzantine witnesses, it can be overly simplistic, if not misleading, to classify those witnesses as either “for” or “against” a particular reading. We have suggested, on the contrary, that, an alleged witness “against” the Longer Ending’s inclusion may, at the time, have actually contributed to the acceptance of Mark 16:9–20 by using the allegedly spurious passage for apologetic, dogmatic or hortatory purposes. All the patristic sources that could be used in NT textual criticism need to be analyzed in context and in comparison with one another. However interesting it is that an author does (or does not) accept Mark 16:9–20 as an original part of the Second Gospel, it is equally fascinating to examine the ways that various positions are supported and to see the extent to which an author may agree with, or seek to refute, earlier judgments. d) Suggestions for Further Inquiry Finally, we comment briefly on areas meriting further study. There remains much to learn about the origin, content, transmission and, perhaps, authorship of the ad Marinum. We hope that the translation and analysis of ad Marinum I.1–II.1 given here will lead to further study of this important and multifaceted text. Additional treasures, some of which we have mentioned only in passing, also await (re-)discovery in numerous other Quaestiones et responsiones on Scripture. In his 1993 presidential address to the Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas, Martin Hengel emphasized the vital importance of a broad familiarity with patristic literature for those who specialize in NT.152 This article confirms Hengel’s judgment – and like-

152 M. Hengel, “Aufgaben der neutestamentlichen Wissenschaft,” NTS 40 (1994): 321–57, esp. 325, 329–33, 340–42. See also the critique of previous work and discussions of methodology by B. D. Ehrman, “Use and Significance of Patristic Evidence,” 118–35; and G. D. Fee (rev. R. L. Mullen), “The Use of the Greek Fathers for New Testament Textual Criticism,” in B. D. Ehrman and M. W. Holmes (eds.), The Text of the

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wise shows the value of an awareness of NT critical issues for the study of patristic literature.

Abstract: This article examines a variety of late-ancient and Byzantine positions taken on disparate manuscript readings of, and the original conclusion to, Mark. The essay includes a new and (the first ever) complete English translation of ad Marinum I.1–II.1, a writing attributed to Eusebius of Caesarea, along with an analysis of grammatical and syntactical peculiarities in the surviving, truncated epitome of that writing. The ways that authors, including Jerome, Hesychius of Jerusalem, Severus of Antioch and Theophylactus of Ochrida, approached ‘textual criticism’ shed much light on how a harmonizing principle for the sake of preserving disparate parts of Scripture, whatever their origin, could contribute to the eventual incorporation of Mark 16:9–20 into nearly all MSS of the Second Gospel.

New Testament in Contemporary Research: Essays on the Status Quaestionis (NTTSD 42, Leiden, 2012), 351–74.

III. Struggles for Legitimacy

Chapter 8

The Maccabees at Prayer: Pro- and Anti-Hasmonean Tendencies in the Prayers of First and Second Maccabees* . . .ut legem credendi lex statuat supplicandi.1

The contrasting depictions of prayer in First and Second Maccabees are an oft-overlooked reflection of the controversy between these two writings. Generally speaking, whereas First Maccabees relates “a history of the rise of the Hasmonean dynasty,” Second Maccabees presents a rival explanation of how, after the defeat of the Hellenistic general Nicanor, Jerusalem came into “the possession of the Hebrews” (2 Macc 15:37) – but not specifically of the Hasmoneans.2 These accounts, which frequently diverge, *

Original publication: Early Christianity 2 (2011): 198–218. Prosper of Aquitaine (ca. 370–ca. 455), De gratia Dei indiculus 8 (also known under the titles Auctoritates and Praeteritorum): “. . .in order that the law of supplication establish the law of faith” (cf. 1 Tim 2:1–4); Latin: PL 50:535; 51:201–202, 209. In later Western church tradition, the saying became simplified to lex orandi lex credendi est and has received considerable attention, especially since Vatican II. See K. Federer, Liturgie und Glaube: “Legem credendi lex statuat supplicandi” (Tiro Prosper von Aquitanien): Eine theologiegeschichtliche Untersuchung (Paradosis 4, Freiburg, 1950); P. De Clerck, “‘lex orandi, lex credendi’. Sens originel et avatars historiques d’un adage équivoque,” Questions Liturgiques 59 (1978): 193–212 (ET: “‘Lex orandi, lex credendi’: The Original Sense and Historical Avatars of an Equivocal Adage,” Studia Liturgica 24 [1994]: 178– 200); W. Dürig, “Zur Interpretation des Axioms ‘Legem credendi lex statuat supplicandi,’” in A. Ziegenaus et al. (eds.), Veritati Catholicae: FS Leo Scheffczyk (Aschaffenburg, 1985), 226–36; H.-J. Schulz, “Der Grundsatz ‘lex orandi – lex credendi’ und die liturgische Dimension der ‘Hierarchie der Wahrheiten,’” Liturgisches Jahrbuch 49 (1999): 171–81; D. G. Van Slyke, “Lex orandi lex credendi: Liturgy as Locus Theologicus in the Fifth Century?” JJT 11 (2004): 130–51; cf. Agneta Enermalm-Ogawa, Un langage de prière juif en grec: le témoignage des deux premiers livres des Maccabées (ConBib 17; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1987), 144–45. My thanks are due to Jérémy Delmulle for assistance on the background of lex orandi lex credendi. 2 See J. A. Goldstein, First Maccabees: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 41, Garden City [NY], 1976), 4, 27, respectively. On p. 27, Goldstein points out that a summary of the agenda of Second Maccabees appears in 2 Macc 2:19– 32, highlighting an interest in the Temple and the altar’s purification, as well as in God’s miraculous interventions among the Jews, who “though few in number seized the whole land and pursued the barbarian hordes” (2 Macc 2:21). 1

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attest to a sharp disagreement about the legitimacy of the Hasmonean dynasty, most probably written during the reign of Alexander Jannaeus (103– 76 B.C.E.).3 The interpreter encounters numerous disagreements between the “propaganda for the Hasmonean dynasty”4 (First Maccabees) and Jason of Cyrene’s counter-narrative (Second Maccabees), an epitome of a longer work. As Jonathan A. Goldstein observes, Jason of Cyrene seems to have “contradicted 1 Maccabees wherever possible.”5 These authors are not involved in a friendly debate. Each gives a view that excludes the other’s representations and constructions of legitimacy. The only in-depth study of prayer in First and Second Maccabees is the 1987 monograph by Agneta Enermalm-Ogawa, whose structuralist and philological analysis focuses on “le vocabulaire, le style et l’organisation” of the prayers.6 Enermalm-Ogawa construes First Maccabees as reflecting “une perspective palestinienne” and highlighting the “peuple de l’alliance,” whereas Second Maccabees is “marquée par les préoccupations d’une vie dans la diaspora” and highlights “peuple d’appartenance.”7 In her comparison of Maccabean with other ancient Jewish (and some early Christian) prayers, she finds particularities in the language of the prayers in First and Second Macabees, along with certain “structures de pensée” and the function of the prayers in each writing’s narrative development.8 In this article, we explore the divergent depictions of prayer and the corresponding reasons attributed to the victories that Judas Maccabeus led. This attention to prayers is lacking in Goldstein’s elaborate and otherwise 3 See also Goldstein, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 5: “Their authors were bitter opponents. . . . First Maccabees and the original of which Second Maccabees is an abridgment were written in close succession as propaganda after decades of controversy.” See further idem, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 62–89, on the dates of these writings at, or around the time of, Alexander Jannaeus. 4 Goldstein, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 72. Goldstein discusses these differences at length (First Maccabees, 12, 28–34, 44–54, 78–89). See further idem, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 80: “Striking is the fact that the two books claiming to narrate the liberation of the Jews present not a single document in common. Every document presented in First Maccabees can be used to prove Hasmonean achievement and Hasmonean priestly or dynastic legitimacy. No document presented by Jason can be so used.” 5 Goldstein, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 78. 6 Un langage de prière juif en grec (see n. 1), 142; cf. eadem, “Josephus’s Paraphrase of 1 Maccabees in Antiquities 12:13: Prayer in a Narrative Context,” in James H. Charlesworth et al. (eds.), The Lord’s Prayer and Other Prayer Texts from the GrecoRoman Era (Valley Forge: TPI, 1994), 73–84. 7 Un langage de prière juif en grec (see n. 1), 142, 144–45. The distinction that Enermalm-Ogawa posits between a “Palestinian” and a diasporic “perspective” is unhelpful. We focus, instead, on the dueling perspectives on legitimation reflected in the prayers of First and Second Macabees. 8 Ibid. (see n. 1), 142.

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helpful analysis of the competing views in the two works.9 We argue that the presentations of the Maccabees and others at prayer by these pro- and anti-Hasmonean authors are rooted in a controversy about legitimacy and that a study of these presentations contributes to our understanding of larger disagreements between the two interpreters of Maccabean history. We examine depictions of prayer and make no claim about how Jews at the time of the Maccabean revolt or, later, under Alexander Jannaeus were actually praying. In the conclusion, we consider briefly the problem of tendentiously depicted prayer and possible historical reconstruction. With a comparative approach, we can readily observe Jason’s reactions in Second Maccabees to the chronologically prior First Maccabees. It is also clear that the author of First Maccabees attempts to countervail a number of anti-Hasmonean sentiments, such as those attested in Second Maccabees.10 A preliminary overview of the main differences in how these works portray prayer may be helpful. In First Maccabees, it is rare for Judas and his brothers to request miraculous or divine intervention of the kind routinely found in Second Maccabees. When the people beseech God in First Maccabees, Judas comes forward as the answer to the prayers and leads them in battle. First Maccabees accentuates how crucial this military leader was for achieving the eventual Jewish liberation. Additionally, it is common for the prayers in First Maccabees to bemoan the circumstances from which the current Maccabean leader will deliver the people – an effective way to aggrandize the deliverance brought about by the leader(s). Furthermore, according to First Maccabees, the proper response to a crisis is to prepare for battle and pray for victory. Unlike the passive praying “martyrs” in 2 Maccabees 7, in First Maccabees the loyal Jew actively fights on the side of the Maccabeans. The faithful must side with God’s appointed deliverers, who compare favorably with leaders like Moses and David. In contrast to the tendencies of First Maccabees, Second Maccabees holds that Judas secured victory because of the people’s repentance and prayers, the suffering of the “martyrs,” his own humble religious devotion, and divine intervention. Depictions of Judas as a conquering Davidic warrior are conspicuously absent in Second Maccabees. We begin with the earlier of the two works, First Maccabees, examining also parallel accounts in Second Maccabees in order to bring out view9 See Goldstein, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 30: “Again and again Judas Maccabaeus and his men prayed for divine aid and received it, as could be seen from their ever growing successes against the enemy.” 10 The fact that First Maccabees is the earlier of these two works does not necessarily mean that its author was ignorant of claims from someone like Jason. The author of Daniel, for example, had already considered Judas to be of “little help” (Dan 11:34) and had reserved ultimate hope for the time of the end and the resurrection of the dead (12:1–4).

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points that Jason challenged or modified. Since people pray more often in Second Maccabees, we examine additional passages from that work in the article’s second main section. This organization facilitates drawing a coherent picture of prayer in each writing and highlighting the contrasting depictions of Jews at prayer during the Maccabean revolt.

A. First Maccabees: Supplications Corroborate Hasmonean Legitimacy People pray at several junctures in First Maccabees, including before Judas’s battle with Gorgias (3:43–4:25), prior to engaging Lysias in battle (4:30–34), at the purification of the Temple sanctuary (4:36–41), for the deliverance of the city Dathema (5:30–34), for the repetition of a biblical miracle (although Judas achieves victory without one, 7:39–50), and prior to a successful counterattack (after being ambushed, 11:67–74). In each case, the prayers focus not on God’s intervention but on Judas’s initiative in calling others to action. 1. Prayer before Engaging Gorgias in Battle (1 Macc 3:43–4:25; cf. 2 Macc 8:12–20) It is perhaps no accident that people in First Maccabees do not pray in response to the apostasy and calamities enumerated in 1:10–2:70 (as they do in 2 Maccabees 3). When the situation is at its worst (1 Macc 1:64), Mattathias emphasizes how dire the circumstances are (2:1–13). The situation improves rapidly after Judas takes command (3:1–9). The first time the Jews “assembled to be ready for battle and to pray” was under Judas’s leadership before the first major battle with Gorgias (3:44; cf. 4:1). A lament (3:45) resembling those in the previous two chapters and emphasizing the woeful situation of uninhabited Jerusalem and her trampled sanctuary conspicuously interrupts this move toward petition.11 By drawing attention to the bleak situation prior to the dawning of deliverance, the narrative plays up the one who will deliver from these woes and thus enhances the Hasmoneans’ legitimacy. The prayer commences after the community assembles at Mizpah, fasts, opens the book of the law, brings tithes and offerings, and, finally, stirs up 11

See further 1 Macc 1:24–28, 36–40; 2:7–13. J. R. Bartlett, The First and Second Books of the Maccabees (Cambridge [UK], 1973), 54 points out that “this lament is reminiscent of [passages like] Isa. 1 or Ps. 79.” Cf. F. M. Abel, Les Livres des Maccabées (Paris, 1949), 68, who highlights similarities to Jeremiah 33. J. C. Dancy, I Maccabees: A Commentary (Oxford, 1954), 94 further notes that “the dirge . . . [explains] why the Jews had to resort [i.e., retreat] to Mizpeh.”

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the Nazirites (1 Macc 3:46–50a). With these prerequisites in place, the people let their concerns be known, bemoaning the situation much as they did in 1 Macc 3:45. They do not know what to do with the priestly garments; they complain about the state of the sanctuary and priests and about the Gentiles gathered to destroy them.12 The final part of the prayer does not request any specific action from God but simply asks, “How will we be able to withstand them, if you do not help us?” (3:53). Above, we suggested that, in 3:45, emphasizing the desperate situation dramatizes the significance of those who save the day. The vague request of 3:53 reflects the same tendency: Judas is the answer to their prayer. He sends some people home and sets out for battle (3:55– 57). Goldstein finds in these preparations another item on the Hasmonean agenda – a validation of fighting against the enemy when facing a crisis situation. First Maccabees contrasts the prudent actions of Judas with the earlier response of other Jews, who had “tried to rouse God’s vengeance against the persecuting gentiles by displaying helpless martyrdom” (cf. 1 Macc 2:28–38).13 Certain Jews’ opposition or ambivalence toward Judas’s initiative, evidenced by the passive stance of these martyrs and others, presumably would have held that “armed resistance would be useless if not impious.”14 The prayer in 3:53 and the surrounding context not only support a pro-Hasmonean agenda but also put focus on the leader who came as God’s answer to the community’s cry.15 These observations correlate well with Judas’s exhortation immediately before the battle and its concluding description. He compares the hopedfor deliverance with how the Lord had saved the Israelites when they crossed the Red Sea – with Moses as their leader (1 Macc 4:8b–11). Judas entreats the Jews to “remember” (µιµνῄσκοµαι) the Exodus and deliverance from Pharaoh (4:9). If God hears them (καὶ νῦν βοήσωµεν εἰς οὐρανόν εἰ θελήσει ἡµᾶς καὶ µνησθήσεται), they have proof that God “will favor [them] and remember his covenant . . . and crush this army. . .” (4:10). Given that 12

1 Macc 3:50–52: “And they cried aloud (ἐβόησαν φωνῇ) to Heaven, saying, ‘What shall we do with these? Where shall we take them? [51] Your sanctuary is trampled down and profaned, and your priests mourn in humiliation. [52] Here the Gentiles are assembled against us to destroy us; you know what they plot against us.’” 13 Goldstein, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 262. Goldstein refers to such martyrs who obey the precepts of God and to their earthly rulers as “pietists.” We avoid the term “pietists,” since it is vague and may connote value judgments about one group’s actions in contrast to those of others. 14 Goldstein, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 235. 15 Since, according to Bartlett, First and Second Maccabees (see n. 11), 55 (emphasis original), “Possession of such a scroll of the law at this time carried the death penalty (1:57),” the very preparations before this battle (cf. 1:48) bespeak a resolute and, possibly, dangerous response to foreign rulers.

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Judas identifies their situation with the biblical past and the covenant, if the Maccabean forces win (as, of course, they do), that result is seen as the Lord’s authentication of Judas’s leadership. By implication, God has renewed or confirmed the covenant with the Maccabees – but with ominous implications for Jews who may oppose Maccabean actions or leadership. Second Maccabees offers a sharply contrasting depiction of the Jews prior to the same battle with Lysias. The prayer, which is explicitly separate from Judas’s initiation, is attributed to others (οἱ δὲ τὰ περιλελειµµένα πάντα), who sold all their remaining property, and at the same time implored (ἀξιόω) the Lord to rescue those who had been sold by the ungodly Nicanor before he ever met them, [15] if not for their own sake, then for the sake of the covenants made with their ancestors, and because he had called them by his holy and glorious name. (2 Macc 8:14–15)

From a tradition-critical perspective, one could infer that Jason picks up on the covenant motif of 1 Macc 4:10 but reverses the implicit comparisons with Moses’s leadership (cf. 1 Macc 4:8b–11). After the prayer, Judas exhorts the frightened people to trust in Almighty God rather than “arms and acts of daring.”16 In 2 Maccabees 8, says Goldstein, Judas focuses on the lawless acts of the Gentiles and “other examples, including the deliverance of Jerusalem from Sennacherib.”17 God can still deliver mightily, but there is no threat that one will be excluded from God’s promises if one does not support the political successors of those leaders with whom, according to 1 Maccabees 4, God ostensibly renewed the covenant. In light of these competing agendas, we see that the depictions of prayer serve the overarching interests not only of 1 Macc 3:43–4:25 but also of Jason, who separates his praying characters from Judas, refers to a different portion of Scripture, and highlights Judas’s need to encourage a frightened army.18 Whereas, according to First Maccabees, Judas is the embodiment of God’s help in a time of crisis, Jason does not allow Judas to receive prominence as a military commander, let alone comparison to a leader like Moses. As a further illustration of these divergent tendencies, we observe Jason’s elaboration of what the Maccabees did after achieving victory: “the wrath of the Lord had turned to mercy” because of the deaths of the “mar16 2 Macc 8:16–18: the frightened army is an additional contradiction to the apparent ease with which Judas mobilizes his people to action according to 1 Macc 3:46–60. 17 Goldstein, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 264; so also Dancy, I Maccabees (see n. 11), 96. 18 Therefore, Bartlett, First and Second Maccabees (see n. 11), 57 (emphasis original) is incorrect to suggest that in 2 Maccabees 8 “Judas’ speech recalls the defeat of Pharaoh and his army (Exod. 14); the parallel speech in 2 Macc. 8:16–20 adds [sic] reference to other occasions when God helped Israel.”

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tyrs” and the people’s prayerful repentance.19 After the battle, “they gave some of the spoils to those who had been tortured and to the widows and orphans. . .” (2 Macc 8:28). Because the “martyrs” helped to turn aside God’s wrath and, thus, had played an integral role in securing the victories, their surviving relatives should share in the spoils. Predictably unaware of such details, First Maccabees comments only briefly on the result of the battle.20 This difference between the Maccabean narrators, while not directly dealing with prayers, correlates with several emphases in 1 Macc 3:44–53. First Maccabees does not reward the “martyrs” but implicitly rebukes their passivity. To summarize, after the initial mention of an anticipated prayer (1 Macc 3:44), a lament follows. Following a description of the community’s religious devotion (3:46–50a), the prayer continues with another lament, implicitly calling attention to Judas as a proto-Hasmonean deliverer. By concluding with a general request for divine assistance (3:53), the author makes the keen leadership of Judas – not the suffering of the “martyrs” or the piety of the prayers and fighters – both the presupposition for, and the favorable divine response to, the initial petition.21 Just before the battle commences, Judas again prays (4:8–11) and arises not only as the answer to prayer but also as the embodiment of a deliverer like Moses. The partially parallel account of 2 Maccabees 8 could hardly be more diametrically opposed to the focus on Judas’s leadership. It discounts the significance of Judas as a leader, turns attention to others who pray and to the fearful Jewish army, and alludes to different biblical traditions. 2. Prayer before Engaging Lysias in Battle (1 Macc 4:30–34; cf. 2 Macc 11:6–15) Following the Jews’ victory over Gorgias (1 Macc 3:43–4:25), the Seleucid general Lysias deploys a large force, which Judas meets at Beth-zur (1 Macc 4:26–29). Prior to this encounter, the Jews pray for victory (4:30–

19 2 Macc 8:5; cf. 7:37–38; 8:2–4. I am indebted to Goldstein, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 12 n. 11, who makes this observation with regard to the different views toward the martyrs in these contexts. 20 1 Macc 4:24–25: “On their return they sang hymns and praises to Heaven – ‘For he is good, for his mercy endures forever.’ [25] Thus Israel had a great deliverance that day.” 21 In light of the above observations, it does not follow, as Dancy, I Maccabees (see n. 11), 94 maintains, that “[t]he main object of the observances at Mizpeh [3:46] was to establish a claim to the compassion and the help of God (v. 53); a subsidiary one perhaps to arouse enthusiasm of the people (v. 54).” Dancy seems to bring the theology of prayer in Second Maccabees to bear upon First Maccabees; the latter writing never suggests that fasting and praying are prerequisites for receiving divine mercy.

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33). The prayer, with its allusions to ancient Israelite conquests,22 coheres with the description of the previous battle (cf. 1 Macc 4:22), where events are filtered through archetypes of the biblical past. The Jews pray for a victory like the victory God gave to David and Jonathan over “the mighty warrior” and the Philistines (4:30). They do not request miraculous intervention (for example, through an angelic intermediary) but ask God to “strike them down with the sword of those who love you” (4:33a). The brief description of the army’s smashing success (4:34) attests to the validity of their petition.23 Fighting – and praying – on the side of the anointed leader was essential to success according to 1 Macc 4:30–34. Second Maccabees again takes exception to nearly everything in 1 Macc 4:30–34. Although concurring with the obvious fact that the Jews won a victory, Jason calls attention to the enemy soldiers who escaped from battle rather than to those who were killed (2 Macc 11:12; pace 1 Macc 4:33). The end of the battle stems not from Judas’s triumph but from Lysias’s initiative to negotiate peace (2 Macc 11:13–14). And the Seleucid general negotiates because “he realized that the Hebrews were invincible because the mighty God fought on their side” when “a horseman appeared at the head [of the Jews], clothed in white and brandishing weapons of gold” (11:13, 8b). Before the battle, the Israelites, too, had recognized this “heavenly ally” (11:9–10). It was for such a “good angel” that Judas, his men, and all the people had earlier prayed (11:6). Therefore, 1 Macc 4:30–34 and 2 Macc 11:6–15 further exemplify how the contrasting presentations of prayer serve the conflicting agendas of the two authors. In the one account, Judas prays confidently for God to bless his own victory and receives a victory akin to those given to legendary biblical heroes. In the other, the people ask for a heavenly sign and achieve victory because the enemy recognizes that they have received help from an angel (and, implicitly, not principally from Judas).

22

Goldstein, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 270, calls attention to the possible allusions to numerous biblical passages, including Deut 28:65; Jos 5:1; 1 Sam 10:26; 14:1–15; 17:4, Pss 9:11–12; 107:26–27; Mic 7:16. See further F. M. Abel and J. Starcky, Les Livres des Maccabées (Paris, 3rd ed. 1961), 115, who opine that in 1 Macc 4:30 “the attack of the strong man” (τὸ ὅρµηµα τοῦ δυνατοῦ) is probably an allusion to Goliath’s attack against David (cf. 1 Sam 17:4). 23 1 Macc 4:34: “Then both sides attacked, and there fell of the army of Lysias five thousand men; they fell in action.” The absence of the final words (καὶ ἔπεσον ἐξ ἐναντίας αὐτῶν) in some MSS may be best explained by parablepsis on the part of certain copyists, since ἔπεσον appears twice in the verse. On the manuscript evidence, see S. Zeitlin and S. Tedesche, The First Book of Maccabees (New York, 1950), 104.

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3. Prayer at the Purification of the Temple Sanctuary (1 Macc 4:36–41; cf. 2 Macc 10:1–4) First Maccabees draws a direct connection between the victory over Lysias (1 Macc 4:34–35) and the impetus originating with “Judas and his brothers” to purify the Temple sanctuary (1 Macc 4:36). Contrary to what was expected, no miracle accompanied this new dedication; the ostensible omission, holds Goldstein, may have stemmed from an embarrassing turn of events.24 We find it more likely that, since in First Maccabees God works in response to the petitions of Judas and other Jews, no miracle was necessary. The focus remains on Judas’s initiative rather than any miraculous intervention. The next time the people mourn and lament is when they survey the Temple’s abysmal condition (1 Macc 4:38–39). As in 3:54, they sound the trumpets and call out to heaven.25 In contrast to earlier prayer episodes, there is no mention of the specific contents of the petition. Instead, the narrative mentions Judas’s commands to continue the fight and to select priests.26 2 Maccabees 10 likewise records prayer at the purification of the Temple, if only briefly. Even in this short prayer, Jason seizes the opportunity to present a prayer that is emblematic of his alternate explanation for the Jews’ predicament and deliverance: according to 2 Macc 10:4, the people acknowledge in prayer that the cause of their woes is their own sin.27 By repenting and seeking the Lord, they may celebrate the purified sanctuary and new altar (10:1–3). Naturally, no Hasmonean ruler could save the people from their own sin; they themselves must repent. Within this deuteronomistic interpretive scheme, Judas becomes a mere instrument of God, an instrument who was at the head of the group who recovered “the Temple and the city as the Lord was leading them on” (τοῦ κυρίου προάγοντος αὐτούς, 10:1). The plural object αὐτούς (10:1; not αὐτόν, which would refer only to Judas) indicates that it was the Lord who led them. We find that Jason has again picked up on the propaganda about the importance of the leadership of “Judas and his brothers” (cf. 1 Macc 4:36): by replacing the 24

Goldstein, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 273–74. 1 Macc 4:40b: καὶ ἐσάλπισαν ταῖς σάλπιγξιν τῶν σηµασιῶν καὶ ἐβόησαν εἰς οὐρανόν. 26 1 Macc 4:41–43. Cf. the brief depiction of prayer when Jonathan exhorts his troops to “cry out now to Heaven (νῦν οὖν κεκράξατε εἰς τὸν οὐρανόν) that you may be delivered from the hands of our enemies” (1 Macc 9:46). 27 2 Macc 10:4: “They fell prostrate and besought the Lord (ἠξίωσαν τὸν κύριον) that they might never again fall into such misfortunes, but that, if they should ever sin (ἐάν ποτε καὶ ἁµάρτωσιν), they might be disciplined by him with forbearance and not be handed over to blasphemous and barbarous nations.” See further our analysis of 2 Macc 10:1– 4 below. 25

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unspecified prayer of 1 Macc 4:40 with a supplication that bespeaks a rival, deuteronomistic presentation of the people’s predicament and a corresponding alternate solution (2 Macc 10:1–4), he diminishes the significance of the military leaders. 4. The City Dathema’s “Cry” for Deliverance (1 Macc 5:30–34) The next time First Maccabees tells of a prayer, Judas is seeking to rescue the city of Dathema from enemy siege. Seeing “that the battle had begun and that the cry of the town (ἡ κραυγὴ τῆς πόλεως) went up to heaven,” Judas calls his forces to join in the fight (5:31–32; cf. 5:9). There is no clear differentiation between the “cry” of battle and the “cry” of prayer that reaches heaven and is answered with the help that Judas summons. Again, there is no miraculous or other-worldly intervention. One might even ask whether the city cries out to God, Judas, or both sources of deliverance. As is consistent for the author’s pro-Hasmonean agenda, Timothy’s army “recognized that it was Maccabeus” (ἐπέγνω . . . ὅτι Μακκαβαῖός ἐστιν) and “fled from him” (5:34). With ἔφυγον ἀπὸ προσώπου αὐτοῦ (“they fled from him,” 5:34 [not αὐτῶν]), Judas is revered as the one from whom Timothy’s army “fled.” The highlighting of Judas with the singular αὐτοῦ (1 Macc 5:34) is directly countered by the plural αὐτούς in 2 Macc 10:1 (discussed above), whereby Jason shifts attention to the people as a whole. 5. Judas Prays for Repetition of a Biblical Miracle but Achieves Victory without One (1 Macc 7:39–50; cf. 2 Macc 15:21–22) Prior to engaging Nicanor again in battle, Judas prays for the repetition of a biblical miracle (cf. 2 Kgs 19:35–37): When the messengers from the king spoke blasphemy, your angel went out and struck down one hundred eighty-five thousand of the Assyrians. [42] So also (οὕτως) crush this army before us today; let the rest learn that Nicanor has spoken wickedly against the sanctuary, and judge him according to this wickedness.28

Given the contrasts we have noted between First and Second Maccabees in regard to requesting miraculous intervention,29 such a request in First Maccabees may seem incongruent. We shall see that, despite the request 28

1 Macc 7:41–42. Nicanor’s threat in the face of Judas’s and the priests’ prayer asking for vengeance against “him and his army” (1 Macc 7:33–38) immediately precedes the general’s advance and the ensuing battle. First Maccabees draws no direct connection between the petition of the priests and Judas’s success. As we shall see below, 2 Maccabees 14–15 not only picks up on this possible inference but also adds other causes for the victory, including prayers from the Jewish people, from the former high priest Onias, and from Judas – apparently in an effort to diminish the significance of the Maccabean’s role in the conflict. 29 E.g., see above on 1 Macc 4:30–34 and 2 Macc 11:6–15.

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for a miracle, the absence of the occurrence of a miracle is consistent with the author’s pro-Hasmonean outlook. In 2 Kgs 19:35–37, the Lord sends an angel, who at night kills 185,000 Assyrians, resulting in the flight of King Sennacherib; the Assyrian king is subsequently executed by his two sons. In three respects Judas’s request in First Maccabees stands in contrast to the kind of miraculous deliverances that predominate in Second Maccabees. First, Judas’s main request is that God “crush his [Nicanor’s] army before us today” (1 Macc 7:42). Judas does not ask for an aversion of the battle but for a victory (cf. 1 Macc 4:30–34). Second, Judas’s triumph – without the help of an angel – surpasses the grandeur of the deliverance in 2 Kings 19 (cf. 1 Macc 7:41), where the invading king flees prior to the battle and is assassinated by his sons (2 Kgs 19:37). Nicanor’s death is more spectacular than the biblical episode because he is “the first to fall in battle” when the armies meet (1 Macc 7:43c). Third, despite Judas’s request, there is no mention of miraculous intervention in the battle. The writer of 1 Macc 7:43b simply reports that, when the forces met in battle, “the army of Nicanor was annihilated (συντρίβω).” Although Judas had prayed in 1 Macc 7:41–42 for the type of supernatural intervention that is characteristic of Second Maccabees, none was necessary. According to 7:41–50, those who serve in Judas’s army need no angelic assistance. It will come as no surprise that, in his own account of the event (2 Macc 15:1–37), Jason does not allow this portrayal of Maccabean prayer to escape alteration. First, Judas acknowledges his inability to bring victory, since “it is not by arms, but as the Lord judges, that he [God] grants the victory to those who are worthy” (15:21). As Enermalm-Ogawa points out, giving God glory for victory is a prominent theme in the prayer language of Second Maccabees.30 Second, the Judas of Second Maccabees is even bolder than in 1 Macc 7:41–42 when he requests “an angel [as] in the time of King Hezekiah” (2 Macc 15:22; cf. 2 Kgs 19:35–37). Third, the warriors fight with their hands but pray to God in their hearts, implying a recognition of God’s intervention (15:27). We return to this passage below, since Jason’s extensive description brings to a climax his anti-Hasmonean treatise. 6. Jonathan’s Prayer after a Defeat and prior to Victory (1 Macc 11:67–74) The final instance of prayer in First Maccabees occurs in an embarrassing situation and shows how a moment in prayer can turn defeat into victory. In 11:67–74, the author must explain how Jonathan recovered from defeat 30

Enermalm-Ogawa, Un langage de prière juif en grec (see n. 1), 143.

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when surprised by an ambush. Except for Jonathan and his two commanders (the ἄρχοντες Mattathias and Judas, 11:70a), all the Jewish soldiers fled. In response to this desperate situation, Jonathan prays while mourning with rent garments and dust on his head (11:71). The content of Jonathan’s prayer is not reported, but the continuing narrative asserts that Jonathan’s re-engagement in battle inspired the fleeing soldiers to return and rout Demetrius’s officers (11:72–74).31 In this sudden reversal of fortune, Jonathan’s prayer and mourning are vague but nevertheless constitute an element integral to the turning point. Both the efficacy of this leader’s prayer and his bravery are emphasized. In 1 Macc 11:67–74, as was the case in 1 Maccabees 7, fighting on the side of the right leader is crucial, even if a setback should occur. When the leader whom God approves prays, that leader’s supplication and initiative are sufficient to turn the tide of the battle (cf. 11:63). 7. Summation: Pro-Hasmonean Supplications in First Maccabees The first point of contention between First and Second Maccabees is the earlier work’s association of prayer with fighting on Judas’s side (1 Macc 3:46–60). The authors likewise portray differently those who passively die (1 Macc 2:28–38) and the “martyrs,” whose intercession is integral to Judas’s success (2 Maccabees 7–8). When exhorting his men to prayer before battles, Judas calls attention to the Exodus from Egypt, asking not for miraculous intervention but for victory through “the sword of those who love” God (1 Macc 4:8–11, 30–34). Later, Judas leads the initiative to purify the Temple sanctuary, and the enemy forces “flee” from him (ἔφυγον ἀπὸ προσώπου αὐτοῦ, 1 Macc 5:30–34 at 5:34; cf. 4:36–41). Even when Judas prayed for a miracle, he actually accomplished a more triumphant victory without divine intervention than was accomplished in the biblical encounter to which he alludes (1 Macc 7:41–42; cf. 2 Kgs 19:35–37). And after Jonathan’s army is scattered by an ambush, his prayer and mourning occasion a turning point and prelude to a remarkable victory, underscoring the importance of his leadership and his prayers (1 Macc 11:67–74). The contrasting depictions of prayer in several parallel passages of Second Maccabees consistently reduce Judas’s importance and, by implication, the

31 Historically speaking, the account in 1 Macc 11:67–74 is, of course, an oversimplification. Goldstein, First Maccabees (see n. 2), 443 interjects that “the two commanders who stood firm [were] surely accompanied by some of their subordinates” and notes that Josephus “guessed that some fifty subordinates stood firm (Jos., Ant. xiii 5.7.161).” Moreover, Abel, Les Livres des Maccabées (see n. 11), 219 n. 71 calls attention to how Josephus “passe sous silence la prière.” The silence of Josephus could suggest that he regarded as historically implausible this prayerful turning point (1 Macc 11:71).

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gravitas of his purported legacy. In the next section, we explore further this tendency in Jason’s depictions of the Maccabees at prayer.

B. Anti-Hasmonean and Deuteronomistic Counter-Supplications in Second Maccabees Heretofore, we have looked at passages in First and Second Maccabees that report prayer associated with the same, or similar, events. In the former work, the depictions of prayer serve the author’s agenda of emphasizing the significance of Judas and Jonathan as God’s chosen leaders and, indirectly, of corroborating the legitimacy of the Hasmoneans, who eventually succeeded them. In his counter-narrative to First Maccabees, Jason consistently highlights causes other than those cited by First Maccabees to explain Judas’s amazing victories. We will examine four passages that reflect these tendencies of Jason. In 2 Macc 3:13–34, the intercession of the high priest Onias and others demonstrates that, long before Judas’s engagement in battle, beseeching God for spectacular deliverance was the cause of, and proper response to, the Jews’ victory. Later, Jason introduces the suffering and the efficacious prayer of the “martyrs” as a cause of victory (7:1–8:5): Judas and his companions acknowledge this needed assistance when they call upon the Lord (ἐπικαλέω) “to hearken to the blood that cried out to him” (8:2–3). Jason sets within a deuteronomistic framework the people’s prayer that they not again fall into transgression (10:1– 4). Their prayer acknowledges that the present crisis has been precipitated by their own sin. The remedy, then, lies not in leadership from a great proto-Hasmonean leader but in repentance by the people. And at the final, climactic scene of the drama (14:31–15:37), Jason places on the lips of Judas the exhortation not to trust in the natural strength of weapons but in the Lord’s deliverance (15:11, 21). Jason demonstrates how completely dependent Judas was on a host of non-military preparations, on the people’s prayers, and on assistance from heaven. As Jason would have it, because the priests, Judas, and the people cry out for miraculous intervention – which sometimes comes in the form of a delivering or “good” angel – more credit for the Jews’ deliverance rests with the Lord’s mercy and the people as a whole than with Judas as a liberator (11:6; 15:22). In Second Maccabees, then, Judas receives a demotion from his status in First Maccabees: no longer is he a vital link in the Hasmonean succession who merits comparison with Moses or David. Judas’s success as a warrior not only fits within, but is also dependent upon, a larger scheme of God’s interactions with the covenant people when they turn from sin and turn to God in prayer. The crucial message in Second

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Maccabees, reflected also in this work’s depictions of prayer, is that one must repent and look to the Lord for deliverance (not to Judas, from whose legacy the Hasmoneans would later derive legitimacy). 1. Prayer as a Substitute for Military Preparation To Prevent the Plundering of the Temple (3:13–34) The first time prayer appears in Second Maccabees, it exemplifies how the Jews are to beseech the Almighty in a time of crisis. 32 The Seleucid general Heliodorus insists that funds be “confiscated for the king’s treasury” (3:13). In response, the priests and the people pray prior to the anticipated encounter with Heliodorus (2 Macc 3:14–21): “While they were calling upon (ἐπεκαλοῦντο) the Almighty Lord that he would keep what had been entrusted safe and secure for those who had entrusted it, [23] Heliodorus went on with what had been decided” (3:22–23). The imperfect tense of ἐπεκαλοῦντο emphasizes that they continued to pray also when Heliodorus arrived with his bodyguard to collect. As a result of their prayer, a horseman and two young men (νεανίαι) assault Heliodorus so violently that he has no hope (διὰ τὴν θείαν ἐνέργειαν, 3:29) of recovery. A further sign of petitionary triumph is that Heliodorus’s friends ask the high priest Onias to call upon (ἐπικαλέω, 3:31) the Most High for their leader not to die (3:31– 34). In this remarkable tale of deliverance, the real power lies not in Judas’s initiative but in prayer. Compared with the first battle preparations in 1 Macc 3:46–60, where Judas takes the initiative, 2 Maccabees 3 paints a diametrically opposed picture of the people’s response to the initial threat to the holy city’s “unbroken peace” (2 Macc 3:1). Above, we observed that, although prayer before an encounter is important in 1 Macc 3:50b–53 and 4:30–34, military preparation also plays a key role. For military preparations, Second Maccabees substitutes a supernatural intervention, passing over in silence whatever actual resistance prevented Heliodorus from completing his mission. By omitting details about the battle and emphasizing the sufficiency of prayer, Jason contends that, long before Judas enters the narrative as a military leader (2 Macc 8:1), the “preparation” of beseeching God proved to be sufficient for the Jews’ needs. Later in Second Maccabees, two similar explanations recount Antiochus’s first arrival at the Temple and his death in Persia. The people pray (ἀξιόω) that an apparition of a “golden-clad cavalry charging through the air . . . might prove to have been a good omen” (5:2, 4). Ultimately, Antio32

Since the prayers of 2 Maccabees 1–2 occur in two letters at the beginning of this epitome and neither letter seems to inform later petitions in 2 Maccabees 3–15, we omit from the present discussion 2 Maccabees 1–2. The relationship of these initial letters to the rest of this work is a complex question and beyond the scope of this article.

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chus dies because the Lord “struck him with an incurable and invisible blow” (9:5; cf. 9:1–29). 2. The Intercession of the “Martyrs” prior to Victory (7:1–8:5) 2 Maccabees 7 construes the intercession of the slain Judeans as the key reason for Judas’s successes in battle. Later, Judas himself will dutifully recognize the significance of the repentance, prayer and suffering of the just (8:1–4). Given this agenda, it is perhaps no accident that Judas “and nine others” take refuge in the wilderness (5:27) before a detailed description of the people’s sufferings – in particular, of the “martyrs” – follows in 2 Maccabees 6–7. When Judas departs, no remedy exists for the evils brought by Jason and Menelaus, who had usurped the high priesthood. It is not yet time for the Maccabean to save the day. Just as prayer followed by divine intervention was the cause of deliverance in 2 Maccabees 3, Jason supplies an alternative to aggrandizing the Maccabean – the prayer of those who suffer. The last of those slain says, “I, like my brothers, give up body and life for the laws of our ancestors, appealing to God (ἐπικαλούµενος τὸν θεόν) to show mercy soon to our nation. . .” (2 Macc 7:37).33 It was the efficacious suffering and prayer of the “martyrs” that would “bring to an end the wrath of the Almighty that has justly fallen on our whole nation” (7:38). Jason’s depiction of the “martyrs” correlates with the summary of the first prayer of Judas and his companions (8:2–4). At nearly the halfway point of the book, Judas and his companions re-enter the narrative and pray: They implored (ἐπικαλέω) the Lord to look upon the people who were oppressed by all; and to have pity on the temple that had been profaned by the godless; [3] to have mercy on the city that was being destroyed and about to be leveled to the ground; to hearken to the blood that cried out to him (τῶν καταβοώντων πρὸς αὐτὸν αἱµάτων εἰσακοῦσαι); [4] to remember also the lawless destruction of the innocent babies and the blasphemies committed against his name; and to show his hatred of evil. (8:2–4)

They beseech the Lord’s mercy but do not designate themselves as the source of deliverance. The next verse reports the result of their prayer: “As soon as Maccabeus got his army organized, the Gentiles could not withstand him, for the wrath of the Lord had turned to mercy” (8:5). The spilled blood of those who suffered and Judas’s recognition in prayer of the value of their suffering are 33

J. A. Goldstein, Second Maccabees: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 41A, Garden City [NY], 1983), 317 observes that the request for mercy “is probably a paraphrase of ‘relent’ at Deut 32:36, the text on which the martyrs (vs. 6) placed their faith.” Cf. 2 Macc 7:6: “The Lord God is watching over us and in truth has compassion on us, as Moses declared in his song that bore witness against the people to their faces, when he said, ‘And he will have compassion on his servants.’”

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the sources of the military success. Judas’s prayer acknowledging dependence on his slain predecessors (8:2–4), says Goldstein, “is the counterpart to the glorification of Judas in the poem at [1 Macc] 3:3–9.”34 We take exception to this view, since 8:2–4 does not, in fact, “glorify” Judas but glorifies Judas’s recognition of those who had suffered and died. In Second Maccabees, Judas’s army materializes comparatively late in the narrative (8:1–11) – in contrast to the leader’s prompt introduction in 1 Maccabees 3.35 Since some common source material seems to lie behind the two accounts,36 the difference in organization further illustrates the antithetical agendas of the two authors. Whereas in the one account Judas “takes command” (1 Macc 3:1), in the other his small band “secretly entered the villages” to look for additional support (2 Macc 8:1). 3. Praying Warriors throughout Second Maccabees Numerous brief references to prayer in Second Maccabees accentuate how much (more) the Maccabean and his troops relied upon divine assistance for victory. Some Jews “sold all their remaining property, and at the same time implored (ἀξιόω) the Lord. . .” (2 Macc 8:14). After the battle, they pray in response to the victory (8:29), and they pray again before facing the Idumeans (10:16) and Timothy (10:25–26). In 11:6, they ask “the Lord to send a good angel to save Israel” (cf. 15:23). When a series of battles ensues in 2 Maccabees 12, further petitions are made (12:6, 15, 28, 36). Later, Judas orders the people to call on the Lord day and night (13:10– 12). Far from being an autonomous leader of a dynasty, Judas asks advice from the elders and commits his decision to the Creator (δοὺς δὲ τὴν ἐπιτροπὴν τῷ κτίστῃ, 13:14). These instances of prayer show how the Judas of Second Maccabees finds it necessary to pray more often and to request more divine intervention than does the Judas of First Maccabees. 4. A Deuteronomistic Framework Demotes the Hasmoneans (10:1–4) Above, we discussed 2 Macc 10:1–4 in comparison with 1 Macc 4:36–41 (on the rededication of the Temple). We return to that prayer because it is so integral to Jason’s argument: “Maccabeus and his followers” (10:1) pray “that they might never again fall into such misfortunes, but that, if 34

Goldstein, Second Maccabees (see n. 33), 324. Bartlett, First and Second Maccabees (see n. 11), 277 likewise calls attention to this difference but, curiously, uses the title “The revolt [sic] of Judas Maccabaeus” (emphasis added) for 2 Macc 8:1–11. 36 Goldstein, Second Maccabees (see n. 33), 321–23 at 321: “Not one of the differences between the two accounts invalidates the parallels which point to a common source. It is hard to see how such close parallels in two such different works could arise merely from the fact that the two narrate the same course of events.” 35

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they should ever sin (ἐάν ποτε καὶ ἁµάρτωσιν), they might be disciplined by him [the Lord] with forbearance and not be handed over to blasphemous and barbarous nations” (10:4). Their prayer acknowledges that the cause of the present crisis is the people’s sin and that the Almighty gives victory in response to the people’s cry. The solution must begin with the people’s repentance and cannot stem primarily from a proto-Hasmonean redeemer.37 5. Prayers before the Culminating Battle with Nicanor (14:31–15:37) Beginning in 14:31, Jason recounts the final episode in the struggle for control of the Temple. A fight is sure to ensue after the general Nicanor vows to level the Temple unless the Jews hand over Judas (14:33). In this climactic scene, Judas continues to be shown as dependent on a host of other individuals’ actions, as well as his own prayers and devotion. In a first response to the crisis, the priests pray that the house of God not be defiled (2 Macc 14:36; cf. 1 Macc 7:33–38). Following this intercession is an extended description of the voluntary death of Razis, who dies confident that he will receive his body parts back from the Lord (2 Macc 14:37–46). The text does not make a connection between his death and the anticipated battle, but in light of 2 Macc 6:1–8:7 the connection between voluntary death and liberation in 14:37–46 is highly probable. For Goldstein, a key omission is that “Razis confesses no national sin.”38 Instead of the people’s transgressions, the cause of Nicanor’s attack is the Seleucid general’s reckless demand that Judas be handed over (14:33). We would suggest, instead, that at this point in the narrative the people do not need to repent again (cf. 10:1–4; 12:40–43a). The final battle will confirm that the anger of the Almighty no longer burns against them for their sinful ways. Next, Judas emphasizes how much he and all the Jews depend on the Lord (15:7–11). The former high priest Onias reappears and prays (κατεύχοµαι) for all the Jews (15:12). Onias experiences a vision of the prophet Jeremiah and commends Judas to this prophet of old, who gives the Maccabean a sword and a promise of victory (15:13–16; cf. 15:11). The spotlight then returns to Judas, who seeks to arouse courage in the troops (15:17–19). Judas calls “upon the Lord who works wonders; for he [Judas] knew that it is not by arms, but as the Lord decides, that he gains the victory for those who deserve it” (15:21b; cf. Judas’s dream in 15:11).

37 Deuteronomistic theology likewise underlies 2 Macc 12:40, according to which only Jewish soldiers who carried “sacred tokens of the idols of Jamnia, which the law forbids the Jews to wear,” died in battle. Afterward, the people as a whole repented of this sin, and Judas collected a sin offering from them (12:41–43a). 38 Goldstein, Second Maccabees (see n. 33), 490.

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Judas also asks for “a good angel” to perform a miracle, as had occurred in Hezekiah’s time.39 After all these preparations – the priests’ prayer, Razis’s voluntary death, Onias’s prayer and vision, Judas’s exhortation to the soldiers, and Judas’s prayer for angelic intervention – the battle can now commence. In merely three verses, Jason describes the battle itself (15:25–27); the brevity is remarkable in comparison with the multifaceted preludes to victory (14:34–15:24). With such a host of non-military forces working for Judas, any description of a heroic battle ascribing greatness to Judas (or, in particular, to his successors) is set aside. We must therefore disagree with F. M. Abel’s suggestion that, in Judas’s prayer (2 Macc 15:21), “Judas se présente sous les dehors d’un chef religieux. . . .”40 Jason’s goal is the very opposite of presenting Judas as a religious leader. The purpose of highlighting so many activities before the battle is to illustrate how the Maccabean himself satisfies only one of several necessary preconditions for victory. After the battle, Judas drops out of the picture entirely. When Jason concludes his epitome of how the city came to be “in the possession of the Hebrews” (ὑπὸ τῶν Εβραίων, 15:37), he is conspicuously silent about the eventual Hasmonean leadership over Jerusalem and the surrounding region. Jason’s viewpoint is entirely in keeping with his explanations about the deuteronomistic origins of the crisis and how the victory was achieved. Credit for Jerusalem’s liberation should belong to the Jewish people (not to the predecessors of the Hasmonean leadership), since all the people together prayed, repented, suffered, and fought for her liberation. 6. The Terminology of Prayer in First and Second Maccabees We mention briefly the varying vocabulary for praying in these two works, which Enermalm-Ogawa has studied in depth in an attempt to differentiate the ostensibly “Palestinian” and diasporic prayer language in First and Second Maccabees.41 First Maccabees uses exclusively προσεύχοµαι and βοάω; of these terms, only the former occurs occasionally in Second Maccabees.42 In Second Maccabees, the typical designations for prayer are 39

Gk.: ἀπόστειλον ἄγγελον ἀγαθὸν ἔµπροσθεν ἡµῶν, 2 Macc 15:23; cf. 8:18; 11:6; 2 Kgs 18:13–19:35; Isaiah 36–37. 40 Abel, Les Livres des Maccabées (see n. 11), 476. 41 See Enermalm-Ogawa, Un langage de prière juif en grec (see n. 1), 5–7, 28–38, 61–83, 125–38. 42 Occurrences of προσεύχοµαι: 1 Macc 3:44; 4:30; 7:40; 11:71; 2 Macc 1:6, 23, 24; 2:10 (twice); 12:44; 15:14. Interestingly, in Second Maccabees the occurrences are in the initial epistles (i.e., chapters 1–2) and toward the end of the epitome. The verb βοάω occurs in 1 Macc 3:50, 54; 4:10, 40; 5:33.

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ἐπικαλέω and ἀξιόω, words First Maccabees never associates with prayer.43 In all likelihood, though, we should probably not attach any particular significance to the differences in vocabulary.44 In reacting to the view in First Maccabees, Jason does not copy the rival account’s formulas for calling on God; instead, he crafts descriptions of prayer according to his historiographic and political agenda.45

C. Conclusion: Conflicting Propaganda Established the Rules of Maccabean Supplication At the beginning of this article, we cited the principle of Prosper of Aquitaine that the rule of supplication should establish the rule of faith (. . .ut legem credendi lex statuat supplicandi).46 Our analysis of First and Second Maccabees reaches a conclusion running in the opposite direction: each author’s convictions about the role of Judas the Maccabean in the Jews’ eventual liberation from Seleucid rule have a decisive influence on the presentations of Judas and other Jews at prayer. The pro-Hasmonean propaganda of First Maccabees dictates that Judas lead initiatives to pray and that he appear as the anointed conqueror with which Heaven answered the people’s cry. For Jason of Cyrene, however, the repentance of the people, requests for miraculous intervention, and the meritorious suffering of the “martyrs” serve to minimize Judas’s role and (potential) legacy. Nevertheless, Prosper of Aquitaine’s dictum illustrates how each author wishes to inform the beliefs of his audience via the depicted prayers at the time of deliverance. The goals of propaganda statuerunt legem supplicandi (“have established the rule[s] of supplication”), and each author hopes that the way his Judas prays will affect the beliefs (legem credendi) of others, a be43

Instances of ἐπικαλέω: 2 Macc 3:15, 22, 31; 7:37; 8:2; 12:6, 15, 28, 36; 13:10; 14:34, 46; 15:21, 22. In First Maccabees, the term designates names (2:2–5) and refers (within a prayer, 7:37) to the house called by the Lord’s name. The verb ἀξιόω occurs in 2 Macc 2:8; 5:4; 8:14, 29; 10:4, 16; 12:42. In addition, the verb ἱκετεύω never appears in First Maccabees and appears only once in 2 Macc 11:6, where its meaning does not seem markedly different from ἐπικαλέω. See further LSJ, 272, s.v. ἐπικαλέω and 379, s.v. ἱκετεύω. 44 A preference for ἐπικαλέω could indicate how the author of Second Maccabees calls on the Lord under desperate circumstances asking for a miracle. However, since the verb is so common and has a variety of meanings in the LXX, this inference is suggestive but not conclusive. 45 An analogous point could apply equally to the earlier First Maccabees, which depicts Judas, Jonathan, and other Jews at prayer in support of this work’s propaganda for the Hasmonean leaders. 46 See above on Prosper of Aquitaine, De gratia Dei indiculus 8.

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lief that will prompt them to stand either for or against the legitimacy of the prevailing Hasmonean leadership. As we also mentioned in the introduction, this article examines First and Second Maccabees’ depictions of prayer in light of these works’ overarching, and divergent, politico-religious tendencies. We have intentionally drawn no conclusions about how Jewish prayer “actually” functioned at the time of the Maccabean revolt – or a few generations later, when the two works were written. It is, of course, possible, if not plausible, that certain Jews prayed along the lines of both authors’ tendencies. Nevertheless, any such historical reconstruction about Jewish prayer, let alone liturgical practices, on the basis of First or Second Maccabees would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, since ways prayer is shown in both works are so ideologically driven. Jews who gravitated toward the explanations for the origins of Jewish liberation in First Maccabees or in Second Maccabees may well have been inclined to pray according to either author’s depictions, especially since the prayers in both works contain numerous allusions to the Jewish Scriptures. This challenge of the historical reconstruction of prayer from ideologically driven writings is by no means unique to First and Second Maccabees but applies to other ancient Jewish and early Christian depictions of prayer.47

Zusammenfassung: Dieser Artikel untersucht die Darstellungen des Gebets im Ersten und Zweiten Makkabäerbuch angesichts der diese Schriften kennzeichnenden widersprüchlichen Tendenzen. Diese Spannungen betreffen besonders die Bedeutung des Makkabäers Judas für die Befreiung der Juden von der seleukidischen Fremdherrschaft und beeinflussen die unterschiedlichen Darstellungen des Judas und anderer Juden beim Gebet maßgeblich. Die prohasmonäische Propaganda des Ersten Makkabäerbuchs prägt das JudasBild dieser Schrift: Judas ergreift die Initiative zum Gebet und erscheint als der gesalbte Eroberer, wie ihn das jüdische Volk im Gebet von Gott erfleht. Dagegen tendiert das Zweite Makkabäerbuch mit seiner Darstellung des Gebets dazu, den Rang des Judas herabzusetzen: Die Juden tun (im deuteronomistischen Sinn) Buße; sie bitten um das wundersame Eingreifen Gottes; und das Leiden der (sogenannten) Märtyrer wirkt verdienstvoll.

47

See, e.g., H. Klein, V. Mihoc and K.-W. Niebuhr (eds.), Das Gebet im Neuen Testament: Vierte europäische orthodox-westliche Exegetenkonferenz in Sambata de Sus, 4.– 8. August 2007 (WUNT 249, Tübingen, 2009); James H. Charlesworth et al. (eds.), The Lord’s Prayer and Other Prayer Texts from the Greco-Roman Era (see n. 6).

Chapter 9

Suffering as Defense of Paul’s Apostolic Authority in Galatians and 2 Corinthians 11* Ἐγὼ γάρ εἰµι ὁ ἐλάχιστος τῶν ἀποστόλων ὃς οὐκ εἰµὶ ἱκανὸς καλεῖσθαι ἀπόστολος, διότι ἐδίωξα τὴν ἐκκλησίαν τοῦ θεοῦ· (1 Cor 15:9) κόπους µοι µηδεὶς παρεχέτω· ἐγὼ γὰρ τὰ στίγµατα τοῦ Ἰησοῦ ἐν τῷ σώµατί µου βαστάζω. (Gal 6:17)

A. Introduction This article begins with an examination of how, in Galatians 4–6, Paul not only confirms his apostolic status on the basis of having suffered but also attacks his opponents for avoiding persecution. In the second half of the paper, we consider a similar – and more detailed – argument in 2 Corinthians 11 about Paul’s suffering and authority. In Galatians, Paul speaks of suffering and persecution in conjunction with the two sons Abraham had with Sarah and Hagar (Gal 4:21–31); with his experience of persecution (Gal 5:11); with his opponents, who avoid persecution (6:12); and with the “marks” of Jesus that the apostle “bears” in his body (6:17): But just as at that time the child who was born according to the flesh persecuted (διώκω) the child who was born according to the Spirit, so it is now also. (Gal 4:29) But my friends, why am I still being persecuted (διώκω) if I am still preaching circumcision? In that case the offense of the cross has been removed (καταργέω). (Gal 5:11) It is those who want to make a good showing in the flesh that try to compel you to be circumcised – only lest they be persecuted for the cross of Christ (µόνον ἵνα τῷ σταυρῷ τοῦ Χριστοῦ µὴ διώκωνται). (Gal 6:12) From now on, let no one make trouble for me (κόπους µοι µηδεὶς παρεχέτω), for I bear in my body the marks of Jesus (ἐγὼ γὰρ τὰ στίγµατα τοῦ Ἰησοῦ ἐν τῷ σώµατί µου βαστάζω). (Gal 6:17)

Inasmuch as these passages in Galatians all argue for Paul’s superior status in relation to that of his Christian opponents – because he suffers persecution and they do not – we may consider them together. * Original publication: Svensk exegetisk årsbok 74 (2009): 127–43. An earlier version of this paper was presented at Uppsala University in the högre seminariet för Nya testamentets exegetik (the doctoral seminar for New Testament Exegesis) on April 23, 2009.

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B. The Galatian Agitators Avoided Persecution, and Paul Authenticates His Authority by His Suffering (Galatians 4–6) Paul’s allegorical interpretation of Abraham’s two sons (Genesis 16, 21) provides an archetypal guide for understanding and responding to crises in the Galatian churches (Gal 4:21–31; cf. ἀλληγορέω, 4:24). Paul first specifies that Sarah and her offspring stand for freedom, and Hagar and her son for slavery (4:22–24). The accusation that Ishmael persecuted Isaac (διώκω, 4:29) further weakens the legitimacy of Hagar’s offspring and anyone associated with Ishmael’s legacy. Any allegation of persecution is notably absent in Genesis 16 and 21. If anyone in those narratives were to be labeled a persecutor, it would arguably be Sarah, who “dealt harshly with her [Hagar], and she [Hagar] ran away from her” into the wilderness – a place of danger to both mother and son (Gen 16:6b; cf. 16:7–9; 21:9–21). Paul’s allegation of persecution in Gal 4:29 likely takes up an earlier Jewish haggadic tradition1 and reflects Paul’s construal of who is persecuting whom in the Galatian crisis – with the corresponding loss of honor and stature for those who are associated with the ignoble instigation of oppression. The significance of charging Hagar’s offspring with persecution (4:29) is further illuminated by Paul’s assertions later in this letter that he is being persecuted (5:11; cf. 6:17) and that his Christian opponents are intentionally avoiding persecution (6:12). Paul thereby claims the esteemed legacy of Sarah and Isaac for himself and those loyal to the Pauline gospel, who endure persecution “for the cross of Christ” (5:11; cf. 4:29). By contrast, the Galatian agitators’ cowardice and dishonor in avoiding persecution by proclaiming a false message (µόνον ἵνα τῷ σταυρῷ τοῦ Χριστοῦ µὴ διώκωνται, 6:12), makes them heirs to the dubious legacy of Hagar’s offspring. Paul’s accusations against his opponents’ legitimacy, because of their cowardly avoidance of persecution, may be considered in light of 1 Thess 3:1–5 and Rom 8:17b. In 1 Thess 3:1–5, Paul states that the failure of the Thessalonians to endure hardships would have nullified their salvation,2 1

In the LXX of Genesis, the verb διώκω occurs only twice (Gen 14:15; 31:23), but not in Genesis 16 or 21. See further Hans Dieter Betz, Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Churches in Galatia (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 249– 50 (on Gal 4:29): “The tradition that Ishmael ‘persecuted’ (ἐδίωξεν) Isaac is not found in the Old Testament. But we find traces of it in the Jewish haggadah, where Gen 21:9 ‫‘( מצחק‬he jested, played, teased’) was interpreted in a hostile way.” So also F. F. Bruce, The Epistle of Paul to the Galatians: A Commentary on the Greek Text (NIGTC; Exeter: Paternoster, 1982), 223–24 (on Gal 4:29). 2 See esp. 1 Thess 3:5, where Paul discloses his earlier fear for the Thessalonians “that somehow the tempter had tempted you and that our labor had been in vain (εἰς κενὸν γένηται).” Cf. 1 Thess 3:3 (ἐν ταῖς θλίψεσιν ταύταις).

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and, according to Rom 8:17b, “suffering with” Christ (συµπάσχω) is a necessary prerequisite to later “being glorified with” him (συνδοξάζω).3 By associating his opponents with Ishmael, an archetypal persecutor (Gal 4:29), and charging them with mandating circumcision to avoid persecution (6:12), Paul in effect calls into question not only their trustworthiness as heralds of the gospel but, fundamentally, the validity of their standing in Christ. Significantly, Gal 6:12 and 6:17 occur in the letter’s conclusion, in which Paul summarizes what he regarded as the letter’s most important themes.4 The extent to which Paul attaches value to his suffering in Galatians is therefore shown by his references in this summary to his opponents’ avoidance of persecution (6:12) and, by contrast, to his own bearing of “the marks of Jesus” (6:17). When Paul demands that no one cause him trouble (κόπους µοι µηδεὶς παρεχέτω, 6:17a), the reason (γάρ, 6:17b) he gives is that he has already suffered in ways analogous to how Jesus suffered in the passion. He is entitled to be free of such disturbances, he says, because of his previous suffering, evidenced by the verifiable “marks” (στίγµατα) left in, or on, his body.5 James D. G. Dunn suggests, The marks of his [Paul’s] identification with Jesus’ sufferings and death should be sufficient proof of the genuineness of his apostleship in the eyes even of the most conservative and trouble-making Christian Jew.6

Even if Dunn is overly-optimistic that Paul’s Christ-believing opponents would have acknowledged value in Paul’s sufferings,7 Dunn’s point holds in that Paul expects that Galatian believers who are loyal to him will see his suffering as a sign of his legitimate authority. His opponents, he argues, cannot claim such a distinction, and, because they actually intentionally avoid persecution (so Gal 6:12), they are not in a position to question his teaching and authority.

3

Rom 8:17b: εἴπερ συµπάσχοµεν ἵνα καὶ συνδοξασθῶµεν. Gal 6:11–18, esp. ἔγραψα τῇ ἐµῇ χειρί, 6:11. See, e.g., Bruce, Galatians, 268 (on Gal 6:11); J. D. G. Dunn, A Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians (BNTC; London: Black, 1993), 335 (on Gal 6:11, 12); Betz, Galatians, 314 (on Gal 6:11): “The remark serves to authenticate the whole letter and emphasizes the points made in the following section of the postscript.” 5 Gk.: ἐν τῷ σώµατί µου, Gal 6:17b; cf. 5:11. See further BDAG, 945, s.v. στίγµα: “Paul is most likely alluding to the wounds and scars which he received in the service of Jesus (Plut., Mor. 566f and Hierocles 12, 445 col. 1 στίγµατα are the scars left by the divine rod of discipline).” See also Dunn, Galatians, 347 (on Gal 6:17); Michael Wolter, “Der Apostel und seine Gemeinden als Teilhaber am Leidengeschick Jesu Christi: Beobachtungen zur paulinischen Leidenstheologie,” NTS 36 (1990): 535–57 at 546–49. 6 Dunn, Galatians, 347 (on Gal 6:17). 7 See the discussion in the following section. 4

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Paul’s claims about the value of his endurance in persecution (Gal 5:11; 6:17) resonate with his earlier affirmation that he is once again suffering for the Galatians’ spiritual well-being: “My little children, for whom I am again in the pain of childbirth (οὓς πάλιν ὠδίνω) until Christ is formed in you, [20] I wish I were present with you now and could change my tone, for I am perplexed about you.”8 In Gal 4:19, the adverb “again” (πάλιν) suggests that Paul had already suffered metaphorical birth pangs when converting them. One spiritual childbirth with Paul’s corresponding pain as their “mother” should have been enough. Paul uses their having caused him pain “again” to undermine the legitimacy of questioning the Pauline gospel and to give credibility to the sincerity of his interest in their welfare. Richard N. Longenecker observes, moreover, that the metaphor of a mother’s birth pangs pertains to both Paul and the Galatians.9 In Gal 4:19– 20, Paul argues that, because he suffers for them, especially now, when it should not have been necessary, the wavering Galatians should trust him as their leader and, for their part, be prepared for any hardship associated with nurturing Christ to full gestation within them.

C. The Possibility of Rejoinder to Paul’s Claim That His Withstanding of Persecution Corroborates His Authority In several other letters, Paul makes use of his suffering in a way similar to that in Gal 4:19–20. For example, in 2 Cor 2:1–3 he chastens the Corinthians for causing him pain, explaining that this is why he had delayed visiting them again.10 In Rom 9:2, Paul’s “great sorrow and unceasing anguish” suggest his compassion toward Jews outside the Jesus movement and therefore his stature to address in Romans 9–11 their present and future place in salvation history. And he expresses solidarity with the Philippians over his and their grief about the health of their beloved coworker Epaph8

Gal 4:19–20; cf. 4:13; 1 Thess 2:13. Betz, Galatians, 268 (on Gal 4:19) observes that this statement comes “[w]ithout preparation” and suggests that Paul “refers to matters known to the Galatians as well as to himself, but unknown to us.” See also Bruce, Galatians, 236 (on Gal 5:11). 9 Longenecker, Galatians (WBC 41; Dallas: Word, 1990), 195 (on Gal 4:19): “Yet while the imagery here is that of Paul as a pregnant mother, it is also that of the Galatians themselves bearing Christ as a fetus in their wombs and needing a further gestation period for that fetus to be fully formed.” 10 2 Cor 2:1–3: “So I made up my mind not to make you another painful visit (ἐν λύπῃ πρὸς ὑµᾶς ἐλθεῖν). [2] For if I cause you pain, who is there to make me glad but the one whom I have pained? [3] And I wrote as I did, so that when I came, I might not suffer pain (ἵνα µὴ ἐλθὼν λύπην σχῶ) from those who should have made me rejoice; for I am confident about all of you, that my joy would be the joy of all of you.”

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roditus.11 In contrast to the stance taken toward the Galatians, Paul takes for granted a good rapport with the Philippians (2:27) and with the Corinthians (2 Cor 2:1–3) – although he recalls that the Corinthians had once caused him pain. During that earlier experience in Corinth, a reproof that the Corinthians had unjustly pained Paul might well have fallen on deaf ears, especially among those in Corinth not loyal to him. Likewise, anyone opposed to Paul’s theology, as expressed in Romans 9–11 (or elsewhere), would not be likely to appreciate the grief he expresses in Rom 9:2. We may generalize that in Galatians and elsewhere when Paul appraises his suffering and that of others, he does so as though those appraisals are self-evident and beyond the scope of criticism. In Philippians and First Thessalonians, there is little reason to think that the audiences would have objected to Paul’s positive assessment of their suffering. But when these assessments occur in a polemical context (for example, in Galatians and 2 Corinthians 11 [discussed below]), interpreters would be well-advised to be reticent about uncritical acceptance of Paul’s confident valuations as if they were beyond rejoinder by his addressees or, especially, by his opponents. We note also in Gal 1:13–24 an absence of any reflection on the possible negative legacy of Paul’s past as persecutor of the church (pace 1 Cor 15:9–10). In Gal 1:13 and 1:24, Paul does mention his past as persecutor, but only in order to emphasize his subsequent acceptance by Judean Christians. In the polemical contexts of Galatians 1 and Philippians 3, he shows no interest in recalling his past negative status. Despite Paul’s affirmation in Gal 1:23 that Judean Christ-believers had, at one point, rejoiced over his transformation in Christ, there is no reason, historically speaking, to believe that all Judean Christ-believers trusted or, at any rate, continued to trust Paul and his message. In fact, some of Paul’s Christian opponents may have continued to regard Paul as their persecutor even after he commenced work as Christ’s apostle to the Gentiles (cf. Gal 1:16; 2:7–8). Our suggestion is plausible because, although the apostle’s theology had profoundly changed subsequent to his initial Christ-encounter (cf. Gal 1:15– 16), his opposition to the theology of some Christ-believers had remained constant. Paul continued to oppose them, albeit for different reasons: earlier, as Arland J. Hultgren observes, it was because he was “attempting to reverse the apostasy of Jewish Christians,”12 and, later, it was because they proclaimed a false Christian gospel (Gal 1:6–9; cf. 1 Thess 2:14–16). 11 Phil 2:27 (cf. 2:25–26): “He was indeed so ill that he nearly died. But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, so that I would not have one sorrow after another” (ἵνα µὴ λύπην ἐπὶ λύπην σχῶ). 12 Hultgren, “Paul’s Pre-Christian Persecutions of the Church: Their Purpose, Locale, and Nature,” JBL 95 (1976): 97–111 at 110 (cf. 100–102).

