New Essays on the Apostolic Fathers 9783161551345, 3161551346

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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) J. Ross Wagner (Durham, NC)

375

Clare K. Rothschild

New Essays on the Apostolic Fathers

Mohr Siebeck

Clare K. Rothschild, born 1964; 1986 BA University of California, Berkeley; 1992 MTS Harvard University; 2003 PhD University of Chicago; currently Professor of Scripture, Department of Theology, Lewis University, IL.

e-ISBN PDF 978-3-16-155196-3 ISBN 978-3-16-155134-5 ISSN 0512-1604 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament) Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data is available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.

© 2017  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 systems. The book was typeset by Martin Fischer in Tübingen, printed by Gulde Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

For Abraham J. Malherbe † Rest in peace

οὐκ ἔστιν μαθητὴς ὑπὲρ τὸν διδάσκαλον· κατηρτισμένος δὲ πᾶς ἔσται ὡς ὁ διδάσκαλος αὐτοῦ. Luke 6:40

Acknowledgements The foundational ideas in this book are traced to a seminar on the Apostolic Fathers I taught at Lewis University in spring 2015. These ideas were initially formulated as observations I had while teaching a group of students exposed to this literature for the first time. I am grateful to this courageous, smart, and patient group of eight seminar participants. Our semester together was a profound experience of creative thinking about interesting but often ignored texts. It not only reminded me of why I love to teach but why I also love to do research and write. I have dedicated the better part of the last year to exploring the ideas that came from this seminar experience. For the time and wherewithal to do so, I must thank Lewis University, in particular President Brother James Gaffney, Provost Stephany Schlachter, Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences Bonnie Bondavalli, and Department Chair Karen Trimble-Alliaume. The Sabbatical leave granted in February 2015 provided me with the time and resources to do serious research. As always, my readers will judge the value of the results. Different from prior research projects, this collection of essays delves into numerous different topics. Although all belong under the auspice of the Apostolic Fathers, today each text has a cadre of experts dedicated to it alone. To avoid reckless dilettantism, I have consulted with these experts, many of whom gave generously of both their time and expertise to read and comment on my essays. In particular, I wish to thank Larry Welborn, Michael Holmes, James Carleton Paget, Clayton Jefford, Christopher Tuckett, and James A. Kelhoffer. Justin R. Howell edited the entire manuscript. R. Matthew Calhoun, and Trevor W. Thompson also read many sections, offering advice in their areas of expertise. I also wish to extend sincere gratitude to participants of the various societies of which I am a member, including the Society of Biblical Literature, the Chicago Society of Biblical Research, and the Midwest SBL. Over the past few years, I have delivered versions of some of the essays in these colloquia. I always learn so much from those presenting in these sessions. Finally, I am ever in the debt of Dr. Henning Ziebritzki at Mohr Siebeck for his continuing interest in my work, as well as to colleague and friend, Prof. Dr. Jörg Frey, for his recommendation of my manuscripts to the WUNT series. The editorial support team at Mohr Siebeck also ably assisted in the production of this work. I dedicate this book to Abraham J. Malherbe, who would, no doubt, have been disappointed with the final product. As one of my most ardent supporters, he

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adamantly exhorted me to find one narrow interest and pursue it unwaveringly. He wanted me to be the best on one narrow topic. As this collection of essays attests, I have flagrantly ignored Abe’s advice – not deliberately of course – but as a result of my own undoubtedly self-aggrandizing assessment of the value of its ideas. I would never have asked Abe to approve such a project, because I know that he never would have. That said, I am fairly certain that he would have shared my enthusiasm for the ideas because, however much he disagreed with me, he always supported my projects. I have missed him since the day he died and still have every intention of taking his good advice to follow one narrow topic, before that time when we meet each other again.

Table of Contents Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IX

Chapter One: Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 Chapter Two: On the Invention of Patres Apostolici . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 B. History of Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 C. From Book Fair to Catalog . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 I. Frankfurt Book Fair . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 II. From Fair to Bookseller . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 III. From Bookseller to Library . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 1. Thomas James . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 2. Thomas Hyde . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 3. Bookbinders and the Bodleian Catalog . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 D. From Library to Papacy and Beyond . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 I. Roman Catholics and Patristic Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 II. Protestants and Patristic Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 E. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 Appendix A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 Appendix B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Appendix C. The Hyde-Fysher Catalog 1738 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32

Chapter Three: Reception of First Corinthians in First Clement . . . . . 35 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 B. History of Scholarship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 C. Exegetical Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 D. Style – Epistolary Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 E. Content – Literary Allusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 I. 1 Corinthians as Rhetorical Artifact . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46 II. Parallels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46

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1. Allusions to 1 Corinthians in 1 Clement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 a. Single Allusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 i. 1 Clement 13:1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 ii. 1 Clement 34:8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 iii. 1 Clement 42:4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 b. Allusion Clusters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 i. 1 Clement 37:3, 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 ii. Two Allusions to 1 Corinthians 4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 1 Clement 3:3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53 1 Clement 7:1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 iii. Three Allusions to 1 Corinthians 12 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 1 Clement 38:1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 1 Clement 48:5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 iv. Two Allusions to 1 Corinthians 13 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 1 Clement 55:2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 1 Clement 49:5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 v. Three Allusions to 1 Corinthians 15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58 1 Clem. 24:1, 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58 F. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60

Chapter Four: 1 Clement as Pseudepigraphon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 B. Occasion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 C. Historical Circumstances . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 D. Form and Function . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 E. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68

Chapter Five: Παιδεία as Solution to Στάσις in 1 Clement . . . . . . . . . . . 69 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 B. Proof-texts and Commentary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70 I. Proof-texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 II. Authorial Commentary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 C. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79

Chapter Six: Golden Calf Incident in 1 Clement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 B. Background . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82

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C. Exempla in the Peroratio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 I. Exempla Supporting Recommended Action . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 1. Exhortation to Repent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 2. Exhortation to Accept Voluntary Exile . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 3. Exhortation that Reward is Outcome of Repentance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 D. Exempla in the Probatio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 I. Comparison of Exempla . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92 E. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93

Chapter Seven: “Where Their Worm Dieth Not”: The Phoenix Legend in 1 Clement 25 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 B. Greek Text and English Translation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 C. Parallel Literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 D. Evidence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99 E. Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 F. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

Chapter Eight: “Belittling” or “Undervaluing” in 2 Clem. 1:1–2? . . . . 111 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 B. Greek Text . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 C. History of Interpretation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112 D. Recent Investigations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 E. Prologue in Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 F. Proposed Translation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 G. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

Chapter Nine: Two dispositiones in 2 Clement 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 B. History of Scholarship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 C. 2 Clement 2:1–7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 D. Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134 E. The “Two Dispositions” Motif . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134

I. Marcion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135 II. Justin Martyr . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 III. Tertullian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140 F. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140

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Chapter Ten: Sailing Past the Competition: Euergetism in 2 Clement 7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143 B. History of Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143

I. Running . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144 II. Sailing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144 C. Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 I. Aeneid 5 – Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148 II. Aeneid 5 – Overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149 III. Aeneid 5 – 2 Clement 7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 D. Prizes for Liturgists . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154 E. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156

Chapter Eleven: Evaluating Masculinity: The Quintus Incident in Light of the Second Sophistic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 B. History of Scholarship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161 C. Evidence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 D. Art of Antithesis: Polycarp versus Quintus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 E. Creating the Antitype . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166 I. Elitism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166 II. Phrygia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167 III. Public Performance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 F. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172

Chapter Twelve: Travelers and Christ-Mongers in Didache 12:1–5 . . 175 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175 B. History of Scholarship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175 C. Structural Analysis of Didache 11–13 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178 D. Παρόδιος . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184 E. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188

Chapter Thirteen: Epistle of Barnabas and Secession through Allegory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 B. History of Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 C. Ὑπερβολή . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196

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D. Ἀλληγορία . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 198 E. Typology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 198 F. Allegory versus Typology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199 G. Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201 H. Barnabas and the Allegorical Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201 I. Knowledge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203 J. Knowers or “Gnostics” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204 K. Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205 L. Allegorical Approach and the Historical Continuum Controversy . . . 207 I. Barnabas 4:6b–8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207 II. Barnabas 14:4b–5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210 M. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211

Chapter Fourteen: Diognetus and the Topos of the Invisible God . . . . 213 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 B. Ancient Topos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 214 C. History of Scholarship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 D. Exegetical Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217 I. Cleanthes’s Hymn to Zeus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217 II. Pseudo-Aristotle, De mundo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218 III. Wisdom of Solomon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219 IV. Romans 1:18–32 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 V. Acts 17:23–31 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 VI. Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 E. Exegetical Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221 I. Epistle to Diognetus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221 II. Comparative Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225 F. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226

Chapter Fifteen: Somatic Effects of Irascibility in Hermas, Mandates 5.1.3 (33.3) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227 A. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227 B. Status Quaestionis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228 C. Ancient Medical Texts and Mandates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230 D. Anger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 E. Mandates of Hermas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 F. Mandate 5 (33.1) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 G. Mandate 10 (41.2): Function of λύπη . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 H. Mandate 10.3 (42) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242

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I. Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 J. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245 Index of References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Index of Modern Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 288 Index of Subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295

Abbreviations and References The Greek New Testament is cited from Novum Testamentum Graece, the Nestle-Aland 28th edition. Abbreviations correspond to The SBL Handbook of Style, 2nd edition (2014); the Oxford Classical Dictionary (31996); Liddell, Scott, Jones, and McKenzie, A Greek-­ English Lexicon; and G. W. Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon.

Chapter One

Introduction This volume comprises fifteen new essays on the Apostolic Fathers. In the last two years, two were originally published elsewhere. Both were moderately reworked and updated for inclusion in this volume. The first essay addresses a question concerning the collection as a whole. In his article entitled, “The Paratextual Invention of the Term ‘Apostolic Fathers,’” David Lincicum argues that the technical term originated as an abbreviation made by sixteenth-century bookbinders of the longer title of Cotelier’s 1672 collection of texts (JTS 66 [2015]: 139–48). Lincicum’s study substantially furthers the conversation concerning the expression “Apostolic Fathers,” insofar as it becomes a technical term for certain writers and writings. His conclusion, however, elicits questions about the place of bookbinders in the sixteenth‑ and seventeenth-century development and proliferation of printed books, as well as about the relevance of Cotelier’s collection to theological disputes of the day. Building on the evidence Lincicum brings to the discussion, this essay explores the role of seventeenth-century libraries and librarians, in discussion with theologians, in the origination of this technical term. It demonstrates that bookbinders were only middlemen working in the booming book industry of that day. In determining spine titles, librarians – in their capacity as the catalogers of rapidly increasing collections – played a more important role than binders, particularly librarians of the most important collections who, as it happens, were frequently trained theologians. Cotelier himself was one such individual. Affirming the traditional hypothesis concerning the technical term, the present essay differs from Lincicum, ascribing primary responsibility to Cotelier. The next five essays concern 1 Clement. The central argument of the opening article (Chapter 3) addresses the relationship between 1 Clement and 1 Corinthians. It is clear that the author of 1 Clement appeals to 1 Corinthians, but the nature of its appeal is enigmatic. In some respects, Clement seems to revere his Pauline precursor – in others, he seems to openly refute him. This essay discusses the precise nature of the correspondences for what they reveal about 1 Clement’s overall purpose. Chapter 4 undertakes the question of generic classification. Specifically, it explores the origin and implications of 1 Clement’s two epistolary prescript references (a) from the church “sojourning” in Rome and (b) to the church “sojourning” in Corinth. Although these references are not unique, they are rare

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and, different from the canonical letters, were rejected as the titles of the works in which they occur. This essay argues that the city names of Rome and Corinth in 1 Clement should be interpreted symbolically. Like the participle παροικοῦσα with which they comprise a literary unit, these epistolary elements are theological rather than geographical, characterizing the sender(s) as proto-orthodox and the addressees as schismatic. They were rejected as titles because first readers correctly interpreted this meaning. Chapter 5 addresses the question of “Christian education,” first mentioned in 1 Clem. 21:8: “Let our children receive the παιδεία in Christ” (Τὰ τέκνα ἡμῶν τῆς ἐν Χριστῷ παιδείας μεταλαμβανέτωσαν) (cf. 21:6; 62:3). While Henri-Irénée Marrou may be correct that a few early Christian authors were preoccupied with the raising of children (cf. Eph 6:4; Col 3:21; Heb 12:5, 7–11), the question for this essay is whether he was correct in placing 1 Clem. 21:8 at the beginning of such a catechetical trajectory. As a deliberative letter, 1 Clement exhorts its audience to a specific course of action. Similar to 1 Corinthians, the point to be adjudicated is restoration of peace from στάσις. Παιδεία is the recommended solution. In this context, therefore, παιδεία refers to “punishment” in the form of voluntary exile. Paul appropriates παιδεία as punishment in 1 Cor 11:32 and 2 Cor 6:9. Although παιδεία rarely refers to exclusively punitive measures (discipline is a feature of most ancient pedagogy), the argument of this essay is that, as in 1 and 2 Corinthians, παιδεία in 1 Clement denotes punishment as opposed to education, dissociating 1 Clem. 21:8 from the trajectory of Christian education, with which it has long been associated. Insofar as punishment often has an educative, restorative goal, the instructional sense never entirely recedes. Nevertheless, this essay draws a stark contrast in order to emphasize that by demanding the ouster of certain presbyters 1 Clement sentences these opponents “to life,” the eschatological implications of which were hardly educational. Chapter 6 examines Clement’s version of the golden calf tradition. Although nearly all recipients of this tradition employed it as a negative example of the behavior of the Jews in the wilderness, 1 Clement uses it positively to portray Moses as leader par excellence. What is more, in the context of 1 Clement, the golden calf tradition constitutes the climax in a list of historical exempla, themselves the central proofs in the argument of the letter. This essay investigates the idea that such positioning of the golden calf tradition is no accident. Marcion esteemed Moses’s self-sacrificial behavior over God’s “zero tolerance” policy in the golden calf incident, suggesting that although the letter was composed to have enduring and universal application, its original historical occasion was anti-Marcionite. Chapter 7 is the fifth and final study of the collection devoted to 1 Clement. 1 Clement 25 recounts the widely known legend of the regeneration of the phoenix to support an argument for Christian resurrection. This essay offers an

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exegetical analysis of this presentation, highlighting distinctive emphases and suggesting how they might have contributed to second-century debates. The eighth essay takes up a detail in the introduction to 2 Clement. The introductory exhortation employs the common Greek adjective μικρά – alone and with the verb φρονεῖν – four times in its first two verses. In the modern period, this passage suffers a history of translation disconnected from the exhortation comprising most of the rest of the tractate. Few if any quotations of these verses remain from antiquity, ruling out the possibility of consulting early readers for guidance. Moreover, recent translations rely on prior ones, employing expressions long out of date today (e. g., “belittle”). Convincing new research by James A. Kelhoffer suggests that 2 Clement borrows the Roman patron-client model to exhort its listeners. This essay proposes an update of the translation of 2 Clem. 1:1–2 in keeping with recent discoveries concerning the text’s original purpose, values, and assumptions. The ninth essay addresses the motif of the barren woman in 2 Clement 2. Paul reads the accounts in Genesis 16 and 21 in combination with Isa 54:1 as a polemical ἀλληγορία (Gal 4:22–31). The Isaianic oracle promises the restoration of the city of Jerusalem: although the city is currently “barren,” she will experience burgeoning growth when God rescues the Jews from Exile. On Paul’s argument, the barren woman is the heavenly Jerusalem, and the oracle predicts that believers (both Jew and Gentile) will one day populate it, whereas those “boasting in the flesh” (i. e., circumcision) will not. Without any clear allusion to Galatians, 2 Clem. 2:1–3 also cites Isa 54:1, contrasting the author’s church (the barren woman) with the woman “with a husband.” The paradigm of two opposing dispositiones (“institutions”) seems to be in view. The most common proposal is that the opponents are “gnostics” – a claim based on the subsidiary assumption of “gnostic” terminology elsewhere in the text. The present essay explores whether the reception history of the “two dispositiones tradition” has the potential to sharpen present theories about the opponent’s identity favoring the traditional theory that the opponent was Marcionite. Chapter 10 takes up the precise meaning of the exhortation in 2 Clement 7 that Christian faith is like a race. The Pauline inspiration for this athletic metaphor is not in doubt, but, surprisingly, the customary footrace is interspersed with references to a sailing competition. As noted, James A. Kelhoffer has proposed a patron-client model to explain the central motifs in 2 Clement. This essay argues that the metaphor of the sailing race echoes Virgil and, as such, broadens the context in which Clement’s use of the patron-client model can be understood. Chapter 11 probes the Quintus incident in Martyrdom of Polycarp 4, viewed by some as a later interpolation reflecting the practice of voluntary martyrdom by second-century Montanists. Based on the episode’s tight integration into the larger narrative, current consensus accepts it as an original part of the narrative.

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However, its role in the text’s larger thematic program has not been convincingly established. Informed in part by the new essay of Matthijs den Dulk and Andrew Langford situating Mart. Pol. in the milieu of the Second Sophistic, the present investigation attempts to add the Quintus incident to the narrative elements enumerated by Den Dulk and Langford as emblematic of the literary and cultural conventions of second-century sophism. By placing strict limits on at least one Christian community’s treatment of visitors, Didache 12 describes reasonable protection against exploitation of the Christian code of ethics requiring generosity to strangers. The integrity of this chapter in the overall work has, somewhat like the Quintus incident in Mart. Pol. 4 (described above), long been a matter of debate. The twelfth chapter of this volume explores the history of interpretation of this section, focusing on the two neologisms, παρόδιος and χριστέμπορος. Ultimately it concludes that a new translation of παρόδιος, in keeping with the literary context, dissolves questions concerning the section’s integrity and sheds important new light on the hospitality of this community of Christ-followers. Today, most interpreters view the Epistle of Barnabas  – the topic of Chapter 13  – as supersessionist. Twice highlighting Moses as tablet-breaker, Barn. 4:6–7 interprets Christianity as a replacement for Judaism: “Do not become like some people by piling up your sins, saying that the covenant is both theirs and ours. For it is ours (ἡμῶν μέν).” On this reading, Christians supplant Jews in their own salvation history. Yet Barnabas is a highly allegorical text. This essay thus asks how supersessionism is to be reconciled with the allegorical method. If the past can be read as an allegory of the future, can the future at the same time replace the past? Exploring the precise nature of allegory in this epistle, the essay proposes that the method itself constitutes Barnabas’s response to the two dispositions topos (discussed vis-à-vis 2 Clement 2 in Chapter 9 of the present volume). Rather than approaching Jewish history as a compendium of historical exempla (1 Clement), a genealogically-related group (2 Clement, Justin), or a different group altogether (Marcion), Barnabas postulates a sophisticated Platonic alternative: namely, that Judaism is a “shadow” of the Gospel reality – a position remarkably similar to the one reflected in the Epistle to the Hebrews. In connection with Cleanthes’s Hymn to Zeus, Johan Thom investigates the ancient moral-philosophical topos of the invisible God, according to which the divine is invisible and known in the world by its actions. As Thom shows, an important sub-topos is the consequence of human failure to recognize divine actions in the world – a failure that leads to mistakes such as the assumption that God needs anything, a motif of the sub-topos. Thom demonstrates that this topos, sub-topos and motif are at work not just in Cleanthes’s Hymn, but Paul’s letter to the Romans, Paul’s Areopagus speech in Acts 17, and the Wisdom of Solomon. Chapter 14 simply welcomes the Epistle of Diognetus into this discussion, arguing that the topos, sub-topos, and motif are also at work in this letter.

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Chapter 15 examines yet another neologism in the AF (cf. Chapter 9 on the Didache). Hermas, Mand. 5.1.3 (33.3) describes a process by which ὀξυχολία (“irascibility”) enters Christian believers, cramping, polluting, and, in extreme cases, expunging their spirits. Curiously, the word, ὀξυχολία is not attested prior to its appearance in the Mandates, in which it occurs seventeen times. By contrasting it with a “spirit” (πνεῦμα) of μακροθυμία (“patience”), Hermas implies that it is a hot-blooded, impulsive, and/or volatile “spirit.” According to Carolyn Osiek, the best parallel for this mechanism is the urban metaphor of ancient apartment buildings. The text itself offers the example of a drop of wormwood in a vat of honey. This paper attempts to show that a popular second-century medical theory lies behind Hermas’s presentation of ὀξυχολία, also touching briefly on the exegetical implications of this background and interpretation. While these essays delve in a few different directions, they are united in their focus on a single collection and consistent reliance on the historical-critical methods as the best means to greater understanding. As with any new work, I am grateful to readers willing to spend time exploring the ideas. My hope is that the essays will contribute to the discussions about the texts and the collection already underway in our guild.

Chapter Two

On the Invention of Patres Apostolici A. Introduction Origin of the expression “Apostolic Fathers” has been the subject of recent debate. In his article entitled, “The Paratextual Invention of the Term ‘Apostolic Fathers,’” David Lincicum argues that the technical term originated as an abbreviation made by sixteenth-century bookbinders of the longer title of Cotelier’s 1672 collection of texts, SS. Patrum qui temporibus apostolicis floruerunt, Barnabae, Clementis, Hermae, Ignatii, Polycarpi Opera, Vera, et Suppositicia to Patres Apostolici.1 Lincicum observes that, in particular, British seventeenth-century bookbindings of Cotelier’s book use this or a similar abbreviation with some degree of frequency, inferring that these binders first coined the technical term. Lincicum’s study substantially furthers the conversation concerning the expression “Apostolic Fathers,” especially insofar as it becomes a technical term for certain writers and writings. His conclusion, however, elicits questions about the place of bookbinders in the sixteenth‑ and seventeenth-century development and expansion of the printed book as well as about the perceived relevance of Cotelier’s collection to theological questions of the day.2 Building on the evidence that Lincicum brings to the discussion, this essay explores the role of seventeenth-century libraries and librarians, in discussion with theologians, in the origination of this technical term. It demonstrates that bookbinders were only middlemen working in the booming book industry of that day. In determining 1 For assistance in the composition of this essay, I wish to express sincere gratitude to Robert Matthew Calhoun, Angela Kinney, Francesca Galligan (Bodleian Library), and Oliver House (Bodleian Library). Lincicum’s essay: JTS 66 (2015): 139–48. Cotelier’s volume: J. B. Cotelier, SS. Patrum qui temporibus apostolicis floruerunt; Barnabae, Clementis, Hermae, Ignatii, Polycarpi; Opera edita et inedita, vera et suppositicia. Una cum Clementis, Ignatii, Polycarpi Actis atque Martyriis (Paris: Petri le Petit, 1672). 2 Bart Ehrman refers to the discussion of Cotelier’s precise meaning as vanity: “There has been some (rather pointless) discussion over whether Cotelier actually referred to these early authors as ‘Apostolic Fathers.’ He obviously did not do so in the title (‘Holy Fathers who Flourished during the Apostolic Times’), but he does do so on two occasions in his Preface, where he refers to his ‘Apostolicorum Patrum collectio’ (pp. vii and x)” (The Apostolic Fathers, vol. 1: I Clement, II Clement, Ignatius, Polycarp, Didache [2 vols. LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2004], 1:8). Robert M. Grant notes that the expression “apostolic fathers” appears as early as the seventh century (Formation of the New Testament [Hutchinson University Library; New York: Harper & Row, 1965], 62).

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spine titles, librarians, in their capacity as catalogers for rapidly increasing collections, played an arguably more important role than binders – particularly those of the most important collections who, as it happens, were frequently trained theologians. Cotelier himself was one such individual, and it is thus to him – while taking advantage of the latest research in the field of library science – that the present essay attributes the expression and so affirms the traditional hypothesis that he invented the technical term.

B. History of Research In 1672, Jean-Baptiste Cotelier published a collection of Christian texts entitled, SS.3 Patrum qui temporibus apostolicis floruerunt opera (“Works of the holy fa3  Cotelier’s title is of significantly more interest than scholars typically acknowledge. Four points are salient. First, he refers to the authors represented in his collection as having “flourished in apostolic times.” Similar temporal references appear in both the Muratorian Fragment and Irenaeus. 1 Clem. 5:1 too makes a similar reference (i. e., τῆς γενεᾶς ἡμῶν τὰ γενναῖα). On the division between our own and apostolic times, see Albert C. Sundberg, Jr., “Canon Muratori: A Fourth-Century List,” HTR 66 (1973): 1–41. Second, the adjective, sacrosanctum occurs prior to the word, patrum in Cotelier’s title. Although the abbreviation “SS” often refers to Scriptores (Writers) in this instance, the genitive plural adjective indicates simply “Sanctus” (“Holy” or possibly “Saints”). The abbreviation comes from Latin palaeography. In late antiquity and the Middle Ages, “sanctus” was applied both to Scripture (sancta scriptura) as well as to God/Jesus/Spirit, saints, martyrs, prominent clergy, churches, shrines, and anything associated with the aforementioned holy materials (e. g., holy wounds), making it difficult to determine genre based solely on the presence of this word in a title. With regard to writings, aside from Scripture, the adjective frequently applies to people (be it hagiography, theology, etc.). See Dictionnaire latin-français des auteurs chrétiens (ed. Albert Blaise, Henri Chirat; Turnhout: Brepols 1954). I wish to express my sincere gratitude to Angela Kinney for her expertise on this point. Third, the word, opera implies a collection of writings, while avoiding specific reference to epistles, tractates, or worse, homilies (see n. 72). Finally, the title acknowledges not just that some of the texts are unedited, but that only some are vera, whereas others are suppositicia. Questions concerning the precise meaning of these elements of Cotelier’s title have been almost completely overlooked in scholarship. In the discussion following the paper and recorded after it in the collected volume, F.-X. Cuche asks about the difference between the first occurrence of the expression “apostolic fathers” and the first such title for a collection of texts. He also notes that the title is not Apostolic Fathers (“Pères apostoliques”), but Fathers flourishing in Apostolic Times (“Temps Apostoliques”), an expression used by other seventeenth-century writers. Finally, he asks what is implied by “apostolic times” and whether such a phase is distinguishable from “time of the apostles” (“temps des Apôtres”); see Dominique Bertrand, “Jean-Baptiste Cotelier et les Pères Apostoliques?” in Les Pères de l’église au XVII e Siècle [ed. E. Bury and B. Meunier; Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf], 175–89, here: 191). For Bertrand, Cotelier packs his purpose for the collection into his title: not just that the writers should be considered fathers, but that they flourished in a crucially important era. Such a title deemphasized authorship of the collected texts per se, a point about which Cotelier is openly dubious. Bertrand writes: “À mon sens, Cotelier a concentré son ambition d’érudit et d’écrivain dans ceci: conférer toute sa force à l’expression qui rend avantage sa pensée que celle de ‘Pères apostoliques’: ‘Sanctorum Patrum qui apostolicis temporibus floruerunt.’ Il s’agit de toute une

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thers who flourished in apostolic times”). His criteria for the inclusion of texts were authorship and antiquity. All writers were “either companions or disciples of the apostles” (apostolorum partim comites exstitere, partim discipuli). Included in his collection, with the texts we have come to expect (i. e., Barnabas, Clement, Ignatius, and Polycarp), were the following: the Apostolic Constitutions, the Apostolic Canons, the Pseudo-Clementine Recognitions and Homilies, the pseudonymous letter from Peter to James, the pseudonymous letter of James, the Greek Epitome of the Homilies, the Martyrdom of Clement, and a report attributed to Ephraem of Cherson describing a miracle that allegedly occurred on the commemoration of Clement’s death (see Appendix B).4 Since this volume was the first collection of these writings in printed form, in the centuries since its publication it has been considered the source of the technical term for these and related groups of writings. As scholars have pointed out, however, this collection was hardly unique in its interest in the publication of such texts.5 In fact, it was one of a number of concurrent attempts to make these texts available to scholars and the interested public.6 For example, prior to this publication in 1645, Cotelier contributed to the editio princeps of the Epistle of Barnabas with Hugh Menard and Isaac Voss.7 In 1699, Thomas Ittig abbreviated this title to Bibliotheca Patrum Apostolicorum in an edition of a similar group of writings published in Leipzig.8 J. B.  Lightfoot notes that whereas Cotelier’s title (i. e., SS. Patrum qui temporibus apostolicis floruerunt … opera) only approximates the expression “Apostolic Fathers,” Ittig’s époque, les ‘temps apostoliques,’ et, dans cet environnement, des Écrivains ecclésiastiques reconnus comme tels qui y ont ‘fleuri.’ Or, du simple point de vue des textes – celui qui pour l’auteur est dirimant – , l’environnement qui se nomme ‘temps apostoliques’ est complexe. C’est pourquoi, gouvernant le génitif pluriel, ‘Sanctorum Patrum’ et les cinq noms qui en dépendent, Barnabé, Hermas, Clément, Ignace et Polycarpe, le titre affiche ces mots: ‘opera edita et inedita, vera et supposititia.’ Bref, Cotelier n’estime pouvoir regrouper ce qui nous reste des Pères apostoliques qu’en opérant un tri tel que ce qui est retiré à leur paternité n’en reste pas moins important pour faire sentir le contexte des textes fondamentaux” (“Jean-Baptiste Cotelier et les Pères Apostoliques?” 175–89, here: 183). 4  Jean LeClerc’s second edition (1698) provided the same texts. Thomas Ittig used different criteria for inclusion in his edition (1699). Cf. Ehrman, Apostolic Fathers, “General Introduction,” 1:8–9; Paul Foster, “Preface,” in The Writings of the Apostolic Fathers (ed. Foster; London: Continuum, 2007), vii–viii; Bertrand, “Jean-Baptiste Cotelier et les pères apostoliques?” 175–89. 5 E. g., Ehrman, Apostolic Fathers, 1:7–14. 6 A number of important scholars were at work on the publication of these texts in both Britain and France, including Hugh Menard, Archbishiop Ussher, Isaac Voss. The race to publication was complicated by a number of extenuating circumstances not least a great fire in London. See J. H. Backhouse, The Editio Princeps of the Epistle of Barnabas (Oxford: Clarendon, 1883). 7 Backhouse, Editio Princeps, vii–xx. 8 Thomas Ittig, Bibliotheca Patrum Apostolicorum Graeco-Latina (Leipzig: J. H. Richter, 1699), 1–298. Cf. J. A. Fischer, “Die ältesten Ausgaben der Patres Apostolici: Ein Beitrag zu Begriff und Begrenzung der Apostolischen Väter,” Historisches Jahrbuch 94 (1974): 159–90; 95 (1975): 88–119.

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title (i. e., Bibliotheca Patrum Apostolicorum) reflects it exactly.9 On Lightfoot’s reading, it is thus with Ittig that the technical term is born. In 1978, Henk Jan de Jonge pointed out that, prior to Ittig, Jean-Baptiste Leclerc used the expression Patrum Apostolicorum to refer to his 1698 reprinting of Cotelier’s edition.10 De Jonge also showed that in 1693 the expression appears in William Wake’s The Genuine Epistles of the Apostolical Fathers S. Barnabas, S. Clement, S. Ignatius, S. Polycarp. The Shepherd of Hermas, and the Martyrdoms of St. Ignatius and St. Polycarp.11 Wake was, in turn, influenced by William Cave’s 1677 edition, Apostolici: or, the History of the Lives, Acts, Death, and Martyrdoms of those who were Contemporary with, or immediately succeeded the Apostles.12 Neither Wake nor Cave, however, uses the expression as a title. Concerning the expression apart from a collection of texts, Lincicum points out that Cotelier himself refers to patres apostolici in his preface, but only broadly with reference to authoritative Christian teachers. In 1546, William Peryn also used the expression in this way, as does H. P. de Cressy approximately one hundred years later.13 The oldest occurrence of the expression that anyone has traced is in the writings of the Monophysite Severus of Antioch (sixth c.), who used it albeit without reference

 9  J. B. Lightfoot, The Apostolic Fathers, Part 1: S. Clement of Rome: A Revised Text with Introductions, Notes, Dissertations, and Translations (London: Macmillan, 1890), 1:3. 10 Both LeClerc’s 1698 Antwerp and the 1724 Amsterdam reprints retain Cotelier’s original title; see Lincicum, “Paratextual Invention,” 141. However, Bertrand’s article emphasizes differences between Cotelier’s and LeClerc’s projects. According to Bertrand, LeClerc harbors “nervousness” with regard to Cotelier’s project, noting LeClerc’s two references to aspects of the work as “absurd” (179). He, thus, deliberately obscures the original work: “Même si Le Clerc a tout gardé de son devancier, la disposition adoptée par lui occulte complètement cette donnée. Un esprit différent anime un matériau fondamentalement identique. Nous tentons maintenant d’élucider celui qui a présidé à l’agencement de 1672” (180). Bertrand sums up the two projects as works by two very different people: “Certes, les deux hommes sont différents, et le calviniste d’Amsterdam ne présente guère de traits communs avec le fils de pasteur converti de Nîmes, boursier de l’Assemblée du clergé, sorbonnard, chargé des catalogues à la Bibliothèque royale et professeur de grec à l’Académie de Paris, un tempérament véhément, quoique maladif, mais surtout un homme en qui l’attachement à l’Église et l’amour des lettres sont intimement conjoints” (“Jean-Baptiste Cotelier et les Pères Apostoliques?” 187). 11 Wake refers to “Coteler. Patr. Apostol. Tom. I” in the margin of his 1693 edition and mentions Cotelerius and his collection of the “Apostolical Fathers” (William Wake, The Genuine Epistles of the Apostolical Fathers S. Barnabas, S. Clement, S. Ignatius, S. Polycarp. The Shepherd of Hermas, and the Martyrdoms of St. Ignatius and St. Polycarp [London, 1693]). 12 William Cave refers to Cotelier’s edition as: “J. Bapt. Cotelerius. Patres Apostolici gr. lat. cum notis, Par. 1672. f.” As Lincicum (“Paratextual Invention,” 141) acknowledges: “Wake makes reference to ‘Coteler. Patr. Apostol. Tom. I’ in the margin of his own 1693 edition of the Apostolical Fathers, 9 and mentions ‘Cotelerius’ in his Collection of the Apostolical Fathers. Before Wake in 1685, Cotelier’s work was referred to by William Cave as ‘J. Bapt. Cotelerius. Patres Apostolici gr. lat. cum notis, Par. 1672. f.’” Both Cave and Wake use the precise reference for Cotelier’s volume that Hyde provides in the 1674 Bodleian catalog. 13 Hugh-Paulinus de Cressy restricts the term to the earliest period of the church, but without clear definition or use as a terminus technicus.

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to a collection of writings.14 Conversely, related groups of writings were collected under other titles, such as Thomas Elborowe’s translations of Ignatius, Polycarp, and Barnabas (London, 1668), entitled A Prospect of the Primitive Christianity, As It Was left by Christ to His Apostles, by the Apostles to Their Disciples Saint Polycarp and Holy Ignatius, Both Contemporaries with and Disciples to the Holy Evangelist and Apostle Saint John. David Lincicum argues that the designation owes its origin as a terminus technicus to bookbinders abbreviating the title of Cotelier’s 1672 edition on their bindings – one such binding firmly dated to 1674 (i. e., prior to Ittig). Since prebound books were the exception in this period, binding styles and, thus, spine titles varied. Yet Lincicum observes coherence among the abbreviated titles of British copies of Cotelier’s book. With greater diversity on the Continent, British bindings often labeled the book, Patres Apostolici.15 Since both Cave and Wake were also British, Lincicum concludes that the hermeneutical effect of this overall coherence of references in Britain gave rise to the consideration of this group as a discrete set of writings (i. e., terminus technicus).16

14  Robert M. Grant, “The Apostolic Father’s First Thousand Years,” CH 31 (1962): 421–29. Lincicum does not cite this article. 15 Although binding titles varied, they had to be “correct”: “It remains to urge that particular attention be paid to the lettering of books being their right titles, as the contrary will present to the judicious an effect the most disagreeable, and may be the cause of producing dissatisfaction with the whole of the binding in the mind of the owner” (James Bartram Nicholson, A Manual of the Art of Bookbinding: Containing Full Instructions in the Different Branches of Forwarding, Gilding, and Finishing [Philadelphia: Henry Carey Baird & Co., 1878], 197). Binding was in some demand, since libraries received many books in quires; cf. I. G. Philip, “Letter from Thomas Hyde, Bodley’s librarian, 1665–1701,” The Bodleian Library Record 3 (1950–51), 40–5. On spine-titles: “The idea was well established, but not universal, by the turn of the eighteenth century; it is not unusual to find a spine of 1700 with no title label, but much more unusual to find this on a middling quality or upmarket binding of 1720. Lettering directly on the spine quickly gave way to separate labels as the standard practice (Graham Pollard, Changes in the Style of Bookbinding: 1550–1830 [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1956], 107). 16 Problems for Lincicum’s earliest binding date of Cotelier’s volume are David Pearson’s three observations: (1) “As a general rule, it is safe to assume that any English binding made before 1660 which carries a tooled leather spine label will have had the label added some time after the original date of binding. Dating labels themselves relied principally on contemporary typographic conventions” (David Pearson, English Bookbinding Styles 1450–1800 [London: British Library; New Castle, DE: Oak Knoll, 2005], 105–11, here: 111). (2) “The idea [of title labels] was well established, but not universal, by the turn of the eighteenth century; it is not unusual to find a spine of 1700 with no title label, but much more unusual to find this on a middling quality or upmarket binding of 1720” (107); and (3) “Much spine labeling work has been carried out retrospectively in both institutional and private collections, and spine labels are not necessarily contemporary with the bindings to which they are attached” (107). Concerning the impermanent quality of spine labels: “In Durham Cathedral Library, in 1691, a binder was paid 6d. apiece ‘for titleing of 167 follios in Turky leather and gold letters,’ which meant working through the existing Library collection and applying the new style of spine labeling” (Pearson, English Bookbinding Styles 1450–1800, 107).

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Lincicum’s approach is convincing. Nevertheless, it elicits a few additional questions, foremost of which is whether the terminus technicus, Patres Apostolici, amounts only to a practical decision on the part of bookbinders in a period when bookbindings were not permanent features of a book and apostolic succession was of more ecclesiastical importance than at almost any other time in history.17 A wider view of the art of bookmaking in this period aims to clarify some of the questions.

C. From Book Fair to Catalog I. Frankfurt Book Fair The seventeenth century witnessed great strides in the art of the book. With a marked increase in printed volumes,18 public and private collections grew, and lists of what was literally on a shelf became impractical. Lists grouping books according to class (history, law, philosophy, or theology) or, eventually, organizing books alphabetically were more patron-friendly.19 As alphabetized catalogs developed and took hold, libraries such as the Bodleian asserted greater influence.20 Michael Carpenter sums up these circumstances: The beginning and rapid development of printing from movable type assured a wide distribution of multiple identical copies of a work, a technological advance hitherto unknown to the world. The expensive manuscript books with parchment pages, beautiful and unique, ceased to be the primary form of communication. Printed books were the beginning of a revolution with which bibliographic organization had to keep pace…. The university libraries and expanding private libraries began to seek a wide representation of works and assumed the role of conveyors of human knowledge rather than the preservers of a few standard works.21

The hinge of this transition to a wider dissemination of printed books was book fairs. Parisian book dealer, Henri Estienne, compared the important Frankfurt Buchmesse to classical Athens: everyone associated with books flocked to these sprawling European expositions, including dealers, correctors, proofreaders, 17 Codex Hierosolymitanus (Taphou 54) includes the Didache as well as Epistle of Barnabas, 1 Clement, 2 Clement, and the long recension of the Ignatian letters. It is dated to ca. 1056, Philothelios Bryennios discovered it in 1873. Codex Sinaiticus contains the Epistle of Barnabas and the Shepherd of Hermas. Codex Alexandrinus contains both 1 Clement and 2 Clement. 18 Manuscripts dwindled by comparison. 19 Alphabetical lists were known in the 1500s, but, together with other innovations, seventeenth-century English libraries gave them international recognition. 20 See Michael Carpenter, “Catalogs and Cataloging,” in Encyclopedia of Library History (ed. Wayne A. Wiegand and Donald G. Davis, Jr.; New York and London: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1994), 107–17, here: 108. 21 Carpenter, “Catalogs and Cataloging,” 436.

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publishers, typesetters, woodcut makers, and binders.22 Buyers from all over the world came to purchase publications for their collections.23 By the end of the sixteenth century, sellers had created catalogs to advertise the events and inform visitors about what was for sale. Aldus Manutius (Venice), Chrétien Wechel (Paris), and Robert Estienne (Paris) produced catalogs. These works were either printed separately or at the end of a new book. They imitated dictionaries by listing books according to an author’s surname.24 In 1564, Georg Willer of Augsburg prepared one of the first such fair or trade lists. This list – a nascent book catalog – appeared at every spring and fall fair through 1592. Iterations after the year 1608 also contained older books and books in languages other than Latin.25

II. From Fair to Bookseller During the seventeenth century, trade lists evolved26 into the more permanent bibliographies of a bookseller’s inventory. One of the first such bibliographies was that of Johann Cless. It was based on a Mess-Katalog of 1602.27 In 1595, London bookseller, Andrew Maunsell, published the “Catalogue of English Printed Bookes,” a bibliography of books on the topic of Theology. Since he had purchased books from trade lists in alphabetical order by author’s name, his bibliography also alphabetized books by author.28 Maunsell listed anonymous works by title, subject, or both. Bibles and the individual books of the Bible were listed under the subject heading, Bible. The only difference between the trade lists and Maunsell’s bibliography was that Maunsell’s individual entries were more elaborate than the catalogs. He included not just the author’s full name, but also a translator (if relevant), the name of either the book’s printer or bookseller, the

22 Henri Estienne, The Frankfort Book Fair: The Francofordiense emporium of Henri Estienne (ed. James Westfall Thompson; Chicago: Caxton Club, 1911), 79. 23 Estienne, Frankfort Book Fair, 79–80. 24  Estienne, Frankfort Book Fair, 81–82. Estienne’s volume was entitled “Index librorum qui ex officine ejusdem Henrici Stephani hactenus prodierunt, excudebat Henrici Stephanus [1560. Octavo].” 25 Estienne, Frankfort Book Fair, 82, emphasis original. 26 Estienne, Frankfort Book Fair, 93. 27 Cless’s catalog aimed to include all books published in Germany between 1500 and 1602. It was entitled Unius seculi eiusque virorum literatorum monumentis tum florentissimi, tum fertilissimi, ab anno Dom. 1500 ad 1602, nundinarum autumnalium inclusiue, eleuchus consummatissimus librorum, Hebraei, Graeci, Latini, Germani, aliorumque Europae idiomatum, typorum aeternitati consecratorum. Auctore Joanne Clessio Wineccensi, Hannoio (Francofurti, Kopff, 1602). The first volume comprised 596 pages, the second 296. Estienne, Frankfort Book Fair, 90. 28 Maunsell used surnames, whereas the trade lists preferred Christian names. Maunsell also probably referred to the Frankfurt catalogs in their English versions. He restricted additional entries of translators and subject words.

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imprint date, and the format.29 In his dedication to “Worshipfull the Master, Wardens, and Assistants of the Companie of Stationers and to all other Printers and Booke-sellers in general,” Maunsell wrote of learned men that they have written Latine Catalogues, [Conrad] Gesner, Simler, and our countryman John Bale. They make their Alphabet by the Christen name, I by the Sir name; They mingle Diuinitie, Law Phiscke, &c. together, I set Diuinitie by itselfe; They set downe Printed and not Printed, I onely Printed, and none but such as I have seene … Concerning the Books which are without Authors names called Anonymi, I have placed them either upon the Title they bee entituled by, or else upon the matter they entreate of, and sometimes upon both, for the easier finding of them.30

In the preface to his work, Maunsell explains the utility of his cross-indexing system to the client.

III. From Bookseller to Library 1. Thomas James As a private book buyer, Maunsell used the Frankfurt catalogs to create the first English bibliography, and the impact of his system can hardly be exaggerated in the history of cataloging.31 In the first half of the seventeenth century, British library catalogs were the first to witness the impact. The most important such catalog was that of the Bodleian. At that time, the Bodleian functioned in the capacity of national library of England. In 1620, Thomas Bodley commissioned Thomas James to produce a catalog for the collection.32 James was born circa 1572 in Newport on the Isle of Wight to Protestant parents.33 He was a biblical historian,34 publishing the first English manual on textual criticism.35 He also edited a work on the church fathers and developed a 784-page folio manuscript catalog with 10,000 references to both the Old and New Testaments, including 29  Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science, 4 vols., 2nd ed. (ed. Miriam A. Drake; New York: Marcel Dekker, 2003), 1:438. 30  http://www.historyofinformation.com/expanded.php?id=1574, accessed: 28 May 2016. 31 Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science, 1:438. 32 “The Bodleian catalogs were one of the dominant influences of the seventeenth century and would continue to affect all succeeding study of cataloging procedures. The principal figure behind the reorganization of the Oxford University Library was Sir Thomas Bodley, a retired English diplomat, who dominated the cataloging efforts of Thomas James, the first librarian” (Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science, 1:438). 33 Richard W. Clement, “Librarianship and Polemics: The Career of Thomas James [1572– 1629],” Libraries & Culture 26 (1991): 269–82, here: 272. 34 “James was invited to join one of the Oxford committees for the preparation of the Authorized Bible – the King James Bible – although Bodley refused to allow him to participate because of the need to prepare the new catalog” (Clement, “Librarianship and Polemics: The Career of Thomas James [1572–1629],” 274). 35 Clement, “Librarianship and Polemics: The Career of Thomas James (1572–1629),” 276.

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Bodleian call number and occasionally page number.36 The latter work functioned as a subject guide to all works on Theology. James became the first official librarian of the Bodleian. He was known to complain that, although he had access to many books, he had little time for scholarly research.37 James had access to catalogs from the Frankfurt and other European book fairs as well as to the catalog of Maunsell’s shop.38 During his time at the Bodleian, the book collection grew in size exponentially, making books increasingly difficult to access. Bodley commissioned James to catalog the holdings. James wanted to alphabetize all main entries, but Bodley wanted to maintain the four faculty classifications (i. e., Medicine, Law, Philosophy, and Theology).39 Bodley prevailed, although James alphabetized entries within the four classifications.40 36 Sidney L. Jackson, “Bodley and the Bodleian: Collections, Use and Administration,” The Library Quarterly: Information, Community, Policy 39 (1969): 253–70, here: 268. 37  Thomas James, A Treatise of the Corruption of Scripture, Councels, and Fathers, by the Prelates of the Church of Rome … Together with a Sufficient Answere unto J. Gretser and A. Possevine, Jesuits, and the Unknowne Author of the Grounds of the Old Religion and the New (London: M. Lownes, 1611), 33. James was involved in a Bible revision project that eventually competed (to Bodley’s chagrin) for his time on the Library catalog. 38  Julian Roberts, “The Latin Trade,” in The Cambridge History of the Book in Britain: 1557– 1695, 6 vols. [ed. John Bernard and D. F. McKenzie; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002], 4:141–88, here: 164. “London booksellers, native Englishmen, were buying extensively abroad, and selling abroad too; they were investing in the purchase of great foreign libraries, so that Pepys had access to Fouquet’s books – presumably at William Shrewsbury’s shop in Duck Lane – while Robert Scott could contemplate buying the de Thou library in 1680, and claimed he had bought from the library of Pierre de Montmaur for Charles II” (Roberts, “The Latin Trade,” 166). Cf. Jackson, “Bodley and the Bodleian: Collections, Use and Administration,” 265. 39 The Bodleian Library in the Seventeenth Century: Guide to an Exhibition Held During the Festival of Britain, 1951 (Oxford: Bodleian, 1951), 14. 40 Imitative of Maunsell’s bibliography, James’s 1605 catalog listed books by authorial surname (first names being recorded in the first position). James first experimented with a catalog list of theological books only; see G. W. Wheeler, The Earliest Catalogues of the Bodleian Library (Oxford: University Press, 1928), 97. “The arrangement of James’ 1605 catalog followed surnames just as the Maunsell book-trade catalog. First or Christian names were recorded first” (Jackson, “Bodley and the Bodleian: Collections, use and Administration,” 266). “The Bodleian as the recipient of books under the Stationer’s Company’s grant of 1610 and subsequent Copyright Acts, contains a very large number of works from which the names of their authors are omitted, and the entry of these under subject-headings gives to the Catalogues of the Library the appearance of being combined catalogues of authors and also of subjects, which in reality they are not, subject-headings being the main given only to anonymous works” (Wheeler, Earliest Catalogues of the Bodleian Library, 79). Librarians reliant on fair and auction book catalogs had to be wary, as these lists could at times be incorrect. With respect to the auction book catalog belonging to the mid-seventeenth-century Dutch merchant Paolo Van Uchelen, Jan Storm van Leeuwen writes, “The catalogue does not lend itself very well to a comparison, because many titles are incomplete and often contain mistakes” (“Bookbindings: Depictions, Owners, Contents,” in Eloquent Witnesses: Bookbindings and Their History [ed. Mirjam M. Foot; London: The British Library Bibliographical Society, 2004], 31–52, here: 212). See also discussion of the development of the Encyclopedie (1748–66), in which alphabetical also won out, according to Jean le Rond d’Alembert (Preliminary Discourse to the Encyclopedia of Diderot [trans., Richard

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James prepared the manuscript from prior shelf lists.41 Appearing in July of 1605, the printed version consisted of 8,700 entries – often referred to as the first printed general catalog of a public library.42 Since books were divided according to four classes, in more than one case, books by the same author were not shelved together. Books without authors (anonymous), books falsely attributed (pseudonymous), and collections of texts (e. g., biblical texts) also posed cataloging problems. In most cases, anonymous texts were cataloged under a form heading or entry word.43 The idea of an “entry word” goes back to the previous century. Conrad Gesner’s Bibliotheca Universalis (1545) was an alphabetical listing (by author’s first name) of all known printed books in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew with a supplementary cross-reference index of surnames. In 1548, Gesner published a second edition, coding works by subject with an alphabetical index to the codes.44 In James’s 1605 catalog, books with identical first title-words were listed together, the remainder of each title alphabetized beneath the title-word.45 If subject or form headings were general, library patrons required the help of a librarian. Anonymi was, for example, a very long section in this work.46 The Bodleian collection continued to expand. In 1613 (the year Bodley died), James prepared an all-alphabetical in-house catalog that abandoned the classification system.47 The second printed catalog of 1620 grew out of this in-house N. Schwab with W. E. Rex; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995], 3–140), a major victory over religious hegemony. My graditude to Benjamin Lynerd for this point. 41 Clement, “Librarianship and Polemics,” 274. 42 “The Bodleian catalog of 1605 is often called the first printed general catalog of a public library. But the City of Augsburg had sponsored a print version of an institutional library in 1575 and the Leyden Academia printed a catalog in 1595” (Jackson, “Bodley and the Bodleian: Collections, Use and Administration,” 266). 43 Michael Carpenter summarizes: “Some books lacking the name of a personal author were entered under some sort of subject heading (usually derived from the title), while others were found under form headings, such as Councils (for the acts of church councils), laws (for compilations of statutes), and Almanacs (for calendars and almanacs); often these terms were set up in Latin” (“Catalogs and Cataloging,” 108). 44  B. C. Vickery, “Analysis of Information,” in Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science: Volume 1 Abbreviations: Accountability to Associcao Brasileira De Escolas De Biblioteconomia E Documentacao (ed. Allen Kent and Harold Lancour; New York and Basel: Marcel Dekker, 1968), 355–84, here: 356. 45 “Furthermore, whenever the same word was the first significant term in several successive title-main-entries, it was not repeated, the balance of each title being listed in turn as though under a subject heading. This practice seems to have harmonized with the custom of abbreviating longer titles” (Jackson, “Bodley and the Bodleian: Collections, Use and Administration,” 267). 46 “The ‘Anonymi’ were numerous enough to make section ‘A’ of the theology folios, together with the Bible-holding section ‘B,’ a leading subdivision. If authorship was stated but questioned, the name was followed by a cautionary ut videtur (‘apparently’)” (Jackson, “Bodley and the Bodleian: Collections, Use and Administration,” 267). 47 This was in part due to the difficulty of deciding to which class a book belonged and the inconvenience of separating works of a single author.

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work.48 James made at least four other changes to this 1620 publication. First, works by more than one author were entered under every author’s surname. Second, works in English were indicated by boldface type.49 Third, titles of ancient works were listed by catchword, rather than scattered by their various titles; catchwords provided a single category under which all iterations of the title could be found.50 Fourth, anonymous books were cataloged according to what came to be called the substantivum regens – the “ruling” or first striking word.51 Elisabeth de Rijk summarizes: While some anonymous works were entered under this [‘Anonymous’] heading, James preferred to use as heading the first word or words of the title, or, when these were not distinctive enough to make a good heading, to substitute the first striking word of the title.52

The idea of first most-striking or first word-headings for book catalogs was neither invented by James nor invented in England. A German system begun in the 1700s, but officially adopted at the University of Munich in 1850, involved the identification of a “ruling substantive” (substantivum regens) in the title. Selecting a subject for a catalog entry could be extremely difficult. To some, the first word of the title seemed like the ideal “ruling substantive” of an accurate  Clement, “Librarianship and Polemics: The Career of Thomas James (1572–1629),” 274.  Jackson, “Bodley and the Bodleian: Collections, Use and Administration,” 267. “Modern library historians, quite naturally enough, have seized upon James in his role as protobibliothecarius” (Clement, “Librarianship and Polemics: The Career of Thomas James (1572–1629),” 271. 50 Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science, 1:438. 51 Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science, 1:438. 52 Elisabeth de Rijk, “Thomas Hyde, Julia Pettee and the Development of Cataloging Principles; with a Translation of Hyde’s 1674 Preface to the Reader,” Cataloging & Classification Quarterly 14/2 (1992): 31–62, here: 58 n. 17. G. W. Wheeler discusses the Catalog of 1605 under three categories: heading, title, and imprint (Earliest Catalogues of the Bodleian Library, 71–77). He discusses the relationship of the 1605 catalog to subsequent versions (77–80). With regard to headings, the catalog is alphabetical usually by surname with some cross-listing but no second entries for editors or translators. Commentaries are listed under commentator only and not under author commented on (i. e., no Barnabas, Clement, Ignatius, or Polycarp). In the earliest catalog (different from subsequent iterations), headings are not always in Latin but may preserve the original Greek (Ἀνθὸς τῶν χαρίτων) or vernacular (e. g., Cookerie, A Warning) (73). If several works are entered under the same heading it may be plural (e. g., Apologiae variae). The entries are under the first word of the titles, unless the first word is not distinctive, in which case “the first striking word of the title” is substituted (with some variation between James’s manuscript and the printed catalog) (74). With regard to titles, Wheeler writes, “Every effort was made to secure brevity. When the first word of the title formed the heading that word was not repeated in the title-entry, and in a few instances the heading served also as the title, the object doubtless being to reduce the Catalogue to the smallest possible compass” (75). “These, the earliest strictly alphabetical Catalogues of the Bodleian, cannot but have had some influence on the form of those of later date, but in at least one respect the latter differ entirely from the former. James’s Catalogues, as the examples given earlier sufficiently show, were almost entirely catalogues of authors, and as regarded anonymous works, of title, to the exclusion of subject-headings: later Catalogues, while adding many subject-headings to works which were primarily entered under the names of their authors, were as regards anonymous works, catalogues of subjects and not of titles” (77–78). 48 49

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abbreviation.53 For others, however, catch (or subject) word was preferable.54 If the first word was chosen, it could be followed by the title’s next most significant substantive. As collections across Britain and Europe grew and patron service in libraries and at bookshops was prioritized, the substantivum regens – variously 53 In an article on the topic, Herzog Ulrich von Mecklenburg discuss this system: “Die deutschen Bibliographieen wählen meist das erste substantivum regens und gehen dann weiter, entweder auf das nächstfolgende Substantivum oder auf das nächste Wort überhaupt, indem sie also nur die vor dem ersten substantivum regens stehenden Wörter unberücksichtigt lassen. Kayser in seinem Bücher-Lexikon ist ganz confus, indem er freilich stets das erste substantivum regens als leitend annimmt, dann aber bei der alphabetischen Anordnung mehrerer Werke mit gleichem ersten Substantivum bald das zweite Substantivum, bald ohne Berücksichtigung dieses das Haupt-Sinnwort, welches im Titel vorkommt, massgebend sein lässt” (“Ueber alphabetische Anordnung,” in Centralblatt für Bibliothekswesen, vols. 1–2 [ed. O. Hartwig and K. Schulz; Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz, 1884–85], 345–82, here: 371). 54 “Es stehen sich also hauptsächlich zwei Parteien gegenüber, einerseits diejenigen, welche das erste Wort oder das erste Hauptwort zum Stichwort nehmen wollen, andererseits diejenigen, welche das Hauptsinnwort des Titels bevorzugen. Der Stand der Frage wird deutlich in einer Auseinandersetzung Cutter’s mit Wheatley gezeichnet und ich bringe deshalb die ganze Stelle …” ET (mine): “So there are basically two opposing positions: on the one hand, those who want to take the first word or the first main word as catchword; and, on the other hand, those who prefer the most meaningful word of the title. The prior question is clearly marked in a dispute between Cutter and Wheatley, which I, therefore, reprint here in full” (Von Mecklenburg, “Ueber alphabetische Anordnung,” 371). Wheatley and Cutter’s discussion (noted in the prior citation) highlights the benefits and shortcomings of both systems. Wheatley: “When we want to see if a book is in a certain library we look in a catalogue, but if we have a book in our hands and wish to learn something about it, we look in a bibliography. Now, suppose I have ‘A brief and impartial history of the Puritans’ before me, and wish to find the author, nothing is easier than to look up the word Brief. If, however, I want to see this book and search the catalogue of a library for it, I am pretty sure to have forgotten the adjectives of the title, and very probably the first substantive also, and the only word that remains in my memory will then be the word Puritans. The system of arranging the titles of anonymous books in catalogues either under the first word or the first consonant is thoroughly bad, and when it is adopted, the search for the book is usually a hopeless one.” Cutter: “Mr. Wheatley’s objection fails entirely, if a reference is always made from the word under which he would prefer to have the book entered (Puritans in his own example) to the first word. Under his system of entry under mnemonic word, without references, the book will be found by no one but the man who remembers the very word which the cataloguer selects as mnemonic. Under the other plan of first-word entry and references from mnemonic words (!), the book will be found by the same person as in Mr. Wheatley’s; and also by all those who remember the first word, all those who have means of ascertaining the first word (as people often may from a reference, a bibliography, or another catalogue) and all those who have the book in hand (as the “searchers” in a library, whose duty it is to ascertain if the volume is a duplicate). Without references the mnemonic-word entry plan is immeasurably inferior in facilitating the finding of a book; with references (!) it is no better than the rival plan, and has the great disadvantage of offering no fixed rule for the main entry of a book, but leaving to the judgment of the cataloguer the settlement of a question on which all experience shows judgments often different widely. ‘Enter under the first word’ is a simply unmistakable rule, and relieves the cataloguer of all perplexity. Then if he is in doubt from which of two words he should make the reference, the very doubt shows that he ought to refer from both, and so provides its own solution” (C. A. Cutter in: Von Mecklenburg, “Ueber alphabetische Anordnung,” 371–72). Patrons also faced problems if they could not remember the heading under which a book was listed.

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defined – suited most parties. In library and other catalogs, first-word title abbreviations surpassed subject listings.55 2. Thomas Hyde Thomas James’s Bodleian catalog of 1620 was of towering significance. Its direct descendant, nevertheless, outdid it.56 Attributed to the trained Orientalist Thomas Hyde, the Catalogus impressorum Librorum Bibliothecae Bodleianae was the third published catalog of the Bodleian collection. Hyde, together with antiquarian Thomas Hearne and others, issued this register in 1674.57 Like its 1620 forerunner, entries were listed by author’s surname in alphabetical order without classification by discipline. In the preface to the 1674 version (after lamenting what a lot of hard work such an inventory required), Hyde described his procedure.58 Anonymous works were listed according to a form heading, place/ edition, biography (generic classification), or striking word of title.59 Eventually, this catalog was disseminated worldwide and taken up, according to Elizabeth 55 Fremont Rider offers an algorithm for obtaining the subject heading of a book: “If the number of synonyms in the two terms of a Synonymous Doublet be p and q respectively the number of additional Alternative Headings will be 2 pq .... the total number of Alternative Headings available to denote the Doublet may be 2(mn + pq + rs + ....) .... the formula for the total number of Alternative Headings that may be coined to denote a Specific Subject whose name consists of n words is n! (p1p2p3.... pn + q1q2q3.... qn + r1r2r3.... rn + ....).” About such a theoretical approach, Rider comments: “Now this paragraph – here considerably condensed – sounds pretty formidable, not to say abstruse. But, when the smoke clears away, one discovers that it is only Mr. Ranganathan’s way of saying that, when a cataloger is faced with the many possible variants of such a subject heading as “British history,” “England history,” “English history,” etc., he has considerable difficulty in making a consistent choice of form!” Review of S. R. Ranganathan’s Theory of Library Catalogue in: The Library Quarterly: Information, Community, Policy 9 (1939): 358–60, here: 358. On the relative insignificance of book titles, B. C. Vickery writes: “The title of a document has always occupied an ambiguous intermediate position. It can certainly be an indication of the contents, but it is often used as no more than a convenient label to identify the document. (In the case of untitled manuscripts or poems, the first line of text may serve the same purpose)” (“Analysis of Information,” 356). 56  “There were no official catalogues between Hyde and Fysher, but I believe some booklists were made by librarians in the intervening years (for example, Ian Philip mentions ‘Hyde’s catalogue of new books inserted 1680’ in The Bodleian Library in the Seventeenth & Eighteenth Centuries [Oxford: Clarendon, 1983], 54).” With gratitude to Dr. Francesca Galligan, Rare Books & Printed Ephemera, Weston Library, Bodleian Libraries for this note. 57 Online access to this catalog is available here: https://books.google.com/books?id= C​K​Z​F​A​ A​A​A​c​A​A​J​&printsec=frontcover&dq=catalogus+impressorum+librorum+bibliothecae+Bodleianae&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiYzqqd7oTNAhVD4YMKHZ5dBfkQ6AEILjAD#v=onepage&q=catalogus%20impressorum%20librorum%20bibliothecae%20Bodleianae&f=false (accessed on 6 June 2016). 58 “The recognition and assemblage of authors known by different names, under a single form, constituted the first principle of modern cataloging” (Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science, 1:439). 59 Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science, 1:439.

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Leedham-Green and David McKitterick, by libraries in Great Britain and elsewhere “as the basis for describing their own collections.”60 3. Bookbinders and the Bodleian Catalog The Bodleian probably became aware of Cotelier’s volume by means of a European book catalog, perhaps one of the widely disseminated Frankfurt catalogs. As Lincicum has shown, a Bodleian version of Cotelier’s book was labeled Patrum Apostoll. Opera Cotelerii. Lincicum notes that other roughly contemporaneous abbreviations of Cotelier’s work on British spine titles are similar. Lincicum traces the technical term “Apostolic Fathers” to these bindings. However, the sixteenth‑ and seventeenth-century world of publishing was intimate. Bookbinders worked closely with booksellers, who in turn worked closely with librarians.61 What is more, the intellectual level of bookbinders was moderate. Where one bookbinder in a local guild might have been educated, the majority was not. Most bookbinders were unable to abbreviate longer Latin book titles without assistance.62 J. G. Zeidler finds minimal education useful to binders: School or university knowledge [is] of little or no use to a binder; on the contrary, if a binder has studied too much he becomes curious and will want to leaf through and read every book he is supposed to bind, which will take too much time, but … if he has not studied at all he may not be able to find the right order in certain books, especially when there are insertions or when he has to abbreviate the title for the spine.63

While most bookbinders had only a modest education, abbreviated spine titles required knowledge of Latin and other languages. And mistakes were a cause for complaint. Bookbinding manuals, therefore, recommended that abbreviations be left up to book owners, not bookbinders. Eminent bookbinding historian, Mirjam Foot, notes this preference: Abbreviated titles are often the cause for complaint …. The Anweisung zur Buchbinderkunst suggests that it would be best if the owner of the book makes up the title himself

60 Elizabeth Leedham-Green and David McKitterick, “Ownership: Private and Public Libraries,” in The Cambridge History of the Book in Britain: 1557–1695, 6 vols. [ed. John Bernard and D. F. McKenzie; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002], 4:323–38, here: 335. 61 On the close alliance of bookbinders and booksellers see Mirjam M. Foot, Bookbinders at Work: Their Roles and Methods (London: The British Library and Oak Knoll Press, 2006), 38–39. 62 On the intellectual expectations of bookbinders, Foot writes: “Moreover, in any large town it is necessary that besides the common binders there is one binder who is a scholar and who knows many languages (and so can help others)” (Bookbinders at Work, 128). 63 Foot, Bookbinders at Work, 128; citing J. G. Zeidler and his anonymous commentator, N. N. (Buchbinder-Philosophie [Hall im Magdeburgschen: Renger, 1708], 6–7 [n. 12] and 1–2, 19–20 [n. 39]).

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(i. e. gives the binder the precise wording), especially with long titles that have to be abbreviated.64

Lettering pallets created further inertia around abbreviated titles. The more books in possession of similar abbreviations, the fewer times a binder has to create a new pallet. Giles Barber describes an inventory list of royal binder Antoine-Michel Padeloup (d. 1758) in which Padeloup notes that he has 24 “bandes pour les noms.” Barber translates “bandes pour les noms” as “lettering pallets,” explaining the implications of this item as follows: “cast pallets bearing, on one line, one of the most frequently used lettering words. In French, these would typically be ‘ALMANACH,’ ‘ROYAL,’ ‘TOME,’ etc.”65 Bookbinders would have known the principle of substantivum regens from booksellers and librarians working with catalogs. This principle would have increased the regularity of occurrences in abbreviated titles, requiring fewer new lettering pallets, less effort, and lower costs for binders.66 And it would have been the natural choice of book owners for their own collections, not least because these collections would one day be amalgamated into the great libraries. Whether the Bodleian’s edition of Cotelier’s Apostolic Fathers was bound in house or elsewhere,67 the brief title on the label uses the first most significant substantive of the longer title (Patres, Patrum) followed by the next most significant substantive (Apostolicorum) – following the standard method of abbreviation in use by booksellers and librarians during this period. Thus, it seems safe to conclude that seventeenth-century bookbinders relied on the same principles used to create the earliest library catalogs – libraries in turn reliant on booksellers, in turn reliant on fair organizers – for their short titles and not, as Lincicum would have it, the other way around. Most likely Cotelier’s title was individually abbreviated by its British owners according to the widely-used substantivum regens principle of abbreviation. That said, we might still wonder 64 Foot’s citation also includes the following Bibliographical data: “See Anweisung (ch. II, note 25), p. 206; Prediger (ch. II, note 17), pt. II, pp. 180–81, also counsels that the owner’s instructions should be followed” (Bookbinders at Work, 128–29). 65 Giles Barber, “Around the Padeloup and Derome Workshops: Gold-tooled Parisian Bindings of the Eighteenth Century,” in Eloquent Witnesses, 171–205, here: 175. With regard to lettering pallets, Barber also comments: “What is in evidence in France from the early eighteenth century however is the use of the lettering-pallet, something which may well have been caused by the growth of the learned periodical in the later seventeenth century which would have given rise to the regular binding of a number of volumes with largely identical lettering” (176). Esther Potter discusses the reusability of brass blocks for titles (“Benjamin West, 1805–1883,” in Eloquent Witnesses, 237–63, here: 246–47). 66 “Late-seventeenth and early-eighteenth-century labels often incorporate abbreviations and rather clumsy layouts, as demonstrated by figs. 4.20–22; this kind of inelegance was soon smoothed out and layout proportions are rarely like this after 1725” (Pearson, English Bookbinding Styles 1450–1800, 105–11, here: 107). 67 It is also possible that a different Oxford or even a London binder bound Cotelier’s volume. It should be noted that by this time some percentage of books was arriving to the Library already bound.

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how Cotelier came up with his longer title, and why the Bodleian might have acquired such a book at such a time.

D. From Library to Papacy and Beyond I. Roman Catholics and Patristic Texts As it would happen, cataloging was also integral to the formation of Cotelier’s collection. As a gifted scholar serving at the Sorbonne in the capacity of theologian,68 Cotelier’s purpose in grouping the texts later daubed “the Apostolic Fathers” was directly related to his role as cataloger of the Royal Library in Paris. Although his father had converted to Protestantism, Jean-Baptiste saw little value in a protest once Louis XIV advocated Roman Catholicism in France.69 This was a period of text discovery in the area of New Testament and Early Christian literature. Beginning in 1633 with the epistles of Clement, important early Christian works were being published regularly. The Epistle of Barnabas appeared in 1645,70 Polycarp’s Epistle in 1633, and the Ignatian Letters in 1644 and 1646.71 68  On Cotelier’s involvement in the rediscovered Greek text of a letter from John Chrysostom to a monk named Caesarius questioning the Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation, see Gerald Cerny, Theology, Politics and Letters at the Crossroads of European Civilization: Jacques Basnage and the Baylean Huguenot Refugees in the Dutch Republic [Archives Internationales d’Histoire des Idees/International Archives of the History of Ideas 107; Dordrecht, Boston, and Lancaster: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 1987], 80–81). Sorbonne censors did not allow its publication by Emery Bigot, but William Wake obtained a copy and published it in London in 1686. 69 “The Continental model of the profound scholar is a bit different from the one that we may compose for Strachey’s fellows and masters in their collegial setting. A casual reading of the eulogies of Beausobre’s continental contemporaries and near contemporaries, both Protestant and Catholic scholars, Johann Ernest Grace, Jean-Baptiste Cotelier, Johann-Albert Fabricius, the Orientalist, Etienne Fourmont, and Johann Lorenz von Mosheim, fails to discover any engagement in public life or even in pastoral functions. What moral life these men had outside the confines of the library and their university chairs, if their moral concern indeed extended beyond their immediate families, was thought by their eulogists to be hardly worthy of a reader’s notice” (Bertram E. Schwarzbach, “Politics and Ethics in the Huguenot Diaspora: Isaac de Beausobre in Berlin,” in New Essays on the Political Thought of the Huguenots of the Refuge [ed. John Christian Laursen; Leiden: Brill, 1994], 113–14). 70 On the importance of the publication of Barnabas, Goodspeed writes, “The subsequent publication of the Letter of Barnabas [i. e., subsequent to the publication of 1, 2 Clement], the Letter of Polycarp, and the Ignatian letters made it posible (sic) for Cotelier in 1672 to publish the Works of the Holy Fathers Who Flourished in Apostolic Times (temporibus Apostolicis): when Ittig in 1699 carried on that task, he called his collections a library of Apostolic Fathers (Bibliotheca Patrum Apostolicorum)” (Edgar J. Goodspeed, A History of Early Christian Literature [rev. Robert M. Grant; University of Chicago Press, repr. 1966 (11942)], 11). 71 The texts today referred to as the Apostolic Fathers were at the time virtually unknown. S. L. Greenslade explains: “Ignatius had been printed in Latin, 1498, but this and the Greek text of 1557 were in the long Recension, much interpolated in the fourth century, and considered genuine by most scholars until well on into the seventeenth century; Polycarp’s Letter was pub-

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In 1667, Minister Jean-Baptiste Colbert commissioned Cotelier, by this time a highly regarded patristic scholar and theologian, together with the eminent philologist Charles du Fresne sieur du Cange, to catalog all Greek manuscripts of the Royal library.72 At this time, Cotelier was part of an “academy of history” proposed by the abbé Bourzeis in 1666. It was Colbert’s plan to create a “grande académie” able to cover the entire realm of learning (a project that was never realized).73 Two of Cotelier’s three primary works stem from this phase in his lished in Latin, 1498, in Greek not till 1633; a bad Latin text of Hermas appeared in 1513, the Greek first in 1866; the Epistle to Diognetus came out in 1592, the genuine 1 Clement at Oxford, 1633, Barnabas in 1645, though incomplete till 1862, the Didache only in 1883. It was the lack of these texts which made possible that erroneous account of the primitive Church about which there was so much quarrelling between Catholics and Protestants” (The English Reformers and the Fathers of the Church: An Inaugural Lecture Delivered before the University of Oxford on 10 May 1960 [Oxford: Clarendon, 1960], 13). 72 Cotelier’s remarks on the Greek manuscripts in “Les Pères de l’église, les traittez et les épistles valent infiniment davantage que les homélies” (ET: “The Fathers of the Church, treaties and epistles are worth infinitely more than the homilies”) (Jean-Baptiste Cotelier, “Remarques sur les manuscrits grecs,” ca. 1667, in: Henri Auguste Omont, Missions archéologiques françaises en Orient aux XVIIe et XVIIIe, vol. 1, 30–32). The original is found in BNF MS Latin 18610, fols. 65–66. See Jacob Soli, The Information Master: Jean-Baptiste Colbert’s Secret State Intelligence System (Cultures of Knowledge in the Early Modern World; Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2009 [repr. 2011]), 218 n. 78. “In the 1660s, Colbert commissioned the great linguist Charles du Cange (1610–1688) and Jean-Baptiste Cotelier (1629–86), the cataloger of Greek manuscripts in the Royal Library and future professor of Greek at the Collége Royal, to create a state formulary, not unlike those for the intendants, to systematize the research, assessment, and purchasing of Greek manuscripts. In what is a perfect example of the bureaucratization of scholarship, it explains how to spot fakes, and how to date manuscripts by looking at writing [i. e., script] and the presence of Latin in the text. This analytical guide recommends rejecting nonecclesiastical works if they do not have ‘marks of antiquity,’ and that copies of the Old Testament were rare, and thus better to procure than New Testaments. Above all it warns, ‘You must not let escape any historical book, or any book on civil or ecclesiastical law, that is to say the canons’” (Cerny, Theology, Politics and Letters at the Crossroads of European Civilization, 105–6). 73 The project was symptomatic of the time. The seventeenth century emphasized the universal character of all knowledge. As learning extended across time and space in Europe, Britain, and elsewhere, the idea that literature could be international grew, and with it, the nomenclature of literature as an instrument of study and research. See Adrian Marino, The Biography of ‘The Idea of Literature’: From Antiquity to the Baroque (SUNY Series the Margins of Literature; New York: State University of New York Press, 1996), 172–73; Ian MacLean, Learning and the Market Place: Essays in the History of the Early Modern Book [Leiden: Brill, 2009], 404; Nicholas Dew, Orientalism in Louis XIV’s France (Oxford Historical Monographs; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 52. A letter from Henri Justel to Pierre-Daniel Huet (March, 1667): “Vous scavez qu’il y a une Academie pour les langues Orientales dont Mr l’abbe de Bourzè est le chef. Monsieur de Launay en est et un nomm[é] Capelain, le Coutelier, la Croix, Mr Derbelot, et plusieurs autres. Ils pretendent travailler sur la Bible, ce qui est assez difficile. L’ouverture de ceste Societe la a estè deja faicte. [You know that there is an academy for oriental languages, of which the abbé Bourzeis is the head. M. de Launay has been appointed to it, and one named Capelain, Le Coutelier [i. e., Jean-Baptiste Cotelier], La Croix, M. D’Herbelot, and several others. They hope to work on the bible, which is difficult. The society has already been opened.] Justel is the only source that gives us a list of names, which in itself helps us to reconstruct what the purpose of the group was (given what we know of the expertise of the different members)” (Dew, Orientalism, 55).

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career: the collection of (so-called) Apostolic Fathers and his Ecclesiæ Græcæ Monumenta, græce et latine (Paris, 1677, 1681, 1686).74 Cotelier’s collection of “Apostolic Fathers” was published in Paris by Pierre Petit (ca. 1617–1687).75 Petit became the official printer of the French academy in 1643, publishing Jansenists and other writers of the Port Royal in his years as editor-in-chief. Sadly, much of his inventory (including a majority of copies of Cotelier’s volume on the Apostolic Fathers) perished in a fire at Montaigu Collége on March 21, 1675.

II. Protestants and Patristic Texts The Reformation demanded a reevaluation of sources comprising the history of the church. Publication of a wide array of Christian texts made this possible for both scholars and the interested public.76 According to Ian Green and Kate Peters, the demand for religious books significantly rose between 1641 and 1700.77 74 His other major work, Homiliæ quatuor in Psalmos et interpretatio prophetiæ Danielis, græce et latine (Paris, 1661) – unpublished homilies of John Chrysostom was published prior to this charge. By the time of his death, Cotelier had also collected several volumes of manuscripts on Christian antiquities preserved in the Bibliothèque Nationale de France. 75 When Petit inherited the printing and bookselling business from his father-in-law, he changed the insignia and motto from Jason and the Golden Fleece (motto: tegit et quos tangit inaurat) to a gold cross (motto: in hoc signo vinces). 76 Robert M. Grant summarizes the circumstances: “During the course of the sixteenth century two trends in patristic study became evident. First, scholars were eager to publish the writings of the early Fathers in order to provide a foundation for the study of early Christianity. The most prominent among those who published such texts were Robert Étienne of Paris and the Swiss humanist Conrad Gesner. In general, the new documents were published at Paris or at Rome, for the most valuable of the manuscripts were to be found in the libraries of those centers. No early Christian writing was published in England during this period. Second, scholars had become aware that not every writing ascribed to a Father was necessarily written by him, though very little work of a genuinely critical nature supported or confounded their doubts” (After the New Testament [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1967], 4). Grant further notes, however, that: “By the end of the [seventeenth] century it was universally recognized that England, and especially Oxford, was the center of early patristic research” (5–6). 77 In a discussion of Protestant bestsellers, Green and Peters note book titles in “Short-Title Catalogues which were printed in England at least five times in a thirty-year period, and which by their character or avowed intention may be deemed ‘religious’ in the sense of expressing a personal statement of faith, imparting doctrinal or ecclesiastical information of a Protestant kind, or exhorting or helping others to adopt correct forms of Christian conduct. The growing demand for such works is indicated by the fact that only 338 of these titles appeared in the hundred years from 1536 to 1640 compared to 389 first published during the sixty years from 1641 to 1700. The size of the later Stuart market for such works may have been even larger than these figures suggest in that the official limit for editions published in the last two-thirds of the seventeenth century was for most works 2,000 copies, a third higher than the 1,500 permitted from the 1580s to the early 1630s. While many works on their first appearance were probably printed in relatively small runs, once a work had proved its popularity it was regularly published in runs up to and exceeding the permitted maximum” (Ian Green and Kate Peters, “Religious

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25

Religious book readership in England included highly educated clergymen, academics, and interested lay people with a specific interest in patristic literature: We tend to know more about the collections of the senior clergy, a number of whose libraries were catalogued at the time, in many cases for auction, and from these catalogues we know that many of them, both conformists like Ralph Cudworth and Brian Walton and nonconformists like Lazarus Seaman and John Owen, owned very large collections which were dominated by patristic writings, biblical commentaries, theology, philology, histories and controversy many of them printed on the Continent, perhaps with a leavening of literae humaniores.78

Nigel Smith argues for a noticeable shift in literature of the 1640s and 1650s prompted by the collapse of official censorship.79 Of course, de facto solidarity existed between Catholic patristic learning and anti-Puritanism.80 In such cases, Patristic writings were viewed as tradition and presumed to be trustworthy.81 Among Protestants, the tide shifted gradually. Already in 1610, Thomas James wrote a letter expressing his desire to correct corrupt Catholic editions of the Publishing in England 1640–1695,” in The Cambridge History of the Book in Britain: 1557–1695, 6 vols. [ed. John Bernard and D. F. McKenzie; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002], 4.67–93, here: 80). 78  See Green and Peters, “Religious Publishing in England 1640–1695,” 85–86. “The other main element of continuity with the pre-war period was provided by patterns of readership. There were probably changes in the relative numbers of the different types of purchaser or reader of religious publications, but the main categories of readership probably remained much the same, as may be deduced from a combination of sources.... As in the century before 1640, though perhaps on a somewhat smaller scale, there was a highly educated readership consisting mainly of clergymen and academics at the peak of their professions, but also some very wellread and curious laymen who wanted copies of the latest edition of the Bible, such as Walton’s Polyglot, and the more advanced treatises of the day, such as the nine volumes of Critici sacri that accompanied the Polyglot; and who did not mind whether these treatises were printed in England or abroad or were in English or Latin or another ancient or learned language” (85). 79 According to Green and Peters: “With the collapse of official censorship and the rapid increase in new works in the 1640s, there was, he [i. e., Smith] suggests, a ‘democratizing,’ a ‘downward dissemination’ of print. With the ending of the virtual stranglehold of the clergy on producing religious works, there was an unprecedented rise of lay authorship of such works, not least by new or newly important groups such as the Levellers, Baptists, and Quakers” (“Religious Publishing in England 1640–1695,” 68; citing Nigel Smith, Literature and Revolution in England, 1640–1660 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994), 23–24, Introduction, chs. 1, 3, 8, and idem, Perfection Proclaimed: Language and Literature in English Radical Religion 1640–1660 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989). 80 Jean-Louis Quantin, The Church of England and Christian Antiquity: The Construction of a Confessional Identity in the Seventeenth Century (Oxford-Warburg Studies; Oxford University Press, 2009), 113. 81 “According to the usual Protestant understanding of the Tridentine decrees, he [Jeremy Taylor, 1613–1667] concentrated on ‘traditive Propositions,’ that is articles with no scriptural basis than were allegedly derived from apostolic oral teaching. The Fathers were unreliable witnesses of such traditions. ‘Nothing is more usuall then for the Fathers to colour their popular opinion with so great an appellative,’ as witnessed in the question of infants’ communion” (Quantin, Church of England and Christian Antiquity, 243).

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Church Fathers. The official guidebook to a 1951 Bodleian Library exhibition states: The first Librarian had ambitious plans for the collation of the Fathers whose texts, he believed, had been deliberately corrupted by the Catholic editors [“for reformation of the ancient Fathers Workes, by Papists sundrie ways depraued”]. In this Supplication he explained and sought support for this scheme.82

James believed that Roman Catholic exegetes were polemically misinterpreting Patristic texts – the only remedy, Protestant intervention. On the other hand, some Protestants disliked Patristic texts. The English Puritan divine, Thomas Hill’s (1600) expression of Protestant dislike of “the Fathers” is typical: The Catholike Romane Religion is most plainely taught by all the auncient Fathers. (…) This is very plaine in that the Catholikes are put, and compelled by the Protestants to defend, maintaine, and upholde the credit, and authoritie of the saide Fathers; for the Protestants rayle at them, the Catholiks defend them: the Protestants refuse theyr authoritie, the Catholikes hold it for good. (…) And in naming the Protestants, I include all the Puritanes: for I am not ignorant how the saide Protestants are driven by the said puritans, to defende the Fathers, and also are called papists for theyr labour. And hereby it is manifest that the Fathers are with the Catholikes, and neyther with the Protestants, nor Puritanes.83

George Abbot (Archbishop of Canterbury, 1611–1633 and fourth Chancellor of Trinity College, Dublin, 1612–1633) however acknowledges a shifting tide: Some weaker men in a little humour have seemed to be no great favourers’ of the Fathers, ‘partly because they know them not … and partly because they have no learning to understand them. Also because they wil not be at cost to buy them, or if these impediments were removed, because they wil not take the paines to read them. But even such do daily more and more reforme their judgment.84 82 Bodleian Library in the Seventeenth Century, 23–24. The Library’s printing press was, however, in need of a greater range of types to handle Greek texts. David McKitterick explains the circumstances as follows: “In 1633 John Lichfield, who the year before Laud’s advent at Oxford had printed the fourth edition of Robert Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy, now printed the editio princeps of the Greek Epistola ad Corinthios of Pope Clement I, a text found at the end of the Codex Alexandrinus: the manuscript had arrived in England only six years previously. In order to further oriental scholarship, the university equipped itself with Hebrew and Arabic matrices from Leiden, some of which were employed by Pococke for his Specimen historiae Arabum (1648). In order to meet the demands of mid-century scholarly preoccupations with the Old Testament and its background, more Hebrew was bought from London in 1652. Oxford was gradually accumulating (albeit not entirely satisfactorily, as was soon discovered) a range of types with which to tackle complicated Greek and middle eastern texts” (“University Printing at Oxford and Cambridge,” in The Cambridge History of the Book in Britain: 1557–1695, 6 vols. [ed. John Bernard and D. F. McKenzie; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002], 4.189–205, here: 196–97). 83 Quantin, Church of England and Christian Antiquity, 109. 84 Quantin, Church of England and Christian Antiquity, 109. Certain titles garnered better prices. On minimum rates of pay for various types of works, see Mirjam M. Foot, “‘A Magnificent and Bewildering Variety’: Irish Bookbinding in the Eighteenth Century,” in Eloquent Witnesses, 206–36, here: 212.

D. From Library to Papacy and Beyond

27

By about 1640, both Catholics and Protestants had seized “the Fathers” with ardor85 both in Britain and the Continent.86 Protestants had realized their value for winning a theological debate, known to cite them especially concerning rites to the episcopacy.87 Yet a canon of “Fathers,” while growing in popularity, remained undefined. There was no authorized (not even a semi-official) list identifying writers or writings. Jean-Louis Quantin describes the perceived meaning of “Fathers” in debates between Catholics and Protestants at this time: 85  “The conviction expressed here [that of Abbé Fleury], explains the ardour with which people in seventeenth century France applied themselves to studying, editing, explaining the monuments of Christian antiquity and above all the texts of the Fathers. It also explains the specific tone of patristic studies at that time, from then on placed under a historical heading” (Quantin, “The Fathers in Seventeenth Century Roman Catholic Theology,” in The Reception of the Church Fathers in the West: From the Carolingians to the Maurists, 2 vols. [ed. Irena Backus; Leiden: Brill, 1997], 2:951–86, here: 970). Quantin summarizes the role of the ‘Fathers’ in Roman Catholic history as follows: “All in all the Fathers played a highly paradoxical role in the Catholic theology of the seventeenth century. At the beginning of the seventeenth century the Catholic Church had made them into their greatest champions against the Protestant attacks; it had based the truth of its dogmas on the extent to which they conformed to the doctrine of the Fathers and had given its disputants the task of establishing the truth of this conformity, through history. But as the century progressed historical theology and patristic scholarship increasingly threatened to curb the authority of the Church and its freedom to define and to decide. Rome responded by stamping on everything that might limit its authority and took little trouble to distinguish between that which belonged to history and that which affirmed positive theology; moreover, the very authors who were condemned, had never separated the one from the other. In consequence there was a growing rift between the attempts to return to the sources based on the works of the Fathers, on the one hand and on the other, a theological and disciplinarian movement approved by the Church. Rome spoke of authority in fallibility and promises; Jansenists and Gallicans spoke of facts, texts and documentary evidence. The faithful felt as if they had been called upon to choose between their Fathers in faith and their mother the Roman Catholic Church. The fratricidal battle which tore French Catholicism apart after the Unigenitus bull were the fruits of this divorce” (Quantin, “The Fathers in Seventeenth Century Roman Catholic Theology,” 984). 86 French and English compatibility concerning the Fathers: “Gallican scholars, who sometimes feared that religious differences might deny them access to English libraries and manuscripts, discovered that they shared with their Anglican counterparts the same veneration of the Fathers. Useful mutual services could thus be rendered. Sending his new edition of Leo the Great to the Oxonian Edward Bernard, Quesnel expressed the wish that it be enjoyed not only by Bernard himself but also by ‘the theologians of Oxford and Cambridge, and all the scholars, avengers and defenders of the Holy Fathers that the very learned England does possess.’ In 1690, John Mill wrote to the Benedictine scholar Montfaucon, whom he was providing with some variant readings of Athanasius for his edition of that saint, ‘what could be more useful and profitable to the Church than pure and corrected editions of the Holy Fathers?’” (“The Fathers in Seventeenth Century Anglican Theology,” in The Reception of the Church Fathers in the West: From the Carolingians to the Maurists, 2:987–1008, here: 994–95). 87 “Even the most radical Puritans were aware of the cultural authority of patristic learning” (Quantin, Church of England and Christian Antiquity, 108). Puritans, for example, famously deployed patristic quotations in their moralizing campaigns against the theater. William Prynne’s Histrio-mastix was a Puritan attack condemning English Renaissance theatre written in 1632. See Histrio-mastix: The Players Scourge, or, Actors Tragedie (London, 1633) (Quantin, Church of England and Christian Antiquity, 108).

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Judging by the practice and the authors cited in the sixteenth century under the name of Father, loosely distinguished at that time from that of Doctor, the Tridentine conception was very broad. It was no doubt aware of the difference between the ancient Fathers and the Scholastics in point of style and method, sometimes drawing a line at St. Bernard, but it was above all keen to underline the continuity of Church tradition, assured by Christ’s promises that it would never be without Doctors.88

For classification purposes, proposed chronology was au courant for judging the independent value of the various writings89 and chronological “proximity” to Scripture could be exaggerated or downplayed depending on your argument.90 88 Quantin, “The Fathers in Seventeenth Century Roman Catholic Theology,” 954. Philippe de Gamaches “concluded his exposé on the authority of the Fathers as follows: ‘Although this commonplace on the authority of the Fathers is understood principally to mean the ancients, this is nevertheless extended, and rightly so, to include all the Scholastics and also present day Theologians, within reason, if it is true that the Church has and will always have its Doctors, just as it will always have its pastors, regardless of the century and that the Church is a mystical body in full possession of all its members and parts’” (Quantin, “The Fathers in Seventeenth Century Roman Catholic Theology,” 954–55, citing Philippe de Gamaches, Summa Theologica [Paris: Regnault Chaudiere 1627], t. I, p. 28). 89 “Chronological classification of works was in vogue; it determined the general organization of the Bibliothecae Patrum, enormous compilations where the ‘small Fathers’ were grouped together, those Fathers that is, whose work wasn’t sufficiently sizeable to make a volume to be sold separately” (Quantin, “The Fathers in Seventeenth Century Roman Catholic Theology,” 971. Cf. Grant’s reference to major and minor Fathers: “Apostolic Fathers’ First Thousand Years,” 27. 90 The sixteenth-century view of John Jewel (1522–1571) persisted: “The Fathers are not in themselves an absolute standard, but they are positively important as a guide to the meaning of scripture, as an indication of a scriptural way of life for the Church; they have auctoritas, weight, they are to be esteemed.” S. L. Greenslade, English Reformers and the Fathers of the Church, 6–7, emphasis added. The citation continues: “They have this limited authority first because they are biblical, which means much more than that they frequently quote the Bible. It means that they breathe the spirit of the Bible, not of philosophy; they are exegetical and historical, not systematic; that they do not claim to answer unanswerable questions, that they acknowledge the limits of their understanding and are content to leave much in mystery, much to faith. This was the estimate of the Fathers which the English Reformers inherited alike from Luther and Erasmus; it did not of itself involve a breach with Rome. But secondly they are biblical in that they subordinate their own teaching to Scripture. They do not think of themselves as constituting a tradition with an authority coordinate with that of scripture.” The section begins as follows: “[Greenslade citing John Jewel (1522–1571)] ‘The first five hundred years of the church are of more worth than the whole thousand that followed afterward,’ and elsewhere, pithily, ‘I have never heard before now that Christ and his apostles were called infants.’ Here the negative use of the Fathers is turning to a positive: ‘The primitive church [says Jewel] which was under the apostles and martyrs hath evermore been counted the purest of all others without exception.’ Primitive is not a constant term. It may mean the whole five or six centuries, it may mean only the first part of them, as here, where Jewel continues: ‘And therefore the ancient fathers oftentimes appeal to the judgement thereof as unto the infallible standard and measure of truth.’” The citation concludes as follows: “So the reformers never miss an opportunity of quoting Augustine’s letter to Jerome: ‘I cannot believe that you want your books to be read as books of a prophet or apostle, whose infallibility it would be wicked to doubt,’ and other passages demonstrating, in Becon’s words, that ‘Neither do the fathers themselves in their writings require any further to be believed than their sayings be grounded and founded upon the Word of God’” (6–7).

D. From Library to Papacy and Beyond

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As expected, when Cotelier’s collection appeared,91 the collection swept across the divided theological landscape like a wildfire.92 Following the relaxation of censorship, with an emphasis on sources in ecclesiological and other theological arguments (sola Scriptura), the corpus of newly “discovered” “apostolickal” works was uncharted territory: a rich mine full of gems to be unearthed and appropriated by Catholics and Protestants alike. As “Fathers,” these texts were Scripture or scriptural for anyone desiring them so. Insofar as Polycarp’s writings are included, Cotelier more properly might have referred to his collection as “apostolic disciples,” since, according to Irenaeus (Haer. 4.32.1; cf. 4.27.1),93 that is Polycarp’s (and Diognetus’s) preferred self-referential designation.94 Although Cotelier’s aim was academic (and although he harbored serious doubts about the originating markers of the individual writings), he recognized that Colbert had commissioned the project because they were works of cultural and intellectual significance, important to his program of arts and sciences education; but more importantly, because as authoritative Christian sources, they testified to an unbroken ecclesiastical tradition of the Roman Catholic Church.95 Cotelier’s work fulfilled both of Colbert’s aims, but its title pitched directly to the second. Selecting Patrum as the substantivum regens of his title and Apostolicis as the second most striking substantive (SS. Patrum qui temporibus Apostolicis floruerunt opera), Cotelier knew that the collection would be abbreviated “Patres Apostolicis” on most spines. He also knew that this work would be cataloged in trade lists, private catalogs, and library catalogs under the first-word heading Patres. By inscribing the new volume into the most powerful collection of sources that the Church would ever know outside of Scripture, this abbreviation took advantage of the fact that the canon of “Fathers” was not yet closed. As works by “Fathers,” Cotelier’s collection immediately skyrocketed to sacred status (“SS.”). Furthermore, Cotelier selected as the second most striking substantive, the word Apostolicis in order to wedge the entire collection immediately after Biblical texts 91 Some of the collection’s most important texts had been published for the first time only recently (i. e., Epistle of Barnabas, 1645; Epistle of Polycarp, 1633; Epistles of Ignatius, 1644, 1646). 92 The Bodleian purchased this volume despite the Library’s previously anti-Catholic disposition and purpose. One might imagine that if the Library had not made it their explicit purpose to acquire as many new titles as possible and – thanks to the life and vocation of Thomas James – all titles in the area of Theology, it would not have obtained Cotelier’s volume as early as it did. See Sidney L. Jackson, “Bodley and the Bodleian: Collections, use and Administration,” 268. 93 Charles E. Hill, From the Lost Teaching of Polycarp: Identifying Irenaeus’ Apostolic Presbyter and the Author of Ad Diognetum (WUNT 186; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 147. 94 As it is also the self-reference for Quadratus and the author of the Epistle to Diognetus (11:1), which had been discovered by the time of Cotelier (Constantinople 1436), but was not included in his collection. On Quadrutus, see I. A. Dorner, History of the Development of the Doctrine of the Person of Christ (trans. W. L. Alexander; Edinburgh: Clark, 1861), 374–77. 95 On Cotelier’s reservations see Bertrand, “Jean-Baptiste Cotelier et les Pères Apostoliques?” 178–79.

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and before “Fathers” such as Tertullian and Augustine on the chronological timeline, providing further guarantee of an illustrious legacy. In short, Cotelier gave the abbreviated title to this collection when he named it, thereby coining the terminus technicus “Apostolic Fathers.” To be sure, subsequent versions of his collection (as well as related collections) modified its contents. But this observation does not disprove that Cotelier’s expression was a technical term. On the contrary, it offers additional evidence that the canon of Patres had not closed and that this fact was viewed as a theological loophole – useful in the (oftentimes) violent theological war for episcopality of the day. In an era when texts qua sources were increasingly viewed as the most formidable weapons on the theological battlefield, the Patres category was an arsenal like no other, the door of which had inadvertently been left open. Cotelier saw this opening and lunged at the opportunity to guarantee a permanent place for the contents of his volume alongside Scripture. Purchasing the volume (and demanding the standard abbreviation on its spine), Hyde and his colleagues at the Bodleian secured Cotelier’s legacy as predicted.

E. Conclusion The abbreviated title of Cotelier’s volume, Patres Apostolicis or “Apostolic Fathers” is the result of two factors – one stemming from library science and the other from theological disputation. The first factor is the substantivum regens, the rule by which longer book titles were reduced for trade lists, catalogs, and book spines – a principle fervently debated in the era of the invention of the book catalog in Britain and Europe. The second factor reflects theological debates during a time that witnessed a marked increase of enthusiasm in theological reasoning based on written sources. Patres referred to a yet unspecified group of texts historically and theologically commensurate with Scripture. These two factors figured in the original title of Jean-Baptiste Cotelier’s collection; and, with this title, Cotelier placed unparalleled value on his published collection.

Appendix A. In the Bibliographia Gallica Universalis Vol. 2 (1652–1653) in the category of “Elenchus Materiarum,” the first sections are designated as follows: Biblia Sacra.   Concilia & Decreta.   Patres.   Theologia Scholastica. Theologi Positiua & Moralis.

pagina prima pag. 2 pag. 5 pag. 8 pag. 14

Appendix B.

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Theologica Polemica, seu Controuersiae. Theologia Catechistica. Theologia Paraenetica seu Homiliae & Conciones. Theologia Ascetica, seu Libri Spirituales. Theologia Mariana. Libri Ecclesiastici. Iurisprudentia Ius Canonicum.

pag. 16. & 18 pag. 17 pag. 19 pag. 20 pag. 31 pag. 33 pag. 37 ibid.

Appendix B. Cotelier’s Table of Contents: Barnabe Epistola Catholica Graeco-Latina Pag. 15 Eadem Latinè. 55 Herme Pastor. 75 Clementis Epistola ad Corinthios prima. 145 185 Ejusdem Epistola secunda. Constitutiones Apostolorum. 201 Cotelerii & Beveregii judicia de Canonibus Apostolicis. 429 Canones Apostolici. 442 Beveregii adnotiationes ad eosdem Canones. 455 Recognitiones Clementis à Rufino. 491 Clementina Graece & Latinè. 608 Clementina Epitome de Gestis Sancti Petri 755 Martyrium Clementis. 808 Ephraimi opusculum de miraculo ad monumentum Clementis facto. 815

Series eorum quae hac secunda Parte continentur. Sancti Ignatii Epistolae verae, Graecè & Latinè. Ejusdem Ignatii Epistole interpolatae, Graece ac Latinè. Epistolae suppositiciae, Graecè & Latinè. Aliae adulterinae, Latinè. Versio vetus Latina Epistolarum genuinarum & spuriarum B. Ignatii. Similis Interpretatio Epistolarum, cùm interpolatarum, tum adscriptarum. Martyrium S. Ignatii, Graecè & Latinè. E Codicibus Regiis. S. Polycarpi Epistola, Graecè ac Latinè. Antiqua Versio illius Latina. Epistola Ecclesiae Smyrnensis de Martyrio B. Polycarpi, Graecè & Latinè. Variae Lectiones ad Hermae Pastorem. Ad libros Recognitionum. Ad Epistolam Clementis ad Iacobum Latinam. Index locorum sacrae Scripturae. Index dictionum Graecarum. Index rerum & verborum.

Pag. 847. p. 879. p. 920. p. 941. p. 943. p. 962. p. 991. p. 1005. p. 1011. p. 1015. p. 1029. p. 1030. p. 1036. p. 1037. p. 1051. p. 1063.

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Notae. Addenda & emendanda. Index ad Notas.

col. 3. c. 489. c. 501.96

Appendix C. The Hyde-Fysher Catalog 1738 Although Cotelier’s volume is not included in Hyde’s 1647 catalog,97 its entry, Patres in the 1738 edition (Hyde’s edition updated and republished by Rob Fysher) reads as follows (relevant data in bold type): v. M. Ant. Agellius. v. D. Th. Aquinas. v. Balsamon. v. Dan. Barbarus. v. La Bigne. v. Blanchet. v. Canisius. v. Catena. v. Cave.98 v. Joh. Clericus. v. Combesis. v. Comitolus. v. Concilia. v. Corderius. v. B. Cotelerius. v. Paul. Fagius. v. Fathers. v. Ghislerus. v. Grabe. … etc.

96 Cotelier’s volume: J. B. Cotelier, SS. Patrum qui temporibus apostolicis floruerunt; Barnabae, Clementis, Hermae, Ignatii, Polycarpi; Opera edita et inedita, vera et suppositicia. Una cum Clementis, Ignatii, Polycarpi Actis atque Martyriis (Paris: Petri le Petit, 1672). 97 Whether the volume had yet been purchased, received, or bound by the library is not known. According to Lincicum, the Bodleian’s copy of Cotelier’s book has a twentieth century replacement binding, making it difficult to ascertain the original binding date. 98 As Lincicum shows, William Cave’s book (which does not, according to Lincicum, use the expression “apostolic fathers”) offers a similar title: Apostolici: or, the History of the Lives, Acts, Death, and Martyrdoms of those who were Contemporary with, or immediately succeeded the Apostles (publ.: 1677). This title is listed in the Bodleian Catalog of 1674 with Cotelerius’ book under “Patres.”

Appendix C. The Hyde-Fysher Catalog 1738

33

The cross-listed entry for Cotelier’s volume in this catalog (under “COT” on p. 319) is as follows: Joan. Bapt. COTELERIUS, Societat. Sorbon. Theolog. v. J. Chrysostomus. S. S. Patrum, Barnabae, Hermae, Clementis, Ignatii & Polycarpi Opera, & trium posteriorum Acta & Martyria, cum Versionibus & Notis. Par. 1672. O. 3. 14. Th.99

99 The entry also includes the version of this work published by J. Clerici and Cotelier’s Monumenta Ecclesiae Graecae.

Chapter Three

Reception of First Corinthians in First Clement A. Introduction One of the most perplexing riddles in the study of early Christian literature today is the question of the relationship between 1 Clement and 1 Corinthians.1 The question is pressing not only because 1 Corinthians was at the top of the second-century Christian ‘bestseller list,’2 but because 1 Clement was too.3 Both letters vaulted to authoritative status within the church very early, compounding the importance of the question of their relationship. On the one hand, it is clear that the author of 1 Clement appeals to 1 Corinthians; on the other hand, the nature of that appeal is enigmatic. In some respects, Clement seems to revere his 1  In his brief and little-known essay, “‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle’: The Contrasting Fates of Paul’s Letters to Corinth in the Patristic Period” (in Reading Communities, Reading Scripture: Essays in Honor of Daniel Patte [ed. G. A. Philips and N. W. Duran; Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2002], 345–57), L. L. Welborn argues that by means of a decidedly conservative political interpretation of 1 Corinthians, 1 Clement significantly advanced the second-century (and subsequent) popularity of Paul’s letter over and against 2 Corinthians. I wish to thank Welborn for a rich dialogue on this topic. The first section of my essay is heavily reliant on these conversations and this article. The name Clement for the author of 1, 2 Clement is used throughout this essay for the sake of convenience and without bias as to the identity of the actual author. 2 Not only does Clement cite 1 Corinthians more than any other Christian text (see Donald Hagner, The Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome [NovTSup 34; Leiden: Brill, 1973], 195–209), but Ignatius and Polycarp cite it copiously too. Welborn quotes Walter Bauer: “Whenever in early Christian literature we emerge from the marshy ground of ‘reminiscences’ and ‘allusions’ to firmer territory, again and again we confront 1 Corinthians” (Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1971], 219; as cited in “‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 345–46, here: 346). Cf. William R. Schoedel re. Mart. Pol.: “Certain use of Paul by Ignatius can be established only for 1 Corinthians” (Ignatius of Antioch: A Commentary on the Letters of Ignatius of Antioch [Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1985], 9). Cf. Heinrich Rathke, Ignatius von Antiochien und die Paulusbriefe (TU 99; Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1967). 3 1 Clement also contains probably the first recorded reference to 1 Corinthians and is the best attested of the Apostolic Fathers, as far as the manuscripts are concerned. As Hagner observes, “Of all Greek writings, the epistle of Clement stands second only to the NT in the wealth of evidence available for purposes of textual criticism” (Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome, 13). 1 Clement survives in two Greek manuscripts and four versions: Codex Alexandrinus (A) and Codex Constantinopolitanus (so: Lake) or Hierosolymitanus (so: Ehrman); versions: Latin; Syriac; and two in Coptic (Kirsopp Lake, Apostolic Fathers, vol. 1 [LCL; Cambridge, MA/London: Harvard University, 1985 (11912)], 7).

