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Table of contents :
Table of Contents
Abbreviations
Introduction
Marcion and the Dating of Mark and the Synoptic Gospels
Narratives as Factor and Indicator of Religious Change in the Roman Empire (1st and 2nd Centuries)
Marcion the Shipmaster: Unlikely Religious Experts of the Roman World?
Peregrinus and Marcion
Who are the ‘Christians’?
Marcion the Circumcizer
Which Paul did Marcion Know?
Reading
in Rome: The Temple and
Marcionite Influences in the
Preface to Vulgate Paul
Pre-canonical Paul: His Views towards Sexual Immorality
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STUDIA PATRISTICA VOL. XCIX

Marcion of Sinope as Religious Entrepreneur Edited by MARKUS VINZENT

PEETERS LEUVEN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT

2018

STUDIA PATRISTICA VOL. XCIX

STUDIA PATRISTICA Editor: Markus Vinzent, King’s College London and Max Weber Centre, University of Erfurt

STUDIA PATRISTICA VOL. XCIX

Marcion of Sinope as Religious Entrepreneur Edited by MARKUS VINZENT

PEETERS LEUVEN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT

2018

© Peeters Publishers — Louvain — Belgium 2018 All rights reserved, including the right to translate or to reproduce this book or parts thereof in any form. D/2018/0602/125 ISBN: 978-90-429-3656-0 eISBN: 978-90-429-3855-7 A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. Printed in Belgium by Peeters, Leuven

Table of Contents Markus VINZENT Introduction .........................................................................................

1

Eve-Marie BECKER in conversation with Markus VINZENT Marcion and the Dating of Mark and the Synoptic Gospels..............

5

Jörg RÜPKE Narratives as Factor and Indicator of Religious Change in the Roman Empire (1st and 2nd Centuries).............................................................

35

Heidi WENDT Marcion the Shipmaster: Unlikely Religious Experts of the Roman World? .................................................................................................

55

Jan N. BREMMER Peregrinus and Marcion ......................................................................

75

Andrew HAYES Who are the ‘Christians’? ...................................................................

87

Harry MAIER Marcion the Circumcizer.....................................................................

97

Sebastian MOLL Which Paul did Marcion Know? ........................................................ 109 Mina MONIER Reading Luke in Rome: The Temple and Pietas ............................... 115 Timothy W. DOOLEY Marcionite Influences in the PrimumQuaeritur Preface to Vulgate Paul ...................................................................................................... 139 Janelle Priya MATHUR and Markus VINZENT Pre-canonical Paul: His Views towards Sexual Immorality .............. 157

Abbreviations AA.SS AAWG.PH AB AC ACL ACO ACW AHDLMA AJAH AJP AKK AKPAW ALMA ALW AnalBoll ANCL ANF ANRW AnSt AnThA APOT AR ARW ASS AThANT Aug AugSt AW AZ BA BAC BASOR BDAG BEHE BETL BGL BHG BHL

see ASS. Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen Philologisch-historische Klasse, Göttingen. Analecta Bollandiana, Brussels. Antike und Christentum, ed. F.J. Dölger, Münster. Antiquité classique, Louvain. Acta conciliorum oecumenicorum, ed. E. Schwartz, Berlin. Ancient Christian Writers, ed. J. Quasten and J.C. Plumpe, Westminster (Md.)/London. Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du moyen âge, Paris. American Journal of Ancient History, Cambridge, Mass. American Journal of Philology, Baltimore. Archiv für katholisches Kirchenrecht, Mainz. Abhandlungen der königlichen Preußischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Berlin. Archivum Latinitatis Medii Aevi (Bulletin du Cange), Paris/Brussels. Archiv für Liturgiewissenschaft, Regensburg. Analecta Bollandiana, Brussels. Ante-Nicene Christian Library, Edinburgh. Ante-Nicene Fathers, Buffalo/New York. Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt, ed H. Temporini et al., Berlin. Anatolian Studies, London. Année théologique augustinienne, Paris. Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament in English, ed. R.E. Charles, Oxford. Archivum Romanicum, Florence. Archiv für Religionswissenschaft, Berlin/Leipzig. Acta Sanctorum, ed. the Bollandists, Brussels. Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments, Zürich. Augustinianum, Rome. Augustinian Studies, Villanova (USA). Athanasius Werke, ed. H.-G. Opitz etal., Berlin. Archäologische Zeitung, Berlin. Bibliothèque augustinienne, Paris. Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, Madrid. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, New Haven, Conn. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 3rd edn F.W. Danker, Chicago. Bibliothèque de l’École des Hautes Études, Paris. Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium, Louvain. Benedictinisches Geistesleben, St. Ottilien. Bibliotheca Hagiographica Graeca, Brussels. Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina Antiquae et Mediae Aetatis, Brussels.

VIII BHO BHTh BJ BJRULM BKV BKV2 BKV3 BLE BoJ BS BSL BWAT Byz BZ BZNW CAr CBQ CChr.CM CChr.SA CChr.SG CChr.SL CH CIL CP(h) CPG CPL CQ CR CSCO

CSEL CSHB CTh CUF CW DAC

Abbreviations

Bibliotheca Hagiographica Orientalis, Brussels. Beiträge zur historischen Theologie, Tübingen. Bursians Jahresbericht über die Fortschritte der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft, Leipzig. Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, Manchester. Bibliothek der Kirchenväter, ed. F.X. Reithmayr and V. Thalhofer, Kempten. Bibliothek der Kirchenväter, ed. O. Bardenhewer, Th. Schermann, and C. Weyman, Kempten/Munich. Bibliothek der Kirchenväter. Zweite Reihe, ed. O. Bardenhewer, J. Zellinger, and J. Martin, Munich. Bulletin de littérature ecclésiastique, Toulouse. Bonner Jahrbücher, Bonn. Bibliotheca sacra, London. Bolletino di studi latini, Naples. Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten Testament, Leipzig/Stuttgart. Byzantion, Leuven. Byzantinische Zeitschrift, Leipzig. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft, Berlin. Cahiers Archéologique, Paris. Catholic Biblical Quarterly, Washington. Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis, Turnhout/Paris. Corpus Christianorum, Series Apocryphorum, Turnhout/Paris. Corpus Christianorum, Series Graeca, Turnhout/Paris. Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina, Turnhout/Paris. Church History, Chicago. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, Berlin. Classical Philology, Chicago. Clavis Patrum Graecorum, ed. M. Geerard, vols. I-VI, Turnhout. Clavis Patrum Latinorum (SE 3), ed. E. Dekkers and A. Gaar, Turnhout. Classical Quarterly, London/Oxford. The Classical Review, London/Oxford. Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Louvain. Aeth = Scriptores Aethiopici Ar = Scriptores Arabici Arm = Scriptores Armeniaci Copt = Scriptores Coptici Iber = Scriptores Iberici Syr = Scriptores Syri Subs = Subsidia Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum, Vienna. Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae, Bonn. Collectanea Theologica, Lvov. Collection des Universités de France publiée sous le patronage de l’Association Guillaume Budé, Paris. Catholic World, New York. Dictionary of the Apostolic Church, ed. J. Hastings, Edinburgh.

Abbreviations

DACL DAL DB DBS DCB DHGE Did DOP DOS DR DS DSp DTC EA ECatt ECQ EE EECh EKK EH EO EtByz ETL EWNT ExpT FC FGH FKDG FRL FS FThSt FTS FZThPh GCS GDV GLNT GNO

IX

see DAL Dictionnaire d’archéologie chrétienne et de liturgie, ed. F. Cabrol, H. Leclercq, Paris. Dictionnaire de la Bible, Paris. Dictionnaire de la Bible, Supplément, Paris. Dictionary of Christian Biography, Literature, Sects, and Doctrines, ed. W. Smith and H. Wace, 4 vols, London. Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastique, ed. A. Baudrillart, Paris. Didaskalia, Lisbon. Dumbarton Oaks Papers, Cambridge, Mass., subsequently Washington, D.C. Dumbarton Oaks Studies, Cambridge, Mass., subsequently Washington, D.C. Downside Review, Stratton on the Fosse, Bath. H.J. Denzinger and A. Schönmetzer, ed., Enchiridion Symbolorum, Barcelona/Freiburg i.B./Rome. Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, ed. M. Viller, S.J., and others, Paris. Dictionnaire de théologie catholique, ed. A. Vacant, E. Mangenot, and E. Amann, Paris. Études augustiniennes, Paris. Enciclopedia Cattolica, Rome. Eastern Churches Quarterly, Ramsgate. Estudios eclesiasticos, Madrid. Encyclopedia of the Early Church, ed. A. Di Berardino, Cambridge. Evangelisch-Katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament, Neukirchen. Enchiridion Fontium Historiae Ecclesiasticae Antiquae, ed. UedingKirch, 6th ed., Barcelona. Échos d’Orient, Paris. Études Byzantines, Paris. Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses, Louvain. Exegetisches Wörterbuch zum NT, ed. H.R. Balz etal., Stuttgart. The Expository Times, Edinburgh. The Fathers of the Church, New York. Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, Berlin. Forschungen zur Kirchen- und Dogmengeschichte, Göttingen. Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments, Göttingen. Festschrift. Freiburger theologische Studien, Freiburg i.B. Frankfurter theologische Studien, Frankfurt a.M. Freiburger Zeitschrift für Theologie und Philosophie, Freiburg/Switzerland. Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller, Leipzig/Berlin. Geschichtsschreiber der deutschen Vorzeit, Stuttgart. Grande Lessico del Nuovo Testamento, Genoa. Gregorii Nysseni Opera, Leiden.

X GRBS GWV HbNT HDR HJG HKG HNT HO HSCP HTR HTS HZ ICC ILCV ILS J(b)AC JBL JdI JECS JEH JJS JLH JPTh JQR JRS JSJ JSOR JTS KAV KeTh KJ(b) LCL LNPF L(O)F LSJ LThK MA MAMA Mansi MBTh

Abbreviations

Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies, Cambridge, Mass. Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht, Offenburg. Handbuch zum Neuen Testament. Tübingen. Harvard Dissertations in Religion, Missoula. Historisches Jahrbuch der Görresgesellschaft, successively Munich, Cologne and Munich/Freiburg i.B. Handbuch der Kirchengeschichte, Tübingen. Handbuch zum Neuen Testament, Tübingen. Handbuch der Orientalistik, Leiden. Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, Cambridge, Mass. Harvard Theological Review, Cambridge, Mass. Harvard Theological Studies, Cambridge, Mass. Historische Zeitschrift, Munich/Berlin. The International Critical Commentary of the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, Edinburgh. Inscriptiones Latinae Christianae Veteres, ed. E. Diehl, Berlin. Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae, ed. H. Dessau, Berlin. Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum, Münster. Journal of Biblical Literature, Philadelphia, Pa., then various places. Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Berlin. Journal of Early Christian Studies, Baltimore. The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, London. Journal of Jewish Studies, London. Jahrbuch für Liturgik und Hymnologie, Kassel. Jahrbücher für protestantische Theologie, Leipzig/Freiburg i.B. Jewish Quarterly Review, Philadelphia. Journal of Roman Studies, London. Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Period, Leiden. Journal of the Society of Oriental Research, Chicago. Journal of Theological Studies, Oxford. Kommentar zu den apostolischen Vätern, Göttingen. Kerk en Theologie, ’s Gravenhage. Kirchliches Jahrbuch für die evangelische Kirche in Deutschland, Gütersloh. The Loeb Classical Library, London/Cambridge, Mass. A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, ed. P. Schaff and H. Wace, Buffalo/New York. Library of Fathers of the Holy Catholic Church, Oxford. H.G. Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, new (9th) edn H.S. Jones, Oxford. Lexikon für Theologie und Kirche, Freiburg i.B. Moyen-Âge, Brussels. Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua, London. J.D. Mansi, Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio, Florence, 1759-1798. Reprint and continuation: Paris/Leipzig, 1901-1927. Münsterische Beiträge zur Theologie, Münster.

Abbreviations

MCom MGH ML MPG MSR MThZ Mus NGWG NH(M)S NovTest NPNF NRSV NRTh NTA NT.S NTS OBO OCA OCP OECS OLA OLP Or OrChr OrSyr PG PGL PL PLRE PLS PO PRE PS PTA PThR PTS PW QLP QuLi RAC RACh RAM RAug RBen RB(ibl)

XI

Miscelanea Comillas, Comillas/Santander. Monumenta germaniae historica. Hanover/Berlin. Mediaevalia Lovaniensia, Louvain. See PG. Mélanges de science religieuse, Lille. Münchener theologische Zeitschrift, Munich. Le Muséon, Louvain. Nachrichten der Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen. Nag Hammadi (and Manichaean) Studies, Leiden. Novum Testamentum, Leiden. See LNPF. New Revised Standard Version. Nouvelle Revue Théologique, Tournai/Louvain/Paris. Neutestamentliche Abhandlungen, Münster. Novum Testamentum Supplements, Leiden. New Testament Studies, Cambridge/Washington. Orbis biblicus et orientalis, Freiburg, Switz. Orientalia Christiana Analecta, Rome. Orientalia Christiana Periodica, Rome. Oxford Early Christian Studies, Oxford. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, Louvain. Orientalia Lovaniensia Periodica, Louvain. Orientalia. Commentarii editi a Pontificio Instituto Biblico, Rome. Oriens Christianus, Leipzig, then Wiesbaden. L’Orient Syrien, Paris. Migne, Patrologia, series graeca. A Patristic Greek Lexicon, ed. G.L. Lampe, Oxford. Migne, Patrologia, series latina. The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, ed. A.H.M. Jones etal., Cambridge. Migne, Patrologia, series latina. Supplementum ed. A. Hamman. Patrologia Orientalis, Paris. Paulys Realenzyklopädie der classischen Alterthumswissenschaft, Stuttgart. Patrologia Syriaca, Paris. Papyrologische Texte und Abhandlungen, Bonn. Princeton Theological Review, Princeton. Patristische Texte und Studien, Berlin. Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, ed. G. Wissowa, Stuttgart. Questions liturgiques et paroissiales, Louvain. Questions liturgiques, Louvain Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana, Rome. Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, Stuttgart. Revue d’ascétique et de mystique, Paris. Recherches Augustiniennes, Paris. Revue Bénédictine, Maredsous. Revue biblique, Paris.

XII RE

Abbreviations

Realencyklopädie für protestantische Theologie und Kirche, founded by J.J. Herzog, 3e ed. A. Hauck, Leipzig. REA(ug) Revue des études Augustiniennes, Paris. REB Revue des études byzantines, Paris. RED Rerum ecclesiasticarum documenta, Rome. RÉL Revue des études latines, Paris. REG Revue des études grecques, Paris. RevSR Revue des sciences religieuses, Strasbourg. RevThom Revue thomiste, Toulouse. RFIC Rivista di filologia e d’istruzione classica, Turin. RGG Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, ed. Gunkel-Zscharnack, Tübingen RHE Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, Louvain. RhMus Rheinisches Museum für Philologie, Bonn. RHR Revue de l’histoire des religions, Paris. RHT Revue d’Histoire des Textes, Paris. RMAL Revue du Moyen-Âge Latin, Paris. ROC Revue de l’Orient chrétien, Paris. RPh Revue de philologie, Paris. RQ Römische Quartalschrift, Freiburg i.B. RQH Revue des questions historiques, Paris. RSLR Rivista di storia e letteratura religiosa, Florence. RSPT, RSPh Revue des sciences philosophiques et théologiques, Paris. RSR Recherches de science religieuse, Paris. RTAM Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale, Louvain. RthL Revue théologique de Louvain, Louvain. RTM Rivista di teologia morale, Bologna. Sal Salesianum, Roma. SBA Schweizerische Beiträge zur Altertumswissenschaft, Basel. SBS Stuttgarter Bibelstudien, Stuttgart. ScEc Sciences ecclésiastiques, Bruges. SCh, SC Sources chrétiennes, Paris. SD Studies and Documents, ed. K. Lake and S. Lake. London/Philadelphia. SE Sacris Erudiri, Bruges. SDHI Studia et documenta historiae et iuris, Roma. SH Subsidia Hagiographica, Brussels. SHA Scriptores Historiae Augustae. SJMS Speculum. Journal of Mediaeval Studies, Cambridge, Mass. SM Studien und Mitteilungen zur Geschichte des Benediktinerordens und seiner Zweige, Munich. SO Symbolae Osloenses, Oslo. SP Studia Patristica, successively Berlin, Kalamazoo, Leuven. SPM Stromata Patristica et Mediaevalia, ed. C. Mohrman and J. Quasten, Utrecht. SQ Sammlung ausgewählter Quellenschriften zur Kirchen- und Dogmengeschichte, Tübingen. SQAW Schriften und Quellen der Alten Welt, Berlin. SSL Spicilegium Sacrum Lovaniense, Louvain.

Abbreviations

StudMed SVigChr SVF TDNT TE ThGl ThJ ThLZ ThPh ThQ ThR ThWAT ThWNT ThZ TLG TP TRE TS TThZ TU USQR VC VetChr VT WBC WUNT WZKM YUP ZAC ZAM ZAW ZDPV ZKG ZKTh ZNW ZRG ZThK

XIII

Studi Medievali, Turin. Supplements to Vigiliae Christianae, Leiden. Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta, ed. J. von Arnim, Leipzig. Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, Grand Rapids, Mich. Teologia espiritual, Valencia. Theologie und Glaube, Paderborn. Theologische Jahrbücher, Leipzig. Theologische Literaturzeitung, Leipzig. Theologie und Philosophie, Freiburg i.B. Theologische Quartalschrift, Tübingen. Theologische Rundschau, Tübingen. Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament, Stuttgart. Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament, Stuttgart. Theologische Zeitschrift, Basel. Thesaurus Linguae Graecae. Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association, Lancaster, Pa. Theologische Realenzyklopädie, Berlin. Theological Studies, New York and various places; now Washington, D.C. Trierer theologische Zeitschrift, Trier. Texte und Untersuchungen, Leipzig/Berlin. Union Seminary Quarterly Review, New York. Vigiliae Christianae, Amsterdam. Vetera Christianorum, Bari (Italy). Vetus Testamentum, Leiden. Word Biblical Commentary, Waco. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, Tübingen. Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes, Vienna. Yale University Press, New Haven. Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum, Berlin. Zeitschrift für Aszese und Mystik, Innsbruck, then Würzburg. Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft, Giessen, then Berlin. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins, Leipzig. Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, Gotha, then Stuttgart. Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie, Vienna. Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche, Giessen, then Berlin. Zeitschrift für Rechtsgeschichte, Weimar. Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, Tübingen.

Introduction

The papers collected in this volume originated or were inspired by the workshop of the same title that was held on 26 June 2014 at the Max-Weber-Kolleg, University of Erfurt, directed by Jan Bremmer (then Fellow at the MWK), Jörg Rüpke (Co-director of the MWK) and Markus Vinzent (Fellow at the MWK and King’s College London). It has taken a few years to publish these papers, as both research to Marcion has further exploded and quickly expanded and more recent research needed to be taken into account. We only need, as Minas Monir does, look at those years in between the workshop and now, to see the amount of work that has been done on Marcion. It is almost today as it was when he was alive. No second century Christian author has attracted as many readers and provoked as many responses than him. One of the key publications on Marcion, however, made us plan this workshop and the subsequent publication of these contributions: Matthias Klinghardt, DasältesteEvangeliumunddieEntstehungderkanonischenEvangelien.1 Even though, no paper by Klinghardt is being included here, his stimulating paper that introduced his then forthcoming monograph paved the way for a most controversial discussion. In the meantime the discussion about Klinghardt’s opusmagnum has been taken up by a number of colleagues, as can be seen, for example, in the special issue of the Journal of Ancient Christianity/ ZeitschriftfürAntikesChristentum 1 (2017). Yet, at the same time, the responses in this journal prove that many colleagues approach both Klinghardt’s hypothesis that Marcion’s Gospel (Mcn) was the earliest Gospel of its kind and that all other canonical Gospels are dependent on it with scepticism. The question arises whether such reluctancy is due to the traditionally held position of the Two-sources-hypothesis and the general nature of a divide between New Testament and Patristic scholarship, or whether it is based on solid counter-arguments. The JournalofAncientChristianity/ZeitschriftfürAntikesChristentum in its opening seems to be puzzled: ‘In recent years, a new debate about Marcion has emerged – although it is not at all clear why this has happened’, and the editorial continues: ‘In 2014, Markus Vinzent published MarcionandtheDatingofthe SynopticGospels’, followed by ‘three major monographs’ in 2015, two of which provided a reconstruction of Marcion’s Gospel (Klinghardt and D.T. Roth) and the third a heresiological account of Marcion (J. Lieu).2 Quite clearly, the ‘new 1 Matthias Klinghardt, DasältesteEvangeliumunddieEntstehungderkanonischenEvangelien, Texte und Arbeiten zum neutestamentlichen Zeitalter 60 (Tübingen, 2015). 2 M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels, Studia Patristica Supplement 2 (Leuven, 2014); D.T. Roth, The Text of Marcion’s Gospel, New Testament Tools, Studies and Documents 49 (Leiden, Boston, 2015); Judith M. Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic.

StudiaPatristica XCIX, 1-3. © Peeters Publishers, 2018.

2

M. VINZENT

debate’ was sparked by the dissatisfaction colleagues in the fields have felt with the standard answers of dating and relating early Christian texts, particularly gospels, with the division between a first century New Testament era and a derivative second century time of the Apostolic Fathers and the beginning of Patristics becoming seen as arbitrary. My own work derived from the discovery of the importance of Marcion which I made when working on my book Christ’sResurrectioninEarlyChristianity to which I added, shortly before the book went to print, the subtitle and theMakingoftheNewTestament.3 To test the hypothesis that it was Marcion’s Gospel that made the beginning of gospel-writing, I invited colleagues, amongst others Matthias Klinghardt, to join me on a workshop at the 2011 International Conference on Patristic Studies, Oxford. There Klinghardt reflected upon the Synoptic Question and Marcion’s Gospel, proposed that Luke was a re-writing and broadening of Mcn, not Mcn an abbreviation of Luke, but still maintained the older theory of Mark being the oldest of the Gospels. Having worked since then on the reconstruction of Mcn – without me knowing of this undertaking – we only met a few days before I published the mentioned monograph of 2014, he revised his position and placed Mcn before all other Gospels. That the new debate about Marcion is vital and fruitful can be seen from the recently published volume with collected essays of a conference from 2015 on the New Testament and its text in the second century which links the discussion about Marcion with that of an ‘editio princeps’ of the canonical New Testament.4 A similar reconstruction of Marcion’s collection of Paul’s letters as it has been done by Klinghardt of Marcion’s Gospel is an urgent desideratum, as can be seen from the contribution to this volume here by Janelle Priya Mathur. ‘Marcion of Sinope as Religious Entrepreneur’ is not just a volume on Marcion’s texts, but also on his role and his reception in the second century, particularly in the making of Christianity. As a kind of introduction and also to show the evolving nature of Marcion-research, the New Testament scholar Eve-Marie Becker (Aarhus University) enters into conversation with myself on ‘Marcion and the Dating of Mark and the Synoptic Gospels’. We try to be open to each other’s views, but also frank and critical. We see commonalities, but also highlight where we differ in perspectives and standpoints. Jörg Rüpke then reflects upon ‘Narratives as factor and indicator of religious change in the Roman Empire (1st and 2nd centuries)’. As religious change is difficult to measure he identifies change in narratives that do reflect otherwise attested political and GodandScriptureintheSecondCentury (Cambridge, 2015). Mention is rightly also made to Jason D. BeDuhn, TheFirstNewTestament.Marcion’sScripturalCanon (Salem, 2013). 3 Published (Farnham, 2010); a revised German translation was published as M. Vinzent, DieAuferstehungChristiimfrühenChristentum (Freiburg i. Br., 2014). 4 Jan Heilmann and Matthias Klinghardt (eds), DasNeueTestamentundseinTextim2.Jahrhundert, Texte und Arbeiten zum Neutestamentlichen Zeitalter 61 (Tübingen, 2018).

3

Introduction

discursive changes with regards to religious entrepreneurs like Valerius Maximus, Plutarch, and Marcion. In her contribution on ‘Marcion the Shipmaster’, Heidi Wendt places this entrepreneur amongst other experts in religious and non-religious matters, opting for a normalised account of the writing of early Christian history. Jan Bremmer focuses on the character Peregrinus, known from Lucian’s OntheDeathofPeregrinus, to see whether information about Marcion’s entrepreneurial spirit is reflected in this satirical text. Andrew Hayes, the author of JustinagainstMarcion (2017),5 draws on another second century author, Justin Martyr, of whom we must assume that he knew Marcion quite well, but who was not only sceptical of his interpretation of Christianity, but also of Marcion’s benchmark texts, Paul’s letters and the Gospel. Harry Maier then scrutinizes the PastoralLetters with regards to Marcionite views, followed by Sebastian Moll who adds to the PastoralLettersthe tradition about Thecla. As Marcion is a post-Bar Kokhba war phenomenon, mentioned in the conversation between Eve-Marie Becker and myself, Mina Monir explores the notions of ‘Temple’ and ‘Pietas’ in Luke-Acts and what these can tell us about a second century theological milieu. Tim Dooley searches to explain Marcionite influences in the PrimumQuaeriturPreface to Vulgate Paul, and Janelle Priya Mathur in a paper co-written with me, digs deeper into the question which Paul Marcion may have had in his hands, and when and how the redaction of Paul took place during the second century. As editor of this volume, I would like to thank my co-organisers Jan Bremmer and Jörg Rüpke, also the other colleagues who attended the workshop and contributed orally, then also the Max-Weber-Kolleg at the University of Erfurt for providing the logistical and clerical support. London and Erfurt, in March 2018

Markus VINZENT

5 Andrew Hayes, JustinagainstMarcion.DefiningtheChristianPhilosophy, Emerging scholars (Minneapolis, 2017).

Marcion and the Dating of Mark and the Synoptic Gospels Eve-Marie BECKER (Aarhus University) in conversation with Markus VINZENT (King’s College London/Max Weber Kolleg, Erfurt) DedicatedtoBarbaraALAND ontheoccasionofher80thsbirthday(April,12th,2017)

E.-M. B.: Scholarly interest in Marcion of Sinope seems to fluctuate over time. At present, it is considerably high, and controversial views, particularly regarding the wording of the Marcionite Gospel, are being presented within Marcion scholarship.1 These discussions are fruitful since Barbara Aland has identified the reconstruction of Marcion’s Bible to be a desideratum in more recent research.2 For many reasons these discussions are of high significance for New Testament studies, since – as New Testament scholars – we have to (re)consider our models of reconstructing the emergence of Gospel literature. M. V.: Should we not precisely say ‘Marcion’s Gospel’ (Mcn)3 instead of ‘the Marcionite Gospel’? You yourself speak of ‘his Gospel, Marcion[’s]’ below and Tertullian and Epiphanius throughout their criticism of this Gospel never talk of a ‘Marcionite’ Gospel, but always of ‘Marcion’s Gospel’ to which, according to Tertullian, Marcion ought to have put his name to the title.4 To 1 In particular, see the most recent monographs: Sebastian Moll, TheArch-HereticMarcion, WUNT 250 (Tübingen, 2010), 77ff.; Jason BeDuhn, TheFirstNewTestament:Marcion’sScripturalCanon (Salem, OR, 2013); Matthias Klinghardt, DasältesteEvangeliumunddieEntstehung derkanonischenEvangelien, Bde. 1-2, TANZ 60/1-2 (Tübingen, 2015); Dieter T. Roth, TheText ofMarcion’sGospel, New Testament Tools, Studies and Documents 49 (Leiden, 2015); Judith Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic:GodandScriptureintheSecondCentury (Cambridge, 2015), 183ff. On these and more recent literature and workshops on Marcion, see Uta Heil, ‘Editorial’ for the Themenheft “Marcion and his Gospel”, ZAC 21 (2017), 1-7. See also: Otto Zwierlein, Die antihäretischenEvangelienprologeunddieEntstehungdesNeuenTestaments (Mainz, Stuttgart, 2015); Matthias Klinghardt, Jason BeDuhn and Judith Lieu, ‘Quaestiones disputatae: Marcion’s Gospel and the New Testament: Catalyst or Consequence?’, NTS 63 (2017), 318-34. 2 See Barbara Aland, ‘Marcion und die Marcioniten’, in ead., WasistGnosis?Studienzum frühenChristentum,zuMarcionundzurkaiserzeitlichenPhilosophie, WUNT 239 (Tübingen, 2009), 318-40, 319. 3 I suggest we use the abbreviation, introduced by M. Klinghardt, DasältesteEvangeliumund dieEntstehungderkanonischenEvangelien (2015). 4 Tert., Adv.Marc. IV 2,3: opusquodnonerigatfrontem,quodnullamconstantiampraeferat, nullamfidemrepromittatdeplenitudinetitulietprofessionedebitaauctoris (‘a work which cannot lift up its head, which makes no show of courage, which gives no promise of credibility by

StudiaPatristica XCIX, 5-33. © Peeters Publishers, 2018.

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Tertullian, publishing a text without also adding the required title including Marcion’s name (titulumquoqueaffigere…professionedebitaauctoris) was a form of pseudepigraphy which he rejected.5 This text was not seen as a ‘Marcionite’ text, but a text by Marcion.6 On a second note – we can separate the ‘controversial views’ into two different categories of hermeneutical approaches. Amongst the most recent scholars who reconstructed the text of Marcion’s Gospel we have Dieter T. Roth who, following Harnack’s verdict that Luke has priority over Marcion’s Gospel, approaches the reconstruction of the text from a rather minimalistic position, pointing out that we only have three major and fifteen minor sources for the reconstruction, of which the most important are Tertullian and Epiphanius,7 whereas Matthias Klinghardt by turning the question of priority upside down, uses a much smaller range of sources (generally only Tertullian, Epiphanius and Adamantius),8 but widens the basis of textual evidence. Because of the having a fully descriptive title and the requisite indication of the author’s name’ [translation of Adv.Marc.here and if not noted otherwise are all by E. Evans]). Jason BeDuhn, ‘New Studies of Marcion’s Evangelion’, ZAC21 (2017), 8-24, 19 argues: ‘If Marcion had explicitly claimed authorship of Evangelion, Tertullian’s priority argument would have been made for him, given his assumptions about the apostolic identity of the gospel writers, and he would not have found it necessary to argue the issue at such length. Vinzent is unable to quote any source expressly saying that Marcion openly claimed authorship of Evangelion; such authorship or editorship is always a polemical imputation made by his opponents’. BeDuhn is correct that I never quote such a claim by Marcion, as I wrote that Marcion did not make such a claim, and that this was the basis for the above quoted criticism of Tertullian, a criticism, however, which only makes sense, if Tertullian assumed Marcion’s authorship, or why would he complain about Marcion having not put his name to this opus which had required (debita) the author’s name – if not Marcion’s who is addressed which other name? 5 Moreschini is right that the correction affingere ‘banalise l’expression’ (ad loc. 69), or is inconsistent with Tertullian’s argument, as he insists of a published text to have its author’s name fixed to the document. 6 Pace J. BeDuhn, ‘New Studies of Marcion’s Evangelion’ (2017), 19. 7 The major ones are: Tert., Adv.Marc.; Epiph., Pan.; Adam., Dial.; the minor ones are: Iren., Adv.haer.; Hipp., Ref.;Clem. Alex., Strom.; Orig., Deprin.; id., Inep.adTitum; id., Frg. 180; Ps.-Tert., Adv.omn.haer.; Ephr., Comm.indiat.; id., Hymnic.haer.; id., Prosaref.adv.Marc.; Ps.-Ephr., Ev.conc.exp.; Hier., C.Ioh.Hier.ep.;Philast., Div.her.Lib.; Eznik, Dedeo; London, British Museum, cod. add. 17215. see D.T. Roth, The Text of Marcion’s Gospel (2015), 46-78. Of these sources for his reconstruction of Mcn J. BeDuhn, TheFirstNewTestament (2013) – who holds the priority of Mcn over Luke – left aside Hier., C. Ioh.Hier.ep.; Orig., Inep.adTitum and Ephrem, Hymnic.haer., whereas he made use of further sources that were rejected or disregarded by Roth: Ps.-Ephr. A; ActaArchelai 44-5; Orig., C.Cel.; and P69, on this see J. BeDuhn, ‘New Studies of Marcion’s Evangelion’ (2017), 9. Beduhn also notes (ibid. 10) that Roth’s reconstruction is closer to the older ones than his own: Adolf von Harnack, Marcion. Das Evangelium vom fremdenGott:EineMonographiezurGeschichtederGrundlegungderkatholischenKirche, TU 45 (2nd ed.; Leipzig, 1924); Kenji Tsutsui, ‘Das Evangelium Marcions: Eine neuer Versuch der Textrekonstruktion’, AnnualoftheJapaneseBiblicalInstitute 18 (1992), 67-132. 8 See J. BeDuhn, ‘New Studies of Marcion’s Evangelion’ (2017), 12: Klinghardt ‘only accepts testimony from other sources when it agrees with one of them; more than a dozen independent witnesses to the text of Evangelion are in this way neglected to the detriment of the reconstruction’.