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Paul’s Christian opponents could well have maintained that nothing of significance had changed in their relationship to the persecutor-turned-apostle to the Gentiles. Paul remained their opponent, perhaps also their persecutor, regardless of how much Christ may have transformed Paul’s activity and message from that of a zealous Pharisee (cf. Phil 3:6; Gal 1:14) to that of a would-be herald of Christ. Our analysis also suggests the possibility – if not the inevitability – that competing estimations of suffering can arise, especially when one or both parties in a dispute bring such valuations to bear in a polemical context of contested authority. Neither Paul nor his Galatian opponents would have accepted the accusation of having oppressed, maligned, or otherwise unjustly treated the other party, since each side defied the other out of loyalty to its own concept of the Christian gospel. Interpreters today should therefore be cautious about embracing Paul’s valuations of his (or others’) suffering as if those pronouncements were, or are, somehow objectively “true.” Certainly they were “true” for Paul and constituted a key part of his attempt to reestablish his authority among the Galatians. Moreover, we must allow for the likelihood that Paul’s opponents, had they known his claims, would have responded with their own (de)valuations of the worth of Paul’s suffering as a corroboration of authority. They might even have made claims about their own suffering. These at times diametrically opposed appraisals of suffering’s value, along with arguments about the legacy of the patriarch Abraham, would likely have played a decisive role in determining which, if any,13 version of the Christian gospel the churches in Galatia would ultimately embrace. The analysis to follow brings such considerations to bear upon the interpretation of 2 Cor 11:23c–33, where Paul marshals his many sufferings in reaction to accusations from the “superapostles” in Corinth and uses his sufferings to leverage his claim to be a legitimate apostle.

D. Paul’s Hardships as Rejoinder to the “Super-Apostles” and Their Supporters in Corinth (2 Cor 11:23c–33) In 2 Cor 11:23c–33, Paul recounts his sufferings to defend his authority against the “super-apostles,” who denied that Paul belonged to their apostolic cohort. This passage is Paul’s longest and most detailed exposition of his sufferings in his surviving letters. Above, we examined how in the po13

See the argument of Troy W. Martin, “The Covenant of Circumcision (Genesis 17:9–14) and the Situational Antitheses in Gal 3:28,” JBL 122 (2003): 111–25, that the Galatians were considering relapsing into paganism and, thus, rejecting the messages of both Paul and his Christ-believing opponents.

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lemical context of Galatians Paul more briefly cites his suffering as an authentication of sincere care for the Galatians (4:19–20) and a sign of his status as Christ’s apostle (5:11; 6:17). Why, in the likewise contentious context of 2 Corinthians 11–12, does Paul find it useful to discuss his sufferings in so much greater detail? We begin with a few observations about the accusations from Christian opponents that Paul refers to in 2 Corinthians 11–12. These will help us to ascertain how 11:23c–33 functions within the larger context of 2 Corinthians 11–12. It will be argued that the length and specificity of 11:23c–33 can be partially explained by differences in emphasis between Galatians and 2 Corinthians 11–12. Whereas Galatians addresses Paul’s calling and authority, as well as competing Christian interpretations of the Abrahamic covenant, 2 Corinthians 11–12 is concerned primarily with Paul’s conduct and authority. We also examine how Paul includes “false brethren” among the “dangers”14 he has faced. By associating with his persecutors those who question his standing as an apostle, he diminishes their status. Finally, we consider the proposal of Margaret E. Thrall that 2 Cor 11:23c–33 presents a valuation of Paul’s suffering to counterbalance his lack of the credential of having been a follower of the earthly Jesus, which the original apostles could, of course, claim. It will be argued that Thrall’s argument is possible but unproven. 1. Literary Context: The Charges and Responses in 2 Corinthians 11–12 Paul gives six responses to his critics, whom he categorizes as “false apostles” and agents of Satan (11:13–15).15 Clearly, his aim here is not to convince or seek reconciliation with his opponents but, rather, to persuade the Corinthians that he – and not these other “apostles” – has the legitimate claim to their loyalty. Of particular interest to our analysis is that within 2 Corinthians 11–12, it is only when Paul discusses his suffering (11:23c– 33) that he does not specify a particular accusation16 to which he is re14

Gk.: κινδύνοις ἐν ψευδαδέλφοις, 2 Cor 11:26i. Cf. ψευδαπόστολοι, 2 Cor 11:13. Our analysis does not require a particular position on the literary integrity of Second Corinthians and its possibly composite nature. On this problem, see Udo Schnelle, The History and Theology of the New Testament Writings (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998 [2nd Ger. ed. 1994]), 79–87. It strikes me as quite implausible that, at the same time and to the same congregation, Paul would reflect the polemical context of an unresolved conflict in 2 Corinthians 10–12 and, in the (purportedly) same letter, acknowledge a past conflict between Paul and the Corinthians that has already been resolved (2 Cor 2:1–3). In my view, 2 Corinthians 10–12 most likely reflects either a context prior to the resolution predicated in 2 Cor 2:1–3 or, subsequently, to a worsening of that situation. 16 We cannot know with certainty precisely how Paul’s opponents in Corinth criticized him. Further, there may have been additional allegations from the super-apostles that Paul chose neither to acknowledge nor to attempt to refute in 2 Corinthians 11–12. In 15

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sponding. The following chart summarizes Paul’s six defenses and five of the corresponding charges that he answers: The Charge against Paul 1. Paul is “untrained in speech” (ἰδιώτης τῷ λόγῳ, 2 Cor 11:6a).

2. Paul did not collect money from the Corinthians to support his ministry, because he lacked the authority to do so (11:7–11). 3. No allegation specified 4. Paul did not receive “visions and revelations from the Lord” (12:1). 5. Paul did not perform “the signs” (τὰ σηµεῖα, 12:12a) of a true apostle. 6. Paul has taken financial advantage of the Corinthians (12:16b).17

Paul’s Defense 1. Paul concedes the allegation but dismisses its relevance (11:5–6), since he is not inferior with respect to knowledge (ἀλλ᾿ οὐ τῇ γνώσει, 11:6b). 2. Paul exercised this authority by “robbing” (συλάω, 11:8) congregations other than Corinth (cf. 12:13–16a). 3. Paul enumerates his many sufferings for Christ (2 Cor 11:23c–33). 4. Paul either ridicules this criterion through parody18 or insists that he satisfied it (12:1–10). 5. Paul says he did indeed perform “signs, wonders and deeds of power” among the Corinthians (12:12b).19 6. Paul denies that he, Titus or “the brother” was dishonest in Corinth (12:17–18).

Paul specifies five of the charges that were leveled against his standing as an apostle – his ineptness as an orator, not collecting money for himself in Corinth, not receiving “visions and revelations,” not performing miracles, and the venal conduct of Titus and another brother (whom Paul had pre2 Corinthians 10–12, Paul plays a role that his critics have forced upon him and out of necessity is now “speaking irrationally” (2 Cor 11:23; cf. 11:17a; 12:11), as it were. Since Paul’s apostolic authority has been fundamentally questioned in Corinth, I regard it as highly unlikely that Paul would have invented such unflattering accusations of himself simply in order to respond to them. No religious leader (or politician) desires “bad publicity.” For this reason, the discussion will proceed on the assumption that Paul responds to actual charges, at least as he understood them, whether from having visited Corinth (cf. 2 Cor 2:1–4) or, perhaps, from communication from his co-workers or others loyal to him (cf. 1 Cor 1:11; 16:17). 17 See further 2 Cor 12:17–18: “Did I take advantage of you through any of those whom I sent to you? [18] I urged Titus to go, and sent the brother with him. Titus did not take advantage of you, did he? Did we not conduct ourselves with the same spirit? Did we not take the same steps?” Paul apparently responds to a misunderstanding stemming from when he sent Titus to Corinth, in order to collect for the poor Judean saints (cf. 2 Corinthians 8–9). 18 So H. D. Betz, Der Apostel Paulus und die sokratische Tradition: Eine exegetische Untersuchung zu seiner “Apologie” 2 Korinther 10–13 (BHT 45; Tübingen, Mohr [Siebeck], 1972), esp. 84–89. 19 See further Kelhoffer, “The Apostle Paul and Justin Martyr on the Miraculous: A Comparison of Appeals to Authority,” GRBS 42 (2001): 163–84 at 165–67 (see chapter 10 in the present volume).

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sumably sent to collect for the poor Judean saints). In contrast to his defenses against these (2 Cor 11:5–6, 7–11; 12:1–4, 12, 16b–18) is the longest of Paul’s defenses, an elaboration of his suffering (11:23c–33) – without reference to any charge. After considering this passage in detail, we will ask why it is so much longer than references in Paul’s other letters to his suffering and to what charge it may have been a response. 2. Exegetical Observations: 2 Cor 11:23c–33 The passage begins with Paul’s affirmation that he has the credentials of his opponents in that he is Jewish (11:22) and is one of Christ’s διάκονοι (11:23a).20 He would rather not have to address this theme, he says, but out of necessity is now “speaking irrationally.”21 Later in the letter, Paul reiterates this sentiment: “I have been a fool (γέγονα ἄφρων)! You forced me to it (ὑµεῖς µε ἠναγκάσατε). Indeed you should have been the ones commending me, for I am not at all inferior to these super-apostles, even though I am nothing” (12:11). Here, Paul’s self-defense entails dismissing the super-apostles’ accusations and, implicitly, criticizing the Corinthians for their disloyalty and making it necessary (ἀναγκάζω, 12:11a) for him to defend himself. Each of the four qualifications of Paul’s opponents seems to have been incontestable; there is not much chance to differentiate between Paul and his opponents because both Paul and they claimed to be Hebrew, Israelites, descendants of Abraham, and ministers of Christ.22 For Paul, the situation necessitated affirming that he meets these criteria and, further, claiming a superior standing relative to his opponents. In regard to the fourth, then, Paul claims a higher standing. He is either a better διάκονος than they are or “more [than that]” (ὑπὲρ ἐγώ, 11:23b).23 If elsewhere in 2 Corinthians 11–12 Paul claims to meet the criteria, for example, of miracle-working or 20

2 Cor 11:22–23b: “Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they descendants of Abraham? So am I. [23] Are they ministers of Christ? I am speaking irrationally – I am a better one.” One can wonder whether in 2 Cor 11:12 Paul agrees with his opponents that an apostle must be ethnically Jewish. Cf. Phil 3:4b–6; C. K. Barrett, A Commentary on the Second Epistle to the Corinthians (BNTC; London: Black, 1973), 293–94 (on 2 Cor 11:22). 21 Gk.: παραφρονῶν λαλῶ, 2 Cor 11:23b; cf. ὡς ἐν ἀφροσύνῃ, 11:17a. 22 With Georg Strecker, “Die Legitimität des paulinischen Apostolates nach 2 Korinther 10–13,” NTS 38 (1992): 566–86 at 570–71; Murray J. Harris, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians (NIGNTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 796 (on 2 Cor 11:23); against Margaret E. Thrall, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Second Epistle to the Corinthians (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000), 731 (on 2 Cor 11:23a). 23 See further Scott E. McClelland, “‘Super-apostles, Servants of Christ, Servants of Satan’: A Response,” JSNT 14 (1982): 82–87 at 84; Ralph P. Martin, 2 Corinthians (WBC 40; Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2002 [1986]), 373, 375–76 (on 2 Cor 11:21b).

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of receiving “visions and revelations” (cf. 12:1–12), when it comes to endurance in suffering, he will claim a distinct advantage. The contrast between 2 Cor 11:23c–33 and Paul’s earlier self-description to the Corinthians as “the least of the apostles” is quite striking (ὁ ἐλάχιστος τῶν ἀποστόλων, 1 Cor 15:9a). Because he had once persecuted the church, he had a lower status, albeit still among the apostles. But later, in 2 Cor 11:23c–33, he realizes that other apostolic claimants deny his apostolic standing.24 In this context of disputed authority, Paul offers his many sufferings as “proof” of his differentiation in status (ὑπὲρ ἐγώ, 2 Cor 11:23b). Despite the length and numerous examples in 11:23c–33, the argument is really quite simple: the διάκονος of Christ who has suffered more has the greater stature. (In 1 Cor 15:9–10, the argument runs in the opposite direction from that in 2 Cor 11:23c–33: because Paul once persecuted the church he has a lower status among the apostles.) To emphasize his superior standing over that of his Christian opponents, Paul uses the comparative form of the adverb περισσοτέρως (“far more” [two occurrences], 11:23c, 23d) together with ὑπερβαλλόντως (“to a much greater degree,” 11:23e).25 The comparisons between Paul and the superapostles implicitly acknowledge that Paul’s opponents, too, may have suffered in serving Christ.26 In 11:23c–e, Paul contends that he has suffered more than they have and he therefore has the stronger claim to apostolic authority. In the subsequent verses, the adverbs πολλάκις (11:23–24), πεντάκις (11:24), τρίς (11:25a), ἅπαξ (11:25b), τρίς (11:25c; cf. 11:25a), νυχθήµερον (11:25d) and, again, πολλάκις (11:26a; cf. 11:23–24) reinforce this point, as do the eightfold repetition of the dative plural κινδύνοις (“dangers,” 11:26b–i, on Paul’s “travel dangers”27) and the general discomforts enumerated in 11:27. Moreover, the last of the “dangers” that Paul mentions stems from “false brethren.”28 Naming “false brethren” as a 24 By implication, 1 Cor 1:11–13 would have only scratched the surface in regard to the divisions in the Corinthian Christ communities and the opposition to Paul’s authority there. 25 Likewise Niels Willert, “The Catalogues of Hardships in the Pauline Correspondence: Background and Function,” in Peder Borgen and Søren Giversen (eds.), The New Testament and Hellenistic Judaism (Aarhus: Aarhus University, 1995), 217–43 at 239: “It is my contention that Paul also and not least legitimates himself when he is talking about his adversities and sufferings. In fact he is surpassing the ‘head apostles’ in suffering, which means that he is surpassing in Christ identification.” 26 It is an open and unanswerable question whether the super-apostles, like Paul, would have used suffering to corroborate their standing as Christ’s ministers. See, further, below on this point. 27 Cf. Jan Lambrecht, Second Corinthians (SP 8; Collegeville [MN]: Liturgical Press, 1999), 197. 28 Gk.: κινδύνοις ἐν ψευδαδέλφοις, 2 Cor 11:26i; cf. ψευδαδελφοί, Gal 2:4; ψευδαπόστολοι, 2 Cor 11:13.

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source of Paul’s “dangers” implicitly associates his opponents with his persecutors, detracting from their legitimacy.29 In 2 Cor 11:28, Paul describes his emotional, rather than his physical, hardship from the pressure of his daily “responsibility” (ἐπίστασις) and “anxiety for all the churches” (ἡ µέριµνα πασῶν τῶν ἐκκλησιῶν). Above, we discussed a similar appeal in Gal 4:19–20, in which Paul’s metaphorical “pain of childbirth” shows his sincerity about the Galatians’ welfare and why they should trust him. In 2 Cor 11:28, we see essentially the same expression of concern, except now not just for the Corinthians but “all the churches.” With this broader referent, Paul claims to extend his authority as an apostle beyond Corinth to the church as a whole. The subsequent verses emphasize Paul’s weakness (ἀσθενέω, 2 Cor 11:29), his boasting in his weakness (ἀσθένεια, 11:30; cf. 12:5, 9–10; Rom 5:3), and his truthfulness (2 Cor 11:31, citing God as his witness). Inasmuch as Paul’s self-defense, as based on his suffering, entails not only refuting the super-apostles’ accusations but also implicitly criticizing the disloyal Corinthians, he suggests a juridic context (11:31) in which he calls God as witness against the very addressees whom he wishes to persuade (cf. above on 12:11). The anecdote in the final two verses of this passage tells of Paul’s narrow escape from Damascus, attested also, with substantial variation, in Acts.30 In contrast to the concise and parallel formulations of 2 Cor 11:23c–27, verses 32–33 stand out for their quasi-narrative quality.31 Rather than adding to the preceding argument, they bring this section to a culmination with a final example of Paul’s difficulties. In the following verse (12:1), Paul takes up a different problem – about “visions and revelations of the Lord.” He concludes his argument in 11:23c–33, then, without ever revealing to what specific charge, if any, he is responding by cataloguing his sufferings. 29

Cf. 1 Thess 2:14–16, where Paul names both Jewish and Gentile persecutors but focuses almost entirely on the former. In naming “dangers” from bandits, Jews, Gentiles, and false brethren, inter alii, 2 Cor 11:26 depicts Paul’s persecutors more broadly. 30 2 Cor 11:32–33; cf. Acts 9:23–25. A significant difference between these two accounts, noted, e.g., by Barrett, Second Corinthians, 304 (on 2 Cor 11:32–33), is that whereas Paul says that he fled from King Aretas, in Acts Paul flees from “the Jews,” who were plotting to kill him. See further Victor Paul Furnish, II Corinthians: Translated with Introduction, Notes and Commentary (AB 32A; Garden City [NY]: Doubleday, 1984), 541–42 (on 2 Cor 11:32–33); Thrall, Second Corinthians, 770–71. 31 Frederick W. Danker, II Corinthians (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1989), 185 (on 2 Cor 11:30–33) and R. P. Martin, 2 Corinthians, 387 mention the possibility “that Paul’s objectors had fastened on this incident, distorted it, and turned it into an accusation of a cowardly escape from Damascus.” If that was the case, 2 Cor 11:32–33 would be part of a debate on whether Paul’s cowardice harms his standing or, alternatively, whether his facing of danger enhances his standing.

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3. Conclusion: Withstanding Persecution as a Key Asset to Paul’s Self-Defense in 2 Cor 11:23c–33 At only two points in 2 Cor 11:23c–33 is Paul somewhat forthcoming about why he recounts his sufferings at such great length. For one thing, the sufferings demonstrate his superior stature (ὑπὲρ ἐγώ, 11:23a) relative to the super-apostles. With this argument, Paul places himself above his opponents because he has suffered the most (περισσοτέρως, ὑπερβαλλόντως, 11:23c–e). Furthermore, Paul denigrates his opponents’ stature by indirectly connecting them with “false brethren” and identifying them as a source of his “dangers” (κινδύνοις ἐν ψευδαδέλφοις, 11:26i), which suggests that they should not be trusted. We now consider a third possible valuation of Paul’s suffering: as a compensation for his not having followed the earthly Jesus. Remarkably, in 2 Cor 11:23c–33 Paul never uses the term “apostle,”32 which, of course, is the key status that he and his Christian opponents would not acknowledge for each other. Nor does he use the term in appeals to his suffering in Galatians (4:19–20; 5:11; 6:17). Perhaps this ostensible omission in 2 Cor 11:23c–33 bespeaks an accusation against Paul that would have been too risky or damaging for him to state explicitly: Paul says that he is “more” than a διάκονος (ὑπὲρ ἐγώ, 11:23b) but does not, in this instance, explain why his opponents dispute his apostleship. Margaret Thrall, apparently following Ernst Käsemann, argues that part of the dispute between Paul and his opponents lay in different definitions of the term “apostle.”33 According to Thrall, if Paul at all belonged to the apostles, he was only a lesser apostle, not an original apostle of the earthly Je-

32

Throughout 2 Corinthians 11–12, the only time Paul uses ἀπόστολος in reference to himself is 12:12, confirming that he performed “the signs of an apostle.” Cf. 2 Cor 11:13, on Paul’s opponents: οἱ γὰρ τοιοῦτοι ψευδαπόστολοι, ἐργάται δόλιοι, µετασχηµατιζόµενοι εἰς ἀποστόλους Χριστοῦ. See further Lambrecht, Second Corinthians, 190 (on 2 Cor 11:23): “Paul may avoid the title ‘apostle’ in v. 23. In any case, it would have been difficult to write that title after 11:13 (‘false apostles’).” 33 Thrall, “Super-Apostles, Servants of Christ, and Servants of Satan,” JSNT 6 (1980): 42–57, argues that the “super-apostles” are to be identified as Jerusalem apostles loyal to the apostle Peter: “Paul thought it possible that it was some of the Jerusalem apostles themselves who had arrived in Corinth and begun to erode his own authority there” (46). Already Ernst Käsemann, “Die Legitimität des Apostels,” ZNW 41 (1942): 33–71; reprinted in Karl H. Rengstorf (ed.), Das Paulusbild in der neueren deutschen Forschung (WF 24; Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1964), 475–521, esp. 493: “Alle bisher aufgewiesenen Linien laufen darin zusammen, daß das paulinische Apostolat als das eigentliche Kampfobjekt von II Cor 10–13 ist.” Cf. Dieter Georgi, The Opponents of Paul in Second Corinthians (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986 [1957]), 32, construing the opponents as Christ’s envoys or representatives.

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sus.34 Acts 1:21–22 gives such a criterion for Judas’ eventual replacement Matthias – that an apostle must have followed the earthly Jesus and witnessed the resurrection.35 If we were to attribute to Paul’s opponents in 2 Corinthians 11–12 the invoking of such a criterion for apostleship, Paul could not possibly qualify.36 Moreover, the requirement of having followed the earthly Jesus would render invalid any appeal to a post-resurrection revelation of Christ to Paul that bestowed upon him the status of an apostle (cf. Gal 1:15–16). Such a problematic lacuna in Paul’s résumé could explain why in 2 Corinthians 11–12 Paul related five of the specific charges to which he responds (11:5– 6, 7–11; 12:1–4, 12, 16b–18) but made a calculated exception of not doing so in 11:23c–33. If correct, Thrall’s inference would suggest a valuation of suffering to compensate for the credential that Paul lacked – not having followed the earthly Jesus. Similarly, when later in this letter Paul boasts about the “thorn” in his flesh, his suffering could be construed as a compensatory credential when the Lord says to him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9; cf. 12:6–8). If Paul needed to respond to a charge that he did not meet a criterion, such as that (later) attested in Acts 1:21–22, his long discussion of suffering in 2 Cor 11:23c–33 would amount to a claim that, although he did not follow the earthly Jesus, his sufferings nonetheless demonstrate sufficient affiliation with and loyalty to Jesus in the post-resurrection period to corroborate his apostolic status. In a much more compact form, we find elements of such an affirmation already in 1 Cor 15:9–10: Paul the former persecutor of the church is the “least of the apostles,” and after his encounter with Christ he has worked harder than any of the other apostles. 34

Thrall, “Super-Apostles,” 48–49, following C. K. Barrett, “Shaliah and Apostle,” in C. K. Barrett et al. (eds.), Donum Gentilicium (FS David Daube; Oxford: Oxford University, 1978), 88–102 at 97–98. Cf. Barrett, Second Corinthians, 28–30. 35 Acts 1:21–22: “So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, [22] beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us – one of these must become a witness with us to his resurrection.” Cf. Mark 3:14 par. Although the witness of Acts is (possibly much) later than Paul, there is no reason to suppose that the criterion of Acts 1:21–22 is particular to Lukan theology or that it is a post-Pauline development. Acts usually does not refer to Paul as an apostle, but it does so twice (14:4, 14). By contrast, Acts 15:2 distinguishes Paul and Barnabas from the apostles, and the term “apostle” is absent from the commissioning narrative of Acts 13:1–3. 36 Willert, “Catalogues of Hardships,” 239 also suggests this possibility: “Maybe the difference between the two parts [i.e., Paul and the super-apostles] is a question of having followed Jesus or not. While the first disciples experienced persecutions in following Jesus, Paul at the beginning did not. Instead he was a persecutor, and it may have given him problems. That the difference between Paul and the other apostles might have given him problems can be seen in 1 Cor 9 and 15.1–11.”

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Viewed in light of the crisis in 2 Corinthians 11–12, Paul’s earlier concession that he was “the least” (ὁ ἐλάχιστος) and his assumption about the unity of the apostolic cohort (1 Cor 15:9–10) turned out to be naïvely optimistic and would not have served Paul later against the super-apostles. We are now prepared to answer the question whether, with Thrall, we should construe the criterion attested in Acts 1:21–22 as suggestive of the charge to which Paul responds in 2 Cor 11:23c–33 but which, for understandable reasons, he would have been loathe to acknowledge. The hypothesis, while attractive, must in the end be regarded as plausible yet unproven.37 Paul need not at every point in 2 Corinthians 11–12 indicate the charge to which he responds or, for that matter, he need not even be responding to a particular accusation from the super-apostles.38 Instead of adopting a strictly defensive posture, Paul may be taking the offensive, asserting his superior status as a church leader over the false apostles (cf. 11:13), whom he claims could not boast to have suffered as much as he had. Whatever the differences between Paul’s and his opponents’ definition(s) of “apostle” and the latter’s allegations about Paul’s deficiencies in meeting that definition, in 11:23c–33 Paul attributes to his sufferings such a value as to more than compensate for any such deficit and, moreover, to demonstrate Paul’s superior standing relative to his opponents (ὑπὲρ ἐγώ, 11:23b). As Frederick W. Danker notes, because of Paul’s many sufferings the Corinthians should accept Paul as their “distinguished benefactor.”39 Therefore, although the specific context in which Paul expounds his sufferings is difficult to ascertain precisely, we find Paul in 2 Corinthians 11, as in Galatians 4–6, attaching great value to his hardships in defense of his authority. As we argued above for Paul’s opponents in Galatians, we must likewise acknowledge the likelihood that the super-apostles and their supporters in Corinth (cf. 1 Cor 1:11–13) would have rejected Paul’s valuation of his suffering in 2 Cor 11:23c–33. The possibility must also be recognized that the super-apostles may have had their own assessment of the value of Paul’s, as well as of their own, suffering.40 37 With McClelland, “‘Super-apostles, Servants of Christ, Servants of Satan’: A Response,” 83: “For she [M. E. Thrall] is unable to demonstrate any undeniable proof that the authority which the opponents may have claimed from Jerusalem actually existed.” 38 E.g., Furnish, II Corinthians, 532 connects 2 Cor 11:23c–33 with the following section on “visions and revelations” (12:1–10). Likewise, Thrall, Second Corinthians, 733 views 2 Cor 11:23b–12:10 as Paul’s “argumentatio.” 39 Danker, II Corinthians, 181 (on 2 Cor 11:23): because of Paul’s many peristaseis he should “be standing firmly on his feet as a distinguished benefactor who has endured so much for the sake of the gospel.” 40 See Willert, “Catalogues of Hardships,” 239: “I find it most probable that the opponents too may have talked about sufferings as experienced by the disciples of Jesus. Perhaps they also made use of peristasis catalogues.” Cf. Käsemann, “Legitimität,” 501–503.

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E. Conclusion: Withstanding Persecution as a Defense of Authority The passages we have examined in Galatians and Second Corinthians are by no means the only NT texts that assign value to withstanding persecution in faithfulness to the gospel.41 Phil 3:10b, for example, explains why Paul does not merely accept or tolerate hardships but, rather, appreciates their value for the purpose of knowing (τοῦ γνῶναι) “the power of his [Christ’s] resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings42 by becoming like him in his death.” At the same time, he exhorts the Philippians to continue to be prepared to endure hardship.43 Within the corpus Paulinum, it is only in Galatians 4–6 and 2 Corinthians 11 that Paul’s withstanding of persecution is used to defend his apostolic authority. Such assertions about the value of suffering merit additional examination in light of other early Christian literature, including the Acts of the Apostles, which similarly links to argument about legitimation the suffering and persecution of Peter, Paul and other recognized leaders of the Jesus movement.44

Abstract: After examining how Paul relies on his experiences of suffering hardships and persecutions to defend his apostolic authority, this article suggests the possibility – if not the inevitability – of competing valuations of suffering, especially when one or both parties bring such valuations to bear in a polemical context of disputed authority. Neither Paul nor his opponents in Galatia or Corinth would have accepted the other’s accusation of having oppressed, maligned or otherwise unjustly treated the other party, since each side defied the other out of loyalty to its own conception of the Christian gospel. Interpreters today should therefore be cautious about embracing Paul’s valuations of his suf41 E.g., 1 Thess 1:6; 2:14–16; 3:1–7; Phil 1:29–30; 2:17–18; 1 Cor 12:26; Rom 5:2–5; 8:17b. 42 Cf. Peter T. O’Brien, The Epistle to the Philippians: A Commentary on the Greek Text (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 403 (on Phil 3:10), who notes that αὐτὸν καὶ τὴν δύναµιν τῆς ἀναστάσεως αὐτοῦ καὶ [τὴν] κοινωνίαν [τῶν] παθηµάτων αὐτοῦ comprises a single unit, in which “power” and “sufferings” are inseparably joined. 43 See further Wolter, “Beobachtungen zur paulinischen Leidenstheologie,” 542–46, 549; Morna D. Hooker, “Interchange and Suffering,” in William Horbury and Brian McNeil (eds.), Suffering and Martyrdom in the New Testament (London: Cambridge University, 1981), 70–83 at 76–77; L. Ann Jervis, At the Heart of the Gospel: Suffering in the Earliest Christian Message (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 55–59; Joachim Gnilka, Der Philipperbrief: Auslegung (HTK 10.3; Freiburg: Herder, 3 rd ed. 1980), 195 (on Phil 3:10–11): “. . .die Leiden gehen der Auferstehung voran.” 44 For example, Acts 5:40–41; 7:51–60; 9:16; 14:19. On the presentation of Paul as the persecuted former persecutor in the Acts of the Apostles, see now my Persecution, Persuasion and Power, 286–351.

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fering as if those valuations were, or are, somehow objectively “true.” Certainly for Paul they were true and constituted a key part of his argument to re-establish his authority among the Galatians. Those arguments would likely have played a significant role in determining which, if any, version of the Christian gospel the Galatians would ultimately embrace and which apostolic authority would be recognized in Corinth.

Chapter 10

The Apostle Paul and Justin Martyr on the Miraculous: A Comparison of Appeals to Authority* The subject of miracles has too often been ignored or overlooked in scholarly discussions of early Christianity.1 This article calls attention to both continuity and development in the ways representative figures of the first century (Paul) and second century (Justin) present miracles. Although Paul and Justin employ different genres,2 there is no reason to suspect that either author’s choice(s) of genre has necessarily limited what he wished to write in regard to the miraculous. Part of what is to be offered here is a subtle argument that Paul and Justin did, in fact, have a substantial awareness of and interest in the miraculous.3 It would therefore be an oversimplification to interpret Paul solely as a herald of the word of the gospel, or Justin only as a rationally minded apologist. Our analysis builds upon a seminal essay by Paul Achtemeier,4 as well as more recent analyses by Bernd Kollmann,5 Stefan Schreiber,6 Ramsay *

Original publication: Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 42 (2001): 163–84. The idea for this article began with my study of Mark 16:9–20, Miracle and Mission (2000), 271–79 (on Paul) and 315–21 (on Justin), where my primary purpose was to analyze presentations of miracles in comparison with Mark 16:17–18. My thanks are due to Troy W. Martin and Chris P. Evans for feedback on earlier drafts of this article. 1 With S. Schreiber, Paulus als Wundertäter: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zur Apostelgeschichte und den authentischen Paulusbriefen (BZNW 79, Berlin, 1996), 161–65 at 161: “Die Frage nach Wundertätigkeit und Wunderverständnis des Paulus hat in der exegetischen Forschung bislang kein großes Interesse gefunden.” 2 Paul’s undisputed letters comprise the earliest surviving Christian literature. Justin’s Dialogue is the earliest such writing by a Christian. Moreover, Justin’s First Apology is one of the earliest Christian apologies (after those by Quadratus and Aristides). 3 With C. J. Roetzel, Paul: The Man and the Myth (Columbia [SC], 1997), 164–65. 4 Achtemeier, “Jesus and the Disciples as Miracle Workers in the Apocryphal New Testament,” in E. Schüssler Fiorenza (ed.), Aspects of Religious Propaganda in Judaism and Early Christianity (Notre Dame, 1976), 149–86. 5 Kollmann, Jesus und die Christen als Wundertäter: Studien zu Magie, Medizin und Schamanismus in Antike und Christentum (Göttingen, 1996), an important study with a particular interest in source-critical matters. 6 Schreiber, Paulus als Wundertäter. Schreiber’s published dissertation is largely concerned with traditio-historical questions, comparing Paul’s own statements about miracles with depictions of Paul as a miracle worker in the Acts of the Apostles.

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MacMullen,7 and others,8 and focuses on three questions: In what ways do Paul and Justin refer to miraculous phenomena? What assumptions do they hold in common about the performing of miracles, especially in regard to using miracles as backing for appeals to authority? To what ends, or with what goals, do Paul and Justin refer, usually in passing, to the miraculous? Our analysis begins with Paul and then considers the writings of Justin.

A. Occasional References to Miracles in Paul’s Letters Our study examines only materials from Paul’s undisputed writings, leaving for another time the equally intriguing material in the NT book of Acts on Paul as a miracle worker. As an aside, we note that none of the six Deuteropauline Letters mentions the miracles of Paul, which is curious from the standpoint of how Paul was (not) remembered in the early church. The passages, to be discussed in the following order, are 2 Cor 12:11–12; Gal 3:1–5; Rom 15:18–19; 1 Thess 1:5; 1 Cor 2:4–5; and 1 Cor 12:9–10, 28– 30. These reflect most clearly the apostle’s concepts of the miraculous, and especially of his own miracles. 1. Paul, His Opponents, and the Corinthians on Miracles (2 Cor 12:11–12) In 2 Corinthians 10–12, Paul must defend his ministry and apostleship against the criticisms of certain Christian miracle-working apostles: I have become a fool, but you forced me. Indeed, I should have been commended by you, for, compared with the super-apostles, I am not lacking in any way: [12] the signs of an apostle (τὰ . . . σηµεῖα τοῦ ἀποστόλου) were performed among you with all endurance – signs and wonders and miracles. (2 Cor 12:11–12)

When Paul claims that “the signs of a [genuine] apostle were performed among” the Corinthians, he is insisting that he meets the criterion of per7 MacMullen, Christianizing the Roman Empire A.D. 100–400 (New Haven, 1984), esp. 25–42; idem, “Conversion: A Historian’s View,” SecCent 5 (1985–86): 67–81; idem, “Two Types of Conversion to Early Christianity,” VigChr 37 (1983): 174–79. See also W. S. Babcock, “MacMullen on Conversion: A Response,” SecCent 5 (1985–86): 82–89; M. D. Jordan, “Philosophic ‘Conversion’ and Christian Conversion: A Gloss on Professor MacMullen,” SecCent 5 (1985–86): 90–96. MacMullen emphasizes the importance of miracles for the spread of the early Christian movement(s) and discusses this motif in numerous texts of the first through fourth centuries. There is much to be said for MacMullen’s study which, in many respects, constitutes a resurrection of A. von Harnack’s thesis in Die Mission und Ausbreitung des Christentums in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten (Leipzig, 1902), esp. 95–105. 8 See, e.g., the collection of essays in J. C. Cavadini (ed.), Miracles in Jewish and Christian Antiquity: Imagining Truth (Notre Dame, 1999), as well as my review of that volume in JR 81 (2001): 459–61.

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forming miracles held up by rival apostles, and that this criterion was apparently also accepted by many of the Corinthians. The widespread acceptance of this standard suggests that the phrase τὰ σηµεῖα τοῦ ἀποστόλου (12:12a) did not originate with Paul but was “a slogan” of Paul’s opponents.9 Paul’s response to the questioning by his opponents to his apostolic status comprises much of 2 Corinthians 10–12. Addressing the current situation in Corinth, Paul makes known his intent to “remove the occasion of those who want an opportunity to be recognized as our equals in what they boast about” (11:12b). What they boast about is their ability to perform miracles. Paul insists that he worked miracles among the Corinthians (ἐν ὑµῖν, 12:12), but he admits the same of the so-called super-apostles (12:11). Paul identifies his opponents as “Hebrews” (11:22), who, it is commonly alleged, denied that Paul could work miracles.10 A likely reason for questioning Paul’s capability as a wonder worker was, as Jacob Jervell suggests, “the peculiar circumstance that he is an ailing miracle worker, an ailing miraculous healer.”11 In response, Paul puts forth the twofold claim that, while he did perform the signs expected of a true apostle (12:11–12), the same δύναµις τοῦ Χριστοῦ was with him in his affliction (12:9, cf. 11:16–12:10). We discern from 2 Corinthians 10–12, then, two different “narratives,” or explanations, about Paul as a (possible) miracle worker: Paul’s opponents interpret the apostle’s bodily weakness as an indication that he could not have the power to work miracles. For his part, Paul embraces both his power and weakness, asserting that his status as a divinely approved apostle is confirmed not only by the miracles, but also by the endurance Christ

9 With Kollmann, Wundertäter 328 (“ein Schlagwort”), and H. D. Betz, Der Apostel Paulus und die sokratische Tradition: Eine exegetische Untersuchung zu seiner “Apologie” 2 Korinther 10–13 (Tübingen, 1972) 70–100, esp. 70–71; but against J. Jervell, “The Signs of an Apostle: Paul’s Miracles,” in idem, The Unknown Paul: Essays on Luke-Acts and Early Christian History (Minneapolis, 1984), 77–95 and 169–72, who wonders (171 n. 35), “Why cannot Paul himself have invented the label?” On the contrary, it is highly unlikely that Paul’s opponents would have applied to themselves, but not to Paul (!), a slogan that ultimately stemmed from Paul himself. 10 See 2 Cor 10:1, 10; 11:15; cf. Kollmann, Wundertäter, 323; D. Georgi, The Opponents of Paul in Second Corinthians (Philadelphia, 1986), 274–79. 11 Jervell, “Signs of an Apostle,” 94; he also observes, “The problem lies in convincing the Corinthians of the fact that it is also and precisely his weakness which belongs to the true life and mark of an apostle. Concretely, this means that the divine miraculous power is expressed in the weakness of the ailing apostle (2 Cor 12:8)”; cf. Jervell’s remark in another article, “Der schwache Charismatiker,” in J. Friedrich et al. (eds.), Rechtfertigung (FS Ernst Käsemann, Tübingen/Göttingen, 1976), 185–98 at 194: “Diese Gaben wurden als Manifestationen des Geistes verstanden, aber der Apostel, durch den die Gemeinde den Gottesgeist empfing, war krank!”

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granted him in the midst of affliction.12 Although the super-apostles would be prepared to accept the former as a confirmation, they apparently would have rejected the latter. 2. Paul’s “Proof from Experience” (Gal 3:1–5) In a type of controversy different from the one addressed in 2 Corinthians 10–12,13 Paul again mentions miracles when contending with “a different gospel” (Gal 1:6), which had more recently been proclaimed to the Galatian churches after his departure from the region. In Jervell’s paraphrase, during Paul’s initial encounter with the Galatians, “the Spirit came upon the Galatians and by this means God worked miracles (ἐνεργῶν δυνάµεις) (3:2 and 5).”14 Paul reminds the Galatians of their first acquaintance with the gospel (3:1–2), and pleads with them to recall their reception of the Spirit at that time.15 He also refers to “the one who grants the Spirit to you and is working miracles among you” (ὁ οὖν ἐπιχορηγῶν ὑµῖν τὸ πνεῦµα καὶ ἐνεργῶν δυνάµεις ἐν ὑµῖν, 3:5a). Paul sees the wonder-working power in Gal 3:5 as continuous with what the Galatians experienced when Paul first preached among them.16 The formulation of Gal 3:5 calls attention to a related aspect of this power. The masculine participles ἐπιχορηγῶν and ἐνεργῶν cannot refer to the neuter noun “Spirit” (πνεῦµα, 3:5; cf. 3:3). Nor can they modify “God” because ὁ θεός is not an explicit subject in Gal 3:1–5. Thus, the most likely referent for “the one who grants the Spirit . . . and works miracles among” the Galatians is Ἰησοῦς Χριστός, mentioned in 3:1.17 In Gal 3:5a, then, Paul depicts the exalted Christ as one whose presence among the Christian congregations was manifest at the time of their conversion (3:1–2) and whose continuing activity (3:5) remains evident in the working of miracles among them. This allusion to Christ, who confirmed Paul’s preaching and who continues to work miracles among the Galatians, may be understood in light of the apostle’s reminiscence toward the end of Romans 8 about Christ, who 12

With Jervell, “Der schwache Charismatiker,” 194–98. See H. D. Betz, Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Churches in Galatia (Philadelphia, 1979), 1–9, and the discussion below; cf. Georgi, Opponents, 27–28. 14 Jervell, “Signs of an Apostle,” 93. 15 As Betz, Galatians, 131–32 observes, “Paul, in a case of self-ironic exaggeration, makes use of this topos, reminding the Galatians of his initial efforts to proclaim the gospel of ‘Jesus Christ [the] crucified’ (Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς ἐσταυρωµένος) to them.” 16 Betz, Galatians, 135, also points out, “‘Miracles’ (δυνάµεις) can be named as evidence for the fact that the Spirit is ‘at work’ (ἐνεργῶν) among them. Consequently, God must now be at work among them.” 17 At Gal 3:5, the NRSV inaccurately offers God as the subject of the sentence: “Well then, does God supply you with the Spirit and work miracles among you. . . ?” 13

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died, who was raised, and who currently “intercedes on our behalf” at the right hand of God.18 For Paul, the same glorified Christ, who prays for believers, not only sent the Spirit to authenticate the Galatians’ initial conversion experience but also continues to grant miracles.19 Such wonders should serve as a reminder that the Pauline gospel still has validity in the face of the law-oriented alternative trumpeted by other Christ-believers whose theology and legitimacy the apostle seeks to discredit in Galatians. 3. Miracles Accompany Paul’s Ministry “from Jerusalem to Illyricum” (Rom 15:18–19) Toward the end of his letter to the faithful in Rome, Paul states that his working of miracles finds its purpose in “the obedience of the Gentiles”: οὐ γὰρ τολµήσω τι λαλεῖν ὧν οὐ κατειργάσατο Χριστὸς δι᾿ ἐµοῦ εἰς ὑπακοὴν ἐθνῶν, λόγῳ καὶ ἔργῳ, [19] ἐν δυνάµει σηµείων καὶ τεράτων, ἐν δυνάµει πνεύµατος [θεοῦ]· ὥστε µε ἀπὸ Ἰερουσαλὴµ καὶ κύκλῳ µέχρι τοῦ Ἰλλυρικοῦ πεπληρωκέναι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ. (Rom 15:18–19)

Jervell expounds on Paul’s claim that “signs and wonders” accompanied his preaching wherever he went: This activity in “word and deed” is further interpreted as the εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ (“gospel of Christ”), and is carried out from Jerusalem to Illyricum – thus wherever Paul preached. This can scarcely be construed other than as proclamation, which is regularly accompanied by miraculous deeds. 20

Miracles have the function of procuring the Gentiles’ “obedience” (ὑπακοή, 15:18) and are a sign that Paul has fulfilled his mission to them in the Greek East. Just as Rom 1:16–15:13 was essential for Paul to present his theology to those already converted in Rome, the miracles that “Christ worked through” him (15:18) were equally essential for converting the Gentiles. 4. Why Does Paul Not Mention His Miracles More Often? Paul’s bold declarations in 2 Cor 12:11–12, Gal 3:1–5 and Rom 15:18–19 may come as a surprise, since miracles receive relatively little emphasis elsewhere in his letters. Moreover, as Jervell observes, “the author of the

18

Rom 8:34: Χριστὸς [Ἰησοῦς] . . . ὃς καὶ ἐντυγχάνει ὑπὲρ ἡµῶν. Against Schreiber, Paulus als Wundertäter, 197, who denies that Paul derives significance from his having performed miracles: “Paulus spricht in Gal 3,5 nicht sein eigenes Wundertun, sondern wunderbare Phänomene in den Gemeinden in Galatien allgemein an.” 20 Jervell, “Signs of an Apostle,” 9. 19

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Pastoral letters . . . does not describe Paul as a miracle worker.”21 We may therefore ask why Paul would offer self-portraits accentuating the miraculous aspect of his ministry in these three passages but not mention the subject elsewhere in his surviving letters. A likely explanation is that attention devoted to Paul’s own miracles tends to occur in proportion to the extent to which he needed to defend his apostolic authority. In a letter to the Philippians, written in response to their gift to the imprisoned apostle (Phil 4:10), there is no need to mention the miraculous at all; he already has the allegiance of the Philippians. Likewise, in 1 Cor 12:31b–13:12 Paul can proclaim love (ἡ ἀγάπη) as the greatest ideal to which the believer may aspire.22 However, when he must address the problem of “a different gospel” (Gal 1:6), he begins by citing the wonder-working power of Christ, who confirmed the apostle’s preaching and continues to “work miracles among” them.23 Elsewhere, when the apostle apparently responds to the charge that a sickly, miracle-producing apostle constitutes a contradiction in terms, Paul affirms that he meets the standard that others hold up for the legitimacy of apostolic authority in that he does, indeed, perform τὰ σηµεῖα τοῦ ἀποστόλου (2 Cor 12:12a), and he further argues he was able to endure sufferings by that same power of Christ (12:7b–10). He makes this assertion before he is to visit the Corinthians for a third time (τρίτον, 12:14; 13:1), hoping that they will accord to him much more authority than his opponents were willing to concede to him. He appeals to a standard accepted by himself, his opponents, and the Corinthians in 2 Cor 12:11–12: that a legitimate apostle receives authentication from Christ, who is both the subject and the authenticator of the apostle’s preaching. Likewise, in Rom 15:18– 19 Paul writes the churches of Rome, whom he has never met, and affirms that “signs and wonders” and the “power of the Spirit” have always accompanied his ministry. As will be discussed below, in 1 Thess 1:5 and 1 Cor 2:4, Paul simply alludes to supernatural “power” and the Spirit; he can assume in his audience a common understanding of the phenomena behind these words. He does not need to defend or explain explicitly to what he is referring. Our analysis has shown that Paul’s miracles did indeed play a significant role 21

Ibid., 78. In the case of the Pastoral Epistles, Paul is remembered primarily as a teacher rather than a miracle worker, a point of interest to the history of dogma and the development of Christian theology. 22 With A. Fridrichsen, The Problem of Miracle in Primitive Christianity (Minneapolis, 1972 [1925]), 137–47. Paul states that ἡ ἀγάπη, rather than, e.g., manifestations of prophecy, is the greatest ideal for all believers, including these charismatically inclined Corinthians. 23 Gal 3:1–5; cf. 3:1–4:31. On the order and structure of Paul’s arguments in Galatians, see Betz, Galatians, 14–33; cf. 128–30.

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in Paul’s defensive statements and, by implication, in his own selfconcept. We therefore reject Stefan Schreiber’s argument that miracles had no great significance for Paul’s theology.24 5. Two Briefer Allusions to Miracles (1 Thess 1:5 and 1 Cor 2:4–5) In what is probably his earliest surviving letter, Paul states that the Thessalonians’ reception of the gospel “was not in word (ἐν λόγῳ) only” but also with “power” and “the Holy Spirit.”25 The proclaiming “with full conviction” ([ἐν] πληροφορίᾳ πολλῇ, 1 Thess 1:5) suggests that in Thessalonica the message (cf. ἐν λόγῳ) of Paul and other Christ-believers26 received confirmation by some kind of miraculous “power” through the Holy Spirit (ἐν δυνάµει καὶ ἐν πνεύµατι ἁγίῳ). The consistency with passages like Rom 15:19 (ἐν δυνάµει σηµείων καὶ τεράτων, ἐν δυνάµει πνεύµατος [θεοῦ], discussed above) supports our interpretation of ἐν δυνάµει in 1 Thess 1:5 as a reference to miracles.27 Somewhat more vividly than in First Thessalonians, in a letter to the Corinthians Paul contrasts artful, persuasive speech and his own preaching “with a demonstration of Spirit and of power”: καὶ ὁ λόγος µου καὶ τὸ κήρυγµά µου οὐκ ἐν πειθοῖ[ς] σοφίας [λόγοις] ἀλλ᾿ ἐν ἀποδείξει πνεύµατος καὶ δυνάµεως, [5] ἵνα ἡ πίστις ὑµῶν µὴ ᾖ ἐν σοφίᾳ ἀνθρώπων ἀλλ᾿ ἐν δυνάµει θεοῦ. (1 Cor 2:4–5)

Although the apostle does not mention explicitly which miracles he performed, he again distinguishes between preaching without miraculous validation, on the one hand, and his own divinely authenticated proclamation, on the other hand. If in 1 Cor 1:21–2:5, Paul seeks to distinguish his proclamation from that of others by saying that his own message is in “a demonstration of Spirit and of power,” why does he not state more explicitly what he means by those words? Presumably, Paul’s addressees knew to what he was referring and would not have needed a detailed clarification. Another likely 24

Schreiber, Paulus als Wundertäter, 271–82. His erudite study calls attention to numerous differences between Paul’s authentic letters and the Paul of Acts on miracles but underestimates the difficulty of distinguishing too sharply between Paul’s selfunderstanding, on the one hand, and his theology, on the other hand. 25 1 Thess 1:4–5: εἰδότες, ἀδελφοὶ ἠγαπηµένοι ὑπὸ [τοῦ] θεοῦ, τὴν ἐκλογὴν ὑµῶν, [5] ὅτι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον ἡµῶν οὐκ ἐγενήθη εἰς ὑµᾶς ἐν λόγῳ µόνον ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐν δυνάµει καὶ ἐν πνεύµατι ἁγίῳ καὶ [ἐν] πληροφορίᾳ πολλῇ, καθὼς οἴδατε οἷοι ἐγενήθηµεν [ἐν] ὑµῖν δι᾿ ὑµᾶς. 26 Cf. 1 Thess 1:1, mentioning also Silas and Timothy as co-authors of this letter. At 1:5a (τὸ εὐαγγέλιον ἡµῶν), Paul suggests that he may not have been the only miracle worker present at the time of the Thessalonians’ conversion. 27 With Jervell, “Signs of an Apostle,” 92–93, but against Schreiber, Paulus als Wundertäter, 257–66; cf. infra on 1 Cor 2:4b.

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reason that Paul merely alludes to the miraculous here is that he had earlier referred pejoratively to certain Jews who “demand signs” (σηµεῖα, 1 Cor 1:22a). Although the apostle seeks to distance himself from those whom he criticizes in 1:22a, he finds a general allusion to miracles useful for distinguishing his preaching from that of (other) rhetoricians, who, as Paul would have it, use merely “persuasive words of wisdom.”28 Responding to the preference of certain Corinthians for other leaders, who were better orators, Paul defends himself in 1 Cor 1:21–2:5 by admitting that his preaching was not eloquent, rhetorically speaking, but that it was superior because it was confirmed by the Spirit’s power (cf. 2 Cor 10:10–11; 11:6, that Paul is an ἰδιώτης τῷ λόγῳ). 6. An Anomalous Pauline Passage: Ordinary Christians as Miracle Workers in Corinth (1 Cor 12:9–10, 28–30) An analysis of Paul’s various statements about miracles must also take into account his recognition in 1 Cor 12:9–1029 that ordinary believers perform healings (χαρίσµατα ἰαµάτων) and other miracles (ἐνεργήµατα δυνάµεων). In 12:28–31a,30 he adds that the Spirit does not designate every believer as an apostle, prophet, miracle worker, or healer. Clearly, both he and the Corinthians are cognizant of the fact that there are others who manifest miraculous phenomena. Among the seven indisputably authentic Pauline Letters, 1 Cor 12:9–10 and 12:28–31a are the only places where Paul mentions other miracle workers with whom he is on (relatively) favorable terms.31 The passages may well represent a perspective on miracles that was shaped by Paul’s

28

1 Cor 2:4. Again, against Schreiber, Paulus als Wundertäter, 241–52, who argues unpersuasively that Paul refers to his own miracles only in 2 Cor 12:12 and Rom 15:18– 19 but not elsewhere in his letters. 29 1 Cor 12:7–11: ἑκάστῳ δὲ δίδοται ἡ φανέρωσις τοῦ πνεύµατος πρὸς τὸ συµφέρον. [8] ᾧ µὲν γὰρ διὰ τοῦ πνεύµατος δίδοται λόγος σοφίας, ἄλλῳ δὲ λόγος γνώσεως κατὰ τὸ αὐτὸ πνεῦµα, [9] ἑτέρῳ πίστις ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ πνεύµατι, ἄλλῳ δὲ χαρίσµατα ἰαµάτων ἐν τῷ ἑνὶ πνεύµατι, [10] ἄλλῳ δὲ ἐνεργήµατα δυνάµεων, ἄλλῳ [δὲ] προφητεία, ἄλλῳ [δὲ] διακρίσεις πνευµάτων, ἑτέρῳ γένη γλωσσῶν, ἄλλῳ δὲ ἑρµηνεία γλωσσῶν· [11] πάντα δὲ ταῦτα ἐνεργεῖ τὸ ἓν καὶ τὸ αὐτὸ πνεῦµα διαιροῦν ἰδίᾳ ἑκάστῳ καθὼς βούλεται. 30 1 Cor 12:28–31a: Καὶ οὓς µὲν ἔθετο ὁ θεὸς ἐν τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ πρῶτον ἀποστόλους, δεύτερον προφήτας, τρίτον διδασκάλους, ἔπειτα δυνάµεις, ἔπειτα χαρίσµατα ἰαµάτων, ἀντιλήµψεις, κυβερνήσεις, γένη γλωσσῶν. [29] µὴ πάντες ἀπόστολοι; µὴ πάντες προφῆται; µὴ πάντες διδάσκαλοι; µὴ πάντες δυνάµεις; [30] µὴ πάντες χαρίσµατα ἔχουσιν ἰαµάτων; µὴ πάντες γλώσσαις λαλοῦσιν; µὴ πάντες διερµηνεύουσιν; [31a] ζηλοῦτε δὲ τὰ χαρίσµατα τὰ µείζονα. 31 Pace 2 Corinthians 10–12. In Galatians, moreover, Paul does not even find it necessary to concede that his opponents ever performed miracles.

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need to respond to the Corinthians’ question32 about the various endowments of the Spirit exercised by members of their community. How does Paul’s view on miracles in this context relate to our interpretation of his view in the other five passages we have discussed, each of which has its own rhetorical appeal relative to Paul’s interests in those contexts? Although we need not expect perfect consistency within any of Paul’s letters, it is exceptional to find, in the same letter,33 depictions of the miraculous as divergent as those between 1 Cor 2:4–5 and 12:9–10, 28–30. With the acknowledgment that even ordinary believers perform miracles, the Paul of 1 Corinthians 12 would presumably have difficulty responding to the challenge of diversity among workers of miracles in early Christianity. When two or more Christian leaders with different theological viewpoints are both recognized as wonder workers, the appeal to miracle-working as backing for one’s legitimate leadership becomes a moot point if one’s opponent can claim the same confirmation from heaven. The expectations set up in 1 Cor 12:9–10 and 12:28–30 (and in John 14:12 and Mark 16:17–1834) make it exceptionally difficult to respond to ‘heretical’ miracle workers – such as those addressed by Paul (2 Cor 12:11–12) and, later, by Justin Martyr (1 Apol. 26 and 56; cf. Iren. Haer. 2.31.2–4). The only recourse might be an appeal to bland statements along the lines of Matt 7:22–23 that the Lord “knows,” or recognizes (γινώσκω), only some miracle workers of the Jesus movement(s).35 Paul’s response to the particular problem in 1 Corinthians 12 stands in tension with his presuppositions about the miraculous as backing for his own authority in 2 Cor 12:11–12, Gal 3:1–5, Rom 15:18–19, 1 Thess 1:5 and 1 Cor 2:4–5. It stands to reason that Paul, when under pressure from rival Christian leaders, would oppose an unqualified reference to 1 Cor 12:9–10, 28–30; the use of his own acknowledgements would render any attempt at authentication of his apostleship by his own miracles vulnerable to attacks from 32

With U. Schnelle, The History and Theology of the New Testament Writings (Minneapolis, 1998 [2nd Ger. ed. 1994]), 62, who regards περὶ δέ (1 Cor 12:1; cf. 7:1, 25; 8:1; 16:1, 12) as a sign that Paul answers questions that the Corinthians had posed to him in a letter (cf. 1 Cor 5:9). For a contrasting view on περὶ δέ in First Corinthians, see M. M. Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation: An Exegetical Investigation of the Language and Composition of 1 Corinthians (HUT 28, Tübingen, 1991), 190–92. 33 With Mitchell, Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 184–295, who regards the whole of First Corinthians as a unified example of deliberative rhetoric. 34 On the presentations of miracles in John 14:12 and Mark 16:17–18, see Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 264–66. 35 On the passages mentioned above in Justin and Irenaeus, see Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 312–14, 322–26. Matt 7:22–23: πολλοὶ ἐροῦσίν µοι ἐν ἐκείνῃ τῇ ἡµέρᾳ· κύριε κύριε, οὐ τῷ σῷ ὀνόµατι ἐπροφητεύσαµεν, καὶ τῷ σῷ ὀνόµατι δαιµόνια ἐξεβάλοµεν, καὶ τῷ σῷ ὀνόµατι δυνάµεις πολλὰς ἐποιήσαµεν; [23] καὶ τότε ὁµολογήσω αὐτοῖς ὅτι οὐδέποτε ἔγνων ὑµᾶς· ἀποχωρεῖτε ἀπ᾿ ἐµοῦ οἱ ἐργαζόµενοι τὴν ἀνοµίαν.

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rival charismatics or their supporters. The prevalence of miracle workers in Christian communities and the authority to be ascribed to them should not be regarded as a conundrum unique to Paul. Similar difficulties in associating truth claims with miraculous phenomena occur repeatedly in many early Christian writings, such as those of Justin Martyr, and are probably more problematic than anyone in antiquity fully appreciated.

B. The Apologist Justin on the Miraculous Unlike Paul, Justin never speaks of his own miracles; nor does he appeal to miracles to corroborate his own authority as an ecclesiastical leader, but he does use the phenomenon of miracles to further his larger apologetic agenda. In what follows, we examine five passages from the Dialogue with Trypho and a single passage in the Second Apology.36 As is well known, an overarching aim in Justin’s Dialogue is to demonstrate that a christological interpretation of the Old Testament is superior to Jewish interpretations of the same Scriptures, and that Christians can refute all Jewish objections to claims that OT prophecies are fulfilled in Christ. Justin backs up some of his interpretations of the Jewish Scriptures by citing the occurrence of miracles in his day – usually exorcisms – and sees these as in continuity with the miracles of Jesus and Jesus’ first followers. Unfortunately for historians, Justin says nothing about the identity of these miracle workers and rarely describes the miracles themselves. 1. Exorcisms, the “Great Power” of Christ, and the Power To Be Revealed at Christ’s Return (Dial. 30–31) In Dialogue 30, Justin tells Trypho “that we believers beseech him [Christ] to safeguard us from strange, that is, evil and deceitful spirits” (30.2), and he explains that the prevalence of exorcisms in their own day is proof that God bestowed “great power” upon Christ: We constantly ask God through Jesus Christ to keep us safe from these demons, who . . . were once adored by us. . . . We call him our helper and redeemer by the power of whose name even the demons shudder. Even today they are cast out (καὶ σήµερον ἐξορκιζόµενα) in the name of Jesus Christ. . . . From this it is clear to all (ὡς καὶ ἐκ τούτου πᾶσι φανερὸν εἶναι) that his Father bestowed upon him such a great power (τοσαύτην . . . δύναµιν), with

36

Note also Justin’s criticisms of ‘heretical’ miracle workers in 1 Apol. 26 and 56; cf. Dial. 7.

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the result that even the demons (ὥστε καὶ τὰ δαιµόνια) are subject to his name and to his preordained manner of suffering.37

Justin is not interested in the activities of exorcists as such but, rather, in how they illustrate his contention that Christ received “great power” from his Father. As manifestations (cf. καὶ σήµερον) of that “power” in Justin’s day, exorcisms corroborate the “great power” that Christ received from God. In Dial. 31.1, moreover, Justin connects Christ’s reception of “power” from heaven to the power of Christ at his return (the parousia): If such a great power (τοσαύτη δύναµις) is shown to have accompanied and continues to accompany (παρακολουθήσασα καὶ παρακολουθοῦσα) his [Christ’s] passion, how great shall [his power be] (πόση ἡ) 38 at his glorious parousia?

Justin warns of the coming power (πόση ἡ) to be revealed at the parousia. Since the apologist obviously cannot point out to the fictitious character Trypho the power bestowed upon the earthly Jesus, he maintains that the power that accompanied Jesus continues to be operative in those who have faith in Jesus. Others like Trypho should take heed and make themselves ready for the coming power in judgment at the parousia.39 2. Contemporary Miracles Support the Claim That Jesus Was “Blameless and Without Reproach” (Dial. 35) In Dial. 35.7, the apologist holds up the trustworthiness of Jesus, who both “had foreknowledge of what would happen to him” and predicted his own suffering. Justin prays, along with other Christians (εὐχόµεθα), that Trypho and other unbelievers not blaspheme Jesus Christ, who, through his own deeds (διά τε τῶν ἔργων) and by the miracles which even now are wrought in his name (καὶ τῶν ἀπὸ τοῦ ὀνόµατος αὐτοῦ καὶ νῦν γινοµένων δυνάµεων) and by the words of his teaching and the prophecies that were prophesied about him, [is proved to be] in every way blameless and without reproach (ἄµωµον καὶ ἀνέγκλητον). (Dial. 35.8)

Justin correlates the “deeds” (ἔργα; cf. John 14:12) of Jesus and the “miracles” (δυνάµεις) of Jesus’ followers, and he appeals to the miracles, which, along with other proofs, demonstrate the superiority of Christ, who was “in every way blameless and without reproach.” 37 Dial. 30.3; cf. Luke 11:20; 10:17. Greek text: G. Archambault, Justin, Dialogue avec Tryphon (Paris, 1909); ET: T. B. Falls, Saint Justin Martyr (New York, 1948), modified where necessary to conform more accurately to the Greek. 38 Justin’s statement assumes an earlier reference to τοσαύτη δύναµις in the same sentence (Dial. 31.1), i.e., πόση ἡ [δύναµις]. 39 The connection that Justin makes between miracles and the parousia may be unique among Christian writings of the first two centuries and merits further study.

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3. Miracles Support the Belief That Jesus Is the Messiah (Dial. 39) Using an argument in Dial. 39.6 similar to that in 35.7–8, Justin accuses Trypho of letting fear of persecution keep him from confessing Jesus as the Messiah: You hesitate to confess (διστάζετε ὁµολογῆσαι) that he (οὗτος) is the Messiah – which the Scriptures demonstrate (ἀποδείκνυµι), as do the things that have been witnessed and the [miracles] that occurred in his name (τὰ γινόµενα ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόµατι αὐτοῦ) – in order that you may not be persecuted by the rulers (ἵνα µὴ διώκησθε ὑπὸ τῶν ἀρχόντων). (39.6)

In this translation, the word “miracles” is in brackets because Justin does not specify which “things occurred (τὰ γινόµενα) in” Jesus’ “name.” Based on our analysis of Dial. 35.8 (τῶν . . . καὶ νῦν γινοµένων δυνάµεων), we infer that in 39.6 τὰ γινόµενα likewise refers to contemporary miracles. For Justin, these miracles give good reason for Trypho and other Jews to believe that Jesus was the Messiah. Also of interest is the reason that Justin gives for why Trypho and other Jews hesitate to “confess” (ὁµολογέω) Jesus as the Messiah. With ἵνα µὴ διώκησθε ὑπὸ τῶν ἀρχόντων, Justin is likely appropriating an attack from Paul’s letter to the Galatians. Paul alleged that his Christ-believing opponents required Gentile converts to become circumcised, “only that they [the opponents] not be persecuted for the cross of Christ.”40 Justin applies the same charge to Trypho and other non-Christ-believing Jews, placing them in the same dubious category as Paul’s arch-opponents. What, for Paul and his opponents, was a debate within the Jesus movement(s) about the role of the Spirit in granting the power to work “miracles” (δυνάµεις, Gal 3:5) and about the avoidance of persecution (Gal 6:12; cf. 4:29; 6:17) becomes, for Justin, a polemic against non-Christ-believing opponents. As we discussed above, Paul appealed to δυνάµεις (Gal 3:5) to win back the already, or previously, converted Gentiles. It is intriguing that Justin hopes such an appeal will work on unbelieving Jews. With this hope, he makes an appeal like the one Paul made to the Spirit’s working of miracles among the Galatians when Paul first converted them (Gal 3:1–5). The main difference lies in whose miracles each one cites – his own (Paul) or those of other believers (Justin). 4. Miracles Confirm a “Gospel” Prooftext, and the Prooftext Interprets an OT Prophecy (Dial. 76) Justin elaborates in Dial. 76.1–3 on how Christ fulfilled the prophecies of Daniel, Moses, and Isaiah. Isaiah called Christ “the angel of the great counsel” (cf. Isa 9:6) and predicted “that Christ would be a teacher of 40

Gal 6:12b: µόνον ἵνα . . . µὴ διώκωνται. See now Kelhoffer, Persecution, Persuasion and Power, 49–51; cf. Gal 6:17.

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those truths which he expounded when he came upon this earth” (Dial. 76.3). To demonstrate the oracle’s fulfillment, Justin cites sayings of Jesus strikingly similar to those preserved in Matt 8:11–12, 7:22–23, 25:41,41 and Luke 10:19 (Dial. 76.4–6a). We focus on the passage in which Justin cites a saying much like that in Luke 10:1942 and explains: And now we who believe (καὶ νῦν ἡµεῖς οἱ πιστεύοντες) in Jesus our Lord, who was crucified under Pontius Pilate, by casting out (ἐξορκίζοντες) all devils and evil spirits, have them submitting to us (τὰ δαιµόνια πάντα καὶ πνεύµατα πονηρὰ ἐξορκίζοντες, ὑποτασσόµενα ἡµῖν ἔχοµεν). (Dial. 76.6a)

The fact that believers in Justin’s day were casting out demons corroborates what Jesus said about demons and evil spirits submitting to the first disciples. Justin marshals this saying, along with those now preserved in Matthew, to support his christological interpretation of Genesis, Isaiah, and Daniel.43 In an exception to his usual practice, Justin includes himself (perhaps, only rhetorically) among the believers who perform exorcisms (ἡµεῖς οἱ πιστεύοντες . . . ἐξορκίζοντες . . . ἔχοµεν). The association enhances his credibility as an interpreter of the Jesus-logia, and these logia support Justin’s christological interpretations of OT Scripture. Excursus: Possible Text-Critical Implications of Justin’s Distinctive Version of Luke 10:19 (Dial. 76.6a) Helmut Koester and Arthur J. Bellinzoni, among others, have called attention to the complexity of the sources behind Justin’s “gospel” quotations.44 At Dial. 76.6a, the apologist’s version of Luke 10:19 is distinctive in sev41

ET of the three Jesus-logia that Justin cites in Dial. 76.4–5: “They shall come from the east and the west and shall sit down with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven; but the children of the kingdom shall be cast into exterior darkness” (cf. Matt 8:11–12). “Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, did we not eat and drink and prophesy and cast out devils in your name? And then I will say to them: depart from me” (cf. Matt 7:22–23). “Depart into exterior darkness which the Father has prepared for the devil and his angels” (Matt 25:41). 42 On Justin’s distinctive version of Luke 10:19, see the excursus immediately below. 43 In Dial. 76.1–3, Justin cites Gen 49:1, Isa 9:6, 53:8, Dan 2:34 and 7:13. 44 H. Koester, “Septuaginta und Synoptischer Erzählungsstoff im Schriftbeweis Justins des Märtyrers” (Habilitationsschrift, Heidelberg, 1956); A. J. Bellinzoni, The Sayings of Jesus in the Writings of Justin Martyr (Leiden, 1967). Justin may have utilized a “Gospel” harmony. In contrast to his use of the LXX, he seems to have taken some liberty with the “gospel” materials he cites. See now also Kelhoffer, responding to Koester et alii, in “‘How Soon a Book’ Revisited: ΕΥΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Reference to ‘Gospel’ Materials in the First Half of the Second Century,” ZNW 95 (2004): 1–34 (see chapter 4 in the present volume).