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Pauline precursor; in others, he seems to openly refute it. Generically speaking, 1 Clement is correctly classified as a deliberative (συμβουλευτικός, 1 Clem. 58:2) letter.4 As such, it exemplifies the specific qualities of an epistolary plea (ἔντευξις, 1 Clem. 63:2; δέησις in 22:6; and 59:2; ἱκετεύω in 2:3; 7:7; and 48:1) for peace and concord or περὶ ὁμονοίας, as van Unnik first demonstrated.5 Toward this goal of concord, it relies on 1 Corinthians as both substructure and warrant.6 That is, 1 Clement maps a new epistolary scenario on an older authoritative one because the older model shares a similar purpose7 and was regarded as genuine and au4 Cf. 2 Clem. 19:1. Greek text and English translations are those of Kirsopp Lake (Apostolic Fathers [LCL]) or Bart Ehrman (Apostolic Fathers [LCL]); biblical citations are from the NRSV. 5 W. C. van Unnik, “Studies over de zogenaamde eerste brief van Clemens. I. Het littéraire genre,” in Mededelingen der Nederlandsche Akademie van Wetenschappen: Afdeeling Letterkunde (Nieuwe Reeks 33/4; Amsterdam: Noord Hollandische Witz., 1970). L. L. Welborn writes: “From his wide reading, van Unnik recognized how close Clement’s ‘plea for peace and concord’ was to the writings of contemporary philosophers and rhetoricians who sought, through their speeches and pamphlets, to calm the occasional outbreaks of faction in the cities of the Roman Empire. Such works, customarily entitled peri homonoias, constituted a sub-category of the symbouleutikon genos, regularly discussed by writers on rhetoric after Aristotle. Several excellent examples have come down to us from Dio of Prusa and Aelius Aristides, in which, as in 1 Clement, the authors can be seen to dissuade from stasis and promote homonoia, employing various paradeigmata and urging consideration of what is ‘beneficial’ (sympheron)” (“On the Date of 1 Clement,” BR 29 [1984]: 35–54). Important primary literature includes Aristotle, Rhet. [1.3–4, 8 and 2.18]; Dio Chrysostom, Or. 38–41; Aelius Aristides, Or. 23 and 24. On homonoia in general, see H. Kramer, Quid valeat homonoia in littens graecis (diss., Göttingen University, 1915). See the discussion of the speeches on concord in C. P. Jones, The Roman World of Dio Chrysostom (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1978), 83–94 and, on the genre in general, J. Klek, Symbuleutici qui dicitur sermonis historia critica (Kirchhain: Schmersow, 1919). In addition, 1 Clement supports the imperium Romanum. It is, therefore, more than just a model for his argument. It is a reality the author backs. Cf. Katherina Bracht, “‘Wie der Apostel sagt …’: Zur Paulus-Rezeption in Hippolyts Danielkommentar,” in Paulus – Werk und Wirkung: FS Andreas Lindemann (ed. P.-G. Klumbies and D. S. du Toit; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013); Rudolf Bultmann, “Ignatius and Paul” in Existence and Faith: Shorter Writings of Rudolf Bultmann (ed. Schubert M. Ogden; Cleveland and New York: Meridian/World, 1960), 267–77. 6 Whereas Robert M. Grant emphasizes similarities with Paul’s letter, Lightfoot’s otherwise capacious treatment of all aspects of the text avoids this topic. See Grant and Holt H. Graham, First and Second Clement, vol. 2, The Apostolic Fathers: A New Translation and Commentary (New York: Nelson & Sons, 1965); J. B. Lightfoot, The Apostolic Fathers, vol. 1. “Clement” (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1989 = 2 parts in 5 vols. [11890]). Preliminarily, both works have the same primary topic: division within a community based on allegiance to different leaders. They each deal with bodily resurrection and love. They emphasize Moses over Abraham. They insist on a lineage of revelation that validates present leaders. See Welborn, “‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 345. 7 “What made 1 Corinthians so valuable to the author of 1 Clement was Paul’s censure of the Corinthian factions and his appeal for Christian unity (1 Cor 1:10–13). Whatever Clement appropriates from 1 Corinthians makes a point against the factious: 1 Cor 1:11–13 (1 Clem. 47:3); 1 Cor 12:12 ff. (1 Clem. 37:5–38:1); even a portion of Paul’s praise of love in 1 Cor 13:4–7 (1 Clem. 49:5) and his proof of the resurrection in 1 Cor 15:20–23, 36–37 (1 Clem. 24:1, 4–5, 37:3). The author of 1 Clement found in Paul’s appeal for reconciliation the warrant for his attempt to impose ‘peace and concord’ upon the troubled Corinthian community (1 Clem. 63:2; 65:1)” (Welborn, “‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 350). Contra Barbara

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thoritative, particularly on the topic of στάσις. Paul’s attack on factionalism in 1 Corinthians explains virtually every aspect of his letter.8 1 Corinthians, therefore, provides any later divisive Christian community with a rich, authoritative source for encouraging reconciliation. Yet Clement far from descends to slavish copying; the two letters possess important differences.9 On formal grounds, the way in which 1 Clement depends on 1 Corinthians is two-fold. First, it relies on its structural elements, including its epistolary form and rhetorical species, its prescript and postscript, and its occasion – the outbreak of a faction. Second, it echoes seminal content of Paul’s first letter to Corinth – citing and alluding, yet also qualifying and emending it – and featuring one allusion to the letter qua letter.10 This essay discusses the precise nature of these correspondences for what they reveal about 1 Clement’s overall purpose. Ultimately, it concludes that, like canonical Acts and the Pastorals, 1 Clement shares a revisionist historical relationship to its Pauline predecessor. Ellen Bowe who argues against Bauer’s thesis that 1 Clement reflects a Roman attempt to establish its hegemony over Corinth. Bowe rather interprets the letter as intended to “strengthen the communal bonds between these two churches which are viewed as equals.” She, however, admits that Corinth’s compliance would enhance Rome’s reputation (A Church in Crisis: Ecclesiology and Paraenesis in Clement of Rome [Harvard Dissertations in Religion 23; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989], 157). Donald A. Hagner observes, “It is not surprising that the NT writing best attested in Clement’s epistle is Paul’s First Epistle to the Corinthians. Not only did both epistles have the same destination, both were written for the same purpose: to restore order and unity to a strife-torn church. It is therefore easily understandable that Clement often alludes to, and indeed makes explicit reference to the Apostle’s letter which the Corinthian Church had received probably a mere forty years earlier” (Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome, 195. Cf. Horacio E. Lona, Der erste Clemensbrief [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998], 49).  8 See Margaret M. Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation: An Exegetical Investigation of the Language and Composition of 1 Corinthians (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1992), esp. 138–40 and 250–56.  9 Welborn observes that it is when Ignatius cites 1 Corinthians to different, even contrary, purposes from Paul that we learn how profoundly this letter had infiltrated the second-century Christian imagination (“‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 345). 10 Clement assumes 1 Corinthians is available in both Corinth and Rome. Older but still influential works concerning the influence of Paul on 1 Clement include A. E. Barnett, Paul Becomes a Literary Influence (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1941); H. Koester, Synoptische Überlieferung bei den Apostolischen Vätern (TU 65; Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1957); A. Lindemann, Paulus im ältesten Christentum: Das Bild des Apostels und die Rezeption der paulinishchen Theologie in der frühchristlichen Literatur bis Marcion (BHT 58; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1979); and the monograph by Donald A. Hagner, Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome (see n. 4). Relatively recent and important articles on the topic include Andrew Gregory, “1 Clement and the Writings that Later Formed the New Testament,” in The Reception of the New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers (ed. A. Gregory and C. M. Tuckett; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 129–57; A. Lindemann, “Paul’s Influence on ‘Clement’ and Ignatius,” in Trajectories through the New Testament and Apostolic Fathers (ed. A. F. Gregory and C. M. Tuckett; Oxford: Oxford University, 2005), 9–24. See also sections of commentaries by A. Lindemann, Die Clemensbriefe (HNT 17; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992), 18–20 and Lona, Der erste Clemensbrief, 48–58.

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B. History of Scholarship Recent history of scholarship on 1 Clement begins with the important monograph by van Unnik noted above.11 In this book, van Unnik argues that 1 Clement exemplifies the rhetorical species of a deliberative letter on the topic of peace and concord. Comparative evidence includes the orations of Dio Chrysostom (e. g., 49.6; 40.26; 39.2), Plutarch’s Garr. 17 and Alex. fort. 1.9, and Lucian’s Hermot. 22.12 During the 1980s, both Margaret M. Mitchell and Laurence L. Welborn incorporated van Unnik’s primary insight into their own work on 1 Corinthians.13 Over the course of two articles, Welborn argued that aspects of 1 Corinthians reflect a deliberative discourse on peace.14 In her first major monograph, Mitchell argued that the entire text of 1 Corinthians evinces this rhetorical form.15 It is probably no exaggeration to state that these works established a scholarly assumption about 1 Corinthians that remains in place today. The approach is not, however, without its difficulties. While nearly every part of Paul’s argument in 1 Corinthians can be understood within the macro-frame of a deliberative letter, few speeches are pure instances of a single type. Moreover, Paul was a master of subverting expectations. Limiting our discussion to the Corinthian correspondence, chapter 13 offers an obvious example. It is an encomium on love – a form popularized by Plato in both the Phaedrus and the Symposium. Yet in it Paul does not praise ἔρως, as one might expect, but ἀγάπη. Likewise, in 1 Corinthians 15, Paul constructs a proof of bodily resurrection. The rhetorical form he adopts for this argument – popularized by Plato’s Phaedo16 – is that of the reasoned proof. However, Plato famously used the reasoned proof to defend his theory of the immortality of the soul. 2 Corinthians 1–7 offers a third example. Various Stoic writings address the problem of pain with regard to wisdom (λύπη [Greek]; dolor [Latin]). Stoic ethics – emphasizing life in accordance with nature and controlled by virtue – taught indifference (ἀπάθεια) to everything external, including pain. According to Stoic doctrine, the truly wise person is unaffected by pain. In 2 Corinthians, Paul argues that the τὰ παθήματα 11 See W. C. van Unnik, “Studies on the So-called First Letter of Clement: The Literary Genre,” in Encounters with Hellenism: Studies on the First Letter of Clement (ed. Cilliers Breytenbach and L. L. Welborn; Leiden: Brill, 2004), 163–64; cf. Laurence L. Welborn, “Clement, First Epistle of,” ABD (Garden City: Doubleday, 1992), 1:1055–60, here: 1057–59. 12 Van Unnik, “Studies on the So-called First Letter of Clement,” 146–51. 13 Although Robert M. Grant was the one who introduced Welborn to van Unnik’s work, since it was published at roughly the same time Hans Dieter Betz was making breakthroughs in the application of rhetorical criticism to the New Testament, Betz was also influential on Welborn and Mitchell, both Ph.D. students at Chicago. 14 L. L. Welborn, “On the Discord in Corinth: 1 Corinthians 1–4 and Ancient Politics,” JBL 106 (1987): 85–111; “A Conciliatory Principle in 1 Cor 4:6,” NovT 29 (1987): 320–46. 15 Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, esp. 1–19, 33–64. 16 Cf. also Cicero’s use of the form.

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τοῦ Χριστοῦ (1:5) overflow into believers, specifying that ἡ κατὰ θεὸν λύπη (7:10) brings about salvation.17 All three examples underscore the same point: when Paul adopts a well-known ancient rhetorical form or topos, he rarely deploys it in the expected manner. In these three passages, his adaptation might even be understood as subversive. American literary critic and Sterling Professor of Humanities at Yale University, Harold Bloom describes the operative principle in such cases as intentional misreading: “strong poets,”18 according to Bloom, deliberately swerve away from a precursor.19 Returning to the history of scholarship, Welborn and Mitchell correctly identified 1 Corinthians as a deliberative letter on the topic of peace and concord. What neither of these two scholars puts forward, however, is that Paul subverts the form that he adopts, exploding it, as in the examples above, from the inside out. Although the deliberative genre developed into a recognizable form in the context of Greek democratic or quasi-democratic (oligarchic) assemblies dealing with public policy,20 Roman period deliberative letters exhorting peace and concord demonstrate clear preference for a hegemonic approach to political harmony.21 In the Roman imperial system, submission quickly evolves as the chief means of achieving concord. In contrast, Paul reflects a more Greek argument for peace in 1 Corinthians. His strategy does not rely on him, but proceeds from the more democratic or oligarchic structure of his congregation (“the body of Christ”) – that is, from the large to the smaller, more detailed units (his own included).22 On the topic of leadership, Paul presents himself as primus inter pares together with Apollos. They are farmworkers in God’s field and construction 17 ἡ γὰρ κατὰ θεὸν λύπη μετάνοιαν εἰς σωτηρίαν ἀμεταμέλητον ἐργάζεται· ἡ δὲ τοῦ κόσμου λύπη θάνατον κατεργάζεται (2 Cor 7:10). 18 The Anxiety of Influence: A Theory of Poetry (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 21997 [11973]), 9, 19, 89, etc. 19 The author swerves away from a precursor, implying that the prior work was accurate only up to this point (Anxiety of Influence, 14). 20 Demosthenes, for example, railed against despots such as Philip. As a member of the aristocracy, he argued on behalf of the oligarchy. 21 See the list and definitions in Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 22, 78 esp. n. 72. 22 Welborn prefers oligarchy (“‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 350–51). Schoedel emphasizes the influence of the Greek political ideal of ὁμόνοια on Ignatius (Ignatius of Antioch, 8). Mitchell argues that Clement understands and appreciates his precursor’s argument (Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 17). While this may be true, the present essay will differ from Mitchell insofar as she sees 1 Clement adopting 1 Corinthians wholesale, whereas I am convinced that Clement deliberately subverts Paul’s project in order to bring it into adherence with Roman political ideology. Concord for Paul is democratic or perhaps (with Welborn) oligarchic; concord for Clement is clearly hegemonic (see below). With reference to the work of Werner Jaeger (Early Christianity and Greek Paideia [Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1961], 15), van Unnik (1970), and Bowe (1988), Mitchell states: “As much as these scholars are correct in their analysis of 1 Clement, they are perhaps too quick to give the credit for the initial application of Greco-Roman political ideals to the Christian church to that author, instead of to Paul, whose 1 Cor perhaps provided both the impetus and the paradigm for that

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workers in God’s household.23 “All things,” Paul writes, “belong” to the Corinthians: πάντα γὰρ ὑμῶν ἐστιν.24 The congregation is to be “united in the same mind and the same judgment” (ἦτε δὲ κατηρτισμένοι ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ νοῒ καὶ ἐν τῇ αὐτῇ γνώμῃ, 1 Cor 1:10). In view of contemporary peace politics, Paul’s phrase, ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ νοΐ (synonymous with ὁμόνοια) is acutely ironic since, as a Roman political ideal, like-mindedness (cf. partnership, κοινωνία or union, ἕνωσις) describes a good citizen’s imitation of his dictator, not his fellow cult members.25 As with the body metaphor (1 Cor 12:23) in which the disreputable parts are owed the greater honor, Paul exhorts his churches to imitate certain advisors, then turns around and exhorts these very advisors to, in turn, relinquish, rather than assert their right to govern.26 In terms of the history of scholarship, such an oligarchic, as opposed to hegemonic, deliberative exhortation to peace corresponds well with Dale Martin’s interpretation of 1 Corinthians. In his book, The Corinthian later work. In fact, much of what they say about 1 Clement is directly applicable to 1 Cor, as we shall see” (17 n. 58). 23 This passage follows another of Paul’s inverted topoi: that of the wise man as as fool: εἴ τις δοκεῖ σοφὸς εἶναι ἐν ὑμῖν ἐν τῷ αἰῶνι τούτῳ, μωρὸς γενέσθω, ἵνα γένηται σοφός (3:18). 24 “Clement understood Paul’s admonition that the Corinthians ‘all say the same thing’ … and that they ‘be united in the same mind and the same judgment’ … in terms of the ideal of ‘concord’ (homonoia) which dominated Roman political philosophy … That Paul’s phrase ‘in the same mind’ … might plausibly be interpreted as equivalent to ‘concord’ (homonoia) is demonstrated by the definition of ‘concord’ given by Iamblichus in his Epistle on Concord: ‘Concord (homonoia), as the name itself indicates, is a bringing together of the same mind …, a partnership … and a union … in itself,’ (Diels: 356). But as one reads 1 Clement, one soon discovers that Clement’s ideal of ‘concord’ is very different form the ‘oneness’ for which Paul appeals. Paul’s proclamation of the crucified Messiah in 1 Cor 1:18–2:9 subverts the ideology sustaining the political order of the Roman Empire (Patte: 260, 326–28; Georgi: 52). Taken to its logical conclusion, Paul’s ‘word of the cross’ leads to a radical democratization of power. As Paul informs his Corinthian readers, the majority of whom lack education, wealth, and noble birth (1 Cor 1:26), ‘All things are yours!’ (1 Cor. 3:21). Clement’s ideal of ‘peace and concord,’ by contrast, is oligarchic in character: it consists in submission to recognized authorities (1 Clem. 44:3–6; 47:6). The church at Rome intervenes in a conflict in the church at Corinth (Cauwelaert: 267–306), not merely to urge all parties to seek peace and reconciliation, but to take sides in the dispute with a group of deposed presbyters. The author of the Roman epistle insists upon harsh measures: the exile of the young persons who have raised the rebellion (1 Clem. 54:1–4; cf. 1:1; 3:3; 47:6) and the restoration of the old presbyters to office, apparently against the will of the majority (1 Clem. 44:3–6). The ‘concord’ which Clement seeks to establish in the Corinthian church is the oligarchic order recommended by Roman political philosophers and defended by the Roman military (van Unnik: 29–33; see also Amit; Béranger; Levick; Jones; Alders)” (Welborn, “‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 350–51; elipses represent unexceptional transliterated Greek). 25 See Welborn (citing Iamblichus, Epistle on Concord): “‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 350 (see previous note). Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 68–80, esp. 76–80. Cf. Donald Dale Walker, Paul’s Offer of Leniency (2 Cor 10:1) (WUNT 2.152; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002). 26 Correspondingly, the church obeys spiritual laws first – as often renouncing as defending her rights. Paul generally does not put forward legal ethical models, but rather virtue-based (overlapping with the Stoics), although in 1 Corinthians 5  – the incident in which a man is sleeping with his father’s wife – Paul asserts an overlap between Christian and pagan virtue.

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Body,27 Martin argues that in conflicts between the strong and the weak, Paul takes the side of the weak.28 Summarizing the history of research, although Paul adopts a rhetorical model that, in his day typically staged “pleas” for peace that were backed by the Roman imperial army, he inverts this form, explicitly rejecting force as the necessary, let alone correct, means by which such a goal is achieved.29 He is, thus, consistent in his adoption of micro‑ and macro-rhetorical forms across the Corinthian correspondence, the upshot of which is a construction of Christian community in deliberate nonconformity with Roman social and political order.30

C. Exegetical Analysis If we apply these observations to the relationship between 1 Corinthians and 1 Clement, it is immediately apparent that Clement adopts the 1 Corinthians model mutatis mutandis, namely without the reversal. Clement reverses Paul’s reversal.31 Van Unnik was not wrong that 1 Clement represents deliberative rhetoric exhorting hegemonic concord; yet, Clement does not adopt the model indiscriminately.32 How he borrows this model – in particular, the relationship of B. Martin, The Corinthian Body (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995). summarizes: “I argue that Paul takes issue with the corporeal hierarchy of upper-class ideology, substituting in its place a topsy-turvy value system that reflects, in his view, the logic of apocalypticism and loyalty to a crucified Messiah” (Corinthian Body, xvii; cf. 55–56). The three positions may be seen as complementary: Welborn and Mitchell demonstrate the adherence of 1 Corinthians to the deliberative format by focusing on similarity through positive comparison; whereas, Martin establishes difference through parallels of a primarily negative type. A detailed comparison of these contributions is not the aim of this essay; it remains an important scholarly desideratum. This preliminary background is sufficient for examining Clement’s use of 1 Corinthians, the point to which we now turn. Coming down closer to the opinion of Martin than Welborn and Mitchell, Yung Suk Kim argues that body language in 1 Corinthians criticizes political realities in the early church (Christ’s Body in Corinth: The Politics of a Metaphor [Paul in Critical Contexts; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2008]). 29 Elsewhere, he describes this mechanism as power made perfect in weakness; see 2 Cor 12:9; cf. 1 Cor 2:3, 5; 2 Cor 12:1, 5. 30 Owing to the royal prerogative of the kyrios, democritization cannot be pressed too far. As Paul says in Romans, who are we to criticize another of the Lord’s slaves? Elements of this prerogative are also evident in 1 Corinthians with the figures of Paul and Apollos. Paul’s point to the church in Corinth seems to be: you are not mine, nor Peter’s or anyone else’s: we are all Christ’s. The gospel smashes key distinctions of hegemony – but it does so under a recognized royal rule. No prerogatives other than Christ can exist in such a situation; hence, Paul’s strategy of inversion. 31 On one hand, reversing Paul’s argument might be understood as anti-Pauline. On another hand, Clement’s reversal of Paul is itself Pauline insofar as Clement is adopting Paul’s rhetorical strategy of reversal toward texts. 32 “The author of 1 Clement was not content merely to repeat Paul’s appeal for unity. Clement develops Paul’s thought in a direction which makes conservative political implications explicit. At points, Clement’s purposes are achieved simply by adding technical terms such as ‘discord’ 27 Dale

28 Martin

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his letter to Paul’s – constitutes the remaining subject of this essay.33 I will attempt to demonstrate that Clement is both profoundly Pauline and profoundly not so, adding to the spectrum (from unqualified support to passionate rejection) of second-century views on Paul a mixed position that is not unlike that held by the author of Luke-Acts, in which Paul’s legacy is valued enough to be defended, revised, and reimagined. In order to coopt the authority, yet neutralize any unnecessarily subversive aspect of 1 Corinthians, Clement adopts a strategy of inter-textual rewriting. 1 Clement is not a replacement text for 1 Corinthians, although it shares an essential feature of this sub-genre:34 it convincingly imitates the model (i. e., generic and other structural similarities) enough to persuade audiences that it simply restates its eminent forerunner in light of new historical exigencies. Style and content are now treated in turn.

(stasis) and ‘madness’ (aponoia) to the language that Paul uses; terms that make the political character of the disturbance in the church manifest (see Mikat: 22–40). Thus, Clement takes a term such as ‘strife’ (eris), which Paul had used to describe the underlying, emotional cause of faction (1 Cor 1:11; 3:3), and couples it with ‘discord’ (stasis) (1 Clem. 3:2; 14:2; 54:2). Especially significant are those instances in which Clement combines ‘discord’ (stasis) epexegetically with ‘division’ (schisma), Paul’s term to describe the rift in the body politic (1 Clem. 2:6; 46:9; see the discussion in Rohde: 217–33). Similarly, ‘dissension’ (dichostasia), Paul’s term for 1 Cor 3:3, is found together with stasis as a synonym in 1 Clem. 51:1” (Welborn, “‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 351). 33 In his essay, Welborn references a handful of the most seminal passages in which Clement reverses the message of 1 Corinthians, including Clement’s addition of strife language, his reversion of body metaphor, his anti-schismatic modifications of Paul’s love poem and eschatological proof, and his metaphors from military life. My aim is merely to augment Welborn’s argument with details, in the hope to make it more complete (“‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 351–52). 34  The composition of a replacement text is a sub-strategy with numerous distinguished exemplars. A replacement text, while its aim was to “replace,” did not require annihilation or even obviation of the Urtext but could exist alongside its predecessor as a kind of reading guide. See esp. Annette Merz, Die fiktive Selbstauslegung des Paulus: Intertextuelle Studien zur Intention und Rezeption der Pastoralbriefe (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004); Robert Matthew Calhoun, “The Resurrection of the Flesh in Third Corinthians,” in Christian Body, Christian Self: Concepts of Early Christian Personhood (ed. C. K. Rothschild and T. W. Thompson; WUNT 284; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 235–57. Calhoun argues that the author rewrites Paul’s description of spiritual resurrection in 1 Corinthians 15, since the orthodox were coming down on the side of a resurrection of the flesh. It is as old as the rewritten law codes (Holiness Code) and prophecies (especially Isaiah) of the Jewish Bible and occurs among early Christian texts also (2 Thessalonians, Ephesians). E. g., Jeffrey Stackert, Rewriting the Torah: Literary Revision in Deuteronomy and the Holiness Legislation (FAT 52; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007). Paul’s imitation of the strategy is more various; he tends to rewrite himself (1 Cor 5:9; Phil 3:1). See Margaret M. Mitchell, Paul, the Corinthians and the Birth of Christian Hermeneutics (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010).

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D. Style – Epistolary Elements 1 Clement corresponds to 1 Corinthians in both formal aspects and occasion.35 Although the letter does not claim to be written by Paul (or even by Clement for that matter) – but by the church of God sojourning or dwelling temporarily in Rome (ἡ ἐκκλησία τοῦ θεοῦ ἡ παροικοῦσα Ῥώμην)36 – similarities between the prescripts and postscripts suggest that 1 Clement maps its argument on Paul’s letter. To begin with, 1 Clem. 1:1 corresponds to 1 Cor 1:2 (adscriptio): “To the church of God” and “in Corinth.” The epithets used for the church members in the two letters also correspond: κλητοί (“those called”) and ἡγιασμένοι (“made holy”) by “our Lord Jesus Christ,” with the minor exception that Paul separates “those called” (“saints”) in Corinth from “those called” but living elsewhere,37 whereas 1 Clement collapses the two phrases, adding (as noted) that the believers in Corinth only dwell there temporarily (παροικοῦσα). Clement’s postscript exhibits at least four similarities to 1 Corinthians. First, Clement expresses greetings to Fortunatus (65:1), a person Paul mentions by name in 1 Cor 16:17. Second, he also greets Claudius Ephebus and Valerius Vito. If these individuals are, as Lightfoot suggests, the slaves manumitted by Claudius and his wife, Valeria, they are people known to have lived in Paul’s day. While these references may be coincidental, they are probably intended to connect this letter to 1 Corinthians by suggesting that it was composed within a decade or so. 1 Clem. 5:1 internally dates itself to this period: But to stop giving ancient examples, let us come to those who became athletic contenders [Peter, Paul] in quite recent times (ἔγγιστα). We should consider the noble examples of our own generation (τῆς γενεᾶς ἡμῶν).38 35 Contrast the view of Clayton N. Jefford: “Like those New Testament letters that are clearly ‘letter-like’ in format, but not so closely patterned according to Pauline guidelines, the author of 1 Clement has written to the Corinthian church in an acceptable style of ancient epistolography, but has not chosen to use any particular Pauline features beyond the required greeting and concluding blessing” (The Apostolic Fathers and the New Testament [Peabody, MA; Hendrickson, 2006], 43). 36  The author puts the entire burden of persuasion on Paul’s identity and authority and on the strength of Paul’s arguments; his anonymity is perhaps a nod to Paul, even though he tries to subvert his message. All manuscript evidence for 2 Clement connects it to 1 Clement, viewing both as letters of Clement of Rome to a church in Corinth. See, e. g., C. Tuckett, 2 Clement: Introduction, Text, and Commentary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 14, 59–60. Cf. Adolf W. Ziegler, Neue Studien zum ersten Klemensbrief (München: Manz, 1958), 95–101. 37 τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ τοῦ θεοῦ, ἡγιασμένοις ἐν Χριστῷ  Ἰησοῦ, τῇ οὔσῃ ἐν Κορίνθῳ, κλητοῖς ἁγίοις, σὺν πᾶσιν τοῖς ἐπικαλουμένοις τὸ ὄνομα τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν  Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ ἐν παντὶ τόπῳ αὐτῶν καὶ ἡμῶν (1 Cor 1:2). 38 Cf. 1 Clem. 47:3. Through verisimilitude, the Latin names the author greets in the postscript perpetuate the fictive epistolary situation. Good forgeries anticipate attacks on their authenticity. The greater the number of verisimilitudinous devices a pseudonymous text has, the more likely the author anticipated this charge. 1 Clement’s selective use of Paul’s letters, emphasizing 1 Corinthians, is another aspect of its pseudepigraphal strategy. Elements such as:

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Third, descriptions of the envoys in 1 Clem. 65:1 (i. e., “send back” the three envoys, “in peace”)39 echo 1 Corinthians: “Send him on his way in peace” (προπέμψατε δὲ αὐτὸν ἐν εἰρήνῃ, 1 Cor 1:11). Fourth, the same can be said of the extension of grace in 1 Clem. 65:2 (cf. 1 Cor 16:23)40 and of the phrase, “and with all those everywhere who are called by God through him” (1 Clem. 65:2b;),41 although the latter appears in Paul’s prescript as opposed to his postscript (i. e., 1 Cor 1:2, “with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours”).42 In sum, both the prescript and the postscript of 1 Clement strongly suggest that the author of 1 Clement is imitating 1 Corinthians. 1 Clement and 1 Corinthians also share the occasion of στάσις (1 Cor 5:5; 1 Clem. 54:2).43 As Margaret Mitchell shows, Paul links the man sleeping with his father’s wife (γυναῖκά τινα τοῦ πατρὸς ἔχειν) in 1 Cor 5:1 to the problem of στάσις in the community by means of the broader allegation of boasting (cf. 1 Cor 5:2).44 According to Paul, the harmony of the community relies on its social mixture that, if tainted, results in stasis. Paul uses the analogy of yeast in a lump of dough (1 Cor 5:6; cf. Gal 5:9)45 to connote the problem of disease in a body.46 Mitchell notes instances in the ancient medical literature47 whereby social, like human, bodies require balance for wellness.48 Similarly, 1 Clement recommends that one member of the community (or perhaps two, [47:6]) must be ejected to restore peace: It is shameful, loved ones, exceedingly shameful and unworthy of your conduct in Christ, that the most secure and ancient church of the Corinthians is reported to have created a faction against its presbyters, at the instigation of one or two persons. (47:6) (1) stasis of precisely the type Paul faced in Corinth (only conceivably recurring immediately after Paul died); (2) friends, such as Fortunatus (1 Cor 16:17, only conceivably alive for a decade or two after Paul died); and (3) limited citation of the corpus Paulinum indicating a time period right after Paul was martyred contributed to the letter’s eventual attribution to Clement (Phil 4:3). I am grateful to Trevor W. Thompson for a discussion of these ideas. See J. B. Lightfoot, Apostolic Fathers, 1:27. 39  Cf. 1 Clem. 65:1. 40 Cf. ἡ χάρις τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν  Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ μεθ’ ὑμῶν (1 Clem. 65:2) with ἡ χάρις τοῦ κυρίου  Ἰησοῦ μεθ’ ὑμῶν (1 Cor 16:23). 41 Καὶ μετὰ πάντων πανταχῆ τῶν κεκλημένων ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ δι’ αὐτοῦ. 42 Σὺν πᾶσιν τοῖς ἐπικαλουμένοις τὸ ὄνομα τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν  Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ ἐν παντὶ τόπῳ αὐτῶν καὶ ἡμῶν. 43 See n. 37. 44 Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 228–29. καὶ ὑμεῖς πεφυσιωμένοι ἐστέ, καὶ οὐχὶ μᾶλλον ἐπενθήσατε, ἵνα ἀρθῇ ἐκ μέσου ὑμῶν ὁ τὸ ἔργον τοῦτο ποιήσας (1 Cor 5:2). 45 For Paul, this analogy likely refers to Exod 12:18–20, the prohibition against leavened bread at Passover – a reference to the danger retaining the smallest amount of something old in something new. 46 Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 229. 47 See Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 228–30; cf. 112–16. 48 N.b. στάσις, in ancient texts, frequently refers to disease in the body. See Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 158 and n. 564.

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In both cases, boasting is also at issue. Paul notes that in response to the man sleeping with his father’s wife, the Corinthians exhibit pride when they should in fact mourn (1 Cor 5:2). 1 Clem. 13:1 exhorts: Let us therefore be lowly minded, brothers, laying aside all arrogance and conceit and folly and anger, and let us do what is written. For the Holy Spirit says, “Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, nor the strong in his strength, neither the rich in his riches; but he that boasts let him boast in the Lord, that he may seek Him out, and do judgment and righteousness.”

These correspondences of occasion, together with similarities of both prescripts and postscripts, suggest the deliberate literary orientation of 1 Clement on or around 1 Corinthians – Paul’s letter serving as model par excellence for the later author.

E. Content – Literary Allusions 1 Clement reflects the style and content of the Urtext enough to persuade audiences that its adoption represents an improvement at least for present purposes.49 The majority of verbal parallels in 1 Clement allude to 1 Corinthians.50 What follows is an examination of how these allusions are adapted to the new circumstances of 1 Clement. We begin with Clement’s famous allusion to 1 Corinthians qua letter. 49 This essay will not delineate parameters of citation, allusion, echo, and whisper. Careful work in this area remains a desideratum of scholarship, notwithstanding Richard B. Hays’s study: Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989). Annette Merz and Nicole Franck speak about Paul’s letters used as “reference works.” Elsewhere, I describe Hebrews as a “reading guide” to Romans. The present essay addresses a wide range of points of interaction between 1 Clement and 1 Corinthians, from structural elements to verbal imitation. Verbal imitation, in turn, covers a range, from verbatim citation with implied referentiality (i. e., intentionally invoking the prior text in order that readers consider the citation qua citation) to ephemeral echoes. Until further work is done on the theory and practice of intertextuality, I will not delineate lines of specificity between the various types of verbal imitation, rather referring to them all as “allusions.” Since Hays’s study, the classification, “allusion,” may have narrowed in sematic domain. I will, however, use it in its prior, broader sense, incorporating varying amounts of verbatim agreement. A. J. Carlyle asserts that 1 Clement’s New Testament references are “made from memory” (The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1905], 42). 50 Hagner, Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome; A. Lindemann, “Paul in the Writings of the Apostolic Fathers,” in Paul and the Legacies of Paul (ed. W. S. Babcock; Dallas: Southern Methodist University, 1990), 25–45; idem, “Paul’s Influence on ‘Clement’ and Ignatius,” ch. 1 in companion volume; idem, Paulus im ältesten Christentum; idem, “Der Apostel Paulus im 2. Jahrhundert,” in The New Testament in Early Christianity (ed. J.-M. Sevrin; BETL 86; Leuven: Leuven University, 1989), 39–67; D. K. Rensberger, “As the Apostle Teaches: The Development of the Use of Paul’s Letters in Second-Century Christianity” (Ph.D. dissertation, Yale University, 1981); Cf. the older study, The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers (ed. A. J. Carlyle, for the Committee of the Oxford Society of Historical Theology; Clarendon: Oxford, 1905).

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I. 1 Corinthians as Rhetorical Artifact 1 Clem. 47:1 exhorts readers to take up “the letter of the blessed Paul, the apostle,” inquiring by means of a rhetorical question: “What did he write to you at first, at the beginning of his proclamation of the gospel?” Next, the author echoes the details of the circumstances in Corinth from 1 Cor 1:12:51 “To be sure, he sent you a letter in the Spirit concerning himself and Cephas and Apollos, since you were even then engaged in partisanship” (1 Clem. 47:3). These references to the letter and occasion of 1 Corinthians have at least two strategic effects. First, they recognize Paul and 1 Corinthians as authoritative, drawing the present epistle into explicit association with each. Second, they usher 1 Corinthians into the foreground as readers reflect on this letter. The author characterizes the present primarily in terms of the former circumstances. Vv. 4–7 spell out a comparison between the two letters, but only to emphasize that the present situation is much graver than the one Paul addressed.52 At a minimum, this comparison between the two letters implies that Clement expected his opponents to be responsive to Paul. Its persuasiveness relies on their high estimation of his first letter to Corinth. Clement attempts to turn their affection back on them. By factionalizing, the author argues, they emulate not Paul, a leader who sought to remedy factionalizing, but Paul’s Corinthian congregation – those whose offensive behavior forced Paul to write disapprovingly to them. Paul’s letter is proof of Paul’s stance as a faction fighter and thus provides the ideal rebuke against faction-provoking Paulinists.

II. Parallels 1 Clement also incorporates numerous verbal allusions to 1 Corinthians.53 The following list shares most passages in common with lists published by the Oxford Society and Robert M. Grant:54 51 Paul writes: “What I mean is that each of you says, ‘I belong to Paul,’ or ‘I belong to Apollos,’ or ‘I belong to Cephas,’ or ‘I belong to Christ’” (1 Cor 1:12). 52 See 1 Clem. 1:6, δοκιμάζω in 1 Clem. 1:2; 42:4; 1 Cor 3:13; 16:3. 53 Romans, Philippians, 1 Timothy, Ephesians, Titus, Galatians, Colossians, 1 Thessalonians, and 2 Timothy are cited. Allusions to Hebrews are also clear; Hebrews may be perceived as Pauline by the author of 1 Clement. Whereas Lindemann, Lona, and Carlyle prefer to assert Clement’s secure knowledge of only Romans and 1 Corinthians, Hagner argues that the author of 1 Clem. knows “the greater part, if not the whole, of the Pauline corpus” (Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome, 237). According to Welborn, “1 Corinthians is cited repeatedly (24:1; 35:5–6; 37:5–38:2; 47; 49:5–6) in 1 Clement” (“Clement, Epistle of,” ABD 1:1056). While 1 Corinthians takes center stage in 1 Clement, the author is certainly aware of other parts of the corpus Paulinum including Hebrews. 54 Robert M. Grant, The Apostolic Fathers (New York: Thomas Nelson & Sons, 1965), 2:103–4.

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Chart 1. 1 Clement’s Allusions to 1 Corinthians55 1 Corinthians 1 Clement  1:1–3 Sal.  1:11–13 47:1A  1:31 13:1  2:9 34:8C   2:10 40:1C (depths of God)  4:10 3:3  4:14 7:1   5:27 30:1 (standard imperative/indicative exhortation)  9:24 5:1, 5D (athletes + prize) 12:4 38:1A 12:8–9 48:5 12:20–28 37:5A 13:3 55:2 13:4–7 49:5C 15:20 24:1B 15:23 37:3C 15:35–38 24:5B 56 16:15 42:4B 57 16:17 38:2C 16:23 65:2 (Closing extension of grace)

1. Allusions to 1 Corinthians in 1 Clement Verbal parallels to 1 Corinthians may be analyzed in two groups: (A) single allusions (i. e., allusions to a single passage in 1 Corinthians) and (B) allusion clusters (i. e., allusions to multiple chapters in 1 Corinthians in a single chapter in 1 Clement or to a single chapter in 1 Corinthians in a single chapter in 1 Clem-

55 The letter superscript indicates the class of probability awarded the passage by the committee of the Oxford Society of Historical Theology who prepared The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers. See Appendix 2 for their list of parallel passages. About the parallels, A. Gregory concludes (see Appendix 3), “None of these possible references is compelling in itself, and each may be explained on grounds other than of direct literary dependence, but the fact that Clement clearly used 1 Corinthians means that the possibility that each parallel arises from direct literary dependence (or at least an intimate acquaintance with the letter, such that Clement draws on his language and content quite unconsciously) should not be underestimated” (“1 Clement and the Writings that Later Formed the New Testament,” 144–48). 56 Oxford Society of Historical Theology’s Committee includes 1 Clem. 24:4 here (The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers, 41). The text used most frequently by Gnostics is not cited (1 Cor 15:50); those around it, however, are. Cf. 3 Corinthians. 57 Of the additional group of citations (i. e., 1 Clem. 24:1; 35:5–6; 37:5–38:2; 47; 49:5–6) Welborn lists in “Clement, First Epistle of” (ABD 1:1056, see n. 16 above), I can corroborate only the allusion to 1 Cor 1:12 in 1 Clem. 47:3. Ehrman also includes this reference (Ehrman, LCL, 119).

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ent).58 In what follows, each passage is examined for how it has been adapted to the new context in 1 Clement. a. Single Allusions 1 Clement exhibits three single allusions to 1 Corinthians: (1) 1 Cor 1:31 (1 Clem. 13:1); (2) 1 Cor 2:9 (1 Clem. 34:8); and (3) 1 Cor 16:15 (1 Clem. 42:4). i. 1 Clement 13:1 1 Clem. 13:1 alludes to 1 Cor 1:31 (cf. 1 Cor 15:31; 2 Cor 10:17),59 a passage which, in turn, alludes to Jer 9:23–2460 and constitutes a form of rebuttal to the problem of factionalizing. Praising oneself (i. e., boasting), Paul argues, characterizes factionalizing, whereas being praised by others typifies unity.61 The following slogan sums up appropriate behavior: ὥστε μηδεὶς καυχάσθω ἐν ἀνθρώποις (1 Cor 3:21).62 In 1 Cor 1:31, Paul puts the same message positively: “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord (ὁ καυχώμενος ἐν κυρίῳ καυχάσθω).” 1 Clem. 13:1 offers the same saying for the same purpose: And so we should be humble-minded, brothers, laying aside all arrogance, conceit, foolishness, and forms of anger; and we should act in accordance with what is written. For the Holy Spirit says, “The one who is wise should not boast about his wisdom, nor the one who is strong about his strength, nor the one who is wealthy about his wealth; instead, the one who boasts should boast in the Lord (ὁ καυχώμενος ἐν κυρίῳ καυχάσθω), seeking after him and doing what is just and right.”

Clement introduces the allusion with a quotation formula attributing it to the Holy Spirit, perhaps to draw attention to the dual authorities (i. e., Jeremiah and Paul) behind the saying. The underlying appeal of the assertion in all instances 58 Chapters were not added until the Middle Ages, nevertheless may be relied upon (frequently, not always) to indicate section breaks. 59  Cf. 2 Cor 10:17 (ὁ δὲ καυχώμενος ἐν κυρίῳ καυχάσθω). G. Bornkamm argued that Clement did not know 2 Corinthians (Die Vorgeschichte des sogenannten Zweiten Korintherbriefes [SHAW 2; Heidelberg: Winter, 1961], 33; repr. with Addendum in Gesammelte Aufsätze. IV. Geschichte und Glaube [BevT 53; Munich: Chr. Kaiser, 1971], 162–94; cf. “The History of the Origin of the So-called Second Letter to the Corinthians,” NTS 8 [1961–62]: 258–64). Whether Clement knew it or not does not affect the argument here; the citation in 1 Corinthians makes the point. 60 Jer 9:23–24 (LXX) states: “Thus says the Lord, Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, and let not the strong man boast in his strength, and let not the rich man boast in this wealth; but let him that boasts boast in this, the understanding and knowing that I am the Lord that exercises mercy, and judgment, and righteousness, upon the earth; for in these things is my pleasure, says the Lord.” Τάδε λέγει Κύριος· μὴ καυχάσθω ὁ σοφὸς ἐν τῇ σοφίᾳ αὐτοῦ, καὶ μὴ καυχάσθω ὁ ἰσχυρὸς ἐν τῇ ἰσχύϊ αὐτοῦ, καὶ μὴ καυχάσθω ὁ πλούσιος ἐν τῷ πλούτῳ αὐτοῦ, ἀλλ’ ἢ ἐν τούτῳ καυχάσθω ὁ καυχώμενος, συνίειν καὶ γινώσκεν ὅτι ἐγώ εἰμι Κύριος ὁ ποιῶν ἔλεος καὶ κρίμα καὶ δικαιοσύνην ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς, ὅτι ἐν τούτοις τὸ θέλημά μου, λέγει Κύριος. 61 Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 91. 62 1 Cor 3:21–23. Cf. 1:12; 3:4. See Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 91, 93.

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(i. e., Jeremiah, Paul, and Clement) is humility. For both Paul and Clement, the purpose of humility is to compel the addressees to move toward peace and concord. In Paul’s case, the emphasis is on redemption: a believer is freed like a slave or released like a captive that s/he might choose a voluntary relationship with the divine (1 Cor 1:30). For Paul, recognition of one’s low status before God spontaneously dissolves arrogance and stimulates unity. In Clement’s adaptation of the passage, a believer’s actions are a matter of involuntary compliance. To avoid punishment, each must do what is right by obeying what is written. In Clement, Paul’s radical reversal of the Roman ideal of obedience to the law is itself reversed. ii. 1 Clement 34:8 1 Clem. 34:8 alludes to 1 Cor 2:9. As in the previous example, both Paul and Clement present the saying as a quotation. But, as it is written, “[What] no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him (τοῖς ἀγαπῶσιν αὐτόν)” (1 Cor 2:9). For he says, “No eye has seen nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the human heart, what the Lord has prepared for those who await him (τοῖς ὑπομένουσιν αὐτόν)” (1 Clem. 34:8).

Both citations share language and ideas in common with Isa 64:3 (LXX).63 1 Clement, however, appears to conform the end of the saying more closely to the LXX, whereas Paul, may have devised his ending himself.64 The purpose of enduring for the sake of an eschatological reward is the same in both letters, although Clement’s preference for a future rather than a present incentive reflects second-century circumstances: the absence of a clear succession among and strength of episcopal leadership as well as the delay of Christ’s return. In addition, Paul’s reference to ἀγάπη implies a voluntary desire to take part in the divine-human relationship, whereas ὑπομένειν suggests an unequal relationship: namely, humans wait for God.

63 “Whenever you will perform glorious deeds, the mountains will be seized with quaking because of you. From ages past we have not heard, neither have our eyes seen a God besides you, and the deeds that you do for those awaiting your mercy (τοῖς ὑπομένουσιν ἔλεον).” Cf. Isa 52:15. 64 Paul writes: “… what ὁ θεὸς has prepared for those who love him,” whereas 1 Clement records, “… what the κύριος has prepared for those who await him.” 1 Clement excludes the concept of mercy as in the MT (Isa 64:3): ‫ּומֵעֹולָם ֹלא־ׁשָמְעּו ֹלא ֶה ֱאז ִינּו עַי ִן ֹלא־ָר ָאתָה אֱֹלהִים זּולָתְָך יַעֲׂשֶה לִ ְמ ַחּכֵה־ֹלו׃‬ If, as I argue elsewhere, 1 Clement attacks Marcionism, so the exclusion of mercy makes sense on these terms. A similar idea is repeated in Clement’s next chapter also: “What therefore has been prepared for those who wait?”; Τίνα οὖν ἄρα ἐστὶν τὰ ἑτοιμαζόμενα τοῖς ὑπομένουσιν; (1 Clem. 35:3). “Wait” is an accurate translation with nice balance and tradition, but “endure” is equally appropriate.

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iii. 1 Clement 42:4 1 Clem. 42:4 adopts Paul’s reference to ἀπαρχή (“first fruit”) from 1 Cor 16:15 (cf. 1 Cor 15:20, 23; Rom 8:23; 11:16; 16:5; 1 Clem. 24:1; 29:3). Paul refers to initial converts in the province of Achaia as first fruit (1 Cor 16:15, urging the church in Corinth to serve them on account of this status: ἵνα καὶ ὑμεῖς ὑποτάσσησθε τοῖς τοιούτοις καὶ παντὶ τῷ συνεργοῦντι καὶ κοπιῶντι (16:16). Clement complements Paul’s reference to ἀπαρχή as his initial converts with their appointment as bishops and deacons: And as they [the apostles following Jesus’s resurrection] preached throughout the countryside and in the cities, they appointed the first fruits of their ministries – testing them by the Spirit – as bishops and deacons of those who were about to believe. (1 Clem. 42:4)65

Ἀπαρχή now legitimates present officers of the church by linking them to past officers through apostolic succession. This allusion is crucial to 1 Clement’s central argument that usurpers to the bishopric must step down in deference to the previous leadership.66 In 44:2, this purpose is spelled out:67 For this cause, therefore, having received complete foreknowledge, they [“the apostles”]68 appointed the aforesaid persons, and afterwards they provided a continuance, that if these should fall asleep (κοιμηθῶσιν),69 other approved men should succeed to their ministration. (1 Clem. 44:2)

And a few verses later in 1 Clem. 42:5, a version of Isa 60:17 (LXX)70 traces these Christian leadership roles even farther back to ancient Israel (i. e., an argument ‘from antiquity’ post hoc ergo propter hoc). The Empire’s extensive system of imperial administration, including a hierarchy of magistrates and provincial governors, is in view: And this was no recent development. For indeed, bishops and deacons had been mentioned in writings long before: For thus the Scripture says in one place, “I will appoint their bishops in righteousness and their deacons in faith.”

Thus, in 1 Clement, ἀπαρχή refers to leaders that God approves as the rightful successors to the first apostles.71 Fortunatus who was among Paul’s first fruit 65 Grant correctly acknowledges that 1 Clement’s reference to “bishops and deacons” (1 Clem. 42:4) may be an inference from 1 Cor 16:16 (Grant, Apostolic Fathers, 2:71). Cf. Acts 20:28. 66 This particular section of the argument began in 1 Clem. 42. 67 Grant sums up the passage in 1 Clement as follows: “The orderliness of apostolic order serves to prove its divine origin” (Grant, Apostolic Fathers, 2:71 n. “42:1–5”). 68 Apostles seems mainly to imply Paul, since the author notes it is those apostles who traveled in the countryside and in cities appointing the first fruits of their ministries (1 Clem. 42:4). 69 N.b. κοιμάω is the standard Pauline way of talking about death. 70 Isa 60:17 (LXX): καὶ δώσω τοὺς ἄρχοντάς σου ἐν εἰρήνῃ καὶ τοὺς ἐπισκόπους σου ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ. 71 The expression first-fruit has an eschatological overtone in 1 Cor 15:23, suggesting that those Paul appoints, he appoints to an eschatological destiny, namely, resurrection from the

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in Corinth (1 Cor 16:17) is one such leader; Clement greets him as among the envoys (οἱ ἀπεσταλμένοι, 65:1).72 Conversely, the concept can be used to back the excommunication of any leader unable to trace direct apostolic lineage. As a principle establishing legitimate leadership, therefore, ἀπαρχή is dynastic, guarding against perceived usurpers to the καθέδρα. On Clement’s argument, the usurpers to the bishopric in Corinth are ineligible to serve. Whereas Paul borrowed the expression from the Jewish sacrificial system and appropriated it eschatologically,73 Clement reappropriated it ecclesiologically. b. Allusion Clusters Once, in chapter 37, Clement alludes to two different chapters of 1 Corinthians in close proximity: V. 3 alludes to 1 Cor 15:23, and v. 5 alludes to 1 Cor 12:21–22. Four times, 1 Clement alludes to a single chapter of 1 Corinthians but distributes the citations widely throughout its argument: (1) 2 allusions to 1 Corinthians 4 (1 Clem. 3:3 and 7:1); (2) 3 allusions to 1 Corinthians 12 (1 Clem. 38:1; 48:5; and 37:5); (3) 2 allusions to 1 Corinthians 13 (1 Clem. 55:2 and 49:5); and (4) 3 allusions to 1 Corinthians 15 (1 Clem. 24:1, 5 and 37:3). These five examples are examined next. i. 1 Clement 37:3, 5 1 Clement 37 contains two allusions to 1 Corinthians: V. 3 alludes to 1 Cor 15:23a and v. 5 alludes to 1 Cor 12:21–22. Although the theme of succession or order is the same in each, the purpose of the allusions in the individual letters is different. Writing about resurrection from the dead, Paul argues that Adam introduced death (1 Cor 15:23a);74 Jesus, as first fruit, introduced resurrection from the dead. At Jesus’s return, those belonging to Jesus will also rise. Paul summarizes this idea with a principle: “Each in his own order” (ἕκαστος δὲ ἐν τῷ ἰδίῳ τάγματι, 1 Cor 15:23a). Clement adopts this principle. The chapter opens with a military analogy: “Not all are commanders-in-chief or commanders over a thousand troops, or a hundred, or fifty, and so on. But each one, according to his own rank (ἀλλ᾽ ἕκαστος ἐν τῷ ἰδίῳ τάγματι), accomplishes what is ordered by the king and the leaders.” Although the context differs, the principle of observing one’s proper station is the same in both 1 Corinthians and 1 Clement.75 Yet Paul discusses the privilege of being elected to rise after Christ, whereas Clement discusses the dead. Interestingly, 1 Cor 16:17–18 suggests that together with Stephanas and Achaicus, Fortunatus was one of the first-fruits of Achaia. 72 Could this refer to older apostles? As in those “previously sent out?” 73 The Jewish system had a pagan equivalent; see “ἀπαρχή,” TDNT 1:483–86. Cf. Rom 11:16. 74 Cf. Rom 5:12–21. 75 On Clement’s recourse to the bellicose, see Welborn, “‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 351–52.

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requirement of obeying those in leadership. The difference could hardly be more stark: next meaning first (after Jesus) vs. next meaning inferior (after designated leaders). Following this passage in 1 Clement, the author compares the army to a human body. In 1 Cor 12:21–24a, Paul uses the body as a metaphor in order to insist upon honor for the weaker members (v. 24). In 1 Clement 37, the body metaphor emphasizes the subjection of all parts to a single ὑποταγή (37:5). Clement acknowledges the necessity and utility (εὔχρηστα), rather than the necessity and honor, of the lesser parts. Take our own body. The head is nothing without the feet, just as the feet are nothing without the head. And our body’s most insignificant parts are necessary and useful for the whole. But all parts work together in subjection to a single order, to keep the whole body healthy. (1 Clem. 37:5)

In 1 Clement 37, the two allusions to 1 Corinthians together reiterate Clement’s primary exhortation to his opponents to fall in with the divinely appointed leadership (e. g., 1 Clem. 54:2).76 Clement’s adaptation of Paul’s body metaphor is subtle. Paul himself gave what might be viewed as two contradictory pieces of advice: extricate an individual from the congregation (1 Cor 5:1–5); acknowledge the value of every member’s participation in the group (1 Cor 12:12–13). For Paul such advice was compatible under his auspice; he knew when it was necessary to expel members in order to honor each individual’s participation in the new covenant. After he died, however, the church needed a system not based on an individual charismatic leader. As with the Empire, only written rule could dependably safeguard against untrustworthy leadership. Clement thus advocates a hierarchical plan mirroring that of the Imperial government. To be sure, he traces his plan to Paul’s charisma and foundational guidance. Thus, Clement makes Paul’s celebrated σῶμα metaphor for church unity the basis for his argument for the extrication of a member, and we see Clement at cross-purposes with the Pauline tradition. On one hand, the new letter exudes an obvious desire to maintain continuity with the older letter. On the other hand, its message must be neutralized to effectively address the new historical exigencies. ii. Two Allusions to 1 Corinthians 4 1 Clement possesses two allusions to 1 Corinthians 4: (A) 1 Clem. 3:3 alludes to 1 Cor 4:10; and (B) 1 Clem. 7:1 alludes to 1 Cor 4:14.77

76 Welborn situates the recommended punishment of voluntary exile in what he refers to as a “discourse of displacement” flourishing in the early Roman Empire (“Voluntary Exile as a Solution to Discord in First Clement,” ZAC 16 [2013]: 6–21). 77 Bart Ehrman does not acknowledge either of these allusions (Ehrman, LCL, 41, 47).

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1 Clement 3:3 Undoubtedly related to the denial of his apostleship by other early Christian leaders, the divisive role of boasting struck a chord with Paul. In 1 Cor 4:10, he sarcastically alludes to its role in promoting schism.78 1 Clem. 3:3 combines an allusion to this passage with the language of Isa 3:5. For the sake of comparison, all three passages appear next: We are fools for the sake of Christ, but you are wise in Christ. We are weak, but you are strong. You are held in honor, but we are in disrepute. (ἡμεῖς μωροὶ διὰ Χριστόν, ὑμεῖς δὲ φρόνιμοι ἐν Χριστῷ· ἡμεῖς ἀσθενεῖς, ὑμεῖς δὲ ἰσχυροί· ὑμεῖς ἔνδοξοι, ἡμεῖς δὲ ἄτιμοι). (1 Cor 4:10) And so the dishonorable rose up against the honorable, the disreputable against the reputable, the senseless against the sensible, the young [or the new] against the old [or the presbyters] (οὕτως ἐπηγέρθησαν οἱ ἄτιμοι ἐπὶ τοὺς ἐντίμους, οἱ ἄδοξοι ἐπὶ τοὺς ἐνδόξους, οἱ ἄφρονες ἐπὶ τοὺς φρονίμους). (1 Clem. 3:3) And the people shall fall, man upon man, and every man upon his neighbor; the child shall insult the elder man, and the base the honorable (προσκόψει τὸ παιδίον πρὸς τὸν πρεσβύτην, ὁ ἄτιμος πρὸς τὸν ἔντιμον). (Isa 3:5, LXX)

Juxtaposition of ἄτιμος and ἔντιμος in 1 Clem. 3:3, together with its occurrence of young versus old, suggests that Clement adapts 1 Corinthians based on a Septuagint version of Isaiah.79 It is unclear why Paul selected ἔνδοξος (“held in esteem,” “approved,” “glorious”)80 over ἔντιμος (“honored”) as contrastive to ἄτιμος (“dishonored”) in 1 Corinthians 4. At least the following four explanations are possible: (1) Paul’s version of the passage in Isaiah (LXX) had ἔνδοξος; (2) Paul cited the verse from memory, accidentally supplying a synonym; (3) Paul deliberately changed the wording; or (4) Paul is citing a different source that is very similar to Isaiah. Given the apocalyptic overtones of the δοξ‑ stem elsewhere in 1 Corinthians (esp. 1 Cor 15:35–49),81 if Paul deliberately changed the wording, his motivation may have been eschatological. That is, he accuses his opponents of attempting to seize their heavenly reward (“glory”) too soon.82 If Clement understood this meaning, then restoration of the LXX version suggests a de-emphasis of eschatology in favor of present concerns83 – attention to the young and the old, bolstering this emphasis (1 Clem. 54:2; cf. 1 Clem. 1:3; 3:3 [or “elder”]; 21:6 [or “elder”]; 44:5; 47:6; 55:4; 57:1).84 Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 91. also Lona, Der erste Clemensbrief, 142. 80 Or perhaps the connotation is just “sensible, “in one’s right mind.” 81 A passage Clement cites at 24:5. 82 The crux of Paul’s criticism of the Corinthians might also be dignity: that they are claiming rights to which, without him, they have no legitimate claim. 83 See opposite emphasis in 1 Clem. 34:8 above. 84  Ἐπισκοπή in 1 Clem. 50:3 may be a play-on-words involving the “episcopate.” Cf. ἐπισκοπή in 1 Clem. 44:1, 4; and 50:3 (for the prepositional phrase, ἐν τῇ ἐπισκοπῇ, Lake translates: “at 78 Mitchell, 79 So

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1 Clement 7:1 In 1 Cor 4:14, Paul qualifies the purpose of his letter as admonition (νουθετεῖν): “I am not writing this to make you ashamed, but to admonish you as my beloved children (ἀλλ’ ὡς τέκνα μου ἀγαπητὰ νουθετῶν)” (cf. 1 Cor 10:11).85 1 Clem. 7:1 also qualifies its purpose as admonition (νουθετεῖν), adding that the letter serves as a reminder: “We are writing these things, loved ones, not only to admonish you (οὐ μόνον ὑμᾶς νουθετοῦντες ἐπιστέλλομεν) but also to remind ourselves. For we are in the same arena and the same contest is set before us.” 1 Clement’s adoption of this passage is significant insofar as it explicitly characterizes its project like Paul’s.86 iii. Three Allusions to 1 Corinthians 12 1 Clement alludes to 1 Corinthians 12 three times: (1) 1 Clem. 38:1 alludes to 1 Cor 12:4; (2) 1 Clem. 48:5 alludes to 1 Cor 12:8–9; and (3) 1 Clem. 37:5 alludes to 1 Cor 12:21–22. 1 Clement 38:1 In 1 Cor 12:4, Paul writes: Διαιρέσεις δὲ χαρισμάτων εἰσίν, τὸ δὲ αὐτὸ πνεῦμα, reinforcing unity in the face of diversity.87 Mitchell explains: “How can there be discord in the church when there is unity in these strongest of forces?”88 In 1 Cor 12:12–31, Paul develops this idea with an explanation of the mechanism. Diverse gifts contribute to community unity in the same way the diverse parts of the human body contribute to health (12:12–31). As discussed above, 1 Clement 37 adapts Paul’s body metaphor. This adaptation has three important aspects. First, Clement uses the metaphor to describe the community itself not the Spirit’s distribution of gifts within the community. Second, Clement reverses the order the visitation”; Ehrman translates with the finite verb, “appears”). Cf. ἐπίσκοπος in 1 Clem. 42:4, 5 (bis); and 59:3 (Lake: “watcher”; Ehrman: “overseer”). If the noun, ἐπισκοπή (“visit,” “episcopate”) ultimately derives from the noun, ἐπισκοπή (“overseer,” “bishop”), then the “visit” made by an “overseer” may imply some kind of reckoning. Of seven occurrences of the ἐπισκοπ‑ stem in 1 Clement, all but two refer to the church episcopate. Of the two other occurrences, 1 Clem. 50:3 refers to the “kingdom of God,” and 1 Clem. 59:3 refers to God himself as both creator and “overseer” – that great “bishop” in the sky. Since 1 Clem. 50:4 discusses hiding from judgment as God passes by (i. e., a form of visitation), then, together with its eschatological overtones, the “visitation” of the “kingdom of God” in 50:3 seems to offer a play on the visits that second-century bishops made as an aspect of their work for the “episcopate.” 85 In 1 Thess 5:12, Paul both instructs readers to respect those who admonish them, supporting 1 Clement’s use of the verb νουθετεῖν. Cf. Rom 15:14. 86 Although the verb occurs in 1 Thess 5:12, 14 and Rom 15:14 (see below n. 99), Paul does not explicitly characterize any of his other letters in this way. In this passage Clement also masks punishment as advice. 87 Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 268. 88 Ibid.

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of Paul’s argument such that the metaphor gives way to the pronouncement (body, hence subjection, 1 Clem. 37:5–38:1), rather than the pronouncement to the metaphor (variety [1 Cor 12:4], hence body [1 Cor 12:12]). Finally, Clement shifts the emphasis from equality to hierarchy. Although the author states that army generals (“the great”) cannot survive without the rank and file (“the lowly”) and vice versa,89 the section stresses subjection of soldiers to a single “order” or “command” (1 Clem. 37:5). 1 Clem. 38:1 repeats the body metaphor, reiterating the theme of submission: And so let our whole body be healthy [or saved, σωζέσθω] in Christ Jesus, and let each person be subject to his neighbor, in accordance with the gracious gift he has received. (1 Clem. 38:1)

The introductory statement, “Let the body be healthy,” echoes Paul’s idea that communities ought to function like bodies. Different from Paul, however, Clement insists that healthy functioning requires subjection.90 In an unexpected twist, Clement conflates Paul’s body metaphor and the Golden Rule (e. g., Matt 22:39; 19:19; Lev 19:18), concluding that each person must be subject to his neighbor!91 As in the prior chapter, therefore, 1 Clement 38 emphasizes unity through hegemony rather than democracy.92 1 Clement 48:5 Finally, as noted above, to make his plea for peace in Corinth Paul argues that all of the different gifts represented by the members of the Corinthian church ultimately spring from a single spirit (12:8–9). He emphasizes raising the “inferior members” (12:23–24) up to the level of the superior members in order to achieve this democratic unity. Citing this passage in 1 Corinthians, 1 Clem. 48:5 offers a similar list of gifts (e. g., faith, knowledge, wisdom, deeds).93 In precisely the opposite manner from Paul, however, Clement stresses that unity will be achieved when the superior members are brought down to the level of the inferior individuals: “For the more he appears to be great, the more he should be humble, striving for the good of all not just himself” (48:6). Here again we 89 This

is a version of Paul’s healthful co-mixture idea noted above.

90 A desideratum of this argument is whether the verb σῴζω here insinuates special interest –

perhaps even a double entendre – in the physical body. As such it might constitute an argument against Marcion who held a decidedly negative position on the matter of Jesus’s corporeal existence. 91 Compare καὶ ὑποτασσέσθω ἕκαστος τῷ πλησίον αὐτοῦ, καθὼς ἐτέθη ἐν τῷ χαρίσματι αὐτοῦ (1 Clem. 38:1b–c) with ἀγαπήσεις τὸν πλησίον σου ὡς σεαυτόν (Matt 22:39). 92 Cf. ἱνατί διέλκομεν καὶ διασπῶμεν τὰ μέλη τοῦ Χριστοῦ καὶ στασιάζομεν πρὸς τὸ σῶμα τὸ ἴδιον (1 Clem. 46:7). Grant includes it as a parallel (Apostolic Fathers, 2:66, 104); Ehrman does not (Ehrman, LCL, 103). 93 Πιστός–πίστις, γνῶσις–λογός γνώσεως, σοφὸς ἐν διακρίσει λόγων–λόγος σοφίας. This list suggests to Carlyle “probable” reminiscence of 1 Corinthians (Carlyle, The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers, 42).

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observe Clement hierarchically recalibrating Paul’s flattened out approach to factionalizing in Corinth. iv. Two Allusions to 1 Corinthians 13 1 Clement alludes to 1 Corinthians 13 in both 55:2 and 49:5. These passages are significant insofar as they incorporate 5 full verses from Paul’s letter.94 Each is addressed in turn. 1 Clement 55:2 1 Clem. 55:2 alludes to 1 Cor 13:3. Grant refers to the passage as oddly reminiscent of Paul’s letter.95 Hagner comments, “The words παραδεδωκότας and ἐψώμισαν in Cl. 55.2 may recall the similarly used ψωμίσω and παραδῶ of 1 Cor. 13.3.”96 In 1 Corinthians 13, Paul addresses factions by focusing on the importance of ἀγάπη as the internal motivation.97 For example, to be effective, all sacrifices must be offered out of love. In circumstances of faction, where boasting is prevalent, even self-sacrifice is devoid of its στάσις-dissolving potential if it is not prompted and carried out by love. Paul writes: κἂν ψωμίσω πάντα τὰ ὑπάρχοντά μου καὶ ἐὰν παραδῶ τὸ σῶμά μου ἵνα καυχήσωμαι, ἀγάπην δὲ μὴ ἔχω, οὐδὲν ὠφελοῦμαι (v. 3). According to Paul, social harmony is unachievable apart from ἀγάπη. In 55:2, Clement imports 1 Cor 13:3 to make a related, yet distinctive point. The author certainly agrees with Paul that self-sacrifice dissolves στάσις.98 Different from Paul, however, according to Clement, such an act is effective irrespective of internal motivation. Clement writes:99 Among ourselves, we know many who put themselves in prison in order to ransom others; many placed themselves in slavery and fed others with the purchase price they received (1 Clem. 55:2).

Paul argues that various acts of sacrifice are ineffective apart from ἀγάπη. Clement adopts and reverses Paul’s position. For Clement, such acts are unqualifiedly 94 Concerning this allusion, Carlyle writes, “It can hardly be doubted that many of the phrases in Clement were suggested by the recollection of the passage in Corinthians” (The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers, 41). 95 Grant, Apostolic Fathers, 2:87 n. “55:2–6.” 96 Hagner, Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome, 208. 97 In this regard, 1 Corinthians 13 is similar to the Sermon on the Mount, although I do not wish to suggest that this makes the theme of internal motivation unique to these two texts or to Christian texts in general. 98 “Clement quotes from Paul’s panegyric on love (1 Clem. 49:5), citing 1 Cor 13:4–7 in particular. But what he adds to Paul’s encomium makes it clear that love is prized not as the bond between brothers, but as the antidote to faction and the rule of submission …” (Welborn “‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 351). 99 N.b. 1 Clement 55 explicitly claims to offer the exempla for 1 Clem. 54:1–4.

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effective: imprisonment always effects ransom and slavery always effects sustenance. Clement argues this position because he needs to convince his opponent that even unwilling acceptance of voluntary exile will have the positive impact of an effective sacrifice on the community.100 1 Clement 49:5 1 Clem. 49:5 alludes to 1 Cor 13:4–7.101 Mitchell argues that this passage in 1 Corinthians corresponds to Paul’s description of the behavior of Corinthian factionalists elsewhere in the letter.102 As a clear counter to factionalism, it is no surprise that 1 Clement cites the passage.103 100 The

strong recommendation of self-imposed exile itself matches contemporaneous Roman policy, since Roman law did not impose banishment as a punishment; it was, instead, a fugitive’s choice (Gordon P. Kelly, A History of Exile in the Roman Republic [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006], 6). Allusions to the Corinthian correspondence in this passage in 1 Clement are not limited to 1 Corinthians 13. Also incorporated are 1 Cor 9:19 and 2 Cor 12:9–10. In 1 Cor 9:19, Paul uses himself as an exemplar of self-sacrifice on behalf of the gospel, characterizing himself paradoxically as “free” despite his status as “slave to all.” Likewise, in 2 Cor 12:9, Paul narrates a revelation in which the Lord tells him – again exploiting paradox – that “weakness,” that is, self-sacrifice, “perfects” or “completes” his power in Paul and is, thus, an acceptable (i. e., concord-promoting) boast. As we will see, both of these additional Pauline allusions direct 1 Clement’s purpose for borrowing from 1 Cor 13:3. The emphasis here also corresponds to Paul’s appeal to justice (τὸ δίκαιον, 1 Cor 6:1–11), a minor appeal for Paul, much more prevalent in 1 Clement (esp. 14:1) (so Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 39 n. 92 citing van Unnik). 101 Conzelmann argued that 1 Cor 13:1–3 and 1 Cor 13:8–13 should be understood as distinct sections. Hagner offers the following helpful table: 1 Corinthians 13 1 Clem. 49.5 7, πάντα στέγει … πάντα ὑπομένει ἀγάπη πάντα ἀνέχεται πάντα μακροθυμεῖ 4, ἡ ἀγάπη μακροθυμεῖ οὐδὲν βάναυσον ἐν ἀγ 6, οὐ χαίρει ἐπὶ τῇ ἀδικίᾳ άπῃ 4, οὐ περπερεύεται, οὐδὲν ὑπερήφανον οὐ φυσιοῦται 5, οὐ ζητεῖ τὰ ἑαυτῆς, ἀγάπη σχίσμα οὐκ ἔκει, οὐ παροξύνεται, ἀγάπη οὐ στασιάζει, οὐ λογίζεται τὸ κακόν ἀγάπη πάντα ποιεῖ ἐν ὁμονοίᾳ ἐν τῇ ἀγάπῃ ἐτελειώθησαν ? [10, ὅταν δὲ ἔλθῃ τὸ τέλειον] cf. 1 John 4:18 πάντες οἱ ἐκλεκτοὶ τοῦ θεοῦ ?(=Heb 11:6) δίχα ἀγάπης οὐδὲν εὐάρεστόν ἐστιν τῷ θεῷ. (Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome, 200). Cf.  Ἡ ἀγάπη μακροθυμεῖ, χρηστεύεται ἡ ἀγάπη, οὐ ζηλοῖ ἡ ἀγάπη, οὐ περπερεύεται, οὐ φυσιοῦται, οὐκ ἀσχημονεῖ, οὐ ζητεῖ τὰ ἑαυτῆς, οὐ παροξύνεται, οὐ λογίζεται τὸ κακόν, οὐ χαίρει ἐπὶ τῇ ἀδικίᾳ, συγχαίρει δὲ τῇ ἀληθείᾳ· πάντα στέγει, πάντα πιστεύει, πάντα ἐλπίζει, πάντα ὑπομένει (1 Cor 13:4–7). 102 I.e., they are not patient or kind; they are rude, etc. Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 168–71. 103 Hagner, Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome, 200. Hagner notes that after Clement of Alexandria paraphrases this passage in 1 Clement (Strom. 4.111.3), he cites 1 Cor 13:3, 1 (200 n. 1).

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Love binds us to God; love hides a multitude of sins; love bears all things and endures all things. There is nothing vulgar in love, nothing haughty. Love has no schism. Love creates no faction, love does all things in harmony. Everyone chosen by God has been perfected in love; apart from love nothing is pleasing to God. (1 Clem. 49:5)104

Both passages emphasize love over schism, but Clement makes love’s anti-schismatic effect explicit. v. Three Allusions to 1 Corinthians 15 Finally, 1 Clement alludes to 1 Corinthians 15 three times: (1) 1 Cor 15:20 (1 Clem. 24:1); (2) 1 Cor 15:35–38 (1 Clem. 24:5); and (3) 1 Cor 15:23 (1 Clem. 37:3). The last passage was treated above. The next section treats the first two passages. It is followed by a concluding remark about the collective intention of all three allusions. 1 Clem. 24:1, 5 1 Clement 24 alludes to 1 Corinthians 15 twice (15:20, 35–38). In their original Pauline context, both passages defend resurrection. In 1 Cor 15:20, Paul presents his concept of ἀπαρχή with reference to Jesus’s resurrection.105 1 Clement also refers to Jesus’s resurrection using ἀπαρχή: We should consider, loved ones, how the Master continuously shows us the future resurrection that is about to occur, of which he made the Lord Jesus Christ the first-fruit by raising him from the dead. (24:1)

With three proofs, Clement next mounts an argument for bodily resurrection. The first argument is based on nature: each new day represents a resurrection of the previous day’s “death” (24:3). The second is based on the seasonal rotation of crops: We should consider the crops: how, and in what way, does the sowing occur? The sower goes out and casts each of the seeds onto the soil. Because they are dry and barren they decay when they fall onto the soil. But then the Master raises them up out of their decay, and from the one seed grow more, and so bring forth the crop. (24:5)

104 Emphasis mine. Love’s role in “perfecting” or “completing” (ἐν τῇ ἀγάπῃ ἐτελειώθησαν) God’s chosen ones may echo 2 Cor 12:9: “But he said, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’ So I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.” 1 Clement’s reliance on 2 Corinthians is disputed. See Hagner, Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome, 209. 105 Carlyle comments about this allusion: “This would appear to be almost certainly a reminiscence. The word ἀπαρχή, used in this sense of our Lord, in reference to the resurrection, seems to make this plain” (Carlyle, The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers, 41). So also Gregory, “1 Clement and the Writings that Later Formed the New Testament,” 147. Lindemann argues for literary reliance. Lindemann, Paulus im ältesten Christentum, 183; idem, Clemensbriefe, 86.

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This crop analogy is probably inspired by Paul’s description of resurrection as life stemming from (perceptibly ‘dead’) seeds (1 Cor 15:35–38).106 Clement’s loose imitation of Paul’s two analogies from nature (i. e., ἀπαρχή and seeds) coheres well with his general affinity for concrete exempla. 1 Clem. 25 strengthens the argument with a final proof also from nature but without parallel in Paul’s letter: the phoenix bird. Clement’s three allusions in aggregate have particular force.107 As in 1 Corinthians, Clement’s allusions serve a dual function. They are also components of an eschatological section of warnings. Beginning in 1 Clem. 23:5, these warnings compound the urgency of the letter’s central mandate of concord. As in 1 Corinthians, Clement addresses resurrection because this issue is deepening the community’s schism. He attempts to reverse its divisive effect with concrete examples and by stipulating one goal, one hope (1 Clem. 27:1), and one victory over one enemy (death).108 Mitchell explains: “In the case of the resurrection [i. e., 1 Cor 15:1–57] Paul transforms a subject of dispute into the very τέλος or goal which should govern all Christian decision making and against which all feeble and insignificant struggles are to be compared and belittled.”109 The question remains whether 1 Clement significantly alters Paul’s argument for resurrection apart from selecting different proofs. Following the final example (1 Clem. 25), the author poses a rhetorical question: Do we then think that it is so great and marvelous that the Creator of all things will raise everyone who has served him in a holy way with the confidence of good faith when he shows us the magnificence of his promise even through a bird? (26:1)

This closing question argues a fortiori from humans to birds (cf. Matt 6:26), highlighting Clement’s third (non-Pauline) exemplum.110 The example might be understood as replacing Paul’s description of the different yet equal bodies and glories of all things in God’s creation (1 Cor 15:35–41). In any case, the argument again nicely illustrates Clement’s preference for hierarchies. Just as the value of human beings supersedes that of birds, the value of certain human beings (i. e., presbyters) supersedes that of others (i. e., usurpers to the bishopric in Corinth). 106 Cf.

ἐκ τῆς διαλύσεως “decayed” (1 Clem. 24:5). Paul’s argument, 1 Cor 15:20 specifies Christ as risen, 1 Cor 15:23 emphasizes the resurrection of believers (“each in his own order”), and 1 Cor 15:35–38 offer an illustration of where else in the physical world this phenomenon can be observed. The order is: Christ as first fruit, believers as subsequent fruit. 1 Clement’s argument is the same, amplified by a few additional exempla. 108 Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 283–84. 109 Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 283. 110 “Similarly, Clement echoes the language of Paul’s proof of the resurrection in 1 Clem. 24:1 and 37:3 (quoting 1 Cor 15:20 and 15:23 respectively). But Clement transfers to the present what for Paul belonged to the eschaton. Clement’s point is that God has established order in everything: nature has it cycles, society its degrees, all must stay in the position to which they are assigned” (Welborn “‘Take up the Epistle of the Blessed Paul the Apostle,’” 351). 107 In

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F. Conclusion The present essay attempts to explain the relationship of 1 Clement to 1 Corinthians as a reversal of a reversal. It argues that epistolary elements and literary allusions to Paul’s letter map 1 Clement on its authoritative predecessor as a means of overturning111 Paul’s primary message that power is perfected in weakness, the message of Clement being that usurping presbyters must immediately depose themselves through voluntary exile. Clement was a “strong poet” of Paul’s writings, just as Paul was a strong poet of his scriptures. The consequences of Clement’s calculated reinterpretation of Paul were significant, determining that future generations would read 1 Corinthians from a compliant (Roman) rather than rebellious (Greek) point of view.112

111 Cf.

1 Clem. 63:2 (cf. 1 Clem. 23:2) where the text may refer to itself as “scripture.” von Harnack understood why 1 Clement was so important: because it captured the agenda of 1 Corinthians for Roman ideology or for whomever inserted the phrase ἐν παντὶ τόπῳ in 1 Cor 1:2. According to Johannes Weiss, a scribe added this phrase to include 1 Corinthians among the ‘catholic’ epistles: Der erste Korintherbrief (KEK; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1910). 112 Adolf

Chapter Four

1 Clement as Pseudepigraphon A. Introduction 1 Clement resembles a Pauline letter. It does not, however, claim to be written by Paul (or even by Clement for that matter). It claims to be written by the church of God “sojourning” or “dwelling temporarily in [or: alongside, near] Rome” (ἡ ἐκκλησία τοῦ θεοῦ ἡ παροικοῦσα Ῥώμην).1 Some time later, tradition – evidently unsatisfied with this attribution  – appended to the letter a second attribution to Clement, an unspecified Christian2 leader to whom a substantial amount of second-, third-, and fourth-century pseudepigraphal literature is ascribed.3 The Martyrdom of Polycarp (150–160 CE),4 Polycarp’s Epistle to the Philippians,5 and the Letter from Vienna and Lyons6 (178 CE) are likewise attributed to “churches

1 All manuscript evidence for 2 Clement connects it to 1 Clement, viewing both as letters of Clement of Rome to a church in Corinth. See, e. g., Tuckett, 2 Clement, 14, 59–60. Cf. Ziegler, Neue Studien zum ersten Klemensbrief, 95–101. 2 The text is not specifically attributed to Clement, bishop of Rome, until Irenaeus (for whom it is the lynchpin in an argument for apostolic succession). On the identity of Clement, see J. B.  Lightfoot, Apostolic Fathers, 1:14–103 and Welborn, “On the Date of 1 Clement,” 35–36. 1 Clement makes no pretensions to Pauline authorship. Rather, it reports the death of Paul (ch. 5) and refers to 1 Corinthians by name as “the epistle of the blessed Paul, the Apostle” (1 Clem. 47:1). The author of 1 Clement exhorts its audience to pick up 1 Corinthians and read it (1 Clem. 47:1–3), see discussion below. 3 Some surmise that the appeal of Clementine attribution was based on the presumed authenticity of 1 Clement. Works attributed to Clement (perhaps on the basis of the “high esteem” of 1 Clement) include 2 Clement, two epistles: De virginitate, the Apostolic Constitutions; these made possible romance: Pseudo-Clementine Homilies and Recognitions (3rd century); cf. also posthumous martyrdom: Martyrium Clementis (4th century). L. Welborn, “Clement, First Epistle of,” ABD 1:1056–60. 4 Mart. Pol. 1, “The Church of God which sojourns in Smyrna, to the Church of God which sojourns in Philomelium, and to all the sojournings of the Holy Catholic Church in every place.” Lake, Apostolic Fathers, vol. 1 (LCL). 5 Polycarp, Phil. 1a, “Polycarp and the Elders with him to the Church of God sojourning in Philippi.” 6 “The servants sojourning in Vienne and Lyons in Gaul to the brethren in Asia and Phrygia who have the same faith and hope of redemption as you” (apud Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 5.1.1–2; ET: Kirsopp Lake, LCL).

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sojourning;”7 each of these texts, however, attracted a second attribution8 as if sojourning in Rome, Corinth, Philippi, Philomelium, Smyrna, Vienna, Lyons, Asia, and Phrygia were not real addresses.9 For 1 Clement, incorporation into a collection of Christian writings or even a canon (e. g., Codex Alexandrinus) may have demanded a title distinguishable from Paul’s letter to (ostensibly) the same church.10 This does not, however, explain the other texts. Furthermore, the epithet given to the addressee (and to the sender) “sojourning” or “temporarily dwelling in” or “alongside” (παροικοῦσα) often carries a non-literal intention. Christian writings use the verb παροικεῖν elliptically to denote the theological conviction not uncommon among second‑ and third-century Christians and Jews of temporary residence on earth but permanent residence in heaven.11 For example, 1 Pet 1:17 states, “If you invoke as Father the one who judges all people impartially according to their deeds, live in reverent fear during the time of your exile (τὸν τῆς παροικίας ὑμῶν χρόνον)” (cf. 1 Pet 2:11).12  7 On

the dating of the Martyrdom of Polycarp, see C. Moss, “On the Dating of Polycarp: Rethinking the Place of the Martyrdom of Polycarp in the History of Christianity,” EC 1 (2010): 539–74.  8 Early incipits to Polycarp’s letter included his name.  9  Polycarp’s Letter to the Philippians is ascribed to Polycarp; the Martyrdom of Polycarp, to Socrates (Mart. Pol. 22:2). 10 Mart. Pol. has a similar prescript but includes, in chapter 22, a complicated string of attributions to named individuals beginning with Socrates. 11 Rudolf Meyer, Karl Ludwig Schmidt, and Martin Anton Schmidt, “πάροικος, παροικία, παροικέω,” TDNT 5:841–53. We note that the reconciliation recommended in 1 Clement is not between the actual cities of Rome and Corinth but between rival leaders therein – because Christianity is one big city and its citizens viewed as exiles in their respective geographical locations. See the reference in 1:1 to those in both churches as sojourning in their respective cities. In his Orations, Dio writes to one city regarding strife with another city. In 1 Clement, a church (Rome) writes to another church (Corinth) regarding strife within that latter group specifying certain individuals as the root cause. In Paul’s letters to the Corinthians, Paul writes to the church regarding strife within that body also specifying certain individuals as root causes. The similarities – together with the high estimation in which Paul is held in this letter – all but guarantee that the anonymous author of 1 Clement deliberately assumes Paul’s authority albeit for circumstances following Paul’s death. Stoic resonances are also likely: cosmopolis or notion of the universe as the über-State of sorts. H. C. Baldry, The Unity of Mankind in Greek Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965); Eric Brown, “Hellenistic Cosmopolitanism,” in A Companion to Ancient Philosophy (ed. Mary Louise Gill and Pierre Pellegrin; Oxford: Blackwell, 2006), 549–558; Gerd van den Heuvel, “Cosmopolite, Cosmopolitisme,” in Handbuch politisch-sozialer Grundbegriffe in Frankreich 1680–1820, (ed. Rolf Reichardt and Eberhard Schmidt; München: Oldenbourg, 1986), 41–55; J. L. Moles, “Cynic Cosmopolitanism,” in The Cynics: The Cynic Movement in Antiquity and Its Legacy (ed. R. Bracht Branham and Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé; Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1996), 105–120; Malcolm Schofield, The Stoic Idea of the City (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991); cf. important Stoic concept παντοκράτωρ in 2:3; 32:4; 56:6; 60:4; 62:2; παντοκρατορικός in 8:5. 12 Cf. metaphorical use in Philodemus, Mort. 38: “But some have dwelt in human life as such aliens in it, not just ordinary men but some at any rate called philosophers, that they draw up plans to spend so many years at Athens in the pursuit of learning, so many years seeing Greece and what is accessible of barbarian lands, so many years back at home in philosophical dialogue

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Although such references to life as temporary residence or exile are relatively common, denotations of temporary residence in two specific cities (i. e., Corinth or Rome) are rare. In addition to 1 Clement, they appear only in Polycarp’s Letter to the Philippians, the Martyrdom of Polycarp, and Letter from Vienna and Lyons.13 Interpreters of these texts assume that the phrase “sojourning” in a certain city suggests a literal community of Christians that, while in residence in the city, constructs their citizenship theologically.14 However, these prescript formulae may be read differently. If the specific city is interpreted elliptically (i. e., theologically) like the participle παροικοῦσα to which it is attached, then “the church sojourning in Corinth” could mean: “those whom the author associates with the wayward behavior Paul addresses in his first letter to the Corinthians,” thinking, for example, of the schismatic members of Paul’s congregation, some of whom identified themselves as πνευματικοί and, thus, more elite than other members of the congregation (e. g., 1 Cor 2:13, 15; 3:1; 14:37).15 On this reading, 1 Clement’s superscriptio (i. e., “from the church dwelling temporarily in Rome”) might connote those whom the author associates with proto-orthodoxy in Rome, an interpretation of the Christ-followers to whom Paul addressed his letter to the Romans, or some combination of both.16 The only other passage in which the author of 1 Clement mentions the city of Rome is 5:7, where the reference is elliptical, denoting the city in which Paul died (τὸ τέρμα τῆς δύσεως). If this passage informs the sender’s identity, then “sojourners in Rome” could assert proto-orthodox claims to Paul’s legacy, (e. g., Pauline interpretation) over and against “Corinthian” (spiritual, supercilious, or both?) claims.17 Such usage resembles Paul’s emphasis on Christian identity in his references to addressees: for example, τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ Θεσσαλονικέων ἐν θεῷ πατρὶ καὶ κυρίῳ  Ἰησοῦ Χριστῷ (1 Thess 1:1) and Ὑμεῖς γὰρ μιμηταὶ ἐγενήθητε, ἀδελφοί, τῶν ἐκκλησιῶν τοῦ θεοῦ τῶν οὐσῶν ἐν τῇ  Ἰουδαίᾳ ἐν Χριστῷ  Ἰησοῦ (2:14). Clement’s use of the accusative place name (“Rome,” “Corinth”) seems to and the rest with their circle of friends …” (ET: David Armstrong, “All Things to All Men: Philodemus’ Model of Therapy and the Audience of De Morte,” in Philodemus and the New Testament World (ed. J. T. Fitzgerald, Dirk D. Obbink, and Glenn S. Holland; NovTSup 111; Leiden: Brill, 2003), here: 47. 13 Rudolf Meyer, Karl Ludwig Schmidt, and Martin Anton Schmidt, “πάροικος, παροικία, παροικέω,” TDNT 5:841–53, here: 852–53, esp. nn. 64, 65. 14 Possibly borrowing the civic model of a politeuma used for Jews in the Diaspora. Evidence assembled with introduction in Victor A. Tcherikover, Alexander Fuks, and Menahem Stern, Corpus Papyrorum Judaicarum, 3 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1957–1964). I wish to thank Adela Yarbro Collins for helpfully suggesting this option. 15 Regarding Valentinian gnostics, see E. Pagels, The Gnostic Paul: Gnostic Exegesis of the Pauline Letters (London: Continuum, 1992), 13–46. 16 Cf. 1 Pet 1:1, Πέτρος ἀπόστολος  Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ ἐκλεκτοῖς παρεπιδήμοις διασπορᾶς Πόντου, Γαλατίας, Καππαδοκίας, Ἀσίας, καὶ Βιθυνίας. 17 Some interpreters infer Spain from the expression, “limits of the West” (ἐπὶ τὸ τέρμα τῆς δύσεως ἐλθὼν [1 Clem. 5:7]); however, the qualifying phrase (καὶ μαρτυρήσας ἐπὶ τῶν ἡγουμένων) suggests that the author implies Rome.

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collapse Paul’s two references: (1) geographical location (genitive, i. e., Θεσσα­ λονικέων) and (2) reference to the identity of the addressees (i. e., ἐν θεῷ πατρὶ καὶ κυρίῳ  Ἰησοῦ Χριστῷ) (cf. Rom 1:1–7; 1 Cor 1:2; 2 Cor 1:1; Phil 1:1).18

B. Occasion As explored in Chapter 2, 1 Clement mimics 1 Corinthians in a variety of ways. Among the most important is 1 Clement’s imitation of Paul’s fundamental argument that στάσις has overtaken the community.19 In 1 Clement, στάσις is not to be translated generally as strife or discord, but specifically as set forth in 1 Clem. 1:1–2 and repeated in 51:1  – as faction or schism, that is, a party of believers within a single church that has threatened that church’s peace and concord.20 1 Clement’s factionalizing has, like its superscriptio and adscriptio, been viewed literally, that is, as referring to a literal factionalizing party at the end of the first or the beginning of the second century in the city of Corinth. If, however, the prescript is not literal but symbolic, then the ἔρις (“rivalry”) adopted from 1 Corinthians (1 Cor 3:3)21 against which 1 Clement writes has a symbolic referent. Rather than denoting a literal community in Corinth lapsing back into rival factions following Paul’s death, the letter refers to some other second-century church schism. Exploiting 1 Corinthians to make the argument suggests that the separation involves Pauline interpretation. One group seeks to proscribe the Pauline interpretations of another at some time during the second century with only an indirect relationship to the current circumstances in the cities of Corinth and Rome.22 What can be said of current circumstances in the cities of Corinth and Rome? 18 See Philip L. Tite, “How to Begin and Why: Diverse Functions of the Pauline Prescript within a Greco-Roman Context,” in Paul and the Ancient Letter Form (ed. S. E. Porter and S. A. Adams; Pauline Studies; Leiden: Brill, 2010), 57–100, here: 81. 19  Contra Welborn, “Clement, Epistle of,” ABD 1:1057. 20 See BDAG s. v. στάσις 2: “But it is difficult to differentiate in 1 Cl betw. this sense and the foll. one, with focus on the component of discord” (p. 940). 21 Cf. 1 Cor 3:1–4. 22 Discussion of the expulsion of church leaders is, perhaps, on that basis. Gnostic evidence of this exists; on the Valentinians, see Pagels, Gnostic Paul. Cf. 1 Clem. 2:6; 3:2 (ἔρις); 14:2; 46:9 (σχίσμα); 54:2; 57:1; 63:1. One such situation is anti-gnostic, precisely the purpose to which 1 Clement was put by some of its earliest readers including Irenaeus, Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, and Origen. That said, the text is sufficiently vague about the opponent (and the text’s message, sufficiently universal), to make unproductive time spent speculating exactly which gnostic rival is implied, although it would seem likely that the opponent expressed skepticism about certain proto-orthodox presentations of resurrection. According to Soter, bishop of Rome (ca. 170, apud Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 4.23.11), the church in Corinth (Dionysius of Corinth in a letter-response to a letter and gift from Soter) had a copy of 1 Clement. How it arrived (and was owned) by the church in Corinth by the time of Dionysius of Corinth is hardly an issue since the letter achieved rapid and broad dissemination as witnessed by citations and reference in

C. Historical Circumstances

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C. Historical Circumstances If this hypothesis seems unnecessarily speculative, the metaphorical interpretation of 1 Clement’s prescript answers at least two important historical problems. First, no evidence apart from 1 Clement demonstrates the existence of a church in Rome perceiving itself with the authority to offer other churches advice for at least the first half of the second century and possibly later.23 Second, no evidence other than 1 Clement demonstrates the existence of a church in Corinth persisting in the schism of Paul’s day, let alone dogged by a challenger to its “bishopric” involving individuals whom the historical Paul knew (1 Clem. 65:1).24 With the sole exception of Eusebius’s testimony of Dionysius of Corinth (date of 171 CE fixed by Soter), 1 Clement is our only evidence of a thriving church in Corinth after 2 Corinthians and before the second half of the second century (during the time of Pope Anicetus, ca. 155–166 CE) when Hegesippus (apud Eusebius) visited that city.25 The text, thus, demands an explanation and the metaphorical reading (non-literal, not fictitious) is as or more plausible than the literal one. the works of Irenaeus (Haer. 3.3.3.), Clement of Alexandria (Strom. 1.7.38; 4.6.32, 33; 4.17–19, 105–121; 4.18.113; 5.12.81; 6.8.64, 65; Tertullian (Praescr. 32), Origen (Princ. 2.3.6 et al.). If, as I argue, it was not really intended for the church in Corinth, however, the question arises whether someone in Corinth would not have recognized it as a forgery. This question involves levels of skepticism about the authenticity of texts in the late second-century church. In fact, the letter’s authenticity would probably never have risen at the church in Corinth, since it added to this church’s prestige (two letters is good, three is better; cf. 3 Corinthians). A spirit of skepticism is, after all, rarely evenly applied; something usually happens to trigger it. Moreover, if 1 Clement broadly supported an anti-gnostic or even anti-Marcionite agenda (as it was used by various proto-orthodox Christians and as I argue elsewhere), not only would there be no reason to doubt its authenticity, there would be a reason to suppress such doubts in Corinth and elsewhere. Of course, I would expect that gnostics questioned its authenticity and marshaled weapons of fraud detection against it. It is not surprising, however, that such rebuttals would be lost. On my reading (defended elsewhere), gnostics would have immediately recognized 1 Clem. as an allegorical letter, that is, a letter in which the addressee is the only person who understands what is truly meant and in which the sender intimates one thing by means of another. This definition comes from Ps.-Demetrius, Epistolary Types, 15; text and translation in A. J. Malherbe, Ancient Epistolary Theorists (SBLSBS 19; Atlanta: Scholars, 1988), 38–39. 23 Although the Shepherd of Hermas mentions a Christian named Clement with an administrative role in the city of Rome (Herm. Vis. 8.3: “Therefore, you will write two little books, and you will send one to Clement and one to Grapte. Then Clement will send it to the cities abroad, because that is his job”), it does not specifically associate this Clement with 1 Clement. In fact, the Shepherd never cites 1 Clement, odd if (as commonly supposed) both were written there. 24 Cf. Acts 18. 25 The city of Philomelium in the Martyrdom of Polycarp likewise suffers difficulty for historical interpretation – a point not lost on its early copyists occasionally supplying Philadelphia instead (see J. B. Lightfoot, The Apostolic Fathers: Clement, Ignatius, and Polycarp, 5 vols. 2nd ed. (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1989), 2:3, 363–64. The first appearance of the city of Philomelium apart from Mart. Pol. is when a bishop from that city attended the Council of Constantinople in 381 (see Paul Hartog, Polycarp’s Epistle to the Philippians and the Martyrdom of Polycarp: Introduction, Text and Commentary (Oxford Apostolic Fathers; Oxford: Oxford University Press,

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D. Form and Function Together these observations suggest that 1 Clement is a letter from Rome to Corinth only formally.26 The historical fiction upon which the letter is based is that forty or so years after Paul’s death, the church in Corinth had collapsed back into the same circumstances Paul faced, including some of the same people Paul knew. The historical reality upon which the letter is based is that forty or more years after Paul’s death, a writer views the circumstances of the contemporary church as parallel to those in Corinth in Paul’s day and believes that the most efficient way to end the present controversy is to reiterate Paul’s message. Functionally, 1 Clement was neither written from a church in Rome nor intended for (let alone delivered to) a church in Corinth.27 It can be classified as an allegorical letter, an epistolary type Ps.-Demetrius describes as a letter in which the addressee is the only person who understands what is truly meant and in which the sender intimates one thing by means of another.28 What is more, the strategy is not limited to the prescript. To varying extents, the rest of the letter perpetuates the ruse. Taking advantage of the inherent instability of text and canon in the second century, 1 Clement convincingly maps a new epistolary scenario on the

2013), 272–73. As noted, Polycarp’s Epistle to the Philippians refers to the addressees in the same way; Lightfoot attributes this to the letter’s reliance on 1 Clement (Apostolic Fathers, 2:3, 321). 26 It becomes necessary, therefore, to distinguish fictional from real exigencies of the letter, a topic that is taken up below (see p. 85). Martin Dibelius viewed 1 Clement as half genuine and half sermon (A Fresh Approach to the New Testament and Early Christian Literature [Hertford: Austin, 1936], 189–94). Barbara Ellen Bowe argues that 1 Clement is a real letter (Church in Crisis, 7 n. 1). Christopher Eggenberger’s Zurich dissertation was harshly criticized because he posited that 1 Clement was a fictitious letter, a crypto-apology for the Christian faith, to Roman authorities (Die Quellen der politischen Ethik des 1. Klemensbriefes [Zurich: Zwingli-Verlag, 1951]). Cf. prior work of G. A. van den Bergh van Eysinga, Onderzoek naar de echtheid van Clemens Eersten Brief ann de Corinthiers (Leiden: Brill, 1908), 20–38 in W. C. van Unnik, “Studies on the So-called First Epistle of Clement: The Literary Genre” (123). On fictional and real exigencies in a pseudepigraphon, see Robert Matthew Calhoun, “Resurrection of the Flesh in Third Corinthians,” 235–57. 27 Contra David G. Horrell, whose erudite study assumes the historical veracity of 1 Clement’s address to a church in Corinth, The Social Ethos of the Corinthian Correspondence: Interest and Ideology from 1 Corinthians to 1 Clement (SNTI; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996). See also reviews by Barbara E. Bowe: CBQ 60 (1998): 566–68 and John Hurd: JBL 118 (1999): 768–69. Trevor Thompson, citing Margaret M. Mitchell, refers to such a literary phenomenon as “double pseudepigraphon,” neither from its purported author, nor to its purported addressee. Trevor W. Thompson, “Writing in Character: Claudius Lysias to Felix as a Double-Pseudepigraphon,” in The Interface of Orality and Writing: Seeing, Speaking, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres (ed. A. Weissenrieder and R. B. Coote; WUNT 260; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 393–407. This designation may apply to a broad cross-section of all early Christian pseudepigrapha. 28 For comparison, 3 Corinthians is also a third letter to the Corinthian church (albeit in Paul’s name) written during the last third of second century against gnostics. 3 Corinthians circulated with the letter from the church in Corinth evidently prompting it!

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authoritative framework of 1 Corinthians.29 It crafts a largely symbolic argument, the meaning of which is clear to the intended readers – the majority of other, especially later, readers accepting the text at face value.30 Read in this way, the text qualifies as a form of pseudepigraphon. It adopts Paul’s identity, authority, and argument albeit without attribution.31 Elements of the new epistolary scenario are grafted on to Paul’s canonical letter, covering the new work under the Pauline aegis and piloting it, thereby, into second-century discussions of his legacy.32 Like its parent-text, 1 Clement preserves the Pauline custom of exhorting over mandating, even though by the time of 1 Clement’s composition (no earlier than 96 CE) the concept of episcopal authority had moved to the forefront. 1 Clement’s authority is not a product of Pauline attribution, but Pauline situation, that is, upbraiding members of the Christian community for creating strife through factionalizing just as Paul does in 1 Corinthians.33 1 Clement adopts Paul’s position as a primary (but not its only) rhetorical strategy. Specifically, 1 Clement addresses the question of apostolic succession, appealing to Paul’s letters to manage the disagreement.34 Specific solutions adapted from 1 Corinthians include: (1) submission to present authority; (2) recognition of differences in love; (3) expulsion of community members when necessary; and 29 On the pseudepigraphic strategy in involved, see Trevor W. Thompson, “As if Genuine: Interpreting the Pseudepigraphic Second Thessalonians,” in Pseudepigraphie und Verfasserfiktion in frühchristlichen Briefen (ed. J. Frey et al; WUNT 246; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 471–88. Also, Clare K. Rothschild, Hebrews as Pseudepigraphon: The History and Significance of the Pauline Attribution of Hebrews (WUNT 235; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), chapter 5. 30 Ps.-Demetrius, Epistolary Types 15, “allegorical” (Malherbe). 31 Both Hebrews and 1 Clement emphasize Paul’s identity in the postscript. Contrast the view of C. N. Jefford: “There is no doubt that the text [1 Clem.] was written from the church in Rome and intentionally directed toward the church in Corinth” (Apostolic Fathers and the New Testament, 163). Jefford refers to both 1 Clement and Polycarp’s Letter to the Philippians as “true letters” (43). 32 As discussed below, if 1 Clement’s opponents were “gnostics” in any sense, then “the church sojourning in Rome” could be an allegorical reference to theological ideas accepted by the Roman bishopric and those (formally or informally) adhering to its doctrinal decisions. Bentley Layton discusses the proximity of pseudonymity and allegory among gnostic texts as follows: “… it [allegory] permitted thinkers to assert that their own philosophical views (the “allegorical meaning”) had been recognized long before by an even more authoritative person, such as Homer, Moses, Jesus, or St. Paul. This function is analogous to the pseudepigraphy of classic gnostic scripture, in which a modern thinker’s views are passed off as an ancient document left by an authoritative figure of the past” (Gnostic Scriptures [ABRL; New York: Doubleday, 1987], 273). 33 Clement’s imitation in the prescript (“to those who have been called and made holy by the will of God through our Lord Jesus Christ”) of 1 Corinthians 1:2 (“with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours”) may have suggested to Clement that Paul did not view the problem of factionalizing as confined to a single city and may, thus, have functioned as the license by which Clement adopts the letter symbolically. 34 This is both a widespread rhetorical strategy and one Paul used, using Jewish proof-texts, for example, against those he construed as Judaizing Christians.