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priority of Mcn (although Klinghardt thinks, it is a text which Marcion did not create, but only made use of), Luke becomes the first reader of this text, and, in consequence, all the textual evidence for Luke becomes to some extent second hand evidence for the reconstruction of Mcn. For Klinghardt, special readings in papyri, codices and church father quotes of Luke become significant hints to what may have been the wording of Luke’s ‘Vorlage’. E.-M. B.: It seems to me that in what you (and Klinghardt) are saying about Marcion’s Gospel and Luke, some circular arguments cannot be avoided! But let us go further into the discussion whether we should understand Marcion’s Gospel as a ‘catalyst or consequence’ in regard to the emergence of gospel literature.9 Judith Lieu sees Marcion, instead, as a ‘symptom of his age’.10 But should we not better additionally think of Marcion in terms of an independent and forceful person also rather than a functional part only – a (unconventional) thinker, if you like, or a provocateur, at least an entrepreneur? We should start by widening our historical perspective when discussing Marcion (and his gospel): The quest about Marcion and his impact on the development of early Christian literature exceeds studying a phenomenon – it always has to take Marcion also as a historicalperson into account. Over the last 150 years of Marcion research and interpretation, Gerhard May has offered perhaps the most careful yet colorful picture of Marcion’slife and work.11 In his article from 1989, May examines Marcion as a shipowner12 and uses social history to explore what it meant to be a shipowner in antiquity. 9

See M. Klinghardt, J. BeDuhn, J. Lieu, ‘Quaestiones disputatae’ (2017). J. Lieu, ‘Quaestiones disputatae’ (2017), 334. 11 Gerhard May was thus the most fitting scholar to host a comprehensive conference on Marcion in 2001, see G. May and Katharina Greschat(eds), MarcionandHisImpactonChurch History/MarcionundseinekirchengeschichtlicheWirkung, TU 150 (Berlin; New York, 2002). It is to pity that the recent ‘Themenheft’ of ZAC 21 (2017) does not mention most of the many valuable contributions to this volume, nor May’s other important works: CreatioexNihilo, trans A.S. Worrall (Edinburgh, 1994); id., ‘Markion und der Gnostiker Kerdon’, in Alfred Raddatz and Kurt Luethi (eds), EvangelischerGlaubeundGeschichte:FestschriftGreteMecenseffyzum85. Geb. (Wien, 1984), 233-46; id., ‘Ein neues Markionbild’, ThR 51 (1986), 404-13; id., ‘Marcion in Contemporary Views’, SecCent 6 (1987/8); 129-51 = in id., Markion.GesammelteAufsätze, ed. K. Greschat and M. Meiser (Mainz, 2005), 13-33; id., ‘Der “Schiffsreeder” Markion’, SP 21 (1989), 142-53 = in id., Markion.GesammelteAufsätze, ed. K. Greschat and M. Meiser (2005), 51-62; id., ‘Marcions Genesisauslegung und die „Antithesen“’, in DieWeltlichkeitdesGlaubens inderAltenKirche:FestschriftfürUlrichWickertzumsiebzigstenGeburtstag (Berlin and New York, 1997), 189-98; neither does one find any mention of the other Marcion-scholar, Barbara Aland, ‘Marcion: Versuch einer neuen Interpretation’, ZThK 70 (1973), 420-47; ead. (ed.), Gnosis: FestschriftHansJonas (Göttingen, 1978); ead., ‘Die Rezeption des neutestamentlichen Textes in den ersten Jahrhunderten’, in J. Sevrin (ed.), TheNewTestamentinEarlyChristianity (1989), 1-38; ead., ‘art. Marcion/Marcioniten’, TRE 22 (1992), 89-101; ead., ‘Sünde und Erlösung bei Marcion und die Konsequenz für die sog. beiden Götter Marcions’, in MarcionandHisImpact onChurchHistory (2002), 147-57. 12 See G. May, Der ‘Schiffsreeder’ Markion (1989 = 2005). 10

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It was indeed an ambiguous status: shipowners could be wealthy and mobile, but their social position was not always high. Since they had the risk of working on guarantee basis, they had to be courageous in their business. So how can this biographical background reveal who Marcion was and what he did? Gerhard May presents some interesting suggestions for contextualizing Marcion of Sinope. He concludes: One should not ... only see in an antique naukleros a target-oriented entrepreneur, but also trust him to be a religiously open-minded person ... His core ideas and his impact can be understood against the social background, irrespective of his personality. The deeper individual motivations that have driven him, however, will remain hidden from us. One may forgive that historical imagination tries to envisage the personal preconditions and experiences that may have been the foundations of Marcion’s radical and unconditional theology.13

I have introduced the work of Gerhard May – one of the most eminent scholars in Marcionite studies – here for two reasons: firstly, May’s valuable contribution to Marcionite studies has seemingly been overlooked in the more recent debates. May’s particular interest in deciphering who Marcion was in social and intellectual terms corresponds to the topic of a recent workshop that took place on Marcion.14 The workshop provided a platform to discuss recent Marcion research – particularly the Marcionite Gospel – without ignoring the socio-historical and -cultural context in which Marcion had an effect. Secondly, it was Gerhard May who originally encouraged me to do some research on Marcion – an endeavor that, also for a New Testament scholar, still proves fascinating and rewarding. M. V.: I’d like to add that Gerhard May was also central for my formation as a young scholar, both in terms of engagement with the second century and in my move into an academic career. After I had finished my Habilitation at the University of Heidelberg in the year 1995 it was May who had suggested to me to take up the replacement lecturing for his recently retired colleague, the late Gustav Adolf Benrath (1931-2014), Professor for the history of the Church

13 G. May, ‘Schiffsreeder’ (1989 = 2005), 61-2: “Man sollte… in einem antiken Naukleros nicht nur den zielbewußten Unternehmer sehen, sondern ihm auch eine gewisse religiöse Aufgeschlossenheit zutrauen… Seine zentralen Gedanken und seine Wirkung lassen sich… unabhängig von seiner Persönlichkeit aus dem geschichtlichen Zusammenhang verstehen. Die tieferen individuellen Antriebe, die ihn bestimmten, bleiben uns dagegen verborgen. Man möge es der historischen Phantasie gleichwohl nicht verargen, wenn sie sich von den persönlichen Voraussetzungen und Erfahrungen, die der Theologie Markions mit ihrer eigentümlichen Radikalität und Unbedingtheit zugrundeliegen mögen, ein Bild zu machen versucht” (own trans.). 14 MarcionofSinopeasReligiousEntrepreneur, University of Erfurt, Max Weber Center for Cultural and Social Studies, 26th June 2014. – I would like to thank Jan N. Bremmer (Groningen), Jörg Rüpke (Erfurt) and Markus Vinzent (London/Erfurt) for inviting me to this workshop.

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and dogmatics and specialist of late medieval reformers and pietism.15 During my two years lecturing at Mainz I worked closely together with May, and it was in many discussions with him and in preparation of the volume with the contributions of my Doktorvater Reinhard M. Hübner on the IgnatianLetters,16 that I got intrigued by questions of the 2nd century and learned of the importance of Marcion and his social setting. In addition, he also introduced me into the core studies on Marcion by Barbara Aland who became another key inspiration to move beyond the (von) Harnack paradigms.17 E.-M. B.: This is quite important to know. To me, another dimension lacking in current debates about the Marcionite Gospel, is to reveal the scholarly background from which it results. I would, thus, like to explain my particular research interest: I am a Markan scholar who works with the assumption of the ‘Markan priority’ and a dating of Mark shortly after 70 CE.18 I would never claim, for instance, that we can know the dating of Mark for certain. Since the Synoptic Gospels are written anonymously – we could speak here in literary terms of a hidden authorial identity –,19 their dating is primarily based on internal evidence or text-level indication, such as: the level of reference, the narrator’s perspective etc., while the external evidence, provided by reception history, including material evidence (manuscripts), only sets a broad terminusadquem. We might come back to the topic of dating Mark and the Synoptics later on in our conversation. So let me only briefly point out what else is at stake in the debate about the Marcionite Gospel for me as a New Testament scholar. It is not only about whether or not to date Mark to the 1st century CE. If we follow Matthias Klinghardt, we even have to re-invent various basic paradigms and tools of Synoptic studies at once: (a) Klinghardt speaks of the ‘priority of the Marcionite Gospel’20 instead of the ‘Markan priority’ as I would do. (b) Klinghardt challenges the basic hypotheses of Synoptic studies, which are the Q-hypothesis and the ‘source-critical separation of John from the Synoptics’.21 (c) Klinghardt defines ‘source criticism’ in a new way – so-to-speak as a tool for textual reconstruction which, as a result, leads back to the wording of the 15

See Sebastian Grätz, Irene Dingel, ‘Gustav Adolf Benrath (1931–2014) zum Gedenken’, ThLZ140 (2015), 156-7. 16 Published as Reinhard M. Hübner, Der paradox Eine: Antignostischer Monarchianismus im2.Jahrhundert, VCS 50 (Leiden, 1999). 17 On Barbara Aland’s contributions see before. 18 See Eve-Marie Becker, DerfrühesteEvangelist.StudienzumMarkusevangelium, WUNT 380 (Tübingen, 2017). 19 On the issue of author construction, cf.: Anna Marmodoro, Jonathan Hill (eds), TheAuthor’s Voice in Classical and Late Antiquity (Oxford, 2013); Eve-Marie Becker, Jörg Rüpke (eds), AutoreninreligiösenliterarischenTextenderspäthellenistischenundderfrühkaiserlichenWelt (Tübingen, 2018) (forthcoming). 20 M. Klinghardt, ‘Quaestiones disputatae’ (2017), 320. 21 M. Klinghardt, ‘Quaestiones disputatae’ (2017), 321.

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Marcionite Gospel, instead of using source criticism as an instrument of literary criticism in order to solve the so-called synoptic problem. (d) Klinghardt goes so far as to claim that the ‘tradition begins with the Marcionite Gospel and ends with Luke’,22 while the claim of form criticism basically was that the tradition begins already in the 30s CE in Galilee and Judea. (e) Whenever thinking about early Christian literary history, New Testament exegesis has to deal with the issue of the history of the literary formation of the Synoptic Gospels and John and subsequent gospel writings which we tend to count among the ‘apocryphal gospels’. The debate about Marcion and the Dating of the Synoptic Gospels which you have initiated in your 2014 book,23 is thus of crucial importance not only to synoptic studies, but also to early Christian literary history. How far do you want to go in order to approve Klinghardt’s model? Do you share all of Klinghardt’s ideas which are crucial concerns for Synoptic studies? And where do you see different interests behind what a New Testament exegete, as Klinghardt, on the one hand, and what a patristic scholar, like you, on the other hand is interested in when reconstructing the Marcionite Gospel? M. V.: In one sense, I am more reluctant than Klinghardt, in another sense, I am more daring – compared with the opiniocommunis – and in a third sense, I share a good deal with him, as he has kindly set out in his monumental work.24 Let me take these elements in turns. Where I am more reluctant than Klinghardt is his high esteem for textual variants and differing readings in papyri, manuscripts and codices of Luke. So on your (c) I am more cautious than him, and would in more than one case go with our major (Tertullian, Epiphanius, Adamantius) or even minor witnesses, instead of following variant readings, however, on the basis of (a) and the assumption that Mcn has priority over all other Gospels – which I share with a major differentiation –, I can accept that ‘source criticism’ is no longer a tool ‘to solve the so-called synoptic problem’. The mentioned major differentiation to me is twofold: 1) I have taken from my reading of Tertullian, Adv.Marc. IV 4,3-4 that the version of Mcn which Marcion published together with his preface, the Antitheses, and the ten Pauline Letters as his ‘New Testament’, as his Antitheses according to Tertullian show, was written after Marcion had known what he called ‘plagiarism’ of his own Gospel. Hence, the version which Tertullian (and a similar version Epiphanius) read was already a text which was contaminated by those Gospels which later became canonical. In addition, as the time between Marcion’s arrival in Rome and his publication of this version was only a couple of 22

M. Klinghardt, ‘Quaestiones disputatae’ (2017), 320-1. See Markus Vinzent, Marcion and the Dating of the Synoptic Gospels, Studia Patristica Supplement 2 (Leuven, 2014). 24 M. Klinghardt, DasältesteEvangeliumunddieEntstehungderkanonischenEvangelien (2015), 383-8. 23

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years and, if I am not mistaken, all the mentioned Gospels were written in the same town, my assumption is that the later canonical Gospels did not only contaminate Mcn but also each other. Hence, I do not believe in a genealogical explanation of the synoptics (and John), but suggest to think in terms of cross-contamination. This explains, why up to now scholarship on the synoptic problem cannot agree and will not agree in the distant future. Because, when you look at particular passages, it seems that the two-sources-hypothesis is correct, when you look at others (for example the so-called minor agreements), you are convinced that the two-sourceshypothesis is misleading. With this differentiation between a pre-Mcn which is lost (or only to some extent preserved in Luke) and provided the basis – if my reading of Tertullian is correct – for the other Gospels, and Mcn which is published after those, as Tertullian rightly often claims, the complexity of both the reconstruction of Mcn is even higher, and also the potential link between the textual variant readings and Mcn weakened. So, with some variations only, I share with Klinghardt (b). E.-M. B.: Just to put in briefly here: Do you think that ‘contamination’ – here and elsewhere – is the appropriate term to describe the productiveness of the process during which the gospels as literary writings came into being? M. V.: Of course, with ‘contamination’ I am using a notion derived from codicology which has its limits. What it, however, highlights is the assumption that the Synoptic authors did not only make use of one or several Vorlage(n), but that the literary dependency was a mutual one. With regards to (d) I am more inclined to go with the opinio communis, simply because we have a profile of the writer and redactor Marcion by drawing on the way he dealt with the letters of Paul. Although these letters indicate that some of Paul’s letters have gone lost, as Marcion was unable to get hold of all letters, he refrained from presenting a complete collection of all letters of Paul – something which he could have easily forged, as we know of forged letter collections in antiquity. Yet, he was not a writer of fictitious PseudoPauline letters, on the contrary, all the letters that critical scholarship today admits to be Pauline (either authentically Paul or at least within the Pauline school) are assembled in Marcion’s collection (whether for the first time, as I think, or as some others think based on a previous collection, is immaterial here). So, Hebrews and the PastoralLetters are missing in his ‘New Testament’. If Marcion did so rigorously and sensibly choose these letters, why would he deal with the Jesus-material differently? I don’t think, therefore, that Marcion was a writer who deliberately wrote ficitious accounts of Jesus either, but on the contrary invested the same amount of time and money in order to assemble reliable material. That in this case, he was unable to bring together letters or written accounts seems obvious from the

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fact that he diligently named Paul’s letters by its author’s name, and he would presumably have done the same, if he had drawn on written Gospels or Gospelmaterial of other authors. This he did not, so he apparently was only able to rely on oral material. That he did not invent his Gospel-narrative himself, but that he thought of producing accounts which only complemented what Paul himself called his ‘gospel’ made him also reluctant in putting his name into the title of his Gospel and his ‘New Testament’, a reluctance for which Tertullian heavily criticized him. So, on (d), I do think that given this author’s and redactor’s profile we should assume that Marcion drew on reliable oral material, an assumption that could be extremely profitable for New Testament Gospelscholarship, as with Marcion we are given an author’s profile that cannot only be extracted from internal textual readings, but which is corroborated from external information, especially his redactional work with Paul (the order of Paul’s letters, textual variations…). On (e) I fully agree with Klinghardt and yourself that the reading of Marcion – whichever way we do it – has enormous consequences for the study of the early history of Christianity and its literary production. In this we should only follow the example that Irenaeus gives us in his Adversushaereses IV 6,1 where he is not only the first historian who does a synoptic reading of the five Gospels (Matth., Luke, Mark, John, and Mcn), but – until Klinghardt and myself was also the last one to do so.25 E.-M. B.: These issues would deserve much more discussion. In this contribution, however, I have to limit my thoughts about the Marcionite Gospel, and I will restrict myself to examining some of the critical reflections and ideas concerning MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels raised in your 2014 monograph. The following remarks should therefore be seen as critical responses to the discourse opened up – or, better, renewed – by you and your suggestion that we view Marcion as the creator of ‘the new literary genre of the “Gospel”’.26 As indicated already, my remarks are motivated by – what I would call – a New Testament scholar’s view on Marcion’s general place in 2nd century CE Christianity and – more particularly – Marcion’s interaction with the gospel traditions and writings. Firstly, I will outline my general approach to Marcion and 2nd century literary history – an approach derived from my perspective on New Testament exegesis and its specific interest in literature that succeeds – what might best be called – the ‘New Testament’ period of formative literature. This will help to illuminate more in detail my disciplinary perspective and heuristic 25 See Markus Vinzent, Tertullian’s Preface to Marcion’s Gospel, Studia Patristica Supplement 5 (Leuven, 2017), 103. 26 M. Vinzent, Marcion (2014), 277. As Dieter Roth claims, this discourse can only be renewed to the extent that it was initiated by scholars such as Baur and Ritschl in the 1840s and 1850s. See D.T. Roth, ‘Marcion’s Gospel and Luke: The History of Research in Current Debate’, JBL 127 (2008), 513-27.

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presuppositions when investigating and interpreting who Marcion was and which role he really played in Christian literary history in the 2nd century CE. Secondly, I will comment on some of your arguments that present Marcion as the founder of the gospel genre. Finally, I will suggest how to approach the question of dating the Synoptic Gospels, and, more specifically, the Markan Gospel, which I consider to be the earliest gospel narrative with a prototypelike status in the history of early Christian literature. 1. Approaching Marcion from within New Testament Exegesis E.-M. B.: There is a well-established research tradition within New Testament studies and related fields – which dates back to the 19th century and continues in more recent scholarship27 – in which Marcion is seen as an integral part of studying Paul and the Synoptic Gospels. However, within this research tradition, it is necessary to establish the point of interest in more detail. In this discourse, Marcion is seen less as the inventor of literature and more as the interpreter and manager in the field of early Christian literaryactivity. In late 19th century scholarship in particular – a period after the optimistic scholarly intermezzo during which Marcion was viewed as the creator of a gospel narrative (Baur; Ritschl) –, Marcion is studied from a reception history perspective; more specifically as a part of research on the formation of the New Testament canon. From here, questions also arise about the dating of the Synoptic Gospels and their literary character.28 (a) In his 1863 book Die Synoptischen Evangelien, Heinrich Julius Holtzmann states: Likewise it is very difficult to judge what has been received as witnesses by the heretics, as the reports about these derive from people who lived later and were their opponents. Thus, according to Tertullian and other church fathers, Marcion and Valentin were supposed to have known all four Gospels what, of course, is doubtlessly true for the Marcionites and Valentinians. In any case, Marcion offers us the oldest witness for Luke. To touch the debates that have existed about Marcion’s Gospel and that of the Gospels of Justin is not our concern here. The entire dispute, as is known, has been fought out and finally been concluded within the Tubingen school. It remains to note that the existence of Luke prior to Marcion has been proven by Volkmar, Köstlin, Hilgenfeld, Ritschl and Zeller. The hypothesis that Marcion was the true author of canonical Mark needs even less any refutation.29 27 For an overview: G. May and K. Greschat (eds), MarcionandHisImpactonChurchHistory (2002). 28 For more information on the complex debate, including scholarly revisions (Baur) and retractions (Ritschl), see: D.T. Roth, ‘Marcion’s Gospel and Luke’ (2008). 29 Heinrich J. Holtzmann, Die Synoptischen Evangelien. Ihr Ursprung und Geschichtlicher Charakter (Leipzig, 1863), 402-3: “Ebenfalls sehr schwer ist zu beurtheilen, was uns von Zeugnissen

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(b) In a similar way, Evangelienforschung and Kanongeschichte are connected by Adolf Harnack’s 1870 evaluation of Marcion’s impact on 2nd century Christianity: ‘That M.’s canon, his Gospel and his Apostolus are abbreviated recensions of Luke and of 10 Pauline Letters … is assured by the entire tradition’.30 M. V.: With due respect for Harnack’s erudition, here, he clearly overstates the evidence, as shown in my additions to the footnote. The ‘entire tradition’ of which Harnack speaks begins only with Irenaeus towards the end of the second century31 and with Tertullian and Origen in the third century, before Fathers follow these few voices. Prior to Irenaeus, Justin, for example, who wrote a lost work ‘To Marcion’ and deals with him several times in his extant works does not know or at least does not accuse him of shortening the later canonical texts. Of this nobody else accuses Marcion – and it is quite intriguing that the anonymous Presbyter, quoted extensively by Irenaeus in his Adversus der Häretiker überliefert ist; denn die Berichte hierüber rühren von Späteren und von Gegnern her. So sollen, nach Tertullian und anderen Kirchenvätern, Marcion und Valentin alle vier Evangelien gekannt haben, was freilich von den Marcioniten und Valentinianern unzweifelhaft ist. Jedenfalls aber bietet Marcion das älteste Zeugnis für Lucas. Die Streitigkeiten, die über Marcion’s Evangelium und über die Evangelien des Justin geführt wurden, zu berühren, liegt uns hier fern. Der ganze Handel ist bekanntlich innerhalb der Tübinger Schule durch- und nunmehr auch ausgefochten worden. Es genügt zu bemerken, dass das Vorhandensein des Lucas vor Marcion von Volkmar, Köstlin, Hilgenfeld, Ritschl und Zeller nachgewiesen wurde. Noch weniger bedarf die Hypothese, dass Marcion der eigentliche Verfasser des kanonischen Marcus sei, einer Widerlegung” (in regard to Marcion and Marcus: Christianus, 37.40). 30 Adolf Harnack, Marcion.DermoderneGläubigedes2.Jahrhunderts,derersteReformator. DieDorpaterPreisschrift(1870).KritischeEditiondeshandschriftlichenExemplarsmiteinem Anhang, ed. F. Steck, TU 149 (Berlin, 2003), 126-7: ‘Daß M’s Kanon, sein Evangelium und sein Apostolus verkürzte Recencionen des Luc. Ev. und 10 paulinischer Briefe seien, dafür spricht… die gesamte Tradition’, Polycarp, Ad Phil. 7 [M. V.: a highly dubious reference, as Polycarp speaks of an anonymous who ‘perverts the oracles of the Lord to his own lusts, and says that there is neither a resurrection nor a judgment’, so that one first needs to establish that the anonymous is Marcion, second that ‘oracles’ also includes the Gospel narratives, and third that Polycarp is not talking about misleading interpretations, but textual alterations; while one may grant the first of this, the second and third are unlikely]; Celsus (Orig., c.Cels. V 62 [all that is mentioned here is ‘He (= Celsus) makes mention also of the Marcionites, whose leader was Marcion’]; II 27 [M. V.: The reference to Celsus is misleading, as Celsus only speaks of his knowledge of the corruption of the Gospel, but does not say who the particular Christian was who was responsible for the corruption, and it is only Origen who draws the conclusion that ‘the followers of Marcion, and those of Valentinus’ may have been meant, even though Celsus spoke of one particular person: ‘After this he says, that certain of the Christian believers, like persons who in a fit of drunkenness lay violent hands upon themselves, have corrupted the Gospel from its original integrity, to a threefold, and fourfold, and many-fold degree, and have remodelled it, so that they might be able to answer objections. Now I know of no others who have altered the Gospel, save the followers of Marcion, and those of Valentinus, and, I think, also those of Lucian’]; Irenaeus; Tertullian, I 1; IV 1-6; IV.43; Hippolyt; Origen; Clemens Alexandrinus; etc. 31 See also J. BeDuhn, ‘New Studies of Marcion’s Evangelion’ (2017), 17.

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haereses, is critical of Marcion, but does not mention any fiddeling with texts either. In addition, Irenaeus uses this argument of redactional activity in his antiheretical work first against the Valentinians, before deploying it again against Marcion and it may have been nothing more than, what Judith Lieu calls a typical apologetic misrepresentation. E.-M. B.: So, at least in the second half of the 19th century, Marcion is seen as an early – and, as such, perhaps the most important – interpreter of New Testament writings and as somebody who could provide evidence for the reading and spreading or suppression of various New Testament writings. Harnack’s approach has always been regarded as indispensable to acquiring a comprehensive view of Marcion and his theology.32 However, in more recent New Testament scholarship, the interest in Marcion has shifted slightly from the 19th century approach. To the best of my knowledge, research on Marcion now generally relates to three types of discourse: (a) the reception of Paul and Pauline theology in the 2nd century; (b) the quest to construct Christianity (Judith Lieu)33 in and beyond the claim(s) of heresy; and (c) the attempt to use Marcion’s text of Paul’s letters (already Ulrich Schmid) as well as the (Lukan) gospel writing as recensions (Dieter T. Roth)34 to help shed light on the textual history of New Testament writings – indeed, some time before more comprehensive textual evidence is provided by codices like that witnessed for by Papyrus 46. (d) As pointed out earlier, Klinghardt’s work falls into a separate category since his view on Marcion and the Marcionite Gospels challenges various assumptions of Synoptic studies. It seems to me that he finally wants to re-invent Synoptic studies by means of Marcionite studies. M. V.: Right, as mentioned before, to these three types of discourse, which you have identified, we now need to add Matthias Klinghardt, and also Jason BeDuhn and their attempts to show that Mcn represents the earliest written Gospel on which all other Gospel traditions depend. Where would you place yourself in the area of Marcionite studies? E.-M. B.: In order to characterize my interest in Marcion and the questions raised in the field of New Testament studies, let me refer to two of my previous articles on Marcion (written in 2002 and 2011).35 In 2002, I examined the extent to which the Marcionite collection of Pauline letters could reveal 32

See G. May, ‘Marcion in Contemporary Views’ (1987/8 = 2005), esp. 13-4. See J. Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic (2015), 15ff. 34 See Dieter T. Roth, ‘The Text of the Lord’s Prayer in Marcion’s Gospel’, ZNW 103 (2012), 47-63. 35 See Eve-Marie Becker, ‘Marcion und die Korintherbriefe nach Adversus Marcionem V’, in Marcion and His Impact on Church History (2002), 95-109; ead., ‘Taufe bei Marcion – eine Spurensuche’, in D. Hellholm etal. (eds), Ablution,Initiation,andBaptism.Waschungen, 33

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something about (a) the general stage of development regarding the outline and content of the New Testament canon, and (b) the textual evidence for Pauline letters – some decades before Papyrus 46 first presented the CorpusPaulinum in a most comprehensive sense. To do this, I treated 1 and 2Corinthians as ‘test cases’. One of my main results when studying Marcion’s version of 1 and 2Cor. on the basis of AdversusMarcionemV was to question Tertullian as a reliable source for Marcion’s Apostolikon. Due to his polemical style, Tertullian seems to be more interested in suppressing Marcion than transmitting him. This comes close to what Judith Lieu has most recently described as the interest of patristic authors ‘to ridicule their selective reading’ of Marcion.36 According to Tertullian, the Marcionite Apostolikon can only lead us to the end of the 2nd century, i.e. to the time when Papyrus 46 also appeared on the scene. Marcion’s evidence for the textual history of 1 and 2Cor. is thus rather limited. In 2011, I suggested that Marcion’s understanding of baptism results from his particular interpretation of gospel narratives.37 Two observations are particularly important here. Firstly, in his Gospel, Marcion omits the story about Jesus’ baptism by John the Baptist.38 Perhaps this is simply because Marcion largely follows the Lukan version of the gospel account, which already presents the shortest version of the story (see Luke 3:21-2; and Mark 1:9-11; Matth. 3:13-7; John 1:29-34). Irrespective of this, it is certainly true that Marcion’s portrait goes hand in hand with a generally critical view on John the Baptist (see Adv. Marc. IV 38). In other words, Marcion presents a relatively specific idea of the religious setting of Jesus’ ministry that draws upon the Synoptic traditions by considerably revising them. Secondly, by not referring to Matth. 28:16-20, Marcion omits an elementary tradition in early Christianity where baptism, teaching and mission are most evidently interrelated (see also Did. 7:1). It seems as though the close relation between baptism, mission and teaching – as found in Matthew – is unimportant to Marcion. Does this reluctance indicate that Marcion was distancing himself from Gnostic theology – as Barbara Aland has recently re-emphasized?39 Indeed, it is remarkable to see how Matth. 28:16-20 played an important role InitiationundTaufe.LateAntiquity,EarlyJudaism,andEarlyChristianity.Spätantike,Frühes JudentumundFrühesChristentum, BZNW 176/II (Berlin; Boston, 2011), 871-94. 36 See J. Lieu, ‘Quaestiones disputatae’ (2017), 329 – in regard to the Marcionite Gospel; ead. ‘“As much my apostle as Christ is mine”: The dispute over Paul between Tertullian and Marcion’, EarlyChristianity 1 (2010), 41-59. 37 I did this by discussing whether a certain Marcionite type of baptismaltheology could be identified. 38 See E.-M. Becker, ‘Taufe bei Marcion – eine Spurensuche’ (2011), 879 with reference to A. von Harnack, Marcion.DasEvangeliumvomfremdenGott (31924 = Nachdruck Darmstadt, 1996), 174; 183f.; 422*. 39 See Barbara Aland, DieGnosis,RUB 19210 (Stuttgart, 2014), 199-202. See also G. May, ‘Marcion in Contemporary Views’ (1987/8 = 2005), 26ff.

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in some parts of the so-called Nag-Hammadi Library (Eugnostos: NHC III 3; SophiaofJesusChrist: NHC III 4; BG 3).40 In his approach towards and usage of gospel traditions, Marcion thus appears to be most selective – just like other interpreters and early Christian groupings (e.g. Valentinians) that look for strong, partly exclusive self-identifying features which make them unique, at least distinct. The intentional selection (and omission) of various literary traditions and narratives, however, presupposes that such traditions and narratives were probably already available on a large scale. M. V.: You only mention Matth. 28 which Marcion, I believe, certainly knew – but then, Did. 7 and the Gnostic writings, especially the latter may rather be part of the history of reception of Matth. 28. If this were so, ‘large scale’ seems to me an overstatement. Other elements of your earlier research I would not like to critically comment, but only note that your approach in these earlier studies took Harnack’s assumption of Marcion being an abbreviating redactor for granted. It would be interesting to see, to which potentially different results your two earlier studies would lead to, if you were to follow the BeDuhn / Klinghardt / Vinzent view of the canonical Gospels being reactions to Mcn. E.-M. B.: Such a view would presuppose that Marcion first would have stimulated literary productiveness. Is this image of early Christian literary activity plausible? The pluriformity of reception processes in the 2nd century CE points to the existence of a vital early Christian ‘book and tradition market’, where the processes of copying, revising (see Mark 16:9ff.), selecting and collecting writings are well underway. Marcion’s attempt to design ‘his Gospel’ – for reasons of either elitism, competition, or distinctiveness – would fit in relatively well here. This makes even more sense if we assume an expanding early Christian literary activity of producing letters and ‘gospel’ narratives in the 2nd century CE. M. V.: This I can easily grant, as I have advocated this social contextualizing of Marcion’s literary activities within his didaskaleion, based on Kurt and Barbara Aland and Gilles Quispel’s earlier observations of (Christian) scriptoria in the second century.41 40 See E.-M. Becker, ‘Taufe bei Marcion – eine Spurensuche’ (2011), 888 – with reference to René Falkenberg, ‘Matthew 28:16-20 and the Nag Hammadi Library: Reception of the Great Commission in the Sophia of Jesus Christ’, in E.-M. Becker and A. Runesson (eds), Markand Matthew II, Comparative Readings: Reception History, Cultural Hermeneutics, and Theology, WUNT 304 (Tübingen, 2013), 93-104. 41 See Kurt Aland and Barbara Aland, The Text of the New Testament, trans. by Erroll F. Rhodes (Leiden and Grand Rapids, 1987), 54; Gilles Quispel, ‘Marcion and the Text of the New Testament’, VigChr 52 (1998), 349-60, 357-8; M. Vinzent, Marcion and the Dating of theSynopticGospels (2014), 281. Hence, I have difficulties with J. BeDuhn, ‘New Studies of

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2. Marcion and the Rise of the Gospel Genre – a Critical Reading of Markus Vinzent’s Argument(s) E.-M. B.: In your 2014 monograph,42 you present many textual observations and scholarly arguments to support the idea that Marcion was the creator of the gospel genre. I would like to concentrate on two of these observations, which I believe are crucial for the reconstruction of early Christian literary history and the dating of the gospels. Let me engage with these two of your arguments. Firstly, in your chapter ‘Marcion’s Gospel – An Inspirational New Literary Genre’,43 you advocate integrating ‘Marcion into the question of the making of the New Testament’ (277). My previous remarks regarding the scholarly interest in Marcion since 19th century research certainly proves this ambition. There is no question that Marcion can shed light on the making of early Christianity and the New Testament canon. However, you begin your argument by marking a fundamental difference between the reception history of the Pauline letters and the gospel writings. You refer to the fact that ‘Paul, who had written letters around the middle of the first century, re-occurs explicitly, by name, in first and second century literature before 150 AD, and also by his letters being quoted, referred to, praised or criticized. He is known in later canonical letters and non-canonical literature; copied in pseudo-Pauline letters (1-2Tim., Tit., Eph., Col.); a collection of his letters is known by 2Peter; he is introduced and quoted by 1Clem, and frequently quoted in the letters of Ignatius and Polycarp’ (279). Having said this, you claim to see a difference in the reception history of the gospel writings: ‘None of this is true for the later canonical Gospels…’ (ibid.). M. V.: Let me interject that this is, how some of the reviewers wanted to read this text,44 but they missed the vital nuance that is cut off through the ‘…’, and the text reads in full: ‘None of this is true for the later canonical Gospels, especially the narratives within them’. I explicitly give examples of earlier quotes of ‘logia’ of the Lord – they already begin with Paul, but I have taken from Helmut Koester that authors prior to Marcion do not refer to any Marcion’s Evangelion’ (2017), 19 and his criticism that I (like Klinghardt) developed ‘a strangely decontextualized concept of the place of texts in Christian life’ – the opposite is true. When Matthias Klinghardt, DasältesteEvangeliumunddieEntstehungderkanonischenEvangelien (2015), 362-3 mentions ‘Schreibtischarbeit’ (work produced at the writer’s desk), it is his consciously anachronistic metaphor for the meticulous work that Marcion (and other Gospel writers) seem to have undertaken, developed for and within the social environment of schooling and teaching rather than of communal liturgy or worship. 42 See M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels (2014). 43 See M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels (2014), 277-82 – the following page numbers refer to this chapter. 44 See, for example, Paul A. Himes, rev. of M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynoptic Gospels (2014), in AJournalofBiblicalTextualCriticism 20 (2015), s.p.