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eral respects and may be compared with the reconstructed text of NA27 (= NA28): NA 27

ἰδοὺ δέδωκα ὑµῖν τὴν ἐξουσίαν τοῦ πατεῖν ἐπάνω ὄφεων καὶ σκορπίων, καὶ ἐπὶ πᾶσαν τὴν δύναµιν τοῦ ἐχθροῦ.

Dial. 76.6a δίδωµι ὑµῖν ἐξουσίαν καταπατεῖν ἐπάνω ὄφεων, καὶ σκορπίων, καὶ σκολοπενδρῶν, καὶ ἐπάνω πάσης δυνάµεως τοῦ ἐχθροῦ.

In Justin’s version of Luke 10:19, the only variant reading widely attested elsewhere is the present tense of δίδωµι. In the Lukan narrative, δίδωµι could suggest that Jesus gives this authority to the seventy-two disciples at this point, and not earlier,45 in this Gospel, as would be suggested by δέδωκα. It is curious that our guild’s instrumenta studiorum overlook Justin’s early (!) witness to δίδωµι. In 1993, the NA27 listed the following witnesses to δίδωµι in Luke 10:19: P 45 A C 3 D Θ Ψ 0115 ƒ13 33 M c sy; Irlat

In 1995, Reuben J. Swanson called attention to the following additional witnesses to δίδωµι:46 K N U Γ Δ Λ Π 2 28 118 157 565 τ

Newly published in September 2012, the NA28, which boasts a thoroughly corrected apparatus criticus,47 retains all witnesses to δίδωµι in NA27 and incorporates several, but not all, of those listed in Swanson.48 These many witnesses to δίδωµι strongly indicate that this present-tense reading did not originate with Justin. The apologist’s witness to this variant should be added to the critical apparatus of NA28. The second-century witnesses of both Justin and Irenaeus could strengthen the case for preferring δίδωµι to δέδωκα at Luke 10:19. In Justin’s version, a distinctive variant is the addition of σκολοπένδραι (“poisonous insects,” “millipedes,” or “sea animals”) to the list of creatures that Jesus’ followers are to trample. Although not attested in other

45 See Luke 9:6, on the twelve who were “performing healings everywhere” (θεραπεύοντες πανταχοῦ). 46 Swanson, New Testament Greek Manuscripts: Luke (Sheffield, 1995), 189. 47 See, in the “Introduction” to the NA 28 (Stuttgart, 2012), 48–50, the discussion of the “Revision and Correction of the Critical Apparatus of the Whole Edition.” 48 The additional witnesses listed in Swanson, Luke, 189 but, still, not in NA 28 are U Λ Π 2 28 118 157 τ.

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and mentioned in neither NA27 nor Swanson, this variant, too, could be added to the critical apparatus of NA28.

MSS

5. Exorcisms Show That Christ Is “the Lord of Hosts” (Dial. 85.1–2) Justin again cites exorcisms to support his christological exegesis of Ps 24:7. The psalmist, he asserts, refers to Christ:49 “The Psalm and the other [passages of] Scripture made clear (ἐδήλουν) and proclaimed (κατήγγελλον) [Christ to be] ‘the Lord of hosts’” (85.1). As proof for this interpretation, the apologist calls attention to what is happening right before Trypho’s eyes: Now (ὡς καὶ νῦν) you can, if you wish, be persuaded (πεισθῆναι, ἐὰν θέλητε) by the things that are happening in your sight (ἐκ τῶν ὑπ᾿ ὄψιν γινοµένων). In (κατά) the name of this Son of God . . . every demon, once exorcised, is vanquished and subdued (πᾶν δαιµόνιον ἐξορκιζόµενον νικᾶται καὶ ὑποτάσσεται).50

The success of contemporary believers in performing exorcisms confirms Justin’s interpretation that Christ is “the Lord of hosts,” as “proclaimed” in Ps 24:7. Any remaining problem, then, lies not in Justin’s (or in any other Christian) interpretation of the Scriptures but, rather, in the unwillingness of Trypho and other Jews “to be persuaded” (πεισθῆναι). 6. An Explanation of Why Christ Came to Earth (2 Apol. 6.1–6) In his Second Apology, addressed to the Prefect Urbicus,51 Justin refers once to contemporary miracle workers. Contrasting the “unnamed” God with the name of Jesus, Justin writes that Christ came “for believing people and for the defeat of the demons” (2 Apol. 6.5, cf. 6.1–5). To back this claim, the apologist explains to Urbicus that “many” Christians exorcise demons throughout the world:

49

Ps 24:7 (23:7, LXX): “Lift up your gates, O you princes, and be lifted up, O eternal gates, that the king of glory may enter.” 50 Dial. 85.1–2. Justin also contrasts the Christians’ proficiency in performing exorcisms with that of the Jews, some of whom are said to employ “the magical art of the gentiles, using fumigations and amulets” (85.3). 51 The Second Apology presents itself as a response to a particular incident: the prefect Urbicus had three confessing Christians beheaded in Rome. The recent and, in my view, sound argument of Dennis Minns and Paul Parvis (eds.), Justin, Philosopher and Martyr: Apologies (Oxford Early Christian Texts, Oxford, 2009) that “our” Second Apology was not originally a separate writing but comprised a first draft of materials later incorporated into the First Apology would bear upon the rhetorical context scholars posit for this writing/material, but not Justin’s apologetic purpose in referring to exorcisms in 2 Apol. 6.

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Even now, you are able to learn from the things that are happening in your sight (καὶ νῦν ἐκ τῶν ὑπ᾿ ὄψιν 52 γινοµένων µαθεῖν δύνασθε). For many (πολλοί) of our own people, the Christians, exorcise (ἐπορκίζοντες) many demoniacs throughout the world. [This happens] even in your own city [Rome], in the name of Jesus Christ, who was crucified under Pontius Pilate. They were not healed by all the other exorcists, incantations, and drugs, but they [i.e., many of our own people]53 cured them and still now continue to cure (ἰάσαντο, καὶ ἔτι νῦν ἰῶνται) by rendering helpless and dispelling the demons who are taking possession of people (τοὺς κατέχοντας τοὺς ἀνθρώπους δαίµονας).54

Justin directs Urbicus’s attention to Christians who perform exorcisms in his own time. The contemporary nature of these manifestations of the miraculous is underscored by the fact that the last three present participles in 2 Apol. 6.6 – “rendering helpless and dispelling the demons who are taking possession” (καταργοῦντες καὶ ἐκδιώκοντες τοὺς κατέχοντας) – occur with the present tense of the verb ἰῶνται. Justin presents the performing of exorcisms as a regular activity of “many” (πολλοί) believers “throughout the world,” including Rome. Once again, Justin’s primary interest lies not in the miracles or the miracle workers but in the miracles’ value as proof for his theological assertions – in this case, about the unnamed God and the name of Jesus, who came “for believing people and for the defeat of demons” (6.1–5). 7. Summation: Justin on the Miraculous In six passages from Justin’s œuvre, we have examined how the apologist cites miracles of his own day to support a number of different assertions and biblical interpretations. In 2 Apol. 6.5, exorcisms corroborate the claim that Christ came for the sake of believers and for the defeat of demons. In Dialogue 30–31, the casting out of evil spirits not only supports the contention that the Father granted “great power” to the earthly Jesus, but also warns nonbelievers about power to be manifest at the parousia and final judgment. In addition, Justin contends that contemporary miracles back the claim that Jesus was “blameless and without reproach” (Dial. 35.7–8). Justin also appeals to miracles when asking Trypho to believe that Jesus was the Messiah (39.6). In Dialogue 76, Justin points to exorcisms performed by “[those of us] who believe,” in order to provide a contemporary confir52

On ὑπ᾿ ὄψιν, see also above on Dial. 85.1 (ἐκ τῶν ὑπ᾿ ὄψιν γινοµένων). If Justin reworked parts of 2 Apol. 6 in Dial. 85, the change in interlocutors, from Urbicus the prefect to Trypho the Jew, would suggest how easily Justin could recycle essentially the same argument for varying apologetic or polemical purposes. 53 Although the subject of ἰάσαντο, καὶ ἔτι νῦν ἰῶνται is not specified, Justin clearly refers to πολλοὶ τῶν ἡµετέρων ἀνθρώπων τῶν Χριστιανῶν. 54 2 Apol. 6.5–6. I have modified Falls’s translation so that the first clause of 6.6 is in the active voice, with the Greek, instead of the passive. Greek text: M. Marcovich, Iustini Martyris, Apologiae pro Christianis (PTS 38, Berlin, 1994).

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mation of Luke 10:19, according to which Jesus gave authority to the seventy disciples to trample on snakes, scorpions, and, in Justin’s version, poisonous insects (σκολοπένδραι). Contemporary exorcisms lend credence to the “Gospel” prooftext, which, in turn, supports the argument that the prophecies of Moses, Isaiah, and Daniel found fulfillment in Christ. Elsewhere (Dial. 85.1–2), the apologist refers to miracles to support his christological exegesis of Psalm 24:7, which designates Christ as “the Lord of hosts.” At this point, we may wonder whether Justin’s references to miraculous signs constituted, to use Adolf von Harnack’s words, “ein sehr wichtiges Mittel der Mission und Propaganda”55 for Justin or for the exorcists themselves. Justin’s descriptions cannot substantiate that such was the case. One only reads that exorcisms occurred – apparently, on a somewhat regular basis. Justin never reveals whether they took place, for example, in a missionary or evangelistic setting or in community gatherings of those who were already believers, or even if he possesses such information. It is not even clear from Justin’s writings that “(proto-)orthodox” would be a suitable term to describe these miracle workers. Justin’s lack of details about the work of exorcists in his own day, however, does not cast doubt on Bernd Kollmann’s thesis that miracles, however construed, were a significant part of the ministry of the earthly Jesus and of numerous believers in the late first and second centuries.56 Already by the time of Paul’s writings, miracles had become an established part of the Christian tradition, a means of authenticating a particular leader’s authority. Justin’s references to miracles for overtly apologetic purposes reflect a further and, perhaps, novel stage of development in Christian reflection on the miraculous; for him, the deeds of exorcists and other wonder workers were not primarily the subject of discussion but, rather, functioned as a presupposition supporting the truth-value of dogmatic statements.

C. Conclusion: The Miraculous in Service of Different Goals In this comparative analysis of Paul’s and Justin Martyr’s references to miracles, we have found that, despite their common assumptions, they 55

Harnack, Mission und Ausbreitung, 95 (cf. 95–105): “A very important means of mission and propaganda.” The importance of miracles at the time Justin wrote is particularly evident in the apologist’s treatment of the continuing influence of the ‘heretic’ Menander in the church (1 Apol. 26.6; 56.1). 56 See Kollmann, Wundertäter on the miracles of Jesus (174–315) and the disciples (316–78); see also see Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 245–339.

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have strikingly contrasting goals in their appeals to the miraculous. Paul is usually concerned with defending his own authority by virtue of his own miracles. Yet when he responds to a particular problem in 1 Corinthians 12, his comments about other Christians who perform healings and other miracles stand in tension with his presuppositions about miracles as a corroboration of his apostolic authority. The inconsistency of appealing to the miracle-working Spirit, while granting that other Christ-believers (including Paul’s opponents!) can perform δυνάµεις, merits additional attention in connection with the unity of thought (or relative lack thereof) in Paul’s occasional letters. In contrast with most of Paul’s statements, Justin Martyr refers to exorcisms performed by other Christians, maintaining that these wonders demonstrate the validity of certain claims in his larger apologetic enterprise. These differences between Paul and Justin illuminate a shift in emphasis from the appeal to miracles of individual figures to bolster apostolic authority (that is, Paul and most NT authors) to an apologetic interest (for example, Justin’s) in the miraculous as valuable for proving that the Christian message as a whole is “true.”

Abstract: This article analyzes comparatively the presuppositions underlying Paul’s and Justin Martyr’s references to the miraculous. The two authors hold in common certain assumptions about miracles, especially with regard to appeals to authority. Yet they have strikingly contrasting goals in their appeals to the miraculous. Whereas Paul is usually concerned with defending his own authority by virtue of his miracles, Justin refers to healings performed by others and maintains that these wonders demonstrate the validity of particular claims in his larger apologetic enterprise. In Paul’s arguments, moreover, a logical inconsistency is noted in that Paul must grant that other Christians, including his opponents, could perform miracles. The article demonstrates a significant shift in the discussion of miracles as illustrated by representative figures of the first (Paul) and second (Justin) centuries.

Chapter 11

The Gradual Disclosure of Paul’s Violence against Christians in the Acts of the Apostles as an Apology for the Standing of the Lukan Paul* Καὶ καθὼς θέλετε ἵνα ποιῶσιν ὑµῖν οἱ ἄνθρωποι ποιεῖτε αὐτοῖς ὁµοίως. (Luke 6:31)

A. Introduction Luke’s subtle and gradual disclosure of Paul’s1 violence against the church has yet to receive an adequate explanation in scholarship. The three stages of this unveiling are as follows: 1. Paul arrested Jesus’ followers and intended to do the same in Damascus (8:3; 9:1–2). 2. Paul “persecuted the Way up to the point of death” (22:4).2 3. Not only in Judea but also in cities elsewhere, Paul led efforts to imprison, convict, and execute Jesus’ followers (26:9–11).

In these three stages, we find an increasing level of seriousness and involvement in Paul’s persecution of the followers of “the Way.” In the first stage, the reference to Paul’s “breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord” (Acts 9:1) is subtle and proleptic, suspending any mention of violence by Paul against the disciples of the Lord. Regarding the second stage, scholarship is not of one mind about whether Acts 22:4 clearly depicts Paul as complicit in murders. 3 In the third, however, there

*

Original publication: Biblical Research 54 (2009): 25–35, first presented at the 352nd Meeting of the Chicago Society of Biblical Research at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, on October 24, 2009. A fuller discussion of salient ideas in this article may be found in Kelhoffer, Persecution, Persuasion and Power, 286–351, esp. 299– 303, 332–33, 338–41, 348–49. 1 Until Acts 13:9 (“Saul, also known as Paul”), Saul is consistently referred to by his Semitic name. After 13:9, however, he is always Paul, except when Saul/Paul recounts his earlier vision of Jesus (Acts 22:7, 13; 26:14). For the sake of consistency, this article refers to him simply as Paul, except in citations. 2 Unless otherwise indicated, biblical translations are from the NRSV. 3 See the analysis of Acts 22:4 below.

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is no ambiguity; Paul admits to playing a key role in the killing of some followers of Jesus (26:9–11). We argue that the fuller disclosures in Acts 22 and 26 are consistent with an agenda of presenting Paul as a sympathetic figure who repeatedly suffers unjustly in Acts 9–25. If a disclosure such as the one in 26:9–11 had occurred already in Acts 8 or 9, it would have been clear from the beginning of Paul’s missionary work that what Paul had earlier been doing to Jesus’ followers in Jerusalem, Judea, and any number of other cities is precisely what “the Jews” now wished to do to Paul. After making the case for Paul’s loyalty and suffering in Acts 9–25, Luke apparently has confidence in 26:9–11 to reveal more fully the unsavory past of the long since rehabilitated Paul. The gradual disclosure of Paul’s violence is consistent with an agenda of defending the Pauline legacy. Paul should be remembered primarily as one who suffered for Christ, not as one who had caused suffering for Christ’s followers.

B. Paul as Persecutor of the Church: A Partial Disclosure (8:1–3) Subsequent to the account of Stephen’s murder (6:1–7:50), Acts describes two related developments. One is a “great persecution” (8:2a) against the Jerusalem church and the scattering of all Jesus’ followers, except the apostles, into Judea and Samaria (8:2b).4 The other development is the introduction of Paul, who approved of Stephen’s murder (8:1; cf. 7:58). Ernst Haenchen, among others, argues that in 8:1 “[t]he transformation in the picture of Saul is breathtaking, to say the least. A moment ago he was a youth looking on with approval at the execution [of Stephen]. Now he is the arch-persecutor.”5 Yet, C. K. Barrett is perhaps wise to be more reserved about the extent of the transformation when he writes that Paul “is 4

Richard I. Pervo, Acts: A Commentary (ed. H. W. Attridge; Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), 200. Commenting on Acts 8:1, Pervo suggests that “[t]he apostles’ avoidance of flight has the additional advantage of displaying their heroic fearlessness.” 5 Ernst Haenchen, The Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary (Oxford: Blackwell, 1971 [14th Ger. ed. 1965]), 294 (emphasis added). See also Hans Conzelmann, Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987 [2nd Ger. ed. 1972]), 61: “the organizer of the persecution”; Rudolf Pesch, Die Apostelgeschichte (EKK 5; 2 Vols.; Zürich: Benziger, 1986), 1:266: “Er ist . . . zum Hauptakteur in der großen Verfolgung geworden”; and Jacob Jervell, Die Apostelgeschichte (KEK 3; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 255–56. However, R. Pervo (Acts, 201) astutely notes, “Ancient readers may have been less perplexed by Paul’s rapid advancement than are contemporaries. . . . [E]ven for elite writers, character was a quality more often revealed than attained.”

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presumably the chief agent in the severe persecution of [8:]1.”6 At the very least, Luke portrays Paul as a key leader of the persecution, if not its chief. Previously in Acts, the opposition to Jesus’ followers had affected only their leaders, whether apostles (4:1–31; 5:17–42) or Stephen (6:1–7:50). Beginning in 8:3, however, the opposition under Paul’s initiative targets each and every follower of Jesus: “Saul was attempting to destroy the church entering house after house. Dragging away both men and women, he handed them over to prison.”7 The Paul of Acts will later admit that his actions led to the death of some of Jesus’ followers (26:10; cf. 22:4). According to 7:51–53, Stephen’s murderers have no right to consider themselves faithful to the Mosaic law, for they belong to the tainted legacy of those who persecute and murder the prophets. Given the already devastating depiction of Stephen’s murderers, Luke apparently has no need to reinforce the assertion about Paul, whose persecution of the church sets new benchmarks in scope and intensity.8 At this point, Paul’s character is as dubious as, if not more questionable than, that of Stephen’s killers.

C. The Necessity That Paul Suffer for Jesus (9:1–19a) When Paul next resurfaces in Acts, he is “breathing9 threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord” (9:1). Since much of the church had been scattered outside of Jerusalem, Paul asks for permission to bind and bring to Jerusalem anyone “who belonged to the Way” (9:2) whom he might find

6

C. K. Barrett, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles (ICC; 2 Vols.; Edinburgh: Clark, 1994–98), 1:392 (emphasis added). 7 Gk.: Σαῦλος δὲ ἐλυµαίνετο τὴν ἐκκλησίαν κατὰ τοὺς οἴκους εἰσπορευόµενος, σύρων τε ἄνδρας καὶ γυναῖκας παρεδίδου εἰς φυλακήν (Acts 8:3). The translation (above) construes the imperfect tense of ἐλυµαίνετο as conative (“attempting to destroy”), depicting an attempted action in the past. Cf. ἐπόρθουν (Gal 1:13b). 8 Cf. Acts 9:13. Acts says nothing more about what happened to those whom Paul arrested. The Paul who would eventually suffer as Jesus’ follower is never shown in Acts as doing anything to secure their release or to mitigate their punishment (cf. 5:33, 40). 9 Acts 9:1: ἐµπνέων ἀπειλῆς καὶ φόνου κτλ. The verb ἐµπνέω, which normally denotes “breathing,” can also mean “to inspire” and could, perhaps, indicate in 9:1 that Paul was not acting alone but was “inspiring” hostile sentiments in others who, with him, would persecute the church. The mention of others’ traveling with Paul to Damascus (οἱ δὲ ἄνδρες οἱ συνοδεύοντες αὐτῷ, 9:7) and Paul’s later and more detailed reports about his work as persecutor and possible killing of Jesus’ followers (22:4; 26:10–11) also suggest that he could have been spurring the action of others. See further below on Acts 26:10– 11.

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in Damascus.10 As Haenchen points out, it is now Paul, and not the high priest, who “is the driving spirit of the persecution.”11 Earlier in Acts, Stephen’s response to his accusers implicitly linked killing Jesus with the injustice of persecuting Jesus’ followers (cf. 7:52b). In his appearance to Paul in a vision, Jesus’ first statements make this association explicit: “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? . . . I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting” (9:4b, 5b). By associating the suffering of Jesus’ followers with Jesus’ suffering, the statement assigns value to the followers’ suffering but attributes shame, rather than honor, to the perpetrator of the suffering. Paul had not been justly punishing a heretical Jewish movement but was persecuting Jesus, who speaks from heaven. (In two later speeches, Paul will repeat the statement that he had been persecuting Jesus.12) In the vision narrative, Jesus instructs Paul to enter the city where he had intended to persecute “the Way” and to learn there what he “must do” (ὅ τί σε δεῖ ποιεῖν, 9:6). Luke accompanies Paul’s sudden and dramatic role reversal with Jesus’ revelation in visions to Paul and to a believer named Ananias that they are to meet in Damascus (9:7–12). Jesus’ next words mitigate Ananias’ misgivings about Paul’s notorious standing as persecutor of the church13 and foretell Paul’s suffering: “Go, for he is my chosen instrument to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel; [16] for I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.” (9:15–16)

The Lukan Jesus states that Paul’s calling and conversion14 have two essential, and seemingly inseparable, components. Paul will make Jesus 10 Paul’s request for letters to travel to Damascus in Syria (Acts 9:2) is somewhat surprising. According to Acts 8:2, the disciples were scattered only as far as Judea and Samaria, not north of Galilee into Syrian Damascus. Luke later states, however, that Jesus’ followers had been scattered “as far as Phoenicia, Cyprus, and Antioch” (11:19). 11 Haenchen, Acts, 319–20. 12 Acts 22:7–8; 26:14–15; cf. Luke 10:16; Haenchen, Acts, 322: “Whoever persecutes the Christians persecutes Christ”; Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 280; Joseph A. Fitzmyer, S . J., The Acts of the Apostles (AB 31; New York: Doubleday, 1998), 425. See further on similarities and differences among the three accounts, e.g., Barrett, Acts, 1:439–43; Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 288–93, 543–44. 13 Cf. Acts 9:26, where the disciples in Jerusalem are still “all afraid of him [Saul], for they did not believe that he was a disciple.” 14 Scholars debate whether Paul’s encounter with the risen Jesus was originally a “calling” within Judaism or a “conversion” to a different religion. I agree with Anna Maria Schwemer that it was both a calling and a conversion. In her article “Erinnerung und Legende: Die Berufung des Paulus und ihre Darstellung in der Apostelgeschichte,” in: Memory in the Bible and Antiquity (WUNT 212; ed. Stephen C. Barton et al.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 277–98 at 281 n. 23, she writes, “Man darf die ‘Berufung’ nicht gegen die ‘Bekehrung’ ausspielen, denn für Paulus war seine Begegnung mit dem Aufer-

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known (9:15) and will suffer for Jesus (9:16). The Paul who had inflicted suffering on Jesus’ followers (cf. 8:3; 9:1, 13) must now be prepared to suffer himself. Jakob Jervell calls attention to the shift that 9:16 makes to an earlier commissioning in Acts 1:8. Whereas Jesus’ original followers (in particular, the apostles) received the call, Paul is the one who actually carries it out.15 Those passages delineating what is “necessary” (δεῖ) for Paul to do in Acts 9:6 and 9:16 merit brief exploration relative to similar uses of δεῖ in Luke-Acts. Clare K. Rothschild points out that the standard scholarly interpretation holds that most uses of δεῖ in Luke-Acts (several of which reflect Lukan redaction) call attention to the “divine control of history.”16 Seeking to refine this somewhat vague concept in light of ancient rhetoric, Rothschild makes the case that such uses of δεῖ serve rather to emphasize that “[p]redicted events are not arbitrary, and therefore must have taken place in the manner described.”17 Rothschild’s contention that in LukeActs δεῖ usually highlights “the credibility of an unfamiliar, controversial or otherwise implausible event of the narrative” sharpens the contrast of her interpretation with the scholarly consensus.18 Acts 9:6 (the first reference [cf. 9:16] to what Paul “must” [δεῖ] do), says Rothschild, shows how “the author cleverly defends the credibility of all of Paul’s upcoming actions in this highly incredible episode through the suggestion that each action is as certain as necessity itself.”19 That Paul was the notorious persecutor of the church but must (δεῖ, 9:16) now suffer for Jesus offers additional support for Rothschild’s thesis about an “unfamiliar, controversial or otherwise implausible” development in Acts.20 Whereas Ananias fears that Paul will cause suffering, Jesus assures him that it is now Paul who will undergo suffering for Jesus’ name.21 standenen beides. Er versteht seine Berufung zum Heidenapostel als eine Lebenswende (vgl. das zweimalige ποτε – νῦν in Gal 1,13.23), die auch sein Gesetzesverständnis betraf (Phil 3,5–9).” 15 Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 283: “Und er [Paul] ist in der Apg der einzige Weltmissionar. Während die Zwölf nach 1,8 den Weltauftrag bekommen, ist Paulus derjenige, der diesen durchführt.” 16 Clare K. Rothschild, Luke-Acts and the Rhetoric of History: An Investigation of Early Christian Historiography (WUNT 2.175; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 185. 17 Rothschild, Luke-Acts and the Rhetoric of History, 188 (emphasis original). 18 Rothschild, Luke-Acts and the Rhetoric of History, 194. Rothschild disagrees with the widespread interpretation that in Luke-Acts δεῖ highlights “divine control of history” (185). That interpretation, which Rothschild rightly criticizes, is also reflected in Scott Cunningham, “Through Many Tribulations”: The Theology of Persecution in Luke-Acts (JSNTSS 142; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1997), 82–83, 114, 117. 19 Rothschild, Luke-Acts and the Rhetoric of History, 204. 20 Cf. Rothschild, Luke-Acts and the Rhetoric of History, 194 (cited above). 21 Cf. Haenchen, Acts, 325.

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Rudolf Pesch encapsulates well this surprising development: “Der ehemalige Verfolger wird verfolgt werden.”22 Thus, in Acts 9:16 the necessity of Paul’s suffering lends credibility to the wholly unanticipated development that Jesus chose a notorious persecutor to suffer for and bear witness to his name (9:15). In the following eleven passages (we include Acts 9:6), δεῖ is used to show the necessity of suffering:23 The Son of Man must undergo great suffering (δεῖ τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου πολλὰ παθεῖν), and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised. (Luke 9:22) Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way (δεῖ µε . . . πορεύεσθαι), because it is not possible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’ (Luke 13:33) But first he [the Son of Man] must endure much suffering (δεῖ αὐτὸν πολλὰ παθεῖν) and be rejected by this generation. (Luke 17:25) When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first (δεῖ γὰρ ταῦτα γενέσθαι πρῶτον), but the end will not follow immediately. (Luke 21:9) The Son of Man must be handed over (δεῖ παραδοθῆναι) to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” (Luke 24:7) Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer (ἔδει παθεῖν) these things and then enter into his glory?” (Luke 24:26) But Peter and the apostles answered, “We must obey God (πειθαρχεῖν δεῖ) rather than human beings.” (Acts 5:29) But enter the city, and you will be told what you must do (ὅ τί σε δεῖ ποιεῖν). (Acts 9:6) For I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name (ὅσα δεῖ αὐτὸν ὑπὲρ τοῦ ὀνόµατός µου παθεῖν).” (Acts 9:16) There they [Paul and Barnabas] strengthened the souls of the disciples and encouraged them to continue in the faith, saying, “It is necessary that through many persecutions we enter the kingdom of God (διὰ πολλῶν θλίψεων δεῖ ἡµᾶς εἰσελθεῖν εἰς τὴν βασιλείαν τοῦ θεοῦ).” (Acts 14:22) [Paul was] explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Messiah to suffer (τὸν χριστὸν ἔδει παθεῖν) and to rise from the dead. (Acts 17:3a)

Six of these passages highlight the necessity – and, rhetorically, the credibility – of Jesus’ suffering as part of fulfilling God’s redemptive plan (Luke 9:22; 13:33; 17:25; 24:7, 26; Acts 17:3a). The Lukan eschatological discourse (Luke 21:9) emphasizes the necessity that Jesus’ followers endure periods of “wars and insurrections.”24 Although it would be unusual for Jews to disregard the Sanhedrin’s command, Peter and the apostles are nevertheless ready to accept whatever consequences result from following 22

Pesch, Apostelgeschichte, 1:307. See further Rothschild, Luke-Acts and the Rhetoric of History, 194–208. 24 See also Luke 21:12: “But before all this occurs, they will assault and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name.” 23

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the imperative (δεῖ) that they obey God, rather than the Jewish leaders who arrested them and who commanded that they keep silent (Acts 5:29; cf. 4:19). Because of these earlier references to the necessity of suffering in LukeActs, the suffering expected of Paul (Acts 9:6, 16) is seen to be in continuity with God’s plan for Jesus’ passion, with a pre-Easter prediction about the suffering of Jesus’ followers (Luke 21:9, 12), and with the apostles’ resolve despite the Sanhedrin’s threats (Acts 5:29). Later in Acts, Paul and Barnabas proclaim the necessity “that through many persecutions we enter the kingdom of God” (Acts 14:22). They thus illustrate that Paul himself had embraced Jesus’ prediction to Ananias about his future suffering (cf. 9:16) and had warned that other believers must also be prepared to suffer.

D. Paul’s Speech to the Crowd in Jerusalem: Revisiting Paul as a Former Persecutor (22:1–22) The next time Acts mentions Paul as a former persecutor is in Paul’s speech (22:3–21) following his arrest in Jerusalem (cf. 21:15–40). The speech reviews several events narrated earlier in Acts, including Paul’s past as persecutor of the church and his previous visit to Jerusalem. At times, this speech adds new details or offers a different version of events.25 Paul repeats Jesus’ assertion that Paul had actually been persecuting him (22:7–8; cf. 9:4–5; 26:12–15). For the first time, moreover, with ἐδίωξα ἄχρι θανάτου (22:4) Paul suggests that he might have actually killed some of Jesus’ followers.26 Novel also in this speech is the statement attributed to Ananias that Paul “will be a witness to him [Jesus] (µάρτυς αὐτῷ) to all people (πρὸς πάντας ἀνθρώπους) of what you [Paul] have seen and heard” (22:15; cf. 9:17). The subsequent verses elaborate the reason for Paul’s earlier departure from Jerusalem (22:17–21). In this chapter, there is no mention, as there had been in 9:29–30, of the desire of “the Hellenists” to kill Paul. Instead, Jesus instructs Paul to leave Jerusalem because the people there will not accept Paul’s testimony (µαρτυρία, 22:18; cf. 28:26–28). As the reason for Paul’s departure from Jerusalem, an allegation of the Jews’ disbelief of Paul’s witness (µαρτυρία, 22:18) replaces Luke’s earlier claim about the Hellenists’ persecution (attempting to kill him, 9:29–30). Paul also alludes 25 Repetition of the information was presumably necessary due to Paul’s previous short stay in Jerusalem, which had been abruptly ended by “the Hellenists” who wanted to kill him (cf. Acts 9:29–30; 22:17–21). 26 Further, a characterization of Paul as “zealous” while mentioning his persecution occurs in both Acts 22:3 (ζηλωτὴς ὑπάρχων) and Gal 1:14b (ζηλωτὴς ὑπάρχων).

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to his (limited) role in the murder of Stephen (22:19–20). His allusion and the Lord’s response (22:18–21) suggest that the people would listen neither to Stephen nor, afterward, to Paul when he was in Jerusalem. Paul’s final words to the crowd cite Jesus’ heretofore unreported command to Paul: “Go, for I will send you far away to the Gentiles.”27 When Paul specifies that Jesus had sent him out from Jerusalem, where the people would not listen, “far away to the Gentiles” (22:21; cf. 22:18), the crowd protests, and their protest, with renewed calls for Paul to be killed (22:22), brings his speech to an abrupt end. Objections to Paul’s preaching to the Gentiles build upon earlier Lukan accusations of the Jews’ jealousy (Acts 13:45; 17:5a; cf. 5:17). All in all, Paul’s speech (22:3–21) and the continued resistance to Paul in Jerusalem (21:27–34; 22:22–23; cf. 23:12–15) are consistent with Luke’s earlier negative depictions of Jews in Jerusalem, who had killed Stephen and desired to kill Paul (cf. 7:51–53; 9:29–30). Nevertheless, the different reasons for Paul’s departure from Jerusalem (9:29–30; pace 22:21–22), although hypothetically reconcilable, suggest that each speech addresses the contextual particularities of Acts 9 and 22.

E. New Disclosures Implicating Paul in the Execution of Christians (26:1–11) The last account of Paul as a persecutor appears in Paul’s speech before Agrippa, Bernice, and Festus (26:2–23), which recounts numerous events covered in Acts 9:1–30 and 22:1–22 but adds new, sharper details about the extent of Paul’s persecutions against the church that culminated in the killing of Christians. Aggression previously restricted to the apostles and Stephen, subsequently expanded to imprisoning both men and women (8:3; 9:1), now culminates in the killing of Christians (26:9–11). The only hint in Acts 8–9 that Paul might have killed any disciples was the proleptic description of him as “breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord” (9:1). This characterization, however, does not specify that Paul had, in fact, taken any such action. At 22:4 (“I persecuted to the point of death” [ἐδίωξα ἄχρι θανάτου]), Luke hints somewhat more explicitly at Paul’s intent to kill Jesus’ followers, perhaps even that Paul had actually done do. Now at 26:10, Paul openly acknowledges that his persecutions did result in the death of Jesus’ followers: “I not only locked up many of the saints in prison but also cast my vote against them when they were being con27

Acts 22:21. Cf. Acts 22:15, where Ananias’ prediction that Paul will be a witness “to all people” already hints at proclamation to the Gentiles.

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demned to death.” Whereas Acts has heretofore reported the deaths of only two believers (Stephen and James), Barrett notes that Acts 26:10 “seems to imply that a number of Christians were put to death.”28 We may be bolder than Barrett in replacing his “seems to imply” with “implies,” inasmuch as 26:10 clearly, if belatedly, admits that Paul played a key role in the killing of Christians. For the first time in Acts, Paul confesses that he became an instigator of persecutions that included imprisonment, proceedings requiring a vote from Paul and others, and execution of Jesus’ followers. By contrast, Luke’s earlier passages portray Paul as playing only a minor, if an approving, role in the murder of Stephen (7:58–8:1). Haenchen mentions this contrast between 7:58–8:1 and 26:10 but finds 26:10 “in agreement with the allusions of 22.4.”29 Hans Conzelmann differs with Haenchen, arguing that “Paul’s activity as a persecutor is intensified here over against 22:3–4.”30 The question of whether 26:10 stands in continuity with 22:4 (so Haenchen) or offers a new disclosure (so Conzelmann) hangs on whether the phrase ἐδίωξα ἄχρι θανάτου (22:4) presents Paul as actually killing Christians. In my opinion, 22:4 is not specific enough to concede the better part of the argument to either Haenchen or Conzelmann. In either case, the difference between the initial characterizations of Paul in Acts 8–9 and the later disclosures is clear: only toward the end of Acts does Luke reveal the most unsettling details about Paul’s ignominious past. In 26:11b, moreover, the plural πόλεις (“cities”) presents Damascus (cf. 26:12) as only one of a number of cities outside Judea to which Paul had traveled to persecute the church: “By punishing them often in all the synagogues I tried to force them to blaspheme; and since I was so furiously enraged at them, I pursued them even to foreign cities (καὶ εἰς τὰς ἔξω πόλεις).”31 Blaspheming is an action that Acts twice ascribes to Jews who opposed Paul or his message (13:45; 18:6a; cf. 19:37) and is precisely what Paul now admits he tried to compel Jesus’ followers to do (26:11).32

28

Barrett, Acts, 2:1155. Haenchen, Acts, 684. 30 Conzelmann, Acts, 210. Likewise, Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 593. 31 Acts 26:11. The following verse (26:12) mentions Paul’s trip to Damascus after visiting the other πόλεις. 32 Cf. Fitzmyer, Acts, 758. 29

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F. Conclusion: Gradual Divulgence as an Apology for the Pauline Legacy The candor in Acts 26:9–11 about the extent of Paul’s oppression of the church comes as quite a surprise at this late point in the narrative. One would never guess from either Acts 9 or 22 that, when Paul requested from the high priest “letters to the synagogues at Damascus” (9:1–2; cf. 22:4–5), Paul had already journeyed to other “cities” (26:11b) outside Judea to persecute the church while imprisoning, trying, and executing some followers of “the Way.”33 It is only after Paul’s admissions in 22:4 and, especially, in 26:10–11 that the reader understands that what Paul had been doing to Jesus’ followers in Jerusalem, Judea, and any number of other cities is precisely what, from Acts 9:20 onward, numerous Jews wish to do to Paul. Throughout Acts 9–21 (if not 9–25), Paul repeatedly endures hardships and persecutions from Jews, some of whom wish to kill him. However, Luke has not yet disclosed that Paul faces the very dangers he had inflicted on numerous followers of “the Way.” Paul the persecuted former persecutor has been receiving a taste of his own medicine. This peculiarity about the Lukan depictions of Paul invites an explanation for why Luke chooses to reveal in stages the extent of Paul’s persecutions against the church. These stages in Acts 8–9, 22, and 26 may be summarized as follows: 1. Paul arrested Jesus’ followers and intended to do so also in Damascus (8:3; 9:1–2). The reference to Paul’s “breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord” (9:1) is proleptic but bespeaks no particular violent action. 2. The statement that Paul “persecuted the [lit.: this] Way up to the point of death” (22:4) indicates that Paul intended to kill Jesus’ followers and, perhaps also, that he had actually done so. 3. Not only in Judea but also in cities elsewhere, prior to traveling to Damascus, Paul led efforts to imprison, convict, and execute Jesus’ followers (26:9–11).

A likely explanation for why Luke waits until nearly the end of his narrative to give this additional information that Paul had not only imprisoned but also executed Christians may be deduced from Luke’s marked interest in questions of legitimation as derived from persecuting or being persecuted. In his numerous negative depictions of Jews because they killed Jesus and unjustly persecute Jesus’ followers, Luke makes it abundantly clear that he understands – and makes arguments based upon – corroboration of the legitimacy that is at stake in claims of having suffered unjustly. Luke’s argument that Paul suffers unjustly at the hands of jealous Jews (13:45; cf. 33 Although Acts 8:3 and 9:1 specify no geographical referents for Paul’s persecutions, we find no reason to infer that Paul had traveled far from Jerusalem, let alone outside of Judea. Rather, Paul’s journey to Damascus seems to be something new.

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5:17) would, presumably, have been less compelling if, already in Acts 8– 9, Luke had disclosed that Paul simply faces the threats of undergoing what he, in fact, had done to others. Even a Paulinist (or a Lukan) believer could point out the tension of Paul’s violent conduct with the “golden rule” (Luke 6:31) mandated by the Lukan Jesus. In particular, the picture of Paul’s casting his vote (κατήνεγκα ψῆφον, Acts 26:10b) indicates working with other Jews in condemning Jesus’ followers. Paul, who had conspired with Jews to kill Jesus’ followers, repeatedly must face attempts on his own life from Jews. Richard I. Pervo points out, moreover, that, within Acts, Luke’s depiction of Paul no longer reflects negatively on Paul but, rather, on Paul’s unrepentant co-conspirators who now want to kill Paul: “Luke emphasizes Paul’s status as an authorized agent of the Jewish leadership, which must thus bear responsibility for these murders, rather than portraying him as an opponent of the Jesus movement who acted on his own initiative.”34 In response, a reader not sympathetic to Paul’s suffering could easily object that Paul the former persecutor merits neither sympathy nor confirmation of his standing as Christ’s appointed herald, since he had conspired with other Jews against the Jesus movement. Luke takes a more subtle approach, apparently regarding it as more effective to make a fuller disclosure about Paul’s previous misdeeds toward the end of this work, after Paul had acquired sufficient clout by serving and suffering for Jesus. If my inference is correct, Luke would betray a concern reflected also by the deuteropauline author of First Timothy, who makes excuses for Paul’s past as persecutor because he “acted ignorantly in unbelief” (1 Tim 1:13). This deuteropauline presentation of the apostle moves beyond references to Paul’s past as persecutor in the undisputed letters (1 Cor 15:9–10; Phil 3:2–7; Gal 1:13–24) and apologetically attempts to minimize the negatives of Paul’s past to facilitate subsequent reception(s) of the Pauline legacy. Luke’s fullest disclosure of Paul’s persecutions toward the end of Acts, after Paul has proven himself as Jesus’ loyal and persecuted servant, reflects a similar agenda by another post-Pauline Paulinist. Whereas, in First Timothy, Paul is exonerated because he was “ignorant” (ἀγνοέω) and acted in “unbelief” (ἀπιστία), Luke holds that Paul’s standing is legitimized because Paul embraces his calling to suffer “for the sake of [Jesus’] name” (Acts 9:16).

34

Pervo, Acts, 630–31.

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Abstract: Luke reveals the extent of Paul’s violence against the Jesus movement not in the first depiction of Paul’s persecution of the church (Acts 8:3; 9:1–2) but, rather, much later in the narrative (22:4; 26:9–11). Making the fullest disclosure of Paul’s persecutions toward the end of Acts is consistent with an apologetic agenda of presenting Paul as a sympathetic figure and of defending the legacy of Paul, who suffered as Christ’s loyal servant rather than as one who caused suffering for Christ’s followers. Such an agenda would be consistent with attempts to minimize the negative implications of Paul’s persecutory past for subsequent reception(s) of the Pauline legacy.

Chapter 12

The Relevance of Revelation’s Date and the Imperial Cult for John’s Appraisal of the Value of Christians’ Suffering in Revelation 1–3* This study examines John’s appraisal of the value of suffering in Revelation 1–3. “Valuation” is an economic term that has to do with the assigning of importance, worth, or value, after which the evaluated entity can be exchanged for something else. In one of his prophetic oracles to the seven churches, John praises Antipas’s faithful witness and resistance unto death (Rev 2:13) and extols the value and necessity of every believer’s resisting the imperial cult, heretical leaders, and other dangerous influences. The future tribulation and the possibility of reward that John promises to the faithful is seen as analogous to the perseverance of Christ, who, because he “conquered,” received a seat on his Father’s “throne” (Rev 3:21). In this essay, I argue that John employs the value of continued resistance and suffering (and the threat of damnation if one does not properly resist) to exhort the faithful to emulate the examples of Jesus, Antipas, and John himself (1:5, 9; 2:13). I also argue that in Revelation a theology of future rather than present authentication of discipleship, to be attained by withstanding persecution, plays a prominent role. Not all would-be followers, but only those who faithfully endure will receive the right to sit with Jesus on a heavenly throne. An examination of the often overlooked or misunderstood witness of Tacitus (Ann. 14.27.1) about an earthquake in the year 60/61 C.E., opens our discussion of Revelation’s date, genre and socio-historical background with an eye to contextualizing the imperial cult in Roman Asia Minor, a context that will inform our analysis of Revelation 1–3.

A. The Date, Genre, and Socio-Historical Context of Revelation Assuming the compositional unity of Revelation, the main proposals for its (still debated) dating are the reigns of the emperors Nero (54–68 C.E.), * Original publication: Die Johannesapokalypse: Kontexte – Konzepte – Rezeption (WUNT 287; ed. Jörg Frey et al.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 553–85.

234 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 Domitian (81–96 C.E.), and Trajan (98–117 C.E.) or the times shortly after Nero (the “year of the four emperors,” 68–69 C.E.) or after Domitian (during Nerva’s brief reign [96–98 C.E.], or early in Trajan’s reign).1 In what follows, I agree in principle with the position favored by most scholars, that is, the period late in Domitian’s reign or shortly afterward (ca. 95–100 C .E .). I argue that an early date is to be excluded, that Revelation was most probably written not earlier than Domitian’s reign, and that Revelation can be assigned to a somewhat broader period (ca. 90–100 C.E.) or even later. The imperial cult, which in Asia Minor continued to grow during the reigns of Domitian and Trajan, therefore informs this essay’s analysis of John’s presentation of his suffering (Rev 1:9) and, especially, of his exhortations to the seven congregations in Revelation 2–3 about how they, too, must be prepared to suffer.2 1. An Early Date for Revelation? Proponents of an early date for Revelation (ca. 64–69 C.E., toward the end of, or shortly after, Nero’s reign) typically posit that very soon after Nero died, the anxiety about Nero’s “return” after his death in 68 C.E. (Nero redivivus) and thus about a renewed persecution of Christians suggested to John a pattern of what would soon take place in Asia Minor. It is, of course, an unproved assumption that fears about Nero’s “return” after his death necessarily gave rise to this apocalypse very soon after 68 C.E. It strikes me as equally possible that this fear and the writing of Revelation could have occurred decades later. There is no reason to surmise that, in a sectarian community like John’s, fears about Nero and a renewed persecution would have dissipated so quickly rather than have increased in the decades after Nero.3 Hans-Josef Klauck’s significant counterargument to

1

On the compositional unity of the prophetic oracles (Revelation 2–3) and the visions (Revelation 4–22), see the discussion below. 2 For reasons that will become clear in the following discussion, I am not inclined to believe that, in general, the Christians’ experience of the imperial cult in Asia Minor would have been qualitatively different during the reigns of Domitian, Nerva (96–98 C . E .), or Trajan. On this and related statements, see the discussion below. 3 The argument of A LBERT A. B ELL, Jr., “The Date of John’s Apocalypse: The Evidence of Some Roman Historians Reconsidered,” NTS 25 (1978–79): 93–102 at 96–97, on the unlikelihood that a Domitianic persecution reached Asia Minor (which Bell uses to support a Neronic date for Revelation), may be turned on its head inasmuch as it suffers from the same misconception concerning the scope of the Neronic persecution: “Even if, in the face of all the evidence, there were Domitianic persecution in Rome, it by no means follows that anything of the sort happened in the provinces.”

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the notion of an early date for Revelation maintains that “Domitian . . . is Nero Redivivus.”4 One important piece of evidence that oftentimes receives scant, if any, attention in this debate is the devastating earthquake that flattened the city of Laodicea in the year 60/61 C.E. I argue that, in the decade following this natural disaster, a letter, such as Rev 3:14–22, addressed to a wealthy congregation in Laodicea would be quite unlikely.5 Our single (and brief) ancient testimony about this earthquake is in the Annals of Tacitus (ca. 55– ca. 117 C.E.): Eodem anno ex inlustribus Asiae urbibus Laodicea tremore terrae prolapsa, nullo [a] nobis remedio, propriis opibus revaluit. In that year [60/61 C.E.], one of the famous cities of Asia, Laodicea, was overthrown by an earthquake and, with no relief from us, recovered itself by its own resources. 6

Occurring in 60/61 C.E., the earthquake preceded by three or four years the fire in Rome and the Neronian persecution of 64 C.E. Interpretations of Tacitus’s statement about the lack of help in rebuilding the city (nullo [a] nobis remedio) have either noted the wealth that was already present at Laodicea or pointed out the unusual lack of imperial assistance to help with rebuilding. Both viewpoints bear upon attempts to date Revelation to the 60s. To my knowledge, this difference in scholars’ interpretation of Tacitus, Ann. 14.27.1 has never been recognized or discussed in secondary literature on the date of Revelation (or on the date of Colossians).7 Albert A. Bell, Jr., who argues for an early date for Revelation, focuses on the wealth of Laodicea to explain the lack of imperial assistance. Perhaps following William M. Ramsay, Bell surmises that in Laodicea “the citizens rebuilt the town with their own money, spurning 4

H ANS-JOSEF K LAUCK, “Do They Never Come Back? Nero Redivivus and the Apocalypse of John,” in idem, Religion und Gesellschaft im frühen Christentum: Neutestamentliche Studien (WUNT 152, Tübingen, 2003), 268–89 at 285. One need not necessarily agree with Klauck that in Revelation the emperor Domitian in particular – rather than some later emperor – is Nero Redivivus to appreciate much in his fine analysis and its implications against an early date for Revelation. See further THOMAS W ITULSKI, Die Johannesoffenbarung und Kaiser Hadrian: Studien zur Datierung der neutestamentlichen Apokalypse (FRLANT 221, Göttingen, 2007), 14–22 (against a date of 68/69 C.E.) and 22–36 (against a Domitianic date). 5 This unlikelihood will allow us to exclude a date in the 60s C.E. for Revelation 2–3 and, as is to be further argued, for Revelation as a whole. 6 Tacitus, Ann. 14.27.1. Lat.: M AURICE H UTTON (ed.), Tacitus: In Five Volumes (LCL 322, London/Cambridge [MA] 1969 [1937]), 5:150 = E RICH H ELLER (ed.), P. Cornelius Tacitus, Annalen (München, 1982), 660; ET: mine. 7 On the assumption that Colossae (roughly 18 km southeast of Laodicea) was also destroyed by this earthquake, the disaster is also relevant for dating the letter to the Colossians and for the possibly fictitious characterization of the addressees by the pseudonymous author of Colossians.

236 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 help from the emperor.”8 Albeit not impossible, this interpretation is tenuous because it imposes upon Tacitus’s statement a characterization drawn from Rev 3:14–22 of wealthy Laodiceans. Tacitus states only that Laodicea was rebuilt – not how quickly it was rebuilt, which could indicate the wealth already present in that city. More persuasively, and with reference to the context that Tacitus addresses, James S. Murray interprets nullo [a] nobis remedio as a criticism of Nero, not as an indication of Laodicean wealth: whereas the emperors Augustus and Tiberius had set precedents of “Imperial benefaction” when earthquakes struck in Asia Minor, Nero fell short of this expectation when he failed to offer assistance to Laodicea.9 Aside from the dubious interpretation of Tacitus’s testimony, proponents of dating Revelation to ca. 64–69 C.E. cannot explain the characterization of the Laodicean Christians as wealthy in Rev 3:14–22 (esp. 3:17– 18). Nor can they account for why John, who reflects detailed knowledge of the congregations he addresses and is eager to console them in their suffering and afflictions,10 makes no reference to their suffering through such a supposedly recent natural disaster in 3:14–22. At Rev 3:17, John accuses them of having the confidence to boast, “I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing.”11 He exhorts them in 3:18 to “buy from me [Jesus] gold refined by fire so that you may be rich.” Their trust in wealth is the single complaint that John raises against the Laodicean Christians. It would indeed be peculiar for John to criticize them for trusting too much in wealth within a decade of such a disastrous earthquake. It is far more likely that Rev 3:14–22 addresses the Laodicean community at a time when the city 8

B ELL, “Date of John’s Apocalypse” (see n. 3), 100; already W. M. R AMSAY, The Letters to the Seven Churches of Asia and Their Place in the Plan of the Apocalypse (London, 1904), 428, who, notably, alludes to Tacitus only as a supposed illustration of Revelation 3: “It is characteristic of a city devoted to commercial interests and the material side of life, that the Church of Laodicea is entirely self-satisfied. It says, as the city said in A.D. 60, when it recovered its prosperity after the great earthquake without any of that help which the Imperial government was generally ready to bestow, and which the greatest cities of Asia had always been ready to accept, ‘I have grown rich, and I have need of nothing’.” Cf. D AVID E. A UNE, Revelation (WBC 52A–C, Dallas, 1997–98), 1:lxiii. 9 JAMES S. M URRAY, “The Urban Earthquake Imagery and Divine Judgement in John’s Apocalypse,” NovT 47 (2005): 142–61 at 157; cf. 150–58. On the OT background and Palestinian context for Armageddon, see, respectively, R ICHARD B AUCKHAM, “Eschatological Earthquake in the Apocalypse of John,” NovT 19 (1977): 224–33, and A MOS N UR and H AGAI R ON, “Earthquake! Inspiration for Armageddon,” BAR 23 (July/August, 1997): 48–55. 10 See Rev 2:2, 6, 9, 13–15, 19–20, 24; 3:1, 4, 8–9. 11 Unless otherwise stated, English translations of Scripture are from, or reflect only minor variations from, the NRSV. I call attention to and, where appropriate, discuss any exegetically significant differences from the NRSV.

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of Laodicea had long since recovered from the earthquake’s economic effects. Recognizing correctly the watershed date posed by the earthquake, Gonzalo Rojas-Flores unpersuasively attempts to date Revelation “after Nero’s ascension to power in the year 54 and before the earthquake of Laodicea in the year 60” – notably before the Neronian persecution of 64 12 C .E . Therefore, the witness of Tacitus to the earthquake of 60/61 C.E., properly understood in light of precedents of imperial benefaction, along with the depiction of wealthy Laodiceans without mention of a natural disaster in Rev 3:14–22 allows us to dispense with the conclusion of David E. Aune that the evidence for dating Rev 3:14–22 relative to the earthquake of 60 C.E. is ambiguous.13 The problem is not an ambiguity of evidence but the failure of many, including Ramsay, Bell and Aune, to interpret Tacitus’s statement in its literary and historical context. Murray’s interpretation of Ann. 14.27.1 supports the inference that the rebuilding of Laodicea may have taken longer than would have been expected with help from Rome under previous (and presumably, in Tacitus’s time, subsequent) emperors. Such a delayed recovery for Laodicea could have implications for the terminus post quem for Revelation and merits further inquiry. As a consequence, we can set aside an early date in the 60s C.E. for Rev 3:14–22 and thus for Revelation 2–3. By the time of Domitian or Trajan (some three to five decades after the earthquake), Rev 3:14–22 confirms Tacitus’s witness to a rebuilt Laodicea and, moreover, that at least some Christians in that city shared in the city’s renewed prosperity. 2. Compositional Unity and Compositional Criticism Several prominent scholars have cast doubt upon Revelation’s compositional unity, claiming that the letters (Revelation 2–3) and visions (Revelation 4–22) do not stem from the same author and time. Citing a paucity of connections between Revelation’s letters and visions, it is sometimes argued that the seven letters predate the visions (so R. H. Charles) or that the

12 G ONZALO R OJAS-FLORES, “The Book of Revelation and the First Years of Nero’s Reign,” Bib 85 (2004): 375–92 at 375; cf. 385–86, concerning the earthquake. This creative hypothesis is dubious for the same reasons, to be discussed below, that a date shortly after Nero’s reign is untenable. 13 A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:lxiii: “However, both lines of argument are capable of a variety of interpretations, so that a firm date in the late first century A.D. cannot be based on these arguments.” Cf. IDEM, Revelation, 1:lxx: “The situation of the seven churches produces ambiguous evidence that could be dated from the early 70s to the late 90s A.D.” Our occasional disagreements with Aune’s masterful and encyclopedic commentary do not dismiss the value of this work as an indispensable resource.

238 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 visions predate the letters (so H. Kraft and D. E. Aune).14 The present inquiry cannot address each of these theories in detail, but we note that Aune’s arguments for dating Revelation 2–3 prior to the visions are at best inconclusive. Aune’s case for regarding Revelation 2–3 as an interpolation of earlier letters hinges largely on two arguments. First, Rev “2:1–3:22 reflects no persecution of the Roman state, nor is there any evidence for the imperial cult.”15 Although we can readily agree that Revelation 2–3 does not reflect an organized persecution by the Roman state, our discussion below of Antipas’s public execution (Rev 2:13) shows that Aune’s statement on persecution must be nuanced. Moreover, we show below how an allegation that the imperial cult is not relevant for Revelation 2–3 is also open to criticism. The second and, for Aune, apparently more important observation is that in Revelation 2–3 fewer sentences than in the book of Revelation as a whole begin with καί. Instead, these seven letters contain more frequent occurrences of δέ, ἀλλά and οὖν.16 From the standpoint of source criticism (or, as Aune puts it, “diachronic composition criticism”17), these two arguments are far from convincing and may be significantly mitigated when one takes into account the difference in micro-genre between the seven prophetic oracles to the churches and John’s visions.18 In correspondence between parties who know each other, a writer need not give specific de14 R. H. C HARLES, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Revelation of St. John (Edinburgh, 1920), 1:xciv; H EINRICH K RAFT, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (HNT 16A, Tübingen, 1974), 11–15 (construing Revelation 7, 11, and 21:9–22:5 as likely secondary additions to Revelation); A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:cv–cxxxiv. 15 A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:cxxxii. Against this, see, e.g., STEVEN J. FRIESEN, Twice Neokoros: Ephesus, Asia and the Cult of the Flavian Imperial Family (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World 116, Leiden, 1993), 7–15; JÖRG FREY, “The Relevance of the Roman Imperial Cult for the Book of Revelation: Exegetical and Hermeneutical Reflections on the Relation between the Seven Letters and the Visionary Main Part of the Book,” in John Fotopoulos (ed.), The New Testament and Early Christian Literature in Greco-Roman Context (FS David E. Aune, NovTSup 122, Leiden, 2006), 231–55 at 233– 36 and the discussion below of the death of Antipas in Pergamon (Rev 2:13). 16 E.g., A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:cxxxiii (cf. 1:cxxxii–cxxxiv): “While 245 (or 73.79 percent) of the 337 sentences in Revelation begin with καί . . . only 9 (20.5 percent) of the 44 sentences in Rev 2–3 begin with καί.” 17 Cf. A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:cxviii. 18 On the micro-genre of Revelation 2–3, see, e.g., E LISABETH SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation: Vision of a Just World (Proclamation Commentaries, Minneapolis, 2nd ed. 1991), 46, 53 and the discussion below. This observation concerning the difference in micro-genre between John’s prophetic oracles and visions does not, however, detract from the above point inasmuch as a prophetic oracle likewise assumes a level of rapport with the addressees and thus need not denote every detail of a persecution (assuming such details were known).

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tails on persecution, for example, to the extent that might be expected in relating visions of impending tribulation. Nor is there any reason to assume, as Aune’s argument seems to do, that John’s opponents – whether Jews, other Christian prophets, or ‘pagan’ devotees to the imperial cult – acted completely independently of one another. Furthermore, neither Domitian nor Trajan instituted the imperial cult, which had been in existence since the first emperor Augustus. It is therefore arbitrary to date Revelation 2–3 prior to Domitian on the basis of a lack of reference to persecution connected with the imperial cult.19 When one weighs the inconclusive arguments with Aune’s cursory assessment of the Laodicean earthquake as a witness against Revelation’s early date,20 it becomes clear that a compelling case for ascribing to the seven prophetic oracles and the visions different dates and Sitze im Leben has yet to be made. We therefore adopt, as a working hypothesis, the compositional unity of Revelation and set aside the thesis of an early Neronic date for Revelation.21 3. The Supposed Domitianic Persecution and the Difficulties of Dating John’s Visionary Apocalypse Since the 1970s, challenges to dating Revelation to the time of Domitian (81–96 C.E.) have tended to follow two paths. One asks whether Domitian actually instigated a persecution of Christians and whether such a persecution would have reached Asia Minor. The second appeals to the genre of apocalypse and emphasizes the difficulty of verifying historically to what John’s symbolic visions refer. An apocalypse points to an idealized or otherworldly reality. For dating Revelation, it is therefore not necessary to 19 Cf. A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:cxxxii. It simply cannot be assumed that any reference to persecution in an apocalypse written at, or later than, Domitian’s time would consistently reference the imperial cult or, for that matter, that an earlier writing would lack any such referent. 20 Aune’s brief discussion of the earthquake takes into account only two considerations (Revelation [see n. 8], 1:lxiii, discussed above): the earthquake of 60/61 C.E. and the possibility (which A UNE, Revelation, 1:lxiii rightly dismisses as vague and specious) that the “deteriorated condition of the seven churches in Roman Asia suggests a date later rather than earlier in the first century (Beckwith, 207).” 21 With, e.g., A DELA Y ARBRO C OLLINS, The Combat Myth in the Book of Revelation (HDR 9, Missoula [MT], 1976), 9–11; EADEM, “Dating the Apocalypse of John,” BR 26 (1981): 33–45; U LRICH B. M ÜLLER, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (ÖTK 19, Gütersloh/ Würzburg, 2nd ed. 1995), 38–40; FERDINAND H AHN, “Die Sendschreiben der Johannesapokalypse: Ein Beitrag zur Bestimmung prophetischer Redeformen,” in Gert Jeremias et al. (eds.), Tradition und Glaube: Das frühe Christentum in seiner Umwelt (FS K. G. Kuhn, Göttingen, 1971), 357–94 at 362. Holding for compositional unity can still acknowledge, of course, that John incorporated traditional materials into Revelation (e.g., at 11:1–13) and that there are resulting tensions within Revelation that stem from inconsistent redactional tendencies.

240 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 demonstrate that a particular emperor actually persecuted Christians in the way that John imagined or predicted. Information in writings of this genre can be especially elusive or difficult to link definitively and exclusively to a particular historical context. This uncertainty renders the dating of Revelation all the more complex, which is one reason why we advocate including the reigns of both Domitian and Trajan as possible referents for this apocalypse. We consider Domitian’s supposed persecution of the Christians and the genre of apocalypse in the following paragraphs. Since the important 1973 essay by Roman historian Fergus Millar,22 scholars have increasingly questioned whether the imperial cult played any significant role in the persecution of Christians. The question must, of course, be distinguished from John’s perception of the danger. Millar notes that, prior to the Decian persecution (250–252 C.E.), “all the evidence we have . . . concerns either popular accusations of refusing the Imperial cult, or action by local magistrates on the same issue.”23 Millar argues that the imperial cult played “only a modest role in the persecutions,” precisely because it was integrated into other Greek religious observances.24 The notion that the emperor Domitian in particular persecuted Christians is based on several misunderstandings about the identity of certain individuals whom Domitian ordered killed during the final years of his reign.25 The earliest ancient testimony that John wrote Revelation at the time of Domitian is found in Irenaeus (Haer. 5.30.3), who, despite his apologetic motive of defending Revelation’s apostolic authorship, does not depict Domitian as a persecutor.26 Therefore, we conclude with Jörg Frey 22 FERGUS M ILLAR, “The Imperial Cult and the Persecutions,” in Willem den Boer (ed.), Le Culte des souverains dans l’Empire romain. Sept exposés suivis de discussions (Entretiens sur l’antiquité classique 19, Vandœuvres/Geneva, 1972), 145–65. 23 M ILLAR, “Imperial Cult” (see n. 22), 150, emphasis original. 24 M ILLAR, “Imperial Cult” (see n. 22), 164: “I would like to suggest that it is precisely this integration of the Imperial cult into the wider spectrum of pagan cults which is the first reason why it plays only a modest role in the persecutions. The second reason is that, both for the people and, in the end, for the Emperors themselves, there was a real fear of abandonment of the ancient gods, and of the loss of the protection which they extended to the cities, and the Empire as a whole.” 25 With R UDOLF FREUDENBERGER, “Christenverfolgungen, 1. Römisches Reich,” TRE 8 (1981): 23–29 at 25; A. Y. C OLLINS, Crisis and Catharsis: The Power of the Apocalypse (Philadelphia, 1984), 69–73; P ETER L AMPE, Die stadtrömischen Christen in den ersten beiden Jahrhunderten (WUNT 2.18, Tübingen, 2nd ed. 1989), 166–72; F REY, “Imperial Cult” (see n. 15), 233–36; FRANZ T ÓTH, Der himmlische Kult: Wirklichkeitskonstruktion und Sinnbildung in der Johannesoffenbarung (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 22, Leipzig, 2006), 65–69; W ITULSKI, Johannesoffenbarung und Kaiser Hadrian (see n. 4), 22–36. By contrast, H. KRAFT, Offenbarung (see n. 14), 177 (on Rev 13:7) is emblematic of the older view that Domitian instigated a persecution of Christians. 26 For Irenaeus, it was less problematic to maintain that the apostle John lived under Domitian (some 50–65 years after Jesus’ crucifixion), rather than under Trajan (roughly

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that, “at least for the time of the final edition of Revelation to which the seven letters should be ascribed, no real persecution can be established.”27 These observations support the modest conclusion that the evidence neither establishes nor excludes a date for Revelation at the time of Domitian. We acknowledge the possibility, discussed below, that the author of Revelation knew about persecution stemming from local devotion to the imperial cult in Asia Minor, albeit not persecution instigated by the emperor.28 We turn to the consideration of genre. John J. Collins firmly dismisses the notion that the Revelation of John does not belong to the genre of apocalypse. He argues that the lack in Revelation of three common features of apocalypses – lengthy ex eventu prophecies, pseudonymity, and calls for secrecy – is not a sufficient basis for assigning this work to a different genre.29 As an apocalypse, Revelation discloses “a transcendent real70–80 years after the crucifixion). On Irenaeus’s testimony, R OBERT B. M OBERLY, “When Was Revelation Conceived?” Bib 73 (1992): 376–93 at 381, astutely observes, “We would not normally regard so distant, belated and second-hand opinion as, by itself, evidence.” So also H ENK J. DE JONGE, “The Apocalypse of John and the Imperial Cult,” in H. F. J. Horstmanshoff et al. (eds.), Kykeon (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World 142, Leiden, 2002), 127–41 at 128; A. Y. C OLLINS, Combat Myth (see n. 21), 56. A thorough yet often overlooked study of Irenaeus’s testimony is B ARCLAY N EWMAN, “The Fallacy of the Domitian Hypothesis: Critique of the Irenaeus Source as a Witness for the Contemporary-Historical Approach to the Interpretation of the Apocalypse,” NTS 10 (1963–64): 133–39. Newman argues that the Domitianic date is nevertheless tenable, because Irenaeus does not connect Revelation to a persecution under Domitian but only to the time of Domitian. 27 FREY, “Imperial Cult” (see n. 15), 235; cf. B ELL, “Date of John’s Apocalypse” (see n. 3), 96–97: “Even if, in the face of all the evidence, there were a Domitianic persecution in Rome, it by no means follows that anything of the sort happened in the provinces.” 28 With U. M ÜLLER, Offenbarung (see n. 21), 260; S CHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 126: “The insight that Domitian was neither better nor worse than other Roman emperors does not prove that Revelation’s world of vision is not developed in response to an actual sociotheological crisis. It only suggests that the author’s interpretation was not shared by everyone in the Christian community or in the wider Asian society.” 29 J. J. C OLLINS, “Pseudonymity, Historical Reviews, and the Genre of the Revelation of John,” CBQ 39 (1977): 329–43. Noting that ex eventu prophecies also do not occur in the “Similitudes of Enoch” (1 Enoch 1–36) or the “Book of the Heavenly Luminaries” (2 Enoch) and that they “are only minimally represented in the Apocalypse of Abraham (chapter 25),” Collins argues that “the most basic function of ex eventu prophecies was rendered superfluous by the historical context of Revelation” (330–38 at 330). Moreover, Collins considers the commands to secrecy in Daniel and Fourth Ezra as the byproduct of their pseudonymity, and not as emblematic of the entire genre of apocalypse (339). In my opinion, the minor role of ex eventu prophecy in Revelation concerning the death of the (purportedly) current emperor (Rev 17:10) merits comparison with this minor theme in the Apocalypse of Abraham 25 (cf. C OLLINS, “Pseudonymity,” 330).

242 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 ity,” which may be quite different from the “reality” reflected by other ancient witnesses.30 Other scholars have likewise called attention to the importance of John’s particular perspective or experience of “reality” as expressed in this apocalypse. Emphasizing the psychological aspect of John’s visions of “what ought to be,” Adela Yarbro Collins discusses the visions’ cathartic effect on an audience experiencing alienation from, and fear of, the dominant culture.31 Likewise focusing on John’s visionary perspective, Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza emphasizes the “symbolic universe” that Revelation creates, in order to address the rhetorical situation in which persecution as construed by John played the dominant role.32 Within this universe, rival Christian leaders, Jews, and even the mighty Roman Empire do not have a lasting existence but, rather, offer to the faithful only a temporary context for resistance. Furthermore, explaining the gap between the particular experiences of some persecution, as attested in Revelation 2–3, and the massive persecution, as foretold in the visions of chapters 12–13, Harald Ulland aptly describes as “radicalization” the process in which John takes the experiences of some Christians in Asia Minor and universalizes those experiences on a cosmic scale.33 These considerations of the supposed Domitianic persecution of the Christians and the otherworldly reality to which this apocalypse points bring out many of the difficulties associated with dating Revelation. Despite these difficulties, there are good reasons for assigning the book to the time of Domitian or later, as we discuss in the following subsection.34 30

Cf. the oft-cited definition for this genre, e.g., in J. J. C OLLINS, The Apocalyptic Imagination: An Introduction to the Jewish Matrix of Christianity (New York, 1984), 4: Apocalypse is “a genre of revelatory literature with a narrative framework, in which a revelation is mediated by an otherworldly being to a human recipient, disclosing a transcendent reality which is both temporal, insofar as it envisages eschatological salvation, and spatial insofar as it involves another, supernatural world.” 31 A. Y. C OLLINS, Crisis and Catharsis (see n. 25), 141–54, esp. 142–44. Collins (153) writes, “The powers that threaten them [believers] are symbolized by the beast from the abyss and the dragon. These vivid images are certainly designed more to evoke terror than to allay it. Nevertheless, the projection of the conflict onto a cosmic screen, as it were, is cathartic in the sense that it clarifies and objectifies the conflict.” 32 E LISABETH SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, “Visionary Rhetoric and Social-Political Situation,” in eadem, The Book of Revelation: Justice and Judgment (Minneapolis, 2nd ed. 1998), 181–203 at 182, taking Rev 14:1–5 as an example of John’s “rhetorical language and symbolic universe.” 33 H ARALD U LLAND, Die Vision als Radikalisierung der Wirklichkeit in der Apokalypse des Johannes: Das Verhältnis der sieben Sendschreiben zu Apokalypse 12–13 (Texte und Arbeiten zum neutestamentlichen Zeitalter 21, Tübingen, 1997). 34 See A. Y. C OLLINS, “Dating the Revelation of John,” in eadem, Crisis and Catharsis (see n. 25), 54–83.