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(4) capitulation to what Paul himself says. The point of inquiry to be adjudicated in 1 Clement is: as Paulinists, will the addressee(s) heed their apostle or not?

E. Conclusion 1 Clement is a letter from the church παροικοῦσα (“dwelling near”) Rome to the church παροικοῦσα Corinth. If the verb παροικεῖν has a metaphorical rather than a literal resonance in this passage – as most interpreters agree and as it does in many other early Christian writings – at least two meanings are possible. On the one hand, churches may be located in the cities of Rome and Corinth, the members of which Clement views from a theological standpoint as citizens of heaven. On this interpretation, the participle is metaphorical (or elliptical), but the accusative place name related to it (i. e., Ῥώμην, Κόρινθον) is literal. On the other hand, “churches” may refer to groups of believers who are not literally meeting in the cities of “Rome” and “Corinth” but who align themselves (“sojourns” implies theological positions) either with “Rome” (i. e., positions Paul takes in his Letter to the Romans or proto-orthodox positions) or with “Corinth” (i. e., positions by which Paul characterizes his opponents in 1 Corinthians). This interpretation views the individual adscript and superscript as identifiable units  – both the participle and its accusative place name (i. e., Ῥώμην, Κόρινθον) possessing the same elliptical intention. The second position also comports better with the lack of historical evidence concerning these two churches in the second century. The epistolary elements are theological rather than geographical designations characterizing the sender(s) as proto-orthodox and the addressees as schimastics. They were rejected as titles because first readers correctly interpreted this meaning. This hypothesis opens up the question of figurative references to place names in early Christian writings.

Chapter Five

Παιδεία as Solution to Στάσις in 1 Clement A. Introduction Leading French historian of the mid-twentieth century, Henri-Irénée Marrou once wrote: The expression “Christian education” – ἐν Χριστῷ παιδεία – was first used in about A. D. 96 by St. Clement of Rome. Before that date St. Paul had been concerned with the way parents should bring up their children. This has in fact always been one of Christianity’s main preoccupations.

The first mention of “Christian education” to which Marrou refers is found in 1 Clem. 21:8: “Let our children receive the παιδεία in Christ” (Τὰ τέκνα ἡμῶν τῆς ἐν Χριστῷ παιδείας μεταλαμβανέτωσαν) (cf. 21:6; 62:3). While Marrou may be correct that a few early Christian authors were preoccupied with the raising of children (cf. Eph 6:4; Col 3:21; Heb 12:5, 7–11), the question for this paper is whether he is correct in placing 1 Clem. 21:8 at the beginning of such a catechetical trajectory. 1 Clement is a deliberative letter modeled (in more than one regard) on 1 Corinthians.1 Characteristic of this epistolary subgenre, 1 Clement exhorts its audience to a specific course of action by demonstrating that such an action will be to their advantage as well as, perhaps, just, honorable, or praiseworthy.2 In 1 Clement, the point to be adjudicated is, like 1 Corinthians, the restoration of peace from στάσις.3 Παιδεία is the recommended solution. Παιδεία does not, however, refer to “education” per se, but “punishment” in the form of voluntary exile. Παιδεία as punishment is for the author of 1 Clement a Jewish pedagogical 1 Margaret M. Mitchell writes: “1 Clement 47.1–3, probably the first reference to 1 Corinthians recorded, says of it .... This author knows only one letter (47.1), and surely knows all of 1 Corinthians as he cites it richly and thoroughly. Most importantly, to argue against a later generation of Corinthian factionalists he employs the terms and topoi for unity from throughout 1 Corinthians appropriately in his own appeal for cessation of factions, showing how well he understood and appreciated his precursor’s argument” (Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 17). 2 Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 25–26. 3 Deliberative argumentation is characterized by a focus on the future, a determined set of appeals, esp. τὸ συμφέρον (“what is advantageous”) (cf. 1 Clem. 1:1), proof by example (παράδειγμα), and an appropriate subject, especially factionalism and concord (Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 23).

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technique, garnering support in the form of scriptural proof-texts. Among Christian traditions prior to 1 Clement, Paul appropriates παιδεία as punishment in 1 Cor 11:32 and 2 Cor 6:9.4 Although παιδεία rarely refers exclusively to punitive measures in Greek traditions – because “discipline” is a feature of most ancient pedagogy,5 the two are hardly mutually exclusive. Hans Conzelmann characterizes as false attempts to distinguish between the two concepts in 1 Corinthians because education and punishment are seamlessly intertwined in Jewish wisdom literature.6 However, that “the two are one” in Jewish wisdom does not necessarily imply that Paul does not recognize a distinction and appropriate the concept in only one or the other sense, depending on what he wishes to argue. Context is naturally crucial, and thus it is the argument of this brief paper that παιδεία in 1 Clement connotes a purpose of punishment as opposed to education, dissociating 1 Clem. 21:8 in particular from the trajectory with which Marrou associates it.7 Insofar as all Christian punishment has a restorative goal in the eschaton, the instructional sense never entirely recedes. This essay, however, draws a contrast of broader strokes to emphasize that by demanding the ouster of certain presbyters, 1 Clement issues a life sentence for which, this side of eternity, there is no second chance.

B. Proof-texts and Commentary Of seventeen occurrences of the παιδ‑ stem (παιδεία [7]; παιδεύω [9]; παιδίον [1]) in 1 Clement (excluding 2, παιδίσκη [6:2; 60:2]), few if any connote education exclusive of punishment. Although Werner Jaeger argues that occurrences of παιδεία in 1 Clement suggest the author understood Christian culture on analogy with Greek culture,8 he admits that “in the passages in chapter 56 that are taken from the Old Testament, παιδεία has the limited meaning of the Hebrew term

4  Cf. 2 Tim 2:25, “correcting opponents”; Heb 12:7, parents “discipline” (euphemism?) their children; Luke 23:22, “flogged.” 5 Cf. disciplinary character of the Law as παιδαγωγός in Gal 3:23–4:7. 6 Present in Graeco-Roman context too. See by Stanley Frederick Bonner, Education in Ancient Rome: From the Elder Cato to the Younger Pliny (New York: Routledge, 1977), 126–45. 7 With reference to 1 Cor 11:32, Conzelmann argues that “education” vs. “punishment” is a false distinction: “It should not be asked whether education or chastening is meant. In the Wisdom tradition the two are one, even if according to the particular circumstances the one element or the other can come to the fore” (1 Corinthians [Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975], 203 n. 117). While this may be true of Jewish texts, it is yet unclear the extent to which early Christian literature implies education without chastening or whether here, too, “the two are one.” 8 Werner Jaeger, Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture, 3 vols. (New York, 1945 [2nd ed.], 1943, 1944).

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for chastisement”9 – that is, Clement10 selected passages in the OT explicitly connoting punishment. In response to Jaeger, Holt Graham points out that Clement also uses the expression to refer to “chastisement” at 56:2, 16, and 57:1 – passages representing the author’s own words. The last passage is particularly crucial because it contains the letter’s most concise enunciation of the solution to the Corinthian problem (cf. 54:2). Graham comments on Jaeger’s analysis: “It is true that in 59:3 ἐπαίδευσας means ‘taught’ and in 62:3 Clement speaks of ‘the oracles of the teaching of God (τὰ λόγια τῆς παιδείας τοῦ θεοῦ),’11 but this is not enough to show that Clement had a conception of Christian παιδεία.”12 Reliance on 1 Corinthians13 may elucidate Clement’s usage. Although Paul refers to a παιδαγωγός in 1 Cor 4:15 and Gal 3:24, 25 and to a παιδευτής in Rom 2:20, the only occurrences of the verb, παιδεύειν in Paul’s undisputed letters are in 1 Cor 11:32 and 2 Cor 6:9, both explicitly denoting punishment.14 In 1 Cor 11:32, Paul speaks about παιδεία as a consequence of the Lord’s judgment: “But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world” (κρινόμενοι δὲ ὑπὸ κυρίου παιδευόμεθα, ἵνα μὴ σὺν τῷ κόσμῳ κατακριθῶμεν). In 1 Cor 5:3, Paul depicts himself as judge: “For though absent in body, I am present in spirit; and as if present I have already pronounced judgment in the name of the Lord Jesus on the man who has done such a thing” (ἐγὼ μὲν γάρ, ἀπὼν τῷ σώματι παρὼν δὲ τῷ πνεύματι, ἤδη κέκρικα ὡς παρὼν τὸν οὕτως τοῦτο κατεργασάμενον). Παιδεία as punitive most likely arises in 1 Clement in this Pauline spirit of judgment, perhaps based on the author’s self-understanding as rightful interpreter of the Pauline or at least ‘Corinthian’ tradition.

I. Proof-texts The seventeen παιδ‑ stem words in 1 Clement occur in proof-texts and authorial commentary. The next section addresses eleven occurrences.15 As suggested in  9  Jaeger, Paideia, 117. Ngram viewer demonstrates sharp decline in occurrences of “chastisement” from 1800 to 2000 (https://books.google.com/ngrams, last accessed 3/2/14). 10 The name Clement is used for convenience and without bias as to the actual name of the author of this letter. 11 Furthermore, τὰ λόγια τῆς παιδείας τοῦ θεοῦ might also reflect chastisement, a divine threat. 12 Grant and Graham, Apostolic Fathers, 2:89. Supporting his point, Graham cites C. W. Mackauer’s review of Jaeger in JR 43 (1963): 156–57, here: 157. 13 Hagner, Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome, 168; 1 Clement, however, lacks verbal parallels to the institution of the Eucharist. 14 παιδεία, Eph 6:4; 2 Tim 3:16; Heb 12:5, 7, 8, 11; παιδεύειν, Luke 23:16; Acts 7:22; 22:3; 1 Cor 11:32; 2 Cor 6:9; 1 Tim 1:20; 2 Tim 2:25; Tit 2:12; Heb 12:6, 7, 10; Rev 3:19; παιδευτής, Rom 2:20; Heb 12:9. 15 The one occurrence of παιδίον is not relevant to the argument.

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the comment by Jaeger above, six proof-texts in 1 Clement specify παιδεία as “punishment,”16 all but two deriving from the Jewish Psalter.17 (1) Citing Isa 53:5 (lxx), 1 Clem. 16:5 records: “But he was wounded because of our sins and weakened because of our lawless acts. The παιδεία that brought us peace came upon him. By his bruising we were healed” (1 Clem. 16:5).18 The theme of this passage is vicarious suffering. The Babylonian exile suggests to Israel that God has rejected her. The prophet’s message is that Israel has not been rejected; she has suffered as a servant, God’s way of not impeding but restoring his relationship with his people. The parallels (i. e., “wound” = “bruising”) connote corporal punishment. The point of the citation is 1 Clement is that παιδεία as exile is a recipe for peace. It is expressed succinctly in the formula: παιδεία εἰρήνης. Peace is presented as a virtual certainty, should 1 Clement’s opponent accept “exile” (the author’s explicit recommendation to his opponent in 54:2) as Israel once did. (2) Citing Ps 50:17–20 (lxx 49:17–20), 1 Clem. 35:8 records: “For you despised discipline and cast my commands behind you. If you saw a robber, you ran along with him; and you joined forces with adulterers.”19 Subsequent passages refer to the enemy as rebuffing the notion that God punishes lawlessness: God may be silent at the moment, the psalmist warns, but one day he will destroy the lawless, and they will be without hope of escape. The point in 1 Clement is the same as the psalm: namely, that the opponent’s actions represent premeditated breaches of God’s law, and his punishment for these infractions will not be delayed forever. (3–6) Introduction. The additional four of six occurrences of παιδεία occurring in scriptural proof-texts in 1 Clem. 56:2–5 are parts of a themed florilegium 16 The proof-texts are as follows: (1) Isa 53:1–12 (1 Clem. 16:5); (2) Ps 50:16–23 (1 Clem. 35:8); (3) Ps 118:18 (1 Clem. 56:3); (4) Prov 3:12 (1 Clem. 56:4); (5) Ps 141:5 (1 Clem. 56:5); and Ps 118:114 (cf. Jud 9:11) (1 Clem. 59:3). 17 Cf. Prov 22:15 (rod of discipline); 23:13–14 (rod); 29:15 (rod); 10:17 (instruction/reproof); 12:1 (discipline/reproof); 13:1, 18, 24 (withholding rod = hating son); 15:32; Hebrews 12:4–11 (discipline = peace). The Greek word, παιδεία, was used initially (sixth to fourth centuries BCE) to refer to “education.” However, in Jewish tradition in the Septuagint παιδεία most often translated musar, referring primarily to correction. In Proverbs, musar carries the idea of general teaching, verbal (3:11; 5:12; 10:17), and physical correction (13:24; 22:15; 23:13). However, apart from Proverbs, it refers primarily to chastening and correction (Jer 2:30; 5:3; Hos 5:2; Isa 53:5). In early Christian literature, παιδεία refers to general education (Acts 7:22; 22:3; Titus 2:12; 2 Tim 3:16). It refers to physical correction in 1 Tim 1:20). 18 Αὐτὸς δὲ ἐτραυματίσθη διὰ τὰς ἁμαρτίας ἡμῶν καὶ μεμαλάκισται διὰ τὰς ἀνομίας ἡμῶν· παιδεία εἰρήνης ἡμῶν ἐπ’ αὐτόν, τῷ μώλωπι αὐτοῦ ἡμεῖς ἰάθημεν. The lxx version of this passage swaps τὰς ἁμαρτίας and τὰς ἀνομίας; otherwise the passage is identical. 19 Σὺ δὲ ἐμίσησας παιδείαν καὶ ἐξέβαλες τοὺς λόγους μου εἰς τὰ ὀπίσω. Εἰ ἐθεώρεις κλέπτην, συνέτρεχες αὐτῷ, καὶ μετὰ μοιχῶν τὴν μερίδα σου ἐτίθεις. Τὸ στόμα σου ἐπλεόνασεν κακίαν, καὶ ἡ γλῶσσά σου περιέπλεκεν δολιότητα. Καθήμενος κατὰ τοῦ ἀδελφοῦ σου κατελάλεις, καὶ κατὰ τοῦ υἱοῦ τῆς μητρός σου ἐτίθεις σκάνδαλον (1 Clem. 35:8). The rebuke is identical in the lxx, which describes wicked people deliberately violating more than one of God’s principal covenant laws.

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(1 Clement has 14 themed florilegia in total).20 The theme of this florilegium is παιδεία. The first occurrence of the word παιδεία in this florilegium arises in an authorial comment. The next three cite Psalm 118, Proverbs 3, and Psalm 141. The authorial comment commencing the florilegium sets forth the theme of punishment. The passage then builds to a pitch climaxing with the most concise and bold solution to the epistolary occasion (57:1; cf. 54:2).21 1 Clem. 56:2 records: “We should welcome παιδεία; no one should be upset by it, loved ones. It is good and supremely useful to rebuke one another, for this binds us to the will of God.”22 The point of this statement is self-evident: discipline may at times be harsh or threatening, but it is nevertheless eminently useful for ensuring adherence to God’s will. Heb 12:10–11 offers much the same message: “For they disciplined us for a short time as seemed best to them, but he [God] disciplines us to our advantage, in order that we may share his holiness. Now, all discipline always seems painful rather than pleasant as it is happening, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.”23 (3) V. 3 cites Ps 118:18 (117:18 lxx): “For thus says the holy command: ‘The Lord disciplined me harshly but did not hand me over to death.’”24 This passage bolsters the previous one, the point being that although punishment may arouse fear and upset, it will not kill you. The formula “unto death” (cf. 2 Cor 6:9) implies corporal punishment. (4) Citing Prov 3:12,25 v. 4 argues that punitive measures are evidence of the Lord’s love and acceptance: “For the Lord disciplines the one he loves and whips every son he recognizes as heir.”26 Here we see a positive incentive to accept corporal punishment: it serves to validate a child’s status as heir. (5) Citing Ps 141:5 (140:5 lxx), v. 5 records: “For the one who is upright will discipline me in his mercy, and he will put me to shame. But may the oil of a sinner not anoint my head.”27 The lxx version of this passage is slightly different and Graham, Apostolic Fathers, 2:10–13. describes the crucial role of this verse as follows: “The practical solution for the Corinthian problem is therefore to be found either in the voluntary exile of those who created it (chs. 54–55) or in their obedience to the presbyters (54:2) and repentance (chs. 51–52)” (Grant and Graham, Apostolic Fathers, 2:90; cf. 1 Clem. 54:1–4). 22 Ἀναλάβωμεν παιδείαν, ἐφ’ ᾗ οὐδεὶς ὀφείλει ἀγανακτεῖν, ἀγαπητοί.  Ἡ νουθέτησις, ἣν ποιούμεθα εἰς ἀλλήλους, καλή ἐστιν καὶ ὑπεράγαν ὠφέλιμος· κολλᾷ γὰρ ἡμᾶς τῷ θελήματι τοῦ θεοῦ. Cf. Paul’s use of νουθετεῖν (“rebuke”), 1 Cor 4:14. 23 οἱ μὲν γὰρ πρὸς ὀλίγας ἡμέρας κατὰ τὸ δοκοῦν αὐτοῖς ἐπαίδευον, ὁ δὲ ἐπὶ τὸ συμφέρον εἰς τὸ μεταλαβεῖν τῆς ἁγιότητος αὐτοῦ. πᾶσα δὲ παιδεία πρὸς μὲν τὸ παρὸν οὐ δοκεῖ χαρᾶς εἶναι ἀλλὰ λύπης, ὕστερον δὲ καρπὸν εἰρηνικὸν τοῖς δι’ αὐτῆς γεγυμνασμένοις ἀποδίδωσιν δικαιοσύνης. Imperfects suggest disciplining action continues. 24 Οὕτως γάρ φησιν ὁ ἅγιος λόγος· «Παιδεύων ἐπαίδευσέν με ὁ κύριος, καὶ τῷ θανάτῳ οὐ παρέδωκέν με. The Septuagint version (Ps 117:18) is identical. 25 lxx version is identical. 26  Ὃν γὰρ ἀγαπᾷ κύριος, παιδεύει· μαστιγοῖ δὲ πάντα υἱόν, ὃν παραδέχεται.» 27 παιδεύσει με δίκαιος ἐν ἐλέει καὶ ἐλέγξει με, ἔλαιον δὲ ἁμαρτωλοῦ μὴ λιπανάτω τὴν κεφαλήν μου, ὅτι ἔτι καὶ ἡ προσευχή μου ἐν ταῖς εὐδοκίαις αὐτῶν. 20 Grant

21 Graham

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from the one Clement cites, possibly indicating redaction. Not only is the citation formula, γάρ φησίν, absent, but the lxx has the plural form, ἁμαρτωλῶν, in place of 1 Clement’s (H L S C, pl. in A) singular, ἁμαρτωλοῦ.28 Clement may have deliberately redacted the passage to address a specific opponent. The type of punishment represented in the passage is unclear. Ἐν ἐλέει (“in mercy”) and ἐλέγχω (“to put to shame”) can suggest either sarkic or non-sarkic discipline. (6) The sixth and last occurrence of παιδεία in scriptural proof-texts is part of a closing prayer in chapter 59. The passage alludes to a wide range of Jewish and Christian scriptures. V. 3 alone may cite more than nine different passages.29 Although the reference to παιδεία is not part of a known citation itself, it is included here because it summarizes the point of the citations. The strength of this case relies on the meaning of παιδεία in the foregoing passages: Open the eyes of our heart, that we may recognize you as … the one who multiplies the nations upon the earth and who, from them all, has chosen those who love you through Jesus Christ, your beloved child, through whom you have disciplined, sanctified, and honored us (τὸν πληθύνοντα ἔθνη ἐπὶ γῆς καὶ ἐκ πάντων ἐκλεξάμενον τοὺς ἀγαπῶντάς σε διὰ  Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ τοῦ ἠγαπημένου παιδός σου, δι’ οὗ ἡμᾶς ἐπαίδευσας, ἡγίασας, ἐτίμησας).30

In this case, παιδεία (i. e., ἐπαίδευσας) is one of three components in a triadic formula with “sanctity” (ἡγίασας) and “honor” (ἐτίμησας). The logic of the passage works as follows: Jesus is to God, as Christian disciples are to Jesus. Therefore, just as Jesus was punished, sanctified, and honored by God, Christ-followers will be punished, sanctified, and honored by Christ. The father-son relationship may suggest, as it frequently does, that corporal punishment is in view. Clement is warning his opponents that they must expect to be punished if they wish to be honored; that is, true imitatio Christi involves punishment.

II. Authorial Commentary Together with the one authorial comment discussed above (1 Clem. 56:2), 4 additional authorial comments in 1 Clement raise the issue of παιδεία.31

28 The mss are uncertain. Hebrew translated into English (nrsv): “Let the righteous strike me; let the faithful correct me. Never let the oil of the wicked anoint my head.” 29 From the Jewish scriptures the possibilities include: Isa 13:11; 57:15; Ps 32:10; Job 5:11; 1 Sam 2:7; Deut 32:39; Num 16:22; 27:16; and Dan 3:31; from Christian writings, Eph 1:18 and Luke 1:53. 30 This asymmetric string of verbs has interesting interpretive possibilities, e. g., that God by discipline sanctifies; and by sanctifying, glorifies. This may be an overtranslation, but the place of παιδεία in this series seems illogical on its surface, inviting speculation. 31 The four comments specifying παιδεία as “punishment” are: (1) 1 Clem. 21:6 (2x); (2) 1 Clem. 56:16 (3x); (3) 1 Clem. 57:1; and (4) 1 Clem. 62:3. Each is treated in turn above.

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(1) 1 Clem. 21:6 refers to παιδεία twice: Let us revere the Lord Jesus Christ, whose blood was given for us; we should respect our predecessors;32 we should honor the presbyters;33 we should discipline the new leaders34 with the παιδεία of the fear of God; and we should correct our women toward the good.35

As elsewhere, this comment argues that a breach has taken place in the succession of high offices within the Corinthian church. Unspecified new leaders have broken the precedent set by: (1) Jesus Christ – who is revered, (2) predecessors – who are respected, and (3) current presbyters – who are honored. The νέοι (“new leaders”)36 must, therefore, be disciplined. In this verse, παιδεία has no synonymous or ascending parallel to clarify its specific meaning. “Correct” (the recommendation concerning women) might possess parallel meaning, but it might also refer to a distinct, unrelated action. The comment is unclear as to the corporality of the punishment. (2) 1 Clem. 21:8 is the passage with which this brief essay began  – Marrou characterizing it as the first mention of “Christian education”: “Let our children receive the παιδεία in Christ” (Τὰ τέκνα ἡμῶν τῆς ἐν Χριστῷ παιδείας μεταλαμβανέτωσαν). Although it is true that some early Christian writers were preoccupied with the raising of children (cf. Eph 6:4; Col 3:21; Heb 12:5, 7–11), such a reference in 1 Clem. 21:8 is ambiguous. To begin with, the few references to children here and elsewhere in 1 Clement may connote adults. Although it might seem natural that the progression in this passage – Jesus, predecessors, presbyters, new usurping leaders, and women – would conclude with literal children, at least the following observations weigh against this conclusion. To begin with, there are no other literal references to children in 1 Clement. Παῖς occurs only four times in 1 Clement, three times referring to Jesus, the (adult) child of God (cf. 59:2, 3, 4).37 Τέκνον occurs a total of three times in this text – once in the passage under discussion and twice in citations of scripture: 1 Clem. 22:1, (Ps 33:11, “[adult] audience of the psalm”) and 1 Clem. 56:14, (Job 5:25, “descendants”). While it is true that the passage under discussion (i. e., 1 Clem. 21:8) is the only occurrence of τέκνον in Clement’s own words, 1 Clem. 1:6 (also the author’s words) possesses a very similar progression excluding children (rulers, older men, young men, wives). This may suggest that 21:8 is not the last item in the series, but begins a new thought. This interpretation is supported 32 Cf.

1 Clem. 1:3; 5:7; 32:2; 37:2, 3; 51:5; 55:1; 60:4. 1 Clem. 1:3; 3:3; 44:5; 47:6; 54:2; 55:4; 57:1. 34 Cf. 1 Clem. 1:3; 3:3. 35 Τὸν κύριον  Ἰησοῦν Χριστόν, οὗ τὸ αἷμα ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν ἐδόθη, ἐντραπῶμεν, τοὺς προηγουμένους ἡμῶν αἰδεσθῶμεν, τοὺς πρεσβυτέρους τιμήσωμεν, τοὺς νέους παιδεύσωμεν τὴν παιδείαν τοῦ φόβου τοῦ θεοῦ, τὰς γυναῖκας ἡμῶν ἐπὶ τὸ ἀγαθὸν διορθωσώμεθα· 36 Not with Ehrman: “youth.” 37 The occurrence of παῖς in 39:4 is a citation from Job 4:17, referring to “servants.” Παιδίον occurs only one time, in 16:3 describing the suffering servant as a child in Isa 53:2. 33 Cf.

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by the observation that subsequent references to addressees connote adults: 1 Clem. 22:1, Δεῦτε, τέκνα (“Children!”), (citing Ps 34:11–17), and 1 Clem. 23:4, ὦ ἀνόητοι (“Fools!”), (citing an unknown source; cf. 2 Clem. 11:2–3). These passages imply that the children referred to in 21:8 are not a separate puerile subset of the Corinthian congregation. Rather, “children” refers collectively to the author’s opponents: the last two items in the series, both νέοι (“new leaders”) and “wives” (21:6). What is more, the advice Clement gives the “children” in 21:8 – including humility (τί ταπεινοφροσύνη), pure love (τί ἀγάπη ἁγνὴ), the fear of God (ὁ φόβος αὐτοῦ), holy conduct (ὁσίως ἀναστρεφομένους), and clear understanding (ἐν καθαρᾷ διανοίᾳ) – matches advice he gives his opponent elsewhere in the text. In fact, the message directed to new leaders in 21:6: “We should punish our young leaders in the reverential fear of God (τοὺς νέους παιδεύσωμεν τὴν παιδείαν τοῦ φόβου τοῦ θεοῦ)” is essentially repeated in 22:1, a proof-text characterized as Christ’s confirmation38 of the teaching: “Come, children, and hear me; I will teach you the reverential awe of the Lord (Δεῦτε, τέκνα, ἀκούσατέ μου, φόβον κυρίου διδάξω ὑμᾶς).”39 The adult rank of these children is further emphasized in 23:1 by reference to God – rather than adult parents – as father, the one who rewards reverential awe (contrast, e. g., Col 3:21; Eph 6:4). Naturally, such use of “children” to refer to adult members of the congregation imitates Pauline style in the Corinthian correspondence and elsewhere (e. g., 1 Cor 4:14; 2 Cor 6:13; 12:14; cf. Rom 8:16, 17, 21; Gal 4:19). By referring to the adult members of the congregation as children, Clement may even assume Paul’s paternal authority over this congregation insofar as Paul referred to himself as father over the children in Corinth (1 Cor 4:15). That being said, if we set aside for a moment the precise nature of the “children,” we note that they are exhorted to “receive” the παιδεία ἐν Χριστῷ. The prepositional phrase ἐν Χριστῷ is probably adjectival, although adverbial usage may not imply a significantly different meaning.40 The two subsequent verbs of instruction in this passage and the next – μαθητεύω (21:8b) and διδάξω (22:1) – parallel the phrase μεταλαμβάνω … παιδεία (“to receive”)41 in 21:8a, denoting an instructional content. Punishment is not an explicit component of the instruction, although instructional topics include “the strength of humility” and “the power of pure love” – deliberate paradoxes essentially exhorting the addressees to concede defeat. However, the section’s final statement issues a warning:  Ἐρευνητὴς γάρ ἐστιν ἐννοιῶν καὶ ἐνθυμήσεων· οὗ ἡ πνοὴ αὐτοῦ ἐν ἡμῖν ἐστίν, καὶ ὅταν θέλῃ, ἀνελεῖ αὐτήν (21:9). That is, failure to act on the advice given will result in 38 Note

that the punishment “in Christ” (21:8) is confirmed by the faith “in Christ” (22:1). ETs: Ehrman. 40 Cf. 1 Clem. 1:2, “piety in Christ”; 47:6 “conduct in Christ.” 41 LSJ s. v. μεταλαμβάνω, II, “receive in succession” or “afterwards.” Prefix, μετα‑ may emphasize unholy usurpation of opponents, i. e., rightful succession. 39 Both

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capital punishment. It seems, therefore, that when παιδεία does not necessarily imply punishment, it is added. (3) 1 Clem. 56:16 refers to παιδεία three times: You see, loved ones, what a great protection42 there is for those who are disciplined by the master. For since he is a good father, he disciplines us, that through his holy discipline we may receive mercy.43

This passage summarizes the theme of Jewish proverbial wisdom,44 represented by the florilegium immediately preceding it. The reference to “master” and “father” picks up on the father-son paradigm of many of the Jewish instructional sayings cited. The theme that punishment brings mercy closely resembles 1 Cor 5:5; 11:32; Rom 11:32; and perhaps 2 Cor 6:9. Within the people of God as Paul configures it, punishment is not retributive in a sense of strict divine justice, but directed toward maturation, self-discipline, repentance, and change. (4) 1 Clem. 57:1. As noted, 1 Clement is a deliberative letter modeled on 1 Corinthians. 1 Corinthians is even named as a source and authority (47:1). Holt H. Graham divides the letter into four sections.45 The practical solution to the Corinthian problem is put forward in what Graham regards as the letter’s third section. This solution, framed as recommendations, is covered in 1 Clem. 51–58. In chapters 51–53, proof-texts from the Hebrew Bible demonstrate that God punishes hardness of heart but forgives anyone who confesses. As an exemplum of the recommended behavior, 1 Clem. 53 alludes to the golden calf episode, highlighting how Moses asks God to forgive the people for worshiping the golden calf. Although Moses does not share the people’s blame for wrongdoing, he tells God that if God refuses to grant forgiveness to the people, he is willing to perish with them (1 Clem. 53). The Corinthian leaders, 1 Clement warns, ought to imitate Moses’s humility (1 Clem. 54) by voluntarily exiling themselves. Other examples of the innocent willingness to die with or on behalf of a guilty group are enumerated next in 1 Clem. 55 – including pagan rulers, other Christians, and women from the Jewish scriptures. In 1 Clem. 56:16, the author qua Roman church recommends punishment for the new leader-usurpers to the bishopric. It is exile, referred to as God’s holy παιδεία (cf. 1 Clem. 57; 54:2). 1 Clem. 57:1 articulates the precise recommendation. 42  Ὑπερασπισμός is a hapax legomenon in David’s royal thanksgiving for victory psalm (lxx Ps 17:36). 43 Βλέπετε, ἀγαπητοί, πόσος ὑπερασπισμός ἐστιν τοῖς παιδευομένοις ὑπὸ τοῦ δεσπότου· πατὴρ γὰρ ἀγαθὸς ὢν παιδεύει εἰς τὸ ἐλεηθῆναι ἡμᾶς διὰ τῆς ὁσίας παιδείας αὐτοῦ. 44 E. g., Prov 3:12; 12:1; 25:28; Acts 17:11. 45 Part One (1:1–3:4) describes the epistolary situation: the previous golden age of Corinth has given way to present distressing circumstances or στάσις. Part Two (4:1–39:9) discusses the nature of the Christian life, in particular the evil consequences of jealousy and the necessity of humble obedience leading to repentance. In Part Three (40:1–61:3), the author proposes a solution for the problem at hand. Part Four (62:1–65:2) summarizes the contents of the letter, offers advice to the group in general, and concludes with a prayer of benediction.

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Therefore, you (all) who laid the foundation of the faction, be subject to the presbyters and accept punishment leading to repentance by bending the knees of your heart (Ὑμεῖς οὖν οἱ τὴν καταβολὴν τῆς στάσεως ποιήσαντες ὑποτάγητε τοῖς πρεσβυτέροις καὶ παιδεύθητε εἰς μετάνοιαν κάμψαντες τὰ γόνατα τῆς καρδίας ὑμῶν).46

The final phrase, κάμψαντες τὰ γόνατα τῆς καρδίας ὑμῶν, construes corporal punishment (“bending knees”) as a metaphor for psychological penalty (“knees of your heart”). Although, as we have seen, the greatest proportion of 1 Clement’s proof-texts and authorial comments connote physical punishment, here at the most succinct statement of the author’s sentence against his opponent, corporal punishment is only a metaphor for a psychological and/or spiritual penalty. The summary nature of this passage may suggest that it is a hermeneutical principle applicable across the entire text. Related metaphors scattered throughout 1 Clement suggest this interpretation: “tablets of your hearts” (2:8), “the eyes of our hearts” (36:2), “the eyes of our soul” (19:3), and “the eyes of our heart” (59:3) (cf. “a crushed spirit,” “a crushed and humbled heart,” 18:17; even perhaps, “eyes of the Lord,” 22:6). (5) 1 Clem. 62:3. 1 Clem. 62:3 concludes the letter with the following report: And we were all the more happy to bring these things to mind [or: send along the following reminder], since we knew full well that we were writing to faithful and highly respectable men, who have stooped over to examine closely47 God’s disciplinary commandments.48 46 Cf. 1 Pet 5:5. The expression “bend the knees of my heart” is also attested in the Prayer of Manasseh (Pr Man 11). For the Greek text of the prayer, see Alfred Rahlfs, Psalmi cum Odis (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1975). David A. deSilva writes: “The petition for forgiveness (vv. 11–13) begins with a beautiful image of humility of heart: ‘I bend the knee of my heart.’ This stands in marked contrast with the hubris that Manasseh displayed in his earlier disregard for God’s prohibition of idolatry. Another acknowledgement of sin, ‘I have sinned, O Lord, I have sinned,’ is poetically balanced by the supplication ‘Forgive me, O Lord, forgive me’ (vv. 12–13). The petition concludes by identifying God as the ‘God of those who repent’ (v. 13), which is an original way of describing God, a fine counterpoint to the ‘God of the righteous’ (v. 8) and an expression of the conviction that the God of all does not cease to be God of those who fail to walk in God’s way. As their Creator and as the One who stands ready to forgive and restore those who humble themselves and turn aside from sinful ways, God remains ‘their God’” (Introducing the Apocrypha: Message, Context, and Significance [Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2002], 299). Although, with deSilva, “knees of my heart” might simply be a beautiful metaphor, it might also reflect the common ancient practice of corporal punishment (cf. Ovid, Fast. 2.305): A grove below the Esquiline Hill, untouched / … / When they had gathered there, husbands and wives / Bowed their knees, alike, in supplication / … the wives / Offered their backs, to be beaten by thongs from its hide (ET: A. S. Kline, 2004). 47 BDAG 274, s. v. ἐγκύπτω (cf. LSJ s. v. κύπτω + ἐν) A.1. “bend forward, stoop”; A.2. “Hang the head in shame.” 1 Clem. 40:1; 45:2; 53:1. See Craig Evans, “A Note on ΕΓΚΥΠΤΕΙΝ in 1 Clement,” VC 38 (1984): 200–201. In Ps 9:31 (lxx 10:10) this verb describes the action of an enemy: “κύψει καὶ πεσεῖται ἐν τῷ αὐτὸν κατακυριεῦσαι τῶν πενήτων …” (“He will stoop and crouch when he has mastered the poor”). In 1 Clement the word may be a double entendre, as in the English verb, “to stoop”: “one stoops to study carefully (i. e., get a closer look)” / “one stoops in humility (or: bows down)” or even “one stoops to the level of another viewed as lower than oneself (i. e., condescends).” To repeatedly insist that the opponents have “studied the

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These verses attempt to capture the addressee’s good will in hopes that the recommended action can and will be taken. This gesture of respect involves expertise in the Jewish scriptures49 not in general, but with respect to τὰ λόγια τῆς παιδείας τοῦ θεοῦ, “God’s disciplinary commandments,” in particular. The referent of this legal category is, unfortunately, uncertain but may refer to Jewish proverbial wisdom, even Proverbs specifically. The congregation is exhorted to discipline the usurping authorities thereby acting in accordance with the Scriptures.

C. Conclusion In conclusion, three formulations of παιδεία are identifiable in ancient Greek literature: instruction, punishment, and some combination of the two. Although much of 1 Clement might be said to reflect instructional exhortation, in this letter παιδεία more or less universally connotes disciplinary measures recommended for stamping out the crisis that this deliberative letter was written to solve. Use of the word παιδεία is rhetorically strategic insofar as (1) Paul’s authority hovers behind it (1 Cor 11:32; 2 Cor 6:9) and (2) its first meaning, “instruction” frames the recommendation of voluntary exile as educational, and, thereby, restorative To be sure, proof-texts from the Jewish scriptures further imply corporal punishment. Yet the author’s most succinct response to the epistolary occasion, “bow the knees of your heart” (57:1), transforms corporality for the present context into a metaphor for psychic pain. Such allegorizing references may be related to the double nature of exile: a fate known to possess damaging corporal and psychological effects.

Scriptures carefully and thus will understand” – when in fact the writer clearly believes they do not – represents hyperbole with ironic intent. 48 Καὶ ταῦτα τοσούτῳ ἥδιον ὑπεμνήσαμεν, ἐπειδὴ σαφῶς ᾔδειμεν γράφειν ἡμᾶς ἀνδράσιν πιστοῖς καὶ ἐλλογιμωτάτοις καὶ ἐγκεκυφόσιν εἰς τὰ λόγια τῆς παιδείας τοῦ θεοῦ. Cf. 35:8.  Ὑπεμνήσαμεν might be reference to the text itself, i. e., ὑπόμνημα or ὑπόμνησις or ‘written reminder’ or ‘memorandum.’ Cf. 2 Tim 1:5; 2 Pet 1:13; 3:1. Λόγια may refer to “statements” or perhaps to “oracles,” as in scriptural passages collectively relating to paideia. 49 See n. 32 above.

Chapter Six

Golden Calf Incident in 1 Clement A. Introduction In the reception history of the golden calf tradition, 1 Clement stands out.1 Whereas most recipients employ the tradition negatively to exemplify the behav1 Literature cited: O. M. Bakke, “Concord and Peace”: A Rhetorical Analysis of the Language of the First Letter of Clement with an Emphasis on the Language of Unity and Sedition (WUNT 2.143; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001); J. D. BeDuhn, The First New Testament: Marcion’s Scriptural Canon (Salem, OR: Polebridge, 2013); P. C. Bori, The Golden Calf and the Origins of the Anti-Jewish Controversy (University of South Florida Studies in the History of Judaism 16; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990); R. M. Calhoun, “The Resurrection of the Flesh in Third Corinthians,” 235–57; B. Cline and T. Thompson, “Ignatius Redux: Bart Ehrman on Ignatius and His Letters,” JR (2006): 442–54; M. J. Edwards, “Ignatius and the Second Century: An Answer to R. Hübner,” ZAC (1998): 214–26; B. D. Ehrman, The Apostolic Fathers, 2 vols. (LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003); E. Evans, Tertullian: Adversus Marcionem (New York: Oxford University Press, 1972); Grant and Graham, Apostolic Fathers, vol. 2; T. J. Herron, Clement and the Early Church of Rome: On the Dating of Clement’s First Epistle to the Corinthians (Steubenville, Ohio: Emmaus, 1988); C. E. Hill, review of J. N. Rhodes, The Epistle of Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition in BBR 18 (2008): 360–61; R. J. Hoffmann, Marcion: On the Restitution of Christianity: An Essay on the Development of Radical Paulinist Theology in the Second Century (American Academy of Religion Academy Series 46; Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1984); R. M. Hübner, “Thesen zur Echtheit und Datierung der sieben Briefe des Ignatius von Antiochien,” ZAC (1997): 44–72; idem, Der paradox Eine: Antignostischer Monarchianismus im zweiten Jahrhundert, with a contribution from Markus Vinzent (VCSup 50; Leiden: Brill, 1999); A. Jaubert, Clément de Rome: Épître aux Corinthiens (SC 167; Paris: Cerf, 1971); Jones, Roman World of Dio Chrysostom; Kelly, History of Exile in the Roman Republic; Klek, Symbuleutici qui dicitur sermonis historia critica; Kramer, Quid valeat homonoia in litteris graecis; Lake, Apostolic Fathers, vol. 1 (LCL); Layton, Gnostic Scriptures; T. Lechner, Ignatius Adversus Valentinianos? Chronologische und theologiegeschichtliche Studien zu den Briefen des Ignatius von Antiochien (VCSup 47; Leiden: Brill, 1999); A. Lindemann, “Antwort auf die ‘Thesen zur Echtheit und Datierung der sieben Briefe des Ignatius von Antiochien,’” ZAC (1997): 185–94; A. Lumpe, “Exemplum,” RAC (1966): 6:1229–57; J. R. Michaels, 1 Peter (WBC 49; Nashville: Nelson, 1988); Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation; eadem, “The Emergence of the Written Record,” in Origins to Constantine (ed. M. M. Mitchell and F. M. Young; Cambridge History of Christianity 1; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2006), 177–94; Moss, “On the Dating of Polycarp,” 539–74; J. N. Rhodes, The Epistle of Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition: Polemics, Paraenesis, and the Legacy of the Golden-Calf Incident (WUNT 2.188; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009); Rothschild, Hebrews as Pseudepigraphon; G. Schoellgen, “Die Ignatianen als pseudepigraphisches Briefcorpus: Anmerkung zu den Thesen von Reinhard M. Hübner,” ZAC (1998): 16–25; L. Smolar and M. Aberbach, “The Golden-Calf Episode in Postbiblical Literature,” HUCA (1968): 39:91–116; Trevor W. Thompson, “As if Genuine: Interpreting the Pseudepigraphic Second Thessalonians,” 471–88; idem, “Writing in Character: Claudius Lysias

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ior of the Jews in the wilderness, 1 Clement uses it positively to portray Moses as leader par excellence. What is more, in the text of 1 Clement, this exemplum constitutes the climax of numerous historical exempla comprising the central proofs in the argument of the letter. This essay investigates the idea that the interpretation and position of the golden calf tradition in 1 Clement suggest a specific historical occasion. While the letter was composed to have enduring and universal application, its precise historical opponent was Marcion, as revealed by the golden calf exemplum and corroborated by Tertullian. The essay begins by exploring important background questions – prolegomena to the essay’s argument. The second section exegetes the golden calf tradition in 1 Clement as integral to the letter’s recapitulatio in the post scriptum or ἐπίλογος. The third section correlates the exempla of the recapitulatio to the initial presentation of exempla in the probatio  – critical to understanding the pivotal role of the golden calf tradition in the text overall. The conclusion postulates implications of the golden calf tradition for the text, listing other possible correspondences with Marcionite traditions in 1 Clement and closing with evidence provided by Tertullian that the golden calf interpretation of 1 Clement implies the text’s anti-Marcionite purpose.

B. Background In 1970, W. C. van Unnik first argued that the letter known as 1 Clement is “a plea for peace and concord,” or περὶ ὁμονοίας, similar to contemporaneous writings composed to quell seditious outbreaks or στάσεις in the cities of the Roman Empire.2 Agreeing with van Unnik, Laurence L. Welborn (1984) persuasively argued against the traditional Domitianic dating of this letter (i. e., ca. 96 CE) by demonstrating that a standard component of this category of writings is the description of a city’s στάσις; in other words, the στάσις that is described in 1:1 (cf. 3:1–4) is a generic element not necessarily pointing to any certain historical to Felix as a Double-Pseudepigraphon,” 393–407; van Unnik, “Studies over de zogenaamde eerste brief van Clemens. I. Het littéraire genre”; H. J. Vogt, “Bemerkungen zur Echtheit der Ignatiusbriefe,” ZAC (1999): 50–63; L. L. Welborn, “On the Date of First Clement,” BR (1984): 35–54; idem, “Clement, First Epistle of,” ABD (1992) 1:1055–60. 2 Important primary literature includes: Aristotle, Rhet. 1.3–4, 8; 2.18; Dio Chrysostom, Or. 38–41; and Aelius Aristides, Or. 23–24. On ὁμόνοια in general, see Kramer, Quid valeat homonoia in littens graecis. See the discussion of the speeches on concord in Jones, Roman World of Dio Chrysostom, 83–94, and, on this generic category in general, Klek, Symbuleutici qui dicitur sermonis historia critica. In addition, 1 Clement supports the imperium Romanum. It is, therefore, more than just a model for his argument; it is a reality the author backs. Finally, the close literary parallels between the orations (especially 38–41) of Dio Chrysostom and 1 Clement are interesting vis-à-vis the thesis of Hoffmann (Marcion: On the Restitution of Christianity) who argued for an anti-Marcionite strain in 1 Clement.

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circumstance.3 Moreover, the “strife” (στάσις) in 1:1 corresponds to and should not be separated from the “strife [ἔρις] over the office of bishop” (44:1) – the central concern of the letter. When this evidence is added to more recent theories, which delay the traditional date of, for example, the Ignatian corpus and the Martyrdom of Polycarp, we observe a surge of “apostolic” teaching during the middle as opposed to the beginning of the second century when 1 Clement was also most likely composed.4 The extent to which 1 Clement utilizes the literary model of περὶ ὁμονοίας, or “a plea for peace” among cities, is complete.5 The text refers to the Christian community it addresses as a πολίτευμα (cf. Phil 3:20). Its primary exhortation is to the city’s ἀρχηγοί (1 Clem. 14:1; 51:1).6 The recommendation to the factionalizing individual (or, perhaps, two individuals) is voluntary exile (54:2).7 Individual members of the congregation are referred to as “citizens” (οἱ πολιτευόμενοι) of the “city of God” (πολιτεία τοῦ θεοῦ; 54:4).8 They are exhorted as an “army” (στρατευσώμεθα), holding offices including prefect, tribune, and centurion that together serve the emperor and his generals (37).9 Like the letter’s also Herron, Clement and the Early Church of Rome. Herron objects on pp. 25–26. the Ignatian corpus, see Hübner, “Thesen zur Echtheit und Datierung,” 44–72. Cline and Thompson (“Ignatius Redux,” 445 n. 10) summarize: “Scholars now recognize three recensions of the Ignatian corpus: long, middle, and short. The long recension is represented in most of the Greek and Latin manuscripts; it includes a longer interpolated text of the accepted seven-letter corpus with six additional pseudepigraphic letters (five by Ignatius and one to him). The middle recension is based on a few Greek and Latin manuscripts and includes a shorter text in the accepted seven-letter corpus along with the six additional letters. The short recension, preserved only in Syriac, is an abridgement of Ephesians, Romans, and Polycarp.” Debate continues with Lindemann, “Antwort”; Schoellgen, “Die Ignatianen als pseudepigraphisches Briefcorpus”; Edwards, “Ignatius and the Second Century”; and Vogt, “Bemerkungen zur Echtheit der Ignatiusbriefe.” On the late date of the martyrdom, see Moss, “On the Dating of Polycarp.” “Apostolic Fathers” (implying that some of these writers witnessed some of the original apostles first-hand) is a misnomer that stuck. I use “apostolic” here in this sense. See Lake, Apostolic Fathers (LCL), 1:vii. 5 See Bakke, “Concord and Peace”: A Rhetorical Analysis of the Language of the First Letter of Clement. 6 The Greek text of 1 Clement in this essay is that of Jaubert, Clément de Rome, 98–204. For the English translations, I have consulted both Lake (Apostolic Fathers [LCL]) and Ehrman (Apostolic Fathers [LCL]). 7 Since politically motivated accusations were common in the early church and no criminal procedure yet existed for such disagreements, men and women facing charges deserved a choice concerning their fate. On political exile in the Roman republic (the model on which 1 Clement bases its recommendation), see Kelly, History of Exile in the Roman Republic. 8 Ταῦτα οἱ πολιτευόμενοι τὴν ἀμεταμέλητον πολιτείαν τοῦ θεοῦ ἐποίησαν καὶ ποιήσουσιν. 9 In the case of 1 Clement, however, the reconciliation sought is not between the actual cities of Rome and Corinth but – because Christianity is one big city its citizens are viewed as exiles in their respective geographical locations (prescript) – between rival leaders therein. See reference in 1:1 to those in both churches as sojourning in their respective cities. In his Orations, Dio writes to one city regarding strife with another city. In 1 Clement, a church (Rome) writes to another church (Corinth) regarding strife within that latter group specifying certain individuals as the root cause. In Paul’s letters to the Corinthians, Paul writes to the church regarding 3 See 4 On

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opening reference to στάσις, these elements represent generic conventions.10 Closely conforming the letter to its ancient type, they do not even offer clues as to the historical occasion of the letter. What is more, 1 Clement extrapolates much data from 1 Corinthians, essentially mapping its own argument on Paul’s letter.11 It probably does so for a number of reasons, not least of which is the acceptance of 1 Corinthians as genuine and the acceptance of its authority as a result. The most significant way that 1 Clement agrees with 1 Corinthians is its argument that removal of a certain individual from the community has become imperative (1 Cor 5:5; 1 Clem. 54:2).12 The most significant way 1 Clement diverges from 1 Corinthians concerns authorship. First Clement does not claim to be written by Paul (or Clement for that matter) but by the church which “sojourns” (so Lake) or “temporarily resides” (so Ehrman) in Rome (ἡ ἐκκλησία τοῦ θεοῦ ἡ παροικοῦσα Ῥώμην, prescript).13 This element (city writing to city), too, conforms to the model of περὶ ὁμονοίας.14 If one admits 1 Peter as an interpretive guide on this point, then 1 Clement’s description of both the churches of the cities of Rome and Corinth as παροικοῦσα is non-literal.15 “Sojourning” implies dwelling in a city without citizenship or with a superior citizenship elsewhere.16 First Clement’s prescript, “those without citizenship in Rome” to “those without citizenship in Corinth,” if figurative, controverts this epistolographical convention of the genre,

strife within that body, also specifying certain individuals as root causes. The similarities – together with the high estimation in which Paul is held in this letter – all but guarantee that the anonymous author of 1 Clement deliberately assumes Paul’s authority albeit for circumstances following Paul’s death. 10 A writer or orator will select a γένος that best conforms to τὰ κρινόμενα, the points for the audience to adjudicate (whether fictional or real). “Conventions” of a genre signal to one reader what kind of question they are to decide. 11 See Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation, 138–40, 250–56. Both works have the same primary topic: division within a community based on allegiance to different leaders. They each deal with bodily resurrection and love. They emphasize Moses over Abraham. They insist on a lineage of revelation that validates present leaders. 12 Contra Welborn, “Clement, First Epistle of,” 1:1057. 13 Cf. 1 Pet 1:17, 2:11 (see Michaels, 1 Peter, 8); Polycarp, Phil.; Mart. Pol.; the epistle of Dionysius of Corinth (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 4.23.5–6); Letter from Vienna and Lyons (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 5.1.3). Other early Christian texts contain this concept, including Eph 2:19; 2 Clem. 5:1; Diogn. 5:5. 14 Church writing to church is conceptually parallel to city writing to city. Cf. John (the Seer) writing, in the name of Christ, to the angel of a church (Rev 2:1–3:22). 15 Although the city names Corinth and Rome fit the περὶ ὁμονοίας model, παροικεῖν is in tension with generic expectations insofar as such letters address citizens of one city from citizens of another. Cf. 1 Cor 1:2, where Paul includes among the addressees of his letter “all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours,” a point John Chrysostom notes (Hom. 1 Cor. 2). 16 See BDAG 779. Cf. Eph 2 (esp. vv. 12, 19).

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perhaps even encoding meaning.17 Tradition, unsatisfied with this attribution (canonization may have demanded a titulus distinguishable from Paul’s Letter “To the Corinthians”), attributes authorship of the letter to “Clement,” to whom a substantial amount of pseudepigraphic literature is ascribed.18 First Clement offers the unusual (unique?) case of the additional attribution of an already attributed text. These preliminary observations suggest that 1 Clement is a letter between two churches in two cities only formally.19 Functionally, it is neither written from a church in Rome nor delivered to (or even intended for) a church in Corinth.20 Rather, it functioned as a missive from a community of Christians holding one position (i. e., proto-orthodox) to a community of Christians holding another (i. e., proto-heterodox or ‑heretical), convincingly mapping a new epistolary scenario on to an older authoritative letter with a very similar purpose. Double attribution notwithstanding, 1 Clement is thus a pseudepigraphon, and as such it floats in ancient space and time.21 Elements of the new epistolary scenario are our only foothold into real authorship, addressee(s), and occasion.22 Returning to the question of genre (i. e., the “letter of concord”), as Bakke has shown, a chief means of persuasion in such writings is the historical exemplum.23 The historical exemplum supports the central argument as both a proof by induction and a μάρτυς. In Dio Chrysostom’s orations περὶ ὁμονοίας, the στάσις between the Spartans and Athenians in the Peloponnesian War is such an 17 For cities as coded language for other cities or entities, cf. “Babylon” in Rev 14:8; cf. 1 Pet 5:13; Sib. Or. 5:143, 159, 434; 2 Bar. 11:1. 18 Works attributed to Clement (perhaps on the basis of the “high esteem” of 1 Clement) include 2 Clement, two epistles (De virginitate and the Apostolic Constitutions); Pseudo-Clementine Homilies and Recognitions (3rd century). See also the posthumous martyrdom text Martyrium Clementis (fourth century). For additional discussion, see Welborn, “Clement, First Epistle of,” 1:1056. 19 It becomes necessary, therefore, to distinguish fictional from real exigencies of the letter. Cf. Calhoun, “The Resurrection of the Flesh in Third Corinthians.” 20  Trevor Thompson (“Writing in Character: Claudius Lysias to Felix as a Double-Pseudepigraphon,” 393), citing Mitchell (“The Emergence of the Written Record,” 181), refers to such a literary phenomenon as “double pseudepigraphon”: neither from its purported author, nor to its purported addressee. 21 First Clement is not pseudonymous (no “false name”), but it is a “false writing” nonetheless. Oddly, both Hebrews and 1 Clement seem to assume Paul’s identity in the postscript. 22 Below we will see that if 1 Clement’s opponents were proto-“gnostics” in any sense, then the claim to be written by a church sojourning in Rome is, like other aspects of the text, deliberately allegorical. Layton (1987, 273) discusses the proximity of pseudonymity and allegory among gnostic texts as follows: “it [allegory] permitted thinkers to assert that their own philosophical views (the ‘allegorical meaning’) had been recognized long before by an even more authoritative person, such as Homer, Moses, Jesus, or St. Paul. This function is analogous to the pseudepigraphy of classic gnostic scripture, in which a modern thinker’s views are passed off as an ancient document left by an authoritative figure of the past.” 23 Bakke, Concord and Peace, 57–61. Cf. van Unnik, “Studies over de zogenaamde eerste brief van Clemens. I. Het littéraire genre”; Lumpe, “Exemplum,” 1240.

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example.24 Dio Chrysostom goes back to this famous old disagreement between cities as an example to contemporary cities engaged in a dispute. First Clement dubs its examples ὑποδείγματα as opposed to παραδείγματα (cf. τύπος in 1 Cor 10:6), concentrating them in the probatio (Gk. πίστεις) or evidence section, in chapters 4–19 (cf. also chs. 31–32, 43), following the letter’s initial description of the στάσις (chs. 1–3).25 1 Clem. 51:1–58:2 selectively reprises these exempla in a typical peroratio (ἐπίλογος).26 The climax of the exempla in the peroratio, however, brings forward a new allusion: the golden calf incident (53:2–5).

C. Exempla in the Peroratio We begin with the peroratio, where the golden calf allusion is found. Chart 1 outlines the contents of this section. Chart 2. I. recapitulatio (quod erat demonstrandum) A. Appeal to confess B. Principle: those living in fear and love accept torture before allowing others to suffer 51:3 C. Maxim recommending confession over hardening one’s heart 51:3b–53:5 D. Seven Historical Exempla 51:3–4 (1) Korah 51:5 (2) Pharaoh 52:1 E. Appeal to confess (3) David 52:2 52:3 (4) David 52:4 (5) David 53:1 F. Hermeneutical Principle about learning from history 53:2–3 (6) Israelites (golden calf) 53:4–5 (7) Moses 51:1 51:2

II. Recommended Action 54:1–2 54:3 54:4 55:1–6

A. Principle: dulce et decorum est pro patria mori B. Promise of rewards C. Principle: History repeats itself D. Seven Historical Exempla (1) Many kings and rulers sacrifice their lives

Or. 34.49–51; 38.24–25. of the term ὑποδείγματα is unusual in ancient Greek, although not in the NT and early Christian literature (cf. especially Heb 4:11). See Bakke, “Concord and Peace”: A Rhetorical Analysis of the Language of the First Letter of Clement, 59. 26 See Bakke, although he delineates the peroratio slightly differently as 62:1–64:1 (“Concord and Peace”: A Rhetorical Analysis of the Language of the First Letter of Clement, 222–24, 226–32). 24 See

25 Usage

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(2) Many kings and rulers accept exile 55:2 (3) Many Christians accept arrest (4) Many enter slavery 55:3 (5) Many women act with manly valor (6) Judith 55:4–5 55:6 (7) Esther 56:1 E. Appeal to humility 56:2–5 F. Principle: Cycle of sin–repentance–punishment–restoration 56:6 G. Macarism 56:7–15 H. Exemplum: Job III. Final Warnings 57:1 57:2–4 57:5 57:6–7 58:1 58:2 59:1 59:2 59:3–61:3

A. First warning: Death threat (1) “Be small in the flock of Christ,” v. 2 B. Second warning: God will mock you C. Third warning: God will not listen to you D. Fourth warning: Death threat E. First appeal to obedience F. Second appeal to give heed to this advice G. Fifth warning: Danger H. Declaration of author’s innocence I. Prayer

This section of text contains three groups of exempla: (1) seven exempla supporting an exhortation to repent (I.D–E–F, 51:3b–53:5); (2) seven exempla supporting an exhortation to accept voluntary exile (II.D.1–7, 55:1–6); and (3) one exemplum supporting the idea that reward is the ultimate outcome of repentance (III.H, 56:7–15). Each is discussed in turn.

I. Exempla Supporting Recommended Action 1. Exhortation to Repent I.D.1 Korah The first example in the first section is Korah, who – although the text alludes to him more than once – is never mentioned by name in 1 Clement. The biblical narrative from which our text (presumably) borrows (Num 16:1–50) involves at least two levels of priestly conflict. Korah argues with Moses, either against the Levites, or as one of them against prerogatives for any one group of Israelites. After a dialogue with the Lord concerning their wrongdoing, God allows Moses to separate the three guilty men, then the earth opens and devours the men and their households. Although Korah’s rebellion typically represents a refutation of spiritual elitism within the priesthood, its application in 1 Clem. 51 focuses

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decisively on the spiritual disposition of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, and the punishment they receive as a result of it. This disposition (51:3), not present in the text of Numbers, borrows rather from Exodus or elsewhere (e. g., Exod 4:21; 7:3; 14:4, 17; 15:7; cf. 1 Sam 6:6; Ps 95:8). First Clement depicts the rebels as “hard of heart” (σκληρῦναι τὴν καρδίαν αὐτοῦ), formulating the idea as a maxim: “It is better for a person to confess his transgressions than harden his heart” (51:3). The text also notes that Korah’s judgment was public (51:3). This punishment has a very frightening aspect insofar as the rebels are – as in Num 16:33 – buried alive (κατέβησαν γὰρ εἰς ᾅδου ζῶντες). This section of 1 Clement concludes with a line from a Korahite psalm, expressing Korah’s punishment: “Death shepherds them” (θάνατος ποιμαίνει αὐτούς). The line delivers a sharp warning to second-century church leadership since the work of bishops (ἐπίσκοποι) in this period is frequently referred to with the verb ποιμαίνειν (“to shepherd”; cf. Acts 20:28; 1 Pet 2:25). I.D.2 Pharaoh Breaking chronological order, the author turns next to the example of Pharaoh, possibly triggered by the phrase σκληρῦναι τὴν καρδίαν αὐτοῦ about Korah in 1 Clem. 51:3 but now characterizing Pharaoh in Exodus 4:21; 7:3, 13, etc. Pharaoh and his army, 1 Clement reports, drowned in the Red Sea on account of their hardened hearts.27 I.E.3–5 David The next three exempla in 1 Clem. 52 are statements by David from Pss 69, 50, and 51.28 In contrast to the impenitent hearts of Korah and Pharaoh in 1 Clem. 51, these psalms emphasize a contrasting moral disposition: David had a contrite heart. In each of the three examples, God’s requirement of sacrifice is framed as an act of contrition on the part of the individual supplicant. I.F.6–7 Israelites and Moses The final two historical exempla are aspects of the same historical event. The first is a negative exemplum: the Israelites “cast metal idols [χωνεύματα] for themselves” and, in so doing, broke the law (ἠνόμησεν; 1 Clem. 53:2). The second example contrasts with the first. Beginning with a citation of Deut 9:12, it holds 27 Cf. Rom 9–10. Grant and Graham point out that unlike the other exempla in this section, Pharaoh is an outsider to the group under discussion. They argue that, similar to Paul in 1 Cor 10:6–10, the author addresses members of a Christian community for whom hardness of heart is attributed to human sin, irrespective of one’s place inside or outside a given community (Apostolic Fathers, 2:84). 28 Grant and Graham (Apostolic Fathers, 2:10) speculated that these psalms comprised parts of an anthology used by the author of 1 Clement as a source.

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up Moses as the highest standard (1 Clem. 53:4) because, when God threatens annihilation of the people for ἀνομία, Moses offers to die with them. The exemplum concludes with an exaltation of the great love and perfect leadership of Moses, extolling him as a paragon of virtue for his willingness to sacrifice his life. Moses plays the role of the valiant shepherd seeking God’s forgiveness on behalf of a sinful people to the point of offering to die with them. As “servant,” Moses attempts to guarantee that the names of God’s people remain written in the “book of the living” (53:4). This illustration directly contrasts with the previous one of Korah for whom death is “shepherd” (51:4). The subsequent chapter (54) picks up immediately on this golden calf exemplum, pointing to its importance. First Clement asks its audience: who wishes to exemplify Moses as he is portrayed in the golden calf episode? “Who therefore among you is noble? Or compassionate? Or filled with love?” (1 Clem. 54:1). The text, then, spells out the confessional formula that all those aspiring to emulate Moses must swear: “Let that one say, ‘If I am the cause of faction, strife, and schisms, I will depart; I will go wherever you wish and do what is commanded by the congregation. Only allow the flock of Christ to be at peace with the presbyters who have been appointed’” (54:2).29 2. Exhortation to Accept Voluntary Exile First Clement 55 offers seven additional non-biblical exempla to balance the seven scriptural exempla in 1 Clem. 51–54. The list begins in 1 Clem. 55:1b, where each of five historical witnesses to self-sacrifice begins with the word πολλοί.30 Emphasis is placed on the first and second examples: (1) many sacrifice their lives in times of plague; (2) many accept exile to end sedition; (3) many accept arrest to ransom others; (4) many enter into slavery to purchase others; and (5) many women have acted with manly valor. The two final examples return to two specific biblical champions of the past: Judith (6) and Esther (7). These exempla resemble closely the author’s pressing concerns. About Judith, the text records that when 29 Grant and Graham (Apostolic Fathers, 2:86) note the importance of this chapter: “This is one of the most important chapters in the letter, for between two collections of examples Clement inserts a direct appeal to the leaders of the revolt (cf. 51:1) at Corinth. He first suggests that among them there may be someone noble (like Peter, 5:4; like Paul’s fame, 5:6; like the Roman Christians’ prize, 6:2 – or even like the phoenix, 25:3!), compassionate (like God, 29:1), and filled with love (chs. 49–50). Then he urges such a person to admit his responsibility for the revolt (mentioned nine times in the letter), strife (also nine times) and divisions (five times singular or plural), and to enter upon voluntary exile.” By referring to the epistolary opponent as the “flock of Christ,” the author demotes them (rhetorically) from their position as presbyters. This strategy is also seen elsewhere in the letter (e. g., 1 Clem. 47). 30 The referent of πολλοί varies. In 55:1 the author specifies Gentiles, in particular rulers and kings. However, in v. 2 the referent is the epistolary community (“among ourselves”). In v. 3 the referent is “women.”

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her “city” (πόλις) was under siege, she requested of “the elders” (ᾐτήσατο παρὰ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων) permission to go out to the foreigners’ camp (56:4).31 In a catchword association, whereas the first group of exempla culminates in Moses’s offer to sacrifice himself, the second group of individuals have died in acts of self-sacrifice. Five of the seven exempla in the second set refer to groups of people rather than individuals. Furthermore, the second list comprises many Gentiles, in addition to Christians and Jews, and these figures are contemporary rather than historical. In this way, the section takes advantage of at least three rhetorical strategies: (1) quantity over quality; (2) a “rhetoric of barbarians,” or the notion that even barbarians – Gentiles in Jewish contexts, pagans in Christian contexts – exemplify virtue (cf. 1 Cor 5:1!); and (3) the “rhetoric of history,” or the argument that as it was in the past, so it should be now. 3. Exhortation that Reward is Outcome of Repentance By citing the Book of Job, the peroratio closes with a positive incentive to act on the advice that the letter puts forward. The text of Job 5:17–26 (Job is corrected by God) demonstrates that punishment is evidence of God’s love (1 Clem. 56:4) and is always followed by reward.

D. Exempla in the Probatio The exempla of the peroratio recapitulate the exempla of the historical examples put forward in the probatio (chs. 4–19). Chart 2 details the various exempla functioning as proofs in the argument. Chart 3. Chapters 4–19 Negative: 4:1–13 A. Exempla (topic: envy) 4:1–7 (1) Cain 4:8 (2) Jacob 4:9 (3) Joseph’s brothers (4) Pharaoh 4:10 4:11 (5) Aaron, Miriam 4:12 (6) [Korah implied], Dathan, and Abiram 4:13 (7) Strangers, Saul

31 Cf. 1 Clem. 4:13, where “foreigners” (ἀλλόφυλοι) is used of David’s opponents who incurred envy from him. Cf. the use of “presbyter” to refer to those opposing the dissident(s) in 1 Clem. 1:3; 3:3; 21:6; 44:5; 47:6; 54:2; 55:4; 57:1.

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Positive: 5:1–6:4 B. Exempla (topic: contra envy) 5:1–5 (1) Peter 5:6–7 (2) Paul (3) Multitude of unnamed “chosen” men 6:1 6:2 (4) Danaids 6:2 (5) Dircae 6:3 (6) Wives estranged from husbands 6:4 (7) Great cities, mighty nations overthrown 7:1–8:5 C. Exempla (topic: repentance) 7:6 (1) Noah 7:7 (2) Jonah 8:1–3 (3) Ezekiel (4) Isaiah 8:4–5 9:1–12:8 D. Exempla (topic: obedience) 9:3 (1) Enoch 9:4 (2) Noah 10:1–7 (3) Abraham 11:1–2 (4) Lot 12:1–8 (5) Rahab 13:1–4 E. Appeal to humility 14:1–5 F. Appeal to obedience G. Appeal to act peaceably 15:1–7 16:1–18:17 H. Exempla (topic: humility) 16:1–17 (1) One Christian Exemplum 16:1–17 (a) Jesus 17:1–18:17 (2) Seven Jewish Exempla 17:1 (a) Elijah 17:1 (b) Elisha 17:1 (c) Ezekiel 17:2 (d) Abraham 17:3–4 (e) Job (f) Moses 17:5 18:1–17 (g) David 19:1–3 I. Conclusion

The exempla of the “recapitulation” (chs. 51–53) summarize those of ch. 4; and the exempla of “the recommended action” (54–56) sum up those of chs. 5 and 6. Chart 2 spells out these prior examples. Examples in ch. 4 appear mostly in pairs: (1) Cain and Abel; (2) Jacob and Esau; (3) Joseph; (4) Moses and Pharaoh; (5) Aaron and Miriam; (6) Dathan and Abiram; and (7) David vs. strangers and David vs. Saul. Chapter 5 corresponds with the first part of the recommended action. It features Peter and Paul battling jealous rivals. Chapter 6 extols unnamed “holy men” and others experiencing torture and other indignities. Chapters 7–8 switch from denouncing envy to holding up repentance, putting Noah and Jonah forward as preachers: through the preaching of Jonah, even “aliens” repented.

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Next, prophets such as Ezekiel and Isaiah are said to have preached repentance effectively. Chapter 9 exhorts obedience, of which Enoch and Noah serve as the examples. In ch. 10, Abraham is held up for obedience, having left his country to receive God’s promise of a great nation (10:3). In ch. 11, Lot exemplifies hospitality and piety; his wife, double-mindedness and doubt. In ch. 12, Rahab is an example of faith and hospitality. Chapters 13–15 (esp. 14:1–2) exhort readers to humble-mindedness and the avoidance of sedition. In ch. 16, Jesus exemplifies this trait. Chapter 17 holds up Elijah, Elisha, Ezekiel, Abraham, Job, and Moses as exemplifying humility, and ch. 18 presents David. First Clement 19:1 concludes the section with a final exhortation to humility and obedient submission, noting the significance of the historical exempla put forward: “The humility and obedient submission of so many people of such great fame have improved not only us, but also the generations before us, those who received God’s oracles in fear and truth.”

I. Comparison of Exempla When one compares exempla in their first statement in the probatio and their second statement in the recapitulatio, a pattern emerges (see Chart 4). Chart 4. I. 1 Clem. 4–6 = (probatio) A. Seven Negative Exempla (1) Cain (2) Jacob (3) Joseph’s brothers (4) Pharaoh (5) Aaron, Miriam (6) Dathan, Abiram (7) Strangers, Saul B. Two Positive Exempla (1) Peter and Paul (2) Multitudes of “chosen” men II. 1 Clem. 51–53 (peroratio) A. Two Negative Exempla (1 Clem. 51) (1) Korah (2) Pharaoh B. Four Positive Exempla (1 Clem. 52–55) (1) David (2) Moses (golden calf) Insertion: Direct appeal to leaders of the revolt (1 Clem. 54) (3) Multitudes of pagans (4) Judith and Esther

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We observe that the recapitulatio supports the same dual emphases (i. e., the problem of impenitence with a solution of repentance), however, the balance (albeit imperfect) is reversed. Whereas in the first presentation of the material, we find seven negative and two positive groups of exempla, in the recapitulatio, we find two negative and four positive exempla. What is more, the golden calf episode is introduced and positioned as the climax of the recapitulatio, focusing not on the Israelites’ sin of idolatry, but Moses’s willingness, not just to beg the Lord’s forgiveness on their behalf, but to die with them should the Lord be unwilling to forgive. I am unable to locate a single other mid-second century Christian application of the golden calf episode that highlights Moses’s bold compassion.32 The Epistle of Barnabas features the golden calf episode, but uses it to transfer God’s covenant – lost to Israel on account of its golden calf worship and its rejection of Jesus – to Christians (Barn. 4:6b–8; 14:1–4a).33 What is more, although 1 Clement follows 1 Corinthians at many points in the argument, and although both include the golden calf story as an exemplum (1 Cor 10:7; 1 Clem. 53), 1 Clement bypasses Paul’s application of the episode and instead uses it to make the opposite point. Finally, the golden calf episode also provides the link to the central exhortation of the text in ch. 54. Robert Grant (Grant and Graham 1965, 86) refers to this chapter as “one of the most important chapters in the letter,” because in it the author issues a direct order to his opponent: accept voluntary exile on penalty of death.

E. Conclusion The conclusion drawn from this investigation is straightforward. In 1 Clement, exempla comprise the evidence in the argument’s probatio. The golden calf exemplum is added to the recapitulation of this evidence in the closing argument and is both unconventional in its adaptation and positioned optimally among all the evidence that is summoned because it stresses not the sin of the Israelites, but Moses as moral example par excellence: Moses thus best exemplifies how to address the central epistolographical problem of στάσις in the community. 32 In contrast, Paul describes Moses as lacking boldness in 2 Cor 3:12–14a (cf. vv. 5b–8):  Ἔχοντες οὖν τοιαύτην ἐλπίδα πολλῇ παρρησίᾳ χρώμεθα, καὶ οὐ καθάπερ Μωϋσῆς ἐτίθει κάλυμμα ἐπὶ τὸ πρόσωπον αὐτοῦ, πρὸς τὸ μὴ ἀτενίσαι τοὺς υἱοὺς  Ἰσραὴλ εἰς τὸ τέλος τοῦ καταργουμένου (vv. 12–13). After the second century, examples can be found in Tertullian, Marc. 2.26; Augustine, Enarrat. Ps. 105.19. Regarding Jewish interpretations that hold up Moses as an exemplar, see also Smolar and Aberbach, “Golden Calf Episode,” 91–116. 33 See Rhodes (Epistle of Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition), who dedicates an entire monograph to the topic. See also the generally favorable review of Rhodes’s monograph by Hill (BBR 18 [2008]: 360–61). General treatments of this topic include Smolar and Aberbach, “Golden Calf Episode” and Bori, Golden Calf.

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Although the conclusion drawn is straightforward, the reader may wonder whether these observations suggest an external warrant for this text. If the text is dated to 100–140 CE and was from the outset intended for an audience broader (or other) than the church in Corinth, as suggested by the fact that they are only “sojourning” there, a few interpretations suggest themselves. On one hand, Clement of Alexandria is the first author to cite 1 Clement at length, using it to define the ideal Christian gnostic and to attack Valentinus’s version of that same ideal. On the other hand, R. Joseph Hoffman once argued that 1 Clement attacks Marcion. Hoffman acknowledges the following points of connection: … the stress placed on marriage and family life (1.3); the disquisitions on the nature of God as creator, judge, savior, and father (61.2; 59.3; 27.1; 35.1; 19.2; 18.4; 23.1); the strong anti-docetic tincture of the phrase  Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς ὁ παῖς σου (59.4; 16.3, etc.); the pedagogical use of the OT as a Christian book, together with references to the ‘commandments’ of Christ and the ordinances of the Lord (τὰ προστάγματα καὶ τὰ δικαιώματα τοῦ κυρίου, 2.8; cf. 3.4); and finally the emphasis on judgment and resurrection (24.1 f.; 25.1 f.; 27.1, etc.). (1984, 36)

Other points of contact with Marcion, not noted by Hoffman, include the following: (1) First Clement’s central concern – στάσις over the office of bishop (44:1) – is precisely the historical problem associated with Marcion (Epiphanius, Pseud.Tert. 17). (2) The text’s primary recommendation is that the opponents accept voluntary exile or even death (1 Clem. 54:2). Marcion’s historical separation from the church in Rome might be construed as his acceptance of such advice for the sake of the larger body. According to Eusebius, Marcionites were generally known for accepting martyrdom as willingly, or perhaps more willingly, than the proto-orthodox. Eusebius even reports female Marcionite martyrs (Hist. eccl. 3.12; 4.5; 5.16; Mart. Pal. 100.10), perhaps accounting for the enigmatic references to Judith and Esther in the recapitulation of 1 Clement (55:4–6; cf. endorsement of female prophecy in 12:8; “Danaids and Dircae” in 6:2) and to Peter and Paul’s martyrdoms in 1 Clem. 5.34 (3) Citing Eph 4:4–6, 1 Clem. 46:6 (cf. 16:12) refutes Marcion’s hallmark argument against the unity of the first principle. We also note 1 Clement’s decisive emphasis on God as creator (20:11). (4) As a ship owner, Marcion was wealthy.35 Disapproving references to riches may be found in 1 Clem. 2:2; 13:1; 16:10; 38:2; and 59:3. Reflecting on the theme 34 Danaids and Dircae may refer to female Christian martyrs. Dircae would indicate women killed like Dirce, that is, bound to the horns of a bull and dragged to death in the arena; whereas Danaids might refer to Christian women raped publicly (as in the legend of the daughters of Danaus) before they were put to death or to women subjected to another form of torture prior to death. See Ehrman, Apostolic Fathers, 1:44–45 n. 16. 35 Tertullian, Marc. 4.4.3; Praescr. 30.

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of wealth in 1 Clement, Welborn (1992, 1:1059) observes that whoever 1 Clement’s opponents are, “money seems to have been involved.” (5) Since he was a ship owner, Tertullian refers to Marcion as a nauclerus (“pilot”).36 After a long list of exempla from the Jewish Scriptures – not only of behavior the opponents ought to avoid, but also that which they should demonstrate – 1 Clem. 20:5–8 surprisingly turns to a long example from nature: the ocean obeys God’s ordinances. (6) Higher respect paid to Paul (over Peter) in 1 Clem. 5 coheres with Marcionite proclivities for Paul. (7) In the opening paragraph, 1 Clement qualifies its opponents as “aliens” and “strangers”: τῆς τε ἀλλοτρίας καὶ ξένης τοῖς ἐκλεκτοῖς τοῦ θεοῦ μιαρᾶς καὶ ἀνοσίου στάσεως. Marcion uses the term “alien” both to denote the good God and to describe himself and those Christians accepting his doctrine (i. e., “aliens”; Latin, adjective alienus; Greek, adjective ξένος) such that, in the writings of second-century heresiologists, “aliens” becomes a buzz word for Marcionites. (8) Scholars often associate 2 Clement with Marcion or the Marcionite controversy. First Clement had a relationship to 2 Clement at an early stage in its reception history. Furthermore, each assigns a citation to “the prophetic word” that appears only elsewhere in 2 Clem. 11:2–4.37 Likewise, Polycarp’s Epistle to the Philippians adopts material from 1 Clement at length, leveling it against Marcionism (“first-born of Satan” in 7.1; cf. Irenaeus, Haer. 3.3.4); and the ­Pseudo-​ Clementine literature also seeks to combat Marcionism. Finally, since the focus on Moses as a moral paragon in the golden calf episode in 1 Clement is exceptional this early in the history of Christian tradition, explicit attribution of this slant to Marcion or Marcionites would decisively support the argument that Marcion or Marcionism is 1 Clement’s immediate historical opponent. Such evidence is found in Marc. 2.26.1–4, in which Tertullian connects this emphasis to Marcion. In the golden calf episode, Marcion, Tertullian writes, extols Moses as better than God. Marcion does so because, whereas God plans destruction as punishment, Moses prefers forgiveness: And it is you, Marcion, who have forced God to do this: for even so long ago God had foreknowledge of you .... On that other occasion also God made himself little even in the midst of his fierce anger, when in his wrath against the people because of the consecration of the (golden) calf he demanded of his servant Moses, Let me alone, and I will wax hot in wrath and destroy them, and I will make thee into a great nation. On this you are in the habit of insisting that Moses was a better person than his own God – deprecating, yes and even forbidding, his wrath: for he [Moses] says, You shall not do this: or else destroy me along with them. Greatly to be pitied are you, as well as the Israelites, for not realizing that 36  E. g., Tertullian, Marc. 1.18.4; 3.6.3; 4.9.2; Praescr. 30.1; cf. Marc. 5.1.2; also, ναύτης, according to Rhodo (apud Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 5.13.3). Cf. the Epistle of Clement to James 14–15, attached to Pseudo-Clement, Homilies. 37 Cf. 1 Clem. 23:3–4. Furthermore, the citation may suggest the Marcionite controversy.

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in the person of Moses there is a prefiguring of Christ, who intercedes with the Father, and offers his own soul for the saving of the people. (Evans 1972)

My conclusion is thus that the golden calf incident establishes 1 Clement as a letter against Marcionites. Different from the polemical speeches of other anti-​ Marcionite hersiologists, 1 Clement aims to persuade Marcionites by accentuating coherences between the two positions and delivering its advice on mutually agreeable terms. The letter often makes positive rather than negative arguments, extolling God as, for example, just and merciful (33:2–3; 60:1), rather than refuting the Marcionite position that he is only just. Likewise, because Marcionites endorse Moses as superior to God on the basis of the golden calf episode, 1 Clement holds Moses up as a moral exemplar in the golden calf episode, rather than refuting Marcion’s heretical interpretation of this text and insisting on his ouster and demise. Lastly, the most plausible form with which one can imagine persuading Marcionites would be a Pauline letter. On reading “the church sojourning in Corinth,” Marcionite recipients would have recognized instantly that they were being addressed both on their own terms and as a metaphorical trident of Corinthian factionalism. Hoffmann assumes that 1 Clement signifies a problem in Corinth as early as 98 CE and thus concludes that similarities could not amount to Marcionism. If, however, Corinth is only a figurative reference and a mid-second century date for the text is plausible, then the configuration of data suggests that 1 Clement addresses Marcionism, the golden calf incident reclaiming Moses as exemplum par excellence of orthodoxy.

Chapter Seven

“Where Their Worm Dieth Not”: The Phoenix Legend in 1 Clement 25 A. Introduction 1 Clement 25 contains the widely known legend of the regeneration of the phoenix recounted by Herodotus and other ancient authors.1 Reliant on previous traditions, the author of 1 Clement carefully constructs his presentation to best support his argument for Christian resurrection. This essay offers an exegetical analysis of 1 Clement 25, highlighting distinctive emphases and suggesting how they might have contributed to debates about Christian resurrection, which were widespread in the second century.

B. Greek Text and English Translation 1  Ἴδωμεν τὸ παράδοξον σημεῖον τὸ γινόμενον ἐν τοῖς ἀνατολικοῖς τόποις, τουτέστιν τοῖς περὶ τὴν Ἀραβίαν. 2 ὄρνεον γάρ ἐστιν, ὃ προσονομάζεται φοίνιξ· τοῦτο μονογενὲς ὑπάρχον ζῇ ἔτη πεντακόσια, γενόμενόν τε ἤδη πρὸς ἀπόλυσιν τοῦ ἀποθανεῖν αὐτὸ σηκὸν ἑαυτῷ ποιεῖ ἐκ λιβάνου καὶ σμύρνης καὶ τῶν λοιπῶν ἀρωμάτων, εἰς ὃν πληρωθέντος τοῦ χρόνου εἰσέρχεται καὶ τελευτᾷ. 3 σηπομένης δὲ τῆς σαρκὸς σκώληξ τις γεννᾶται, ὃς ἐκ τῆς ἰκμάδος τοῦ τετελευτηκότος ζῴου ἀνατρεφόμενος πτεροφυεῖ· εἶτα γενναῖος γενόμενος αἴρει τὸν σηκὸν ἐκεῖνον, ὅπου τὰ ὀστᾶ τοῦ προγεγονότος ἐστίν, καὶ ταῦτα βαστάζων διανύει ἀπὸ τῆς Ἀραβικῆς χώρας ἕως τῆς Αἰγύπτου εἰς τὴν λεγομένην  Ἡλιούπολιν. 4 καὶ ἡμέρας, βλεπόντων πάντων, ἐπιπτὰς ἐπὶ τὸν τοῦ ἡλίου βωμὸν τίθησιν αὐτὰ καὶ οὕτως εἰς τοὐπίσω ἀφορμᾷ. 5 οἱ οὖν ἱερεῖς ἐπισκέπτονται τὰς ἀναγραφὰς τῶν χρόνων καὶ εὑρίσκουσιν αὐτὸν πεντακοσιοστοῦ ἔτους πεπληρωμένου ἐληλυθέναι. 2 χρόνου A C Co Co1] add τοῦ βίου L S 4 ἐπιπτάς] A Co Co1 om C

1 Hesiod also reported the phoenix; see Plutarch, Def. orac. 415d. The parallels are collected by J. Hubaux and M. Leroy in Le mythe du phénix dans les litteratures grecque et latine (Paris: E. Droz, 1939). See Claudia Schindler and Hanna Witte, “Phoenix,” RAC 27 (2016): 670–91.

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1 Let us observe the marvelous2 sign that occurs in the eastern territories, that is, those territories near Arabia. 2 There is a bird called the phoenix. This unique species lives for five hundred years. When it finally approaches dissolution by death,3 it builds itself a burial-nest4 from frankincense and myrrh and other aromatic resins.5 When the time is fulfilled, it enters it and dies. 3 As the flesh rots, however, a certain kind of worm is born that, when nourished by the juices of the dead creature, sprouts wings. Once it has grown strong, it takes that burial nest containing the bones of its predecessor and carries these away, completing a journey from the country of Arabia to Egypt, to the city called Heliopolis. 4 There, during the day, with all looking on, it flies to the altar of the sun, deposits them, and thus makes its start homeward. 5 Then the priests examine the records of the times and find that it has come after five hundred years have passed.

C. Parallel Literature Lightfoot, Knopf, and Lindemann provide extensive parallels for this chapter.6 Louis Sanders attempts to simplify this extensive background by demonstrating that 1 Clement’s version of the legend corresponds best to Pomponius Mela (ca. 40/41 CE), Chorogr. 3.8, and Pliny the Elder (ca. 79 CE), Nat. 10.2–4.7 Pliny, moreover, cites Pomponius Mela as an authoritative source. At the very least, 1 Clement’s agreement with Pomponius Mela and Pliny may suggest a Roman origin of the version on which the author relies.8 The parallels are listed next and discussed in the subsequent section. 2 Literally: “paradoxical.” Lona notes familiarity of this expression in Hellenistic Jewish texts (Der erste Clemensbrief, 303 n. 1). 3 “Dissolution in order to die.” 4 “Sepulchre.” 5 E. g., balsam. 6 Lightfoot, Apostolic Fathers, 1:84–89; Rudolf Knopf, Die Lehre der Zwölf Apostel, die Zwei Clemensbriefe (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1920), 88–89; A. Lindemann, “Exkurs: Die Überlieferungen vom Vogel Phönix,” in idem, Die Clemensbriefe, 88–89; commentary 89–90; and appendix entitled, “Beilage zu 1 Clem 25: Griechische, römische, jüdische und christliche Texte zur Erzälung vom Vogel Phönix,” 263–77. In the appendix, Lindemann helpfully collects the following fifteen passages in their entirety: Hesiod, Frag. 171; Herodotus, Hist. 2.73; Ezekiel the Tragedian apud Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.29; Ovid, Metam. 15.391–407; Pomponius Mela, De chorographia 3.83–84; Pliny, Nat. 10.3–5; Martial, Epigr. 5.7; Tacitus, Ann. 6.28; 3 Bar. 6–8; Artemidorus, Onir. 4.47; Achilles Tatius, Leuc. Clit. 3.24.3–25.7; Tertullian, Res. 13; Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 3.49; Epiphanius, Anc. 84.3–6; Apos. Con. 5.7.15–16. 7 L’hellénisme de S. Clément de Rome et le paulinisme (Louvain: Studia Hellenistica in Bibliotheca Universitatis, 1943), 72–73; so also Lona, Der erste Clemensbrief, 303–4. 8 Grant and Graham, Apostolic Fathers, 2:50–51 n. “25:1–5.” Lona argues for reliance on Tacitus’s account as well: “Nach Chr. Eggenberger, Quellen 130 f., hat der Vf. die Annalen des Tacitus gekannt und in seiner Darstellung verwendet” (Der erste Clemensbrief, 305 n. 3). Although difficult to verify, a legend native to Rome is also possible, upon which multiple Roman authors depend.

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Chart 5. 1 Clement

Parallel Form of Phoenix Tale

Pliny, Nat. 10.2–4 Arabian origination Uniqueness of specimen Pomponius Mela (simper unica), Chorogr. 3.83 Five-hundred-year life Aelian, Nat. an. 6.58 Burial nest of myrrh, other tree saps Pliny, Nat. 10.2–4; Pomponius Mela, Chorogr. 3.83–84 Decomposition Pliny, Nat. 10.4 Emergent worm Pliny, Nat. 10.2–4 Wings sprouting Pliny (fieri pullum), Nat. 10.2–4 Egypt/Heliopolis Pliny, Nat. 10.2–4; Pomponius Mela, Chorogr. 3.84 Eyewitnesses Johannes Lydus, De mensibus 4.119 “Altar of the sun” Pliny, Nat. 10.2–4; Pomponius Mela, Chorogr. 3.84 Confirmation by priests Aelian, Nat. an. 6.58

D. Evidence The introductory exhortation (25:1), ἴδωμεν is not uncommon in 1 Clement, occurring also at 19:3, 21:3, 24:2, 31:1, and 33:7. It is essentially synonymous with introductory exhortations such as κατανοήσωμεν (“Let us consider”) in 24:1, used here most likely for the sake of variety. The object under consideration in chapter 25 is τὸ παράδοξον σημεῖον.10 Grant speculates that qualification of the phoenix bird as “marvelous” (παράδοξος) indicates that the author took this version of the tale from a writer dealing with marvels.11 Such collections were known in antiquity: Phlegon of Tralles, Book of Marvels, for example. Christians, generally, had two sets of expressions for amazements. A “miracle” (e. g., δύναμις, τέρας) tended to refer to an amazement that happened among Christians, whereas a “paradoxical” phenomenon (παράδοξος) described other inexplicable, marvelous phenomena. Since the phoenix was for 1 Clement clearly a phenomenon of the second type, it is, therefore, just as likely that the author invented the ref 9 John the Lydian’s work entitled, De mensibus is a sixth-century collection of antiquarian lore about the Roman world. Book Four of this work notes Roman festivals and other information month by month. 10 Lindemann interprets the expression as proof that the author had no hesitation concerning the phoenix’s existence: “Das Stichwort παράδοξον σημεῖον zeigt an, daß der Vf an der Realität des im folgenden Erzählten nicht zweifelt” (Clemensbriefe, 89). Cf. Lona, Der erste Clemensbrief, 303. Lightfoot writes: “We may smile, as we read the unquestioning simplicity which accepts the story of the phoenix and uses it as an illustration; but we are apt to forget that among his most cultivated heathen contemporaries many accepted it as true and others left it an open question” (Apostolic Fathers, 1:97). 11 Grant and Graham, Apostolic Fathers, 2:51 n. “25:1–5.” Elsewhere, Grant states that the author of 1 Clement borrows the phoenix legend from Seneca, Ep. 42.1, and Tacitus, Ann. 6.28, where the application is rhetorical rather than philosophical or zoological (Miracle and Natural Law [Amsterdam: North-Holland, 1952], 94, also 210 and index 278 s. v. Animals, Phoenix). Cf. also Ovid, Metam. 15.361–410.

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erence apart from the source he used. Furthermore, παράδοξος is too common in its usage by ancient writers to support an argument pointing to a particular source or even source type. Most writers, like Clement,12 trace the legend to the east. Philostratus, however, locates the bird in India prior to its quincentennial voyage to Egypt (Vit. Apoll. 3.49).13 The next verse introduces the famous bird known as the φοίνιξ (“phoenix”).14 Many versions of the tale exist. Herodotus describes a “sacred bird,” gold and red about the size of an eagle, admitting that he construed this image from a picture having never actually seen one (Hist. 2.73). In contrast, 1 Clement offers no description of the bird.15 Herodotus says that the phoenix migrates in fivehundred-year intervals to Heliopolis, prompted by the death of its father – its sole parental unit. Although Herodotus admits he does not believe it, he narrates a story he was told that, upon the father’s death, this bird, setting out from Arabia, carries its father sealed in an egg that is also stuffed with myrrh to the sanctuary of the sun and deposits him there.16 Associations with myrrh, the altar of the sun, and Egypt suggest mummification and entombment. The version of the story told by Manilius (apud Pliny, Nat. 10.2) features at least five important additions to or discrepancies with Herodotus’s version. (1) In Manilius’s version, the bird has never been observed eating. (2) In Arabia, the bird is sacred to the sun. (3) Its lifespan is 540 rather than 500 years. (4) It builds itself a nest of cinnamon and frankincense, rather than myrrh. (5) After it dies, it transforms into a worm first, then into a chicken. The chicken holds funeral rites for its former self prior to transporting its funerary nest to the City of the Sun, where it deposits the nest on the altar. Manilius evidently claimed that the bird last appeared in the consulship of Publius Licinius and Gnaeus Cornelius (97 BCE), although Cornelius Valerianus reported a sighting in 36 CE. Pliny’s version also reports that a phoenix 12 The name Clement is used here and throughout without any bias to the name of the actual author, which I take to be unknown (see above: “Authorship”). 13 “‘And the phoenix,’ he said, ‘is the bird which visits Egypt every five hundred years, but the rest of that time it flies about in India (καὶ τὸν φοίνικα δὲ τὸν ὄρνιν τὸν διὰ πεντακοσίων ἐτῶν ἐς Αἴγυπτον ἥκοντα πέτεσθαι μὲν ἐν τῇ  Ἰνδικῇ τὸν χρόνον τοῦτον); … The story of the Egyptians about it, that it comes to Egypt, is testified to by the Indians also (καὶ  Ἰνδοὶ ξυμμαρτυροῦσι), but the latter add this touch to the story, that the phoenix which is being consumed in its nest sings funeral strains for itself’” (C. L. Kayser, Flavii Philostrati Opera, vol. 1 [Leipzig: Teubner, 1870; repr. Hildesheim: Olms, 1964]); ET: F. C. Conybeare. 14 Concerning traditions about the phoenix, still nothing surpasses R. van den Broek, The Myth of the Phoenix according to Classical and Early Christian Traditions (Études preliminaires aux religions orientales dans l’Empire romain; Leiden: Brill, 1972). 15 I owe this observation to A. Lindemann who writes, “Auffallend ist, daß im Unterschied zu den meisten anderen Quellen eine äußere Beschreibung des Phönix fehlt” (Clemensbriefe, 89). 16 Herodotus carefully describes how it would be possible that the phoenix could transport such an egg such a distance – as if this aspect was the most incredible of the tale. See Janet E. Spittler, “Animal Resurrection in the Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles,” in Entwicklung von Passions‑ und Auferstehungstraditionen in frühen Christentum (ed. A. Merkt and T. Nicklas; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 337–60.

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was brought to Rome and displayed in the forum during the reign of Claudius (47 CE), although many recognized it as a fake. Like Herodotus and Pliny, Clement describes these birds as originating in Arabia, depositing the bones of their predecessors in Heliopolis, Egypt (25:3). Philostratus also claims that the bird, on its death, sings funeral hymns to itself like the swan. Fire occurs in Tacitus’s account: the new bird ignites a funeral pyre of the parent bird (Ann. 6.28). However, the tradition that the new bird arose from ashes does not appear until the fourth century (Claudian, Carm. min. 27.36–71).17 Attesting the legend’s conventionality by the middle of the second century CE, Lucian of Samosata pokes fun at the legendarily long length of this bird’s life (Herm. 53).18 Toward the end of the second century, Aelian too attests the widespread popularity of the legend: δημώδης ἐστὶν ὁ λόγος (Nat. an. 6.58). In this passage, the tale of the phoenix functions as an exemplum or proof of resurrection from the dead in the probatio section of the argument. Although many Christian writers in late antiquity questioned the story’s reliability, others, including Tertullian (Res. 13), Ps.-Lactantius (De ave phoenice), and Cyril of Jerusalem (Catech. 18.8), accepted it as true.19 In Cels. 4.98, Origen narrates the story expressing measured skepticism.20 Some Christians sanctioned its use through 17  Spittler points out that Aelius Aristides (Or. 2.426; 17.2; 18.9; 20.19) appropriates the phoenix to represent the rejuvenation of ancient cities. After the great Chicago fire, the phoenix was thus selected to represent the University of Chicago (“Animal Resurrection,” 343 n. 26). 18 With eagles and crows, Dionysius of Alexandria refers to phoenixes among “long-lived” birds: “And the most long-lived are animals and plants; animals, in the class of birds, as they say, eagles, and ravens, and the phoenix; and among land animals, stags, and elephants, and serpents; but among aquatic animals, whales: and among trees, palms, and oaks, and perseae; and of trees some are evergreen, of which some one who had counted them said there were fourteen, and some flower for a season, and shed their leaves: but the greatest part both of plants and animals die early and are short-lived, and man among them, as a certain holy scripture said of him, ‘Man that is born of a woman has but a short time to live’” (apud Eusebius, Praep. ev. 14.25, cf. 23–27; citation: Job 14:1; ET: E. H. Gifford [1903], with minor modification). 19 Cf. Epiphanius, Anc. 84; Ambrose, Hex. 5.23; Exp. Ps. 118 19.13.1; Exc. 59.11; Rufinus, Symb. 11. Lightfoot makes the point that Rufinus’s reference to the phoenix story shows no necessary reliance upon the passage in 1 Clement. 20  “But further, Celsus, as still contending for the piety of the irrational creation, quotes the instance of the Arabian bird the phœnix, which after many years repairs to Egypt, and bears there its parent, when dead and buried in a ball of myrrh, and deposits its body in the Temple of the Sun. Now this story is indeed recorded, and, if it be true, it is possible that it may occur in consequence of some provision of nature; divine providence freely displaying to human beings, by the differences which exist among living things, the variety of constitution which prevails in the world, and which extends even to birds, and in harmony with which He has brought into existence one creature, the only one of its kind, in order that by it men may be led to admire, not the creature, but Him who created it” (ET: F. Crombie, ANF 4). Origen doubted the existence of the phoenix, but accepted the griffin (Cels. 4.98; cf. 4.24; Aelian, Nat. an. 4.27). Ezekiel the tragedian introduced the phoenix in his retelling of Exodus (J. Wieneke, Ezechielis Iudaei poetae … fragmenta (Münster, Aschendorf, 1931). The Physiologus also includes the legend (GT: F. Sbordone [Milan: Mediolani [etc.] in aedibus societatis “Dante Alighieri – Albrighi, Segati et c.,” 1936]; cf. discussion B. E. Perry, “Physiologus,” RE XX 1.1074–1129).

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recourse to a mistaken reading of Ps 91:13 (LXX), in which φοῖνιξ, “palm tree” (LSJ “B.II”), is confused with “phoenix bird.”21 Like (and perhaps on the basis of) 1 Clement, Cyril recommends that catechumens use it to defend the resurrection. Cyril warns, however, that if the legend is, in turn, questioned, the catechumen should compare resurrection with the birth of bees from larvae and birds from eggs (cf. Catech. 12.27–29)22 – transformation as a metaphor for resurrection. As Lightfoot explains in detail, the extraordinary quality of the legend made it an issue of textual integrity not long after 1 Clement’s initial modern publication in 1633. Such credulousness over an imaginary animal, some claimed, was beneath the teaching of an early Christian apostle. E. Bernard argued that the Alexandrian Clement must, therefore, have added it to the original text.23 Lightfoot himself defends the passage, pointing out that many ancient non-Christian writers accepted the legend as true or, at least, open to question.24 Grant, however, argues that the author of 1 Clement uses the legend rhetorically, regardless of whether such birds existed or not.25 The adjective μονογενής (“only,” “single”) in the phrase τοῦτο μονογενές ὑπάρχον ζῇ ἔτη πεντακόσια typically refers to the only member of its kin within a relationship – for example, the only daughter of a parent with a son, the only blue colored marble in a jar full of marbles – or the only member of a kind – for example, an order, family, genus, or species within a class.26 Alternatively, it may connote ontological uniqueness (e. g., Plato, Tim. 31b; LSJ “A.2”), that is, the only one of its kind in existence, a substantially stronger claim. 1 Clem. 25:2 describes the phoenix as an ὄρνις (“bird”), denoting not the single member of its class (the class is Aves), but its order, family, genus, or species. According to Clement, therefore, the phoenix is not ontologically unique, but the single member of its group. Similarly (see “Parallels” section above), Pomponius Mela describes the phoenix in Latin as simper unica, “the only one of its kind” (Chorogr. 3.8). Both 21 See

LSJ s. v. φοῖνιξ B. V. Miracle and Natural Law, 210. 23  Apostolic Fathers, 1:363. 24 Moreover, in recounting of the history of positions on 1 Clement’s integrity, Lightfoot notes the role of the phoenix legend, “But while the genuineness of the letter as a whole is unimpeachable, the integrity of parts has been questioned at rare intervals and on different grounds, though in every case subjective and arbitrary. Soon after its first appearance in print (A. D. 1633), a French advocate, Hieron. Bignon, expressed his misgivings to Grotius, that in style and contents there were some things unworthy of the disciple of an Apostle. More especially he fastened on the story of the phoenix, as Photius (Bibl. 126) had attached it before him. As a matter of fact, this is one of the best authenticated passages in Clement; and indeed we may well excuse a simple Christian for a credulity of which not a few among his highly educated heathen contemporaries were guilty (see note on § 25). Again soon after, an Englishman, E. Bernard, suggested that some later impostor had foisted into the text of the Roman Clement some fragments of the Alexandrian who quoted him. This was hardly worth refutation, but it was refuted by Wotton” (Apostolic Fathers, 1:363, emphasis added). 25 Miracle and Natural Law, 94. 26 LSJ s. v. μονογενής A. Hesiod, Op. 376, Th. 426; Herodotus, Hist. 7.221. 22 Grant,

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Pliny and Pomponius Mela emphasize the phoenix’s miraculous regeneration or birth (or rebirth).27 The Greek adjective μονογενής appears elsewhere in early Christian literature – for example, in Luke 7:12; 8:42; 9:38; John 1:14, 18; 3:16; 1 John 4:9, 18; and Heb 11:17. Most of these examples are best translated “only.” John 1:14, 18; 3:16; and 1 John 4:9, however, seem to imply a uniqueness of Jesus with respect to his relationship with a single parent (i. e., God).28 The single parent is a feature of the phoenix legend also, but no ancient version of the legend attests this individual as the only parent. In these passages in the Fourth Gospel, interpreters understand Jesus variously: “only begotten one,” “only begotten deity,” “uniquely begotten,” “begotten of the only one,” and so forth.29 Similar to the accounts of the phoenix legend by Pliny and Pomponius Mela, each phrase refers to origins: his miraculous generation or “birth” from the Father (cf. esp. John 1:13; 3:3). None of the options in John’s Gospel explicitly denotes resurrection. As noted above, the author of 1 Clement likely relied on pagan sources for his version of the legend, paraphrasing to emphasize elements important to the topic of resurrection established in 1 Clem. 24:1: κατανοήσωμεν, ἀγαπητοί, πῶς ὁ δεσπότης ἐπιδείκνυται διηνεκῶς ἡμῖν τὴν μέλλουσαν ἀνάστασιν ἔσεσθαι, ἧς τὴν ἀπαρχὴν ἐποιήσατο τὸν κύριον  Ἰησοῦν Χριστὸν ἐκ νεκρῶν ἀναστήσας. Despite the tantalizing correspondence between μονογενής in 1 Clement and the Fourth Gospel, it seems unlikely that Clement knew the Gospel of John or its traditions.30 However, Clement’s use of the verb γεννάω (cf. γενναῖος) to describe the worm’s emergence (25:3) may suggest awareness of a connection between the phoenix tale and origin stories (more below). Τοῦ ἀποθανεῖν αὐτό, a genitive of the articular infinitive, represents a higher stratum of Koiné than much other early Christian literature.31 Σηκός (“pen,” “fold”) is used of what the phoenix bird builds as its ultimate place of rest and where it will be transformed into a worm. Commentators select between the ideas of “nest” and “tomb” because no common English word neatly covers both ideas. 27 “It is not conceived by copulation or born through parturition (non enim coitu concipitur, partuve generatur), but after it has lasted continuously for a lifetime of five hundred years, the phoenix lies down on a funeral pyre heaped up with different scents and decomposes. Next, after congealing from the moisture of its putrefying limbs, the bird conceives itself and is reborn from itself (ipsa se concipit, atque ex se rursus enascitur)” (Chorogr. 3.8; ET: Frank E. Romer, Pomponius Mela’s Description of the World [Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1998], 124–25). 28 In John 1:18, μονογενὴς θεός is well attested (great uncials and Greek texts into the third century); μονογ. υἱός is, nevertheless, the more likely reading. See R. Bultmann, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (trans. G. R. Beasley-Murray; ed. R. W. N. Hoare and J. K. Riches; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1971), 81 n. 2. 29 See F. Büchsel, “μονογενής,” TDNT 4:737–41. 30 Elsewhere I argue that it is more likely here that Clement is bolstering Paul’s argument in 1 Corinthians 15 with further παραδείγματα than that he intimates theological principles from the Fourth Gospel. 31 BDF § 400, purpose in a “consecutive sense.” Cf. esp. Luke 2:21.