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Gospel ‘as a sequence of events or a “story”’, ‘nowhere are fixed creedal formulations called “Gospel”’,45 I quoted Kurt Aland who in his famous article where he surveys the use of Paul in the 2nd century church fathers, found this difference between the reception of Paul and the non-reception of the Gospel narratives ‘nightmarish’ and ‘depressing’,46 and I refer to Walter Schmithals who speaks of the ‘missing resonance that our Gospels had far into the second century’.47 E.-M. B.: Accordingly, you question an early dating of the gospel writings: ‘This contrast between the reception of Paul’s letters and our Gospels becomes harder to explain, the earlier one wants to date these Gospels’ (ibid.). In other words, you aim to show that there is no evidence for the existence of gospel writings that would in fact pre-date the Marcionite Gospel. How should we respond to your claim? It is worth noting that, in principle, you use an argumentumesilentio when drawing conclusions about the existence of gospel writings on the basis of their explicit reception alone. M. V.: This is a counter-argument that I frequently read in criticisms of my position,48 but it misrepresents what an ‘argumentum e silentio’ is. Such an argument draws conclusions from the absence of evidence, hence, as Ulrich Schmid has formulated it: ‘Arguments e silentio’ are ‘creating positive evidence out of a lack of evidence’, hence make evidence from no evidence.49 Yet, there is an important difference between building a hypothesis on lacking evidence or pointing out a lack of evidence on which skyscraping hypotheses have been built. While the former makes uncritically use of the argumentumesilentio, the latter critically highlights the flaw of a hypothesis built on nothing, but silence. Hence, when I observe (like the mentioned Koester and Aland) that ‘there is no evidence for the existence of gospel writings that would in fact pre-date the Marcionite Gospel’ – and please note, 45

Helmut Koester, ‘From the Kerygma-Gospel to Written Gospels’, NTS 35 (1989), 361-81, 366. Kurt Aland, ‘Methodische Bemerkungen zum Corpus Paulinum bei den Kirchenvätern’, in A.M. Ritter (ed.), KerygmaundLogos.FestschriftfürCarlAndresen (Göttingen, 1979), 29-48, 29 (‘beklemmend’), 30 (‘deprimierend’); see on this topic M. Vinzent, Christ’sResurrectionin EarlyChristianityandtheMakingoftheNewTestament (Farnham, 2011), 89; id., DieAuferstehungChristiimfrühenChristentum (Freiburg i.Br., 2014), 143. 47 Walter Schmithals, Paulus,dieEvangelienunddasUrchristentum (Leiden; Boston, 2004), 497. 48 See Dieter T. Roth, ‘Marcion’s Gospel and the History of Early Christianity: The Devil is in the (Reconstructed) Details’, ZAC21 (2017), 25-40. 49 Ulrich Schmid, ‘How Can We Access Second Century Gospel Texts? The Cases of Marcion and Tatian’, in Christian-Bernard Amphoux and J. Keith Elliott (eds), TheNewTestamentText inEarlyChristianity:ProceedingsoftheLilleColloquium,July2000/LetexteduNouveauTestamentaudébutduchristianisme:ActesducolloquedeLille,juillet2000, Histoire du texte biblique 6 (Lausanne, 2003), 139-50, 142. 46

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this refers to the combination of Gospel narratives and logia –, then I am not putting out an argumentumesilentio, but point to the silence and ask scholars to be sceptical, when positing hypotheses of the existence of Gospels to a time when there is no evidence for their existence available. The hypothesis, held by yourself with almost all present New Testament scholarship, that our canonical Gospels date from the first century, or, as you formulated it in your new monograph Mark‘The earliest Gospel writer’50 warrants evidence, the scholar who points out the lack of such evidence has done the job, as long as such evidence is not being produced. In this sense, historical scholarship is like a judicial case – as long as evidence cannot be produced, a case cannot be upheld. This applies to the dating of Gospels too. Another question is whether I was and whether I am asking for ‘explicit reception alone’. This I am clearly not, as I have checked any form of explicit and implicit reception of any Gospel narrative prior to Marcion. And it is not only me who has looked for those. I have even granted the early dating of these authors and their works that are mostly invoked as witnesses for the existence of the later canonical Gospels: 1Clement, Hermas, Barnabas, Didache, 2Clement, Ignatius, Papias, Polycarp and Hegesippus. In my 2014 monograph I extensively quote the centenary volume of the year 2005 by Andrew F. Gregory and Christopher M. Tuckett who reviewed the older study of the Oxford Society of Historical Theology of the year 1905,51 where it is repeated that there is ‘no evidence for the use of either of our Gospels in its present form’ and that ‘one had to consider … “the direct use of another [viz. non-canonical] source altogether, whether oral or written”’.52 More clearly is even Walter Schmithals who like me distinguishes between the presence of ‘logia’ and of narratives and sees all early ‘synoptic tradition’ only referring to ‘logia’, even though ‘very freely and relatively unrelated’, whereas ‘only with Justin is narrative material taken into account’ and ‘he is the first who emphasises that the Gospels are “memories of the Apostles”’.53 In order to answer the question of implicit and explicit reception, we can distinguish between the two and will come up with the following result for writings prior to Marcion: 50

E.-M. Becker, DerfrühesteEvangelist (2017). M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels (2014), 224-5. 52 W.L. Peterson, ‘Textual Tradition Examined’, in Andrew F. Gregory and Christopher M. Tuckett, The Reception of the New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers (Oxford, 2015), 29-46, 32. 53 Walter Schmithals, ‘Die Bedeutung der Evangelien in der frühen Kirche vor der Kanonbildung’, in Cilliers Breytenbach (ed.), Paulus,dieEvangelienunddasUrchristentum, Arbeiten zur Geschichte des Antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums 54 (Leiden; Boston, 2004), 487520, 491-2: ‘Erst Justin berücksichtigt daneben auch den Erzählstoff … Justin ist auch der erste Schriftsteller, der Wert darauf legt, daß es sich bei den Evangelien um „Erinnerungen der Apostel“ handelt’. 51

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Explicit reception: a) Paul is explicitly mentioned in the Pseudopaulines Eph., Col., 2Thess.;54 the Pastoral Letters (1-2Tim., Tit.);55 2Peter 3:14-7;56 Acts;57 twice referred to by name and with the mention of ‘his letter’ which apparently was in reach both in Rome and Corinth (1Clem. 5,5-7 and 47,1-4);58 Ignatius ‘explicitly mentions Paul twice’, IgnEph 12,2 and IgnRom 4,3.59 Polycarp in his letter to the Philippians mentions Paul thrice and also ‘his letters’ (3,1-2; 9,1; 11,2-3).60 Whether Barn. is to be placed here is doubtful, but advocated by some like Hans Lietzmann;61 b) The Synoptics: none. Implicit reception: a) Paul: Johnhas ‘Paul in his back’;62 Hebr.‘only with reluctancy to be taken into the Pauline tradition’;63 1Peter ‘is part of the Pauline tradition’;64 1Clem. shows ‘influence of Paul’ and knowledge of 1Cor. and perhaps also Rom.,65 maybe even Gal. and Phil., Eph.,Col., and the Pastorals;66 influence by Paul can be detected, contentwise and stylistically, particular by the pseudopauline Pastorals. 67 Ignatius knows ‘most likely’ 1Cor. and Rom.68 Polycarp apparently quotes Eph. 2:8-9 (in PolPhil 1,3) and a number of other passages from Pauline letters 54 On these three see Andreas Lindemann, Paulus,ApostelundLehrerderKirche (Tübingen, 1999), 185; Ernst Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch.PaulusinderfrühchristlichenLiteraturbis Irenäus(Münster, 1979), 45-57 (only on Eph., Col.). 55 See E. Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch(1979), 158-73. 56 See E. Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch(1979), 118-25. 57 See E. Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch(1979), 22-34. 58 See A. Lindemann, Paulus (1999), 260-1, 296. 59 See A. Lindemann, Paulus (1999), 267-8, 299; E. Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch(1979), 126-49. 60 See A. Lindemann, Paulus (1999), 273-8, 297; E. Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch(1979), 149-58. 61 See Hans Lietzmann, Geschichte der Alten Kirche (Berlin; Leipzig, 1932), 230; also Carl Schmidt, GesprächeJesumitseinenJüngernnachderAuferstehung, TU 43 (Leipzig, 1919), 393; see E. Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch(1979), 223. 62 E. Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch(1979), 42. 63 E. Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch(1979), 57. 64 E. Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch(1979), 68. J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 57 sees the parallel between IgnEph 18,1 and 1Cor. 1:20,23. 65 So A. Lindemann, Paulus (1999), 262, 297; see id., ‘Paul’s Influence on “Clement” and Ignatius’, in Andrew F. Gregory and Christopher M. Tuckett (eds), TrajectoriesthroughtheNew TestamentandtheApostolicFathers (Oxford, 2005), 9-24; J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 54 sees an echo of Rom. 1:29-32 in 1Clem. 35,5-6 and Rom. 6:1 in 1Clem. 33,1; 1Cor. 1:11-3 in 1Clem. 47,3, and ibid.57 a parallel between 1Clem. 24,1 and 1Cor. 15:20,23. 66 So E. Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch(1979), 79. 67 So A. Lindemann, Paulus (1999), 269. 68 So A. Lindemann, Paulus (1999), 300.

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(1Cor., perhaps also 2Cor.).69 In Diognet we find ‘a relatively big amount of thoughts and formulas’ of Paul.70 2Clem. 11,7 parallels 1Cor. 2:9.71 b) The Synoptics: never narratives, and the only instance, Did. 8,2 we have variant textual traditions; so to start with Paul as our earliest source, here major scholars are unanimous that ‘the synoptic narratives cannot be found in Paul’.72 Polycarp (PolPhil2,3) quotes the Lord with three sayings only.73 The Didache quotes sayings only;74 IgnPol2,1 has a parallel saying to Matth. 10:16;75 Barn. 4,14 echoes the saying in Matth.22:14; Barn. 5,12 has a parallel quote from Sach. 13:6-7 to Matth. 26:31; Barn. 6:6 quotes Ps.22:19 as does John19:24;76 Barn. 12,10 has Ps. 109:1 in parallel to Mk. 12:37 and Matth. 22:44;77 Did.3,7 parallels the saying in Matth.5:5; Did. 8,2 parallels the Lord’sPrayer in Matth. 11:2 (but only in the CA tradition!) and one may compare the rest of this prayer;78 Did.9,5 has the saying in parallel with Matth.7:6;79 Did. 11,7 ‘seems to be close to’ Matth. 12:31 ‘rather than to the parallels’ in Mark 3:28-9 and Luke12:10;80 Did.13,1 is parallel to Matth. 10:10 rather than Luke 10:7;81 Did. 16,3-5 ‘echoes’ the saying in Matth. 24:10-2;82 Did. 16,8 69

See A. Lindemann, Paulus (1999), 273-8, 304-5. See A. Lindemann, Paulus (1999), 281. 71 J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 57. 72 So W. Schmithals, ‘Die Bedeutung der Evangelien in der frühen Kirche vor der Kanonbildung’ (2004), 488: ‘Das synoptische Erzählgut begegnet bei Paulus gar nicht’; Schmithals refers to the same view by F. Neyrinck, ‘Paul and the Sayings of Jesus’, Evangelica 11 (1991), 511-68 = in A. Vanhoye (ed.), L’Apôtre Paul. Personalité, style et conception du ministère (Leuven, 1986), 265-321; N. Walter, ‘Paulus und die urchristliche Jesustradition’, NTS 31 (1985), 498-522; we can also add Jens Schröter, ‘Walter Schmithals und die synoptische Tradition’, in C. Breytenbach (ed.), Paulus,dieEvangelienunddasUrchristentum (2004), 777-803, 793. Of course, one can postulate (ibid. 794-5) that the synoptic narrative tradition existed outside the Pauline tradition, but this is pure speculation. The problem is complicated by the supporting evidence for an early existence of synoptic narratives, taken from the hypothetical and reconstructed Q and from other non-canonical texts the dating of which are all difficult, like PEg 2, fr. 1; PKöln 255, EvThom. 73 So A. Lindemann, Paulus (1999), 303. 74 See E. Dassmann, DerStachelimFleisch(1979), 100-2; J. Keith Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses? The Critical Apparatus to the Greek New Testament and the Apostolic Fathers’, in A.F. Gregory and C.M. Tuckett (eds), The Reception of the New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers (2015), 47-58, 48. 75 J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 55. 76 See J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 57. 77 See J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 54. 78 Strangely enough, J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 54 points to the parallel between Did. and Matth. here, but invokes the second tradition of the Did. (HÄ), only because this tradition makes reference to the ‘Gospel’. 79 J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 57. 80 J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 55. 81 See J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 55. 82 J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 54. 70

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parallels the saying in Matth. 24:30; 1Clem. 13 parallels the sayings in Matth. 5:7 and Luke6:31,36-8; 2Clem. 2,4 parallels the saying in Matth. 9:13 and Luke 5:32;83 2Clem. 6,1 parallels the saying in Luke 16:13.84 As this comparison impressively shows, there is a clear difference between the reception of Paul and that of the Synoptics. Paul is not only externally referenced, his historical situation referred to, his life spun out, but also his writings mentioned and even pseudonymously copied. All of these external referencing is missing for each of the Synoptics! When it comes to implicit references, again Paul is known and influential with his writings. With regards the Synoptics they exclusively are known through individual sayings of the Lord. Not a single narrative is invoked, even when a text like Didache 8 includes the Lord’sPrayer or 1Clement 13 lists a few sayings in a row that we know also from Matthew and Luke, the authors do not evoke the narrative situation. Of course, all that could be accidental, but when comparing how the same authors like 1Clement handles the referencing so differently, we may try to explain, but should not deny that difference. E.-M. B.: However, the fact that there are no explicit references to the gospel writings prior to Marcion cannot form an argument for their non-existence, right? M. V.: I don’t claim that they are absent, as this would be a conclusion from ‘no evidence’ which I agree, we should avoid, but I ask you as a New Testament scholar for the evidential basis to claim their existence. I do not think that somebody who sees no evidence has to carry the burden for denying that there is nothing (if one were to make that claim), but believe that the burden of proof for the Gospels’ existence lies on those who claim their existence. E.-M. B.: Besides, you write: ‘The first to fully endorse the Gospels is Irenaeus…’ (ibid.). While you use this observation to distinguish between the gospel writings and the Pauline letters, I would tend to argue that the same is true for the Corpus Paulinum. Elsewhere,85 I have examined the notion of secure textual evidence for 2Cor. In principal, secure textual evidence can only be obtained by quotation – allusion and attestation as such do not fully prove the existence, knowledge and reception of earlier texts by later authors and do not provide secure textual evidence for pre-canonical texts, i.e. texts which, until the middle of the 2nd century, only exist in unambitious forms. In my

83

J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 56. J.K. Elliott, ‘Absent Witnesses?’ (2015), 57. 85 See Eve-Marie Becker, LetterHermeneuticsin2Corinthians.Studiesin Literarkritik and CommunicationTheory, JSNT.SS 279 (London and New York, 2004), 148ff. 84

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investigations into the reception of 2Cor., I could not locate secure textual evidence for the existence of the letter which would in fact pre-date Marcion. M. V.: Even though, as can be seen from the list above, some may claim the reference to 2Cor.prior to Marcion, I can share the reluctance for 2Cor., yet not, for example, for 1Cor. which is multiply quoted, as can be seen above and has been noted by previous scholarship. E.-M. B.: As such, the situation regarding the documentation of Pauline letters is not fundamentally different from that of the gospel writings. In both cases, secure textual evidence is obtained via quotation only. M. V.: Given, what I have documented above, this seems to me untenable. E.-M. B.: I fully approve your documentation. But you – yourself – do not speak of ‘(explicit) quotation’ even in the case of Pauline letters, right? In both cases, Pauline letters and gospel writings, thus, such secure evidence does not pre-date Marcion’s viz. his transmitters’ (Tertullian, Irenaeus etal.) time. This is because, until the mid to late 2nd century, both the Pauline letters and the gospel writings were most likely read, copied, collected and in part revised (esp. Mark)86 in equal measure – the history of explicitreceptioninthesense ofquotingatext only begins once the New Testament writings have gained a ‘proto-canonical’ status in that they are preserved as literary entities and textual ‘witnesses’ of shared tradition and/or theology. To my understanding, this is the very point in the history of textual reception and canonization which is stimulated, if not: initiated by Marcion. Shouldn’t we rather see Marcion as one of the provocateurs, to pick up a term earlier used, may be the provocateur, who has evoked the process of canonization and textual quotation? Obviously, there was no need of quoting any ‘New Testament text’ before Irenaeus or Marcion! M. V.: I like your idea of him being one of the provocateurs. There is never just the one single person who has ideas coming out of the blue, even if he had been the one who produced the first Gospel. But he certainly would not have any following, if the time had not been ripe for such an account. On the other side, we should be careful not to push all witnesses who both explicitly and implicitly refer to Paul into the time of Irenaeus and later. With Ptolemaius and Heracleon writing commentaries, explicit quotation practices develop prior to Irenaeus, even though I agree, that the broader acceptance of these texts as benchmarks is taking some time and forms part of what we call the canonization 86

See Eve-Marie Becker, ‘The Reception of “Mark” in the 1st and 2nd centuries C.E. and its Significance for Genre Studies’, in ead. and A. Runesson (eds), MarkandMatthewII (2013), 15-36 – republished in ead., DerfrühesteEvangelist (2017), 117-40.

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process. Nevertheless, this does not devaluate the observation of a different form of presence of Paul and the Synoptics before Marcion. E.-M. B.: So, the actual disagreement is about whether and how we value Paul and the Gospels to be treated in equal terms or differently before Marcion’s time. In general, I would think that we have to argue that Irenaeus is the first – followed by Hippolytus, Origen and Clement of Alexandria – to begin quoting Pauline letters87 as much as other, slightly later, New Testament writings. In this way, Marcion is just as relevant for the reception history of Paul as for the gospel writings. He leads us to the middle of the 2nd century, where a protocanonical status of later New Testament writings is notyet defined – it is still in the making88 –, while the market of early Christian writings is constantly growing, if not booming. We might suppose that Marcion’s attempt to define the Gospel and a collection of Pauline epistles provoked various ventures of proto-canonization, or possibly also Tatian’s ambition with his Diatessaron. On the other hand, the history of implicitreception is already initiated by the PastoralLetters, 2Peter and Acts (among others) in regard to Paul. Here I would agree with your appraisal. However, it is likewise, or at least in a similar way initiated by Luke (1:1-4), Matthew, John and 2Peter (1:18) in regard to Mark. M. V.: Your ‘likewise’ dissimulates that the former statement is fact (even though we do not know the dating of any of those texts), while the next is based on the assumption of the priority of Mark which, of course, you first needed to secure by evidence. As it stands here, your argument is a circular one from ‘no evidence’ to created evidence. E.-M. B.: It is already Papias of Hierapolis who – at least according to Eusebius (Hist.eccl. III 39.15-7) – provides the first explicit evidence for the literary existence of the written gospel concept and its protagonists (Mark; Matthew).89 M. V.: With the same problem of dating Papias! Papias is of particular interest, as we have the Papias’ note in the Anti-MarcioniteGospelPrologues,90 that 87 See Rolf Noormann, IrenäusalsPaulusinterpret.ZurRezeptionundWirkungderpaulinischen unddeuteropaulinischenBriefeimWerkdesIrenäusvonLyon, WUNT 2.66 (Tübingen, 1994). See also E.-M. Becker, LetterHermeneutics (2004), 159. 88 See also Barbara Aland, ‘Was heißt ‚Kanonisierung des Neuen Testaments‘? Eine Antwort für das zweite Jahrhundert’, in E.-M. Becker and S. Scholz (eds), Kanon in Konstruktion und Dekonstruktion.KanonisierungsprozessereligiöserTextevonderAntikebiszurGegenwart.Ein Handbuch (Berlin; Boston, 2012), 519-45. 89 See also Oda Wischmeyer, ‘Kanon und Hermeneutik in Zeiten der Dekonstruktion. Was die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft gegenwärtig hermeneutisch leisten kann’, in E.-M. Becker and S. Scholz (eds), KanoninKonstruktionundDekonstruktion(2012), 623-78, 635-6. 90 See on this M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels (2014), 12-26.

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knows about John’s negative reaction to Marcion(whichever way we punctuate or interpret the text), as one of my readers noticed: ‘However one resolves the difficult issues of grammar and punctuation in this text, it appears to portray John as a contemporary of Marcion, and dictating his gospel in response to Marcion. Some have questioned whether everything stated in the prologue goes back to Papias (or any of it, since Eusebius, who knew Papias’s work, fails to cite it on the subject of John’s gospel), but Vinzent deserves the benefit of the doubt on this point.’91 If, however, Papias knows of John’s judgement about Marcion’s Gospel and his Antitheses, the information that he gives us about Mark and Matthew seems more likely to be post-Marcion too. E.-M. B.: But couldn’t any Papias-note have much later moved easily into the Anti-MarcioniteGospelPrologues in order to authorize them – as it is the case in the Prologue to John, which obviously builds on Irenaeus?92 But let us move to another, second field of questions. In chapter I of your book, ‘Marcion, his Gospel and the Gospels in the Sources’,93 you suggest that we ‘compare how Tertullian sees Marcion with regard to the Gospel and the role he gives him with regard to Paul’s letters’ (91). According to your argument, in AdversusMarcionem IV,Tertullian ‘describes Marcion as the redactor of Paul…, compared to Marcion as the author of the Gospel’ (ibid.). While ‘Tertullian sees Marcion clearly as redactor of Paul’s letters, with regard to his Gospel he deals with him not as redactor, but as author… He even terms Marcion the “gospel-author”…’ (92). Accordingly, you see Marcion on the one hand as a redactor or interpreter of Paul, and, on the other hand, the creator of the gospel genre. Is there thus a real difference in how Tertullian relates Marcion either to Paul or to the gospel writings? You could be correct in stating that Tertullian ‘does not fail to invoke Paul’s authority time and again against the redactor Marcion’ (92). This is because Paul is seen as a strong, possibly self-made, apostolic authority. To quote Gerhard May another time: The special meaning of Paul for Marcion lies in the fact that the Apostle has handed him out the historical key for the solution of the problem with tradition … Paul alone has totally grasped and preserved the truth of the Gospel … Paul was … the sole guarantor of the original truth. The Gospel which he had received from Christ (Gal. 1:11-2) Marcion understood as the book with a heavenly origin. For the first time with Marcion we find the equation of ‘Euangelion’ and gospel-book … The heavenly gospel-book, Marcion believed to be given in Luke.94 91

J. BeDuhn, ‘New Studies of Marcion’s Evangelion’ (2017), 18. See recently: O. Zwierlein, DieantihäretischenEvangelienprologe (2015), esp. 74ff. 93 See M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels (2014), 1-158 – the following page numbers refer to this chapter. 94 Gerhard May, ‘Markion in seiner Zeit’, in id., Markion.GesammelteAufsätze, ed. K. Greschat and M. Meiser (Mainz, 2005), 1-12, 7-8: ‘Die besondere Bedeutung des Paulus für Markion liegt 92

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In contrast to Paul, the gospel writers frequently appear to be ‘mediators of the Lord’ (see Adv. Marc. IV 2.1: … hoc munus evangelii promulgandi abipsodominositimpositum: ‘I lay it down to begin with that the documents of the gospel have the apostles for their authors, and that this task of promulgating the gospel was imposed upon them by our Lord himself’95). In principal, they appear to be somehow inferior to Paul, since they can only refer to ‘apostolic men’ as authors; such men were ‘companions of apostles or followers of apostles’ (ibid.: Sitetapostolicus,nontamensolos,sedcumapostolisetpost apostolos...).96 However, even gospel writings can allege connection to authorial voices. Accordingly, Tertullian’s strongest accusation against Marcion relates to the anonymity with which Marcion publishes his gospel: ‘Marcion… attaches to his gospel no author’s name… no recognition is due to a work which cannot lift up its head, which makes no show of courage, which gives no promise of credibility by having a fully descriptive title and the requisite indication of the author’s name’ (IV.2.3).97 M. V.: Indeed, this is one of my arguments – does this not presume that Tertullian was of the opinion, Marcion as author of this Gospel should have put his name into the title of this publication? E.-M. B.: Compared to the relevance of title and author’s name, Tertullian does not consider ‘the arrangement’ of varying narratives in the Four Gospels as a problem (IV 2.2: … narrationumdispositiovariavit…). In other words, Tertullian reads the gospel narratives as writings that must have been designed by authorial voices. Nevertheless, Tertullian considers the gospel writers to be slightly subordinate – if not inferior – to Paul. This applies at least to Luke and Mark –, which leads Tertullian to introduce the important distinction between ‘apostolus’ and ‘apostolicus’ (see IV 2.4: ‘Now Luke was not an apostle but an apostolic man, not a master but a disciple, in any case less than his master’; see also IV 2.2: ‘In short, from among the apostles the faith is introduced to us by John and by darin, daß ihm der Apostel den historischen Schlüssel für die Lösung des Traditionsproblems an die Hand gegeben hat… Paulus hat allein die Wahrheit des Evangeliums voll erfasst und bewahrt… Paulus war… der einzige Garant der ursprünglichen Wahrheit. Das Evangelium, das er von Christus empfangen hatte (Gal 1,11f.), verstand Markion als ein Buch himmlischen Ursprungs. Bei Markion finden wir zum ersten Mal… die Gleichsetzung von ‚Euangelion‘ mit dem Evangelienbuch… Das himmlische Evangelienbuch glaubte Markion im Lukasevangelium vorliegen zu haben.’ 95 Translation according to: Tertullian.AdversusMarcionem.EditedandTranslatedbyErnest Evans.Books4and5 (Oxford, 1972), 261. 96 Translation according to E. Evans, Tertullian (1972), 261. 97 Translation according to E. Evans, Tertullian (1972), 263.

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Matthew, while from apostolic men Luke and Mark give it renewal…’; …ex apostolis…exapostolicis…).98 But what does Tertullian wish to imply with this distinction between apostolus and apostolicus? Is the latter category actually supposed to indicate inferiority? In my opinion Tertullian establishes a distinction which can, as a result, also apply to Paul, John and Matthew on the one hand, and Mark and Luke on the other hand, so that in the end it is actually Marcion’s status itself that requires re-evaluation: Marcion can be considered neither apostolus nor apostolicus.99 M. V.: This is correct and perhaps Tertullian was inspired by Marcion’s or Marcionites’ claim that Marcion was, indeed, an ‘apostolicus’, a disciple of Paul, the apostolus.100 E.-M. B.: As a matter of fact, Tertullian’s distinction ultimately and primarily intends to uncover Marcion’s inferiority. For Tertullian as much as for Marcion, Paul is the actual figure of interest as far as the ‘truth of the gospel’ (adveritatemevangelii: IV 3.2) is concerned. In this sense, your detailed observation of the difference between how Tertullian approaches Paul and how he judges the gospel writers’ role as authorial figures is most fruitful. However, I cannot see in Adversus Marcionem IV that this difference of authority between Paul and the Gospels would result from the fact that, for Tertullian, it is Marcion who in fact is the earliest gospel writer. M. V.: This I have never and would never claim – on the contrary, for Tertullian, Marcion is an epigonos, a late comer, especially as his basis is the last of the apostles, namely Paul. And even worse, as he has scinded down the apostolicus who in between transmitted Paul’s Gospel, namely Luke. So, for Tertullian the genealogy is clear: Paul – Luke – Marcion, or: The last apostle – the apostolicus – and the would be ‘apostolicus’ or non-apostle/apostolicus. That Tertullian is of this opinion should, however, not preclude that we simply and uncritically follow his views on this. E.-M. B.: On the contrary, already in IV 1.1, Tertullian makes it clear that he is willing to challenge Marcion ‘in terms of that gospel which he (= Marcion) has by manipulation made his own’ (… quod interpolando suum fecit)101. In IV 2.4, he even states: ‘For out of those authors whom we possess, Marcion is seen to have chosen Luke as the one to mutilate’ (… Namexiiscommentatoribus 98

Translation according to E. Evans, Tertullian (1972), 263. I have to thank Wolfgang Wischmeyer (Wien) for this thought. 100 On this see my new book M. Vinzent, Tertullian’sPrefacetoMarcion’sGospel (2017). 101 Translation according to E. Evans, Tertullian (1972), 257. 99

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quoshabemusLucamvideturMarcionelegissequemcaederet).102 There is no doubt that, for Tertullian, there already exists a collection of four gospels (IV 2.1-2; 5.6) and a Marcionite Gospel which he regards as a distortion or mutilation of Luke’s account; it can by no means be regarded as apostolicus. The Marcionite Gospel lacks credibility because it was produced without a title and without an author’s name. In my opinion, Tertullian’s actual struggle concerns how to deal with quests of authority: For Tertullian, Paul comes first (apostolus); then Matthew and John (exapostolis),followed by Mark and Luke (exapostolicis) (IV 2.2); to Tertullian, Marcion challenges this picture of apostolic literary succession and devaluation, since – inspired by Paul – he attempts to authorize a gospel writing as the Gospel by manipulating or distorting viz. mutilating Luke. However, Tertullian, who aims at identifying a ‘heretic’, wishes to uncover this Marcionite attempt as forgery by unmasking Marcion as someone who, according to Tertullian’s proof of arguments, can claim to be neither apostolus nor apostolicus. In IV 5.6, Tertullian once again indicates that the apostolic gospels pre-date the Marcionite distortion of Luke: For if the apostolic gospels have come down to us in their integrity, while the gospel of Luke, in the form in which we have it, is in such agreement with the standard of those others that it is retained in the churches along with them, it is at once evident that Luke’s also came down in integrity until Marcion’s act of sacrilege. In fact it was only when Marcion laid hands upon it, that it became different from the apostolic gospels, and in opposition to them.103

Tertullian’s intention is clearly to defend the integrity and credibility of the Lukan Gospel after, as he argues, the Marcionite distortion had taken place. We can and need, of course, question the credibility of what Tertullian tells us here. But why should he have hidden to say that Marcion was not only a distorting manipulator but – even worse – an ambitious literary forger? M. V.: I see the matter slightly differently, although I agree with your view on Tertullian’s intention of depicting Marcion as the one who distorted the Lukan Gospel. In Tert., Adv.Marc. V 3.1-5 he states that Marcion followed Paul, but Tertullian calls Paul ‘an after-Apostle’ (posteriorquantoposteriorisApostolic sectator), so that Marcion himself is an after-after-Apostle. Hence, I don’t think Tertullian placed Paul above the two apostle-authors, but saw him as a quasi, or perhaps better, as he himself admitted, a late-Apostle. Surely, Paul is better than an apostolicus, but being a late-Apostle, in consequence Marcion is less than the two apostolici, less than Luke who he distorted, and thereforeat best a wishful after-apostolicus. 102 103

Translation according to E. Evans, Tertullian (1972), 263. Translation according to E. Evans, Tertullian (1972), 273.

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3. Towards the Dating of Mark and the Synoptics E.-M. B.: To conclude, I would like to examine the extent to which Marcion can help us date the Synoptic Gospels, where the limits of such a dating are, and how we might otherwise approach the question of dating ancient literature. By doing so, I come back to some earlier points in our conversation. In my opinion, the figure of Marcion is a constant within the history of Christianity and Christian literature in the 2nd century CE. From the perspective of Markan studies, Tertullian’s references to the GospelofMark in AdversusMarcionem IV are relatively early evidence for the explicit knowledge of the Markan Gospel (e.g., IV 2.2). Other than this, Mark’s early reception history is characterized by the absence of ‘strong material evidence… on the level of manuscript-transmission’ which would pre-date Papyrus 45 (3rd century).104 Tertullian’s notion of Mark within the framework of his controversy with Marcion is valuable when we look for the various traces of Mark’s reception history in the 2nd and early 3rd century CE. However, I strongly doubt that Marcion and Tertullian could help us date Mark and the Synoptics in a way that would exceed the search for a terminus adquem. It is only in a broad sense that both figures help us find an ‘absolute dating’: Marcion and Tertullian are pillars on the track of reception history, rather than factors which could explain the production of later New Testament literature – this applies to the Pauline letters as well as to the Gospels. Instead, I would like to suggest three tools for approaching the composition date of Mark and the Synoptics.105 Firstly, as I have suggested elsewhere, the criteriology should follow the general lines of dating ancient literature in an ‘absolute’ and in a ‘relative’ sense. Secondly, dating Mark, the Synoptics and John should be based on the perspective of a consequent comparative reading. For instance, the debate about whether and how Mark, Matthew and Luke pre- or post-date the experiences of the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 CE can only develop in so far as we compare how the levels of narration, reference and the narrator’s perspective are constructed respectively. A comparative reading of Mark and Matthew, for instance, has revealed that neither gospel varies in its view on the 70 CE catastrophe – both gospels were thus either composed ante or posteventum.106

104

E.-M. Becker, ‘Reception’, 15. For this, cf. Eve-Marie Becker, ‘Dating Mark and Matthew as Ancient Literature’, in ead. and A. Runesson (eds), MarkandMatthewI,ComparativeReadings:UnderstandingtheEarliest Gospels in their First-Century Settings, WUNT 271 (Tübingen 2011), 123-43 – republished in ead., DerfrühesteEvangelist (2017), 53-75. 106 Cf. E.-M. Becker, ‘Dating’. 105

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M. V.: Why do you not even consider, as Bo Reicke has shown, that 135 CE is more likely to be referred to by the Synoptics’ apocalypses?107 E.-M. B.: The second (or third) Jewish-Roman War, the Bar Kokhba-revolt, indeed, is of crucial historical significance as Werner Eck has pointed out.108 However, the Bar Kokhba-revolt is not any more concerned with the destruction of the Second Temple. The situation of 70 CE, however, is in various ways reflected in Mark 13parr. The concern about the destruction and desecration of the Jerusalem Temple is a vital issue of 70 CE as we learn from Josephus’ JewishWar, 4 Ezra 3-9, and Mark 13:14. The motific connection of crucifixion, fleeing from Jerusalem, and Jerusalem’s fall, as we find it in detail in Josephus’ description of the first Jewish-Roman War (B.J. 5.449ff.; see also 7.199ff.), comes, again, surprisingly close to similar motifs in the apocalyptic speech (Mark 13:14ff.), especially when seen in its interconnection with the passion narrative (Mark 14-5). The passion narrative is intentionally built around the scene of Jesus’ crucifixion (Mark 15:21ff.), who himself has predicted the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple (Mark 13:1-2). The motific interconnection of crucifixion, war, the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple, and the fleeing from Jerusalem which we find in Mark13-5, clearly points to the 70 CE events.109 M. V.: In this I disagree, as we have evidence that the Bar Kokhba rebellion was linked to the destruction of the Second Temple, too, and fired up by the hope of rebuilding the temple, a hope, of course, that was terribly disappointed not only with the definite loss of the temple, but also the hole city of Jerusalem. In Barn. 16,4 we read about the disappointed hope of the re-building of the temple around the time of the Bar Kokhba war: Moreover, I will also tell you concerning the temple, how the wretched [Jews], wandering in error, trusted not in God Himself, but in the temple, as being the house of God. For almost after the manner of the Gentiles they worshipped Him in the temple. But learn how the Lord speaks, when abolishing it: ‘Who hath meted out heaven with a span, and the earth with his palm? Have not I?’ ‘Thus saith the Lord, Heaven is My throne, and the earth My footstool: what kind of house will ye build to Me, or what is the place of My rest?’ Ye perceive that their hope is vain. Moreover, He again says, ‘Behold, they who have cast down this temple, they themselves shall build it up again.’ 107

Bo Reicke, ‘Synoptic Prophesies of the Destruction of Jerusalem’, in David E. Aune (ed.), StudiesinNewTestamentandEarlyChristianLiterature:EssaysinHonorofAllenP.Wikgren (Leiden, 1972), 121-34, 121: ‘An analysis of these prophecies will have to make it evident that none of them corresponds to what is known about the Jewish war and the destruction of Jerusalem.’ 108 Werner Eck, ‘The bar Kokhba Revolt: The Roman Point of View’, Journal of Roman Studies 89 (1999), 76-89. 109 See already Eve-Marie Becker, DasMarkus-EvangeliumimRahmenantikerHistoriographie, WUNT 194 (Tübingen, 2006), esp. 157ff.