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4. Dating Revelation to the Time of Domitian or Trajan In favor of a Domitianic context for Revelation, it is commonly suggested35 that Rev 4:11 (ἄξιος εἶ, ὁ κύριος καὶ ὁ θεὸς ἡµῶν) criticizes Domitian’s supposed insistence in 85 C.E. that he be called dominus et deus noster (Suetonius Dom. 14.2). Yet, as Adela Collins argues, this interpretation must be nuanced, because Suetonius’s characterization likely stems from anti-Domitianic polemic after this emperor’s death: A number of classical scholars have argued, however, that this negative portrayal does not reflect Domitian and his reign as they actually were. Rather, it is a product of the desire of [ancient] writers . . . to please Trajan and to praise his reign as a new era. The better to flatter Trajan, the more they had to denigrate Domitian. It now seems probable that Domitian did not demand that his subjects refer to him as “our lord and god.” 36

A Christian affirmation of God, rather than the emperor, as “our Lord and God” (Rev 4:11) coming in response to a mischaracterization of Domitian is far more likely to have arisen under Trajan (or, possibly, even later, under Hadrian [117–138 C.E.]) than during Domitian’s reign. A second point concerns the vaticanum ex eventu in Rev 17:9–10 that the fifth in a series of seven kings will be followed by a short-lived ruler, who had also died by the time John wrote.37 Scholars have tended to identify the fifth ruler as either Nero (succeeded by Galba, 68–69 C.E.)38 or Domitian (succeeded by Nerva, 96–98 C.E.). In the former case, the seventh and final king would be Otho, who reigned approximately three months during the “year of the four Emperors” – and would suggest for Revelation a date of 69 C.E. In addition to the above arguments against an early date for Revelation, such an interpretation of Rev 17:9–10 does not account for Revelation’s urgency about a perceived threat to Christians in Asia Minor at a time when the political situation in Italy was so tumultuous. Henk J. de Jonge writes in support of Domitian as the deceased fifth king of Rev 17:9–10: Rev 17:10 is especially compelling for a date during the time of Trajan. The author presents himself here as writing during the reign of an emperor whose successor will reign 35 E.g., SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 54; EADEM, Justice and Judgment (see n. 32), 19. 36 A. Y. C OLLINS, Crisis and Catharsis (see n. 25), 71–72. 37 Rev 17:9–10: “This calls for a mind that has wisdom: the seven heads are seven mountains on which the woman is seated; also, they are seven kings, [10] of whom five have fallen, one is living, and the other has not yet come; and when he comes, he must remain only a little while (ὀλίγον).” 38 So M OBERLY, “When Was Revelation Conceived?” (see n. 26); B ELL, “Date of John’s Apocalypse” (see n. 3); R OJAS-FLORES, “Revelation and the First Years of Nero’s Reign” (see n. 12), 388–91.

244 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 for only a short time. But how can he know that his successor will only reign for a short time unless that reign had already come to an end?39

If, as de Jonge maintains, Domitian is the fifth emperor, the sixth emperor with a brief reign would be Nerva (96–98 C.E.) – which would suggest that Trajan (98–117 C.E.) was the seventh and final king when John wrote. The possibility must also be acknowledged that John, while writing under Nerva, accurately predicted a short reign for this emperor. This interpretation of Rev 17:9–10 complements the explanation embraced in the previous paragraphs that, in a period of Trajanic (or possibly Nervic or Hadrianic) propaganda, Rev 4:11 responds to a later smear against Domitian’s hubris for having commandeered the appellation dominus et deus noster. To summarize, we have dismissed as untenable an early date for Revelation in the 60s C.E. Although we have found no strong reason to abandon a Domitianic date, there are also indications that Revelation reached its final form under Trajan. Therefore, it is necessary to broaden the consensus date for Revelation (ca. 95–100 C.E.) to ca. 90–110 C.E. and, possibly, even later. As will be discussed below, this date is relevant for interpreting the Apocalypse and the persecution that some Christians in Asia Minor may have experienced in relation to the imperial cult at that time. Moreover, we find no reason to think that Revelation could not have been written after ca. 110 C.E., a position for which Thomas Witulski has argued at some length on grounds other than those to be outlined in this and the following paragraph.40 Two arguments against an even later date for Revelation – namely, John’s imminent eschatology and undeveloped church structure – are as inconclusive as are those favoring the traditional Domitianic date. With the “delay of the parousia,” more and more Christians abandoned the kind of expectations found in Mark 13:23–31 and 1 Thess 4:13–18. But even in the late third or early fourth century, at least some Montanists still looked for the imminent appearance of the New Jerusalem in Phrygian Pepouza (ca. 400 km E/NE of Patmos). Thus, expectations for an imminent eschaton like those in Revelation persisted in at least some Christian circles.41 39

D E JONGE, “Apocalypse” (see n. 26), 128. T HOMAS W ITULSKI, Kaiserkult in Kleinasien: Die Entwicklung der kultischreligiösen Kaiserverehrung in der römischen Provinz Asia von Augustus bis Antoninus Pius (NTOA/SUNT 63, Göttingen/Fribourg, 2007); IDEM, Johannesoffenbarung und Kaiser Hadrian (see n. 4). 41 W ILLIAM T ABBERNEE, “Revelation 21 and the Montanist ‘New Jerusalem,’” AusBR 37 (1989): 52–60 at 55, argues that this expectation did not stem from the original Montanist prophets in the second century but was rather a “vision . . . related by Quintilla (not Priscilla) and that Montanism, in its original form, knew nothing of the descent of the New Jerusalem at Pepouza.” According to Tabbernee (56), Quintilla was active in the late-third or early-fourth century; her vision thus reflects that “eschatological innovation 40

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Revelation lacks reference to an emerging church leadership, like those in the Pastoral Epistles and Ignatius’s letters, comprised of elders and bishops who were to defend correct doctrine against ‘heresy.’ In Revelation, that structure may be undeveloped or even in defiance (so Müller)42 of the very structure that Ignatius advocates, but it cannot be used to arbitrarily consign the prophet John (or his Christian opponents) to an earlier period on the assumption of the definitive and prevalent ascendancy of the episcopal office in the early second century. We therefore find strong, if not conclusive, reasons for broadening the parameters for the generally accepted date for Revelation to ca. 90–110 C.E. and, possibly, even later.

B. The Suffering of John and the Congregations He Addresses In what follows, I argue that John’s presentation of his suffering is of great importance to his overall purpose in Revelation of exhorting the faithful to be prepared to suffer during the coming tribulation. By beginning with his own experience of “affliction” (θλῖψις, 1:9), John establishes rhetorically a basis for relating to the suffering of several of the seven congregations he addresses in chapters 2–3. This, in turn, allows him to call for perseverance in the face of opposition during the coming great tribulation as an authentication of true believers. True believers not only endure, but do so in the way John deems necessary. They, like John, must refuse to compromise

regarding the identification of Pepouza with the New Jerusalem of Revelation crept into Montanism at a later stage of its history” (58). Moreover, PETER L AMPE, “The Phrygian Archaeological Surface Survey Project of the University of Heidelberg and the Discovery of Pepouza and Tymion,” ZAC 6 (2001): 117–20 at 118 argues that the ancient city of Pepouza can now be identified south of modern Usak, Turkey, a distance of roughly 400 km E/NE of Patmos. See further: W ILLIAM T ABBERNEE, “Portals of the Montanist New Jerusalem: The Discovery of Pepouza and Tymion,” JECS 11 (2003): 87–93; IDEM, Montanist Inscriptions and Testimonia: Epigraphic Sources Illustrating the History of Montanism (Patristic Monograph Series 16, Macon [GA], 1997), 2, 346–47, 524–25; W. T ABBERNEE and P. L AMPE, Pepouza and Tymion: The Discovery and Archaeological Exploration of a Lost Ancient City and an Imperial Estate (Berlin, 2008); W. T ABBERNEE, Fake Prophecy and Polluted Sacraments: Ecclesiastical and Imperial Reactions to Montanism (VCSup 84, Leiden, 2007), 388 (emphasis original): “There is little doubt . . . that the Montanist belief in the descent of the New Jerusalem at Pepouza was based upon an exaggerated, literalistic interpretation of apocalyptic literature. . . . But it must not be forgotten that, as far as we can tell, these novelties related to Phrygian Montanism and not necessarily to the totality of the Montanist movement.” 42 Cf. U. B. M ÜLLER, Zur frühchristlichen Theologiegeschichte: Judenchristentum und Paulinismus in Kleinasien an der Wende vom ersten zum zweiten Jahrhundert nach Christus (Gütersloh, 1976), 33–34.

246 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 with Jews, false Christian prophets, and Roman oppression, thereby attaining salvation. 1. The Importance of John’s Suffering for Confirming His Prophetic Status The author of Revelation presents himself as neither an apostle nor a prophet.43 The two references to ἀπόστολοι in Revelation in no way associate John with this group.44 Rather than appealing to apostolic authority, John urges his presumed congregants to embrace correct teaching, which includes resisting false Christian prophets.45 Although John does not explicitly claim to be a prophet, several details in Revelation support our construing him as a prophet.46 Revelation twice refers to itself as προφητεία (“prophecy,” 1:3; 22:18). The book also associates duplicity with the term “prophet” by the way it refers to John’s rivals: ἡ λέγουσα ἑαυτήν for ‘Jezebel’ (2:20) and ψευδο- for the false prophets.47 These negative associations with the term could explain why John does not use the designation for himself; doing so in a context of disputed authority could be construed as lowering himself to the level of his rival Christian opponents.48 The closest Revelation comes to presenting John as a prophet is toward the end of the book, where an angel, speaking in the first person to John, refers to himself as the “fellow-servant of [John] and of [John’s] brethren the prophets” (σύνδουλός σού εἰµι καὶ τῶν ἀδελφῶν σου τῶν προφητῶν, 22:9). With the legitimacy of John’s opponents having been thoroughly dismissed earlier in this work,49 this verse suggests that John is primus inter pares among the Lord’s true prophets. John is likewise associated with prophecy in Rev 19:10, which assumes that only the Lord’s true prophets

43

Cf. S CHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 133. Rev 18:20; 21:24. Both occurrences of ἀπόστολοι in Revelation are plural (pace Irenaeus’s characterization of this John as Jesus’ disciple in Haer. 5.30.3). 45 See Rev 2:14–15, 24 (διδαχή); 2:14, 20 (διδάσκω). A similar anti-heretical tendency can be noted in several (likewise post-apostolic) Deuteropauline Epistles (Col 1:23; 2:5– 7; Eph 2:20; 3:1–2; 4:11–12; 1 Tim 1:19; 4:1–6; 6:21; 2 Tim 2:18; 3:8). 46 Against SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 133, that John’s not using the title “prophet” for himself suggests that this was “probably because his prophetic title was controverted.” See further the discussion below. 47 In Revelation, προφήτης can designate either prophets whom the Lord approves (10:7; 11:10, 18; 16:6; 18:20, 24; 22:6, 9) or, in the singular, the false prophet ‘Jezebel’ (ἡ λέγουσα ἑαυτὴν προφῆτιν, 2:20). John adds the denigrating prefix ψευδο- for the eschatological “false prophet” (ψευδοπροφήτης, 16:13; 19:20; 20:10). 48 Of course, the opponents may have accorded to John a status even lower than their own. 49 See the discussion of idol meat and ‘immorality’ in Rev 2:14, 20 below. 44

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convey the “testimony” (µαρτυρία) of Jesus.50 We conclude that John’s reluctance to explicitly refer to himself as προφήτης does not mean the term was inappropriate for him.51 In fact, such reluctance bespeaks an author who assumes prophetic status but needs additional confirmation of his authority, in part because his Christian opponents would apparently not have recognized him as a legitimate prophet. This means that John writes his revelation with awareness that other Christian prophets would not acknowledge his authority to make sweeping judgments and predictions. In the face of this opposition, we may note, pace Schüssler Fiorenza, that from the very beginning John is concerned with legitimizing his prophetic authority.52 But Schüssler Fiorenza does rightly observe that receiving a message from Christ’s angel and a commissioning from Christ himself to write to the seven churches is for John an indispensable source of his legitimization.53 These (unverifiable) claims of heavenly revelations are not the only experiences that John calls upon to differentiate himself from the rival prophets, however. He also recalls54 how he suffered exile on the island of Patmos: I, John, your brother and fellow participant in the affliction and kingdom and patient endurance that are in Jesus (συγκοινωνὸς ἐν τῇ θλίψει καὶ βασιλείᾳ καὶ ὑποµονῇ ἐν Ἰησοῦ), was on the island called Patmos as a result of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus (διὰ τὸν λόγον τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ τὴν µαρτυρίαν Ἰησοῦ). (Rev 1:9 [ET mine])

50 Rev 19:10d: “For the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy” (ἡ γὰρ µαρτυρία Ἰησοῦ ἐστιν τὸ πνεῦµα τῆς προφητείας). 51 With D AVID E. A UNE, Prophecy in Early Christianity and in the Ancient Mediterranean World (Grand Rapids, 1983), 274–88; cf. A. Y. C OLLINS, Crisis and Catharsis (see n. 25), 134–138 at 137: “If John was an itinerant prophet, that fact would explain why he was familiar with each of the seven communities” addressed in Revelation 2–3 “but did not associate himself in any special way with any.” 52 SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Justice and Judgment (see n. 32), 196: “John did not claim exceptional personal status and authority. He consistently calls himself doulos (slave) rather than prophētēs (prophet) and places himself emphatically on the same level with the audience (1:9).” 53 Rev 1:1–2, 12–20; 22:16. The curses attached to adding to or taking away from “the words of the book of this prophecy” (προφητεία, 22:19) imply that John has Jesus’ full approval and therefore a special status as messenger of both hope and imminent judgment. Cf. S CHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Justice and Judgment (see n. 32), 196: “He [John] does rely on legitimization, but it derives not from human authority but from Christ himself.” 54 The present discussion sets aside the question of “what actually happened,” which apart from John’s self-interested rhetorical framing of his experience is perhaps unanswerable.

248 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 Is this a claim to have been exiled to Patmos due to his prophetic message or missionary activities?55 Two factors, when taken together, are decisive for the interpretation that Rev 1:9 presents John as a victim of persecution. The first is John’s claim that, as a follower of Jesus, he experienced “oppression” (θλῖψις, “trouble that inflicts distress, oppression, affliction, tribulation”) of some kind.56 The second is the use of “the preposition διά (cf. 1:9c: διὰ τὸν λόγον τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ τὴν µαρτυρίαν Ἰησοῦ), which in Revelation when used with the accusative case always means the reason, not the goal.”57 In a similar context (6:9b), John sees “the souls of those who had been slaughtered because of (διά + accusative) the word of God and because of (again, διά + accusative) the testimony they had given.”58 Although Aune favors the interpretation that Rev 1:9 highlights John’s earlier experience of persecution and exile, he calls for caution: “since διά with the accusative can express both cause (‘because of,’ ‘on account of’) and purpose (‘for’; cf. BDF § 222), there is no grammatical basis for excluding any of the three explanations.”59 The caution that Aune advises would indeed be appropriate, for example, for the authors of Luke-Acts and, especially, Hebrews, who arguably grasped such subtle nuances of Greek grammar. In the case of Revelation, however, we have a writing riddled with misspellings and grammatical incongruities and whose author cannot be presumed to have such an advanced knowledge of Greek grammar. John’s consistent pattern of using διά with the accusative to indicate cause is the decisive consideration for our interpretation of Rev 1:9. 55 So, e.g., K RAFT, Offenbarung (see n. 14), 40–42; F REY, “Imperial Cult” (see n. 15), 235; IDEM, “Erwägungen zum Verhältnis der Johannesapokalypse zu den übrigen Schriften im Corpus Johanneum,” in M. Hengel, Die johanneische Frage: Ein Lösungsversuch (WUNT 67, Tübingen, 1993), 326–429 at 417, 428. 56 BDAG, 457, s.v. θλῖψις. 57 U DO SCHNELLE, The History and Theology of the New Testament Writings (Minneapolis, 1998 [2nd Ger. ed. 1994]), 523 n. 22, who follows JÜRGEN R OLOFF, The Revelation of John: A Continental Commentary (Minneapolis, 1993 [2nd Ger. ed. 1984], 32; U. M ÜLLER, Offenbarung (see n. 21), 81, and others on this point. So also R. H. C HARLES, Revelation (see n. 21), 1:21–22; E DUARD L OHSE, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (NTD 11, Göttingen, 1988), 20; PIERRE PRIGENT, Commentary on the Apocalypse of St. John (Tübingen, 2001 [1981]), 127; B EN W ITHERINGTON III, Revelation (NCBC, Cambridge, 2003), 78–79; R OBERT H. M OUNCE, The Book of Revelation (NICNT, Grand Rapids, 1998), 54–55. Additionally, E RNST L OHMEYER, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (HNT 16, Tübingen, 3rd ed. 1970), 15; SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 50 (“more likely”); and A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:81–82 favor this as the more probable interpretation of Rev 1:9. 58 Rev 6:9b: τὰς ψυχὰς τῶν ἐσφαγµένων διὰ τὸν λόγον τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ διὰ τὴν µαρτυρίαν ἣν εἶχον. Likewise, at Rev 20:4 John sees “the souls of those who had been beheaded because of (διά) their testimony to Jesus and because of (διά) the word of God.” 59 A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:82.

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For the present study, John’s use of διά with the accusative is significant because he claims that his time in Patmos was the result – not the goal – of his ministry and that some form of hostility to John60 had culminated in his banishment to Patmos. From the beginning of his composition, then, John is eager to elevate his status above that of other Christian prophets not only because he received a revelation from Jesus (1:1–2, 12–20) but because he suffered as Jesus’ follower (1:9).61 In Rev 1:9, John holds up his faithful endurance as a standard of conduct that he expects from other Christians as well. As a συγκοινωνός (“fellow participant”) in persecution, he connects his experience and longsuffering (ὑποµονή, 1:9) to the adversity that all Jesus’ followers can expect to face and insists that they, too, must endure. This expectation of afflication may also be seen in the formulation τῇ θλίψει καὶ βασιλείᾳ καὶ ὑποµονῇ ἐν Ἰησοῦ (“the affliction and kingdom and patient endurance that are in Jesus”); for any true believer, following Jesus involves affliction and endurance. Perhaps as a consequence, the believer must also embrace John’s corresponding vision of the coming “kingdom” (cf. Rev 13:7–10; 20:4–6). As is discussed below, in Revelation 2–3 John articulates his expectation that all true believers must faithfully endure oppression and resist assimilation, as John had done. It is precisely because John has already withstood affliction (θλῖψις, 1:9) that he may wield his prophetic status to console and exhort the suffering church in Smyrna, which has experienced θλῖψις and slander from a “synagogue of Satan.”62 In his messages to the seven churches (2:1–3:22), John relates several expectations for how the faithful must be prepared to face adversity. In one of his visions, moreover, he will hold up as an example the multitude of saints, who are dressed in white because they “have come out of the great tribulation” (θλῖψις, 7:14).63 In what follows, we examine 60 John does not indicate whether his oppression came from rival Christian prophets, Jews, or polytheists. Since approval from a Roman provincial official would likely be necessary for the imposition of exile, it seems that, at the very least, he implicates Roman imperial hostility to his ministry (possibly, but not necessarily, stemming from the imperial cult). 61 Cf. S CHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 54: John’s “experience of and anticipation of persecution constitutes the rhetorical situation inscribed in the text.” In Rev 10:4 John will suggest an additional basis for his authority, namely that he as God’s designated prophet has access to additional information not revealed even in this writing (cf. 10:1–7; 19:21b). 62 Rev 2:9. Cf. SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 50: “The first word, thlipsis, can mean: agony, distress, ordeal, eschatological tribulation, suffering, oppression. With it, John insists that he shares with Christians in Asia Minor the tribulations of the end time, which consist of possible exile, imprisonment, social ostracism, slander, poverty, economic exploitation, violence, and the constant threat of judicial action.” 63 Rev 7:14 (οἱ ἐρχόµενοι ἐκ τῆς θλίψεως τῆς µεγάλης); cf. above on Rev 1:9; 2:9.

250 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 how, in Revelation, suffering and faithful resistance are a double-edged sword: they authenticate those who will endure, but condemn those who are unprepared to withstand affliction as John requires.64 2. The Challenge of Self-Definition in Response to the Imperial Cult The previous subsection showed how John confirms his prophetic status not only by his revelations from Christ but also by his suffering for Christ. In my view, it is an open question whether, at the time John wrote, his position of radical non-assimilation to the surrounding culture was a majority, a minority, or even a marginalized stance among Christians in Roman Asia Minor.65 In the so-called letters – or, better, prophetic oracles66 – to the seven congregations (2:1–3:22), a number of details about John’s differences with other Christian leaders emerge. These details show how John values the importance of resistance and suffering that, in certain respects, other Christian leaders apparently did not value. In particular, John and his opponents seem to have disagreed on the danger that the imperial cult could pose. The following two paragraphs explore the imperial cult as a context for this dispute between John and Christian leaders he opposes. Simon R. F. Price’s groundbreaking 1984 monograph on the prevalence of the imperial cult in Asia Minor has spawned a veritable mountain of secondary literature on the cult’s relevance for Revelation.67 The most per64

These observations concerning John’s valuation of his own suffering should not be isolated from his estimation of Jesus’ suffering. For John, Christ is “the faithful one, the witness (ὁ µάρτυς, ὁ πιστός), the firstborn of the dead . . . who freed us from our sins by his blood” (Rev 1:5). Because Christ “was dead” and is “alive forever and ever” (1:18), the faithful need not fear the suffering to which they are called (cf. 17:14!). 65 SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 132 and DE JONGE, Apocalypse (see n. 26), 139–40 regard John’s extreme position of resistance as a marginal rather than a majority perspective. 66 With SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 46 (cf. 53): “The so-called seven letters are not actual letters, but they are formalized in such a way that they function as prophetic proclamations to the churches.” 67 SIMON R. F. PRICE, Rituals and Power: The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge, 1984); but already, with sophistication, M ILLAR, “Imperial Cult and the Persecutions” (see n. 22); D. E. A UNE, “The Influence of Roman Imperial Court Ceremonial on the Revelation of John,” BR 28 (1983): 5–26; A. Y. C OLLINS, Crisis and Catharsis (see n. 25); STEVEN J. SCHERRER, “Revelation 13 as an Historical Source for the Imperial Cult under Domitian,” HTR 74 (1981): 406; IDEM, “Signs and Wonders in the Imperial Cult,” JBL 103 (1984): 599–610. Important subsequent literature includes FREY, “Relevance of the Roman Imperial Cult” (see n. 15); STEVEN J. FRIESEN, “The Cult of the Roman Emperors in Ephesos: Temple Wardens, City Titles, and the Interpretation of the Revelation in John,” in Helmut Koester (ed.), Ephesos, Metropolis of Asia: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Its Archaeology, Religion, and Culture (HTS 41, Valley Forge, 1995), 229–50; IDEM, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John: Reading Revelation in the Ruins (Oxford, 2001); IDEM, Twice Neokoros (see n. 15); C HRISTOPHER A.

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tinent findings for interpreting Revelation in light of the imperial cult may be reviewed briefly in this and the following paragraph. First, the imperial cult, which began under the first Roman emperor Augustus, was originally, and remained primarily, a grassroots movement. It was not imposed “from above” but over time gained recognition from Rome in response to widespread enthusiasm among local devotees.68 As we have discussed above, the notion that Domitian (or any other emperor prior to Decius) instigated a widespread persecution of Christians for their refusal to participate in the imperial cult is a complete misconception. What could have been John’s perception, or trepidation, is not supported by any credible assessment of the actual threat to Christians at that time. Second, the imperial cult was by no means a monolithic practice. The historian must allow for the possibility of diverse experiences in different times and places. This is especially important for understanding the Apocalypse, since John addresses Christians in seven different cities. With caution, we must also note that our surviving evidence for persecution stemming from refusal to join in the imperial cult may itself be anecdotal, rather than representative.69 Third, during the reigns of both Domitian and Trajan the imperial cult grew in popularity and prominence.70 Fourth, and FRILINGOS, Spectacles of Empire: Monsters, Martyrs, and the Book of Revelation (Philadelphia, 2004); H EINZ G IESEN, “Das Römische Reich im Spiegel der JohannesApokalypse,” in idem, Studien zur Johannesapokalypse (SBAB 29, Stuttgart, 2000), 100–213; PHILIP A. H ARLAND, “Honouring the Emperor or Assailing the Beast: Participation in Civic Life among Associations (Jewish, Christian and Other) in Asia Minor and the Apocalypse of John,” JSNT 77 (2000): 99–121; DE JONGE, “Apocalypse” (see n. 26); H.-J. K LAUCK, “Das Sendschreiben nach Pergamon und der Kaiserkult in der Johannesoffenbarung,” Bib 73 (1992): 153–82; J. N ELSON K RAYBILL, Imperial Cult and Commerce in John’s Apocalypse (JSNTSup 127, Sheffield, 1996); H EIKE O MERZU, “Die Himmelsfrau in Apk. 12: Ein polemischer Reflex des römischen Kaiserkults,” in Michael Becker and Markus Öhler (eds.), Apokalyptik als Herausforderung neutestamentlicher Theologie (WUNT 2.214, Tübingen, 2006), 167–94; L EONARD L. T HOMPSON, The Book of Revelation: Apocalypse and Empire (New York, 1990); U LLAND, Vision als Radikalisierung (see n. 33); W ITULSKI, Kaiserkult in Kleinasien (see n. 40); IDEM, Johannesoffenbarung und Kaiser Hadrian (see n. 4). 68 PRICE, Rituals and Power (see n. 67), esp. 53–77. 69 See, further, the discussion below of Rev 2:13, according to which Antipas, a member of the church in Pergamon, had been killed and John’s magnification of this singular occurrence in the vision (Rev 6:9–11) of presumably numerous ‘martyrs’ awaiting the arrival of additional Christians who are about to be killed (οἱ ἀδελφοὶ αὐτῶν οἱ µέλλοντες ἀποκτέννεσθαι ὡς καὶ αὐτοί, 6:11b; cf. 20:4). 70 PRICE, Rituals and Power (see n. 67), 59, gives a striking illustration of the growing popularity of the imperial cult, as judged by the number of temples built in Asia Minor. Of the fifty-six temples to the imperial cult whose construction can be dated (another twenty-one cannot be dated), fifteen date to 100–150 C.E., the period overlapping with Trajan’s reign. Fifteen is the highest number built in any fifty-year period between

252 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 most pertinent for Revelation, the imperial cult was not a marginal aspect of Roman Asian society but enjoyed great popularity, playing a central role in both political and social life.71 Therefore, the question inevitably faced by John and his Christian opponents, as well as other Christians in Asia Minor, was not whether but how to define themselves as Christian within this environment. To such a diverse phenomenon as the imperial cult, a variety of responses in different Christian circles was likely, if not inevitable. Yarbro Collins argues that John’s audience had, to a certain extent, probably already assimilated to the culture and did not see themselves as living in a crisis like the one perceived by John.72 Indeed, Schüssler Fiorenza suggests a theological rationale that would allow some Christians to participate at some level in the imperial cult: For them, participation in Roman civil religion needed to be understood in political terms as part of one’s civic duty. If that is the case, they may have argued, why resist paying ceremonial respect to the image of the emperor? Why not work out a compromise with the imperial powers and cults of Asia Minor and Rome?73

For the author of Revelation, any assimilation to pagan, polytheistic practices amounted to apostasy and could have been as alarming as the purported threat of Roman persecution.74 As noted above, however, some scholars question whether Revelation 2–3 implicates the imperial cult in particular, rather than polytheistic practices in general.75 I would submit that the question thus framed is unsatisfactory. If one is persuaded by the arguments of Fergus Millar and others that the imperial cult was thoroughly integrated into the polytheistic prac-

50 B.C.E. and 250 C.E. Seven such temples in Asia Minor date to 50–100 C.E., the halfcentury overlapping with Domitian’s reign. Cf. DE JONGE, “Apocalypse” (see n. 26), 132. 71 FRIESEN, Imperial Cults (see n. 67), esp. 25–76; FREY, “Imperial Cult” (see n. 15), 248: “So there can be no doubt that during Domitian’s time and later the imperial cult was an element of the Asian society with a pervading impact on the inhabitant’s daily life.” 72 A. Y. C OLLINS, Crisis and Catharsis (see n. 25), 77; cf. M. E UGENE B ORING, Revelation (Interpretation, Louisville, 1989), 21–23. 73 SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 133. The suggestion needs to be qualified only by the observation that in the first and second centuries at least, there was no such thing as “civil religion” but rather only traditional, embedded cultic practices characteristic of specific cities or ethnic groups. Cf. below on K LAUCK, “Sendschreiben” (see n. 67), 181. 74 So U. M ÜLLER, Offenbarung (see n. 21), 113; K LAUCK, “Sendschreiben” (see n. 67), 181–82. See further below. 75 See above on A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:cxxxii.

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tices of Roman Asia Minor,76 then the grounds for positing a dichotomy – either polytheism or the imperial cult – cease to entice. It makes more sense to interpret John’s proscriptions against compromise with polytheistic practices as, at the very least, including the imperial cult, if not primarily attacking it (as is clearly the case later in Revelation). Dispensing with this unnecessary dichotomy opens the door to considering the imperial cult as a prominent and integral component of the polytheistic practices that John warns the faithful to avoid in Revelation 2–3. 3. The Taboos of Idol Meat and ‘Immorality’ as Precedents for Abstaining from the Imperial Cult Given John’s concern about the imperial cult, it is not surprising that he severely criticizes rival leaders, whom he acknowledges as having influence in at least three (Ephesus, Pergamon [Pergamum], and Thyatira), if not four (if one includes Sardis),77 of the seven cities he addresses. John’s accusations suggest that at least some of these other Christian leaders tolerated, if not supported, some degree of compliance with the imperial cult. John refers to his adversaries as the Nicolaitans (2:6, 15) and by the ominous symbolic names of ‘Balaam’ (2:14) and ‘Jezebel’ (2:20–23). Several prominent scholars have argued that these different names represent the same group of male and female prophets.78 Whether or not this generalization is completely tenable,79 John’s polemical portrayals of his Christian opponents render the task of distinguishing possible differences in belief or practice among the Nicolaitans, ‘Balaamites’ and followers of ‘Jezebel’ daunting, if not impossible.

76

See above on M ILLAR, “Imperial Cult” (see n. 22), 164. See further TÓTH, Der himmlische Kult (see. 25), 69–72; U LLAND, Vision als Radikalisierung (see n. 33), 77– 90. 77 And, possibly, four of the seven cities, if one takes Rev 3:4a (ἀλλὰ ἔχεις ὀλίγα ὀνόµατα ἐν Σάρδεσιν ἃ οὐκ ἐµόλυναν τὰ ἱµάτια αὐτῶν) to indicate the influence of these, or other, false prophets also in Sardis. 78 U. M ÜLLER, Offenbarung (see n. 21), 112, 118; K LAUCK, “Sendschreiben” (see n. 67), 166; SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 56: “All three terms – Nicolaitans, Balaam, and Jezebel – theologically label probably the same group of Christian prophets who allowed their followers to eat food that had been sacrificed to idols and to participate in pagan religious festivities.” 79 The identical accusations leveled against ‘Balaam’ and ‘Jezebel’ (2:14, 20) commend this identification. Concerning the Nicolaitans, however, I would call for caution, inasmuch as John refers sequentially first to “the teaching of Balaam” (2:14) and then to the Nicolaitans (2:15). In-between the mention of ‘Balaam’ and the Nicolaitans, οὕτως ἔχεις καί (“thus you also,” or “in addition,” 2:15a) would seem to suggest that John construes the teaching of ‘Balaam’ and the Nicolaitans as posing two different threats and that Christians in Pergamon risk succumbing to either or both of them.

254 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 What John specifically opposes in rival prophetic circle(s) hinges in no small part on the interpretation of φαγεῖν εἰδωλόθυτα καὶ πορνεῦσαι as emblematic of “Balaam’s” influence in Pergamon (2:14d) and of “Jezebel’s” apparently identical teaching in Thyatira (πορνεῦσαι καὶ φαγεῖν εἰδωλόθυτα, 2:20d). In what follows, we analyze separately these two accusations involving idol meat and ‘immorality’80 and argue that John sees these two traditional proscriptions as precedents for responding to the contemporary challenge of the imperial cult. Our analysis is thus both philological and tradition-historical. The first of the accusations, eating meat sacrificed to idols (φαγεῖν εἰδωλόθυτα), is, as Aune observes, ambiguous in that it could refer to four possible situations: (1) participation in the sacral meal in a temple, (2) accepting sacrificial meat distributed during a public religious festival, (3) the practice of eating meat purchased at the marketplace that had originally been part of a pagan sacrifice . . . or (4) the sacral meals shared by members of a club or association. . . . 81

At the time John wrote, idol meat was not a new issue for the early church. Already in First Corinthians (esp. 8:1, 4, 7, 10; 10:19), Paul had attempted to address the question. Moreover, the Acts of the Apostles presents it as a matter easily and, at the time of its author, long since resolved (Acts 15:28–29; cf. 21:25). Historically speaking, however, one cannot assume that Paul’s directions to the Corinthians had settled the matter in Corinth, let alone elsewhere in other Christ congregations. Nor can we take for granted that the sanitized picture of church unity in Acts offers reliable confirmation that Paul’s response had achieved undisputed acceptance. I shall argue that the problem as viewed by the author of Revelation cannot be limited to a simple proscription against idol meat. What is most useful to John in this dispute are the connotations of idolatry associated with idol meat and, by extension, the idolatrous nature of any polytheistic association, including the imperial cult.82 John’s accusation of eating idol meat is supplemented by the additional charge that ‘Balaam’ and ‘Jezebel’ foster ‘immorality’ (πορνεῦσαι, 2:14d, 80 For now, I intentionally offer a vague translation (“immorality”) of πορνεῦσαι. See below my argument that rather than sexual sin John’s main concern in Rev 2:14, 20 is idolatry, which is also part of the semantic field of πορνεύω. 81 A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:186. Aune considers the second and third options as more likely than the first but does not exclude the fourth option (Revelation, 1:186; cf. 1:191–95). He further notes that in antiquity people “rarely ate meat, and when they did it was typically in connection with public or private religious celebrations in which the edible parts of sacrificial animals were eaten. Such meat was taboo for Jews . . . , a prohibition sometimes taken over by early Christians, particularly Jewish Christians (Acts 15:29). Paul, however, was equivocal on the subject. . .” (Revelation, 1:195). 82 With G. K. B EALE, The Book of Revelation (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 248: “[T]he focus here [2:14] is on eating such food in the context of idolatrous worship.”

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20d). The connection of ‘immorality’ with idol meat is also attested in Acts 15. In the latter writing, rather than the verb πορνεύω, the cognate noun πορνεία occurs (τοῦ ἀπέχεσθαι τῶν ἀλισγηµάτων τῶν εἰδώλων καὶ τῆς πορνείας, Acts 15:20). Both Revelation 2 and Acts 15 feign reluctance to offer any additional “burden” (βάρος) to their proscriptions: µηδὲν πλέον ἐπιτίθεσθαι ὑµῖν βάρος πλὴν τούτων τῶν ἐπάναγκες (Acts 15:28b). οὐ βάλλω ἐφ᾿ ὑµᾶς ἄ%λο βάρος (Rev 2:24d).

My purpose here is not to show a direct literary relationship between Revelation 2 and Acts 15 but to argue that, taken together, their similarities support the inference that the author of Revelation frames his critique and instructions in such a way that they will appear to be based on previously established Christian tradition.83 John’s association of polytheistic practices, such as the imperial cult, with these traditional taboos renders illegitimate the practices he claims are tolerated by other Christian prophets. By appealing to tradition, I maintain, John attempts to connect the traditional proscriptions against idol meat and ‘immorality,’ on the one hand, and the new(er) problem of the imperial cult, on the other hand, a connection supported by the idolatrous connotations of πορνεῦσαι in Rev 2:14d, 20d. Although Aune correctly notes that “[a] close association is assumed by Judaism to exist between idolatry and sexual immorality,”84 in the case of Rev 2:14d, 20d one should not limit the semantic range of the verb πορνεῦω (cf. 1 Cor 10:8) or its cognate πορνεία (cf. Acts 15:20; 1 Cor 6:18) to misconduct that is specifically sexual.85 In addition to sexual offenses, πορνεῦω and πορνεία can denote other forms of moral corruption, including

83

See above on Acts 15:28 and Rev 2:24b–25 and U. M ÜLLER, “Zur frühchristlichen Theologiegeschichte” (see n. 42), 17–21. Although in Acts 15 “eating idol meat” and “immorality” may refer to two separate cultic practices, this was not necessarily the case for the traditional material behind Revelation and Acts 15 or for John’s understanding of that traditional material. The present argument bears on John’s use of traditional material and does not presuppose his unaltered transmission of that material. 84 A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:188. Cf. the apostle Paul’s references to sexual immorality (1 Cor 10:8, cf. 6:18) in the context of his discussion of meat sacrificed to idols. 85 Cf. PRIGENT, Apocalypse (see n. 57), 183; A. Y. C OLLINS, “Insiders and Outsiders in the Book of Revelation and Its Social Context,” in J. Neusner and E. S. Frerichs (eds.), “To See Ourselves as Others See Us”: Christians, Jews, “Others” in Late Antiquity (Chico [CA], 1985), 187–218 at 213–14, who notes, “As in the case of porneia in the Apostolic Decree, it is difficult to determine what John had in mind when he condemned the followers of ‘Balaam’ and ‘Jezebel’ for practicing unchastity. There is little evidence, if any, elsewhere in the book that John was concerned about marriage to near relatives, homosexuality, or bestiality. . . . It is likely that the unchastity condemned in the messages to Pergamum and Thyatira is figurative rather than literal. Probably, it is equivalent to idolatry.”

256 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 idolatry.86 This is precisely the meaning of πορνεία and πορνεῦω that Revelation consistently uses elsewhere: The rest of humankind . . . did not repent of their murders or their sorceries or their ‘immorality’ (πορνεία) or their thefts. (9:20–21) Come, I will show you the judgment of the great whore who is seated on many waters, [2] with whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication (πορνεῦω), and with the wine of whose ‘immorality’ (πορνεία) the inhabitants of the earth have become drunk. (17:1b–2) For all the nations have drunk of the wine of the wrath of her ‘immorality’ (πορνεία), and the kings of the earth have committed fornication (πορνεῦω) with her, and the merchants of the earth have grown rich from the power of her luxury. (18:3) And the kings of the earth, who with her committed ‘immorality’ (πορνεῦω) and lived in luxury, will weep and wail over her when they see the smoke of her burning. (18:9)

In Roman Asia Minor, such condemnations of idolatry would naturally include the imperial cult. Although a sexual interpretation for πορνεῦσαι is possible at 2:14d and 2:20d, the notion that John is speaking here primarily (if at all) about sexual misconduct is much less certain if one infers that the accusations of eating idol meat and practicing ‘immorality’ address the imperial cult circuitously.87 Moreover, when one considers the potentially idolatrous context of idol meat,88 the inference that with πορνεῦσαι (2:14d, 20d) John accuses his rival prophets of participating in idolatry and of urging or allowing other Christians to do the same is well founded. In short, with the accusations φαγεῖν εἰδωλόθυτα and πορνεῦσαι against ‘Balaam’ and ‘Jezebel,’ John is to be credited with crafting polemical double entendres. By appealing to traditional proscriptions (cf. Acts 15:20, 28b), he summons to his assistance the taboos of idol meat and ‘immorality’ and associates those practices with the idolatry of the imperial cult. Rather than commencing with the specific issue of partial assimilation to the imperial cult, an issue on which John and his Christian opponents differ, he assumes the rhetorical upper hand by way of an analogy, according to which “tradition” firmly supports his position of radical non86

BDAG, 854, s.v. πορνεία and πορνεῦω. See BDAG, 854, s.v. πορνεία and πορνεῦω. The second of two entries that BDAG gives for πορνεῦω defines it as “engagement in polytheistic cult, fornication . . . of polytheistic cult in the sense [of] ‘practice image-worship/idolatry’” (emphasis original). BDAG appropriately prefers this definition for occurrences of πορνεῦω at Rev 17:2; 18:3, 9 but does not favor it for Rev 2:14, 20, offering instead the following (first) definition: “to engage in sexual immorality, engage in illicit sex, to fornicate, to whore” (emphasis original) – notably, without connotations of idolatry. The validity of this distinction, which overlooks the implication of idolatry that likewise resonates in 2:14, 20, will be questioned in the following discussion. 88 Cf. above on A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:186, on the potential ambiguity of φαγεῖν εἰδωλόθυτα. 87

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assimilation as the only acceptable option. Hans-Josef Klauck’s distinction between a “hard,” or strict (hart), and a “soft,” or limited (weich), participation in the imperial cult by some Christians is particularly instructive: Als viel gefährlicher betrachtet der Apokalyptiker den “weichen” Kaiserkult, wenn jemand z.B. in einer Festmenge lediglich mitlief oder an einem geselligen Vereinsmahl mit religiösen Obertönen teilnahm, weil er sich dem aus beruflichen Rücksichten nicht gut verschließen zu können glaubte und die Bekenntnisfrage davon überhaupt nicht tangiert sah. . . . Der Apokalyptiker bleibt in diesem Punkt hart. Jeder Kompromiß widerspricht seiner Zielvorstellung, die von der Durchsetzung der Herrschaft Gottes auch auf Erden und vom Ideal der Reinheit der endzeitlichen Heilsgemeinde bestimmt wird.89

In an inner-Christian conflict of disputed authority and conflicting teachings, it is much easier to assert one’s stance by condemning one’s opponents for idolatry than, for example, by dissecting the particularities of relative cultural assimilation. According to Revelation, when one becomes defiled by making an offering to the emperor, one cannot expect to receive the “hidden manna” that Christ will give to the one who conquers (Rev 2:17). In fact, John warns, an avenging Jesus will bring severe judgment – possibly even death90 – “to each of you, according to your works.”91 To summarize, the Revelation of John attests to a controversy between one early Christian prophet, John, and one or more groups of early Christian leaders, including prophets, with whom John competed for influence in several of the seven churches he addresses in Revelation 2–3. The general question of assimilation to the surrounding polytheistic culture becomes concretely embodied in the challenge of the imperial cult. Utterly opposing any such involvement in this degenerate practice, John cites as a precedent for responding to the imperial cult the traditional Christian proscriptions against meat sacrificed to idols (εἰδωλόθυτα) and ‘immorality’ (πορνεῦω) – pagan practices that carry connotations of idolatry. What remains for this essay to consider are the particular ways that John refers to suffering and persecution to bolster the authority of his message against what may have been a majority of other viewpoints, as well as to exhort the faithful to embrace his viewpoint, rather than that of his opponents. In this endeavor, his anticipation of the coming tribulation and judgment plays a significant role: assimilation makes absolutely no sense when God’s judgment will soon fall not only upon pagan Rome but also Christians who participate in her idolatrous ways.

89 K LAUCK, “Sendschreiben” (see n. 67), 181; cf. above on S CHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 133. 90 Cf. καὶ τὰ τέκνα αὐτῆς ἀποκτενῶ ἐν θανάτῳ, Rev 2:23a. 91 Rev 2:23b: δώσω ὑµῖν ἑκάστῳ κατὰ τὰ ἔργα ὑµῶν. Cf. 20:13c: καὶ ἐκρίθησαν . . . κατὰ τὰ ἔργα αὐτῶν.

258 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 4. Antipas’s Status as “Witness” and “Faithful One”: A Paradigm for Uncompromising Resistance (Rev 2:13) Filled with consternation that certain Christian leaders were allowing, or even encouraging, partial (or “soft”) participation in the imperial cult, John criticizes that participation in a roundabout way by summoning traditional taboos against idol meat and ‘immorality.’ With their connotations of idolatrous conduct, the taboos become a strong warning that the faithful must abstain (Rev 2:14, 20). An additional challenge that John acknowledges is the killing of a Christian named Antipas in Pergamon (2:13). Several things about John’s assigning of value to Antipas’s suffering and death emerge from our analysis of John’s message to the church in Pergamon (2:12–17). In particular, John accords to Antipas status as Jesus’ “witness and faithful one” (2:13). It will be argued that Antipas is held up not as an elite “martyr” (µάρτυς) but as a cherished example of the steadfast resistance required of all believers. For John, there is no middle ground: on the one hand, he commends his and Antipas’s non-assimilation, and, on the other hand, he condemns the enticement of compromise that will bring decisive judgment from Jesus, “who has the sharp two-edged sword” (2:12b; cf. 2:16). We begin with Rev 2:13, which describes Antipas’s killing, after which we contextualize this description within John’s prophetic oracle to the church in Pergamon (2:12–17) and the demand that all Christians be prepared to resist as Antipas did. John’s conviction about impending persecution (for example, 6:9–11; 7:9–15; 8:3–5; 13:7–10; 20:4–6) is not entirely without foundation but stems at least in part from the death of this (one) Christian: I know where you are living, where Satan’s throne is (ὅπου ὁ θρόνος τοῦ Σατανᾶ). Yet you are holding fast to my name, and you did not deny your faith in me even in the days of Antipas my witness, my faithful one, who was killed before you (Ἀντιπᾶς ὁ µάρτυς µου ὁ πιστός µου, ὃς ἀπεκτάνθη παρ᾽ ὑµῖν), where Satan lives (ὅπου ὁ Σατανᾶς κατοικεῖ). (2:13)

The references to “the throne of Satan” and to Pergamon as “where Satan lives” likely implicate oppression connected with the imperial cult as the cause for Antipas’s death.92 Moreover, David Aune plausibly maintains 92

With W ITULSKI, Johannesoffenbarung und Kaiser Hadrian (see n. 4), 250–78; B ORING, Revelation (see n. 72), 91; G EORGE E. L ADD, A Commentary on the Revelation of John (Grand Rapids, 1972), 46; and FREY, “Imperial Cult” (see n. 15), 243: “If the author/editor of Revelation only wanted to characterize Pergamon as a center of Roman administration or judicial decisions, it remains unclear why he focuses on Pergamon and not Ephesus which was the capital of the Roman province at his time. The most probable reason is . . . [that] Pergamon had the honor to be the first city of Asia where a provincial cult for Augustus and the goddess Rome had been installed in 29 B.C.E.” This conclusion stands in counterpoint to STEVEN J. FRIESEN, “Satan’s Throne, Imperial Cults and

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that ἀπεκτάνθη παρ᾽ ὑµῖν indicates that Antipas had been executed publicly.93 This requires construing the preposition παρά with the dative as referring not to Antipas’s relationship or special proximity to the congregation in Pergamon but, with the aorist passive ἀπεκτάνθη, to his execution in their sight. Our translation (above) thus departs from the NRSV (“among you”), rendering ἀπεκτάνθη παρ᾽ ὑµῖν as “who was killed before you.” For the author of Revelation, Antipas’s steadfastness provides the paradigmatic antithesis to the false Christian prophets ‘Balaam,’ the Nicolaitans (2:14–15), and ‘Jezebel’ (2:20–23). Whereas the ‘Balaamites’ enengender corruption from idol meat, ‘immorality,’ and idolatry (see above on 2:14; cf. 2:20), Antipas died because of his resistance to these and now enjoys status as Jesus’ “witness and faithful one” (ὁ µάρτυς µου ὁ πιστός µου). The laudatory appellation is remarkable, since John’s very first characterization of Jesus in Rev 1:5a is as “the witness, the faithful one.”94 John thereby assigns a tremendously high value to Antipas’s suffering. On the designation of Antipas as µάρτυς, Allison A. Trites argues that the term here does not connote “martyrdom,” but “[t]he idea of witness in the Apocalypse . . . is to be understood in terms of Christians actually bearing witness before Roman courts of law.”95 To accept Trites’s view, one need not assume, or demonstrate, that Christians were, in fact, brought before a Roman court; Revelation hails Antipas as a “witness” who, in John’s perspective, died because of his testimony, and John does not use µάρτυς for him in the sense of our usual understanding of “martyr.” Yet if, as is argued above, one is persuaded that Antipas died because of his resistance to the imperial cult, such a Roman judicial context for Antipas’s “witness” cannot be excluded, especially if a public execution had folthe Social Settings of Revelation,” JSNT 27 (2005): 351–73 at 361–67; A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:cxxxii, 1:182–85, and JÜRGEN R OLOFF, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (ZBNT 18, Zürich, 3rd ed. 2001), 54. For his part, K RAFT, Offenbarung (see n. 14), 64–65 connects Antipas’s death to the imperial cult, albeit not on the basis of the reference to “the throne of Satan.” 93 With A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:185, who translates ἀπεκτάνθη παρ᾽ ὑµῖν as “who was publicly executed.” 94 Rev 1:5a: ὁ µάρτυς[,] ὁ πιστός, which can be interpreted as either “the faithful witness” (NRSV) or, as above, “the witness, the faithful one.” At Rev 2:13d (ὁ µάρτυς µου ὁ πιστός µου), the repetition of µου precludes the translation “my faithful witness” (about Antipas) and must indicate a substantive use of πιστός (thus, “my witness, my faithful one”). Against the NRSV translation at 1:5a, the parallelism between 1:5a and the unambiguous formulation at 2:13d favors rendering ὁ µάρτυς[,] ὁ πιστός (concerning Jesus) as “the witness, the faithful one” (1:5a). 95 A LLISON A. TRITES, “µάρτυς and Martyrdom in the Apocalypse,” NovT 15 (1973): 72–80 at 72; cf. 76, 78; L ADD, Revelation (see n. 92), 46–47. Against L OHMEYER, Offenbarung (see n. 57), 25, who considers Rev 2:13 “der erste deutliche Beleg für µάρτυς = ‘Märtyrer’.”

260 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 lowed some sort of trial. What is important for our study is that Antipas’s status as Jesus’ “witness” and “faithful” follower (ὁ µάρτυς µου ὁ πιστός µου, 2:13d) stems from his resistance, his suffering, and, in this extraordinary instance, his death. Some scholars have remarked that John recounts the death of only one Christian, noting correctly that Rev 2:13 does not attest to a widespread Roman persecution.96 I wish to suggest that this valid observation runs the risk of overlooking the profound effect that a single death can have on a marginalized community, especially if the community perceives itself to be under threat from the dominant culture. By way of comparison, one can readily imagine during the 1930s the plight of people of African origin in the American South and of Jews under the German Third Reich. Both German Jews and the descendants of enslaved peoples in the United States were marginalized and victims of systemic violence and discrimination. They therefore had good reason to fear officially sanctioned acts of terror. In such communities, the death of a single person could have a profound effect, heightening fears of more reprisals to come. In the case of a public execution (or a “lynching,” after which a corpse dangling from a tree would serve as warning to others), the fear would be exacerbated.97 Roman provincial authorities could have used the execution of Antipas to intimidate other resisters. With the increased anxiety, many Christians in Pergamon could have been spurred to consider some form of compromise with the imperial cult. I suggest that the prophet John, for his part, sees the killing of Antipas in the context of a marginalized community’s resistance to the imperial cult. He sees this not as an isolated occurrence but as the prelude to a widespread persecution. In Rev 6:9–11, John envisions numerous ‘martyrs’ who have already died and await the arrival of many additional Christians who are about to be killed (οἱ ἀδελφοὶ αὐτῶν οἱ µέλλοντες ἀποκτέννεσθαι ὡς καὶ αὐτοί, 6:11b). This is not to assert that John’s addressees were, in fact, marginalized or systematically oppressed in Pergamon (or elsewhere), however. We leave open the possibility that they, or at least those loyal to the prophet John, contributed in no small part to their own experience of marginalization. As Adela Collins observes, in such a community the question of the perception of oppression, rather than actual oppression, may be more pertinent: “Relative, not absolute or objective, deprivation is a common precondition 96 E.g., LOHSE, Offenbarung (see n. 57), 29; R OLOFF, Offenbarung (see n. 92), 54; K RAFT, Offenbarung (see n. 14), 64; cf. above on M ILLAR, “Imperial Cult” (see n. 22), 164. 97 As noted above and, following A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:185, John seems to depict a public execution with ἀπεκτάνθη παρ᾽ ὑµῖν (Rev 2:13e).

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of millenarian movements. In other words, the crucial element is not so much whether one is actually oppressed as whether one feels oppressed.”98 We infer that John’s preconceived notion of marginalization informs his view that Antipas’s death is a foretaste of things to come for Christians in Asia Minor (cf. 6:11b). Just as Jesus and Antipas resisted unto death and just as John himself has exemplified a faithful response to suffering (Rev 1:9), Christians must be vigilant and persevere in faithfulness. Believers in Pergamon who shared a similar experience of marginalization would likely be inclined to agree with John on related matters, including the need for resistance and the probability, if not inevitability, of additional persecutions. 5. The Response John Demands: Non-Assimilation and Resistance In the previous subsection, I suggested that the execution of Antipas for his resistance to the imperial cult could have nudged other Christians in Pergamon (and elsewhere) either toward greater assimilation and compromise or toward reinvigorated resistance, adopting as a model Antipas’s “witness” unto death. Clearly for the prophet John, only the latter option was acceptable. John’s vitriolic criticisms of “the teaching of Balaam” (2:14) and “the teaching of the Nicolaitans” (2:15) indicate that in Pergamon other Christian responses99 were not only possible but also influential – quite possibly more influential than recognized by John. We can thus all the more appreciate the urgency behind John’s insistence that Christians in Pergamon “repent” (µετανοέω, 2:16a). And if they do not repent, John warns, Jesus will come and “wage war” (πολεµέω, 2:16b) against the ‘Balaamites’ and Nicolaitans – that is, against any and all addressees of this prophetic oracle who do not heed John’s message. In John’s theology of individual, rather than corporate, salvation, the combined promise-and-warning is not that Jesus will wage war against pagan Rome on behalf of all Christians. Rather, the Jesus of the Apocalypse will assist only those attuned to the true witness of the Spirit,100 who will prove to be authentic Christians by embracing John’s teaching of rejecting both the false prophets and any participation in polytheistic practices, in98 A. Y. C OLLINS, “The Revelation of John: An Apocalyptic Response to a Social Crisis,” CurTM 8 (1981): 4–12 at 4 (emphases original), cf. EADEM, Crisis and Catharsis (see n. 25), esp. 99–107. 99 I use the plural “responses” intentionally. As noted above, the so-called prophets of ‘Balaam’ and the Nicolaitans appear, at least in John’s understanding, to have constituted two different groups, although John’s polemical representation precludes our differentiating between their beliefs. One cannot assume that all those with whom John disagreed embraced the same response to Roman oppression, including the response to the imperial cult. 100 So Rev 2:17a: ὁ ἔχων οὖς ἀκουσάτω τί τὸ πνεῦµα λέγει ταῖς ἐκκλησίαις.

262 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 cluding the imperial cult. Only by such resistance will they receive from Jesus “the hidden manna” that is to be accorded to some but, by no means, all Christians.101 The killing of one Christian, Antipas, does not absolve the rest of the community from its responsibility to resist. Nor does losing one of its members bestow any special status to the congregation as a whole. If Antipas’s public execution had increased some believers’ fear of Roman oppression, Jesus’ impending wrath will be incomparably worse than any punishment that adherents to the imperial cult or other hostile outsiders could bring to bear. The only way to attain Antipas’s status is by emulating his resistance and, if necessary, his suffering. John’s unbending stance is well illustrated by Klauck’s observation that, for the author of Revelation, “[j]eder Kompromiß widerspricht seiner Zielvorstellung.”102 Klauck highlights John’s stringent demands of resistance by the faithful throughout Revelation 2–3. Whether temptation or oppression comes from false apostles (2:2), from Jews (2:9; 3:9), or from Nicolaitans (2:6, 15), ‘Balaam’ (2:14) or ‘Jezebel’ (2:20–23), John demands resistance without compromise. He construes a failure to meet this standard as a lack of repentance (ἐὰν µὴ µετανοήσῃς, 2:5d) and threatens that Jesus “will come to [them] and remove [their] lampstand from its place, unless [they] repent” (2:5c–d; cf. 1:20). Along with such warnings, John’s prophetic oracles offer several conditional promises to the individual who “conquers.” (Notably, these are not guarantees to those who have already attained salvation and cannot lose it.) One such warning is Rev 2:26–28: To the one who conquers and continues to do my works to the end (ὁ νικῶν καὶ ὁ τηρῶν ἄχρι τέλους τὰ ἔργα µου), I will give to him (δώσω αὐτῷ) authority over the nations; [27] to rule them with an iron rod, as when clay pots are shattered – [28] even as I also received authority from my Father. I will also give [to the one who conquers] (δώσω αὐτῷ) the morning star.103

Presumably for reasons of gender inclusivity and style (since, in 2:26b, αὐτῷ is redundant), the NRSV does not translate αὐτῷ (“to him”).104 Together with the NRSV’s mistranslation of the substantive participles ὁ νικῶν καὶ ὁ τηρῶν as “to everyone [sic] who. . . ” (2:26b), the NRSV’s decision not to translate that occurrence of αὐτῷ obfuscates the particularity and the conditionality of those promises. At 2:26b (also 2:28b), the singular pronoun αὐτῷ emphasizes that only the individual who “conquers” and 101

Rev 2:17b: τῷ νικῶντι δώσω αὐτῷ τοῦ µάννα τοῦ κεκρυµµένου. K LAUCK, “Sendschreiben” (see n. 67), 181. 103 See also Rev 2:7, 11, 17; 3:21. 104 Rev 2:26 (NRSV): “To everyone who conquers and continues to do my works to the end, I will give authority over the nations.” But see the NRSV at 2:28b (“To the one who conquers I will also give”) for δώσω αὐτῷ. 102

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is faithful “to the end” will receive the “authority” (ἐξουσία) that Jesus promises. Elsewhere in his prophetic oracles, John uses different formulations to express conditionality about a future confirmation of standing as authentic disciples. A comparison of two other provisional promises of a “crown” illustrates that John can depict this future reward as attainable (2:9–10) or, alternately, as already having been attained and capable of being lost (3:11b):105 I know your affliction (θλῖψις) and your poverty, even though you are rich. I know the slander on the part of those who say that they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan. [10] Do not fear what you are about to suffer (µηδὲν φοβοῦ ἃ µέλλεις πάσχειν). Beware, the devil is about to throw some of you into prison so that you may be tested, and for ten days you will have affliction. Be faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life (τὸν στέφανον τῆς ζωῆς). (2:9–10) Hold fast to what you have, so that no one may take away your crown (κράτει ὃ ἔχεις, ἵνα µηδεὶς λάβῃ τὸν στέφανόν σου). (3:11b)

John names a “crown” (2:10b; 3:11b) as the reward for resisting oppression from a “synagogue of Satan,” whether in Smyrna (2:9b; cf. 2:8) or Philadelphia (3:9a; cf. 3:7). Whereas, in 2:10b, the crown conditionally promised to the Smyrnans is the reward for having suffered (πάσχω, 2:10a) and is therefore in the eschatological future, in 3:11b John warns the Philadelphians to beware of losing the crown that they have already received. David Aune and several others argue that, in 2:10b, the reward is posthumous and carries connotations of the struggle and victory in athletic contests: by vying according to the “rules” of the competition, the believer who emerges victorious will receive this reward.106 On the warning in 3:11b, Aune likewise notes that it “is a metaphor for being disqualified in a contest.”107 Lohse and Roloff, however, unpersuasively dispute this connection, maintaining that a heavenly crown is different from a crown received from winning in an athletic competition.108 Their contention misses John’s comparison to a contest in which one battles oppression, temptation, and ‘heretical’ teaching. In both oracles, future receipt of the “crown”

105

R OLOFF, Offenbarung (see n. 92), 62 and L ADD, Revelation (see n. 92), 63 mention a connection between Rev 2:10 and 3:11 but do not seem to grasp the different, and possibly contradictory, ways that John uses “crown” as a metaphor of future contingent status. 106 A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:167; so also L OHMEYER, Offenbarung (see n. 57), 25; LADD, Revelation (see n. 92), 44–45; W ILFRID J. H ARRINGTON, Revelation (SP 16, Collegeville [MN], 1993), 71. 107 A UNE, Revelation (see n. 8), 1:241. 108 L OHSE, Offenbarung (see n. 57), 28; R OLOFF, Offenbarung (see n. 92), 52–53.

264 Chapter 12: Revelation’s Date and the Value of Suffering in Revelation 1–3 (2:10) or continued possession of the “crown” (3:11) is based upon the condition of faithful resistance.109

C. Conditionality in Revelation’s Soteriology We may compare the prophet John’s uncompromising requirement of resistance and endurance in order to receive future salvation with the already-attained soteriology of the Johannine tradition. Schüssler Fiorenza aptly notes a contrast between Revelation and First John: Whereas Revelation expresses with ho nikōn (“the one who conquers”) a condition for future salvation of Christians and uses the past tense of the verb only for Christ (5:5; 3:21), [First] John speaks of Christian victory not as a condition still to be accomplished, but as an act which is already achieved.110

According to 1 John 5:4–5, for example, one’s present standing is a matter of certitude: being “born of God” or believing in Jesus is tantamount to ‘conquering’ the world.111 In contrast to this unqualified affirmation, John’s prophetic oracles in Revelation 2–3 reside within a different soteriological universe than that of “justification by faith.” Instead of granting an assurance of salvation in the present, John mandates a yet-to-be-attained authentication by means of conquering or endurance. If the author of Revelation addresses some Christians who embraced a Johannine (or a similar) soteriology, the exhortations of Revelation 2–3 would have the effect of taking away a presumed status and establishing requirements for the future attainment of that same status. In the remainder of Revelation, several of John’s visions (for example, 6:9–11; 7:9–15; 8:3–5; 11:1–13; 13:7–10; 15:2–4; 20:4–6) develop and substantiate that argument, which, at least for some Christians in Asia Minor not loyal to the prophet John, would in all likelihood have been scandalous.

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L ADD, Revelation (see n. 92), 44 misses this condition while arguing a dogmatic tenet not germane to the context of Rev 2:10: “the crown of life is not a promise of special reward to the martyrs. All who belong to Christ will receive a crown of life.” 110 SCHÜSSLER FIORENZA, Revelation (see n. 18), 48; cf. Rev 12:11 (αὐτοὶ ἐνίκησαν αὐτόν). 111 1 John 5:4–5: “For whatever (πᾶν) is born of God conquers (νικάω) the world. And this is the victory that conquers (νικάω) the world, our faith (ἡ πίστις ἡµῶν). [5] Who is it that conquers (νικάω) the world but the one who believes (ὁ πιστεύων) that Jesus is the Son of God?”

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Abstract: “Appraisal” has to do with the assigning of value, which can then be exchanged for something else. In his prophetic oracles to the seven churches, John praises the value of the ‘martyr’ Antipas’s faithful witness and resistance unto death (Rev 2:13). John also extols the value and necessity of every Christian’s resisting the imperial cult, heretical leaders, and other dangerous influences. The future tribulation and possibility of reward that he promises to the faithful follows the pattern of Christ who, because he “conquered,” received a seat on his Father’s “throne” (cf. Rev 3:21). This essay argues that John employs the value of continued resistance and suffering – and the penalty of damnation to be incurred if one does not adequately resist – to serve as a basis for exhorting the faithful to emulate the resistance of Jesus, Antipas, and John himself (cf. Rev 1:5, 9). It is further argued that in Revelation a theology of authentication because of withstanding persecution plays a prominent role. Only those Christ-believers who endure will receive the right to sit with Jesus on a heavenly throne and to rule the nations (2:26–28). A discussion of Revelation’s date, genre, and socio-historical context with an eye to understanding the imperial cult in Roman Asia Minor offers a context for the analysis of Revelation 1–3.

Chapter 13

“Hippolytus” and Magic: An Examination of Elenchos IV.28–42 and Related Passages in Light of the Greek Magical Papyri* ὡς γὰρ χρήσεταί τις αὐταῖς πρὸς κακοῦ µάθησιν, οὕτως τις ἕτερος µαθὼν φυλάξεται. καὶ αὐτοὶ δὲ . . . µάγοι αἰσχυνθήσονται τῇ τέχνῃ χρώµενοι·1

A. “Hippolytus” as a Plagiarist Bequeathing a Wealth of Source Materials 1. Introduction The Elenchos, or The Refutation against all the Heresies (ἡ κατὰ πασῶν αἱρέσεων ἔλεγχος; Lat.: Refutatio omnium haeresium; hereafter: Haer.), also known as the Philosophumena (or Philosophoumena), is one of several works attributed to Hippolytus of Rome (ca. 170–235/236 C.E.) but whose authorship scholars continue to debate. Although I find persuasive Miroslav Marcovich’s arguments that Hippolytus did write the Elenchos,2 the issue of attribution does not bear directly upon this article’s investigation into the Elenchos’s source(s) for, and descriptions of, magic to undermine contemporary ‘heretics’ who allegedly use magical tricks to gain followers from, or within, the church. This article asks whether the writer * Original publication: Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum/Journal of Ancient Christianity 11 (2007–08): 517–48. 1 Hipp. Haer. IV.34.4: “For as one person will use them [magical tricks] for the teaching of evil, so another, by learning them, will be protected, and the very magicians . . . will be ashamed when they practice the art.” Greek text: M. Marcovich (ed.), Hippolytus, Refutatio omnium haeresium (PTS 25, Berlin, 1986). English translations are from F. Legge, Philosophumena or the Refutation of All Heresies (2 vols., London, 1921) and, where necessary, are modified to conform more accurately to the Greek. 2 With M. Marcovich, “Introduction,” in idem, Hippolytus, Refutatio omnium haeresium (see n. 1), 1–51 at 8–17 and against, e.g., P. Nautin, Hippolyte, Contre les hérésies. Fragment, étude et édition critique (ETHDT 2, Paris, 1949), 49–56; idem, Hippolyte et Josipe. Contribution à l’histoire de la littérature chrétienne du troisième siècle (ETHDT 1, Paris, 1947), esp. 63–88. For the sake of convenience, in this article we refer to the author as “Hippolytus.”