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It is comparable to τάφος in 1 Clem. 38:3, a verse that may reflect baptism and, given its reference to a tomb, possibly describes a rite close to Marcionite baptism “for the dead,” that is, in tombs.32 It has the precise meaning “nest” in Aristotle (Hist. an. 564a21) and is, therefore, rendered “burial-nest” here to capture both of the attested meanings, “sepulcher” and “nest.”33 Occasionally, the expression possesses pious overtones, such as “sacred enclosure” or “precinct” (e. g., Herodotus, 4.62).34 Perhaps the closest equivalent is “cocoon” or the English loanword from Latin, “chrysalis” – the protective covering or sheath that provides a sheltered and insulated state or nest-like apparatus in which the pupa of a metamorphic insect undergoes internal changes replacing old with new structures.  Ἐκ λιβάνου καὶ σμύρνης καὶ τῶν λοιπῶν ἀρωμάτων refers to the most famous indigenous resins of Arabia. Λίβανος (“frankincense tree”)35 and σμύρνα (“myrrh,” the gum of an Arabian tree used to embalm the dead)36 are exotic smells (ἄρωμα) from the distant reaches of the Roman Empire.37 These spices are associated with cooking, medication, weddings, and magic. Matt 2:11 mentions them together as gifts from the μάγοι38 to Jesus at his birth, although the μάγοι do not necessarily come from Arabia.39 Their appearance together is a cliché. Deborah A. Green explains, The two spices are mentioned together in almost every source from the ancient Near East, not only because they are so fragrant but also because they derive from the same region of southern Arabia and Somaliland and therefore were imported together.40

Ulrich Luz cites the derivation of frankincense as southeast Arabia, India, and Somalia, tracing myrrh to Arabia and Ethiopia.41 Myrrh was used for embalming the dead (John 19:39–40). In 1 Clement, an association with Arabia is certainly at hand. Biblical occurrences probably explain their intrusion in Clement’s version of the phoenix tale; pagan versions do not typically include these two resins. In Matthew 2, the gifts from the μάγοι may be ironic, foreshadowing the king’s burial at his birth. Whether or not Matthew 2 is in the background of 1 Clement 25, the resins are probably meant to imply a connection with Jesus’s birth, death, and resurrection. Tertullian, Marc. 5.10; Chrysostom, Hom. 1 Cor 40. s. v. σηκός A.II.2. 34 LSJ s. v. σηκός A.II. 35 Boswellia Carterii according to Herodotus, Hist. 4.75 (LSJ s. v. λίβανος A). 36 Also, Indian bdellium (Balsamodendron Mukul) (LSJ s. v. σμύρνα A.II). 37 Deborah A. Green, The Aroma of Righteousness: Scent and Seduction in Rabbinic Life and Literature (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2011), 24, 67–68. 38 Τότε  Ἡρῴδης λάθρᾳ καλέσας τοὺς μάγους ἠκρίβωσεν παρ’ αὐτῶν τὸν χρόνον τοῦ φαινομένου ἀστέρος (Matt 2:7). 39 Ulrich Luz, Matthew 1–7 (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 115–16. 40 Aroma of Righteousness, 67. 41 Matthew 1–7, 114. 32 Cf.

33 LSJ

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Concerning the addition in L and S of τοῦ βίου to χρόνου (so: τοῦ χρόνου τοῦ βίου, “when the time of its life is fulfilled”) in the phrase εἰς ὃν πληρωθέντος τοῦ χρόνου εἰσέρχεται καὶ τελευτᾷ in v. 2, it may simply be epexegetic.42 Alternatively, it may represent avoidance of a stylistic resonance with fulfillment language of early Christian prophecy (cf. Πεπλήρωται ὁ καιρὸς καὶ ἤγικεν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ [Mark 1:15]; οἵτινες πληρωθήσονται εἰς τὸν καιρὸν αὐτῶν [Luke 1:20]; καὶ  Ἰερουσαλὴμ ἔσται πατουμένη ὑπὸ ἐθνῶν, ἄχρι οὗ πληρωθῶσιν καιροὶ ἐθνῶν [Luke 21:24]), given its pagan derivation. Although the phrase shares important similarities with 1 Clem. 25:5, it is unlikely that that verse precipitated the variant. The idea presented in v. 3 (σηπομένης δὲ τῆς σαρκὸς σκώληξ τις γεννᾶται) – that a worm (“Phoenix B”) emerges from the decomposed remains of the parent-phoenix’s body (“Phoenix A”) – resembles the scientific phenomenon that necrophilious (i. e., dead-flesh-eating) insects, such as maggots (a non-technical term for fly larvae of the order diptera), may lay eggs in rotting meat.43 Like maggots, the juices of the parent’s carcass nourish the larval stage in the phoenix’s life cycle (ὃς ἐκ τῆς ἰκμάδος τοῦ τετελευτηκότος ζῴου ἀνατρεφόμενος). The short time during which the diptera eggs are both laid and hatched gives the appearance that fly larvae emerge directly from the rotten flesh. The idea also resembles the etiology (one Ovid knew) tracing the generation of snakes to the spines of evil men (Aelian, Nat. an. 1.51).44 Γενναῖος, an adjective describing the phoenix fledgling once able to fly, also occurs in 5:1, 6; 6:2; and 54:1. Although it may imply nobility or noble birth,45 Clement rather hints at strength, strength of character, or perhaps “true to one’s birth,”46 if, for Christian exemplars, “birth” is interpreted as baptism or other initiation or induction into Christian faith. 1 Clem. 5:1 employs γενναῖος to contrast “noble” past with “noble” contemporary exemplars – faithful men and women able to avoid jealousy and envy (non-usurpers).47 In this context, Clement brings Paul forward as γενναῖος for his faith (τὸ γενναῖον τῆς πίστεως comments, “Doch das mag Glosse der Uebersetzer sein” (Zwei Clemensbriefe, 90).  The question of the relationship between “Phoenix A” (the first bird that dies) and “Phoenix B” (the second bird regenerated from the first or the dead carcass of the parent bird) relies heavily on the interpreter. In some versions of the legend, a parent-child relationship is clearly implied (e. g., πατήρ in Herodotus, Hist. 2.73; Ovid, Metam. 15.395). In other versions, however, the emphasis is on repeated metamorphoses (“incarnations”) of a single bird. The question is an important desideratum for the interpretation of 1 Clement. Namely, how convincing a παράδειγμα and σημεῖον of the resurrection is the phoenix legend, if old and new birds have different identities? 44 Spittler, “Animal Resurrection,” 342. See Ovid, Metam. 15.392. 45 LSJ s. v. γενναῖος A. I. 46 LSJ s. v. γενναῖος A; e. g., Aristotle, Hist. an. 488b19; (cf. Rhet. 1390b22); Homer, Il. 5.253. 47 Ἀλλ’ ἵνα τῶν ἀρχαίων ὑποδειγμάτων παυσώμεθα, ἔλθωμεν ἐπὶ τοὺς ἔγγιστα γενομένους ἀθλητάς· λάβωμεν τῆς γενεᾶς ἡμῶν τὰ γενναῖα ὑποδείγματα. Cf. the catalog of the faithful in Hebrews 11. 42 Knopf 43

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αὐτοῦ κλέος ἔλαβεν).48 This is significant insofar as Paul is Clement’s contemporary exemplar par excellence (5:1, 5–7). 1 Clem. 6:2 also describes the reward for female martyrs as γενναῖος. As an element of the hortatory climax, 1 Clem. 54:1 presents rhetorical questions characterizing an individual willing to accept the letter’s advice of voluntary martyrdom. The first qualification of this person is γενναῖος: Τίς οὖν ἐν ὑμῖν γενναῖος, τίς εὔσπλαγχνος, τίς πεπληροφορημένος ἀγάπης; Εἰπάτω· Εἰ δι’ ἐμὲ στάσις καὶ ἔρις καὶ σχίσματα, ἐκχωρῶ, ἄπειμι, οὗ ἐὰν βούλησθε, καὶ ποιῶ τὰ προστασσόμενα ὑπὸ τοῦ πλήθους. The offer Clement seems to be making to the Corinthian usurpers to the bishopric is, thus, fourfold; it is the opportunity to be considered (1) an exemplar among contemporaries, (2) worthy of a martyr’s reward, (3) reborn like the phoenix, and (4) most importantly, “like Paul.” Already in Herodotus, we observe a concern with the plausibility of the legend. Greatest unease arises over the claim that the new bird makes a round-trip journey (διανύω) from Arabia to Heliopolis, transporting (καὶ ταῦτα βαστάζων διανύει) the dead parent-bird. The majority of his account, thus, involves the mechanics of this trip: There is a particular feat they say the phoenix performs; I do not believe it myself, but they say that the bird sets out from its homeland in Arabia on a journey to the sanctuary of the sun, bringing its father sealed in myrrh, and buries its father there. The method it uses for carrying its father is as follows. First it forms out of myrrh as big an egg as it can manage to carry, and then it makes a trial flight to make sure it can carry the egg. When this has been tested, it hollows out the egg and puts its father inside, and then seals up with more myrrh that part of the egg which it had hollowed out to hold its father. The egg now weighs the same, with its father lying inside, as it did before it was hollowed out. So when the phoenix has sealed the egg up again, it carries its father to the sanctuary of the sun in Egypt. That is what they say the bird does.49

Heliopolis or “City of the Sun” (ἕως τῆς Αἰγύπτου εἰς τὴν λεγομένην  Ἡλιούπολιν), located seven miles northeast of downtown Cairo, is modern Tell Hisn and Matariyeh. It was one of the oldest cities in Egypt occupied since the predynastic period. Known for its obelisks, the Egyptians referred to it as lunu, meaning “(City of) Pillars.” The Greek name (as well as this city’s role in the phoenix legend) derives from the fact that the city served as the cultic center for worship of the sun god Re.50 48 1 Clem. 5:5–6: Διὰ ζῆλον καὶ ἔριν Παῦλος ὑπομονῆς βραβεῖον ἔδειξεν· ἑπτάκις δεσμὰ φορέσας, φυγαδευθείς, λιθασθείς, κῆρυξ γενόμενος ἔν τε τῇ ἀνατολῇ καὶ ἐν τῇ δύσει τὸ γενναῖον τῆς πίστεως αὐτοῦ κλέος ἔλαβεν· 49 Herodotus, Hist. 2.73; ET: Robin Waterfield, Herodotus, The Histories (New York: Oxford University, 1998), 123–24. 50 A suburb of Cairo today, the city was well known to the ancient Greeks and Romans, occurring in the writings of Herodotus, Strabo, Diodorus, Arrian, Aelian, Plutarch, Diogenes Laertius, Josephus, Cicero, Pliny the Elder, Tacitus, and Pomponius Mela, among others. Strabo notes that Plato spent time in this city: 17.27–29. According to biblical traditions, Heliopolis was

E. Analysis

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In 25:4, 1 Clement emphasizes eyewitnesses to the phoenix’s presentation of the burial container of his dead father at the altar of the sun by noting not only that the deposit occurs in broad daylight, but that many people witness it: καὶ ἡμέρας, βλεπόντων πάντων. Although other accounts (with the exception of the sixth-century Johannes Lydus, De mensibus 4.11) do not specify eyewitnesses to the event, the inclination to verify aspects of the legend is familiar as far back as Herodotus (see above).51 The city of “Heliopolis” is also a consistent feature of the legend (cf. Pliny, Nat. 10.2; Pomponius Mela). As the seat of sun worship, it also makes sense as the voyage’s destination, given this bird’s habit of depositing its parent-predecessor “at the sun’s altar” (ἐπὶ τὸν τοῦ ἡλίου βωμόν).52 1 Clement’s reference to the role of Egyptian priests in the phoenix legend (v. 5) is familiar from Aelian, Nat. an. 6.58. The priests checked the accuracy and regularity of the phoenix’s return or, alternatively, oriented their calendars to its appearance. The appearance of priests in the legend probably derives from the stereotype that they kept exceptionally accurate records, including astronomical calendars based on lunar phases that assisted in calculations of when important agricultural, religious, and other socio-political rituals should take place (Tatian, Or. Graec. 38; Josephus, C. Ap. 1.6.28). Their presence may also emphasize the regularity and majesty of the created order as testimony to the surpassing power of God. Incongruously, Aelian uses the priestly report to validate his claim about the intelligence of animals. The phoenix “knows” when to return to Heliopolis because it can detect when five hundred years have elapsed53  – evidence that birds possess space-time cognition (cf. Achilles Tatius, Leuc. Clit. 3.25).

E. Analysis Odd Magne Bakke rightly describes the precise function of this chapter in the work overall as an exemplum from nature and part of a subsection of the text in which the author argues for a future resurrection of the dead (24:1–26:3).54 The example is alternately understood by interpreters as a natural and unnatcapital of the province of Goshen, a country that comprised much of the Nile Delta territory in northern Egypt. It was one of three locations where grain was evidently stored during the winter months and is, thus, discussed in the Joseph novella (Genesis 37, 39–45). The city also appears in the prophets of the Jewish Scriptures, including Isaiah (19:18), Jeremiah (43:13), and Ezekiel (30:17), where, in slightly different ways, its destruction is prophesied. 51 Cf. witnesses to the resurrection in 1 Corinthians 15, esp. vv. 5–8. 52 The variant in this verse may be chocked up to haplography, that is, accidentally skipping ἐπιπτάς (from ἐπιπέτομαι) due to it similarity to the preposition and article following it, ἐπὶ τόν – essentially copying only “once” what should have been copied “twice.” 53 Spittler, “Animal Resurrection,” 342. 54 Bakke, “Concord and Peace”: A Rhetorical Analysis of the Language of the First Letter of Clement, 251.

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ural proof, insofar as it is from nature (biology as opposed to history), yet also “remarkable,” “miraculous,” or possibly “unique” (unnatural).55 One way to interpret the three signs in 1 Clem. 24–25 is that the first two (i. e., day/night and crops, 1 Clem. 24) offer credible indications of God working through nature, whereas, the third (i. e., the phoenix, 1 Clem. 25) offers an incredible indication of God’s power over nature. Also possible, however, (if one thinks that the author accepts the veracity of the phoenix legend) is that all three signs indicate God working through nature. Granting this interpretation, 1 Clem. 24–25 might be understand as presenting three examples in progression: (1) from astronomy, the diurnal cycle of light based on the rotation of the earth’s orbit around the sun; (2) from botany, dispersed seeds undergoing morphological development through germination into a harvest crop; and (3) from biology: the life-cycle of the phoenix bird. 1 Clem. 26:2–3 bolsters this case with scriptural “proofs” from Ps 28:7; 3:5; and Job 19:26 (respectively),56 the point of such exempla and scriptural proofs spelled out in 1 Clem. 26:1: Μέγα καὶ θαυμαστὸν οὖν νομίζομεν εἶναι, εἰ ὁ δημιουργὸς τῶν ἁπάντων ἀνάστασιν ποιήσεται τῶν ὁσίως αὐτῷ δουλευσάντων ἐν πεποιθήσει πίστεως ἀγαθῆς, ὅπου καὶ δι’ ὀρνέου δείκνυσιν ἡμῖν τὸ μεγαλεῖον τῆς ἐπαγγελίας αὐτοῦ;57 In the same way as 1 Corinthians 15, this rhetorical question argues from the lesser to the greater: if God can regenerate a bird fledgling from the decomposed remains of its dead parent, how much more those who have served him in holiness and faith? It is noteworthy that 26:1 does not claim that God resurrects a bird.58 The language of resurrection in 1 Clement 24 pertains only to humans. The phoenix – similar to the diurnal cycle of light and the vegetation of a seed – merely “demonstrates” (δείκνυσιν) this promise (1 Clem. 26:1, τὸ μεγαλεῖον τῆς ἐπαγγελίας αὐτοῦ) when a worm is born (σκώληξ τις γεννᾶται) from the dissolution of its or its parent’s remains. 1 Clem. 26:1 essentially reprises 25:1, in which the phoenix is first presented as a σημεῖον or indication of what is to be for Christians.59

55 Grant and Graham: “Proof of the resurrection is provided not only by natural phenomena but also by an unnatural natural phenomenon: the phoenix” (Apostolic Fathers, 2:50–51). “Super-nature” is an impossible concept to sustain in early Christian texts; even miracles are not supernatural but evidence of power. See Troels Engberg-Pedersen, “Complete and Incomplete Transformation in Paul – A Philosophical Reading of Paul on Body and Spirit,” in Metamorphoses: Resurrection, Body and Transformative Practices in Early Christianity (ed. T. K. Seim and J. Økland; Ekstasis 1; Berlin: Water de Gruyter, 2007), 123–46. 56 Grant and Graham postulate an anthology behind the scriptural quotations in this passage (Apostolic Fathers, 2:10). 57 So also: Lona, Der erste Clemensbrief, 306–7. 58 Pace Spittler: “If God resurrects a bird, is the resurrection of a human so very astounding?” (“Animal Resurrection,” 345). 59 LSJ s. v. σημεῖον II.

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F. Conclusion Close exegetical analysis of 1 Clem. 25 in this essay attempts to clarify its appropriation of the phoenix legend. While reliant on previous traditions (perhaps even one particular to Rome), the author tailors his presentation to best support an argument for Christian resurrection from the dead. That the author argues for resurrection through analogy with the spontaneous birth of a worm from dead remains is clear. Why he does so, however, is not clear. Debates about resurrection, in particular, the body’s (flesh) resurrected state (spirit or flesh), were widespread among Christians in the second century. 3 Corinthians springs to mind as a text in which an author adopts Paul’s persona to endorse resurrection of the flesh, clarifying ambiguities Paul left behind in 1 Corinthians 15.60 Marcion not only opposed sarkic resurrection, he also rejected Jesus’s birth.61 1 Clem. 24–26 use the verb γεννάω (and the adjective γενναῖος) to suggest that regenerative birth is a parallel mechanism for resurrection. The phoenix may have been selected specifically for this polyvalent (i. e., resurrected, reborn) application insofar as it potentially counters Marcionite and other second-century rejection of both resurrection and divine birth. If that were true, then we could conclude our interpretation of 1 Clem. 25 with a twist on a famous proverb: the phoenix exemplum kills two stones with one bird. Furthermore, one point often overlooked concerning this occurrence of the legend is that the appearance of birds in ancient Greek and Roman texts frequently indicates, at least in some measure, augury. Both flight direction and call were important. For a person facing south, a bird flying from behind or from the right, that is, from the north or east, was ominous. Jesus, Peter, and Paul were, like the phoenix, eastern vis-à-vis Rome.62 This bird may, thus, represent not just 60 See Calhoun, “The Resurrection of the Flesh in Third Corinthians,” 235–39, 250–57 (textual analysis). 61 Tertullian, Marc. 5.11.15. E. C. Blackman explains Marcion’s position on Jesus’s birth and life in the flesh: “We may distinguish a metaphysical type of Docetism based on Greek views of the divine nature, e. g., the divine ἀπάθεια; this was attractive to Christians like Clement of Alexandria. With this is contrasted the more practical Docetism which recoiled from the flesh as an unclean thing, unworthy to be the vehicle of divinity. Marcion’s docetism was of this latter kind. His hatred of the flesh made the notion of Christ being born and having a human body intolerable to him. In Marcion’s view human flesh, being essentially earthy, could not be a dwelling-place for the divine; he expressed his contempt for it in gross language. The Redeemer was pure spirit, and the body he assumed at his appearance on this earth was only a phantasm” (Marcion and His Influence [London: SPCK, 1948], 99–100). Later, Blackman sums up, “This feature of Marcion’s Christology is a corollary to his doctrine that the Good God is a stranger and competely unrelated to this world” (102). Likewise, Sebastian Moll notes Marcion’s deletion of Luke 2:1–52 and the rule guiding this deletion, “Christ is neither born nor raised” (The Arch-Heretic Marcion [WUNT 250; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010], 93). 62 See Cicero, Div. 1.39.85, 41.92; 2.34.71–2; Leg. 2.8.20–21; Pliny, Nat. 10.33, 34; Plutarch, Num. 7.2–3. Cf. J. H. W. G.  Liebeschuetz, Continuity and Change in Roman Religion (Oxford: Clarendon, 1979), 10, 156; H. J. Rose, “The Inauguration of Numa,” JRS 13 (1923): 82–90. Jose-

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the Christian message of rebirth and resurrection from the dead  – Clement’s explicit interpretation of the σημεῖον – but the phenomenon of Christianity itself.

phus notes that Herod Agrippa I spotted an owl prior to his death (Ant. 19.343–52). E. R. Dodds cites the belief that the first shamans were birds (The Greeks and the Irrational [Sather Classical Lectures 25; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1951, repr. 2004], 162 n. 38, 75 n. 121).

Chapter Eight

“Belittling” or “Undervaluing” in 2 Clem. 1:1–2? A. Introduction The Second Letter of Clement’s introductory exhortation employs the simple but ambiguous Greek adjective μικρά – alone and with the verb, φρονεῖν – four times in its first two verses. In the modern period, this passage suffers a history of translation disconnected from the exhortation which comprises most of the rest of the tractate. Few if any quotations of this text remain from antiquity, ruling out the possibility of consulting early readers for guidance.1 Furthermore, recent translations of these verses rely on those of the past and, thus, employ expressions – in, for example, English and German – long out of use. Convincing new research by James A. Kelhoffer suggests that 2 Clement borrows the Roman patron-client model to exhort its listeners.2 This essay proposes to update the translation of 2 Clem. 1:1–2 in keeping with recent discoveries concerning the text’s original purpose, values, and assumptions.

B. Greek Text The Greek text cited below is that of K. Bihlmeyer.3 Italics suggest a citation or possible citation. Where the translation differs from Ehrman and Tuckett, discussion is provided in the notes.4 2 Clem. 1:1–2 reads: 1:1 Ἀδελφοί, οὕτως δεῖ ἡμᾶς φρονεῖν περὶ  Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, ὡς περὶ θεοῦ, ὡς περὶ κριτοῦ ζώντων καὶ νεκρῶν· καὶ οὐ δεῖ ἡμᾶς5 μικρὰ φρονεῖν περὶ τῆς σωτηρίας ἡμῶν. 1:2 ἐν τῷ γὰρ φρονεῖν ἡμᾶς μικρὰ περὶ αὐτοῦ μικρὰ καὶ ἐλπίζομεν λαβεῖν·6 καὶ οἱ ἀκούοντες ὡς περὶ7 μιChristopher Tuckett, 2 Clement, 10. 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 (2013): 433–56. 3 Die apostolischen Väter: Neubearbeitung der Funkschen Ausgabe (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 31970 [21956 mit einem Nachtrag von W. Schneemelcher]), 71–81. 4 For this essay, I have consulted the commentaries of Lindemann, Pratscher, and others. Notes 5–8 refer to textual variants. 5 A S; ὑμᾶς H. 6 A; ἀπολαβεῖν H. 7 H S; ὥσπερ A. 1 See

2 “Reciprocity

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κρῶν8 ἁμαρτάνουσιν, καὶ ἡμεῖς ἁμαρτάνομεν οὐκ εἰδότες, πόθεν ἐκλήθημεν καὶ ὑπὸ τίνος καὶ εἰς ὃν τόπον, καὶ ὅσα ὑπέμεινεν  Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς παθεῖν ἕνεκα ἡμῶν.

Diagram 1 offers a structural outline of the text highlighting the four occurrences of μικρά in 2 Clem. 1:1–2 as well as other noteworthy patterns in the passage. Diagram 1. 1

Ἀδελφοί,

Principle positive injunction: περὶ  Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, I. οὕτως δεῖ ἡμᾶς φρονεῖν ὡς περὶ θεοῦ, ὡς περὶ κριτοῦ ζώντων καὶ νεκρῶν· Principle negative injunction: II. καὶ οὐ δεῖ ἡμᾶς μικρὰ φρονεῖν A. ἐν τῷ γὰρ φρονεῖν ἡμᾶς μικρὰ μικρὰ καὶ ἐλπίζομεν λαβεῖν· 2

περὶ τῆς σωτηρίας ἡμῶν. περὶ αὐτοῦ

B. καὶ οἱ ἀκούοντες

ὡς περὶ μικρῶν ἁμαρτάνουσιν, καὶ ἡμεῖς ἁμαρτάνομεν

  (1) οὐκ εἰδότες,  (a) πόθεν ἐκλήθημεν καὶ (b) ὑπὸ τίνος καὶ (c) εἰς ὃν τόπον, καὶ (d) ὅσα ὑπέμεινεν  Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς παθεῖν ἕνεκα ἡμῶν.

A range of translations is possible for the four occurrences of μικρά. In the course of only two verses, it occurs twice with the verb, φρονεῖν, once with the verb, ἐλπίζειν, and once as the object of a preposition, περί. Generally speaking, the meaning of this adjective is very broad, possessing literal (“small,” “short,” “temporary,” and “brief”) or figurative (“trivial” and “inconsequential”) connotations, with a host of options in between. As the object of a verb, μικρά may also be qualitatively absorbed into the verb’s translation. “To think little,” for example, becomes “to belittle”; “to hope little” becomes not “to expect eagerly” or not “to expect enough.”

C. History of Interpretation A variety of modern English and German translations of 2 Clement are available today. The most widely used in English are the translations in the Loeb Classical Library (hereafter: LCL) series (Harvard University Press). The present discus8 S ἁμαρτάνουσιν, καὶ ἡμεῖς. A H omit this three-word phrase. See discussion below, esp. n. 61.

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sion thus begins with Kirsopp Lake’s LCL ET.9 Lake translates 2 Clem. 1:1–2 as follows: Brethren, we must think of Jesus Christ as of God, as of “the Judge of the living and the dead” and we must not think10 little of our salvation, for if we think little of him we also hope to obtain but little. And those who listen as though it were a little matter are sinning, and we also are sinning, if we do not know whence and by whom, and to what place we were called, and how great sufferings Jesus Christ endured for our sake.11

Lake’s translation has the advantage of consistency: μικρά and related forms are translated “little” whether adverbial, adjectival, or substantival.12 The downside of this approach is that, even in Lake’s day, the expression “to think little” (i. e., “not to esteem”) was seldom used. Google’s word-search database charts the highest occurrence rate of the expression “think little” between the years 1500 and 2014 in 1820.13 Usage significantly dropped off in both British and American English by 1912 when Lake translated 2 Clement. It has steadily declined since

 9 Prior to Lake, J. B. Lightfoot published a different ET: The Apostolic Fathers (London: Macmillan, 1891), 44. See n. 22 for the text as it appears in the second edition of Lightfoot revised by Michael Holmes, The Apostolic Fathers (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 21989) 68. Cf. Holmes’s own ET, discussed below. 10 Note that in the phrase, οὐ δεῖ ἡμᾶς μικρὰ φρονεῖν, the auxiliary verb of necessity (i. e., δεῖ), not the main verb (i. e., φρονεῖν), is negated – a point that does not always come through in the English translations. 11 Lake, Apostolic Fathers (LCL), 1:129. Lake notes the parallel to κριτοῦ ζώντων καὶ νεκρῶν (2 Clem. 1:1) in Acts 10:42, but not 1 Pet 4:5. 12 In v. 2, Lake translates μικρά as singular: “a little matter.” This is not quite as strong as “of little consequence,” but that seems to be the gist. Rendering the plural μικρά as singular is perhaps insignificant from the standpoint of translation. Richardson and Graham translate it as singular whereas Holmes translates it as plural (“small matters”); see below. 13 In mid-December 2010, Google Labs released the Ngram Viewer, a word-search database created by Erez Aiden and Jean-Baptiste Michel. On use of the Ngram Viewer in Humanities fields, see E. Aiden and J.-B. Michel, Uncharted: Big Data as a Lens on Human Culture (New York: Riverhead, 2013); http://books.google.com/ngrams/; http://books.google.com/n​g​r​a​m​s​/ info (05/16/13). For a recent response to the debate, see: http://www.newrepublic.com/a​r​t​i​c​l​ e​/​117711/digital-humanities-have-immense-promise-response-adam-kirsh. This word-search database employs a phrase-usage tool that graphs the count of selected “n-grams” (i. e., letter combinations, words, and phrases) in over 5.2 million Google-digitized books published between 1500 and 2008. The database accesses 500 billion words in American English, British English, French, German, Spanish, Russian, and Chinese. (Italian words are counted by their use in other languages.) The Ngram tool offers the option to select among the source languages for word search operations. If an n-gram is found in forty or more books, the Ngram Viewer plots its occurrence rate on a graph. Although, to my knowledge, this tool has not yet been applied to the analysis of biblical literature, it is ideal for translators seeking a check on the usage of individual words and idioms. To be sure, the effectiveness of a given translation is based on more than just occurrence rates within a single decade or generation. Translations of the texts of the Apostolic Fathers cater to a small, educated subset of the reading public able to make sense of even the most outdated translation. This should not, however, suggest that new translations routinely ignore questions of contemporaneity, accuracy, and effectiveness.

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then to the point that it has all but dropped out on both sides of the Atlantic today. More than forty years later in 1953, C. C. Richardson published the following English translation of the same text: Brothers, we ought to think of Jesus Christ as we do of God – as the “judge of the living and the dead.” And we ought not to belittle our salvation. For when we belittle him, we hope to get but little; and they that listen as to a trifling matter, do wrong. And we too do wrong when we fail to realize whence and by whom and into what circumstances we were called, and how much suffering Jesus Christ endured for us.14

Richardson translates μικρὰ φρονεῖν with the verb, “to belittle.” Usage of this verb in British and American English likewise peaked around 1945.15 Furthermore, “to belittle” usually connotes active condescension. Synonyms include “to disparage,” “to demean,” and “to put down.” Such connotations are not present in 2 Clem. 1. On the contrary, this verse presumes that listeners value Jesus Christ and his salvation. It only states that should a believer (i. e., ἀδελφοί, 1:1) assess the value of either Jesus or his salvation too low, that person errs (ἁμαρτάνουσιν), failing to fully appreciate (οὐκ εἰδότες) the central tenets of the Christian faith (i. e., from where, by whom, to where we are called and the extent of Jesus’s suffering). In 1965, Holt H. Graham published the following English translation of this text: Brethren, we ought to think of Jesus Christ just as we do of God, as the Judge of the living and the dead; nor ought we to belittle our salvation. For when we think little of him, we also hope to receive but little. As those who listen as if to a trifling matter sin, so do we when we do not recognize from what and by whom and into what we were called, how much suffering Jesus Christ endured for us.16

Unlike Lake, Graham does not strive for consistency. Nevertheless, he alternates between the outdated expressions “belittle” (μικρὰ φρονεῖν) in v. 1 and “think little” (μικρὰ φρονεῖν) in v. 2, and translates μικρά as “little” in v. 2a, but “trifling” in v. 2b. More recently (1992), Andreas Lindemann published a German translation of this text in his commentary in the HNT series on Clement’s letters. Similar to Lake’s English translation above, it achieves consistency by utilizing “gering” (“low,” “humble,” “small,” “little,” “slight,” “insubstantial,” “poor,” “scant,” etc.) in every case, whether as adverb, adjective, or adjectival noun: 14 Early

Christian Fathers (London: SCM, 1953), 193.

15 English: http://books.google.com/ngrams/graph?content=belittle&year_start=1700&year_

end= 2008&corpus=15&smoothing=3&share=(03/01/13); British English: http://books.google. com/ngrams/ graph?content=belittle&year_start=1700&year_end=2008&corpus=18&smoothing=3&share= (03/01/13). 16 Grant and Graham, Apostolic Fathers, 2:112.

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Brüder, wir müssen von Jesus Christus so denken wie von Gott, wie vom Richter der Lebenden und Toten; und wir dürfen nicht gering denken von unserer Rettung. Wenn wir nämlich gering von ihm denken, hoffen wir auch nur Geringes zu empfangen. Und die, die zuhören, als ginge es um etwas Geringes, sündigen. Auch wir sündigen, weil wir nicht wissen, von woher wir berufen worden sind und von wem und zu welchem Ort, und wieviel Jesus Christus um unseret willen zu leiden auf sich genommen hat.17

Like the English translations examined above, usage of the phrase “gering denken” has dropped off measurably since the nineteenth century.18 Commissioned to update the two LCL volumes of the Apostolic Fathers (2003),19 Bart Ehrman’s translation of the passage is among the most widely cited today: Brothers, we must think about Jesus Christ as we think about God, as about the judge of the living and the dead. And we must not give little thought to our salvation. For when we think little about him, we also hope to receive but little. And we who listen as if these were little things sin,20 not realizing where we have been called from, by whom, and to what place, nor how many sufferings Jesus Christ endured for us.

Ehrman achieves consistency across vv. 1 and 2 by translating μικρά as “little” whether it functions as an adverb (twice), adjective, or adjectival noun. Furthermore, Ehrman offers an example in English of interpreting the first (adverbial) occurrence of μικρά quantitatively rather than qualitatively: We ought to “think often enough” as opposed to “estimate highly enough” Jesus and salvation.21 In 1989, Michael W. Holmes updated the translation of the Apostolic Fathers by J. B. Lightfoot and J. R. Harmer. This translation was paired with a Greek text in 1992, updated in 1999, appeared in a third edition in 2006 (without Greek text), and again in 2007 (with Greek text). Over the course of these editions, only minor translational changes were made to 2 Clem. 1:1–2.22 Holmes translates μι-

17 Lindemann, Clemensbriefe, 199. The translation of Klaus Wengst (Didache [Apostellehre], Barnabasbrief, Zweiter Klemensbrief, Schrift an Diognet: Eingeleitet, herausgegeben, übertragen und erläutert [Schriften des Urchristentums 2; Darmstadt/München: Kösel, 1984], 239) is similar, utilizing “gering … denken” and “Geringes.” Rudolf Knopf’s GT adopts these same expressions (Zwei Clemensbriefe, 154). 18 http://books.google.com/ngrams/graph?content=gering+denken&year_start=1700&year_ end= 2008&corpus=20&smoothing=3&share= (02/25/12). 19 Bart D. Ehrman, The Apostolic Fathers, vol. 1 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003), 165. 20 Ehrman follows mss A H here. 21 On litotes (i. e., understatement) in this passage, see E. Baasland, “Der 2. Klemensbrief und frühchristliche Rhetorik: ‘Die erste christliche Predigt,’ im Lichte der neueren Forschung,” ANRW 2.27.1 (1993), 78–157 22 Lightfoot, Apostolic Fathers (see n. 9). ET subsequently reprinted as: J. B. Lightfoot and J. R. Harmer (ed. and trans.), The Apostolic Fathers (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1956). Diglot reprinted as: The Apostolic Fathers: Revised Greek Texts with Introductions and English Translations (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1984).

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κρά “belittle” in v. 1b and 2a (first half), and “little” in v. 2a (second half). In v. 2b, however, he translates μικρά as “small matters” reminiscent of Lightfoot’s ET:23 Brothers and sisters, we ought to think of Jesus Christ as we do of God, as judge of the living and the dead. And we ought not to belittle the one who is our salvation, for when we belittle him, we also hope to receive but little. And those who listen as though these are small matters do wrong, and we also do wrong, when we fail to acknowledge from where and by whom and to what place we were called, and how much suffering Jesus Christ endured for our sake.24

In his commentary for the Kommentar zu den apostolischen Vätern series, Wilhelm Pratscher provides a German translation of the text that is not identical to Lindemann’s translation (above), but is equally outdated with respect to the translation of μικρὰ φρονεῖν. It employs the German expressions, “gering denken” and “Geringes.” Brüder, wir müssen über Jesus Christus so denken wie über Gott, wie über den Richter der Lebenden und Toten. Wir dürfen auch nicht gering denken über unsere Rettung. Wenn wir nämlich über ihn gering denken, hoffen wir auch nur Geringes zu erhalten. Selbst wenn wir nur zuhören, als ginge es um Geringes, sündigen wir, wenn wir nicht wissen, woher wir berufen worden sind, von wem, und zu welchem Ort, und wie viel Leiden Jesus Christus wegen uns auf sich genommen hat.25

Finally, Christopher Tuckett26 recently published a text and translation in the Oxford Apostolic Fathers series (2012).27 Tuckett’s translation resembles Lake’s insofar as “little” translates every occurrence of μικρά (i. e., with or without the verb). Brothers, we must think of Jesus Christ as we think of God, as the judge of the living and the dead; and we must not think little of our salvation. For if we think little about him, we also hope to receive little. And we who listen as though it were something little are sinning if we do not know where we were called from, and by whom, and to what place, and how much Jesus Christ endured sufferings for us.

Summarizing the investigation thus far, we are able to see that more recent translations of the first two verses of 2 Clement rely on past translations, employing expressions that are no longer idiomatic in either English or German. Newly available word-search databases allow us to categorically demonstrate this claim, 23 “Brethren, we ought so to think of Jesus Christ, as of God, as of the Judge of quick and dead. And we ought not to think mean things of our Salvation: for when we think mean things of Him, we expect also to receive mean things. And they that listen as concerning mean things do wrong; and we ourselves do wrong, not knowing whence and by whom and unto what place we were called, and how many things Jesus Christ endured to suffer for our sakes. What recompense then shall we give unto Him?” 24 Apostolic Fathers, 139. 25 Der zweite Clemensbrief (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007) 65, 66–69. 26 Tuckett accepts A H reading. 27 Tuckett, 2 Clement, 85, 127–32.

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demanding revision of translations striving to remain effective for contemporary audiences.

D. Recent Investigations In order to accurately update current translations of 2 Clem. 1:1–2, recent investigations of the text’s original purpose, values, and assumptions must be consulted. In an article published in 2013, James A. Kelhoffer argues that the Roman patron-client relationship is the model for the relationship between Christ and believers in 2 Clement.28 Three central observations inform his thesis: (1) presentation of Christ (also God) as “salvific benefactor and patron” (1:4);29 (2) believers’ obligation to give “repayment” (ἀντιμισθία, 2 Clem. 1:3, 5; 9:7; 15:2) to Christ;30 and (3) orthopraxis as the acceptable response to divine beneficence. Each point is addressed in turn. As Kelhoffer acknowledges, 2 Clement is distinctive for presenting Christ (and God) as κριτής in the first line of the tractate (2 Clem. 1:1).31 Complementing this characterization, v. 4 offers a simile, “like a father, he greets us as sons” (ὡς πατὴρ υἱοὺς ἡμᾶς προσηγόρευσεν, 1:4b) followed by a soteriological formula: Christ “saved us while we were perishing” (ἀπολλυμένους ἡμᾶς ἔσωσεν, 1:4c).32 Kelhoffer argues persuasively that both the simile and the soteriological affirmation refer to Christ.33 Immediately after the simile and soteriological affirmation in 1:5, ἀντιμισθία (occurring for the second time in the first five verses of the tractate) expresses how believers must repay Christ, who as patron (πατήρ) 28 Kelhoffer argues first (following Saller, Neyrey, Osiek, and MacDonald) that patronage continued to have a central importance under the Principate. Thus, it is plausible that an early Christian author could allude to the patronage system and expect that his audience would comprehend the allusion. Second, Saller’s three “vital elements” of a patronage relationship – “reciprocal exchange, ” a personal and enduring relationship, and an “asymmetrical” relationship between parties “of unequal status” – are readily ascertained in 2 Clement (“Reciprocity as Salvation,” 434–38, citing Richard P. Saller from Personal Patronage under the Early Empire [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982]). Cf. David Briones, “Mutual Brokers of Grace: A Study in 2 Corinthians 1.3–11,” NTS 56 (2010): 536–56. For other background of Kelhoffer’s argument, see Jerome H. Neyrey, “God, Benefactor and Patron: The Major Cultural Model for Interpreting the Deity in Greco-Roman Antiquity,” JSNT 27 (2005): 465–92; Carolyn Osiek, “The Politics of Patronage and the Politics of Kinship: The Meeting of the Ways,” BTB 39 (2009): 143–52; eadem, “Diakonos and Prostatis: Women’s Patronage in Early Christianity,” HvTSt 61 (2005): 347–70. 29 “Reciprocity as Salvation,” 433. 30 N.b. this idea is reiterated twice in the prologue at 2 Clem. 1:3 and 5. 31 “An understanding of God as κριτής is attested in Hebrews, James, and the Shepherd of Hermas. The Acts of the Apostles, James, Second Timothy, and Polycarp’s Letter to the Philippians offer the only other references to Christ as κριτής in early Christian literature” (“Reciprocity as Salvation,” 438). Kelhoffer notes that James presents both God (Jas 4:12) and Christ (5:9b) as κριτής (438). 32 Cf. juxtaposition of same two verbs in 2 Cor 2:15. 33 Kelhoffer, “Reciprocity as Salvation,” 439.

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saved them. Ἀντιμισθία occurs five times in 2 Clement.34 Four of the occurrences (1:3, 5; 9:7; and 15:2) designate a believer’s obligation to Christ (or God).35 The final occurrence (11:6) designates “repayments” (perhaps better: “rewards”) God grants to individuals for their good works (ἔργα).36 By imparting to Christ the role of patron, 2 Clement blurs the modal boundaries of God and Christ. God does not suffer except as Christ; except as God Christ is not judge and does not repay individuals for good works. These different roles or capacities of a single deity explain why 2 Clement’s audience can owe repayment for salvation37 to a judge and patron, rather than a savior.38 God-Christ has rescued the client, and repayment is due. If the payment is not made, God-Christ as patron may abdicate the patron-client agreement and, as judge, condemn the client in arrears. Kelhoffer’s third argument is that most of the rest of 2 Clement outlines ethical behaviors pertaining to this patron-client relationship. These behaviors constitute the terms of the agreement.39 He explains the text’s exhortation in terms of patronage – what is owed by the addressees for the tremendous acts of grace offered by God and Christ. One of the most important overall contributions of Kelhoffer’s article is how the proposed patron-client model connects the body of the tractate to its opening lines, in particular vv. 3 and 5. The aim of this article 34 “What is unusual in 2 Clem. 1:5 – and, in fact, unattested in the NT or elsewhere in the Apostolic Fathers  – is a concept of payment (μισθός) that believers owe to Christ. The use of ἀντιμισθία in the genitive case with μισθός (μισθὸν ἀντιμισθίας, 1.5) underscores this distinctive, if not unique, use of μισθός, as compared with other early Christian literature. Believers have a recurring obligation to give Christ payment (μισθός) in return for what he has given them” (Kelhoffer, “Reciprocity as Salvation,” 440–41). One should note, however, that, generally speaking, εὐσέβεια has a strong dimension of obligation: humans owe the gods honor, worship, sacrifices, and service because of the benefits they receive from the divinities, and the failure to fulfill this obligation is ἀσέβεια. Cf. Rom 12:1. See Walter Burkert, Greek Religion (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1985), 272–75. 35 2 Clem. 1:3, 5; 9:7 (“the healing god”); 15:2 (“the god who created us”). 36  Πιστὸς γάρ ἐστιν ὁ ἐπαγγειλάμενος τὰς ἀντιμισθίας ἀποδιδόναι ἑκάστῳ τῶν ἔργων αὐτοῦ (“For the one who has promised to reward each according to his deeds is faithful” (ET: Ehrman); cf. Heb 10:23, “Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful.” 37 With Kelhoffer, the verb σῴζειν in 2 Clement, similar to certain deutero-Pauline letters, seems to imply that salvation is already “granted or completed” (“Reciprocity as Salvation,” 439–40). If so, it is understandable that believers owe repayment. 38 Although God-Christ is judge, he is savior also, and it is to this latter entity/identity that believers owe repayment. 2 Clement, thus, depicts a complex reciprocal relationship between patron and clients insofar as the dominant entity exists in more than one ontological mode. The paradigm stems from the Hebrew Bible, in which God plays multiple roles for the Israelites, with the result that legality and morality are mixed. In addition to legal proscriptions, God mandates moral behavior (e. g., love of God [Deut 6:5] and neighbor [Lev 19:18]) only examinable in a divine court by a heavenly judge. 39 Kelhoffer, “Reciprocity as Salvation,” 447–54. Perhaps 2 Clement is mapping the patron/ client relationship onto the Jewish concept of covenant.

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is to extend Kelhoffer’s argument to the interpretation and translation of μικρὰ φρονεῖν in vv. 1 and 2.

E. Prologue in Context In order to update current translations, all aspects of its literary context must also be examined. Diagram 1 (above) offers a chart of 2 Clement’s first two verses highlighting correspondences. 2 Clem. 1:1–2 is an introductory exhortation. The tractate begins by placing an obligation on the audience (ἀδελφοί), using the auxiliary verb, δεῖ. The injunction concerns Jesus’s identity: “We must think about Jesus as God, specifically, as ‘judge of the living and the dead.’”40 Since 2 Clement prioritizes scriptural proof-texts,41 the epithet, κριτής ζώντων καὶ νεκρῶν – also applied to Jesus in Acts 10:4242 (cf. 1 Pet 4:5)43 – may constitute a proof-text for the author’s high Christological position.44 The second sentence in v. 1 balances the first with a negative injunction (οὐ δεῖ). The crucial expression in this sentence is μικρὰ φρονεῖν.45 The verb φρονεῖν can mean “to have an opinion with regard to something, think, form/hold an opinion, judge.”46 With a neuter adjective it means “to have … thoughts for or toward any one”47 or (adverbially) “to be minded so and so, think or purpose,” either “such and such things” or “in such and such a way.” Μικρά also has a variety of possible meanings. It may be adjectival or adverbial, referring to (1) time (e. g., infrequently, slightly, brief);48 (2) size, stature, or 40 The exhortation to regard Jesus as God seems to have been popular among some Monophysite Syriac writers. See Tuckett, 2 Clement, 10. 41 According to Photius (Bib. 126), even in antiquity skepticism existed concerning certain sayings introduced in 2 Clement as scriptural but not found in the OT or NT. See Tuckett, 2 Clement, 11–12. 42 Καὶ παρήγγειλεν ἡμῖν κηρύξαι τῷ λαῷ καὶ διαμαρτύρασθαι ὅτι οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ ὡρισμένος ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ κριτὴς ζώντων καὶ νεκρῶν. 43  Οἳ ἀποδώσουσιν λόγον τῷ ἑτοίμως ἔχοντι κρῖναι ζῶντας καὶ νεκρούς. Paul J. Achtemeier, 1 Peter (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1996), 286. 1 Peter threatens its audience with judgment by “the one standing ready.” See Eduard Lohse, “Christus als Weltenrichter,” in Jesus Christus in Historie und Theologie: FS Hans Conzelmann (ed. G. Strecker; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1975), 475–86. Scriptural citations in 2 Clement are a complicated issue; for an up-to-date treatment, see Tuckett, 2 Clement, 34–46. 44 Also, cf. Acts 17:31, in which Jesus is appointed (as in Acts 10:42) “to judge the world.” For the formula, “living and dead,” cf. Matt 22:32. 45 Since no obvious analogous construction exists in Hebrew, it does not appear to be a Semitism. The expression may in certain cases, however, approximate the Greek verb καταφρονεῖν. See, e. g., Isocrates, Evag. 58.6. 46 BDAG 1065, s. v. φρονέω, 1. 47 LSJ s. v. φρονέω, II.2.a. 48 Cf. 2 Clem. 5:5, καὶ γινώσκετε, ἀδελφοί, ὅτι ἡ ἐπιδημία ἡ ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ τούτῳ τῆς σαρκὸς ταύτης μικρά ἐστιν καὶ ὀλιγοχρόνιος, ἡ δὲ ἐπαγγελία τοῦ Χριστοῦ μεγάλη καὶ θαυμαστή ἐστιν, καὶ ἀνάπαυσις τῆς μελλούσης βασιλείας καὶ ζωῆς αἰωνίου. Also 6:6, οἰόμεθα, ὅτι βέλτιόν ἐστιν

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age (e. g., small, short, young);49 (3) amount (e. g., little, small);50 or (4) importance (e. g., trivially, unimportantly, pettily, frivolously, cheaply).51 2 Clement uses words derived from the μικρ‑ stem in three ways. First, μικρά is paired with ὀλιγοχρόνιος (ὀλιγοχρόνια) in 2 Clem. 5:5 and 6:6, implying something temporally brief. Second, citing Luke 16:10–12, μικρά connotes ethical behaviors of importance to salvation in 2 Clem. 8:5. Finally, μικρά expresses litotes in 2 Clem. 15:1b and 16:1–2.52 2 Clem. 15:1b claims not to have offered “insignificant” advice and anticipates not an “insignificant” reward for doing so: There is no small reward for the one who converts a person who is going astray toward destruction that he may be saved.53 (2 Clem. 15:1; ET: Ehrman)

Similarly, 2 Clem. 16:1–2 declares that a Christian’s opportunity to repent is not “trivial”: So then, brothers, since we have received no trivial opportunity to repent, we should turn back to the God who called us, while there is still time – while, that is, we still have one who accepts us.54 (2 Clem. 16:1–2; ET: Ehrman)

Returning to the prologue, the parallelism of 2 Clem. 1:1 suggests the interpretation: we ought to regard Jesus in this way, that is, as God and judge of all humankind; we ought not to regard our salvation (possibly Jesus personified as “our Salvation”) in that way, that is, as μικρά. Although the nature of the contrast between God-judge and μικρά is not immediately apparent, it potentially points to Jesus in the role of God.55 Ambiguities multiply in v. 2a, which echoes μικρὰ φρονεῖν, perhaps as a catch phrase. Unless an elided αὐτήν (i. e., σωτηρία) is implied (in which case, περὶ τὰ ἐνθάδε μισῆσαι, ὅτι μικρὰ καὶ ὀλιγοχρόνια καὶ φθαρτά, ἐκεῖνα δὲ ἀγαπῆσαι, τὰ ἀγαθὰ τὰ ἄφθαρτα (“brief”). 49 Size, stature: e. g., Luke 19:3, καὶ ἐζήτει ἰδεῖν τὸν  Ἰησοῦν τίς ἐστιν, καὶ οὐκ ἠδύνατο ἀπὸ τοῦ ὄχλου ὅτι τῇ ἡλικίᾳ μικρὸς ἦν. Age: e. g., Matt 18:6,  Ὃς δ’ ἂν σκανδαλίσῃ ἕνα τῶν μικρῶν τούτων τῶν πιστευόντων εἰς ἐμέ, συμφέρει αὐτῷ ἵνα κρεμασθῇ μύλος ὀνικὸς εἰς τὸν τράχηλον αὐτοῦ καὶ καταποντισθῇ ἐν τῷ πελάγει τῆς θαλάσσης. Cf. Matt 18:10, 14; 1 Cor 13:11, ἐφρόνουν ὡς νήπιος. 50  Amount: e. g., Luke 12:32, Μὴ φοβοῦ, τὸ μικρὸν ποίμνιον, ὅτι εὐδόκησεν ὁ πατὴρ ὑμῶν δοῦναι ὑμῖν τὴν βασιλείαν. 51 Importance: 2 Clem. 15:1a, Οὐκ οἴομαι δέ, ὅτι μικρὰν συμβουλίαν ἐποιησάμην περὶ ἐγκρατείας, ἣν ποιήσας τις οὐ μετανοήσει, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἑαυτὸν σώσει κἀμὲ τὸν συμβουλεύσαντα. Cf. also, e. g., 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. 52 If 2 Clem. 1:1–2 should be understood as litotes, Sophocles, Aj. 1120 offers a parallel:  Ὁ τοξότης ἔοικεν οὐ σμικρὸν φρονεῖν (“The bowman seems to feel no little grandeur”; ET R. C. Jebb, 1907). LSJ s. v. φρονέω, A. I.4, “feel by experience, know full well.” 53 Μισθὸς γὰρ οὐκ ἔστιν μικρὸς πλανωμένην ψυχὴν καὶ ἀπολλυμένην ἀποστρέψαι εἰς τὸ σωθῆναι. 54  Ὥστε, ἀδελφοί, ἀφορμὴν λαβόντες οὐ μικρὰν εἰς τὸ μετανοῆσαι, καιρὸν ἔχοντες ἐπιστρέψωμεν ἐπὶ τὸν καλέσαντα ἡμᾶς θεόν, ἕως ἔτι ἔχομεν τὸν παραδεχόμενον ἡμᾶς. 55 See Tuckett, 2 Clement, 68–72.

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αὐτοῦ is understood in relationship to the main verb), then the object of φρονεῖν shifts from σωτηρία to Jesus (i. e., περὶ αὐτοῦ): “And we must not give little thought to our salvation. For when we think little about him…” (ET: Ehrman).56 The negative consequence of φρονεῖν μικρά in v. 2a is “hoping to receive μικρά (ἐλπίζειν λαβεῖν μικρά),” although it is not clear why such a consequence is necessarily negative. V. 2b describes a parallel to the problem: one must neither φρονεῖν μικρά, nor ἀκούειν μικρά (i. e., οἱ ἀκούοντες). Those who listen μικρά, “err” (ἁμαρτάνουσιν)57 by “failing to appreciate” (οὐκ εἰδότες, “not knowing or acknowledging the value of”): (1) from where, by whom, and to where they have been called; and (2) the quantity of sufferings Jesus endured to make such a calling possible. Summarizing this section’s four observations: (a) φρονεῖν and μικρὰ φρονεῖν in v. 1a and v. 1b are contrasting expressions – φρονεῖν, positive, μικρὰ φρονεῖν, negative; (b) μικρὰ φρονεῖν has essentially the same meaning in v. 1b and v. 2a; (c) ἀκούειν μικρά refers to an error related to μικρὰ φρονεῖν; and (d) subsequent references to μικρά in v. 2b also allude to a related and mistaken approach.

F. Proposed Translation With these delimiting factors in mind, an English translation can now be proposed. Accepting an epistolary situation of ancient patronage for 2 Clement ,58 translation of the opening verses of the tractate may now be updated. Rather than warning believers against “thinking little of” or “belittling” Jesus and salvation, v. 1a exhorts addressees to estimate, reckon, or value Jesus as God and judge and, thus, not to “underestimate,” “undervalue,” or “devalue” salvation. Low value assessments of either Jesus or salvation – estimating, for example, that salvation costs Jesus little or affords believers insignificant rescue or reward – are based on wrong information about items affecting value and misrepresent a believer’s assets and liabilities. By undervaluing assets (e. g., σωτηρία), believers underestimate corresponding liabilities (e. g., ἀντιμισθία). Careful review of the data – from where, by whom, to what place they have been called, and how much Jesus endured for their sake – shows that every believer’s debt is significant. Expressing 56 The parallel relationship depicted between Jesus and σωτηρία in this passage recollects that of Jesus and the λόγος in the Johannine prologue. It is possible that “Our Salvation” is an epithet for Jesus. 57 Cf. the textual variant ἁμαρτάνομεν. Greek mss A and C read καὶ οἱ ἀκούντες ὡς περὶ μικρῶν ἁμαρτάνομεν but the Syriac ms (S) reads: καὶ οἱ ἀκούντες ὡς περὶ μικρῶν ἁμαρτάνουσιν, καὶ ἡμεῖς ἁμαρτάνομεν. See discussion in Tuckett (2 Clement, 130), to whom A and C seem more original. 58 The patronage is not necessarily Roman. With Kelhoffer, only basic patronage – encompassing both the Greek and Roman contexts – is presupposed.” See Osiek, “Politics of Patronage,” 143–52.

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utter incredulity over the steepness of this debt, 2 Clem. 1:5 exclaims: ποῖον οὖν αἶνον αὐτῷ δώσομεν ἢ μισθὸν ἀντιμισθίας ὧν ἐλάβομεν; (“What praise, then, or what reward can we pay him in exchange for what we have received?”) Although this debt model apparently conflicts with Paul’s insistence on the sufficiency of grace (e. g., 2 Cor 12:9),59 it is the imperative behind all orthopraxis in 2 Clement. In light of these arguments, the following English translation is proposed: Brothers and sisters, we must regard Jesus Christ as God, namely as judge of the living and the dead. Correspondingly, we must not undervalue our salvation.60 For when we undervalue him, we likewise61 underestimate (μικρὰ ἐλπίζομεν)62 what we will receive from him (i. e., salvation).63 Those who listen [to vital things] as if [they are] trivial sin – and we sin if we fail to appreciate64 from where, and by whom, and to what place we were called, and just how much suffering Jesus Christ endured for our sake.65

Thus, utilizing the two words μικρὰ and φρονεῖν separately and together, the prologue of 2 Clement sets out the patron-client relationship as a model for Christian belief and practice. Although the obligations of each party are mutual according to this model, the relationship is hierarchical. Believers assessing (i. e., μικρὰ φρονεῖν) Jesus too low – that is, as less than God – devalue their salvation, the reward awaited, the cost assumed to make such a transaction possible, and the obedience owed (i. e., ἀντιμισθία).66 As a part of the introduction, the first two verses pique curiosity with a warning: do not devalue Christ; rather, acknowledge him as a judge who will see to it that breaches of his commandments (i. e., orthopraxis of this tractate, 17:6) are prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

59 This

conflict with Paul’s ideal may in part explain the relative unpopularity of 2 Clement. perhaps: “Our Salvation” (i. e., as epithet); cf. 1:7a; 17:5. 61 To express simultaneity: LSJ s. v. καί, A.III.3. 62 “Deem, suppose that” with regard to statements of future events, LSJ s. v. ἐλπίζω, I. A.3: “τίς ἂν ἤλπισεν ἁμαρτήσεσθαί τινα τῶν πολιτῶν τοιαύτην ἁμαρτίαν; Lys. 31.27; οὐδὲν … ποιήσεν ἐλπίζων D.4.7.” With the aorist infinitive the verb may be translated: “expect.” This phrase may intentionally echo Luke 6:34. 63 Μικρὰ ἐλπίζομεν (“underestimate”) is parallel to μικρὰ φρονεῖν (“undervalue”). Prepositional phrase περὶ αὐτοῦ is bivalent, performing a role in the prior and subsequent phrases. 64 The above text reflects the Syriac manuscript (S). Whereas the Syriac inserts ἁμαρτάνουσιν, καὶ ἡμεῖς after μικρῶν and before ἁμαρτάνομεν, Alexandrinus (A) and Hierosolymitanus (H) possess only μικρῶν (so: μικρῶν ἁμαρτάνομεν οὐκ εἰδότες). The relative strength of the two readings is similar. Although the manuscript evidence for the short reading is stronger (and perhaps the first person plural verb, ἁμαρτάνομεν following subject, οἱ ἀκούοντες is the lectio difficilior), the additional three-word string of text appears to have been accidentally omitted by homoioarcheton; that is, the copyist’s eye skipped from ἁμαρτάνουσιν to ἁμαρτάνομεν, inadvertently omitting the intervening text. 65 I wish to express thanks to the anonymous reader at VC for critical feedback on this translation. 66 This equation is clearly defined in synonymously parallel questions “a” and “c” of v. 1:3: (a) “What then shall we give to him in exchange?” (c) “And how many holy deeds do we owe him?” 60 Or

G. Conclusion

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G. Conclusion Newly available word-search databases categorically demonstrate that even the most recent translations of the first two verses of 2 Clement in both English and German employ expressions long out of use today. A recent investigation establishing the Roman patron-client relationship as a model for the relationship between Christ and believers in this work recommends that updated translations take this conclusion into account. When outdated expressions are replaced with current ones more accurately reflecting the text’s original purpose, values, and assumptions, the first two verses very effectively set the stage for the upcoming tractate.

Chapter Nine

Two dispositiones in 2 Clement 2 A. Introduction The barren woman is an important motif in the Hebrew Bible, and Sarai, the wife of Abraham, is its primary archetype. Genesis preserves two versions of her story: one from J (16:1–2, 4–14) and P (16:3, 15–16) and another from the E source (21:8–21).1 In both versions, Sarai is unable to bear children and thus designates Hagar, her slave-girl, to act as surrogate mother. When Hagar becomes pregnant she suddenly looks disapprovingly upon Sarai. Sarai is enraged and, with Abraham’s consent, expels Hagar from the household. In the desert, an angel of God visits Hagar revealing her child’s name and destiny. The baby’s name, Ishmael (lit. “El has heard”) indicates that God will give heed to Hagar’s affliction. However, the angel tells Hagar that she must return and submit to her mistress and that her son will be a wild ass of a man. The story is an ethnographic etiology tracing the ancestry of the Arab people of the Sinai and Arabian deserts (referred to as the Ishmaelites, 25:12–18).2 Hagar is portrayed sympathetically in all three versions. She is the only woman in the Jewish Bible to receive a divine promise of progeny as her destiny (i. e., not through a man); and she is one of only three women in the Christian Bible (with Hannah and Mary) to receive a divine annunciation of her child’s birth.3 In Gal 4:22–31, Paul reads these accounts in Genesis 16 and 21 in combination with Isa 54:1 as a polemical ἀλληγορία. The Isaianic oracle promises the restoration of the city of Jerusalem: although the city is currently “barren,” she will experience burgeoning growth when God rescues the Jews from Exile. On Paul’s argument, the barren woman is the heavenly Jerusalem and the oracle predicts 1 I wish to offer my most sincere thanks to James A. Kelhoffer for his extremely incisive critical remarks on a prior version of this essay. I also wish to thank Nancy Pardee and those members of the Midwest SBL Section, “Early Christianity: Acts, Apostolic Fathers, and Patristics,” for their responses to a presentation of the thesis (February 6, 2015). Gen 21:1–7 offers an amalgamation of three sources: J (vv. 1a, 2a), P (vv. 1b, 2b–5), and E (vv. 6–7): see Gerhard von Rad, Genesis, rev. ed. (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1972), 190–92. 2 Von Rad, Genesis, 190–92. 3 Tikva Frymer-Kensky, Reading the Women of the Bible: A New Interpretation of their Stories (New York: Schocken, 2002), 230. Frymer-Kensky argues that, insofar as God will multiply her progeny but that these descendants are destined to be slaves until God rescues them, Hagar is an archetype of the story of Israel (233).

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that believers (both Jew and Gentile) will one day populate it, whereas those “boasting in the flesh” (i. e., circumcision) will not. Paul summarizes his understanding of Genesis 16 and 21 vis-à-vis Isa 54:1: “Now this is an allegory: these women are two covenants” (Gal 4:24).4 When Tertullian discusses Marcion’s version of Galatians, he refers to the covenants as dispositiones (“organizations,” “arrangements,” or “institutions”). Without any clear allusion to Galatians and without any mention of an opponent in the text prior to this passage, 2 Clem. 2:1–3 also cites Isa 54:1. Clement contrasts the author’s church (the barren woman) with the woman “with a husband.”5 Clement does not use “covenant” or dispositio (Gk. διαθήκη), but a paradigm of two opposing parties, if not organizations or institutions, nonetheless seems to be reflected. In v. 3, Clement delineates οἱ δοκοῦντες ἔχειν θεόν (“those seeming to have God”) as the contemporary analogue for the woman with the husband.6 Since Clement explicitly states that the barren woman symbolizes his church, interpreters attempt to discern a real-life identity behind her counterpart (i. e., Clement’s opponent). The most common proposal is that they are ‘gnostics’ – a claim that is typically based on a given interpreter’s subsidiary conclusion about the presence of ‘gnostic’ terminology in the text.7 Recently, Christopher Tuckett has put forward that Clement may not have a specific opponent in mind in this passage.8 Yet the author’s explicitly allegorical understanding of one half 4 In addition to the commentaries, see Michael Wolter, “Die unfruchtbare Frau und ihre Kinder. Zur Rezeptionsgeschichte von Jes 54,1,” in Paulus – Werk und Wirkung: FS Andreas Lindemann (ed. Paul-Gerhard Klumbies and David S. du Toit; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 103–27. 5 The text contrasts a barren woman and a woman with a husband (ὅτι πολλὰ τὰ τέκνα τῆς ἐρήμου μᾶλλον ἢ τῆς ἐχούσης τὸν ἄνδρα). Presumably the latter woman can conceive (so: “wife”), that is, she is pregnant as contrasted with the woman who is barren. For the sake of accuracy, however, I will refer to the second woman as simply “married.” 6 Unless otherwise indicated, translations of 2 Clement in this essay are those of Bart D. Ehrman (Apostolic Fathers [LCL]). Important literature on 2 Clement consulted for this essay includes the following recent essays by James A. 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,” in Early Christian Communities between Ideal and Reality (ed. Mark Grundeken and Joseph Verheyden; WUNT 342; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 83–108; idem, “Reciprocity as Salvation,” 433–56; idem, “Pigeonholing a Prooftexter? The Citations in 2 Clement 2 and Their Alleged ‘Gnostic’ Background,” ZNW (2016): [forthcoming]. 7 Scholars characterizing the opponents of 2 Clement as “gnostic” include Hans Windisch, Das Christentum des 2. Clemensbriefes in Harnack – Ehrung: FS Adolf von Harnack (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1921), 119–34; Wilhelm Pratscher, Der zweite Clemensbrief (KAV 3; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007), 50–55; Rüdiger Warns, “Untersuchungen zum 2. Clemens-Brief” (Diss. Marburg, 1989), 501; and Wengst, Zweiter Klemensbrief, 224–27 (with the exception of chapter 12). Contrast the position held by Tuckett, 2 Clement, 51. 8 Tuckett writes: “And the wording referring to those who (think they) ‘have’ God may simply derive from the wording of the Isaiah text (which refers to the woman who ‘has’ a husband), without any precise further meaning or reference in mind” (2 Clement, 144; cf. also 143, 144 n. 27).

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of the Isaianic oracle (i. e., the barren woman symbolizes “us”), together with the oracle’s prominent position at the beginning of the tractate (2:1–3), suggests that even if their identity is disguised, a specific opponent is in view. As with the NT Pauline epistles, the question is whether a universalizing tendency permanently veils the identity of the original opponents. The present essay explores whether the reception history of what I refer to as the “two dispositiones tradition” resolves this conundrum. In this essay I will argue that in Galatians Paul contributes ingredients that Marcion and his rivals remix in their deliberations. Following a brief history of scholarship on the interpretation of 2 Clem 2:1–3, the essay presents all attestations of the dispositiones motif, situating 2 Clement among them.

B. History of Scholarship Tertullian argues that Marcion used the two dispositiones tradition to describe the difference between Judaism and Christianity (Marc. 5.13.8). Acknowledging its accuracy, Tertullian refused to concede that the tradition represented two gods.9 Judith M. Lieu provides background on this debate: Behind the polemic, the question that he [Marcion] posed, and that Tertullian recognized, was evidently more specific; how does the story of the human experience of God given in the Scriptures relate to the very being of God – especially when that story is understood both in terms of progress and as within history? Here it is insufficient merely to see old and new as necessarily balancing oppositions. Tertullian has a ready answer: It is ‘a distinction of arrangements (dispositiones) not of gods.’10

With the exception of 2 Clement, all three attestations of this motif prior to the fourth century (Marcion, Justin Martyr, and Tertullian) arise in Marcionite de 9 “So, I also acknowledge that one order unfolded in the old disposition with the Creator, and another in the new with Christ. I do not deny that the lessons of the word, the precepts of virtue, the disciplines of law, are different from each other, so long as the entire diversity is contained in one and the same God, namely he by whom it is agreed that that diversity was ordained just as it was predicted” (Marc. 4.1.3; ET: Judith M. Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015], 76). 10 Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 76. Disposition is Tertullian’s word. Concerning Tertullian’s use of “dispositiones,” Lieu comments: “The text that Tertullian weaves into his own interpretation is that of Marcion, but he does not comment on its idiosyncrasies other than on the rendering of the Pauline covenants (‘διαθῆκαι’, v. 24). However, the force of his explanation at this point would differ according to whether he is working from the Greek text of Marcion’s ‘Apostolikon’ or from one already translated into Latin. In the latter case, this Latin translation presumably offered ‘ostensio’ where Tertullian would have preferred ‘testamentum’. In the former case, Marcion’s Greek text, which Tertullian is translating as he works, either replaced ‘διαθῆκαι’ or glossed it, in the text or in the margin, with another term which Tertullian renders as ‘ostensio’, probably ἀπό-, ἐπί-, or ἔν-δειξις. The broader question cannot be decided on the basis of this passage alone; in either case, however, it would appear that Marcion favoured language suggesting manifestation or revelation over the potentially legal or documentary sense of ‘testament’” (Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 249–50).

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bates, in Lieu’s words, “debates and concerns that engaged all parties that shaped Marcion just as he shaped them.”11 The question is what a conclusion based on the remaining evidence would look like. Rather than imagine with Lieu that these witnesses suggest a wide range of debates in which 2 Clement might have engaged, what can we say with certainty? In his recent commentary on 2 Clement, Christopher Tuckett lays out the three most prevalent interpretations of the barren woman in chapter 2. According to the first interpretation, the women represent the struggle between Christianity and Judaism (so: Lightfoot, Donfried, Wengst).12 According to the second position, they represent the struggle between Gentile-Christians and Jewish-Christians. A third interpretation construes the opponent as a “gnostic” group.13 Concerning the first interpretation, Tuckett argues that the paradigm of Christians versus Jews has no solid footing in 2 Clement: One interpretation in relation to the last question is that the ‘contrast group’ are the Jews. The author’s use of the Isa. 54 text would then be similar to that of Just. 1 Apol. 53.5–6, though there Justin interprets the numerical contrast as between Gentile and Jewish Christians, not between (Gentile) Christians and Jews. ‘Our people’ would then presumably be the Christian church over against non-Christian Jews/Judaism. However, there is no clear instance elsewhere in 2 Clement of an attempt to differentiate the Christian community from Jews, and such issues of Christian identity vis-à-vis Judaism simply did not seem to be on the author’s horizon at all.14

Taking the second and third interpretations out of order, Tuckett argues that the absence of gnostic mythological terms forces the conclusion that οἱ δοκοῦντες ἔχειν θεόν are not ‘gnostics.’ Favoring the second interpretation, Tuckett views the barren woman and “our church” as representations of Christians – children of the ‘deserted one’ of Isaiah. With this, Tuckett pronounces the search for a contrast group “unnecessary and inappropriate.”15 Yet early Christian texts frequently veil the identity of opponents as, for example, in the NT Pastorals and Catholic Epistles. Paul too masks the identity of certain challengers, but this does not imply that he had none.16 What is more, Tuckett’s assessment bypasses two relevant passages in Justin’s Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 25. Apostolic Fathers, 2:215; Karl P. Donfried, Setting of Second Clement in Early Christianity (NovTSup 38; Leiden: Brill, 1974), 199; Wengst, Zweiter Klemensbrief, 271. 13 Warns, “Untersuchungen,” 63; Lindemann, Clemensbriefe, 205. 14 Tuckett, 2 Clement, 143. Knopf argues similarly: “Die Anführung stammt aus Js 54:1 und ist wörtlich übernommen, Gal 4:27 Justin ap. I 53:5 wird sie in der gleichen Anwendung gebracht” (Zwei Clemensbriefe, 156). 15 Tuckett, 2 Clement, 144. 16 While this argues for an actual opponent in 2 Clement, it may support the inability rather than an ability to ever recover their identity. See Calhoun, “The Resurrection of the Flesh in Third Corinthians,” 235–57. 11 Lieu,

12 Lightfoot,

C. 2 Clement 2:1–7

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Dialogue with Trypho shedding light on the question. In these examples, Justin deploys the “two dispositions” motif, interpreting the two “arrangements” or “organizations” as Jews and Gentiles, not as in 1 Apol. 53.5–6 (cited by Tuckett above) as Jewish and Gentile Christians. Comparison with the passages in Justin’s Dialogue follows an exegetical overview of 2 Clement 2:1–7.

C. 2 Clement 2:1–7 The second chapter of 2 Clement begins with the following citation of Isaiah 54:1.17 Εὐφράνθητι, στεῖρα ἡ οὐ τίκτουσα, ῥῆξον καὶ βόησον ἡ οὐκ ὠδίνουσα, ὅτι πολλὰ τὰ τέκνα τῆς ἐρήμου μᾶλλον ἢ τῆς ἐχούσης τὸν ἄνδρα. ὃ εἶπεν· εὐφράνθητι, στεῖρα ἡ οὐ τίκτουσα, ἡμᾶς εἶπεν· στεῖρα γὰρ ἦν18 ἡ ἐκκλησία ἡμῶν πρὸ τοῦ δοθῆναι αὐτῇ τέκνα.

Absence of an introductory formula introducing the oracle has not been satisfactorily explained. Knopf once argued that the omission of such a formula suggests that the entire tractate is an exposition of this text.19 While that case is difficult to make, the author clearly assumes that Isa 54:1 will be recognized as pertinent to the circumstances.20 Since 2 Clem 1:6 indicates an audience of Gentiles,21 place17 LXX: Εὐφράνθητι, στεῖρα ἡ οὐ τίκτουσα, ῥῆξον καὶ βόησον, ἡ οὐκ ὠδίνουσα, ὅτι πολλὰ τὰ τέκνα τῆς ἐρήμου μᾶλλον ἢ τῆς ἐχούσης τὸν ἄνδρα, εἶπεν γὰρ κύριος. The citation of this passage in the LXX, Gal 4:27 and 2 Clement are identical; see Tuckett, 2 Clement, 137 [chart]: “All three Christian writers [Paul, Justin, Clement] agree verbatim with the LXX version in their citations of the verse. There is little, if anything, which can be deduced from the text forms alone in relation to any question of literary dependence or the relative ages of the texts involved.” 18 “She [the church] was sterile,” that is, she is no longer. Although Clement’s interpretation does not emphasize the tense, it still seems to depend for its interpretation on the difference between was and is, between promise and fulfillment. 19 “Die Art, wie die stelle ohne Zitationsformel, gleichsam als selbstverständlich eingeführt, dabei aber doch sorgfältig ausgelegt wird, erklärt sich am besten, wenn die Gemeinde sie soeben in dem Schriftabschnitte gehört hatte, der vor der Predigt verlesen worden war, vgl. zu 19:1. Die andere Möglichkeit ist die, daß die Stelle als sehr bekannt vorausgesetzt und deshalb ohne Anführungsformel gebracht werden kann” (Knopf, Zwei Clemensbriefe, 156). The first two phrases of the citation are introduced by ὅ εἶπεν and ὅ δὲ εἶπεν (“he/it says”); the third, καὶ ἑτέρα δὲ γραφὴ λέγει (“and another scripture says”). The third may suggest that “it” best translates ὅ in the first two cases. 20 Tuckett, 2 Clement, 140; see also Introduction § 4 Genre. The readers’ recognition of the passage, and of the structural relation of the two women as allegorically representative of two groups, is critically important to the argument and requires Galatians 4 to explain it. The argument in 2 Clement does not work if Paul had not already laid the groundwork. 21 2 Clem 1:6, πηροὶ ὄντες τῇ διανοίᾳ, προσκυνοῦντες λίθους καὶ ξύλα καὶ χρυσὸν καὶ ἄργυρον καὶ χαλκόν, ἔργα ἀνθρώπων· καὶ ὁ βίος ἡμῶν ὅλος ἄλλο οὐδὲν ἦν εἰ μὴ θάνατος. Tuckett writes: “The language clearly suggests that the writer and his audience (‘we’) have come to Christianity from a Gentile background (though equally the echoes of biblical (OT) language indicate that at least the writer here is steeped in the words of Jewish scripture)” (2 Clement, 135; contrast Tuckett’s discussion of audience in the section entitled, “Genre,” 22–23). However, it is

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ment and recognition of this passage at the beginning of the argument should not be glossed over. Even if Isa 54:1 (or a longer section of Isaiah 54) does not have enduring relevance for the entire tractate, it seems clear that the author is using this passage to stage the argument.22 The meaning of the oracle is then explained. Each phrase is interpreted separately in a manner not unlike some of the pesher commentaries from Qumran.23 In its original context in Deutero-Isaiah, the author describes the city of Jerusalem (“she”) on analogy with a barren woman.24 God comforts the woman because she is or feels deserted. He promises her that, although she is presently without children, one day, she will rejoice; that is, one day Jerusalem will experience burgeoning population growth.25 An exilic context predicting release from Babylonian captivity is clear. Yet, as Hans Dieter Betz notes, this oracle also played a crucial role in later Jewish eschatological expectation. According to Betz, Clement exemplifies this popularity. In order to spell out Paul’s strategy in this passage, Betz develops a συστοιχία or “parallel column of concepts” that is based on an allegory of the two sons of Abraham in Genesis 16–17, 21. It incorporates concepts from Isa 54:1 (latter in italics below).26 Hagar Sarah son of the free woman son of the slave woman  (Ishmael)  (Isaac) “according to the flesh” “through the promise” old covenant new covenant Sinai – present Jerusalem heavenly Jerusalem slavery freedom “according to the Spirit” “according to the flesh” a false assumption of much NT scholarship that Gentiles did not know how to read and retain scriptural references, especially given that the cult depends so fundamentally on prophetic promise and fulfillment in the death and resurrection of Christ. 22 The self-consciousness of being chosen is critical, no matter what other direction the rest of the text takes. Fidelity is crucial, as in other second-century texts. In this case, the retrieval of the “barren” wife and her impregnation calls for devotion, commitment, and reciprocation with loyalty. For a reason this essay seeks to understand, Clement is able to evoke this discussion concisely, import its significance, and then move on to the central arguments it wants to make. 23 Tuckett, 2 Clement, 140. However, pesher is a widespread strategy of interpretation, hardly unique to the DSS. 24 Cities are frequently described as feminine figures, and Jerusalem is no exception. 25 Cf. Gen 30:1–24, in which Rachel’s envy of Leah recalls Sarah’s response to Hagar (16:5; 21:10). Frymer-Kensky, Reading the Women of the Bible, 225–37. 26 H. D. Betz, Galatians (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 248. Betz cites the LSJ (245 n. 75) for a definition of συστοιχία according to Pythagorean philosophy. It means “pair of coordinates” or “parallel columns” of notion, noting that grammarians used it similarly. Betz does not specify instances of this term’s technical usage in allegorical contexts, but συστοιχία is used in the context of Pythagorean allegory according to the LSJ. Betz points to Lietzmann, Burton, Oepke, Delling (“στοιχεῖον,” TDNT 7:669) (Galatians, 245). σύγκρισις (“comparison”) is possibly the more accurate rhetorical-critical term for the technique observable in this passage.

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“Judaism” “Christianity”27 – barren – desolate28 – children predicted to be numerous

According to Betz, Paul interprets Isaiah 54:1 as an allegory in which the barren woman reflects the typology of Sarah, who,29 initially incapable of bearing children, comes to be considered the mother of all Jews. Reversing the passage’s original meaning (i. e., mother of only Jews), Paul uses the prophecy to argue that both Jews and Gentiles trace their lineage to Abraham.30 Although the citation of Isa 54:1 LXX in 2 Clement 2 is identical to Paul’s in Galatians,31 Clement neither alludes to Galatians,32 nor connects the barren woman to Sarah. Paul’s influence is nevertheless detectable in the connection of the two women to two groups, a characteristic shared by other patristic sources. This application of Isaiah 54:1 is difficult to explain apart from Paul’s initial usage, justifying the relevance Galatians 4 has for 2 Clement.33 What is more, Clement imitates Paul’s exegetical approach of reversal. According to 2 Clement 2, the barren woman symbolizes his church – possibly Gentiles only, or some unknown mixture of Jews and Gentiles.34 Clement discusses the passage in the order of its three clearly distinguishable parts: Part #1, Exhortation: εὐφράνθητι, στεῖρα ἡ οὐ τίκτουσα Part #2, Exhortation: ῥῆξον καὶ βόησον, ἡ οὐκ ὠδίνουσα Part #3, Rationale: ὅτι πολλὰ τὰ τέκνα τῆς ἐρήμου μᾶλλον ἢ τῆς ἐχούσης τὸν ἄνδρα, εἶπεν γὰρ κύριος. 27 Betz’s contrast of Judaism/Christianity in this passage warrants some caution. On my argument, this is the direction that 2 Clement ultimately takes; however, Paul does not go there yet. Paul has a developing concept of “us” versus “them,” Jews vs. Christians in Rom 9–11, but it is not necessarily evident in Galatians 4. In Galatians, Paul is speaking not to Judaism per se, but to those who insist on the Judaizing of his Gentile converts. 28 Reference to desertion of the barren woman, especially the implication (through the contrast with the woman who has a husband) that she is unmarried, does not comport with the figure of Sarah in Genesis. 29  Betz, Galatians, 249. 30 Cf. e. g., Rom 4:10–12 (also: 2:25, 29; 3:1); Gal 3:8–9. 31 I do not wish to imply, however, that this citation is unique to Paul. 32 The allegorical reading is not necessarily Pauline since the original context of Deutero-​ Isaiah involves personification. 33 From the corpus Paulinum, Clement betrays a possible knowledge of Ephesians; see Tuckett, 2 Clement, 43–45. 34 Different proposals have been offered for interpreting “our church” as a barren woman. Kelhoffer (“Pigeonholing,” [forthcoming]) registers the following: the church in a period of inactivity (so: Lindemann, Clemensbriefe, 204); the church outside the pleroma (so: Warns, “Untersuchungen,” 501); and the preexistent church (so: Knopf, Zwei Clemensbriefe, 156; Donfried, Setting of Second Clement in Early Christianity, 192; Wengst, Zweiter Klemensbrief, 270–71 n. 17; Pratscher, Clemensbrief, 76–83, here: 77). According to Graham, “The Church is not the local community but the universal one, as in chapter 14” (Apostolic Fathers, 2:113).

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Part #1 exhorts the audience to rejoice. Isaiah’s oracle, he says, applies to them. Although they now have many members, they once had few (hence, cause for elation):35 Now when it says, “Rejoice, you who are infertile and who do not bear children,” it is referring to us. For our church was infertile before children were given to it. (2 Clem 2:1)

Having established that the oracle applies to his listeners, Clement explains the oracle’s second exhortation: And when it says, “Cry out, you who experience no pains of labor,” it means this: we should raise our prayers up to God sincerely and not grow weary like women in labor.

In the Isaianic text, Parts #1 and #2 are synonymously parallel. Clement’s interpretation, however, construes them as different messages. Part #1 implies circumstances in the past: The church, once empty, is now full (or fuller than it was). Part #2 implies circumstances in the present: the congregation must pray. This bivalent appeal embodies an inherent tension. Although God has granted the congregation’s request, they must continue to repeat it. Yet it is unclear for what the congregation must now pray if their petition was already granted. Should they pray for a cap on further attrition or for additional growth? Skirting past this difficulty, the author advises them how to pray. They will heed the advice if they pray ἁπλῶς (“singly,” “in one way,” “simply”) not like women in labor. Since it is contrasted with women during labor, most commentators understand ἁπλῶς as connoting supplications that outlast pressing needs.36 The contrast may be ironic since the prayers of women in delivery culminate in precisely what Clement seems to want (i. e., more children).37 In contrast to Parts #1 and #2 addressing the present, Part #3 promises something in the future. The barren woman, now further characterized as deserted and unmarried, will one day have more children than the wife.38 And when it says, “For the one who has been deserted has more children than the one who has a husband,” it is because our people appeared to be deserted by God, but now that we believe we have become more numerous than those who appear to have God.

According to Clement’s interpretation (ὃ δὲ εἶπεν· ὅτι …), Part #3 repeats Part #1, although without reestablishing the applicability of the oracle and with a

35 Cf.

Heb 11:11. s. v. ἁπλῶς, I. A. 37 Belief analogized as birth is a familiar trope from the New Testament (e. g., John 3). 38 LXX: ὅτι πολλὰ τὰ τέκνα τῆς ἐρήμου μᾶλλον ἢ τῆς ἐχούσης τὸν ἄνδρα. Klaus Baltzer notes that in the context of Deutero-Isaiah, the barren woman may indicate a woman before her wedding, a virgin, or both, noting similarities to ancient fertility rites (Deutero-Isaiah: A Commentary on Isaiah 40–55 [Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001], 434–45). As Baltzer points out, Isa 51:1–3 makes the link between Sarah and Jerusalem. 36 LSJ

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statement that the addition of the church’s former state of “infertility”39 was only apparent: God seemed to desert them but never really did.40 The final phrase also unexpectedly introduces a contrast group (οἱ δοκοῦντες ἔχειν θεόν). Prior to an influx of believers, the author’s church “appeared to have been deserted [by God]”: ἐπεὶ ἔρημος ἐδόκει εἶναι ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ ὁ λαὸς ἡμῶν.41 Now, however, his church has more members than unnamed opponents whom God has most certainly deserted: νυνὶ δὲ πιστεύσαντες πλείονες ἐγενόμεθα τῶν δοκούντων ἔχειν θεόν. The contrastive circumstance is probably based on a pun on the verb δοκεῖν, although Tuckett reasons that the use of δοκέω may be unintentional.42 Whether δοκεῖν is a pun or not, the overall message does not change: appearances deceive. Clement’s church mistakenly believed that God had abandoned them; their opponents mistakenly believe that God is with them.43 V. 4 cites a saying attributed to Jesus: “I did not come to call the upright, but sinners” (καὶ ἑτέρα δὲ γραφὴ λέγει, ὅτι οὐκ ἦλθον καλέσαι δικαίους, ἀλλὰ ἁμαρτωλούς) (cf. Matt 9:13; Mark 2:17; Luke 5:32).44 Its placement immediately after 39 While the concept of infertility is ancient, a biological (as opposed to divine) understanding of its cause is modern. Fertility rites and magic spells suggest prevalence of the idea that the gods have a hand in infertility. The oracle from Isaiah seems to agree. 40  Infertility was legal grounds for divorce. Sarah should have been set aside; instead, she offered Hagar as a “second wife” (of sorts). In the oracle, God refuses to divorce his wife (Jerusalem), because he has plans to give her children. 41 While the passage is probably idiomatic, technically speaking the English translation, “deserted by God” requires a passive verb with a prepositional phase introduced by ὑπό, not an adjective with ἀπό. Furthermore, ἔρημος evokes Hagar crying in the desert as she shelters her son from the heat. It is almost as if 2 Clement is significantly escalating Paul’s use of the oracle, not by upending the identity of the legitimate son of Abraham, but his legitimate wife. Perhaps “remote from God” or “in the wilderness away from God” is a preferable ET. The preposition is crucial due to its stark contrast with ἔχειν θεόν in the following clause. 42 “The repeated use of δοκέω may simply be due to repetition from the first half of the sentence for a ‘rhetorical’ effect, though partly too no doubt to introduce the idea that this is a contrast group to that of the author’s own group, so that an element of critique and negativity is demanded; and the wording referring to those who (think they) ‘have’ God may simply derive from the wording of the Isaiah text (which refers to the woman who ‘has’ a husband), without any precise further meaning or reference in mind” (Tuckett, 2 Clement, 144, emphasis original). 43  In 3:1, the author refers to the objects of certain worship as dead (ἡμεῖς οἱ ζῶντες τοῖς νεκροῖς θεοῖς οὐ θύομεν καὶ οὐ προσκυνοῦμεν αὐτοῖς) and contrasts worship of dead idols with “knowing” “the father of truth” (ἀλλὰ ἔγνωμεν δι᾿ αὐτοῦ τὸν πατέρα τῆς ἀληθείας). The references to “dead gods” and “father of truth” seem to be points on which the author agrees with his opponents. With Tuckett: “this seems simply to reinforce an agreed view” (2 Clement, 153 n. 26). “Gnostic” literature deploys “father of truth” (e. g., Gos. Truth [NHC I 3] 1.31–33; Hyp. Arch. [NHC II 4] 86.20–22; etc.). Graham comments on this possible Gnostic resonance: “There may be an anti-Gnostic note in the words about ‘knowledge’ (gnosis) in regard to the ‘Father of Truth,’ for this appellation of God occurs in Valentinian writings. Probably, however, Christians both Gnostic and non-Gnostic used it before it became a Gnostic favorite (cf. 20:5)” (Apostolic Fathers, 2:114, “3:1–5”). 44 The text presumes that the reason why the barren woman cannot conceive is that she is a sinner. Correspondingly, “the righteous” suggests those who (with some justification?) view themselves as “having God” – in an early Christian text, this most likely refers to Jews. 2 Clem-

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the reference to the contrast group seems to heap a pretension of righteousness on Clement’s accusation of false piety against his opponents. The chapter ends with a reference to the widespread biblical motif of the underdog: God saves what is perishing and props up what is falling over (2:5–7).45

D. Summation Similar (although not explicitly traced) to Paul in Galatians 4, 2 Clem 2:1–3 interprets Isa 54:1 as an allegory. Dividing it into three sections, the interpretation of the first part focuses on the identity of the allegorical signifier: the barren woman is “us.” Interpretation of the second part exhorts the signified (i. e., Clement’s audience) to pray (“We should raise our prayers to God sincerely”). And Part #3 reemphasizes the identity of the signifier (“our people”) and adds the identity of their married antagonist (“those who appear to have God”). Although Parts #1 and #3 imply that infertility qua God’s desertion is no longer an issue in Clement’s church, Part #2 exhorts the congregation to pray as if such past circumstances persist. Part #3, moreover, adds a moderately vindictive contemporary analogue for the married woman in the form of a contrast group flatly deserted by God. Although Tuckett rejects the identification of Clement’s opponent in this passage, he acknowledges that the passage may be part of a “quiet polemic.”46 Borrowing this analogy, the next section examines the “volume” of 2 Clement 2’s polemic by attempting to situate it among other second-century attestations of the “two dispositions” tradition.

E. The “Two Dispositions” Motif Prior to the fourth century, when the tradition was cited more liberally, three writers attest the “two dispositions” tradition: Marcion, Justin Martyr, and Tertullian.47 Each cites Isa 54:1 – two of three of these writers drawing an explicit connection to Galatians 4. These witnesses are examined next in chronological order. ent characterizes pagans entirely differently, as worshiping sticks and stones (e. g., 1:6). Frymer-Kensky paraphrases several midrashim equating barrenness with sin (Reading the Women of the Bible, 226). 45 “For ‘that which is lost’ (Luke 19:10) 2 Clement substitutes a more explicit (Pauline) reference to those who were perishing (cf. 1 Cor 1:18; 2 Cor 2:15; 4:3; 2 Thess 2:10); see also 1:4” (Graham, Apostolic Fathers, 2:113). 46 2 Clement, 146. 47 In subsequent centuries, Origen (Hom. Jer. 3.3), Ephraem (Comm. Gal. 4; see Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 251), and John Chrysostom (Hom. Gal. 4) also cite the tradition.

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I. Marcion Marcion’s attestation of the “two dispositions” tradition is cited in Tertullian’s Adversus Marcionem. In a discussion of Marcion’s purported corruption of Galatians, Tertullian comments that Marcion’s redaction of 4:21–5:1 caricatures him as a thief who left a trail. According to Tertullian, Marcion should have excluded this passage in Galatians because it indicates that Paul did not reject Judaism or their god (Marcion’s argument according to Tertullian). Rather it shows that Paul considered both Jews and Gentiles children of Abraham. Judith Lieu translates the relevant lines in Adversus Marcionem as follows: For just as it happens to thieves, that something of the stolen goods drop by the wayside indicting them, so I think it has happened to Marcion; the last reference to Abraham [in the text] he has left untouched although no passage required his erasure more than this, even just a partial alternation of the text. If then – ‘Abraham had two sons, one from the maidservant and the other from the free woman, but the one from the maidservant was born in fleshly manner, and the one from the free woman through promise, which things are allegorical, that is predictive (portendentia) of something [other than literal history]; for these are two testaments (testamenta), or two manifestations (ostensiones) as we find it interpreted; one from mount Sinai in relation to the synagogue of the Jews according to the law giving birth into servitude, the other giving birth above every principality, power, domination, and every name that is named not only in this age but also in the future, which is our mother, to that which we have (been) promised, the holy church,’ and therefore he [Paul] adds, ‘Therefore, brothers, we are not children of the maidservant but of the free’ – so then he [Paul] has made clear that the nobility of Christianity locates its allegorical sign in the son of Abraham born from the free woman just as the legal servitude of Judaism does in the son of the maidservant, and therefore each disposition is from the same God, from whom we find the setting out of each disposition (atque ita eius dei esse utramque dispositionem apud quem invenimus utriusque dispositionis delineationem) (Marc. 5.4.8).48

Lieu addresses possible deletions and additions from the passage. She notes Marcion’s apparent omission of the explanation of Hagar as Mt. Sinai, as well as his omission of references to Jerusalem, both present and above (Gal 4:25, 26a). She also comments that Marcion may have left out vv. 27–30 (i. e., Paul’s reference to Isa 54:1), qualifying that scriptural citations should not be the exclusive reason for postulating excision;49 Tertullian or his version of Marcion’s Apostolikon may have omitted these verses. Correspondingly, Lieu addresses two possible expansions to the text. The first is a citation of Eph 1:21, which Lieu thinks probably derived from Marcion.50 Sec48 Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 248–49 with some modifications for clarity and sense. Boldface italics are original and insertions signify Marcion’s text of Galatians; quotation marks indicate Marcion’s text. Cf. n. 2 above regarding Tertullian’s use of the Latin word dispositio. 49 Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 248–49. 50 Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 250–51.

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ond is the “two dispositions” (dispositiones): synagogue and holy church. Since Tertullian does not challenge this point, Lieu thinks it probably also derived from Marcion.51 With regard to the second point, in the beginning of the fourth century, Ephraem offered a similar expansion in his commentary on Galatians: These (women) indeed were symbols of the two testaments, one of the people of the Jews according to the law giving birth in slavery to the likeness of the same, Hagar … but the higher Jerusalem is free as is Sara and is high above all powers and principalities. This/she is our mother, the holy church, which we have confessed.52

Although Ephraem’s text may suggest that Marcion himself had a source for the two dispositions motif (clearly Ephraem is not citing Marcion), our earliest witness to it today is Marcion.53 As important as Galatians was to Marcion’s Bible, not everything in Marcion’s scriptures had a particular significance for his theology.54 Here we may encounter the fallacy of intent in a redactional analysis. The point was argued, however, by no less than Adolf von Harnack. Von Harnack believed that this section, in particular, played a pivotal role in Marcion’s canon and theology.55 For Harnack, the insertion of Ephesians 1:21 together with the solemn confession of the church as mother indicated that Marcion valued this passage as a liturgical text of primary significance. What is more, Harnack flagged the passage’s two dispositions motif as the most important of the passage’s salient characteristics. Different from Tertullian, who thinks Marcion left a thief’s trail accidentally allowing flagrant violations of his own theology in the text, Harnack argues that Marcion’s modifications reveal his hand: Chapter 4:21–26 bring the great intervention (together with a rearrangement of the text) which demands special attention; … The most important alterations are the substitution of the concept of representation or exhibition for covenants, elimination of Jerusalem, the insertion of Ephesians 1:21, and – if the text actually read thus or came from Marcion himself – the addition: “in which we are promised the holy church, which is our mother,” together with the introduction of the synagogue of the Jews .... It is especially important that he did not choose to speak of two testaments, but substituted for the term the word “ex Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 249–51. from Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 251. 53 Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 251. 54 If one is persuaded by Lieu’s argument that Marcion’s editing was much lighter than the mutilation his critics alleged, that is precisely why they could use Marcion’s scriptures against him – namely, he left much that others could claim contradicted his own theology. Lieu makes the innovative proposal that Marcion’s rather lightly redacted “gospel” is in many ways neutral: “It could only have served to inspire and support his system to the extent that he interpreted it” (209, emphases added). Lieu can thereby explain how anti-heretical authors could use Marcion’s Gospel against him to confirm Jesus’s humanity and continuity of his life and message with Old Testament prophecies. Only an inconsistent (and partially non-Marcionite) text could allow that. 55 Adolf von Harnack, Marcion: The Gospel of the Alien God (trans. John E. Steely and Lyle D. Bierma; Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2007). 51

52 Cited

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hibitions” (demonstrations). In connection with allegory this word does not acknowledge any obligations with respect to the Old Testament, and it also avoids any reminiscences of “prophecies”: “If one allegorizes them one can recognize in Abraham’s sons of the slave woman and the free woman the two basically different institutions which led to the synagogue and the church.”56

As Harnack notes, Marcion’s replacement of Paul’s διαθῆκαι (Gal 4:24) with ostensiones (Tertullian’s Latin version)57 exchanges Paul’s legal-theological allegory (promise vs. law) for one with a social-political emphasis (church vs. synagogue), carefully avoiding wholesale rejection of the Old Testament. According to Marcion, Paul’s argument is that the church replaces the synagogue.

II. Justin Martyr Three passages potentially reflect Justin Martyr’s attestation of the “two dispositions” tradition three times: (1) Dial. 134.3, (2) Dial. 13.8, and (3) 1 Apol. 53.5–6. As in 2 Clement, Justin does not explicitly refer to Galatians 4 in any of the excerpts. The first passage from Dial. 134.3 does not cite Genesis 16, 21, or Isa 54:1.58 Instead Justin uses Laban’s daughters from Genesis 29–30 as his model for the “two dispositions”: Now, Leah represented your people and the Synagogue, while Rachel was a figure of our church. And Christ still serves for these and for his servants that are in both. (Dial. 134.3)59

Perhaps Justin opts for Genesis 29 over 16 because the biological connection between Laban’s daughters better supports his point against Trypho that Judaism and Christianity possess an intrinsic relationship (the very point Tertullian accuses Marcion of overlooking). The context of the allegory demonstrates this point: Now Leah is your people and synagogue; but Rachel is our church. And for these, and for the servants in both, Christ even now serves. For while Noah gave to the two sons the seed 56 Harnack, Marcion: The Gospel of the Alien God, 32, emphasis added. On the precise wording of Marcion’s replacement of “testament” in Tertullian’s version of the Apostolikon, see Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 249–50. 57 On how Tertullian may not have liked his Latin version, see n. 2 above (Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 249–50). On whether Tertullian had a Greek copy from which he copied Marcion’s text ad hoc, see Dieter T. Roth, “Did Tertullian Possess a Greek Copy or Latin Translation of Marcion’s Gospel?” VC 63 (2009): 429–67. 58 In her discussion of this passage, Lieu refers to the parallel as “striking” (Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 251). 59 ET: Writings of Saint Justin Martyr: The First Apology, the Second Apology, Dialogue with Trypho, Exhortation to the Greeks, Discourse to the Greeks, The Monarchy of the Rule of God (FC 6; trans. Thomas B. Falls; Washington D. C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1948), 356, with modification.