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This is happening. For through their going to war, it was destroyed by their enemies; and now: they themselves as [or: and] the servants of their enemies, shall rebuild it.110

Although there is the textual difficulty in the last verse, Barnabas mirrors the disappointed hope of Jews of the rebuilding of the Temple – while the Romans were about to construct Aelia Capitolina instead.111 I can also add the praise of the Roman Emperor Hadrian in some Rabbinic sources or, the Jewish Sibylline Oracles, where Hadrian was regarded like a messianic figure112 for attempting to re-create Jerusalem as a Roman city. Some Jews welcomed the initiative, while it provoked others, like Simon Ben Kosiba, later nicknamed Bar Kokhba, to revolt against it. Coins, minted by Bar Kokhba, show that his revolt was centered on the Temple as ‘proclaimed ... on its coins as “for Jerusalem”’:113

Among the range of types, we find that ‘on the obverse of all tetradachms stands the great Temple in Jerusalem’ with the Ark of the Covenant placed in it, the reverse of these tetradachms always shows the lulav and the etrog, ‘two items of ritual significance still used today’ as part of the Feast of the Tabernacles or Sukkot.114 Both sides of the coin interlink their religious and political message and underline the centrality of the Temple during the revolt, as the Feast of the Tabernacles, Sukkot, was not only one of the most important Jewish feasts, especially related to the Temple in Jerusalem to which, for this feast, Jews should make a pilgrimage, but it was also the feast of fight, courage and war. According to Deut. 31:1-11 the 120 years old Moses told Israel that he would not be going with them ‘across the Jordan’, but that God would fight the way for the people under the guidance of Joshua destroying nations and dispossessing them. It was again on the Feast of Sukkot that under King Solomon the Ark of the Covenant was transferred ‘from the city of David’ to the 110

Trans. Roberts-Donaldson. See also Cassius Dio, Historia Romana LXIX 12; on this see Peter Schäfer, Der Bar Kokhba-Aufstand.StudienzumzweitenjüdischenKrieggegenRom, Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism 1 (Tübingen, 1981), 33-5. 112 OraculaSibyllina V 65-72, trans. Milton S. Terry, TheSibyllineOracles (New York, 1899), 116. 113 Martin Goodman, ‘Trajan and the Origins of the Bar Kokhba War’, in P. Schäfer, TheBar KokhbaWar reconsidered.NewperspectivesonthesecondJewishrevoltagainstRome (Tübingen, 2003), 23-9, 28. 114 Leo Mildenberg, TheCoinageoftheBarKokhbaWar (Aarau, 1984), 45. 111

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inner sanctuary of the newly built and dedicated Temple in Jerusalem (1Kings 8; 2Chron. 7). And after the destruction of the first Temple and the Babylonian captivity, on Sukkot the sacrifices in Jerusalem were resumed (Ezra 3:2-4). Taking into account the importance of Sukkot and the Temple with the Ark, a strong link between the Bar Kokhba war and the temple can hardly be denied, hence Mark 13parr. could easily react to this situation, too, and one would need, at least have evidence to exclude this time as the potential historical setting for it. E.-M. B.: Thirdly, since we can observe the lack of clear textual evidence for Pauline letters as well as gospel writings in the first half of the 2nd century, we have to reconsider our picture of how reception history came into being. We might refer more comprehensively to the insights of genrestudies. Accordingly, we will judge the historical impact of the later New Testament writings differently: for the first ca. 100 years after the so-called ‘formative writings’ (Pauline letters; gospel narratives) appeared on the scene, we do no detect clear external signs of textual reception or quotation. It is rather that the group of formative, or may be better: authoritative writings, has generated and stimulated literary activity and creativity by which the outline of literary genres has been continued, imitated and re-defined. We could call this time frame a period of ‘experiment’, where the field of Christian literary activity/activities had to establish its (own) rules.115 M. V.: Here comes a further difficulty with your model – how can we differentiate between a formative time and even of ‘a group of formative writings’ from a later time of reception, when we see that ‘gospel narratives’ are being received, albeit solely within what you call a ‘group’ and to an extent that gospel narratives are copied and referred to, as in Luke’s praefatio. In my model, particularly as we do not have any earlier evidence than Marcion for the Gospels, the time of Gospel-production and -reception would fall into one. E.-M. B.: The history of textual quotation, in contrast, could only begin when the earliest attempts to continuously produce authoritative writings led to discussions about ‘authenticity’, and literary as well as theological preferences of textual transmission were defined. It is precisely this period which we call the time of a proto-canonization. A ‘literary activist’ like Marcion has certainly promoted this particular process tremendously.116 115 More thorough discussion is required on whether these rules are different from how earlier works – considered to be ‘eminent’ – were imitated and quoted in the Greco-Roman world by means of literary history and literary criticism. 116 I would like to thank Sarah Jennings (Aarhus) for copyediting basic parts of my article which resulted from the workshop contribution.

Narratives as Factor and Indicator of Religious Change in the Roman Empire (1st and 2nd Centuries) Jörg RÜPKE, Max Weber Center for Advanced Cultural and Social Studies, University of Erfurt, Germany

ABSTRACT Religious change is difficult to measure if neither contemporary observations (or more precisely: impressions and narratives) of change nor serial data about size, frequency or budgets of religious practices exist. The article proposes to identify change in narratives that do not narrate, but reflect otherwise attested political and discursive changes. Crucial elements, identified on the basis of narratological theories, are frames like empire and narrative and strategies like diversification and authorship. While a wide array of authors is taken into account, special emphasis is given to religious entrepreneurs like Valerius Maximus, Plutarch, and Marcion.

1. Introduction: Religious change and literary practices The post-Augustan Principate witnessed the appearance of a large amount of literary texts dealing with gods or persons and practices related to the gods.1 I consciously avoid the term religious texts or ‘texts dealing with religion’. Religion as a set of practices and ideas, which informed individual agency, communication, and collective identity,2 is at least partly a result of such textual practices rather than simply the object of them. Only slowly a feeling on the part of individuals developed on a larger scale that they belong to a religiously defined group even beyond certain ritual occasions. It started to be a characteristic of the concretization called ‘religion’ that such a collective identity of individuals was matched by religious organizations and religious specialists who demanded that this collective identity be unique and all-pervading – an ideal

1

This article is based on research supported by the 7th Framework Program of the European Community under contract nr. 295555 (“Lived Ancient Religion”). I wish to thank the participants in the Marcion conference as well as Simon Goldhill, Johannes Grethlein, Teresa Morgan, and for the ongoing discussion Eve-Marie Becker, Richard Gordon and Markus Vinzent as fellows of the DFG-sponsored Kolleg-Forschergruppe “Religious individualization in historical perspective” (FOR 1013) at the Max Weber Centre of the University of Erfurt for their critical remarks. 2 See Jörg Rüpke, ‘Religious Agency, Identity, and Communication: Reflecting on History and Theory of Religion’, Religion 45/3 (2015), 344-66.

StudiaPatristica XCIX, 35-53. © Peeters Publishers, 2018.

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only very rarely achieved and usually temporarily at best.3 To conceptualize certain literary practices as part of religious practices at large is adequate for earlier texts at Rome4 as well as other parts of the Mediterranean (for instance Greece and Judea), too, and produces a more nuanced image of ancient religion. Given the scarcity of serial data for Antiquity, we need to state changes by e.g. relying on epigraphic habits that we infer on the basis of a million ancient inscriptions,5 yet it is far more difficult to corroborate the scholarly intuition that during the first two centuries of the imperial age more elaborate literary practices played a bigger role than earlier on. The exceptional success of Marcion from the mid-second century onwards is part of this phenomenon. However, I will not focus on his texts. Our long-term image of imperial developments is already heavily tinted by post-70 Jewish and Judeo-Christian literature. The scope of any analysis must be broadened. I assume that the quick proliferation of many symbols and practices throughout the Roman Empire is hardly imaginable without allotting a role to literary communication, even if these texts are lost almost in their entirety. This development, however, is a presupposition of my article rather than the aim of my argument. As Greg Woolf and more recently Clifford Ando have stressed, the rise of the Roman Empire imposed a superstructure on local authority, which led to a restructuring of authority and political identities.6 A trans-local level was always, or at least easily, present, inviting to question local authority or even avoid and emigrate from it and thus giving prominence to the individual.7 3 See Eric Rébillard, ‘Material culture and religious identity in late antiquity’, in Rubina Raja and Jörg Rüpke (eds), ACompaniontotheArchaeologyofReligionintheAncientWorld (Boston, 2015), 427-36. 4 See e.g. Dennis Feeney, LiteratureandReligionatRome:Cultures,Contexts,andBeliefs (Cambridge, 1998); Andreas Bendlin and Jörg Rüpke (eds), RömischeReligionimhistorischen Wandel.DiskursentwicklungvonPlautusbisOvid, Potsdamer altertumswissenschaftliche Beiträge 17 (Stuttgart, 2009). 5 On the rise of using Latin inscriptions from the Augustan to the Severan period see Ramsay MacMullen, ‘The Epigraphic Habit in the Roman Empire’, AJPh 103 (1982), 233-46. 6 Greg Woolf, ‘Polis-Religion and its alternatives in the Roman Provinces’, in Hubert Cancik and Jörg Rüpke (eds), RömischeReichsreligionundProvinzialreligion (Tübingen, 1997), 71-84; Clifford Ando, ImperialideologyandprovincialloyaltyintheRomanEmpire, Classics and contemporary thought 6 (Berkeley, 2000); Clifford Ando, ‘A religion for the empire’, in Anthony J. Boyle and William J. Dominik (eds), FlavianCulture:Culture,image,text (Leiden, 2003), 323-44; Greg Woolf, ‘Local cult in imperial context: the Matronae revisited’, in Peter Noelke (ed.), RomanisationundResistenzinPlastik,ArchitekturundInschriftenderProvinzendesImperiumRomanum.NeueFundeundForschungen:AktendesVII.InternationalenColloquiumsüber ProblemedesProvinzialrömischenKunstschaffen (Mainz, 2003), 131-8; Greg Woolf, ‘Found in Translation: The Religion of the Roman Diaspora’, in Olivier Hekster, Sebastian Schmidt-Hofner and Christian Witschel (eds), RitualdynamicsandreligiouschangeintheRomanEmpire:Proceedings oftheEighthWorkshopoftheInternationalNetworkImpactofEmpire(Heidelberg,July5-7, 2007), Impact of Empire 9 (Leiden, 2009), 239-52. 7 The heightened role of individuals in the imperial period, in particular from the 2 nd century AD onwards, is argued in Jörg Rüpke and Greg Woolf (eds), ReligiousDimensionsoftheSelfin theSecondCenturyCE, Studien und Texte zu Antike und Christentum 76 (Tübingen, 2013).

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If empire was the economic and political form of this trans-local level, religion became a major form to locally relate to the trans-local and ‘trans-imperial’.8 The very sub-ject of empire developed from a member of a local polity into an individual, dependent on an (even if only mediated or imagined) individual, the emperor; religious practices focusing on the individual and addressing powers even beyond the emperor could strengthen such a process or even compete with it.9 The remnants of religious communication in literary form point to a social dimension not yet adequately captured in this model. Religious practices and reflections related more and more to an actual or imagined social network as stated in the beginning. Networks were users, even if not the only users of texts; the audience of a text might have been much more diverse and dispersed than the participants in a common network. If the new importance of the framework of empire, the heightened role of the individual, and the importance of the capital, of Rome as a hub of intellectual communication, were the primary ingredients of religion in the imperial age, which must have found reflection in literary religious communication, new social formations and collective identities are a result of these developments and the very condition for the intensification of such literary communication. Networks or even closely organized groups, however, usually were not the actual producers of texts. Michel de Certeau’s analysis of historiography has shed light on different, even opposite processes and has given prominence to the writer of history and his or her appropriation and shaping of history in the three perspectives of the (social and topographical) place of the writer, the practices of writing, and the ways to represent history.10 This critique informs the choice of my approach likewise and demands to take a closer look at authorship. Against this background I wish to argue that some characteristics of texts related to religious practices are not fortuitous, but were related to this process of religious change. Media history and religious transformation were interconnected. My focus, however, will be much smaller than media tout court. I will focus on narratives, thus leaving aside important texts like hymn and prayer, drama or philosophical argument. Narration is story-telling, and narratives are the results. Unlike deductive argument or deictic description, narratives sequence past events, thus giving account of one’s own or others’ (not necessarily only humans’) lives. 8 See Alexia Petsalis-Diomidis, ‘Landscape, transformation, and divine epiphany’, in Simon Swain, Stephen Harrison and Jaś Elsner (eds), Severan culture (Cambridge, 2007), 252 for the importance of such elements as part of religious worldviews. 9 See Clifford Ando, ‘Subjects, Gods, and Empire, or Monarchism as a Theological Problem’, in Jörg Rüpke (ed.), TheIndividualintheReligionsoftheAncientMediterranean (Oxford, 2013), 85-111 laying stress on the congeniality of Christian monotheism and the character necessary for a subject of the ImperiumRomanum. 10 Michel de Certeau, Thewritingofhistory, trans. Tom Conley (New York, 1988).

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For the period under consideration, my choice is based on the potential of such narratives. First and foremost, narrative is a transformation of religious practices into religious knowledge. Narrative is an attempt at and an indicator of communication, engaging in network formation beyond ritual.11 The uniqueness of the transmitted text is often misleading. It is in itself already a retelling of a story and furthermore an invitation for future re-retellings. Likewise, a letter is not only the telling of a story to a distant addressee, but in many cases may also be an invitation for re-oralizations.12 Thus it is involved in the construction, deconstruction and reconstruction of narrative patterns as much as it cares for old and establishes new types of knowledge. Secondly, narrative offers a lens onto the relationship of producer and consumer of a story. How could the credibility of a narrative be raised within such a horizon apart from e.g. its monumentalized or precious material form and presence? Awkward, that is, minimally counterintuitive elements raise the memorability, even if not the credibility of a narrative.13 For authors the possibilities to authenticate their stories are restricted. Their texts are part of an ongoing argument in a culture about what could be accepted as knowledge or a shared past and what could be admitted as a possible, even if not proven variant as part of that.14 The notion of culture presupposed here does not include a fixed system of norms and knowledge, against which a narrative could be judged. Instead, the single narratives engage with a preceding discourse on norms and knowledge, reproducing, modifying or shattering previous consensual, 11 On the usefulness of the concept of network for the history of ancient religion see Esther Eidinow, ‘Networks and Narratives: A Model for Ancient Greek Religion’, Kernos 24 (2011), 9-38 and Anna Collar, ‘Network Theory and Religious Innovation’, Mediterranean Historical Review 22, No. 1 (2007), 149-62; Jörg Rüpke, ‘Individuals and Networks’, in Laurent Bricault and Corinne Bonnet (eds), Panthée:ReligiousTransformationsintheGraeco-RomanEmpire, Religions in the Graeco-Roman World 177 (Leiden, 2013), 261-77. 12 See Eve-Marie Becker, ‘Literarisierung und Kanonisierung im frühen Christentum: Einführende Überlegungen zur Entstehung und Bedeutung des neutestamentlichen Kanons’, in EveMarie Becker and Stefan Scholz (eds), KanoninKonstruktionundDekonstruktion:KanonisierungsprozessereligiöserTextevonderAntikebiszurGegenwart.EinHandbuch (Berlin, 2012), 392 on 1Thess. 5:27. Evidently, to thematize the public reading points to an anticipated problem. One can read 1 and 2Thess. as a diptychon addressing intra and inter-group religious communication (cf. Eve-Marie Becker, ‘Von Paulus zu “Paulus”: paulinische Pseudepigraphie-Forschung als literaturgeschichtliche Aufgabe’, in Jörg Frey and Jens Herzer (eds), Pseudepigraphieund VerfasserfiktioninfrühchristlichenBriefen,PseudepigraphieandauthorfictioninearlyChristian letters (Tübingen, 2009), 384 who tries to plot the complex relationship of 1 and 2Thess. differently). 13 See e.g. Thomas E. Lawson, Rethinkingreligion:connectingcognitionandculture (Cambridge, 1990); Robert N. McCauley, Bringingritualtomind:psychologicalfoundationsofculturalforms (Cambridge, 2002); Robert N. McCauley, Whyreligionisnaturalandscienceisnot (New York, 2012) on the concept of “minimal counterintuitive”. 14 See Albrecht Koschorke, WahrheitundErfindung:GrundzügeeinerAllgemeinenErzähltheorie (Frankfurt a.M., 2012), 84 who argues that the determination of the coherence of a text participates in the processes of negotiating the coherence of culture at the same moment.

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hegemonic or conflicting positions.15 Thus, strategies of authentication can be observed but hardly judged as to their efficacy. Extra-textual references strengthen the verifiability and probability of a narrative, but plausibility of a narrative claiming to be historical is achieved by internal coherence of the story told as much as by external coherence with general knowledge and grand narratives.16 Thus, indicating an author’s correct name, the orthonym, is neither a necessary nor a necessarily successful strategy. Attributing the text to another or even a fictitious author, pseudepigraphy and pseudonym, are important mimetic strategies, claiming authority to the narrative’s form and content rather than its author’s personal authority.17 Images of authorship and norms governing authorship are related to changing networks and periods, too.18 For a history of the period, the focus on narrative helps to keep this dynamic and fluid character of religious practices in addition to structural matches in mind. Finally, the role of narrative in the formation of a network depends as much on the consensus produced by the shared acceptance of the stories and the outlines of the sequence as on the delineations of relevant contexts for the ‘We’ and ‘Our past’ of the text. Such a We is not simply given, but maintained by and created through constant communication. The degree of explicitness and exclusivity may vary widely, depending on the choice of subject, the selfdefinition of the implicit or explicit narrator, the choice of literary convention (genre being itself a way of talking that is related to a specific social context) or the evaluations offered by the narrator. The implicit reader of fables is less narrowly defined than the implicit reader of a historical narrative. The long history and broad diffusion of fables is testimony for that19 and illustrates the generic difference of narrative. Recent narratological research has given much more daring answers to justify the choice of narrative for an analysis of the entanglement of changes in literary and religious practices. Albrecht Koschorke, literary critique and historian of culture, has formulated a general theory of narrative, which intends to understand the enormous success of narrative in different periods and cultures.20 His interest in the functioning of narrative within a cultural context 15

This dynamic concept of culture is built on the arguments of Stanley J. Tambiah, Culture, Thought,andSocialAction:AnAnthropologicalPerspective (Cambridge, MA, 1985); Margaret S. Archer, CultureandAgency:Theplaceofcultureinsocialtheory (Cambridge, 1996); Claude Calame, ‘Interprétation et traduction des cultures: Les catégories de la pensée et du discours anthropologiques’, L’Homme 163 (2002), 51-78 and Bruno Latour, ReassemblingtheSocial:An IntroductiontoActor-Network-Theory (Oxford, 2005). 16 Marie Verdoner, Narrated Reality: The Historia ecclesiastica of Eusebius of Caesarea, Early Christianity in the Context of Antiquity (Frankfurt a.M., 2011), 19. 17 As shown by Eve-Marie Becker, ‘Von Paulus zu “Paulus”’ (2009), 377-8. 18 See e.g. Derek Krueger, Writing and holiness: The practice of authorship in the early ChristianEast, Divinations (Philadelphia, 2004) for late antiquity. 19 See in general Reinhard Dithmar, Fabeln,ParabelnundGleichnisse (Paderborn, 1995). 20 See Albrecht Koschorke, WahrheitundErfindung (2012), 27-110 for the following.

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that is characterized by its complexity, hybridity, and fluidity, addresses many features that are not prominent in classical narratological theory or widely dispersed.21 Unlike the tools of narratological analysis developed by scholars like Gérard Genette,22 Koschorke’s ‘elementary operations’ of narrative do not aim at offering a tool-box for the analysis of concrete texts, but explore the relationship of texts and their audience. Despite the fact that Koschorke is not particularly interested in religion,23 his general considerations could be a useful starting point for an inquiry into the place of narrative in a history of religion in the imperial period.

2. Framed by empire Giving a beginning and an end to a narrative’s sequence, which in principle could always start abovo and end in the presence, is one of the most powerful tools not only to create or simply define a place and time for a plot, but also to construe conflicts, to point to justice achieved or deferred. Ovid’s narrative of the expulsion of the last Roman king, Tarquinius Superbus, offers a good example. It is not by narrating the Tarquinii’s plans of the megalomaniac Capitoline temple or some disputed decision to wage war and thus pointing to the superbia of the king or the deficits of a monarchy that Ovid begins his narrative in the Librifastorum.24 Instead, it is the departure from the battlefield in order to rape Lucretia, which starts off the narrative. Careful framing isolated the underlying conflict or moral deficiency and the perspective offered by the deed.25 Such a sequence of rape, suicide of the victim, and vengeance taken – and thus ending monarchy – implied ethic norms and contains exhortations to imitate the protagonists. Gospels, martyrological, and many a hagiographic text offered sequences that were easy to follow. The interplay of the order of the dramaturgical setting and the complication and resolution of conflicts given by the narrative sequence, of scenes and peripeteias, produce the entertaining effect of narratives, asking 21

Cf. Michael Scheffel, ‘Im Dickicht von Kultur und Narration: Albrecht Koschorke versucht Kulturtheorie und Erzählforschung zu vereinen’, Diegesis 2/1 (2013), 160-6. For a good overview see Matías Martínez and Michael Scheffel, EinführungindieErzähltheorie (München, 2012). 22 Gérard Genette, DieErzählung, trans. Andreas Knop (München, 1994). 23 For an explicit and comparative interest in religious (and in particular Islamic) narrative see e.g. Stephan Conermann, ‘Mythen, Geschichte(n), Identitäten: eine Einführung’, in id. (ed.), Mythen, Geschichte(n),Identitäten:derKampfumdieVergangenheit(AsienundAfrika)(Hamburg, 1999), 1-32; Stephan Conermann, Modi des Erzählens in nicht-abendländischen Texten, Narratio Aliena?: Studien des Bonner Zentrums für Transkulturelle Narratologie (Berlin, 2009). 24 Ovid, Fasti 2.721 ff. 25 See Jörg Rüpke, ‘‘Königsflucht’ und Tyrannenvertreibung: Zur Historisierung des Regifugium in augusteischer Zeit’, in Rolf Gröschner and Wolfgang Reinhard (eds), TagederRevolution–Feste derNation, Politika 3 (Tübingen, 2010), 29-41.

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for their prolongation and repetition.26 In an elaborate literary text, multiple frames might complicate the start of a narrative sequence. Here, the look at beginnings and endings has to pay attention to oddities like the tensions between contents and frame. Such tensions might be observed in the first group of texts, which are selected, because they aimed in very different ways at religious innovation. Writing under Tiberius, Valerius Maximus collected factaetdictamemorabilia and started by a book on religion. A preface to such a collection is not unusual, but his prayer-like invocation of the emperor (te…certissimasalus patriae,Caesar,invoco–‘I call onto you, Caesar, … the most certain [source of] salvation of our native land’) in a place where occasionally the invocation of a Muse or some inspiring god might be found, but is far from standard, is surprising. This opening is matched by references to Caesarianaaequitas and inexpugnabilemCaesarisconstantiam, ‘Imperial justice’ and ‘invincible steadfastness of the Emperor’, at the very end of book 9.27 Thus, the very contents of the whole oeuvre that offers a non-chronological sequence of short narratives that demonstrate recommendable values and repeatable models, is given a place within a new order. It is the new condition of the Principate that gives rise to the idea of an ordered reflection on the values of the Republic and the past in general and that offers the guarantee that these values remain valid and should orientate individual action.28 A similar and equally surprising framing (if judged from the bird eye’s view rather than linear reading) can be found in a text from the early second century, written at Rome, that is the first letter of Clemens to the Corinthians. The ascription of the letter to Clemens (maybe the secretary of a Roman church mentioned in the ShepherdofHermas) is not reflected in the text itself, which claims to be based on collective authority: ‘The church of God that temporarily resides in Rome, to the church of God that temporarily resides in Corinth, to those who have been called and made holy by the will of God through our Lord Jesus Christ’ (pr., trans. B. Ehrmann).29 The long final prayer concludes with a plea for security and protection, directly leading to a reflection on the archousinkaihêgoumenoishêmônepitêsgês, ‘the present rulers and governors of the earth’ (60.4). Their rule is lengthily theologically justified, a passage directly leading into the final doxology (61). The general considerations about 26

Albrecht Koschorke, WahrheitundErfindung (2012), 61-74. Val. Max. 9.15.5 and 9.15.ext. 1. 28 David Wardle, ‘Valerius Maximus on the domus Augusta, Augustus and Tiberius’, Classical Quarterly 50 (2000), 479-93; David Wardle, ‘The Heroism and heroicisation of Tiberius: Valerius Maximus and his Emperor’, Proseetlinguistique,médecine 2 (2002), 433-40; Ute Lucarelli, ExemplarischeVergangenheit:ValeriusMaximusunddieKonstruktiondessozialenRaumesin derfrühenKaiserzeit, Hypomnemata 172 (Göttingen, 2007). 29 Bart D. Ehrman (ed. and trans.), TheApostolicFathers1:IClement,IIClement,Ignatius, Polycarp,Didache(Cambridge, Mass., 2003). 27

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framing orientate the analysis to the beginning. The just quoted passage and the final references to revolt and peace (63.1, 3) invite to understand the opening passage on misery and stasis (1.1) within the same political framework. Thus, the whole narration of the biblical past (which justify to include the text into my analysis) and the systematic reflections on a fitting way of life is contextualized by the same imperial rule at Rome and Corinth, even if the characterization of author and addressee tries to explicitly deny the importance of that context (hêparoikousaRômê…, pr.). A few decades later Marcion’s Gospel, narrating the story of Jesus’ preaching, execution, and re-appearance in a geographical and narrative frame of “going down to Capernaum” and “returning to Jerusalem”, was opened by an elaborate synchronism bringing together the 15th year of Tiberius’ reign and Pontius Pilate’s governorship in Judea,30 did not only offer a date but firmly places the provincial events in the framework of the Empire. What are the consequences of the findings for a history of religious change? It was not the necessity of the frequently invoked imperial cult that was lying at the basis of these decisions about framing. What we witness are the individual attempts at interpreting religion and bringing religious innovation into a framework explicitly imperial.31 It goes far beyond lip-service or loyalty, beyond the availability of the imperial divinity32 and the presence of proper cult of the emperors. 33 Such organized worship was disturbingly late, that is to say, absent for long periods, in many places. The texts were not only a result of a political and religious context, but had effects themselves. It was the frequent and varying individual literary appropriation, even if not fully integrated into the story of the narrative, which accounts for the ubiquity of the figure of the 30

1:2 Klinghardt = Luke 3:1. See already Glen W. Bowersock, ‘Greek Intellectuals and the Imperial Cult in the Second Century A.D.’, in id. (ed.), StudiesontheEasternRomanEmpire:Social,EconomicandAdministrative History, Religion, Historiography (Goldbach, 1994), 293-326; Tim Whitmarsh (ed.), LocalKnowledgeandMicroidentitiesintheImperialGreekWorld, Greek culture in the Roman world (Cambridge, 2010); Greg Woolf, ‘Afterworld: The Local and the Global in the GraecoRoman East’, in Tim Whitmarsh (ed.), Local Knowledge and Microidentities in the Imperial GreekWorld, Greek culture in the Roman world (Cambridge, 2010), 189-200. 32 See Clifford Ando, ‘A religion for the empire’, in Anthony J. Boyle and William J. Dominik (eds), Flavian Culture: Culture, image, text (Leiden, 2003), 323-44. See also Clifford Ando, ImperialideologyandprovincialloyaltyintheRomanEmpire, Classics and contemporary thought 6 (Berkeley, 2000) on loyalty. 33 Important insights were reached by Simon R.F. Price, Rituals and Power: The Roman ImperialCultinAsiaMinor (Cambridge, 1984); see also Manfred Clauss,KaiserundGott:HerrscherkultimrömischenReich (Stuttgart, 1999) and the contributions in Hubert Cancik and Konrad Hitzl (eds), Die Praxis der Herrscherverehrung in Rom und seinen Provinzen (Tübingen, 2003) as well as Jeffrey Brodd and Jonathan L. Reed (eds), Romeandreligion:across-disciplinary dialogueontheimperialcult, Writings from the Greco-Roman world supplement 5 (Atlanta, 2011) all concentrating on the practices and everyday realities of the cult of the reigning or previously consecrated emperors. 31

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emperor, which could hardly be achieved by other means. ‘Religion’ as a distinguishable practice is reflected within an explicitly imperial framework, thus constituting empire and religion. If empire and religion operate on a similar trans-local level, as I have shown in the beginning, the avoidance of competition demands a careful reflection on their relationship. The epithet augusta/us (relating many divine figures or abstract concepts to the emperor and vice versa), solar attributes of the emperor (relating the political pivotal figure to the natural and frequently theological centre), and a Christology that is compatible with the divine status of the living emperor, thus bringing two competing figures at least in parallel, were different solutions to this problem. 3. Schematizing by biography Narrative reduction produces schemata. By dropping details, by simplifying complex events, and finally by giving names and applying the latters’ stereotyped properties to the actual object of the narration, narrative schemes are developed, which could be identified on a more general level than the single stories. Such schemata help to follow and to memorize stories; terms like “expedition” or “battle”, “gospel” or “passion” point to such narrative structures. They raise the degree of connectivity of the concrete story, that is, the possibility to relate it to other stories.34 The transposition of the much reduced narrative schemata of Ilias and Odyssee into Vergil’s Aeneid 35 allowed integrating local Italian traditions. Jesus’ passion could serve as a model for martyrdom in Ignatius of Antiochia or Polycarp of Smyrna.36 One of the most successful overarching schemes employed in the period under analysis was the biographical. The brief narration of a life was an element in narratives of the past in many circum-Mediterranean traditions. During the Hellenistic period it became as important as to provoke independent texts, bioi, of politicians and authors, of prophets and heads of philosophical schools.37 34

Albrecht Koschorke, WahrheitundErfindung (2012), 29-38. Georg Nicolaus Knauer, Die Aeneis und Homer: Studien zur poetischen Technik Vergils mitListenderHomerzitateinderAeneis, Hypomnemata 7 (Göttingen, 1964). 36 E.g. Jan Bremmer, ‘‘Christianus sum’: The Early Christian Martyrs and Christ’, in Gerard J. Barteling, Anton Hilhorst and Corneille H. Kneepkens (eds), Eulogia: Mélanges offerts à AntoonA.R.Bastiaensenàl’occasiondesonsoixante-cinquièmeanniversaire (Den Haag, 1991), 11-20; Nicole Hartmann, Martyrium: Variationen und Potenziale eines Diskurses im Zweiten Jahrhundert, Early Christianity in the Context of Antiquity 14 (Frankfurt a.M., 2013). 37 Ancient biography has been dealt with in a number of studies, of which Bruno Gentili and Giovanni Cerri, HistoryandBiographyinAncientThought, London Studies in Classical Philology 20 (Amsterdam, 1988); Christina Shuttleworth Kraus, ‘Historiography and Biography’, in Stephen J. Harrison (ed.), ACompaniontoLatinLiterature, Blackwell companions to the ancient world: Literature and culture (Malden, Mass., 2007), 241-56; Gyburg Radke-Uhlmann, ‘Aitiologien des Selbst: Moderne Konzepte und ihre Alternativen in antiken autobiographischen Texten’, in 35

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The importance given to the genealogy of the latter provoked serial texts as known from Suetonian imperial lives or lives of poets.38 Structures and evaluations were as varied as the fields touched upon and the encomiastic or vituperating contexts in funerals, accession ceremonies or lawsuits, which rivaled in establishing criteria. Biographies particularly exemplify a general trait of narrative and one of its reasons of success. As far as the actual sequence of events and their interdependency is concerned, schematization leads to either weak motivation or causal over-determination. Narrative is knowing, but narration is communication.39 The lack of sufficient motivation as well as the surplus of causes engage the hearer in active participation to either fill in or sort out explanations. In that manner they further the appropriation of a narrative by quite different individuals. Typically for narrative, motivation takes the form of attributing agency, either to human or to superhuman actors, thus producing ‘over-coherence’ of the not any longer contingent course of events. Alexander Arweiler and Melanie Möller (eds), VomSelbst-VerständnisinAntikeundNeuzeit, NotionsoftheSelfinAntiquityandBeyond, Transformationen der Antike 8 (Berlin, 2008), 10729; Tomas Hägg, TheArtofBiographyinAntiquity (Cambridge, 2012) and also Brian McGing and Judith Mossman, The Limits of Ancient Biography (Swansea, 2006) offer the most fruitful perspectives. For religious biography of the period see Charles H. Talbert, ‘Biographies of Philosophers and Rulers as Instruments of Religious Propaganda in Mediterranean Antiquity’, ANRW II.16,2 (1978), 1619-51; Patricia Cox, BiographyinLateAntiquity:AQuestfortheHolyMan, Transformation of the Classical Heritage 5 (Berkeley, 1983); Arnoldo Momigliano, ‘Ancient Biography and the Study of Religion in the Roman Empire’, in id. (ed.), Ottavocontributoalla storiadeglistudiclassiciedelmondoantico (Rome, 1987), 193-210; Albrecht Dihle, ‘Antike Grundlagen’, in Walter Berschin (ed.), BiographiezwischenRenaissanceundBarock (Heidelberg, 1993), 1-22; John Dillon, ‘Holy and not so Holy: On the Interpretation of Late Antique Biography’, in Brian McGing and Judith Mossman (eds), TheLimits ofAncientBiography (Swansea, 2006), 155-67; Jason König, ‘The Cynic and Christian Lives of Lucian’s Peregrinus’, in Brian McGing and Judith Mossman (eds), The Limits of Ancient Biography (Swansea, 2006), 227-54; Muriel Debié, ‘Writing history as “histories”: the biographical dimension of East Syriac historiography’, in Arietta Papaconstantinou (ed.), Writing“TrueStories”:HistoriansandHagiographers intheLateAntiqueandMedievalNearEast (Turnhout, 2010), 43-75; briefly Alan O’Gorman, ‘Imperial History and Biography at Rome’, in Andrew Feldherr, Grant Hardy and Ian Hesketh (eds), TheOxfordhistoryofhistoricalwriting1:BeginningstoAD600 (Oxford, 2011), 291-315. Biography is not limited to the Greco-Roman literary traditions, cf. for Buddha and Muhammad: Gordon Darnell Newby, TheMakingoftheLastProphet:AReconstructionoftheEarliestBiographyofMuhammad (Columbia, 1989); Marco Schöller, ‘Biographical Essentialism and the Life of Muhammad in Islam’, in Andreas Schüle (ed.), BiographiealsreligiöserundkulturellerText, Biographyasareligiousandculturaltext, Literatur – Medien – Religion (Münster, 2002), 15372; Claudine Bautze-Picron, ‘The biography of the Buddha in Indian art: how and when?’, in Andreas Schüle (ed.), BiographiealsreligöserundkulturellerText,Biographyasareligiousand culturaltext (Münster, 2002), 197-239. 38 Cf. John Kieschnick, ‘Buddhism: Biographies of Buddhist Monks’, in Andrew Feldherr, Grant Hardy and Ian Hesketh (eds), TheOxfordhistoryofhistoricalwriting1:BeginningstoAD600 (Oxford, 2011), 535-52 for Buddhist serial biographies. 39 Barbara Czarniawska, NarrativesinSocialScienceResearch(London, 2004), 6.