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of the Elenchos had direct or only secondary, derivative knowledge of magical texts or practices. I argue that copious similarities of the Elenchos to the Greek Magical Papyri (PGM) commend the former explanation and that Richard Ganschinietz’s positing of a secondary, intermediate source for Hippolytus’s knowledge of magic is unnecessary and unpersuasive. The Elenchos draws on a diverse number of primary sources, oftentimes with great accuracy.3 Scholars have made much progress toward understanding what the Elenchos’s source materials reveal about ancient philosophy4 and about the assorted ‘Gnostic’ Christians whom the author criticizes.5 In recent decades, moreover, our understanding of magic in late antiquity – especially with the translation and notes on the PGM and the Demotic Magical Papyri (PDM) edited by Hans Dieter Betz – as well as our understanding of several late ancient Christian characterizations of magic has increased significantly.6 This article addresses a lacuna in research: the place where magical practices in late antiquity overlaps with sources of the Elenchos. The depiction of magic in Haer. IV.28–42 has never been analyzed in relation to actual late antique magical texts. The diverse literature of the PGM provides a representative sample of late an3

With Marcovich, “Introduction” (see n. 2), 18–31. C. Osborne, Rethinking Early Greek Philosophy: Hippolytus of Rome and the Presocratics (Ithaca, 1987); J. Mansfeld, Heresiography in Context: Hippolytus’ Elenchos as a Source for Greek Philosophy (PhAnt 56, Leiden, 1992). 5 G. Vallée, A Study in Anti-Gnostic Polemics: Irenaeus, Hippolytus and Epiphanius (SCJud 1, Waterloo [Ontario], 1981), 41–62; J. Frickel, “Unerkannte gnostische Schriften in Hippolyts Refutatio,” in M. Krause (ed.), Gnosis and Gnosticism (NHS 8, Leiden, 1977), 119–37; P. Prigent and R. Stehly, “Les fragments du De Apocalypsi d’Hippolyte,” TZ 29 (1973): 313–33. 6 H. D. Betz (ed.), The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation: Including the Demotic Spells (Chicago, 2nd ed. 1992). Greek text: K. Preisendanz and A. Henrichs (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae: Die griechischen Zauberpapyri, Sammlung wissenschaftlicher Commentare (2 vols., Leipzig, 2nd ed. 2001 [= Stuttgart, 2nd ed. 1973–74]). See also F. Graf, Magic in the Ancient World (Revealing Antiquity 10, Cambridge [MA], 1997); N. Janowitz, Magic in the Roman World: Pagans, Jews, and Christians. Religion in the First Christian Centuries (New York, 2001); W. M. Brashear, “The Greek Magical Papyri: An Introduction and Survey. Annotated Bibliography (1928–1994),” ANRW 2.18.5:3380– 3684; C. A. Faraone and D. Obbink (eds.), Magika Hiera: Ancient Greek Magic and Religion (New York, 1991); H. D. Betz, “Fragments from a Catabasis Ritual in a Greek Magical Papyrus,” in idem, Hellenismus und Urchristentum (Tübingen, 1990), 1:147–55; idem, “The Delphic Maxim ‘Know Yourself’ in the Greek Magical Papyri,” in idem, Hellenismus (see n. 6), 1:156–72; idem, “The Formation of Authoritative Tradition in the Greek Magical Papyri,” in idem, Hellenismus (see n. 6), 1:173–83; idem, “Magic and Mystery in the Greek Magical Papyri,” in idem, Hellenismus (see n. 6), 1:209–29; idem, “Zum Problem der Auferstehung Jesu im Lichte der griechischen magischen Papyri,” in idem, Hellenismus (see n. 6), 1:230–61; D. E. Aune, “Magic in Early Christianity,” ANRW 2.23.2:1507–57. 4

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cient magical texts. We argue that in the Elenchos parallels to numerous technical terms in the PGM shed much light on the magic depicted in Haer. IV.28–42. The parallels also support our inference that the detailed descriptions in Haer. IV.28–42 reflect actual magical texts or practices. On this basis, we infer that the author of the Elenchos utilized one or more primary, rather than secondary, sources on magic. We do not, however, argue for a direct literary connection between the Elenchos and any of the PGM texts. Because Haer. IV.28–42 appears to be independent of the PGM, it can complement, even augment, our understanding of magic in late antiquity. 2. Non-Polemical Descriptions of Errors from the Past in Haer. I–IV The Elenchos endeavors to show that a vast array of ‘heresies’ stems from past errors.7 Organized according to a heresiological taxonomy, the writing (1) catalogues ancient errors of past philosophers, astrologers and magicians (Haer. I–IV), and (2) responds to various recent and contemporary ‘heretical’ Christian teachers, who, Hippolytus says, draw on those ancient errors (Haer. V–IX).8 A few remarks on the author’s method of reporting in Haer. I–IV will contextualize our inquiry into the section on magic (IV.28–42). Unfortunately, Books II and III and parts of Book IV are lost.9 This leaves just Book I and Book IV.1–27 with source-critical analogies to Haer. IV.28– 42. Book I of the Elenchos summarizes the teachings of various ancient philosophers, including the pre-Socratics, Plato and Aristotle. The brief descriptions of each philosopher’s system contain rather little polemic against these ideas. Later in the Elenchos, these descriptions serve as a ref7

Hippolytus includes, among these, various forms of ‘Gnosticism,’ the practice of penance, recognizing the marriage of slaves, and opposing a Monarchian christology. See G. Dix, “General Introduction,” in idem, The Treatise on the Apostolic Tradition of St Hippolytus of Rome, Bishop and Martyr (ed. G. Dix and H. Chadwick, London, 1992 [= London, 2 nd ed. 1968]), xi–li at xii–xv. 8 A summary in Book X completes the Elenchos. Critiquing ‘Gnosticism’ is Hippolytus’s overriding concern in the Elenchos, although Hippolytus takes aim at other opponents as well – for example, Pope Callistus I and the Jews in Haer. IX. 9 In regard to the possible content of the lost Books II and III, Marcovich, “Introduction” (see n. 2), 5, suggests, “Most probably, they dealt with Hellenistic and Near Eastern mystery cults.” Marcovich, “Introduction,” 7, also notes that, “in brief, the text of Hipp., haer. IV–X as transmitted is extremely corrupt” (emphasis original). Marcovich (p. 5) further observes that “Books IV–X are preserved in one single manuscript, acquired in 1841 by Constantinus Minoides Mynas (his codex Δ´) . . . Parisinus suppl. gr. 464, saec. XIV.” See further R. Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel gegen die Magier: Refut. haer. IV 28–42 (TU 39.2, Leipzig, 1913), 8–10; H. F. Stander, “The Church Fathers and Astrology,” Acta Patristica et Byzantina 14 (2003): 232–44.

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erence for pointed critiques of Christian ‘heretics.’10 At Haer. IV.1–27, the surviving manuscript opens with a description of the astrological practices of “the Chaldeans” and others. Again, the author follows a primarily descriptive, non-polemical modus operandi; he does not criticize the tenets of the astrologers individually but explains them one after another to point out inconsistencies between alternate explanations. Another break in the manuscript follows Haer. IV.27. What survives of the discussion of magic (Haer. IV.28–42, the passage we examine in this article) begins in medias res with a young child who assists in predicting the future (IV.28.1–12a). The descriptive approach in Haer. I and IV.1–27 not only reveals pertinent details about the sources from which Hippolytus drew, but also establishes the plausibility of the hypothesis we examine in this article, that the author likewise summarizes and describes his magical source(s) in Haer. IV.28–42. We argue, in particular, that although IV.28–42 presents magical practices as deceptive, Hippolytus’s main objective is to catalog, not criticize them. Because of this descriptive purpose, the sources appear to have been left more intact than one might otherwise expect from an antiheretical treatise on magic. The author discloses his rationale for why he does not heavily redact his source material: because recent and contemporary false teachers use magical tricks to propagate ‘heresy,’ he must educate the faithful about the magicians’ deceptions: For as one person will use (χράοµαι) them [magical tricks] for the teaching of evil, so another, by learning them, will be protected (φυλάσσω), and the very magicians, corrupters of life as they are, will be ashamed when they practice (χράοµαι) the art. 11

Because the magicians are not Hippolytus’s primary adversaries, the Elenchos can add to our knowledge of magic in late antiquity. 3. Previous Scholarship To date, the only systematic examination of the sources behind Haer. IV.28–42 is Richard Ganschinietz’s 1913 monograph,12 which argues that Hippolytus made use of various intermediate sources for magic – that is, sources other than an actual spell book – including Celsus’s and Lucian’s polemical works against Christianity. Ganschinietz views these sources as

10

The anthology comprising Haer. Book I makes only a passing comment about magic: “The Druids among the Celts” use prophets to foretell the future by means of “the Pythagorean art” and “make use of magic” (χρῶνται . . . µαγείαις, Haer. I.25.2 [PTS 25, 88.8 Marcovich (hereafter: M)]). 11 Hipp. Haer. IV.34.4 (122.22–24 M.), cited above (see n. 1): ὡς γὰρ χρήσεταί τις αὐταῖς πρὸς κακοῦ µάθησιν, οὕτως τις ἕτερος µαθὼν φυλάξεται. καὶ αὐτοὶ δὲ . . . µάγοι αἰσχυνθήσονται τῇ τέχνῃ χρώµενοι· 12 Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel (see n. 9).

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sufficient to explain Hippolytus’s knowledge of magic in the Elenchos.13 The monograph has merit in that it finds numerous and interesting parallels in Haer. IV.28–42 to classical writings (for example, Homer, Plato, Xenophon and Pliny the Elder) and to other late ancient Christian literature, but it does not clarify the relevance of these parallels for interpreting Haer. IV.28–42. We would argue that similarities of Haer. IV.28–42 to classical, Hellenistic and other Christian literature can be largely explained by the sources Hippolytus incorporated into the Elenchos and the influences on those sources. Further, although Ganschinietz shows an awareness of the PGM, he refers only briefly to this literature,14 and he too quickly discards the possibility that the parallels could mean that Hippolytus had access to a genuine spell book for his information.15 Finally, Ganschinietz fails to give adequate attention to the function of Haer. IV.28–42 as a prolegomenon for Hippolytus’s response to ‘Gnostics’ and other ‘heretics’ whom he accuses of practicing magical arts. As far as we can tell, Hippolytus’s source(s) for information on magic do not survive. It is thus not possible to be certain about whether he drew from magical texts themselves or from some intermediate source. We aim to demonstrate that numerous parallels between Haer. IV.28–42 and the PGM’s magical spells and practices indicate that Hippolytus had a detailed knowledge of magical materials, a knowledge that most probably would have come from an authentic spell book. Given Marcovich’s observation that Hippolytus was “an unscrupulous and reckless plagiarist in the Elenchos,”16 it is worth considering what Hippolytus may have gleaned from his sources on magic. 13 Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel (see n. 9), 12–24. Ganschinietz devotes considerable attention to a writing of Celsus, the κατὰ µάγων (attested by Origen of Alexandria). Cf. Legge, Philosophumena (see n. 1), 92 n. 2, who writes that, for Ganschinietz, “it is not doubtful that Hippolytus took this chapter from Celsus’s κατὰ µάγων, which he discovers in Origen’s [Contra Celsum. Ganschinietz] assumes that Lucian of Samosata in his Ἀλέξανδρος ἢ ψευδόµαντις borrowed from the same source.” Curiously, although the Elenchos commonly pits one philosopher against another to show the absurdity of an ancient foe, Hippolytus never voices an alliance with Celsus (who openly opposed Christianity), in order to critique common adversaries (i.e., the magicians). Additionally, Marcovich, “Introduction” (see n. 2), 20, mentions the possibility that Hippolytus makes use of “a treatise on Magic by Thrasymedes (cf. H VI. 7.1),” as well as in “IV. 32.3 & 35.5 = Magic inventions of Asclepius and Hecate.” See our discussion, below, of Haer. VI.7.1, where Hippolytus connects Simon Magus’s magic with that of Thrasymedes (κατὰ τὴν Θρασυµήδους τέχνην). 14 See Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel (see n. 9), 36, and the discussion below (see n. 44) on PGM XXIII.38 in connection with the Egyptian deity Phren (Re). 15 Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel (see n. 9), 36. 16 Marcovich, “Introduction” (see n. 2), 36 (emphasis original): “In brief, Hippolytus as an unscrupulous and reckless plagiarist in the Elenchos has been recognized long

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Our study complements those of Catherine Osborne and Jaap Mansfeld on the Elenchos as a source of ancient philosophy.17 Our purpose is analogous to that of Adam Abt’s study of the philosopher Apuleius of Madaura (b. ca. 125 C.E.) and ancient magic.18 Marcovich’s generalization that, in the Elenchos, Hippolytus “is, as a rule, faithfully copying his source” suggests the feasibility of our investigation.19 Against Ganschinietz, we argue it is unnecessary to conjecture that Hippolytus used one or more intermediate sources. Copious similarities between Haer. IV.28–42 and the PGM are more plausibly explained by positing that Hippolytus had first-hand knowledge of magical literature like the literature preserved in the PGM. After making that case, we examine the sources for and presentations of magic as a basis for how Hippolytus exposes miracle-working ‘heretics’ in Haer. V–X. The final section of this article considers the sources for, and views of, magic in three other writings attributed to Hippolytus of Rome.

B. Descriptions of Magical Rites and Tricks in Haer. IV.28–42 Following a lacuna of unknown length, Haer. IV.28 begins in the middle of a description of the role that a child assistant is to play in fortune-telling and in producing the illusion of a divine epiphany.20 After that description, Hippolytus exposes a series of magical tricks 21 involving colorful burning salt,22 unusual eggs,23 sensational animal sacrifice,24 nature miracles involving fire and thunder,25 unsealing letters,26 tricks surrounding a second ago.” See further Haer. IX.26 (371.1–372.24 M.) and Marcovich, “Introduction” (see n. 2), 37 (emphasis original): “Gnostic exegetes quote Greek poets and philosophers in order to reinterpret them and present them as their witnesses. In his turn, Hippolytus copies the passages of the Gnostic exegetes dealing with Greek philosophers, presents them as his own discovery, and uses them as ‘proof’ of the Gnostics plagiarizing Greek philosophy. A plagiarist accuses a quoting writer of plagiarizing.” 17 Osborne, Rethinking Early Greek Philosophy (see n. 4); Mansfeld, Heresiography in Context (see n. 4). 18 A. Abt, Die Apologie des Apuleius von Madaura und die antike Zauberei (Beiträge zur Erläuterung der Schrift De magia, RVV 4.2, Berlin, 1967 [= Gießen, 1908]). 19 Marcovich, “Introduction” (see n. 2), 50 (emphasis original): “That simply means that Hippolytus’ passion for plagiarizing his sources is a blessing for us, since we can be reasonably sure that he is, as a rule, faithfully copying his source.” 20 Hipp. Haer. IV.28.1–12a (115–18 M.). 21 Hipp. Haer. IV.28.12b–41.2 (118–26 M.). 22 Hipp. Haer. IV.28.12b–13 (118 M.). 23 Hipp. Haer. IV.29 (118 M.). 24 Hipp. Haer. IV.30 (118–19 M.). 25 Hipp. Haer. IV.31–33 (119–22 M.). 26 Hipp. Haer. IV.34 (122–23 M.).

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divine epiphany and a prayer to a god,27 the illusion of an earthquake,28 an inscription on a liver,29 and a skull that speaks and vanishes.30 Throughout IV.28–42, Hippolytus seeks to uncover the fraudulent acts of the magicians and, at various points, argues that these people deceive their audience into believing that the magicians possess a power they, in fact, do not have.31 In our analysis of Haer. IV.28.12b–41.2, we consider whether the author depicts a single rite or lists a series of unrelated magical practices. 1. A Child (ΠΑΙΣ) Assists in Fortune-Telling (Haer. IV.28.1–12a) As mentioned above, the beginning (and, thus, possibly much) of Hippolytus’s discussion of magic is lost. The surviving manuscript begins with a word that occurs frequently in the PGM: λαβών,32 which directs the magician to “take” the next ingredient or item to be used in the rite.33 In this case, the magician “takes” paper and writes down what the inquirer wishes to know. The magician gives the paper to the child (παῖς), who is to burn it, so that the message goes, according to the Elenchos, to the demons.34

27

Hipp. Haer. IV.35–38 (123–25 M.). Hipp. Haer. IV.39 (125 M.). 29 Hipp. Haer. IV.40 (126 M.). 30 Hipp. Haer. IV.41 (126 M.). 31 With F. C. R. Thee, Julius Africanus and the Early Christian View of Magic (HUT 19, Tübingen, 1984), 394 (emphasis added), who points out Hippolytus’s distinctive view of magic relative to that of other late ancient Christian writers: “A new dimension in the attack on magic is emphasized by Hippolytus – the concept of magic as fraud. This idea was not entirely lacking in earlier [Christian] writers, and Hippolytus does not entirely abandon the demonic explanation of his predecessors, but there is a major shift to an attempt at a rational explanation of the phenomena.” 32 For a discussion of numerous possible textual emendations to this passage, see Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel (see n. 9), 31 (“Schwierig ist die Textgestaltung, da einige Stellen des Ms unleserlich sind.”) and, more recently, Legge, Philosophumena (see n. 1), 92 n. 1; M. Marcovich, “Textual Criticism on Hippolytus’ Refutatio,” JTS 19 (1968): 83–92; idem, “Introduction” (see n. 1), 5–8. Marcovich, “Introduction” (see n. 2), 6, illustrates how tentative a reconstruction of this text can be: “The text . . . from λαβὼν in Hipp., haer. IV 28.1 to the end of Hipp., haer. IV 28.3 προς– is copied by Michael in the upper and right margins of P.” This Michael was a monk who “copied the whole of the Elenchos (= P1).” 33 E.g., PGM I.78, 168; III.263; IV.3008; V.225; VII.490, 632–633, 866; XIa.1–2; XXXVI.295, 361–362; LXI.1–2, 37. 34 The child is an assistant (πάρεδρος), but the Elenchos portrays him as frightened and manipulated, if not also as an unwilling participant. The PGM describe how to gain an assistant, but offer no ethical requirements for how to treat him. Such behavior toward child assistants could have been common among magicians. In light of the polemical account the Elenchos offers, it is not possible to ascertain what source Hippolytus may have had for this information. 28

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The PGM attest that using a child (παῖς) as an assistant was indeed common among magicians. For example, a spell for acquiring an assistant (PGM I.42–195) mentions the role of “an uncorrupted boy (ὑπηρετοῦντος παιδὸς ἀφθόρου)” who is “serving and maintaining silence until the [angel] departs” (PGM I.86–87). E. N. O’Neil suggests that “apparently this boy serves as a child medium” and cites PGM II.5, V.376 and VII.544 as examples of this form of medium.35 The Elenchos portrays such a role for the child, who pretends to write to the gods in Hebrew and who uses invisible ink to record what the inquirer wrote. Another detail the Elenchos divulges is the use of different languages: the magician “flings the boy on a couch and reads to him many things, sometimes in the Greek tongue, sometimes in Hebrew, which are the incantations among magicians.”36 The use of different languages is also widely attested in magical texts. In a number of spells, the PGM mention speaking in Hebrew but not writing in Hebrew.37 The Elenchos adds two distinctive elements – writing in Hebrew and the choice between using Hebrew or Greek. Hippolytus himself may not have understood the significance of writing in Hebrew or Greek in this rite. What additional significance such writing may have played in the author’s source is uncertain.38 According to Haer. IV.28.2, the child burns the original message with Cyphi incense (κῦφι), an incense that is attested in PGM IV.1313–1314 and IV.2971. The magician then rushes into the room, giving the impression of having been inspired by a god, utters a loud, unintelligible cry, asks others to join him in invoking the god Re or some other daemon,39 and offers libation and sacrifice. According to Haer. IV.28.4, placing the drug copperas (χάλκανθον) in the libation bowl enables the magician to see the secret ink and thus to learn what the inquirer had asked. As is common in the PGM, moreover, the Elenchos lists, after the initial instruction, alternate techniques. Instead of copperas to reveal the invisible ink, one can use milk,40 urine, garum, or the spice of the spurge or from figs (Hipp. Haer. IV.28.5).

35

O’Neil in Betz, Greek Magical Papyri (see n. 6), 5 n. 19. Additionally, PGM II.55– 56 mentions the use of “an uncorrupted boy who has been tested” (παιδὶ ἀφθόρῳ γυµναζοµένῳ). See also PGM III.452, 710; IV.89; V.1, 40; LXII.32, 46. 36 Hipp. Haer. IV.28.3 (116.12–15 M.). 37 Oftentimes in the PGM, an alternate version or translation of a spell is offered in Hebrew. See, e.g., PGM III.119; V.475; XIII.150, 457, 594, 975–996. 38 The “Eighth Book of Moses” (PGM XIII.435), for example, commands the magician to write on a plaque and lick the letters off. He then is to wash off the other side with wine and milk before sacrificing. 39 See the discussion of the god Re below (on Hipp. Haer. IV.28.6). 40 For milk as an ingredient, see PGM I.287; IV.2193, 2971–2972; XII.215.

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In the PGM, a child (παῖς) also assists in divination. The magician lays him down and frightens him with different sounds: “After making a ringing noise, place the boy opposite the sun” (PGM IV.88). A similar practice for the child medium is described in PGM VII.348–358,41 and PGM VII.540–578 relays how a child and a lamp are used in divination. Here, too, the child is a medium for the magician. This initial part of the Elenchos’s account, then, corresponds to usual details widely attested in the PGM.42 Next in the Elenchos, the magician has the observers enter carrying laurel branches (δάφνας ἔχοντας) and help him invoke the god Phren (τὸν Φρῆν ἐπικαλοῦντας, Haer. IV.28.6). In PGM VII.795–845, laurel branches are used to summon a holy angel.43 Legge points out that Phren is “clearly the Egyptian sun-god Ra or Re, the Phi in front being the Coptic definite article.”44 In PGM XXIII.11–12 (Φρήν, [σὲ κα]λέω), Phren is one of many deities summoned to make a charm work. In magical texts, to fully utilize the power of a god’s name, it is important that the name not change; thus, the name is transliterated as Φρῆν. Whether Hippolytus would have known this is unclear, however. His preservation of the Coptic definite article in Φρῆν and the mention of laurel branches are consistent with our hypothesis that Hippolytus used, and rather faithfully reproduced, some magical text. In Haer. IV.28.6, Hippolytus explains that the observers’ participation with the laurel branches distracts them while the magician sets up the next part of the rite. Inside the dark room, the magician frightens the child with a gong and a humming noise, so that the child will do what the magician orders (Haer. IV.28.7–10). He attaches to the child a secret implement that 41 PGM VII.348–349: “Divination by means of a boy: After you have laid [him] on the ground, speak, and a dark-colored boy will appear to him.” Through this boy, the god will “reveal concerning the matter which I am considering” (PGM VII.358). This passage from the PGM does not clarify the reason for the magician’s action, but it does support the Elenchos’s rendering. In this article, we follow the convention of translating παῖς, which is gender-neutral, as “boy” in the PGM (see, e.g., n. 35). I am unaware if the use of a girl, rather than a boy, is ever specified in the PGM or other magical texts. 42 It is unusual for magical practices to be done for others and to be done for the benefit of others. Perhaps the Elenchos conflates different traditions together into a single account. Hippolytus could also be reading the practices of later ‘Gnostics’ who perform signs to gain converts, into his magical source. 43 PGM VII.802: λαβὼν οὖν κλάδον δάφνης. See also, within the same spell (PGM VII.795–845), VII.842–843: “Go to your house and having incensed the branch (λιβανωτίσας τὸν κλάδον), put it on your head and sleep pure.” See also PGM II.5–7; V.199–200. 44 Legge, Philosophumena (see n. 1), 92 n. 7. See also Betz, Greek Magical Papyri (see n. 6), 338 (s.v. Ra [Re, Phre]), and Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel (see n. 9), 36 (following R. Wünsch): “. . .ist Phrê nichts anderes als die koptische Form für den ägyptischen Gott Rê, indem der Artikel . . . vor dem Namen gesetzt ist.”

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will enable the assistant to surreptitiously hear and say whatever the magician commands. The spectators are to be quiet while the child appears to speak (in the Elenchos’s estimation, under the influence of demons). The directions to the magician again supply an alternative procedure – in this case, in regard to the type of communication device to be used. Animal hide wrapped around a pole or a rolled up scroll will also suffice.45 As mentioned above, the magician learns what had been asked of the child by secretly pouring copperas in the bowl (λεκάνη, Haer. IV.28.12), so that what the child wrote comes to the surface. Bowl divination is likewise attested in the PGM: “You will observe through bowl divination (σκέψῃ διὰ λεκάνης αὐτόπτου) on whatever day or night you want, in whatever place you want, beholding the god in the water and hearing a voice from the god which speaks in verses in answer to whatever you want” (IV.162–165). The practice is attested elsewhere in the PGM, as well.46 To summarize, our analysis has called attention to several parallels between Haer. IV.28.1–12a and the PGM: the use of a child (παῖς) as an assistant, the use of the Hebrew language, the possible use of alternative ingredients or procedures, the use of laurel branches, invoking the god Re (Phren), and bowl divination. On this basis, we view as plausible that this (surviving) section in the Elenchos’s account of magical practices originated from an authentic text on magic like those preserved in the PGM. 2. Overview: The Various Magical Tricks To Be Unveiled After describing in some detail a particular means of divination (Haer. IV.28.1–12a), Hippolytus moves more quickly through a series of magical tricks: (1) colorful burning salt (Haer. IV.28.12b–13), (2) unusual eggs (IV.29), (3) sensational animal sacrifice of sheep, goats, and rams (IV.30), (4) nature miracles involving fire and thunder (IV.31–33), (5) unsealing letters (IV.34), (6) an epiphany of Hecate (IV.35–38), (7) creating the illusion of an earthquake (IV.39), (8) reading an inscription on a liver (IV.40), and (9) a speaking and vanishing skull (IV.41). Hippolytus includes a prayer from a magical spell (IV.32.3, also examined below). Final remarks complete the treatise on magic (IV.42). As was the case in the earlier passage (IV.28.1–12a), the next section (IV.28.12b–41.2) shows numerous similarities to the PGM, but Hippolytus now describes alleged wonders less extensively and without reference to the context of a particular spell. A possible motivation for this change may 45 Hipp. Haer. IV.28.11–12 (117–18 M.) states that the magician comes prepared with vague answers that could pertain to a wide variety of circumstances in case anyone should ask a question whose answer the magician does not know. 46 See also PGM IV.222–234; III.277: “anything is obtainable; perform bowl divination as you wish ([π]οίει λεκαν[οµαντεία]ν, ὡς θέ[λε]ις).”

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be deduced from the Elenchos’s later remarks about wonder-working ‘heretics.’ Later in this article, we consider the author’s grievances, voiced in subsequent books of the Elenchos, against the Elchasaites, Marcus, the Carpocratians, Simon Magus, and even Pope Callistus I. These are the author’s main opponents, and the need to debunk their tricks seems to inform the cataloging of magical tricks in Haer. IV.28.12b–41.2. 3. Colorful Burning Salt (Haer. IV.28.12b–13) In the first of these purported wonders, “the so-called rock salts” (τῶν λεγοµένων ὀρυκτῶν ἁλῶν) are covered with Etruscan (Etrurian) wax (κηρῷ Τυρρηνικῷ) and placed next to incense (λιβάνος; Haer. IV.28.12b–13). When the incense is burned, the salt also combusts, leaping up and displaying colors to produce “an illusion as if some strange and wonderful thing were happening.”47 The use of incense is abundantly attested in the PGM.48 One spell mentions the burning of incense and rock salt together, which would result in the sparkling effect that the Elenchos ridicules: “Recite as on the altar you burn incense (λίβανον ἐπὶ βωµοῦ), earth from a grain-bearing field and one lump of rock salt (ἁλὸς ἀµµωνιακοῦ)” (PGM V.394–397). Two spells (PGM IV.3131; XII.17) call for the use of the same type of Etruscan wax.49 The most common use for wax in the PGM, however, is for the making of figures out of wax.50 4. Coloring Eggs (Haer. IV.29) Another alleged wonder is to extract the white out of an egg and replace the egg white with a different substance, giving the egg a distinctive red or black color. “[T]he idea seems [to be] to frighten the dupe,” observes Legge, “by the supposed prodigy of a hen laying eggs which have red or black inside them instead of white.”51 What sort of spell this act might be a part of is open to conjecture. In Hippolytus’s source, it could have been an isolated tradition analogous to the isolated instruction preserved in PGM 47 Haer. IV.28.12b (118.64–70 M.). Hippolytus also indicates how different colors can be made from the leaping salt and how coals can give the illusion of moving. 48 PGM I.10, 62; II.24; IV.215, 907, 1269, 1309, 1462, 1833, 1909–1910, 1990, 3195a; V.202; VII.320, 543, 637–639, 828; XIII.18, 354, 1007; XXXVI.135; LXXVII.23. 49 PGM IV.3128–3129 (λαβὼν κηρὸν Τυρρηνικὸν πλάσον ἀνδριάντα) and XII.17 (λαβὼν [κηρὸ]ν [τ]υρρηνικ[ό]ν) instruct the magician to use Etruscan wax for making a three-headed figure and for making a statue of Eros, respectively. 50 See PGM IV.296 (for making the form of a woman); IV.1878–1881 (of a dog); IV.2359–2368 (of Hermes); IV.2378 (of a begging man holding a staff, around which a snake is coiled); IV.2945 (of a dog); cf. IV.3215. 51 Legge, Philosophumena (see n. 1), 95 n. 5.

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VII.170–171:51a “To make an egg become like an apple (ὅµοιον µήλων γενέσθαι): Boil the egg and smear it with a mixture of egg-yolk and [red] wine.”52 Remarkably, in both Haer. IV.29 and PGM VII.170–171, instructions for such tricks occur without reference to a larger procedure. It thus remains open to conjecture whether Hippolytus truncated his source or found this material in his source as an isolated entry. 5. Sensational Animal Sacrifice: Sheep, Goats, and Rams (Haer. IV.30.1–31.1) In a third section devoted to tricks without reference to a particular magical rite, Hippolytus critiques the illusion of making a sheep appear to cut off its own head (Haer. IV.30.1). The magician positions a sword beneath the sheep’s neck after placing on the animal’s neck a flammable concoction (καυστικῷ φαρµάκῳ) that causes its neck to itch. Responding to the tingling of its skin, the sheep rubs against the sword, ultimately decapitating itself. According to the Elenchos, the concoction placed on the neck is made of bryony, marsh salt and squills mixed together in equal parts (βρυωνία καὶ ἀδάρκη καὶ σκίλλα κατ’ ἴσον µεµιγµένα[ι], IV.30.2). One passage in the PGM refers to slitting the throats of sheep, but with none of the theatrics found in the Elenchos.53 Nonetheless, there may be some validity to Hippolytus’s conjecture of deception in this case. Even the PGM attest to individual illusions without referring to a more elaborate magical rite. As part of the aforementioned list of gimmicks that instruct the magician in how to fool others (PGM VII.167–186; cf. on Haer. IV.29), one prank mentions how squills can be used to create a different type of sensation: “To make cold food burn the banqueter, after soaking a squill in hot water (σκίλλαν εἰς ὕδωρ χλιαρὸν βρέξας) give it to him to wash with” (PGM VII.178–179). Common to both illusions is the irritation caused on the body where the squills are applied – the sheep’s neck and, by implication, from the hands to the mouth of the banqueter. In addition to unmasking as an illusion the self-decapitation of sheep (Haer. IV.30), Hippolytus mentions even more briefly peculiar means for killing goats and rams. His account on the suffocation of goats presumes 51a Within PGM VII.167–186, VII.170–171 follows an instruction for making “bronzeware look like it’s made of gold” (VII.167–169) and precedes another, distinct instruction for making “the chef unable to light the burner” (VII.171–172). 52 On numerous other uses of eggs, see PGM III.379; IV.50, 2587, 2652, 2687; V.252, 377; VII.170, 182, 523; XII.96–106; XXXVI.283. 53 PGM XXIII.1–70. The same passage mentions sheep (PGM XXIII.2), a sword (XXIII.12), and the god Phren (XXIII.38), but on the whole the similarities with the Elenchos’s description are less striking at this point. On the offering of goats in sacrifice, see PGM VI.37–38: “For you, if I’ve ever burned for you fat thighs of bulls or goats, grant this my prayer.”

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that goats breathe through their ears (Haer. IV.31.1). When the magician stops up the animal’s ears with “salve/cerate” (κηρωτή), it cannot breathe.54 Hippolytus counters that the animal’s death is attributable not to the magician’s power but to a quasi-scientific deception. Hippolytus alludes briefly to killing a ram by bending it backwards against the sun.55 The sequential references to goats and rams in the Elenchos could be of significance, since, in the Zodiac, these animals are known as Capricorn and Aries.56 Although the PGM offer no direct parallel to such means for killing goats or rams, certain spells prescribe the use of a ram’s brains, fat, or umbilical cord (PGM II.45; IV.1085–1101, 1314; VII.539; XXXVI.312), which requires the killing (or sacrificing?) of a ram by some means. 6. Nature Miracles Involving Fire and Thunder (Haer. IV.31–33) a) Two Ways of Creating Fire Two ways of creating fire receive attention in Haer. IV.31.1–2. Anointing a house with the juice or pulp of a particular fruit (θαλαττίων τινὸς ἰχῶρι χριόµενον, [οἷον] τοῦ καλουµένου δακτύλου) will make the house easy to ignite. The PGM do not list instructions for burning down a house57 but do give directions for preventing a fire from starting (PGM VII.171–172, mentioned above) and for quenching fire (PGM XIII.298–303). Another means of combustion, heated “sea foam” (ἀφρὸς θαλάσσης, Haer. IV.31.2), will burn but will not cause harm when placed on a person’s head. We find no reason to suspect that this ingredient is Hippolytus’s interpolation, since PGM IV.3202 (ἀφρὸς θαλάσσης) lists it as an element in the making of ink. Also of interest is a hymn to “foam-born Kythereia . . . who causes the great fire to resolve” (PGM IV.2915–2919). As we have noted already, it is common for the PGM to give alternative procedures. The Elenchos mentions two alternatives to aid combustion: adding melted gum (µάννη, unattested in the PGM) or sulfur (θείου τι). For the latter, PGM VII.490–491 directs the magician to burn “incense/sulfur and seed of Nile rushes (θεῖον καὶ νειλοκαλάµης σπέρµα) . . . to the moon.” 54 Hipp. Haer. IV.31.2. F. Thee, Julius Africanus (see n. 31), 395 n. 5, infers that Hippolytus misunderstands some symbols. See also Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel (see n. 9), 73 and, below, the illusion of an earthquake “[when] ichnaumon’s dung [is] burned upon coal with magnetic iron ore. . .” (Haer. IV.39 [125 M.]). 55 Legge, Philosophumena (see n. 1), 96 n. 1, observes that “something is omitted from the text” and suggests plausibly that Hippolytus has expanded upon a tradition, such as Plin. N.H. 8.75. 56 E.g., PGM V.379; VII.810, 819; XIII.349–350. 57 But see PGM XIa.1–40 (esp. XIa.29–30) on ingredients for making a bonfire to gain control over “Apollonius of Tyana’s old serving woman.”

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Sulfur is also named in a love spell of attraction: “Take seven lumps of unburned sulfur (λαβὼν θείου ἀπύρου βόλους ἑπτά) and make an altar from vine wood. Say this spell over the lumps one by one and throw them into the fire” (PGM XXXVI.295–298).58 We find no reason to doubt that Haer. IV.31.2 accurately reproduces this instruction on sulfur from its source. b) A Thunderous Cacophony Haer. IV.32.1 proceeds to describe in some detail how the magician produces a sound like thunder. Rolling large rocks from a height onto pieces of copper or coiling a slender cord around a thin board yields a thunderous cacophony. Thunder and the power to produce it are important in the PGM. In one spell, the magician calls upon a god, attributing to himself the following power: “I am the one who makes the lightning flash and the thunder roll” (PGM V.149–150). The so-called “Mithras Liturgy” (PGM IV.475–825) mentions thunder three times – in connection with attempts by the angels or gods to shock the ascending magician (IV.571–573), with the result of the magician’s prayer (IV.620–623), and with what is sent “against the nations of impious people” (IV.681–682; cf. IV.1039). According to H. D. Betz, at PGM IV.571–573 “the thunder indicates that the initiate now stands in the sphere where the weather, especially thunderstorms, occur.”59 These similarities between the PGM and the Elenchos on references to thunder support the inference that the Elenchos’s source did speak of how to create thunder-mimicking crashes.60 c) Protection from Being Burned The Elenchos continues to unveil the magician’s repertoire by describing protection from burns. For example, magicians pretend not to be burned when placing their hands into a boiling cauldron. Placing pitch (πίσσα) in

58 Moreover, PGM VII.865–869 mentions sulfur (θεῖον) and blood of a dappled goat as part of the concoction to be prepared when seeking help from the Egyptian goddess Selene. See also PGM XIII.243–244. 59 H. D. Betz, The “Mithras Liturgy”: Text, Translation, and Commentary (STAC 18, Tübingen, 2003), 152; cf. 165, 179. Betz continues (p. 152): “The subject of thunder has fascinated antiquity in many quarters and led to brontology, a department of astrology/astronomy.” 60 See also the beginning of Hipp. Haer. IV.32.2 (120.7–8 M.): Ταῦτα µὲν οὕτως παίζεται· ἕτερα δέ, ἃ καὶ [οἱ] αὐτὰ οἱ παιζόµενοι ὡς µεγάλα νοµίζουσιν, ἐκθήσοµαι, which could mark a turning point in the magician’s celestial journey or it could be for his own protection. Again, the Elenchos does not dwell on the significance of thunder in the spell, as its primary concern is to unmask the purported sign.

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the cauldron beforehand protects them.61 They walk on burning coals with bare feet without being burned (ἐπὶ ἀνθράκων πυρὸς περιπατοῦντες γυµνοῖς ποσὶν οὐ καίονται, Haer. IV.32.2). And a linen cloth (because it is soaked in water) does not burn when thrust upon a flaming pyramid. The PGM discuss offering sacrifices on coals,62 but know nothing of walking on them. The ability to walk on fire unscathed is an attribute of the divinity,63 not of the magician. For Hippolytus’s discussion on burning, the PGM neither confirm nor deny the reliability of the Elenchos’s rendition of its source material. Since Hippolytus returns to these tricks in Haer. IV.33 (after citing a prayer, in IV.32.3), we will continue to explore the question of his source material. 7. A Prayer from a Magical Spell (Haer. IV.32.3) At Haer. IV.32.3, Hippolytus turns from assorted magical tricks (IV.28.12b–32.2) to a prayer for use in bowl divination. The prayer, which Hippolytus claims to copy directly from his source, calls for an appearance of Asclepius: Apollo’s child (πάϊν . . . Ἀπόλλωνος), once dead and yet immortal! I call on you to come as a helper to my libations. Who once the myriad tribes of fleeting dead in the evermournful caves of Tartarus, swimming the stream hard to cross and the rising tide, fatal to all mortals alike, or wailing by the shore and bemoaning inexorable things – these you yourself rescued from gloomy Persephone. Whether you haunt the seat of holy Thrace or lovely Pergamum or, besides, Ionian Epidaurus, the prince of magicians (µάγων [πρόµος]) calls you, O blessed one, to be present here. (Haer. IV.32.3)

Although PGM never mention Asclepius, they contain a number of references to Apollo.64 The PGM also bear witness to deities who have power in Tartarus.65 Ganschinietz notes the similarities of parts of this prayer to the Odyssey.66 It may well be that some use of Homer was intentional in Hippolytus’s source. In the PGM, the words of Homer are thought to possess special power.67 61

Greek: πίσσης λέβητα µεστόν (“a cauldron filled with pitch,” Haer. IV.32.2). Hippolytus offers a more detailed description of this practice in Haer. IV.33 (discussed below; cf. Haer. IV.34). The use of pitch is attested in a different context in PGM IV.1881. 62 PGM IV.1496, 2713, 2894–2895; LXI.42. 63 See PGM IV.269, 2748. 64 See PGM I.295–296, where Apollo is summoned in prayer. Also, PGM VII.728– 738 offers a “charm for [receiving] a direct vision of Apollo.” Cf. PGM II.130–140; III.229. 65 In a prayer (PGM IV.2522–2567) preserved within a love spell of attraction (PGM IV.2441–2621), the god cries out and shakes all of Tartarus (PGM IV.2533–2536). 66 Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel (see n. 9), 57; cf. 54–59; Hom. Od. 10.536. 67 See PGM IV.468–474, 820–824; VII.1–148. See also PGM IV.2145–2240, which offers “[d]ivine assistance from three Homeric Verses” and cites the three verses “in ex-

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8. Explaining the Tricks (Haer. IV.33) Following on the heels of the prayer (Haer. IV.32.3), bowl divination is said to lead to an appearance of Asclepius.68 The flow of the spell’s narrative is quickly lost as Hippolytus seeks to debunk the tricks associated with the rite.69 He takes up, in order, the tricks alluded to earlier (Haer. IV.32.2), namely protecting hands in the cauldron, walking on hot coals, and setting a pyramid alight. By adding vinegar and soda to a cauldron of pitch, the magician can place his hands in the cauldron without being burned. Washing one’s hands in seawater many times likewise helps protect them in the cauldron, as does sprinkling them beforehand with myrtle-juice, myrrh, soda, or vinegar (Haer. IV.33.2). In a similar way, feet anointed with “ichthyokolla”70 and salamander71 will not be hurt on the hot coals. Finally, the pyramid is to be soaked in oil beforehand, so that it readily catches fire and will burn even when plunged into water (Haer. IV.33.3). In addition to revisiting these three tricks, the Elenchos critiques several others in rapid succession. The first concerns the creation of fire (cf. above on IV.31.1–2): instead of ashes (ἀντὶ σποδιᾶς), the magician places upon the altar, freshly burned lime,72 finely powdered frankincense (λιβανωτὸν λεπτόν)73 and, possibly, other items,74 which will cause the altar to readily catch fire (Haer. IV.33.3). Because ground-up lime and frankincense ceptionally large letters” (O’Neil in Betz, Greek Magical Papyri [see n. 6], 76 n. 263). Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel (see n. 9), 23–24 (and elsewhere) is interested in parallels the two prayers have with classical sources but is apparently not aware of such a function of Homeric materials in the PGM. Magicians were accustomed to borrowing from Greek and other classical literature, adapting the material for their own purposes, and hoping thereby to derive magical power from the esteemed words of earlier writers, especially Homer. 68 Hipp. Haer. IV.33.1. Cf. Legge, Philosophumena (see n. 1), 97 n. 2. 69 Hipp. Haer. IV.33.1 (121.5–6 M.): “But we shall not hesitate to tell the story of these things (τούτων τὴν ἱστορίαν) and how they undertake them.” 70 Greek: ἰχθυοκόλλα (Haer. IV.33.2), which is unattested in the PGM. Apparently following LSJ, s.v. ἰχθυοκόλλα, Legge, Philosophumena (see n. 1), 98 n. 2, suggests that ἰχθυοκόλλα is “presumably fish-glue. . . . The salamander, the use of which is to be sought in sympathetic magic, was no doubt calcined and used in powder.” 71 Use of a salamander is not attested in the PGM but is mentioned in the Papyri Demoticae Magicae. At PDM XIV.940, a salamander is applied to treat a wound. The connection with anointing hurt feet cannot be ignored, because in both cases the creature helps those who actually are, or who otherwise would be, hurt. 72 Greek: τίτανον ὑποκαιοµένην ἔχουσα (Haer. IV.33.3), which is unattested in the PGM (cf. [αἷµα] ἀπὸ Τιτᾶνος, PGM XII.435). 73 Frankincense is common to the PGM, mentioned some thirty times (e.g., PGM I.10; IV.215; V.202). 74 The text appears to be corrupt at the end of Hipp. Haer. IV.33.3.

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would resemble (incombustible) ashes, the fire would appear to come from the magician’s power. Also, the magician blows smoke from his mouth by confining smoke in a nutshell before placing the nutshell into his mouth (Haer. IV.33.4). Finally, the linen cloth (mentioned earlier) is rendered incombustible by soaking it in seawater and egg white. 75 An alternate mixture for the cloth consists of evergreens and vinegar. Thus, the prayer cited in Haer. IV.32.3 interrupts Hippolytus’s initial description and later debunking of various signs associated with the prayer. Already in Hippolytus’s source, these tricks could have been associated with the prayer to Asclepius. The Elenchos may preserve only a shadow of the complex rite(s) that could have involved a number of ceremonies and stages. As he had done in Haer. IV.28.12b–32.2, Hippolytus focuses in IV.33.1–4 on the magic tricks and thus may convey only part of the story. 9. Unsealing Letters (Haer. IV.34) Haer. IV.34, on letter seals, has no apparent connection to the preceding or following paragraphs. Magicians melt pitch, resin, 76 sulfur and bitumen in equal parts to replace a broken letter seal. Alternate mixtures follow immediately, rather than at the end of the spell (as they do elsewhere in Hippolytus’s description). Hippolytus is probably repeating endorsements from the original spell when he gives these alternatives: “But they say (φασὶ δέ) that wax with pine resin has the same effect and so also two parts of mastic with one of bitumen.”77 Sulfur alone is said to work fairly well, as does powdered gypsum diluted with water and gum; what works best (βέλτιον), however, is Tyrrhenian78 wax and shavings of resin, pitch, bitumen, mastic and powdered marble.79 An effective way to prevent letters from being unsealed is to mix hairs with swine’s fat when making the seal. It is not clear if this strategy for foiling the plot comes from Hippolytus or his source – advising magicians who did not want their letters to be unsealed. Aside from the obvious motive of learning the contents of other

75 There could be a connection to the earlier trick of making eggs an odd color (cf. Hipp. Haer. IV.29) if the egg whites from those eggs were used here in the same procedure. 76 For resin in the PGM, see IV.2996–2997; VII.237–238, 484–485; VIII.97–98. Again, Hippolytus’s knowledge of magical substances is confirmed in the PGM. 77 Hipp. Haer. IV.34.2 (122.10–12 M.). Or φασί could indicate that the author relies on oral tradition for this alternative. 78 Hipp. Haer. IV.34.3 (122.15 M.). Note the use of Tyrrhenian wax also in Hipp. Haer. IV.28, with the lamp and, in PGM IV.3128–3129 (cf. PGM XII.17), for making a phylactery. 79 The Elenchos adds, presumably from its source, “that of gypsum is no worse” (Hipp. Haer. IV.34.3 [122.17–18 M.]).

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people’s mail, the Elenchos offers no reason for the practice of secretly opening letters and sealing them again. The practice of reading sealed letters cannot be dismissed as a Christian author’s imaginative polemic. In PGM V.301, the magician boasts that one of his numerous talents is the ability to “read a sealed letter.” In addition, PGM III.371–392 describes in some detail how to read a sealed letter. This passage is especially significant because it does not merely mention but shows how to practice this skill. Although the surviving text of PGM III.371–392 contains numerous lacunae, it is clear that it taught how to perform the same task outlined in Haer. IV.34. Hence, not all of the debunking in the Elenchos need have arisen from Hippolytus’s polemical distortion. For opening letters, he could well have reproduced the alternatives from his source. The same could be true of his descriptions where there is no parallel to other magical literature. 10. An Epiphany of Hecate and a Prayer to a God (Haer. IV.35–38) In a structure similar to that of Haer. IV.33, this section begins with the description of two tricks – making heavenly bodies appear on the ceiling (Haer. IV.35.1–3) and the appearance of the torch-bearing goddess Hecate (IV.35.4). A prayer to heavenly goddess Bombo (that is, Hecate) follows (IV.35.5). In Haer. IV.36–38, Hippolytus returns to a more detailed critique of the tricks mentioned in IV.35.1–4. To make heavenly bodies appear, the magician paints the ceiling of a closed chamber to serve as a background for the heavenly bodies (Haer. IV.35.1). Next, he sets on the ground a bowl of water, whose reflection on the ceiling adds to the picture. Beneath the bowl lies a piece of glass that replaces a patch of the stone floor. In a chamber beneath the floor, the assistants (συµπαῖκται) show forms of gods and demons through the glass. With these preparations in place, the magician warns the observers to fall down when they see fiery Hecate riding through the air. The magician prays to the goddess Bombo, asking that she come in response to their libations. As is common in the PGM, a series of divine epithets follows, presumably from Hippolytus’s source; she is “light-bearer, nightwalker, hater of the light. . . . [She] stalks among corpses and tombs of the dead . . . [and is] thirsty for blood” (Haer. IV.35.5). It is not surprising that the observers are told to fall down upon the entrance of such a dangerous deity.80 The Elenchos adds that, when Hecate appears and the observers fall to the 80 Hipp. Haer. IV.36.1. At this point in the spell, one might expect the use of phylacteries for protection, but no such safeguard is mentioned. See Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel (see n. 9), 65–67. See also Hipp. Trad. ap. 16.21–22 (discussed below), according to which a maker of phylacteries (among others associated with the magical practices) must not even be considered for baptism.

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floor, an accomplice sets fire81 to a hawk as he hears the end of the incantation. The terrified bird flies away, and the foolish audience thinks they have seen “something divine” (τι θεῖον).82 The Elenchos next returns to the wonder of stars appearing on the ceiling. A lamp shines dimly between a mirror and the bowl. Often, a screen is on the ceiling to reflect the image. When the magician signals, an assistant pulls a covering from the lamp, resulting in the appearance of the moon on the ceiling. By moving the lamp from its suspended position, “the moon appears to have been sent down from heaven.”83 PGM CX.1–12 may be a parallel to the kind of celestial apparition found in the Elenchos: . . .a voice comes to you in conversation. Lay out the stars on a board in their natural order, with the exception of the sun and the moon. Make the sun gold, the moon silver, Kronos of obsidian, Ares of yellow-green onyx, Aphrodite of lapis-lazuli streaked with gold, Hermes of turquoise; make Zeus of a [dark blue] stone, but underneath of crystal. But the horoscope. . . .84

Roy Kotansky writes that PGM CX.1–12 “seems to contain instructions for a special type of astrological divinization.”85 The expectation that the sun and moon are to appear is an additional parallel to the Elenchos’s description of the ascent of the moon. In several other of the PGM, the rising moon provides a cue to the magician: it can signify the time to pronounce a spell (PGM III.338; V.422), to take ingredients (III.373–374), to sacrifice (IV.3146), or to perform a rite (V.243–246). Elsewhere, the number of letters (fifteen) of a magical name corresponds to the number of “days of the rising moon” (PGM VIII.44–46). Given these similarities between Haer. IV.35.1–3 and the PGM, we acknowledge the possibility that Hippolytus may excerpt from a rehearsed ritual that was to take place in heav81

Hippolytus describes the combustive substance as containing Laconian and Zacynthian bitumen (Haer. IV.35.3). 82 Haer. IV.36.2. A polemic against the character of the magicians follows: “the prescience of the magicians” is evident in that the bird flies away and “burns down” (καταφλέγω) houses and farm buildings (IV.36.2). 83 An alternate procedure mentioned in Haer. IV.38 calls for the use of numerous lighted glass jars. At a certain point, all other lighted jars are snuffed out, and the person hidden behind the altar, using his (still lit) jar, gives the illusion of the moon. By covering part of this jar, a crescent moon may be shown. Hippolytus says that fish scales attached to the ceiling by water and gum form the stars (Haer. IV.38). 84 PGM CX.1–12. The text is incomplete at the beginning and end of the passage. 85 Kotansky in Betz, Greek Magical Papyri (see n. 6), 312. Kotansky also points out that each name stands for both a god and a planet in the solar system. For example, Aries is also the planet Mars. Elsewhere in the PGM, stars are known to appear after prayer (PGM IV.579–582) and to move (PGM IV.699–705; LVII.17). In other spells, ruling and controlling the stars is attributed to a god (PGM VII.686–687; XIII.144–146; cf. IV.260– 265).

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enly spheres. Although an image of Zeus under the crystal is construed as trickery by this Christian author, in the spell the image could have been the cue for a turning point in the rite. An additional element of PGM CX merits attention. In Kotansky’s interpretation, “the complete text at the beginning of the horoscope shows that the client participates in an auditory revelation of a god.”86 From the Elenchos’s description alone, one might infer that Hippolytus reads audience participation into the spells, because this is what ‘Gnostic’ tricksters do. But in the PGM, an outsider, who is neither an assistant nor an accomplice, can participate in a magical rite. Although the presence of such a person is not common in the PGM, we see that not all of the Elenchos’s dismissive remarks about the foolish onlookers need be construed as a Christian author’s polemical creation.87 The prayer to the goddess Bombo (who is unknown in the PGM) is of only passing interest to Hippolytus, but the prayer gives some context to the wonders of the fiery bird and the displaying of the heavens. Other names given to this goddess, who is thirsty for blood, are Gorgo, Mormo, and Mene.88 As we have seen before, Hippolytus presumes that the magician performs for a rather credulous crowd. Hippolytus may emphasize the crowd’s naiveté, because contemporary Christian fools followed ‘heretical’ tricksters. If so, Hippolytus would hope to hone a keener discernment in his proto-orthodox readers. A novelty in the Elenchos is the active involvement of accomplices in the rite. Unlike the earlier frightened child (cf. above on Haer. IV.28.1–12a), these individuals know what is happening and would have had to receive training beforehand in how to dupe the crowd. Any rite with accomplices would be complex and would require preparation and practice in order to produce an effective experience for the audience. 11. Another Nature Miracle: The Illusion of an Earthquake (Haer. IV.39) In regard to bringing about the sensation of an earthquake, Hippolytus cites, “Everything appears to be moving [when] ichnaumon’s dung [is] burned upon coal with magnetic iron ore.”89 Ganschinietz lists the refer86

Kotansky in Betz, Greek Magical Papyri (see n. 6), 312. The Elenchos charges that this magical rite is fraudulent because it claims to cause the appearance of the moon and the god. The charge may be due to Hippolytus’s misunderstanding and not to the claims of his source. In PGM CX.1–12, a board provides an area upon which signs can appear in answer to various questions. If Hippolytus’s source reflected a similar device, he may not have understood how it was used. 88 For the name Gorgo, see PGM XVIIIb.1–7. The name Mormo is not attested in the PGM. For the name Mene, see PGM IV.2264, 2609, 2815; VII.758. 89 In Haer. IV.39, the text breaks off at this point. See above (n. 54), on Hipp. Haer. IV.31.2 and the suffocation of goats. 87

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ence to magnetic stone as a hapax legomenon.90 As in the preceding appearance of the goddess Hecate with fire, Hippolytus construes the supposed supernatural event as engendering fear in the naïve crowds. In response, he outlines the natural cause of the phenomenon but does not specify with which rite, if any, this trickery may have been connected. The PGM hold clues about the possible significance of creating the illusion of an earthquake in the Elenchos’s source. Ability to create an earthquake is often used in an epithet for the gods,91 and PGM I.267–276 describes a charm that protects and makes rocks tremble. Moreover, a deity can shake the entire house upon making an entrance (PGM III.192–193). Fear of an earthquake keeps a magician from using a god’s name: “If I say it [the god’s name] complete, there will be an earthquake (ἔσται σεισµός), the sun will stop and the moon will be afraid . . . and the whole cosmos will be thrown into confusion” (PGM XIII.872–876). An earthquake, then, points to some cosmic activity, possibly induced by magic. It would probably not be created as an end in itself but as a means to point to the magician’s (or a god’s) power. We recognize the possibility that Hippolytus truncated his source, opting not to reveal what significance the earthquake may have had. 12. Revealing an Inscription on a Liver (Haer. IV.40) Once again, the Elenchos describes an isolated sign. An inscription is made to appear on a liver as an answer to an inquiry. In preparation, the magician first writes an “answer” on his left hand, using ink comprised of nut-galls and vinegar. He pauses when placing the liver on his left hand, so that the inscription becomes imprinted on the liver, thus producing, as if by magic, the answer of the enquirer. The PGM do not record a practice of this kind.92 The trickery described in Haer. IV.40 is similar to the use of invisible ink in Haer. IV.28.5 (discussed above). In Hippolytus’s source, it could have been a variant rite of divination or an alternate practice within a rite described earlier.

90 Ganschinietz, Hippolytos’ Capitel (see n. 9), 73. The text that Ganschinietz cites (σιδηραγωγούσα λίθος) differs from that of Marcovich, whose text uses the dative case (σιδηραγωγούσῃ λίθῳ, Haer. IV.39 [125.2 M.]). 91 See PGM IV.681–682, 1323–1324 (ὁ σείσας καὶ σείων τὴν οἰκουµένην), 2533–2534, 3075, 3077; VII.300 (ὁ σείων τὸν οὐρανὸν καὶ τὴν γῆν), 366; XII.60 (σ[ὺ] εἶ ὁ σείων). 92 Two passages mention that the livers of victims are to be cursed (PGM IV.115–118 [Coptic text]; VII.991), but these are imprecatory spells, not rituals of divination. The absence of parallel material to Hipp. Haer. IV.40 in the PGM does not, however, detract from the plethora of indications noted heretofore in this article that Hippolytus excerpts from some sort of an authentic magical source.

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13. A Speaking and Vanishing Skull (Haer. IV.41) The last trick that the Elenchos dismisses as an illusion is a speaking and vanishing skull. The skull is made from the omentum of an ox, Tyrrhenian wax, and gypsum and is provided with a communication device that, apparently, is similar to the one given to the child (παῖς) in Haer. IV.28.10– 12. An assistant speaks into the skull as the magician directs. The skull may be used to communicate with the dead or with some deity. The magician later burns incense on hot coals around the skull, causing it to “disappear” by melting. Hippolytus scornfully points out that a presentation of communication from the skull and the magician’s power over the skull would readily amaze the audience. PGM IV.2125–2139 supplies a solution to an amusing problem in the use of skulls: how to seal skulls not suitable for divination, in order to prevent them from speaking.93 As was the case in Haer. IV.40, neither Hippolytus nor the PGM offer much assistance for analyzing the content or context of Hippolytus’s source for IV.41. 14. Hippolytus’s Concluding Remarks about Magic (Haer. IV.42) The final paragraph in Hippolytus’s treatise on magic reveals his purpose in recounting sundry deceptive practices. Recent and contemporary ecclesiastical foes, whom Hippolyrus deems ‘heretical,’ utilize magicians’ tricks but, apparently, not the magicians’ rituals as a whole: These works of the magicians and myriads of similar [works], which, by the suitableness of the verses and the belief-inspiring acts performed (τῶν ἀξιοπίστως δρωµένων ἔργων), persuade those who are foolish (πείθει τοὺς ἄφρονας). The arch heretics, struck with the arts of these (magicians), imitated them (οἱ αἱρεσιάρχαι ἐµιµήσαντο), handing down some of their doctrines in secrecy and darkness, but paraphrasing others as if they were their own. (Haer. IV.42.1)

Since Haer. I–IV as a whole prepares a basis for his criticisms, later in the work, of Christian ‘heretics,’ the descriptive emphasis in Haer. IV.28–42 is not surprising.94 With fascinating logic, Hippolytus reasons that, because 93

Elsewhere in the PGM, a skull is used for summoning a woman (PGM XIa.1–40), as well as in another spell of attraction (PGM IV.1928–2005). The latter rite involves writing magical letters on the skull’s forehead. 94 Hippolytus also remarks that this section is not a necessary component to his greater purpose in writing the Elenchos: “But we have been led away not without reason into certain secrets of the magicians which were not altogether necessary for the subject (ἃ πρὸς µὲν τὸ προκείµενον οὐ πάνυ ἀναγκαῖα ἦν), but which were thought useful as a safeguard against the rascally and inconsistent art of the magicians” (Hipp. Haer. IV.42.2 [126.7–8 M.]). See also Legge, Philosophumena (see n. 1), 103 n. 2, who considers this statement to constitute “an admission that this chapter was an afterthought.” It is more plausible, however, that Hippolytus’s belated denial that writing a tractate on magic was necessary bespeaks his embarrassment for having broached the sordid subject in the first place.

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some ‘Gnostic’ teachers use magical tricks to amaze and persuade their audiences, this section of the Elenchos should help his readers to see through the devices of such ‘heretical’ tricksters.

C. Magic and the Deceptive Tricks of ‘Heretics’ Having examined the extant portion of Hippolytus’s treatise on magic (IV.28–42), we may now ask to what extent it correlates with Hippolytus’s allegations against contemporary ‘Gnostic’ (and other) opponents, who perform tricks and miracles by means of magic.95 The Elenchos accuses five recent or contemporary leaders or groups of magical deceptions – (1) Alcibiades and the Elchasaites, (2) the Valentinian Marcus, (3) the Carpocratians, (4) Simon Magus and his modern-day emulators, and (5) even Callistus, the Bishop of Rome. To be sure, the practice of magic is but one among several quarrels Hippolytus has with these ‘heretics.’ We examine Hippolytus’s remarks on each of these leaders or groups insofar as his allegations treat the use of magic to gain followers. At several points, Hippolytus refers to his earlier exposition on magic to support his critique of contemporary foes.96 Since only parts of Book IV survive, our conclusions about the relationship of the treatise on magic to the antiheresiological critiques must be tentative. At times, moreover, the critiques offer clues about materials that may originally have been part of the truncated tractate on magic. 1. The Deceptive Tricks of Alcibiades and the Elchasaites Hippolytus charges Jewish-Christian Elchasaites (or Elcesaites, Elkasaites) with the use of magic for vainglory: But they [the Elchasaites] are so vainglorious as to say that they themselves foretell the future, starting evidently from the measures and numbers of the Pythagorean art described above. And they give heed to mathematics and astrology and magic as if they were true (ὡς ἀληθέσι), and they use these things to harass the foolish (ταράσσουσι τοὺς 95

R. M. Grant, Gnosticism and Early Christianity (New York, 2nd ed. 1966), 93, speaks to this point: “Of course, it should be added that, in polemical writing, your magic is my miracle, and vice versa, and furthermore, that the fathers were fond of tracing genetic developments in heresies. Not all their tracings were correct.” 96 Hippolytus’s confidence that his foes use older errors is evident, for example, at the end of a long discourse in Haer. IX.31.1: “Nothing has been left undemonstrated either of the philosophizings or of the things imagined by the heretics. . . . [It] is clear that either plagiarizing from or laying under contribution what the Greeks have elaborated, they have put them forward as divine.” Similarly, Haer. V.15.1 says about the Peratae, “The heresy of the Peratae, it has been made easily apparent to all, has been adapted from the rite of the astrologers with a change of names alone.”

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ἄφρονας), so that they [the Elchasaites] might think themselves partakers in mighty matters. They impart also incantations and spells (ἐπαοιδὰς δὲ καὶ ἐπιλόγ[ου]ς τινάς) to those bitten by dogs and to the demon-possessed and other diseased persons. (Haer. IX.14.2–3)

It is fascinating that Hippolytus’s multifaceted critique aims not only at earlier magical practices but also at earlier philosophical errors (for example, those of the Pythagoreans, Haer. I.2). Such a twofold attack occurs again in Hippolytus’s summary of the Elchasaites: “And they use incantations and baptisms (ἐπα[οι]δαῖς καὶ . . . βαπτίσµασιν) for their confession of the elements. And they are excited about astrology and mathematics and (give heed) to magic (acts). And they say they foreknow the future.”97 Hippolytus makes specific allegations against Alcibiades of Apamea (fl. 220 C.E.), an Elchasaite leader: But in most other matters he talks nonsense (φλυαρέω), and teaches [them] to utter (ἐπιλέγω) the same [spells]97a over those with consumption [i.e., tuberculosis; Greek: ἐπὶ φθισικῶν], and the baptizing of them in cold water forty times a week. And [to act] in the same way (ὁµοίως) with those possessed of devils. (Haer. IX.16.1 [361.1–3 M.]).

These fascinating acknowledgments that Elchasaite ‘heretics’ perform miracles on the sick and demon-possessed merit additional study. Building on his earlier portrayal of magic as fraudulent activity (Haer. IV.28–42), Hippolytus simply points out the Elchasaites’ deceit (IX.14, 19) before moving on to other concerns about them. 2. The Deceptive Tricks of Marcus: Manipulating the Eucharistic Cup The Elenchos describes the Valentinian (or Marcosian) ‘Gnostic’ Marcus (fl. late-2nd c. C.E.) as “an expert in magic (µαγικῆς ἔµπειρος), [who] led many people astray (ἠπάτα πολλούς) depending now on trickery and, at other times, on demons” (Hipp. Haer. VI.39.1; cf. Iren. Haer. I.13–21). Specifically, Marcus uses a trick to turn the liquid in the cup of the Eucharist (ὡς εὐχαριστῶν) purple or red, as a sign of magical power (Haer. VI.39.2). Hippolytus claims to have exposed this illusion earlier in the Elenchos, in his “book against the magicians” (ἐν τῇ κατὰ µάγων βίβλῳ, VI.39.3). We find no reason to doubt that he did so – although, unfortunately for us, that portion of Book IV is not extant.98 Another deception of

97

Hipp. Haer. X.29.3 (404.10–405.11 M.). Greek: ταὐτά [= τὰ αὐτά], referring to rites and prayers summarized in Haer. IX.15. 98 Hipp. Haer. VI.39.3 (256.12–14 M.): “And the drugs which can thus give color we have before described in our book against the Magicians.” Presumably, the exposing of the trick that Marcus uses occurred prior to Haer. IV.28.1. As mentioned above, the surviving manuscript of Haer. IV.28 begins in medias res and almost certainly followed a now lost section of uncertain length addressing additional magical tricks. On the possible 97a

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Marcus, says Hippolytus, is that he causes the liquid in the cup of the Eucharist to overflow, thereby astonishing his audience and persuading them that he is a miracle-worker (θαυµατοποιὸς ἐνοµίζετο, Haer. VI.40.2; cf. VI.35). This trick, too, is not mentioned in Haer. IV.28–42.99 Clearly, someone like Marcus who presented himself as a miracleworker and who gained followers through mingling magic with a rite like the Eucharist was, for Hippolytus, an opponent worthy of refutation. Hippolytus acknowledges not only a wonder-worker’s tricks99a but also the apparent effectiveness in gaining followers by such means. Perhaps more clearly than elsewhere in the Elenchos, one sees in Haer. VI.39.1–2 the reason for Hippolytus’s interest in discussing magic: with their tricks, Marcus, Elchasaites, and other ‘heretics’ are luring away potential converts from the proto-orthodox church (cf. above on Haer. IV.42.1). The false teachers must be combatted, not only for their errant beliefs but also for their successful means of evangelization. 3. The Deceptive Tricks of Carpocrates and His Followers A third miracle worker attacked in the Elenchos is Carpocrates of Alexandria (early/mid.-2nd c. C.E.), who espouses eclectic views on creation and the birth of Christ. The Elenchos further charges that Carpocrates’s followers practice magic arts and incantations (Τέχνας . . . µαγικὰς ἐξεργάζονται . . . καὶ ἐπαοιδάς) and [use] love-charms (φίλτρα) and love-spells of attraction (χαριτήσια), and magical assistants (παρέδρους) and dream senders (ὀνειροπόµπους) and other evil works.100

Hippolytus goes on to allege that they have themselves been sent forth by Satan for the purpose of slandering before the Gentiles the divine name of the Church, so that people hearing . . . may turn away (ἀποστρέφω) their ears from the preaching of the Truth, [or] beholding their deeds, may speak of evil.100a

As is the case for the Elenchos’s critique of Marcus’s illusions, not all of the Carpocratians’ alleged practices appear in the surviving earlier section on magic (Haer. IV.28–42).

source or origin of the κατὰ µάγων, see above (n. 13), on the explanations of Ganschinietz, Legge, and Marcovich. 99 Hipp. Haer. VI.40.3 (257.11–13 M.): “And we have set forth the trick of this in the above named book, where we have pointed out many things which have the power of causing increase when thus mixed with watery substance.” 99a Cf. on the Elchasaites, Haer. IX.14.2–3; IX.16.1. 100 Hipp. Haer. VII.32.5 (316.24–26 M.). 100a Hipp. Haer. VII.32.6 (316.28–33 M.).