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of the third as servants, now on the other hand Christ has come to restore both the free sons and the servants among them, conferring the same honor on all of them who keep His commandments; even as the children of the free women and the children of the bond women born to Jacob were all sons, and equal in dignity. (Dial. 134.3, emphasis added)

Second, earlier in the text at 13.8, Justin cites Isa 54:1 in a florilegium of Isaianic citations (52:10–15; 53:1–12; 54:1–6): Give praise, O thou barren, that bearest not; sing forth praise, and make a joyful noise, thou that didst not travail with child; for many are the children of the desolate, more than of her that hath a husband. For the Lord said: Enlarge the place of thy tent, and of thy curtain; fix them, spare not, lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes; stretch forth to thy right and thy left; and thy seed shall inherit the Gentiles, and thou shalt inhabit the desolate cities. Fear not because thou hast been ashamed; neither be thou confounded because thou hast been reproached; for thou shalt forget thine everlasting shame, and thou shalt not remember the reproach of thy widowhood, because the Lord has made a name for Himself, and He who has redeemed thee shall be called through the whole earth the God of Israel. For the Lord hath called thee as a woman forsaken and faint in spirit; as a woman hated from her youth.60

In this passage, Isa 54:1 constitutes a proof-from-prophecy for Justin’s argument that Christianity is the new covenant predicted in the Jewish scriptures.61 As Tuckett notes (see above), Justin also cites Isa 54:1 in 1 Apol. 53.5–6. In this third example, Justin argues that Scripture predicts the evolution of Christianity from a Jewish to a predominantly Gentile movement:62 But as to the fact that it was foretold that believers from the nations would be more numerous than those from the Jews and the Samaritans, we shall announce the things prophesied. It was said thus: ‘Rejoice, barren one who has not been pregnant, cry and shout, you who were not in labour, for many more are the children of the deserted one than of her who has a husband.’ For all the nations were bereft of the true God (ἔρημα γὰρ ἦν πάντα τὰ ἔθνη ἀληθινοῦ θεοῦ), worshipping the works of their hands. Jews and Samaritans, on the other hand, possessing the word from God handed over to them through the prophets and always expecting the Christ, did not recognize him when he came, except for a few, who, the holy prophetic Spirit foretold through Isaiah, were going to be saved.63

Concerning this passage, Harnack argues that 2 Clement’s interpretation of Isa 54:1 is similar enough to Justin’s to suggest reliance of Clement on Justin.64 Holt Writings of Saint Justin Martyr (trans. Falls), 168. Tuckett, 2 Clement, 143; cf. Adolf Hilgenfeld, Clementis Romani Epistulae (Leipzig: Weigel, 1876), 104. Contrast J. B. Lightfoot, Apostolic Fathers, 2:214–15; Grant and Graham, Apostolic Fathers, 2:113; Wengst, Zweiter Klemensbrief, 271 n. 20; Pratscher, Clemensbrief, 79. 62 Cf. Tuckett, 2 Clement, 141, 143. 63 Justin, Philosopher and Martyr: Apologies (Oxford Early Christian Texts; ed. Denis Minns and Paul Parvis; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 215–17. 64 Harnack, “Zum Ursprung des sog. 2.Clemensbriefs,” ZNW 6 (1905): 67–71; cf. Wengst, Zweite Clemensbrief, 271. Harnack also argues that Marcion eliminated the quotation (Marcion: The Gospel of the Alien God, 32), although Lieu objects (Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 250). 60 ET: 61 See

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Graham catalogues four similarities between the two accounts. First, Isa 54:1 is interpreted as applying to Gentiles. Second, Isa 54:1 is accompanied by an allusion to worshiping idols (i. e., works of human hands; cf. 2 Clem 1:6). Third, the interpretation of Isa 54:1 differs from Gal 4:27. Fourth, Isa 54:1 affirms that Gentiles are greater in number.65 Graham does not acknowledge, however, that 1 Apol. 53.5 does not interpret Isa 54:1 allegorically.66 Although an allegorical reading might be in the background, 1 Apol. 53, like Dial. 13 above, includes the oracle as a proof-from-prophecy,67 that is, it provides a kind of evidence (πίστις). It is not merely a feature of style (λέξις).68 In 1 Apol. 53, the proof-text predicts the attraction of more Gentiles, than Jews and Samaritans, to Jesus’s movement. Justin does not say that the barren woman symbolizes Gentile-Christians and the pregnant woman, Jewish-Christians. Strictly speaking, therefore, neither this passage nor Dial. 13.8 reflects the “two dispositions” allegorical tradition.69 The closest parallel to 2 Clem 2:1–3 in Justin’s writings is Dial. 134.3 in which Justin does not cite Isa 54:1 and prefers to read Genesis 29 (Laban’s daughters) over Genesis 16 (Abraham’s wives).70 It goes without saying that all of Justin’s works in some way reflect anti-Marcionism or an anti-Marcionite context.71 Whether Justin’s one and only purpose 65  The passages also share reference to “one true God.” Apostolic Fathers, 2:113. Cf. Knopf, Zwei Clemensbriefe, 157. 66 Tuckett, 2 Clement, 143. 67 Oskar Skarsaune, The Proof from Prophecy: A Study in Justin Martyr’s Proof-Text Tradition: Text-Type, Provenance, Theological Profile (NovTSup 56; Leiden: Brill, 1987), 186. 68 Quintilian discusses the problem of defining ἀλληγορία (Inst. 8.6.58); Philodemus (Rhet. 1.164,20–22 S) classifies it as a trope. 69 Justin escalates the allegory in the context of promise and fulfillment (thus, a “proof”); Galatians has (again) laid firm groundwork. 70 Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 251. 71 Contra Lieu, who carefully avoids this conclusion. Lieu distinguishes Justin’s critiques of Jews and Marcion. The conclusion is admittedly only suggestive of a possibility, and going against that possibility is Justin’s lack of specificity that he takes aim at Marcion(ites). According to E. R.  Goodenough (The Theology of Justin Martyr: An Investigation into the Conceptions of Early Christian Literature and its Hellenistic and Judaistic Influences [Amsterdam: Philo Press, 1968], 90), the Dialogue does not record an actual discussion. Justin crafted a debate to present his arguments without any real rejoinder. Concerning opponents in the works of Justin, Denis Minns and Paul Parvis comment as follows: “Eusebius also mentions a work (sungramma) against Marcion, but then quotes from the First Apology as though he were quoting from this work. [Hist. eccl. 4.11.8–9 quoting 1 Apol. 26.5–6, respectively.] Immediately following this section quoted, Justin tells us that he has written a work (suntagma) against ‘all the heresies that have arisen’ [Eusebius quotes Irenaeus referring to a syntagma against Marcion at Hist. eccl. 4.18.8; cf. Haer. 4.6.2]” (Justin, Philosopher and Martyr, 33). He might have used Paul’s letters in this work to argue against Marcion. Furthermore, he attacks Marcion in the Dial. Yet Justin rarely cites Paul. Rodney Werline explains this position: “While Justin clearly borrows ideas and exegetical arguments from Paul, albeit without citing him, he consistently recasts the apostle’s arguments for his own purposes and in response to the changing relationship between Jews and Christians in the mid‑ and late second century CE. […] Essentially, Justin ignores the original contexts of Paul’s letters and reads them through his own sociohistorical setting and theological agenda”

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for the two dispositions motif is anti-Marcionite is impossible to say, although it makes sense as a corrective to Marcion’s interpretation of Galatians.

III. Tertullian The only other witness to the two dispositions motif prior to the fourth century is Tertullian’s (ET cited above). With Lieu, Tertullian does not seem to object to Marcion’s claim that the son of Abraham, born of the free woman, symbolizes Christianity, whereas the son of the maidservant symbolizes the “legal servitude of Judaism.” He simply prefers to use the claim to emphasize that both dispositions derive from one and the same God.

F. Conclusion Paul incorporates Isa 54:1 in his allegorical reading of Genesis 16 in Gal 4:21–5:1, essentially reversing the meaning of the Jewish tradition according to which Isaac represents Israel, and Ishmael the Gentiles.72 On Paul’s interpretation, Isaac symbolizes Gentile-Christians, and Ishmael Jewish-Christians – his point being that all are children of Abraham. Marcion, in turn, radicalizes Paul’s interpretation in Galatians 4 insofar as, in his interpretation, the maidservant symbolizes “the synagogue of the Jews according to the law” (a reference that may include some Jewish Christians but is not, as in Paul’s letter, primarily directed at them) and the free woman symbolizes “the holy church.” In Dial. 134, Justin reflects this tradition of the “two dispositions,” without citing Isa 54:1. He allegorizes the story of Laban’s daughters rather than Abraham’s wives to demonstrate a link (not a separation) between Jews and Christians.73 In Dial. 13 and 1 Apol. 53.5–6 (where Justin cites Isa 54:1), the “two dispositions” tradition never surfaces. In these passages, Isa 54:1 is not an allegory but a proof-from-prophecy concerning the growth of the Christian movement beyond Judaism. Finally, Tertullian attests the two dispositions motif, agreeing with Marcion that the son of Abraham born from the free woman symbolizes Christianity, whereas the son of the (“The Transformation of Pauline Arguments in Justin Martyr’s Dialogue with Trypho,” HTR 92 [1999]: 79–93, here: 92–93). The intellectual vitality of second‑ and third-century Christianity made Justin’s recasting of Paul’s ideas and arguments without citing him possible – the same fertile ground in which 2 Clement wrote. 72 In Genesis, Isaac and Ishmael are not allegorical symbols, but neither are they literal progenitors. Jews are the children of Isaac. The prophetic literature already points to the use of ancestors’ names for their descendants, metonymically or as an instance of synecdoche. 73 Perhaps it reflects Justin’s desire to refute Marcion’s radicalization, without replacing Paul’s proof-text.

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maidservant symbolizes the “legal servitude of Judaism,” only qualifying that this tradition proves both “dispositions” emerged from and worship the same God. The reception of the two dispositions motif suggests a history of reversals: from Paul turning it against Jewish-Christians, to Marcion turning it against Jews, to Justin and Tertullian turning it against Marcion. Harnack placed 2 Clement after Justin on this trajectory.74 2 Clement’s interpretation follows Marcion more closely than Justin, since Justin’s version ignores Isa 54:1 and interprets Genesis 29 (Laban’s daughters) rather than Genesis 16 (Abraham’s wives). It exegetes and neglects a citation formula for Isa 54:1 because it has Galatians in mind.75 To be sure, a cause-and-effect explanation could have involved other possibilities. Still, the extant witnesses collectively suggest that 2 Clement was composed within and for a context of heretical disputes – so-called “gnosticism,” or even Marcionism – some time after Marcion and before Justin. Were this to be the case, then Clement’s exhortation to pray (2 Clem 2:2) would exhort the proto-orthodox to continue to pray against the desertion of members from their own great church to Marcion’s rival one. Although in their new evaluations Tuckett and Kelhoffer dispute the possibility of ascertaining 2 Clement’s historical opponent, the well-known motif of the barren woman, appearing prominently in the tractate in chapter 2, suggests a specific interpretive trajectory. The two dispositions motif emerges as a response to the dilemma that Christianity’s roots are Jewish, yet a substantial and growing percentage of its membership, Gentile. This motif first arises in Marcion’s substitution of Paul’s allegory (Galatians 4) of two testaments or covenants (i. e., promise and law) with two institutions (i. e., Christianity and Judaism). If 2 Clement was originally directed against Marcion, then Marcion’s position on the virgin birth would have given Clement’s allegorization of Marcion’s church as a pregnant woman a piquant effect.

74 See

Tuckett, 2 Clement, 143 n. 23; Wengst, Zweite Clemensbrief, 271. also endorses a symbolic reading of the Jewish scriptures in 1 Cor 10:6.

75 Paul

Chapter Ten

Sailing Past the Competition: Euergetism in 2 Clement 7 A. Introduction On one hand, the meaning of the exhortation1 in 2 Clement 7 is clear: Christian faith is like a race in which believers who compete well and to the end earn a crown. Obtaining a crown is the primary motif of this chapter, evident in the terms occurring five times in only three verses (στεφανοῦνται [v. 1b], στεφανωθῶμεν [v. 2], στεφανωθῶμεν, στεφανωθῆναι, τοῦ στεφάνου [v. 3c]). The inspiration for this metaphor is customarily assumed to be Paul (1 Cor 9:24–27; Phil 3:12–14), a surmise not in serious doubt, although the writer may have had deutero-Pauline exemplars in mind as well (2 Tim 4:6–8). If, however, Paul’s letters are in view (esp. 1 Cor 9:24–27), then the author has tainted the metaphor, since Clement refers not only to running but also to sailing.2 The critical question of the present essay is twofold. What context discouraged running alone as a suitable metaphor, and what context compelled the addition of sailing? Recently, James A. Kelhoffer has proposed a patron-client model to explain the central motifs in 2 Clement. He establishes the model’s application to chapter 1 in particular, and to the orthopraxis throughout the letter in general. In this essay, I attempt to support Kelhoffer’s proposal by demonstrating that alternation between the metaphors of sailing and running in chapter 7 constitutes important additional evidence for the use of the patron-client model.3

B. History of Research Early Christian writers used athletic metaphors to describe Christian faith, drawing on traditions about the Olympic games (Gal 2:2; 5:7; Phil 2:16; Heb 12:1).4 2 Clement adopts two: running and sailing. Each is taken in turn.

1 Chapter 7 commences the third of seven (or eight if chapter 19 is included) ἀδελφοί exhortations in the text. 2 In this essay, the author of 2 Clement may occasionally be referred to as “Clement” for the sake of ease and without bias regarding the author’s actual identity. 3 Kelhoffer, “Reciprocity as Salvation,” 433–56. 4 The athletic metaphor was popular among philosophers, including Epictetus and Philo.

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I. Running Paul uses a metaphor of an athletic competition in at least two of his letters (1 Cor 9:24–26; Phil 3:12–14; cf. Gal 2:2). Perhaps because Corinth hosted the Isthmian Games, Paul extends the metaphor from foot races to other forms of competition including boxing in 1 Cor 9:24–26 (cf. 2 Tim 2:5). In v. 25, he describes the reward for unwavering faith as imperishable (ἄφθαρτος), a motif also occurring three times in 2 Clement 7 (1b, 4, 5; cf. 6:6).5 In the same verse, he specifies that the reward is a στέφανος (“crown”) (cf. Phil 4:1; 1 Thess 2:19; 2 Tim 2:5), as it is in 2 Clem. 7:1, 2, and 3.6 Holt Graham refers to the relationship of the first two sentences of chapter 7 as a probable “echo” of 1 Cor 9:24–25, adding that any analogy to the Isthmian games could have prompted this language. Graham also observes a parallel with Hebrews 12:1, pointing out that, rather than θεῖν as in 2 Clement, the writer of Hebrews, like Paul, uses the expected verb τρεχεῖν.7 In short, Clement’s reliance on Paul and the Pauline tradition for this athletic metaphor is, like other proof-texts in 2 Clement, probable, if difficult to pin down.8

II. Sailing For some commentators, including J. B. Lightfoot, καταπλεῖν (“to sail”) in vv. 1b and 3b is doubly metaphorical. Not only is it a part of a metaphor in which games represent Christian faith, the word itself is metaphorical, connoting not “sailing” but the commencing of a new endeavor, as in the English expression, “to embark upon.” Michael Holmes (apud Lightfoot) translates καταπλεῖν in vv. 1b and 3b as “to come to enter.”9 However, Greek possesses a nautical term to express the on5 1 Cor 9:25, πᾶς δὲ ὁ ἀγωνιζόμενος πάντα ἐγκρατεύεται, ἐκεῖνοι μὲν οὖν ἵνα φθαρτὸν στέφανον λάβωσιν, ἡμεῖς δὲ ἄφθαρτον. Cf. Gal 2:2; Phil 3:12–16; 2 Tim 2:5. 6 The imperishable wreath represents eternal salvation. See Phil 4:1; 1 Thess 2:19; 2 Tim 4:8; 1 Pet 5:4; Rev 2:10. 7 Paul prefers τρεχεῖν: Οὐκ οἴδατε ὅτι οἱ ἐν σταδίῳ τρέχοντες πάντες μὲν τρέχουσιν, εἷς δὲ λαμβάνει τὸ βραβεῖον; οὕτως τρέχετε ἵνα καταλάβητε (1 Cor 9:24–25). Grant and Graham, Apostolic Fathers, 2:118. Cf. Adolf von Harnack, “Über den sogenannten zweiten Brief des Clemens an die Korinther,” Zeitschrift für die Kirchengeschichte 1 (1877): 264–83, 329–64; idem, “Zum Ursprung des sog. 2. Clemensbriefs,” 67–71; Lindemann, Clemensbriefe, 255–56; Paul Parvis, “2 Clement and the Meaning of the Christian Homily,” in The Writings of the Apostolic Fathers (ed. Paul Foster; London: T&T Clark, 2007), 32–41; Pratscher, Clemensbrief, 18–22, 220–21; Theodor Zahn, “Das älteste Kirchengebet und die älteste christliche Predigt,” Zeitschrift für Protestantismus und Kirche 72 (1876): 194–209. 8 The sailing may further be symbolic of Greece. The running may be symbolic of Rome or of Paul’s career from Greece to Rome. 9 Michael W. Holmes, ed., The Apostolic Fathers: Greek Texts and English Translations (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 32007), 147. The ET derives from Lightfoot (71). The sense seems to be one of “entering” or signing up to compete in a race. Lake (Apostolic Fathers [LCL], 1:139) translates the two occurrences of καταπλεῖν differently: v. 1b (“to make voyages”); v. 3b (“to sail”).

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set of a voyage by sea. It is παραπλεῖν (“to set sail”) and does not occur in 2 Clement. Twice Clement uses καταπλεῖν – the only two occurrences of this verb in the corpus of the Apostolic Fathers. In these instances, it means “to put in”; that is, not “to depart from,” but “to return to” land. I can find no metaphorical uses of this word in Greek.10 Bart Ehrman translates both occurrences of καταπλεῖν as “to sail” but fails to acknowledge any challenge posed by such a translation.11 Regardless of whether the verb is translated literally or figuratively within the metaphor of faith as a contest, interpreters often understand it as indicating the geographical location of the audience in Corinth, Egypt (i. e., travel on the Nile), or elsewhere. Tuckett expresses misgivings over such attempts,12 concurring with Knopf, Wengst, Lindemann, Pratscher, and Stanton that καταπλεῖν is too common to bear the weight of an argument for specialized meaning.13 He also notes that the first-person cohortative καταπλεύσωμεν in v. 3 states that we should undertake sea travel – odd if author or audience are already in Corinth and the verb denotes putting in there.14 Furthermore, Tuckett points out that real contests are (according to Clement) merely “perishable” (φθαρτός), deemphasizing the importance of a geographical referent for the games since they are ultimately only an analogy.15 In contrast to these historical-geographical explanations, Tuckett interprets the athletic contests in 2 Clement 7 as a metaphor for the ethical life: The use of the metaphor of an athletic contest to describe some of the struggles in life was widespread in the ancient world, especially among Stoic and Cynic philosophers. Latching on in part to the widespread disillusionment with the games, many philosophers and other teachers use the image of the athletic contest to talk about the struggle in the moral 10 LSJ

s. v. καταπλεῖν. 1:175. 12 2 Clement, 189. Concerning this passage, J. B. Lightfoot notes only a reference to the Isthmian games: Apostolic Fathers, 1:223 (n. “VII”). 13 2 Clement, 189, references in n. 10. Klaus Wengst exemplifies this view: “Die Verwendung von καταπλέω is 2Klem 7:1 und das Vorkommen der Agon-Motive in Kap. 7 wiesen auf Korinth als Entstehungsort. – Selbst wenn καταπλέω prägnant verstanden werden muß und die Agon-Motive eine Festspielstadt verlangen, muß das nicht Korinth sein” (Zweiter Klemensbrief, 227). Corinth is the ostensible location of the addressees of 1 Clement also. Cf. R. Knopf (Zwei Clemensbriefe, 163–64): “Das Wort καταπλεῖν bedeutet einfach: von der hohen See zum Lande hinab‑ oder herabfahren, nicht aber: über See zu uns herfahren, und die Worte müssen nicht für eine Hörerschaft bestimmt sein, die an einem Orte wohnt, wo berühmte Wettspiele stattfinden und zu dem man über See fährt. Die großen Agone der Zeit sind die vier alten zu Olympia, Korinth, Delphi und Nemea, aber hohen Ruf hatten auch neuere Spiele gewonnen, die Euryklen in Sparta, die athenischen Panhellenien und Panathenäen, die kapitolinischen Spiele zu Rom; vg. über das Spielwesen und die ganz überragende Wertschätzung der Sportsiege im griechischen Stadium zur Kaiserzeit, auch das römische Widerstreben dagegen Mommsen, Röm. Geschichte V 264–266, Friedländer, Röm. Sittengesch. II8 483–504.” 14 Tuckett, 2 Clement, 189. 15 2 Clement, 189. Cf. G. R. Stanton, “2 Clement VII and the Origin of the Document,” Classica et Mediaevalia 28 (1967): 314–20. 11 LCL,

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life which was demanded of the true sage. So too the language and imagery was taken up in Hellenistic Judaism especially in the writings of Philo (cf. Spec. 2.910; Leg. 3.72; Agr. 119–21). The imagery was also exploited by early Christian writers (e. g. 1 Cor 9.24–7; Phil. 3.13–14; 2 Tim. 2.5; 4.7–8; Heb. 12.1; 1 Clem. 2.4; 5.5; 35.4).16

Tuckett acknowledges a degree of strain on the metaphor in the passage – not, however, because the passage mixes running with sailing, but because in such contests only one person wins.17 Comparing 1 Cor 9:24, he argues that the primary meaning of the metaphorical reference to competition in both Christian letters is that all who demonstrate ethical behavior will receive a reward.18 He explains the phrase “we cannot all be crowned” but “should at least come near to it” as a concession that the games metaphor is inexact, since athletic contests have only one winner. Lightfoot too understands the possibility of second or third prizes in a foot race as straining the metaphor.19 Yet neither Paul, nor the author of 2 Clement expresses the slightest reservation over the single winner of a race. Like Paul, 2 Clement insists on the point: Everyone wins provided s/he “draws near,” without cheating. As regards καταπλεῖν vis-à-vis running, Tuckett does not see the need to translate it metaphorically. Instead he imagines a setting in which sailing represents transport to a footrace: “Strictly speaking one presumably sails to get to the start of the race and only then does one run.”20 Summing up discussion of the contests in 2 Clement 7 thus far, the following four (non-mutually exclusive) interpretations occur with regularity. Clement’s references: (1) are based on 1 Corinthians, Philippians, and 2 Timothy; (2) banally analogize game competition; (3) indicate the author’s geographical location; and (4) are strained because game competitions have only one winner. Lightfoot and Holmes translate καταπλεῖν as “to embark upon” in a double metaphorical sense. Tuckett views sailing as a means of transport to the games. All of these interpretations seek a historical or moral-philosophical background for the passage. Parallels from non-historical and non-philosophical literature, such as narrative poetry, tragedy, etc. have not, to my knowledge, been explored even though games are a conventional feature of epic. The next two sections of this essay investigate whether such parallels solve more of the conundrums of 2 Clement 7 than the options presently on the table.

16 2 Clement, 188. Cf. V. C. Pfitzner, Paul and the Agon Motif: Traditional Athletic Imagery in the Pauline Literature (NovTSup 16; Leiden: Brill, 1967). 17 2 Clement, 190. Tuckett notes the mixed metaphor on p. 190. 18 2 Clement, 188–89. 19 Lightfoot, Apostolic Fathers, 1:2, 225. Graham points that “the idea of a goal recurs in [2 Clem.] 19:1; the thought of at least coming near the mark in 18:2” (Grant and Graham, Apostolic Fathers, 2:118). 20 2 Clement, 190.

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C. Analysis We begin with an exegetical analysis. The setting of the passage at athletic games is not in question. It is clearly put forward in v. 1:  Ὥστε οὖν, ἀδελφοί μου, ἀγωνισώμεθα εἰδότες, ὅτι ἐν χερσὶν ὁ ἀγών (“So then, my brothers, we should compete in the games knowing that the competition is at hand,” 2 Clem. 7:1a). However, immediately next in 7:1b, the author shifts to a metaphor of sailing: καὶ ὅτι εἰς τοὺς φθαρτοὺς ἀγῶνας καταπλέουσιν πολλοί, ἀλλ᾿ οὐ πάντες στεφανοῦνται, εἰ μὴ οἱ πολλὰ κοπιάσαντες καὶ καλῶς ἀγωνισάμενοι (“Many set sail for earthly competitions, but not all receive the crown  – only those who labor hard and compete well”). Verse 3, then, persists in the alternation of metaphors. Verse 3a repeats the image of running, ὥστε θέωμεν τὴν ὁδὸν τὴν εὐθεῖαν, ἀγῶνα τὸν ἄφθαρτον, (“And so we should run the straight course, the eternal competition”). V. 3b–c returns to the image of sailing: 3b, καὶ πολλοὶ εἰς αὐτὸν καταπλεύσωμεν καὶ ἀγωνισώμεθα, ἵνα καὶ στεφανωθῶμεν (“Many of us should sail to it and compete, that we may receive the crown”); 3c, καὶ εἰ μὴ δυνάμεθα πάντες στεφανωθῆναι, κἂν ἐγγὺς τοῦ στεφάνου γενώμεθα (“And if we cannot all be crowned, we should be near the crown”).

The interpretation of this passage relies on only a few Greek words and stems: (1) καταπλεῖν (“to sail”) (two occurrences: καταπλέουσιν [1b]; καταπλεύσωμεν [3b]); (2) ἀγωνίζεσθαι (“to compete”) (nine occurrences: ἀγωνισώμεθα, ὁ ἀγὼν [1a]; ἀγῶνας, ἀγωνισάμενοι [1b]; ἀγωνισώμεθα [2]; ἀγῶνα [3a]; ἀγωνισώμεθα [3b]; ἀγῶνα ἀγωνιζόμενος [4]); and (3) θεῖν (“to run”) (θέωμεν [3a]). (1) Καταπλεῖν refers to sailing “back” to shore (i. e., “putting in”), as opposed to setting sail or sailing past (παραπλεῖν). Different from English, in Greek literature it is never a metaphor for sprinting (like a boat skirting on the surface of the water) on foot. (2) Ἀγωνίζεσθαι (“to engage in a contest,” “compete”) is a generic word for “fighting” or “competing.” It applies to numerous types of competition, including public games, the stage, and the courtroom.21 It is a metaphor for the life of faith in 2 Clem. 20:2b: “We need to have faith, brothers and sisters! We are competing in the contest of the living God, training in the present life that we may be crowned in the one to come” (ET: Ehrman). (3) Θεῖν is a common word meaning “to run,” referring both to things in motion and things not in motion.22 It is used in a wide variety of contexts, including horses and ships.23 Since the three verbs can all refer to sailing, it seems unlikely that the author does not at 21 LSJ

s. v. ἀγωνίζομαι. run aground” is not one such usage. For this idea, Greek uses ἐκπίπτω; cf. Acts 27:17, 26. The idea of walking on water in classical literature (e. g., Lucian, Ver. hist. 2.4) involves an entirely different vocabulary and context. 23 LSJ s. v. θέω, “2. of things, run; of ships, ‘ἡ δ᾽ ἔθεεν κατὰ κῦμα’ Il.1.483, cf. X.HG6.2.29.” Cf. also reference to a person aboard a ship: Od. 3.288. 22 “To

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least in some measure wish to denote sailing. Questions include whether sailing races occurred as a part of games or other competition or whether sailing and running races have been conflated – the latter in connection with Paul’s letters. Aeneid 5 offers evidence toward a solution.

I. Aeneid 5 – Introduction In chapter 5 of the Aeneid, Virgil narrates funeral games. Aeneas stages the contests on Sicily in honor of the one-year anniversary of his father’s death.24 Together, books 5 and 6 function as a middle unit between the first four books, about Aeneas’s wanderings, and the last six books, about the war in Latium. In Aeneas’s founding of the new Troy, these two sections represent the major phases. On the argument of Fratantuono and Smith, the turn post (Lat., meta) in the ship competition (first contest, 5.124–131) signifies not just the midpoint of the race, but a turning point in the epic.25 It represents the transition from past to future, Troy to Rome, and republic to empire.

24   Critical edition: R. A. B.  Mynors, P. Vergili Maronis opera (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969; repr. 1972). Commentaries: J. Perret, Vergile: L’Eneide, 3 vols. (Paris: Budé, 1977–80); R. D.  Williams, The Aeneid of Virgil, 2 vols. (London: Macmillan, 1972–73). Commentary on Aen. Book 5: R. D. Williams, P. Vergili Maronis Aeneidos Liber Quintus (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1960). General works on the Aeneid: Harold Bloom, Virgil: Modern Critical Views (New York: Chelsea House, 1986); S. J. Harrison, ed., Oxford Readings in Vergil’s Aeneid (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990); Nicholas M. Horsfall, ed., A Companion to the Study of Virgil (MnemosyneSup 151; Leiden: Brill, 1995). Works consulted on Aen. 5: E. Swallow, “The Strategic Fifth Aeneid,” Classical World 46 (1952–1953): 177–79; Karl Galinsky, Aeneas, Sicily, and Rome (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969); R. Heinze, Vergils epische Technik (Leipzig: Teubner, 1915, 31928); ET: Virgil’s Epic Technique (trans. H. and D. Harvey and F. Robertson; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 121–41; Brooks Otis, Virgil: A Study in Civilized Poetry (Oxford: Clarendon Press, repr. 1964), 41–61; Francis Cairns, Virgil’s Augustan Epic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 215–48. Michael C. J. Putnam, The Poetry of the Aeneid: Four Studies in Imaginative Unity and Design (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1965), 64–104; Andrew Feldherr, “Ships of State: Aeneid 5 and Augustan Circus Spectacle,” Classical Antiquity 14 (1995): 245–65. On intertextuality: Frederick Ahl and Hanna M. Roisman, The Odyssey Re-Formed (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996); W. S. Anderson, “Vergil’s Second Iliad,” TAPA 88 (1957): 17–30; G. N. Knauer, “Virgil und Homer,” ANRW 2.31.2 (1981); L. A. MacKay, “Achilles as a Model for Aeneas,” TAPA 88 (1957): 11–16. On patronage: Barbara K. Gold, Literary and Artistic Patronage in Ancient Rome (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982); Nicholas M. Horsfall, “Poets and Patron,” in Publication of the Macquarie Ancient History Association 3 (1981): 1–24; David Konstan, “Patrons and Friends,” CPh 90 (1995): 328–42; Gareth Morgan, “Horace’s Two Patrons,” LCM 19.9/10 (1994): 139–45; Kenneth Quinn, “The Poet and his Audience in the Augustan Age,” ANRW 2.30.1 (1982); Richard P. Saller, Personal Patronage in the Early Empire; Andrew Wallace-Hadrill, ed., Patronage in Ancient Society (London: Routledge, 1989); Peter White, “Amicitia and the Profession of Poetry in Early Imperial Rome,” JRS 68 (1978): 74–92. 25 Joseph Farrell, Vergil, Aeneid 5 (Newburyport, MA: Focus, 2014), 38 n. on l. 129.

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At the same time Aeneid 5 is one of the darkest chapters in the poem – bracketed by two deaths (Dido and Palinurus).26 Victory in the games never comes easily. Fratantuono and Smith enumerate some of the challenges: In the ship race, for example, we have a helmsman thrown overboard; in the foot race, a tripping incident that cheats the victor; in the archery context an exploding arrow that invalidates the achievement of the true champion; in the attempted burning of the ships a compromise that allows those not dedicated to the mission an alternate that is ultimately less than glorious.27

The entire episode is modeled on Homer’s Iliad 23.28 Both passages deploy the convention of funeral games – for Patroclus in the Iliad and Aeneas’s dead father in the Aeneid. The central themes in both texts are the same: kinship, leadership, sacrifice, and cultural inheritance.29 Both texts exhort their audience to restore strength following misfortune, as a means of increasing the glory of the group30 and assuring them that a deity will ultimately resolve the issues. A significant difference between the two accounts is that Aeneid 5 substitutes a ship race for Homer’s famed chariot contest. As such, this chapter of Virgil contains several important parallels with 2 Clement 7.31 The following overview of Aeneid 5 is followed by a comparison of the two narratives, demonstrating the connections.

II. Aeneid 5 – Overview As chapter 5 begins, Aeneas stands aboard his ship watching Carthage burn. Without warning, the winds shift and dark clouds appear overhead. Aeneas 26 Although Palinurus survives being hurled out to sea, he is killed once he washes up to shore. 27 Lee M. Fratantuono and R. Alden Smith, Virgil, Aeneid 5: Text, Translation and Commentary (MnemosyneSup; Leiden: Brill, 2016), 24–25. 28 Joseph Farrell, Vergil, Aeneid 5, 12. Farrell refers to the games as “the most extensive ‘intrusion’ of Iliadic material into the Odyssean Aeneid” (33). Games are a literary convention; however, scholars debate their conventionality in Vergil’s presentation. See Johanna Glazewski, “The Function of Vergil’s Funeral Games,” The Classical World 66 (1972): 85–96. On the relationship of Virgil to Homer, see Wilhelm Blümer, “Aeneas und die Griechen: Bemerkungen zur Heldendatestellung bei Vergil,” in Vergil und das antike Epos: Festschrift Hans-Jürgen Tschiedel (ed. Stefan Freund and Meinolf Vielberg; Interdisziplinäre Studien zur Antike und zu ihrem Nachleben 20; Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2008), 105–26. 29 Farrell, Vergil, Aeneid 5, 11. The order and type of events in the Iliad is: boxing, wrestling, archery, and a chariot race. On comparing games in the Aeneid with Iliad and other classical accounts, see Fratantuono and Smith, Virgil, Aeneid 5, 172. 30 The etymology of the name, Patroclus (“glory of the father”) is involved at the level of the narrative. 31 For another directed comparison of early Christian literature and Vergil’s Aeneid, see Mark Reasoner, “Divine Sons: Aeneas and Jesus in Hebrews,” in Reading Religions in the Ancient World: Essays Presented to Robert McQueen Grant on His Ninetieth Birthday (ed. D. Aune and R. D. Young; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 149–76.

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orders the captain of the ship, Palinurus, to find harbor on Sicily and await the storm’s passing. As it happens, Aeneas’s father was buried in the town of Drepanum, a harbor-town on the west coast of Sicily. Since it had been exactly one year since his father died, Aeneas docks the ship near that harbor and ordains games and annual rites in honor of his father (ll. 55–63).32 Following the announcement of the games, Aeneas prays in honor of his father. As he speaks, a glistening gold snake with blue spots in seven coils glides out from beneath his father’s tomb. It slithers around the altars licking the meats laid out for sacrifice before returning to the grave (ll. 84–103). Aeneas is awestruck by the appearance, slaughtering six animals as a sacrifice on the spot. Next, contest prizes are laid out, and a trumpet announces the beginning of the games (ll. 109–112). Once the contestants are registered, parameters of the first contest – a ship race – are set forth.33 The captains and their crews must man their boats out to sea, circle a rock jutting out of the waves, from which rock they also must obtain an ilex branch, and return to shore. Boat positions are chosen by lot, and with the sound of the trumpet the race begins (l. 113). Gyas’s boat takes an initial lead, but fearing the reefs, its navigator, Menoetes, directs the boat into deeper waters. This allows Cloanthus’s boat to surge ahead. Furious with Menoetes, Gyas tosses him overboard, and the crowd erupts with laughter. Next, Sergestus’s boat moves in front. Mnestheus’s boat tracks it closely behind as Mnestheus exhorts his crew to remember34 Troy. Just as Mnestheus is acknowledging in front of his entire crew that fate is ultimately in the hands of Neptune, Sergestus’s boat crashes on the rocks and Mnestheus moves ahead. No sooner do they take the lead than Cloanthus prays to Neptune, promising to sacrifice to the gods, should his boat win the race. With this, his boat roars ahead to win. The competition is like a war of piety, in which the most devoted35 captain (i. e., the one appealing to Neptune) wins.36 Nevertheless, at the end of the race, Aeneas bestows gifts on all the competitors, even Sergestus, who, embarrassed by his collision, returns last. This act of generosity by Aeneas is unique: setting him apart as a benefactor nonpareil. Virgil makes a point of it in l. 305: nemo ex hoc numero mihi non donatus abibit (“None of this number shall leave without a gift from me”). 32 The English translations of the Aeneid in this essay are those of H. R. Fairclough, revised by G. P. Goold (LCL 63, 1999). 33 “One might think that, after all the sailing the Trojans have been doing, the last contest that would be appealing to Aeneas’ men would be one involving their ships. That is clearly not the case, as it is specifically the first (prima) one that Aeneas mentions. Interestingly, he notes that these games are for the Trojans” (Fratantuono and Smith, Virgil, Aeneid 5, 171). 34 An etymological onomastic pun on Gk. μιμνῄσκειν? 35 On the use of Lat. pius in relation to Roman virtue and Greek heroic behavior see P. T. Eden, A Commentary on Virgil. Aeneid VIII (Leiden: Brill, 1975), 84. 36 Piety, in this case, substantially means addressing one’s prayers and vows to the one to whom they properly should be addressed – a less subtle form of Virgilian exhortation.

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The second event is a footrace. In this contest, Nisus leads until just before the finish line, when he slips on blood left by the animal sacrifices. Euryalus wins the race, but Aeneas bestows prizes on all competitors. In the third event, Dares defeats Entellus in a boxing match, and in the fourth (an archery competition), Eurytion wins by shooting a dove out of the sky, although the crowd cheered when Acestes’s arrow miraculously caught fire in midair. The games close with a mock battle exercise, in which Trojan and Sicilian youths parade their equestrian technique by charging at one another. Upon completion of the games, the Trojan women – who have in the meanwhile set their minds against migrating to Italy – set fire to the Trojan fleet. The men attempt to douse the fire, but it is not until Aeneas prays to Jupiter that a rainstorm douses the conflagration. But, as Palinurus pilots the ship away from the island, he falls asleep, plummeting into the sea.

III. Aeneid 5 – 2 Clement 7 We begin with a chart outlining similarities between the two narratives: Chart 1.

Aeneid, Book V

2 Clement 7

1a Announcement of Games   64–71 Ship race 114–138 1b, 3b Competition 139–244 1–3 Crowns 245–285 2, 3c Foot race 291–361 3a Cheating 328–330 4–5 Dove pierced 514–518 [6] 659–663 [6] Fire

As Chart 1 shows, with minimal interpretive license or variation in order, every element of Aeneid 5 has a counterpart in 2 Clement 7, including competition in games, ἐπιφάνεια, a sailing race, a footrace, rewards for every competitor, cheating, fire associated with those abandoning loyalty to the mission,37 and a spectacle before a great crowd. In addition, forfeiting the seal (“of baptism,” 2 Clem. 7:6) may be symbolically parallel to Eurytion’s arrow piercing the dove in the archery contest; and reference to the place where “the worm will not die” may suggest the burning of the Trojan ships, the underworld where Aeneas later meets Palinurus, or both. I would emphasize, however, that these parallels are more “echo” than “allusion” – perhaps not even warranting inclusion in the table above. 37 After the games, Juno’s anger against the Trojans rages. She dispatches Iris to the Trojan women on the beach. She distributes flaming torches among them and incites them to burn the Trojan ships. The angry women set fire to the fleet. The Trojan men douse the ships with water, but it is not until Aeneas prays to Jupiter that a rainstorm hits, ending the conflagration.

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In 2 Clement 7, the Aeneid is not recast, just summoned to mind.38 The parallels are vague at best. However, they not only match 2 Clement 7 but make sense of at least three conundrums of this text: (1) what appears to be a mixed metaphor (i. e., sailing and running); (2) the sequence of a ship race followed by a footrace (although sailing is also alluded to after running in 2 Clem. 7:3b); and (3) how and why all competitors receive a reward. 2 Clem. 7:5 concludes with a question concerning the eschatological implications of cheating in the competition.39 Expressing a favorable destiny as “guarding the σφραγίς” (Lake and Ehrman add interpretive gloss “of baptism”),40 Clement answers the question by citing Isaiah 66:24 (cf. Mark 9:44, 46, 48; 2 Clem. 17:5).41 Similarly, the sacrifice of Palinurus (nudus, “unburied”) suggests the eschatological implications of failing to stay alert to one’s central cause. While these parallels may offer a reasonable explanation for some of the enigmatic issues of 2 Clement 7, Aeneid 5 is perhaps best known for something other than its funeral games. At the end of the chapter (ll. 857–71), Virgil narrates the death of Palinurus, Aeneas’s helmsman. He was the person charged with ensuring the hero’s safe passage to Rome (etymology, πάλιν + οὖρος, “returning wind”

38 Compare the extensive work of Dennis R. MacDonald, especially the following three volumes: The Gospels and Homer: Imitations of Greek Epic in Mark and Luke-Acts, vol. 1 of The New Testament and Greek Literature (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2014); idem, Luke and Vergil: Imitations of Classical Greek Literature, vol. 2 of The New Testament and Greek Literature (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2014); idem, The Homeric Epics and the Gospel of Mark (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000). Generally, MacDonald understands the mechanism of Christian allusions to narrative poetry as mimesis criticism. In places, however, he also borrows terms set forth by literary critic Gérard Genette. Genette refers to this kind of manipulation as “hypertextual transvaluation.” MacDonald describes this strategy as follows: it is “a common literary strategy for replacing the values or perspectives of an earlier, targeted text (the ‘hypotext’) with alternative values or perspectives. For such a strategy to succeed, the hypertext must display, even if obscurely, its relationship to the hypotext.” From MacDonald’s perspective the strategy often fails with modern readers since they fail to pick up on references to the prior literary work. See MacDonald, “Luke’s Eutychus and Homer’s Elpenor: Acts 20:7–12 and Odyssey 10–12,” JHC (1994): 4–24, citing Genette, Palimpsestes: la littérature au second degré (Paris: Editions de Seuil, 1982). 39 Cf. 2 Timothy 2:5 and Lightfoot’s note. 40 Ehrman, Apostolic Fathers (LCL), 1:177. See Tuckett’s question concerning the appropriateness of this translation in 2 Clement, 192 n. 21. The “seal” of verse 6 is the seal of baptism (cf. 6:9; 8:6; 14:3–5; 16:3–4), as is pointed out by Lightfoot ad loc. G. W. H. Lampe, The Seal of the Spirit (London, 1951), 103 ff., discussing all the references in 2 Clement. His view is that equating baptism with the seal is “a not unnatural extension of St. Paul’s conception.” The seal, he continues, “has come to be regarded as primarily connected with the flesh” and that ethical conduct is here as later what keeps the seal – now thought of metaphorically – inviolate or unbroken, “so that the flesh, being joined to the Spirit, will ultimately be able to partake of life and immortality” (Grant and Graham, Apostolic Fathers, 2:118). 41 2 Clem. 17:3 may echo Paul’s idea of same-mindedness, appearing in the context of the competition metaphor in Phil 3:15.

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or “favorable wind”).42 In Aeneid 3, Palinurus is characterized as an experienced navigator. Yet he will not survive book 5. Following the games and the ship fire, once the fleet is able to set sail, Palinurus is at the helm. Just after pushing off, the gods demand a sacrifice to guarantee Aeneas’s safe passage. Virgil expresses the demand as: unum pro multis dabitur caput (“a single life offered to save many,” ll. 814–15). Lulled to sleep, Palinurus falls overboard. Aeneas takes the helm, accusing his steersman of negligence. Later, in Aeneid 6.337–83, when Aeneas arrives in the underworld, he learns that Palinurus did not drown, but was washed up on a neighboring shore, where the natives killed him.43 Lo! there passed the helmsman, Palinurus, who of late, on the Libyan voyage, while he marked the stars, had fallen from the stern, flung forth in the midst of the waves. Him, when at last amid the deep gloom he knew the sorrowful form, he first accosts thus: “What god, Palinurus, tore thee from us, and plunged beneath the open ocean?” (6.337–43)

Sacrificial atonement is not attested in 2 Clement, and whether it was important to the author of 2 Clement is difficult to say. The exhortative nature of this text warrants against the assumption that missing doctrine was rejected.44 Even still, salvation is an important topic in this text. The question of the mechanism of salvation is complex. It is, nevertheless, clear that sacrifice (variously defined) secures salvation in 2 Clement’s patron-client system (e. g., 1:7; 2:7; 3:3; 8:2; 9:5; 15:1; 17:2).45 Jesus sacrificed by “enduring sufferings” (1:2), and believers attain salvation (1:4) by “paying him back” (1:3, 5), through, for example, orthopraxy, especially acts of charity (ἐλεημοσύνη, 16:4; cf. 13:1). One’s life may also be viewed as a sacrifice (5:1, 4; 6:5–6).46 These are the terms of Christ’s patronage – the requirement of believers as they visit this realm (ἡ ἐπιδημία ἡ ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ τούτῳ, 5:5).47 Several Christian commentators over the centuries have argued for similarities between Palinurus’s death and Christian doctrines of salvation. The travel theme appears in the inscription of 2 Clement as well as 5:1 (cf. 1 Clement 42 Z. Philip Ambrose, “The Etymology and Genealogy of Palinurus,” American Journal of Philology 101 (1980): 449–57. 43 W. S. M. Nicoli, “The Sacrifice of Palinurus,” CQ 38 (1988): 459–72. 44  So also Tuckett, 2 Clement, 71. 45 On the temporal orientation of salvation in 2 Clement, see Kelhoffer, “Reciprocity as Salvation,” 7–8. 46 Kelhoffer, “Reciprocity as Salvation,” 9–12. Tuckett’s discussion is very helpful: 2 Clement, 68–72. In 2 Clement, it is unclear whether there was a significant difference between the sacrifice of one’s life and one’s money. 47 Kelhoffer, “Reciprocity as Salvation,” 21. Tuckett connects a believer’s visit to the realm of the flesh with παροικία in v. 1. He writes: “Again the idea is evoked whereby Christians are thought of as ‘not belonging’ in their present existence, with a ‘true home’ elsewhere. Here the stress is on the shortness of time which Christians have in their present existence; our ἐπιδημία is said to be μικρὰ καὶ ὀλιγοχρόνιος. The latter clearly implies an idea of short duration; μικρά might imply the same (thus forming a hendiadys here); alternatively, the word might mean ‘small in importance’ (rather than ‘small in duration’) and hence form a contrast with the ‘greatness’ of the promise of Christ that is said to be store for the readers in v. 5b” (2 Clement, 175).

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epistolary prescript),48 setting the stage for such a comparison. The canonical centrality of the Aeneid, together with Clement’s generally free approach to allusions, suggests that in the same way that the Aeneid flashes imagery from Homer, Clement flashes imagery from the Aeneid. Intertextual allusions result in polyphonic reinvention, Clement adopting the quest-for-home motif (i. e., national identity) from the Aeneid.49

D. Prizes for Liturgists Questions remain, however, regarding why the author of 2 Clement would distantly echo the Aeneid in a letter given to exhortation concerning orthopraxy in his Christian church. James A. Kelhoffer argues that 2 Clement borrows the Roman patron-client model to exhort listeners.50 New work by Marc Domingo Gygax suggests that, not only did orators, actors, and athletes receive awards in various competitions, but a variety of different kinds of liturgists (publicly held offices filled by wealthy citizens for a year), such as gymnasiarchs (Athenian officials administering gymnasia by subsidizing oil and other necessities) did too. As sponsors, they could receive awards for their contributions to athletic, musical, and other victories.51 Gygax explains: Dedications and honorific inscriptions mention first the gymnasiarch and then the individual torch runners (lampadêphoroi), or simply the phylê and the gymnasiarch (in which case the gymnasiarch may appear before the phylê). How a gymnasiarch might capitalize on a city can be seen in the way a client of Lysias refers to his service in 405/4 BC: “I was producing games for the Promethea, and I won a victory after spending twelve minae.”52

Citing Thucydides, Gygax adds that fourth (and possibly fifth) century BCE trierarchs also received awards for funding of successful warships: The choregiai and the gymnasiarchiai were so closely linked with prizes that it must have seemed natural to introduce prizes for another liturgy, the triêrarchia53 that had nothing to do with an official competition. On the one hand, these awards were of course intended to promote competition among the trierarchs and thus increase their contributions. On the other hand, they were a consequence of preexisting competition among liturgists, who endeavored to prepare their own warship as quickly and splendidly as possible. Thus 48 Cf.

1 Clem. ins; Mart. Pol. ins; 1 Pet 2:1; Diog. 5:5; 6:8. similarities between Jesus and Aeneas in Hebrews, see Mark Reasoner, “Divine Sons: Aeneas and Jesus in Hebrews,” 149–76. 50 Kelhoffer, “Reciprocity as Salvation.” 51 Marc Domingo Gygax, Benefaction and Rewards in the Ancient Greek City (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 173. 52 Gygax, Benefaction and Rewards, 173. 53 Τριήραρχος is an officer commanding a trireme; the duty itself constituted an official state office or liturgy. A trierarch was responsible for outfitting a trireme, employing its crew, and commanding it in battle. Trierarchs were men of means since the financial burden was high. 49 For

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Thucydides, discussing how the fleet of the Sicilian expedition was built up, refers to “the trierarchs giving bounties to the thranitae [rowers with the longest oars] or uppermost bench of the sailors in addition to the pay from the state, and using, besides, figure-heads and equipment that were very expensive; for each one strove to the utmost that his own ship should excel all others both in fine appearance and in swiftness of sailing.”54

Competitions linked to liturgies thus offered possibilities for obtaining honors.55 Gygax argues that the prize was not usually for spending money per se, but for most lavishly outfitting a rig.56 He does, however, point to evidence for the occasional competition among trierarchs for the size of their donation alone. The winners were announced at the Θαργήλια (an agricultural festival that included a purification ritual and expiatory ceremony), a celebration bestowing crowns at a stadium.57 The practice of competitive public benefaction persisted in Rome in the Imperial Period. Such monumental and practical gift contests recall Phil 2:16, 17, 30 (cf. 3:14). In Philippians, Paul describes a competition in which he competes. The Philippian congregation sponsors him for two reasons: (1) that he may be victorious and bequeath his gift of victory to their “πόλις”; and (2) that God will reward him as the benefactor of this πόλις.58 Paul’s explicit interest in liturgy (“project,” “service,” “activity”) – even featuring a “receipt” (ἀπέχω πάντα, 4:18, 4:10–20) – ensures the context of competitive civic liturgy.59 Since it is unlikely Benefaction and Rewards, 174, citing Thucydides 6.31.3 (ET: Smith). 360/59 BCE, a popular decree awarded a crown to the first trierarch to have his ship ready for an expedition to the Hellespont. A debate apparently arose about who the winner was, and Demosthenes presents the arguments of one trierarch – probably the orator himself – who claimed the crown. 56 Gygax, Benefaction and Rewards, 174: “The prizes liturgists obtained recognized their contributions to an athletic or musical victory or an outstanding achievement of another kind, such as equipping a warship better or more rapidly than others. They were not prizes for spending more money per se. Nonetheless, victory depended to a considerable extent on the amount of money invested, and the winner was routinely the man who spent the most, or at least one of those who spent the most.” 57 “Further evidence comes from a decree of 325/4 BC, on the occasion of a colonial mission to the Adriatic coast that offered gold crowns weighing 500, 300, and 200 drachmas to the first three trierarchs to furnish their ships; the winners were to be proclaimed at the Thargelia. The result of introducing such prizes was to produce liturgies that – in contrast to choregies and gymnasiarchies – were not a means to organize competitions but an object of competition themselves. The successful liturgist thus became the sole winner and was not force to share the victory with a poet, athletes, or the like” (Gygax, Benefaction and Rewards, 174, citing IG II3 370 = RO 100). Although στάδιον can refer to any racecourse (derived from the length of the race course at Olympia, which was exactly a stade long), the reference here to “being thrown outside” (ἔξω βάλλεται τοῦ σταδίου) suggests an arena or stadium (cf. 1 Cor 9:24; Mart. Pol. 6:2; 8:3; 9:11; 12:1). See LSJ s. v. στάδιον. 58 Gygax, Benefaction and Rewards, 64. 59 Hans Dieter Betz, Studies in Paul’s Letter to the Philippians (WUNT 343; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 113–31, here: 123. Cf. Davorin Peterin, Paul’s Letter to the Philippians in the Light of Disunity in the Church (NovTSup 79; Leiden: Brill, 1997), 45. Frederick W. Danker, 54 Gygax, 55 In

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that Paul literally competed in footraces, the combination of liturgical language with the running metaphor in Phil 2:16–17 may suggest that he views his role among his churches on analogy with a gymnasiarch. Striving to rouse his audience to Paul’s level of competitive ambition, Clement exhorts listeners to strive to repay God, competing with each other in sponsoring the contemporary movement. Allusions to Aeneid 5 in 2 Clement 7 bolster this spirit of competition by drawing upon the memory of Aeneas – liturgist par excellence. Commemorating his father’s death, sponsoring games, and rewarding all participants, no other individual in Roman history gave to his home city as much as Aeneas.

E. Conclusion 2 Clement 7 alternates between the language of ship and foot racing in the context of an exhortation analogizing faith and game competition. Aeneid 5 – a chapter of unparalleled historical, literary, cultural, and religious significance – also possesses this sequence of competitions and other elements of 2 Clement 7. Twice 2 Clement refers to the audience as on a voyage (preface, 5:5). The text concludes with a reminder that faith is a competition in the games of the living God (20:2). Regardless of whether the inscription and chapter 20 are original to the text, they suggest that early interpreters picked up on the importance of these themes. Repeated exhortations in 2 Clement for listeners to “repay”60 (1:3, 5) God for salvation suggest a patron-client model in which believers are clients who voluntarily sponsor liturgies benefitting the kingdom of God. Aeneas’s pious act of liturgy on behalf of his father (and mutatis mutandis, the emperor on behalf of the poet)61 must be the literary exemplum behind 2 Clement 7. Although Clement asks his audience to part with their money, chapter 20 specifies the importance of the intention behind such acts of charity. One ought to be upright for the sake of piety, not profit (2 Clem. 20:4).62 Aeneas exemplifies this ideal.63 The ostensible Roman provenance of the letter further supports such a “Golden Age of Augustus” interpretation. Likewise, the ostensible second-century dating Benefactor: Epigraphic Study of a Graeco-Roman and New Testament Semantic Field (St. Louis, MO: Clayton, 1982). 60 As Kelhoffer argues, the two terms – ἀντιμισθία (1:3, 5) and μισθός (1:5) – are important to the author’s assessment of a believer’s obligation (“Reciprocity as Salvation,” 433–56). 61 Aelius Donatus, Vita Vergilii, Virgil’s ancient biography preserved in the commentary of Aelius Donatus (fourth c. CE) and thought to be based on a biography by Suetonius. Latin text: C. G.  Hardie, ed., Vitae Vergilianae Antiquae, 2nd ed. (Oxford, Oxford University, 1957; Latin and English in J. C. Rolfe, ed., Suetonius (LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1914), 2:464–83. 62 Εἰ γὰρ τὸν μισθὸν τῶν δικαίων ὁ θεὸς συντόμως ἀπεδίδου, εὐθέως ἐμπορίαν ἠσκοῦμεν καὶ οὐ θεοσέβειαν· ἐδοκοῦμεν γὰρ εἶναι δίκαιοι, οὐ τὸ εὐσεβές, ἀλλὰ τὸ κερδαλέον διώκοντες. 63 We need only recall his response of awe to the appearance of the snake as he inaugurates the games in 5.94–96.

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of 2 Clement embeds its imitation of Homer comfortably after the Homeric imitation by Philo and Josephus and before either Byzantine Christian writers use lines from Homer to retell the life of Jesus or Leo X commissions Marco Girolamo Vida (1485–1566) to write the Christiad, a life of Christ in the style of Virgil (1535).64

64 See MacDonald, Gospels and Homer, 7–8 and “Excursus 2: The Death and Burial of Jesus and Byzantine Imitations of the Iliad,” 123–30. We note that in MacDonald’s long and comprehensive study of parallels between the Gospels and the Iliad and Odyssey, he dedicates no section to the funeral games in Iliad 23. One has to wonder, in this case, whether the author of 2 Clement saw Iliad 23 and Aeneid 5 as a lacuna in the tradition that he (inspired by Paul’s references to faith as a competition) sought to fill it with his brief exhortation in chapter 7. We note the objection by Augustine to this sort of imitation, referring to Virgil as “hunc Vergilium” (or worse, “that poet”) and looking back on his own devotion to narrative poetry and the career of Aeneas in particular as sinful misguidance.

Chapter Eleven

Evaluating Masculinity: The Quintus Incident in Light of the Second Sophistic Anyone could confess his faith, as the story of Quintus shows, but the test of group membership lay in action. Being a Christian required a person to act like one; being a Christian meant being a man.1

A. Introduction The Quintus incident in chapter four of the Martyrdom of Polycarp (hereafter: Mart. Pol.) has garnered significant interest on the part of scholars.2 Some, following H. F. von Campenhausen, view it as a later interpolation reflecting the practice of voluntary martyrdom by second-century Montanists.3 Subsequent work by 1 Stephanie L. Cobb, Dying to Be Men: Gender and Language in Early Christian Martyr Texts (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008), 124. I wish to express my sincere thanks to Robert Matthew Calhoun, Stephanie L. Cobb, Matthijs den Dulk, Michael Holmes, and Andrew Langford for helpful criticism of a prior version of this essay. 2 This paper develops an argument raised in an advanced seminar on the Apostolic Fathers at Lewis University in Spring 2015. It relies on the Greek text of Bart Ehrman in the LCL, Apostolic Fathers, vol. 1 in consultation with K. Lake’s LCL volume and M. W. Holmes, The Apostolic Fathers: Greek Texts and English Translations (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007). Except where noted, English translations of Mart. Pol. are my own. Boudewijn Dehandschutter summarizes the place of Mart. Pol. 4 in the history of the debate over the text’s integrity: “The Martyrium Polycarpi: A Century of Research,” ANRW II.27.1 (1993), 485–522, here: 486–88; see also William R. Schoedel, “Polycarp of Smyrna and Ignatius of Antioch,” ANRW II.27.1 (1993), 272–358, here: 355; Hartog, Polycarp’s Epistle to the Philippians and the Martyrdom of Polycarp, 282–84. 3 As discussed below, Quintus is described as “a Phrygian from Phrygia.” Montanism originated in Phrygia, and the association between the movement and its place of origin was so strong that some writers labeled it, “Cataphrygian” or “from Phrygia,” its eventual spread into others parts of the Empire notwithstanding. General background on second-century Montanism: W. Belck, Geschichte des Montanismus: Seine Entstehungsursachen, Ziel und Wesen, sowie kurze Darstellung und Kritik der wichtigsten darüber aufgestellten Ansichten: eine religionsphilosophische Studie (Leipzig: Dörffling und Franke, 1883), 35–36; G. B. Maino, “Montanismo ele tendenze separatiste delle chiese dell’Asia Minore a fine de 2 secolo,” Rinnovamento 5 (1909): 107–122, esp. 107; W. M. Calder, “Philadelphia and Montanism,” BJRL 7 (1923): 309–353, esp. 332–333; idem, “The New Jerusalem of the Montanists,” Byz 6 (1931): 421–425, esp. 421–422; H. Grégoire and P. Orgels, “La veritable date du Martyre de S. Polycarpe (23 février 177) et le

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William Tabbernee has demonstrated, however, that voluntary martyrdom bears little in common with the evidence left by second-century Montanists. Moreover, the episode’s tight integration into the larger narrative, in particular as the protagonist’s antitype, suggests originality.4 Currently, the consensus about the Quintus incident is that it is not an interpolation, yet (apart from antitype) its role in the text’s larger thematic program has not yet been established. Over the last decade, Candida Moss has invigorated discussion of a wide variety of questions concerning Mart. Pol.5 Informed in part by Moss’s work, Matthijs den Dulk and Andrew Langford opened an entirely new line of inquiry into the interpretation of the text by situating it in the milieu of the Second Sophistic.6 They demonstrate that ‘Corpus Polycarpianum,’” AnBoll 69 (1951): 1–38; H. von Campenhausen, “Bearbeitungen und Interpolationen des Polycarpmartyriums,” repr. in Aus der Frühzeit des Christentums: Studien zur Kirchengeschichte des ersten und zweiten Jahrhunderts (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1963); M. Simonetti, “Alcune osservazioni sul martirio di S. Polycarpo,” GIF 9 (1956): 328– 344; F. C. A.  Schwegler, Der Montanismus und die christliche Kirche des zweiten Jahrhunderts (Tübingen: Fues, 1841), 65; N. G. Bonwetsch, Geschichte des Montanismus (Erlangen: Andreas Deichert, 1881); V. Ermoni, “La crise montaniste,” RQH 72 (1902): 61–96; P. Champagne de Labriolle, La crise montaniste (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1913); H. Kraft, “Die altkirchliche Prophetie und die Entstehung des Montanismus,” ThZ 11 (1955): 249–271; W. H. C. Frend, Martyrdom and Persecution (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1965); T. D. Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study (rev. ed.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985); N. Cohn, The Pursuit of the Millenium: Revolutionary Millenarians and the Mystical Anarchists of the Middle Ages (rev. and expanded ed.; New York: Oxford University Press, 1970); R. A. Knox, Enthusiasm: A Chapter in the History of Religion with Special Reference to the XVII and XVIII Centuries (New York: Oxford University Press, 1950); A. R. Birley, “Persecutors and Martyrs in Tertullian’s North Africa,” in The Later Roman Empire Today: Papers given in Honour of Professor John Mann (ed. D. F. Clark, M. M. Roxan, and J. J. Wilkes; London, Institute of Archaeology, 1993). 4 Moss, “On the Dating of Polycarp, 539–74, here: 543, 561. Recently, Paul Middleton argues that Mart. Pol. 5:1 represents a clear resumption of 3:2, arguing that chapter 4, thus, represents an interpolation. However, Middleton fails to consider how, without chapter 4, the text will live up to its thesis as stated in Mart. Pol. 1: “We are writing to you, brothers, about those who were martyred, along with the blessed Polycarp .... For virtually everything leading up to his death occurred so that the Lord might demonstrate (ἐπιδείξῃ) anew a martyrdom in conformity with the gospel. For Polycarp waited …” The verb ἐπιδείκνυμι suggests the epideictic species of rhetoric, indicating Mart. Pol.’s epistolary subgenre. The author casts the Lord himself as orator. Epideictic rhetoric frequently relies on synkrisis, incorporating praiseworthy and counter exempla to establish the thesis. The Quintus episode is, thus, crucial to the Lord’s persuasive argument. Any apparent interruption in the flow of the text is intended to isolate martyrdom according to, from martyrdom not according to, the gospel. So Gerd Buschmann, Das Martyrium des Polykarp (KAV 6; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 120; William R. Schoedel, Polycarp, Martyrdom of Polycarp, Fragments of Papias, vol. 5 (The Apostolic Fathers, A New Translation and Commentary; New York: Thomas Nelson, 1967), 57; Frederick Charles Klawitter, “The New Prophecy in Early Christianity: The Origin, Nature, and Development of Montanism, A. D. 165–220” (PhD diss., The University of Chicago, 1975), 103. Pace Paul Middleton, “Early Christian Voluntary Martyrdom: A Statement for the Defence,” JTS 64 (2014): 556–73, here: 570. 5 Candida Moss, “The Discourse of Voluntary Martyrdom: Ancient and Modern,” Church History 81 (2012): 531–51. 6 Matthijs den Dulk and Andrew M. Langford, “Polycarp and Polemo: Christianity at the Center of the Second Sophistic,” in History of Religions School Today: Essays on the New Testament and Related Ancient Mediterranean Texts (ed. T. R. Blanton III, R. M. Calhoun, and

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elements such as names (i. e., Herodes, Nicetes, Statius Quadratus);7 ancient masculinities (Mart. Pol. 9:1); old age (7:2–3); facial expressions (7:2); hand gestures (9:2); and improvisational savvy (10–11) exemplify ideals of Second Sophistic oratory culture.8 The present investigation attempts to add the Quintus incident to the narrative elements identified by Den Dulk and Langford as emblematic of both literary and cultural conventions of second-century sophism.9

B. History of Scholarship As noted, of the various scholars investigating Mart. Pol. 4, H. F. von Campenhausen, following H. Müller (in turn, following K. T. Keim10), characterized the Quintus incident as a later Montanist interpolation11 inserted into the text C. K. Rothschild; WUNT 340; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 211–40. Eduard Schwartz (Christliche und jüdische Ostertafeln [Berlin: Weidmann, 1905]) argued for reliance of Mart. Pol. on Lucian’s Passing of Peregrinus. Tim Whitmarsh problematizes the expression “Second Sophistic” most recently in Beyond the Second Sophistic: Adventures in Postclassicism [Berkeley: University of California Press, 2013], 3–6. I am working with den Dulk and Langford’s definition of the Second Sophistic.  7  “Polycarp and Polemo,” 236.  8 “Our approach also draws upon recent work that focuses more specifically on the oft-​ studied issue of intertextuality and Martyrdom of Polycarp.... We will argue that at a number of points the narrative depiction of Polycarp’s martyrdom is informed by the language and narrative patterns of biblical texts while simultaneously engaging in an idealized negotiation with the conventions, values, and expectations characteristic of the Second Sophistic. Indeed, exploring the presence of this studied negotiation of Christian fidelity vis-à-vis the various aspects of elite Smyrnean sophistic culture yields insights into the depiction of Polycarp hitherto unappreciated by scholarship on the Martyrdom” (“Polycarp and Polemo,” 214). General background (representing diverse views about what the Second Sophistic entailed): Graham Anderson, “The Second Sophistic: Some Problems of Perspective,” in Antonine Literature (ed. D. A. Russell; Oxford: Clarendon, 1990), 91–110; G. W. Bowersock, Greek Sophists in the Roman Empire (Oxford: Clarendon, 1969); Ewen Bowie, “Greeks and their Past in the Second Sophistic,” Past & Present 46 (1970): 3–41; Tim Whitmarsh, The Second Sophistic (New Surveys in the Classics 35; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 3–22; idem, Beyond the Second Sophistic. As Den Dulk and Langford point out (p. 213 n. 13) early Christian literature deserves more consideration in terms of the Second Sophistic, citing as an exception: Allen Brent, Ignatius of Antioch and the Second Sophistic: A Study of an Early Christian Transformation of Pagan Culture (STAC 36; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006). Until their article, Martyrdom of Polycarp had not been brought into conversation with conventions of the Second Sophistic, although Candida Moss begins to suggest the possibility (“Nailing Down and Tying Up: Lessons in Intertextual Impossibility from the Martyrdom of Polycarp” VC 67 [2013]: 117–36, e. g., 135).  9 Den Dulk and Langford, “Polycarp and Polemo,” 214. 10 H. Müller, “Aus der Überlieferungs-geschichte des Polykarp-Martyrium” (PhD diss., University of Paderborn, 1908); idem, “Das Martyrium Polycarpi, ein Beitrag zur altchristlichen Heiligengeschichte,” Römische Quartalschrift 22 (1980): 1–16; Karl Theodore Keim, Aus dem Urchristentum (Zürich: Orell, Füssli, 1878), 1, 106–33. 11 Von Campenhausen, “Bearbeitungen und Interpolationen des Polycarpmartyriums,” 253–301.

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at some unknown point (albeit prior to Eusebius).12 With Campenhausen, H. Grégoire too believed Mart. Pol. 4 reflected anti-Montanist polemic only reclaiming, against Campenhausen, the chapter as a part of the original text dated ca. 177 CE.13 More recently, Silvia Ronchey has asserted the integrity of the text,14 stressing the importance of distinguishing between “veridicità del fatto e authenticità dello scritto.”15 She identifies Quintus as a Montanist, dating the account to the latter half of the third century, another period in which Montanism flourished.16 Ronchey argues that Mart. Pol. was composed during a period of relative peace for Christians, as part of an anti-Montanist pro-Roman agenda. William Tabbernee raises issues for all of these anti-Montanist theses. His work on Montanist inscriptions demonstrates a disparity between the depiction of Quintus as an enthusiastic martyr in Mart. Pol. and the practices and perspectives of Montanists as reflected in their own writings and inscriptions.17 Tabbernee shows that Montanists were no more eager to seek out martyrdom than the “orthodox.” Furthermore, as Candida Moss rightly points out, whether Montanists were voluntary martyrs may be too narrow a way to frame the discussion.18 Moss raises yet another possible interpretation: that Quintus was not a Montanist, but an orthodox caricature of a Montanist as voluntary martyr. On her reading, Quintus’s Phrygian origin had become an ethnic metonym of his religious affiliation by the time of Eusebius.19 12 See Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 4.15.7–8. Moss succinctly articulates Campenhausen’s four-stages of redaction: “Taking the divergences between the Eusebian and menology-text (Ps-Pionius) as his starting point, von Campenhausen identifies four stages of redactional interpolation in the account. First, noting that Eusebius does not include the parallels with the passion narrative, he posits a Gospel-redactor. This redactor introduced the parallels to the Gospels, which are not considered original to the text; they are, in von Campenhausen’s view, fourth-century additions. Second, he posits that, prior to Eusebius, MPol 4, the Quintus incident, was added into the account as an antimontanist polemic. At the same time the polemical sections on the veneration of relics were added (17–18). Third, and also prior to Eusebius, a redactor introduced the miracles into the account (5.2; 9.1; 15.2). Finally, chapters 21 and 22.2–3 are post-Eusebian additions” (“On the Dating of Polycarp,” 541–42). 13  Grégoire and Orgels, “La veritable date du Martyre de S. Polycarpe, 1–38. 14 S. Ronchey, Indagine sul martirio di San Policarpo: Critica storica e fortuna di un caso giudiziario in Asia Minore (Nuovi Studi Storici 6; Rome: Istituto Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1990). 15 Ronchey, Indagine sul martirio di San Policarpo, 67. 16 Although the Quintus episode is a crux interpretum with respect to the date of the Martyrdom of Polycarp, the date of the text is not a central concern for the overall thesis of the present article. 17 W. Tabbernee, “Christian Inscriptions from Phrygia,” NewDocs 3 (1983): 128–139; idem, “Early Montanists and Voluntary Martyrdom,” Colloq 17 (1985): 33–44; idem, “Early Montanism and Voluntary Martyrdom,” Colloquium 19 (1985): 33–44; idem, Montanist Inscriptions and Testimonia: Epigraphic Sources illustrating the History of Montanism (Patristic Monograph Series 16; Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1997), 146–50; idem, Fake Prophecy and Polluted Sacraments: Ecclesiastical and Imperial Reactions to Montanism (VC Sup 84; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 201–42. 18 “On the Dating of Polycarp,” 564. 19 “On the Dating of Polycarp,” 560–65.

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For the caricature to work, however, Montanists had to be known for voluntary martyrdom. Our best evidence suggests, however, that the orthodox (e. g., Ignatius et al.) as much or more than the heretics submitted to voluntary martyrdom.20 Taking Tabbernee’s evidence seriously, Michael Holmes interprets the Quintus incident apart from both real and caricatured Montanism. Holmes understands Quintus’s trial as an original part of the composition, the goal of which was a sharp contrast with the trial of Polycarp. For Holmes, Polycarp exemplifies “divine calling rather than human accomplishment or initiative.”21 Quintus signifies “the dangers of enthusiasm to the well-being and stability of the community.”22 Holmes argues that the overriding aim of the Quintus episode is to condemn a rush to martyrdom, irrespective of Montanism.23 The context Holmes offers for this thesis is both literary and theological: namely, the author of Mart. Pol. arrives 20 See Christel Butterweck, Martyriumssucht in der alten Kirche? Studien zur Darstellung und Deutung frühchristlicher Martyrien (BHT 87; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1995); questioning the extent, however: P. Lorraine Buck, “Voluntary Martyrdom Revisited,” JTS 63 (2012): 125–35; Paul Middleton, Radical Martyrdom and Cosmic Conflict in Early Christianity (Library of New Testament Studies; London and New York: T&T Clark [Continuum], 2006); idem, “Early Christian Voluntary Martyrdom,” 556–73. 21 Holmes, Apostolic Fathers, 300. See also M. W. Holmes, “The Martyrdom of Polycarp and the New Testament Passion Narrative,” in Trajectories through the New Testament and the Apostolic Fathers (ed. A. F. Gregory and C. M. Tuckett; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 407–32. 22 Holmes, Apostolic Fathers, 299. 23 Holmes, “Martyrdom of Polycarp and the Passion,” 422. Holmes argues that according to Mart. Pol., rush to martyrdom is wrong because it demonstrates lack of patience, compassion, and endurance: “To put the matter a bit differently a gospel-shaped martyrdom is not one that merely recapitulates or imitates events of the passion of Jesus, but rather one that (regardless of whether it parallels any of the events of the passion) reflects a particular approach to (one might even say a theology of) martyrdom: one that reacts rather than initiates (thus permitting the divine will to be accomplished), one that demonstrates the concern for others exemplified by Jesus, and one that is characterized by endurance in the face of trials” (“Martyrdom of Polycarp and the Passion,” 421). Acknowledging that no single passage in Mart. Pol. evinces its central message, Holmes continues as follows, “The realization that one cannot identify a text or passage that ‘teaches’ the main point which the Martyrdom seeks to inculcate offers an important clue to understanding the relationship between the Martyrdom and the passion narrative: it is the fruit of an act of interpretation. In an incident that the gospel tradition narrates – namely, Jesus’ betrayal and arrest in Gethsemane – the author of the Martyrdom discerns a foundational principle: namely, that martyrdom according to the gospel is one in which the potential martyr waits to be betrayed, ‘just as the Lord’ (1.2)” (422; emphasis original). See also G. Buschmann, Martyrium Polycarpi: Eine formkritische Studie: Ein Beitrag zur Frage nach der Entstehung der Gattung Märtyrerakte (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1994); and idem, Das Martyrium des Polykarp. On voluntary martyrdom, see G. E. M. de Ste. Croix, “Voluntary Martyrdom in the Early Church,” in idem, Christian Persecution, Martyrdom, and Orthodoxy (ed. M. Whitby and J. Streeter; New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 153–200; A. R. Birley, “Voluntary Martyrs in the Early Church: Heroes or Heretics?” Cristianesimo nella Storia 27 (2006): 99–127; J.-L. Voisin, “Prosopographie des morts volontaires chrètiens en particulier chez Eusèbe de Césarée,” in Prosopographie et histoire religieuse (ed. M.-F. Baslez and F. Prévot; Paris: De Boccard, 2005), 351–62; D. Hofmann, Suizid in der Spätantike: Seine Bewertung in der lateinischen Literatur (Altertumswissenschaftliches Kolloquium 18; Stuttgart: Steiner, 2007), 119–124.

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at an approach to martyrdom by deducing the principles of patience, compassion, and endurance from Gospel passion narratives.24 While this conclusion is inevitably correct, it retains the contrast between heretic and orthodox, contrasting religious alliance. Furthermore, it neither explains why Mart. Pol. demanded an antitype in Quintus (Jesus has no such foil in the Gospels), nor offers a basis for such a Gospel interpretation within the broader literary culture. The options are, thus, twofold: the text is fractured through interpolation, and Quintus is extricated in this way; or the text is orthodox (i. e., “according to the gospel”), and Quintus is heterodox, extricating him in that way.25 Either way, we have lost Quintus as effective antitype to Jesus. To be an antitype, Quintus needs to represent a valid choice to readers – a person whose version of faith is a genuine option.26 He cannot be a mere caricature or concatenation of commonplace stereotypes.27 Den Dulk and Langford’s model of interpretation, however, incorporates all of the elements. Their model is addressed next.

C. Evidence The following English translation is based on Ehrman’s Greek text (LCL): Εἷς δέ, ὀνόματι Κόϊντος, Φρύξ, προσφάτως ἐληλυθὼς ἀπὸ τῆς Φρυγίας, ἰδὼν τὰ θηρία ἐδειλίασεν. οὗτος δὲ ἦν ὁ παραβιασάμενος ἑαυτόν τε καί τινας προσελθεῖν ἑκόντας. τοῦτον ὁ ἀνθύπατος πολλὰ ἐκλιπαρήσας ἔπεισεν ὀμόσαι καὶ ἐπιθῦσαι. διὰ τοῦτο οὖν, ἀδελφοί, οὐκ ἐπαινοῦμεν τοὺς προδιδόντας ἑαυτούς, ἐπειδὴ οὐχ οὕτως διδάσκει τὸ εὐαγγέλιον. But one named Quintus, a Phrygian fresh out of Phrygia, seeing the wild beasts, chickened out. Yet this is the man who had used force (παραβιασάμενος) to get himself and some others to come forward voluntarily. With many entreaties, the proconsul convinced him to take the oath and offer sacrifice.28 For this reason, therefore, brothers, we do not praise those who give themselves up, since the gospel does not teach in such a manner.

Even in its brevity, this chapter possesses multiple elements suggesting the literary and historical context of the Second Sophistic. We begin with its exploitation 24 Holmes,

“Martyrdom of Polycarp and the Passion,” 421.

25 Middleton falls victim to this error when he writes, “‘Orthodox’ voluntary martyrs are nev-

er condemned by Eusebius. Voluntary martyrdom was not the problem; ‘heretical’ martyrdom of any sort was” (“Early Christian Voluntary Martyrdom,” 572). 26 Buschmann states the need for a counter-example by drawing attention to the work’s purpose as “imitation”: “Nachahmung (vgl. MartPol 1,2: μιμηταί) setzt positive und negative Identifikationsange-bote voraus” (Das Martyrium des Polykarp, 121). He notes the contrastive δέ at the beginning of Mart. Pol. 4 and even identifies the possibility of syncrisis with a paranetic function (121). 27 As T. Zahn (Ignatii et Polycarpi epistulae martyria fragmenta [Patrum apostolicorum opera 2; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1876], 138–39) and Lightfoot (Apostolic Fathers, 2:3, 369) have argued. 28 Cf. Acts 13:7.

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of σύγκρισις – the rhetorical figure demonstrating the indispensability of Quintus to the narrative as Polycarp’s antitype, and on which basis a persuasive case for the episode’s originality is made.

D. Art of Antithesis: Polycarp versus Quintus The Second Sophistic may be described as an era of renaissance for the art of eloquence and oratory. A variety of rhetorical techniques were popular for flaunting the skills of the best orators. Graham Anderson explains: We must now take a close look at the techniques by which they [the sophists] were expected to demonstrate their virtuosity within the context of public or private performance. A system culminating in dazzling displays of extempore rhetoric on anything and everything demanded a great deal of systematic and perhaps over-mechanised preliminary training.29

In the subsequent discussion, Anderson focuses on techniques “particularly characteristic of sophistic practice.”30 With roots in the agonistic setting of the original sophists, σύγκρισις – a method of comparison related to the orator’s goal of praise or blame – was one such tool. The original sophists had been notable for their inclination to plead for and against, and here is the antithesis on its largest scale. To produce a syncrisis one could simply juxtapose a pair of encomia or psogoi in parallel: as in comprising the ancestry, education, deeds, and death of Achilles and Hector; or one could produce an equally effective sense of contrast by placing an encomium of Achilles, say, beside that of Thersites .... Often enough syncrisis is seen to underlie some of the most ambitious sophistic ensembles: Dio contrasts Tyranny and Monarchy, Lucian Paideia and Sculpture; while Achilles Tatius can even offer a syncrisis on homosexual and heterosexual love.31

To be sure, such rhetorical flair often came at the expense of historical accuracy. Such an account may even appear contrived. Anderson writes: there are the same obviously sophistic implications to such an exercise as for encomium and psogos: that details may be emphasized or manipulated in the interest of blame rather than truth, sometimes in the most patently artificial way.32

Such artificiality is noticeable in a comparison of the trials of Quintus and Polycarp. The following three elements of their trials establish obvious narrative contrast.

29 The Second Sophistic: A Cultural Phenomenon in the Roman Empire (London: Routledge, 1993), 47. 30 Second Sophistic, 47, emphasis added. 31 Second Sophistic, 51. 32 Second Sophistic, 51.

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(1) Whereas Mart. Pol. 4 foregrounds Quintus’s fear: “Quintus, a Phrygian from Phrygia who was overcome with cowardice,”33 Mart. Pol. 9 foregrounds Polycarp’s bravery – a voice from heaven exclaiming, “Be strong, Polycarp, and be a man.” (2) Whereas Quintus comes forward in a group of individuals that he forcibly coerces into accompanying him (the group implying Quintus’s cowardice, the use of force implying theirs), Polycarp comes forward alone.34 (3) Whereas Quintus immediately folds in the face of the proconsul’s pleas, Polycarp remains stalwart when the proconsul attempts to persuade him – staring down the crowd in the stadium, raising his hand, gazing heavenward, and audaciously turning the accusation against himself, against the crowd (“Away with the atheists!” 9:2; cf. 3:2).

Moss sums up these companion portraits as follows: “Quintus’s brash self-offering, for instance, the most oft-cited example of interpolation, serves as a perfect counter-point to Polycarp’s martyrdom according to Gospel”35 – too “perfect,” one might say.36 Mart. Pol. pleads for a certain form of martyrdom by producing a syncrisis that juxtaposes type, Polycarp with antitype Quintus. Without the antitype, the reader cannot fairly assess the type. The antitype must, furthermore, be plausible, providing a genuine choice for the audience. As such, the Quintus incident is integral to the narrative demolishing interpolation theories. The precise ways in which the antitype mirrors the type in this narrative is the topic of the next section. As we will see, the author highlights a variety of sophistic themes to venerate the prototypical martyr and mock the antithetical behavior of his countertype.

E. Creating the Antitype I. Elitism Orators of the Second Sophistic employed a rich panoply of rhetorical figures and other sub-techniques to compose interesting, entertaining, and persuasive character portraits. The theme of elitism is ubiquitous in these ἐκφράσεις. Anderson refers to this phenomenon of literary elitism as “cultural oneupsmanship.”37 With respect to character names, for example, Anderson reports: 33 ET:

Ehrman here. wish to thank Stephanie Cobb for pointing out that both men seem to be surrounded by groups. Although Polycarp comes forward alone, a group envelops him when the cavalry arrive for his arrest (Mart. Pol. 7). This similarity drives an even deeper wedge between Polycarp’s solo confession and Quintus’s group one. Afraid to face punishment alone, Quintus used force to coerce those around him into joining him; whereas, Polycarp came forward alone. 35 Moss, “On the Dating of Polycarp,” 543, emphasis added. 36 So also: Schoedel, Polycarp, Martyrdom of Polycarp, Fragments of Papias, 57–58. 37 Second Sophistic, 124. 34 I

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Apollonius of Tyana objected to the fashion for Roman names in Asia Minor; those who once bore the names of Greek naval heroes and lawgivers now style themselves Luculli and Fabricii.38

As Den Dulk and Langford have observed, names create a sophistic aura in Mart. Pol.: It is remarkable that the names of the police officer (εἰρήναρχος) Herodes and his father Nicetes (Mart. Pol. 6.2, 8.2, 17.2, 21.1) are also the names of famous sophists of the time who lived and/or worked in Smyrna, and that the proconsul Statius Quadratus (Mart. Pol. 21) was himself a sophist who merited inclusion in Philostratus’ Vit soph.39

In Mart. Pol. 4, the antitype’s name, Quintus reflects such elitism. Even before the audience has any information about this character, his name suggests lack of sophistication.40 Contrast Πολύκαρπος, a conclusively Greek name flaunting an etymological connotation of effectiveness and success. The name, Γερμανικός, is also Latin, but the text specifies that this “young” martyr is “most noble” (γενναιότατος). Such a name immediately evoked the memory of the Roman Alexander the Great: Germanicus Julius Caesar, grandson-in-law and great-nephew of the Emperor Augustus. The Roman people viewed him as their own Alexander based on his death under dubious circumstances at a young age (i. e., ca. thirty-two years).41 The contrast with Quintus is clear.

II. Phrygia Of even greater significance is Quintus’s homeland of Phrygia. Based on evidence summoned by Tabbernee, the claim that the provincial designation, “Phrygian,” necessarily implies Montanism in Mart. Pol. 4 is untenable. Not only did Montanists not describe themselves according to regional boundaries, but they were 38 The letter to the Ionians as cited in Second Sophistic, 124; see Philostratus, Letters of Apollonius (#71) (LCL, ET: C. P. Jones). See Tim Whitmarsh’s comment that Herodes’s surname Atticus suggested “his credentials as an Attic purist” (Second Sophistic, 34). Also, Peter Brown, Power and Persuasion: Towards a Christian Empire (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin, 1992); Thomas Schmitz, Bildung und Macht: Zur sozialen und politischen Funktion der zweiten Sophistik in der griechischen Welt der Kaiserzeit (Zetemata 97; München: C. H. Beck, 1997). Quintus Smyrnaeus was an epic poet whose style resembles the Second Sophistic, although historians are divided as to when to date his work. See n. 33 below. 39 “Polycarp and Polemo,” 222–23. 40 It is possible that this name too suggests a rival sophist (see n. 15). The dates of the epic poet, Quintus Smyrnaeus (Κόϊντος Σμυρναῖος) are, however, controversial. His only known work, the Posthomerica covers the period between the end of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. Although he was traditionally placed in the late fourth century CE, scholars recently suggest the third century, based on features of the Second Sophistic in his writing. See Quintus Smyrnaeus: Transforming Homer in Second Sophistic Epic (ed. M. Baumbach and Silvio Bär; Millennium-Studien 17; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2007), 1–26, here: 8. 41 Tacitus, Ann. 2.26.

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not more prone to voluntary martyrdom than the orthodox, and Phrygia encompassed much more than just Montanism. J. B. Rives explains, The epithet “Phrygian” was hardly an evocative one. On the contrary, the associations that it would have had for most people in the Graeco-Roman world were negative or potentially so, and few of them, moreover, were particularly distinctive. So, for example, Phrygia was commonly characterized as a source of slaves, and its inhabitants, like other servile eastern peoples, were notorious for their cowardice.42

Of particular significance for present purposes is the stereotype of Phrygians as servile and cowardly. A popular proverb characterizes Phrygians as “better for a beating.”43 The fifth-century comic poet, Hermippus, identifies slaves as the sole import from Phrygia.44 Aristophanes uses “Midas” and “Phryx” as typical slave names,45 whereas Theocritus46 and Terence47 employ “Phrygia.” The names “Manes” and “Mania,” associated with Phrygia,48 were also commonly used for slaves.49 Euripides, in Orestes, features a cowardly Phrygian slave (1369–1526).50 Tertullian too picks up on the stereotype, depicting Phrygians as cowards: comici Phrygas timidos inludunt (An. 20.3).51 By stating it first, Mart. Pol. 4 makes Quintus’s ethnographic background emphatic: “But one named Quintus, a Phrygian fresh out of Phrygia.” The phrase, 42  J. B. Rives, “Phrygian Tales,” GRBS 45 (2005): 223–244, here: 238. The next footnotes depend on Rives for parallel literature. 43 Herodas, 2.100–102, Cicero, Flac. 65. 44 Fr. 63 Kassel-Austin. For the fragments, see Poetae Comici Graeci, vol. III.2 (ed. R. Kassel, D. Austin; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1984). 45 Aristophanes, Vesp. 433. 46 Theocritus, Id. 15.42. 47 Terence, Ad. 973. 48 Manes is identified by Herodotus (1.94.3; 4.45.3) as an early Lydian king, but later appears as Phrygian (Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ant. rom. 1.27.1–3; Alexander Polyhistor FGH f. 273 (frs. 73 and 126; Plutarch, Is. Os. 24, 360b). 49 Strabo, Geogr. 7.3.12. Cf. Margaret C. Miller, Athens and Persia in the Fifth Century B. C.: A Study in Cultural Receptivity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 83; K. DeVries, “The Nearly Other: The Attic Vision of Phrygians and Lydians,” in Not the Classical Ideal: Athens and the Construction of the Other in Greek Art (ed. B. Cohen; Leiden: Brill, 2000), 338–63, at 340. See further Hipponax fr. 27, ET: M. L. West, Studies in Greek Elegy and Iambus (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1974); idem, Iambi et Elegi Graeci Ante Alexandrum Cantati (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 21992); idem, Greek Lyric Poetry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993); Euripides, Alc. 675; Menander, Aspis 206; Juvenal, Sat. 11.147; Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 8.7.12; Aelian, Var. hist. 10.14. It is worth noting that these characteristics do not appear in Attic vase painting, which, however, is largely concerned with Phrygians in the mythic contexts of Midas and Marsyas (DeVries, “Nearly Other,” 342–56). On negative stereotypes of eastern peoples, see B. Isaac, The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 257–370. 50 He was probably portrayed as a eunuch as well, according to Edith Hall, Inventing the Barbarian: Greek Self-Definition through Tragedy (Oxford Classical Monographs; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), 157–58. 51 Cf. Aristophanes, Av. 1244–1245; Strabo, Geogr. 1.2.30; and T. Long, Barbarians in Greek Comedy (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1986), 141.

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“a Phrygian from Phrygia” (Φρύξ … ἀπὸ τῆς Φρυγίας), echoes the description of Aesop in the Life: “He was by chance a slave, and by race a Phrygian from Phrygia” (τῇ μὲν τύχη ἦν δοῦλος, τῷ δὲ γένει Φρὺξ τῆς Φρυγίας, Vit. Aes. 1).52 John Dillery refers to this description of Aesop as “strangely redundant”: At one level this may simply be an allusion to the fact that Phrygia was a common source of slaves in antiquity, and that many would have known about Phrygians only through contact with Phrygian slaves who were resident in their communities throughout the Mediterranean. Aesop, on the other hand, was a Phrygian from Phrygia – not, that is, the more frequently met Phrygian slave in service in a foreign land.53

In Mart. Pol. 4, the character stereotype of cowardice appears in apposition to this redundant geographical affiliation as its definition: “A Phrygian from Phrygia … overcome with cowardice” (ET: Ehrman).54 That Quintus “only just” (προσφάτως) came from Phrygia implies that he had not yet had time to toughen up to Asian standards. The next sentence is a narrative flashback compounding the Phrygian stereotype with irony. The reader learns that Quintus had to use violence to coerce himself and his friends into coming forward voluntarily.55 The paradoxical nature of the confession could hardly be clearer, yet the author is unrelenting. Next, the audience learns that no sooner had the cowards presented themselves than they swore the oath and offered sacrifice. Rives also points out that, as a result of the cult of Cybele, Phrygians were often associated with (1) euhemeristic and allegoristic interpretations of myth56 and (2) ecstatic religiosity. Rives’s first point, the Phrygian stereotype of euhemerism, may elucidate Quintus’s impulsive retraction of faith. According to this stereotype, rationalizing attitudes toward religion would be thought to interfere with the ability of Phrygians to devote themselves fully to the demands of religious commitment, not least, fidelity unto death.57 If, as a Phrygian, Quintus had 52 For the text, I follow J. Dillery, “Aesop, Isis, and the Heliconian Muses,” CP 94 (1999): 268– 280, at 269. Dillery, in turn, follows Ben Edwin Perry, Aesopica: A Series of Texts Relating to Aesop or Ascribed to Him (Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 22007 [1952]). For a discussion of the different recensions, see N. Holzberg, “Fable: Aesop. Life of Aesop,” in The Novel in the Ancient World (ed. G. Schmeling; Leiden: Brill, 1996), 633–34. On the emphatic description of Aesop in the Life as “a Phrygian from Phrygia,” see “Aesop, Isis, and the Heliconian Muses,” 269–71. The identification of Aesop as a Phrygian is found first in Plato, Phaed. 3 and becomes standard in writers of the second century CE (Dio Chrysostom, Or. 32.63; Aulus Gellius, Noct. att. 2.29.1; Lucian, Ver. hist. 2.18; Zenobius, Prov. 5.16, Maximus of Tyre, Diss. 32.1); see Perry, Aesopica, 215– 16. Cf. Acts 18:2 and Tertullian’s comments on Marcion’s Pontic background (Marc. 1.1.3–5). 53 “Aesop, Isis, and the Heliconian Muses,” 239–40. 54 “Played the coward” = “chickening out” in Lucian, Dial. mort. 395–96. 55 “Do a thing by force against nature or law” (LSJ s. v. παραβιάζομαι); Deut 1:43 (LXX); and Polybius, Hist. 24.8.3. 56 “Phrygian tales” were an apt way to refer to euhemerizing and allegorizing treatments of myth. See Rives, “Phrygian Tales,” 237. 57 Mystery cults might speak to this as well, insofar as Quintus’s Phrygian origin could have conditioned him to regard Christianity as just another secretive cult.

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already intellectualized mythic elements of Christian faith, it is not difficult to imagine how pleas by a local proconsul (and the growls of a hungry lion) would sway his resolve. Rives explains his second point (“ecstatic religiosity”) as follows: Phrygians were … associated with orgiastic and unrestrained religious behavior, particularly the practice of self-castration; the latter was often merged with the charge of cowardice into a general reputation for effeminacy. In almost all these respects, the Phrygians obviously provided a negative foil that served to emphasize the independence, the manliness, the moderation, and the self-control of proper Greeks and Romans.58

With regard to the “orgiastic” and “ecstatic” aspects of stereotypical Phrygian religious behavior, the verb παραβιάζειν in Mart. Pol. 4 may be considered. Quintus did not reason with those he persuaded to come forward; he compelled them by force. Not only does this verb back the Phrygian reputation for weak submission to ecstasy, it explains how Quintus manipulated it, provided that those who came forward with him were also Phrygian. Moreover, since Phrygian religiosity links the entire region to effeminacy, it amplifies the general stereotype of cowardice with unmanliness;59 and if Quintus was a worshiper of Cybele – a more probable inference of Phrygian origin than Montanism– he might have been castrated. In such a case, he would be expected to capitulate to an orator – in this case, a proconsul – whose “many pleas”60 would have been of deeper and more penetrating voice. Maud Gleason specifies an association between “‘bad’ oratory and imperfect masculinity”61 in writings of the Second Sophistic. With respect to the true Christian martyr, Stephanie Cobb demonstrates the crucial role of masculinity.62 On Quintus’s Phrygian origin in Mart. Pol., Cobb (citing Craig Williams) suggests that the mention of Quintus’s homeland may not be incidental. Provenance could indicate one’s masculinity or femininity, as Craig Williams notes: “Even more than Greece, though, the cities of Asia Minor seem to have represented to Romans the ultimate in decadence and luxury and consequently softness and effeminacy.”63 58 Rives,

“Phrygian Tales,” 239, emphasis added.  Virgil too mentions Phrygian effeminacy (Aen. 9.600, 614–20; 12.97–100). Virgil exploits this stereotype against Phrygians: Aeneas’s enemies taunt him with effeminacy (see especially semivir Phryx at Aen. 12.99; cf. 4.215: ille Paris cum semiviro comitatu). N. Horsfall, “Numanus Remulus: Ethnography and Propaganda in Aen. ix, 598 f.,” Latomus 30 (1971): 1108–1116, at 1109. 60 Cf. Pliny, Ep. 10.96; Tertullian, Apol. 30.6; and Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 7.15. 61 Making Men: Sophists and Self-presentation in Ancient Rome (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995), 125. 62 Cobb, Dying to Be Men, 60–91. About Quintus, Cobb remarks: “Quintus, a Christian newly arrived from Phrygia, on the other hand, revealed a lack of masculinity by succumbing to the proconsul’s persuasion (4)” (74). She points out that Quintus is “inserted” between Germanicus and Polycarp: “the coward versus the courageous, the uncontrolled versus the self-controlled, the unmasculine versus the masculine” (89). 63 Dying to Be Men, 164 n. 59, citing Williams, Roman Homosexuality: Ideologies of Mas59

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As “a Phrygian from Phrygia,” Quintus is caricatured as a slave. He is uneducated, cowardly, effeminate, fitful, and faint-hearted.64 To persuade others, his use of brute, rather than intellectual (i. e., rhetorical) strength reflects lack of self-control, desperation and servility.65 Physical strength was a sign of slavery, whereas frank speech was a mark of freedom.66 Martyrdom as promoted by Mart. Pol. is sophisticated, staid, intellectual, masculine, and free; and its homeland is Asia not Phrygia. The Quintus episode ideally suits the letter’s destination of Philomelium – strengthening arguments for its originality – insofar as a Phrygian antitype ideally suits a Phrygian audience.67 Mart. Pol. exhorts Christians to act like Jesus, construing Jesus’s behavior (perhaps in dialogue with contrasting constructions) on the standards of the Second Sophistic.68

III. Public Performance Finally, Den Dulk and Langford correctly emphasize that oratorical performance is foundational to the Second Sophistic movement. Rushing to one’s death, recoiling in fright at the sight of beasts in the arena, and haphazardly shrinking back on one’s resolve is a character portrait as beautifully vivid as it is piquantly negative – Christian or otherwise. That said, publicly acquiescing to the pleas of the proconsul is Quintus’s most flagrant violation of manliness. In the agonistic rhetorical environment of second-century Smyrna, Polycarp outclasses, overwhelms, and even dominates his oratorical opponent. About the proconsul’s deportment before Polycarp, Holmes writes, In 9.2–12.1, at the hearing in the arena (that symbol of Roman power and control), it is the proconsul who behaves in a womanly fashion by threatening, pleading, insisting; it is culinity in Classical Antiquity (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 136. See also Cobb, “Polycarp’s Cup: Imitatio in the Martyrdom of Polycarp,” Journal of Religious History 38 (2014): 224–40. 64  On slave physiognomics, see J. Albert Harrill, Slaves in the New Testament: Literary, Social, and Moral Dimensions (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2006), 43–44, 45–53, 69–70. 65  Harrill, Slaves in the New Testament, 41–48. About the fourth century CE, Peter Brown writes: “Rather than give way to incoherent rage, public figures were expected to compose themselves as carefully as they composed their speeches” (Power and Persuasion, 50). 66 Tacitus, Ann. 15.61. 67 Cyril C. Richardson, Early Christian Fathers (London: SCM, 1953), 142, observes a connection between the addressees of Mart. Pol. in Philomelium and Quintus’s home province. As Buschmann (citing T. D. Barnes, “Pre-Decian Acta Martyrum,” JThS 19 [1968]: 509–31, here: 511) points out: “Der Artikel οὗτος δὲ ἠν ὁ παραβιασάμενος ist verräterisch; er zeigt, daß typische Verhalten des Phrygiers Quintos den Adressaten sehr wohl schon bekannt war, ‘that the Philomelians already knew of Quintus’ action, but not the name of its perpetrator’” (Das Martyrium des Polykarp, 123). Mart. Pol. offers the name, clarifying that such behavior is not to be imitated, for it is not “according to the gospel.” 68 N.b. Phrygia is explicitly mentioned only four times in the NT (Acts 2:9, 10; 16:6; and 18:23) as compared with eighteen occurrences of Asia, twelve in Acts alone.

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Polycarp who again demonstrates self-mastery and philosophical detachment, who by his steadfastness effectively controls the direction and outcome of the hearing.69

Quintus, in contrast, concedes the contest before it is begun. In this trial, the proconsul plays the man. Quintus’s behavior is clearly naïve, unprepared, and shameful.70 The antithesis could hardly be clearer. At this point, we should perhaps not rule out comic incongruity.71

F. Conclusion Evaluating masculinity was a central preoccupation of many second-century Roman elite. In Asia Minor, physiognomy skyrocketed in popularity as a helpful tool to this end.72 Phrygian stereotypes were an easy foil for the sophist.73 This essay argues that, along with the narrative elements highlighted by Den Dulk and Langford, the Quintus incident exemplifies sophistic artistry. As a non-interpolation, this incident is integrated in the narrative as the antitype in a σύγκρισις, exploiting the sophistic ideal of manliness. As such, this incident elucidates a primary purpose of the text: to define martyrdom as a phenomenon of the politically prominent masculine elite. The author’s opponents – heretics, perhaps – are stylized as effeminate, servile, and cowardly. Mart. Pol. 4 concludes with a moral maxim: διὰ τοῦτο οὖν, ἀδελφοί, οὐκ ἐπαινοῦμεν τοὺς προδιδόντας ἑαυτούς, ἐπειδὴ οὐχ οὕτως διδάσκει τὸ εὐαγγέλιον (“For this reason, therefore, brothers, we do not praise those who give themselves up, since the gospel does not teach [us to act] in such a manner”). Seemingly straightforward, the message of this maxim is ambiguous. Which behavior is rejected? Turning oneself in? Subsequently backing out? Allowing oneself to be persuaded by the proconsul? Publicly denying Christian faith? Moss rejects that the text condemns apostasy:

 Holmes, “Martyrdom of Polycarp and the Passion,” 425–26, emphasis added. the ferocity of the beasts and conventional lines of the proconsul would have been known to the volunteer prior to his self-presentation, Quintus’s recantation is as naïve as it is cowardly – hallmark traits of femininity. 71 Anderson’s expression; see Second Sophistic, 81. Cf. also Harrill, Slaves in the New Testament, 59–84. 72 Gleason refers to physiognomy as a “technology of suspicion” (Making Men, 55). 73 On at least one related occasion, Phrygia also functioned as a source of approval. According to Philostratus (Vit. Soph. 539–40), after Herodes had orated brilliantly on the war-trophies, the emperor Marcus Aurelius approves him as the equal of Demosthenes, to which Herodes replies that his highest goal is to be considered equal to “the Phrygian,” a reference to Polemo, living in Smyrna, but originally from Laodicea in Phrygia. Presuming the stereotype about Phrygians is known by Herodes, his genuinely complimentary reference to Polemo as “the Phrygian” reflects sophistic wit. 69

70 Since

F. Conclusion

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The behavior the author condemns is not apostasy, a general threat envisioned in the writings of a number of early Christian authors, but coming forward to volunteer oneself for death, a practice that requires a particular political and ideological situation.

Moss concludes that the author rejects voluntary death. Another option, however, is that, in keeping with the ideals of Graeco-Roman sophists in Asia, the author, or more specifically the “gospel” (Mart. Pol. 4, above), repudiates unmanliness.74 In this case, τοὺς προδιδόντας ἑαυτούς may be understood literally as men demonstrating the objectionable, feminine (and slave-like) qualities of physical, psychological, and intellectual surrender.75 If earlier scholarship rightly intuited that the passage is directed against Montanists, it would not be because Montanists were suicidal, but because they were feminine, perhaps even female.

74 Michael Holmes views martyrdom “according to the gospel” as comprising the following three elements: endurance, concern for others, and divine calling (“Martyrdom of Polycarp and the Passion,” 118–21. Middleton sees only two options (i. e., he excludes cowardice): “… it is not clear whether it is giving himself up or denying for which Quintus is really criticized” (“Early Christian Voluntary Martyrdom,” 569). 75 Stephanie Cobb emphasizes the model described in Mart. Pol.: “handing oneself over” (Quintus; Mart. Pol. 4:1) versus “waiting to be handed over” (Polycarp; Mart. Pol. 1:2): “Quintus is a narrative foil for Polycarp, and his story illustrates a martyrdom that is not according to the Gospel. In this episode, Quintus is chastised for volunteering for martyrdom: “because of this, brothers, we do not commend those who give themselves over [προδιδόντας], since this is not the teaching of the gospel” (4.1). Returning to the author’s statement of purpose in chapter 1, we notice that it is “waiting to be handed over” (περιέμενεν … ἵνα παραδοθῇ) – as Jesus did – that is according to the Gospel. Polycarp imitated Jesus precisely by waiting to be handed over – παραδοθῇ – while Quintus did the opposite when he handed himself over – προδιδόντας. The parallel is difficult to miss: the author uses different forms of the verb δίδωμι to describe the “handing over” of Polycarp and Quintus, one passive and the other active. In addition, the author’s use of the prefix “προ-” in reference to Quintus’s handing himself over – προδιδόντας – may suggest that Quintus volunteered ahead of time or prematurely, rather than in accordance with the divine sign. The author of the letter, therefore, chastises Quintus for handing himself over, because that act usurps God’s power” (“Polycarp’s Cup,” 236). Among the Apostolic Fathers, Barn. 20 introduces the idea of a path belonging to the “Black one,” a character with nefarious plans. Such a characterization may also reflect slave stereotypes; see Harrill, Slaves in the New Testament, 46.

Chapter Twelve

Travelers and Christ-Mongers in Didache 12:1–5* A. Introduction During the second century, Roman society had become prosperous and stable enough to permit travel for business, health, and pleasure. While civilians flocked to the seaside to spend sestertii in local wine bars, restaurants, circuses, and brothels, towns extended hospitality to magistrates traveling on government business.1 Since Roman law required that towns offer such hospitality gratis, this practice was inevitably exposed to corruption. Government freeloaders extended their visits, running towns and small cities into bankruptcy.2 For the most part, Christian communities thrived in these circumstances, although they too were exposed to exploitative visitors. Compelled by their own code of ethics to demonstrate generosity to strangers,3 some measure of protection was in order. Didache 12 exemplifies such protection by placing strict limits on at least one Christian community’s treatment of visitors. The integrity of this section has, however, long been in question. The present essay explores the history of interpretation of this section, focusing on the two neologisms, παρόδιος and χριστέμπορος in chapter 12. Ultimately, it proposes that a new translation of παρόδιος, in keeping with the literary context, dissolves questions concerning the section’s integrity and sheds important new light on the hospitality of early Christians.

B. History of Scholarship Didache 11–13 comprises a series of three similar sets of mandates on hosting itinerants: rules concerning itinerant teachers, rules concerning itinerant apostles, and rules concerning itinerant prophets. Most commentators question the integrity of these chapters. Some propose elaborate redactional histories of both * I wish to express special thanks to Clayton Jefford for salient advice on a prior version of this essay. 1 Lionel Casson, Travel in the Ancient World (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994), esp. 129–218. Cf. Knopf, Die Lehre der zwölf Apostel, die zwei Clemensbriefe (Tübingen: Mohr, 1920), 33. 2 Casson, Travel in the Ancient World, 130. 3 Lucian, Peregr. 13.