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What is important for the history of religion of the period is the general fact that what is regarded as a successful (or subversive) explanation varies widely from epoch to epoch, from context to context, but even between individuals. For antiquity, the whole range of aitiological narrative must be recalled. Plausibility of a strange combination of elements in present-day ritual or topography is ‘explained’ by emplotment, by rendering these elements as results of the not too complex actions of some agents. Prodigies or omina in general offer a powerful tool to overdetermine narratives without stressing historicity in each instance. Even Tacitus’ analytical or Caesar’s matter-of-factly historical narratives in the ‘Annals’ respectively in the ‘Commentaries’ include such elements.40 Narrative economy is given more importance than historical certainty. As cognitive studies have shown, it is in particular the irritation produced by minimally counterintuitive connections, which make the story more memorable.41 Apart from such miraculous and easily memorisable elements as topics of biographical descriptions, religious practices and beliefs enter the field of biography only slowly. I select two early examples from quite divergent backgrounds. Innovative in regard to earlier historiographic treatments of the same figure, Plutarch opted for a full-fledged biography for Rome’s second king, Numa, written after the death of Domitian, i.e. after AD 96.42 Assembling many a traditional feature within this framework, Plutarch is practicing diversification (on which see below) in attributing to Numa the role of pontifex.43 This is an irritating element, as Numa had previously been characterized as a founding figure on a level above all the institutions which were taken as characteristic of public religious practices at Rome.44 Plutarch’s move was probably referring to the contemporary ascendency of this priestly role within the moral characterization 40 Frank Brunell Krauss, AnInterpretationoftheOmens,Portents,andProdigiesRecorded by Livy, Tacitus, and Suetonius (Philadelphia, 1930); Hans Kröger, Die Prodigien bei Tacitus (Münster, 1940); Jörg Rüpke, ReligiöseErinnerungskulturen:FormenderGeschichtsschreibung inderrömischenAntike (Darmstadt, 2012), 74. 41 Albrecht Koschorke, WahrheitundErfindung (2012), 77; Harvey Whitehouse and Robert McCauley (eds), Mindandreligion:psychologicalandcognitivefoundationsofreligiosity, Cognitive science of religion series (Walnut Creek, Calif., 2005). 42 The latter’s death is alluded to in 19.7. 43 Plutarch, Numa 9.1. 44 On earlier images of Numa see Wilhelm Buchmann, De Numae regis Romanorum fabula (Leipzig, 1912); Edna M. Hooker, ‘The Significance of Numa’s Religious Reforms’, Numen 10 (1963), 87-132; J.D. Cloud, ‘Numa’s Calendar in Livy and Plutarch’, LCM 4 (1979), 65-71; Emilio Gabba, ‘The collegia of Numa: Problems of Method and Political Ideas’, JRS 74 (1984), 81-6; Peter Panitschek, ‘Numa Pompilius als Schüler des Pythagoras’, GrazerBeiträge 17 (1990), 49-66; Luciana Japella Contardi, IsystematadiNuma:unaspettodellaformazionedellacittàantica (Torino, 1991); Vinzenz Buchheit, ‘Numa-Pythagoras in der Deutung Ovids’, Hermes 121(1993), 77-99; Alain Deremetz, ‘Numa in Augustan Poetry’, in Joseph Farrell and Damien P. Nelis (eds), AugustanPoetryandtheRomanRepublic (Oxford, 2013). For Numa in late antiquity see Hartwin Brandt, ‘König Numa in der Spätantike: Zur Bedeutung eines frührömischen exemplum in der spätrömischen Literatur’, MH 45(1998), 98-110.

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of the Roman emperor, which could be detected in several contemporary texts.45 As a Pythagorean philosopher and king Numa offered the ideal of a philosophical ruler46 now also including an expressly ritualistic element. The biographical super-scheme with its different narrative sub-schemes was attractive far beyond Plutarch’s and Suetonius’ biographies. The autobiography of Flavius Josephus is a case in point. Like Plutarch’s Numa he was also displaying concerns of the period and opted for an ‘imperial’ framing. He started by pointing to his priestly and royal origins (1) and finished his narrative by stating that ‘Domitia, Caesar’s wife, never ceased conferring favours upon me’ (429).47 Greater impact was made, however, by the numerous acts and gospels coming into being in particular during the second and the third centuries.48 Such a biographical interest is not only attested by Marcion’s Gospel, but also by his selection of Pauline letters, which allow to follow the apostle from Jerusalem to Rome. The extension of these interests is demonstrated beyond the Jewish tradition by Pythagorean and other ‘lives’.49 Stories of exemplary 45 Jörg Rüpke, ‘Starting sacrifice in the beyond: Flavian innovations in the concept of priesthood and their repercussions in the treatise ‘To the Hebrews’’, Revued’histoiredesreligions 229 (2012), 5-30. 46 Noemi Lombardi, ‘[Plutarco, Vite parallele: Numa] Introduzione’, in Barbara Scardigli (ed.), Plutarco,LicurgoeNuma (Milano, 2012), 391. 47 For Josephus cf. Mireille Hadas-Lebel, ‘Le double récit autobiographique chez Flavius Josèphe’, in Marie-Françoise Baslez, Philippe Hoffmann and Laurent Pernot (eds), L’invention de l’autobiographie d’Hésiode à Saint Augustin: Actes du deuxième colloque de l’Équipe de recherche sur l’hellénisme post-classique (Paris, École normale supérieure, 14-16 juin 1990) (Paris, 1993), 125-32. On autobiography see Johannes Engels, ‘Die Ὑπομνήματα-Schriften und die Anfänge der politischen Biographie und Autobiographie in der griechischen Literatur’, ZPE 96(1993), 19-3; Christopher Pelling, ‘Was there an ancient genre of “autobiography”? or, did Augustus know what he was doing?’, in Christopher Smith (ed.), ThelostmemoirsofAugustus andthedevelopmentofRomanautobiography(Swansea, 2009), 41-123; Christopher Smith (ed.), ThelostmemoirsofAugustusandthedevelopmentofRomanautobiography (Swansea, 2009). 48 For the discussion about the biographical character of some gospels see Hubert Cancik, ‘Die Gattung Evangelium: Das Evangelium des Markus im Rahmen der antiken Historiographie’, in id. (ed.), Markus-Philologie:Historische,literargeschichtlicheundstilistischeUntersuchungenzum zweiten Evangelium (Tübingen, 1984), 85-113; Hubert Cancik, ‘Bios und Logos: Formengeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Lukians ‘Leben des Demonax’’, in ibid., 115-30; Detlev Dormeyer and Hubert Frankemölle, ‘Evangelium als literarische Gattung und als theologischer Begriff: Tendenzen und Aufgaben der Evangelienforschung im 20. Jahrhundert, mit einer Untersuchung des Markusevangeliums in seinem Verhältnis zur antiken Biographie’, ANRW II.25.2 (1984), 1543704; sceptical Eve-Marie Becker, DasMarkus-EvangeliumimRahmenantikerHistoriographie, WUNT 194 (Tübingen, 2006); differentiated Armin D. Baum, ‘Biographien im alttestamentlichrabbinischen Stil: Zur Gattung der neutestamentlichen Evangelien’, Biblica 94 (2013), 534-64. 49 See e.g. Blossom Stefaniw, ‘Gregory Taught, Gregory Written: The effacement and definition of individualization in the Address to Origen and the Life of Gregory the Wonderworker’, in Jörg Rüpke and Wolfgang Spickermann (eds), Reflections on Religious Individuality: GrecoRomanandJudaeo-ChristianTextsandPractices, Religionsgeschichtliche Versuche und Vorarbeiten 62 (Berlin, 2012), 119-43; Sarah Iles Johnston, ‘Sosipatra and the Theurgic Life: Eunapius Vitae Sophistorum 6.6.5-6.9.24’, in ibid., 99-117.

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lives, already known from previous periods are supplemented by stories of conversion.50 The importance of these competitive narratives in all their diversity can hardly be exaggerated. The condensed, but inflatable and flexible form enabled authors to generate or to reformulate religious knowledge in a manner that allowed for emotionally relating to the lives narrated as well as appropriation of claims and values raised in the text in vastly differing degrees. As has been stressed recently, the growing interest in the individual religious self and the textualization of religion go hand in hand.51 Biography was perhaps the most important literary form to communicate about individualisation. 4. Diversification as network-building Relating to common friends, ancestors, or biographical models by narration could easily be imagined as a strategy to strengthen existing groups. Could narrative also form part of the project of extending such nuclei or ancestor groups into larger networks? Narratological theory offers several observations which might contribute to explaining such processes. Biographical narrative is not just the presentation of interesting personalities. As narrative it is the combination of redundancy and variation, which produces consensus respectively attention. The reduction into schemata initiates processes of generalization and hence the enlargement of the audience, to whom the story might be relevant. De-differentiation creates consensus beyond borderlines of groups and interests. At the same time, opportunities to articulate oneself within a society’s communicative space are depending on one’s own will and ability to distance oneself from such narrative generalizations.52 Experts question general narratives, even if their potential to change collective knowledge is rather small. For ancient literature, bold summaries, whether within larger narratives or as a genre of its own (epitome,periochae), secure and create consensus, up to the point where (in a dialectical movement) confessional ‘creeds’ demand exact wording in order to include and exclude. In his commentary on the Roman calendar, Ovid mixes close to tautological 50 Barbara Diana Lipsett, Desiringconversion:Hermas,Thecla,Aseneth (New York, 2011) on Hermas, the Acts of Paul and Thecla and the romance of Joseph and Aseneth. 51 See Jörg Rüpke, ‘Religiöse Individualität in der Antike’, in Bernd Janowski (ed.), Der ganzeMensch:ZurAnthropologiederAntikeundihrereuropäischenNachgeschichte (Berlin, 2012), 199-219; and contributions in Jörg Rüpke and Wolfgang Spickermann (eds), Reflections onReligiousIndividuality (2012); Jörg Rüpke, ‘Introduction: Individualisation and individuation as concepts for historical research’, in id. (ed.), TheIndividualintheReligionsoftheAncient Mediterranean (Oxford, 2013), 3-28; Jörg Rüpke and Greg Woolf, ‘Introduction’, in iid. (eds), ReligiousDimensionsoftheSelfintheSecondCenturyCE, Studien und Texte zu Antike und Christentum 76 (Tübingen, 2013), vii-xi. 52 Albrecht Koschorke, WahrheitundErfindung (2012), 38-51, in particular 41.

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explanations and the presentation of everyday knowledge with stark personal claims on other issues, basing his authority at times on quotations from deities (even if the fictional character of such claims would have been obvious to his readers).53 Usually, diversification is not simply producing variants at will. Due to their history and their participation in different schemes, narratives are characterized by repertoires of details, which could be brought to bear on a concrete story; there is a ‘curious tendency to preserve the apparently odd, trivial, disconnected and novel element’.54 From the late republic onwards, Numa could not be thought without his books, invented in the early second century BC to legitimise Pythagorean philosophy at Rome. The role of the odd and novel holds in particular true for those narratives that had gained canonical status in antiquity, be it the tenakh or some epics. For the former, the hallakhic midrashim with their interest in even tiny details of a Pentateuchic story might be named.55 Likewise late ancient commentaries on Vergil, Servius as well as Macrobius, demonstrate the interpretive potentials of a temporally distant and complex text.56 What might have been forgotten in the constant flow of retelling a story, was preserved in written texts. Writing, if not already a means of production, accommodates needs for details and enables their transmission. Historically, diversification within the established framework motivates ongoing participation in telling and re-telling, in offering diverse perspectives and thus stressing the legitimacy of diverse perspectives. For the second century the extension of religious networks cannot be reconstructed on the basis of contemporary or later interests in determining canonical accounts. As one could expect, normative discourses about orthodox and heretic, closer or more distant to a canon, employed much tighter criteria than the widely shared norms attested by actual usage of texts in different networks. In such a perspective, the phenomenon of ‘rewritten bible’ and ‘rewritten gospel’ could be better understood57 53 Jörg Rüpke, ‘The ‘Connected Reader’ as a Window into Lived Ancient Religion: A Case Study of Ovid’s Libri fastorum’, ReligionintheRomanEmpire1/1 (2015), 95-113. 54 Albrecht Koschorke, WahrheitundErfindung (2012), 51-60, here 53, quoting Frederic Bartlett, Remembering:AStudyinExperimentalandSocialPsychology (Cambridge, 1964), 273. 55 Eyal Ben-Eliyahu, Yehudah Cohn and Fergus Millar, HandbookofJewishLiteraturefrom LateAntiquity,135-700CE (Oxford, 2012), 62. 56 See even for the 19th cent. Laurenz Lersch, AntiquitatesVergilianaeadvitampopuliRomani descripta (Bonn, 1843). 57 See Timothy P. Henderson, TheGospelofPeterandEarlyChristianApologetics:RewritingtheStoryofJesus’Death,Burial,andResurrection, WUNT 2.301 (Tübingen, 2011), 224 for the extension of the concept onto some of the narratives named in the following. For the concept see already Lawrence H. Schiffman, ‘The sacrificial system of the Temple Scroll and the Book of Jubilees’, Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers No. 24 (1985), 217-33 and Louis H. Feldman, Studies in Josephus’ rewritten bible, Supplements to the Journal for the study of Judaism 58 (Leiden, 1998); for an application to modern re-telling see Adele Reinhartz, ‘‘Rewritten Gospel’: The Case of Caiaphas the High Priest’, NewTestamentStudies 55/2 (2009), 160-78.

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and freed from its perspective of mere reproduction. Several examples from Judaeo-Christian texts demonstrate the wide range of religious ideas being integrated in such narratives: In the text called ‘Epistle of the Apostles’, in a dialogue with the resurrected, the interlocutors, some apostolic We, learned from Jesus: ‘I appeared in the form of the archangel Gabriel to the virgin Mary and spoke with her, and her heart received (me); she believed and laughed; and I, the Word, went into her and became flesh; and I myself was servant for myself; and in the likeness of an angel, like him will I do, and after it I will go to my Father’ (14, trans. B. Ehrmann).58 Markus Vinzent has pointed to comparable narrative innovations to be found in the Ascension of Isaiah: ‘It came to pass that when they were alone that Mary straightway looked with her eyes and saw a small babe, and she was astonished. And after she had been astonished, her womb was found as formerly before she had conceived’ (11.8-9).59 The second century ‘Gospel of the Saviour’ does not shrink from having Jesus announce to ‘go down to Hades’ (7, trans. B. Ehrmann). Again, it should be pointed out that somebody like Philo in his theoretical dealings with the Septuagint concentrated on re-narrating without paying too much importance to detailed textual problems.60 These examples illustrate that narrative is a strategy to stimulate affects and to engage with the social dynamics of a group. It is not its ability to rehearse a shared creed, which is important here, but the possibility to come to grips with the diversity of a polycentric culture, allowing for play and transcending the limitations of a given situation. As Koschorke remarks, it is the very possibility to only partially participate in a narrative, which enables the formation of large groups.61 For the formation of larger blocks of ‘Hellenists’ and ‘Christians’ in the fourth century or Marcionites and Circumcised in the second century this flexibility offered by the differing canones was of high importance. The repeated production and re-use of passion narratives or other biographical sequences from the second century onwards demonstrate the range and the degree of openness and closure regarding the inclusion and exclusion of recipients. For a history of religion that is not confined to a history of ideas, it is the web of variants and retellings, which makes narratives so relevant for religious transformations. From the perspective developed above, the coherence of the communication thus achieved rather than details in diversification 58 Bart D. Ehrman, Lost Scriptures: Books that Did Not Make It into the New Testament (Oxford, 2003), 75. 59 Markus Vinzent, ‘Give and Take amongst Second Century Authors: The Ascension of Isaiah, the Epistle of the Apostles and Marcion of Sinope’, StudiaPatristica 50(2011), 119-22. 60 Maren Niehoff, ‘Philons Beitrag zur Kanonisierung der griechischen Bibel’, in Eve-Marie Becker and Stefan Scholz (eds), KanoninKonstruktionundDekonstruktion:Kanonisierungsprozesse religiöser Texte von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart. Ein Handbuch (Berlin, 2012), 329-44. 61 Albrecht Koschorke, WahrheitundErfindung (2012), 161.

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should be stressed. Identifying different ‘heresies’ by paying attention to minute differences is a strategy of competitors, it should not be the strategy of historians. Inclusion or exclusion of potential recipients is seen along ethnic lines of Romans and Jews in the ‘Gospel of Peter’, which replaces agents within the same plot and opens a new agenda in its anti-Jewish polemics.62 Dividing lines need not be ethnic. Jan Bremmer has pointed to the prominent role of women in the ActsofJohn, a feature, which neither attests a female author nor a primarily female audience, but could help to include women into the networks created by such narrative.63 Despite the fact that individual female writers and copyists64 were existent and made an impression on the shape of the text transmitted, it is a new concept of authorship, tinged by asceticism, which changed the role of women and female virtue within the hierarchies of the stories.65 This is not to say that the stories varied the repertoire of details strategically. Framing was important, even if frequently not known due to the fragmentary status of texts and the loss of beginnings and ends by damage incurred by book roles or codices. With regard to such framings, the opening synchronisms of the GospelofLuke or the genealogy of Matthew share their inclusiveness with the beginning of the GospeloftheEbionites from the first half of the second century: ‘And so in the days of Herod, King of Judea, John came baptizing a baptism of repentance in the Jordan River. He was said to have come from the tribe of Aaron, the priest, and was the child of Zacharias and Elizabeth.’66 Such a framing enabled a much broader circle of recipients to relate to these narratives than in the case of the sudden start of the narrative about John the Baptist in Mark. 5. Authorship Let me address a final analytical perspective onto history of religion opened by narratology. Not necessarily present in the narrated story (that would be intra-diegetical) or not even explicitly present in the narrative (that would at 62

E.g. 1, 25, 49; see Timothy P. Henderson, TheGospelofPeter (2011). Jan Bremmer, ‘Women in the Apocryphal Acts of John’, in id. (ed.), TheApocryphalActs ofJohn (Kampen, 1995), 37-56. 64 For this phenomenon see Kim Haines-Eitzen, Thegenderedpalimpsest:Women,writing, andrepresentationinearlyChristianity (Oxford, 2012). 65 Derek Krueger, Writing and Holiness (2004), 191; see for the later period id., ‘Early Byzantine historiography and hagiography as different modes of Christian practice’, in Arietta Papaconstantinou (ed.), Writing “True Stories”: Historians and Hagiographers in the Late AntiqueandMedievalNearEast (Turnhout, 2010), 13-30. 66 Ev. Ebion. 1 = Epiphanius, Panarion 30.13.6, trans. Bart D. Ehrman, Lost Scriptures (2003), 15. 63

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least be extra-diegetical), the storyteller or more precisely, the position of the narrator, is of high importance for the reception of the narrated text. A firstperson narrator seems to guarantee for authenticity, but could be attacked as a (merely) particular point of view. In contrast, the omniscient, impersonal narrator seems to produce unfiltered truth, without age and origin, in particular if narrating scenes that by no means any human narrator could have witnessed. By restricting themselves to only minimal variations of plots already established in those preceding texts that were judged relevant by the readership, might be part of a strategy of auto-canonization by a subsequent writer.67 Her or his point of view and way of narrative would engage in inclusion or exclusion of recipients, would determine ‘we’ and ‘good’. Asymmetrical oppositions like Hellenes and Barbarians do not allow to opt for the other, who is described as homogeneous and clearly delimited, thus producing the mirror image of an internal homogeneity within the we-group and suppressing internal differences.68 Marcion’s strategy to clearly oppose a we from ‘the Ioudaioi’ is not uncontested. Even in the beginning of the third century, the Roman author Hippolytos is still very careful to introduce his usage of Ioudaioi as a term for contemporaries by determining them as those of the circumcision.69 Obviously, these are very different consequences of the positioning of the narrator. The range of the narrator’s presence is enormous and is part of a second-century process of turning more and more narratives into ‘religious’ texts. Again, I can only hint at instances within the framework chosen here. The way Aelius Aristides forces himself onto his readers is quite different from the self-conscious observer Lucian in dealing with the Dea Syria or the fully implicit gospel narrator in Mark, restricting himself to summaries and occasional explanations.70 Flavius Josephus explicitly leaves it to the reader to evaluate the miracle at the crossing of the sea.71 Other strategies were available. 67

Cf. Eve-Marie Becker, ‘Antike Textsammlungen in Konstruktion und Dekonstruktion: Eine Darstellung aus neutestamentlicher Sicht’, in Eve-Marie Becker and Stefan Scholz (eds), Kanon inKonstruktionundDekonstruktion:KanonisierungsprozessereligiöserTextevonderAntikebis zurGegenwart.EinHandbuch (Berlin, 2012), 7. 68 Albrecht Koschorke, WahrheitundErfindung (2012), 84-101, in particular 98. 69 See Hipp. Comm.inDan. 1.16; 1.30. Cf. the clearly hostile usage in contemporary contexts in 4.49, 40 and 57. 70 Petsalis-Diomidis, ‘Sacred Writing, Sacred Reading: The Function of Aelius Aristides’ Self-Presentation as Author in the Sacred Tales’, in Brian McGing and Judith Mossman (eds), TheLimitsofAncientBiography (Swansea, 2006), 193-211; Brooke Holmes, ‘Aelius Aristides’ illegible Body’, in William V. Harris and id. (eds), AeliusAristidesbetweenGreece,Rome,and theGods (Leiden, 2008), 81-113; Wolfgang Spickermann, ‘Lukian von Samosata und die fremden Götter’, ARG 11(2009), 229-61; Reinhold Zwick, MontageimMarkusevangelium:Studienzur narrativenOrganisationderältestenJesuserzählung, Stuttgarter biblische Beiträge 18 (Stuttgart, 1989). 71 René S. Bloch, Moses und der Mythos: Die Auseinandersetzung mit der griechischen Mythologiebeijüdisch-hellenistischenAutoren, Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism (Leiden, 2011), 237.

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The author of the ShepherdofHermas opted for a rigorous auto-biographical approach up to the point of self-denigration.72 Thus, the numerous succeeding visions do also serve legitimization, but above all they are tools to produce relevancy73 and command attention. The same might be said of the Acts of John, whether it is the raising of Lycomedes or the destruction of the temple at Ephesus.74 Most importantly, such narratives do use these motivations in order to defer agency, thus producing religious communication. God(s) – in whatever form – are relevant actors. As the examples of Aelius Aristides and Lucian have already shown, this is not restricted to Jewish authors. It is the Greco-Roman historian Dio Cassius who motivates his writing of a comprehensive Roman history by a dream vision at the beginning of the third century.75

6. Conclusion The brief review of some texts from (above all) the second century AD cannot prove the intuition of a growing number and importance of texts for the change in religion and the development of religious networks in this period. However, the narratological view onto some aspects of some (now I dare to say) religious texts helps to fill in some details of this process and to develop questions for more detailed studies. A rise in reflective individuality76 as demonstrated in the growing importance of the biographical scheme was correlated with a repositioning within the wider framework of the empire and the imagined direct relevancy of the emperor, probably far beyond any actual experiences. The formation of explicitly religious networks by way of communication was an option selected ever more frequently. Re-narrating of traditional stories and legitimizing the continuity of narration by introducing ever new details, both practices went hand in hand. Within emerging networks, individual identification and biographical authentication were not necessary, but possible. This was part of an ongoing debate about agency, which found its expression in a large variety of visionary narratives. The diffusion of successful texts as facilitated 72 Jörg Rüpke, ‘Two cities and one self: Transformations of Jerusalem and reflexive individualiy in the Shepherd of Hermas’, in id. and Greg Woolf (eds), ReligiousDimensionsofthe Self(2013), 49-65. 73 See Dan Sperber and Deirde Wilson, ‘Outline of Relevance Theory’, Links&Letters 1(1994), 85-106. 74 János Bolyki, ‘Miracle Stories in the Acts of John’, in Jan N. Bremmer (ed.), TheApocryphal ActsofJohn (Kampen, 1995), 15-35; Katja Wedekind, ReligiöseExpertenimlokalenKontext: KommunikationsmodelleinchristlichenQuellendes1.–3.Jh.n.Chr. (Gutenberg, 2012), 47-55. 75 Dio 73.23.1-2. 76 Jörg Rüpke, ‘Religiöse Individualität in der Antike’ (2012), 199-219; Jörg Rüpke, ‘Introduction: Individualisation and individuation as concepts for historical research’, in Jörg Rüpke (ed.), TheIndividualintheReligionsoftheAncientMediterranean (Oxford, 2013), 3-28.

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by the degree of exchange and mobility throughout the Roman Empire was accompanied by a relentless local production of new texts. Production, diffusion, and above all consumption of these texts did not only spread certain religious ideas, but also the idea of religion as something to be known, to influence not only isolated action, but a whole life. The large role played by narratives and their particular shapes suggests that the developments were dominated by the establishment and enlargement of networks rather than exclusivist tendencies. That is to say, in an even longer perspective, Augustan post-civil war classicism with its clearly defined systems of symbols and meanings and their anti-individualist implications had been laid to rest,77 the claims of a bishop Epiphanius to establish a new field of knowledge with himself as the foremost expert in heresiology,78 the age of division and institutional confrontation was yet to come. Change is hard to measure, but recognizable.

77 Cf. Glenn W. Most, ‘Principate and System’, in Thomas A. Schmitz and Nicolas Wiater (eds), Thestruggleforidentity:GreeksandtheirPastintheFirstCenturyBCE (Stuttgart, 2011), 178 f. 78 Thus Richard Flower, ‘Genealogies of unbelief: Epiphanius of Salamis and heresiological authority’, in Christopher Kelly (ed.), Unclassicaltraditions,Vol.2:PerspectivesfromEastand Westinlateantiquity, Cambridge classical journal: Supplementary volume (Cambridge, 2011), 87.

Marcion the Shipmaster: Unlikely Religious Experts of the Roman World? Heidi WENDT, McGill University, Canada

ABSTRACT This article examines biographical details about would-be religious specialists that foreground the banausic professions they held prior to or even during their forays into expertise. My express aim is to consider how these occupations – mercantilism, banking, shipping, cobbling, leather-working, etc. – coexisted with aspirations to gain recognition in more illustrious specialty, often ones with intellectual trappings (e.g., the production and interpretation of writings or the employment of philosophical discourses). Given their prominence in this evidence, Christians, and Marcion in particular, will serve as my primary examples. However, I regard Christian sources as a window into a broader phenomenon that was pronounced in cities of the Roman Empire, foremost at the capital.

1. Introduction It should be noted from the outset that there is reason to regard the alleged occupations of would-be experts with skepticism, particularly when they occur in intra-Christian denunciations of ‘heretics’ or literature that disparages Christians as a whole. Nor are these depictions limited to Christian discourse. From Petronius’ Trimalchio, a former slave cum wealthy merchant with an appetite for books and teachers, to Lucian’s laments about bibliophiles, philosophers, and historians culled from the ranks of doctors, soldiers, artisans, and peddlers, the imperial literary record is replete with comparable juxtapositions of pedestrian and cultured pursuits. While most occur in highly interested literature, they point to a burgeoning phenomenon of would-be experts arising from or inhabiting rather disparate social milieus. To take these accounts seriously requires reconciling a pervasive thread in depictions of religious experts with the complex social realities of urban intellectual life during the empire. Insofar as writers occupying different social niches foregrounded occupation as a source either of legitimacy or of impeachment, it is worth bringing into focus this dimension of religious culture. If true, what do such profiles of expertise disclose about dynamics of religious innovation in this period, particularly in cities? At a minimum, the archetype of the unlikely expert raises important questions about the relationship between stereotype and reality for

StudiaPatristica XCIX, 55-74. © Peeters Publishers, 2018.

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self-authorised specialists of all stripes. What piqued and enabled their aspirations to intellectual and/or religious authority? Were such aspirations even atypical for the period? In the case of Marcion, what would motivate a successful marine merchant to abandon ship, so to speak, to become a Roman Christian teacher with a proprietary religious program, following, and texts? To what extent did the image of the merchant or artisan sage filter how individuals or groups viewed or presented themselves in their literature? It is well established that Roman cities were hubs of literate exchange and also that early Christian writers partook of intellectual cultures and networks that were not exclusive to them. But I wonder whether this observation can be taken further by considering potential relationships between certain Christian texts and specific encoded audiences. That is, having theorised the social locations and settings of second-century Christian ‘experts’, is it possible to then map certain Christian writings onto such a hypothetical picture? For works of known authorship – Justin’s writings or those of Irenaeus – this endeavor is manageable enough. However, I am more interested in works written either anonymously or pseudonymously, thus concealing their actual authorship, compositional settings, and intended audiences. Certain features of gospel literature are most explicable as byproducts of intellectual competition among mutually aware rivals. Given the number of aspiring Christian teachers who coincided in Rome in the middle part of the second century, it is a compelling stage for the emergence of much of this literature. Hence, drawing on the arguments of Markus Vinzent, the final section of my article will consider whether the content of the (later) canonical gospels, like other early Christian literature, is inflected by the social context I have delimited. Taken-for-granted depictions of Jesus the carpenter (or son of a carpenter) and Paul the tentmaker make sense, I suggest, in writings whose intended function was to legitimate precisely these types of figures within an intellectual culture defined by more elite indices of learning and expertise.

2. Evidence for unlikely experts at Rome Any sketch of Marcion’s sparsely attested biography will make mention of his former occupation as a shipmaster (nauclerus) or seaman (ναύτης), a detail that has always struck me for the following reason. Many accounts of ‘cult migration’ posit merchants as the mechanisms behind the export of local deities or manners of worship to new regions. And there is much to recommend this hypothesis: patterns of diffusion emanating from ports, or evidence for the retention of native deities and customs among immigrants linked by a common trade.1 1 See Philip A. Harland, TravelandReligioninAntiquity(Waterloo, 2011); Anna Collar, ReligiousNetworksintheRomanEmpire:TheSpreadofNewIdeas (Cambridge, 2013).