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4. The Deceptive Tricks of Simon Magus and His Modern-Day Emulators Hippolytus writes about the legacy of Simon Magus (cf. Acts 8:9–24): It seems then right now to set forth also the [activities] of Simon . . . whereby we shall show that those who followed [him] taking hints from other names, have ventured upon like things. This Simon being skilled in magic arts . . . partly according to the art of Thrasymedes (κατὰ τὴν Θρασυµήδους τέχνην), in the manner we have explained above. (Haer. VI.7.1)

Apparently, Book IV of the Elenchos originally contained a section on the magic of Thrasymedes, although this, too, is not extant. The Elenchos also alleges that successors of Simon are not mere tricksters but bona fide magicians: Therefore the disciples of this [man] practice magic arts and incantations (µαγεία[ς] . . . καὶ ἐπαοιδαῖς), and send out love-charms (φίλτρα) and spells of attraction (ἀγώγιµα) and the demons called dream-bringers (τοὺς λεγοµένους ὀνειροπόµπους) for the troubling of whom they will. But they also do reverence to the so-called magical assistants (τοὺς λεγοµένους παρέδρους). And they have an image of Simon in the form of Zeus, and [another] of Helen in the form of Athena, and they bow down to them calling the one “Lord” and the other “Lady.” (Haer. VI.20.1)

By connecting these tricksters not only with the practices disparaged in Haer. IV.28–42 but also with the archetypal arch-heretic Simon, Hippolytus claims the rhetorical higher ground against his unnamed opponents. We infer that those opponents included the Carpocratians (discussed immediately above), since Haer. VI.20.1 (on Simon Magus’s followers) and VII.32.5 (on the Carpocratians) share in common several technical terms associated with magic: ἐπαοιδάς, φίλτρα, παρέδρους, and ὀνειροπόµπους. Hippolytus also paints the portrait of a magician’s absurd, idolatrous followers, who allegedly venerate contemporary embodiments of Zeus and Athena. Such a rhetorical advantage and an ad hominem caricature of Simon Magus’s followers strengthen the stance of Hippolytus against his ‘heretical’ Christian opponents. As we are about to see, those opponents included none other than the Pope himself. 5. Pope Callistus I as “the Sorcerer” The Elenchos accuses of magic not only widely condemned ‘heretics’ but also a supposed proponent of proto-orthodox theology like Callistus, the Bishop of Rome (217/218–222/223 C.E.). Hippolytus viewed Pope Callistus I as ‘heretical’ in moral and doctrinal teaching (Haer. IX.11–12), dubbing him “the sorcerer” (ὁ γόης, Haer. IX.12.20 [354.99 M.]) and as “a sorcerer and trickster [who] in [his] time snatched away many people

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(συνήρπασε πολλούς).”101 Hippolytus’s lack of specificity about Callistus’s magical practices – in contrast to the accusations against other opponents – is noteworthy. Since Hippolytus divulges essentially nothing about Callistus’s purported work as a “sorcerer,” we view this caricature as a polemical and ahistorical attempt to associate the Bishop of Rome with (other) ‘heretical’ tricksters. However, as he had for other tricksters, Hippolytus begrudgingly acknowledges that Callistus held influence over, or had “snatched away” (συναρπάζω), “many people” (Haer. IX.12.15). 6. Summation: Hippolytus on the Deceptive Tricks of ‘Heretics’ Our survey of magic in Books V–IX of the Elenchos has shown how the cataloging and critique of magical practices in Book IV serves as a basis for challenging the Elchasaites, Marcus, the Carpocratians, those who merit comparison to Simon Magus, and even Pope Callistus I. One interpretive problem not heretofore addressed is the disparity between the magic that Hippolytus attributes to the ‘heretics’ and the magic catalogued in the surviving portion of his treatise on magic (IV.28–42). Hippolytus’s claims to have addressed certain tricks earlier in this work (Haer. VI.20.1; VI.35; VI.39.2; VII.32.5; IX.16.1) could, on the one hand, be taken at face value, supporting the inference that accounts of such tricks were originally part of his treatise on magic. On the other hand (and, possibly, in addition), the several differences can be taken as another indication that in Haer. IV.28– 42 Hippolytus used an actual magical source that was independent of whatever information he used against his ‘heretical’ opponents. At any rate, although he does engage in polemic against the Elchasaites, Marcus, the Carpocratians, Simon Magus, and Callistus, it is clear that in Haer. IV.28–42 Hippolytus does not primarily wish to attack pagan magicians but to describe their errors. The next section of this article turns to representations of magic in three other writings attributed to Hippolytus of Rome.

D. References to Magic in Other Writings Attributed to Hippolytus Given the denigration of magical practices in the Elenchos, it is not surprising to find in other writings attributed to Hippolytus of Rome a care to explain certain allusions to magic in Scripture, as well as prohibitions against receiving magic-practicing converts into the church. We examine 101

Haer. IX.12.15 (353.74–75 M.): ἦν οὖν γόης καὶ πανοῦργος καὶ ἐπὶ χρόνον συνήρπασε πολλούς.

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comments on three biblical passages (Dan 2:3; 2:27; 1 Sam 28:12) before considering a portion of the Apostolic Tradition on the need to restrict from church membership people who practice magic. 1. Magic and Biblical Interpretation (I): Two Scholia on King Nebuchadnezzar’s Dream in Daniel The surviving portions of two writings attributed to Hippolytus challenge the possible interpretation that Scripture condones the use of magic. A scholion on Dan 2:3 urges that the sovereign activity of God be credited for Nebuchadnezzar’s dream: “I have dreamed [a dream].” [Dan 2:3] The dream, then, which was seen by the king was not an earthly [dream] (οὐκ ἦν ἐπίγειον), so that it might be interpreted by the wise of the world; but it was a heavenly [dream] (ἀλλ’ ἦν ἐπουράνιον), fulfilled (πληρούµενον) in its proper times, according to the will and foreknowledge of God. And for this reason it was hidden (ἀπεκρύβη) from people who think of earthly things, in order that to those who seek heavenly things, the heavenly [mysteries] might be revealed (ἀποκαλυφθῇ). For likewise it also happened in Egypt in the time of Pharaoh and Joseph [Gen 41:15].102

The scholion seems to be based on Hippolytus’s Commentary on Daniel.102a The author of the scholion – unlike the author(s) of Daniel – is troubled about the fact that a pagan king received such a revelatory dream, and gives two explanations for the dream’s origin. The first assures readers that King Nebuchadnezzar did not receive a dream as a result of divination or the working of some (other) deity. Rather, this “heavenly dream” came from God. The second argument cites the biblical precedent of Pharaoh’s dream in Genesis 41, to show how God could likewise communicate to Nebuchadnezzar through a dream. Why would such a clarification be necessary? Could the author have feared that some believers found in Dan 2:3 a biblical precedent for seeking dreams with help from magicians (or ‘heretics’)? If the reason is unclear for the scholion on Dan 2:3, a scholion on Dan 2:27 offers a clear rationale.

102

Hipp. Scholia on Daniel, section B.γ (on Dan 2:3); Greek text: A. Mai (ed.), Scriptorum Veterum Nova Collectio, e Vaticani Codicibus (Rome, 1825), 1:29–56 at 31 (right column, lines 18–26); ET: ANF, 5:186. 102a See Hipp. Dan. 2.1.1–3. The relationship of this scholion to Hippolytus’s Commentary on Daniel lies beyond the present inquiry. On Hipp. Dan., see G. N. Bonwetsch and M. Richard (eds.), Hippolyt, Kommentar zu Daniel (GCS 7, Berlin, 2nd ed. 2000 [= Berlin, 1897]); M. Lefèvre, Hippolyte. Commentaire sur Daniel (SC 14, Paris, 1947); and, most recently, Kathrin Bracht, “Hippolyts Schrift In Danielem. Kommunikative Strategien eines frühchristlichen Kommentars” (Habilitationsschrift, Jena, 2011). Cf. K. Bracht, review of Brian W. Shelton, Martyrdom from Exegesis in Hippolytus: An Early Church Presbyter’s Commentary on Daniel (Paternoster, 2008), in JR 90 (2010): 70–72.

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In the same collection of scholia on Daniel, another scholion attributed to Hippolytus (also, apparently, based on his Commentary on Daniel) finds significance in Daniel’s question why Nebuchadnezzar’s advisors could not interpret the king’s dream: “Is there not [one] of the wise, the magicians. . . ?” [Dan 2:27] He [Daniel] instructs the king not to seek heavenly mysteries from earthly people (µὴ παρὰ ἀνθρώπων ἐπιγείων τὰ ἐπουράνια µυστήρια ἐπιζητεῖν), which are about to be accomplished in their proper times by God.103

The rebukes of those who might seek guidance from any unapproved human sources suggest a polemical analogy between the earthly people in Daniel and contemporary earthly mediums. Space limitations preclude our assessing whether the author of the Elenchos and the “Hippolytus(es)” who wrote these scholia are one and the same person or what the relationship of these scholia to Hippolytus’s Commentary on Daniel might be.104 What can be noted is that the concerns about the origin of the king’s dream (Dan 2:3) and the folly of seeking a human interpretation (Dan 2:27) are consistent with the Elenchos’s purpose of unmasking magic as fraud. An author with the same preoccupations as those found in the Elenchos could easily be drawn to echo similar sentiments when commenting on Daniel 2. Presumably, the commentator on Daniel would discourage his congregants from seeking interpretations of dreams from magicians, especially ‘heretical’ ones (cf. Dan 2:27). 2. Magic and Biblical Interpretation (II): King Saul and the “Belly-Myther” at Endor An even more striking case of suppressing a magical element in Scripture is in a writing that deals with the story of Saul and the ‘witch’ – or, more accurately for the LXX, “belly-myther” (ἐγγαστρίµυθος)105 – at Endor in 1 Samuel 28 (= 1 Kings 28, LXX). The text in question is the sole surviv103

Hipp. Scholia on Daniel, section B.κζ (on Dan 2:27); Greek text: Mai, Collectio (see n. 102), 32 (right column, lines 23–26); ET (modified): ANF, 5:186. Cf. Dan 2:27– 28a (NRSV): “Daniel answered the king, ‘No wise men, enchanters, magicians, or diviners can show to the king the mystery that the king is asking, but there is a God in heaven who reveals mysteries. . . .’” See also Hipp. Dan. 2.6.5. The relationship of this scholion to Hippolytus’s Commentary on Daniel also lies beyond the present inquiry. 104 Similarities in language between the two scholia in the Scholia on Daniel edited by Mai (see n. 102) can be differentiated from other Church Fathers (e.g., Origen, Apollinaris), whose remarks on Daniel this writing cites, and can support the inference that they stem from the same source (presumably, Hippolytus’s Commentary on Daniel). 105 As M. M. Mitchell, “Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory: Origen and Eustathius Put 1 Samuel 28 on Trial,” JR 85 (2005): 414–45 at 421, correctly points out for the term ἐγγαστρίµυθος in 1 Kgs 28:3–9, LXX (five occurrences).

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ing fragment of a work attributed to Hippolytus On the Belly-myther (περὶ τῆς ἐγγαστριµύθου; Lat.: De engastrimytho or De Pythonissa).106 The fragment begins asking “whether Samuel rose by the hand of the sorceress or not.”107 The question correlates with the Elenchos’s purpose to reveal magic as fraud; a scriptural portrayal of the belly-myther’s magic as actually “working” could be problematic.108 The selective exposition of the biblical passage is instructive: “But Saul did not [actually] see [Samuel] (οὐκ εἶδεν). Rather, having listened to the woman, whatever (ὅπερ) he saw, namely the figure of one of those who ascended, he took to be Samuel (ὡς Σαµουήλ), consulted it as such, and did it obeisance.”109 In essence, we are told that the belly-myther did not actually perform the deed that 1 Samuel 28 explicitly attributes to her,110 and the apparition is deconstructed as stemming from Saul’s expectation. Yes, the bellymyther does cause some sort of a figure to ascend, but it was Saul’s misguided imagination that supplied the illusion that he was actually speaking with the renowned prophet Samuel. Next, the author of this fragment turns to the apparition that foretold Saul’s gloomy future. The prophecy, we are told, came not from a special revelation but only from a general awareness of the wrath of God because

106

The authenticity of De engastrimytho could, perhaps, be supported by Jerome’s attribution (Vir. ill. 61) to Hippolytus of a work by the title De Saul et Pythonissa. However, for arguments against the fragment’s authenticity, see H. Achelis, Hippolytstudien (TU 16.4, Leipzig, 1897), 122–24; O. Bardenhewer, Geschichte der altkirchlichen Literatur (Freiburg, 2 nd ed. 1914), 2:582. 107 Cf. Mitchell, “Patristic Rhetoric” (see n. 105), 421–22: “This biblical text posed many difficulties for both Jewish and Christian interpreters, chiefly because the woman’s action, though prohibited by Torah itself, uncannily creates a speech-platform for the highly esteemed prophet Samuel, and consequently the text raises many larger issues of the nature of inspired or prophetic speech and its truthfulness.” 108 Space limitations preclude the present inquiry from assessing whether the author(s) of Hipp. Haer. and Hipp. engast. could be the same person. 109 (Ps.-)Hipp. engast. (GCS Hippolytus I.2, 123.10–13 Bonwetsch); ET (modified): ANF, 5:169–70. 110 Note the explicit statement to the contrary in 1 Sam 28:15a (NRSV): “Then Samuel said to Saul, ‘Why have you disturbed me by bringing me up?’” By contrast, the woman in 1 Sam 28:12 actually becomes afraid when Samuel himself appears: her magic works so well that it frightens her. K. A. D. Smelik, “The Witch of Endor: 1 Samuel 28 in Rabbinic and Christian Exegesis till 800 A.D.,” VC 33 (1977): 160–79 at 165, notes that Tertullian, Martyrium Pionii, Eustathius of Antioch, Ephraem, Gregory of Nyssa, Evagrius Ponticus, Pseudo-Basil, Jerome, Philastrius, Ambrosiaster, and PseudoAugustine likewise affirmed that “a daemon deceived Saul and gave him a forged prophecy.” See further Smelik, “Witch” (see n. 110), 166–68; Achelis, Hippolytstudien (see n. 106), 123–24.

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of King Saul’s evil deeds. Contrary to 1 Samuel 28 (1 Kings 28, LXX),111 the author of De engastrimytho denies both the objective perception of the vision and the divine origin of the prophetic oracle. Intriguingly, the biblical passage gives no hint of deceit by the medium. It was perhaps due to embarrassment stemming from the biblical passage’s ambiguity that the patristic interpreter sensed a need to insist that the medium acted deceitfully. We recall that the divine epiphanies Hippolytus debunks Haer. IV.28.1–12a and IV.35 reflect a concern similar to the allegation of deception in De engastrimytho. 3. Prohibitions against Magic in the Traditio Apostolica and Canones Hippolyti The Apostolic Tradition, attributed to Hippolytus of Rome but whose authorship is disputed, attempts to prescribe practices for ordination and admitting new converts. 112 The section on catechumens deems as unacceptable and proscribes several crafts and professions (ἐπιστήµη), including magic. The following table displays in translation the surviving Coptic (Sahidic), Arabic and Ethiopic versions of Traditio Apostolica 16.13–14, as well as the epitome of this material in Canones Hippolyti 15:113

111 According to 1 Sam 28:8, the only deceit was that of Saul, who disguised himself when he met the belly-myther, because the king was known for cutting “off the mediums and the wizards from the land” (1 Sam 28:9). 112 According to the Latin version (Hipp. Trad. ap. 1.3–4; but not the Sahidic, Arabic or Ethiopic versions), the author writes the Traditio Apostolica “so that those who have been well led by our exposition may guard that tradition which has remained up to now, and being aware [of it] may remain firmer, [4] on account of that fault or error which was recently invented through ignorance and those who are ignorant.” ET: P. F. Bradshaw, M. Johnson and L. E. Phillips, The Apostolic Tradition. A Commentary (ed. H. W. Attridge, Hermeneia, Minneapolis, 2002), 20. Notably, the notion in Trad. ap. 1.4 of ‘heresy’ as a recent invention contrasts with the Elenchos, which maintains that ‘heresies’ stem from past errors. If Hipp. Trad. ap. 1–2 was originally part of this writing, this inconsistency would merit further exploration and could contribute to distinguishing between the authors of these works. 113 ET: Bradshaw et al., Apostolic Tradition (see n. 112), 90–91; a Latin version for Hipp. Trad. ap. 9.1–21.13 is not extant.

298 Sahidic Version [16.13] Nor (οὐδέ) shall a magician (µάγος) be considered for examination (κρίσις). [16.14] The enchanter or (ἤ) the astrologer (ἀστρολόγος), or (ἤ) the wizard, or (ἤ) the one who interprets dreams or (ἤ) the one who stirs up crowds, or (ἤ) the one who ruins the hems of garments . . . or (ἤ) the one who makes phylacteries (φυλακτήριον), either (ἤ) let them cease or (ἤ) be cast out.

Chapter 13: Hippolytus and Magic Arabic Version [16.13] . . .because a magician cannot be admitted to the ranks of believers. [16.14] The astrologer, the owner of an astrolabe, the fortune-teller, anyone who causes divisions in the community, anyone who buys cloth from body snatchers, and anyone who makes phylacteries,

let them stop or be excluded.

Ethiopic Version [16.13] For it is not proper that they bring a magician into the congregation of the believers. [16.14] An astrologer and one who divines by the sun and a soothsayer or a dream interpreter or one who misleads people or one who buys beautiful clothes for the years or one who makes medicine is to stop or be expelled.

Can. Hipp. 15 . . .or a magician or an astrologer, or a diviner, or an interpreter of dreams, or a snake charmer, . . . or one who makes phylacteries . . . all these and the like, do not catechize them and baptize them, until they have renounced all occupations of this sort, and three witnesses have testified for them that they really have renounced all these vices. . . .

The texts reflect knowledge of an assortment of magical practices – astrology, interpreting dreams, and making amulets. Gregory Dix interprets “the one who stirs up crowds” (Sahidic version) as “a mountebank who gathers crowds in the market place to watch his tricks.”114 Dix’s interpretation is reinforced by the parallel proscription in Canones Hippolyti 15 against snake charmers, who could likewise amaze the crowds.115 The manipulation of clothing (Sahidic version), Dix thinks, was an “occupation concerned with cutting fringes or tassels on clothing, which the wearers regarded as protective against evil spirits.”116 Besides the similar lists of proscribed occupations in these texts, the Sahidic version and Canones Hippolyti 15 correlate in the characterization of magicians as deceitful tricksters – a characterization also found in the Elenchos. These correspondences with what we have observed in the Elenchos and in comments on Daniel and First Samuel attributed to Hippolytus suggest that the knowledge of magical practices in Trad. ap. 16.13–14 should be weighed in future discussions of the authorship of the Apostolic 114 Dix, Apostolic Tradition (see n. 7), p. m. Assuming the priority of the Sahidic Version of Canones Hippolyti 15, the Arabic version, on causing divisions in the community, would reflect a derivative misunderstanding. Likewise, the Ethiopic version of Canones Hippolyti 15, on misleading people, would be secondary and less specific. 115 On the potentially alluring influence of snake charmers in antiquity, see Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 376–77. 116 Dix, Apostolic Tradition (see n. 7), p. n.

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Tradition. One difference may also be noted: whereas the Elenchos voices concern about ‘heretical’ leaders who use magical tricks, Trad. ap. 16.13– 14 prohibits admitting relatively recent converts (that is, ordinary believers) who use magic – converts who, possibly in the future, could emerge as ‘heretical’ leaders.

E. Conclusion: Magic, Persuasion and Power Scholars of the religion and philosophy of late antiquity have long recognized that the Elenchos, commonly attributed to Hippolytus of Rome, contains a vast and diverse trove of materials that are not preserved elsewhere, and that these materials enhance or complement other surviving witnesses. This article contributes the first ever investigation of the sources for and understanding of magic in Haer. IV.28–42 in relation to actual magical texts. Our analysis has revealed a high degree of correspondence of Haer. IV.28–42 with numerous details, descriptions and technical terms in the Greek Magical Papyri. Such correspondence supports the inference that, in many instances, Hippolytus faithfully reproduces copious details from his source on magic. Although several of the Elenchos’s inferences about magicians and their practices are clearly polemical and exaggerated, these assertions are oftentimes easily identified and differentiated from numerous parallels to the PGM. Against Ganschinietz, who maintains that Hippolytus used one or more intermediate sources for his descriptions of magic, the correspondence between Haer. IV.28–42 and the PGM suggests that the author of the Elenchos more likely had access to an actual collection of magical spells. The absence in the Elenchos of direct quotations from materials preserved in the PGM reveals that the Elenchos’s source for magic is not among those spells that happen to be preserved in the PGM. As such, the source materials preserved in the Elenchos merit additional study for the light they may shed on magic in late antiquity. Of arguably equal significance, we have considered the reasons for Hippolytus’s interest in magic in the first place, which he makes abundantly clear. First and foremost, ‘heretics’ of his day are said to produce miracles and other wondrous illusions by means of ‘magic.’ The author’s primary opponents are not ‘pagan’ magicians but, rather, the Elchasaites, Marcus (and his disciples), the Carpocratians, Simon Magus (and his purported modern-day followers), and even Callistus, the Bishop of Rome. In Book IV, Hippolytus’s discussion of magic prepares proto-orthodox Christians to discern the deceptive tricks of ‘heretics’:

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For as one person will use (χράοµαι) them [magical tricks] for the teaching of evil, so another, by learning them, will be protected (φυλάσσω), and the very magicians, corrupters of life as they are, will be ashamed when they practice (χράοµαι) the art. (Haer. IV.34.4)

Hippolytus’s striking acknowledgements of the ominously successful evangelistic enterprise of miracle-working ‘heretics’117 deserve to be taken seriously and investigated further. The theology of such individuals is arguably as interesting as the means they used to propagate their beliefs. The final section of this article examined references to magic in remarks (attributed to Hippolytus) on Daniel and First Samuel, as well as in the Apostolic Tradition. The scholia on Dan 2:3 and 2:27, which address the origin of King Nebuchadnezzar’s dream and the inability of the king’s advisors to interpret the dream, correlate with the Elenchos’s distinctive purpose of unmasking magic as fraud.118 An allegation of fraud likewise underlies the fragment about the “Belly-myther” at Endor, with whom King Saul consulted (1 Kings 28, LXX). Differing from the biblical text, the commentator maintains that it was Saul’s misguided imagination that led to the errant belief that he was actually speaking with Samuel. Finally, the Apostolic Tradition reflects knowledge of several magical practices, including astrology, interpreting dreams, and the making of amulets. At Trad. ap. 16.14 (Sahidic Version and the parallel in Canones Hippolyti 15), an intent to amaze the crowds through magical tricks correlates with the characterization of magicians as deceitful tricksters in the Elenchos. Due to space limitations, we have made no claim about whether Hippolytus of Rome wrote the Elenchos, the Scholia on Daniel, De engastrimytho (“On the Belly-myther”), or the Apostolic Tradition. These questions and several other interpretive issues on Christian witnesses to magical sources and practices in late antiquity await further examination.

Zusammenfassung: Theologen und Philosophen haben in der Vergangenheit wiederholt darauf hingewiesen, daß der gewöhnlich Hippolyt von Rom zugeschriebene Elenchos (auch bekannt unter dem lateinischen Titel Refutatio omnium haeresium) eine Fülle von Material enthält, das nur im Elenchos überliefert ist und das andere erhaltene Zeugnisse bereichert und ergänzt. Der vorliegende Artikel widmet sich im allgemeinen den Quellen, die dieser Schrift zugrunde liegen. Dabei wird insbesondere die Auffassung von Magie in Elenchos IV 28–42 untersucht: Ein Vergleich des Elenchos mit den Papyri Graecae Magicae (PGM) offenbart ein großes Maß an Übereinstimmungen vor allem von Elenchos IV 28–42 und zahlreichen Details in den PGM. Die entsprechenden Bezugnah117 See Hipp. Haer. VI.7.1; VI.20.1; VI.39.1–2; VII.32.5–6; IX.12.15, 20; IX.14.2–3; IX.16.1; X.29.3; cf. IV.42.1. 118 See above (note 31) on F. Thee, Julius Africanus, 394, who calls attention to the distinctiveness of the Elenchos relative to other late ancient Christian literature in that the Elenchos portrays magic largely as fraud.

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men des Elenchos sind bedeutsam wegen des Lichts, das sie auf magische Praktiken in der Kaiserzeit werfen. Entgegen der Position vom Richard Ganschinietz, der davon ausgeht, daß Hippolyt seine Kenntnisse über Magie nicht direkt aus magischen Originaltexten bezog, sondern eine oder mehrere Zwischenüberlieferungen benutzte, läßt die Übereinstimmung zwischen Elenchos IV 28–42 und den PGM darauf schließen, daß der christliche Autor Zugang zu einer Sammlung von Zaubersprüchen hatte, die er für seine Zwecke umgestaltete. Der Artikel prüft außerdem die Anspielungen des Elenchos außerhalb von Buch IV auf die Anwendung von Magie durch christliche „Häretiker“ der jüngeren Vergangenheit und der Gegenwart zur Gewinnung von Konvertiten. Der abschließende Teil des Beitrags beleuchtet die Bezugnahmen auf Magie in Scholien zu den Büchern Daniel und 1 Samuel sowie in der Traditio Apostolica, die jeweils Hippolyt von Rom zugeschrieben werden.

Chapter 14

The Search for Confessors at the Council of Nicaea* Were maimed confessors prominent and influential participants in the Council of Nicaea? Modern scholars have often thought so, but this article will explore the weak evidence for this judgment by examining the evidence for the presence and role of confessors at the Council of Nicaea. The term “confessor” did not have a fixed definition in the early church. In the broadest sense, a confessor acknowledged that he or she was Christian and was prepared to suffer in a time of persecution. Some confessors died for faith convictions, becoming martyrs, while others survived various sufferings, including torture and bodily mutilation.1 For the purpose of this inquiry, “confessors” (Lat.: confessores) are believers who were maimed, but not killed, in times of persecution. The question to be answered is whether the divergent claims of several ancient sources support the view that confessor bishops exercised greater authority at the Council of Nicaea because of the persecutions they had borne. This article’s “search for confessors,” therefore, is to discern both the presence and the authority of confessors at the Council by examining the citations offered to support the view that their influence was substantial in the formulation and acceptance of the creed. It will be argued that, although there is no reason to question whether some confessors were present at Nicaea, the harmonizing approach of Timothy Barnes, among other scholars, to the ancient witnesses has spawned both historical and literary misinterpretations. The main late ancient Christian author to be examined is Theodoret of Cyrus (ca. 387–ca. 457), who, roughly a century after the Council (325 C .E .), claims that an “assembly of martyrs” was gathered at Nicaea (Hist. * Original publication: Journal of Early Christian Studies 19 (2011): 589–99. My thanks to Katharina Bracht, Peter W. Martens, Frederick G. McLeod, S.J., Roger Pearse, and Clare K. Rothschild for helpful suggestions on this study. 1 See further Bernhard Kötting, “Die Stellung des Konfessors in der Alten Kirche,” JAC 19 (1976): 7–23; Donald C. Nevile, “The Role of ‘Confessor’ in the Ministry of the Early Church,” Consensus 20 (1994): 29–37. Cf. Louis-Sébastien Le Nain de Tillemont, The History of the Arians, and of the Council of Nice[a] (2 vols.; trans. Thomas Deacon; London: G. Strahan, 1732), 1:59 (on Marianus [discussed below]), 1:131–32 (on Eustathius of Antioch), 1:195 (on Martin, who was given the title of confessor in Illyricum), and 1:197–98 (on Hilary of Poitiers).

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eccl. 1.7.6). The specific doctrinal and other pronouncements of this Council (the most notable of which is that the Son is of the same “ousia” of the Father, or homoousios with the Father) do not directly bear upon the present inquiry. What is of interest is Theodoret’s depiction of bishops who had suffered under the relatively recent persecutions and were now among those in a contentious gathering to define the Son’s ontological relationship to the Father.2 Accepting Theodoret’s account as reliable, Timothy Barnes writes that “Prestige did not depend mainly on a bishop’s see nor on his subtlety in debate. Confessors, especially those whose missing eyes and maimed ankles manifested proof of their steadfastness during persecution, enjoyed enormous authority.”3 In a footnote (p. 379 n. 52, referring to the immediately preceding citation), Barnes indicates that he bases this inference on five ancient witnesses, which this article examines: Rufinus Hist. eccl. 10.4, 12; Socr. Hist. eccl. 1.11.1ff.; Sozomen Hist. eccl. 1.10, 23; Theod. Hist. eccl. 1.7.6, 2.26.6; and Gel. Cyz. Hist. eccl. 2.9. Ramsay MacMullen likewise infers that the confessors were prominent at Nicaea, in contrast to the majority of “backbenchers,” who held less important seats: among the bishops present at Nicaea were some of Christianity’s heroes – Paphnutius, whose blinded eye socket he [Constantine] kissed in veneration, James of Antioch, whose piety could raise the dead, Paul of Neocaesarea with his burned hands, all glorious and reverend survivors of the persecutions; with them [were] the backbenchers, forming the great majority of the Council and representing the average-sized and smaller sees. 4

Following Barnes, Averil Cameron and Stuart G. Hall make a similar observation about the prominence of maimed confessors at Nicaea.5 Several other influential accounts of Nicaea and of early Christian confessors do not address the issue.6 2 In regard to an analogous conflict in Egypt, see W. H. C. Frend, Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church: A Study of a Conflict from the Maccabees to Donatus (Oxford: Blackwell, 1965), 539–41, on the (non-“orthodox”) Melitian bishops and monks, who claimed “to be ‘the Church of the Martyrs’” (540). See also R. P. C. Hanson, “The Council of Nicaea,” in idem, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God: The Arian Controversy 318–381 (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1988), 174–75. 3 Timothy D. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius (Cambridge [MA]: Harvard University, 1981), 214–15 at 214. 4 Ramsay MacMullen, Constantine (New York: Dial, 1969), 172–73 at 172. 5 In their commentary on Eusebius’s Life of Constantine, Averil Cameron and Stuart G. Hall, Eusebius, Life of Constantine: Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 263, cite Barnes for support of this point; yet as we point out below, Eusebius actually does not portray any confessors at Nicaea. 6 For example, Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), esp. 88–92; Aloys Grillmeier, S.J., Christ in Christian Tradition, Vol. 1: From the Apostolic Age to Chalce-

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The germination of the view on the prestige of confessors at Nicaea could perhaps be traced to Louis-Sébastien Le Nain de Tillemont (d. 1698), who, over three centuries ago, claimed that a Christian named Marianus “had the office of imperial notary (or secretary of state, which was [a] very considerable [rank] at the time),” and that Marianus had “been a Confessor for Jesus Christ during the persecution.”7 Tillemont’s assertion stems from his conflation of texts from Sozomen and Eusebius of Caesarea: Sozomen describes Marianus as “imperial notary” at Nicaea, and Eusebius is said to have mentioned Marianus as a confessor.8 Significantly, neither Sozomen nor Eusebius is said to have highlighted Marianus’s importance as a confessor and that Marianus was present at the Council of Nicaea; nor does Tillemont himself proffer such a claim. Tillemont also voices some hesitation about identifying Marianus as a confessor – albeit for a dogmatic, rather than any plausible historiographical, reason.9 In any case, the Marianus whom Tillemont mentions is to be distinguished from Paul of Neocaesarea and Paphnutius of Egypt, confessors whom other witnesses place at the Council and whose presence there this article examines. We argue that not all of the ancient sources to which Barnes refers claim, let alone plausibly support, his conclusion that “[c]onfessors . . . enjoyed enormous authority” at Nicaea.10 We examine the – at times, divergent – reports of these authors and their portrayals of the honor accorded to those who had suffered. The ancient author who comes closest to Barnes’s generalization is Theodoret, with whom we begin. Like the other don [451] (trans. John Bowden; Atlanta: John Knox, 1975), 249–73, esp. 252–64 (on the role of Constantine at the Council); Hanson, Search for the Christian Doctrine of God; Peter L’Huillier, The Church of the Ancient Councils (Crestwood [NY]: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 1996); Kötting, “Stellung des Konfessors”; Nevile, “Role of ‘Confessor’”; Norman P. Tanner (ed.), Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils (London: Sheed & Ward/Washington, DC: Georgetown University, 1990 [1972]); Frances M. Young with Andrew Teal, From Nicaea to Chalcedon: A Guide to the Literature and Its Background (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2nd ed. 2010). 7 Tillemont, History of the Arians, 1:59. 8 See Sozomen Hist. eccl. 2.26 (= NPNF2 2:276). I have not been able to verify Tillemont’s reference to Eusebius (listed in History of the Arians, 1:59 note θ as “n. p. 247. 2. c.”). 9 Tillemont’s hesitation about the identity of Marianus is understandable, given the possibility that, according to Athanasius, “Marianus the notary” embraced an Arian christology: “[Marianus] seems to have perform[e]d the function of a servant of the Arians, rather than a Confessor of Jesus Christ” (History of the Arians, 1:59). For Tillemont, a true confessor would have embraced the “orthodox” formulation of Nicaea. Although Tillemont’s argument is an obvious non sequitur, it is not germane to this article. Tillemont, History of the Arians, 1:59 note θ, lists his reference to Athanasius, De decretis synodis as “p. 904. b.,” another reference that I have been unable to verify. 10 Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius, 214.

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patristic witnesses to which Barnes refers, Theodoret wrote in the fifth century, roughly a century after Nicaea. As is well known, a historical reconstruction of the situation and debates at Nicaea is quite complicated, if not, at times, impossible. Norman P. Tanner observes that during the deliberations “probably no official account of the Council was ever written down by secretaries.”11 Moreover, the only two eyewitness reports of the Council’s proceedings come from Athanasius of Alexandria and Eusebius of Caesarea, who are silent about the place of confessors at Nicaea.12 When examining the accounts of Theodoret and other fifth-century historians, we consider both how they present the standing of one or more confessors and the growth over time of traditions about that standing.

A. Theodoret on “an Assembly of Martyrs” at Nicaea In his fifth-century Church History, Theodoret of Cyrus writes of the bishops gathered at Nicaea, Three hundred and eighteen bishops13 were assembled. . . . At this period many individuals were richly endowed with apostolic gifts; and many, like the divine apostle, bore “in their body the marks of the Lord Jesus” (τὰ στίγµατα τοῦ κυρίου Ἰησοῦ).14 . . . Paul of Neocaesarea . . . had suffered from the frantic rage of Licinius. Both of his hands (ἄµφω . . . τὼ χεῖρε) had been bound, and when a red-hot iron was applied to them, the locomotive nerves of the joints were contracted and rendered dead. Some had had the right eye dug out, while others had had the right forearm cut off. One of them was Paphnutius the Egyptian. In short, it looked like an assembly of martyrs (ἦν ἰδεῖν δῆµον µαρτύρων) [that] had been gathered together.15

11 Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 1:2. See also Hanson, Search for the Christian Doctrine of God, 157–59. 12 See further on this point below. 13 As he does here (Hist. eccl. 1.7.3, above), Theodoret gives the same number of bishops (318) at Hist. eccl. 1.11.1 (= Hist. eccl. 1.10.1 in NPNF2 3:48–49). By contrast, Eusebius of Caesarea, who was present at the Council of Nicaea, claimed that over 250 bishops were present (Vit. Const. 3.1, cited below). See further Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 1:1, who notes that the number of 318 bishops present at Nicaea originally stems from Hilary of Poitiers (ca. 300–ca. 368) and afterward “became traditional.” The number 318 may be based on Gen 14:14 (the number of Abraham’s servants). See further Cameron and Hall, Life of Constantine, 263–64, and L’Huillier, The Church of the Ancient Councils, 18–19. 14 See Gal 6:17: τὰ στίγµατα τοῦ Ἰησοῦ. The variant reading κυρίου is attested in C 3, 2 D , and several other MSS. 15 Theod. Hist. eccl. 1.7.3, 5–6 (Jean Bouffartigue et al. [eds.], Théodoret de Cyr. Histoire ecclésiastique [SC 501; Paris: Cerf, 2006–09], 200–202; ET: NPNF2 3:43 [= Hist.

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Several elements in the passage merit attention. First, “many individuals,” who during the recent persecutions had suffered torture, including dismemberment, were among the bishops gathered at Nicaea. Second, Paul of Neocaesarea had been maimed under Licinius (Hist. eccl. 1.7.5). For Theodoret, the identity of which bishops had been disfigured or maimed would have been obvious to those in attendance at Nicaea. Third, Theodoret mentions only in passing “Paphnutius the Egyptian,” about whom Rufinus, Socrates, and Sozomen have somewhat more to say.16 Fourth, in possessing Jesus’ στίγµατα (cf. Gal 6:17), the battered confessors belong to the esteemed tradition of the apostle Paul’s sufferings. Fifth, in describing the convocation at Nicaea as “an assembly of martyrs” (δῆµον µαρτύρων), Theodoret highlights the past suffering of (many of) those present and thereby links their suffering to the Council’s authority in matters of dogma. Elsewhere in his Church History, Theodoret states that even the emperor Constantine wanted a blessing from confessors at Nicaea: “Observing that some [of them] had had the right eye dug out,17 and learning that this mutilation had been undergone for the sake of religion, [Constantine] placed his lips upon the wounds, believing that from there he would extract a blessing by means of a kiss.”18 Theodoret of Cyrus’s fifth-century testimony pulses with respect for maimed bishops at Nicaea. Because the confessors had been steadfast amidst such acute forms of oppression, this Council’s doctrinal formulations and other decisions have greater weight. The stature of these confessors is further attested by their ability to bestow a blessing upon the emperor.

B. Rufinus and Pseudo-Gelasius on Paphnutius of Egypt and a Kissing Constantine Besides Theodoret (Hist. eccl. 1.7.6), another fifth-century author, Rufinus of Aquileia (345–411), calls attention to a particular confessor present at Nicaea, Paphnutius of Egypt. Rufinus corroborates Paphnutius’s standing by pointing out that he was maimed, that he performed miracles, and that Constantine honored his suffering. Rufinus first names Paphnutius as among those present at Nicaea and as one of the confessors who had sufeccl. 1.6.3, 5–6], modified for accuracy). Cf. Theod. Hist. eccl. 2.33.4 (= Hist. eccl. 2.28.4 in NPNF 2 3:93). 16 See further below on these witnesses to Paphnutius of Egypt. 17 Cf. Theod. Hist. eccl. 1.7.5, cited above. 18 Theod. Hist. eccl. 1.11.1 (SC 501:234 ll. 1–9; ET: NPNF2 3:48 [= Hist. eccl. 1.10.1], modified for accuracy.

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fered under the emperor Maximinus II (308–313): “There was also at the Council Paphnutius, a man of God [and] a bishop from Egypt, a confessor among those (confessor ex illis) whom Maximinus, after gouging out [their] right eyes and cutting off [their] left [legs at the] knee (sinistro poplite), had condemned to the mines.”19 Lactantius describes the policy of Maximinus, who, after the death of Galerius in 311, had reversed Galerius’s policy of toleration and “ordered them [Christians] to be maimed.”20 In Rufinus’s account, the extreme and ongoing torture of hard labor in the dark mines, combined with use of only one eye and one foot, attests to Paphnutius’s longsuffering for his Christian faith. Rufinus also compares Paphnutius’s working of miracles with that of the first apostles.21 Reminiscent of Theodoret’s general claim that Constantine kissed the eye sockets of certain confessors, Rufinus calls attention to Paphnutius’s missing eye, which the emperor Constantine would kiss: Constantine held [Paphnutius] in such veneration and affection (in tanta veneratione et affectu) that he would frequently (saepius) call him into the palace, embrace22 [him], and caress with quite eager kisses (avidioribus osculis) the eye, which had been gouged out at [the time of] his confession of faith.23

For Rufinus, Paphnutius clearly enjoyed prominent standing both among the faithful and in the eyes of the emperor. An anonymous Church History, traditionally attributed to Gelasius of Cyzicus,24 gives a witness to Paphnutius that is strikingly similar to that of 19 Rufinus Hist. eccl. 10.4 (Theodor Mommsen et al. [eds.], Eusebius Werke 2.2: Die Kirchengeschichte [GCS n.s. 6; 2 vols.; Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1999], 2:963; ET mine). 20 Lact. Mort. 36.3, 6–7 (J. L. Creed [ed.], De mortibus persecutorum [OECT; Oxford: Clarendon, 1984], 54–55): “Firstly, [Maximinus] annulled the tolerance which had been accorded to the Christians in the name of all the emperors. . . . While professing clemency as far as appearances went, he forbade the servants of God to be killed, but ordered them to be maimed (debilitari iussit). Thus confessors had their eyes gouged out, their hands cut off, their feet amputated, their noses or ears severed.” Cf. Eus. Mart. Pal. 8.1. 21 Rufinus Hist. eccl. 10.4 (GCS n.s. 6.2:963; ET: Philip Amidon, The Church History of Rufinus of Aquileia, Books 10 and 11 [Oxford: Oxford University, 1997], 11–12): “But there was in him such a grace of miracles that signs were worked through him no less than through the apostles of old. For he put demons to flight with a mere word and cured the sick by prayer alone. He is also said to have returned sight to the blind and given back soundness of body to the crippled.” 22 I infer that GCS n.s. 6.2:963, intended complecteretur and that conplecteretur is a typo. 23 Rufinus Hist. eccl. 10.4 (GCS n.s. 6.2:963; ET mine). 24 Günther Christian Hansen (ed.), Anonyme Kirchengeschichte (Gelasius Cyzicenus, CPG 6034) (GCS n.s. 9; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2002), ix–xii, points out that the attribution

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Rufinus.25 This late-fifth century Church History offers a derivative and secondary account of the acts and speeches of the Council of Nicaea.26 In the same sequence as that used by Rufinus and with only minor editorial elaborations, Ps.-Gelasius mentions Paphnutius’s maiming under the emperor Maximinus (Hist. eccl. 2.9.1), the similarity of the confessor’s miracles to those of the first apostles, and the eye socket that the emperor Constantine would kiss (Hist. eccl. 2.9.2). Over a century ago, C. H. Turner demonstrated that Ps.-Gelasius’s depiction of Paphnutius is wholly derived from Rufinus.27 Therefore, Ps.-Gelasius has no value independent of Rufinus as a witness to Paphnutius’s status at Nicaea. Nonetheless, the perpetuation of Rufinus’s (Latin) portrayal in this anonymous Greek work could well have made a broader audience aware of Paphnutius’s suffering and recognition, beginning in the late fifth century. Historiographically, one could apply a harmonizing principle to the witnesses of Theodoret and Rufinus (also Ps.-Gelasius), construing each author as reliable for his particular details about one or more confessors at Nicaea, but that approach calls for three cautions. First, the only exact correspondence between Theodoret and Rufinus is the unremarkable assertion that Paphnutius of Egypt was a confessor and was present at the Council. Second, Theodoret (Hist. eccl. 1.7) makes a generalization about any number of unnamed confessors at Nicaea; he highlights the particular example of Paul of Neocaesarea’s maimed hands but mentions Paphnutius of Egypt only in passing. Rufinus writes of only one confessor at Nicaea, namely Paphnutius. Rufinus does not state (or deny) that, in addition to Paphnutius, other confessors were present. Third, Theodoret makes another generalization about Constantine’s kissing of the confessors’ wounds, but Rufinus identifies only a single confessor as having received this honor, namely Paphnutius. Therefore, Rufinus’s testimony may be said to complement certain aspects of Theodoret’s (and vice versa), but neither author corroboto Gelasius of Cyzicus is based on a misunderstanding and that there is actually no evidence that a person by this name ever existed. 25 Ps.-Gel. Hist. eccl. 2.9 (GCS n.s. 9:43–44). Cf. Rufinus Hist. eccl. 10.4. 26 Hansen, Anonyme Kirchengeschichte, xli–xlviii, observes that the anonymous author of this Church History claims to have been in Bithynia in the year 475–476 and that this author made use of earlier church histories in his work, including those of Eusebius, Theodoret, Rufinus, and Socrates. Thus, a late fifth-century date for this work is likely. As mentioned above, “Gelasius of Cyzicus, Hist. eccl. 2.9” is one of five late ancient Christian authors whom Timothy Barnes (Constantine and Eusebius, 214 and 379 n. 52) lists in support of his conclusion that “[c]onfessors . . . enjoyed enormous authority” at Nicaea. 27 Turner, “On Gelasius of Cyzicus,” JTS 1 (1899): 125: “[C]onsiderable portions of Gelasius are simply an amplified translation into Greek of Rufinus’ Ecclesiastical History. Indeed, the whole of the narrative of Rufinus that deals with the Council . . . is incorporated directly into Gelasius’ second book: . . . Rufinus x 4 = Gel. ii 9.”

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rates the other’s specific statements. Nor does the even later and derivative witness of Ps-Gelasius offer any independent confirmation of Rufinus’s testimony, let alone that of Theodoret.

C. Socrates and Sozomen on Paphnutius: Constantine’s Osculations Revisited Two other fifth-century church historians, Socrates and Sozomen, describe Paphnutius the confessor but do not refer to his presence, let alone to any special standing accorded to him or any other confessor, at the Council of Nicaea. Like Rufinus, Socrates (ca. 379–ca. 440) calls attention to the homage that Constantine paid to this confessor: Paphnutius was bishop of one of the cities in Upper Thebes: he was a man so devoted to God (θεοφιλής) that wondrous signs were done by him. In the time of the persecution he had had an eye cut out. The emperor honored this man exceedingly, and was in the habit of sending for him to the palace and of kissing the place where the eye had been dug out. So great was the reverence (εὐλάβεια) of the emperor Constantine.28

In Socrates’s account, the emperor demonstrates his εὐλάβεια by the honor he showed to this confessor. In other words, what Socrates corroborates is what is said of Constantine, not of Paphnutius (or any other) confessor. Like Rufinus and Socrates, Sozomen (ca. 400–ca. 450) names Paphnutius as a confessor. As in Socrates’ account, Sozomen never reports that this, or any other, confessor attended Nicaea.29 Sozomen does say that Paphnutius and other confessors “adorned [or: exalted/magnified] the churches”30 but does not report that they “adorned” the Council of Nicaea. Thus, the accounts of Socrates and Sozomen do not confirm the accounts of either Theodoret or Rufinus. Furthermore, it is odd that Timothy Barnes cites Socrates and Sozomen as supporting the claim that “[c]onfessors . . . enjoyed enormous authority” at Nicaea,31 when in fact Socrates and Sozomen do not report that confessors played any role at all at Nicaea.

28

Socr. Hist. eccl. 1.11.1–2 (Pierre Périchon et al. [eds.], Socrate de Constantinople. Histoire ecclésiastique [SC 477; Paris: Cerf, 2004–07], 142–44; ET: Edward Walford, The Ecclesiastical History of Socrates, Surnamed Scholasticus, or the Advocate [London: H. Bohn, 1853], 39–40, modified). 29 Sozomen Hist. eccl. 1.10.1–2 (Guy Sabbah et al. [eds.], Sozomène. Histoire ecclésiastique [SC 306; Paris: Cerf, 1983–2008], 154–56; ET: NPNF 2 2:246). 30 Sozomen Hist. eccl. 1.10.1 (SC 306:154): τὰς ἐκκλησίας ἐσέµνυνον. 31 See above on Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius, 214 and 379 n. 52.

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D. The Silence of the Nicene Canons, Athanasius, and Eusebius 1. The Nicene Canons on Castrated Priests In addition to the varying pictures of the five aforementioned fifth-century witnesses to Nicaea, the silence of fourth-century witnesses about the place of confessors at the Council is noteworthy. The first of the Nicene Canons (that is, regulations passed at the Council) witnesses to the acute persecution endured by some priests. Those priests who had been “castrated by barbarians,” it ruled, could continue to be priests. That canon could indirectly attest to the presence of some emasculated priests at the Council but does not claim that they had any special role or status there. Additionally, several other of the Nicene Canons discuss the issue of Christians who had lapsed during persecution, but give no special recognition to confessors who had remained steadfast during persecution.32 The Letter of the Synod in Nicaea to the Egyptians is also silent about confessors at the Council – even in regard to the Egyptian Paphnutius.33 2. Athanasius and Eusebius: Solidarity in Silence (if in Little Else) As we said above, only two people who wrote about the Council were actually present for its deliberations – Athanasius of Alexandria and Eusebius of Caesarea. Eusebius resisted the Council’s affirmation of the Son as homoousios with the Father. In regard to christology, the accounts of Eusebius about the Council of Nicaea (which embraced the homoousios formulation in condemning Arianism) differ markedly from those of Athanasius and are famously not without bias.34 For our purposes, the contrasting doctrinal tendencies of these two witnesses are not pertinent, since neither Athanasius nor Eusebius mentions the presence of confessors. For example, Athanasius is silent about the confessors in his works De decretis synodis and Epistula ad episcopos Africae. Likewise, whereas Eusebius writes extensively about martyrs and confessors – above all, in his Martyrs of Palestine – he never places confessors at the Council.35 Furthermore, in 32

See Canons 8, 10, 11, 14 (cf. 12), in Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 1:9–13. In addition, Theodore of Mopsuestia (ca. 350–428) treats the dogmatic import of the Nicene Creed (or a version of this) in the first ten homilies of his Catechetical Homilies, but he, too, says nothing about those who attended, other than that 318 bishops were present. 33 The Letter of the Synod in Nicaea to the Egyptians, in Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 1:16–19. 34 See, e.g., Young, From Nicaea to Chalcedon, 6–8, 16–21. 35 Euseb. Mart. Pal. 3.3[S]; 8.1–13; 10.1; 11.4–5; 13.1–5; 13.6[S]; 13.9–10; cf. H. J. Lawlor and J. E. L. Oulton, Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History and the Martyrs of Palestine (2 Vols.; London: SPCK, 1927–28), 2:328.

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326 Eusebius wrote a letter to explain Nicaea, as Edward R. Hardy notes, to his “own church . . . immediately after or perhaps even during the sessions of the Council.”36 In his Letter to the Church of Caesarea, Eusebius says nothing about a prominent place for confessors at Nicaea. Nor in his Life of Constantine does Eusebius make any reference to a high standing for maimed confessors at Nicaea.37 He mentions simply – and somewhat obliquely – that some who attended the Council of Nicaea “were outstanding . . . for their severity of life and patient endurance”: Among the ministers of God [at Nicaea] some were outstanding ([or: “prominent”] διέπρεπον) for the word of wisdom, others for their severity of life and patient endurance (βίου στερρότητι καὶ καρτερίας ὑποµονῇ), others were adorned by their moderation. Some among them were honored for their length of years, others shone with youth and the height of [their] strength, some had just reached the road of [priestly] ministry. 38

Two observations suggest that “severity of life” (βίου στερρότητι) does not refer to maimed confessors. First, Eusebius does not mention “endurance” (ὑποµονῇ) by itself but, rather, in connection with asceticism (βίου στερρότητι). Accordingly, ὑποµονῇ is parallel to στερρότητι and likely pertains to endurance of voluntary ascetic practices, not withstanding oppression from outsiders. Second, asceticism and endurance (however construed) appear in a series of esteemed qualities that attendees at Nicaea possessed. Eusebius does not present asceticism and endurance as more prominent than wisdom, moderation, age, or youth. It is therefore curious that, in their commentary on Eusebius’s Life of Constantine, Averil Cameron and Stuart Hall cite Timothy Barnes about the prominence of confessors at Nicaea.39 In effect, Cameron and Hall interpolate the later (fifthcentury) witness of Theodoret (Hist. eccl. 1.7, discussed above) for information not present in Eusebius’s eyewitness account. Since neither Eusebius nor Athanasius could be cited as evidence that confessors were present, let alone honored, at Nicaea, their accounts do not support Cameron and Hall’s use of Barnes in this regard.

36

Edward R. Hardy (ed.), Christology of the Later Fathers (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1954), 335. An ET of Eusebius’s Letter to the Church of Caesarea may be found in Hardy, Christology, 336–40. See further Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy, 90–91; Hanson, Search for the Christian Doctrine of God, 163–64. 37 Euseb. Vit. Const. 3.[1]7–9 (Horst Schneider and Bruno Bleckmann [eds.], Eusebius von Caesarea: Über das Leben Konstantins [Fontes Christiani 83; Turnhout: Brepols, 2007], 318–20). 38 Euseb. Vit. Const. 3.[1]9 (Schneider and Bleckmann 320; ET: Cameron and Hall, Eusebius, Life of Constantine, 124, modified). 39 Cameron and Hall, Eusebius, Life of Constantine, 263, who follow Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius, 214 (cited above) on this point.

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Furthermore, Eusebius’s great esteem for the martyrs and their value for corroborating his rhetoric of history are well known.40 At the very least, it is odd that an attendee of the Council, who elsewhere writes so much about the place of Christian martyrs in salvation history, would be silent about the confessors – that is, if any confessors were accorded special honor at Nicaea. Along with Socrates and Sozomen, then, Athanasius and Eusebius lend no credence to the witnesses of Theodoret and Rufinus about the status of confessors at Nicaea. The silence of Athanasius and Eusebius, as well as the witnesses of Socrates and Sozomen, call for caution when assessing the historical reliability of Theodoret’s fifth-century depiction of special honor accorded to confessors at the Council.

E. Conclusion: Harmonization vs. Historical Method in the Search for Confessors at Nicaea We have examined the five late ancient Christian authors, whom Timothy Barnes musters in support of the inference that “[c]onfessors . . . enjoyed enormous authority” at the Council of Nicaea. 41 Barnes’s claim is partially confirmed by only one witness, namely Theodoret. Rufinus (and Ps.Gelasius) neither confirms nor disproves Barnes’s claim. Moreover, two of the ancient witnesses whom Barnes cites (Socrates and Sozomen) do not even state that confessors were present, let alone that they were accorded “enormous authority,” at Nicaea. These observations do not cast doubt upon whether some confessors, such as Paul of Neocaesarea and Paphnutius the Egyptian, were present at Nicaea. They do, however, cast doubt upon Barnes’s credulous interpretation of Theodoret Hist. eccl. 1.7 and the harmonizing approach to other witnesses to support that “[c]onfessors . . . enjoyed enormous authority” at Nicaea. One may likewise question Cameron and Hall’s use of Theodoret’s later account to bolster a claim about confessors at Nicaea that is absent in Eusebius’s earlier eyewitness account.42 Scholars must, of course, recognize that a critical, historical examination can achieve only probability. Athanasius, Eusebius, and other early witnesses may not have spoken about the presence of confessors because doing so would not fit in with their overall or specific purposes in writing. 40 See further Robert M. Grant, Eusebius as Church Historian (Oxford: Clarendon, 1980), 114–25; Young, From Nicaea to Chalcedon, 13–14. 41 Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius, 214 and 379 n. 52, referring to Rufinus Hist. eccl. 10.4, 12; Socr. Hist. eccl. 1.11.1ff.; Sozomen Hist. eccl. 1.10, 23; Theod. Hist. eccl. 1.7.6; 2.26.6; Gel. Cyz. Hist. eccl. 2.9. 42 See above on Cameron and Hall, Eusebius, Life of Constantine, 263, who follow Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius, 214, on this point.

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Nevertheless, the available evidence does not substantiate the view of Barnes, MacMullen, and Cameron and Hall that the confessors’ impact was substantial: although the judgments by these scholars may be correct, there is no corroborating proof that they are so, and their conclusions are therefore questionable. The possibility must be granted that Barnes and others may be right, but the preponderance of the few citations available to us suggests that their viewpoint cannot be shown to be even probable. On a literary level, it is indeed interesting that Theodoret attests to an ongoing recognition of a confessor’s standing in the post-Constantinian era. Moreover, Rufinus, Ps.-Gelasius, Socrates, and Sozomen construe Paphnutius of Egypt’s suffering as worthy of acknowledgment by the emperor Constantine. Just as, in later Christian literature, martyrs could be hailed for their heavenly standing due to steadfastness amidst suffering, so could confessors on earth come to be revered as comprising the “assembly of martyrs” gathered at Nicaea and recognized by none less than Constantine himself (Theod. Hist. eccl. 1.7.6).

Abstract: This article examines the weak evidentiary basis for the claim of Timothy Barnes and other scholars that maimed confessor bishops “enjoyed enormous authority” at the Council of Nicaea. An analysis of five late ancient Christian authors demonstrates that there is no corroborating proof for Barnes’s claim. Nevertheless, the apparent growth of traditions about confessors at Nicaea in later fifth-century witnesses is noteworthy for showing the possibly ongoing recognition of a confessor’s standing in the post-Constantinian church.

IV. Early Christian Virtues in Practice

Chapter 15

Suppressing Anger in Early Christianity: Examples from the Pauline Tradition* In ancient literature, prescripts governing human emotions – for example, covetousness, anger, jealousy, and love – merit study in their ancient contexts, as well as in relation to theoretical approaches to the social sciences. This article has two main parts: a correction of William V. Harris’s analysis of anger in the New Testament letters attributed to the apostle Paul, and an interaction with classic theories on the psychology of anger. We also bring competing psychological theories about anger to bear on the Pauline passages examined. One question to be addressed is whether, in the theology or anthropology of Paul or any of the deuteropauline authors, a suppression of anger is required. If suppressing anger were concomitant with fidelity to one or more of the Pauline Letters, scholars could consider the potentially harmful effects of such suppression on the human psyche. Alternately, could Paul or the authors of Colossians, Ephesians, and/or First Timothy think that the repression of anger was necessary for the well-being of the Christian community, or that only God as “Father” was allowed to become angry? One might instead find in these letters prohibitions against infantile or narcissistic rage. Furthermore, it can be asked whether anger is to be sublimated for the sake of a greater good – for example, charity, peace in the congregation, or escaping God’s judgment and wrath. We consider which, if any, of these views of handling anger correspond(s) to the NT letters attributed to Paul. A brief word about the authorship of the undisputed and disputed Pauline Letters will offer a framework for the analysis to follow. Among the thirteen NT letters that claim Pauline authorship, I follow the longstanding scholarly consensus that Paul’s authorship of seven of them is undisputed

* Original publication: Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 47 (2007): 307–25. An earlier version of this article was presented at the November 2005 Society of Biblical Literature Annual Meeting in Philadelphia. The author’s thanks are due to Robert Matthew Calhoun, Dereck Daschke and Clare K. Rothschild for their suggestions on earlier versions of this article.

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and that he did not write Ephesians or the three Pastoral Epistles.1 Although some reputable scholars still hold for the Pauline authorship of Colossians, Second Thessalonians, or both letters, I do not count myself among them. Relevant also is the fact that the author of Ephesians reworked numerous materials from Colossians, apparently because he regarded Colossians as an authentic Pauline letter; this extensive borrowing allows for an assessment of developments in Christian thinking about anger in these two deuteropauline authors.2 Also in accordance with scholarly consensus, I accept that yet another deuteropauline author wrote First Timothy, an author who is to be differentiated from the authors of Colossians and Ephesians. The differences in authorship will enable us to analyze, both individually and comparatively, statements about anger from four early Christian writers: (1) the apostle Paul, whose undisputed letters include Second Corinthians, Galatians, and Romans; (2) the author of Colossians; (3) the author of Ephesians; and (4) the author of First Timothy. A second prolegomenon concerns the extent to which these four authors require that anger be suppressed. The erudite 2001 monograph by William V. Harris is an important reminder that Pauline passages on anger were hardly unique in Greco-Roman antiquity. Harris distinguishes four levels of restraint, based on two variables – “reining in” vs. “eliminating,” and the suppression of “angry actions and speech” vs. “angry feelings.” Together, these two variables allow for four increasing levels of restraint: Level 1: Reining in angry actions and speech Level 2: Eliminating angry actions and speech Level 3: Reining in angry feelings Level 4: Eliminating angry feelings

Harris argues that “statements in favour of (2), (3) and (4) took some time to appear in classical antiquity” and that level 4 became “a standard aim of Stoic and Stoicizing philosophers under the Roman Empire” and not earlier.3

1 Passages from the seven undisputed letters of Paul (i.e., Romans, First Corinthians, Second Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, First Thessalonians, Philemon) that this article discusses include 2 Cor 12:20, Gal 5:20, and Rom 1:18. From the Pastoral Epistles (i.e., First Timothy, Second Timothy, Titus), 1 Tim 2:8 will receive attention. For an excellent introduction to authorship of the letters attributed to Paul, see, e.g., Udo Schnelle, The History and Theology of the New Testament Writings (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998 [2nd Ger. ed. 1994]), 276–349. 2 Below, we examine the selective utilization and redaction of Col 3:5–8 (on God’s wrath and getting rid of human wrath and anger) by the author of Eph 4:22–32. 3 William V. Harris, Restraining Rage: The Ideology of Anger Control in Classical Antiquity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 2001), 4, 5. See further, on the repression of anger in Stoicism, Martha C. Nussbaum, The Therapy of Desire: Theory and

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We apply Harris’s apt distinctions, consider to which, if any, of these four levels each Pauline statement on anger most closely corresponds, and argue that, whereas Paul’s undisputed letters and the Epistle of James encourage level 1, the deuteropauline authors of Colossians and Ephesians urge that Christians attain at least level 2. Moreover, it is plausible, if not likely, that the author of First Timothy likewise calls for the elimination of all angry actions and speech (level 2).4 This development within the Pauline tradition from the apostle’s undisputed letters to the later Deuteropauline Letters correlates with Harris’s conclusion that the appeals for a definitive suppression of anger began in the Roman period. At times, however, an ancient (or modern) pronouncement on anger may not fall neatly into one of Harris’s levels.5

A. Pronouncements about Anger in the Pauline Tradition   1. Restraining Anger in Second Corinthians, Galatians, and the Epistle of James Second Corinthians is probably the earliest6 of Paul’s undisputed letters that call for restraining anger: “For I fear that when I come, I may find you not as I wish, and that you may find me not as you wish; I fear that there may perhaps be quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger (θυµοί), selfishness, slander, gossip, conceit, and disorder” (2 Cor 12:20). The term that Paul uses for anger, θυµός, can connote “intense expression of the inner self, freq[uently] expressed as strong desire, passion, passionate longing,” or, much more frequently in early Christian literature, “a state of intense

Practice in Hellenistic Ethics (Martin Classical Lectures; Princeton: Princeton University, 1994), 391–92 and 394–95 (in contrast to Arist. Eth. nic. 1125b35–1126a8). 4 Unfortunately, Harris, Restraining Rage, 393 does not distinguish between the undisputed and deutero-Pauline letters. Thus, his otherwise important and well-documented study is of limited value for assessing anger in the letters attributed to Paul. In addition, a more recent examination of “Anger in the Pauline Letters” suffers from the double misfortune of taking into account neither Harris’s work nor the distinction between the undisputed and deutero-Pauline letters. The resulting muddled discussion by Matthew A. Elliott, Faithful Feelings: Rethinking Emotion in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2006), 219–29, makes a handful of promising suggestions but ultimately fails to contribute much in the way of significant insight. 5 In Eph 4:22–32, for example, we find characteristics of levels 1, 2, and 4, and, we argue, a measure of inconsistency within this passage. 6 A formidable argument for the priority of the Corinthian correspondence to Galatians is Paul’s silence about the (presumably later) controversy over circumcision, which he addresses in Galatians and Romans.

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displeasure, anger, wrath, rage, indignation.”7 Occurring in the plural in 2 Cor 12:20 (and Gal 5:20), θυµοί designates tirades or “outbursts of anger.”8 In 2 Corinthians 10–12, Paul is responding to other Christ-believers’ attacks on his authority as an apostle.9 Needless to say, the hypothetical absence of angry outbursts alone would not alleviate objections to Paul’s apostolic authority in Corinth. In his aside in 2 Cor 12:20, Paul alludes to his earlier attempts to admonish this congregation.10 He chides his readers: since they have internal struggles and angry outbursts, they should be appropriately humble when weighing questions about his authority as an apostle. Paul uses the same term for anger (θυµοί) in Gal 5:20, again in a list of vices – now identified as “the works of the flesh” (5:19a).11 In these two letters, Paul refers to θυµοί, among other vices, to address distinctly different situations. Unlike in 2 Corinthians 10–12, Paul does not in Galatians 5 defend his authority but writes in response to a charge against his theology, that the Pauline gospel leads to antinomian, or lawless, behavior: For you were called to freedom, brothers; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. . . . [16] Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. (Gal 5:13, 16)

In contrast to Second Corinthians, Paul does not accuse the Galatians of angry outbursts. Rather, he outlines the ethical capabilities (“fruits”) that flow from the regenerative power of the Spirit (cf. Rom 12:1) and the corresponding vices that the believer is expected to resist. If angry outbursts 7 BDAG, s.v. θυµός, 461. See further Luke 4:28; Acts 19:28; Heb 11:27; 1 Clem. 45:7; 50:4; Herm. Mand. 5.2.4 (34:4); Mart. Pol. 12:2; F. Büchsel, “θυµός,” TDNT 3 (1965): 167–68; Harris, Restraining Rage, 50–70; Nussbaum, Therapy of Desire, 243. 8 BDAG, 461; H. D. Betz, Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Churches in Galatia (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 284 (“outbursts of rage”). 9 For a survey of scholarship on Paul’s opponents and the accusations he addresses in 2 Corinthians 10–12, see, e.g., R. Bieringer, “Die Gegner des Paulus im 2. Korintherbrief,” in R. Bieringer and J. Lambrecht (eds.), Studies on 2 Corinthians (BETL 112; Leuven: Leuven University, 1994), 181–221. 10 See further Donald Dale Walker, Paul’s Offer of Leniency (2 Cor 10:1) (WUNT 2.152; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 252: “Confronted with a deteriorating situation, Paul hurried to Corinth for an unscheduled visit. During this second visit, Paul did not encounter a church willing to defer to him. Many rejected Paul’s identification of their behavior as sin and ignored his admonishments (2 Cor 12:20–13:1).” See also Frank J. Matera, II Corinthians: A Commentary (The NT Library; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2003), 299–300. 11 Gal 5:19–21: “Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger (θυµοί), quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.”

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should occur among the Galatians, he does not want that conduct to be blamed on his theology or ministry. A formulation similar to those in Second Corinthians and Galatians occurs in the Epistle of James. Although not attributed to Paul, this letter is in dialogue with several Pauline concepts in Galatians and Romans and can be aptly described as indebted to the Pauline tradition. 12 The author of James urges his audience to be “slow to anger” (ὀργή), but does not expect them to be wholly devoid of anger: “You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for a person’s anger13 does not produce God’s righteousness” (Jas 1:19–20). The treatment of “outbursts of anger” in Paul’s letters (2 Cor 12:20; Gal 5:20) suggests that for Paul – and, by extension, for the author of James – a single episode of θυµός or ὀργή would be a regrettable but not a wholly unexpected aspect of human existence and interactions. In 2 Corinthians 12, the plural θυµοί designates a pattern of behavior that, Paul fears, should have been addressed long ago and now needs attention all the more, since some believers in Corinth are weighing questions about Paul’s legitimacy as an apostle. In Galatians 5, Paul finds θυµοί to be inconsistent with the Pauline gospel of freedom and life through the Spirit. These calls for restraint in 2 Cor 12:20, Gal 5:20 and Jas 1:19–20 correspond to Harris’s level 1: “reining in angry actions and speech.” Unlike the more stringent calls for suppression from the authors of Colossians, Ephesians, and First Timothy (to be discussed below), neither Paul nor the author of James mandates Harris’s second, third, or fourth levels of restraining rage. 2. Colossians: A Prohibition of Anger Tied to a Fear of God’s Wrath The author of Colossians uses the same term for anger (θυµός) in a list of vices as Paul does in 2 Cor 12:20 and Gal 5:20. But in this deuteropauline letter it occurs in the singular: “But now you must rid yourselves of all such things – wrath, anger14 (ἀπόθεσθε . . . τὰ πάντα, ὀργήν, θυµόν), malice, 12 The author of James objects to some type of, or a misunderstanding of, Pauline theology in regard to “faith and works” (Jas 2:14–26). See, e.g., Matt A. Jackson-McCabe, Logos and Law in the Letter of James (NovTSup 100; Leiden: Brill, 2001), esp. 176–85; Martin Hengel, “Der Jakobusbrief als antipaulinische Polemik,” in G. F. Hawthorne and O. Betz (eds.), Tradition and Interpretation in the New Testament (FS E. Earle Ellis; Tübingen: Mohr [Siebeck]/Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 248–78. Several theological differences between Paul and “James” notwithstanding, the latter can be interpreted as not only opposing but also extending and refining several aspects of Paul’s theology in Galatians and Romans. 13 Lit. “[the] anger of a man,” ὀργὴ γὰρ ἀνδρός (Jas 1:20a). 14 For the sake of consistency, we depart from the NRSV and translate ὀργή as “wrath” and θυµός as “anger” in Col 3:8||Eph 4:31. The semantic domains of the two

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slander, and abusive language from your mouth” (Col 3:8). Compared with Paul’s formulations in Second Corinthians and Galatians, Colossians holds up the higher standard that believers “remove” or “put away” (ἀποτίθηµι) anger, and perhaps not even experience it. For one thing, ὀργή and θυµός occur first in the list of vices illustrating “all the things” of which believers must rid themselves, because “the wrath of God is coming” (ἔρχεται ἡ ὀργὴ τοῦ θεοῦ, Col 3:6) to judge acts such as “fornication, impurity [and] passion (πάθος)” (3:5). The warning to believers in Col 3:5–8 stands in notable contrast to references to God’s wrath in the undisputed Pauline Letters of Galatians and Romans. For example, Gal 5:21b follows a list of vices (5:19–21a, discussed above) with the warning that transgressors will not inherit God’s kingdom. Yet Paul does not, as the author of Colossians does, connect God’s anger with the requirement that believers suppress their own anger. Likewise, in Romans Paul warns, “The wrath of God (ὀργὴ θεοῦ) is being revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and wickedness of those who by their wickedness suppress the truth.”15 In Paul’s eschatology, the wrath of God is to come against unbelievers, not believers, presumably because those believers who have been “justified by his [Christ’s] blood will be saved through him from the wrath of God” (Rom 5:9) and therefore need not fear God’s wrath at the coming judgment. The author of Colossians is to be credited with a novel synthesis of two components of the apostle’s theology – God’s anger16 and believers’ need to get rid of anger. According to Col 3:5–8, the faithful have assurance of being protected from God’s wrath, provided that they demonstrate their Greek terms overlap (BDAG, 720). At Col 3:8||Eph 4:31, the NRSV translates the terms ὀργή as “anger” and θυµός as “wrath.” See also Harris, Restraining Rage, 53–54, who points out that ὀργή and θυµός, although distinguished by Plato and Aristotle in the classical period, came to be mixed in the Hellenistic period by authors, such as Philodemus. Consequently, Stählin’s distinction between ὀργή and θυµός, is no longer persuasive: “Where ὀργή is used thus [of human wrath], it is generally interchangeable with θυµός. But θυµός is preferred for the passionate rage which boils up suddenly. . . , even though ὀργή seems by derivation to be particularly well adapted to express this. . . . This term, however, contains an element of awareness and even deliberation absent from θυµός” (G. Stählin, “ὀργή,” TDNT 5 [1967]: 382–447 at 419). See further, on Philodemus, John F. Procopé, “Epicureans on Anger,” in Glenn W. Most et al. (eds.), Philanthropia kai eusebeia (FS Albrecht Dihle; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993), 363–86 at 366–77. 15 Rom 1:18; cf. Rom 2:5, 8; 3:5; 4:15; 9:22; 12:19; 13:4; 1 Thess 1:10; Harris, Restraining Rage, 395; Jacob W. Elias, “‘Jesus Who Delivers Us from the Wrath to Come’ (1 Thess 1:10): Apocalyptic and Peace in the Thessalonian Correspondence,” SBL Seminar Papers 31 (1992): 121–32. 16 Of course, a concept of God’s anger is not new in Paul’s letters or Colossians but is prominent in parts of the Old Testament, centuries before Paul. See Bruce E. Baloian, Anger in the Old Testament (New York: Peter Lang, 1992).