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the work and this short section.4 Focusing on treatments of this brief section alone, Jean-Paul Audet argues that 13:3, 5–7 is a later gloss.5 Schille offers a redactional history of this section based on different types of legal material.6 The various arguments can be distilled into three basic objections. First and most generally, Did. 12:2–5 (concerning travelers) is viewed as an interruption in the discussion of prophets of chapters 11 and 13.7 As an explanation of the ostensible interruption, Robert Kraft proposes that chapter 12 provides a transition to the discussion of traveling prophets (13) via a generic discussion of traveling Christians (12).8 Kraft presumes an interruption and attempts to explain it; he does not defend unity. Kurt Niederwimmer addresses a second ostensible tension in the section: namely, that in 11:5, 6, and 9, any prophet who asks for bread or money in the spirit is declared to be a false prophet (11:9, 12), whereas in 13:3, 6, and 7, prophets are permitted to receive wine, meat, clothing, and even money. Like Kraft, Niederwimmer does not argue for the integrity of the text. Rather he accounts for the perceived aporiai with an explanation. In this case, Niederwimmer argues that the Didachist incorporated an earlier set of rules concerning prophets and apostles (11:4–12), adapting them for his community, and that this author is responsible for editorial emendations at 11:1–3; 12:1–5; 13:1–3, 5–7, intended to smooth over the interpolation. Question, however, remains as to the cogency of Niederwimmer’s objection. The prohibitions against asking for food or money in 11:9 and 12 limit the actions of a visiting prophet when speaking ἐν πνεύματι (“in the spirit”). The intention of this rule is to protect the community against exploitation. Did. 13:1–7 advises how to adequately support prophets who have proven true. The ostensibly contradictory passages address two different groups of prophets and may thus be seen as compatible. The presumed interruption of 11 and 13 by chapter 12 is a premise in need of a proof. 4 Nancy Pardee, The Genre and Development of the Didache: A Text-Linguistic Analysis (WUNT 2.339; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), esp. 189–90 (summary). 5  La Didaché: Instructions des apôtres (EtB; Paris: Gabalda, 1958), 105–8, 467–58. 6 “Das Recht der Propheten und Apostel. Gemeinderechtliche Beobachtungen zu Didache Kapitel 11–13,” in Theologische Versuche (ed. G. Schille and P. Watzel; Berlin: Töpelmann, 1966), 84–103. 7 So also Knopf (Die Lehre der zwölf Apostel, 33): “Das Kap. [12] ist eine Einlage, es würde vielleicht besser hinter Kap. 13 stehen, das wieder vom Propheten und Lehrer spricht”; and Robert A. Kraft, Barnabas and the Didache (The Apostolic Fathers: A Translation and Commentary 3; ed. Robert M. Grant; New York: Thomas Nelson & Sons, 1965), 171–72. 8  E. g., Kraft, Barnabas and the Didache, 171–72 (cf. 64): “This section on traveling Christians interrupts the treatment of prophets (see § 8.4–5) and especially resembles 11.4–6. The community is obligated to show hospitality to the visitor who claims to be a Christian (12.1, 4) until they have been able to evaluate his claim – presumably by observing his conduct and perhaps by other means. If he passes the test, they should aid him as best they can for as many as three days (12.2). Thereafter he should either leave or settle down to work (12.2–3) – Christians are not to be idle, not to live off other men’s labors, for in that case they are ‘Christ-peddlers,’ or perhaps better, ‘Christ-parasites’ (cf. 2 Thess. 3.10).”

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Clayton N. Jefford and Stephen J. Patterson assert that Niederwimmer’s proposal solves some of the contradictions in these three chapters,9 but leaves the alternation of offices unsolved.10 On their reading, Chapter 11 discusses teachers, apostles, and prophets, whereas chapter 13 discusses only teachers and prophets, and chapter 12 interposes a brief discussion of Christians holding no office.11 Rejecting the hypothesis of F. Stanley Jones and Paul A. Mirecki that the Coptic manuscript, P. Lond. Or. 9271, reflects an excerpt (12:2b–13:7 accommodates later circumstances),12 Jefford and Patterson hypothesize that P. Lond. Or. 9271 is based on an early Greek version that ended at 12:2a.13 They find support for this hypothesis in the variant reading of Did. 10:3b in P. Lond. Or. 9271: ⲛϣⲏⲣⲓ ⲛⲛⲣⲱⲙⲓ (“sons of men”) for ἄνθρωποι (“human kind”).14 They argue that this Coptic variant suggests a distinction between two types of members of the Christian congregation: (1) “sons of men” or outsiders to the congregation who receive only material food and drink and (2) “us,” insiders, who receive spiritual food and drink.15 Since various gnostic groups divided humanity on similar grounds,16 Jefford and Patterson argue that P. Lond. Or. 9271 translated a version of the Didache ending in 12:2a that knew or incorporated this bipartite division. On their argument, subsequent Greek texts added 12:2b–13:7 to soften or eliminate the bipartite anthropogony. Like Kraft and Niederwimmer, Jefford and Patterson’s innovative solution presumes textual fissures compromising the integrity of chapters 11–13 – their presumption resting in part on the interpretation that 13:2 addresses teachers together with prophets. It is, however, possible that the sentence, ὡσαύτως διδάσκαλος ἀληθινός ἐστιν ἄξιος καὶ αὐτὸς ὥσπερ ὁ ἐργάτης τῆς τροφῆς αὐτοῦ (13:2), briefly compares prophets to teachers as mutual subsets of the broader category, “tradespeople.” In this case, this sentence does not in 9 Summarized by C. N. Jefford and S. J. Patterson, “A Note on Didache 12.2a (Coptic),” SecCen 7 (1989–90): 65–75, here: 69, including repetitions, discrepancies, and aporia. 10 Jefford and Patterson, “Note on Didache 12.2a (Coptic),” 70. 11 Jefford and Patterson, “Note on Didache 12.2a (Coptic),” 69. 12  “Considerations on the Coptic Papyrus of the Didache: British Library Oriental Manuscript 9271,” in The Didache in Context: Essays on Its Text, History, and Transmission (ed. Clayton N. Jefford; NovTSup 77; Leiden: Brill, 1995), 47–87. 13 A Coptic papyrus containing Did. 10:3b–12:2a, dated to the end of the fourth or beginning of the fifth century, bought in 1923 for the then British Museum and catalogued as British Library Oriental Manuscript 9271. F. Stanley Jones and Paul A. Mirecki offer a photographic reproduction along with an excellent transcription, translation, and commentary on this document. They conclude that “this sheet was originally cut from a roll of papyrus in order to serve as a double-leaf in a codex,” but instead it was used “as a space for scribal exercises” (“Considerations on the Coptic Papyrus of the Didache,” 87). It was a casual copy of an excerpt. Jefford and Patterson view it as the end of an earlier edition of the Didache (see above). Jefford and Patterson, “Note on Didache 12.2a (Coptic),” 69, 71. 14 Contra Kurt Niederwimmer, The Didache (Hermeneia; trans. Linda M. Maloney; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 183. 15 Jefford and Patterson, “Note on Didache 12.2a (Coptic),” 72–73. 16 Jefford and Patterson, “Note on Didache 12.2a (Coptic),” 73.

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terrupt the discussion of prophets; it simply offers a brief comparison of the two sub-groups.17 The Coptic variant in Did. 10:3b to which Jefford and Patterson draw attention may, however, be relevant. It will be addressed again below. In sum, Kraft addresses the most robust of the objections that a discussion of traveling Christians seems interpolated into the section on prophets. Of course, if it were possible to show that chapter 12 does not interrupt the section on prophets, then even his explanation would be unnecessary. The essay now examines this possibility.

C. Structural Analysis of Didache 11–13 Since a clear understanding of context is crucial to an accurate translation, Table 1 offers a brief structural overview of the entire text. For ease of identification, the section on travelers is denoted with bold italics. Table 1: Structure of the Didache Teachings I. Morality Did. 1–4: Way of Life (Prescriptions) Did. 5: Way of Death (Descriptions + 1 Prescription) Did. 6: Two Ways Summation II. Sacraments Did. 7–8: Baptism (Stipulation: Fasting) Did. 9–10: Eucharist (Stipulation: Baptism) III. Hospitality Did. 11–12:   1. Teachers (Did. 11:1–2)   2. Apostles (Did. 11:3–6)   3. Prophets (Did. 11:7–12; 13:1–7)  4. Travelers (Did. 12:1–5) IV. Weekly Worship Did. 14 (Eucharist)

17 Jones and Mirecki argue against the Jefford-Patterson view: “The assumption that the scribe’s copy of the Didache actually ended with Did 12.2a, though such cannot be absolutely dismissed, is thus an unnecessary and excessive extrapolation. The following two points speak against this assumption: (1) There are no decorations which mark the end of the text; (2) the proposed elimination of all of the material after Did 12.2a is a rather radical solution to the open question of the disposition of the Didache. It does not really remove many ‘difficulties’ in the logical flow of the text, and it hardly leaves an adequate ending for the writing” (“Considerations on the Coptic Papyrus of the Didache,” 82–83).

C. Structural Analysis of Didache 11–13

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V. Leadership Did. 15:1–2 (Elect resident prophets and teachers) VI. Punishment Did. 15:3–16:8

Narrowing the focus to chapters 11–13, the topic shifts to hospitality. The first mandate is to welcome visiting teachers whose instruction is compatible with the Didachist’s: “And so, welcome anyone who comes and teaches you everything mentioned above” (ὃς ἂν οὖν ἐλθὼν διδάξῃ ὑμᾶς ταῦτα πάντα τὰ προειρημένα, δέξασθε αὐτόν, 11:1).18 V. 2 outlines a procedure for the hypothetical condition in which the visiting teacher’s instruction is irreconcilable with the Didachist’s. If the message is incompatible, the teacher should be shunned.19 Subsequent sections proceed similarly for the offices of apostle and prophet. The form is: mandate(s) (i. e., positive appeal, such as δεχθήτω) followed by one or more conditions often functioning as a test protecting the community from exploitation (i. e., if message is incompatible, ignore or shun).20 The arrangement resembles casuistic or case law familiar from the Jewish scriptures (e. g., Deuteronomic Code, Priestly Code) and elsewhere. Following the advice pertaining to peripatetic teachers, the text addresses apostles. Apostles are delegates passing through cities sharing the good news. Trustworthy apostles evidently know that expectations for hospitality are a maximum two-day layover in any city. They are also expected to adhere to the limitations set forth in Matt 10:9–10 and Luke 10:4–12 concerning personal property while traveling. If an apostle asks for money, his vocational call should be rejected (11:6). Prophets speak ἐν πνεύματι. The liminal, insubstantial nature of such work disposes it well to fraud. Compounding the difficulty of guarding against dishonest prophets is the Didachist’s rule that questioning a prophet when s/he is speaking in the spirit is an unforgiveable error. One would not want to inadvertently make this mistake: καὶ πάντα προφήτην λαλοῦντα ἐν πνεύματι οὐ πειράσετε οὐδὲ διακρινεῖτε· πᾶσα γὰρ ἁμαρτία ἀφεθήσεται, αὕτη δὲ ἡ ἁμαρτία οὐκ ἀφεθήσεται (11:7). Guidelines concerning prophets, thus, aim at limiting the extent to which a community can be victimized by fabricated spiritual ecstasy without committing an unforgiveable mistake. As with the decree concerning apostles, Did. 11:12 advises the community to ignore prophets who ask ἐν πνεύματι for money or 18  Ἔρχομαι

in chapters 11–13 refers to guests (i. e., those “coming”). if the teacher should himself turn away and teach something different, undermining these things, do not listen to him” (ἐὰν δὲ αὐτὸς ὁ διδάσκων στραφεὶς διδάσκῃ ἄλλην διδαχὴν εἰς τὸ καταλῦσαι, μὴ αὐτοῦ ἀκούσητε). μὴ αὐτοῦ ἀκούσητε should be understood as “Do not listen to him” in the sense of “obeying” him or his teachings (cf. Smyth §§ 1361–66). 20 So also: Cf. Knopf (Die Lehre der zwölf Apostel, 33): “Erst nach der Aufnahme erfolgt die Prüfung; wie, wird nicht gesagt, dem Verstand der Gemeinde wird getraut.” Fraud tests are always based on the practitioner’s primary vocational task. They seem to have the multiplication of false prophets at the end time in view (Did. 16:5). 19 “But

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anything else. If, however, a prophet in an ecstatic state directs the community to give money (or anything else) “to the needy” (περὶ ἄλλων ὑστερούντων),21 he should not be accused (κρινεῖν).22 Since this teaching has more than one echo in Did. 1–6, it is clearly to be heeded: Did. 1:5, “Give to everyone who asks … if anyone receives because he is in need, he is without fault”; Did. 4:8, “Do not shun a person in need.” How the community is to follow this advice is, however, not obvious. The famous saying about allowing charity to sweat in one’s hand in 1:6 offers a case in point. The logical question unaddressed by the mandate involves identifying the needy and the extent of their need. Does the Didache back every visiting prophet’s mandate to help the poor23 without offering any instruction on how to do so? Since the community shares all things in common (e. g., 4:7–8), the needy must be non-members.24 Did. 12:1 states that all who come should be welcomed. Although translations often interpret ἐν ὀνόματι κυρίου with ὁ ἐρχόμενος, since no hyperbaton encloses the prepositional phrase, it just as likely refers to δεχθήτω. Support for this reading comes from the Didachist’s description of community leaders (4:1), visiting leaders (11:1, 3–4), and the baptized as acting “as” or ἐν ὀνόματι κυρίου. Further support comes from 12:2, in which ὁ ἐρχόμενος stands alone, that is, without ἐν ὀνόματι κυρίου, suggesting the phrase did not belong with this subject in the first place. Since the identity of those in 12:1 is unspecified and since, according to 12:2, these individuals will be exposed to scrutiny, it is more likely that the community should “welcome” than that someone “arrives” εἰς ὄνομα κυρίου. Psalm 118:26 may account for the mislaid emphasis (i. e., “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord”; cf. Matt 23:39).25 On a different but related topic, Did. 9:5 prohibits anyone not baptized εἰς ὄνομα κυρίου from eating or drinking in the thanksgiving meal (μηδεὶς δὲ φαγέτω μηδὲ πιέτω ἀπὸ τῆς εὐχαριστίας ὑμῶν, ἀλλ᾿ οἱ βαπτισθέντες εἰς ὄνομα κυρίου). How and when such unbaptized participants came to take part in the community is an open question. While it would be rash, at this point, to assume that the visitors of Did. 12:1 constitute unbelievers at a thanksgiving meal, further exploration will commend this interpretation.

21 Cf.

1 Cor 8:8; Luke 15:14. 12:2 (my translation), “If a prophet in the spirit says, ‘Give me money or something else,’ do not listen to him. But if he says to give to needy others, let no one accuse him.” 23 Did. 2:5–6 and 4:8 offer similar teachings about giving to the needy. The contrasting behavior is described as characteristic of the path of death in 5:2; cf. 4:5. 24 While true for the community that the Didachist exhorts, compare Paul’s references to the needy in 1 Corinthians 11. Communal sharing looks more like a trope than a historical fact. 25 Contra Niederwimmer’s somewhat audacious assertion (Didache, 183–84): “One can scarcely split hairs over the fact that it no longer explicitly says ‘receive him or her as the Lord’ (11.2; cf. 11.4).” His position is self-contradictory: an individual is welcomed as a Christian (and given food and shelter as a result) after which, s/he undergoes scrutiny as an imposter (183–84). 22 Did.

C. Structural Analysis of Didache 11–13

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Returning to Did. 11:12 concerning the needy, Jefford and Patterson point out that the Stichwörter, θέλων καθῆσθαι πρὸς ὑμᾶς, in 13:1 connect chapter 13 back to chapter 12 (i. e., 12:3, εἰ δὲ θέλει πρὸς ὑμᾶς καθῆσθαι).26 It is, therefore, logical to consider whether 12:1 picks up on questions left hanging in that verse. Following their Christian welcome by the leaders of the community, the guests must be questioned.27 Why? What about these guests is exposed to scrutiny? The answers to these questions are located in v. 1b – a line posing more than one obstacle to translation. V. 1b states that, by discernment, the community will “know αὐτόν,” since they have a critical awareness of “right” (δεξιά) and “left” (ἀριστερά): ἔπειτα δὲ δοκιμάσαντες αὐτὸν γνώσεσθε, σύνεσιν γὰρ ἔχετε δεξιὰν καὶ ἀριστεράν. It is unclear to what these directional designations refer.28 Although the commentaries do not broach this possibility, such references comport well with the two-ways approach of Didache 1–6 (i. e., αἱ ὁδοί). The implied noun with δεξιάν and ἀριστεράν would then be ὁδόν (i. e., “right/correct path” and “left/wrong path”): “By testing/examining him, you – since you will have perception/insight – will know/discern the right [path] and the wrong [path].”29 It is possible, given that the Didachist reflects knowledge of the Gospel of Matthew, that a dualistic context of eschatological judgment is in view: right, eternal life, and left, eternal punishment (cf. e. g., Matt 25:31–46).30 In other words, the soteriological identity of the visitors is in question. However, Did. 11:8 makes conduct (i. e., “like the Lord,” no less)31 the test of the true prophet. If we assume that conduct establishes the legitimacy of non-prophets as well, then 12:1 may develop 11:12, assessing the needs rather than the faith commitment of these visitors.32 The transitions across chapters, between the end of chapter seven (7:4) 26 Jefford

and Patterson, “Note on Didache 12.2a (Coptic),” 69. Die Lehre der zwölf Apostel, 33; Kraft, Barnabas and the Didache, 171–72; Niederwimmer, Didache, 183–84. 28 Kraft, Barnabas and the Didache, 171–72. Niederwimmer refers to “judging left and right” as a biblicism (citing Jonah 4:11) for discerning Christians from imposters (Didache, 183–84). 29 Alternatively, the implied noun might be διδαχήν (i. e., “right teaching” and “wrong teaching”)” “By testing/examining him, you – since you will have perception/insight – will know/ discern the right [teaching] and the wrong [teaching].” In the Didache, ὁδός always refers to a course of action. 30 Niederwimmer, Didache, 183–84. A very substantial bibliography addresses the relationship of the Gospel of Matthew, the canonical gospels, and Paul’s letters with the Didache and the Apostolic Fathers. To name only one important such study: Clayton Jefford, The Sayings of Jesus in the Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (Leiden: Brill, 1989). Cf. Christopher Tuckett, “Synoptic Tradition in the Didache,” in The New Testament in Early Christianity: La réception des écrits néotestamentaires dans le christianisme primitif (ed. J.-M. Sevrin; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1989); repr. in The Didache in Modern Research (ed. Jonathan A. Draper; Leiden: Brill, 1996), 95–104, 108–10. 31 Did. 11:8b, ἀλλ᾿ ἐὰν ἔχῃ τοὺς τρόπους κυρίου. 32 Cf. Kraft, Barnabas and the Didache, 171–72, who, despite their scrutiny, thinks they are Christian visitors: “The community is obligated to show hospitality to the visitor who claims to be a Christian (12:1, 4) until they have been able to evaluate his claim – presumably by observing his conduct and perhaps by other means. If he passes the test, they should aid him as best they 27 Knopf,

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and the beginning of chapter 8 (8:1), and between the end of chapter nine (9:5) and the beginning of chapter ten (10:1), are analogous. In this case, “those with needs” would be elided in Did. 12:1: [Περὶ ἄλλων ὑστερούντων] πᾶς δὲ ὁ ἐρχόμενος ἐν ὀνόματι κυρίου δεχθήτω.33 Did. 12:1 would then answer how the rule, delivered by the ecstatic prophet to provide for those in need, can be carried out (even if “knowing” by one’s “conscience” strikes us as vague). The soteriological and need status may also be interrelated and evaluated together. Did. 1:5–6 suggests this reading: Give to everyone who asks, and do not ask for anything back. For the Father wants everyone to be given something from the gracious gifts he himself provides. How fortunate is the one who gives according to the commandment,34 for he is without fault. Woe to the one who receives. For if anyone receives because he is in need, he is without fault. But the one who receives without a need will have to testify why he received what he did, and for what purpose. And he will be thrown in prison and interrogated about what he did; and he will not get out until he pays back every last cent. For it has also been said concerning this: “Let your gift to charity sweat in your hands until you know to whom to give it.”35

In either case, it is safe to assume that the δεξιά – whether the individuals, their needs, or both – are approved. The remaining question is how to treat the ἀριστερά. What can be known about this group from their description thus far? First, this group needs “help,” since that is what v. 2 instructs the community to do for them. Second, they are not to remain with the community for an extended period. The case is different from that of apostles because an apostle’s vocation requires travel. Rather, these individuals seem, at least sometimes, to be in search of a place to stay. The mandate concerning these visitors is that, if they desire to remain with the community, they must ply their trade. If they have no trade, they must be taught one. If they refuse to be taught a trade they are exposed as fraudulent  – the author refers to them as χριστέμποροι, “Christ-” “mongers,” “traders,” or “traffickers,” and the community should direct attention away from them. The παρόδιοι are a clear subset of the ἀριστερά. Niederwimmer refers to them as a new type of wanderer – travelers without any particular charismatic

can for as many as three days (12:2). Thereafter he should either leave or settle down to work (12:2–3) – Christians are not to be idle, not to live off other men’s labors, for in that case they are “Christ-peddlers,” or perhaps better, “Christ-parasites” (cf. 2 Thess. 3:10).” So also Niederwimmer: “Here, as the larger context shows … πᾶς δὲ ὁ ἐρχόμενος can only refer to noncharismatic Chistians” (Didache, 183–84; emphasis added). 33 Cf. possible similar elision of “for the needy” in 11:9 (noted by Ehrman in Apostolic Fathers [LCL], 435 n. 25). 34 “It probably refers to a command of the Lord but it is not clear which concrete commandment the Didachist has in mind. Is there a reference here to the word of the Lord quoted just before (in v. 5a)? Or does it simply mean ‘in the right way, as the Lord has commanded us,’ without any thought of a specific saying?” (Niederwimmer, Didache, 82–83). 35 ET: Ehrman.

C. Structural Analysis of Didache 11–13

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claim.36 Jefford and Patterson call them “refugees.”37 Before examining why the ἀριστερά should be referred to as παρόδιοι, Table 2 charts the understanding of chapters 11–13 presented thus far. For ease of reference, 12:1–5 is highlighted in bold italics. Table 2: Chapters 11–13 Hospitality I. Teachers (Vocation: teaching) Mandate: Welcome (11:1) Condition: “But if the teacher should himself turn away and teach something different, undermining these things, do not listen to him. But if his teaching brings righteousness and the knowledge of the Lord, then welcome him as the Lord (11:2). II. Apostles (Vocation: traveling) Mandate: Welcome (11:3) Condition #1: But he should not remain more than a day. If he must, he may stay one more. But if he stays three days, he is a false prophet. (11:3–5) Condition #2: Prophets must travel with bread only. If he asks for money, he is a false prophet. (11:6)38 III. Prophets (Vocation: Spirit-speaking) Mandate #1: Do not test or condemn a prophet while he is speaking in the Spirit. For every sin will be forgiven, but not this sin. Not everyone who speaks in the Spirit is a prophet, but only one who conducts himself like the Lord. Thus the false prophet and the prophet will both be known by their conduct. (11:7–8) Condition #1: No prophet who orders a meal in the Spirit eats of it; if he does, he is a false prophet. (11:9) Condition #2: Every prophet who teaches the truth but does not do what he himself teaches is a false prophet. (11:10) Sub-condition: Even if he does not teach others to do what he himself does, you are not to condemn any prophet who has been approved and is true and acts on behalf of the earthly mystery of the church, since he has his judgment with God. For even the ancient prophets behaved in this way. (11:11) Condition #3: Do not listen to any [prophet] who says in the Spirit, “Give me money” (or something else). (11:12)39 Sub-condition: But if he tells you to give to needy others, let no one accuse him. (11:12) Mandate: Welcome in the name of the Lord all those who come [with needs]. Test to see whether they [individual, needs, or both] are right or left. (12:1) Condition: If the one who comes is a traveler, help him as much as you can. He should not stay with you more than two or three days, if need be. (12:2) 36 Didache,

183. and Patterson, “Note on Didache 12.2a (Coptic),” 71. 38 Implies that people impersonated apostles; cf. 2 Cor 11. 39 One wonders whether this was Paul’s problem in Corinth (1 Cor 16:2). 37 Jefford

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Sub-condition #1: If he wants to remain with you, and is a tradesman, let him work and eat. (12:3) Sub-condition #2: If he does not have a trade, use your foresight to determine how he, as [if] a Christian, may live among you without being idle. (12:4) Sub-condition #3: If he does not want to behave like this, he is a Christ-monger. Avoid such people. (12:5) Mandate #2: Provide Meals for Prophets Every true prophet40 who wants to settle down with you deserves his food. So too a true teacher, like the worker,41 deserves his food.42 Therefore you shall take every first portion of the produce from the wine vat and the threshing floor, and the first portion of both cattle and sheep, and give it to the prophets, for they are your high priests. (13:1–3) Portion Exception: If you do not have a prophet, then give it to the poor. (13:4) First Portion Examples: 1. If you make bread, take the first portion and give it according to the commandment. (13:5) 2. So too if you open a jar of wine or oil, take the first portion of it and give it to the prophets. (13:6) 3. And take the first portion of your money, clothing, and everything you own, as it seems good to you, and give it according to the commandment. (13:7)

D. Παρόδιος As Clayton Jefford points out, παροδίτης was the most common Greek classical expression for traveler.43 The etymological derivation of the word is self-evident: the (prepositional) prefix παρα‑ is attached to the adjective ὅδιος (“belonging to a way or journey”),44 with the suffix ‑της forming a substantive and denoting the agent.45 The word, παρόδιος means “by” or “on a roadway,” referring, for example, to house walls, doors, or windows abutting a road.46 Apart from this meaning, the word occurs once in classical literature denoting a “frontage road.”47 In the fourth century BCE, the Attic orator Hyperides used παρόδιος to mean “on the street,” denoting something “common” or “typical.”

40 I.e.,

41 The

those prophets passing the fraud detection tests. worker is the non-Christian exercising her/his skill on behalf of the community (see

12:3). 42 Apostles not included here, since they never stay long enough to require meals. 43 Clayton N. Jefford, Didache: The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (Early Christian Apocrypha; Salem, OR: Polebridge, 2013), 42. 44 LSJ s. v. ὅδιος, referring, e. g., to “birds of omen for the journey” or statues of Hermes ( Ἑρμῆς ὅδιος) along a roadside. 45 Smyth § 843 a.2. 46 LSJ s. v. παρόδιος. 47 LSJ s. v. παρόδιος.

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That said, different from παροδίτης, in all of classical literature, παρόδιος never refers to a person, only to a passage or thoroughfare. The LXX uses the slightly different noun, πάροδος, to designate a “trajectory” (Gen 38:14; 2 Kings 25:24; Wis 2:5; 17:9) or “way” or “narrow road” (Gen 38:14), and this noun means “passerby” or “traveler” in 2 Sam 12:4 and Ezra 16:15–25.48 Paul too uses πάροδος with the preposition ἐν (i. e., ἐν παρόδῳ) in 1 Cor 16:7 to mean “in passing,” denoting a place he would not be able to stay: οὐ θέλω γὰρ ὑμᾶς ἄρτι ἐν παρόδῳ ἰδεῖν, ἐλπίζω γὰρ χρόνον τινὰ ἐπιμεῖναι πρὸς ὑμᾶς, ἐὰν ὁ κύριος ἐπιτρέψῃ.49 But, no ancient classical text apart from the Didache uses παρόδιος to denote a human being. Strictly speaking, the word is not a neologism; rather, its usage is neologistic – a broadening of the term’s semantic range through a new application. Niederwimmer comments, “In this passage the word is used as a substantive and has the unique meaning ‘the one traveling through.’”50 Granted, the two words πάροδος and παρόδιος are very similar, but the (albeit limited) manuscript evidence here is undisputed, and the Didachist does not make other errors of this type. Since the word χριστέμπορος appearing a few verses later (12:5) is also neologistic, the question is why the Didachist employs two highly atypical expressions to describe the phenomenon of potentially exploitative Christian visitors. A catalogue of word occurrences in the Didache places this question in context: The Didache contains 2190 words. Its vocabulary comprises 552 words . . . 504 are New Testament words, 497 are classical, and 479 occur in the Septuagint. 15 [words] occur for the first time in the Didache, but are found in later writers. 1 [word, prosezomologein, found in 14:1] occurs only in the Didache [but its meaning can be easily surmised by combining known words].51

Even though word formations make their meanings plain, that the Didachist introduces two of fifteen neologisms to describe one narrow and exceptional phenomenon complicates the translation of the section. Since the community is required to assess some aspect of these individuals’ character or requests, and since the guests “on the right” presumably received all the rights and privileges of Christians in good standing (cf. Did. 4:8, “share all things with your brother”), these neologisms must refer to the guests on the left. They are needy candidates and potential traffickers on account of their need. If these visitors wish to remain in the community, those possessing a skill or trade can be permitted, perhaps 48 N.b.

παροδεύω means “to pass by” in Ezra 36:34; Wis 1:8; 2:7; 5:14; 6:22.

49 Cf. Matt 13:4 (|| Mark 4:4; Luke 8:5), καὶ ἐν τῷ σπείρειν αὐτὸν ἃ μὲν ἔπεσεν παρὰ τὴν ὁδόν,

καὶ ἐλθόντα τὰ πετεινὰ κατέφαγεν αὐτά, and 13:19, παντὸς ἀκούοντος τὸν λόγον τῆς βασιλείας καὶ μὴ συνιέντος ἔρχεται ὁ πονηρὸς καὶ ἁρπάζει τὸ ἐσπαρμένον ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτοῦ, οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ παρὰ τὴν ὁδὸν σπαρείς. 50 Niederwimmer, Didache, 185, emphasis added. 51 Schaff (1886), 97 as cited by Aaron Milavec, Faith, Hope, & Life of the Earliest Christian Communities 50–70 C. E. (New York: Newman, 2003), 5.

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as slaves or common laborers. Concerning those lacking a skill, however, Did. 12:4 specifies that the congregation must use its σύνεσις (“wit,” “conscience,” “intelligence”)52 to “plan” how such a person might live in the community. V. 5 states: εἰ δὲ οὐκ ἔχει τέχνην, κατὰ τὴν σύνεσιν ὑμῶν προνοήσατε, πῶς μὴ ἀργὸς μεθ᾿ ὑμῶν ζήσεται Χριστιανός. The reference to τὴν σύνεσιν certainly implies a procedure like the one denoted in v. 1: ἔπειτα δὲ δοκιμάσαντες αὐτὸν γνώσεσθε, σύνεσιν γὰρ ἔχετε δεξιὰν καὶ ἀριστεράν. However, in both cases the mechanism lacks transparency. Niederwimmer is probably correct when he writes, “Concretely this would mean that the community shall see to it that the new arrival will find work. The community, however, must take care in all cases to prevent any Christian among them from living in idleness.”53 The syntax of v. 4 affords at least two different interpretations. Ehrman offers these options: (1) “If he does not have a trade, use your foresight to determine how he as a Christian may live among you without being idle”; and (2) “through your understanding you should know in advance that no idle Christian is to live among you.” The question is one of emphasis: what is to be done about inactive residents? According to the Didachist, employment or at least industry is a fundamental criterion of community membership. The unemployed who are unwilling to work threaten to tarnish the community’s good name, Χριστιανός – the outsiders’ label for community members, baptized or not (an outsider would scarcely be able to tell the difference).54 The insiders’ label is, of course, “the Way,” carrying the idea that the baptized within the community are on “the way,” on “the right way,” and on the “way of life.” Since some of the visitors in 12:1 must be taught the Χριστιανός life (12:4), and since some portion will be exposed as “Christ-mongers,” they are only Χριστιανός by their participation in the Χριστcommunity.55 Those visitors permitted to dwell in the community inherit the name Christian, irrespective of their faith commitment, by virtue of community 52 I wish to thank Robert Matthew Calhoun for the translation “wit.” It combines aspects of practical and abstract thinking, hence, “wisdom.” “Conscience” is harder to sustain, as today it is burdened with contemporary ideas about sin and guilt. 53 Didache, 186. A few grammatical observations are in order. (1) Πῶς is most likely an indefinite relative adverb, rather than a conjunction indicating purpose (“that”), although the distinction is not strict. Πῶς denotes manner with respect to the verb of perception, προνοέω (so: “plan how”). Grammatically speaking, the indefinite relative form (ὅπως) is expected. (2) Both ἀργός and Χριστιανός are adjectives referring to the subject of the verb (i. e., third sg.), yet either might also be construed as the subject of the sentence. (3) ζήσεται is third singular aorist subjunctive middle or third singular future indicative middle. Most interpreters infer the aorist subjunctive. The future tense emphasizes permanently rather than hypothetically retaining all visitors except in extreme cases. (4) μή usually negates the verb, but in this case, it may also be taken with the adjective (i. e. μὴ ἀργός). In this case, since ἀργός derives from ἀ-εργός (denoting either inactivity or joblessness), a double negative formulation results: “not not-active,” “not not-employed.” 54 On Χριστιανός as a label given to believers by outsiders, cf. Acts 11:26; 26:28; 1 Pet 4:16; Mart. Pol. 10:1; 12:1; Ignatius, Trall. 6:1; Magn. 10:1, 3; Rom. 3:3; Phld. 6:1. See Niederwimmer, Didache, 186 n. 9. 55 Contra Kraft, Barnabas and the Didache, 171–72, who assumes the travelers are Christians.

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residence. If they are inactive, however, the community obtains the unsustainable reputation of hosting freeloaders. As Niederwimmer points out, Χριστιανός and Χριστέμπορος constitute a play-on-words.56 Χριστέμπορος like Χριστιανός is, thus, a neologism if not also traceable to outsiders, at least partially (i. e., Χριστ‑) derived from their expression. The outsiders’ expression, Χριστιανός, denotes that only those who do not know better categorize the whole community together as among the baptized. The community’s counterpart term (e. g., the insiders’ expression) for visiting non-members is παρόδιοι, “travelers.” Caution is in order here since Greek, like German, has an infinite ability for neologisms through compound formation. Both languages are profoundly versatile in this respect. Nevertheless, I would like to propose that this unique insiders’ expression, παρόδιοι, suits such visitors perfectly because, according to the Didachist, they are not “on the way,” but literally alongside it; and not “alongside the way,” but “alongside” “belonging to the way” παρα‑ + ὅδιος.57 That is, they are non-Christians, non-baptizands, or non-community members and, as such, potential converts, but also potential parasites. This group of non‑ or perhaps better “para-Christians” should be helped to every extent possible, but should not reside permanently with the community unless they are willing to exercise a skill on the community’s behalf. The community must not unrestrictedly “help” individual non-Christians who demonstrate unwillingness to work. Παρα‑ slightly changes its force as a prefix in the new expression. Whereas in παροδίτης and πάροδος it means “alongside,” in παρόδιος it possesses a negating connotation, as in παράνομος (“unlawful”).58 The παρόδιοι are on the left side of “the Way.” This use of παρα‑ in a rare compound formulation resembles another verse pertaining to the two ways:59 “Take care that no one lead you astray from the path of this teaching, since that one teaches you apart from God (ἐπεὶ παρεκτὸς θεοῦ σε διδάσκει) (Did. 6:1).” The word παρόδιος contains the only occurrence of ὁδός/ὅδιος in the text, apart from explicit references to “the way” in 1:1, 2; 4:20; 5:1; and 6:1. Compelling similarities may be drawn between Didache 12 and Peregr. 11–13, 16 – the passage in which Lucian depicts Christians as supremely naïve, in particular with regard to strangers. The Latin word peregrinus means “foreigner” or “sojourner” (cf. Gk. παρεπίδημος; Gen 23:4 LXX). It derives from the adverb peregre, “from abroad,” composed of per-, “abroad,” and the stem (locative) agri‑ and ager, “field, country” (cf. παρα‑ + ὁδός). It shares peripatetic connotations with παρόδιος. Constituting a great majority of the Empire’s inhabitants in the first and second centuries CE, peregrini were free provincial subjects of the Ro56 Didache,

186.

57 The phrase εἰ μὲν παρόδιός ἐστιν ὁ ἐρχόμενος leaves room for the possibility that just such

a word break (εἰ μὲν παρ’ ὅδιός ἐστιν ὁ ἐρχόμενος) was intended. 58 Cf. 1 Clem. 45:4. 59 Matt 5:32; Acts 26:29; 2 Cor 11:28.

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man Empire who were not citizens. “Resident aliens” is perhaps a comparable expression. Didache 12 says nothing about the Roman citizenship of its visitors, perhaps because it is irrelevant to community membership. One may wonder, however, whether Lucian perceived Christian communities as encompassing a high percentage of non-citizens (“simple folk,” Peregr. 13). Is there other evidence that the Didachist selects words on the basis of their etymological connotation? Looking no further than the passage cited above, as Schaff points out, the word προεξομολογέομαι in 14:1 (κατὰ κυριακὴν δὲ κυρίου συναχθέντες κλάσατε ἄρτον καὶ εὐχαριστήσατε, προεξομολογησάμενοι60 τὰ παραπτώματα ὑμῶν, ὅπως καθαρὰ ἡ θυσία ὑμῶν ᾖ) occurs only in the Didache – its meaning easily surmised by combining known words in the passage. Χριστέμπορος exemplifies a similar phenomenon, as does κοσμοπλανής (“world-deceiver”; Did. 16:4) – another hapax legomenon. A final note concerns the Coptic text. Jones and Mirecki reconstruct v. 12:2a (= vv. 17–18) of P. Lond. Or. 9271 as follows: 17ⲡⲓ ⲇⲉ ⲟⲩⲉⲓ ⲉϥⲛⲏⲟⲩ ϣⲁⲣⲁⲧⲛ 18ⲉⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲓ ⲧⲉϩϩⲓⲏ ⲧⲁⲉⲓⲙ ⲉⲗⲁϥ with the English translation: “17[12.2a] But if one comes to you/18on the road help him.”61 If this Coptic translator had a form of παρόδιος in 12.2a, an observation which I know of no reason to doubt, then s/he too recognized the anomalous usage, replacing it with the simple prepositional phrase descriptive of the perceived phenomenon: ⲉⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲓ ⲧⲉϩϩⲓⲏ, which, according to Crum, emphasizes being “from off the road” not “on it.” 62 The variant reading of Did. 10:3b in P. Lond. Or. 9271: ⲛϣⲏⲣⲓ ⲛⲛⲣⲱⲙⲓ (“sons of men”) for ἀνθρώποι (“human kind”), to which Jefford and Patterson draw attention, supports the distinction: the congregation comprises both “sons of men” or outsiders to the congregation, (known to the community as unbelievers, but to outsiders as Christians, if they remain with the community), who receive only material food and drink, as well as baptized insiders (those ὅδιος) who receive spiritual food and drink.63

E. Conclusion Current objections to the textual integrity of Didache 11–13 are premises in need of proof. Chapter 12 is not necessarily an interruption of the discussion of traveling prophets in chapters 11 and 13. It may simply instruct readers on how to carry out the mandate in 11:12 to give money to the needy (a theme of repeated 60 Two

readings: προεξομολογησάμενοι cj. Gebhardt: προσεξομολογησάμενοι H. Parable of the Good Samaritan, Luke 10:25–37; Jas 2:16; Mark 11:9/Matt 21:9/Luke 19:38 < Ps 117:26 (LXX): εὐλογημένος ὁ ἐρχόμενος ἐν ὀνόματι κυρίου. 62 Walter E. Crum, A Coptic Dictionary (ALR; Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, repr. 2005), s. v. ⲃⲱⲗ, p. 36 col. 2. 63 Jefford and Patterson, “Note on Didache 12.2a (Coptic),” 72–73. 61 Cf.

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importance in the text) if directed by a prophet in the spirit. The unusual expression, παρόδιος, is an insider’s expression for people who arrive in the community on account of need. This word is translated “travelers,” which suffices, provided that their status as unbelievers is acknowledged. As community members, they probably partook of community meals. They would not, however, have partaken of the Eucharist, suggesting that, barring repentance, they would be judged sinners (i. e., on the “left”).

Chapter Thirteen

Epistle of Barnabas and Secession through Allegory A. Introduction Although the collection of the so-called Apostolic Fathers (hereafter: AF) comprises diverse texts, the individual works exhibit similarities. On one hand, they expound upon the Jewish and Christian scriptures, demonstrating significant agreement on topics such as Christology and ethics. On the other hand, a central point of dispute involves the role of Moses. 1 Clement, for example, stresses Moses’s compassionate willingness to stand by the people (Exod 32:32), whereas the Epistle of Barnabas emphasizes Moses’s recklessness with the tablets of the law (Exod 32:19).1 The underlying question, with which the name of Moses is 1  Following an initial flurry of scholarship, the Epistle of Barnabas promptly fell to the wayside, as compared with other texts of the AF, once it was discovered. Apart from the fact that the collection generally does not attract adequate scholarly attention, the primary reason for the neglect of Barnabas involves what I hope to show are mislaid (and largely modern) sensibilities. According to most interpreters, Barnabas not only vigorously flaunts anti-Jewish views, it also refers twice to a dark-skinned demonic figure (ὁ μέλας, 4:10; 20:1). Due at least in part to these references, Barnabas has received far too little attention. Literature consulted for this essay includes: K. Bihlmeyer, ed., Die Apostolischen Väter. Neubearbeitung der Funkschen Ausgabe, 2nd ed. (SAQ 2.1; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1956); James Carleton Paget, The Epistle of Barnabas: Outlook and Background (WUNT 2.64; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1994); E. J. Goodspeed, The Apostolic Fathers: An American Translation (London: Independent Press, 1950); A. Hilgenfeld, Die Apostolischen Väter: Untersuchungen über Inhalt und Ursprung der unter ihrem Namen erhaltenen Schriften (Halle: Pfeffer, 1853); Michael W. Holmes, ed., The Apostolic Fathers: Greek Texts and English Translations (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999); Reider Hvalvik, The Struggle for Scripture and Covenant: The Purpose of the Epistle of Barnabas and Jewish-Christian Competition in the Second Century (WUNT 2.82; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996); J. A. Kleist, The Didache, The Epistle of Barnabas, The Epistles and the Martyrdom of Polycarp, The Fragments of Papias, The Epistle to Diognetus (ACW 6; New York: Newman, 1948); Kraft, Barnabas and the Didache; idem, “The Epistle of Barnabas: Its Quotations and Their Sources” (PhD diss., Harvard University, 1961; available at: http://ccat.sas.upenn.edu/rak/publics/barn/barndiss01. htm, site visited 3 March 2016); Lake, Apostolic Fathers (LCL); J. B. Lightfoot and J. R. Harmer, eds., The Apostolic Fathers: Greek Texts and English Translations of Their Writings, 2nd ed. (ed. and rev. M. W. Holmes; Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1992); idem, The Apostolic Fathers: Revised Greek Texts with Introductions and English Translations (London: Macmillan, 1891; repr. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1984); James Muilenburg, The Literary Relations of the Epistle of Barnabas and the Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1929); P. Prigent, Les Testimonia dans le Christianisme primitive: L’Épître de Barnabé I–XVI et ses sources (EBib.; Paris: Gabalda, 1961); P. Prigent and R. A. Kraft, Épitre de Barnabé (SC 172; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1971); F. R.  Prostmeier, Der Barnabasbrief (KAV 8; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1999);

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essentially metonymous, is God’s covenant.2 On this question, Moses vies for importance with Abraham. By primogeniture, Abraham’s covenant has pride of place. Nationalists favored Moses. The AF inherited this debate about Abraham and Moses from the NT. Julius Wellhausen argued that the historical Jesus emphasized Abraham (“many nations,” a form of Jewish universalism) over Moses (one nation) and that Paul converted from a Mosaic (i. e., Pharisaism) to an Abrahamic position. In Galatians 3 and Romans 4, Paul stresses Abraham as covenant exemplar par excellence, referring to Moses as subsequent (cf. Gal 3:17). Some writers within the Pauline tradition, Marcion among them,3 relied on a two-institution model (Lat. dispositiones, “institutions”) to explain the relationship of the two positions. This model becomes a Christian literary topos in 2 Clement, Justin, Tertullian, and elsewhere4 – Judaism (sometimes referred to as simply the “synagogue” and emphasizing God’s covenant with Moses) and Christianity (the “church, ” emphasizing God’s promise to Abraham). The word dispositio – applied to the model by Tertullian in response to Marcion – stresses a social-institutional as opposed to a national-legal-theological entity. The topos was a point of contact between the proto-orthodox and various rivals including the Marcionites. The debates furthermore had hermeneutical implications. Marcion’s approach was categorical: Judaism constitutes a different dispositio from Christianity, since a different god governed each.5 1 Clement’s approach is tropological: all Jews of the past set examples (both good and bad) for the Christians of the present. 2 Clement offers an agonistic approach: of the two related groups, only one triJ. A.  Robinson, Barnabas, Hermas, and the Didache: Donnellan Lectures, University of Dublin, 1920 (London: SPCK; New York: Macmillan, 1920); K. Thieme, Kirche und Synagoge: Die ersten nachbiblischen Zeugnisse ihres Gegensatzes im Offenbarungsverständnis: Der Barnabasbrief und der Dialog Justins des Märtyrers (Olten: Otto Walter, 1945); Wengst, Zweiter Klemensbrief; Hans Windisch, Die apostolischen Väter III. Der Barnabasbrief (HNT Ergänzungsband; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1920). Modern translations consulted are Ehrman, Holmes, Kraft, Lake, Prigent, Prostmeier, Wengst, and Windisch. 2  E. g., Paul passes down ἡ καινὴ διαθήκη (1 Cor 11:25). 3 Harnack viewed the two dispositions tradition as crucial to Marcion’s canon and theology, emphasizing that Marcion replaced Paul’s word, διαθῆκαι (Gal 4:24), with ostensiones or dispositiones. According to Harnack, on Marcion’s reading, Paul’s argument in Galatians is structural rather than philosophical or anthropological: the church replaces the synagogue. See Adolf von Harnack, Marcion: das Evangelium vom Fremden Gott: eine Monographie zur Geschichte der Grundlegung der katholischen Kirche (2nd corr. ed. with Neue Studien zu Marcion; TU 45; Leipzig; Hinrichs, 1924); cited from the ET: Marcion: The Gospel of the Alien God, 32. See discussion in Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 249–50. 4 Johan C. Thom offers a helpful definition of topos, and he applies it accurately to NT/ECL: “‘The Mind is Its Own Place’: Defining the Topos,” in Early Christianity and Classical Culture: Comparative Studies in Honor of Abraham J. Malherbe (ed. J. Fitzgerald, T. Olbricht, and L. M. White; NovTSup 110; Leiden: Brill, 2003), 555–73. 5 See Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 76. Dispositio is Tertullian’s word. Concerning Tertullian’s use of dispositiones, see Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 249–50 (and Chapter 7 above).

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umphs. Justin analogizes the tradition of Laban’s daughters (Dial. 134.3),6 the girls’ biological relationship supporting his point against Trypho that Judaism and Christianity have the same father (Dial. 134.3).7 Today, most interpreters view the Epistle of Barnabas as a supersessionist approach to the two dispositions topos. Twice it highlights Moses as tablet-breaker. Barn. 4:6–7 interprets Christianity as a replacement for Judaism: “Do not become like some people by piling up your sins, saying that the covenant is both theirs and ours. For it is ours (ἡμῶν μέν).” Everett Ferguson reflects this view: The passage [Barn. 4:6–8], based on Deut 9:12–17 (cf. Exod 24:18; 31:18; 34:28; and 32:7, 9), about Moses breaking the tablets containing the ten commandments was important to Barnabas, for he returned to it in his major discussion of the covenant in chapter 14. In the latter passage he included, apparently as if part of the biblical text, the statement, “And the tablets of the covenant of the Lord were broken” (14:3). Since the breaking of the stone tablets symbolized for Barnabas the breaking of the covenant, the text provided scriptural proof that the Jews had lost their right to the covenant from the beginning.8

On Ferguson’s reading, Barnabas argues that Christians supplant Jews in their own salvation history. Yet Barnabas is a highly allegorical text.9 Can this supersessionist position be reconciled with the allegorical method? If the present and future are understood as an allegory of the past, can the past be, at the same time, superseded? This investigation explores the precise nature of allegory in this epistle, proposing that the method itself is Barnabas’s response to the two dispositions topos.10 That is, rather than approaching Judaism as providing a compendium of historical exempla (1 Clement), a genealogically related group (2 Clement, Justin), or as a different group altogether (Marcion), Barnabas postulates a sophisticated Platonic (Resp. 7.514a–518a) alternative: namely, that Judaism is a “shadow” (“myth of Er,” Plato, Resp. 10.614–21) or “form” (e. g., Phaed. 109a–111c, 247c) of the Gospel reality – a position remarkably similar to Hebrews.11 The chief insight is methodological, not hermeneutical. The inrefers to the parallel as “striking” (Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 251).  See Lieu, Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, 251.  8 The Early Church at Work and Worship: Ministry, Ordination, Covenant, and Canon, 2 vols. (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2013), 1:176, emphasis added.  9  See R. P. C.  Hanson, Allegory and Event: A Study of the Sources and Significance of Origen’s Interpretation of Scripture (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2002), 97–100. 10 The approach is Pauline (e. g., 1 Cor 10:1–13) and contrasts with other Moses-Jesus comparisons; see J. Edgar Bruns, “The ‘Agreement of Moses and Jesus’ in the Demonstratio Evangelica of Eusebius,” VC 31 (1977): 117–25. 11 Heb 8:1–5; 9:2–24. Important secondary literature on this topic includes: James Moffatt, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1924); C. K. Barrett, “The Eschatology of the Epistle to the Hebrews,” in The Background of the New Testament and its Eschatology (ed. W. D. Davies and D. Daube; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1956), 363–93; William Manson, The Epistle to the Hebrews: An Historical and Theological Reconsideration, The Baird Lecture, 1949 (London: Hodder and Stoughton Ltd.,  6 Lieu  7

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tellectual sophistication of the solution commended itself to future interpreters including Clement of Alexandria and Origen.

B. History of Research Commentators note that the focus of the attack against Jews in Barnabas centers on Sinai:12 when Moses smashed the first set of tablets on the ground, the Jews forfeited rights to God’s promises, and the covenant was transferred to Christians (4:7; cf. 14:3).13 Reider Hvalvik concludes about the text’s purpose: Throughout the whole letter he [the author] stresses the contrast between two peoples, the Christians and the Jews. According to Barnabas the former are not only the ones who interpret Scripture rightly; to them belong the promises as well. And most important: they – and not the Jews – are the heirs of the covenant .... Through this interpretation of Scripture the Jews are robbed of all their rights and promises; they are left behind, without Scripture and without covenant. According to Barnabas they are a totally disobedient and idolatrous people. Consequently they are put alongside the Gentiles on the “way of darkness. ” The Christians, on the other hand, represent the “way of light. ”14

However, James N. Rhodes correctly observes internal contradictions with this approach. The most important contradiction involves God’s continuing relationship with Israel – a debate between history and allegory: There has thus far been significant evidence to suggest that Barnabas thinks that even after Sinai, Israel’s relationship with God remained, in some sense, intact. The most important reason for questioning the notion that Israel lost its covenant status forever at Sinai is the author’s repeated assertion that the sins of Israel reached full measure with the rejection of Jesus (5:11; 8:1; 14:5).15

Also observing this dilemma, Pierre Prigent explained the Sinai incident as a parenthesis in salvation history.16 Rhodes faults this explanation for taking the interpretation “at face value.”17 Rhodes prefers the interpretation of Sinai as “rhetorical hyperbole”:

11951). Hanson discusses the allegorical approaches of both the Epistle to the Hebrews and the Epistle of Barnabas (Allegory and Event, 83–100). 12 See Daniel Stökl Ben Ezra, The Impact of Yom Kippur on Early Christianity: The Day of Atonement from Second Temple Judaism to the Fifth Century (WUNT 2.163; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), esp. Chapter 4. 13 Cf. Barn. 13; S. Lowy, “The Confutation of Judaism in the Epistle of Barnabas,” Journal of Jewish Studies 11 (1960): 1–33. 14 Struggle for Scripture and Covenant, 323–24, emphasis added. 15 Epistle of Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition, 10; Rhodes enumerates other contradictions on pp. 5–11. 16 Prigent, Barnabé, 100. 17 Epistle of Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition, 18, citing Prigent, Barnabé, 100.

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In the face of such evidence, we should consider the possibility that the contradiction has not simply escaped the author’s attention, but that his statements about the debacle at Sinai are rhetorical hyperbole: purposeful and provocative overstatement .… Barnabas is not interested in denying the history of God’s covenant people so much as in writing that history off as an abortive chapter in salvation history.18

Rhodes defines hyperbole as “calculated,” “purposeful,” and “provocative overstatement,” by which the author “provokes consideration of the ‘possible truth’ or ‘partial truth’ of a statement easily disrupted on an objective or literalistic basis.”19 What Rhodes means by the disruption of “possible” (or “partial”) truth in what he takes to be a “spiritual, Christian meaning of the text” is unclear.20 Presumably he means that Barnabas questions the facts – a point that the multiple witnesses to the incident (e. g., Exod 32, Deut 9:8–21, Neh 9:16–18) support. Whatever the author’s precise intention, for Rhodes, rhetorical hyperbole explains all of the letter’s many suggestions that the history of the Jews continued after Moses broke the covenant, including references to an occasional post-Sinaitic event, to the prophetic corpus, to David, and to the ministry of Jesus. God continues to admonish the nation, but Israel fails to heed; he reveals his future salvific intentions, but the nation fails to perceive. The rejection of Jesus finally brings the sins of Israel to full measure. The golden-calf incident is the defining moment of a history of infidelity, of which the rejection of Jesus is the culminating event.21

In the introduction, Rhodes claims that if he can prove that Barnabas uses hyperbolic rhetoric in the reports of the golden calf incident (Barn. 4:6b–8 and 14:1–4a), internal contradictions in the text will be relieved. Unfortunately, this desideratum remains by the end of the work. Although we find a helpful discussion of the textual corruption at 4:6b, a text Rhodes views as crucial to the interpretation of the letter overall,22 he neither turns to a precise definition of hyperbole nor discusses how such a rhetorical strategy alleviates the tension between history and allegory. To do so, the problem must be clarified and the solution must be rooted in ancient theories of argument. The problem is perhaps best described using an analogy: if a historical series of events is understood allegorically as the historical series of a different series of events, then every event in the allegory has a counterpart in the original.23 For Barnabas, this means that the golden calf incident and its aftermath have alleof Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition, 17, emphasis original. of Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition, 17. 20 Epistle of Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition, 15. 21 Epistle of Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition, 18, emphasis original. 22 Epistle of Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition, 188. 23 Not every event in the original has a counterpart in the allegory, however. Paul, for example, wrests elements from a story and allegorizes them, leaving other parts of the story behind without any explanation. The danger with successionist/triumphalist readings of these verses is that Barnabas creates a conflict between Judaism and Christianity, when the original has other concerns and a different thesis altogether. 18 Epistle 19 Epistle

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gorical counterparts in Christian history. Thus, if Barnabas claims that the Jews forfeited the covenant with God when Moses dropped the tablets of the law, a rigorous allegorical reading interprets that the Christians will or have lost their covenant with God when Moses’s allegorical equivalent forfeits the relationship in some parallel manner. To argue, as Rhodes and most commentators do about Barnabas, that when Moses dropped the tablets of the law the Jews forfeited the covenant with God and Christians, thus, received it, creates a causal, historical connection between the subtext and allegorical interpretation that violates the strict sense of an allegory. A worthwhile question is whether the text or its interpreters acknowledge this violation. Assuming (momentarily) the contradiction is in the text, we turn first to an examination of ancient hyperbole to investigate whether it was ever known to solve such problems.

C. Ὑπερβολή Assuming the ancient handbooks are reliable guides to at least the general sense of literary tactics in works such as Barnabas, Rhet. Her. 4.44 defines ὑπερβολή (superlatio) as speech that exaggerates the truth either for the purpose of amplification or denigration.24 Aristotle, Rhet. 3.11.15 describes ὑπερβολή as characteristic of youth (μερακιώδεις) and unsuitable for old men, because it demonstrates excessive vehemence (σφοδρότης) and even anger.25 Aristotle notes the practice of adding a short apology for its use (Rhet. 3.7.9, cf. Quintilian, Inst. 8.3.37).26 Other theorists are not quite so negative. Strabo expects writers to exaggerate and Longinus extols it for dramatic circumstances. Since it threatens plausibility, Quintilian argues that it should be confined to the description of extraordinary subjects noting a relationship with jokes. None of these definitions fits Rhodes’s understanding of disrupted “possible” or “partial truth” in the two allegorical interpretations of the golden calf incident in the Epistle of Barnabas. In Barnabas, the “truth” is not exaggerated. Both reports of the events in Barn. 4:6b–8 and 14:1–4a are identical to the accounts in

24 R. Dean Anderson (Glossary of Greek Rhetorical Terms [Leuven: Peeters, 2000], s. v. ὑπερβολή, 123) points out that this definition is found verbatim in the Greek tradition also at Trypho. Trop. 2.1; cf. Cicero Top. 45; De Or. 2.267. 25 Anderson, Glossary of Greek Rhetorical Terms, s. v. ὑπερβολή, 123. 26 “Demetr. Eloc. 124–27 (cf. 161–62, 182–86) divides hyperbole into three categories, comparison of likeness (e. g., ‘to run like the wind’), of superiority (‘whiter than snow’), or an impossibility (‘her head was fastened to the sky’). But Demetrius adds that every hyperbole is impossible and is therefore the most frigid way of speaking of all. It is definitely not recommended! At § 286 he suggests it is poetical” (Anderson, Glossary of Greek Rhetorical Terms, s. v. ὑπερβολή, 123).

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Exodus.27 If anything is overstated in these passages, it is the interpretations – for example, the statements in Barn. 4:6 that the covenant is “ours” and not “theirs” and 4:7 that the Jews permanently lost the covenant.28 The interpretations of the passage in 14:1 and 14:4–5 may seem daring, but the historical reports do not change.29 Rhodes argues that (1) “sheer radicality” [of the claim that the Jews had forfeited their covenant] and (2) contradiction with other claims in the text imply rhetorical hyperbole.30 Yet only the interpretation of the events incurs radicality and contradiction; thus neither applies to rhetorical ὑπερβολή, a figure that exaggerates the facts. What is more, Rhodes links the hyperbolic rhetoric of these passages to the destruction of the temple in 70 CE (Barn. 16), arguing that the golden calf incident initiates an unfortunate series of events culminating in the crucifixion of Jesus, for which the temple is destroyed. Whether or not this connection accurately reflects the epistle, it contradicts Rhodes’s own description of the golden calf reports as hyperbolic, because it relies on the facts as given. Rhodes is correct that interpretations of Barnabas falter on the crux of internal contradiction. The question remains as to what explains it. We turn to a discussion of ἀλληγορία in order to investigate whether it ever incorporates secession of the present over an allegorized past.

27 Barn. 4:7–8 cites Exod 34:18; 34:28; and 32:7 (respectively), and Barn. 14:2–4 cites Exod 24:28; 31:18; and 32:7–19 (respectively). 28 “For the prophet says, ‘Moses was fasting on Mount Sinai for forty days and forty nights, that he might receive the covenant of the Lord for the people. And Moses received from the Lord the two tablets written with the finger of the Lord’s hand in the Spirit.’ When Moses received them he brought them down to give to the people. And the Lord said to Moses, ‘Moses, Moses, go down at once, because your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt, has broken the Law.’ Moses understood that they had again made molten images for themselves, and he hurled the tablets from his hands. And the tablets of the Lord’s covenant were smashed. So Moses received the covenant, but they were not worthy. Now learn how we have received it. Moses received it as a servant, but the Lord himself gave it to us, as a people of the inheritance, by enduring suffering for us” (ET: Ehrman). 29 Verse 1, “He has given it, but they were not worthy to receive it because of their sins”; and vv. 4–5, “So Moses received the covenant, but they were not worthy. Now learn how we have received it. Moses received it as a servant, but the Lord himself gave it to us, as a people of the inheritance, by enduring suffering for us. He was made manifest so that those people might be completely filled with sins, and that we might receive the covenant through the Lord Jesus, who inherited it. He was prepared for this end, that when he became manifest he might make a covenant with us by his word, after redeeming our hearts from darkness, hearts that were already paid out to death and given over to the lawlessness of deceit” (ET: Ehrman). 30 Epistle of Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition, 17.

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D. Ἀλληγορία Commentators agree that ἀλληγορία is the strategy by which Barnabas makes its arguments. The approach applies to every chapter – arguably every verse in every chapter. Allegory (and its sister approach, typology, discussed next) does not operate on a horizontal plane of temporality, history, or progress. Rather it compares “realities” vertically. According to the ancient handbooks, ἀλληγορία is temporary delusion.31 A hearer realizes that, although s/he believes one thing is being said, it is in fact another. No possibility of contradiction between the items is possible, because they are never set in a single historical, horizontal continuum. They exist on different planes. One item is a type, archetype, pattern, or model; the other is an antitype or copy. As Aristotle acknowledged, the force of allegory is reader realization (Rhet. 3.11.6–10). It is a literary approach to truth-telling that avoids exaggeration while insisting on a degree of ambiguity and an element of surprise.32 It may afford protection, if the truth is threatening to the audience; it may also afford amusement, if a game of interpretation (i. e., a challenge or parable) is preferable to straight talk. It should not, however, become too difficult to “solve,” as with the αἴνιγμα.

E. Typology Today Heinrich Lausberg’s Handbook of Literary Rhetoric is generally recognized as the go-to text for scholars looking for a convenient point of access to rhetorical theory. Since some commentators prefer typology to allegory for descriptions of Barnabas, we turn therefore to this volume for a definition of typology. In contrast to allegory, typologies periodize long strings of events into shorter segments (e. g., thirty years or one generation) in order to compare a subsequent period with a previous one.33 Typology is distinct from allegory, the purpose of which is textual interpretation (cf. § 900). Typology interprets reality. Seemingly chaotic reality is structured by typology according to the principle of analogy, the analogy being divided into two poles: original and mirror image. The mirror image is a reproduction of the original; between the two there is agreement. The technical model for this way of thinking is the coin-stamp, whose imprint is reproduced by striking it (τύπτειν “to strike a coin”: cf. LSJ) into a malleable mass (wax, metal). The (concave or Aristotle, Rhet. 3.11.6–10. of the parables of Jesus are “allegorical” in precisely this sense. 33 Heinrich Lausberg, Handbook of Literary Rhetoric: A Foundation for Literary Study (trans. M. T. Bliss, A. Jansen, and D. E. Orton; ed. D. E. Orton and R. D. Anderson; Leiden: Brill, 1998); originally: Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik: Eine Grundlegung der Literaturwissenschaft, 2 vols. (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 31990 [11960, 21973]). To a certain extent, this volume represents a scholarly return to the importance of the tradition of classical rhetoric. See review by John T. Kirby (http://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/1998/1998–07–08.html, site visited 11 May 2016). 31 E. g.,

32 Many

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convex) image on the coin-stamp is called the τύπος. The (convex or concave) image on the coin-stamp reproduced in the malleable mass is either also called τύπος (cf. LSJ), or, for the sake of clearer distinction, ἀντίτυπος (cf. LSJ).34

Lausberg presents typology as a definitively theological construct: The transfer of this technical model to the interpretation of reality sees God as the artist, who, with the aid of one part of the reality created by Him and fashioned by Him into a coin-stamp, “stamps” the other part of the reality created by Him.35

As a theological construct, Lausberg asserts its applicability to spirituality36 as well as history: Of particular importance is the application of this way of thinking to the conception of history; for according to this form of thinking history is regarded as a sequence of periods, each of which leaves an imprint on the subsequent one. In each case the future time is more perfect, more pronounced than the past; the stamped image is a work of art, whereas the image on the coin-stamp is unsightly. In this way history follows its course all the way into eschatology, which brings the last wholly perfect stamp: Rom. 5:14 Ἀδὰμ ὅς ἐστιν τύπος τοῦ μέλλοντος.37

Finally, on Lausberg’s reading, transmitted history lends itself well to typological comparison: Typological thinking may, of course, also be applied to textually transmitted history; in this way it can become a principle of interpretation and, in its results, agrees with allegory (cf. § 900). Thus the city of Jerusalem can typologically denote the Church or the eschatological city, just as the name of Jerusalem may allegorically denote the Church or the heavenly city (cf. § 900).38

It is not surprising that Lausberg cites no ancient sources for his description of typology. There are none.

F. Allegory versus Typology Whereas Lausberg describes allegory and typology as good bedfellows, Peter Martens questions this relationship.39 According to Martens, the history of scholarship views typology (also called “figural reading”) as good and based on the 34 Lausberg, Handbook, 402. Cf. “Typology is a semantics of realities, allegory (ἄλλο ἀγορεύειν) a semantics of words” (Lausberg, Handbook, 403). 35 Lausberg, Handbook, 402. 36 Lausberg cites Plato for the application to spirituality: “The image of the τύπος may also be transferred to spiritual content; cf. LSJ ‘archetype, pattern model …’ (Plat. R. 379a)” (Handbook, 402). 37 Lausberg, Handbook, 402. 38 Lausberg, Handbook, 402. 39 See Peter W. Martens, “Revisiting the Allegory/Typology Distinction: The Case of Origen,” JECS (2008): 283–317.

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event or reality, whereas allegory is considered bad and based on the word or text.40 J. J. O’Keefe explains what is at issue: Some commentators, however, recognizing that figural reading in one form or another is a necessary component of Christian faith, have distinguished between allegorical and typological readings. The former, it is argued, detaches a text from historical events, while the latter continues to value history by maintaining a connection.41

As Martens explains, O’Keefe’s description of typology is a version of W. A. Bienert’s. Bienert once argued that although two forms of allegory existed in antiquity, both were referred to as “allegory” by ancient authors.42 He traced the two types to two sources: Stoicism and Jewish-Christian interpretation; and he emphasized a vertical, unhistorical emphasis of the first type and a horizontal, historical emphasis of the second. R. A. Norris added that the former type (typology) began in Christian circles with Paul, whereas the latter type (allegory) was non-Pauline.43 With few exceptions, most interpreters understand the two as rival approaches: Typology and allegory are competing forms of nonliteral exegesis, the former the successful variety, the latter its unsuccessful, nonliteral twin. To the extent that Origen is an allegorist, he troubles; to the extent that he is a typologist, he is tolerable and perhaps even laudable. With the exception of M. Edwards (for whom allegory mediates between literal and typological exegesis) and R. Norris (for whom typology is a species of allegory), everyone else has defined these as rival, nonliteral approaches to Scripture.44

Yet, Martens also points to certain distinctions among interpreters of Origen’s works: At the same time – and this is a point that I think has been largely overlooked – it is also clear that the scholars who form the consensus differ significantly from one another in how they distinguish better from worse forms of nonliteral exegesis for Origen. For example, we are told that allegory is not Christian, but rather foreign, be it Platonic, Stoic, rabbinic, and/or Philonic (J. Daniélou, R. P. C. Hanson, W. A. Bienert, R. A. Norris); allegory is concerned with texts and not events (J. Daniélou); it is arbitrary (R. P. C. Hanson, F. Young); it is unhistorical (W. A. Bienert); it destroys narrative sequence (F. Young); it undermines the literal sense (J. D. Dawson). Typology, in contrast, is saved from these failings.45

In an investigation of allegory and typology in Origen, Martens argues that modern distinctions do not apply: The pair ἀλληγορία and ἀλληγορέω, as well as the “typic” family of terms, τύπος, τυπικός, and τυπικῶς, are of importance here since the English words “allegory” and “typology” are 40 “Revisiting

the Allegory/Typology Distinction,” 283–317.

41 J. J. O’Keefe, “Allegory,” in Westminster Handbook to Origen (ed. J. A. McGuckin; Louisville:

Westminster John Knox, 2004), 49–50. 42 Wolfgang A. Bienert, “Allegoria” und “Anagoge” bei Didymos dem Blinden von Alexandria (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1972), 40–43, here: 42–43. 43 R. A. Norris, “Typology,” in Westminster Handbook to Origen, 209–11, here: 210. 44 Martens, “Revisiting the Allegory/Typology Distinction,” 295. 45 Martens, “Revisiting the Allegory/Typology Distinction,” 295–96.

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derived from, evoke, and often translate these Greek terms. The analyses of Origen’s uses and definitions of these Greek terms will convey that the literature’s definitions of “allegory” and “typology” usually mean something different, at times something conspicuously different, from what Origen meant by their Greek antecedents.46

In Cels. 2.69 (SC 132:446.3–7), for example, Origen describes allegorical exegesis with approval as the general quest for a deeper meaning in a Scriptural passage. He contrasts it with a literal, as opposed to another form of nonliteral (e. g., typological) form of exegesis.47 Likewise he describes typology as the nonliteral interpretation of a τύπος that may be successful and is synonymous with “allegory.”

G. Summation What we observe then is that the literature used to interpret Origen’s exegetical vocabulary diverges from Origen’s own definitions of these terms. Such a reductive portrait simply passes over in silence what the author makes clear. Since Barnabas gives numerous clues to his understanding of the appropriate form of interpretation, in what remains of this brief essay, we attempt to engage Martens’s three-fold charge for the epistle: (1) “to discontinue using ‘typology’ and ‘allegory’ as labels for better and worse forms of nonliteral exegesis respectively”; (2) “to find alternative labels for these two forms of nonliteral interpretation”; and (3) “to develop a conversation around the criteria for successful nonliteral scriptural interpretation.”48

H. Barnabas and the Allegorical Method Returning to our discussion of the two dispositions, the Epistle of Barnabas sides neither with 1, 2 Clement nor Justin, but adopts a strategy closely resembling Hellenistic Jewish attacks on blind literalism. Robert Kraft describes the situation: That some aspects of hellenistic Judaism had reacted against blind, literalistic adherence to the Mosaic legislation in general and to the Temple ritual in particular, is attested strongly by the Alexandrian tradition of Aristobulus, the Epistle of Pseudo-Aristeas, and Philo. Even semitic speaking Judaism sometimes was critical of the cultus, as the recent discoveries from Qumran illustrate. In its “anti-cultic” polemic, Christianity did not need to create new arguments or radically to emend older materials – the pattern had already been set by such Jewish schools.49 46 Martens,

“Revisiting the Allegory/Typology Distinction,” 296. “Revisiting the Allegory/Typology Distinction,” 298–99, summation: 307. 48 Martens, “Revisiting the Allegory/Typology Distinction,” 316. 49 Kraft, “Epistle of Barnabas: Its Quotations and Their Sources,” (“Summary”) 2–3. Kraft also 47 Martens,

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For the writer of the Epistle of Barnabas, allegory offered a solution via a debate current among second-century Jews. This debate involved the relationship between the golden calf incident and Yom Kippur. Daniel Stökl Ben Ezra points to the following text as an example: A Baraita in the Babylonian Talmud reports in the name of Shim‘on ben Gamliel that the second giving of the Torah took place on Yom Kippur, connecting the renewal of the covenant in Exodus 34 to Yom Kippur and perceiving Yom Kippur as atonement for the sin of the golden calf.50

Rather than contrast Abraham and Moses, Abraham’s two sons, Abraham’s two wives, or Jacob’s two daughters, as other early Christian texts, Barnabas juxtaposes a literal and an allegorical reading of a pair of Mosaic traditions: the golden calf and Yom Kippur.51 Barnabas 13–14 explains that prior to faith, Christians as nonacknowledges the various ideas absent from Barnabas, arguing that Jewish sources influenced what the author chose to include. He writes, “Jewish/Christian ‘gnosis,’ or ‘Pneumatic’ interpretation of the history of salvation, holds the key to the real meaning of God’s dealings with Ancient Israel. Abraham was the father of ‘nations,’ not simply of the Jews, and looked forward symbolically to Jesus and the cross. Moses received a covenant of righteous actions, not of ritualistic restrictions, and made for Israel signs of Jesus’ cross. The real ‘promised land’ into which Jesus/Joshua leads still is in the future – it is the eschatological ‘new creation’ which follows the ‘sabbath rest’ and for which Christians wait.” Kraft also argues that: “Both in its use of isolated quotations and in the larger ‘tradition blocks,’ the Epistle of Barnabas represents an early stage in the Christian adaptation of such Jewish materials. Barnabas shows relatively little interest in subjects which held the attention of much other early Christian literature – the life and teachings of Jesus, the work of the Spirit, the organization and institutions of the Church. Instead, the Epistle tries to spell out the real meaning of God’s covenant in the light of the present eschatological crisis” (“Epistle of Barnabas: Its Quotations and their Sources,” 3). According to Kraft, Jewish sources influenced the text: “Certainly it was from a hellenistic Jewish school tradition, but probably not directly from the Alexandrian school, which seems to lack the eschatological orientation of Barnabas. Possibly the Essene-like Therapeutae described by Philo, or a similar Jewish community near Alexandria (?), provided the seed-bed for Barnabean thought. The same emphases on the history of salvation, apocalyptic and ‘gnostic’ interpretation, and formal ethical admonition seem to be common to Barnabas and the Essenes. Thus Barnabas provides an important witness both to the kinds of sources available to early Christian authors, and to the actual transition between a sophisticated hellenistic Judaism and Christianity in its earliest stages” (“Epistle of Barnabas: Its Quotations and their Sources,” 3). 50 Ben Ezra, Impact of Yom Kippur, 122. Ben Ezra goes on to explain that three traditions seemed linked to the association of the golden calf and Yom Kippur: “First, the high priest is not allowed to serve in golden garments in order not to remind God of the sin of the golden calf. Second, God’s thirteen middot (Exodus 34:6–7), which were revealed on this occasion, play an important role in the liturgy of Yom Kippur and, together with Leviticus 16:21, have the power to transform deliberate transgressions into unintended sins. Third, Exodus 32:11–14 and 34:1 ff. were read in some Palestinian communities” (Impact of Yom Kippur, 123). 51 William Horbury points to a similar emphasis in the letter on Yom Kippur. Horbury notes that references to Yom Kippur are hardly limited to the obvious allusions in Barnabas 7. Discussion of fasting (Barnabas 2), citation of Isaiah 58 (Barnabas 3), and reference to Sabbath rest (Barnabas 15, cf. Lev 23:27) also connote this holy day. Horbury refers to Barnabas’s discussion of fasting as remarkably prominent (“Jewish-Christian Relations in Barnabas and Justin Martyr,” 325).

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Jews and pagans were lost in sin and darkness (allegorical archetype: golden calf) until Jesus’s atonement (allegorical archetype: Yom Kippur). Barnabas 7 sums it up well: God demands not crushed tablets, but crushed hearts and not sacrificial goats, but Jesus’s sacrificial death on the cross. In many ways, this emphasis and its interpretation match the method of the writer of Hebrews.52 Barnabas never uses the words ἀλληγορία or ἀλληγορέω, but the term τύπος occurs thirteen times in the letter. The purpose of the letter as presented in 1:5 (cf. 13:7) is to provide “perfect knowledge” to accompany faith (ἵνα μετὰ τῆς πίστεως ὑμῶν τελείαν ἔχητε τὴν γνῶσιν). Confusion exists as to the content of the “perfect knowledge.” Barn. 1:7–8 has been understood as claiming that the letter contains present and future realities as given by the Lord in scripture. Yet, in the conclusion to this section of the letter (i. e., 17:1–2), the author says that the letter did not contain information concerning the present or future, since the letter is simple and such things are complicated (i. e., hidden in parables). Interpreters tend to dismiss this closing comment. Kraft writes: “The Greek of 17:1 is condensed and cryptic (cf. 1:2–5).”53 Drawing a parallel with the introduction to Irenaeus’s Apostolic Preaching, he concludes that 1:7–8 may simply reflect a literary convention. A closer look suggests, however, that the author intends these lines in earnest. To begin with, Barn. 1:7 states that ὁ δεσπότης has made known to us the past (τὰ παρεληλυθότα) and the present (τὰ ἐνεστῶτα) and has given us an inkling (ἀπαρχάς) of the future (τῶν μελλόντων) in Scripture. Daily readers watch events unfold exactly as set forth in Scripture. Believers ought to be grateful for this foreknowledge, making increasingly greater sacrifices as signs of reverence. The precise relationship of this letter to history’s unfolding is, however, unclear. The letter only claims that it will explain (ὑποδείκνυμι, “indicate,” “trace out”) a few things (ὑποδείξω ὀλίγα) that will cheer readers up. When, therefore, the author concludes that the letter offered nothing about the present or future, since these things are hidden (17:1–2), we assume that “perfect knowledge” excludes such parabolic explanations. Obviously the letter lacks a systematic epistemology, but epistemological commentary comprises the bulk of the first seventeen chapters. The next section considers this fact.

I. Knowledge “Perfect knowledge” in Barnabas is referred to as “learning,” “wisdom,” “knowledge,” (6:10), “revelation” (5:3; 6:7; 7:2), “secrets” (6:10), and “parables” (6:10). It is a product of intuition rather than education. The author reiterates that he 52 Harold Attridge argues for the presence of allegorical interpretation of the scriptures in Hebrews, although in a less developed manner than Philo; see The Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989), 29. 53 Barnabas, 133 n. “17:1–2.”

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writes as a fellow Christian, not as a teacher (4:9). The scriptures (e. g., “prophets” 2:4) easily (6:5; 8:1; 17:1–2) afford information of not just the past or present, but the future also. The Lord has revealed everything “in advance” (7:1). A fundamental revelation of this text is that the end days will be “like the first” (6:13). Barn. 7:6 refers to its own allegorical interpretation of Scripture as what is “commanded.” Similarly, a subset of knowledge in Barnabas constitutes warnings. Occasionally the past provides a warning for the present (e. g., 2:9–10; 3:6; 4:1–3 [“that which can save us”]; etc.). Warnings are, however, deemphasized in this general context of encouragement (1:7–8).

J. Knowers or “Gnostics” Knowledge is reserved, according to Barnabas, for lovers of the Lord. The Lord places his “secrets” in those who love him (ἀγαπῶν τὸν κύριον αὐτοῦ, 6:10). The present community is comprised of people whom the Lord has remodeled (ἀναπλάσσειν, 6:14) by giving them the souls of children (6:11). They have circumcised hearing and (thus?) hearts that understand (10:11; contrast those in 8:7 who do not understand).54 In 10:11, knowers are described as striving to discern allegorical readings through study, thought, and accurate discernment (cf. 4:6): “those who meditate on the special meaning of the teaching they have received in their heart, … those who carefully chew over the word of the Lord.”

54 On circumcision in Barnabas (in particular its attribution to the instruction of “an evil angel”), see James Carleton Paget, “Barnabas 9:4: A Peculiar Verse on Circumcision,” VC 45 (1991): 242–54. Although Carleton Paget very helpfully outlines the broad intellectual (and practical) context of Barn. 9:4, ultimately he views the passage as “anti-Jewish,” arising in an agonistic environment of proselytization following the Bar Kochba revolt (253–54). Noting a connection to the tripartite attribution of the Law, i. e., to God (Demiurge), Moses, and the Fathers in Ptolemy’s Letter to Flora (and Ptolemy’s rejection of laws in the latter two categories), Carleton Paget does not specify that Barnabas’s attribution of the law to an evil angel (like Paul’s attribution of the law to a mediator in Galatians 3) probably denotes Moses. The evil angel “instructs” (i. e., σοφίζω) because Moses’s primary role was teacher. (On use of the verb, σοφίζω, see Carleton Paget, “Barnabas 9:4,” 249–50.) The pro-Abrahamic (universal) Jesus tradition rejects Moses, crediting Abraham with the origination of the “legal” covenant. The stipulation is, thus, not anti-, but intra-Jewish, as are Paul’s arguments with the Judaizing (i. e., Mosaicizing) Christians in Galatians and elsewhere. Cf. the following decidedly pro-Abrahamic section of text: Barn. 9:7–9. Against early formulations of ideas such as those expressed by Ammonius in his Harmony of Moses and Jesus (arguing Jesus qua Moses or as a “second Moses”), Barnabas offers a distinctly Pauline commentary, reflecting the counter-ideal of Jesus qua Abraham. The entire polemic is probably also intra-Egyptian (perhaps Jewish-Egyptian; cf. Barn. 9:6), based in part on Exodus’s portrayal of Moses as an Egyptian prince. Paul was called from Pharisaic Mosaism to “Christian” (eschatological) Abrahamism. Pseudepigraphical attribution of Barnabas squares well with Paul’s report in Galatians 2 that Barnabas was an eyewitness to debates on the topic and understood the stakes.

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K. Epistemology Readers access nonliteral meanings both inductively and deductively. “Learning” (2:10; 6:9, 10) is also referred to as “revelation” (5:3; 6:7). The content of such learning is called “secrets” and parables (6:10). Knowledge is said to “speak” to believers (6:9). Perfect knowledge (γνῶσις) (1:5; 5:6) is a gift the Lord gives (6:10). The text uses the verb “to prophesy” (e. g., 5:6; 6:8, 10; 11:6, 9) when referring to a passage in Scripture with a nonliteral meaning. On one occasion, the author refers to the prophetic formula from the biblical text, “Thus, says the Lord” (9:5), as signaling an allegorical meaning. “Speaking in the spirit,” Moses (10:2; 12:2–3) and David (10:10) pass on reliable teaching. This gift implanted (9:9) in believers was also given to some writers of the Jewish scriptures and can be referred to as the “gift of his covenant.” Gift acquisition is described as “simple” (6:5; 8:2; 17) and “clear” for those believers who have heard the Lord’s voice (8:7), based on “circumcised” hearing (9:3). The Lord knows and imparts that knowledge (9:9). Christians must simply pay attention (προσέχειν, e. g., 4:9, 11, 14; 7:4, 6, 7, 9; 15:4; cf. 11:11) to receive that knowledge. The author repeatedly insists that whereas the literal meaning implied something about the past, a nonliteral meaning suggests something for the present: “For some of the things written about him concern Israel; others concern us” (γέγραπται γὰρ περὶ αὐτοῦ ἃ μὲν πρὸς τὸν  Ἰσραήλ, ἃ δὲ πρὸς ἡμᾶς), (5:2; cf. 1:8; 5:3). The correspondences between the past and the present, immanent present, and future are always one-to-one. The text about the past “shows” (δείκνυμι) a new meaning (5:9 etc.). In general a gloomy past offers good news for the present (note the author’s commitment in the prologue to “cheer” listeners up [1:8]). As noted, the author uses τύπος to refer to the relationship of the past to the present. In 7:3, Isaac’s τύπος is said to be “fulfilled.” In 7:7, Lev 16:7–9 “reveals” the τύπος of Jesus (cf. 7:10, “type of Jesus who was about to suffer”; 7:11, “type of Jesus established for the church”; 8:1–2, “type found in his command to Israel” and “type of the cross and the scarlet wool.” Whereas comparative language is used in 7:10 (“For how is he like that one? πῶς γὰρ ὅμοιος ἐκείνῳ;),” symbolic language is explicit in 15:4, ἡ γὰρ ἡμέρα παρ᾿ αὐτῷ σημαίνει χίλια ἔτη.” Abraham “spiritually looks ahead to Jesus” (ἐν πνεύματι προβλέψας εἰς τὸν  Ἰησοῦν, 9:7; cf. 13:7). And, when prophets speak spiritually their words may have a different meaning from the original: “So, then, the commandment of God is not a matter of avoiding food; but Moses spoke in the Spirit …” (10:2). In 12:5 and 12:6 Moses offers a type of Jesus and a type that appeared as a sign at a time of crisis for Israel. In 12:7, the explanation for this allegorical meaning is that everything is in and for Jesus because the Father reveals everything about Jesus (12:8).55 55 Deep down the bigger question is: who is the one encoding the allegory into the texts (or the events to which the texts attest)? “God” becomes, in some sense, the “author” of these texts. Cf. Heb 1:5; 3:7; 9:8; 10:15, etc.

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In 13:1, an either-or question appears to be raised concerning the two meanings of scripture: “Now let us see whether it is this people or the first one that receives the inheritance, and whether the covenant is for us or them” (Ἴδωμεν δέ, εἰ οὗτος ὁ λαὸς κληρονομεῖ ἢ ὁ πρῶτος, καὶ εἰ ἡ διαθήκη εἰς ἡμᾶς ἢ εἰς ἐκείνους).56 In 13:3, language of representation earmarks allegory: Isaac and Rebecca are (i. e., “represent”) others: τίς ὁ  Ἰσαὰκ καὶ τίς ἡ ᾿Ρεβέκκα. In 13:5, Jacob sees “in the Spirit” a τύπος of present Christians (“people to come later”) who are younger, but heirs nonetheless. In conclusion, the language of Barnabas lacks references to allegory qua allegory. Barnabas frequently uses the word τύπος to connote nonliteral reading of scripture. He views such nonliteral reading as a privilege of Christian faith. The letter draws no distinctions between typological for a better and allegorical for a worse form of exegesis. Neither does it make distinctions between types of nonliteral readings. Nonliteral reading may pertain to a word or phrase; it may also pertain to a character (i. e., Moses), event (Yom Kippur), or period in history. Its epistemological approach is thoroughly allegorical. The writer does not systematically distinguish criteria for successful nonliteral scriptural interpretation. He does, however, acknowledge when a reading is correct and when a reading is incorrect. From the examples we can deduce the following hermeneutical principles:   (1) The history of the Jews is exhortation of various types for the church in the author’s day   (2) Exclusive privilege of believers57   (3) Obtained through attention, study, and meditation   (4) Simple and clear to believers   (5) One-to-one correspondence with literal readings   (6) Based on a temporal framework and provides clear comparisons between the past and the present, discerning τύποι in the Scriptures in order to intuit their contemporary counterparts   (7) Attributed to historical personages prophesying in the spirit58   (8) Grounded in the idea that all Scripture pertains to Jesus59   (9) Derived from words, numbers, phrases, individuals, events, or epochs discussed in the biblical and other related texts (10) Products of intuition in democratic (i. e., non-“educational” or ‑didactic) settings constituted of believers60

The author focuses exclusively on correct reading strategies, rarely refuting an interpretation or approach.61 In view of the Christian community to which this 56 Cf.

5:2, γέγραπται γὰρ περὶ αὐτοῦ ἃ μὲν πρὸς τὸν  Ἰσραήλ, ἃ δὲ πρὸς ἡμᾶς. is possible to detect a resemblance to gnostic theologies here. 58 The allegory is thus, in such passages, encoded in the text. 59 And as such, to the experiences of all Christians (i. e., prophecy is in some sense about “us”). 60 I.e., the author presents this procedure not as a “school” product, in the sense that the readings derive from a single “teacher” or authoritative group, but from the whole community. 61 Barnabas does not project a conflict over interpretation. The text is not agonistic. 57 It

L. Allegorical Approach and the Historical Continuum Controversy

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letter is written, the only incorrect reading strategy is a literal one. Furthermore, it cannot be said that correct nonliteral readings always encourage (i. e., gladden) readers (1:8). It can, however, be said that clear conviction that nonliteral readings are evident and obtainable to believers in Scripture is intended to gladden them. In conclusion, it is correct to refer to Barnabas as reflecting the allegorical method. However, references to its method as typological, insofar as they assume that typology is a different distinct category from allegory, are misleading. We, therefore, propose discontinuation of “typology” as a label for the nonliteral exegesis of Barnabas. An alternative label to both allegory and typology is “nonliteral interpretation.”

L. Allegorical Approach and the Historical Continuum Controversy Returning finally to Rhodes’s observation that the allegorical approach in Barnabas incurs contradictions with a simultaneous historical outlook, a few examples suffice to show that such interpretations are unnecessary and are often based on modern translations rather than the reconstructed Greek text. In the next section we address the following two passages: 4:6b–8 and 14:4b–5.

I. Barnabas 4:6b–8 The passage bearing the most blame for contradicting the nonliteral approach with a historical interpretation in the Epistle of Barnabas is 4:6b–8. Rhodes has, however, effectively laid to rest much of the weight of the contradiction with a convincing textual emendation subsequently adopted by Mike Holmes in the UBS version of the Apostolic Fathers.62 Barn. 4:6b–8 exhorts readers and listeners, viewed as living in the last days, not to claim, “Our covenant remains valid,” since covenants can be broken at any time. Although, with this textual emendation, this passage can no longer be said to contradict the allegorical approach in Barnabas, it still uses strong language to describe the golden calf incident. When Moses came down the mountain the tablets were literally broken forever (εἰς

62 In 4:6, Rhodes proposes the emendation ημων μενει (“our covenant remains valid”) as preferable to ημων μεν (S); υμων υμιν μενει (C); illorum et nostrum est nostrum est autem (= εκεινων και ημων ημων μεν) (L); or ημων ημιν μενει ημων μεν (Kraft/Prigent) (“Excursus: The Text of 4:6b,” in Epistle of Barnabas and the Deuteronomic Tradition, 24–28). Cf. Holmes, Apostolic Fathers, 388 “4.6.” Adopting Rhodes’s emendation, Holmes notes, “The first edition followed an ancient manuscript: your covenant is irrevocably yours. Many adopt the sense of another: the covenant is both theirs and ours. Ours it is” (Holmes, Apostolic Fathers, 389, italics original).

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τέλος).63 Whereas Rhodes describes this strong language as rhetorical hyperbole, we simply acknowledge the emphatic nature of its warning to Christians. The literal reading states the facts as presented in the Jewish scriptures. The nonliteral reading interprets the facts as a warning to Christians that God’s covenants are fragile, and even his covenant with them may be broken. This warning to Christians in this passage is summed up in 4:9: “Consequently, let us be on guard in the later days, for the whole time of our faith will do us no good unless now, in the age of lawlessness, we also resist, as befits God’s children, the coming stumbling blocks, lest the black one find an opportunity to sneak in” (4:9; ET: Holmes). The remaining weight of the contradiction involves the final sentence in v. 8: καὶ συνῆκεν Μωϋσῆς καὶ ἔριψεν τὰς δύο πλάκας ἐκ τῶν χειρῶν αὐτοῦ· καὶ συνετρίβη αὐτῶν ἡ διαθήκη, ἵνα ἡ τοῦ ἠγαπημένου  Ἰησοῦ ἐγκατασφραγισθῇ εἰς τὴν καρδίαν ἡμῶν ἐν ἐλπίδι τῆς πίστεως αὐτοῦ.

However, this too is a case in which allegory must be permitted to guide the translation, not allowing it to slide back onto the historical continuum. The two periods (i. e., the golden calf incident and Jesus movement) are compared without any deference to a chronological (let alone causal) relationship. The καιροί must remain parallel, adhering to the constraints of ancient allegory. Lake, Ehrman, and Holmes each lapse in this regard, inferring from the Greek text a causal connection between the two phrases. And Moses understood and hurled the two tablets from his hands, and their covenant was shattered, in order that [so Lake, Holmes; Ehrman has only “that”] the covenant of the beloved Jesus might be sealed in our heart, in hope inspired by faith in him. (ET: Holmes)

This translation incurs an unnecessary historical contradiction in the allegory and would never have been the author’s intention. After the conjunction ἵνα, in the phrase ἵνα ἡ τοῦ ἠγαπημένου  Ἰησοῦ ἐγκατασφραγισθῇ εἰς τὴν καρδίαν ἡμῶν (v. 9), the two words δείξῃ ὅτι have been elided (so: ἵνα δείξῃ ὅτι, “to show that”; cf. 5:9), making the second phrase explanatory (purpose) rather than causal (result).64 When interpreters read ἵνα not as purpose (“in order that”) but as result (“so that”), then rejection of the covenant by one leads to the acceptance of it by another. The meaning is parallel to 4:14, “And still, my brothers, consider: when you observe that Israel was abandoned even after such signs and wonders had occurred in it, we too should pay close attention, lest, as it is written, “Many of

63 Ehrman renders εἰς τέλος “permanently.” The point of the interpretation is merely that the Jews lost the first version of their covenant with God. On Barnabas’s argument, Christians too can lose their first version of the covenant. The passage does not imply that either Jews or Christians are or can be permanently excluded from covenant with God. 64 What is here identified as ἔλλειψις might also be interpreted under the broader rubric of βρυχύτης/βραχυλογία. Based on the parallel in 5:9, the omitted expression could be understood as an abbreviation or compression of the idea stated more fully there.

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us were found called, but few chosen.” Three additional verses are in need of a similar correction or clarification: 2:6; 12:3; and 13:1. Each is taken in turn. First, Barn. 2:6 reads as follows: ταῦτα οὖν κατήργησεν, ἵνα ὁ καινὸς νόμος τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν  Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, ἄνευ ζυγοῦ ἀνάγκης ὤν, μὴ ἀνθρωποποίητον ἔχῃ τὴν προσφοράν. And so he nullified (καταργεῖν)65 these things [to indicate] that the new law of our Lord Jesus Christ, which is without the yoke of compulsion, should provide an offering not made by humans.

As in 4:9, following the conjunction ἵνα, in the phrase ἵνα ὁ καινὸς νόμος τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν  Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, ἄνευ ζυγοῦ ἀνάγκης ὤν, the two words δείξῃ ὅτι have been elided. The passage suggests that God’s rejection of the sacrificial system indicates allegorically that he does not want Christians to continue to make material offerings to him either. The passage redefines acceptable offering to God as goodwill to one another. Verses 9–10 clarify this intention: “And so, since we are not ignorant, we should perceive the good intention of our Father. For he is speaking to us, wanting us to seek how to make an offering to him without being deceived like them. And so he says to us: “A sacrifice to the Lord is a crushed heart; a sweet fragrance to the Lord is a heart that glorifies the one who made it.” Secondly, in the context of Exod 17:8–13 (the account of Moses’s defeat of Amalek), Barn. 12:3 states: πρὸς τί; ἵνα γνῶσιν, ὅτι οὐ δύνανται σωθῆναι ἐὰν μὴ ἐπ᾿ αὐτῷ ἐλπίσωσιν. For what reason? In order that they may know that they cannot be saved unless they hope in him.66

The referent for “him” is God (cf. 12:2b, 7b). The formulation, however, lends itself well to an allegorical parallel, namely, unless believers hope in Jesus, they will not be saved. Thirdly, Barn. 13:1 states that God’s covenant passes through Ephraim rather than Manasseh because the greater will serve the lesser (Barn. 13:5). In 14:1 this covenant passed from “the fathers” (Abraham) to “the people” (Moses), but the latter are not worthy to receive it (golden calf incident reprised). In 14:4–5, the author specifies the allegorical meaning of this incident: On one hand, Moses received [the covenant], but they were unworthy. On the other hand, learn [the interpretation of] how we have received it. Moses received it as a servant (θεράπων), whereas the Lord himself gave it to us as a people of the inheritance by enduring for us.5 Thus, [Moses] appeared in order that (ἐφανερώθη δέ ἵνα) those [people] might be perfected with respect to sin [the role of a servant]; but we received the covenant of the Lord Jesus through its heir, who was prepared for this [purpose]; [Jesus] appeared so that (ἵνα αὐτὸς φανείς) – redeeming our hearts (already spent to death and handed over to the lawlessness of wandering) from the darkness – he might arrange with us a covenant by word. 65 This 66 The

verb occurs five times in Barnabas (six occurrences in the Apostolic Fathers overall). purpose (not necessarily the result) is knowledge.

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As is clear from this passage, the author alternates between the base-text’s meaning and the allegorical interpretation, not between two rival parties in history.

II. Barnabas 14:4b–5 The reprise of the golden calf incident in Barnabas 14 incurs fewer historical intrusions than its first statement in chapter 4. Moses receives the covenant, but the people are not worthy of it (v. 4a). The text then switches to the allegorical interpretation signaled by the imperative form of the verb, μανθάνω: πῶς δὲ ἡμεῖς ἐλάβομεν; μάθετε. In what follows, the separation between the καιροί is clearer: Μωϋσῆς θεράπων ὢν ἔλαβεν, αὐτὸς δὲ ὁ κύριος ἡμῖν ἔδωκεν, εἰς λαὸν κληρονομίας, δι᾿ ἡμᾶς ὑπομείνας.

The δέ in the second half of the sentence signifies not a causal but an allegorical relationship between the clauses: “Moses received it as a servant, but the Lord himself gave it to us, as a people of the inheritance, by enduring [suffering] for us.” As with all allegorical readings the events of the first period, though historically prior, do not precipitate the events of the second period. Quite the opposite: the events of the second period mirror or repeat what went before in the same way that a replica mirrors or repeats an original. In strict adherence to the figure of allegory, the Epistle of Barnabas never connects individual comparative units. Translations that suggest such a connection are in error. Interpretations concerned with contradiction approach allegory sluggishly. The allegorical approach in this text is adamant and inflexible: ancient Jews represent Christians in the author’s Christian interpretation. Concerning the historical destiny of Judaism, this author is silent. Presumably both entities will remain until Christ returns to judge all (4:12), and the question of succession (as well as any alleged anti-Semitism of the work) is evaporated into thin air. These allegorical interpretations follow directly from the purpose of the letter as it is described in 1:8: ἐγὼ δὲ οὐχ ὡς διδάσκαλος, ἀλλ᾿ ὡς εἷς ἐξ ὑμῶν ὑποδείξω ὀλίγα. Ὑποδείξειν ὀλίγα, meaning to “cite” or “indicate” a “few [passages],” is the letter’s stated purpose, promising to gladden listeners and readers in the present circumstances: δι᾿ ὧν ἐν τοῖς παροῦσιν εὐφρανθήσεσθε. Although forecasting through allegory is certainly possible, it is often difficult to understand and trust. Alternatively, allegorical exegesis of things already established can encourage believers – not only in the reliability of the textual witnesses but in the acceptable method of their interpretation. This raises the question of the purpose of the text as a whole, namely to offer encouragement. While such an aim involves complicated questions concerning the author’s strategies of pseudepigraphy (i. e., Barnabas, “son of comfort,” Acts 4:26), if the real purpose of the text is not agonistic in any sense (Christians are better than Jews, etc.), but hermeneutical, to

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introduce and model strategies of recovering meaning from the “law and the prophets,” then the text is pedagogical not just with regard to ethics but also methods of reading.

M. Conclusion This essay argues that the allegorical approach to the Jewish scriptures in the Epistle of Barnabas not only dominates but is itself the primary aim of this letter67 and that interpreters must be more disciplined in their approach to this method in their interpretations of this work. Modern interpretation of ancient allegory as “typology, ” coupled with a sporadic (as opposed to thorough) approach to allegory in the letter, has fostered crucially inaccurate textual translations and interpretations. Much of the literature and thinking on this text routinely fails to consider guidelines of its nonliteral exegesis. What is worse, the nonliteral exegesis of this text is the author’s philosophically sophisticated solution to the relationship of Christianity to Judaism. The answer lies in an understanding of Christianity as an imperfect imprint, just like Judaism, of God’s coin-stamp. Neither is perfect; each is equally prone to error and forfeiture of the covenantal relationship. Christians are no different from their Jewish predecessors apart from the fact that they have the benefit of learning from the past (which they need as “newcomers,” 3:6). The allegorical interpretation of Barnabas is intended to encourage Christian readers of the letter. Unified in their allegorical approach, Barnabas and Hebrews fit together nicely as a joint response to the inner-Jewish debate concerning atonement for the golden calf incident. Barnabas is the prequel, emphasizing the rupture caused by the golden calf incident. Hebrews explains how Yom Kippur provides the necessary atonement.68 Barnabas proposes that the golden calf incident is allegorical for Christian apostasy, the only answer to which is a Christian allegory of Yom Kippur, clearly spelled out in the letter to the Hebrews. Both texts emphasize Abraham over Moses. Both texts interpret Judaism as an allegory for the Christian desideratum of this argument is the order of the letter’s exegetical topoi. 9:9–10 is one such passage. Although the text appears to slide from an allegorical comparison of the earthly and heavenly sanctuaries back into an historical register, the statement, ἥτις παραβολὴ εἰς τὸν καιρὸν τὸν ἐνεστηκότα (9:9), implies a comparison of periods. The point is that both the Jewish and Christian periods (καιροί) seek a perfection that is only possible at the return of Christ: “This is a symbol of the present period, during which gifts and sacrifices are offered that cannot perfect the conscience of the worshiper but deal only with food and drink and various baptisms, regulations for the body imposed until the period comes to set things right (μέχρι καιροῦ διορθώσεως ἐπικείμενα) (9:9).” Enno Edzard Popkes argues for a Law/Torah-Gospel (Golden Calf-Yom Kippur) relationship between the Apocryphon of John and the Gospel of Thomas (Das Menschenbild des Thomasevangeliums: Untersuchungen zu seiner religionsgeschichtlichen und chronologischen Einordnung [WUNT 206; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007]). Such a parallel might apply to Barnabas and Hebrews. 67 A

68 Hebrews

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movement. Barnabas, moreover, describes himself and fellow Christians as goats, emphasizing the value of human sacrifice (i. e., Abraham [Gen 22] over Moses). For both, Jesus is the goat par excellence. Requiring that the allegorical method control the translations, and not vice versa, rules out dismissal of Judaism in both texts. Paul initiated the entire line of thinking insofar as he demonstrates the efficacy of allegory in Romans 5, Galatians 4, 1 Corinthians 10, and elsewhere. Together, Hebrews and Barnabas extend the Pauline tradition, exhibiting more than just superficial points of contact (from the allegorical method to reinterpretation of the law and the importance of faith). Tertullian’s attribution of both texts to Barnabas suggests their connection and place in the Pauline legacy, Barnabas closer to Galatians (in which the figure of Barnabas appears)  – and Hebrews closer to Romans.