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In these scenarios, the initial movement of religious phenomena from one place to another and their subsequent flourishing occur passively, with residents of the latter contexts taking up ‘exotic’ rites by their own initiative. I do not think these explanations are incorrect per se; how else would ideas or enthusiasm circulate but through existing networks of trade and travel? Yet something important is overlooked in their premise of incidental transmission. Namely, we have in the fuller literary record of early Christians ample evidence for the purposive dissemination of religion along these routes by figures who were not acting, or acting foremost, as tradespeople, but as selfauthorised religious experts. Thrice-shipwrecked Paul actively sought out audiences for his teachings, initiated people into Christ’s mysteries, jostled with rivals, and maintained vast networks through proxies and letter-writing.2 He refers obliquely to some manner of self-support, but Paul was no mereartisan. And then there is Marcion, who in the profile that emerges from his sharpest critics not only embodies both guises but was also a highly literate expert.3 The oft-repeated charge of scriptural mutilation positions him as something of an intellectual hack, but the scope of Marcion’s compositions included the Antitheses, a work that employed historical criticism to dismantle his rivals’ Christocentric interpretations of Judean prophecy; Pauline pseudepigrapha; likely a proprietary gospel;4 and possibly even the first gospel.5 As Judith Lieu reminds us in her recent book on Marcion, his commercial activities need not have detracted from his access to a philosophical education.6 To the contrary, Sebastian Moll remarks, ‘maritime commerce provided a real social springboard in his time’.7 Whether Marcion abandoned his occupation to become a Christian teacher is debated, but if he continued to work or mobilised a trade network in the latter capacity, he was not acting as a mere pious merchant. It is noteworthy that the occupation so familiar in traditions about Marcion is absent from the earliest references to him: Justin and Irenaeus mention their rival’s Pontic origins yet without connecting him to maritime trade.8 Tertullian 2 See Heidi Wendt, At the Temple Gates: The Religion of Freelance Experts in the Roman Empire(New York, 2016), 149-89. 3 See Gerhard May, ‘Der “Schiffsreeder” Markion’, StudiaPatristica21 (1989), 142-53. 4 See Joseph B. Tyson, MarcionandLuke–Acts:ADefiningStruggle(Columbia, 2006); Matthias Klinghardt, ‘The Marcionite Gospel and the Synoptic Problem’, NovumTestamentum 50 (2008), 1-27; Jason D. BeDuhn, TheFirstNewTestament:Marcion’sScripturalCanon (Salem, OR, 2013). 5 Markus Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels,Studia Patristica Supplement 2 (Leuven, 2014). 6 Judith Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic:GodandScriptureintheSecondCentury (New York, 2014), 318. 7 Sebastian Moll, TheArch-HereticMarcion,WUNT 250 (Tübingen, 2008), 30. 8 In fact, Secord observes, ‘Irenaeus never says anything about the occupations of the heretics he attacks, besides general accusations about magic’, Jared Secord, ‘Irenaeus at Rome: The Greek Context of Christian Intellectual Life in the Second Century’, in Agnès Bastit-Kalinwoska (ed.), IrénéeentreAsieetOccident (Turnhout, 2017), 1-20, 18-9.

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is the first to specify his profession and alludes to it often ‘to draw every possible negative association of a business easily open to dubious reputation’.9 Indeed, Marcion’s commercial activities are part and parcel of his reputation for impudence, ignorance, and rusticity.10 For Tertullian, who complains that heretics recognised the authority of people with only minimal training or education, including women, these details served a broader agenda to professionalize and regulate the ‘Christianity’ he endorsed.11 That Rhodo12 remembers Marcion not as a ναύκληρος, a shipowner or a captain of his own or a rented ship, but as an ordinary seaman (ναύτης) suggests a demotion.13 Later Christian writers also made it a point to mention the disreputable professions of their heretical opponents for polemical reasons. Despite indications of unreliability, there is a problem with rejecting these details tout court. Peter Lampe dispels questions about Marcion’s occupation with evidence that shipowners were, more so than other merchants, respected, powerful, and often some of the wealthiest men among their local populations.14 They also enjoyed various social privileges, especially under Hadrian. As with other professionals, it was common for shipmasters and their personnel to form guilds and such associations are well attested for Rome and Ostia. Many of these observations are borne out in Petronius’s satirical depiction of Trimalchio, a wealthy freedman whose success in maritime commerce afforded ample resources to acquire the trappings of intellectualism – an extensive library and retinue of assorted learned ‘specialists’ – despite the man himself being illiterate. Historically dubious as a function of genre, the figure of Trimalchio nonetheless suggests the basic intelligibility of the wealthy professional with educational aspirations (not to mention a penchant for consulting religious experts, an astrologer in this case). As Lieu frames the problem for Marcion, there are at least two Marcions to recover:15 the first is Marcion the ‘heretic’, a composite of those who wrote against him, each in accordance with his own concerns and perceptions; the 9 Tert., Adv.Marc.1.2.1; 7.7; 18.4; 5.1.2; J. Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic(2014), 56-7. 10 See Tert., Adv.Marc.1.13.1; 2.4.2. 11 See Tert., Depraescr.haeret.41; see J. Secord, ‘Irenaeus at Rome: The Greek Context of Christian Intellectual Life in the Second Century’ (2017), 19. 12 See Eus. Caes., Ηist.eccl.5.13.3. 13 Peter Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries (Minneapolis, 2003), 241-2 sees no contradiction in the traditions, only the employment of a technical and then a more general term. As Mikhail Rostovtzeff, TheSocialandEconomicHistory oftheRomanEmpireI (Oxford, 1957), 172 explained, maritime commerce was highly lucrative in the Roman period and most of the nouveauxrichesowed their money to involvement in it. For a technical discussion of the empire’s maritime economy, see Peter Temin, ‘A Market Economy in the Early Roman Empire’, JournalofRomanStudies91 (2001), 169-81, 176-8. 14 P. Lampe, FromPaultoValentinus (2003), 242-3. 15 J. Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic(2014), 11.

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second Marcion ‘emerges when the most marked characteristics of the profiles that have been discovered are set within the currents of the second century’. Lieu trains her lens on how Marcion’s teaching resonated in this climate but I am interested in situating the oft-repeated detail about his commercial ties within his social milieu, and with a view to the sort of religious activity it represented. While it may be impossible to adjudicate the historicity of Marcion’s alleged occupation, its plausibility is corroborated by multiple intersections of occupational affiliation, intellectual activity, and claims of religious expertise in the evidence for earliest Christianity. Theodotus of Byzantium, a cobbler or leather-worker (σκυτεύς) is the most obvious example after Marcion, but there are others. While Cerdo, whom Irenaeus associates with Marcion, is never connected explicitly with an occupation, his name alone smacks of servility and handicraft.16 Another Cerdo, a sutor or cobbler, features in Martial’s epigrams; whether an actual person known to the poet or a literary invention, the name is clearly meant to evoke mean occupations.17 Theodotus’ homonymous successor was allegedly a banker, while Hermogenes is remembered for his trade as a painter (pictor).18 The greatest challenge in weighing any of these biographical details is that connotations of trade were fraught in the Roman world. On the one hand, occupations hinted at non-aristocratic status, a lesson Octavian learned well after Marc Antony spread rumors about his descent from a banker, a freed ropemaker, and a perfume shop-keep who became a baker.19 Uneasiness about the relationship between professionalism and slavery was not unfounded. While not a wholly reliable record of the complexion of Rome’s workforce, slaves or freedmen identified themselves disproportionately by occupation, especially in their commemorative practices.20 On the other, the conditions of empire – economic, demographic, technological, cosmopolitan – increased the demand for many of these occupations, resulting in a burgeoning population of wealthy, socially influential tradespeople. For writers reflecting elite sentiments, Sandra Joshel explains, ‘attacks on tradesmen belonged to a larger critique of society in which, from their perspective, wealth now determined social priorities’. 21 16

The name Cerdo is also well attested for slaves. So Martial quips (3.59): ‘Cerdo the cobbler gave a show for you, cultured Bononia, a fuller gave one for Mutina; where now will the innkeeper give his?’ 18 Marcion: Tert., Adv.Marc.1.18.4, 3.6.3, 4.9.2, 5.1.2. Theodotus: Epiph., Pan.54.1.3; Eus. Caes, Hist. eccl. 5.28.6, 9. Hermogenes: Tert., Adv. Hermog. 1.2, 1.4, and 45.4; J. Secord, ‘Irenaeus at Rome: The Greek Context of Christian Intellectual Life in the Second Century’ (2017), 18-9. 19 See Sandra R. Joshel, Work,Identity,andLegalStatusatRome:AStudyoftheOccupational Inscriptions(Norman, 1992), 65. 20 See Susan P. Mattern, ThePrinceofHealing:GalenintheRomanEmpire (New York, 2013), 22;S.R. Joshel, Work,Identity,andLegalStatusatRome(1992), 78-85. 21 See S.R. Joshel, Work,Identity,andLegalStatusatRome(1992), 63-4. 17

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Reference to occupation thus functioned to dishonour such figures and preempt any pretensions or claim they might assert. It would be a mistake, however, to presume the modesty of these occupations in the empire’s thriving urban economy. Even as productive labour was culturally devalued by Rome’s elite or by those with elite aspirations, producers of goods and services took pride in these activities and often reaped the rewards of their work. Trimalchio dictates that his funerary monument be adorned with ‘ships in full sail (navesplenisveliseuntes)’, in addition to a host of other elements that underscore his wealth, benefactions, and learning.22 In this vein, H. Gregory Snyder points to costly funerary monuments or monumental tombs commemorating shoemakers from Rome and Ostia.23 Joshel’s study of Roman occupations attested in epitaphs from the first and second centuries shows that freedmen chose among other available identifications to define themselves primarily in relation to their work.24 Far from positioning one at the edges of Roman society, an occupational claim was an assertion of centrality to that society in lieu of other indictors – birth, family, etc. – that freedmen typically lacked. Notwithstanding, mentioning a rival’s occupation also served as a regular tactic of impeachment among Roman-period intellectuals. Galen enlisted it often against fraudulent doctors, especially the Methodist school of medicine. Founded in the first century by Thessalus of Tralles, the son of a woolworker, Galen objected to the school’s promise to train doctors in six months, an abbreviated curriculum that enticed ‘leather-cutters, carpenters, dyers, and bronzeworkers to abandon their old trades and plunge into medicine’.25 And so, he laments, Thessalus reduced medicine to the status of crafts like shoemaking, dyeing, and weaving. Thessalus’s own father was a weaver, while Galen’s, like himself, received full training in the liberal arts.26 Educational elitism pervades Galen’s writings, as it does those of Lucian and Celsus, who were not social elites per se but who adopted an elite posture visà-vis the ‘hacks’ and ‘charlatans’ whom they satirised. Both have Christians in their sites, but Celsus alone characterizes them as ‘wool-workers, leather-cutters, fullers, and the most uneducated and rustic individuals’.27 Armed with knowledge of gospel traditions – especially those found in Matthew – he also takes aim at Jesus for hiring himself out as a workman in Egypt, as well as his 22

See Petronius, Sat.71. H. Gregory Snyder, ‘Shoemakers and Syllogisms: Theodotus ‘the Cobbler’ and his School’ (forthcoming), 1-20. 24 See S.R. Joshel, Work,Identity,andLegalStatusatRome(1992), 58-60. 25 Gal., DemedendimethodoI 1 = Kühn X 5; see in Jared Secord, ‘Galen and the Theodotians: Embryology and Adoptionism in the Christian Schools of Rome’, Studia Patristica 81 (2017), 52-63, 60-1. 26 See S.P. Mattern, ThePrinceofHealing:GalenintheRomanEmpire (2013), 24. 27 Origen, C.Cels.3.55. 23

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mother, a poor country woman who earned her living by spinning, and her husband, a carpenter.28 Interestingly, Origen does not attempt to refute any of these accusations but proffers them as proof of what makes Jesus so worthy of admiration.29 Rather than deny the meanness and poverty of Jesus’s upbringing, his lack of general education, his ignorance of formal rhetoric and philosophical doctrines, Origen trumpets these obstacles. The uncanniness of Jesus’ intellect only accentuates its superiority; he overcame factors that should have discredited him to surpass in his reputation all distinguished men who ever lived.30 Despite having received no serious instruction from men, he taught about God so nobly that not only rustic and illiterate people were converted by his words, but also many more intelligent. Likewise, patristic writers make frequent reference to Paul’s lack of formal literary education, often in conjunction with his work as a tentmaker. It is on this account that Paul fits comfortably alongside the ‘unschooled’ writers of the gospels, the likes of fishermen and tax-collectors.31 From these testimonies it appears that by the third century, if not sooner, some Christians claimed the aristocratic slur of the ‘intellectual’ tradesman to their own advantage. The other side of the coin to denunciations wrought along occupational lines was the alibi that a profession might offer for would-be experts lacking elite status or a recognised institutional affiliation. An aspiring intellectual or religious specialist might be tarred as another sort of professional, but he was just as likely to be feathered for the appearance of profit-mongering. In philosophical traditions, working with one’s hands therefore corroborated one’s disinterest and legitimacy. Whereas other teachers or experts commanded remuneration for their instruction, the ‘true’ philosopher was self-sustaining, motivated only by the prerogative of cultivating wisdom. This paradox seems central to Paul’s adamant, if inconsistent, disavowals of patronage and other forms of financial support in favor of claims to have worked with his own hands when among his groups.32 There are also many indications that occupational networks were integral to the early dissemination of Christ phenomena. Richard Ascough proposes that Paul’s Thessalonian group ‘in Christ’ began as a voluntary association of manual labourers; perhaps he found other audiences for his religious teachings in 28

Origen, C.Cels.1.28, 30. Origen, C.Cels. 1.29. 30 Origen, C.Cels.1.30. 31 See Ryan S. Schellenberg, ‘τὸ ἐν λόγῳ ἰδιωτικὸν τοῦ Ἀποστόλου: Revisiting Patristic Testimony on Paul’s Rhetorical Education’, NovumTestamentum54 (2012), 354-68, 359. 32 In his Corinthian correspondence, for instance, Paul both insists on his right to receive basic compensation in exchange for his gospel (1Cor. 9:3-14) and also defends himself vehemently against charges of profit-mongering, urging the Corinthians to recall how he robbed other assemblies in order to refrain from being a burden to them (2Cor. 11:8-9; see 1Cor. 9:15). His is a ‘gospel free of charge!’ (1Cor. 9:18). 29

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existing guilds.33 Cavan Concannon’s study of Dionysios of Corinth characterizes second-century Christian difference as a function of connectivity, the various local and translocal networks, including trade, in which Christians and others negotiated the landscapes of the Roman world.34 Regarding Theodotus, Snyder shows that the connection between cobbling and philosophy was not unprecedented in the Roman world and, in fact, enjoyed a rather illustrious precedent in the figure of Simon the shoemaker from the Platonic corpus. ‘[I]t would be a mistake to assume that cobblers were generally literate’, he cautions, ‘but there is ample precedent in a variety of literatures, testifying to the idea of philosophically oriented cobblers, who practice their craft and their philosophy within the precincts of their shops … And so, rather than internal tension, there’s actually a certain synergy within the phrase, “learned cobbler”’.35 These studies are important correctives to more polemical connections between Christians and occupations. While it is tempting to dismiss some of these details as heresiological invention, we should not put too much stock in the fact that certain early Christians are associated more commonly with occupations. Justin and Irenaeus are keen to trace their autobiographical arcs in terms of which Galen would, in theory, approve. Justin presents himself as a career intellectual with early, broad-based, and well-rounded exposure to multiple schools of thought. Though of Samaria, he was urbane, from Flavia Neapolis, not one of the obscure rural villages that spawned Simon or Menander.36 Irenaeus, like Justin, emphasizes his geographical ties to cities esteemed for their intellectual and cultural vibrancy. Neither writer mentions occupations, either their own or those of their rivals, yet they are highly attuned to connotations of provenance. They also endorse traditions or texts that cast the occupations of their apostolic forbearers in a positive light. Thus, to set them apart from other would-be Christian intellectuals misses the point that most if not all of these figures confronted common barriers to the social roles and knowledge they claimed. It seems that some pursued religious specialty alongside another occupations, perhaps even because of earlier professional success.

33 See Richard S. Ascough, ‘The Thessalonian Christian Community as a Professional Voluntary Association’, JournalofBiblicalLiterature119 (2000), 311-28. In 1Thessalonians, Paul alludes to the physically challenging labour of his audience and urges them, despite fatigue, weariness, and other hardship, to persist in working with their own hands (2:9; 4:11). 34 Cavan Concannon, AssemblingEarlyChristianity:Trade,Networks,andtheLettersofDionysiosofCorinth(Cambridge, 2017). 35 H.G. Snyder, ‘Shoemakers and Syllogisms: Theodotus ‘the Cobbler’ and his School’ (forthcoming), 1-20, 19. 36 J. Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic(2014), 298.

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The important thing to recognize is that these writers were embedded in Rome’s wider intellectual culture and therefore vulnerable to impeachment along the lines of occupational association or provenance. The same could be said of their audiences, at least some of whom were attracted to intellectualizing or text-based forms of religion because of the prestige these represented in the Roman period. Even if particular teachers could boast ‘likelier’ intellectual biographies, there seems to have been considerable demand for the sort of expertise they claimed among socially mobile populations with professional ties. Hence, I am disinclined to dismiss out of hand occupational details about Christians. Rather, they seem revealing of certain sources of attraction to Christian phenomena. That intellectually oriented experts such as Paul or Marcion would have enjoyed traction is in keeping with a wider trend in the empire’s religious culture, which from the last decades of the Republic was characterised by the steady textualization of religious activity.37 One manifestation of this development was a growing demand for participation in forms of religion with a distinctly intellectual profile that was inseparable from a general swell of interest in paideia, books and book-learning, and writing. Within Rome’s socially mobile population that aspired to intellectualism, some people formed schools or were able to earn livings through the provision of expertise; others aligned themselves with teachers, texts, or learned discourses in various forms or degrees. Indeed, Stanley Stowers has argued that the non-elite status of this population made all the more appealing alternative, often exotic, forms of wisdom.38 So, while there is reason to be skeptical of stock depictions of the ‘unlikely’ intellectual, these caricatures responded to a social climate in which the actors they ridicule were more the rule than an exception. Freeborn women, slaves, and freedpersons are disproportionately attested in the evidence for entrepreneurial religious experts, as they are in inscriptions for voluntary associations (though these categories might overlap). There are also examples of these demographics taking up the mantle of expertise. The line between expert and audience could easily be blurred, particularly when the religious practices in question involved skills that could be claimed by both parties alike: the circle of Valentinus produced many Christian teachers, as did that of Justin. If one possessed the requisite level of literacy, one might even

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See Greg Woolf, ‘Ritual and the Religious Individual in Roman Religion’, in Jörg Rüpke (ed.), TheIndividualintheReligionsoftheAncientMediterranean (New York, 2013), 136-61; Jörg Rüpke, OnRomanReligion:LivedReligionandtheIndividualinAncientRome, Townsend Lecture Series/Cornell Studies in Classical Philology (Ithaca, NY, 2016); Duncan MacRae, Legible Religion:Books,Gods,andRitualsinRomanCulture(Cambridge, 2016). 38 See Stanley Stowers, ‘Kinds of Myth, Meals, and Power: Paul and the Corinthians’, in Ron Cameron and Merrill P. Miller (eds), RedescribingPaulandtheCorinthians, Early Christianity and its Literature 5 (Atlanta, 2011), 105-49, 120-21.

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acquire a text that facilitated the individual cultivation of expertise, thereby eliminating the need for a specialist.39 I turn now to the material or topographical implications of these considerations. 3. Christian ‘experts’ among other specialists One gain in situating Christians among other specialists is that Rome’s diffuse but richly attested intellectual culture offers a far more evocative backdrop for their activities than accounts rooted in premises of Christian uniqueness. Earlier studies of Roman Christianity tended to presume that the constant threat of persecution molded Christians into a hermetically sealed population; for the same reason, they were thought to have formed a closed literary network, composing and exchanging writings only among or for the benefit of fellow-believers.40 Yet, even in depictions of ‘persecution’, Christians are shown to have operated in the same urban spaces as other would-be specialists and their audiences: actions against the Christians of Lyons, for instance, seem to have begun with legislation banning them from the city’s houses, baths, and marketplaces.41 Another hindrance to normalised accounts of early Christianity has been a disproportionate focus on the importance of baptised households in explaining the initial reception and spread of Christ phenomena.42 The household model is particularly regnant for Rome, providing in many accounts both the atomised and overarching social unit for Christian assemblies.43 The problem with this model, as Richard Last astutely observes, is that modern conceptions of households 39 See William Arnal, ‘How the Gospel of Thomas Works’, in William Arnal, Richard Ascough, Robert Derrenbacker, and Philip Harland (eds), Scribal Practices and Social Structures among JesusAdherents:EssaysinHonorofJohnS.Kloppenborg(Leuven, 2016), 261-80; id., ‘Blessed are the Solitary: Textual Practices and the Mirage of a Thomas “Community”’, in Caroline Johnson Hodge, Saul Olyan, Daniel Ullucci, and Emma Wasserman (eds), TheOneWhoSows Bountifully:EssaysinHonorofStanleyK.Stowers,Brown Judaic Studies 356 (Atlanta, 2013), 271-81. 40 Richard Last, ‘The Social Relationships of Gospel Writers: New Insights from Inscriptions Commending Greek Historiographers’, JournalfortheStudyoftheNewTestament37 (2015), 23252, 224-5. 41 Jared Secord, ‘The Cultural Geography of a Greek Christian: Irenaeus from Smyrna to Lyons’, in Paul Foster and Sara Parvis (eds), Irenaeus: Life, Scripture, Legacy (Minneapolis, 2012), 25-33, 32 n. 87. 42 See Richard Last, ‘The Neighborhood (vicus) of the Corinthian ekklēsia:Beyond FamilyBased Descriptions of the First Urban Christ-Believers’, JournalfortheStudyoftheNewTestament 38 (2016), 399-425, 414. 43 As Lampe writes, ‘the community life of the Christians formed itself in many respects according to the oikos model…. These assemblies are neither social gatherings of collegiums[sic] nor meetings of a philosophical thiasos, but simply theprivateinvitationofahost to the fellow Christians in his district of the city’, P. Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus (2003), 374, original emphasis.

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– which entail a number of idealizing assumptions – set Christians in absolute contrast to other ancient assemblies while also begging the question of their own uniformity.44 There are intriguing clues that particular urban regions were not only conducive to the diffusion of Rome’s Christ phenomena, but also formative of their distinctive character. Snyder has written extensively of two funerary inscriptions recovered from Rome’s Via Latina: both, he argues, date from the second century and consist in general terms with teachings emanating from the school of Valentinus.45 They were likely appointed in private villas and seem to commemorate wealthy people – at least one of whom, Flavia Sophe, was a woman – who received Christian instruction, perhaps on the model of Ptolemy’s relationship with Flora. Absent from these texts or teachings are explicit references to occupation, possibly because they had different implied readers. Alternatively, one might look to apartments, like Justin’s, that coincided with bath complexes,46 or the coincidence of cobbler shops, book production, and intellectual activity along Rome’s Sandalarion, where Theodotus was rumored to have worked.47 It is clear from Galen’s extensive corpus that interactions between Roman intellectuals were largely unstructured, without any oversight or central authority figures. They took place in several venues throughout the city and it was only through a long series of conspicuous encounters that one gradually earned a reputation or following.48 Residents of the city could expect to encounter displays of skill or learning in any number of public spaces: in or around public buildings such as baths, lecture halls, or theaters; in the imperial fora; in divided properties occupied by tenants ranging from individual families, to transient renters, to artisans or merchants.49 The social formations attached to aspiring intellectuals were equally varied: some depended on the patronage of 44

For many the family as a unit of analysis carries different connotations than other ancient social formations: it is less purposive in its outreach, less formal or institutional, more accommodating of different social roles, and, in its wholesomeness, morally superior to Greco-Roman groups. 45 H. Gregory Snyder, ‘The Discovery and Interpretation of the Flavia Sophe Inscription: New Results’, VigiliaeChristianae 68 (2014), 1-59; id., ‘Bed, Bath, Burial: NCE 156 Revisited’, Journal ofEarlyChristianStudies 23 (2015), 305-16. 46 H. Gregory Snyder, ‘“Above the Bath of Myrtinus”: Justin Martyr’s “School” in the City of Rome’, HarvardTheologicalReview 100 (2007), 335-62. 47 Perhaps, Snyder muses, these juxtapositions of industry were no coincidence at all, since the tools and expertise for cutting leather would translate easily into the production of books (forthcoming: 19). According to a fourth-century catalogue of city buildings, the paper warehouse (HorreaChartaria) was located nearby, in the same district. For the Sandalarion as a typical setting for intellectual contests and public debates, see S.P. Mattern, ThePrinceofHealing:Galen intheRomanEmpire (2013), 52-3. 48 J. Secord, ‘Irenaeus at Rome: The Greek Context of Christian Intellectual Life in the Second Century’ (2017), 12. 49 S.P. Mattern, ThePrinceofHealing:GalenintheRomanEmpire (2013), 9.

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a wealthy person; others competed publicly for people interested in intellectual formation. These audiences might be transient, but some specialists formed more regular circles of sustained instruction. As with other kinds of specialists, the success of Christian experts at Rome ‘depended on their ability to establish a reputation in a similarly unregulated environment’.50 As Lieu explains, ‘in this period it is not clear what mechanisms there were, if any, to authorize people who might wish to teach within the church community, and it is easy to envisage that such absence of centralised control could become a cause of dissent’.51 Furthermore, ‘in Rome there is little evidence for any centralised ecclesiastical structure uniting the various Christian communities throughout much of the second century, and much more to indicate divisions following social and geographical fault lines as well as theological inclination’. For all of these figures, literary production was indispensable to the task of legitimating the authority of one teacher or group at the expense of rivals claiming similar specialty. While scholarship on would-be Christian experts of the second century persists, despite Lieu’s caveats, in presuming that some version of the Roman ‘church’ existed independently from these figures, similar assumptions have been called into questions for other kinds of experts. As Kendra Eshleman has demonstrated, it is, in fact, their literature that projects strategically the impression of long-standing institutions or traditions that were not yet in existence, but which the experts themselves were actively labouring to construct.52 Hence, in the section that remains I would like to move from occupation to text in order to make a preliminary case for gospel literature, both (later) canonical and non-canonical texts, arising from precisely such a context of competition among intimate Christian rivals. In particular, I am interested in aligning the canonical gospels’ (and Acts’) embrace of the sage artisan or merchant with audiences that would have been especially drawn to such depictions on account of their own involvement in these or related professions. 4. Textualizing religion and religious expertise In a previous paper I sketched an efflorescence of literature linked with aspirations to religious expertise that, while not limited to the second century, is particularly well attested in this period: Hermetica; Orphica; Sibylline, Chaldean, and Judean oracles; Pythagorean pseudepigrapha; the books of 50 J. Secord, ‘Irenaeus at Rome: The Greek Context of Christian Intellectual Life in the Second Century’ (2017), 13. 51 J. Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic(2014), 304-5. 52 Kendra Eshleman, TheSocialWorldofIntellectualsintheRomanEmpire:Sophists,Philosophers,andChristians(Cambridge, 2012).

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Hystaspes; the letters of Paul, of Apollonius of Tyana; almanacs attributed to Petosiris and Thrasyllus; manuals for calculating horoscopes, casting lots, and interpreting dreams; and so-called magical or ritual spells.53 This list could be expanded considerably. Although they represent a range of aptitude, these texts bolstered the authority of self-authorised religious experts and were indispensable to their practices. In the same paper I highlighted the work of Markus Vinzent,54 who argues that Marcion’s contribution to the landscape of second-century Christian diversity lay not just in his formation of the first New Testament, but also in his composition of the first gospel. This watershed moment resulted in responses in kind: once Marcion had a written gospel, his Christian rivals followed suit with their own. Vinzent’s arguments demand a radical revision of the traditional dating scheme for all gospel literature, with the mid-second century as their terminuspostquem.Thus far, reviewers of the thesis seem to quibble with Vinzent’s interpretation of specific sources (among the staggering quantity he amasses) without substantively engaging the larger thesis. I defer the technical debates to textual critics but would suggest that readers are losing sight of the forest for the trees: his arguments do not hinge on a single piece or handful of evidence but proceeds from a conspicuous absence of evidence prior to this time when there is suddenly quite a lot. Rather they invite a normalised account of gospel composition that does not depend on the a priori defense of (later) canonical texts. The chronological priority of the canonical gospels, like their normativity, is indebted largely to Irenaeus, who partitions the Christian literary landscape into three classes of writings: the first consists of authoritative texts or ‘scripture’; the second, of adulterated (edited, rearranged, adapted) ‘scriptural’ texts; while the third, of new texts made up to suit the interests and practices of contemporary authors.55 This taxonomy suggests explicitly that what unites ‘heretics’ is disregard for the integrity of ‘scripture’, and, implicitly, that the writings he champions as such did indeed exist in pure, unadulterated forms. Put simply, ‘heretics’ invent texts to claim authority and legitimacy while ‘bishops’ are legitimate authorities because they have (and have a right to) authentic texts.56 53

Heidi Wendt, ‘Intellectualizing Forms of Religion in the Cities of the Empire’ (forthcoming). Markus Vinzent, Christ’s Resurrection in Early Christianity and the Making of the New Testament(Farnham, 2011); id., MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels (2014). 55 Irenaeus, Adv.haer.1.8.1. 56 As Paul Parvis explains, ‘while a later theology came to affirm that the bishops arewhat the apostles were, Irenaeus wants to say that the bishops teach what the apostles taught’, Paul Parvis, ‘Who Was Irenaeus?’, in Paul Foster and Sara Parvis (eds), Irenaeus:Life,Scripture, Legacy(Minneapolis, 2012), 13-24, 14. Hence the primacy for him of the Gospels and Acts, along with the scaffolding of authorship and apostolic authority that distinguished these writings from others. Interestingly, Justin’s surviving works make little use of the vocabulary and themes, particularly of apostolic succession, that will be so vital to Irenaeus’ defense of the Roman assembly, see J. Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic(2014), 19. 54

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Scholars have been reluctant to challenge the basic elements of this ‘protoorthodox’ literary framework, with the result that it remains foundational even as Irenaeus has been shown to have more in common than not with the ‘heretics’ against who he writes.57 It is generally accepted that his preferred gospels contain earlier, (more) reliable traditions that were eventually written down through largely disinterested processes (e.g., as the result of Christian community needs).58 It is also taken for granted that ‘heretics’ both appropriated versions of these texts and also made up their own from whole cloth. But, as Lieu rightly notes,59 Irenaeus’ defense of his own position ‘relies on a number of interlocking and reciprocally confirming threads. It is important to his argument that the Gospels represent the unified tradition held in common by all the apostles and disciples of the Lord; for such harmony in preaching from the very beginning … “when neither Valentinus nor Marcion were there”’ (Adv.haer.3.12.6). Irenaeus and allies enlisted writings in precisely the same way as their adversaries, to endow and safeguard their own assertions of Christian authority.60 As he explains, ‘even if there were a dispute on some small point, would it not be necessary to have recourse to the most ancient assemblies, in which the apostles dwelt, and to receive from them what is certain and clear on the question at issue? Andwhatiftheapostleshadnotevenleftusanywritingsatall, would it not be necessary to follow the structure of the tradition which they handed on to those to whom they entrusted the assemblies (Adv.haer.3.4.1)?’ While their possession of apostolic writings is invaluable, of even greater value is their claim to the tradition the writings reflect. In my view, Vinzent’s general hypothesis gains further plausibility when reconciled with a fuller matrix of literary activities undertaken to support pretensions to expertise. With the focus shifted to the use of writings within the wider context of intellectual rivalries, there is reason to consider whether the ‘traditions’ recounted in the gospels – far from coming into being organically and reflecting in their details the idiosyncrasies or differential situations of pious Christian communities – were, like this other literature, being composed to underwrite the authority, positions, and practices of particular Christian teachers at the expense of other teachers and groups. This reorientation does not require a Roman setting or a second century timeframe but there is much to recommend these. So many known Christian experts not only coincided in the capital in the middle decades of the second 57 David Brakke, The Gnostics: Myth, Ritual, and Diversity in Early Christianity (Harvard, 2010),3-4; H. Wendt, AttheTempleGates(2016), 212-3. 58 Stanley Stowers, ‘The Concept of “Community” and the History of Early Christianity’, MethodandTheoryintheStudyofReligion 23 (2011), 238-56. 59 J. Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic(2014), 42. 60 For an overview of the various literary undertakings of Justin’s circle, which seems to have included Irenaeus, see J. Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic(2014), 308-9.

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century but also interacted intimately: exchanging writings, denouncing one another by name, forming overlapping schools or circles of instruction, and so on. It is almost certain that they participated in a literary network comprising other writers and writings from roughly the same time and place.61 If one takes up Vinzent’s theory and approaches the canonical gospels and Acts of the Apostles as artifacts of highly local competitive dynamics, certain features of the texts stand out, for instance, their copious references to occupations that thrived under the empire. In Acts, for instance, Paul and his co-workers Aquila and Priscilla are identified as tentmakers. A biographical detail never confirmed by the Paul of letters, Ronald Hock made the definitive case for its historicity on the grounds that the retention of such a disreputable occupation must have meant it was irrefutable.62 While there is some basis for situating Paul among artisans, I read the depiction in Acts as epexegetical of his allusive references to self-support and working with his hands, taken with his characterization of the bodies of those ‘in Christ’ as earthly tents housing the divine pneumathey received through baptism (2Cor. 5:1, 2, 4). The insistence that Paul was a skilled worker forges an attractive precedent, however, for craftsmen with intellectual aspirations. Even more so Jesus the carpenter, an occupation that, for its indispensable role in monumental concrete construction, was both in high demand at Rome and could also be lucrative. The costly tomb of the carpenter Q. Haterius Evagogus and his wife Iulia Arescusa,63 which commemorates him as the decurioof a collegium of carpenters (collegiumfabrumtignuariorum), illustrates the profitability of this occupation and also the pride with which one might claim it.64 Ostia, too, had an active guild of fabritignuari65 whose members gathered in a well-appointed space – complete with a sanctuary, water supply, banquet space, and cooking facilities – near the Forum; the collegium may also have commissioned a temple to Divus Pius Pertinax.66 61 For Luke’s apparent dependence on the writings of Josephus, for example, see Steve Mason, JosephusandtheNewTestament (Peabody, MA, 2003). 62 See Ronald Hock, The Social Context of Paul’s Ministry: Tentmaking and Apostleship (Philadelphia, 1980). 63 CILVI 9408. 64 IuliaArescusafecitsibietQ.HaterioEvagogo,coniugisuo,benemer(enti),dec(urioni)collegifabrumtignuariorum,libertislibertabusposterisqueeorum,etQ.Hateriofeliceneintroitu habeat in hoc monumento, h(oc) m(onumentum) h(eredem) n(on) s(equetur). For a discussion of the text, see S.R. Joshel, Work,Identity,andLegalStatusatRome(1992), 118-9. 65 CILXIVS4569. 66 Gustav Hermansen, Ostia:AspectsofRomanCityLife(Edmonton, 1982), 108. Fausto Zevi has argued that a collegiate temple in the so-called Caseggiato del Temistocle, a building off the Decumanus, was dedicated by this or another collegiumfabrumtignuarium to Divus Pius Pertinax no later than 194 CE (RendicontideiLincei,Scienzemorali, ser. 8, vol. 26[1971], 472-8). His hypothesis underscores the prosperity of carpentry, as well as how active such a guild might be in urban life, in this case, in the form of religious benefaction.