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new way of life by refraining from the vices listed in Col 3:8, including wrath (ὀργή) and anger (θυµός). For the first time in the Pauline tradition, Colossians insists that only God has the right to express anger. Humans escape God’s anger, in part by suppressing their own. Surpassing Paul’s appeals to rein in anger (2 Cor 12:20; Gal 5:20), the heightened expectation of Col 3:8 clearly meets Harris’s level 2 of “eliminating angry actions and speech” and may even call for reining in, or even eliminating, angry feelings (Harris’s level 3 and level 4, respectively).17 3. Ephesians: Reconsidering Anger after Colossians Borrowing extensively from Colossians, the author of Ephesians picks up on several themes in Col 3:5–8 (in particular, the command to get rid of anger and wrath, Col 3:8), with significant modifications and elaborations. The use of Colossians in Ephesians allows for an assessment of developments in the statements on anger in these two (different) deuteropauline authors: But now you must get rid of all such things – wrath, anger (ἀπόθεσθε . . . τὰ πάντα, ὀργήν, θυµόν), malice, slander, and abusive language from your mouth. (Col 3:8) You were taught to put away (ἐδιδάχθητε . . . ἀποθέσθαι) your former way of life, your old self, corrupt and deluded by its lusts, [23] and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, [24] and to clothe yourselves with the new self, created according to the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness. [25] So then, putting away falsehood (ἀποθέµενοι τὸ ψεῦδος), let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another. [26] Be angry but do not sin (ὀργίζεσθε καὶ µὴ ἁµαρτάνετε); do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil. . . . [30] And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption. [31] Put away from you18 all bitterness and anger and wrath (πᾶσα πικρία καὶ θυµὸς καὶ ὀργή) and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, [32] and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you. (Eph 4:22–26, 30–32)

Despite numerous similarities in vocabulary (for example, ἀποτίθηµι, πᾶς, θυµός, ὀργή), two differences between these passages merit particular attention. First, the admonition in Eph 4:31 to remove “all bitterness and anger and wrath” (πᾶσα πικρία καὶ θυµὸς καὶ ὀργή) is more demanding than that in Col 3:8. This development is signaled by a shift in the uses of πᾶς in the two passages. Col 3:8 follows a substantival use (τὰ πάντα, “all things”) with five examples of what they are to get rid of – “wrath, anger, malice, slander, and abusive language.” In Eph 4:31, the adjective (“all”) functions attributively, modifying each item in the list: πικρία καὶ θυµὸς καὶ ὀργή. 17 The brief reference to anger in Col 3:8 does not allow for a conclusive assessment of the author’s expectations about reining in human feelings (Harris’s levels 3 and 4). 18 Gk.: ἀρθήτω ἀφ᾿ ὑµῶν, lit. “let it be removed from you” (Eph 4:31a).

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One must put off “all bitterness, anger, and wrath,” among other undesirable traits. In addition to calling for the standard in Harris’s second level (“eliminating angry actions and speech”), Eph 4:31 likely urges the fourth level (“eliminating angry feelings”). Harris’s very brief treatment of the NT letters attributed to Paul misses this modification because he does not differentiate between Paul’s authentic and disputed letters. Had Harris made such a distinction, he might have concurred with our finding that the heightened expectations in the later Deuteropauline Letters of Colossians and Ephesians correlate with the emergence of calls for greater and more complete suppression of expressing – and even of feeling – anger, beginning in the Roman period.19 A second modification of Colossians 3 in Ephesians 4 is the lack of any mention of God’s wrath (ὀργή). According to Ephesians, the time of believers as “children of wrath” (τέκνα . . . ὀργῆς) lies in the past.20 In this understanding of salvation history, putting off one’s former way of life and “the old person”21 has likewise already taken place. Those whom God has “saved” (cf. ἐστε σεσῳσµένοι, Eph 2:5, 8) must now “put away all bitterness and wrath and anger” lest they “insult (µὴ λυπεῖτε)22 God’s Holy Spirit” (4:30–31). In contrast to Colossians, the believer is not warned to fear God’s anger but should nevertheless take care not to offend the Holy Spirit. In addition to not grieving the Spirit, another reason for putting off all anger and wrath is the good of the community as a whole: “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you” (Eph 4:32). Again, in contrast to Col 3:5, there is no mention of fear of God’s judgment. Rather, Eph 4:31–32 calls for sublimation: instead of becoming angry, one can transcend anger with noble acts of kindness, tenderheartedness, and forgiveness. As part of this exhortation to kindness within the community, the author forbids fathers to anger their own children: “Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger (µὴ παροργίζετε), but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.”23 Twice, then, Ephesians emphasizes as the reason for suppressing anger the greater good of the community – the family 19

See above on Restraining Rage, 4, 5, 393. Eph 2:3. In addition, the redeemed, who were once “darkness” but are now “light,” need not be concerned with God’s wrath, which “comes on those who are disobedient” (Eph 5:6–8). 21 Eph 4:22, τὸν παλαιὸν ἄνθρωπον. Cf. Eph 4:25a (ἀποθέµενοι τὸ ψεῦδος); 2 Cor 5:17; Gal 6:15. 22 With BDAG, 604, which at Eph 4:30 interprets µὴ λυπεῖτε in terms of causing insult or outrage. 23 Eph 6:4. Not causing anger in others would correspond to Harris’s level 1 or level 3. Cf. G. Stählin, “ὀργή,” 420. 20

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(6:4) and the household of faith (4:32). In the setting of a house church, the good of the familia and of the ekklēsia would naturally overlap. It is noteworthy that Eph 4:22–32 severs the two concepts that had been innovatively combined in Col 3:5–8 – fearing God’s wrath and suppressing one’s anger. The separation is in keeping with the separateness of these two ideas in Paul’s undisputed letters.24 Eph 4:26a corresponds in another way to statements on anger in Paul’s undisputed letters. The formulation ὀργίζεσθε25 καὶ µὴ ἁµαρτάνετε assumes, as Paul did,26 that human beings, even those who in Christ have put off “the old person” (Eph 4:22), will sometimes experience anger. Eph 4:26a, then, corresponds to Harris’s first level of “reining in angry actions and speech.” Anger is not tantamount to sin, but one must refrain from sinning when angered. This moderate command in 4:26a stands in notable counterpoint to the call in Eph 4:31 (discussed above) to suppress “all bitterness and wrath and anger.” We thus find an inconsistency in Ephesians: on the one hand, allowing anger with the qualification that one not sin while angry (ὀργίζοµαι, 4:26a) and, on the other hand, demanding the eradication of “all anger” (πᾶσα . . . ὀργή, 4:31). On the whole, Eph 4:22–32 reveals one deuteropauline author modifying another, not only adjusting Col 3:8 in favor of even higher standards for restraining anger (Eph 4:31), but also taking it for granted that believers do sometimes become angry (4:26). Unlike Colossians, Ephesians corresponds to aspects of Paul’s theology – in not mentioning God’s anger in connection with reining in human anger. The apparent contradiction between 4:26a and 4:31 leaves us wondering if the author has a coherent teaching in regard to believers’ anger. In his study, Harris generalizes that the early Christians offered “an ambivalent message” on anger.27 We would answer that the inconsistency may be due to the lack of any systematic presentation of formulas for handling anger. In contrast to Harris’s observation, our study reveals a greater complexity: that the Christian message on anger emerged from a living experience of, and evolving reflection on, anger. That experience and reflection included improvisation from Paul and, even more so, from the 24 See above on 2 Cor 12:20, Gal 5:20 and Rom 1:18. This comparison does not, however, imply an argument that the author of Ephesians personally knew the apostle Paul. Yet perhaps he understood at least certain aspects of Paul’s theology better than scholars today sometimes acknowledge. Have scholars been too quick to dismiss this possibility because of Ephesians’ great indebtedness to the (deuteropauline) Letter to the Colossians? 25 Apparently citing Ps 4:5, LXX (ὀργίζεσθε καὶ µὴ ἁµαρτάνετε), rather than material from Colossians; cf. Col 3:21 (µὴ ἐρεθίζετε). 26 See above on the plural θυµοί in 2 Cor 12:20 and Gal 5:20. 27 Harris, Restraining Rage, 399.

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deuteropauline authors of Colossians and Ephesians. The same can be said for yet another deuteropauline author in First Timothy. 4. First Timothy: Suppressing Anger for the Unity of the Church The pseudonymous author of First Timothy, as mentioned above, is to be distinguished from the (likewise pseudonymous) authors of Colossians and Ephesians. This author wants “in every place the men to pray (προσεύχεσθαι τοὺς ἄνδρας), lifting up holy hands without anger or argument (χωρὶς ὀργῆς καὶ διαλογισµοῦ)” (1 Tim 2:8). Elsewhere, this letter reflects concern about a church divided over ‘heretical’ teachings (1 Tim 4:1–6; 6:21–22; cf. 2 Tim 2:16–18; 3:8–9). The gathering of men to pray together represents the opposite of dissension characterized by anger, argument, and a plurality of viewpoints. The rationale of suppressing anger for the benefit of the community as a whole is similar to that in Eph 4:31–32. The greater good of the community is understood as mutual acceptance and forgiveness (Eph 4:32; cf. 6:4) or as a unified and prayerful stance against ‘heresy’ (1 Tim 2:8). Since these two deuteropauline authors view the suppression of anger as a matter of fidelity to their versions of the Pauline tradition, scholars can ponder the potentially deleterious effects on the psyche of such suppression in subsequent generations of the faithful who embraced these authors as authoritative leaders and/or their writings as Scripture. In regard to Harris’s levels of restraint, the calls for reining in anger when gathering for prayer (1 Tim 2:8) would correspond to level 1, and it is plausible that the author of First Timothy desires the elimination of all angry actions and speech (level 2) in communities that must be fully prepared to resist ‘heresy.’ Excursus: Jesus’ Anger in Mark 3:5 and the Suppression of Jesus’ Anger in Matthew and Luke A reference to Jesus’ anger in the Gospel of Mark, which is omitted in the later Gospels of Matthew and Luke,28 merits a brief exploration in light of our analysis of Pauline passages on anger. In Mark, before Jesus performed a healing, he “looked around at them29 with anger (µετ᾿ ὀργῆς)” and “was grieved (συλλυπούµενος) at their hardness of heart” (3:5; cf. Eph 4:30). But Jesus’ anger disappears in Matthew’s and Luke’s versions of this healing.30 28

Our analysis assumes Markan priority, i.e., that the Gospel of Mark was a source incorporated and edited by the authors of Matthew and Luke. 29 Gk.: περιβλεψάµενος αὐτούς. In Mark 3:5a, αὐτούς refers generally to some in the audience at a synagogue. Mark does not otherwise specify who “they” are. 30 See further Bart D. Ehrman, “A Leper in the Hands of an Angry Jesus,” in A. M. Donaldson and T. B. Sailors (eds.), New Testament Greek and Exegesis (FS Gerald F.

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In the Lukan parallel, it is the scribes and Pharisees – not Jesus – who are “filled with fury” (ἐπλήσθησαν ἀνοίας) after Jesus performs this healing (Luke 6:11; cf. 6:7). Luke, then, substitutes furious Pharisees for an angry Jesus. Matthew replaces the reference to Jesus’ ὀργή (Mark 3:5) with the illustration of a shepherd who helps a sheep out from a pit on the sabbath.31 In Matthew, Mark’s angry Jesus is replaced by an analogy to a shepherd who exemplifies both common sense and compassion. Elsewhere, the Matthean Jesus warns that “everyone who becomes angry (πᾶς ὁ ὀργιζόµενος) with his brother will be liable to judgment,”32 a demand that corresponds to Harris’s level 2 of “Eliminating angry actions and speech.” Given this level of expectation, it would have been inconsistent for Matthew to allow Jesus to express the anger that Mark 3:5 attributes to him. The reining in of Jesus’ anger by these two Gospel authors is consistent with certain Pauline letters that call upon the faithful not to express anger.33 If nothing else, it is fascinating to observe a development in the view of how to handle anger between the earliest Gospel (Mark) to later Gospels and to see a parallel development between the undisputed Pauline letters and three Deuteropauline Letters. 5. Summation: The Suppression of Anger in the Corpus Paulinum In a variety of early Christian literature, the subject of anger attracted both reflection and reformulations on how it should be handled. The undisputed letters of Paul list “outbursts of anger” (θυµοί) among the unflattering characteristics of a congregation that ought not to criticize his apostolic authority (2 Cor 12:20), include it among “the works of the flesh,” and imply that anger could be a manifestation of antinomianism (Gal 5:19–20; cf. 5:13–16). Paul finds θυµοί unacceptable but nowhere demands the eradication of all θυµός (cf. βραδὺς εἰς ὀργήν, Jas 1:19). Nor does he mention Hawthorne; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 77–98, who argues persuasively that Matthew and Luke have likewise suppressed Jesus’ anger in their use of Mark 1:41 (arguing for the reading ὀργισθείς [“becoming angry”] at Mark 1:41, instead of σπλαγχνισθείς [“feeling compassion”], attested in most manuscripts). 31 Matt 12:11–12: “He said to them, ‘Suppose one of you has only one sheep and it falls into a pit on the sabbath; will you not lay hold of it and lift it out? How much more valuable is a human being than a sheep! So it is lawful to do good on the sabbath.’” 32 Matt 5:22a. This teaching of Jesus is peculiar to the gospel of Matthew. See also Harris, Restraining Rage, 391–92. 33 There may have been additional reasons for omitting a portrayal of Jesus’ anger, such as suppressing the humanness of Jesus in general, in order to avoid possible comparisons of Jesus with other miracle workers. See further Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission, 335–36; Harold Remus, Pagan-Christian Conflict over Miracle in the Second Century (Patristic Monograph Series 10; Cambridge [MA]: Philadelphia Patristic Foundation, 1983).

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God’s wrath against unbelievers (Rom 1:18; cf. Gal 5:21b) as a motivation for the requirement to suppress anger. Three deuteropauline authors give reasons to suppress anger: because “the wrath of God is coming” (Col 3:5–8), because the faithful should not grieve God’s Spirit but should be forgiving toward others (Eph 4:22–32), and because a gathering of men praying “without anger or argument” will protect the community from ‘heresy’ (1 Tim 2:8). As compared with Paul’s undisputed letters, the heightened calls for suppression in Colossians, Ephesians, and, perhaps, First Timothy correlate with Harris’s finding that calls for greater and more complete suppression of anger began in the Roman period.

B. Assessing the Helpfulness of Freudian Theory   Classic, Freudian psychological theory can be brought to bear on Pauline admonitions to rein in anger.34 Paul’s formulations in Second Corinthians and Galatians could be seen as prohibitions against infantile or narcissistic rage (cf. Jas 1:19–20; Eph 4:26a). The author of Colossians seems to presuppose that only God, as “Father,” is allowed to become angry and that, for this reason, God’s children must suppress anger (Col 3:5–8; cf. Col 3:21||Eph 6:4). Ephesians and, especially, First Timothy imply that repression of anger is necessary for the sustenance, if not the very existence, of a unified Christian community. Unknown in the Pauline letters is the NeoFreudian concept of venting anger or aggression as a healthy form of catharsis.35 Perhaps Freud himself would have acknowledged the value of exhortations in Ephesians and First Timothy to transcend the ego-libido and to embrace the object-libido – that is, to move beyond narcissism out of love for the (religious) community, which was indispensable for the ego’s hap-

34 The rationale for interacting with Freudian theory is not to claim that such theory is accepted as valid by most therapists or literary critics today, but, rather, because we find it helpful in forming pertinent questions for interpreting these Pauline texts. 35 For a critique of this therapeutic approach, see Shahbaz Khan Mallick and Boyd R. McCandless, “A Study of Catharsis of Aggression,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 4 (1966): 591–96; cf. Dennis L. Okholm, “To Vent or Not to Vent? What Contemporary Psychology Can Learn from Ascetic Theology about Anger,” in Mark R. McMinn and Timothy R. Phillips (eds.), Care for the Soul: Exploring the Intersection of Psychology & Theology (Downers Grove [IL]: InterVarsity, 2001), 164–86 at 177; Lester K. Little, “Anger in Monastic Curses,” in Barbara H. Rosenwein (ed.), Anger’s Past: The Social Uses of an Emotion in the Middle Ages (Ithaca [NY]: Cornell University, 1998), 11–35.

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piness and preservation.36 Despite Freud’s characterization of “the religions of mankind” as “mass delusions,”37 he might even have admired the Pauline authors’ exhortations, given his recognition of the inherent tension between human instinct and the demands of membership in a civil society: “The essence of it [civilization] lies in the fact that the members of the community restrict themselves in their possibilities of satisfaction, whereas the individual knew no such restrictions.”38 If the human being is inclined to aggression,39 which would include narcissistic tirades, these must be repressed for the society – and, by extension, any community – to survive.40 Such issues represented more than a hypothetical quandary to Freud. He doubted humankind’s ability to evolve to such a level and, in particular, to restrain aggression in Europe after the First World War. Particularly ominous is a paragraph that Freud added in 1931 to the end of his Civilization and Its Discontents [Das Unbehagen in der Kultur]: And now it is to be expected that the other of the two “Heavenly Powers”, eternal Eros, will make an effort to assert himself in the struggle with his equally immortal adversary. But who can foresee with what success and with what result? 41

Clearly, the ensuing events of the 1930s did not culminate in the “result” for which Freud and, presumably, most of humanity would have hoped. The tentative character of our remarks in this section has been intentional, since the goals of this article are both heuristic and limited.42 An 36 See Sigmund Freud, On Narcissism: An Introduction, in Peter Gay (ed.), The Freud Reader (New York: W. W. Norton, 1989), 548–50; and Fred Berthold, Jr., The Fear of God: The Role of Anxiety in Contemporary Thought (New York: Harper & Bros., 1959), 60, who refers to Freud, A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis (New York: Boni & Liveright, 1953), 424. See further Peter Homans, The Ability to Mourn: Disillusionment and the Social Origins of Psychoanalysis (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1989), 122– 24. 37 Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents ([Das Unbehagen in der Kultur, 1930] New York: W. W. Norton, 1962), 28. 38 Civilization and Its Discontents, 42; cf. Homans, Ability to Mourn, 287–90. 39 So Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents, 59–63 at 61: “It is clearly not easy for men to give up the satisfaction of this inclination to aggression. They do not feel comfortable without it.” 40 Freud, Repression [Verdrängung], in Gay, Freud Reader, 570–71; Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, in Gay, Freud Reader, 627–28. 41 Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents, 92. 42 See Lauri Thurén, “Was Paul Angry?: Derhetorizing Galatians,” in Stanley E. Porter and Dennis L. Stamps (eds.), The Rhetorical Interpretation of Scripture (JSNTSup 180; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999), 302–20, who prudently differentiates between “the pathos appeal of the text” of Galatians and Paul’s “actual state of mind” (306). Likewise, Mary W. Patrick, “Autobiography and Rhetoric: Anger in Ignatius of Antioch,” in Porter and Stamps, Rhetorical Interpretation, 348–75 at 375, distinguishes the methods and goals of rhetorical analysis from those of historical reconstruction. His-

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additional reason for our caution is that Freud never addressed the subject of anger systematically.43 Of course, Freud’s quandary was hardly new in the twentieth century.44 Any Pauline author who characterized members of the community as parts of Christ’s “body”45 would likewise need to address the responsibilities of the individual to the community as a whole. Considerations on the suppression of anger belong to this larger community context, which the final pages of this article explore.

C. Epilogue: Paul’s Anger toward Peter in Antioch   Having examined what Paul says about anger in some of his sundry letters, we proceed to discuss an occasion when Paul himself evidently became angry, an occasion that has implications for addressing the larger problem of individual expression within a religious community.46 In Gal 2:11–14, Paul recalls his confrontation with the apostle Peter (Cephas) in Antioch.47 Peter and other Judaic Christ-believers had previously eaten non-kosher torical reconstruction is a necessary prerequisite to ascertaining the expression or experience of actual emotions (instead of rhetorical depictions of them). Given the difficulties of ascertaining the various Sitze im Leben of pseudonymous letters attributed to Paul, there is insufficient information to infer how much anger may actually have been expressed in these authors’ communities. 43 See Carol Tavris, Anger: The Misunderstood Emotion (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1989), 38–41 at 39: “Although Freud, like Darwin, regarded aggression as an ineradicable part of the human biological heritage, Freud emphasized the destructive, violent aspect of aggression, whereas Darwin saw aggression as self-defending and adaptive. Curiously, neither scientist paid much attention to anger. If they wrote about it at all, it was a subcategory or weaker expression of the basic aggressive drive.” 44 The Freudian theorist Heinz Kohut would touch upon several related points in his seminal essay, “Thoughts on Narcissism and Narcissistic Rage,” in Paul Ornstein (ed.), The Search for the Self: Selected Writings of Heinz Kohut (New York: International University, 1978–91), 2:615–58. 45 Rom 7:4; 12:4; 1 Cor 12:12–27; Col 1:18, 24; 2:19; 3:15; Eph 1:22–23; 3:6; 4:12, 16, 25; 5:30. 46 These remarks are indebted in part to Peter Richardson, “Pauline Inconsistency: I Corinthians 9: 19–23 and Galatians 2: 11–14,” NTS 26 (1980): 347–62; see also Barbara E. Bowe, “Amazing Grace: Beyond Anger,” BibToday 42 (2004): 235–40 at 239. 47 Gal 2:11–14: “But when Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood self-condemned (κατὰ πρόσωπον αὐτῷ ἀντέστην, ὅτι κατεγνωσµένος ἦν); for until certain people came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But after they came, he drew back and kept himself separate for fear of the circumcision faction. And the other Jews joined him in this hypocrisy, so that even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy. But when I saw that they were not acting consistently with the truth of the gospel, I said to Cephas before them all, ‘If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you compel the Gentiles to live like Jews?’”

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food among uncircumcised Gentile Christians but, subsequently, had refrained from doing so when a delegation sent by James the Lord’s brother arrived from Jerusalem. Paul regarded Peter’s reversal as inconsistent and a rejection both of Paul’s apostolic calling to the Gentiles and of the justified status of those Gentiles within the church. To be sure, we must proceed with caution, since Paul does not describe his emotional state at the time.48 Nonetheless, it seems safe to infer that Paul had been furious when he confronted Peter.49 This allows the question, In angrily opposing Peter “to his face” (Gal 2:11), was Paul’s action inconsistent with his requirement that others rein in θυµοί (2 Cor 12:20; Gal 5:19–20)? Probably not, since Paul never disallows occasional expressions of anger – especially if coming from an apostle and for some greater good, such as the future legitimacy of Paulinist Christ congregations in Syria or Galatia. As Paul delineates the rhetorical situation in Galatians years after his conflict with Peter, the context in which he expressed anger in Antioch was the “hypocrisy” of Peter and other Judean Christ-believers (Gal 2:13: ὑπόκρισις, συνυποκρίνοµαι) and Peter’s resultant “selfcondemned” status (καταγινώσκω, 2:11). For Paul, these shameful and deleterious developments preceded, and therefore warranted, his anger toward, and confrontation of, his fellow apostle. One can further ask how Paul’s later pseudonymous emulators might have responded to the apostle’s angry opposition to Peter in Antioch. Ephesians assumes that “the household of God [is] built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone” (Eph 2:19b–20). The deuteropauline author would most likely have been baffled by the controversy among church leaders reflected in Gal 2:11–14. In addition, the expectation of putting away “all bitterness and anger and wrath” (Eph 4:31a; cf. Col 3:8) would seem to preclude any defense of Paul’s conduct in Antioch. First Timothy likewise presumes that Paul had long ago established a unified church.50 The author’s concern in his own day for protecting that one church from ‘heresy’ suggests a rationale for why the men need to 48

Our purpose remains comparative, and we make no (speculative) attempt to reconstruct Paul’s psyche. See further Betz, Galatians, 105–12; Kelhoffer, “The Struggle to Define Heilsgeschichte: Paul on the Origins of the Christian Tradition,” BR 48 (2003): 45–67, esp. 55–61 (see chapter 6 in the present volume). 49 Later Christian interpreters of Paul would differ on whether Paul had actually become angry with the apostle Peter (so Tertullian, Cyprian, Augustine, and Cyril of Alexandria) or not (so Origen, John Chrysostom, and Jerome). The interpretations of these late antique authors merit attention in their own contexts with reference to each author’s overall treatment(s) of expressing anger. 50 1 Tim 1:12–16; 4:14; 2 Tim 1:6–7; 3:10–11a. See Raymond F. Collins, 1 & 2 Timothy and Titus: A Commentary (Louisville [KY]: Westminster John Knox, 2002), 13.

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gather without anger to pray (1 Tim 2:8). Psychologist Harriet Lerner calls attention to a correlation between the level of anxiety in any social system and the repression of individual expression: “The higher the anxiety in any system, the less tolerance people have for inclusiveness, complexity, and difference. When you live in a culture of fear, you will likely want to huddle in a little family or village where everyone is just like you.”51 One need not (necessarily) accuse the author of First Timothy of inspiring a “culture of fear” to see a correlation between his consternation about ‘heresy’ and his commands to repress not only anger but also women’s leadership in this community (cf. 1 Tim 2:9–15). Yet perhaps these same deuteropauline authors would have tolerated the apostle Paul’s anger against Peter if it served to protect and strengthen the church against outsiders who were perceived as attempting to destroy that church – or at least these later authors’ understandings of the Pauline instantiation of the church. One fear (voiced as concern for the church’s well-being) can take precedence over another fear (individual expression of spontaneous emotions such as anger). This article, which began with an examination of anger in the Pauline letters, has now drifted into community formation and the community self-understanding resulting from competing attempts at self-definition. None of the NT letters attributed to Paul resolves the ethical and existential dilemma posed, on the one hand, by the expectations of repressing anger and, on the other hand, by the duty of expressing outrage when defending the well-being of the community. Rather, these letters present suppressing anger as a categorical imperative without reflecting on possible limits or exceptions to its implementation. An exploration of this dilemma in ancient Greco-Roman, Jewish, and Christian literature, building on William Harris’s erudite study and the mostly complementary proposals of the present article, would be a fascinating topic for future scholarship. Our analysis of anger in the corpus Paulinum could also be augmented with an analysis of anger in other early Christian literature, including Acts 26:1152 and 1 Clem. 63:2.53 Analyses of other emotions in early Christian literature54 would also be welcome. 51

Harriet Lerner, Fear and Other Uninvited Guests (New York: HarperCollins, 2004), 134. 52 Acts 26:11, on Paul’s anger: “By punishing them often in all the synagogues I tried to force them to blaspheme; and since I was so furiously enraged (ἐµµαίνοµαι) at them, I pursued them even to foreign cities.” 53 1 Clem. 63:2 (ET Holmes): “For you will give us great joy and gladness if you obey what we have written through the Holy Spirit and root out the unlawful anger of your jealousy, in accordance with the appeal (κατὰ τὴν ἔντευξιν) for peace and harmony that we have made in this letter (ἐν τῇδε τῇ ἐπιστολῇ).” 54 See now Anke Inselmann, Die Freude im Lukasevangelium: Ein Beitrag zur psychologischen Exegese (WUNT 2.322; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012).

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Abstract: This article builds on the work of classicist William V. Harris and critiques Harris for not distinguishing between the Pauline and Deuteropauline Letters. Harris analyzes the suppression of anger in terms of four increasing levels of restraint: (1) reining in angry actions and speech; (2) eliminating angry actions and speech; (3) reining in angry feelings; and (4) eliminating angry feelings. In his analysis of Greco-Roman literature, Harris argues persuasively that the ideals of levels two, three and four were later developments in Greco-Roman antiquity. Utilizing Harris’s four levels of restraint, this article argues that whereas the apostle Paul’s exhortations correspond to Harris’s level 1, the deuteropauline authors of Colossians and Ephesians implore that their readers attain at least level 2. It is also probable that the author of First Timothy desires the elimination of all angry actions and speech (level 2). The development from the undisputed letters to two or three Deuteropauline Letters correlates with Harris’s conclusion that the appeals for greater and more complete suppression of anger began in the Roman period. The article also interacts with classic theories of the psychology of anger, asking whether a suppression of anger is necessary according to any of the NT Pauline literature.

Chapter 16

Early Christian Ascetic Practices and Biblical Interpretation: The Witnesses of Galen and Tatian* In my book The Diet of John the Baptist, I showed that ascetic interpretations of the Baptist’s “locusts and wild honey” (Mark 1:6c||Matt 3:4c) abounded in the early church.1 I did not, however, take up the question whether construals of John’s food and clothing as an ascetic ideal preceded or followed analogous construals of food and clothing in early Christian asceticism. Exploring that question is the purpose of the present inquiry. To Teresa M. Shaw’s definition of asceticism as “a way of life that requires daily discipline and intentionality in bodily behaviors,”1a I would add voluntary renunciation, including renunciation of food (for example, abstaining from meat), clothing or sex.

A. Overview: John’s Diet in Mark and Matthew The testimonies of the physician Galen (ca. 129/130–199/216 C.E.) and the Syrian Christian Tatian (fl. 165–172 C.E.) to Christian asceticism are slightly earlier than the earliest ascetic exposition on John’s food by Clement of Alexandria (ca. 150–211/216 C.E.). In this essay, I do not argue for a simple post hoc ergo propter hoc relationship between a later ascetic interpretation of Scripture and earlier ascetic practices. Nonetheless, the temporal proximity of Galen and Tatian to Clement suggests such a correlation, and a direct causal relationship can by no means be excluded. A brief discussion of the two Synoptic passages will offer a context for the present inquiry.2 *

Original publication: The New Testament and Early Christian Literature in GrecoRoman Context: Studies in Honor of David E. Aune (NovTSup 122; ed. John Fotopoulos; Leiden: Brill, 2006), 439–44. My thanks to Clare K. Rothschild and James V. Smith, who offered comments on an earlier version of this essay. 1 Kelhoffer, Diet of John the Baptist, 134–93. 1a Shaw, The Burden of the Flesh: Fasting and Sexuality in Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 6. 2 On John’s diet in Synoptic interpretation, see further my Diet of John the Baptist, 121–32.

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Mark 1:6a, c καὶ ἦν . . . ἐσθίων ἀκρίδας καὶ µέλι ἄγριον. And John was in the habit of eating locusts and wild . . . honey.

Matt 3:4c ἡ δὲ τροφὴ ἦν αὐτοῦ ἀκρίδες καὶ µέλι ἄγριον. And his food consisted of locusts and wild honey.

In the Gospel of Mark, John’s eating from time to time of such common desert foods serves to connect John with the “voice” of Isa 40:3 (cited in Mark 1:3a) and the famous wilderness prophet Elijah (cf. 2 Kgs 1:8, LXX; Mark 1:6b). Matthew’s heightened claim that John ate only “locusts and wild honey” is likely informed by one or more of the claims made in Mart. Ascen. Isa. 2.11 and 2 Macc 5:27 (cf. Jos. Vita 2§11) that the diet of other Jewish wilderness dwellers consisted exclusively of natural provisions. That is, since the prophet Isaiah and Judas Maccabeus (also Josephus’s Bannus) had survived entirely on natural wilderness foods, the author of Matthew wishes to affirm that John also did so (so Matt 3:4c).

B. An Ascetic Baptist as a Source of Paideia Notable for the present study is that neither Mark nor Matthew presents John as an ascetic.3 The innovation of that portrayal is attested first by Clement of Alexandria (Paed. 2.1), and that view of the Baptist continues in nearly every subsequent commentator until the Protestant Reformation.4 Regardless of whether early Christian commentators construed John’s “locusts” as actual insects or a type of vegetation, the commentators consistently maintain that his diet is a model worthy of emulation. A few examples will illustrate this point. In his Paedagogus (ca. 190/92 C.E.), Clement states that John “maintained extreme self-restraint (ἐγκράτεια)” in eating “locusts and wild honey.”5 Origen names John’s wish to free his soul from the . . . passions of a body fueled by “savory dishes” as John’s 3 Against, e.g., Ulrich Luz, Matthew: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1990–2001 [1985]), 1:168, who argues that Matt 3:4c does present John as an ascetic. Other scholars who find an ascetic presentation of the Baptist in Mark or Matthew include Joachim Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus (EKK II.1–2; Zürich: Benziger/Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 3rd ed. 1989), 1:47; Rudolf Pesch, Das Markusevangelium I. Teil: Einleitung und Kommentar zu Kap. 1,1–8,26 (HTKNT 2.1; Freiburg: Herder, 4 th ed. 1984), 82; and Robert H. Gundry, Matthew: A Commentary on His Handbook for a Mixed Church under Persecution (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2nd ed. 1994), 45. 4 On John Calvin’s (1509–64 C.E.) objection to interpreting the Baptist as an ascetic model, see Luz, Matthew, 1:168; Kelhoffer, Diet of John the Baptist, 187. 5 Clem. Paed. 2.1 (2.15.4–2.16.1). Greek text: Miroslav Marcovich (ed.), Clementis Alexandrini, Paedagogus (VCSup 61; Leiden: Brill, 2002); ET (modified): Simon P. Wood, Christ the Educator (FC 23; New York: Fathers of the Church, 1954).

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rationale for selecting these foods.6 John Chrysostom, after discussing the Baptist’s food and clothing, urges that believers follow this example: “Let us emulate him (Τοῦτον . . . ζηλώσωµεν): Getting rid of luxuries and drunkenness, let us pursue the simplified life.”7 According to Jerome, moreover, the imperative in following John’s example in food and clothing precludes a Christian widow from complaining about the “somber dress” and coarse food to which she must adhere after her husband’s departure (Ep. 38.3 [To Marcella]). In this last case, imitating John is apparently compulsory, not an act of ascetic volition. Ascetics who did, in fact, choose a way of life that included emulating John’s foods and wilderness habitation include Gregory Nazianzen, Basil of Caesarea, a ninth-century anchorite monk known to us only by an inscription about John’s food on the wall of his cave, and Silvestros, the sixteenth-century Patriarch of Alexandria.8

C. Which Came First – Ascetic Practices or Interpretations of Biblical Characters as Ascetics? Having analyzed these and numerous other ascetic appropriations of John’s food in The Diet of John the Baptist, I endeavored to ascertain why such an unremarkable Synoptic passage about two rather common wilderness foods (Mark 1:6c||Matt 3:4c) would receive such attention – and so 6

Origen Hom. Luc. 25.2 (on Luke 3:15): “But John always ate locusts, and he always ate wild honey. He was content with simple life and light food, lest his body grow fat on richer, savory dishes and be overpowered by exquisite banquets. This is the nature of our bodies; they are weighed down by excess food and, when the body is weighed down, the soul too is burdened. For the soul is spread throughout the whole body and subject to its passions. . . . So John’s life was remarkable (vita mirabilis), and quite different than other men’s way of living (et multum ab aliorum hominum conversatione diversa).” Latin text of Origen’s Homilies on Luke: Hermann-Josef Sieben (ed.), In Lucam homiliae = Homilien zum Lukasevangelium (Fontes Christiani 4; Freiburg: Herder, 1991–92); ET: Joseph T. Lienhard, Homilies on Luke; Fragments on Luke (FC 94; Washington: Catholic University of America, 1996). 7 Chrys. Hom. Matt. 10.5. Greek: PG 57:190; ET: mine. 8 Greg. Naz. Or. 33; Basil Caesarea Ep. 42.5. As Henri Grégoire, “Les Sauterelles de Saint Jean-Baptiste: texte épigraphique d’une épître de S. Isidore de Péluse,” Byzantion 5 (1929–30): 109–28, discusses, the inscription stems from Isidore of Pelusium (ca. 360– ca. 435 C.E.). The witness to Silvestros (d. 1590 C.E.) is a letter written in 1581 C.E. from Silvestros’s protégé Meletios Pigas to Theodore Beza; Greek text: Fernand Aubert and Henri Meylan (eds.), Correspondance de Théodore de Bèze (Geneva: Droz, 1960), 24:385–99. See further: Jerome Adv. Iovin. 2.15; the Life of John, an anonymous writing that survives in Karshuni (ET: Alphonse Mingana, “A New Life of John the Baptist,” in J. Rendel Harris (ed.), Woodbrooke Studies: Christian Documents in Syriac, Arabic, and Garshuni [Cambridge: W. Heffer & Sons, 1927], 1:234–87 at 241).

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much of it – for over twelve centuries. The extolling of simplicity and moderation in regard to food by Greco-Roman authors, such as Aratus, Dio Chrysostom, Plutarch and Apollonius of Tyana,9 make plausible the inference that at least some early Christian interpreters wished to derive the same type of paideia from Scripture that had been lauded in philosophic literature. Such a connection between philosophers’ virtues and John’s purported example should not come as a surprise, given Gregory Nazianzen’s characterization of Elijah and John as “perfect philosophers.”10 It was at this point that my earlier investigation concluded, noting that more work was needed in the areas of paideia and early Christian biblical interpretation and how food was construed in early Christian theology and selfdefinition. 1. Galen on the “Self-Discipline” of Contemptible Christians When pursuing this research, I did not consider the complementary explanation that early Christian ascetic practices could have been an impetus for connecting John’s “locusts and wild honey” with paideia. The following testimony of the physician Galen supports such an explanation: Most people are unable to follow any demonstrative argument consecutively; hence they need parables, . . . just as now we see the people called Christians drawing their faith from parables [and miracles], and yet sometimes acting in the same way [as those who philosophize]. For their contempt of death [and of its sequel] is patent to us every day, and likewise their restraint in cohabitation. For they include not only men but also women who refrain from cohabiting all through their lives; and they also number individuals who, in self-discipline and self-control in matters of food and drink, and in their keen pursuit of justice, have attained a level not inferior to that of genuine philosophers. 11

Galen’s concomitant praise and derision of Christian self-discipline and naïveté12 lend credibility to the accuracy of his remarks about Christian as9

E.g., Aratus Phaen. 96–136; Dio Chrys. Or. 6.12; Plut. Quaest. conv. 8.7.3 (727E); Apollonius VA 1.8. 10 Greg. Naz Or. 43.29 (536B). Greek text: Jean Bernardi (ed.), Grégoire de Nazianze, Discours 42–43 (SC 384; Paris: Cerf, 1992), 190–92; ET: Leo P. McCauley et al., Funeral Orations by Saint Gregory Nazianzen and Saint Ambrose (FC 22; New York: Fathers of the Church, 1953), 52–53. 11 The passage is from Galen’s (lost) summary of Plato’s Republic. Richard Walzer, Galen on Jews and Christians (London: Oxford University Press, 1949), 16, dates this work by Galen to ca. 180 C.E. ET of the Arabic: Walzer, Galen, 15; see further Elaine Pagels, Beyond Belief: The Secret Gospel of Thomas (New York: Random House, 2003), 8–9. 12 See also Galen De differentia pulsuum 2.3–4: “One might more easily teach novelties to the followers of Moses and Christ than to the physicians and philosophers who cling fast to their schools.” Likewise, De differentia pulsuum 2.4: “. . .in order that one should not at the very beginning, as if one had come into the school of Moses and Christ,

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ceticism in the late second century. Even if Christians do not merit recognition as “true philosophers,”13 their sexual continence, moderation “in matters of food and drink,” and “contempt of death,” strike Galen as entirely commendable. 2. Tatian: Meat-Eating as Murder Another ancient witness, the Syrian Christian Tatian, likewise reinforces the possibility that early Christian ascetic practices offered a precedent for connecting John’s simple diet with paideia. In particular, Galen’s testimonies accord with what is known about the vegetarianism that Tatian adopted and promoted in the late second century.14 In his Oration to the Greeks, Tatian likens the killing of animals for food to the senseless slaughter of gladiators: “You sacrifice animals in order to eat meat, and you buy men to produce slaughter for the human soul.”15 The equation between meat eating and homicide may ultimately be indebted to Aratus of Soloi (ca. 315– before 240 B.C.E.), who stated in his popular Phaenomena that humanity’s devolution into both murder and meat eating occurred long ago during the Bronze Age (Phaen. 129–136). Tatian’s vegetarianism therefore exemplifies Galen’s generalization about the “self-discipline” of some secondcentury Christians “in matters of food and drink.”16 It is possible, moreover, that several later witnesses to the Diatesseron’s depiction of John the Baptist’s foods as honey and milk (not locusts) reflect Tatian’s own vegetarian emendation of Mark 1:6c||Matt 3:4c.17 3. A Possible Correlation Galen’s favorable comparison of Christians’ discipline with that of the “genuine philosophers” indicates his assessment that the paideia cultivated hear talk of undemonstrated laws, and that where it is least appropriate.” ET: Walzer, Galen, 14. 13 See Walzer, Galen, 58. 14 Miroslav Marcovich, Tatiani, Oratio ad Graecos (PTS 43; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1995), 1–3, dates the Oratio after the death of Justin Martyr (165 C.E.) and prior to 172 C . E ., when Tatian “left Rome and returned to the Orient” (p. 3). See also Molly Whittaker, Oratio ad Graecos and Fragments (OECT; Oxford: Clarendon, 1982), pp. ix–x. 15 Tatian Or. 23.2. Greek text and ET: Whittaker, Oratio, 46–47. 16 Robert M. Grant, “The Heresy of Tatian,” JTS 5 (1954): 62–68 at 64, finds additional evidence for Tatian’s Encratism in Orat. 8.2 (criticizing the goddess Aphrodite, who delights in marriage) and 34.1 (a woman with thirty children is an example of much incontinence). 17 On this emendation, see my Diet of John the Baptist, 141–48; in my view, the surviving evidence does not allow for a definitive answer to the question whether Tatian himself or some later Syrian Christian first described John’s foods as honey and milk (not locusts).

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in Christian and philosophical circles was essentially the same.18 This striking claim merits additional investigation. The important consideration for the present inquiry is that ascetic interpretations of John the Baptist’s “locusts and wild honey” have ascetic precedents in both Greco-Roman philosophical literature and practices of second-century Christianity. The origins of those second-century Christian ascetic practices likewise merit additional study, especially in light of the contrasting non-ascetic portrayals of Jesus in the Synoptic gospels. For example, according to Mark 2:18 par., John’s disciples’ and the Pharisees’ practice of fasting contrasts with the lack of such a custom on the part of Jesus’ disciples – and, presumably, of Jesus himself. Likewise, Q/Luke 7:31–35||Matt 11:16– 19 differentiates between John’s eclectic habits with(out) food,19 and Jesus’ unsavory reputation as φάγος καὶ οἰνοπότης (“a glutton and a drunkard”). As Edmondo Lupieri observes, this difference in the Synoptics between the Baptist and Jesus may have fostered the choice of later ascetics to emulate John’s purported example, rather than Jesus’ non-example: The choice [to imitate] John the Baptist was a very logical one: [I]n the New Testament he is the only figure who can be considered a model for ascetic life. As a chaste, fasting, total abstainer who dressed in camelhair clothing, he – even more than Jesus! – offered a positive example to people who wanted to follow an ascetic way of life.20

What indeed may have prompted certain followers of Jesus – himself no ascetic, according to both Mark and Q – to identify the Christian life with renunciation and simplicity in regard to food, drink, and other matters? Can such practices by Christians be dated earlier than Galen and Tatian in the late-second century (cf. Col 2:16–21)? Scholars who, following the distinguished example of David E. Aune, analyze the New Testament and other early Christian literature in its Greco-Roman context are those who are most likely to make progress on these intriguing questions.

18 Pace Frances M. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1997), 76: “Once the biblical literature became established as an alternative body of classics, it would soon be seen as the basis of a new paideia.” 19 Whereas Q/Matt 11:18 (µήτε ἐσθίων µήτε πίνων) states that John ate nothing at all, Q/Luke 7:33 (µὴ ἐσθίων ἄρτον µήτε πίνων οἶνον) claims more plausibly that the Baptist’s food and drink were somehow distinctive. 20 Lupieri, “John the Baptist: The First Monk. A Contribution to the History of the Figure of John the Baptist in the Early Monastic World,” in Monasticism: A Historical Overview (Word and Spirit 6; Still River, MA: St. Bede’s, 1984), 11–23 at 16.

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Abstract: The testimonies of the physician Galen (c. 129/130–199/216 C.E.) and the Syrian Christian Tatian (fl. 165–172 C.E.) to Christian asceticism are slightly earlier than the ascetic expositions of biblical texts by Clement of Alexandria (c. 150–211/216 C.E.) and other late ancient Christian authors. Although a simple post hoc ergo propter hoc relationship between ascetic practices and ascetic biblical interpretation does not necessarily follow, the temporal proximity of Galen and Tatian to Clement suggests such a correlation between praxis and biblical interpretation, and a direct causal relationship can by no means be excluded.

Original Publications I. Reflections on Method 1. “New Testament Exegesis as an Academic Discipline with Relevance for Other Disciplines.” Currents in Biblical Research 11/2 (2013): 218– 33; Swedish original: “Nya testamentets exegetik som akademiskt ämne med relevans för andra ämnen.” Svensk Exegetisk Årsbok 77 (2012): 55–70. 2. “Early Christian Studies among the Academic Disciplines: Reflections on John the Baptist’s ‘Locusts and Wild Honey.’” Biblical Research 50 (2007): 5–17. 3. “The Significance of the Earthly Jesus in Matthew: A Response to Jack Dean Kingsbury.” Ex Auditu 14 (1998): 66–69. II. Conceptions of “Gospel” in Early Christianity 4. “‘How Soon a Book’ Revisited: ΕUΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΝ as a Reference to ‘Gospel’ Materials in the First Half of the Second Century.” Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 95 (2004): 1–34. 5. “Basilides’s Gospel and Exegetica (Treatises).” Vigiliae Christianae 59 (2005): 115–34. 6. “The Struggle to Define Heilsgeschichte: Paul on the Origins of the Christian Tradition.” Biblical Research 48 (2003): 45–67. 7. “The Witness of Eusebius’s ad Marinum and Other Christian Writings to Text-Critical Debates concerning the Original Conclusion to Mark’s Gospel.” Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 92 (2001): 78–112. III. Struggles for Legitimacy 8. “The Maccabees at Prayer: Pro- and Anti-Hasmonean Tendencies in the Prayers of First and Second Maccabees.” Early Christianity 2 (2011): 198–218. 9. “Suffering as Defense of Paul’s Apostolic Authority in Galatians and 2 Corinthians 11.” Svensk Exegetisk Årsbok 74 (2009): 127–43.

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10. “The Apostle Paul and Justin Martyr on the Miraculous: A Comparison of Appeals to Authority.” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 42 (2001): 163–84. 11. “The Gradual Disclosure of Paul’s Violence against Christians in the Acts of the Apostles as an Apology for the Standing of the Lukan Paul.” Biblical Research 54 (2009): 25–35. 12. “The Relevance of Revelation’s Date and the Imperial Cult for John’s Appraisal of the Value of Christians’ Suffering in Revelation 1–3.” In: Jörg Frey et al. (eds.), Die Johannesapokalypse: Kontexte – Konzepte – Rezeption. WUNT 287. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012, 553–85. 13. “‘Hippolytus’ and Magic: An Examination of Elenchos IV.28–42 and Related Passages in Light of the Greek Magical Papyri.” Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum/Journal of Ancient Christianity 11 (2007–08): 517–48. 14. “The Search for Confessors at the Council of Nicaea.” Journal of Early Christian Studies 19 (2011): 589–99. IV. Early Christian Virtues in Practice 15. “Suppressing Anger in Early Christianity: Examples from the Pauline Tradition.” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 47 (2007): 307–25. 16. “Early Christian Ascetic Practices and Biblical Interpretation: The Witnesses of Galen and Tatian.” In: John Fotopoulos (ed.), The New Testament and Early Christian Literature in Greco-Roman Context: Studies in Honor of David E. Aune. NovTSup 122. Leiden: Brill, 2006, 439–44.

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Index of References Boldface page numbers indicate principal treatment of a subject.

1. Hebrew Bible Genesis 1 1:3 1:27 3 12:3 14:14 14:15 (LXX) 15:6 16 16:6–9 17 17:1–14 21 21:9–21 21:10 31:23 41 49:1

84 87 n. 35 110 n. 30 116 109 306 n. 13 188 n. 1 109 188 188 117 110 188 188 110 188 n. 1 294 215 n. 43

Exodus 6:2–3 14

87 n. 35 172 n. 18

Deuteronomy 28:65 32:36 32:43 (LXX)

174 n. 22 181 n. 33 115

Joshua 5:1

174 n. 22

First Samuel 10:26 14:1–15

298 174 n. 22 174 n. 22

17:4 28 28:3–9 (LXX) 28:8–9 28:12 28:15

174 n. 22 295–97, 300 295 n. 105 297 n. 111 294, 296 n. 110 296 n. 110

Second Kings 1:8 (LXX) 18:13–19:35 19:35–37

336 184 n. 39 176, 177, 178

Psalms 4:5 (LXX) 9:11–12 18:49 24:7 (23:7, LXX) 31:5–6 51:11 79 107:26–27 110:10 117:1

325 n. 25 174 n. 22 115 217, 219 87 n. 35 87 n. 35 170 n. 11 174 n. 22 87 n. 35 115

Proverbs 1:7, 9:10 87 n. 35 Isaiah 1 9:6 11:10 (LXX) 13:10 34:4 36–37 40:3

214 170 n. 11 214–15 115 59 n. 64 59 n. 64 184 n. 39 20, 119 n. 50, 336

370

Index of References

53:8 54:1 61:1

215 n. 43 44 40 n. 5

Jeremiah 33

170 n. 11

Daniel 2 2:3 2:27

214, 241 n. 29, 298 295 294, 295, 300 294, 295, 300

2:34 7:13 11:34 12:1–4

215 n. 43 59 n. 64, 60, 215 n. 43 169 n. 10 169 n. 10

Micah 7:16

174 n. 22

Malachi 3:1

119 n. 50

2. Other Ancient Jewish Literature Apoc. Abraham 25 241 n. 29 Aristobulus of Alexandria 91 Artapanus

98

Dead Sea Scrolls CD 12:11b–15a

23

Eupolemus

98

First Enoch 1–36

241 n. 29

First Maccabees

167–70, 185 n. 45, 186 170 170 n. 11 171 n. 15 170 170 185 n. 43 170 n. 11 171, 178 182 170 182 182 170–73 173 170, 184 n. 42 170, 171 172 n. 16, 173, 178, 180 170–71, 173

1:10–2:70 1:24–28, 36–40 1:48, 57 1:64 2:1–13 2:2–5 2:7–13 2:28–38 3 3:1–9 3:3–9 3:1 3:43–4:25 3:44–53 3:44 3:45 3:46–60 3:46–50

3:46 3:50–53 3:50–52 3:50 3:53 3:54 3:55–57 4 4:1 4:8–11 4:9 4:10 4:22 4:24–25 4:26–29 4:30–34 4:30 4:33 4:34–35 4:34 4:36–41 4:36 4:38–39 4:40 4:41–43 5:9 5:30–34 5:31–32 5:33 5:34 7 7:33–38

173 n. 21 171, 180 171 n. 12 184 n. 42 173 173 n. 21, 175, 184 n. 42 171 172 170 171–72, 173, 178 171 171, 172, 184 n. 42 174 173 173 170, 173–74, 176 n. 29, 177, 178, 180 174, 184 n. 42 174 175 174 170, 175, 178, 182 175–76 175 175 n. 25, 176, 184 n. 42 175 n. 26 176 170, 176, 178 176 184 n. 42 176, 178 178 176 n. 28, 183

2. Other Ancient Jewish Literature 7:37 7:39–50 7:40 7:41–50 7:41–42 7:43 9:46 11:63 11:67–74 11:70 11:71 11:72–74

185 n. 43 170, 176–77 184 n. 42 177 176 n. 28, 177, 178 177 175 n. 26 178 170, 177–78 178 178, 184 n. 42 178

Fourth Ezra

241 n. 29

Josephus 98 Ant. 13.5.7 (§161) 178 n. 31 Vita 2§11 20, 336 Mart. Ascen. Isa. 2.11

20, 336

Philo of Alexandria 98 Second Enoch

241 n. 29

Second Maccabees 167–70, 185 n. 44, 186 1–2 180 n. 32, 184 n. 42 1:6, 23, 24 184 n. 42 2:8 185 n. 43 2:10 184 n. 42 2:19–32 167 n. 2 2:21 167 n. 2 3–15 180 n. 32 3:1 180 3:13–34 179, 180–81 3:13 180 3:14–21 180 3:15 185 n. 43 3:22–23 180 3:22 185 n. 43 3:29 180 3:31–34 180 3:31 185 n. 43 5:2 180 5:4 180, 185 n. 43 5:27 20, 181, 336 6:1–8:7 183 6–7 181

7–8 7:1–8:5 7 7:6 7:37–38 7:37 8 8:1–11 8:1–4 8:1 8:2–4 8:2–3 8:2 8:5 8:12–20 8:14–15 8:14 8:16–20 8:16–18 8:18 8:28 8:29 9:1–29 9:5 10:1–4 10:1 10:4 10:16 10:25–26 11:6–15 11:6 11:9–10 11:12–14 12 12:6, 15, 28, 36 12:40–43 12:42 12:44 13:10–12 13:10 13:14 14–15 14:31–15:37 14:31, 33 14:34 14:36 14:37–46 14:46 15:1–37

371 178 179, 181–82 169 181 n. 33 173 n. 19, 181 185 n. 43 172 n. 18, 173 182 181 180, 182 173 n. 19, 181 179 185 n. 43 172–73, 181 170 172–73 182, 185 n. 43 172 n. 18 172 n. 16 184 n. 39 173 182, 185 n. 43 181 180–81 175–76, 179, 182–83 175, 176, 182–83 175, 183, 185 n. 43 185 n. 43 182 174, 176 n. 29 179, 182, 184 n. 39, 185 n. 43 174 174 182 182, 185 n. 43 183 185 n. 43 184 n. 42 182 185 n. 43 182 176 n. 28 179, 183–84 183 185 n. 43 183 183 185 n. 43 177

372 15:7–11 15:11 15:12 15:13–19 15:14 15:21–22

Index of References 183 179, 183 183 183 184 n. 42 176, 177, 185 n. 43

15:21 15:22 15:23 15:25–27 15:27 15:37

179, 183, 184 179 182, 184 n. 39 184 177 167, 184

3. Greco-Roman Literature Athenaeus Deipn. 9.78.7–8 11.34.18 11.46.4

91–92 n. 53 91–92 n. 53 91–92 n. 53

Aelius Herodianus De prosodia catholica 3/1:324.15–16 153 n. 126

Autocleides

91–92

Celsus

124, 271 n. 13

Aeschylus Frag. 42.A.480a.2 91 n. 53

Chrysippus Soleus Frag. logica et physica 174.9, 1018.2 91 n. 50 Frag. moralia 613.5, 614.4 91 n. 50

Acusilaus Test. 5.2 91 n. 50 Aelius Dionysius Attic Words Δ.30.4 153 n. 126

Anticledes

91 n. 53

Antigonus Hist. mir. 60b.1.11 91 n. 50 Apollonius of Tyana 279 n. 57 VA 1.8 338 Apuleius of Madaura 272 Aratus Solensis Phaen. 96–136

338

Aristonicus Alexander De sig. Od. 16.18.3 91 n. 50 Aristophanes Byzantius Frag. 76.4 91 n. 53 Aristotle 269 Eth. nic. 1125b35–1126a83 318–19 n. 3 Arius Didymus Liber de philos. sectis 77.1.16, 80.1.3 91 n. 50

Clidemus of Athens Frag. 20.4–5 91 n. 53 Crates of Athens Frag. 3.5

91 n. 53

Demon of Athens Frag. 22.6–7

91 n. 53

Demotic Magical Papyri 268 XIV.940 282 n. 71 Dio Chrysostom Or. 6.12

338

Diogenes Babylonius Frag. 64.3 91 n. 50 Erotianus Vocum Hippocr. 85.6, 10 115.5, 116.12 Frag. 40.2

91–92 n. 53 91–92 n. 53 91–92 n. 53

373

3. Greco-Roman Literature Galen 335, 341 De differentia pulsuum 2.3–4 338 De difficultate respirationis 7.764.11–12 91 n. 51 De sanitate tuenda 6.106.4 91 n. 51 6.107.8–9 91 n. 51 In Hippocratis de victu acutorum 15.749.6–7 91 n. 51 Summary of Plato’s Republic 338–39 Greek Magical Papyri 268, 269, 271, 299 I.10 277 n. 48, 282 n. 72 I.42–195 274 I.62 277 n. 48 I.78 273 n. 33 I.86–87 274 I.168 273 n. 33 I.267–276 287 I.287 274 n. 40 I.295–296 281 n. 64 II.5–7 275 n. 43 II.5 274 II.24 277 n. 48 II.45 279 II.55–56 274 n. 35 II.130–140 281 n. 64 III.119 274 n. 37 III.192–193 287 III.229 281 n. 64 III.263 273 n. 33 III.277 276 n. 46 III.338 285 III.371–392 284 III.373–374 285 III.379 278 n. 52 III.452 274 n. 35 III.710 274 n. 35 IV.50 278 n. 52 IV.88 275 IV.89 274 n. 35 IV.115–118 287 n. 92 IV.162–165 276 IV.215 277 n. 48, 282 n. 72 IV.222–234 276 n. 46 IV.260–265 285 n. 85 IV.269 281 n. 63

IV.296 IV.468–474 IV.475–825 IV.571–573 IV.579–582 IV.620–623 IV.681–682 IV.699–705 IV.820–824 IV.907 IV.1039 IV.1085–1101 IV.1269 IV.1309 IV.1313–1314 IV.1314 IV.1323–1324 IV.1462 IV.1496 IV.1833 IV.1878–1881 IV.1881 IV.1909–1910 IV.1928–2005 IV.1990 IV.2125–2139 IV.2145–2240 IV.2193 IV.2264 IV.2359–2368 IV.2378 IV.2441–2621 IV.2522–2567 IV.2533–2536 IV.2533–2534 IV.2587 IV.2609 IV.2652 IV.2687 IV.2713 IV.2748 IV.2815 IV.2894–2895 IV.2915–2919 IV.2945 IV.2971–2972 IV.2971 IV.2996–2997 IV.3008 IV.3075, 3077

277 n. 50 281 n. 67 280 280 285 n. 85 280 280, 287 n. 91 285 n. 85 281 n. 67 277 n. 48 280 279 277 n. 48 277 n. 48 274 279 287 n. 91 277 n. 48 281 n. 62 277 n. 48 277 n. 50 281 n. 62 277 n. 48 288 n. 93 277 n. 48 288 281 n. 67 274 n. 40 286 n. 88 277 n. 50 277 n. 50 281 n. 65 281 n. 65 281 n. 65 287 n. 91 278 n. 52 286 n. 88 278 n. 52 278 n. 52 281 n. 61 281 n. 63 286 n. 88 281 n. 61 279 277 n. 50 274 n. 40 274 283 n. 76 273 n. 33 287 n. 91

374 IV.3128–3129 IV.3131 IV.3146 IV.3195a IV.3202 IV.3215 V.1, 40 V.149–150 V.199–200 V.202 V.225 V.243–246 V.252 V.301 V.376 V.377 V.379 V.394–397 V.422 V.475 VI.37–38 VII.1–148 VII.167–186 VII.170–171 VII.170 VII.171–172 VII.178–179 VII.182 VII.237–238 VII.300 VII.320 VII.348–358 VII.366 VII.484–485 VII.490–491 VII.490 VII.523 VII.539 VII.540–578 VII.543 VII.544 VII.632–633 VII.637–639 VII.686–687 VII.728–738 VII.758 VII.810, 819 VII.828 VII.865–869 VII.866

Index of References 277 n. 49, 283 n. 78 277 285 277 n. 48 279 277 n. 50 274 n. 35 280 275 n. 43 277 n. 48, 282 n. 72 273 n. 33 285 278 n. 52 284 274 278 n. 52 279 n. 56 277 285 274 n. 37 278 n. 53 281 n. 67 278 277–78 278 n. 52 278 n. 51a, 279 278 278 n. 52 283 n. 76 287 n. 91 277 n. 48 275 287 n. 91 283 n. 76 279 273 n. 33 278 n. 52 279 275 277 n. 48 274 273 n. 33 277 n. 48 285 n. 85 281 n. 64 286 n. 88 279 n. 56 277 n. 48 280 n. 58 273 n. 33

VII.795–845 VII.802, 842–843 VIII.44–46 VIII.97–98 XIa.1–40 XIa.1–2 XIa.29–30 XII.17 XII.60 XII.96–106 XII.215 XII.435 XIII.18 XIII.144–146 XIII.150 XIII.243–244 XIII.298–303 XIII.349–350 XIII.354 XIII.435 XIII.457, 594 XIII.872–876 XIII.975–996 XIII.1007 XVIIIb.1–7 XXIII.1–70 XXIII.2 XXIII.11–12 XXIII.12, 38 XXXVI.135 XXXVI.283 XXXVI.295–298 XXXVI.295 XXXVI.312 XXXVI.361–362 LVII.17 LXI.1–2, 37 LXI.42 LXII.32, 46 LXXVII.23 CX.1–12

275 275 n. 43 285 283 n. 76 279 n. 57, 288 n. 93 273 n. 33 279 n. 57 277, 283 n. 78 287 n. 91 278 n. 52 274 n. 40 282 n. 72 277 n. 48 285 n. 85 274 n. 37 280 n. 58 279 279 n. 56 277 n. 48 274 n. 38 274 n. 37 287 274 n. 37 277 n. 48 286 n. 88 278 278 n. 53 275 278 n. 53 277 n. 48 278 n. 52 280 273 n. 33 279 273 n. 33 285 n. 85 273 n. 33 281 n. 61 274 n. 35 277 n. 48 285–86

Harpocration of Alexandria Lex. 200.11, 224.1 91 n. 53 233.5, 258.2 91 n. 53 Hesiod

98

Hierocles 12.445

189 n. 5

375

3. Greco-Roman Literature Homer Od. 10.536

98, 271 281 n. 66

Lucian of Samosata 271 n. 13 Lover of Lies 16 106–7 Phaenias Eresius Frag. 22b.4

338

Porphyry

124

Suetonius Dom. 14.2

243

Tacitus Ann. 14.27.1

233, 235–37

Theon of Smyrna

91 n. 51

189 n. 5 91 n. 53

91 n. 53

Philochorus of Athens Frag. 3b.328.F.135b 91 n. 53 Philodemus

Plutarch Mor. 566–567 Nicias 23.9.2–3 Quaest. conv. 8.7.3 (727E)

321–22 n. 14

Philoxenus Frag. 339.25

153 n. 126

Timosthenes

91 n. 53

Plato

269, 271

Tryphon I Frag. 2.12.2

153 n. 126

Pliny the Elder N.H. 8.75

271 279 n. 55

Xenophon

271

4. New Testament Matthew

1:2–17 1:16, 18–25 1:18–2:23 1:22–23 2:1–6 2:6, 14 2:15 2:18, 23 3:2 3:4 3:17 4:3, 6 4:17 4:23 5–7 5:3, 10 5:15–18 5:16 5:18

9, 40, 41 n. 7, 45, 46, 47, 56, 71, 72, 74, 135 n. 66, 326 33 32 109 109 n. 28 87 n. 35 109 n. 28 35 109 n. 28 58 n. 60 20, 23, 25, 27, 29– 30, 335–36, 337 35, 59 n. 62 35 58 n. 61 71 n. 93, 74 57 n. 58 58 n. 61 58 n. 60 59 n. 62 59 n. 63

5:19 5:20 5:21–48 5:21–26 5:21–22 5:22 5:27–28 5:34 5:45 6:1–18 6:1–4 6:1 6:2–13 6:2–4 6:2 6:5–13 6:5–8 6:5 6:9–13 6:9 6:10 6:12–15 6:12

58 n. 61 35, 58 n. 61 35 35, 66 n. 82 83 n. 22 66, 67, 327 83 n. 22 59 n. 63 59 n. 62 55 36 n. 8 59 n. 62 66, 69 65–66, 68–69 66 65–66 58 57–59, 62, 66, 68 55, 57, 58, 62 57–59, 60, 68 58–59, 60 61 60–61

376 6:14–15 6:19 6:26 7:6 7:11 7:21–23 7:21

Index of References

61, 62 59 n. 63 59 88 58–59 36 n. 8 44 n. 18, 58 n. 61, 59 n. 62 7:22–23 211, 215 8:11–12 215 8:11 58 n. 61 8:20 59 9:11–12 33 9:13 44 9:21–23 33 9:35–11:1 64 9:35 71 n. 93, 74 10:5–6 36 10:5 68 10:7 58 n. 61 10:14 63, 64 10:32 44 n. 18, 59 n. 62 10:33 59 n. 62 10:40–42 68 10:40–41 63–64, 66, 69 10:42 64 11:11, 12 58 n. 61 11:16–19 340 11:18 29 11:23, 25 59 n. 63 11:27 43 n. 15 12:11–12 327 12:50 59 n. 62 13:11, 24, 31 58 n. 61 13:32 59 13:33, 44, 45, 47, 52 58 n. 61 14:19 59 n. 64 14:33 35 16:1 59 n. 64 16:2–3 59 n. 65 16:13–19 119 n. 51 16:16–18 58 16:16 35 16:17–19 50 n. 42 16:17 59 n. 62 16:19 58 n. 61 16:23 32 16:28 50 n. 42 18:1, 3, 4 58 n. 61 18:5 63–64, 68

18:10, 14 18:15–20 18:15–17 18:18 18:19 18:21–35 18:23 18:24, 30, 32, 34 19:12, 14 19:16–17 19:23 20:1 21:25 22:1 22:2 22:30 23:13 23:22 24:7 24:14 24:29–35 24:30 24:35 24:49 25:41 26:13 27:32 28:1–20

28:1–10 28:1

28:2 28:5 28:9 28:16–20 28:18 28:19–20 28:19 Mark

1:1–16:8 1–3 1:1–3 1:1

59 n. 62 119 n. 51 67–68, 69 59 n. 63 59 n. 62 60 n. 66 58 n. 61 60 n. 66 58 n. 61 34–35 58 n. 61 58 n. 61 59 n. 65 58 n. 61 35 59 n. 65 58 n. 61 59 n. 63 89 n. 47 71 n. 93, 74 33 n. 4 59 n. 64, 60 59 n. 63 59 n. 64 215 71 n. 93, 74 77 n. 3, 80, 87 n. 38 124, 131 n. 41, 138, 141, 142, 143, 149 n. 107, 159 32 121, 124, 128 n. 21, 133 n. 51, 134 n. 59, 135 n. 68, 136–38, 160 149 n. 113 129 n. 25, 149 n. 113 128 n. 17 33 59 n. 63 36 35 9, 52, 72, 94, 119 n. 50, 130 n. 36, 159, 326 158 35 n. 7 151 n. 120 70, 72, 74

1:2–4 1:14, 15 1:2–11 1:6

1:23–28, 35–38 1:39 1:41 1:45 2:2, 4 2:17 2:18 par. 3:5 3:11 3:14 par. 3:20–21 3:35 par. 4:30–32 par. 6:6 6:7–13 6:11 6:12 6:41, 8:11 8:35 9:1 9:37 10:17–18 10:29–30 10:35–45 13:10 13:23–31 13:24–30 13:26 13:30 14:9 15:21 15:39 15:42–16:8 16:1–20