Chapter Fourteen

Diognetus and the Topos of the Invisible God A. Introduction Beginning with Aristotle, ancient philosophers and rhetoricians selected from a list of topoi when crafting a speech or other argument. The benefit of this practice was not just a direction for one’s creative energy or an immediate conversation partner, but an audience to appreciate and engage your work.1 Topoi were organized around a general subject. Yet composing a treatise on a topos also implied a common approach to that subject. In connection with Cleanthes’s Hymn to Zeus, Johan Thom investigates a few different ancient moral-philosophical topoi. One such topos is that of the invisible God. The general idea is that the divine is invisible – known in the world by its actions. As Thom shows, an important sub-topos is the consequence of human failure to recognize divine actions in the world – a failure that leads to errors, including the assumption that God needs anything – a motif of the sub-topos. Thom demonstrates that this topos, sub-​­topos, and motif are at work not just in Cleanthes’s Hymn, but Paul’s letter to the Romans, Paul’s Areopagus speech in Acts 17, and the Wisdom of Solomon. In this essay, I will argue that the Epistle of Diognetus belongs to this discussion: the topos, sub-topos, and motif are also at work in this letter.2 1 Johan Thom, “Topos as Heuristic Construct for Reading Ancient Moral and Religious Texts” (paper delivered at the Annual Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature, San Diego, CA, 2014), 1. Cf. idem, “‘The Mind Is Its Own Place’: Defining the Topos,” 555–73. 2  Literature consulted: Paul Andriessen, “L’Apologie de Quadratus conserve sous le title d’Epître à Diognète,” RTAM 13 (1946): 5–39, 125–49; idem, “L’Epilogue de L’Epître à Diognète,” RTAM 14 (1947): 121–56; idem, “The Authorship of the Epistula ad Diognetum,” VC 1 (1947): 129–36; David Aune, “Diognetus, Letter to,” in The Westminster Dictionary of New Testament and Early Christian Literature and Rhetoric (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2003); John M. G.  Barclay, Against Apion: Translation and Commentary (Leiden: Brill, 2007); L. W. Barnard, “The Enigma of the Epistle to Diognetus,” in Studies in the Apostolic Fathers and Their Background (New York: Schocken, 1966), 165–73; Johannes B. Bauer, “An Diognet VI,” VC 17 (1963): 207–10; Theofried Baumeister, “Zur Datierung der Schrift an Diognet,” VC 42 (1988): 105–11; Karl Bihlmeyer, Didache, Barnabas, Klemens I und II, Ignatius, Polykarp, Papias, Quadratus, Diognetbrief, Teil 1 of Die Apostolischen Väter; Michael F. Bird, “The Reception of Paul in the Epistle of Diognetus,” in Paul in the Second Century (ed. M. F. Bird and J. R. Dodson; LNTS; London: T&T Clark, 2011), 70–90; E. H. Blakeney, The Epistle to Diognetus (London: SPCK; New York: Macmillan, 1943); E. H. Blakeney, “A Note on the Epistle to Diognetus X,1,” JTS 42 (1941): 193–95; R. H. Connolly, “Ad Diognetum xi–xii,” JTS 37 (1936): 2–15; idem, “The Date and Authorship of the Epistle to Diognetus,” JTS 36 (1945): 347–53; Brandon D. Crowe, “Oh

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B. Ancient Topos In his essay entitled, “Topos as Heuristic Construct for Reading Ancient Moral and Religious Texts,” Johan Thom describes topos as a technical term with a confusing history.3 Thom outlines the discussion as follows. In his Rhetoric, Aristotle discusses three types of topoi: common, special, and logical. Common topoi were Sweet Exchange! The Soteriological Significance of the Incarnation in the Epistle to Diognetus,” ZNW 102 (2011): 96–109; A. Dirkzwager, “Eine bekannte Crux in Ad Diognetum 2,3,” L’Antiquité Classique 48 (1979): 647–55; Ehrman, Apostolic Fathers, vol. 2 (LCL); Walther Eltester, “Das Mysterium des Christentums: Anmerkungen zum Diognetbrief,” ZNW 61 (1970): 278–93; Eugene R. Fairweather, “The So-called Letter to Diognetus, Introduction and Books,” in Early Christian Fathers (ed. C. C. Richardson; LCC 1; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1953), 205–24; Paul Foster, “The Epistle to Diognetus,” ExpTim 118 (2007): 162–68 (reprinted in The Writings of the Apostolic Fathers [ed. Paul Foster; London: T&T Clark, 2007], 147–56); F. X. Funk, Die Apostolischen Väter, 2nd ed. (SAQ 2.1; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1906); idem, Epistulae Barnabae, Clementis Romani, Ignatii, Polycarpi, anonymi ad Diognetum, Ignatii et Polycarpi martyria, pastor Hermae, vol. 1 of Opera patrum apostolicorum (Tübingen: Laupp, 1881); J. Geffcken, “Der Brief an Diognet,” ZKG 43 (1924): 348–50; idem, Der Brief an Diognetus (Heidelberg: Winter, 1928); Robert M. Grant, Greek Apologists of the Second Century (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988); Adolf von Harnack, Die Chronologie der Literatur bis Irenäus nebst einleitenden Untersuchungen, Band 1 of Die Chronologie, Teil 1 of Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur bis Eusebius, 2nd ed. (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1958); idem, Die Überlieferung der griechischen Apologeten des zweiten Jahrhunderts in der alten Kirche und im Mittelalter (TU 1.1–2; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1882); Michael Heintz, “Μιμητὴς θεοῦ in the Epistle of Diognetus,” JECS 12 (2004): 107–19; Hill, From the Lost Teaching of Polycarp; A. E. Housman, “A. E. Housman on the Letter to Diognetus VII, 2,” HTR 45 (1952): 1; Kraft, Barnabas and the Didache; Wilhelm Kühnert, “Zur Sinndeutung des Briefes an Diognet,” in Geschichtsmächtigkeit und Geduld: FS der Evangelisch-theologischen Fakultät Wien (ed. G. Fitzer; Sonderhelft EvTh; Munich: Chr. Kaiser, 1972), 35–41; Lake, Apostolic Fathers, vol. 2 (LCL); Lightfoot and Harmer, Apostolic Fathers; A. Lindemann, “Paulinische Theologie im Brief an Diognet,” in Kerygma und Logos: Beiträge zu den geistesgeschichtlichen Beziehungen zwischen Antike und Christentum. FS für Carl Andresen zum 70. Geburtstag (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1979), 337–50; Horacio E. Lona, “Beobachtung zu ἀλαζονεία und εἰρωνεία in Diog 4,1.4–5,” ZNW 90 (1999): 282–89; idem, An Diognet (KFA 8; Freiberg: Herder, 2001); idem, “Die Struktur von Diog 5–6,” VC 54 (2000): 32–43; H.-I. Marrou, À Diognète: Introduction, edition critique, traduction et commentaire, 2nd ed. (SC 33.2; Paris: Cerf, 1965); Henry G. Meecham, The Epistle to Diognetus (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1949); idem, “The Theology of the Epistle to Diognetus,” ExpTim 54 (1943): 97–101; Charles M. Nielsen, “Epistle to Diognetus: Its Date and Relationship to Marcion,” AThR 52 (1970): 77–91; A. D. Nock, “A Note on Epistula ad Diognetum X,1,” JTS 29 (1927–1928): 40; J. G. O’Neill, “The Epistle to Diognetus,” IER 85 (1956): 92–106; Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, The Apostolic Fathers with Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, vol. 1 of The Ante-Nicene Fathers (rev. A. Cleveland Coxe; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1885; repr. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1989); Pär Sandin, “Diognetiana,” VC 61 (2007): 253–57; Katherina Schneider, “Die Stellung der Juden und Christen in der Welt nach dem Diognetbrief,” JAC 42 (1999): 20–41; R. G. Tanner, “The Epistle to Diognetus and Contemporary Greek Thought,” StPatr 15 (1984): 495–508; J. J. Thierry, The Epistle to Diognetus (Textus minores 33; Leiden: Brill, 1964); idem, “The Logos as teacher in Ad Diognetum XI,1,” VC 20 (1966): 146–49; A. L. Townsley, “Notes for an Interpretation of the Epistle to Diognetus,” RSC 24 (1976): 5–20; Klaus Wengst, “Paulinismus und Gnosis in der Schrift an Diognet,” ZKG 90 (1979): 41–62; idem, Didache (Apostellehre), Barnabasbrief, Zweiter Klemensbrief, Schrift an Diognet: Eingeleitet, herausgegeben, übertragen und erläutert. 3 Thom, “Topos as Heuristic Construct for Reading Ancient Moral and Religious Texts,” 1.

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the basis of propositions of any discipline (e. g., the more or less, possible and impossible, and what has happened or will happen); special topoi were specific to a discipline or rhetorical genre (e. g., causes of unjust acts in a judicial speech); and logical topoi were rhetorical schemas (e. g., arguments based on opposites, analogies, definitions, contradictions, etc.).4 From the late Hellenistic period onward, τόπος (or its Latin equivalent locus) was also used to mean “topic, ” as in discussions of general topics. Focusing on this meaning, Thom explores expressions in NT scholarship,5 arguing that “ordered cognitive space” underlies all uses. Although some of the principles according to which space is ordered are universally valid, most are culturally determined. For example, moral-philosophical topoi – such as marriage, the household, friendship, frank speech, flattery, anger, providence, fate, suffering, and piety – treat conventional subjects with shared sets of issues to be debated. Thom argues that the Graeco-Roman moral universe was mapped into regions or topoi – each with its own internal structure based on the questions it was meant to answer. According to Thom, by using topoi, authors implied that their arguments belonged on a moral map known to their interlocutors. Points of reference did not need to be spelled out. The topos rather than an author, community, social status, political position, or literary category brought one’s own writing into relationship with others.6 With this definitional premise, Thom explores how five genealogically unrelated texts7 – Cleanthes’s Hymn to Zeus, Pseudo-Aristotle, On the Cosmos 6, Wis 13:1–9, Rom 1:18–32, and Acts 17:23– 31 – are related to each other because they position themselves on the same moral map, expressing opinions on a single region or topos of that map in a certain way, in this case the problem of the relationship between the invisible God and the world. To this discussion, the present essay introduces the Epistle of Diognetus.

C. History of Scholarship The history of scholarship on the Epistle of Diognetus offers a variety of interpretations to the interested reader. Although no commentator presently identifies Diognetus as engaging the moral-philosophical topos of the invisible God, each addresses the theme in at least a limited manner. Accepting its overall integrity,8 Jefford divides the text into two sections (chapters 1–10 and 11–12). Although 4 Thom,

“Topos as Heuristic Construct for Reading Ancient Moral and Religious Texts,” 1.

5 Thom, “Topos as Heuristic Construct for Reading Ancient Moral and Religious Texts,” 2–3. 6 Thom, “Topos as Heuristic Construct for Reading Ancient Moral and Religious Texts,” 2–3. 7 Topoi

are treated across generic classifications (e. g., prayer, letter, tractate). The Epistle to Diognetus [with the Fragment of Quadratus]: Introduction, Text, and Commentary (ed. Clayton N. Jefford; Oxford Apostolic Fathers; Oxford University Press, 2013), 49. 8 Jefford,

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the text initially takes the form of a letter, it lacks many typical epistolary elements such as greeting, thanksgiving, and author’s name. He categorizes the work as “apology” and protreptic discourse (λόγος προτρεπτικός, or “exhortatory speech”) intended to address more than one person.9 The second section may be a homily for Epiphany or Easter, noting similarities to 2 Clement.10 For Jefford, Diognetus is a “carefully crafted argument on behalf of early Christian apologetics,” arguing the author’s view of the nature of God against competing opinions. Jefford addresses the theme of the invisible God only indirectly in his discussion of the theology of the text. He begins his discussion by identifying questions associated with the author’s view of the nature of God as most important.11 He lists various epithets and attributes of the divine, including “all-powerful, world creator, invisible” (ὁ παντοκράτωρ καὶ παντοκτίστης καῖ ἀόρατος θεός) (7:2), observing roots in both Judaism and Hellenism.12 Of these attributes, he argues that God’s goodness and love are the focus: Clearly dominant in this vision is both the goodness and the love of God. The divine creator of the universe is not a hard and cold dictator of destiny but, instead, a loving and caring figure who permits humanity to follow its own desires.13

The topic arises again in the course of Jefford’s treatment of the theme of Christians as the soul of the world. Noting the influence of Middle Platonism, Jefford does not mention the invisibility of Christians or their worship in this context (Diog. 6:1–10, esp. v. 4).14 In his commentary on Diogn. 6:4, he compares the “invisibility” of Christian worship with Phaedrus 247c–d and interprets it as possibly spiritual instead of literal, although acknowledging that ἀόρατος ἡ ψυχὴ ἐν ὁρατῷ φρουρεῖται τῷ σώματι implies some kind of physical imprisonment. In his commentary on 7:2, he bypasses the topic of invisibility with the exception of a parallel in 2 Clem. 20:5.15 Horacio E. Lona corroborates Jefford’s overall impression of this text, namely that it is an apologetic treatise. On the theme of God’s image, Lona translates  9  The Epistle to Diognetus [with the Fragment of Quadratus], 52, 56. Protreptic discourse is the more technical designation and does not rule out “apology” (56). See also idem, Reading the Apostolic Fathers: A Student’s Introduction, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2012), 170. 10 The Epistle to Diognetus [with the Fragment of Quadratus], 54, 56. Jefford argues that the final two chapters stand apart from the rest of the tractate (33). 11 The Epistle to Diognetus [with the Fragment of Quadratus], 57. 12 The Epistle to Diognetus [with the Fragment of Quadratus], 59. In his commentary on this passage (229–30), Jefford (no doubt inadvertently) translates “the very God who is all-powerful and world creator and visible,” citing the Greek ἀόρατος and likening the claim to “the God of OT tradition,” for which he cites P.Oxy. 925 (n. 136). 13 The Epistle to Diognetus [with the Fragment of Quadratus], 59. 14 He discusses vv. 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, but not v. 4. The Epistle to Diognetus [with the Fragment of Quadratus], 64–65. Cf. Horacio E. Lona, “Diognetus,” in The Apostolic Fathers: An Introduction (ed. Wilhelm Pratscher; Waco: Baylor University Press, 2010), 197–214, here: 207. 15 The Epistle to Diognetus [with the Fragment of Quadratus], 229 n. 135.

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7:2a (ὁ παντοκράτωρ καὶ παντοκτίστης καὶ ἀόρατος θεός) as “Almighty and Creator of all” (i. e., omitting ἀόρατος), yet concerning 7:4, he correctly notes that: “The sending of the Son reflects the reality of the invisible God.”16 Similar to Jefford, Lona emphasizes God’s depiction as good and kind. He also highlights Christological statements concentrated in chapter 7 (2a–d; 4, 5, 6) and distributed elsewhere also (i. e., 10:2; 11:3). About the individual in the world, Lona draws attention to the five motifs: (1) inquirer after God and capable of learning; (2) fallen prior to knowledge of truth and salvation; (3) dwelling in the world; (4) imitators of God; and (5) believers in the church.17 Acknowledging a slough of parallels with ancient writings, both Jefford and Lona, nevertheless, both bypass the theme of visibility, a feature that links chapters 2–9, let alone the topos of the invisible God that orients this text in its moral-philosophical milieu.

D. Exegetical Analysis It is difficult if not impossible to identify genealogical links between Cleanthes’s Hymn to Zeus, Pseudo-Aristotle, De mundo 6, Wis 13:1–9, Rom 1:18–32, and Acts 17:23–31. However, as Thom demonstrates, these texts are related to each other because they position themselves on the same moral map expressing opinions on a single region or topos, namely the problem of the relationship between the invisible God and the world. A sub-topos of the invisible-God topos is consequences of the failure to recognize God. This failure leads to a life without understanding and (thus) a pursuit of worthless superficial desires. Irony results when the creatures closest to God do not recognize him. The Epistle to Diognetus also belongs on this moral map. After a brief summary of each text, the argument establishes Diognetus among them.

I. Cleanthes’s Hymn to Zeus According to Thom, the Stoic Cleanthes probably composed this hymn in the first half of the third century BCE.18 Its basic message is that evil is the result of irrational human behavior, which causes a disturbance in the cosmos that is only rectifiable with God’s help. God’s rule extends throughout all of nature in “one ever-existing rational order” (Hymn to Zeus 21), also referred to as God’s “works” (37). Cleanthes believes that human beings can recognize God through the cosmos since they share in the rationality that permeates the cosmic order 16 “Diognetus,”

206, emphasis added. 209–10. 18 Johan C. Thom, Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus (STAC 33; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 2–7. All of the citations of this text in this essay come from this volume. 17 “Diognetus,”

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(Hymn to Zeus 4–5). Ignorance of God’s rule results in the pursuit of worthless and destructive goals that lead human beings to an unsatisfying life (Hymn to Zeus 23–24; cf. 33). The inclination to shun rationality and remain ignorant of God (“destructive ignorance”) is, however, a common human condition (Hymn to Zeus 26–31). Only God can save humans from such ignorance, granting them the understanding they need to live a life praising him and in accordance with the universal laws he established (Hymn to Zeus 32–39).

II. Pseudo-Aristotle, De mundo Attributed to Aristotle, De Mundo is a protreptic treatise probably composed in the late Hellenistic or early Imperial period by a writer with Peripatetic sympathies.19 The text describes God as maintaining cosmic order and harmony. God is also “the leader and begetter of all things, being invisible except to the power of reason” (ὁ πάντων ἡγεμών τε καὶ γενέτωρ, ἀόρατος ὢν ἄλλῳ, πλὴν λογισμῷ, 399a30–31). He is the origin and first cause of all (399a30–35). Because God is transcendent, he is invisible. He can, however, can be seen through his works: For it could truly be said that all that takes place in the air and on land and in water are the works of God who has power over the cosmos. (Mund. 399b19–22; ET: Thom)

The soul takes the mind as its guide, and thus to see God and to understand the complex yet orderly phenomena of the cosmos, humans must use reason. The power of God becomes visible to human beings through the deductive powers of reasoning. In this way, “divine things” are grasped intellectually, that is, with “the divine eye of the soul.” The soul therefore by means of philosophy, taking the mind as its guide, crosses over and travels around [sc. in the sacred region = the heavens], having found a way that is not tiring. It brings together in thought things that are most separated from each other in place, because, I think, it easily discovers the things that are related, and with the divine eye of the soul it comprehends the divine things and interprets them to humans. (391a11–16)

According to On the Cosmos, God is visible to humans who make use of the deductive powers of reason to infer his existence from the ordered nature of the cosmos. Knowledge of God is in principle available to everyone, although the implication is that we need philosophy to understand the truth regarding God. The tractate touches on the sub-topos, stating that “necessity [Ἀνάγκη] means nothing else than him” (401b8).

19 Cosmic Order and Divine Power: Pseudo-Aristotle, On the Cosmos (ed. Johan Thom; SAPERE 23; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 15. All of the citations of this text in this essay come from this volume.

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III. Wisdom of Solomon Wisdom of Solomon was probably written around the turn of the Common Era. The text praises God in the form of divine wisdom and exhorts readers to be guided by her. That she is invisible is self-evident. Using motifs of the invisible-God topos, the text explores the many ways in which her works testify to her existence: For she is the breath of the power of God, and a pure emanation of the glory of the Almighty; therefore nothing defiled gains entrance into her. For she is a reflection of eternal light, a spotless mirror of the working of God, and an image of his goodness. Although she is but one, she can do all things, and while remaining in herself, she renews all things … (7:25–27)

She made the world from formless mass (11:17), created humanity (9:2), ordered the events of Israelite history from Adam onward (10:1–21), and sustains all things now and forever (25–26). Failure to honor God as creator leads to inexcusable foolishness. The one who honors wisdom lives eternally; the one who ignores her perishes. For all people who were ignorant of God were foolish by nature; and they were unable from the good things that are seen to know the one who exists, nor did they recognize the artisan while paying heed to his works; but they supposed that either fire or wind or swift air, or the circle of the stars, or turbulent water, or the luminaries of heaven were the gods that rule the world. If through delight in the beauty of these things people assumed them to be gods, let them know how much better than these is their Lord, for the author of beauty created them. And if people were amazed at their power and working, let them perceive from them how much more powerful is the one who formed them. For from the greatness and beauty of created things comes a corresponding perception of their Creator. Yet these people are little to be blamed, for perhaps they go astray while seeking God and desiring to find him. For while they live among his works, they keep searching, and they trust in what they see, because the things that are seen are beautiful. Yet again, not even they are to be excused; for if they had the power to know so much that they could investigate the world, how did they fail to find sooner the Lord of these things? But miserable, with their hopes set on dead things, are those who give the name “gods” to the work of human hands, gold and silver fashioned with skill, and likenesses of animals, or a useless stone, the work of an ancient hand. (13:1–10)20

The creation conspires with God to punish the righteous (by fire in 16:27). 20 ET: NRSV. Literature consulted: Richard J. Clifford, The Wisdom Literature (Interpreting Biblical Texts; Nashville: Abingdon, 1998); John J. Collins, “Wisdom and Immortality,” in idem, Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age (Old Testament Library; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 178–221; David A. deSilva, “Wisdom of Solomon: ‘The Righteous Live Forever,’” in idem, Introducing the Apocrypha, 127–52; Daniel J. Harrington, “The Wisdom of Solomon: Immortality, Wisdom, and History,” in idem, Invitation to the Apocrypha (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1999), 55–77; Roland E. Murphy, “The Wisdom of Solomon: A View from the Diaspora,” in idem, The Tree of Life: An Exploration of Biblical Wisdom Literature (AB Reference Library; New York: Doubleday, 1990), 83–96; David Winston, The Wisdom of Solomon: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 43; New York: Doubleday, 1979).

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IV. Romans 1:18–32 Several of the above motifs also occur in Paul’s letter to the Romans. The first chapter of this letter addresses human distortion of truth. In 1:18–32, such ignorant behavior leads to wrongful cultic practice and ethical behavior. According to Paul, God is invisible, but not unknowable: “Ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made. So they are without excuse” (v. 20). According to Paul, human beings, both pagans and Jews, not only have the ability but the responsibility to perceive the world as God’s work. Failure to do so implies that their “hearts” are hardened. They might think that they “know,” but are in fact ignorant, suffering from a false sense of awareness. Human beings who fail to honor God because they cannot see him will be held responsible for their actions.

V. Acts 17:23–31 Paul’s Areopagus speech in Acts 17:23–31 also addresses human ignorance about God. God arranged everything in nature. Humans were created to be able to deduce his existence through these arrangements, and correspondingly the order by which God created the world was designed to evoke his recognition. Humans may have to search, but when they do, their action is rewarded. Those unable to discern the existence of God from his creation worship the artwork in the face of the artist and will be held accountable for their blatant disrespect, although as a consequence for ignorance the author highlights moral repentance over eternal punishment.

VI. Summation Thom argues that beneath the above-mentioned five texts lies a topos that unites them on a single moral map creating between them a measurable spatial relationship. This topos asks how human beings know God exists. All five texts agree that, although the divine is invisible, God is known through actions in the world. Among these five texts, differences exist in their positions on how human beings are able to recognize worldly actions as divine. In both Cosmos and Romans, such knowledge is acquired through deductive reasoning. Similarly, Wisdom of Solomon argues that humans discover it through the investigation of nature (inductive). In Cleanthes’s Hymn, this knowledge is based on the imago Dei principle – the human being’s shared rationality with God – based on the same underlying nature. Similarly, Paul’s Areopagus speech bases knowledge of God

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on God’s proximity to humans seeking him. For Acts, human acknowledgment is the primary purpose of God’s actions.

E. Exegetical Analysis The Epistle of Diognetus is in conversation with the above-mentioned five texts insofar as it also develops the topos of an invisible God known through his works. A discussion of the Epistle’s usage of the topos is followed by a comparison of this treatment with those mentioned above.

I. Epistle to Diognetus This text was written “against Diognetus” – that is, to the purported objections of an antagonist: These are what you call gods. These are what you serve. These are what you worship. And in the end, these are what you become like. Is this why you hate the Christians, because they do not consider these to be gods? (2:5–6) Chart 1. I. Prologue: De natura deorum (ch. 1) A1. Pagan worship: incorrect view of the nature of the gods (ch. 2) B1. Jewish worship: incorrect view of the nature of God (chs. 3–4) C1. Christian worship: paradox series, worship = invisible (chs. 5–6) C2. Advent of Jesus: true nature of God revealed (ch. 7) B2. Philosophy: all prior to Jesus did not comprehend nature of God (ch. 8) A2. Eschatology: Two Ages (ch. 9) II. Conclusion: How to: gnosis first (ch. 10)

As indicated in Chart 1, following the prologue, the first four chapters provide an overview of flaws in Greek and Jewish conceptions of divine nature.21 In the last five lines of chapter 1, the author states: I welcome the eagerness of yours and ask God – who enables us to both speak and hear – that I may be allowed to speak in such a way that derives special benefit by hearing, and that you hear in such a way that the speaker not be put to grief.

God enables the author to speak in a comprehensible way to Diognetus, the first suggestion that, although he is invisible, God’s actions are immediately accessible to human beings. The author identifies the ineffectuality of all forms of non-Christian worship as the primary theme of the first section (chs. 2–6), 21 The prologue of this letter-tractate is a Greek period (cf. Luke 1:1–4). Thesis is on the nature of the divine. On the structural elements of the letter, see Jefford, The Epistle to Diognetus [with the Fragment of Quadratus], 30–33.

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pointing to both Greek and Jewish examples  – such as, that statues are mere idols (Greeks) and that the one true God has no need of sacrifices (Jews) (Diogn. 2–4). The Jews are criticized for their attention to the stars and moon as marking the seasons and establishing religious festivals (Diogn. 4). The author explains that attempting to discern the will of God – as creator of the heavens (stars and moon)  – by inspection of the moon and stars leads to flawed interpretations and (hence) ways of life. After characterizing Christians as the soul of the world (Diogn. 6), the author returns to the claim that God is the creator of the world, culminating in the final chapter describing the garden of Eden as a (still possible) pure state of faith. Pagan worship of inert statues signifies the view that the divine lacks perception (Diogn. 2). These gods are not real, because if they were, pagan worship of them would actually constitute punishment (e. g., being locked up at night, etc.). Pagans have selected the wrong objects of worship. Correspondingly, Jews offer sacrifices to God, signifying their mistaken view that the divine has needs (Diogn. 3–4). The Jews have the correct object of worship, but an incorrect view of his nature (3:3, 5). The author summarizes the circumstances as follows: But those who suppose they are performing sacrifices of blood and fat and whole burnt offerings, and thereby to be bestowing honor on him by these displays of reverence, seem no different to me from those who show the same honor to the gods who are deaf – one group giving to gods who cannot receive the honor, the other thinking that it can provide something to the one who needs nothing. (3:5)

This summation prompts the question of the Christian conception of divine nature. The answer is provided in chapter 5 by a list of fourteen22 Christian behaviors framed as riddles or opposites.23 1. They inhabit both Greek and barbarian cities, according to the lot assigned to each. And they show forth the character of their own citizenship in a marvelous and admittedly paradoxical way by following local customs in what they wear and what they eat and in the rest of their lives. (5:4) 2. They live in their respective countries, but only as resident aliens; they participate in all things as citizens, and they endure all things as foreigners. Every foreign territory is a homeland for them, every homeland foreign territory. (5:5) 3. They marry like everyone else and have children, but they do not expose them once they are born. (5:6) 4. They share their meals but not their sexual partners. (5:7) 5. They are found in the flesh but do not live according to the flesh. (5:8) 6. They live on earth but participate in the life of heaven. (5:9) 7. They are obedient to the laws that have been made, and by their own lives they supersede the laws. (5:10) 22 The number of items in any of the lists in this Epistle may be counted differently. The total number of items in a given list is probably symbolic. This work remains a desideratum of the study of this Epistle and will not concern us in this essay. 23 On the literary qualities of the series in chapters 5 and 6, see Jefford, The Epistle to Diognetus [with the Fragment of Quadratus], 34–42.

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  8. They love everyone and are persecuted by all. (5:11)   9. They are not understood, and they are condemned. They are put to death and made alive. (5:12) 10. They are impoverished and make many rich. They lack all things and abound in everything. (5:13) 11. They are dishonored, and they are exalted in their dishonors. They are slandered, and they are acquitted. (5:14) 12. They are reviled, and they bless. They are mistreated, and they bestow honor. (5:15) 13. They do good and are punished as evil; when they are punished they rejoice as those who have been made alive. (5:16) 14. They are attacked by Jews as foreigners and persecuted by Greeks. And those who hate them cannot explain the cause of their enmity. (5:17)24

This series of statements culminates in a metaphor (Diogn. 6): “What the soul is in the body, this is what Christians are in the world.” Nine (or eight)25 qualities are spelled out, much like the above list of Christian actions, in a series of riddles or opposites (key terms are underlined): 1. The soul is spread throughout all the limbs of the body; Christians are spread throughout the cities of the world. (6:2) 2. The soul lives in the body, but it does not belong to the body; Christians live in the world but do not belong to the world. (6:3) 3. The soul, which is invisible, is put under guard in the visible body; Christians are known to be in the world, but their worship of God remains invisible. (6:4) 4. The flesh hates the soul and attacks it, even though it has suffered no harm, because it is hindered from indulging in its pleasures. And the world hates the Christians, even though it has suffered no harm, because they are opposed to its pleasures. (6:5) 5. The soul loves the flesh that hates it, along with its limbs; Christians love those who hate them. (6:6) 6. The soul is imprisoned in the body, but it sustains the body; Christians are detained in the prison of the world, but they sustain the world. (6:7) 7. The soul, which is immortal, dwells in a mortal tent; Christians temporarily dwell in perishable surroundings but await that which is imperishable in the heavens. (6:8) 8. The soul grows stronger even when mistreated by what the body eats and drinks; Christians increase daily even when punished. (6:9) 9. God has appointed them to such a position, and it would not be right for them to abandon it. (6:10)

The primary quality, however, is clear: it is invisibility; Christian worship is invisible, a by-product of visible individuals imitating their invisible God: 24 Cf. Hymn to Zeus 18–19. According to Elizabeth Asmis, “In the usual manner of riddles, it consists of a juxtaposition of opposites: Zeus knows how to make odd even, disorder orderly, what is not dear dear, and to fit all into one and fit good with bad, so that there is a single logos for all” (“Myth and Philosophy in Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus,” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 47 [2007)]: 413–429, here: 417). 25 The last item simply states that God has ordained this lot (or these circumstances) for Christians. The lists in this Epistle bear some resemblance to aretalogies. See n. 15 (above).

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The soul, which is invisible, is protected in the visible body; Christians are known to be in the world, but their worship of God remains invisible (ἀόρατος ἡ ψυχὴ ἐν ὁρατῷ φρουρεῖται τῷ σώματι· καὶ Χριστιανοὶ γινώσκονται μὲν ὄντες ἐν τῷ κοσμῷ, ἀόρατος δὲ αὐτῶν ἡ θεοσέβεια μένει).

From this analogy, the author develops a view of the invisible God. A long, poetic Greek period in 7:2 (positioned as the apex of the argument in the letter, see Chart 1) describes God as invisible – recognizable (by the faithful) by the works of the one whom he sent. The author lists seven works, embedding a list of nine subjects in the seventh work: But the truly all-powerful God himself, creator of all and invisible, set up and established in their hearts the truth and the holy word from heaven, which cannot be comprehended by humans. To do so, … he sent the craftsman and maker of all things himself (ἀλλ᾿ αὐτὸν τὸν τεχνίτην καὶ δημιουργὸν τῶν ὅλων), 1. by whom he created the heavens, 2. by whom he enclosed the sea within its own boundaries, 3. whose mysteries all the elements of creation guard faithfully, 4. from whom the sun was appointed to guard the courses that it runs during the day, 5. whom the moon obeys when he commands it to shine at night, 6. whom the stars obey by following the course of the moon, 7. by whom all things are set in order and arranged and put into subjection, a. the heavens and the things in the heavens, b. the earth and the things in the earth, c. the sea and the things in the sea, d. fire, e. air, f. the abyss, g. creatures in the heights, h. creatures in the depths, and i. creatures in between – this is the one he sent to them (τοῦτον πρὸς αὐτοὺς ἀπέστειλεν).26

Chapter 8 opens with the acknowledgment that prior to the revelation of God’s “sent one,” it was impossible to discern his nature. Dismissing [presumably] Stoic cosmological doctrine,27 the text then undermines philosophical attempts to 26 For ease of reference, Ehrman’s Greek reconstruction of v. 2 is provided: ἀλλ᾿ αὐτὸς ἀληθῶς ὁ παντοκράτωρ καὶ παντοκτίστης καὶ ἀόρατος θεός, αὐτὸς ἀπ᾿ οὐρανῶν τὴν ἀλήθειαν καὶ τὸν λόγον τὸν ἅγιον καὶ ἀπερινόητον ἀνθρώποις ἐνίδρυσε καὶ ἐγκατεστήριξε ταῖς καρδίαις αὐτῶν· οὐ, καθάπερ ἄν τις εἰκάσειεν ἀνθρώποις ὑπηρέτην τινὰ πέμψας ἢ ἄγγελον ἢ ἄρχοντα ἤ τινα τῶν διεπόντων τὰ ἐπίγεια ἤ τινα τῶν πεπιστευμένων τὰς ἐν οὐρανοῖς διοικήσεις, ἀλλ᾿ αὐτὸν τὸν τεχνίτην καὶ δημιουργὸν τῶν ὅλων, ᾧ τοὺς οὐρανοὺς ἔκτισεν, ᾧ τὴν θάλασσαν ἰδίοις ὅροις ἐνέκλεισεν, οὗ τὰ μυστήρια πιστῶς πάντα φυλάσσει τὰ στοιχεῖα, παρ᾿ οὗ τὰ μέτρα τῶν τῆς ἡμέρας δρόμων ὁ ἥλιος εἴληφε φυλάσσειν, ᾧ πειθαρχεῖ σελήνη νυκτὶ φαίνειν κελεύοντι, ᾧ πειθαρχεῖ τὰ ἄστρα τῷ τῆς σελήνης ἀκολουθοῦντα δρόμῳ· ᾧ πάντα διατέτακται καὶ διώρισται καὶ ὑποτέτακται, οὐρανοὶ καὶ τὰ ἐν οὐρανοῖς, γῆ καὶ τὰ ἐν τῇ γῇ, θάλασσα καὶ τὰ ἐν τῇ θαλάσσῃ, πῦρ, ἀήρ, ἄβυσσος, τὰ ἐν ὕψεσι, τὰ ἐν βάθεσι, τὰ ἐν τῷ μεταξύ· τοῦτον πρὸς αὐτοὺς ἀπέστειλεν. 27 And, perhaps, begging the question of the addressee’s identity. If Marcus Aurelius’s art

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describe the nature of the divine. The text even stoops to a barb: that is, for their cosmological error concerning fire, certain philosophers will (ironically) perish in hell (8:2; cf. 10:7). After the author covers the admission of a sinner’s guilt and the “sweet exchange” solution in which human beings receive righteousness for lawlessness (9:5), righteous behavior is characterized as the imitatio Dei – more proof that and how God, though invisible, acts in the world (10:7).

II. Comparative Analysis Apart from the somewhat unexpected attack on what appears to be Stoicism, the approach to the invisible-God topos in Diognetus most resembles that in the Wisdom of Solomon and Romans. As in these two works, according to the author of the Epistle, although he cannot be seen, God is shown to exist through his works. He carries out these creative endeavors with the help of an intermediary. The agent acting on his behalf differs depending on the interpreter. According to Wisdom, God uses σοφία; according to Paul, God uses Jesus Christ; and according to the author of Diognetus, God uses a “sent one” who is not a servant, angel, or ruler governing in terror.28 The intermediary is and acts as the creative principle by which God makes and sustains the world and everything in it without coercion. The Gospel of John holds a similar view. God is proven to exist through works manifested by means of the creative principle of the logos (John 1:1–18). The positions of Cleanthes, Ps.-Aristotle, and Luke differ somewhat on how God substantiates his existence. Cleanthes credits Zeus directly, although personification of his thunderbolt may suggest an intermediary. Likewise, Ps.-Aristotle (391b11–12; 397b14–22; 399b10–22)29 and Acts credit a god directly. Acts 17:24 teacher is implied, then he may have espoused Stoicism. Diognetus warned Marcus against sorcery, exorcism, and supernatural beliefs, replacing them with philosophy and asceticism: “From Diognetus, not to busy myself about trifling things, and not to give credit to what was said by miracle-workers and jugglers about incantations and the driving away of daemons and such things; and not to breed quails for fighting, nor to give myself up passionately to such things; and to endure freedom of speech; and to have become intimate with philosophy; and to have been a hearer, first of Bacchius, then of Tandasis and Marcianus; and to have written dialogues in my youth; and to have desired a plankbed and skin, and whatever else of the kind belongs to the Grecian discipline” (Marcus Aurelius 1.6). See Karl Bihlmeyer, Didache, Barnabas, Klemens I und II, Ignatius, Polykarp, Papias, Quadratus, Diognetbrief, Part 1, Die Apostolischen Väter, 2nd ed. (SAQ 2.1; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1956), xlix; Grant, Greek Apologists of the Second Century, 178–79. For a thorough and up-to-date discussion of the various theories of authorship, see Jefford, The Epistle to Diognetus [with the Fragment of Quadratus], 15–29. 28 Contrast Hymn to Zeus 9 where “servant” (ὑποεργός) refers to Zeus’s thunderbolt (Thom, Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus, 74 [commentary on § 9]). 29 De mundo 399b10–22: “So should one also think about the universe: by a single impulse the proper functions of all things are performed when these are stirred into action, although this impulse is unseen and invisible. This [sc. its invisibility] in no way presents an obstacle for it [sc. the impulse] to act nor for us to believe [in it]; for the soul, on account of which we live and have

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refers to God, without a reference to an active creative principle. This omission appears to reflect a contrived attempt at Jewish oratory, rather than lack of philosophical sophistication. The Areopagus speech demonstrates more interest in the sub-topoi that God needs nothing (vv. 24–25) and that human beings trace their origin to God (vv. 26–29) than in the proof of his existence through his works. The Epistle of Diognetus does resemble Acts 17 in its interest in cosmological descriptions of God’s universal order (cf. Diogn. 7:2 [above] and Acts 17:26), sharing this feature with Hymn to Zeus 6–10, 13, and 16 and summarized in De mundo 391b9–12 also. As in Acts 17, the Epistle deemphasizes punishment for ignorance (with the exception of the philosophers in both cases: Diogn. 8; Acts 17:18, 30–34), instead emphasizing temporal periodization. In Acts 17:30–31, God has “overlooked” human ignorance until now, when all must repent or suffer the consequences in the final judgment. Similarly, God exercised patience with our profligate behavior until the time came to address it (Diogn. 9:1–2): And so, having arranged all things by himself, along with his child, he permitted us – while it was still the former time – to be borne along by disorderly passions, as we wished, carried off by our pleasures and desires. He took no delight at all in our sins, but he endured them. (9:1) But then, when the time arrived that God had planned to reveal at last his goodness and power (Oh, the supreme beneficence and love of God!), he did not hate us, destroy us, or hold a grudge against us. But he was patient, he bore with us, and out of pity for us he took our sins upon himself. He gave up his own Son as a ransom for us …” (9:2)

Apart from its clear genealogical differences from other texts (Acts 17 flaunts better oratorical strategy; De mundo possesses a comprehensive cosmology; Romans exegetes the Jewish scriptures at greater length; etc.), Diognetus clearly addresses the key points of the topos of the invisible God, establishing its place within this group. Comparison with other texts addressing the same topos usefully elucidates its primary purpose and audience.

F. Conclusion This essay attempts to demonstrate that the Epistle of Diognetus should be classified in the group of texts addressing the invisible-god topos. The Epistle provides ample evidence that this topos guides the entire work. Much evidence also attests the sub-topos of human consequence. households and cities, although it is invisible, is seen through its deeds. For the whole orderly arrangement of life is discovered and arranged and maintained by it .... This one should also think about god, who is strongest in power, fairest in beauty, immortal in life, outstanding in excellence; because, though he cannot be seen by any mortal being, he is seen from the works themselves. For it could truly be said that all that takes (sic) place in the air and on land and in water are the works of god who has power over the cosmos” (ET: Thom, Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus, 49).

Chapter Fifteen

Somatic Effects of Irascibility in Hermas, Mandates 5.1.3 (33.3) A. Introduction Mand. 5.1.3 (33.3) describes a process by which ὀξυχολία (“irascibility” [Ehrman])1 enters a Christian believer – cramping, polluting, and, in extreme cases, expunging their spirit. Curiously, the word ὀξυχολία is not attested prior to its appearance in the Mandates, in which it occurs seventeen times (concentrated in chaps. 33–41).2 By contrasting it with a “spirit” (πνεῦμα) of μακροθυμία (“patience”), Hermas implies that it is a hot-blooded, impulsive, and volatile “spirit.”3 Carolyn Osiek notes that Hermas lists ὀξυχολία with λύπη (“pain”) and διψυχία (“doubt,” “indecision,” “double-mindedness”) as a source of spiritual corruption.4 Hermas states that a pure, indwelling spirit can be driven out by an invading angry, grievous, or indecisive spirit, thereby placing the individual in a precarious state. According to Osiek, the best parallel for this mechanism of rival spirits in a vessel is the urban metaphor of ancient apartment buildings.5 The text

1 Cf. “angry temper” [Lightfoot]; “ill temper” [Lake, Snyder]; “un accès de colère [Joly]; “Jähzorn” [Brox]. 2 However, lack of prior attestation does not necessarily mean that word coinage is occurring. The related adjective ὀξύχολος goes back to Solon and Sophocles (ὀξυχόλως), and the word formation is correct for turning an adjective into an abstract noun (see Smyth § 840). If the word is not in Hermas’s readers’ ordinary lexicon – as the paucity of usages in other texts might suggest – it is curious that the author uses it so often. The formation of the word is clear: sharp-gallness, so it is reasonable to expect that the audience recognized its meaning. A TLG search supplements evidence provided by LSJ, BDAG, and PGL. It might also be interesting to investigate whether Latin authors have a parallel word-formation, particularly in the medical texts. 3 Cf. Prov 25:15; Eph 4:2; Col 1:11. According to Carolyn Osiek, “If patience is emphasized as the meaning of μακροθυμία, then ὀξυχολία could mean something like ‘angry outbursts’ [Crombie], but the practical examples in 2.2 suggest something more insidious that eats away at a person’s faith, freedom, and goodwill” (Osiek, The Shepherd of Hermas [Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999], 118). 4 Osiek, Shepherd of Hermas, 118. 5 Osiek writes: “The anthropomorphism of the sensitive holy spirit that feels suffocated when forced to share its dwelling with the evil spirit of bad temper (v. 3) could well be inspired by the stifling, poorly ventilated close quarters of three‑ to five-story apartment houses or insulae, in which most of the urban underclass of a Roman city lived, as testified by the archaeological remains of Ostia and Herculaneum” (Osiek, Shepherd of Hermas, 119).

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itself offers the example of a drop of wormwood in a vat of honey.6 In the Shepherd of Hermas, the solution for sinfulness is repeatedly expressed with the verb ἰάομαι, “to heal.”7 Yet insufficient attention has been given to comparing this text with parallel ideas in contemporary medical literature. This paper attempts to show that a popular second-century medical theory lies behind the presentation of ὀξυχολία, touching briefly on the implications of such a background for our understanding of this apocalyptic work.

B. Status Quaestionis The first and most obvious parallel to Mandate 5 is Proverbs 5. Absinthe and honey occur together in Prov 5:3–5 as a metaphor for the persuasiveness of an adulteress. The context is a moral teaching against extra-marital sex, directed at young men. While the exploitation of honey (to connote sweetness) and its convergence with wormwood in Jewish moral instruction offers a clear parallel to Hermas’s Mand. 5.1 (33.3), the two passages are in fact very different. First, whereas Proverbs presents honey as a metaphor, Hermas presents honey as the actual sweet food made by bees using nectar from flowers.8 Second, whereas in Proverbs honey represents enticing solicitations inviting immoral behavior, which is an ethical axiom, in Hermas a large vat of honey is deprived of its valuable sweetness if tainted by even the tiniest drop of Artemisia Absinthium (i. e., wormwood), which is a scientific fact. What is more, although Hermas does not state it explicitly at this point in his exposition, the contaminating drop renders the honey poisonous, even lethal to certain unsuspecting consumers.9 The two illustrations, thus, share only superficial commonality. 6 As honey is sweet, absinthe is bitter in both fragrance and taste; see Nicholas Everett, The Alphabet of Galen: Pharmacy from Antiquity to the Middle Ages (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2012), 161–62. 7  E. g., Vis. 1.3.1; 1.1.9; Mand. 4.1.11 (29.11); 12.6.2; Sim. 8.11.3 (77.3). See Osiek, Sheperd of Hermas, 45 n. 35 and discussion in Graydon F. Snyder, The Shepherd of Hermas (ed. Robert M. Grant; Apostolic Fathers 6; Camden, NJ: T. Nelson, 1969), 31–32. 8 On the cultivation of bee honey in the land of Israel and the possibility of references to tree sap mixed with water as μέλι, see James A. Kelhoffer, The Diet of John the Baptist: ‘Locusts and Wild Honey in Synoptic and Patristic Interpretation (WUNT 176; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 81–99. 9 Lucretius mentions medicinal use of wormwood, its bitterness made palatable by placing honey on the rim of the glass: “For as physicians, when they seek to give / Young boys the nauseous wormwood, first do touch / The brim around the cup with the sweet juice / And yellow of the honey, in order that / The thoughtless age of boyhood be cajoled / As far as the lips, and meanwhile swallow down / The wormwood’s bitter draught, and, though befooled, / Be yet not merely duped, but rather thus / Grow strong again with recreated health” (De Rerum Natura 4.12; ET: William Ellery Leonard; E. P. Dutton, 1916). However, wormwood added to a vat of honey, where its addition is inadvertent or at least unknown to the medical practitioner, poses a danger to certain patients, especially babies (e. g., infant botulism); see Noori Al-Waili, Khelod

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Since its discovery, interpreters have suggested a variety of contexts for the interpretation of Mandate 5. Osiek views Hermas as a slave and craftsperson or farmer: “He was probably a small craftsman and/or businessman.”10 As noted above, her view of this passage is, thus, that he likens anger in a Christian heart to the sentiments of a tenant in a squalid city apartment.11 Leutzsch hold a similar opinion of Hermas’s occupation: he was a “Handwerker oder Händler.”12 Jeffers upholds a rather developed and imaginative view of Hermas’s career, postulating that he evolved from a slave13 to a freedman. As a slave, he was involved in wine production – Jeffers drawing attention to sections of text in which the technical terms of viticulture (e. g., σίφωνα ὕδατος) appear.14 From Vis. 3.1.2 Jeffers further infers that once Hermas gained freedom, he worked as a grain farmer on rented land.15 In this capacity, Hermas became wealthy (Vis. 3.6.7; Mand. 3.5) – although he eventually lost this wealth, in Jeffers’s opinion: “perhaps as a result of deceitful business dealings.”16 Jörg Rüpke argues that the author was involved in salt mining (e. g., Vis. 3.1.2–3).17 Based on Vis. 3 and Sim. 9, other proposals include that Hermas was employed as a construction worker or builder.18

Salom, Ahmed Al-Ghamdi, and Mohammad Javed Ansari, “Antibiotic, Pesticide, and Microbial Contaminants of Honey: Human Health Hazards,” Scientific World Journal (2012); Article ID 930849 (http://dx.doi.org/10.1100/2012/930849, 01/25/15). 10 Osiek, Shepherd of Hermas, 21, nn. 158, 159, e. g., Vis. 3.6.7. 11 Osiek, Shepherd of Hermas, 119. 12 Martin Leutzsch, Die Wahrnehmung sozialer Wirklichkeit im “Hirten des Hermas” (FRLANT 150; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989), 132. 13 Although Hermas is fond of references to believers as “slaves of God,” no ancient text mentions a slave or anyone else deliberately or accidentally spoiling a vat of honey with wormwood or anything else. Slaves were smeared with honey in order to deflect flies from a pharaoh and to attract ants in a slow, painful death. Honey was commonly used as a sacrifice in Egyptian temples, but we have no examples of temple attendants mixing, let alone contaminating, the honey in temple vats. 14 James S. Jeffers, Conflict at Rome: Social Order and Hierarchy in Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 23 (cf. Mand. 11.15–18; 12.5.3; Sim. 2; 9.26.4). On growing grape vines, see Carolyn Osiek, Rich and Poor in the Shepherd of Hermas: An Exegetical-Social Investigation (Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series; Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1983), 146–53. 15 Conflict at Rome, 23. 16 Conflict at Rome, 23–24: “This loss of wealth suggests that, while writing the Shepherd, Hermas suffered economic deprivation” (24). 17 “Apokalyptische Salzberge. Zum sozialen Ort und zur literarischen Strategie des ‘Hirten des Hermas,’” ARelG 1 (1999): 148–60. 18 Galen himself uses analogies from architecture (P. N. Singer, Galen: Selected Works [Oxford World’s Classics; Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1997], 138), making him no more of a builder and no less of a doctor. As Cadbury once demonstrated with regard to the claim in Colossians that Luke was a physician, these men are learned and may draw analogies from a wide range of intellectual interests. All of this speculation is very interesting, but the text may be a pseudepigraphon making these leads in the text, regarding the character and circumstances, red herrings.

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Although it does not adequately account for the erudition of this extensive writing, most interpreters view Hermas as a non-elite, Greek-speaking common person of limited education.19 Multiple authorship theories, likewise, overlook the sophistication of the instruction.20 Such shortcomings of current interpretations suggest that a context able to explain more of the evidence should be sought.

C. Ancient Medical Texts and Mandates The second-century physician Galen at times exemplifies and at other times advances the state of medicine in his day. Assumptions reflecting the integration of body and soul or mind are characteristic of his approach.21 Πνεῦμα is, for Galen, the constitutive element by which body and mind are connected. He applied a pneumatic system, partially accepted from forerunners (the Pneumatic School) and partially devised himself, to assess and treat disorders of both body and mind. Unnoticed, however, have been several parallels between ancient medicine and the Shepherd of Hermas. To be sure, the medical school of the Pneumatics recommended wine to solve medical problems based on the pneuma. Comparison might also be made with Athenaeus of Attalia or Cilicia (possibly at Tarsus), practicing in Rome with great success in the first century CE, and also with Asclepiades of Bithynia, a physician living during the second and first centuries BCE. As noted above (Osiek), two primary soul disorders treated in this manner were anger and pain; the most primary and worst was anger. We turn to the problem of anger next.22 Shepherd of Hermas, 21; Jeffers, Conflict at Rome, 22, 24. Shepherd of Hermas, 23–24. The so-called “Two Spirits” theory in Mand. 5 has parallels with other “Two Ways” literature, including the Didache, certain pseudepigrapic texts (T. Reu., T. Jud., T. Naph., T. Iss.), and Dead Sea Scrolls (e. g., 1QS). Naturally, the theory also bears much in common with Stoicism. 21 “Galen believes that ‘the character’ (êthos) of the soul is destroyed by bad habits (ethismoi) with reference to foods, drinks, exercises, the spectacles one watches, the music one listens to, and the arts as a whole. If a physician helps patients to make appropriate adjustments in all these physical and mental activities, they will maintain the body’s innate heat and the temperaments of all its parts in the right condition. This in turn will keep the body in a healthy state and restore or preserve the ability of both the soul and the body to manage all their capacities – including the affective – efficaciously. Galen’s claim that the physician of the body can and should also be a physician of the soul is consonant with his assertion that, in order to understand the demonstrations provided in his works on the soul, one must first be trained in anatomical dissection, above all, of course, with the help of Galen’s principal anatomical treatise, On Anatomical Procedures” (Heinrich von Staden, “The Physiology and Therapy of Anger: Galen on Medicine, the Soul, and Nature,” in Islamic Philosophy, Science, Culture, and Religion: Studies in Honor of Dimitri Gutas [ed. Felicitas Opwis and David Reisman; Leiden: Brill, 2012], 63–87, here: 85–86). 22 Important, recent treatments of the topic consulted for this essay include: Lucius Annaeus Seneca, Anger, Mercy, Revenge (trans. Robert A. Kaster, Martha C. Nussbaum; Chicago: The Uni19 Osiek,

20 Snyder,

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D. Anger Perhaps because his mother was perpetually cross (according to him anyway!), Galen dedicated much time and energy to anger management  – a malady he deemed to be among the most prolific, pernicious, and complicated to treat. He addressed both its somatic causes and fitting medical treatments.23 In the background of this work was his assimilation of the tripartite Platonic understanding of the soul with current (Hellenistic) conclusions about the nervous system.24 Anger was understood as a problem centralized in the organ of the heart,25 and Galen traced numerous heart ailments to anger.26 The problem of anger involved versity of Chicago Press, 2010); Susanna Braund and Glenn W. Most, Ancient Anger: Perspectives from Homer to Galen (Yale Classical Studies 32; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004). 23 “On no emotion did Galen of Pergamum (A. D. 129–ca. 216) dwell at greater length and with greater frequency than on anger; indeed, he discussed anger in more than forty of his extant works. Of all the emotions, he deemed anger to be the most common and the most difficult emotion to treat successfully. As both an activity (energeia) of the soul and something by which the soul is affected (a pathos), anger is, in his view, the province of philosophy. Yet he argued that anger is a subject for medicine too, inasmuch as anger also has somatic causes and consequences. Only the medical technē can explain the pathophysiology of anger and thus show the way to medical interventions that might prevent or cure anger. This he saw as a necessary complement to the philosophical therapy of such emotions. Furthermore, he viewed anger as a particularly useful test case for investigating the relation between body and soul” (Von Staden, “Physiology and Therapy of Anger,” 63). 24 “Galen’s own detailed investigation of the nervous system seemed to him to confirm fundamental features of the early Hellenistic medical view of the relation between the soul and the nerves. Yet he was far from ready to abandon all features of Plato’s accounts of the soul, even as he recognized that moving from the ‘nerveless’ body depicted by Plato and Aristotle to the thoroughly ‘nerved’ body of his own anatomy and physiology entailed consequences not only for the activities and affections of the soul but also for the relation of medicine to the soul” (Von Staden, “Physiology and Therapy of Anger,” 72). 25 “From this taxonomy emerges a conception of anger as a complex emotion that takes different forms determined by different physical qualities of a single bodily organ: each type of angry behavior is a sign of an excess of a different primary physical quality – or pair of primary qualities – of the heart” (Von Staden, “Physiology and Therapy of Anger,” 74). 26  “Six of these eight deviant cardiac temperaments can be recognized inter alia by some or other form of anger” (Von Staden, “Physiology and Therapy of Anger,” 73). “In persons with a drier heart than normal, anger likewise is not easily aroused. But when aroused, their anger is fierce and implacable .... By contrast, a sign of a wetter heart is a character easily moved to an anger that is also easy to stop .... If the wet dominates in the heart along with the hot, the person readily falls into anger, but the emotion is not ‘fierce’ .... Two types of qualitative deviance remain: a heart hot to the extreme, and hot and dry heart. The former is signaled inter alia by a quick temper (oxythymia), and the latter by a quick, implacable anger ....” (Von Staden, “Physiology and Therapy of Anger,” 74). “Galen also mentioned anger among the ‘antecedent’ causes of disease that Erasistratus failed to acknowledge. Other such antecedent causes include external heat, cold, fatigue, brief, and sleeplessness. Galen thus regarded anger as itself having internal somatic causes … but as being causally ‘external’ or ‘antecedent’ to disease, insofar as anger causes an internal physical change that in turn can become a ‘preceding cause’ of disease” (Von Staden, “Physiology and Therapy of Anger,” 81). “Whenever anger or other emotions become such ‘unnatural’ causes, they can in turn have harmful physical consequences that are not limited to the pulse” (Von Staden, “Physiology and Therapy of Anger,” 83).

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the two types of pneuma: vital and psychic.27 According to Galen, the vital capacity (dynamis zōtikē) was responsible for the conversion of vital pneuma into psychic pneuma – a process that took place in the human brain. Von Staden explains: This ‘vital faculty’ (dynamis zōtikē) is in part responsible for the production and distribution of the mixture of blood and the vital pneuma that is drawn from the left ventricle of the heart into the arterial system. Given that the psychic pneuma (pneuma psychikon) carried from the brain by the sensory and motor nerves is generated from the vital pneuma (pneuma zōtikon) that reaches the brain through the arteries, the affective impairment of the vital faculty presumably would also harm the normal functioning of the nervous system. But Galen passes over this issue in silence, although he often enough insists on the interactivity of parts of the body.28

According to Galen, the “vital faculty” (that δύναμις sent by the left ventricle up to the head where the soul manufactures psychic pneuma) is vulnerable to dissolution and compression. These dangers arise from “ill proportion,” that is, either a lack or a surfeit of otherwise salubrious things such as food, exercise, bathing, and sleep: But excesses of the ‘natural’ and of the ‘non-natural’ causes (for instance, immoderation in sleep habits, exercise, and baths) can turn these same causes into ‘contrary-to-nature’ causes that either dissolve and dissipate the life-enabling power (“vital faculty”) or compress and burden it.29

In The Pulse for Beginners, Galen explains these unnatural causes in terms of deleterious changes in the pulse. He asks readers to observe two categories: It is, in fact, not unreasonable to state that every unnatural cause falls into one of two categories: that which dissolves and dissipates the vital faculty and that which compresses and burdens it (ἕκαστον γὰρ τῶν παρὰ φύσιν αἰτίων οὐκ ἄν τις ἄπο τρόπου φαίη τὸ μὲν οἷον λύειν τε καὶ σκεδαννύειν τὴν ζωτικὴν δύναμιν, τὸ δὲ οἷον θλίβειν τε καὶ βαρύνειν). The faculty is dissolved by a lack of food, by the ill effects of disease, by powerful affections of the soul, by pains of a vigorous or long-lasting nature, and by immoderate evacuations (λύεται μὲν οὖν ἡ δύναμις τροφῆς ἀπορίᾳ, καὶ νοσημάτων κακοηθείᾳ, καὶ ψυχικῶν παθῶν ἰσχύϊ, καὶ ἀλγημάτων σφοδρότησιν, ἢ μήκεσι, καὶ κενώσεσιν ἀμέτροις). It is burdened by large 27  Wis 15:11 LXX refers to the “vital πνεῦμα.” V. 11: “Because they failed to know the one who formed them and inspired them with an active soul and breathed a living spirit into them” (ὅτι ἠγνόησεν τὸν πλάσαντα αὐτὸν καὶ τὸν ἐμπνεύσαντα αὐτῷ ψυχὴν ἐνεργοῦσαν καὶ ἐμφυσήσαντα πνεῦμα ζωτικόν). 28 Von Staden, “Physiology and Therapy of Anger,” 82 n. 53, emphasis added. 29 Von Staden, “Physiology and Therapy of Anger,” 82; See De pulsibus ad tirones 9–11, esp. 11 (Kühn VIII, 462–73). Galen also specifies how these various excesses pressurize the vital dynamis/pneuma: “States of the air or quantities of food which burden the natural faculties, as well as ill-proportioned use of exercise, baths, or sleep, are all unnatural; for the quantitative excess of those same causes which we term ‘natural’ and ‘non-natural’ renders them ‘unnatural’” (ET: Singer, p. 333, emphasis added). This may be related to Galen’s theory of miasma: corruption, putrefaction, profanation through “bad air,” as related to marshes, for example, including the Nile. Galen’s theory of bad “air” is essentially the idea that foul-smelling air can cause a form of internal suffocation, prompting physical discomfort and even disease.

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quantities of matter and by affections of the organs, such as inflammations, indurations [hardening, sclerosis], lumps, abscesses, and all kinds of decomposition (βαρύνεται δὲ ὑπό τε πλήθους ὕλης καὶ ὑπὸ τῶν ἐν τοῖς ὀργάνοις παθῶν, οἷον φλεγμονῶν καὶ σκίῤῥων καὶ ὄγκων καὶ ἀποστάσεων καὶ φθορῶν πολυειδῶν).30

Anger is one of the powerful affections of the soul that in excess becomes a non-natural cause altering the pulse and dissolving the vital faculty: In all these affections [anger (θυμός), pleasure, grief (λύπη), fear], where they are present for a long period of time the same kind of pulse results as in cases of dissolution of the faculty. For indeed, all these have the capacity to dissolve the faculty, quickly in severe occurrences, more slowly in mild ones” (ἅπασι δὲ τούτοις εἰς μακρὸν χρονίζουσιν, ἢ σφοδροῖς ἄγαν γενομένοις, οἷοι διαλυομένης δυνάμεως ἕπονται σφυγμοί. καὶ γὰρ καὶ λύει τὴν δύναμιν ἅπαντα ταῦτα, συντόμως μὲν ὅσα ἰσχυρὰ, χρονίως δὲ ὅσα ἐναντία).31

E. Mandates of Hermas In 1873, Philotheos Bryennios, Metropolitan of Nicomedia, discovered the text of the Shepherd of Hermas, together with the Didache, the Epistle of Barnabas, 1 and 2 Clement, the long recension of Ignatius’s letters, and a list of books of the Bible (following the order of John Chrysostom) in the Codex Hierosolymitanus.32 Among the first English translations of the passage was that of J. B. Lightfoot in 1891:33

30 Puls.

470–71. ET: Singer, pp. 333–34, emphasis added. Singer, p. 335, emphasis added. 32 The Greek text cited below is that of Ehrman. Herm. Mand. 5.1.3 (33.3): ἐὰν δὲ ὀξυχολία τις προσέλθῃ, εὐθὺς τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον, τρυφερὸν ὄν, στενοχωρεῖται, μὴ ἔχον τὸν τόπον καθαρόν, καὶ ζητεῖ ἀποστῆναι ἐκ τοῦ τόπου· πνίγεται γὰρ ὑπὸ τοῦ πονηροῦ πνεύματος, μὴ ἔχον τόπον λειτουργῆσαι τῷ κυρίῳ καθὼς βούλεται, μιαινόμενον ὑπὸ τῆς ὀξυχολίας. ἐν γὰρ τῇ μακροθυμίᾳ ὁ κύριος κατοικεῖ, ἐν δὲ τῇ ὀξυχολίᾳ ὁ διάβολος. A number of different modern translations of the Mandates of Hermas are available today. The most widely used English translations are probably those of the LCL. Kirsopp Lake (Apostolic Fathers [LCL]) translates Mand. 5.1.3 (33.3) as follows: “But if any ill temper enter, at once the Holy Spirit, which is delicate, is oppressed, finding the place impure, and seeks to depart out of the place, for it is choked by the evil spirit, having no room to serve the Lord as it will, but is contaminated by the bitterness. For the Lord dwells in long-suffering and the devil dwells in ill temper.” Lake’s translation of ὀξυχολία (“ill temper”) imitates Lightfoot’s (“angry temper”), with essentially no change in meaning. Bart Ehrman was commissioned to update the two LCL volumes of the Apostolic Fathers in 2003. His translation of the passage is among the most widely cited today: “But if any irascibility should enter in, immediately the holy spirit, which is sensitive, feels cramped; and not having a pure place it seeks to leave. For it is suffocated by the evil spirit, not having a place to serve the Lord as it wishes, being polluted by the irascibility. For the Lord dwells in 31 ET:

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But if any angry temper approach, forthwith the Holy Spirit, being delicate, is straitened, not having [the] place clear, and seeketh to retire from the place; for he is being choked by the evil spirit, and has no room to minister unto the Lord, as he desireth, being polluted by angry temper. For the Lord dwelleth in long-suffering, but the devil in angry temper.34

The basic logic of the passage is: the individual, described as a σκεῦος,35 contains a “pure” and a “delicate” (τρυφερός) spirit (or “wind” or “air”) (τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ

patience, but the devil in irascibility.” The overall logic and meaning of the translation imitates distinguished predecessors. However, Ehrman achieves a new and admirable consistency by translating the compound noun, ὀξυχολία with another single noun, “irascibility,” rather than an adjective and a noun, such as “angry” (Lightfoot) “ill” (Lake), or “bad” (Osiek, see below) “temper.” In 1989, Michael W. Holmes updated the translation of the Apostolic Fathers by J. B. Lightfoot and J. R. Harmer. This translation was paired with a Greek text in 1992, updated in 1999, appeared in a third edition in 2006 (without Greek text), and again in 2007 (with Greek text). Over the course of these editions, only minor translational changes were made to Mand. 5 (33:3). Lightfoot, Apostolic Fathers (see n. 9). ET subsequently reprinted as: J. B. Lightfoot and J. R. Harmer (ed. and trans.), The Apostolic Fathers (Grand Rapids, MI, 1956). Diglot reprinted as: The Apostolic Fathers: Revised Greek Texts with Introductions and English Translations (Grand Rapids, MI, 1984). Holmes retains Lightfoot’s “angry temper”: “But if an angry temper approaches, immediately the holy spirit, which is very sensitive, is distressed because it does not have a clean place, and it seeks to leave this place. For it is choked by the evil spirit and does not have the room to serve the Lord the way it wants to, because it is polluted by the angry temper. For the Lord lives in patience, but the devil lives in an angry temper.” Finally, in her commentary for the Hermeneia series (vol. 1) (1999), Osiek provides a translation of the text: “But if any bad temper comes in, immediately the holy spirit, which is sensitive, feels claustrophobic since the place is not clean, and wants to get out, for it feels suffocated by the evil spirit, not having room to worship God as it wants, for the place is contaminated by the bad temper. The Lord is present in patience endurance, but the devil in bad temper” (Osiek, Shepherd of Hermas, 117). Osiek opts for “bad temper.” Furthermore, with Holmes, the holy spirit of the individual is characterized as “sensitive,” the damage to its “space” in the “vessel” as “not clean” and “contaminated,” and the effect of the “bad” on the “holy spirit” as “suffocation.” It is clear that more recent translations rely on past translations, occasionally updating expressions no longer idiomatic in English. Yet, none of the translations above acknowledges the difficulty of the neologism, in particular, the difficulty of understanding its meaning. No translator substantially distorts the meaning of the passage, although the ways they handle ὀξυχολία obscure its relation to the medical literature – which is my main point. 33 J. B. Lightfoot and J. R. Harmer, The Apostolic Fathers (London: Macmillan and Company, 1891). 34 In the second edition of this work edited and revised by Michael Holmes, the ET is identical to Holmes’s published version; see below. 35 For other early Christian texts in which the individual is conceived as a vessel, see 2 Cor 4:7; 1 Thess 4:4; 1 Pet 3:7. Alternatively, it is possible that Hermas refers to a certain organ of the body as the “vessel,” although this organ – whether heart, soul, brain, lungs – appears to represent the individual by synecdoche. When noted, the animistic or materialist presentation of the spirits in the human person as a container (e. g., Mand. 5.2.5–7) is attributed to Stoicism, with no indication about how Hermas arrived at such a position: see José P. Martin, “Espírito y dualism de espíritus en el Pastor de Hermas y su relación con el judaísmo,” Vetera christianorum 15 (1978): 295–345, here: 323–24.

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ἅγιον).36 Contamination (Gk. μιαίνω, “stain, sully”)37 occurs if the invading agent, ὀξυχολία enters that vessel. The means by which contamination occurs is asphyxiation (Gk. πνίγω, “choke, throttle, strangle”); ὀξυχολία pressurizes, expels, and replaces the occupying pure, vaporous πνεῦμα.  Ὀξυχολία occurs three times in the primary section under discussion (Mand. 5 [33:3]) and, as noted above, seventeen times in the Shepherd overall.38 The word is related to the verb, ὀξυχολέω occurring only in the Shepherd) and to the adjective, ὀξυχόλος, occurring in Sophocles, Ant. 955, Lucian, Fug. 19, as well as several other ancient writings with the meaning, “readily given to anger.”39 The two words comprising the compound are ὀξύς and χόλος. Although the latter word is often used metaphorically to mean “bitter anger” or “wrath,” it is related to the noun χολή, denoting “gall” or “bile”40 in medical literature as far back as Hippocrates.41 Related English words possess the chol‑ root, as in “cholera,” “cholic,” and “melancholy,” based on the notion of the derivation of these ailments in the stomach or intestines. Hermas’s Mandates emphasize ethics. More than once, however, they involve what appear at first glance to be popular concepts in medical literature and theory. Mandates 5 and 10 are interpreted next. The primary issue addressed in both chapters is ὀξυχολία.42

36 LSJ s. v. τρυφερός: A. delicate, dainty, “αὐχήν” Batr. 66;“πλόκαμος” E.Ba. 150 (lyr.); χεῖρες, χρώς, σάρξ, AP5.65 (Rufin.), 150 (Mel.), 12.136; of a soft material, BGU 1080.19 (iii A. D.); of almonds, Arist. Fr. 277; of fish, tender, soft-fleshed, Xenocr. ap. Orib. 2.58.5 (Comp.), Sor. 2.15 (Comp.); of an infant, idem 1.82: “τὸ τ.” dainty softness, Ar.Ec. 901 (lyr.); “Θεσσαλικὸς δὲ θρόνος, γυίων ‑ωτάτη ἕδρα” Critias 2; “ὀθόνια” Sor. 1.49; τελαμῶνες ib. 83; “φύλλα ‑ώτερα” Dsc. 2.161: – τρυφερόν, τό, name of a medicine, Gal. 12.757, cf. 844. 37 Frequently of moral and religious pollution: “taint, defile”; see LSJ s. v. μιαίνω. 38 Occurrences in this text represent the only occurrences in the Apostolic Fathers. D. B. Wallace, A Reader’s Lexicon of the Apostolic Fathers (ed. B. C. Burnette and T. D. Moore; Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Academic, 2013), 168. 39 LSJ s. v. ὀξύχολος A. quick to anger, Sol. 13.26, S.Ant. 955 (v.l. for ὀξυχόλως), AP9.127; “τὸ ὀ.” Luc. Fug. 19. Cf. BAGD, 715; Matt 27:34. 40 < χολάω, “to be full of black bile, to be melancholy mad.” 41 LSJ A. gall, bile, Archil. 131, A.Ch. 184, E.Fr. 682, Th. 2.49, etc.; χ. μέλαινα black, i. e., diseased, bile, Hp.Aph. 4.23, Pl.Ti. 83c (but, = μελαγχολία, Men.Epit. 459); “ξανθὴ χ.” Hp.VM 19; “πυρρά” Gal. 15.658; χολὴν ἐμεῖν, βῆξαι, Nicopho 12, Herod. 3.70 (prob. l.): prov., “πικρῷ πικρὰν κλύζουσιφαρμάκῳ χολήν” S.Fr. 854; “πικρότερ᾽ αὐτῆς τῆς χ.” Alex. 16.12; χολῇ ἀλείφειν, prov. of giving one a disgust for a thing, from the custom of mothers putting gall to the nipple when the child was to be weaned, Diph. 74. It may even denote the gall bladder: 2. pl. χολαί, gall-bladder, S.Ant. 1010; called δοχαὶ χολῆς, E.El. 828; also in sg., A.Pr. 495; “χολὴν τῶν ζῴων τὰ μὲν ἔχει τὰ δ᾽ οὐκ ἔχει” Arist.HA 506a20, cf. PA 677b11. 42 Mandates 5 and 10 share the following sixteen terms in common with the passages of Galen cited above: πνεῦμα, τρυφερόν, σκεῦος, ὀξυχολία, πνίγω, ἀψίνθιον, ἐνέργεια, μιαίνω, κεράμιον, μέλι, δύναμις, καθαρόν, ἅγιος, ἀσύμφερος, χρηστός, and ἀγγεῖον. The sheer quantity of corresponding terms is preliminarily suggestive.

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F. Mandate 5 (33.1) Mandate 5 begins with an exhortation to patience: “Be patient,” he said, “and understanding, and you will rule over every harmful action and you will act correctly in all things” (Μακρόθυμος, φησί, γίνου καὶ συνετός, καὶ πάντων τῶν πονηρῶν ἔργων κατακυριεύσεις καὶ ἐργάσῃ πᾶσαν δικαιοσύνην). (Mand. 5 [33.1], v. 1)

Verse 2 describes the effect of patience on the pneumatic system. Hermas uses “pure” to refer to one form of pneuma. For if you are patient, the pure pneuma situated in you will be “in an open space”43 (τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον τὸ κατοικοῦν ἐν σοὶ καθαρὸν ἔσται) and will not be obscured by another, harmful44 pneuma (μὴ ἐπισκοτούμενον ὑπὸ ἑτέρου πονηροῦ πνεύματος); but dwelling in a broad place it will rejoice and be glad with the vessel45 it occupies (ἀλλ᾿ ἐν εὐρυχώρῳ κατοικοῦν ἀγαλλιάσεται καὶ εὐφρανθήσεται μετὰ τοῦ σκεύους ἐν ᾧ κατοικεῖ), and it will serve God (λειτουργήσει τῷ θεῷ) with great cheerfulness, in good condition (εὐθηνία)46 itself.

In v. 3, Hermas contrasts this healthy state with one that is unhealthy. The parallels with Galen’s description (above) of the effect of anger on the vital faculty are remarkable: But if any ὀξυχολία should enter [the vessel], immediately the pure pneuma, which is volatile (τρυφερὸν ὄν),47 is pressurized (or “condensed,” “vaporized,” στενοχωρεῖται); and not having an open space it seeks to be dispelled from that place (μὴ ἔχον τὸν τόπον48 καθαρόν, καὶ ζητεῖ ἀποστῆναι49 ἐκ τοῦ τόπου). For it is sublimated by the harmful pneuma (πνίγεται γὰρ ὑπὸ τοῦ πονηροῦ πνεύματος), not having a place to serve the Lord as it wishes, being contaminated (μιαινόμενον) by the ὀξυχολία. For the Lord dwells in patience, but the devil in ὀξυχολία.

Verse 4 sums up the unhealthy state of an individual into which anger mixes with patience:

43 LSJ s. v. καθαρός 3. clear of objects, free, ἐν καθαρῷ (sc. τόπῳ) in an open space, “ἐν κ., ὅθι δὴ νεκύωνδιεφαίνετο χῶρος” Il.8.491.” 44 “ἰατρός” Antipho 4.2.4 (v.l. for μοχθηρός). 45 Σκεῦος refers to the human body, or perhaps one part of it, perhaps an organ or a system of organs involving the heart, lungs, or brain. Physiological spirit-possession is in view. 46 LSJ s. v. εὐθηνία σώματος, good condition, Andronic. Rhod. p. 573 M. 47 “φύλλα ‑ώτερα” Dsc. 2.161: – τρυφερόν, τό, name of a medicine, Gal. 12.757, cf. 844. Galen recommends medicine he refers to as τρυφερόν, possibly denoting “milkweed,” a white eye salve (Gk.: κολλύριον); cf. Rev 3:18. Hermas refers to blindness in 34.7 (V.2). Yet, his emphasis on πνεῦμα implies that the problem is air or wind related, and ὀξυχολία implies a stomach-related problem (χολή, “bile,” “gall bladder”). 48 3. place or part of the body, Hp.Aph. 2.46, Loc.Hom.tit., Sor. 2.40, al., Gal. in titles of works, e. g. περὶ τῶν πεπονθότων τόπων, περὶ συνθέσεως φαρμάκων τῶν κατὰ τόπους; esp. ὁτόπος, pudendum muliebre, Arist. HA 572b28, 583a15, cf. Sor. 2.62 (pl.). 49 ἀφεστήξω.

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And so, when both spirits dwell in the same place, it is unbeneficial, even harmful, (ἀσύμφορόν50 ἐστιν καὶ πονηρὸν) for that person in whom they dwell.

Verse 5 then draws a comparison between the effect of anger in the human body and the effect of wormwood in a vat of honey.51 Wormwood and honey were staple ingredients of second-century pharmacological remedies.52 For if you take a very small portion of wormwood (ἐὰν γὰρ λάβῃς ἀψινθίου μικρὸν λίαν) and pour it into an earthenware vessel of honey (καὶ εἰς κεράμιον μέλιτος ἐπιχέῃς), is not all the honey spoiled (οὐχὶ ὅλον τὸ μέλι ἀφανίζεται)? A great deal of honey is ruined by the least bit of wormwood (καὶ τοσοῦτον μέλι ὑπὸ τοῦ ἐλαχίστου ἀψινθίου ἀπόλλυται). It destroys the sweetness of the honey, which is no longer valuable to the possessor, because this happened and it lost its usefulness (καὶ ἀπολλύει τὴν γλυκύτητα τοῦ μέλιτος, καὶ οὐκέτι τὴν αὐτὴν χάριν ἔχει παρὰ τῷ δεσπότῃ, ὅτι ἐπικράνθη καὶ τὴν χρῆσιν αὐτοῦ ἀπώλεσεν).53 But if the wormwood is not put into the honey, the honey is found to be sweet and useful to the owner (γλυκὺ εὑρίσκεται τὸ μέλι καὶ εὔχρηστον54 γίνεται τῷ δεσπότῃ αὐτοῦ). 50  See Galen, De Plac. Hipp. et Plat. 4.5.43.3 (Phillip DeLacy, Galen: On the Doctrines of Hippocrates and Plato (3 vols.; Berlin: Akademie, 1980–84, 268–69), where Galen contrasts what is “beneficial” and its opposite as follows: ὅτι οὐκ ἔστι συμφέρον ἀποστρέφεσθαι καὶ τοὺς ἐπαγγελλομένους δείξειν ὅτι ἀσύμφορόν ἐστι λήρους ἡγεῖσθαι καὶ διὰ τὸ μέγα ὄφελος εἶναι τὸ διωκόμενον. 51  Honey has an extraordinarily long shelf life; it rarely “spoils.” 52  Neither ingredient was cheap. Loss of any pharmacological ingredient could be professionally catastrophic. See Galen, Ind. 12a. Moreover, Galen discusses medicinal uses of wine. In De Antidotis, he also notes popularity of lighter wines (cf. vaporous quality of the Holy Spirit in Mand. 5 [33]). Hermas’s repeated use of “healing” rather than forgiveness of sins (Snyder, Shepherd of Hermas, 31–32) strongly suggests a context in which wine – together with wormwood, honey, vinegar, and water – is being cultivated expressly for use in medicine. Furthermore, the reference to the human being as the “vessel,” including the siphoning off effect caused by contaminates too, suggests wine decanting and vessels such as ampullae (Lat.). 53 We note that wormwood only destroys honey’s usefulness if honey is being used as a sweetener. Honey consists primarily of sugar mixed with a little water. This simple composition rarely “goes bad.” “This natural, low-moisture state deters bacteria and yeast, both of which find dry environments inhospitable. However, the sugary substance’s inherent dryness can also lead to crystallization, the process that causes honey to become thick and cloudy. Crystallization, which can occur anywhere from a few weeks to a few months after honey has been bought, can be remedied by placing the honey container in a bowl of hot water for a few minutes. But be warned: While honey may naturally have a long shelf life, heating and cooling the spread too many times can cause it to lose its color and aroma, according to the Honey Hotline Fact Sheet. After multiple heating sessions, it’s probably best to throw the honey away. Several factors determine the time it will take honey to crystallize. First, there are the conditions of the room where the honey is stored. Hot conditions protect honey from crystallizing, but they also degrade the honey and make it vulnerable to yeast and bacteria. Temperatures that are too cold, however, can speed up crystallization. Honey resists crystallization best when kept in at about 70 degrees Fahrenheit, according to experts. Crystallization rate also depends on the type of honey you keep in your cabinet. There are over 300 types of honey sold in the U. S., according to foodreference.com, and each type crystallizes at a slightly different rate. Tupelo, a high fructose honey, for example, can last for years without crystallizing. Meanwhile, honey from cotton and dandelion blossoms crystallizes more readily” (http://scienceline.org/2007/04/ ask-westly-crystallizedhoney/, 1/7/15) 54 LSJ s. v. εὔχρηστος I.A “σκεῦος εὔ. τῷ δεσπότῃ” 2 Ep.Ti. 2.21.

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Verse 6 explicitly connects the pneumatic system to the analogy of wormwood in honey: You see that patience (μακροθυμία) is sweeter than honey and is useful (εὔχρηστός) to the Lord, and he dwells in it. But ὀξυχολία is bitter and useless (ἡ δὲ ὀξυχολία πικρὰ καὶ ἄχρηστός ἐστιν). And so, if ὀξυχολία is mixed with patience (μακροθυμία), the patience is contaminated (μιαίνεται) and this fusion (ἡ ἔντευξις αὐτῆς) is not useful to God.”

Having explained health, Hermas now turns to illness. Verse 7 requests cardiac therapy to correct a potentially hazardous unhealthy state: “I wish to know, Lord,” I said, “the function (τὴν ἐνέργειαν) of ὀξυχολία,55 that I may guard against it.” “Indeed,” he replied, “if you and your household do not guard against it, you destroy your entire hope. But guard against it, for I am with you. And all those who repent from their whole heart will abstain from it; for I will be with them and protect them. For all have been corrected (ἐδικαιώθησαν) by the most reverend angel.”

In v. 1 of Mand. 34 (5:2), Hermas addresses the deleterious function (ἐνέργεια) of ὀξυχολία. The human being is envisaged as a vessel that can be either full or empty. If it is full it cannot be misled, but if it is drained and becomes empty, it can be: “Hear, now,” he said, “the function (τὴν ἐνέργειαν)56 of ὀξυχολία, how it is harmful and drains (καταστρέφει)57 the slaves of God by its function, and how it leads them away from what is correct. It does not mislead (ἀποπλανᾷ) those who are full of faith, nor is it able to work against them, because the capacity of God (ἡ δύναμις τοῦ θεοῦ)58 is with 55 Introduction

of ὀξυχολία, which may be related to ὀξυ, “vinegar”; see passage below. and Horsely, Galen, Method of Medicine (LCL), 1:lxxxiv. 57 LSJ s. v. καταστρέφω A.“3pl. ‑εστράφατο D. C.39.5: – turn down, trample on, “ποσσί” h.Ap. 73; turn the soil, X.Oec. 17.10; κάνθαρον κ. turn it upside down, so as to drain it, Alex. 115, cf. Sotad. Com. 1.33, LXX 4 Ki. 21.13; “κατεστραμμένῳ τῷ ὀστράκῳ” Arist. HA 622b8. 58 Horsely and Johnston, Galen, Method of Medicine (LCL), 1:lxxxii–lxxxiv: “Capacity (δύναμις): This is a particularly important term in the MM. Not only is it used frequently, but it is also found in three distinct contexts. First, it is found in the strictly ‘physiological’ sense, as in Galen’s important and fundamental (to the MM) work, On the Natural Faculties (Physical Capacities). Second, it is used in relation to a patient’s ability to tolerate a particular treatment, and third, it is used in relation to the strength, power, or potency of medications. The term is given detailed consideration by Aristotle in Metaphysics V.12, where he writes: ‘Capacity, then, is the source, in general, of a change or movement in another thing or in the same thing qua other, and also the source of a thing’s being moved by another thing or by itself qua other.’ Phillips says of Galen’s use of dunamis in his On the Natural Faculties (Physical Capacities): ‘The notion of dunamis in this book is very pervasive and mostly verbal, being a development in medicine, not of dunamis as known in Ancient Medicine, but of the Aristotelian dunamis as potentiality contrasted with energeia, activity or actuality, also Aristotelian.’ Galen himself recognizes the difficulty, writing in his work The Faculties of the Soul Follow the Mixtures of the Body: ‘Many of the wise are openly in confusion on this matter, having an incorrect understanding of “capacity.” They seem to me to wrongly conceive of “capacity” as something which dwells in substances, as we do in houses, not being aware that the effective cause of each thing that comes about is conceived of in relation to something else, and that there is some name for this cause as of such a thing that is separate and per se. But in it, in relation to what is brought about from it, the “capacity” is of what is brought about, and because of this we say that substance has as many capacities as it has functions (energeiai)’. 56 Johnston

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them. But it misleads those who are not quite full (τοὺς ἀποκένους)59 and of two minds (διψύχους).”60

The state of fullness or satiation is stable, permitting the human being to avoid excesses of affection (v. 2): For when it sees such humans in a stable state (εὐσταθέω)61 it adds (παρεμβάλλω)62 itself into that human heart (cardiology),63 and, [seemingly] out of nowhere,64 the woman or man becomes bitter (πικρία) on account of physical concerns (ἕνεκεν βιωτικῶν πραγμάτων):65 for example, about food or [other] such triviality, or beloved item; or about [debts] incurred or owed, or about some [other] such insipid matter. All these things are insipid, empty, imperceptible, and unbeneficial (ἀσύμφορα) to the slaves of God.

Patience is expansive and thus establishes a stable fullness (v. 3): In contrast, patience is sizable and strong; it has robust capability thriving in expansive dilation (εὐθηνουμένην ἐν πλατυσμῷ66 μεγάλῳ); it is cheerful, glad, and free of anxiety, glorifying the Lord at all times, having no bitterness in itself but remaining always calm67 and quiet. This patience, therefore, dwells with those maintaining faith intact (ὁλόκληρος).

Dynamis refers to possible energeiai, an expression of the relationships between the potential and the actual. 59  LSJ s. v. ἀπόκενος, “not quite full, “ἀγγεῖα” Dsc. 5.36, cf. Gal. 17(2).163; empty, Hero Spir. 2.24. 60 On double-mindedness: “Pneuma comes in gradations and endows the bodies which it pervades with different qualities as a result. The pneuma which sustains an inanimate object is called (LS) a ‘tenor’ (hexis, lit. a holding). Pneuma in plants is, in addition, (LS) physique (phusis, lit. ‘nature’). In animals, pneuma gets called also soul (psychê) and in rational animals pneuma is, besides, the commanding faculty (hêgemonikon) (Diog. Laert. 47O, Philo 47P) – that responsible for thinking, planning, deciding” (http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/stoicism/; 1/11/15). 61 A. to be steady, stable, ὅταν πολίταις εὐσταθῶσι δαίμονες are favourable, E.Rh. 317; “εὐ. ταῖς διανοίαις” D. H. 6.51; εὐστάθει rest in peace! in an epitaph, IG 14.1464; to be calm, tranquil, of the sea, Luc. VH 1.30; “οὐκ εὐ. οἱ ὄρνιθες” Plu. 2.281b. 2. enjoy sound, stable health, “εὐ. καὶ ὑγιαίνειν” Epicur.Fr. 68, cf. 413, Sor. 1.87, Herod. Med. ap. Orib. 7.8.1. 62 LSJ s. v. παρεμβάλλω A.e. “add an ingredient in medicine, Sor. 1.122, Aët. 16.85.” 63  Of possible interest too  – a few texts concerning καρδιαλγία or ὀξυρεγμιώδης (known today as heartburn) mention dyspnea (i. e., shortness of breath) as one of the most dangerous side effects. (LSJ s. v. καρδιαλγία: idem 8.343, al., Ruf. ap. Orib. 7.26.8). Pliny the Elder refers to the condition as “the fire within” (Nat. 32.11), prescribing “coral powder” (an antacid) to counteract it. Galen too describes this condition. In On the Causes of Symptoms, VII.85–272, he discusses the stomach’s opening, referred to as the καρδία, theorizing that gastric disease (even temporary) causes this opening to collapse or choke (VII.128K) in καρδιαλγία. Like Hermas in Mand. 5.1.3 (33.3), Galen uses πνίξ (“suffocation”) to describe the problem. Concerning the overeating and overdrinking that results in this uncomfortable, occasionally serious condition, Galen summarizes: “the natural forms will be changed when the parts are filled or evacuated more excessively” (VII.268K). 64 The sense here may be “without odor” as with the nearly odorless hydrocarbon fumes, containing harmful chemicals such as benzene. 65 LSJ s. v. βιωτικός “Of or pertaining to life.” This might also mean “food supplies.” 66 Πλατυσμός A. widening, enlarging, dilatation, distension, Dsc. 5.6. 67 LSJ s. v. πρᾶος III. Adv. “πράως, μὴ πικρῶς” idem, 18.265.

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When ὀξυχολία enters a full and stable vessel, the vessel overflows in excess (vv. 4–5): At the outset, irascibility (ὀξυχολία) is insipid, insubstantial (lit. light in weight, ἐλαφρά), and imperceptible. Then, [seemingly] from out of nowhere,68 it manifests as bitterness (πικρία), from bitterness anger, from anger wrath, and from wrath rage. Next, this rage, compounded (συνισταμένη) of so many kinds of harms, becomes a great and incurable (ἀνίατος) mistake. For when these pneumata dwell in the one cavity (ἀγγεῖον)69 where the pure pneuma also dwells, that cavity does not have room, but overflows.

Ultimately the ὀξυχολία pressurizes the vessel, expelling the lighter, more expansive, patient, pure pneuma. The result for the individual is unstable behavior and “cholera” (vv. 6–7): Then the τρυφερός pneuma, which is not miscible with either harmful or stiff pneuma, evacuates this human being and seeks to dwell in calmness and quiet. When it exits the human being in which it had dwelled, that person becomes empty of the correct (δικαίος) pneuma, the rest being filled with harmful pneumata, is unstable in his every act, being spun around (περισπώμενος) back and forth by the harmful pneumata, entirely blinded from the good thinking faculty. This, then, is what follows for every choleric person.

Verse 8 sums up the instruction thus far: And so, avoid ὀξυχολία, which is the most deleterious form of pneuma. Clothe yourself with patience and stand against ὀξυχολία and πικρία, and you will be found with the solemnity that is loved by the Lord. Take care that you never neglect this commandment. For, if you master it, you will be able to keep the other commandments, which I am about to give you. And so, be strong and infused with potency (ἐνδυναμοῦ) in them, and may everyone who wishes to proceed in them be made potent (ἐνδυναμούσθωσαν).70

Mandate 6 equates pneumata with angels. Mandate 7 addresses the critical role of the right fear of obedience (i. e., fear of the lord as opposed to fear of the devil). Mandate 8 treats sins of commission and omission (with virtue and vice lists). Mandate 9 addresses the doubt of double-mindedness. Finally, Mandate 10 supplements the discussion of ὀξυχολία in Mandate 5 with a discussion of λύπη. We turn to Mandate 10 now.

68 See

33 (5.2) above: ἐκ τοῦ μηδενός. ἀγγεῖον can refer to a place to store wine (see Jeffers, Conflict at Rome, 23), a more common usage is the medical sense for a cavity of the body is which pneuma is contained; see LSJ s. v. ἀγγεῖον II. of the human or animal body, vessel, cavity, Hp.Morb. 4.37, Arist. HA 521b6, PA 680b33; of the veins, idem, HA 511b17, al.; the lungs, idem, GA 787b3; the female breast, idem, PA 692a12; afterbirth, Sor. 2.57; of plants, capsule, Thphr. HP 1.11.1: – later, the body itself, M.Ant. 3.3, cf. Secund. Sent. 7. 70 LSJ s. v. ἐνδυναμόω II. endow with vitality, in Pass., metaph. of scientific theorems, Plot. 4.9.5. 69 Although

G. Mandate 10.1 (41.2): Function of λύπη

241

G. Mandate 10.1 (41.2): Function of λύπη Verse 1 introduces the topic of λύπη, an affliction that, according to Hermas (like Galen), has an effect on the soul similar to that of ὀξυχολία: “And so listen, you foolish one,” he said, “to how distress (λύπη)71 tramples out (ἐκτρίβω)72 the pure pneuma (τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον) and then revives (σώζει) it again.”

Whereas anger enters the vessel of the human soul harmlessly, gradually increasing to a strength that is able to crowd and compress the light and expansive patience, λύπη enters when a person is afflicted by διψυχία (v. 2).73 When the person with dipsychia attempts a certain action but misses the mark on account of his διψυχία, this distress (λύπη) enters into the human being, and it harms (λυπεῖ) the pure pneuma (τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον) and tramples it out.

Next, Hermas recalls for readers the similarity of the pathologies of ὀξυχολία and λύπη (vv. 3–4): Then, also, ὀξυχολία, when it poisons (κολλάω)74 a person because of some matter and he becomes very bitter (πικρανθῇ) – distress enters back into the oxycholeric (τοῦ ἀνθρώπου τοῦ ὀξυχολήσαντος) human heart and he becomes distressed about the action he has carried out, but he perceives after the fact (μετανοεῖ)75 that he has incurred harm. Hence, this distress appears to preserve health (σωτηρία),76 because after inflicting harm it realizes it (μετενόησεν). And so both things harm (λυπεῖ) the pneuma: state of having two souls (διψυχία), because it does not accomplish what it sets out to do; and ὀξυχολία, because it does what is harmful. Both διψυχία and ὀξυχολία, therefore, distress the pure pneuma.

Verses 5–6 sum up this argument: Therefore, remove distress from yourself and do not pressurize the pure, indwelling pneuma; otherwise it may petition (ἐντυγχάνω)77 God against you and depart from you. For the pneuma of God deposited in the body cannot bear (ὑποφέρω) this distress or confinement (στενοχωρία). 71 In this passage I will use “distress” to translate the noun and “harm” to translate the verb. I will not use “harm” for the noun so as not to confuse it with πονηρός which I will translate as “harm”.] The sense here of the noun is rather like a heavy downward pressure: LSJ s. v. λυπέω A. [ὁ θώραξ] λυπεῖ distresses by its weight, X.Mem.3.10.15: c.neut. Adj., “λυπεῖν μηδὲναὑτόν” E.Cyc.338, cf. Hdt.8.144, X.Cyr.3.3.50.” For verbal usage in this passage, cf. LSJ A. “οὐδὲν ἐλύπησεν [αὐτό], ὥστε μή … does no harm …, Pl.Cra. 393e; οὐδένα λυπήσας or ‑ασα, as formula in epitaphs, IG 14.1857, 2.1868.” 72 The analogy used to explain διψυχία is difficult. It seems to refer to a physician’s written notes being erased and restored. 73 Διψυχία is related to doubt (Mand. 9 [39.5]). 74 LSJ s. v. κολλάω A.II. “  – Pass., κολλέεσθαι, of poison entering the system, Hp.Ep. 19 (Hermes 53.66).” 75 Repentance is described in Mand 4.2 (30.2) as a form of comprehension or understanding. 76 LSJ s. v. σωτηρία II.5. “bodily health, well-being, BGU 423.13 (ii A. D.), POxy. 939.20 (iii A. D.), etc.” 77 LSJ s. v. ἐντυγχάνω 2. c. dat. rei, κακοῖς ἐ., = τυγχάνω ὢν ἐν κακοῖς, S.Aj.433; οὑντυγχάνων (sc. τοῖς πράγμασιν) cj. Valck. in E.Fr. 287; ἐ. τῷ νώτῳ, of the crocodile, Hdt. 2.70; ὁ ἐ. τοῖς … τοξεύμασι he who fell in their way, Th. 4.40; of obstacles, “ἐ. τάφροις” X.An. 2.3.10; λόφῳ ib. 4.2.10.

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H. Mandate 10.3 (42) In Mand. 10.3 (42), Hermas observes that prayers must possess the lightness of pure pneuma to advance to the altar of God and stand a chance of being answered (vv. 1–2): Be clothed, therefore, with the cheerfulness that always conveys grace before God and that is acceptable to him, and delight in it. For every man who is cheerful acts well and thinks well and disregards distress. The distress-filled man, on the other hand, always does what is harmful. First, he does harm because he harms the pure pneuma given to the human being for cheerfulness; second, harming the pure pneuma, he acts contrary to law, neither praying nor confessing to the Lord. For the prayer of the distressed man (γὰρ λυπηροῦ ἀνδρὸς ἡ ἔντευξις) never has the capability (δύναμιν) of rising up on to the altar of God.

To the question of why prayers become too heavy to rise to God, Hermas replies with an another analogy involving the standard therapeutic ingredients and language of ancient medicine: “Why,” I asked, “does the prayer of the distressed person (ἡ ἔντευξις τοῦ λυπουμένου) not rise up upon the altar?” “Because,” he said, “distress is catheterized (ἐγκάθηται)78 into his heart. Thus, being mixed (μεμιγμένη) with the petition, it does not allow the petition to rise uncontaminated upon the altar. For just as vinegar79 (ὄξος) and wine (οἶνος) mixed together do not yield the same pleasure, so also distress mixed with the pure pneuma does not yield the same petition.”

Verse 4 summarizes this section, emphasizing purification from the harmful cycle of destruction: Purify (καθάρισον) yourself, therefore, from this harmful distress, and you will live to God. All will, in fact, live to God who strip distress away and clothe themselves with all cheerfulness.

The eleventh Mandate takes principles from the tenth and applies them to the discernment of false prophets. In this Mandate, the theme of empty and full vessels is perpetuated. The twelfth commandment takes up the additional harmfulness of ἐπιθυμία.

I. Summation Correspondences between the language and apparatus of the pneumatic systems in Galen and Hermas are clear. Three principle lessons from the comparison follow. First, ὀξυχολία as “sharp-gallness” is a state of intense bitterness more 78 Given the context of insertion into the heart, the verb here is more likely ἐγκαθίημι (aor subj mid) not ἐγκάθημαι (pres ind mid). so: LSJ s. v. ἐγκαθίημι, A.2. “send in as agents, Plu.Pyrrh. 11: – Pass., of a catheter, to be passed, Ruf. Ren.Ves.7.11.” 79 τὸ ὀξύμελι was apparently a pharmacological mixture of honey plus ὀξύ or vinegar.

J. Conclusion

243

like an existential mode than a passing emotion (such as distress or anger or a fit of ennui). The link with medical concepts is natural through gall; and the comprehensive interrelatedness of the human organism (soul-body-mind-spirit) lends itself to the kinds of medical ideas attested in Galen. Bitterness, as a state of mind, is poisonous to everything. “Irascibility” as a translation captures the idea of a disposition toward irritability or anger, but it doesn’t seem to capture the full danger that Hermas perceives in ὀξυχολία. Second, while the notion of the body as a “vessel” that hosts different “spirits” may not strike us as necessarily medically related, overlaps in the mechanism of denser air quashing less dense air is remarkable. That said, Hermas may suggest multiple interpretative contexts by his explanation of the dangers of ὀξυχολία and its remedy, (ἀπεχεῖν) and opposite, (μακροθυμία). For example, the spatial elements, in combination with miasma and λειτουργεῖν, also call to mind divine presence in a temple – the human body being understood as such a place. Third, multiple paradigms suggest an author who is not necessarily a physician, but (like Cadbury’s argument about “Luke”) a generally educated person. To be sure, Galen is a highly specialized writer, more often than not, addressing fellow specialists. The ideas relayed by him may be (a) his own; (b) those of himself and his fellow doctors; or (c) those of himself, his fellow doctors, and non-specialists. Under the third option (c), of course, are concepts, myths, stereotypes, etc. that are popularly held.

J. Conclusion The mechanistic description of ὀξυχολία in Hermas, Mand. 5.1.3 (33.3) adheres closely to a group of assumptions evident in the prominent second-century physician, Galen. Although not treated at any length here, other medical authors and theorists of the period confirm the currency of these theories. According to Hermas, when the heavy vapor ὀξυχολία enters the lungs and diffuses throughout the human vessel through blood pumped by the heart to the brain, it causes a mixing of airs. Gradually the kinetic forces of the heavy gas sink down on the lighter and less dense gas of μακροθυμία in the body, extinguishing it. Hermas describes the resulting state as a form of asphyxia. According to the author, the same invisible movement of πνεύματα ruins a vat of honey with only a tincture of wormwood. Because it describes the identical phenomenon, the scientific phenomenon of wormwood in honey is not a metaphor, but a parallel phenomenon. A modern writer might have chosen gas fumes at a filling station. These very dangerous fumes pose little risk to pump customers because gas vapors containing the carcinogen benzene are so dense that they are in highest concentration on the ground (a place most gas customers hope never to experience). If, however, gas vapors are inhaled, like Hermas’s ὀξυχολία, they lead to headaches,

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nausea, vomiting, respiratory distress, mental confusion, and eventually loss of consciousness. Hermas was probably not a practicing doctor. Nevertheless, this chapter attempts to show that he develops a rigorously consistent physiological anthropology. He refers not to “heart” in the Pauline sense in Rom 1:18–32, but in a medical sense as in the organ that pumps blood throughout the body. He refers not to “mind” or “thought” as in the philosophers, but to brain; and not to “spirit,” in an essential sense such as “soul,” but in a physiological sense like “breath.” This forces interpreters to make careful qualifications in highly nuanced translations and interpretations. In the Mandates, “irascibility”  – a bitter and anxious feeling that obliterates patience – has vividness and power. In the face of the delay of the parousia, it would certainly be an acute concern – one for which a new apocalypse paired with exhortations to patience would be ideal remedies. The lesson is clear: Christians must avoid anger because, like sin, it poses a medical threat. The science of the passage is remarkably accurate considering its antiquity. The text’s apocalypticism is seriously slanted toward somatic revival at Christ’s return.

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Bauer, Walter, William Arndt, F. W. Gingrich and F. W. Danker. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. 3rd ed. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2000. Blass, F. and A. Debrunner. A Greek Grammar of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. Trans. and rev. W. F. Arndt, F. W. Gingrich and F. W. Danker. 2nd edition. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press,1979. Brown, Francis et al. The New Brown-Driver-Briggs-Gesenius Hebrew and English Lexicon with an Appendix Containing the Biblical Aramaic. Repr., Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1979. Cancik, Hubert. ed. Der neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike. Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1996-. Denis, Albert-Marie. Concordance Grecque des Pseudépigraphes d’ancien Testament. Louvian-la-Neuve: Université Catholique de Louvain, 1987. Galling, K. von, ed. Die Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, 6 vols, 4th ed. Edited by H. D. Betz et al. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998–. Hornblower, Simon and Antony Spawforth, eds. Oxford Classical Dictionary, 3rd ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996. Jannaris, Antonius N. An Historical Greek Grammar. London and New York: Macmillan, 1897. Klausner, T., E. Dassmann, et al., ed. Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, 18 vols. Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 1950–. Kittel, G., ed. Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, 10 vols. G. W. Bromiley, trans. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1964–76. Lampe, G. W. A Patristic Greek Lexicon. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969. Liddell, Henry G., Robert Scott and H. S. Jones. A Greek-English Lexicon with a Supplement 1968. 9th ed. Oxford: Clarendon, 1992. Long, A. A. and D. N. Sedley. The Hellenistic Philosophers. 2 vols. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Metzger, Bruce M. A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament. 2nd ed. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1994. Moulton, W. F. and A. S. Geden. A Concordance to the Greek New Testament. 6th ed. I. Howard Marshall, ed. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 2002 (1963). Reitzius, Carolus Conradus. Index verborum ac phrasium Luciani, sive Lexicon Lucianeum. Trajecti ad Rhenum: H. Besseling, 1746. Rengstorf, Karl Heinrich. A Complete Concordance to Flavius Josephus. 4 vols. with 2 supplements. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1973–1986. Robertson, A. T. A Grammar of the Greek New Testament in the Light of Historical Research. 3rd ed. Nashville: Broadman Press, 1934. Sophocles, E. A.  Greek Lexicon of the Roman and Byzantine Periods. Hildesheim: Olms, 1983. Smyth, H. W.  Greek Grammar. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, repr. 1980 (1920). Temporini, Hildegard, and Wolfgang Haase, eds. Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt; Geschichte und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung. Edited by H. Temporini and W. Haase. New York: de Gruyter, 1989. Wissowa, G., W. Kroll, et al., ed. Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft. Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1894–1972. Ziegler, K. and Sontheimer, W. Der kleine Pauly, Lexikon der Antike. 5 vols. Stuttgart: Alfred Druckenmüller, 1964–75.