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The canonical gospels and Acts gesture in obvious ways and more subtly to occupations that thrived in the urban economies of the empire. Mark contains a curious aside about how the transfigured Jesus’ clothes ‘shone a dazzling white such that no fuller on earth could bleach them’,67 while all three Synoptics record a parable about salt losing its saltiness that seems evocative of the salt industry.68 Subtle allusions to occupational knowledge are typical of Hermas, whose author reflects often on ‘how a life entangled with a world through one’s occupation is practically incompatible with [ethical] rigorism [and] notes that the commandment to be truthful is almost unfulfillable in business life’.69 ‘Hermas knows’, Lampe concludes, ‘about involvement in businesses and pressures of the world’70 and interweaves aspects of the former undertaking with the ethical content of his text.71 In addition to its narrative depictions of carpentry and tentmaking, Acts introduces Simon, a tanner,72 and Lydia, a dealer of purple cloth,73 as early supporters of the apostles who offer them lodging and audiences for their teachings. Acts also recounts antagonism between Paul and the silversmiths of Ephesus, a reminder that not all occupational collegia would (or could) be receptive to the Christ movement.74 To return to my earlier discussion of how banausic occupations might function as a tool of intellectual impeachment, it is striking that these portraits have the opposite effect, namely, of legitimating coincidences of skilled labour and intellectual aptitude. It is not difficult to imagine their traction among tradesmen with the resources to undertake learned instruction in earnest; perhaps they were even crafted by such figures, or else for their benefit. Critics of Christians might highlight the coarseness of their founders and current leaders, but their own literature tells a more complex story that includes varying degrees of philosophical or medical competence, far-ranging intellectual rivalries, and participation in urban literary networks. Hence, I posit a demand for texts that recuperated these figures by extoling Jesus and his earliest followers as paradigmatic sages. Indeed, Jörg Rüpke has advanced precisely this sort of interpretation of Hermas,whose author, he argues, was involved in salt production and drew on 67

Mark 9:3. See Mark 9:50; Matth. 5:13; Luke 14:34; Jörg Rüpke, ‘Apokalyptische Salzberge: Zum sozialen Ort und zur literarischen Strategie des „Hirten des Hermas“’, Archiv für Religionsgeschichte1 (1999), 148-60, 158. A similar reading could be proposed for the so-called parable of the talents, wherein a slave is reprimanded for burying a talent entrusted to him when, had he invested the money with the bankers, his master would have received what was his own with interest (Matth. 25:27; Luke 19:23). 69 Mand.3.4-5. 70 See Vis.2.3.1. 71 P. Lampe, FromPaultoValentinus (2003), 95. 72 See Acts9:43. 73 See Acts16:11. 74 See Acts19:24-8. 68

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technical knowledge of this industry to elaborate the series of visions narrated in the text. Rüpke’s thesis hinges on the features of a tower that Hermas observes and which is described in detail with special attention to its environs: It is quadrilateral in shape and constructed from square white blocks; it occupies a wasteland between sea and parched land; round stones lay scattered around the tower; as Hermas looks on, some of the unincorporated stones are burned. Like so much of this writing, Rüpke suggests, the site seems to be embedded in Rome’s actual topography. Examining descriptions of salt pans in Roman-period literature, he concludes that these images cohere to evoke a scene of sea salt extraction and notes other references to salt scattered through the text.75 When nods to occupation occur in New Testament writings, they tend to be construed as plain biography and, therefore, as evidence of Christianity’s noble origins among the humble and poor. Neither proposition takes adequate account of the interests that writings often furthered in the religious climate of empire; far from passively documenting past events for the benefit of groups already in existence, they were often deeply implicated in contemporary group-making efforts and contestations about legitimacy. Moreover, the connotations of these occupations often rest for modern readers on problematic – anachronistic and perhaps even elitist – notions about ancient labour. While poverty was indeed pervasive in the Roman world, so too were opportunities for skilled labour that might command considerable compensation and enable intellectual aspirations typically more characteristic of social elites. Both of these considerations can be brought to bear productively on the canonical gospels, which – regardless of when they were written or for precisely whose benefit – make a good deal of sense as artifacts of competition among highly local urban rivals. Again, such a hypothesis is not limited to Rome but carries considerable explanatory power there given how many aspiring Christian experts sought to navigate its fiercely competitive intellectual climate in the second century. According to Galen, many scholars relocated to Rome precisely in order to shake reputations they had in their native cities of being poor and uneducated.76 Here one thinks of Jesus’ dubious reception in Nazareth, where people take offense at his newfound fame as a religious expert, asking, ‘Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? Is not this the

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J. Rüpke, ‘Apokalyptische Salzberge: Zum sozialen Ort und zur literarischen Strategie des „Hirten des Hermas“’ (1999), 156. For further elaboration of Hermas’ apparent relationship to salt production, see Harry O. Maier, ‘From Material Place to Imagined Space: Emergent Christian Community as Thirdspace in the ShepherdofHermas’, in Mark Grundeken and Joseph Verheyden (eds), EarlyChristianCommunitiesbetweenIdealandReality,WUNT 342 (Tübingen, 2015), 143-60. 76 J. Secord, ‘Irenaeus at Rome: The Greek Context of Christian Intellectual Life in the Second Century’ (2017), 15.

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carpenter (or the carpenter’s son)…?’77 Jesus retorts, ‘Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown (or in their own country)’,78 a sentiment that would resonate for those who had encountered similar resistance, particularly after embracing education as a secondary pursuit. One also wonders about the itinerancy of early Christian teachers, whose far-flung travels were balanced by periods of residence in the empire’s cultured urban hubs. Rome may have even served as a training hub for Christian teachers who would then fan outward, to other regions (though often still the cultured cities) of the empire.79 5. Conclusions In this article I have explored how envisaging Christian forms of religion as products of urban competition might hold redescriptive implications for the history of earliest Christianity. This approach offers an alternative to the presumed centrality of ‘the Roman church (or Church)’, a concept which, regardless of how it is qualified, remains the nucleus of most accounts of early Christian diversity; indeed, it is the site from which ‘diversity’ is calibrated. The putative institutional sway of the church is buttressed by any number of characteristics: it boasted a line of bishops harkening back to the apostolic age; it excommunicated Marcion; it denied Valentinus the office of bishop. Although many have pointed out that the adoption of civic language and titles was commonplace among voluntary associations, that such ‘offices’ rarely enjoyed recognition beyond the internal dynamics of individual groups, and also that any group could devise and enforce idiosyncratic membership practices, these apparent behavioral affinities between ‘proto-orthodox’ Christians and other types of associations have yet to bring about a fully normalised account of the former. There is also a suspect spatial dimension to this model. Even if it is not tied to a specific religion of the city, ‘the Roman church’ has not just a normative but also a centripetal force within Rome’s topography. Thinking of Rome’s Christian population instead as a network of diverse social formations, each with its own local inflections, interests, and memberships, relegates the ‘proto-orthodox’ or ‘the church’ to the status of one node among other possibilities found throughout the city. Methodologically, this produces a leveling effect not only locally, as a check on the status claims of individual groups, but also translocally, with respect to citywide variations in and interactions between Christian phenomena. One group might cooperate or synchronize with others, for instance, through collective gatherings or the 77

Mark 6:2-3; see Matth. 13:55. Mark 6:4; see Matth. 13:57. 79 See J. Secord, ‘The Cultural Geography of a Greek Christian: Irenaeus from Smyrna to Lyons’(2012), 32. 78

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exchange of writings. It might host occasional teachers or experts from another region of Rome or even from abroad. However, it is nearly impossible to gauge how representative that group was of Roman ‘Christianity’, or how much recognition it enjoyed beyond its own membership or immediate locale, without accepting to some degree that group’s own rhetoric. It is wholly unsurprising that Irenaeus revered ‘the Roman assembly’ as extremely great and ancient (maximaeetantiquissimae), supporting this claim with a succession of bishops of Rome.80 While this group clearly held a special status for him – as it would for Origen, and possibly Abercius, who also seem to have sought out this particular group on sojourns to Rome81 – it is because we have the writings of this group’s acolytes, along with the four Gospels on which they staked its legitimacy, that we presume its normativity, even for those who defined themselves in opposition to ‘the church’. But what if we were to model ‘the Roman church’ itself as a just another cooperative of Christian intellectuals? Whether the impetus for its formation lay in a shared religious orientation, occupation, another social pretext, or some combination thereof, these possibilities undermines the holism implicit in any concept of the church. In such a scenario it is easy to imagine newcomers to Rome encountering a Christian assembly simply by renting an apartment in its vicus.They might be drawn to that neighborhood because of its religious profile; but the connection could equally be occupational, ethnic, linguistic, or purely pragmatic, and the encounter with Christians incidental to one of those motivations. Or, someone like Marcion might travel to Rome for trade and, once there, either seek out Christians because of his dealings with them in Pontus or stumble upon and become involved with a Christian group for the same reason. Given the intellectual leanings of our best-attested Christians, it seems likely that these figures formed relationships on the basis of shared interests in teaching, textual exegesis, philosophy, and literary composition. As I have stressed throughout this article, such leanings were not at odds with involvement in an occupation, either for aspiring experts or for those who were content to solicit learned religious discourses or participate in a religious group with an intellectual pretense. While some Christian circles seem to have been comprised of people seeking to acquire expertise in their own right, these overlapped with or gave rise to other Christian social formations: sustained instruction with individual students, with households, or with existing types of voluntary asso80 See J. Secord, ‘Irenaeus at Rome: The Greek Context of Christian Intellectual Life in the Second Century’ (2017). 81 See Margaret M. Mitchell, ‘Looking for Abercius: Reimagining Contexts of Interpretation of the “Earliest Christian Inscription”’, in Laurie Brink and Deborah Green (eds), Commemorating theDead:TextsandArtifactsinContext:StudiesofRoman,Jewish,andChristianBurials (New York, 2008), 303-35.

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ciations; the formation of new groups; but also, the episodic provision of skills like exorcism or healing. For either scenario, what would it mean for Marcion to part ways with the Christian group in question, or for Valentinus to form a narrower circle of instruction within it, or for Tatian to cleave of from it after Justin’s death? As schisms that occurred within or in relation to the church, quite a lot. Yet these infamous theological ruptures could have been as simple as a falling out between a handful of teachers who once offered complementary discourses, traded literary compositions in earnest, or formed a common ‘school’ before parting ways for one reason or another. For scholastic social formations, literary composition went hand-in-hand with the assertion and defense of one’s legitimacy at the expense of rivals. That particular rivalries were more acute than others had much to do with degrees of similarity in aptitude, practice, and the texts that supported ones claims to specialty. I have suggested that the canonical Gospels and Acts are well-suited to this setting, among other reasons, because their valorization of the uncanny intellectual would have resonated with the realities of actual Christian authorities and their implied audiences. These writings – their source dependences and differences – graft very plausibly onto the shifting alliances that characterised known Christian intellectuals in residence at the capital in the middle part of the second century. While there is reason to question particular biographical items, on the balance these intersections of occupation and Christian participation might hold important clues about the stratum of religious activity in which Marcion and his ilk operated.

Peregrinus and Marcion Jan N. BREMMER, Max Weber Center, University of Erfurt

ABSTRACT Taking my point of departure in an article by H. Detering claiming that in his treatise on Peregrinus Lucian satirises Marcion, I look at a number of similarities between these intellectuals, such as their functions, productions of books and supposed divinisation. These points of contact are insufficient to prove Detering’s case, but it is not impossible that Lucian has inserted some traditions about Marcion in his account of Peregrinus.

One of the nice aspects of Markus Vinzent’s interest in Marcion is that it can lead us onto paths untrodden in the past.1 Searching on the web for Marcion, I came across an article called ‘Is Lucian’s “On the Death of Peregrinus” a satire on Marcion?’ The author proved to be Hermann Detering, according to Wikipedia a German theologian, born in 1953, who worked as a pastor in Berlin from 1982 until 2009.2 Detering wrote a dissertation on DieholländischeRadikalkritik and now maintains a website called Radikalkritik , although one cannot quite escape the impression that, as is more often the case, this radical critic lacks a feeling for self-criticism. In 2000 Detering published an article called ‘Marcion – Peregrinus. Ist Lukians Schrift “Über das Lebensende des Peregrinus” eine Marcion-satire?’ , which is easier to find on the web in its English translation.3 In this article Detering takes as his point of departure the name of Peregrinus in Lucian’s pamphlet. As Harnack gave his famous book on Marcion the subtitle ‘Das Evangelium vom fremden Gott’, Detering concludes that the name of our Cynic philosopher, Peregrinus, that is ‘Stranger’, actually refers to Marcion. It is perhaps not surprising that Detering’s article has been mostly overlooked in the recent literature on Peregrinus, also by myself. Yet a serious article on Lucian’s Peregrinus by the Berlin classicist 1 I have kept the oral character of my contribution to the symposium on Marcion but added some notes. I have made freely use, albeit not without updates, of my ‘Peregrinus’ Christian Career’, in A. Hilhorst, E. Puech and E. Tigchelaar (eds), FloresFlorentino.DeadSeaScrolls andOtherEarlyJewishStudiesinHonourofFlorentinoGarcíaMartínez (Leiden, 2007), 729-47. 2 (accessed on 27 January 2015). 3 (accessed on 27 January 2015), apparently also published in JournalofHigherCriticism 3 (1996), 163-93.

StudiaPatristica XCIX, 75-85. © Peeters Publishers, 2018.

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Oliver Overwien notes the contribution but concludes that it ‘letztlich auf zu vielen Unbekannten basiert. Immerhin legen die unbestreitbar vorhandenen Parallelen in den literarischen Darstellungen beider Personen die Vermutung nahe, daß sich Lukian für seine Schrift von christlichen Vorlagen hat inspirieren lassen’.4 What are these ‘unbestreitbar vorhandene Parallelen’? Detering lists three of them. First, Peregrinus is said to have had the title of ‘prophet, cult-leader, head of the synagogue’, which Detering compares with the fact that Marcion, according to him, was also called ‘bishop’ by his followers, maybe even ‘prophet’. Second, according to Lucian, Peregrinus was the author of theological literature. Marcion was of course also an author of theological literature, perhaps even of the first gospel, as argued by Markus.5 Third, Peregrinus was considered to be a god by his followers, and according to Justin (1Apol. 26), Marcion was among the men that pretended to be a god. In addition to these three main points, Detering also points to the notices about Peregrinus’ and Marcion’s seductions of a virgin, their difficulties with their fathers, their having been Cynics, their generous donations. What do these similarities, real or not, add up to?6 Before we take a look at these similarities, we will first try to date Lucian’s report. It is generally accepted that Lucian published his Peregrinus around the same time as his AlexanderthePseudo-Seer, that is, in the year around AD 180.7 Now the publication of new military diplomas has enabled Werner Eck to plausibly identify the ‘governor of Syria, a man fond of philosophy’ who released Peregrinus from prison (Peregrinus 14), with Sergius Paullus, who was the legatusAugustipropraetore of Syria in AD 144 and whose philosophical interests are well established;8 incidentally this is the very same year that Marcion was said to have come forth with the publication of his New Testament or when he founded his own community.9 Lucian, thus, relates events that had taken place about forty years before the appearance of his pamphlet. We do not know what his sources were, but it is always possible that they interpreted the events of AD 144 in the light of their own time, perhaps around AD 180. We cannot be certain at this point but have to keep the possibility open. 4

O. Overwien, ‘Lukian als Literat, Lukian als Feind: Das Beispiel des Peregrinos Proteus’, RheinischesMuseum 149 (2006), 185-213, 195 n. 29. 5 M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels, Studia Patristica Supplement 2 (Leuven, 2014). 6 I use the text of P. Pilhofer etal., Lukian,DerToddesPeregrinos (Darmstadt, 2005). My translations follow or adapt that by A. Harmon (Loeb). 7 See most recently O. Zwierlein, PetrusinRom:DieliterarischenZeugnisse (Berlin and New York, 20102), 194. 8 W. Eck and A. Pangerl, ‘Eine Konstitution des Antoninus Pius für die Auxilien in Syrien aus dem Jahr 144’, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 188 (2014), 255-60; W. Eck, ‘Sergius Paullus, der Liebhaber der Philosophie in Lucianus Peregrinus Proteus’, Rheinisches Museum 137 (2014), 221-4. 9 M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels (2014), 137-8.

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Let us now turn to Detering’s first parallel. After Peregrinus had paid money to the parents of a boy he had seduced in order not to have to appear before the governor of Asia, at least according to Lucian (9), he wandered to Palestine, where he got to know the Christians. It seems odd that Peregrinus did not know them before, and we must accept that Lucian occasionally (regularly?) adapted the truth to his slandering of our philosopher. Yet the mention of Palestine indicates that Peregrinus was one of those contemporary wandering philosophers, who moved through the Mediterranean (below). Wandering was especially a well-known characteristic of Cynicism, and Peregrinus may already have been attracted to that movement before his conversion, as he became a Cynic later. In Palestine, Peregrinus associated himself with τοῖς ἱερεῦσιν καὶ γραμματεῦσιν αὐτῶν, ‘their priests and scribes’ (11). Although these titles do occur separately in pagan associations, their combination is not attested in a pagan milieu or in second-century Christianity. The New Testament always uses the combination οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ γραμματεῖς,10 and we find οἱ ἱερεῖς καὶ γραμματεῖς τοῦ ἱεροῦ in an enumeration of Jewish offices in Flavius Josephus.11 At the time, the scribes functioned as copyists of Torah scrolls and as teachers of children, whereas the priests remained authorities on Jewish law also after the destruction of the Temple in AD 70.12 It is perhaps their contemporary relevance that made that leaders of a Christian congregation had taken over these titles. In any case, it shows that Peregrinus had joined one of the JudaeoChristian congregations that existed, not surprisingly, in Palestine and Syria.13 In a recent, 700 pages counting book, Claudio Gianotto has collected the evidence for Jews in antiquity believing in Christ. He does not mention our passage, but he should at least have discussed it.14 The association with the Christians was clearly a success, as in no time Peregrinus became an important person in the congregation: προφήτης καὶ θιασάρχης καὶ ξυναγωγεύς (11). Older and younger commentators are inclined to see a Christian phenomenon behind this mention of a ‘prophet’.15 However, the term should not be taken out of context but looked at as part of the 10

Matth. 2:4, 16:21, 20:18 etc. Jos., AJ12.142; note also ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ τοὺς ἱερεῖς καὶ τοὺς γραμματεῖς in ProtevangeliumJacobi 6. 12 Catherine Hezser, The Social Structure of the Rabbinic Movement in Roman Palestine (Tübingen, 1994), 467-75 (scribes), 480-9 (priests). Although not a very close parallel, I do note that around the time of Peregrinus’ stay with a Judaeo-Christian congregation Marcion, according to Tertullian, Adv.Marc. 3.22, mentions that, when preaching to the gentiles, the apostles parted company with presbyterisetarchontibusetsacerdotibusIudaeorum. 13 See most recently R. Kimelman, ‘Identifying Jews and Christians in Roman Syria-Palestine’, in E.M. Meyer,GalileethroughtheCenturies (Winona Lake, 1999), 301-33. 14 C. Gianotto, EbreicredentiinGesù:letestimonianzedegliautoriantichi (Milano, 2012). 15 See D. Plooij and J. Koopman, Lucianus, de dood van Peregrinus (Utrecht, 1915), 67; C.P. Jones, CultureandSocietyinLucian (Cambridge MA, 1986), 122. 11

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enumeration. When we approach the problem from that angle, it is clear that Lucian uses prophêtês in the meaning of ‘manager of an oracle’, as the other two terms also suggest the leadership of a religious institution.16 A thiasarchês was the head of a thiasos, a term most often used for a Dionysiac association, but also for a mystery cult. Although we know of thiasoi of Jews,17 of Heracles, of the Mater Oureia and other cults, thiasarchês seems to be a hapaxlegomenon and occuring only here, and also the related verb thiasarcheô seems to occur only once.18 Finally, a synagôgeus was the founder or chairperson of a religious or professional association.19 The term can be used in a context of affinity to Judaism, but not necessarily so.20 Christopher Jones concludes that Lucian sees ‘Christianity through Greek eyes’ and points out that these terms have no place in early Christianity.21 That is certainly true, but Lucian evidently wants to show Peregrinus’ prominent position within the Christian community by quoting prominent positions in religious institutions familiar to his readership.22 The striking combination of the three titles seems to suggest that Lucian did not have a single equivalent for Peregrinus’ position and therefore tried to convey his prominent position by this enumeration of important pagan positions. As regards Marcion, a late source suggests the title bishop for him,23 but we may doubt its reliability, given that the monepiscopate had hardly become so important in the first half of the second century within the Christian churches.24 The second point adduced by Detering is more interesting. Peregrinus explained books but also wrote a number of them (11). We should pause a moment at this notice, as to us it may seem hardly surprising or perhaps even not worth observing. Yet we should not forget that, although the Greeks and Romans knew the uses of literacy in religion, they had no holy books, and books did not play a big role in their daily religious practice.25 This specialty 16 J.N. Bremmer, ‘Prophetes IV’, in DerNeuePauly X (Stuttgart and Weimar, 2001), 421-2; add the fairly rare personal name ‘Prophetes’ (SEG 54.1144, 56.768); A. Busine, ‘The Officials of Oracular Sanctuaries in Roman Asia Minor’, ArchivfürReligionsgeschichte 8 (2006), 275-316, passim. 17 See the passages collected by J. Scheid, ‘Communauté et communauté. Réflexions sur quelques ambiguïtés d’après l’exemple des thiases de l’Égypte romaine’, in N. Belayche and S. Mimouni (eds),Lescommunautésreligieusesdanslemondegréco-romain (Turnhout, 2003), 61-74, 66 note 31; add CorpusinscriptionumregniBosporani [= CIRB]1260-1, 1277-87, 1289; Philo, Probus 85 (Essenes). 18 OGIS 529.5 = InscriptionesantiquaeoraeseptentrionalisPontiEuxiniI.2 425.11. 19 F. Poland, ‘Synagogeus’, in RE IVA.2 (1932), 1316-22. 20 F. Sokolowski, Loissacréesdel’AsieMineure (Paris, 1955), no. 80.10 (Sabbatistai), but see also I.Delos 1641 b 6; I.Istros 193 (= SEG 1.330); SEG 24.1055 (Moesia), 34.695 (Tomis). 21 C.P. Jones, CultureandSociety (1986), 122. 22 This is not understood by P. Pilhofer, Lukian (2005), 58-60, 102. 23 Adamantius, Dial. 1.8. 24 A. Faivre, ‘Kleros’, in RAC 21 (2006), 65-96 and ‘Laie’, in RAC 22 (2008), 826-53. 25 See J.N. Bremmer, ‘From Holy Books to Holy Bible: an Itinerary from Ancient Greece to Modern Islam via Second Temple Judaism and Early Christianity’, in M. Popović

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of the Christians must have struck Lucian, who was no mean observer, and that is why he pays so much attention to it. Given this attention, it is hardly surprising that he also had taken a look in their books and had read (one of the) Gospels, the BookofRevelation, the ApocalypseofPeter and the (some?) Letters of Ignatius.26 The interpretation will have taken place in the Sunday services, as Justin Martyr (Apol. 1.67) relates: ‘On the day called the day of the sun there is an assembly of all those who live in the towns or in the country, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read for as long as time permits. Then the reader ceases, and the president speaks, admonishing and exhorting us to imitate these excellent examples’.27 This reading of books from the later Old Testament and of early authoritative followers of Christ, such as Paul, is attested in the earliest Christian writings, as the apostle Paul already says in the FirstLettertotheThessalonians (5:27): ‘I adjure you by the Lord that this letter be read to all the brothers and sisters’. We can follow these exhortations to read in the LettertotheColossians (4:16), the BookofRevelation (1:3) and the First Letter to Timothy (4:13) where the congregation is admonished ‘to give attention to the public reading of Scripture, to exhorting, to teaching’. Apparently, it was the most important person in the congregation who commented on the Scriptures, which is exactly the position ascribed to Peregrinus by Lucian, who mentions that Peregrinus was made a prostatês, which is a title that occurs in several Jewish communities,28 but we cannot be more precise. It can mean the patronus of an association, who usually is far above the other members in social respect. Something of this distance seems also to be suggested by Lucian.

(ed.), AuthoritativeScripturesinAncientJudaism (Leiden, 2010), 327-60 and id., ‘From Books with Magic to Magical Books in Ancient Greece and Rome’, in D. Boschung and J.N. Bremmer (eds), TheMaterialityofMagic (Munich, 2015), 241-69. 26 See P. von Möllendorff, Auf der Suche nach der verlorenen Wahrheit. Lukians Wahre Geschichten (Tübingen, 2000), 427-30 and id., ‘Christliche Apokalypsen und ihr mimetisches Potential in der paganen Bildungskultur. Ein Beitrag zu Lukians Wahren Geschichten’, in S. Alkier and R.B. Hays (eds),DieBibelimDialogderSchriften(Tübingen and Basel, 2005), 179-94 (the Book of Revelation); K. Waldner, ‘Ignatius’ Reise von Antiochia nach Rom: Zentralität und lokale Vernetzung im christlichen Diskurs des 2. Jahrhunderts’, in Hubert Cancik et al. (eds), Zentralität und Religion (Tübingen, 2006), 95-121, 118 (Ignatius); J.N. Bremmer, ‘Richard Reitzenstein’s HellenistischeWundererzählungen’, in T. Nicklas and J. Spittler (eds), Credible, Incredible.TheMiraculousintheAncientMediterranean (Tübingen, 2013), 1-19, 5-6 (Gospels). 27 For the passage, see also M. Vinzent, Christ’sResurrectioninEarlyChristianityandthe MakingoftheNewTestament (Farnham and Burklington, 2011), 208-9. 28 W. Ameling, InscriptionesIudaicaeOrientis II, Kleinasien (Tübingen, 2004), 93, overlooked by P. Pilhofer, Lukian (2005), 61-2. As Markus Vinzent points out to me, forms of προίστημι can also be found in the NT: Rom. 12:8, 16:2 (a female prostatês); 1Thess. 5:12; combined with the elders in Herm. 8.3 (Vis. II 4); interesting also the combination with archiereus referred to Christ in 1Clem. 64.1.

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The fact that Peregrinus also wrote books can have only added to his prominence. These need not have been big books, but perhaps more like the many letters written by people like Paul, pseudo-Pauls and, later, Polycarp and pseudo-Ignatius. His activity perfectly fits the ‘textual community’ of the Christians. John Kloppenborg has once again drawn attention to the bookish character of early Christianity,29 and it is clear that Peregrinus’ activities fitted this trend. Admittedly, in very recent times we can witness a movement to downdate the earliest Christian papyri, whereas earlier scholars tended to date them as early as possible.30 This might give the impression that early Christianity was less bookish than Kloppenborg has suggested. It seems to me that we have to keep in mind various things to explain the scarcity of very early Christian papyri. First, with the bloody repression of the Jewish revolt of 117 under Trajan, it seems unlikely that the early Christian community did not also suffer heavy losses. This must have made the number of potential papyri smaller in the second century, although in the third century the Christian community had recovered. Second, although we need not follow pagan suggestions of all Christians being very low class and thus illiterate, the majority of the earlier Christians will hardly have been able to own many books, as buying books was an expensive hobby, as Roger Bagnall has stressed again.31 Third, and not unimportantly, conditioned by the prominence of the Bible in our own time and a certain amount of respect that copies of the Bible demand – not like the Quran, but also not as a throw-away article – we should keep in mind that the papyri of the New Testament were not considered as sacred texts in the first centuries AD but could be easily discarded on a trash heap.32 In other words, the early Bible books were not, perhaps, Trivialliteratur, but not something to preserve carefully either. Like Peregrinus, Marcion also was an author. His main work was, of course, his Gospel, probably entitled Euangelion.33 Why did he call his book Euangelion? When we look at the usage of the verb euangelizomai in Lucian, we can see that it can refer to the ‘good tidings’ of healings and miracles: apparently, the word derives from the field of aretology.34 This seems a good explanation for Marcion’s title too. But in what form did Marcion issue his Gospel? Now 29 J.S. Kloppenborg, ‘Literate Media in Early Christian Groups: The Creation of a Christian Book Culture’, JECS 22 (2014), 21-59. 30 See most recently P. Orsini and W. Clarysse, ‘Early New Testament Manuscripts and Their Dates: A Critique of Theological Palaeography’, EphemeridesTheologicaeLovanienses88 (2012), 443-74; B. Nongbri, ‘The Limits of Palaeographic Dating of Literary Papyri: Some Observations on the Date and Provenance of P. Bodmer II (P66)’, MuseumHelveticum 71 (2014), 1-35. 31 R. Bagnall, EarlyChristianBooksinEgypt (Princeton, 2009), 50-69. 32 A. Luijendijk, ‘Sacred Scriptures as Trash: Biblical Papyri from Oxyrhynchus’, VC 64 (2010), 217-54. 33 Tert., Adv.Marc. IV 4. 34 Lucian, Philopseudeis 31, Icaromenippus 34; see Seneca, Apocolocyntosis1.3: ‘protambono nuntio’.

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there is virtually not a single early Christian canonical text found on rolls or scrolls, whereas we do have papyri of paracanonical texts, such as the Shepherd of Hermas or a Gospel Harmony, on rolls. Roger Bagnall has suggested that the unanimous change from (sc)roll to codex among the Christians may have taken place in the second half of the second century under influence of the church of Rome.35 But it is hard to imagine why that church would have taken this decision at that time and why all the other churches would immediately have followed suit. It seems more probable that the codex was the shape of an influential book that subsequently influenced all other books. Admittedly, we do not know what kind of book Marcion’s Euangelion was, but it is very likely that his edition of the Letters of Paul had appeared in codex form.36 Moreover, the edition of Paul’s letters that preceded Marcion’s one was, plausibly, also issued in a codex.37 Marcion, then, took over the codex form from an older Christian usage. Now codexis a Latin word, which originally referred to a Roman reality:38 in the beginning a ‘block of wood’, but subsequently ‘tablets of parchment’, as first found in Martial (1.2.3), which was ‘published’ about AD 90-100.39 The parchment codex hardly was very popular, yet the earliest Egyptian Christian papyrus codices, the only ones for which we have any physical evidence, seem to have been still modelled on the shape of Roman legal documents, the tabulae.40 Given the Roman origin of the codex and the Pauline content of the earliest plausibly known Christian codex, Rome seems to have been the place where the Christians introduced the codex, presumably sometime in the early second century, at least after Martial. Marcion took over the usage and may well have combined his Antitheses and Euangelion into one book, also as a codex,41 a usage followed by all later Gospel authors. In addition to the weight of the tradition or authority of Paul, other reasons, such as that the codex was easier to travel with, may have played a role too: the relatively small size of the second- and second/third-century gospels certainly points into that direction.42 35

R. Bagnall, EarlyChristianBooksinEgypt (2009), 89-90. H. Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church (New Haven and London, 1995), 58-65; E.W. Scherbenske, CanonizingPaul:AncientEditorialPracticeandtheCorpusPaulinum (Oxford, 2013), 79-80 (building on Gamble). 37 H. Gamble, BooksandReadersintheEarlyChurch (1995), 59-63, although he insufficiently takes into account that the use of the codex is not attested before ca. AD 90-100. 38 Varro apud Nonius 535M; Seneca, Debrevitatevitae 13.4. 39 R. Nauta, PoetryforPatrons:LiteraryCommunicationintheAgeofDomitian (Leiden, 2002), 441 who also notes that the ‘invention’ of the codex dates to Martial’s time (p. 122). 40 This is demonstrated by E.A. Meyer, ‘Roman Tabulae, Egyptian Christians, and the Adoption of the Codex’, Chiron 37 (2007), 295-347. The Roman origin is also stressed by J.L. de Miguel Jover, ‘El humilde nacimiento del Códice’, Myrtia 10 (1995), 157-76. 41 E.W. Scherbenske, CanonizingPaul (2013), 81. 42 S.D. Charlesworth, ‘Public and Private: Second- and Third-Century Gospel Manuscripts’, in C.A. Evans and H.D. Zacharias (eds), JewishandChristianScripture(London, 2009), 148-75, 156. 36

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Let us now turn to the third parallel claimed by Detering. Peregrinus’ prominent position went so far that ‘they looked at him like a god and used him as a lawgiver and called him prostatês, thus after him who they also worship, the man who was crucified in Palestine because he introduced that new Mystery cult into the world’. It is, surely, unthinkable that a Christian community could have worshipped Peregrinus as a god. If he does not exaggerate, Lucian possibly uses the expression here to indicate that the faithful saw him in the line of great philosophers, such as Plato and Pythagoras, who attracted the term ‘divine’ in the course of time.43 On the other hand, and perhaps more likely, some sophists could elicit strong emotions from their audience, and in the case of the sophist Prohairesios the public licked his chest (!), kissed his hands and feet as well as calling him ‘god’ after a successful performance.44 Indeed, there was the tendency to divinize people for the performance of impressive deeds, as can be seen in the Actsof theApostles (28:6) where the Maltese said of Paul ‘that he was a god’ after he had survived the bite of a viper. Even more interesting is the description of the visit of Paul and Barnabas to Lystra in Lykaonia. After they had healed a lame man, the inhabitants started to call Paul Hermes and Barnabas Zeus, a divine pair which was popular in that very region as epigraphy and archaeology amply attest.45 Philostratus provides another example in his biography of Apollonius of Tyana. After the pagan sage had told an Assyrian that he spoke all languages and even understood all secrets, ‘the Assyrian prayed to him … and considered him to be a god (daimona)’ (1.19). It is in line with this tendency that in the Apocryphal Acts of Peter (4) people instantly worshipped Simon Magus (adorantes) after he had flown through the sky. Yet, however important Peregrinus was, he was only second after Jesus, ‘whom they still worship, the man who was crucified in Palestine’. The concluding part of the first ‘Christian’ chapter shows that Lucian knew of Jesus and his crucifixion. The latter is also mentioned by Justin (1Apol. 13.3) and seems to have been the one biographical detail that was well known and deemed important in the second century until the resurrection became more important at the end of that century.46 It is not clear, though, if Lucian knew of the crucifixion via oral channels or if he had read it in a Gospel, or perhaps via both channels. We cannot even be certain if he found this detail in his source or added it from more contemporary research.