16:1–8 16:1–2 16:2

16:5 16:6

4. New Testament

377

16:8

34 n. 5, 122, 124, 129 n. 27, 137, 142, 145, 146 n. 97, 148, 149, 150, 154, 157, 159 n. 149, 161, 162, 163 6, 41, 44, 46, 49, 50 n. 42, 51, 52, 54 n. 52, 71, 74, 122, 130 n. 36, 137, 138, 139, 141–44, 144 n. 94, 145, 148, 150–51, 152, 153– 56, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 203 n. * 121 149–51 137 n. 72, 147 n. 100, 150 49 n. 35, 121, 124, 129 n. 22, 132 n. 44, 132 n. 49, 133 n. 55, 136, 137, 138, 142 n. 85, 151, 152, 154, 157, 160 149 n. 110 150 142 n. 85 129 n. 22, 143 41 n. 6, 71 n. 93, 143 203 n. *, 211 142 n. 86, 151, 152 41 n. 6, 49, 142 n. 85, 151 n. 120, 154

119 n. 50 70 33 20, 23, 25, 27, 29 n. 21, 30, 335–36, 337 35 71 n. 93 326–27 n. 30 35 35 44 29 n. 21, 340 326–27 35 199 n. 35 35 44 n. 18 87 n. 35 71 n. 93 119 n. 51 63–64, 68 49 n. 35 59 n. 64 70 n. 89 50 n. 42 63–64, 64 34–35 70 119 n. 51 70, 71 n. 93 244 33 n. 4 60 33 70, 71 n. 93 77 n. 3, 80, 87 n. 38 35 150 124, 131 n. 41, 141, 142, 143, 149 n. 107, 159 33 136–37 121, 124, 128 n. 21, 129 n. 22, 132 n. 44, 136, 138, 160 149 n. 113 129 n. 25, 145

16:9–20

16:9–14 16:9–13 16:9–11 16:9

16:11 16:12–13 16:12 16:14 16:15 16:17–18 16:19 16:20

Luke

1:1 1:15 1:35 3:15 3:31–35 4:28 5:1–11 6:7 6:11

41 n. 7, 42, 45, 46, 47 n. 31, 54, 71, 74, 83–84 n. 26, 84, 326 85 n. 32 29 n. 21 87 n. 35 337 n. 6 340 320 n. 7 50, 71 327 327

378 6:20–49 6:20b, 21, 24–26 6:31 7:33 8:2 9:5 9:6 9:22 9:27 9:48 10:16 10:17 10:19 11:2–4 11:4 11:13 11:20 11:41 12:8 12:13–21 12:33 13:33 14:12–24 16:1–9 16:13 16:19–31 16:19, 20 17:25 18:22, 19:8, 21:2 21:9 21:12 21:27 23:26 24 24:1 24:7 24:13–35 24:13 24:26 24:51 John 1:9 1:14 1:23 2:4 7:38, 42

Index of References 59 84 n. 27 221, 231 29 n. 21 49 n. 35, 133 n. 55, 142 n. 85 63 49 n. 35, 142 n. 85, 216 n. 45 226 50 n. 42 63–64 224 n. 12 213 n. 37 215–17, 219 56 60–63 59 n. 62 213 n. 37 65 59 n. 62 84 n. 27 65 226 84 n. 27 84 n. 27 44 n. 18 83–85, 90 83 n. 25 226 84 n. 27 226–27 226 n. 24, 227 60 80 n. 12 149 n. 107 137, 160 226 150 n. 118 149 n. 110 226 152 n. 124

7:53–8:11 12:38–41 13:34 14:12 20 20:1

50, 52, 71, 74, 94, 119 n. 51, 135 n. 66 87 n. 35 45 44 n. 20 87 n. 35 44 n. 20

8:9–24 9 9–25 9–21 9:1–30 9:1–19 9:1–2

20:11–18 20:17 20:21–23 21 21:20–24 Acts

1:2 1:8 1:11 1:21–22 1:22 3:2–3, 10 4:1–31 4:19 5:17–42 5:17 5:29 5:33, 40 5:40–41 6:1–7:50 7:51–60 7:51–53 7:52 7:58 7:58–8:1 8–9 8 8:1–3 8:2 8:3

143, 161 44 n. 20 45 n. 21 211, 213 149 n. 107 132–33, 136, 137– 38, 160 137 n. 72 128 n. 17 119 n. 51 44, 46, 49, 50, 51, 71–72, 74, 143 119 n. 51 7, 40, 41, 51, 99, 120, 201, 203 n. 6, 204, 254 152 225 152 105, 109, 113–14, 119, 199–200 152 65 223 227 223 228, 231 226–27 223 n. 8 201 222, 223 201 223, 228 224 222 229 228, 229, 230–31 222 222–23 222, 224 n. 10 221, 223, 225, 228, 230, 232 292 222, 228, 230 222, 230 230 228 223–27 221, 230, 232

4. New Testament 9:1 9:2 9:4–5 9:6 9:7–12 9:7 9:13 9:15–16 9:16 9:17 9:23–25 9:26 9:29–30 9:36 10:2, 4, 31 11:19 13:1–3 13:9 13:45 14:4, 14 14:19 14:22 15 15:2–4 15:2 15:7 15:20 15:28–29 15:28 17:3 17:5 18:6 19:28 19:37 20:24 21:15–40 21:27–34 21:25 22 22:1–22 22:3–21 22:3–4 22:3 22:4–5 22:4 22:7–8 22:7, 13 22:15 22:17–21

223–24, 225, 228 223–24 224, 227 224–27 224 223 n. 8 223 n. 8, 225 224–27 201, 225, 231 227 197 n. 30 224 n. 13 227–28 65 65 224 n. 10 199 n. 35 221 n. 1 228, 229, 230 114, 199 n. 35 201 226–27 255 114 199 n. 35 71 n. 92 255, 256 254–55 256 226 228 229 320 n. 7 229 71 n. 92 227 228 254 222, 228, 230 227–28 228 229 227 n. 26 230 221, 223, 227–28, 232 224 n. 12, 227 221 n. 1 227, 228 n. 27 227–28

379

22:18–21 22:18 22:19–20 22:21, 22–23 23:12–15 24:17 26 26:1–11 26:2–23 26:9–11 26:10–11 26:10 26:11 26:12–15 26:12 26:14–15 26:14 28:26–28

228 227, 228 227–28 228 228 65 222, 230 228–29 228 222, 228, 230, 232 223 n. 9, 230 223, 228–29, 231 229, 230, 332 227 229 n. 31 224 n. 12 221 n. 1 227

Romans 1–8 1:2–4 1:16–15:13 1:18

318 n. 1, 319 n. 6 118 102, 114–15, 119 207 318 n. 1, 322, 325 n. 24, 328 322 n. 15 41–42 118 n. 49 322 n. 15 118 n. 49 115, 117, 119 116 322 n. 15 116 116 n. 44 116 201 n. 41 197 322 116–17 87 n. 35 87 n. 35, 116 116 118 n. 49 330 n. 45 188–89, 201 n. 41 87 n. 35 206–7 117–18, 119, 190–91 190, 191

2:5, 8 2:16 3:1–2 3:5 3:8, 9 4–5 4:1–5 4:15 4:19 4:24–25 5:1–11 5:2–5 5:3 5:9 5:12–21 5:13 5:14 5:16–17 6:1–2 7:4 8:17 8:19, 22 8:34 9–11 9:2

380 9:6 9:19–21 9:22 11:1 11:26 12:1 12:4 12:19 13:1–7 13:4 15–16 15:8–12 15:8–9 15:18–19 15:19 15:22–29 First Corinthians 1:10–11 1:11–17 1:11–13 1:11 1:21–2:5 1:22 2:4–5 2:4 2:7, 13, 3:10 4:17 5:9 6:9–11 6:12 6:18 7:1 7:25 8:1 8:4, 7, 10 9 9:1–18 10:8 10:19 12 12:1 12:9–10 12:12–27 12:26 12:28–30 12:31–13:12 15:1–11

Index of References 118 118 n. 49 322 n. 15 118 n. 49 118 320 330 n. 45 322 n. 15 7 322 n. 15 143 115, 119 115 204, 207, 208, 210 n. 28, 211 209 115 42 n. 11, 103, 211 n. 33, 318 n. 1 104 n. 10 107 n. 21 196 n. 24, 200 193–94 n. 16 209–10 210 204, 209–10, 211 208, 210 n. 28 87 n. 35 104 103–4 101, 103, 112, 119 103 255 104 n. 10, 211 n. 32 211 n. 32 211 n. 32, 254 254 199 n. 36 105 n. 15 255 254 211, 220 211 n. 32 204, 210–12 330 n. 45 201 n. 41 204, 210–12 208 199 n. 36

15:9–10 15:9 16:1, 12 16:17

191, 196, 199, 231 187 211 n. 32 193–94 n. 16

Second Corinthians 42 n. 11, 201, 318 n. 1, 319 1–7 107 n. 22 2:1–4 193–94 n. 16 2:1–3 104, 190–91, 193 n. 15 5:16 105 5:17 324 n. 21 8–9 194 n. 17 8:9 115 10–13 103, 104, 107, 109, 113, 119 10–12 193 n. 15, 193–94 n. 16, 204, 205– 206, 210 n. 31, 320 10:1 104, 205 n. 10 10:10–11 210 10:10 104 n. 13, 205 n. 10 10:12 105 n. 14 11–12 193–95, 198 n. 32, 199–200 11 191, 201 11:1–4 104 n. 12 11:5–6 194, 195, 199 11:6 104–5, 210 11:7–12 107 n. 19 11:7–11 105, 194, 195, 199 11:8 194 11:12–15 105 n. 15 11:12 205 11:13–15 193 11:13 196 n. 28, 198 n. 32, 200 11:15 205 n. 10 11:16–12:10 205 11:16–33 105 11:17 193–94 n. 16, 195 n. 21 11:22–23 105, 195 11:22 205 11:23–33 106 n. 16, 192–200 11:23–27 197 11:23 193, 193–94 n. 16, 196, 198 11:24, 25 196

11:26 11:28–31 11:32–33 12 12:1–12 12:1–10 12:1–4 12:1 12:4 12:5 12:6–8 12:7–10 12:8 12:9–10 12:9 12:11–13 12:11–12 12:11 12:12 12:13–16 12:14–18 12:14 12:16–18 12:16 12:17–19 12:17–18 12:20–13:1 12:20

13:1 Galatians

1–4 1–2 1 1:1 1:6–9 1:6–7 1:6 1:11–2:10 1:11 1:13–24

4. New Testament

381

1:13

105, 191, 224–25 n. 14 192, 227 n. 26 108 191, 199 191, 224–25 n. 14 191 108, 109 n. 27 196 n. 28 191 108–9 28–29, 330–31 331 111, 112, 113, 117, 119, 208 n. 23 101, 109, 111–12, 113, 119, 204, 206– 7, 208, 211, 214 206 206, 214 109–10, 111, 112, 116, 117, 119 109, 112 109 110 n. 30 187, 188, 200, 201 101, 109, 119 111, 112–13 111, 113 190 n. 8 112 n. 36, 113 190, 193, 197, 198 109, 110–11, 116– 17, 119, 187, 188–90 188 110 187, 188, 189, 214 110 111 320 187, 188, 189 n. 5, 190, 193, 198 327 320 320, 322 327, 331 318 n. 1, 320–21, 323, 325 n. 24, 325 n. 26 328

193, 196, 197 n. 29, 198 197 197 321 195–96 106 n. 16, 194 195, 199 194, 197 87 n. 35 106 n. 16, 197 199 208 205 n. 11 197 199, 205 106–7 107 n. 20, 204–6, 207, 208, 211 193–94 n. 16, 195, 197 194, 195, 199, 205, 208, 210 n. 28 107 nn. 19–20, 194 105 n. 15 208 195, 199 194 107 n. 19 194 320 n. 10 318 n. 1, 319–20, 321, 323, 325 n. 24, 325 n. 26, 327, 331 208 119, 191, 193, 201, 210 n. 31, 318 n. 1, 319 n. 6 120 109, 119 191 102, 107–8, 115 191 107, 110 206, 208 108 109 191, 231

1:14 1:15–17 1:15–16 1:23 1:24 2:2 2:4 2:7–8 2:9–10 2:11–14 2:11, 13 3–4 3:1–5

3:1–2, 3 3:5 3:6–4:7 3:6 3:7, 8, 9 3:28 4–6 4:8–20 4:8–11 4:12–20 4:13 4:17 4:19–20 4:21–31 4:22–24 4:22, 23, 24 4:29 4:30 4:31 5 5:11 5:13–16 5:13, 16 5:19–21 5:19–20 5:20

5:21

382

Index of References

6:11–18 6:12 6:17

189 n. 4 187, 188–89, 214 187, 188, 189, 190, 193, 198, 214, 306 n. 14, 307

Ephesians

4:32 5:6–8 5:30 6:4

317–18, 319, 321, 324, 328 87 n. 35 330 n. 45 324 324 331 246 n. 45 87 n. 35 330 n. 45 324 246 n. 45 330 n. 45 318 n. 2, 319 n. 5, 325, 328 323 324 330 n. 45, 324 n. 21 325, 328 323 324 324, 326 324–25, 326 321 n. 14, 323–25, 331 325 324 n. 20 330 n. 45 324–25, 326, 328

Philippians 1:3–6 1:3, 5 1:29–30 2:5–8 2:17–18 2:25–26 2:27 3 3:2–7 3:4–6 3:6 3:10 4:10

191, 318 n. 1 101–2, 119 101 201 n. 41 115 201 n. 41 191 n. 11 190–91 191 231 195 n. 20 192 201 208

1:21 1:22–23 2:3 2:5, 8 2:19–20 2:20, 3:1–2 3:3, 5 3:6 4 4:11–12 4:12, 16 4:22–32 4:22–26 4:22 4:25 4:26 4:30–32 4:30–31 4:30 4:31–32 4:31

Colossians 1:18 1:23 1:24 2:5–7 2:16–21 2:19 3 3:5–8 3:5–6 3:5 3:8 3:15 3:21

42 n. 11, 317, 318, 319, 321, 324 330 n. 45 246 n. 45 330 n. 45 246 n. 45 340 330 n. 45 324 318 n. 2, 322, 323, 325, 328 322 324 321 n. 14, 321–23, 325, 331 330 n. 45 325 n. 25, 328

First Thessalonians 42 n. 11, 191, 318 n. 1 1:1, 4–5 209 1:5 204, 208, 209, 211 1:6 201 n. 41 1:7–8 101 n. 8 1:9–10 101, 102, 119 1:10 322 n. 15 2:1–3:13 101 2:13 190 n. 8 2:14–16 191, 197 n. 29, 201 n. 41 3:1–7 201 n. 41 3:1–5 188–89 4:13–5:11 101 4:13–18 244 Second Thessalonians 42 n. 11, 318 First Timothy 1:12–16 1:13 1:19 2:1–4 2:8 2:9–15 4:1–6 4:14

231, 317, 318, 319, 321, 328 331 231 246 n. 45 167 n. 1 66, 318 n. 1, 326, 328, 331–32 332 246 n. 45, 326 331

4. New Testament 6:21–22 6:21

326 246 n. 45

2–3

Second Timothy 1:6–7 2:16–18 2:18 3:8–9 3:8 3:10–11 3:16

331 326 246 n. 45 326 246 n. 45 331 30, 128 n. 19

2:2 2:5 2:6 2:8 2:9–10 2:9

Philemon 3, 4–22 10–19 10 11 18–19 22, 25

42 n. 11, 318 n. 1 102 101 102 102 102 102

Hebrews 11:27

320 n. 7

James 1:19–20 1:19 2:14–26

319, 321 321, 328 327 321 n. 12

7 7 n. 8

Second Peter 3:15–16

41 42, 54

First John 5:4–5 5:7–8

264 264 143

Revelation 1–3 1:1–2 1:3 1:5

7 233–64 247 n. 53, 249 246 233, 250 n. 64, 259, 265 233, 234, 245, 247– 49, 261, 265 247 n. 53, 249 250 n. 64 262

1:12–20 1:18 1:20

2:14–15 2:14 2:15 2:16 2:17 2:19–20 2:20–23 2:20 2:23 2:24

First Peter 2:13–17 5:13

1:9

2:12–17 2:13–15 2:13

2:26–28 3:1 3:4 3:7 3:8–9 3:9 3:11 3:14–22 3:17, 18 3:21 4–22 4:11 6:9–11 6:9 6:11 7 7:9–15 7:14 8:3–5 9:20–21 10:1–7

383 234 n. 1, 237–39, 242, 245, 247 n. 51, 249, 250, 252, 253, 257, 262, 264 236 n. 10, 262 262 236 n. 10, 253, 262 263 263–64 236 n. 10, 249 n. 63, 262 258 236 n. 10 233, 238, 251 n. 69, 258–61, 265 246 n. 45, 259 246 n. 49, 253–57, 258, 259, 261, 262 253, 261, 262 258, 261 257, 261 n. 100, 262 n. 101 236 n. 10 253, 259, 262 246, 253–57, 258, 259 257 nn. 90–91 236 n. 10, 246 n. 45, 255 262–63 236 n. 10 236 n. 10, 253 n. 77 263 236 n. 10 262, 263 263–64 235, 236–37 236 233, 265 234 n. 1, 237, 264 243, 244 251 n. 69, 258, 264 248 261 238 n. 14 258, 264 249 258, 264 256 249 n. 61

384 10:7 11 11:1–13 11:10, 18 12–13 12:11 12:14 13:7–10 14:8 15:2–4 16:6, 13 16:19 17:1–2 17:5 17:9–10 17:10 17:14 18:2

Index of References 246 n. 47 238 n. 14 239 n. 21, 264 246 n. 47 242 264 n. 110 7 n. 9 249, 258, 264 7 n. 8 264 246 n. 47 7 n. 8 256 7 n. 8 243–44 241 n. 29 250 n. 64 7 n. 8

18:3, 9 18:10 18:20 18:21 16:24 19:10 19:20 19:21 20:4–6 20:4 20:10 20:13 21:9–22:5 21:24 22:6 22:9 22:16 22:18

256 7 n. 8 246 7 n. 9 246 n. 47 246–47 246 n. 47 249 n. 61 249, 258, 264 248 n. 58, 251 n. 69 246 n. 47 257 n. 91 238 n. 14 246 246 n. 47 246 247 n. 53 246

5. Other Early Christian Literature Ambrose Expos. Lucae i.2 85 n. 33 De Helia et ieiunio 11.40 23

Basil of Caesarea Ep. 42.5

337

[Ps.-]Basil

296 n. 110

Ambrosiaster

Basilides of Alexandria 77–95

296 n. 110

Apollinaris of Laodicea 295 n. 104 Arethas Frag. ad Romanos 654.14 153 n. 126 Aristides

Canons of Nicaea 1 8, 10, 11, 12, 14

311 311 n. 32

120, 203 n. 2

Athanasius of Alexandria 306, 313 De decretis synodis 305 n. 9, 311 Ep. ad episcopos Africae 311 Augustine of Hippo 26, 331 n. 49 [Ps.-]Augustine

Canones Hippolyti 15 297–99, 300

296 n. 110

Clement of Alexandria 26, 47, 82–83, 85 n. 33, 335, 341 Excerpta ex Theodoto 1.16.1, 1.28.1 82 n. 20 Paed. 2.1 (2.15.4–2.16.1) 29, 336 Strom. 1.21.101.2 92 1.21.146.1 82 n. 20 2.3.10.3 82 n. 20

385

5. Other Early Christian Literature 2.6.27.2 3.1.1.1 3.14.95.2–3 4.12.81.1 4.12.81.2–83.1 4.12.81.2–3 4.12.81.2 4.12.86.1 4.12.88.3, 5 6.6.53.2–5 6.6.53.2 6.6.53.4 7.17.106 7.17.106.4–107.1 7.17.108.1

82 n. 20 82 n. 20 92 n. 54 81–82, 83, 90 82, 90 83 n. 23 83 83 n. 24 83 n. 24 92 82 n. 19, 92–93 82 n. 19, 93 77 n. 2 84 n. 28 84 n. 28

Cyprian of Carthage 331 n. 49

15:3

16 16:8

55–56, 62, 66–68, 69, 74 55–56, 62, 65–66, 67, 68–69, 74 55, 65, 68 n. 86 60

Ephraem

296 n. 110

Epiphanius Panarion 24.3.1–5 24.3.2, 4 24.4.1 24.5.2 24.8.6–8 24.9.3–24.10.4 26.17.4–9

77 n. 3 87–88 88 n. 39 77 n. 3, 88, 93 88 n. 39 88 n. 39 88

Ep. Apostolorum

50 n. 42, 51, 54 n. 52

Ep. Barnabas 5:9, 8:3, 14:9

53 n. 49 40 n. 5

Eusebian Canons

158

15:4

Cyril of Alexandria 331 n. 49 Didache 1:1–6:2 1–5 1–2 6:3–15:4 7–15 7:1–4 7:1, 8 8:1–2 8:1 8:2 8:3 9:1–10:7 9:2, 3 9:4 9:5 10:2, 4 10:5 10:16 11:1–13:7 11 11:1–2 11:3–4 11:3 11:5–6 15:1–2

40, 41 n. 9, 44, 70, 72, 73, 74, 75 55 68 n. 86 55 n. 55 55, 67 68 n. 86 66 67 n. 85 66 58 55–56, 56–62, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68–69, 74 66 66 61 n. 70 61 n. 70, 62 88 61 n. 70 61 n. 70, 62, 67 n. 85 67 n. 85 66 55 n. 55 62 55–56, 62–63, 64, 66, 67, 68–69, 74 63, 65 62 65

Eusebius of Caesarea 124, 153, 157–58, 305, 306, 309 n. 26, 311, 313 Ad Marinum 124–36, 147, 149, 151 n. 121, 162 I.1–II.1 122, 124, 138–41, 160, 163 I.1–2 124, 138–39, 150 n. 115, 160, 162 I.1 121–22, 124, 128– 31, 137, 141–46, 150, 152, 153, 155, 159, 160, 161, 163 I.2 121, 122, 124, 131– 33, 137, 141, 143, 152, 155, 161 I.2–II.1 144 II–IV 128 n. 17 II.1 133–36, 138, 139, 141 n. 83 II.2–7 138 n. 76 Ad Stephanum 123, 125 n. 9, 126– 27, 128 n. 18, 137

386 Chron. Ep. ad Caesarienses Hist. eccl. 3.39.4 3.39.16

Index of References 77 n. 2 312 47 72 n. 96, 89, 135 n. 64 89 81 81, 89 84 n. 28 91

4.7.4–6 4.7.6–8 4.7.7 4.22.4–6 7.32.16 Mart. Pal. 3.3[S] 311 n. 35 8.1–13 311 n. 35 8.1 308 n. 20 10.1, 11.4–5 311 n. 35 13.1–5, 13.6[S] 311 n. 35 13.9–10 311 n. 35 On the Inconsistencies of the Gospels 126, 127 Praep. evang. 6.10 93 n. 56 8.9 91 Vita Const. 3.1 306 n. 13, 312 Eustathius of Antioch 296 n. 110 Eustathius Thessalonicensis Comm. ad Iliadem 1:98.11 153 n. 126

Gos. Peter

93

Gos. Thomas

88, 93, 94

Gos. Truth

93–94

Greg. Naz. Or. 33 43.29 (536B)

337 27, 338

Greg. Nyssa

Hegemonius of Chalcedon Acta Archelai 81–82 67.5–11 83–85 67.5 81, 83–84, 90, 93 67.6 85 67.7–11 84–85, 90 67.10 84 68.2 84 n. 31 Hegesippus

Evagrius Ponticus 296 n. 110 First Clement 23:3 42:1, 3 45:7 47:2 50:4 63:2

5, 53 n. 49 45 40 n. 5 320 n. 7 40 n. 5 320 n. 7 332

[Ps.-]Gelasius of Cyzicus Hist. eccl. 313, 314 2.9 304, 308–9

84 n. 28

Hesychius of Jerusalem 122, 145, 152, 162 Collectio difficultatum et solutionum 50 150, 161, 162 52 149–51, 161, 162 54 150, 161, 162 Hilary of Poitiers

Euthymius Zigabenus 157 n. 140, 161–62 Comm. Marcum 48 158–59

151 n. 121, 296 n. 110

303 n. 1, 306 n. 13

Hippolytus of Rome 82 n. 20, 85–86 n. 33a Comm. Daniel 294, 295 nn. 103– 104 2.1.1–3 294 n. 102a 2.6.5 295 n. 103 De engastrimytho 295–97, 300 Haer. 267–69, 300 I–IV 269, 288 I 269–70 I.2 290 I.25.2 270 n. 10 II–III 269 n. 9 IV 290, 292, 293 IV.1–27 269–70 IV.27 270

5. Other Early Christian Literature IV.28–42

IV.28 IV.28.1–12 IV.28.2 IV.28.3 IV.28.4 IV.28.5 IV.28.6 IV.28.7–10 IV.28.10–12 IV.28.11–12 IV.28.12–41.2 IV.28.12–32.2 IV.28.12–13 IV.28.12 IV.29 IV.30.1–31.1 IV.30 IV.30.1, 2 IV.31–33 IV.31.1–2 IV.31.1 IV.31.2 IV.32.1 IV.32.2 IV.32.3 IV.33 IV.33.1 IV.33.2, 3 IV.33.4 IV.34 IV.34.2, 3 IV.34.4 IV.35–38 IV.35.1–3 IV.35.1 IV.35.3 IV.35.4 IV.35.5 IV.36.1 IV.36.2 IV.38 IV.39

268, 269, 270, 271, 272–89, 288, 290, 291, 292, 293, 299 283 n. 78, 290 n. 98 270, 272, 273–76, 286, 297 274 274 n. 36 274 274, 287 274 n. 39, 275 275 288 276 273, 276, 277 281, 283 272, 276, 277 276 272, 276, 277–78, 283 n. 75 278–79 272, 276, 278 278 272, 276, 279–81 279, 282 278–79 279–80, 286 n. 89 280 280 n. 60, 281, 282 271 n. 13, 276, 281, 282, 283 281, 282–83, 284 282 nn. 68–69 282 283 272, 276, 281 n. 61, 283–84 283 267, 270 n. 11, 300 273, 276, 284–86 284, 285, 297 284 285 n. 81 284 271 n. 13, 284 284 n. 80 285 285 n. 83 273, 276, 279 n. 54, 286–87

IV.40 IV.41 IV.42 IV.42.1 IV.42.2 V–X V–IX V.15.1 VI.7.1 VI.20.1 VI.35 VI.39.1–2 VI.39.1 VI.39.2 VI.39.3 VI.40.2 VI.40.3 VII.20–27 VII.21.3 VII.22.3–4 VII.22.13 VII.23.5 VII.25.2, 3 VII.25.5 VII.26.1 VII.26.2, 3 VII.26.4 VII.26.5 VII.26.7, 9 VII.27.5 VII.27.7 VII.27.8 VII.32.5 VII.32.6 IX IX.11–12 IX.12.15 IX.12.20 IX.14 IX.14.2–3 IX.15 IX.16.1 IX.19 IX.26

387 273, 276, 287 273, 276, 288 276, 288–89 288–89, 291, 300 n. 117 288 n. 94 272 269, 293 289 n. 96 271 n. 13, 292, 300 n. 117 292, 293, 300 n. 117 291, 293 291, 300 n. 117 290 290, 293 290 291 291 n. 99 85–87 87 n. 35 87 n. 35 87 n. 35 87 n. 35 87 n. 35 86, 87 n. 35, 93 86, 93 87 n. 35 86, 87 n. 35, 93 86, 93 87 n. 35 87 n. 35 86, 93, 94 86 n. 34 291 n. 100, 292, 293, 300 n. 117 291 n. 100a, 300 n. 117 269 n. 8 292 292–93, 300 n. 117 292, 300 n. 117 290 289–90, 291 n. 99a, 300 n. 117 290 n. 97a 290, 291 n. 99a, 293, 300 n. 117 290 271–72 n. 16

388

Index of References

IX.31.1 X X.14 X.14.9 X.29.3 Scholia on Daniel B.γ B.κζ Trad. ap. 1–2 1.3–4 (Lat.) 9.1–21.13 16.13–14 16.14 16.21–22

289 n. 96 269 n. 8 85–87 86, 93 290, 300 n. 117 300 294 295 300 297 n. 112 297 n. 112 297 n. 113 297–99 300 284 n. 80

Ignatius

5, 41 n. 9, 53 n. 49, 245, 329–30 n. 42

Phld. 3:1 5:1–2 Smyr. 1:1

67–68 n. 85 40 n. 5 67–68 n. 85

Irenaeus of Lyons 43, 82 n. 20, 87, 94, 216 Haer. 1.13–21 290 1.24.3–7 80–81 n. 14 1.24.4 77 n. 3, 79–80, 88 n. 40 2.22.3 75 n. 101 2.31.2–4 211 3.10.5 49 n. 36, 142 n. 86, 151 3.11.7–9 75 n. 101 3.11.8 75 3.11.9 93–94 5.30.3 240, 240–41 n. 26, 246 n. 44 Isidore (son of Basilides) 78, 92–93 Explanations of the Prophet Parchor 92 Isidore of Pelusium 337 n. 8 Jerome Adv. Iovin.

122, 296 n. 110, 331 n. 49

2.7 2.15 Comm. Matt. Prol. Contra Pelag. 2.15 De viris illustribus 21 61 Ep. 38.3 120 120.3–5 120.3

27–28 337 n. 8 85 n. 33 143 n. 91 77 n. 2 296 n. 106 25–26 127, 146–48, 162 148 125, 147–48, 161

Joannes Philoponus Comm. Arist. physicorum 16:468.10 153 n. 126 John Chrysostom Hom. Matt. 10.4 10.5

29–30 337

Julius Cassian

92

Justin Martyr

42, 44, 46, 68 n. 87, 98, 99, 120, 339 n. 14 203 n. 2, 217 n. 51 211, 212 n. 36, 219 n. 55 84 n. 28 49, 142, 151 n. 120 211, 212 n. 36, 219 n. 55 43, 74–75 212, 217 n. 51 217–18 212 212 n. 36 43 212–13, 218 212–13 213 84 n. 28 213, 214, 218 214, 218 214–15, 218–19 214 214–15 215–17

1 Apol. 26 35.6 45.5 56 66.3 2 Apol. 6.1–6 Dial. 7 10:2 30–31 30.3 31.1 35.6 35.7–8 39.6 76 76.1–3 76.3 76.6

26, 94, 331 n. 49

389

5. Other Early Christian Literature 85.1–2 88.6–7 100.1 Lactantius Mort. Persec. 36.3, 6–7

217, 219 23 43

Polycarp Phil. 6:3

41 n. 7 40 n. 5

Prosper of Aquitaine De gratia Dei indiculus 8 167, 185 308 Quadratus

Letter of the Synod in Nicaea to the Egyptians 311 Life of John [the Baptist] 337 n. 8

Rufinus of Aquileia 309, 313, 314 Hist. eccl. 10.4 304, 307–8 10.12 304 Second Clement

Marcion of Sinope 40, 41–44, 45–46, 49, 50, 52, 54, 55, 68, 69, 70, 73, 74, 75, 84 n. 28 Mart. Pionii

296 n. 110

Mart. Pol. 12:2

320 n. 7

Origen of Alexandria 26, 85 n. 33, 90, 93, 139–40 n. 79, 140 n. 82, 271 n. 13, 295 n. 104, 331 n. 49 Comm. Gen. 93 n. 56 Comm. Job 21.12 89 n. 47 Comm. ser. Matt. 38 89 n. 47 Contra Celsum 271 n. 13 Frag. Jo. 139.2 61 n. 67 Frag. Luc. 125.11 61 n. 67 Hom. Jer. 14.4.1–2 153 n. 126 Hom. Luc. 1.2 85, 87 25.2 23, 336–37 Philocalia 26.4 23 Selecta in Psalmos 1104.24–25 153 n. 126

203 n. 2

1:3, 5 2:1–3 2:4 2:5–7 3:2 4:2 4:5 6:1 8:5 9:5 9:7 9:11 11:2–4 11:2 11:6 12:2 14 15:2 17:2–3 19:1

5, 6, 10, 40, 41 n. 9, 44, 45–46, 52–53, 68, 69, 70, 73, 74, 75 6, 10 n. 18 44 44, 45 n. 25 44 44 44 45, 53 44 46, 53–54, 55 45 6, 10 n. 18 44 45 53 6, 10 n. 18 45, 53 53 n. 49 6, 10 n. 18 54 44

Severus of Antioch 122, 145 Hom. 77 151–53, 161 Shepherd of Hermas, the Mand. 5.2.4 (34:4) 320 n. 7

Papias of Hierapolis 47, 50, 72 n. 96, 89 Philastrius

296 n. 110

Philip of Side Hist. eccl.

85 n. 33

Socrates Hist. eccl. 1.11.1–2 1.11.1

309 n. 26, 313, 314 310 304

390

Index of References

Soter (Bishop of Rome) 52–53 Sozomen Hist. eccl. 1.10 1.23 2.26

313, 314 304, 310 304 305

Tatian Diatessaron Oratio 8.2 23.2 34.1

30, 335, 341 148, 339 92 339 n. 16 339 339 n. 16

Tertullian Marc. 1.19

296 n. 110, 331 n. 49 41 n. 8

Theodore of Mopsuestia Cat. Hom. 311 n. 32 Theodoret of Cyrus 305 Hist. eccl.

1.7 1.7.3, 5–6 1.7.6 1.11.1 2.26.6 2.33.4

309, 312, 313 306–7 303–4, 314 306 n. 13, 307 304 306–7 n. 15

Theophilus of Antioch 98 Theophylactus of Ochrida 157 n. 140, 158, 161–62 Enarratio in Evangelium Marci Note 90 158–59 Venerable Bede, the In Lucae I, Prol. 85 n. 33 Victor of Antioch

143 n. 88, 153–56, 161

Index of Modern Authors and Persons Abel, F. M., 170 n. 11, 174 n. 22, 178 n. 31, 184 Abt, Adam, 272 Achelis, H., 296 n. 106, 296 n. 110 Achtemeier, Paul J., 12 n. 22, 203 Aland, Barbara, 122 n. 2, 125 n. 9, 159 n. 149 Aland, Kurt, 51–52 n. 45, 77, 83 n. 25, 94, 122 n. 2, 125 n. 9, 145 n. 95, 146, 149 n. 114, 151 n. 121, 152 n. 124, 154 n. 130, 155–56, 157 n. 142, 158 n. 143, 158–59 n. 148, 159 n. 149 Amidon, Philip R., 87 n. 38, 308 n. 21 Arbesmann, Rudolph, 28 n. 20 Archambault, G., 213 n. 37 Attridge, Harold W., 94 n. 58 Aubert, Fernand and Henri Meylan, 337 n. 8 Audet, J.-P., 39 n. 2 Aune, David E., xiii, 8 n. 11, 20–21, 236 n. 8, 237, 238–39, 247 n. 51, 248, 250 n. 67, 252 n. 75, 254, 255, 256 n. 88, 258–59, 261–62, 260 n. 97, 263, 268 n. 6, 340 Ayer, J. C., 78–79 n. 7, 81 n. 16, 83 n. 23 Ayres, Lewis, 304 n. 6, 312 n. 36 Baarda, Tjitze, 45 n. 24, 148 n. 106 Baasland, Ernst, 3 n. 1 Babcock, W. S., 204 n. 7 Backhaus, Knut, 25 n. 12 Baldwin, Matthew C., 97 n. * Baloian, Bruce E., 322 n. 16 Bardenhewer, O., 296 n. 106 Bardy, G., 125 n. 9, 125–26 n. 11 Barnes, Timothy D., xii, 303, 304, 305– 6, 309 n. 26, 310, 312, 313, 314 Barrett, C. K., 195 n. 20, 197 n. 30, 199 n. 34, 222–23, 224 n. 12, 229

Barstad, Hans M., 12 n. 22 Bartlet, Vernon, 40 n. 4, 53 n. 49 Bartlett, J. R., 170 n. 11, 171 n. 15, 172 n. 18, 182 n. 35 Bauckham, Richard, 236 n. 9 Bauer, Walter, 78, 94 Baumstark, A., 125 n. 10 Beale, Gregory K., 254 n. 82 Bechtler, Steven R., 14 n. 30 Beeson, C. H., 81 n. 16 Behr, John, 28 n. 20 Bell, Albert A., Jr., 234 n. 3, 235–36, 237, 241 n. 27, 243 n. 38 Bellinzoni, Arthur J., 40 n. 4, 73, 215 Bernardi, Jean, 338 n. 10 Berthold, Fred, Jr., 329 n. 36 Betz, Hans Dieter, xii, 56 n. 57, 106 n. 17, 111–12, 188 n. 1, 189 n. 4, 190 n. 8, 194 n. 18, 205 n. 9, 206 n. 13, 206 nn. 15–16, 208 n. 23, 268, 275 n. 44, 280, 320 n. 8, 331 n. 48 Beyer, G., 125 n. 10 Beza, Theodore, 337 n. 8 Bhola, Rajiv, 125 n. 9 Bieringer, R., 320 n. 9 Birath, Erik, 3 n. *, Birch, Andreas, 123, 125 n. 9, 160 Black, M. and Albert-Marie Denis, 91 n. 52 Blatz, B., 85 n. 33 Bligh, J., 39 n. 2 Boissevain, Jeremy, 10 n. 16 Bonwetsch, G. N. and M. Richard, 294 n. 102a, 296 n. 109 Boring, M. Eugene, 252 n. 72 Bouffartigue, Jean, 306 n. 15 Bourdieu, Pierre, 13 n. 24 Bovon, François, 84 n. 27 Bowe, Barbara E., 330 n. 46 Bracht, Katharina, 294 n. 102a, 303 n. *

392

Index of Modern Authors and Persons

Bradshaw, P. F., M. Johnson and L. E. Phillips, 297 nn. 112–113 Brakke, David, 28 n. 20, 121 n. * Brashear, W. M., 268 n. 6 Brown, C. T., 39–40 n. 3 Bruce, F. F., 188 n. 1, 189 n. 4 Büchsel, F., 320 n. 7 Burgon, John W., 123, 125 n. 9, 126, 127, 129 n. 23, 134 n. 57, 139–40, 143, 144 n. 93, 146, 148 n. 103, 151 n. 121, 154 n. 130, 157 nn. 138–139 Bussières, Marie-Pierre, 125 n. 9, 125– 26 n. 11 Byrskog, Samuel, 3–4 n. 1 Calhoun, R. Matthew, 317 n. * Cameron, Averil and Stuart G. Hall, 304, 306 n. 13, 312, 313, 314 Campenhausen, Hans von, 41, 42 nn. 11–12, 43, 73, 74, 77–78, 88–89, 94 Carlson, Stephen C., 121 n. * Cavadini, John C., 204 n. 8 Charles, R. H., 237–38, 248 n. 57 Charlesworth, James H., 186 n. 47 Charpentier, Jarl, 17 Clark, Elizabeth A., 9, 28 n. 20 Collins, Adela Yarbro, xi, 121 n. *, 239 n. 21, 240 n. 25, 240–41 n. 26, 242, 243, 247 n. 51, 250 n. 67, 252, 255 n. 85, 260–61 Collins, John J., 4 n. 2, 241–42 Collins, Raymond F., 331 n. 50 Consigny, Scott, 97–98 n. 2 Conzelmann, Hans, 222 n. 5, 229 Court, J. M., 40 n. 4 Cox, S. L., 139–40 n. 79, 148 n. 103 Cramer, J. A., 152 n. 122 Creed, J. L., 308 n. 20 Cunningham, Scott, 225 n. 18 Curti, C., 125–26 n. 11, 154 n. 130 Dahlberg, Gunnar, 17 Dancy, J. C., 170 n. 11, 172 n. 17, 173 n. 21 D’Angelo, Mary Rose, 99 n. 7 Danker, Frederick W., 60 n. 66, 89 n. 45, 128 n. 21, 189 n. 5, 197 n. 31, 200, 248 n. 56, 256 nn. 86–87, 320 nn. 7–8, 321–22 n. 14, 324 n. 22

Darwin, Charles, 330 n. 43 Daschke, Dereck, 317 n. * De Clerck, P., 167 n. 1 Delmulle, Jérémy, 167 n. 1 Diamond, Cora, 28 n. 20 Dix, Gregory, 269 n. 7, 298 Doutreleau, L., 80 n. 9 Downer, C., 123 Downing, F. Gerald, 99 n. 7 Draper, Jonathan A., 57 n. 58 Droge, Arthur J., 97, 98–99 Dunn, James D. G., 8 n. 10, 189 Dürig, W., 167 n. 1 Ebeling, Gerhard, 13 n. 26 Edwards, M. J., 78, 90 Egger, Wilhelm, 13 n. 27 Ehrman, Bart D., 35 n. 6, 36 n. 8, 41 n. 10, 52 n. 47, 121, 144 n. 92, 163 n. 152, 326–27 n. 30 Elias, Jacob W., 322 n. 15 Eliot, George, 98 n. 5 Elliott, J. K., 40–41 n. 5, 125 n. 9, 145 n. 95 Elliott, Matthew A., 319 n. 4 Enermalm-Ogawa, Agneta, 167 n. 1, 168, 177, 184 Evans, Chris P., 203 n. * Falls, T. B., 213 n. 37, 218 n. 54 Faraone, C. A. and D. Obbink, 268 n. 6 Farmer, William R., 123, 125 n. 9, 126, 127, 134 n. 57, 139 n. 77, 140, 145 n. 95, 148 n. 103, 154 n. 130, 158 n. 143 Federer, K., 167 n. 1 Fitzmyer, Joseph A., 12, 99 n. 7, 224 n. 12, 229 n. 32 Flusser, D., 56 n. 56 Foerster, Werner, 78, 81 n. 16, 94 Franzmann, Martin H., 11 n. 21 Frend, W. H. C., 304 n. 2 Freud, Sigmund, 329–30 Freudenberger, Rudolf, 240 n. 25 Frey, Jörg, 15–16 n. 34, 19 n. 1, 52 n. 46, 238 n. 15, 240–41, 248 n. 55, 250 n. 67, 252 n. 71, 258 n. 92 Frickel, J., 268 n. 5 Fridrichsen, Anton, 3 n. 1, 4, 17, 208 n. 22

Index of Modern Authors and Persons Friesen, Steven J., 238 n. 15, 250 n. 67, 252 n. 71, 258–59 n. 92 Frilingos, Christopher A., 250–51 n. 67 Frye, Roland M., 12, n. 22 Fryer, Nico S. L., 11–12 n. 21 Furnish, Victor Paul, 197 n. 30, 200 n. 38 Gamble, Harry Y., 144 n. 92 Ganschinietz, Richard, 268, 269 n. 9, 270–71, 272, 273 n. 32, 275 n. 44, 279 n. 54, 281, 281–82 n. 67, 284 n. 80, 286–87, 290–91 n. 98, 299 Garrow, Alan J. P., 57 n. 58a Georgi, Dieter, 104 n. 11, 198 n. 33, 205 n. 10, 206 n. 13 Gerdmar, Anders, 11 n. 19 Gerhardsson, Birger, 3 n. 1 Giesen, Heinz, 250–51 n. 67 Gnilka, Joachim, 201 n. 43, 336 n. 3 Glover, R., 39 n. 2 Goldstein, Jonathan A., 167 n. 2, 168– 69, 171, 172, 174 n. 22, 175, 178 n. 31, 181 n. 33, 182, 183 Graf, Fritz, 268 n. 6 Grant, Robert M., 78, 80, 83 n. 23, 90, 289 n. 95, 313 n. 40, 339 n. 16 Grégoire, Henri, 337 n. 8 Gregory, Andrew F., 78, 83–84 n. 26, 94 Grillmeier, Aloys, 304–5 n. 6 Gundry, Robert H., 39 n. 2, 41, 73, 74, 79 n. 8, 336 n. 3 Gunkel, Hermann, 13 n. 27 Haenchen, Ernst, 222, 224, 225 n. 21, 229 Hagner, Donald A., 11–12 n. 21 Hahn, Ferdinand, 239 n. 21 Hansen, Günther Christian, 308–9 n. 24, 309 nn. 25–26 Hanson, R. P. C., 304 n. 2, 304–5 n. 6, 306 n. 11, 312 n. 36 Hardy, Edward R., 312 Harland, Philip A., 250–51 n. 67 Harmon, A. M., 106–7 n. 18 Harnack, Adolf von, 53 n. 49, 204 n. 7, 219 Harrington, Wilfrid J., 263 n. 106 Harris, Murray J., 195 n. 22

393

Harris, William V., xiii, 317, 318–19, 320 n. 7, 321, 321–22 n. 14, 322 n. 15, 323, 324, 325, 326, 327 n. 32, 328, 332, 333 Hartman, Lars, 3–4 Havrda, Matyás, 77 n. 1 Hawthorne, Gerald F., 97 n. * Heckel, Theo K., 43 n. 15, 49–50, 71–72 Heller, Erich, 235 n. 6 Hengel, Martin, 13 n. 27, 26 n. 15, 40 n. 5, 42 n. 13, 51, 54 n. 52, 70 n. 91, 72, 163, 321 n. 12 Heuer, M. H., 139–40 n. 79 Hilberg, Isidor, 26 n. 13, 147 n. 100 Hoek, A. van den, 81 n. 15 Hoffmann, R. Joseph, 99 n. 7 Holl, Karl, 87 n. 38 Holloway, Paul A., 97–98 Holmes, Michael W., 44 n. 18, 53 n. 49, 55 n. 54, 67 n. 84 Holmstrand, Jonas, 3 n. *, 6 Homans, Peter, 329 n. 36, 329 n. 38 Hooker, Morna D., 201 n. 43 Horner, G. W., 156–57 n. 137 Horsley, Richard A., 14 n. 28, 24 n. 9 Horst, Pieter W. van der, 125 n. 9 Hug, J., 125 n. 9, 145 n. 95, 146, 148 n. 103, 155 n. 131, 158 n. 148 Hultgren, Arland J., 191 Humphries, Michael L., 99 n. 7 Hutton, Maurice, 235 n. 6 Inselmann, Anke, 332 n. 54 Irmscher, J., 154 n. 130 Jackson-McCabe, Matt A., 321 n. 12 Janowitz, N., 268 n. 6 Jefford, Clayton N., 39 n. 1, 39 n. 3, 53 n. 49, 56, 68 Jervell, Jacob, 106 n. 17, 205, 206, 207–8, 209 n. 27, 222 n. 5, 224 n. 12, 225, 229 n. 30 Jervis, L. Ann, 201 n. 43 Johnson, Alan F., 11–12 n. 21 Jonge, Henk J. de, 240–41 n. 26, 243–44, 250 n. 65, 250–51 n. 67, 251–52 n. 70 Jordan, M. D., 204 n. 7 Käsemann, Ernst, 13 n. 27, 198, 200 n. 40

394

Index of Modern Authors and Persons

Kelhoffer, James A., 5–6, 7 n. 9, 9, 13– 14, 15–16, 19–20, 23–26, 27, 30 n. 23a, 34 n. 5, 41 n. 6, 45 n. 23, 46, 47 n. 30a, 49, 50 n. 42, 57 n. 58a, 71 n. 94, 79 n. 8, 80 n. 13, 106 n. 17, 111 n. 32, 114 n. 39, 121 n. *, 130 n. 31, 132 n. 46, 139–40 n. 79, 142– 43, 145 n. 95, 151 n. 120, 153 n. 127, 158 n. 146, 160 n. 150, 194 n. 19, 201 n. 44, 204 n. 8, 211 nn. 34–35, 214 n. 40, 215 n. 44, 219 n. 56, 221 n. *, 298 n. 115, 327 n. 33, 331 n. 48, 335–38, 339 n. 17 Kelly, J. N. D., 147 n. 102 Kenyon, F. G., 123 n. 3 Kingsbury, Jack D., ix, 31–36 Klauck, Hans-Josef, 94 n. 58, 234–35, 250–51 n. 67, 252 nn. 73–74, 253 n. 78, 257, 262 Klein, H., 186 n. 47 Kloppenborg, John S., 39 n. 2 Koester, Helmut, x, 39–49, 51–55, 57, 65–66, 69, 70–71 n. 91, 72 n. 96, 73, 74, 79 n. 8, 80 n. 13, 94 n. 58, 215 Köhler, W.-D., 40 n. 4, 58 n. 60 Kohut, Heinz, 330 n. 44 Kollmann, Bernd, 106 n. 17, 203, 205 nn. 9–10, 219 Kotansky, Roy, 285, 286 Kötting, Bernhard, 303 n. 1, 304–5 n. 6 Kraemer, Ross Shepard, 99 n. 7 Kraft, Heinrich, 238, 240 n. 25, 248 n. 55, 258–59 n. 92, 260 n. 96 Kraybill, J. Nelson, 250–51 n. 67 Krentz, Edgar, 12 Kühn, K. G., 91 n. 51 Lachmann, Karl, 123, 125 n. 9 Ladd, George E., 258–59 n. 92, 262 n. 95, 263 nn. 105–106, 264 n. 109 Lake, Kirsopp, 40 n. 4, 67 n. 84 Lambdin, T. O., 88 n. 43 Lambrecht, Jan, 196 n. 27, 198 n. 32 Lampe, Peter, 240 n. 25, 244–45 n. 41 Lawlor, H. J. and J. E. Leonard Oulton, 311 n. 35 Layton, Bentley, 78, 80 n. 9, 81 n. 15, 82 n. 20, 90 Lefèvre, M., 294 n. 102a Legaspi, Michael C., 13 n. 25

Legge, F., 80–81 n. 14, 267 n. 1, 271 n. 13, 273 n. 32, 275, 277 n. 51, 279 n. 55, 282 n. 68, 282 n. 70, 288 n. 94, 290–91 n. 98 Lerner, Harriet, 332 Leyser, Conrad, 28 n. 20 L’Huillier, Peter, 304–5 n. 6, 306 n. 13 Lienhard, Joseph T., 85 n. 32, 337 n. 6 Lieu, S. N. C., 81 n. 16 Lightfoot, J. B., 53 n. 49 Lindemann, Andreas, 67 n. 84 Linnemann, Eta, 11–12 n. 21 Little, Lester K., 328 n. 35 Lohmeyer, Ernst, 248 n. 57, 259 n. 95, 263 n. 106 Löhr, Hermut, 28 n. 20 Löhr, Winrich A., 77 n. 2, 78, 80 n. 10, 80–81 n. 14, 81 n. 16, 82 n. 19, 82 n. 21, 83 nn. 22–23, 84 n. 29, 85 n. 33, 87 nn. 36–37, 88 n. 40, 89 nn. 46–47, 90 Lohse, Eduard, 248 n. 57, 260 n. 96, 263 Longenecker, Richard N., 190 Lüdemann, Gerd, 42 n. 11 Lundborg, Herman, 17 Lupieri, Edmondo, 25 n. 12, 26 n. 14, 340 Luz, Ulrich, 40–41 n. 5, 336 nn. 3–4 MacDonald, Margaret Y., 9–10 n. 15 Mack, Burton L., 99 n. 7 MacMullen, Ramsay, xii, 99 n. 7, 204, 303–4, 314 MacRae, G. W., 94 n. 58 Madsen, David B., 23–24 Mai, Angelo, 122–23, 127, 128 n. 20, 130 n. 35, 131 n. 42, 134 n. 60, 134 n. 62, 135 n. 69, 294 n. 102, 295 nn. 103–104 Maier, Gerhard, 11–12, 13 n. 25 Mallick, Shahbaz Khan and Boyd R. McCandless, 328 n. 35 Mansfeld, Jaap, 268 n. 4, 272 Marcovich, Miroslav, 29 n. 22, 85–86 n. 33a, 86 n. 34, 218 n. 54, 267, 268 n. 3, 269 n. 9, 271–72, 273 n. 32, 287 n. 90, 290–91 n. 98, 336 n. 5, 339 n. 14 Marin, Barbro, 16–17 Markschies, Christoph, 78, 93 n. 57 Martens, Peter W., 303 n. *

Index of Modern Authors and Persons Martin, Ralph P., 195 n. 23, 197 n. 31 Martin, Troy W., 14, 97 n. *, 110 n. 30, 112–13 n. 36, 128 n. 21, 192 n. 13, 203 n. * Massaux, Édouard, 40, 46, 58 n. 60 Matera, Frank J., 320 n. 10 Matzkow, W., 83 n. 25 May, Gerhard, 78, 94 McCarthy, C., 148 n. 106 McCauley, Leo P., 338 n. 10 McClelland, Scott E., 195 n. 23, 200 n. 37 McCollum, A. C., 123 McGowan, Andrew B., 28 n. 20 McLeod, Frederick G., S.J., 303 n. * Meinardus, Otto F. A., 26 n. 14 Meissner, W. W., 99 n. 7 Metzger, Bruce M., 145 n. 95 Migne, J.-P., 30 n. 23, 125–26 n. 11, 130 n. 35, 131 n. 42, 150 nn. 115– 116, 153 n. 126, 167 n. 1, 337 n. 7 Mihoc, V., 186 n. 47 Millar, Fergus, 240, 250 n. 67, 252–53, 253 n. 76, 260 n. 96 Miller, D. J. D., 123, 127 n. 16, 131 n. 41, 132 n. 48 Mingana, Alphonse, 337 n. 8 Minns, Dennis and Paul Parvis, 217 n. 51 Mitchell, Margaret M., 211 nn. 32–33, 295 n. 105, 296 n. 107 Moberly, Robert B., 240–41 n. 26, 243 n. 38 Mommsen, Theodor, 308 n. 19, 308 nn. 22–23 Mondésert, C., 81 n. 15 Mounce, Robert H., 248 n. 57 Müller, Christoph G., 25 n. 12 Müller, Ulrich B., 239 n. 21, 241 n. 28, 245 n. 42, 248 n. 57, 252 n. 74, 253 n. 78, 255 n. 83 Murray, James S., 236 Nautin, P., 267 n. 2 Nevile, Donald C., 303 n. 1, 304–5 n. 6 Newman, Barclay, 240–41 n. 26 Neyrey, Jerome H., 10 n. 16 Niebuhr, K.-W., 186 n. 47 Niederwimmer, Kurt, 39 n. 2, 56, 61 n. 70, 68 n. 86 Nodet, Étienne, 99 n. 7 Nordling, John G., 102 n. 9

395

Nur, Amos and Hagai Ron, 236 n. 9 Nussbaum, Martha C., 318–19 n. 3, 320 n. 7 O’Brien, Peter T., 201 n. 42 Okholm, Dennis L., 328 n. 35 Olsson, Birger, 3–4 n. 1 Omerzu, Heike, 250–51 n. 67 O’Niel, E. N., 274, 281–82 n. 67 Osborne, Catherine, 28 n. 20, 268 n. 4, 272 Osiek, Carolyn, 9–10 Pagels, Elaine, 338 n. 11 Patrick, Mary W., 329–30 n. 36 Pearse, Roger, 123, 127 nn. 15–16, 128 n. 20, 130 n. 35, 131 n. 42, 132 n. 46, 134 n. 60, 134 n. 62, 303 n. * Pearson, Birger A., 77 n. 2 Périchon, Pierre, 310 n. 28 Perkins, Pheme, 40 n. 4 Perrin, B., 91 n. 53 Pervo, Richard I., 222 nn. 4–5, 231 Pesch, Rudolf, 222 n. 5, 226, 336 n. 3 Petersen, William L., 48 n. 32, 56 n. 56, 77 n. 1, 79 n. 8, 148 n. 106 Pigas, Meletios, 337 n. 8 Preisendanz, K. and A. Henrichs, 268 n. 6 Preus, Robert, 13 n. 27 Price, Simon R. F., 250–51 Prigent, Pierre, 248 n. 57, 255 n. 85, 268 n. 5 Procopé, John F., 321–22 n. 14 Procter, Everett, 78, 82 n. 21, 90, 94 Puech, H.-C., 85 n. 33, 89 n. 47 Quasten, Johannes, 81 n. 16, 125 n. 9 Ramsay, William M., 235–36, 237 Rauer, M., 85 n. 32 Remus, Harold, 327 n. 33 Rhoads, David M., 14 n. 28, 24 n. 9 Richardson, Peter, 330 n. 46 Riesenfeld, Harald, 3 n. 1 Riley, Gregory J., 99 n. 7 Ringgren, Helmer, 3 n. 1 Roetzel, Calvin J., 203 n. 3 Rohrbach, Paul, 51 Rojas-Flores, Gonzalo, 237, 243 n. 38

396

Index of Modern Authors and Persons

Roloff, Jürgen, 248 n. 57, 258–59 n. 92, 260 n. 96, 263 Rordorf, W., 39 n. 2, 67 n. 84 Rothschild, Clare K., 3 n. *, 114 n. 38, 225, 226 n. 23, 303 n. *, 317 n. *, 335 n. * Rousseau, A., 80 n. 9, 151 n. 120 Sabbah, Guy, 310 n. 29 Sabbatucci, Dario, 28 n. 20 Saller, Richard P., 10 n. 16 Sanders, E. P., 8 n. 10, 48, 116–17 Sandt, H. van de, 56 n. 56 Scherrer, Steven J., 250 n. 67 Schlaudraff, Karl-Heinz, 15–16 n. 34 Schmid, Ulrich, 42 n. 11 Schmithals, Walter, 50 Schneider, Horst and Bruno Bleckmann, 312 nn. 37–38 Schnelle, Udo, 50, 67–68 n. 85, 70, 72 n. 96, 104 n. 11, 193 n. 15, 211 n. 32, 248 n. 57, 318 n. 1 Schreiber, Stefan, 203, 207 n. 19, 209, 210 n. 28 Schulz, H.-J., 167 n. 1 Schüssler Fiorenza, Elisabeth, 238 n. 18, 241 n. 28, 242, 243 n. 35, 246 n. 43, 246 n. 46, 247, 248 n. 57, 249 nn. 61–62, 250 nn. 65–66, 252, 253 n. 78, 257 n. 8, 264 Schwemer, Anna Maria, 224–25 n. 14 Shaw, Teresa M., 28 n. 20, 335 Shelton, Brian W., 294 n. 102a Sieben, Hermann-Josef, 337 n. 6 Silvestros (16 th c. Patriarch of Alexandria), 337 Simoons, Frederick J., 28 n. 20 Smelik, K. A. D., 296 n. 110 Smith, James V., 335 n. * Smith, Jonathan Z., 99 n. 7 Smyth, H. W., 133 n. 52 Spät, E., 81 n. 16 Stählin, G., 321–22 n. 14, 324 n. 23 Stander, H. F., 269 n. 9 Stanton, Graham N., 41 n. 8, 55 n. 55, 68 n. 87, 71 n. 93, 80 n. 13 Starcky, J., 174 n. 22 Stark, Rodney, 99 n. 7 Stehly, R., 268 n. 5 Stenschke, Christoph W., 15–16 n. 34 Stenström, Hanna, 3 n. *, 3–4 n. 1

Strecker, Georg, 50, 195 n. 22 Ström, Marie, 17 Ström, Per, 3 n. 1 Svartvik, Jesper, 3–4 n. 1 Swanson, Reuben J., xi, 216–17 Swartley, Willard M., 11–12 n. 21 Syreeni, Kari, 11 n. 19 Tabbernee, William, 244–45 n. 41 Tanner, Norman P., 304–5 n. 6, 306, 311 nn. 32–33 Tavris, Carol, 330 n. 43 Taylor, Justin, 99 n. 7 Taylor, Vincent, 143–44 n. 91 Thee, F. C. R., 273 n. 31, 279 n. 54, 300 n. 118 Thompson, Leonard L., 250–51 n. 67 Thrall, Margaret E., 193, 195 n. 22, 197 n. 30, 198–99, 200 nn. 37–38 Thurén, Lauri, 329 n. 42 Tillemont, Louis-Sébastien Le Nain de, 303 n. 1, 305 Tinambunan, E. R. L., 26 n. 14 Tissot, Y., 83 n. 24 Toal, M. F., 30 n. 23 Tóth, Franz, 240 n. 25, 253 n. 76 Tregelles, S. P., 125 n. 9 Triffaux, E. and M.-A. Kugener, 151 n. 121, 152 nn. 123–124 Trites, Allison A., 259 Troeltsch, Ernst, 11 Tuckett, Christopher M., 39 n. 3, 45 n. 26, 55 Tuilier, A., 67 n. 84 Turner, C. H., 309 Ulland, Harald, 242, 250–51 n. 67, 253 n. 76 Valantasis, R., 28 n. 20 Vallée, G., 268 n. 5 Van Slyke, D. G., 167 n. 1 Vermes, M., 81 n. 16 Vogels, W., 11 n. 21 Vokes, F. E., 39 n. 2, 43 n. 16 Volgers, Annelie, 125–26 n. 11 Vööbus, Arthur, 28 n. 20 Walford, Edward, 310 n. 28 Walker, D. Dale, 104 n. 13, 320 n. 10

Index of Modern Authors and Persons Walzer, Richard, 338 n. 11, 338–39 n. 11, 339 n. 13 Wanke, Daniel, 80–81 n. 14 Wassén, Cecilia, 3 n. *, 6 Westcott, B. F. and J. F. A. Hort, 123, 125 n. 9, 126, 129 n. 23, 130 n. 30, 137 n. 75, 139–40, 144, 146, 155 n. 131, 157 nn. 138–139, 158 n. 144 Whittaker, Molly, 339 nn. 14–15 Willert, Niels, 196 n. 25, 199 n. 36, 200 n. 40 Williams, C. R., 125 n. 9, 140 n. 80, 145 n. 95, 146, 148 nn. 104–105, 156–57 n. 137, 157 Williams, F., 87 n. 38 Wilson, R. McL., 43 Wimbush, Vincent L., 28 n. 20 Windisch, Hans, 78, 83 n. 23, 85 n. 32, 90 Witherington, Ben, III, 248 n. 57 Witulski, Thomas, 235 n. 4, 240 n. 25, 244, 250–51 n. 67, 258 n. 92

397

Wolter, Michael, 189 n. 5, 201 n. 43 Wood, Simon P., 29 n. 22, 336 n. 5 Wright, N. T., 8 n. 10 Wünsch, R., 275 n. 44 Yarborough, Robert W., 11–12 n. 21 Yoshiko Reed, A., 39 n. 2, 74, 75 n. 101, 79 n. 8 Young, Frances M., 14 n. 28, 24 n. 9, 27, 304–5 n. 6, 311 n. 34, 313 n. 40, 340 n. 18 Zahn, Theodor, 78, 82 n. 19, 90, 145 n. 95, 148 n. 106 Zamagni, Claudio, 123, 125–26 n. 11, 127, 128 n. 20, 130 n. 35, 131 n. 42, 132 n. 46, 134 n. 60, 134 n. 62 Zeitlin, S. and S. Tedesche, 174 n. 23 Zetterholm, Magnus, 8 n. 10 Zimmermann, Heinrich, 13 n. 26

Index of Subjects Agrippa Castor, 81, 85 n. 33, 89 Alcibiades of Apamea, 289, 290 Alexander Jannaeus, 168, 169 Alexander the Great, 91 Antiochus IV Epiphanes, 180–81 Antipas (early Christian martyr), 233, 238, 258–62, 265 Aphrodite (goddess), 285 Apollo (god), 281 Apostolic Creed, 127 Apostolic Fathers, 5 asceticism, 335–41 Asclepius (god), 271 n. 13, 281, 282, 283 Athena (goddess), 292 Augustus (emperor), 236, 239, 251, 258 n. 92 Babylon, as a symbol for Rome, 7 Balaam, 253–54, 255 n. 85, 256, 259, 261, 262 Bannus (wilderness prophet), 336 Bombo (goddess): see Hecate Carpocrates of Alexandria, 291 Carpocratians, 277, 289, 291, 292, 293, 299 christian origins, 99–100, 118–20 christology, 119, 311 Codex Bobbiensis (it k), 122, 143, 145, 146 n. 97, 149 n. 109, 161 Codex Freerianius, 129 n. 27, 143, 154 n. 29 Codex Sinaiticus, 59 n. 65, 61, 122, 145, 156, 162 Codex Vaticanus, 59 n. 65, 61, 122, 123 n. 3, 145, 146 n. 97. 156, 162 Codex Washingtonius, 133 n. 54, 152 Constantine (emperor), 304, 304–5 n. 6, 307, 308–310, 314

Decius (emperor), 240, 251 diatribe, 118 n. 49 disability studies, 11 Domitian (emperor), 234–35, 237, 239– 44, 250 n. 67, 251, 251–52 n. 70, 252 n. 71 Ebionite Christians, 30 Elchasaites, 277, 289–90, 291, 293, 299 Eustathius of Antioch, 303 n. 1 exegesis, biblical, 4–5, 7–8 feminist hermeneutics, 5, 11 form criticism, 11, 47–48 Freudian theory, 328–30 Galba (emperor), 243 Galerius (emperor), 308 Gospel of Mark, alternate endings to – interpolated Longer Ending (the Freer-Logion, attested in W, 032), 133 n. 54, 152 – Longer Ending (16:9–20), 6, 41, 44, 46, 49, 50 n. 42, 51, 52, 54 n. 52, 74, 122, 130 n. 36, 137, 138, 139, 141– 44, 144 n. 94, 145, 148, 150–51, 152, 153–56, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 203 n. * – Shorter Ending (it k), 52, 122 n. 2, 143, 145 n. 96, 146 n. 97, 149 n. 109, 161 Hadrian (emperor), 77 n. 2, 243, 244 Hecate (goddess), 271 n. 13, 276, 284– 85, 286, 287 Heilsgeschichte: see salvation history Hippocrates, 91 n. 51 “historical-critical method,” the (socalled), ix, 7–8, 10–14, 24

400

Index of Subjects

imperial cult, 233, 234, 238–41, 244, 250–54, 255, 256–57, 258, 259, 260–61, 265 Israel, modern state of, 120 Jezebel, (false) prophet(ess), 246, 253– 54, 255 n. 85, 256, 259, 262 John the Baptist, 9, 19–20, 22, 23–26, 29–30, 32, 335–38, 340 Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification (1999), 8 n. 11 Judas Maccabeus, 168, 169–84, 185, 336 linguistic turn, 9 literary dependence, criteria for ascertaining, 46–49, 51, 66 Lord’s Prayer, 56–62 Marcus (Valentinian), 277, 289, 290– 91, 293, 299 Marianus (confessor), 303 n. 1, 305 Martin (confessor), 303 n. 1 martyrs, early Christian, 251 n. 69, 259–60, 264 n. 109, 303–4, 306–7, 311, 313, 314 Maximinus II (emperor), 308 Montanists, 244 Muratorian Fragment (Muratorian Canon), 41 n. 8, 84 n. 28 Nero (emperor), 233, 234–35, 236, 237, 239, 243 Nerva (emperor), 243, 244 “new perspective” on Paul, 8 Nicaea, Council of, 303–7, 309, 310, 311–13, 314 Nicolaitans, 253, 259, 261, 262 NRSV translation, 109 n. 28, 114 n. 39, 128 n. 21, 206 n. 17, 221 n. 2, 236 n. 11, 259, 262, 296 n. 110, 321–22 n. 14 Old Latin: see Vetus Latina Otho (emperor), 243 Oxyrhynchus papyri, 68 n. 87 paideia, 25, 27, 30 Palestinians (contemporary), 120

Paphnutius of Egypt (bishop, confessor), 304, 305, 306–7, 307–10, 311, 313, 314 Paul of Neocaesarea (bishop, confessor), 304, 305, 307, 309, 313 Phren (goddess): see Re Pope Callistus I, 269 n. 8, 277, 289, 292–93, 299 postcolonial theory, 5 prayer, 167–86 queer theory, 5, 11 racial biology, 17 Re (goddess), 274, 275–76, 278 n. 53 redaction criticism, 11, 34–35, 48, 58– 60, 63–64, 66, 69, 97–120, 323–26, 326–27, 336 salvation history (salvation mythology), 15–16 n. 34, 26 Selene (goddess), 280 n. 58 Simon Bar Kokhba, 77 n. 2 Simon Magus, 271 n. 13, 277, 289, 292, 293, 299 slavery, in the American South, 260 SNTS (Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas), 6, 163 soteriology, 264 source criticism, 11 symbolic capital, 12–13 Thesaurus Linguae Graecae (TLG), 21, 153 n. 126 Third Reich, 260 Tiberius (emperor), 236 Trajan (emperor), 234, 237, 239, 240, 243–44, 251 Uppsala University, ix, xi, 3–4, 6, 15, 16–17, 187 n. * Valentinus, 93, 94 n. 58 Vatican II (Council), 167 n. 1 Vetus Latina, 83 n. 25, 145 n. 96 Vulgate, 83 n. 25, 148, 162 Zeus (god), 285–86, 292