Index of References Hebrew Bible and Septuagint Genesis 4:22–31 3 16–17 130 3, 125, 126, 137, 139, 16 140, 141 16:1–2 125 16:3 125 16:4–14 125 16:15–16 125 21 3, 125, 126, 130, 137 21:1–7 125 21:1 125 21:2–5 125 21:2 125 21:6–7 125 21:8–21 125 22 212 23:4 187 25:12–18 125 29–30 137 29 137, 139, 141 30:1–24 130 37 107 38:14 185 39–45 107 Exodus 4:21 88 7:3 88 7:13 88 12:18–20 44 14:4 88 14:17 88 15:7 88 17:8–13 209 24:18 193 24:28 197 31:18 193, 197 32 195 32:7–19 197

32:7 193, 197 32:9 193 32:11–14 202 32:19 191 32:32 191 34 202 34:1 202 34:6–7 202 34:18 197 193, 197 34:28 Leviticus 16:7–9 205 16:21 202 19:18 55, 118 23:27 202 Numbers 16:1–50 87 16:22 74 16:33 88 27:16 74 Deuteronomy 1:43 169 6:5 118 9:8–21 195 9:12–17 193 9:12 89 32:39 74 Judges 9:11 72 1 Samuel 2:7 74 6:6 88 2 Samuel 12:4 185

268 2 Kings 238 21:13 LXX 25:24 185 Ezra 16:15–25 185 36:34 185 Nehemiah 9:16–18 195 Job 4:17 75 5:11 74 5:17–26 90 5:25 75 14:1 101 19:26 108 Psalms 3:5 108 9:31 78 10:10 LXX 78 77 17:36 LXX 28:7 108 32:10 74 33:11 75 34:11–17 76 49:17–20 LXX 72 50 88 50:16–23 72 50:17–20 72 51 88 69 88 95:8 88 73 117:18 LXX 117:26 LXX 188 118 73 72, 73 118:18 118:26 180 118:114 72 73 140:5 LXX 141 73 72, 73 141:5 Proverbs 3 73 3:11 72 3:12 72, 73, 77 5 228 5:3–5 228 5:12 72 10:17 72

Index of References 12:1 72, 77 13:1 72 13:18 72 13:24 72 15:32 72 22:15 72, 227 23:13–14 72 23:13 72 25:28 77 28:15 72 Isaiah 3:5 53 13:11 74 19:18 107 51:1–3 131 52:10–15 138 52:15 49 72, 138 53:1–12 53:2 75 53:5 72 128, 130 54 54:1–6 138 54:1 3, 125, 126, 128, 129, 130, 131, 134, 135, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141 57:15 74 58 202 60:17 50 64:3 49 66:24 152 Jeremiah 2:30 72 5:3 72 9:23–24 48 43:13 107 Ezekiel 30:17 107 Daniel 3:31 74 Hosea 5:2 72 Jonah 4:11 181 Wisdom of Solomon 1:8 185 2:5 185

Index of References 2:7 185 5:14 185 6:22 185 7:25–27 219 9:2 219 10:1–21 219 10:25–26 219 11:17 219 13:1–10 219 215, 217, 220, 225 13:1–9

15:11 232 16:27 219 17:9 185 Prayer of Manasseh 8 78 11 78 11–13 78 12–13 78 13 78

Old Testament Pseudepigrapha 2 Baruch (Syriac Apocalypse) 11:1 85 3 Baruch (Greek Apocalypse) 6–8 98

Sibylline Oracles 5:143 85 5:159 85 5:434 85

New Testament Matthew 2 104 2:7 104 2:11 104 5–7 56 5:32 187 6:26 59 9:13 133 10:9–10 179 10:42 120 13:4 185 13:19 185 18:6 120 18:10 120 18:14 120 19:19 55 21:9 188 22:32 119 22:39 55 23:39 180 25:31–46 181 27:34 235 Mark 1:15 105 2:17 133 4:4 185 5:32 133

9:44 152 9:46 152 9:48 152 11:9 187 Luke 1:1–4 221 1:20 105 1:53 74 2:1–52 109 2:21 103 6:34 122 6:40 vii 7:12 103 8:5 185 8:42 103 9:38 103 10:4–12 179 10:25–37 188 12:32 120 15:14 180 16:10–12 120 19:3 120 19:10 134 19:38 188 21:24 105 23:16 71 23:22 70

269

270 John 121, 225 1:1–18 1:13 103 1:14 103 1:18 103 3 131 3:3 103 3:16 103 19:39–40 104 Acts 2:9 171 2:10 171 71, 72 7:22 10:42 113, 119 11:26 186 13:7 164 16:6 171 4, 213, 226 17 17:11 77 17:18 226 215, 217, 220, 225 17:23–31 17:24–25 226 17:24 225 17:26–29 226 17:26 226 17:30–34 226 17:30–31 226 17:31 119 18 65 18:2 169 18:23 171 20:28 50, 88 71, 72 22:3 26:28 186 26:29 187 27:17 147 27:26 147 Romans 1:1–7 64 215, 217, 220, 244 1:18–32 1:20 220 2:20 71 2:25 131 2:29 131 3:1 131 4 192 4:10–12 131 5 212 5:12–21 51 5:14 199 8:16 76

Index of References 8:17 76 8:21 76 8:23 50 9–11 131 9–10 88 50, 51 11:16 11:32 77 12:1 118 15:14 54 16:5 50 1 Corinthians 1:1–3 47 43, 44, 60, 64, 67, 84 1:2 1:10–13 36 1:10 40 36, 47 1:11–13 42, 44 1:11 1:12 46, 47, 48 1:18–2:9 40 1:18 134 1:26 40 1:30 49 47, 48 1:31 2:3 41 2:5 41 47, 48, 49 2:9 2:10 47 2:13 63 2:15 63 3:1–4 64 3:1 63 42, 64 3:3 3:4 48 3:13 46 3:18 40 3:21–23 48 40, 48 3:21 4 51, 52–54 47, 52, 53 4:10 47, 52, 54, 73, 76 4:14 4:15 71, 76 5 40 5:1–5 52 44, 90 5:1 44, 45 5:2 5:3 71 5:5 44, 77, 84 5:6 44 5:9 42 5:27 47 6:1–11 57 8:8 180

Index of References 9:19 57 143, 146 9:24–27 9:24–26 144 9:24–25 144 47, 146, 155 9:24 9:25 144 10 212 10:1–13 193 10:6–10 88 86, 141 10:6 10:7 93 10:11 54 11 180 11:25 192 2, 70, 71, 77, 79 11:32 12 51, 54–56 47, 54, 55 12:4 47, 54, 55 12:8–9 12:12–31 54 12:12–13 52 36, 55 12:12 12:20–28 47 12:21–24 52 51, 54 12:21–22 12:23–24 55 12:23 40 12:24 52 38, 51, 56–58 13 13:1–3 57 13:1 57 47, 56, 57 13:3 13:4–7 36, 47, 56, 57 13:4 57 13:5 57 13:6 57 13:7 57 13:8–13 57 13:10 57 13:11 120 14:37 63 38, 42, 51, 58–59, 103, 15 107, 108, 109 15:5–8 107 15:20–23 36 15:20 47, 50, 58, 59 47, 50, 51, 58, 59 15:23 15:31 48 15:35–49 53 15:35–41 59 47, 58, 59 15:35–38 15:36–37 36 15:50 47 16:2 183

271

16:3 46 16:7 185 16:15 47, 48, 50 16:16 50 16:17–18 51 16:17 43, 44, 47, 51 44, 47 16:23 2 Corinthians 1–7 38 1:1 64 1:5 39 117, 134 2:15 3:5–8 93 3:12–14 93 3:12–13 93 4:3 134 4:7 234 2, 70, 71, 73, 77, 79 6:9 6:13 76 7:10 39 10:17 48 11 183 11:28 187 12:1 41 12:5 41 12:9–10 57 41, 57, 58, 122 12:9 12:14 76 Galatians 2 204 2:2 143, 144 192, 204 3 3:8–9 131 3:17 192 3:23–4:7 70 3:24 71 3:25 71 129, 131, 134, 137, 141, 4 212 4:19 76 135, 140 4:21–5:1 4:21–26 136 4:22–31 125 137, 192 4:24 4:25 135 4:26 135 4:27–30 135 128, 129, 139 4:27 5:7 143 5:9 44

272

Index of References

Ephesians 1:18 74 1:21 135, 136 2 84 2:12 84 2:19 84 4:2 227 4:4–6 94 6:4 2, 69, 71, 75, 76 Philippians 1:1 64 2:16–17 156 143, 155 2:16 2:17 155 2:30 155 3:1 42 3:12–16 144 143, 144 3:12–14 3:13–14 146 3:14 155 3:15 152 3:20 83 4:1 144 4:10–20 155 4:18 155 Colossians 1:11 227 2, 69, 75, 76 3:21 1 Thessalonians 1:1 63 2:14 63 2:19 144 4:4 234 5:12 54 5:14 54 2 Thessalonians 2:10 134 176, 182 3:10 1 Timothy 1:20

71, 72

2 Timothy 1:5 79 144, 146, 152 2:5 2:21 238 2:25 70, 71 71, 72 3:16 4:6–8 143

4:7–8 146 4:8 144 Titus 2:12

71, 72

Hebrews 1:5 205 3:7 205 4:11 86 8:1–5 193 9:2–24 193 9:8 205 9:9–10 211 9:9 211 10:15 205 10:23 118 11 105 11:6 57 11:11 132 11:17 103 12:1 143, 144, 146 12:4–11 72 2, 69, 71, 75 12:5 12:6 71 2, 69, 75 12:7–11 70, 71 12:7 12:8 71 12:9 71 12:10–11 73 12:10 71 12:11 71 James 2:16 188 4:12 117 5:9 117 1 Peter 1:1 63 1:17 62, 84 2:1 154 2:11 62, 84 2:25 88 3:7 234 4:5 113, 119 4:16 186 5:4 144 5:5 78 5:13 85 2 Peter 1:13 79 3:1 79

Index of References 1 John 4:9 103 4:18 57, 103 Revelation 2:1–3:22 84

2:10 144 3:18 236 3:19 71 14:8 85

Apostolic Fathers and Other Early Christian Literature Apostolic Constitutions 5.7.15–16 98 Barnabas 1:2–5 203 1:5 203, 205 203, 204 1:7–8 1:7 203 1:8 205, 207, 210 2 202 2:4 204 2:6 209 2:9–10 204 2:10 205 3 202 204, 211 3:6 4:1–3 204 93, 193, 195, 207 4:6–8 4:6–7 4, 193 195, 197, 204, 207 4:6 4:7–8 197 4:7 194, 197 4:8 208 4:9–10 209 4:9 204, 205, 208, 209 4:10 191 4:11 205 4:12 210 205, 208 4:14 5:2 205, 206 203, 205 5:3 5:6 205 5:9 205, 208 5:11 194 6:5 204, 205 203, 205 6:7 6:8 205 6:9 205 203, 204, 205 6:10 6:11 204 6:13 204 6:14 204

202, 203 7 7:1 204 7:2 203 7:3 205 7:4 205 204, 205 7:6 7:7 205 7:9 205 7:10 205 7:11 205 8:1–2 205 8:1 194, 204 8:2 205 204, 205 8:7 9:3 205 9:4 204 9:5 205 9:6 204 9:7–9 204 9:7 205 9:9 205 10:2 205 10:10 205 10:11 204 11:6 205 11:9 205 11:11 205 12:2–3 205 12:2 209 12:3 209 12:5 205 12:6 205 205, 209 12:7 12:8 205 13–14 202 13 194 206, 209 13:1 13:3 206 13:5 206, 209 203, 205 13:7 193, 210 14 14:1–4 93, 195

273

274

Index of References

14:1 197, 209 14:2–4 197 14:3 193, 194 197, 207, 209–10, 210–11 14:4–5 14:4 210 14:5 194 15 202 15:4 205 16 197 17 205 17:1–2 203, 204 17:1 203 20 173 20:1 191 1 Clement 47, 63, 84, 154 Sal./prescr. 1–3 86 1:1–3:4 77 1:1–2 64 1:1 40, 43, 61, 69, 82, 83 46, 76 1:2 53, 75, 90, 94 1:3 1:6 46, 75 2:2 95 36, 61 2:3 2:4 146 2:6 42, 64 78, 94 2:8 3:1–4 82 42, 64 3:2 40, 47, 51, 52, 53, 75, 90 3:3 3:4 94 4:1–39:9 77 4–19 86, 90 4–6 92 4 91 4:1–13 90 4:1–7 90 4:8 90 4:9 90 4:10 90 4:11 90 4:12 90 4:13 90 91, 94, 95 5 5:1–6:4 91 5:1–5 91 8, 43, 47, 105, 106 5:1 5:4 89 5:5–7 106 5:5–6 106 47, 146 5:5

5:6–7 91 89, 105 5:6 63, 75 5:7 6 91 6:1 91 6:2 70, 89, 91, 94, 105, 106 6:3 91 6:4 91 7–8 91 7:1–8:5 91 47, 51, 52, 54 7:1 7:6 91 36, 91 7:7 8:1–3 91 8:4–5 91 8:5 62 9:1–12:8 91 9 92 9:3 91 9:4 91 10 92 10:1–7 91 10:3 92 11 92 11:1–2 91 12 92 12:1–8 91 12:8 94 13–15 92 13:1–4 91 45, 47, 48, 95 13:1 14:1–5 91 14:1–2 92 57, 83 14:1 14:2 42, 64 15:1–7 91 16:1–18:17 91 16 92 16:1–17 91 16:3 75, 94 16:5 72 16:10 95 16:12 94 17:1–18:17 91 17 92 17:1 91 17:2 91 17:3–4 91 17:5 91 18 92 18:1–17 91 18:4 94 18:17 78

Index of References 19:1–3 91 19:1 92 19:2 94 78, 99 19:3 20:5–8 95 20:11 94 21:3 99 2, 53, 74, 75, 76, 90 21:6 21:8 2, 69, 70, 75, 76 21:9 76 22:1 75, 76 36, 78 22:6 76, 94 23:1 23:2 60 23:3–4 95 23:4 76 23:5 59 24–26 109 24:1–26:3 107 24–25 108 58, 108 24 24:1–2 94 24:1 36, 46, 47, 50, 51, 58–59, 99, 103 24:2 99 24:3 58 24:4–5 36 24:4 47 24:5 47, 51, 53, 58–59 2–3, 59, 97–110 25 25:1–2 94 25:1 97–98, 99, 108 97–98, 102 25:2 89, 97–98, 101, 103, 105 25:3 25:4 97–98, 107 97–98, 105, 107 25:5 26:1 59, 108 26:2–3 108 59, 94 27:1 29:1 89 29:3 50 30:1 47 31–32 86 31:1 99 32:2 75 32:4 62 33:2–3 96 33:7 99 34:8 47, 48, 49, 53 35:1 94 35:3 49 35:4 146 46, 47 35:5–6

35:8 72, 79 36:2 78 37 51, 52, 54, 83 37:2 75 36, 47, 51, 58, 59, 75 37:3 37:5–38:2 46, 47 36, 55 37:5–38:1 37:5 47, 51, 52, 54, 55 38 55 47, 51, 54–55 38:1 38:2 47, 95 38:3 104 39:4 75 40:1–61:3 77 40:1 47 42 50 46, 47, 48, 50–51, 54 42:4 50, 54 42:5 43 86 44:1 53, 83, 94 44:2 50 44:3–6 40 44:4 53 53, 75, 90 44:5 45:4 187 46:6 94 46:7 55 42, 64 46:9 47 46, 47, 89 61, 69 47:1–3 46, 47, 61, 69, 77 47:1 47:3 36, 43, 46, 47 47:4–7 46 47:6 40, 44, 53, 75, 76, 90 48:1 36 47, 51, 54, 55–56 48:5 48:6 55 49–50 89 46, 47 49:5–6 49:5 36, 47, 51, 56, 57–58 53, 54 50:3 50:4 54 51–58 77 51:1–58:2 86 51–54 89 77, 91, 92 51–53 51–52 73 88, 92 51 51:1 42, 64, 83, 86, 89 51:2 86 86, 87 51:3–53:5 51:3–4 86 51:3 86, 88

275

276

Index of References

51:4 89 75, 86 51:5 52–55 92 52 88 52:1 86 52:2 86 52:3 86 52:4 86 53 77, 93 53:1 86 53:2–5 86 53:2–3 86 53:2 88 53:4–5 86 53:4 89 54–56 91 54–55 73 77, 89, 92, 93 54 40, 56, 73 54:1–4 54:1–2 86 89, 105, 106 54:1 42, 44, 52, 53, 64, 71, 72, 54:2 73, 75, 77, 83, 84, 89, 90, 94 54:3 86 83, 86 54:4 55 56, 77, 89 55:1–6 87 55:1 75, 89 47, 51, 56–57, 87, 89 55:2 87, 89 55:3 55:4–6 94 55:4–5 87 53, 75, 90 55:4 55:6 87 56 70 56:1 87 72, 87 56:2–5 71, 73, 74 56:2 56:3 72, 73 72, 73, 90 56:4 72, 73 56:5 56:6 62, 87 56:7–15 87 56:14 75 71, 74, 77 56:16 57 77 53, 64, 71, 73, 74, 75, 77, 57:1 79, 87, 90 57:2–4 87 57:5 87 57:6–7 87 58:1 87

58:2 36, 87 59 74 59:1 87 36, 75, 87 59:2 59:3–61:3 87 59:3 54, 71, 72, 74, 75, 78, 94, 95 59:4 75, 94 60:1 96 60:2 70 60:4 62, 75 61:2 94 62:1–65:2 77 62:1–64:1 86 62:2 62 62:3 2, 71, 74, 78–79 63:1 64 36, 60 63:2 36, 43, 44, 51, 65 65:1 65:2 44, 47 2 Clement 1 1:1–2 1:1

114, 143 3, 111–23 113, 114, 117, 119, 120, 121 1:2 113, 114, 116, 119, 120, 121, 153 1:3 117, 118, 122, 153, 156 117, 134, 153 1:4 117, 118, 122, 153, 156 1:5 1:6 129, 134, 139 122, 153 1:7 2 3, 4, 125–41 2:1–7 129–34 3, 126, 127, 134, 139 2:1–3 2:1 132 2:2 141 2:3 126 2:4 133 2:5–7 134 2:7 153 3:1 133 3:3 153 5:1 84, 153, 154 5:4 153 119, 120, 153, 156 5:5 6:5–6 153 6:6 119–20, 144 6:9 152 3, 143–57 7 7:1–3 151 7:1–2 147

Index of References 7:1 143, 144, 145, 147, 151 143, 144, 151 7:2 7:3 143, 144, 147, 151, 152 7:4–5 151 7:4 144 7:5 144, 152 151, 152 7:6 8:2 153 8:5 120 8:6 152 9:5 153 117, 118 9:7 11:2–4 95 11:2–3 76 11:6 118 13:1 153 14:3–5 152 120, 153 15:1 117, 118 15:2 16:1–2 120 16:3–4 152 16:4 153 17:2 153 17:3 152 122, 152 17:5 17:6 122 18:2 146 19 143 19:1 36, 146 20 156 147, 156 20:2 20:4 156 133, 216 20:5 Didache 1–6 180, 181 1–4 178 1:1 187 182, 187 1:2 1:5–6 182 1:5 180, 182 1:6 180 2:5–6 180 4:1 180 4:5 180 4:7–8 180 4:8 180, 185 4:20 187 5 178 5:1 187 5:2 180 6 178 6:1 187

277

7–8 178 7:4 181 8 182 8:1 182 8:4–5 176 9–10 178 9 182 180, 182 9:5 10 182 10:1 182 10:3–12:2 177 10:3 177, 178, 188 175, 177, 178–84, 188 11–13 11–12 178 176, 177, 188 11 11:1–3 176 11:1–2 178 11:1 179, 180, 183 179, 180, 183 11:2 11:3–6 178 11:3–5 183 11:3–4 180 11:3 183 11:4–12 176 11:4–6 176 11:4 180 11:5 176 176, 179, 183 11:6 11:7–12 178 11:7–8 183 11:7 179 11:8 181 176, 182, 183 11:9 11:10 183 11:11 183 176, 179, 181, 183, 188 11:12 4, 175, 176, 177, 178, 181, 12 187, 188 12:1–5 175–89 12:1 176, 180, 181, 182, 183, 186 12:2–13:7 177 12:2–5 176 176, 182 12:2–3 176, 177, 178, 180, 182, 12:2 183, 188 12:3 181, 184 176, 181, 184, 186 12:4 184, 185, 186 12:5 176, 177, 181, 188 13 13:1–7 176, 178 176, 184 13:1–3 13:1 181

278 13:2 177 13:3 176 13:4 184 13:5–7 176 13:5 184 13:6 176, 184 176, 184 13:7 14 178 14:1 185, 188 15:1–2 179 15:3–16:8 179 16:4 188 16:5 179 Diognetus 1–10 215 1 221 2–9 217 2–6 221 2–4 222 2 221, 222 2:5–6 221 221, 222 3–4 3:3 222 3:5 222 4 222 5–6 221 5 222 5:4 222 5:5 84, 154, 222 5:6 222 5:7 222 5:8 222 5:9 222 5:10 222 5:11 223 5:12 223 5:13 223 5:14 223 5:15 223 5:16 223 5:17 223 6 222, 223 6:1–10 216 6:2 223 6:3 223 6:4 216, 223 216, 223 6:5 216, 223 6:6 216, 223 6:7 6:8 154, 223 216, 223 6:9 216, 223 6:10

Index of References 7 217, 221 216, 217, 224, 226 7:2 7:4 217 7:5 217 7:6 217 8 221, 224, 226 8:2 225 9 221 9:1–2 226 9:1 226 9:2 226 9:5 225 10 221 10:2 217 10:7 225 11–12 215 11:1 29 11:3 217 Hermas, Mandates 3.5 229 4.1.11 (29.11) 228 241 4.2 (30.2) 5 228, 229, 230, 235, 236, 237 5.1–10.2 (33–41) 227 236 5.1 (33.1) 5.1 (33.2) 236 5, 227–44 5.1.3 (33.3) 5.1 (33.4) 236–37 237–38 5.1 (33.5) 238 5.1 (33.6) 5.1 (33.7) 238 238–39 5.2 (34.1) 239 5.2 (34.2) 5.2 (34.3) 239–40 240 5.2 (34.4–5) 5.2.5–7 234 240 5.2 (34.6–7) 236 5.2 (34.7) 5.2 (34.8) 240 6 240 7 240 9 (39.5) 241 235, 240 10 241 10.2 (41.1) 10.2 (41.2) 241 241 10.2 (41.3–4) 241 10.2 (41.5–6) 242 10.3 (42) 10.3 (42.1–2) 242 242 10.3 (42.3) 242 10.3 (42.4)

Index of References 11 242 11.15–18 228 12 242 12.5.3 228 12.6.2 228

4:1 173 5:1 160 5:2 162 155, 167 6:2 7 166 7:2–3 161 7:2 161 8:2 167 8:3 155 9 166 9:1 161, 162 9:2–12:1 171 161, 166 9:2 9:11 155 10–11 161 10:1 186 155, 186 12:1 15:2 162 17–18 162 17:2 167 162, 167 21 21:1 167 22 62 22:2–3 162 22:2 62

Hermas, Similitudes 2 229 8.11.3 (77.3) 228 9 229 9.26.4 229 Hermas, Visions 1.1.9 228 1.3.1 228 3 229 3.1.2–3 229 3.1.2 229 3.6.7 229 8.3 65 Ignatius of Antioch Magn. 10:1 186 10:3 186 Phld. 6:1 186

NHC I 3, Gospel of Truth 1.31–33 133

Rom. 3:3 186

NHC II 4, Nature of the Rulers 86.20–22 133

Trall. 6:1 186 Martyrdom of Polycarp Pref. 154 1 61, 160 164, 173 1:2 160, 166 3:2 4 3–4, 159–73

Pseudo-Clementine literature Epistle of Clement to James 14–15 95 Polycarp Phil. 1 61 7:1 95

Other Authors and Sources Inscriptions BGU 423.13 BGU 1080.19 IG II 1868 IG II3 370 IG XIV 1464 IG XIV 1857

241 235 241 155 239 241

Papyri P.Lond. Or. 9271 177, 188 216 P.Oxy. 925 241 P.Oxy. 939.20 Achilles Tatius Leuc. Clit. 3.24.3–25.27 98 3.25 107

279

280 Aelian Nat. an. 1.51 105 4.27 101 99, 101, 107 6.58 Var. hist. 10.14 168 Aelius Aristides Or. 2.426 101 17.2 101 18.9 101 20.19 101 23–24 82 23 36 24 36 Aeschylus Cho. 184 235 Prom. 495 235 Aëtius 16.85 239 Alexander Polyhistor Fragmenta 168 FGH 273 Alexis Fragmenta 16.12 235 115 238 Ambrose Exc. 59.11 101 Exp. Ps. 118 19.13.1 101 Hex. 5.23 101 Andronicus Rhodius 573 M 236 Anonymous Vita Aesopi 1 169

Index of References Anthologia Palatina 5.65 235 5.150 235 9.127 235 12.136 235 Antipho 4.2.4 236 Apollonius of Tyana [Ep.] 71 167 Archilochus Fragmenta 131 235 Aristophanes Av. 1244–45 168 Eccl. 901 235 Vesp. 433 168 Aristotle Fragmenta (ed. Rose) 277 235 Gen. an. 787b3 240 Hist. an. 488b19 105 506a20 235 511b17 240 521b6 240 564a21 104 572b28 236 583a15 236 622b8 238 Metaph. 5.12 238 [Mund.] 6 6, 391a11–16 6, 391a11–12 6, 391b9–12 6, 397b14–22 6, 399a30–35 6, 399a30–31 6, 399b10–22

215, 217, 218, 220, 225 218 225 226 225 218 218 225–26

Index of References 6, 399b19–22 6, 401b8

218 218

Part an. 677b11 235 680b33 240 692a12 240 Rhet. 36, 82 1.3–4 1.8 36, 82 2.15.13 105 36, 82 2.18 3.7.9 196 3.11.6–10 198 3.11.15 196 Artemidorus Daldianus 4.47 98 Augustine Enarrat. Ps. 105.19 93 Aulus Gellius Noct. att. 2.29.1 169 Cicero De or. 2.267 196 Div. 1.39.85 109 1.41.92 109 2.34.71–72 109 Flac. 65 168 Leg. 2.8.20–21 109 [Rhet. Her.] 4.44 196 Top. 45 196 Claudian Carm. min. 27.36–71 101 Cleanthes Hymn to Zeus 1–39

215, 217–18, 220, 225

4–5 218 6–10 226 9 225 13 226 16 226 18–19 223 21 217 23–24 218 26–31 218 32–39 218 33 218 37 217 Clement of Alexandria Strom. 1.7.38 64–65 4.6.32 65 4.6.33 65 4.17.105–19.112 65 4.18.113 65 4.111.3 57 5.12.81 65 6.8.64 65 6.8.65 65 Critias Fragmenta (ed. Diels and Kranz) 235 88 B 2 (2:377) Cyril of Jerusalem Catech. 12.27–29 102 18.8 101 Demetrius Eloc. 124–27 196 161–62 196 182–86 196 286 196 [Epistolary Types] 65, 67 15 Demosthenes Cor. 265 240 1 Philip. 4.7 122 Dio Cassius 39.5 238

281

282 Dio Chrysostom Or. 32.63 169 34.49–51 86 36, 82 38–41 38.24–25 86 39.2 38 40.26 38 49.6 38 Dionysius of Halicarnassus Ant. rom. 1.27.1–3 168 6.51 239 Dioscorides medicus 2.161 235, 236 5.6 239 5.36 239 Diphilus Fragmenta 74 235 Ephraem of Syria Comm. Gal. 134, 136 4 Epicurus Fragmenta (ed. Usener) 68 239 413 239 Epiphanius Anc. 84 101 84.3–6 98 Euripides Alc. 675 168 Bacch. 150 235 Cycl. 338 241 El. 828 235 Fragmenta 287 241 682 235

Index of References Orest. 1369–1526 168 Rhes. 317 239 Eusebius Hist. eccl. 3.12 94 4.5 94 4.11.8–9 139 4.15.7–8 162 4.18.8 139 4.23.5–6 84 4.23.11 64 5.1.1–2 61 5.1.3 84 5.13.3 95 5.16 94 7.15 170 Mart. Pal. 100.10 94 Praep. ev. 9.29 98 14.23–27 101 14.25 101 Galen De compositione medicamentorum (ed. Kühn) 235, 236 4.441 (12:757) 235, 236 5.471 (12:844) De indolentia 12a 237 De locis affectis (ed. Kühn) 5 (8:343) 239 De placitis Hippocratis et Platonis 4.5.43.3 237 De pulsibus ad tirones 9–11 232 470–71 232–33 De symptomatum causis (ed. Kühn) 7:85–272 239 7:128 239 7:268 239 In Hippocratis De acutorum victu (ed. Kühn) 3.12 (15:658) 235 In Hippocratis Epidemiarum (ed. Kühn) 4.4.10 (17/2:163) 239

283

Index of References Hermippus Fragmenta 63 168 Hero Spir. 2.24 239 Herodas 2.100–2 168 3.70 235 Herodotus Hist. 1.94.3 168 2.70 241 98, 100, 105, 106 2.73 4.45.3 168 4.62 104 4.75 104 7.221 102 8.144 241 Hesiod Fragmenta 171 98 Op. 376 102 Th. 426 102 Hippocrates Ἀφορισμοί (Aph.) 2.46 236 4.23 235 Ἐπιστολαί (Ep.) 19 241 Περὶ ἀρχαίης ἰητρικῆς (VM) 19 235 Περὶ νούσων (Morb.) 4.37 240 Περὶ τόπων τῶν κατὰ ἄνθρωπον (Loc. hom.) title 236 Hipponax Fragmenta 27 168

Homer [Batrachomyomachia] 66 235 Il. 1.483 147 5.253 105 8.491 236 148, 149, 157 23 Od. 3.288 147 Homeric Hymns Ad Apoll. 73 238 Irenaeus Haer. 3.3.3 65 3.3.4 95 4.6.2 139 4.27.1 29 4.32.1 29 Isocrates Evag. = Or. 9 58.6 119 John Chrysostom Hom. 1 Cor. 2 84 40 104 Hom. Gal. 4 134 John the Lydian De mensibus 4.11

99, 107

Josephus Ant. 19.343–52 110 C. Ap. 1.6.28 107 Justin Martyr 1 Apol. 26.5–6 139 53 139 128, 129, 137, 138, 140 53.5–6 53.5 128, 139

284 Dial. 139, 140 13 13.8 137, 138, 139 134 140 137–38, 139, 193 134.3 Juvenal Sat. 11.147 168 Lucian Dial. mort. 395–96 169 Fug. 19 235 Hermot. 22 38 53 101 Peregr. 11–13 187 13 175, 188 16 187 Ver. hist. 1.30 239 2.4 147 2.18 169 Lucretius Rer. nat. 4.12 228 Lysias Or. 31.27 122 Marcus Aurelius 1.6 225 3.3 240 Martial Epigr. 5.7 98 Maximus of Tyre Diss. 32.1 169 Menander Aspis 206 168

Index of References Epitr. 459 235 Nicopho Fragmenta 12 235 Oribasius medicus 2.58.5 235 7.8.1 239 7.26.8 239 Origen Cels. 2.69 201 4.24 101 4.98 101 Hom. Jer. 3.3 134 Princ. 2.3.6 65 Ovid Fast. 2.305 78 Metam. 15.361–410 99 15.391–407 98 15.392 105 15.395 105 Philo of Alexandria Agr. 119–21 146 Leg. 3.72 146 Spec. 2.910 146 Philodemus Mort. 38 62 Rhet. 1.164,20–22 S

139

Philostratus Vit. Apoll. 3.49 98, 100 8.7.12 168

285

Index of References Vit. soph. 539–40 172 Photius Bib. 126

Is. Os. 24, 360b

168

Num. 7.2–3 109 102, 119

Plato Crat. 393e 241 Phaed. 3 169 109a–111c 193 Phaedr. 247c–d 216 247c 193 Resp. 379a 199 7, 514a–18a 193 193 10, 614–21 Tim. 31b 102 83c 235 Pliny the Elder Nat. 98, 99 10.2–4 100, 107 10.2 10.3–5 98 10.4 99 10.33 109 10.34 109 32.11 239 Pliny the Younger Ep. 10.96 170 Plotinus Enn. 4.9.5 240 Plutarch Alex. fort. 1.9 38 Def. orac. 415d 97 Garr. 17 38

Pyrrh. 11 241 Quaest. rom. 281b 239 Polybius Hist. 24.8.3 169 Pomponius Mela Chorogr. = De situ orbis 98, 102, 103 3.8 98, 99 3.83–84 3.83 99 3.84 99 Quintilian Inst. 8.3.37 196 8.6.58 139 Rufinus Symb. 11 101 Rufus medicus De renum et vesicae affectionibus 7.11 242 Secundus Sent. 7 240 Seneca Ep. 42.1 99 Solon Fragmenta 13.26 235 Sophocles Aj. 433 241 1120 120

286 Ant. 955 235 1010 235 Fragmenta 854 235 Soranus medicus 1.49 235 1.82 235 1.83 235 1.87 239 1.122 239 2.15 235 2.40 236 2.57 240 2.62 236 Sotades comicus Fragmenta 1.33 238 Strabo Geogr. 1.2.30 168 7.3.12 168 17.27–29 106 Tacitus Ann. 2.26 167 98, 99, 101 6.28 15.61 171 Tatian Or. Graec. 38 107 Terence Ad. 973 168 Tertullian An. 20.3 168 Apol. 30.6 170 Marc. 1.1.3–5 169 1.18.4 95 2.26 93 2.26.1–4 95

Index of References 3.6.3 95 4.1.3 127 4.4.3 95 4.9.2 95 5.1.2 95 5.4.8 135 5.10 104 5.11.15 109 5.13.8 127 Praescr. 30 95 30.1 95 32 65 Res. 13

98, 101

Theocritus Id. 15.42 168 Theophrastus Hist. plant. 1.11.1 240 Thucydides 2.49 235 4.40 241 6.31.3 155 Trypho Trop. 2.1 196 Vergil Aen. 1–4 148 3 153 4.215 170 5 148–54, 156, 157 5.55–63 150 5.64–71 151 5.84–103 150 5.94–96 156 5.109–12 150 5.113 150 5.114–38 151 5.124–31 148 5.139–244 151 5.245–85 151 5.291–361 151 5.305 150 5.328–30 151

Index of References 5.514–18 151 5.659–63 151 5.814–15 153 5.857–71 152 6 148 6.337–83 153 6.337–43 153 7–12 148 9.600 170 9.614–20 170 12.97–100 170 12.99 170 Xenophon Anab. 2.3.10 241 4.2.10 241

Cyr. 3.3.50 241 Hell. 6.2.29 147 Mem. 3.10.15 241 Oec. 17.10 238 Zenobius Prov. 5.16 169

287

Index of Modern Authors and Names Abbot, George ​26 Aberbach, M. ​81, 93 Achtemeier, Paul J. ​119 Adams, S. A. ​64 Ahl, Frederick ​148 Aiden, Erez ​113 Al-Ghamdi, Ahmed ​229 Al-Waili, Noori ​228–29 Aland, Kurt ​xvii d’Alembert, Jean le Rond ​15 Alexander, W. L. ​29 Ambrose, Z. Philip ​153 Anderson, Graham ​161, 165, 166, 172 Anderson, R. Dean ​196, 198 Andriessen, Paul ​213 Ansari, Mohammad Javed ​229 Armstrong, David ​63 Arndt, W. F. ​64, 78, 84, 119, 227 Asmis, Elizabeth ​223 Attridge, Harold ​203 Audet, Jean-Paul ​176 Aune, David E. ​149, 213 Austin, D. ​168 Baasland, E. ​115 Babcock, W. S. ​45 Bakke, Odd Magne ​81, 83, 85, 86, 107 Baldry, H. C. ​62 Bale, John ​14 Baltzer, Klaus ​132 Bär, Silvio ​167 Barber, Giles ​21 Barclay, John M. G. ​213 Barnard, L. W. ​213 Barnes, T. D. ​160, 171 Barrett, C. K. ​193 Barnett, A. E. ​37 Baslez, M.-F. ​163 Bauer, Johannes B. ​213 Bauer, Walter ​35, 37, 64, 78, 84, 119, 227 Baumbach, M. ​167 Baumeister, Theofried ​213 Beasley-Murray, G. R. ​103

BeDuhn, Jason D. ​81, 94 Belck, W. ​159 Bergh van Eysinga, G. A. van den ​66 Bernard, Edward ​27, 102 Bernard, John ​15, 20, 25, 26 Bertrand, Dominique ​8–9, 10, 29 Betz, Hans Dieter ​38, 130, 131, 155 Bienert, Wolfgang A. ​200 Bierma, Lyle D. ​136 Bignon, Jérôme ​102 Bigot, Emery ​22 Bihlmeyer, Karl ​111, 191, 213, 225 Bird, Michael F. ​213 Birley, A. R. ​160, 163 Blackman, E. C. ​109 Blaise, Albert ​8 Blakeney, E. H. ​213 Blanton III, Thomas R. ​160 Bliss, M. T. ​198 Bloom, Harold ​39, 148 Blümer, Wilhelm ​149 Bodley, Thomas ​14, 15, 16 Bondavalli, Bonnie ​ix Bonner, Stanley Frederick ​70 Bonwetsch, N. G. ​160 Bori, P. C. ​81, 93 Bornkamm, Günther ​48 Bourzeis, Amable de ​23 Bowe, Barbara Ellen ​36–37, 39, 66 Bowersock, G. W. ​161 Bowie, Ewen ​161 Bracht, Katherina ​36 Branham, R. Bracht ​62 Braund, Susanna ​230 Brent, Allen ​161 Breytenbach, Cilliers ​38, 66 Briones, David ​117 Broek, R. van den ​100 Brown, Eric ​62 Brown, Peter ​167, 171 Bruns, J. Edgar ​193 Bryennios, Philotheos ​12, 233 Büchsel, F. ​103

Index of Modern Authors and Names Buck, P. Lorraine ​163 Bultmann, Rudolf ​36, 103 Burkert, Walter ​118 Burnette, B. C. ​235 Burton, Robert ​26 Bury, E. ​8 Buschmann, Gerd ​160, 163, 164, 171 Butterweck, Christel ​163 Cadbury, H. J. ​229, 243 Cairns, Francis ​148 Calder, W. M. ​159 Calhoun, Robert Matthew ​ix, 7, 42, 66, 81, 85, 109, 128, 159, 160, 186 Campenhausen, H. F. von ​159, 160, 161, 162 Cange, Charles du Fresne sieur du ​23 Carlyle, A. J. ​45, 46, 55, 56, 58 Carpenter, Michael ​12, 16 Casson, Lionel ​175 Cave, William ​10, 11, 32 Cerny, Gerald ​22, 23 Chirat, Henri ​8 Clark, D. F. ​160 Clement, Richard W. ​14, 16, 17 Clerici, J. ​33 Cless, Johann ​13 Clifford, Richard J. ​219 Cline, Brandon ​81, 83 Cobb, Stephanie L. ​159, 166, 170, 171, 173 Cohen, B. ​168 Cohn, N. ​160 Colbert, Jean-Baptiste ​23, 29 Collins, Adela Yarbro ​63 Collins, John J. ​219 Connelly, R. H. ​213 Conybeare, F. C. ​100 Conzelmann, Hans ​57, 70 Coote, R. B. ​66 Cotelier, J.-B. ​1, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33 Coxe, A. Cleveland ​214 Cressy, H. P. S. ​10 Croix, G. E. M. de Ste. ​163 Crombie, F. ​101, 227 Crowe, Brandon D. ​213 Crum, Walter E. ​188 Cuche, F.-X. ​8 Cudworth, Ralph ​25 Cutter, Charles A. ​18 Daniélou, J. ​200 Danker, Frederick W. ​64, 78, 84, 119, 155, 227

289

Daube, D. ​193 Davies, W. D. ​193 Davis, Jr., Donald G. ​12 Dawson, J. D. ​200 Dehandschutter, Boudewijn ​159 DeLacy, Phillip ​237 DeSilva, David A. ​78, 219 DeVries, K. ​168 Dew, Nicholas ​23 Dibelius, Martin ​66 Dillery, John ​169 Dirkzwager, A. ​214 Dodson, J. R. ​213 Donaldson, James ​214 Donfried, Karl P. ​128, 131 Dorner, I. A. ​29 Drake, Miriam A. ​14 Draper, Jonathan A. ​181 Dulk, Matthijs den ​4, 159, 160, 161, 164, 167, 171, 172 Duran, N. W. ​35 Dutton, E. P. ​228 Eden, P. T. ​150 Edwards, M. ​200 Edwards, M. J. ​81, 83 Eggenberger, Christopher ​66, 99 Ehrman, Bart D. ​7, 9, 35, 36, 47, 52, 54, 55, 75, 76, 81, 83, 84, 94, 111, 115, 118, 120, 121, 126, 145, 152, 159, 164, 166, 169, 182, 186, 192, 197, 208, 214, 224, 227, 233, 234 Elborowe, Thomas ​11 Eltester, Walther ​214 Engberg-Pedersen, Troels ​108 Erasmus, Desiderius ​28 Ermoni, V. ​160 Estienne, Henri ​12, 13 É(s)tienne, Robert ​13, 22, 24 Evans, Craig ​78 Evans, E. ​81, 96 Everett, Nicholas ​228 Fabricius, Johann-Albert ​22 Fairclough, H. R. ​150 Fairweather, Eugene R. ​214 Falls, Thomas B. ​137, 138 Farrell, Joseph ​148, 149 Feldherr, Andrew ​148 Ferguson, Everett ​193 Fischer, J. A. ​9 Fischer, Martin ​iv Fitzer, G. ​214 Fitzgerald, John T. ​63, 192

290

Index of Modern Authors and Names

Fleury, Claude ​27 Foot, Mirjam M. ​15, 20, 21, 26 Foster, Paul ​9, 144, 214 Fouquet, Nicolas ​15 Fourmont, Etienne ​22 Franck, Nicole ​45 Fratantuono, Lee M. ​148, 149, 150 Frend, W. H. C. ​160 Freund, Stefan ​149 Frey, Jörg ​ix, 67 Friedländer, Ludwig ​145 Frymer-Kensky, Tikva ​125, 130, 134 Fuks, Alexander ​63 Funk, F. X. ​214 Fysher, Rob ​19, 32–33 Gaffney, James ​ix Galinsky, Karl ​148 Galligan, Francesca ​7, 19 Gamaches, Philippe de ​28 Geffcken, J. ​214 Genette, Gérard ​152 Gesner, Conrad ​14, 16, 24 Gifford, E. H. ​101 Gill, Mary Louise ​62 Gingrich, F. W. ​64, 78, 84, 119, 227 Glazewski, Johanna ​149 Gleason, Maud W. ​170, 172 Gold, Barbara K. ​148 Goodenough, E. R. ​139 Goodspeed, Edgar J. ​22, 191 Goold, G. P. ​150 Goulet-Cazé, Marie-Odile ​62 Grace, Johann Ernest ​22 Graham, Holt H. ​36, 71, 73, 77, 81, 88, 89, 93, 98, 99, 108, 113, 114, 131, 133, 134, 138, 139, 144, 146, 152 Grant, Robert M. ​7, 11, 22, 24, 28, 36, 38, 46, 50, 55, 56, 71, 73, 81, 88, 89, 93, 98, 99, 102, 108, 114, 138, 144, 146, 152, 176, 214, 225, 228 Green, Deborah A. ​104 Green, Ian ​24–25 Greenslade, S. L. ​22–23, 28 Grégoire, H. ​159, 162 Gregory, Andrew ​37, 47, 58, 163 Grotius, Hugo ​102 Grundeken, Mark ​126 Gygax, Marc Domingo ​154–55 Hagner, Donald A. ​35, 37, 45, 46, 56, 57, 58, 71 Hall, Edith ​168

Hanson, R. P. C. ​193, 194, 200 Hardie, C. G. ​156 Harmer, J. R. ​115, 191, 214, 234 Harnack, Adolf von ​60, 136, 137, 138, 141, 144, 192, 214 Harrill, J. Albert ​171, 172, 173 Harrington, Daniel J. ​219 Harrison, S. J. ​148 Hartog, Paul ​65, 159 Hartwig, O. ​18 Harvey, David ​148 Harvey, Hazel ​148 Hays, Richard B. ​45 Hearne, Thomas ​19 Heintz, Michael ​214 Heinze, Richard ​148 d’Herbelot, Barthélemy ​23 Herron, T. J. ​81, 83 Heuvel, Gerd van den ​62 Hilgenfeld, Adolf ​138, 191 Hill, Charles E. ​29, 81, 93, 214 Hill, Thomas ​26 Hoare, R. W. N. ​103 Hoffmann, R. Joseph ​81, 82, 94 Hofmann, Dagmar ​163 Holland, Glenn S. ​63 Holmes, Michael W. ​ix, 113, 115, 144, 146, 159, 163, 164, 171–72, 173, 191, 192, 207, 208, 234 Holzberg, N. ​169 Horbury, William 202 Horrell, David G. ​66 Horsely, G. H. R. ​238 Horsfall, Nicholas M. ​148, 170 House, Oliver ​7 Housman, A. E. ​214 Howell, Justin R. ​ix Hubaux, Jean ​97 Hübner, Reinhard M. ​81, 83 Huet, Pierre-Daniel ​23 Hurd, John ​66 Hvalvic, Reider ​191, 194 Hyde, Thomas ​10, 11, 19–20, 30, 32–33 Isaac, B. ​168 Ittig, Thomas ​9–10, 11, 22 Jackson, Sidney L. ​15, 16, 17, 29 Jaeger, Werner ​39, 70, 71, 72 James, Thomas ​14–19, 25, 26, 29 Jansen, A. ​198 Jaubert, A. ​81, 83 Jebb, R. C. ​120

Index of Modern Authors and Names Jeffers, James S. ​229, 230, 240 Jefford, Clayton N. ​ix, 43, 67, 175, 177, 178, 181, 183, 184, 188, 215, 216, 217, 221, 222, 225 Jewel, John ​28 Johnston, Ian ​238 Jones, Christopher P. ​36, 40, 81, 82, 167 Jones, F. Stanley ​177, 178, 188 Jones, Henry Stuart ​xvii, 76, 78, 102, 104, 105, 108, 119, 120, 122, 130, 132, 145, 147, 155, 169, 184, 198, 199, 227, 235, 236, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242 Jonge, Henk Jan de ​10 Justel, Henri ​23 Kassel, R. ​168 Kaster, Robert A. ​230 Kayser, C. L. ​100 Keim, Karl Theodore 161 Kelhoffer, James A. ​ix, 3, 111, 117, 118, 119, 121, 125, 126, 131, 141, 143, 153, 154, 156, 228 Kelly, Gordon P. ​57, 81, 83 Kim, Yung Suk ​41 Kinney, Angela ​7, 8 Kirby, John T. ​198 Klawitter, Frederick Charles ​160 Kleist, J. A. ​191 Klek, J. ​36, 81, 82 Kline, A. S. ​78 Klumbies, Paul-Gerhard ​36, 126 Knauer, G. N. ​148 Knopf, Rudolf ​98, 105, 115, 128, 129, 131, 139, 145, 175, 176, 179, 181 Knox, R. A. ​160 Koester, Helmut ​37 Konstan, David ​148 Kraft, H. ​160 Kraft, Robert A. ​176, 177, 178, 181, 186, 191, 192, 201, 202, 203, 207, 214 Kramer, H. ​36, 81, 82 Kühn, Carl Gottlob ​232 Kühnert, Wilhelm ​214 Labriolle, Pierre Champagne de ​160 Lake, Kirsopp ​35, 36, 53, 54, 61, 81, 83, 84, 113, 114, 116, 144, 152, 159, 191, 192, 208, 214, 227, 233, 234 Lampe, G. W. H. ​xvii, 152, 227 Langford, Andrew ​4, 159, 160, 161, 164, 167, 171, 172 Laud, William ​26 Lausberg, Heinrich ​198, 199

291

Layton, Bentley ​67, 81, 85 Lechner, T. ​81 LeClerc, Jean-Baptiste ​9, 10 Leedham-Green, Elizabeth ​19–20 Leeuwen, Jan Storm van ​15 Leonard, William Ellery ​228 Leroy, Maxime ​97 Leutzsch, Martin ​229 Lichfield, John ​26 Liddell, Henry George ​xvii, 76, 78, 102, 104, 105, 108, 119, 120, 122, 130, 132, 145, 147, 155, 169, 184, 198, 199, 227, 235, 236, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242 Liebeschuetz, J. H. W. G. ​109 Lietzmann, Hans ​130 Lieu, Judith M. ​127, 128, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 192, 193 Lightfoot, J. B. ​9, 10, 36, 43, 44, 61, 65, 66, 98, 99, 101, 102, 113, 115, 116, 128, 138, 144, 145, 146, 152, 164, 191, 214, 227, 233, 234 Lincicum, David ​1, 7, 10, 11, 12, 20, 21, 32 Lindemann, Andreas ​36, 37, 45, 46, 58, 81, 83, 98, 99, 100, 111, 114, 115, 116, 128, 131, 144, 145, 214 Lohse, Eduard ​119 Lona, Horacio E. ​37, 46, 53, 98, 99, 108, 214, 216, 217 Long, T. ​168 Lowy, S. ​194 Lumpe, A. ​81, 85 Luther, Martin ​28 Luz, Ulrich ​104 Lynerd, Benjamin ​16 MacDonald, Dennis R. ​152, 157 Mackauer, C. W. ​71 MacKay, L. A. ​148 MacLean, Ian ​23 Maino, G. B. ​159 Malherbe, Abraham J. ​v, ix–x, 65, 67 Maloney, Linda M. ​177 Manson, William ​193 Manutius, Aldus ​13 Marino, Adrian ​23 Marrou, Henri-Irénée ​2, 69, 70, 75, 214 Martens, Peter W. ​199, 200, 201 Martin, Dale ​40 Martin, José P. ​234 Maunsell, Andrew ​13–14, 15 McGuckin, J. A. ​200 McKenzie, D. F. ​15, 20, 25, 26 McKenzie, Roderick ​xvii

292

Index of Modern Authors and Names

McKitterick, David ​20, 26 Mecklenburg, Ulrich von ​18 Meecham, Henry G. ​214 Menard, Hugh ​9 Merkt, A. ​100 Merz, Annette ​42, 45 Meunier, B. ​8 Meyer, Rudolf ​62, 63 Michaels, J. R. ​81, 84 Michel, Jean-Baptiste ​113 Middleton, Paul ​160, 163, 164, 173 Milavec, Aaron ​185 Mill, John ​27 Miller, Margaret C. ​168 Minns, Denis ​138, 139 Mirecki, Paul A. ​177, 178, 188 Mitchell, Margaret M. ​37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 44, 48, 53, 54, 57, 59, 66, 69, 81, 84, 85 Moffatt, James ​193 Moles, J. L. ​62 Moll, Sebastian ​109 Mommsen, Theodor ​145 Montfaucon, Bernard de ​27 Montmaur, Pierre de ​15 Moore, T. D. ​235 Morgan, Gareth ​148 Mosheim, Johann Lorenz von ​22 Moss, Candida ​62, 81, 83, 160, 161, 162, 166, 172–73 Most, Glenn W. ​230 Muildenburg, James ​191 Müller, H. ​161 Murphy, Roland E. ​219 Mynors, R. A. B. ​148 Nestle, Eberhard ​xvii Nestle, Erwin ​xvii Neyrey, Jerome H. ​117 Nicholson, James Bartram ​11 Nicklas, Tobias ​100 Nicoli, W. S. M. ​153 Niederwimmer, Kurt ​176, 177, 180, 181, 182, 185, 186, 187 Nielsen, Charles M. ​214 Nock, Arthur Darby ​214 Norris, R. A. ​200 Nussbaum, Martha C. ​230 Obbink, Dirk D. ​63 Ogden, Schubert M. ​36 O’Keefe, J. J. ​200 Økland, Jorunn ​108 Olbricht, Thomas H. ​192

Omont, Henri Auguste ​23 O’Neill, J. G. ​214 Opwis, Felicitas ​230 Orgels, P. ​159, 162 Orton, D. E. ​198 Osiek, Carolyn ​5, 117, 121, 227, 228, 229, 230, 234 Otis, Brooks ​148 Owen, John ​25 Padeloup, Antoine-Michel ​21 Pagels, Elaine ​63, 64 Paget, James Carleton ​ix, 191, 204 Pardee, Nancy ​125, 176 Parvis, Paul ​138, 139, 144 Patte, Daniel ​40 Patterson, Stephen J. ​177, 178, 181, 183, 188 Pearson, David ​11, 21 Pellegrin, Pierre ​62 Pepys, Samuel ​15 Perret, J. ​148 Perry, Ben Edwin ​101, 169 Peryn, William ​10 Peterin, Davorin ​155 Peters, Kate ​24–25 Petit, Pierre ​24 Pfitzner, V. C. ​146 Philip, Ian G. ​11, 19 Philips, G. A. ​35 Pococke, Edward ​26 Pollard, Graham ​11 Popkes, Enno Edzard ​211 Porter, Stanley E. ​64 Potter, Esther ​21 Pratscher, Wilhelm ​111, 116, 126, 131, 138, 144, 145 Prévot, F. ​163 Prigent, Pierre ​191, 192, 194, 207 Prostmeier, F. R. ​191, 192 Prynne, William ​27 Putnam, Michael C. J. ​148 Quantin, Jean-Louis ​25, 26, 27, 28 Quinn, Kenneth ​148 Rad, Gerhard von ​125 Rahlfs, Alfred ​78 Ranganathan, S. R. ​19 Rathke, Heinrich ​35 Reasoner, Mark ​149, 154 Reichardt, Rolf ​62 Reisman, David ​230 Rensberger, D. K. ​45

Index of Modern Authors and Names Rex, W. E. ​16 Rhodes, James N. ​81, 93, 194, 195, 196, 197, 207, 208 Richardson, Cyril C. ​113, 114, 171, 214 Riches, John K. ​103 Rider, Fremont ​19 Rijk, Elisabeth de ​17 Rives, J. B. ​168, 169, 170 Roberts, Alexander ​214 Roberts, Julian ​15 Robertson, Fred ​148 Robinson, J. Armitage ​192 Roisman, Hanna M. ​148 Rolfe, J. C. ​156 Romer, Frank E. ​103 Ronchey, Silvia ​162 Rose, H. J. ​109 Roth, Dieter T. ​137 Rothschild, Clare K. ​42, 67, 81, 161 Roxan, M. M. ​160 Russell, D. A. ​161 Saller, Richard P. ​117, 148 Salom, Khelod ​228–29 Sanders, Louis ​98 Sandin, Pär ​214 Sbordone, F. ​101 Schaff, Philip ​185, 188 Schille, G. ​176 Schindler, Claudia ​97 Schlachter, Stephany ​ix Schmeling, G. ​169 Schmidt, Eberhard ​62, 63 Schmidt, Karl Ludwig ​62, 63 Schmidt, Martin Anton ​62 Schmitz, Thomas ​167 Schneemelcher, W. ​111 Schneider, Katherina ​214 Schoedel, William R. ​35, 39, 159, 160, 166 Schoellgen, G. ​81, 83 Schofield, Malcolm ​62 Schulz, K. ​18 Schwab, Richard N. ​15–16 Schwartz, Eduard ​161 Schwarzbach, Bertram E. ​22 Schwegler, F. C. A. ​160 Scott, Robert (a) ​xvii, 76, 78, 102, 104, 105, 108, 119, 120, 122, 130, 132, 145, 147, 155, 169, 184, 198, 199, 227, 235, 236, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242 Scott, Robert (b) ​15 Seaman, Lazarus ​25 Seim, Turid Karlsen ​108

293

Sevrin, J.-M. ​45, 181 Shrewsbury, William ​15 Simonetti, M. ​160 Singer, P. N. ​229, 232, 233 Skarsaune, Oskar ​139 Smith, Charles Forster ​155 Smith, Nigel ​25 Smith, R. Alden ​148, 149, 150 Smolar, L. ​81, 93 Smyth, Herbert Weir ​179, 184, 227 Snyder, Graydon F. ​227, 228, 230, 237 Soli, Jacob ​23 Spittler, Janet E. ​100, 101, 105, 107, 108 Stackert, Jeffrey ​42 Staden, Heinrich von ​230, 231, 232 Stanton, G. R. ​145 Steely, John E. ​136 Stern, Menahem ​63 Strecker, Georg ​119 Streeter, J. ​163 Stökl Ben Ezra, Daniel ​194, 202 Sundberg, Jr., Albert C. ​8 Swallow, E. ​148 Tabbernee, William ​160, 162, 163, 167 Tanner, R. G. ​214 Taylor, Jeremy ​25 Tcherikover, Victor A. ​63 Thieme, K. ​192 Thierry, J. J. ​214 Thom, Johan C. ​4, 192, 213, 214, 215, 217, 218, 220, 225, 226 Thompson, James Westfall ​13 Thompson, Trevor W. ​ix, 42, 44, 66, 67, 81, 83, 85 Tite, Philip L. ​64 Toit, David S. du ​36, 126 Townsley, A. L. ​214 Trimble-Alliaume, Karen ​ix Tuckett, Christopher M. ​ix, 37, 43, 61, 111, 116, 119, 120, 121, 126, 128, 129, 130, 131, 133, 134, 138, 139, 141, 145, 146, 152, 153, 163, 181 Uchelen, Paolo van ​15 Unnik, W. C. van ​36, 38, 39, 40, 41, 57, 66, 82, 85 Ussher, James ​9 Verheyden, Joseph ​126 Vickery, B. C. ​16, 19 Vida, Marco Girolamo ​157 Vielberg, Meinolf ​149

294

Index of Modern Authors and Names

Vogt, H. J. ​82, 83 Voisin, J.-L. ​163 Voss, Isaac ​9 Wake, William ​10, 11, 22 Walker, Donald Dale ​40 Wallace, D. B. ​235 Wallace-Hadrill, Andrew ​148 Walton, Brian ​25 Warns, Rüdiger ​126, 128 Waterfield, Robin ​106 Watzel, P. ​176 Wechel, Chrétien ​13 Weiss, Johannes ​60 Weissenrieder, A. ​66 Welborn, Laurence L. ​ix, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 46, 47, 51, 52, 56, 59, 61, 64, 66, 82, 84, 85, 95 Wellhausen, Julius ​192 Wengst, Klaus ​115, 126, 128, 131, 138, 141, 145, 192, 214 Werline, Rodney ​139 West, Martin L. ​168 Wheatley, Henry B. ​18

Wheeler, G. W. ​15, 17 Whitby, M. ​163 White, L. Michael ​192 White, Peter ​148 Whitmarsh, Tim ​161, 167 Wiegand, Wayne A. ​12 Wieneke, Joseph ​101 Wilkes, J. J. ​160 Willer, Georg ​13 Williams, Craig ​170 Williams, R. D. ​148 Windisch, Hans ​126, 192 Winston, David ​219 Witte, Hanna ​97 Wolter, Michael ​126 Wotton, William ​102 Young, F. M. ​81, 200 Young, Robin Darling ​149 Zahn, Theodor ​144, 164 Zeidler, J. G. ​20 Ziebritzki, Henning ​ix Ziegler, Adolf W. ​43, 61

Index of Subjects Aaron ​90, 91, 92 Abbreviation ​1, 7, 8, 9, 11, 16, 18, 20, 21, 29, 30, 208 Abiram ​88, 90, 91, 92 Abraham ​36, 84, 91, 92, 125, 130, 131, 133, 135, 137, 139, 140, 141, 192, 202, 204, 205, 209, 212, – versus Moses ​36, 84, 192, 204, 209 Abyss ​224 Achaia ​50, 51 Achaicus ​51 Achilles ​165 Adam ​51, 219 Admonition ​22, 40, 54, 195 Adultery ​40, 44, 45, 72, 228 Advice ​ix, x, 52, 54, 65, 76, 77, 87, 90, 94, 96, 106, 120, 132, 175, 179, 180 Aeneas ​148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 156, 157, 170 Aesop ​169 Agriculture, farming ​40, 107, 155, 229 – crop ​58, 59, 108 – seed ​58, 59, 108, 137, 138 – soil ​58, 59, 238 – viticulture ​229 Air ​210, 218, 219, 224, 226, 234, 236, 243 Alexander the Great ​167 Allegory ​4, 65, 66, 67, 79, 85, 125, 126, 129, 130, 131, 134, 135, 136, 137, 139, 140, 141, 169, 191–212 Alphabet ​12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19 Analogy ​44, 59, 67, 70, 85, 109, 119, 126, 130, 132, 134, 144, 145, 146, 156, 182, 193, 195, 198, 215, 224, 229, 238, 241, 242 Angel ​84, 125, 204, 225, 238, 240 Anger ​45, 48, 95, 96, 151, 196, 215, 229, 230, 231–33, 235, 236, 237, 240, 241, 243, 244 Anicetus (Pope) 65 Animal ​59, 98, 99, 101, 102, 107, 150, 151, 219, 239, 240 – insect ​104, 105 – – bees ​102, 228 – – flies, maggots ​105

– bird ​59, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 184 – – chicken ​100, 164, 169 – – crow ​101 – – dove ​151 – – eagle ​100, 101 – – phoenix ​2, 59, 89, 97–110 – – raven ​101 – – swan ​101 – mammal – – ass ​125 – – cattle ​184 – – elephant ​101 – – horse ​147 – – lion ​170 – – sheep ​184 – – stag ​101 – – whale ​101 – reptile – – snake, serpent ​101, 105, 150, 156 – worm ​97–110, 151 Apocalyptic ​41, 53, 202, 228, 244 – see also s.v. Eschatology Apollos ​40, 41, 46 Apologetics ​66, 216 Aporia ​176, 177 Apostasy ​172, 173, 211 Apostle ​8, 9, 10, 11, 28, 35, 50, 51, 53, 68, 83, 102, 139, 176, 177, 178, 179, 182, 183, 184 – apostolic succession ​12, 50, 51, 61, 67 Apostolic Canons (text) 9, 31 Apostolic Constitutions (text) ​9, 31, 61, 85 ‘Apostolic Fathers’ ​passim – collection ​7–33 – title ​1, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 21–22, 29, 30, 32 Arabia ​98, 99, 100, 101, 104, 106, 125 Architecture ​5, 227, 229 – builder ​40, 229 Areopagus ​4, 213, 220, 226 Army – see s.v. Military Arrogance ​45, 48, 49 Artemisia Absinthium ​228

296

Index of Subjects

Asia ​61, 62, 167, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173 Asceticism ​31, 225 Asphyxia ​235, 243 Astronomy ​107, 108 Athens ​12, 62, 86, 154 Athletics – see s.v. Game Atonement ​153, 202, 203, 211 Augustus Caesar ​156, 167 Babylon ​72, 85, 130, 202 Baptism ​104, 105, 151, 152, 178, 180, 186, 187, 188, 211 Barbarian ​62, 90, 222 Bath ​232 Benediction, blessing ​77, 87, 223 Benefaction ​97, 150, 154–56 Bible ​13, 14, 15, 16, 23, 25, 28, 125, 136, 233 – Hebrew, Jewish Bible ​42, 77, 118, 125 – New Testament ​14, 22, 23, 38, 43, 45, 132, 135, 136, 141, 185 – Old Testament ​14, 23, 26, 70, 135, 136, 137, 141 – Septuagint, LXX ​48, 49, 50, 53, 72, 73, 74, 77, 78, 102, 129, 131, 132, 169, 185, 187, 188, 232, 238 Bile ​235, 236 Birth ​102, 103, 104, 105, 109, 125, 132, 135, 136, 141 – noble birth ​40, 105 – rebirth ​103, 105, 109, 110 – see also s.v. Pregnancy Boasting ​3, 44, 45, 48, 53, 56, 57, 58, 126 Body ​28, 39, 40, 42, 44, 52, 54–55, 62, 71, 84, 94, 101, 105, 109, 211, 223, 224, 227–44 – artery ​232 – blood ​5, 75, 151, 222, 227, 232, 243, 244 – bone ​98, 101 – brain ​232, 234, 236, 243, 244 – eye ​49, 74, 78, 122, 218, 236 – flesh ​3, 42, 74, 98, 105, 109, 126, 130, 135, 152, 153, 222, 223, 235 – heart ​49, 74, 77, 78, 79, 86, 88, 171, 197, 203, 204, 208, 209, 210, 220, 224, 229, 231, 232, 234, 236, 238, 239, 241, 242, 243, 244 – knee ​78, 79 – lungs ​234, 236, 240, 243 – nervous system ​231, 232 – pulse ​231, 232–33 – spine ​105 – wing ​98, 99 Book industry ​1, 7–33 – binding ​1, 7, 8, 11, 12, 13, 15, 20, 21, 32, 36

– catalogue, index ​1, 8, 10, 12–22, 23, 24, 25, 29, 30, 32–33, 177 – – bibliotheca universalis ​16 – – substantivum regens ​17, 18, 21, 29, 30 – fair ​12–22 – – Buchmesse (Frankfurt) ​12 – lettering pallets ​21 – movable type ​12 – publication, printing ​1, 7, 9, 10, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 22, 24, 25, 26, 102 – shop, seller ​13, 14, 15, 18, 20, 21 – spine title ​1, 8, 11, 20, 21, 29, 30 – see also s.v. Codex, Library Botany ​108 Brass ​21 Burial ​88, 99, 101, 104, 106, 107, 150, 152 – mummification ​100 – pyre ​101, 103 – tomb ​100, 103, 104, 150 Cain ​90, 91, 92 Cairo ​106 Canon – see s.v. Scripture Carthage ​149 Catchword ​17, 18, 90, 181 Catechism ​2, 31, 69, 102 – see also s.v. Education Centurion ​83 Charisma ​52, 182 Cholera ​235, 240 Christ ​2, 4, 11, 28, 39, 41, 43, 44, 46, 49, 51, 53, 55, 58, 59, 63, 67, 69, 74, 75, 76, 84, 87, 89, 94, 96, 109, 111, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 122, 123, 127, 130, 137, 138, 153, 157, 175, 176, 182, 184, 186, 209, 210, 211, 225, 244 – ‘Christ-monger’ ​4, 175–89 – Christology ​109, 119, 153, 191, 217 Chrysalis ​104 Church ​1, 3, 8, 10, 14, 15, 16, 23, 24, 26, 27, 28, 35, 37, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 50, 52, 54, 55, 61–68, 75, 77, 84, 85, 88, 94, 96, 126, 128, 129, 131, 132, 133, 135, 136, 137, 140, 141, 154, 156, 183, 192, 199, 202, 205, 206, 217 – bishop ​26, 27, 30, 49, 50, 51, 53, 54, 59, 61, 64, 65, 67, 83, 88, 94, 106 – – episcopal succession ​49 – deacon 50, 51 – presbyter ​2, 40, 44, 51, 53, 59, 60, 70, 73, 75, 78, 89, 90 Cinnamon ​100

Index of Subjects Circumcision ​3, 126, 204, 205 Citizenship ​63, 68, 83, 84, 188, 222 Claudius (Roman emperor) ​101 Claudius Ephebus ​43 Codex ​12, 26, 35, 62, 177, 233 – Alexandrinus ​26, 62, 111–12, 115, 121 – Constantinopolitanus ​121, 207 – Hierosolymitanus ​12, 111–12, 115, 188, 233 – Petropolitanus ​207 – Sinaiticus ​207 Compassion ​89, 93, 163, 191 – see also s.v. Mercy Concord ​36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 49, 57, 59, 64, 69, 82, 85 Condescension ​78, 114 Confession ​77, 86, 88, 89, 118, 136, 159, 166, 169, 242 Conscience ​182, 186, 211 Corinth ​1, 2, 35, 37, 38, 40, 41, 43, 44, 46, 50, 51, 55, 56, 59, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 76, 77, 83, 84, 85, 89, 94, 96, 144, 145, 183 3 Corinthians (text) ​42, 47, 65, 66, 109 Cornelius Valerianus ​100 Courage ​166, 170 Covenant ​4, 52, 72, 93, 118, 126, 127, 130, 136, 138, 141, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 202, 204, 205, 209, 210, 211 – testament ​127, 136, 137, 141 Cowardice ​166, 168, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173 Creation ​59, 101, 107, 108, 199, 202, 219, 220, 224 – see also s.v. Universe Cross ​24, 40, 202, 203, 205 Crown ​143, 144, 146, 147, 151, 155 Custom ​3, 16, 36, 67, 143, 222, 235 Cybele ​169, 170 Danaid ​91, 94 Dathan ​88, 90, 91, 92 David ​77, 86, 88, 90, 91, 92, 195, 205 Death ​9, 10, 24, 50, 51, 58, 59, 61, 62, 64, 66, 73, 84, 87, 88, 89, 93, 94, 98, 100, 101, 104, 110, 130, 148, 149, 152, 153, 156, 160, 165, 167, 169, 171, 173, 178, 180, 197, 203, 210, 223, 229 Debt ​117, 118, 119, 121, 122, 137, 156, 176, 181, 239 Decomposition ​99, 103, 105, 108, 233 Dido ​149 Dionysius of Corinth ​64, 65, 84 Dircae ​91, 94 Dischord ​42, 54, 64

297

– see also s.v. Faction Disciple ​9, 29, 74, 102 Discipline ​2, 27, 69–79 – see also s.v. Education, Punishment Disease ​44, 231, 232, 235, 239 Disposition – see s.v. Institution Docetism ​94, 109 Duty ​18, 154 Earth ​48, 62, 74, 87, 108, 109, 138, 147, 183, 211, 222, 224, 237 Easter ​216 Ecstasy ​169, 170, 179, 180, 182 Eden ​222 Education ​2, 20, 25, 29, 40, 69–79, 102, 113, 165, 203 – see also s.v. Discipline, Instruction, Punishment Egg ​100, 102, 105, 106 Egypt ​98, 99, 100, 101, 106, 107, 145, 197, 204, 229 Elijah ​91, 92 Elisha ​91, 92 Elitism ​88, 166–67 Encouragement ​37, 204, 207, 210, 211 Endurance ​49, 58, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 121, 122, 153, 163, 164, 173, 197, 209, 210, 222, 225, 226, 234 Enoch ​91, 92 Envy ​90–91, 105, 130 – see also s.v. Jealousy Ephraem of Cherson ​9 Ephraim ​209 Epiphany ​216 Epistemology ​203, 205, 206 Epistle, letter, epistolography ​passim – allegorical letter ​66 – deliberative letter ​69–79 – pseudepigraphy, see s.v. – structure, part ​37 – – adscriptio 43, 64, 68 – – postscript ​37, 43, 44, 45, 67, 85 – – prescript ​1, 2, 37, 43, 44, 45, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 83, 84, 154, 216 – – superscriptio 63, 64, 68 – – ‘thanksgiving’ ​66, 216 – style ​43–45 – see also s.v. Rhetoric Esau ​91 Eschatology ​2, 42, 49, 50, 51, 53, 54, 59, 70, 130, 152, 181, 199, 202, 204, 221 – see also s.v. Apocalyptic, Justice, Salvation

298

Index of Subjects

Esther ​87, 89, 92, 94 Ethics ​4, 22, 30, 38, 40, 88, 93, 95, 96, 118, 120, 145, 146, 152, 172, 175, 178, 191, 202, 211, 213, 214, 217, 220, 228, 235 – “golden rule” ​55 – moral philosophy ​4, 146, 213, 214, 215, 217 – virtue ​38, 40, 89, 90, 127, 150, 186, 240 – vice, immorality ​228, 240 Ethiopia ​104 Ethnography ​125, 168 Etymology ​149, 152, 167 Eucharist ​71, 178, 189 – transubstantiation ​22 Euergetism – see s.v. Benefaction Euhemerism ​169 Excommunication ​51 Exercise ​151, 165, 177, 184, 187, 230, 232 Exhortation ​x, 2, 3, 24, 39, 40, 41, 45, 46, 47, 52, 61, 67, 69, 76, 79, 83, 87, 89, 90, 92, 93, 99, 106, 111, 118, 119, 121, 131, 132, 134, 141, 143, 149, 150, 153, 154, 156, 157, 171, 180, 206, 207, 216, 219, 236, 244 Exile ​2, 3, 40, 52, 57, 60, 62, 63, 69, 72, 73, 77, 79, 83, 87, 89, 93, 94, 125, 130 – Babylonian ​3, 72, 125, 130 – voluntary ​57, 79, 83, 89–90 Eyewitness ​99, 100, 107, 204 Ezekiel ​91, 92 Faction ​2, 36, 37, 42, 44, 46, 48, 53, 56–58, 64, 67, 69, 78, 82, 83, 84, 89, 93, 96, 105 Faith ​3, 24, 27, 28, 50, 55, 59, 61, 66, 74, 76, 78, 92, 105, 108, 114, 118, 143, 144, 145, 147, 156, 157, 159, 164, 169, 170, 172, 181, 186, 200, 202, 203, 206, 208, 212, 222, 224, 227, 238, 240 Family, kinship ​94, 102, 149, 215 – brother ​45, 48, 56, 90, 92, 114, 115, 116, 120, 122, 135, 147, 160, 164, 172, 173, 185, 208 – child ​2, 53, 54, 69, 70, 73, 74, 75, 76, 105, 125, 128, 130, 131, 132, 133, 135, 138, 148, 204, 208, 222, 226, 235 – daughter ​94, 102, 137, 139, 140, 141, 193, 202 – father ​22, 24, 40, 44, 45, 62, 74, 76, 77, 94, 96, 100, 103, 106, 107, 117, 133, 148, 149, 150, 156, 167, 182, 193, 202, 205, 209 – husband ​3, 78, 91, 126, 131, 132, 133, 138 – marriage ​94, 126, 131, 132, 134, 215, 222 – mother ​27, 125, 131, 135, 136, 231, 235

– parent ​14, 69, 70, 76, 100, 101, 102, 103, 105, 106, 107, 108 – sister ​116, 122, 147, 198 – son ​72, 73, 74, 77, 102, 117, 125, 130, 133, 135, 137, 138, 140, 167, 177, 188, 202, 217, 226 – wife ​40, 43, 44, 45, 91, 92, 125, 126, 130, 132, 133 Fasting ​178, 202 Fate ​150, 215 Fear ​27, 62, 73, 75, 76, 86, 92, 138, 150, 166, 225, 233, 240 Female, feminine – see s.v. Gender Fire ​9, 24, 29, 101, 151, 153, 219, 224, 225, 239 First-fruit ​50, 51, 58, 59 Flattery ​215 Florilegium ​72, 73, 76, 77, 138 Forgiveness ​77, 78, 89, 93, 95, 179, 183, 237 Fortunatus ​43, 44, 50 Frankincense ​98, 100 Frankfurt ​12–13, 14, 15, 20 Fraud ​65, 179, 182, 184 Freeloading ​175, 187 Friendship ​ix, 44, 63, 169, 215 Game, competition ​3, 15, 143–57, 198, 200, 216 – archery ​149, 151 – boxing ​144, 149, 151 – chariot racing ​149 – cheating ​146, 149, 151, 152 – funeral games ​148, 149, 152, 157 – horseracing ​147 – Isthmian ​144 – Olympian ​143, 145, 155 – prize ​47, 89, 146, 150, 151, 154–56 – running, footrace ​3, 143, 144, 146, 147, 148, 151, 152, 154, 156 – sailing, see s.v. – wrestling ​149 – see also s.v. Crown Gender – female, woman ​3, 75, 94, 101, 106, 125, 126, 127, 128, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 151, 171, 173, 231, 240 – femininity ​130, 170, 171, 172, 173 – masculinity ​159–73 Gentiles ​3, 89, 90, 126, 128, 129, 130, 131, 135, 139, 140, 141, 194 – see also s.v. Heathen, Idolatry, Paganism

Index of Subjects Germanicus Julius Caesar ​167 Glory ​49, 53, 59, 74, 149, 209, 219, 240 Gnaeus Cornelius ​100 Gnosticism ​3, 47, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 81, 85, 94, 126, 128, 133, 141, 177, 202, 204, 206 God ​2, 3, 4, 8, 28, 40, 43, 44, 47, 49, 50, 54, 58, 59, 61, 67, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 83, 87, 88, 89, 90, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 103, 106, 107, 108, 109, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 125, 126, 127, 130, 132, 133, 134, 135, 138, 139, 140, 147, 150, 153, 155, 156, 173, 183, 187, 192, 194, 195, 196, 199, 202, 203, 204, 205, 208, 209, 211, 213–27, 229, 234, 236, 238, 239, 241, 242 Gold ​11, 24, 155 Golden age ​156 Golden calf ​2, 77, 81–96, 195, 196, 197, 202, 203, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 219 Golden fleece ​24 Google.com ​19, 71, 113–15 – Ngram Viewer ​71, 113–15 Greek language ​3, 16, 17, 23, 26, 35, 36, 38, 39, 40, 72, 78, 83, 86, 95, 97, 103, 111, 115, 119, 121, 127, 137, 144, 145, 147, 159, 164, 167, 177, 184, 187, 201, 203, 207, 208, 216, 224, 230, 233, 234 – Koiné ​103 Grief ​221, 227, 233 Gymnasiarch ​154, 155, 156 Hagar ​125, 130, 133, 135, 136 Hagiography ​8 Hannah ​125 Harmony ​44, 56, 58, 101, 218 Healing ​72, 118, 228, 237 Health ​52, 54, 55, 175, 228, 230, 236, 238, 239, 241 ‘Heathen’ ​99, 102 – see also s.v. Gentile, Idolatry, Paganism Heaven ​3, 53, 62, 68, 118, 125, 130, 166, 199, 208, 209, 211, 222, 223, 224 Hebrew, Jewish Bible – see s.v. Bible Hebrew language ​16, 26, 70, 74, 119 Hector ​165 Heliopolis ​98, 99, 100, 101, 106, 107 Hell ​225 Hellenism ​145, 215, 216, 218, 231 ‘Heresy,’ ‘heterodoxy’ ​85, 95, 96, 139, 141, 163, 164, 172 Hermeneutics ​11, 78, 86, 192, 193, 211 Hierarchy ​41, 40, 52, 55, 56, 59, 122

299

History ​2, 3, 4, 5, 8–12, 14, 17, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 30, 37, 38–41, 42, 52, 65, 66, 68, 69, 81, 82, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 92, 94, 95, 102, 107, 111, 112–17, 127–29, 135, 139, 141, 143–46, 156, 159, 161–64, 165, 167, 175, 176–78, 180, 192, 193, 194–96, 197, 198, 199, 200, 202, 203, 206, 207–11, 214, 215–17, 219 Homily, sermon ​66, 216 Honey ​5, 228–29, 237, 238, 242, 243 Honor 40, 52, 53, 69, 74, 75, 118, 138, 148, 150, 154, 155, 219, 220, 222 – dishonor ​53, 223 – see also s.v. Shame Hospitality ​4, 92, 175–89 Humility ​49, 76, 77, 78, 87, 91, 92 Hyperides ​184 Idolatry ​78, 88, 93, 133, 139, 194, 222 – see also s.v. Gentile, Heathen, Paganism Ignorance ​26, 209, 218, 219, 220, 226 Imitation ​13, 15, 40, 42, 44, 45, 59, 64, 67, 76, 77, 131, 148, 157, 163, 164, 171, 217, 223, 225, 233, 234 – imitatio Christi ​74 Immortality ​38, 152, 223, 226 Impurity – see s.v. Pollution India ​100, 104 Infertility, barrenness ​3, 58, 125, 126, 127, 128, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 138, 139, 141 Inflammation  233 ‘Institution,’ dispositio 3, 125–41, 192 Instruction ​2, 21, 54, 70, 72, 72, 76, 77, 79, 179, 180, 182, 188, 204, 206, 228, 230, 240 – see also s.v. Education Intelligence ​107, 186 Interpolation ​3, 22, 31, 83, 159, 160, 161, 162, 164, 166, 172, 176, 178 Intertextuality ​42, 45, 148, 154, 161 – allusion ​3, 35, 37, 45–59, 60, 74, 77, 86, 87, 117, 121, 126, 131, 139, 151, 152, 154, 156, 169, 202, 223 – citation ​11, 18, 21, 27, 28, 35, 36, 37, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 51, 53, 57, 64, 65, 69, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 77, 89, 94, 95, 98, 101, 104, 110, 111, 115, 119, 126, 129, 130, 131, 133, 134, 135, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 152, 166, 167, 185, 188, 192, 197, 199, 202, 210, 216, 217, 218, 233, 235 – echo ​3, 37, 44, 45, 46, 55, 58, 59, 120, 122, 129, 144, 151, 152, 154, 169, 180

300

Index of Subjects

– quotation ​3, 27, 28, 35, 48, 49, 56, 59, 101, 102, 108, 111, 135, 138, 139, 182, 202 Invisibility ​4, 213–26, 243 Irascibility ​5, 227–44 Iris ​151 Isaiah ​3, 42, 53, 91, 92, 107, 125, 126, 127, 128, 132, 133 Ishmael ​125, 130, 140 Israel, Israelites ​50, 72, 86, 87, 88, 90, 93, 96, 118, 125, 138, 140, 194, 195, 202, 205, 208, 219, 228 Itineracy – see s.v. Sojourn Jacob ​90, 91, 92, 138, 202, 206 Jansenism ​24, 27 Jason (Argonaut) ​24 Jealousy ​77, 91, 105 – see also s.v. Envy Jeremiah ​48, 49, 107 Jerusalem ​3, 125, 130, 132, 135, 136, 199 Jesus ​8, 43, 44, 50, 51, 52, 55, 58, 67, 71, 74, 75, 84, 85, 91, 92, 93, 103, 104, 109, 113, 114, 115, 116, 119, 120, 121, 122, 133, 136, 139, 153, 154, 157, 163, 164, 171, 192, 193, 194, 195, 197, 198, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 208, 209, 212, 221, 225 Job ​87, 90, 91, 92 Jonah ​91 Joseph ​90, 91, 92 Judaism ​4, 67, 127, 128, 131, 135, 137, 140, 141, 192, 193, 195, 204, 210, 211, 212, 216 – Hellenistic Judaism ​146, 201, 202 – Jew ​2, 3, 4, 42, 51, 62, 63, 67, 69, 70, 72, 74, 77, 79, 82, 90, 91, 93, 95, 98, 107, 118, 125, 126, 128, 129, 130, 131, 133, 135, 136, 138, 139, 140, 141, 179, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 208, 210, 211, 220, 221, 222, 223, 226, 228 – Pharisaism ​192 – Rabbinic Judaism 200 Judith ​87, 89, 92, 94 Juno ​151 Jupiter ​151 Justice, judgment ​18, 26, 40, 45, 48, 57, 77, 88, 114 – divine judgment ​48, 62, 71, 94, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 181, 183, 189, 210, 226 – see also s.v. Righteousness, Salvation

King James Version ​14 Knowledge ​12, 20, 46, 55, 133, 183, 203–6, 217, 218, 220 – see also s.v. Gnosticism Korah ​86, 87–88, 89, 90, 92 Laban ​137, 139, 140, 141, 193 Larva ​102, 105 Latin language ​8, 13, 14, 16, 17, 20, 22, 23, 24, 25, 31, 35, 38, 43, 83, 95, 102, 104, 127, 135, 137, 156, 167, 187, 215, 227 Law ​12, 14, 15, 16, 23, 40, 42, 49, 57, 70, 72, 88, 122, 127, 135, 136, 137, 140, 141, 167, 169, 175, 179, 187, 191, 196, 197, 204, 209, 211, 212, 218, 222, 242 Leadership ​2, 36, 39, 46, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 61, 62, 64, 75, 76, 77, 82, 83, 84, 88, 89, 92, 149, 179, 180, 181, 218 Letter from Vienna and Lyons (text) ​60, 61, 63 Leah ​130, 137 Legend ​2, 94, 97–110 Leo X (pope) ​157 Library, librarian ​1, 7, 8, 12, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 26, 27, 29, 30, 32, 177 – bibliography 13, 14, 15, 18, 21, 30 – Bodleian Library ​7, 10, 11, 12, 14, 15, 16, 17, 19, 20, 21, 22, 26, 29, 30, 32 – Royal Library in Paris ​10, 21, 22, 23 – see also s.v. Book industry Life ​2, 22, 28, 29, 38, 42, 59, 62, 63, 70, 77, 89, 94, 99, 101, 152, 153, 157, 178, 181, 186, 202, 217, 218, 222, 226, 232, 237, 239 – lifespan ​99, 100, 103, 105, 108, 109, 126, 136, 145, 146, 147 List ​2, 12, 13, 15, 16. 17, 18, 19, 21, 23, 27, 29, 30, 32, 33, 35, 46, 55, 82, 89, 90, 95, 213, 216, 222, 223, 224, 227, 233, 240 Longinus ​196 Lord ​41, 43, 44, 45, 48, 49, 57, 58, 67, 71, 73, 75, 76, 78, 84, 87, 93, 94, 138, 160, 163, 180, 181, 182, 183, 193, 197, 203, 204, 205, 209, 210, 219, 233, 234, 236, 238, 240, 242 Lot ​91, 92 Louis XIV (king) ​22 Love ​ix, 36, 38, 42, 44, 49, 54, 56, 58, 67, 73, 74, 76, 77, 84, 86, 89, 90, 118, 165, 204, 208, 216, 223, 226, 239, 240 Macarism ​87 – see also s.v. Benediction Magic ​104, 133

Index of Subjects Masculinity – see s.v. Gender Manasseh ​78, 209 Manes ​168 Mania ​168 Manilius ​100 Manuscript ​12, 14, 16, 17, 19, 23, 24, 26, 35, 43, 61, 83, 122, 177, 185, 207 – see also s.v. Codex Marcionism ​2, 3, 4, 49, 55, 65, 82, 94, 95, 96, 104, 109, 126, 127, 128, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 169, 192, 193 – Apostolikon ​127, 135–37 Martyrdom ​3, 8, 28, 33, 44, 94, 106, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 166, 167, 168, 170, 171, 172, 173 Martyrdom of Clement (text) ​9, 31 Mary ​31, 125 Matariyeh ​106 Maxim ​86, 88, 172 Medicine ​15, 104, 228, 231, 236, 237, 239, 240, 242, 243, 244 – medical literature ​5, 44, 227, 228, 230, 231, 234, 235, 240, 243, 244 Mercy ​48, 49, 73, 74, 77, 96 – see also s.v. Compassion Metaphor ​3, 5, 42, 52, 65, 68, 78, 79, 96, 102, 143–57, 223, 227, 228, 235, 240, 243 – athletic ​143–57 – body ​28, 39, 40, 42, 54–55, 62, 84, 94, 223 – chicken ​169 – eye of soul ​78, 218 – eye of heart ​74, 78 – knees of heart ​78, 79 Midas ​168 Military ​40, 42, 51 – army ​41, 52, 55, 83, 88 – soldier ​55 – – see also s.v. Centurion, War Miracle, marvel ​9, 31, 98, 99, 103, 108, 151, 162, 225 Miriam ​90, 91, 92 Montaigu Collége ​24 Montanism ​3, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 167, 168, 170, 173 Moon ​97, 222, 224 Moses ​2, 4, 36, 67, 77, 82, 84, 85, 86–93, 95, 96, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 202, 204, 205–10, 212 Muratorian Fragment ​8 Myrrh ​98, 100 Mystery (cult) ​28, 169, 183, 205, 224

301

Myth ​128, 168, 169, 170, 193, 243 – Myth of Er ​193 Narrative ​3, 4, 57, 87, 100, 101, 146, 148, 149, 151, 152, 157, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 169, 172, 173, 200 Necessity ​52, 77, 113, 154, 218 Neologism ​4, 5, 175, 185, 187, 234 Neptune ​150 Nest ​98, 99, 100, 103, 104 New Testament – see s.v. Bible Nile ​106, 145, 232 Noah ​91, 92, 137 Obedience ​40, 49, 52, 73, 77, 87, 91, 92, 95, 122, 179, 224, 240 Obelisk ​106 Old Testament – see s.v. Bible Oracle ​3, 71, 79, 92, 125, 127, 129, 130, 132, 133, 139 – Delphi ​145 ‘Orthodoxy’ ​42, 96, 162, 163, 164, 168 – ‘proto-orthodoxy’ ​2, 63, 64, 65, 68, 85, 94, 141, 192 Orthopraxy ​117, 122, 143, 153, 154 ‘Paganism’ ​40, 51, 77, 90, 92, 103, 104, 105, 134, 203, 220, 221, 222 – see also s.v. Gentiles, Heathen, Idolatry Pain ​26, 38, 39, 73, 79, 132, 227, 229, 230, 232 Palinurus ​149, 150, 151, 152, 153 Papacy – see s.v. Rome Papyrus ​177, 188, 216, 241 – see also Index of References, s.v. Paradox ​27, 57, 76, 98, 99, 109, 221, 222 Parchment ​12 Parousia ​49, 51, 210, 211, 244 Passion Narrative ​162, 163, 164 Passover ​44 Patience ​5, 163, 164, 226, 227, 234, 236, 238, 239, 240, 241, 244 Patroclus ​149 Patronage ​3, 111, 117, 118, 121, 122, 123, 143, 153, 154, 156 Paul ​1, 2, 3, 4, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 73, 76, 77, 79, 83, 84, 85, 88, 89, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 103, 105, 106,

302

Index of Subjects

108, 109, 118, 122, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 133, 134, 135, 137, 139, 140, 141, 143, 144, 146, 148, 152, 153, 156, 157, 180, 181, 183, 185, 192, 193, 195, 200, 204, 212, 213, 220, 225, 244 Peace ​2, 36, 38, 39, 40, 41, 44, 49, 55, 64, 69, 72, 73, 82, 83, 89, 91, 162, 239 Peloponnesian War ​86 Persecution ​223 Pesher ​130 Peter ​9, 41, 43, 84, 89, 91, 92, 94, 95, 109 Pharaoh ​86, 88, 90, 91, 92, 229 Philomelium ​61, 62, 65, 171 Philosophy ​4, 12, 15, 28, 36, 40, 62, 67, 99, 130, 143, 145, 146, 172, 192, 211, 213, 215, 217, 218, 221, 224, 225, 226, 231, 244 – Cynicism ​145 – moral philosophy, see s.v. Ethics – Platonism ​4, 38, 102, 106, 169, 193, 199, 200, 216, 231, 237 – Pythagoreanism ​130 – Stoicism ​38, 40, 62, 145, 200, 217, 224, 225, 230, 234 Phlegon of Tralles ​99 Phrygia  61, 62, 159, 162, 164, 166, 167–71, 172 Phryx ​168, 170 Physiognomy ​171, 172 Piety ​76, 92, 101, 104, 134, 150, 156, 215 Plant ​101, 239, 240 Pleasure ​48, 175, 223, 226, 233, 242 Pneumatic School ​230 Poison ​228, 241, 243 Politics ​35, 39, 40, 41, 42, 83, 107, 137, 172, 173, 205 – democracy ​25, 39, 40, 41, 55, 206 – monarchy ​165 – oligarchy ​39, 40 – tyranny, dictatorship ​40, 165, 216 Pollution ​5, 227, 233, 234, 235 Pomponius Mela ​98, 99, 102, 103, 106, 107 Poverty ​78, 180, 184, 223 Power ​40, 41, 57, 58, 60, 76, 107, 108, 135, 136, 171, 173, 202, 216, 218, 219, 220, 224, 226, 232, 233, 238, 244 Prayer ​74, 77, 78, 87, 132, 134, 141, 150, 151, 215, 242 Pregnancy ​125, 126, 130, 138, 139, 141 – see also s.v. Birth Priest ​87, 88, 98, 99, 107, 184, 202 Priestly Code ​179 Prison ​56, 57, 182, 216, 223

Promise ​3, 27, 28, 59, 86, 92, 108, 118, 125, 129, 130, 132, 135, 136, 137, 139, 141, 150, 153, 192, 194, 202, 210 Prophecy ​28, 42, 72, 92, 94, 95, 105, 107, 130, 131, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 160, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 188, 189, 195, 197, 204, 205, 206, 211, 242 Protestantism, Reformation ​14, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 29 – sola scriptura ​29 Providence ​101, 215 Pseudepigraphy, forgery ​43, 61–68, 83, 85, 204, 211, 229, 230 Pseudo-Clementines (texts) ​9, 31, 61, 95 Publius Licinius ​100 Punishment ​2, 49, 52, 54, 57, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 87, 88, 90, 95, 166, 179, 181, 219, 220, 222, 223, 226 Puritanism ​18, 25, 26, 27 Purity ​27, 28, 35, 76, 109, 219, 222, 227, 233, 234, 235, 236, 240, 241, 242 – purification ​155, 242 – see also s.v. Pollution Quintus ​3, 4, 159–73 Qumran ​130, 201, 230 Rachel ​130, 137 Rahab ​91, 92 Re ​106 Rebecca ​206 Rebellion ​40, 60, 87, 88 Redaction ​74, 135, 136, 162, 175–76 Redemption ​49, 109, 138, 197, 210 Refugees ​183 Renaissance ​27, 165 Repayment ​117, 118, 156 Repentance ​73, 77, 78, 87, 90, 91, 92, 93, 120, 189, 220, 226, 238, 241 Resurrection ​2, 3, 36, 38, 42, 50, 51, 58, 59, 64, 84, 94, 97, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 107, 108, 109, 110, 130 Reward ​49, 53, 76, 86, 87, 90, 106, 118, 120, 121, 122, 144, 146, 151, 152, 155, 145, 220 Rhetoric, oratory ​36, 38, 40, 41, 46, 67, 79, 84, 89, 90, 99, 102, 130, 133, 154, 155, 160, 161, 165, 166, 170, 171, 184, 194, 195, 197, 198, 213, 215, 226 – advantage, benefit ​36, 69, 73 – analogy, see s.v. – antithesis ​165–66, 172 – exemplum, παράδειγμα ​59, 82, 85, 87, 88, 90–93, 96, 101, 107, 109, 156

Index of Subjects – figure, trope ​132, 139, 165, 166, 180, 192, 197, 210, 215 – – allegory, see s.v. – – brachylogy ​208 – – comparison, σύγκρισις ​92–93, 130, 165, 211 – – ellipsis ​62, 63, 68, 135, 208 – – hyperbaton ​180 – – hyperbole ​195, 196–97, 208 – – irony ​169, 217 – – litotes ​115, 120 – – metaphor, see s.v. – – paradox, see s.v. – – rhetorical question ​46, 59, 106, 108 – – simile ​117 – frank speech, παρρησία ​171, 215 – imitation, see s.v. – maxim, see s.v. – motif ​3, 4, 125, 127, 129, 132, 134–40, 141, 143, 144, 154, 213, 217, 219, 220 – protreptic ​216, 218 – pseudepigraphy, see s.v. – species, genus  3​ 7, 38, 215 – – deliberative ​2, 36, 38, 39, 40, 41, 69, 77, 79 – – epideictic, encomium ​38, 56, 160, 165 – – forensic, see s.v. Apologetics – structure – – conclusion, peroratio ​82, 86–90, 92 – – introduction ​3, 122, 203 – – proof, probatio ​2, 38, 42, 58, 59, 67, 69, 70–79, 82, 85, 86, 90–93, 101, 107, 108, 119, 138, 139, 140, 144, 149, 176, 188, 193 – – recapitulation ​82, 86, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94 – style ​42, 43–45, 76, 102, 105, 139, 172 – topos ​4, 39, 192, 193, 213–26 – see also s.v. Epistle, Narrative, Sophism Righteousness ​45, 48, 50, 73, 74, 78, 133, 134, 183, 202, 219 – see also s.v. Justice, Salvation Ritual ​27, 100, 104, 107, 132, 133, 150, 155, 201 Rome ​1, 2, 24, 28, 37, 43, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 68, 69, 84, 85, 94, 98, 101, 144, 148, 152, 155, 230 – (Catholic) church ​15, 22, 24, 27, 28, 29, 40, 41, 60, 61, 65, 66, 67, 68, 85, 94, 109 – – papacy 22–24, 61, 64, 65, 67 – empire ​36, 40, 50, 52, 82, 104, 148, 159, 187, 188 – – imperial administration ​50 – – legion, see s.v. Military

303

– – prefect ​83 – – tribune ​83 Sacrifice ​2, 51, 56, 57, 87, 88, 89, 90, 118, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 164, 169, 203, 209, 211, 212, 222, 229 Sailing ​3, 143–54 Salvation ​4, 39, 43, 55, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 120, 121, 122, 134, 138, 144, 153, 156, 193, 194, 195, 200, 202, 204, 209, 217, 218 – soteriology ​117, 181, 182 Satan ​95 Saul ​90, 91, 92 Schism – see s.v. Faction Scripture ​8, 25, 28, 29, 30, 31, 50, 60, 67, 69, 72, 74, 75, 77, 79, 85, 89, 95, 101, 107, 108, 119, 127, 129, 130, 135, 136, 138, 141, 179, 191, 193, 194, 200, 201, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 211, 226 – canon ​9, 23, 27, 29, 30, 31, 62, 66, 67, 85, 136, 181, 192 – canonical criterion ​9, 28 Sculpture ​165 Sea, ocean ​58, 95, 145, 149, 150, 151, 153, 175, 224, 230, 239 Season ​58, 101, 222 – fall ​13 – spring ​ix, 13, 159 – winter ​107 Secession ​191–212 Secret ​169, 203, 204, 205 Septuagint, LXX – see s.v. Bible Severus of Antioch ​10 Shame ​44, 54, 73, 74, 78, 138, 172 Sicily ​148, 150, 151, 155 Silver ​209 Sin ​4, 58, 72, 73, 78, 87, 88, 89, 93, 114, 115, 116, 122, 133, 157, 183, 189, 193, 195, 197, 202, 203, 225, 226, 228, 237, 240, 244 Sinai ​125, 130, 135, 194, 195, 197 Slander ​223 Slavery ​41, 43, 49, 56, 57, 87, 89, 125, 130, 136, 137, 168–69, 171, 173, 186, 229, 238, 239 Sleep ​50, 151, 153, 231, 232 Smyrna ​61, 62, 167, 171, 172 Sojourn ​1, 43, 61, 62, 63, 67, 68, 83, 84, 85, 94, 96, 175–89 Somalia ​104 Sophism ​4, 161, 165, 166, 172, 173 – Second Sophistic ​4, 159–73

304

Index of Subjects

– see also s.v. Rhetoric Soul ​38, 78, 96, 204, 216, 218, 222, 223, 224, 225, 230, 231, 232, 233, 234, 239, 241, 243, 244 Sparta ​86, 145 Spirit ​5, 8, 28, 31, 40, 42, 45, 46, 48, 50, 54, 55, 63, 65, 71, 75, 88, 109, 130, 138, 152, 156, 176, 177, 179, 180, 183, 188, 189, 195, 197, 199, 202, 205, 206, 216, 227, 230, 232, 233, 234, 236, 237, 238, 240, 241, 242, 243, 244 Star ​153, 219, 222, 224 Stephanas ​51 Storm ​150, 151 Strength ​37, 45, 48, 49, 76, 105, 138, 149, 171, 238, 241 Strife ​37, 42, 62, 64, 67, 83, 84, 89 – see also s.v. Faction Sun ​97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 106, 107, 108, 224 Supersession ​4, 59, 193 Symbolism ​2, 64, 67, 126, 127, 131, 136, 139, 140, 141, 144, 151, 171, 193, 202, 205, 211, 222 – see also s.v. Metaphor, Rhetoric Synagogue ​135, 136, 137, 140, 192 Syriac language ​35, 83, 119, 121, 122 Tablets of the Law ​4, 191, 193, 194, 196, 197, 203, 207, 208 Talmud ​202 Tell Hisn ​106 Temple, sanctuary ​100, 101, 106, 197, 201, 211, 229, 243 – altar 98, 99, 100, 107, 150, 242 Testament – see s.v. Covenant Textual Criticism ​35, 103, 111–12, 115, 121, 177, 188, 207 Theology ​1, 2, 7, 8, 12, 15, 16, 23, 25, 27, 29, 30, 62, 63, 67, 68, 103, 136, 137, 139, 163, 192, 199, 206, 214, 216 Travel – see s.v. Sojourn Tree ​99, 101, 104, 228 – evergreen, persea ​101 – frankincense ​104 – oak ​101 – palm ​101, 102 Trinity College, Dublin ​26 Troy ​148, 150, 151 Two Ways ​125–41, 178, 181, 187, 230 – see also s.v. Institution Typology ​131, 164, 198, 199, 200, 201, 205, 206, 207, 211

– antitype ​160, 164, 165, 166, 167, 171, 172, 198 – see also s.v. Allegory Universe, World ​4, 12, 13, 19, 20, 59, 62, 71, 99, 101, 109, 119, 145, 168, 188, 213, 215, 216, 217, 218, 219, 220, 222, 223, 224, 225, 226 – cosmic order ​218, 226 – cosmopolis ​62 – underworld ​151, 153 – universalism ​2, 62, 64, 82, 127, 131, 192, 204, 215, 218 Usurpation ​50, 51, 59, 60, 75, 76, 77, 79, 105, 106, 173 Utility ​14, 52, 237 Valentinianism ​63, 64, 94, 133 Valeria ​43 Valerius Vito ​43 Vessel ​227, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238, 240, 241, 242, 243 Vice, virtue – see s.v. Ethics Vitality 122, 139, 232, 233, 236, 240 Warning ​59, 72, 74, 76, 77, 87, 88, 102, 121, 122, 204, 208, 225, 237 Water ​147, 150, 151, 218, 219, 226, 228, 237 Weakness ​26, 41, 52, 53, 57, 58, 60, 72, 170 Wealth ​40, 45, 48, 95, 154, 223, 229 Wedding ​104, 132 – see also s.v. Family Wife – see s.v. Family Wind ​149, 152, 153, 196, 219, 234, 236 Wine ​175, 176, 184, 229, 230, 237, 240, 242 Wisdom ​38, 45, 48, 55, 70, 77, 79, 186, 203, 219 Woman – see s.v. Gender World – see s.v. Universe Wormwood ​5, 228, 229, 237, 238, 243 Worship ​14, 77, 93, 106, 107, 118, 133, 134, 138, 139, 140, 170, 179, 211, 216, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 234 Yom Kippur ​202, 203, 206, 211, 212 Zeus ​4, 213, 215, 217, 218, 223, 225, 226