43

See D. Du Toit, TheiosAnthropos (Tübingen, 1997). Eunapios 489, see M. Korenjak, PublikumundRedner.IhreInteraktionindersophistischen RhetorikderKaiserzeit (Munich, 2000), 96-100. 45 Acts 14, see L. Robert, Hellenica 13 (1965), 29; C.P. Jones, ‘A Geographical Setting for the Baucis and Philemon Legend’, HarvardStud.Class.Philol. 96 (1994), 203-23. 46 M. Vinzent, Christ’sResurrection (2011). 44

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Lucian’s notice also gives us an insight as to how he looked at Christianity. He calls Christianity a teletê, which means a kind of Mystery cult. This is not that surprising as his contemporary Celsus also compared Christianity to ‘the other teletai’ (Origen, C. Cels. 3.59). Indeed, some Christians had also been struck by similarities between their rituals, such as baptism and the Eucharist, with those of the Mysteries.47 Lucian’s idea was not as odd as it may seem. At the time, there was not yet a word for our ‘religion’, and by interpreting Christianity as a Mystery cult, pagans could accommodate Christianity into their own categories. The interpretation of Christianity as a Mystery cult also appears from the fact that Lucian calls the Scriptures ‘holy tales’ (hieroilogoi) instead of ‘holy books’ (12). Hieroslogos or hieroilogoi was the term used for the books read in the Orphic-Bacchic Mysteries, and Philo often calls the Torah Hieroi Logoi in line with his frequent use of Mystery terminology.48 Yet the Christians, like Josephus, never used this terminology. Evidently, then, Lucian interpreted the Books of the later Bible as texts read in Mystery cults. But if it is unlikely that Peregrinus was worshipped as a god, it is equally unlikely that Marcion was worshipped as such. Detering notes that Justin says in his Apology (I 26) that after Christ had left evil spirits had created ‘some men, who pretended to be gods, Simon, Menander’ and ‘Marcion from Pontus, who has been teaching up to the present days’. Detering summarizes Justin in such a manner that it looks as if Justin mentioned that Simon Magus, Menander and Marcion all were pretending to be gods, but Justin only states this explicitly of Simon Magus. In fact, it has long been clear that he, honestly or dishonestly, had taken a Latin inscription reading SEMONISANCODEOFIDIOSACRUM (CILVI.567) as saying SIMONIDEOSANCTO (1Apol. 26.2),49 thus re-interpreting the mention of the old Central-Italic god Semo as referring to Simon Magus…50 In the end, the three main points of similarity adduced by Detering do not amount to very much. Yes, Peregrinus was important in a Christian congregation, as was Marcion. And yes, both wrote books, but if that is the sum total, can we really conclude that Detering has demonstrated ‘unbestreitbar vorhandene Parallelen’ that really do matter? From the notices about Peregrinus’ and Marcion’s seduction of a virgin, their difficulties with their fathers, their having been Cynics and their generous donations, the first are common slandering topoi in Lucian’s work,51 and the donations are what we would expect of rich 47

J.N. Bremmer, InitiationintotheMysteriesoftheAncientWorld (Berlin and Boston, 2014), 156-61. 48 J.N. Bremmer, ‘From Holy Books to Holy Bible’ (2010), 329-41. 49 See J.N. Bremmer, ‘Aspects of the ActsofPeter: Women, Magic, Place and Date’, in id. (ed.), TheApocryphalActsofPeter (Leuven, 1998), 1-20, 10. 50 For Semo, see P. Poccetti, ‘De nouveaux théonymes osques, et leur relation avec les divinités romains’, Rev.Ét.Lat. 91 (2013), 27-46, 28-30. 51 See Luc., Pseudologista20, 22; Alexander4, 6; Jupitertragoedus 52.

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patrons and not really something that single them out from other wealthy people in antiquity. Yet we have the curious coincidence of the year AD 144 for Peregrinus and Marcion, the fact that the former was called a lawgiver, whereas the topic of the lawgiver was also paramount for Marcion, and the fact that both gave money which they later requested back.52 Did Lucian perhaps use stories about Marcion to enliven his account of Peregrinus? Let me end by noting two more interesting details from Lucian’s account. First, in prison, Peregrinus was visited not only by the members of his congregation but people came even ‘from the cities of Asia Minor’ (13), and all contributed substantial amounts of money. Lucian continues with: ‘These poor creatures have convinced themselves that they will be completely immortal and live forever,53 which is the reason why most of them despise death and voluntarily give themselves up’ (13). Clearly, Lucian was reasonably well informed about Christian doctrines and practices. It is not surprising that he had noted the Christian belief in the ‘life ever after’, as the persecutions were promoting the belief in immortality.54 Moreover, the reactions of philosophers, such as Marcus Aurelius and Celsus, and the Greek novels show that empty tombs and the resurrection exerted great fascination on pagan intellectuals.55 In other words, many pagans had noted that some Christians believed in the immortality of the soul and the body, which was a revolutionary Christian innovation.56 What we do not hear of, is the resurrection of Christ. Now the absence of evidence, as is well known, does not prove evidence of absence. Yet given the only gradual acceptance of Jesus’ resurrection in the later second century (see above), the passage deserves to be noticed. Second and last, in his report of Peregrinus’ philosophic career, Lucian locates his apostasy after the renunciation of his goods. In fact, he suggests a certain connection between the two, as Peregrinus now needed the Christians in order to live a prosperous life: ‘He left home, then, for the second time, to roam about, possessing an ample source of funds in the Christians, through whose ministrations he lived in unalloyed prosperity’ (16). Apparently, Peregrinus acted as one of those wandering apostles and prophets about whom we hear more in early Christianity and against whom the Didache strongly warned: ‘And when the apostle goes away, let him take nothing but bread until he finds somewhere shelter. If he asks for money, he is a false prophet’ (11). The notice in the Didache nicely fits Celsus’ description of begging prophets in Phoenicia and Palestine, who wander through towns and villages handing out apocalyptic 52

For these requests, see Lucian, Per. 15-6; Tert., Adv.Marc. IV 4. According to Justin, 1Apol. 26.4, Menander’s followers also believed to be immortal. Did Lucian encounter a group with these ideas? 54 J.N. Bremmer, TheRiseandFalloftheAfterlife (London and New York, 2002), 70. 55 G.W. Bowersock, FictionasHistory (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1994), 99-119. 56 As is persuasively argued by V. Schmidt, ‘Lukian über die Auferstehung der Toten’, VC 49 (1995), 388-92. 53

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(in our sense of the word!) oracles.57 Evidently, the wandering teachers and prophets of the New Testament had managed to survive well into the second century in Syria Palestine within the context of Jewish-Christian congregations.58 To conclude: Pereginus was not Marcion, although both were accused of the same sexual misdemeanors, both had Cynic affinities and both had donated money to their community which they later requested back. Moreover, the two shared at least in the former’s Christian period an activity with books. That seems to me important. If we want to see the specificity of the early Christian communities in the ancient world, apart from their theology, it is the fact that they constituted a textual community and produced many books that singled them out from their pagan environment. Marcion was part of that Christian movement, but the extent of his influence will be a matter of debate for quite some time to come.59

57

See Origen, ContraCelsum 7.9, 11 For these itinerant teachers, see the interesting study by D. Horrell, ‘Leadership Patterns and the Development of Ideology in Early Christianity’, SociologyofReligion 58 (1997), 323-41; add my ‘The Domestication of Early Christian Prophecy and the AscensionofIsaiah’, in J.N. Bremmer etal. (eds), TheAscensionofIsaiah (Leuven, 2015), 1-23. 59 I am most grateful to Markus Vinzent for his careful scrutiny of my text. 58

Who are the ‘Christians’? Andrew HAYES, The Queen’s Foundation for Ecumenical Theological Education, Birmingham, UK

ABSTRACT In the period Justin Martyr wrote, the identity of Christians was not yet fully defined. A number of rival accounts existed about what a follower of Christ was. The theology of Marcion was one of the most influential of these accounts and stood in opposition to Justin’s. The authorities had no way of knowing that there were different accounts in play or whose was the most reliable. Furthermore a number of features of Marcion’s version of the Christian faith made Christians appear politically threatening to the authorities. This article will argue that one of Justin’s chief tasks is to set out a clarification of what Christ faith is in such a way as to exclude the plausibility of the Marcionite theology and its politically threatening motifs.

The claims of Justin’s texts cannot be understood apart from the political and social struggles of the time.1 The social struggle is one of identity; who are, or who is Christian is one of the central questions of all of Justin’s texts, are they ‘Jews’, are they something else? Daniel Boyarin has also drawn attention to the issue of self-definition as a central plank of Justin’s DialoguewithTrypho with particular reference to the relationship between Christians and ‘Jews’ as emerging traditions, but he has noted that many of the arguments about identity here can be seen often to apply simultaneously to heretics also.2 There is a political struggle that follows from this. If ‘Christians’ can be considered under the class of ‘Jews’ then they are due a certain tolerance by the state. However ‘Jews’ were particularly unpopular with the Roman rulers following a series of rebellions the latest of which was led by Simon Bar Kokhba, so a very close association with the ‘Jewish’ body politic may not have been unproblematic at that time. This is a multi-dimensional question. Christian identity has no fixed form in Justin’s period and this is one of the key issues that motivates and drives his addresses to non-Christians. As Denise Kimber Buell has argued, the distinction between these two groups was by no means obvious in this period, furthermore, identity is always negotiable and open to revision according to particular needs: The complex dynamism within and overlap between Christianness and Jewishness in Justin’s rhetoric make sense if we think of the mid-second century as a time when these 1 2

Robert M. Grant, TheGreekApologistsoftheSecondCentury(London, 1988),10. Daniel Boyarin, BorderLines:ThePartitionofJudaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia, 2007), 38.

StudiaPatristica XCIX, 87-95. © Peeters Publishers, 2018.

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identities are neither uniform nor wholly distinct. Justin is staking out a distinct domain and meaning for Christianness when these are murky and contested.3

Staking a claim for Christian identity is indeed exactly what Justin is doing. The political implications of being ‘Jewish’ or not were great. Presentation of identity is a subtle art, and one at which Justin was a master. Indeed, it was not just Jews and Christians who were engaged in deliberate, and unavoidable, selfpresentation, Greeks and Romans were just as invested in this phenomenon: In attempting a response to the question ‘Who is a Greek’ [most ancient writers] would play with acceptable conventions, choosing to emphasize particular aspects or even invent new ones. Greek ethnicity appears to have been something that was always both traditional and negotiable.4

Similar can be said of Romans, Egyptians, Lydians and Aphrodisians, they all have to ‘invent’ themselves, or give an account of themselves that reflects, and creates, how they see themselves in particular contexts. Also the view of non-Jewish observers must be held up alongside the internal diversity among Christians. Justin is presenting an account of what a Christian is, but his is not the only one and so he has to do so in such a way as to make his most credible to his audience and to undermine the credibility of alternative visions, in particular that of Marcion of Sinope.5 That there are disputed claimants to Christ is the root of all the problems Justin is trying to address. Political Threat In a remarkably clever way the Rulers become Justin’s tool in addressing the problem of disputed claimants to Christ. Justin begins his first Apology by appealing to the ruler’s sense of justice and fairness and asking for investigation on a case by case basis rather than on a general classification, the class being Christian. We should note the strangeness of Justin’s request however. Despite arguing against persecution, he is actually requesting further or deeper judicial process. He is not asking that the trials stop but that they actually be much more probing. This belies the political significance of the address. The story Justin tells is one in which ‘Christians’ have been excluded from the Jewish polity and exposed by the actions of Bar Kokhba and Trypho’s teachers (1A. 31.6; Dial. 117.3).6 3

Denise Kimber Buell, Why This New Race: Ethnic Reasoning in Early Christianity (New York, 2005), 96. 4 Irad Malkin, ‘Introduction’, in id. (ed.), AncientPerceptionsofGreekEthnicity (Washington, 2001), 1-28, 6. 5 See my JustinagainstMarcion:DefiningtheChristianPhilosophy, Emerging Scholars: Christian History (Minneapolis, 2017). 6 The historical reality of this, though there is no reason to discount it completely, is not the point here. That Justin portrays ‘Christians’ as being recently estranged and separated, at least in

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The ‘Jewish’ tradition was protected including privileges like the right to observe the Sabbath and other festivals, tax raising powers to send money to the temple, exemptions from military service and from sacrifices of the imperial cult. These privileges constituted a strong self-identity with significant regulatory power, as Magnus Zetterholm’s analysis has shown, in Antioch at least this constituted almost a state within a state; that is Jews were considered one of the collegia established and protected by ancient tradition.7 Indeed, going back as far as Julius Caesar, when action was taken against collegia, Synagogues were exempted.8 With their status as ‘Jews’ seemingly less obvious it is incumbent on Justin, as is clear in Dial. to present a ‘Christianity’ which demonstrates its ‘Jewish’ roots, it’s legitimate claim upon the prophecies of this tradition and its God, and so one can avoid the appearance of a novel atheism. Yet by calling for a deeper probing of claims against ‘Christians’ Justin is going some way towards accepting that ‘Christians’ are a distinct class worthy of categorical investigation. Only by doing this can Justin spark the interest into what ‘Christians’ truly are and provide an alternative account that demonstrates the roots of ‘Christians’ among the traditions of prophets and their God, and deny the charge of atheism. Politically speaking the problem then is the loss of protection or freedom of practice afforded to a ‘Jewish’ sect once, as with Marcion, a self-distinction is introduced between Judaism and Christianity. By setting up a god for ‘Christians’ distinct from the god of the ‘Jews’ and rejecting the care and will of that god, Marcion makes ‘Christians’ appear to be novel atheists. His theology would leave gentile Christians – according to Justin by this time the majority9 – appearing guilty of conversion to a non-native tradition or superstition10 which was against Roman law. If Christians were obviously Jews then their cult would be contextualised and tolerated. If they worship a different, hitherto unheard of god, however, then their atheism was a new and pernicious kind of superstition. This is the threating combination that Marcion makes possible. Justin’s response is not, and cannot be, simply that ‘Christians’ are in actual fact a sect of the ‘Jews’,11 hence to revert to a pre-Marcion stage of ‘Christianity’, part, from the Jewish tradition, though still claiming its inheritance, is a significant point because it accounts for the weak political position of ‘Christians’ and simultaneously situates them within the protected Jewish tradition. 7 Magnus Zetterholm, TheFormationofChristianityinAntioch:ASocial-scientificApproach totheSeparationbetweenJudaismandChristianity(London, 2003), 37. 8 Ibid. 32. 9 1A.53.5 states that though the ‘Jews’ and ‘Samaritans’ are called ‘the tribe of Israel and the house of Jacob ... the prophecy ... predicted that there should be more believers from the Gentiles than from the Jews and Samaritans’. 10 As superstition (superstitio) Pliny, Sueton (Nero16,2) and Tacitus (Annals 15,144) describe Christian beliefs. 11 The identity of who and what is ‘Jewish’ or ‘Israel’ is immensely complicated in this period. Justin behaves like a Jewish insider in the Dial.,almost never using the term ‘Jew’, and as an

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but in tentatively accepting the new situation of ‘Christians’ being somehow separate from Jews by appealing for more rigorous investigation into this new class he hopes that it will become apparent that they are not a new people but in fact embedded in the traditions of ‘Israel’. The philosophy Justin follows has ancient ‘Jewish’ antecedents but cannot be limited to the ‘Jews’ alone. They knew God’s Law, which for Justin can be split to what was given to them only and what is universal. The universal portion of the law is applicable to all and many pagans have demonstrated participation in this. The universal divine philosophy Justin puts forward has the consequence of claiming ‘Jewish’ privileges for the worship of the one true God and not losing the protection given by Roman law. These are the very real political realities which are more than incidental to Justin’s rejection of Marcion’s theology. Not only has Marcion created a new god over and against the One True God, but by doing so he imperils all true believes because all share the one name ‘Christian’ (Dial. 63.5). In order to counter the political, Marcionite threat then Justin has to not only accept judicial prosecution but turn it to his advantage. He has to ask for more litigation not less and of a more probing nature. By this acquiescence it might be possible to weed out the Marcionites and expose them for the atheists they are whilst affording ‘Christians’ tolerance.

Why Marcion? Why do we stress Justin’s opposition to Marcion though and not to Valentinus or Basilides? There is a question over the extent to which the arguments Justin makes have particular reference to Marcion, but even if some of these do include other groups the shape of the texts reads as if the danger presented by Marcionite theology has particular import that other heresies do not.12 The followers of Valentinus and Basilides, both of who’s teaching it is harder to reconstruct than Marcion’s, are mentioned along with Marcionites in Dial. outsider of Judaism in 1A. where he uses the term ‘Jew’ heavily. In both works ‘Christians’ are the true worshipers of the one true God of Israel. See Peter J. Tomson, ‘The Names Israel and Jew in Ancient Judaism and in the New Testament’, Bijdragen:InternationalJournalforPhilosophy andTheology47 (1986), 120-40; Margaret H. Williams, JewsinaGraeco-RomanEnvironment (Tübingen, 2013); Laura S. Nasrallah, ‘The Rhetoric of Conversion and the Construction of Experience’, SP40 (2006), 467-74. 12 Charles E. Hill has argued similarly that the central arguments of the Letter to Florinus, though not solely anti-Marcionite in argument, reveal an anti-Marcionite agenda. The thesis here is the same in relation to Justin. Not all of his arguments can be specifically tied to Marcion, many are, however, suggestive of Marcion, but more importantly Marcion seems to form the background picture that provokes the response, which goes on to include other related heresies. See Charles E. Hill, FromtheLostTeachingofPolycarp:IdentifyingIrenaeus’ApostolicPresbyterandthe AuthorofAdDiognetum (Tübingen, 2006).

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35.6. Though I have argued elsewhere that many of the topics Justin discusses, and the way he discusses them, in both 1A.and the Dial.are suggestive of an effort to distinguish himself and his group from Marcion, I acknowledge the possibility that other heretical groups – also named by Justin – may overlap with this agenda in places.However Valentinus and Basilides do not feature in the first apology. By contrast Marcion himself – not just his followers – appears, in 1A.26 and 58, as the current successor to previous heretical leaders and tools of the demons (Simon Magus and Menander). Marcion not only appears more often but he is presented by Justin explicitly as a contemporary ‘who is even now teaching men to deny that God is the creator of all’ (1A.26.5), a real and present danger.13 Furthermore we know Justin wrote a text specifically to Marcion (πρὸς Μαρκίωνα) all of which elevates Marcion’s particular relevance to Justin.14 Marcion is also said by Justin to have influence among all peoples, there is no province where his teaching is not known,15 and Marcionite ‘Christians’ are known to have formed the majority of ‘Christians’ in Syria in the time of Justin and his student Tatian.16 This is a power and influence reserved only for Marcion among the ‘heretics’ Justin mentions. As Peter Lampe bluntly puts it: ‘One can conclude that Marcion in his lifetime undoubtedly surpassed all other heretics in effectiveness.’17 Also it is salient to point out that the knowledge of, or of the primary engagement with Marion dwarfs that of Valentinus and Basilides. Marcion simply seems to be a bigger deal and many of the particular arguments Justin makes to distinguish his group, the Christians, do not seem to pertain to these as easily as to Marcion. That said, they cannot be discounted completely and nor can Simon Magus, Menander and Cerdo. Who are the Atheists? What argumentative tools does Justin have at his disposal to counter this political threat and redefine (or perhaps simply define) the followers of Christ in a way that excludes Marcion? Firstly Justin needs to explain that not all ‘Christians’ are truly ‘Christian’ – and worthy of the protection he argues for 13 Valentinus (ca. 100-160) would have also been a contemporary of Justin but he does not name him as such, whereas he does pointedly on two occasions mention Marcion as being contemporaneous to himself. Basilides could have been a contemporary but was probably dead (138) by the time of Justin’s conversion. 14 Markus Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels, Studia Patristica Supplement 2 (Leuven, 2014), 15. 15 Peter Lampe, FromPaultoValentinus(Minneapolis, 2003), 250. 16 Han Drijvers, ‘Syrian Christianity and Judaism’, in J. Lieu, J. North and T. Rajak (eds), The JewsAmongPagansandChristians:IntheRomanEmpire (London, 1992), 124-47, 130. 17 P. Lampe, ‘Paul’ (2003), 251.

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– Justin points out that some of the poets and philosophers were atheistical and yet are loved and lauded by the rulers (1A. 4.9) which smacks of hypocrisy when ‘Christians’ are charged with what appears to be similar charges. From Justin’s point of view this is unfair but not surprising and he offers Socrates as an example of a similar scenario (1A. 5.3) from within the Graeco-Roman tradition. Socrates was hated and charged with inventing new divinities when he exposed the demons. In Justin’s view and presentation it is Marcionites, who are to be distinguished from ‘Christians’, who invent new divinities. ‘Christians’ by contrast are worshipers of the One True God, the god of the Jews and the universal god of all. Justin reiterates the disjunction between ‘Christians’ and Marcionites (1A.7.3) by pointing out that just as there are many who are called by the title ‘philosopher’, but are not all worthy of the title (just as he has already said in 1A.4.8), likewise, there are those who seemto be ‘Christians’ and yet are not worthy of the name. Justin makes a further connection between ‘Christians’ and Socrates; both Socrates and ‘Christians’ expose the demons (which the poets and philosophers do not do even in their most speculative moments) because both speak the truth. Hence ‘Christians’ cannot be atheists because they speak the truth, reveal the demons for what they are (1A. 6.1). Marcion, as 1A. 26.5 makes clear, is in league with these very same demons, works by their aid,so Marcion is cast as necessarily non-‘Christian’ in contrast to those who worship rather than frustrate the purposes of the One True God.18 Though of course Justin admits that ‘Christians’ can be considered atheists in the sense that they do not offer worship to that which the rulers call gods.19 Justin’s next move, after establishing the possibility of hypocrisy, diversity and failed candidates in all traditions, as much as among ‘Christians’, is to set out the major tenet of the ‘Christian’ life, that which if absent guarantees 18 The presbutes mentions that the false prophets have been seduced by unclean spirits (Dial.7.3). This reads as if Justin was entering another subtle overture about Marcion, as he also says about Marcion in 1A. 58.3 that the demons have put him forward to do the work which is to ‘attempt nothing else than to seduce men from God who made them, and from Christ His first-begotten’, clearly resonating the presbutes’ words. The only other time Justin mentions Marcion explicitly, he again states that Marcion is working under the influence of devils (διὰ τῆς τῶν δαιμόνων συλλήϕεως), and that he is able to achieve his success (1A. 26.5). Minns and Parvis note that Justin nowhere uses συλλαμβάνω to mean simply ‘assist’. They argue that a stronger sense, consistent with his use of things achieved through the power of the demons, is meant (1A.44.12; 54.1; 2A. 7.3), see D. Minns and P. Parvis, ‘Philosopher’ (2009), 151, n. 2. 19 In this regard ‘Christians’ resemble, or wish to, the ‘Jews’ whom the Romans considered to be atheistic because of their strict monotheism and refusal to acknowledge the gods. That said they were, as Croix puts it ‘licensed atheists’ who were at least willing to pay lip service to the Roman cult via their own god. G.E.M. de Ste Croix, ‘Why were the Early Christians Persecuted?’, in M. Whitby and J. Streeter (eds), Christian,Persecution,Martyrdom,andOrthodoxy (Oxford, 2006), 105-52, 135.

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the exponent is not ‘Christian’ whatever they claim and virtually assures their atheism: And we confess that we are atheists, so far as gods of this sort are concerned, but not with respect to the most true God, the Father of righteousness and temperance and the other virtues, who is unmixed with evil.20 (1A.6.1)

‘Christians’ then may appear atheists but once under close investigation this cannot be sustained because they worship an ancient and venerable god. Noteworthy too here is that this God is unmixed with Evil which rebuts Marcion’s claim that the creator is the author of evil in the world. This God is not only pure and temperate – qualities which the rulers should appreciate and expect to see echoed in his followers – but, as Justin will frequently mention, he is also the maker and father of all and thus all are already in relationship to him, as he is the god of the universe.21 Justin calls God Creator or Maker – and once begetter of all – nine times in 1A.in total, and it is clear enough in the Dial. that he has the god of the ‘Jews’ in mind, the one who Marcion also calls the Creator but who he does not think belongs to ‘Christians’. There can be no confusion then as to the identity of the god in question, this in itself is a denial of the Marcionite position.Justin has expressed that those who trust in this god are eager to be known as ‘Christians’, which is to say, that those who are ‘Christians’ by definition believe in this god. All other candidates should be treated as something other than ‘Christian’. In relating that ‘Christians’ follow this god Justin takes steps to make it clear that this god exists in contrast to man-made deities: And neither do we honour with many sacrifices and garlands of flowers such deities as men have formed and set in shrines and called gods; since we see that these are soulless and dead, and have not the form of God. (1A.9.1)

The principle here is the unreality of idol worship and is not simply placed so as to castigate paganism but to set up the contrast between invented deities and the ineffable one true God as a way of reinforcing the non-negotiable tenet that the god of the Jews is the only god ‘Christians’ worship. Belief in anything other than that of the one true God is idolatry, atheism. This tenet of worship of the one true god or nothing for ‘Christians’ is the foundation for Justin’s exclusion of Marcion’s theological and political atheistic threat. καὶ ὁμολογοῦμεν τῶν τοιούτων νομιζομένων θεῶν ἄθεοι εἶναι, ἀλλ᾿ οὐχὶ τοῦ ἀληθεστάτου καὶ πατρὸς δικαιοσύνης καὶ σωϕροσύνης καὶ τῶν ἄλλων ἀρετῶν ἀνεπιμίκτου τε κακίας θεοῦ. 21 Not only is this God just and merciful and caring – which Marcion would consider oxymoronic where the God of the Jews is concerned – he is also ‘unalloyed with evil’ (1A. 6.1), ἀνεπιμίκτου τε κακίας (unmixed up with evil) which is a strikingly contra-Marcionite phrase since Marcion believed that the god of the Jews was the author and explanation of evil in the world and rejects him because of it. 20

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In 1A.58.3, as in 1A.26.5, Justin explicitly contrasts sobriety and purity with Marcionite doctrine and the irrationality of demon influenced tradition, but the interesting point here is that the emphasizing of the virtue of ‘Christian’ life has a political dimension. Vice, intemperance and corruption go hand in hand with idol worship and the creation of false deities (1A.9). ‘Christians’ are not taken in by these but live in gratitude and holiness which lead them away from human or evil concerns. They live always by temperance, justice and kindness because this is what they have learnt from Christ and the prophets of old. In 1A. 26.7 Justin refuses to confirm or deny whether Marcionites come up to the standards of such temperance. This is not generosity but damning by exclusion tantamount to saying ‘I cannot speak for them; they do not belong to us and must speak for themselves’. Straight after this, Justin says that the rulers do not persecute or kill them ‘at least because of their doctrines’. This is not a denial that Marcionites are persecuted but a claim that they are persecuted under a false categorisation, as ‘Christians’ when they should be persecuted on their own grounds, as a new body, distinct from Christians. New superstitions were perceived as threats to the Roman order. Justin is using the rulers’ own fears against them, ensuring that when Marcionites are recognised as failed candidates for being ‘Christians’, they alone will be seen as threatening. Yet presently the rulers see ‘Christians’ as one entity and because of their Marcionite character regard them as a political threat, believing that they seek an alternative human kingdom than the one of Rome: But you, when you heard that we were awaiting a kingdom, rashly supposed that we were talking about one that was human, though we were taking about the one that is with God. This is apparent also from our confessing, when we are examined by you, that we are Christians, though we know that the penalty appointed for a confessor is death. For if we were awaiting a human kingdom we would have denied, in order to avoid being killed, and we would have tried to escape, detection, in order to obtain what we were waiting for. But since our hopes are not for this present time, killers have not been concern to us. In any case, all are obliged to die.22(1A.11.1-2).

We must not forget the background here. In less than seventy years there had been three Jewish rebellions against Rome. Imperial policy still tolerated Jews but the patients of the Romans had been severely challenged. The state religion was more consciously asserted at this time and any new or questionable superstition could expect to be viewed with the highest suspicion.23 It is quite natural Καὶ ὑμεῖς ἀκούσαντες βασιλείαν προσδοκῶντας ἡμᾶς ἀκρίτως ἀνθρώπινον λέγειν ἡμᾶς ὑπειλήϕατε, ἡμῶν τὴν μετὰ θεοῦ λεγόντων, ὡς καὶ ἐκ τοῦ ἀνεταζουμένους ὑϕ᾿ ὑμῶν ὁμολογεῖν εἶναι Χριστιανούς, γινώσκοντες τῷ ὁμολογοῦντι θάνατον τὴν ζημίαν κεῖσαθαι, ϕαίνεται. εἰ γὰρ ἀνθρώπινον βασιλείαν προσεδοκῶμεν, κἂν ἠνρούμεθα ὅπως μὴ ἀναιρώμεθα καὶ λανθάνειν ἐπειρώμεθα ὅπως τῶν προσδοκωμένων τύχωμεν. ἀλλ᾿ ἐπεὶ οὐκ εἰς τὸ νῦν τὰς ἐλπίδας ἔχομεν, ἀναιρούντων οὐ πεϕροντίκαμεν τοῦ καὶ πάντως ἀποθανεῖν ὀϕειλομένου. 23 PliniiCaeciliiSecundiEpistulaeadTraianumimperatoremcumeiusdemresponsis,ed. E.G. Hardy (London, 1889), 57. 22

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then that the Rulers might think ‘Christians’ to be an imminent threat. Indeed, ‘Christian’ eschatological beliefs about the end of empire and the eternal reign of peace bore a striking resemblance to the beliefs of the Gauls and other peoples the Romans considered dangerous superstitions.24 Justin not only denies this threat but also the basis for it by denying the threatening novelty of ‘Christians’ in asserting that they are part of the ancient and venerable worship of the god of the Jews.25 If ‘Christians’ are not this political threat on account of their worship of the god of the Jews then anyone who claims to be a ‘Christian’ but does not worship this god cannot be ‘Christian’. Instead the person poses a threat to Christians as he confirms the rulers’ presupposition of Christians’ superstition. In short Marcionites are not only not ‘Christians’, they are even a danger for ‘Christians’.

24 L.F. Janssen, ‘“Superstitio” and the Persecution of the Christians’, VigChr33 (1979), 131-59, 153-4. 25 Indeed Justin will demonstrate implicitly that ‘Christians’ are even less of a threat than the volatile ‘Jews’ in his discussion of the judgement of God and what it means for ‘Christians’.

Marcion the Circumcizer Harry MAIER, Vancouver, Canada

ABSTRACT A chief element against the view that the pseudonymous Pastorals(1 and 2Timothy and Titus) polemicize against Marcion is the association of opponents with Judaism. The essay addresses this apparent contradiction through an analysis of Tit.1:10, where the author represents the opposition as ‘of the circumcision.’ The article argues that the reference is a rhetorical charge against Marcion as guilty of promoting community discord. Paul’s report of Gal. 1:18-2:14 was important to Marcion as an account of the apostle’s dedication to his revealed Gospel against opponents in/from Jerusalem. Acts, perhaps motivated by an anti-Marcionite polemic, represents an alternative account, not of Paul opposed by Jerusalem Christ followers, but endorsed by them. The essay observes how Irenaeus and Tertullian in opposition to Marcion seek to harmonize the report from Acts and the confrontation of Paul with Peter in Gal. 2:10-4, to show how Paul never separated from the other disciples, but was instructed by them. The Pastorals polemicize against Marcion in a different way by turning the tables on him and associating him with ‘false brethren’ (Gal. 2:4) and the ‘circumcision party’ (Gal. 2:12; Acts 11:2; 15:2) opposed to Paul’s Gospel. As such they pillory their opponent as a factionalist and thus use the unique accounts reported in Galatians, so important to Marcion, against him.

ThePastoralEpistlesrepresent the most dramatic revision of Paul in the New Testament. A such, they continue a trajectory evidenced as well by the reconstruction of Paul in Acts, both of which should be understood as a wholesale transformation of the apostle and his purposes, a reconceptualization that is also attested outside the canon in the second century, especially in the thought of Marcion of Sinope.1 In the Pastorals we discover an apostle in prison in Rome abandoned by all of his companions except Onesiphorus, Luke and Mark (2Tim. 1:15; 4:10-8). He writes his letters first as instructions to his disciples Timothy and Titus, whom he instructs to appoint leaders in the churches they plant (1Tim. 3:1-12; Tit. 1:5-11) and to continue to teach the message Paul has imparted to them (2Tim. 2:1-7), and second as a kind of last will and 1 For an overview, also with reference to Marcion, Richard I. Pervo, The Making of Paul: ConstructionsoftheApostleinEarlyChristianity (Minneapolis, 2010).

StudiaPatristica XCIX, 97-107. © Peeters Publishers, 2018.

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testament.2 As such they carry forth a double pseudonymity.3 That is, it is not only Paul who is a literary invention in these letters, it is the recipients as well. In creating obedient delegates the author is able to push through a militant polemical strategy to create an authentic Pauline tradition against opponents and establish a continuity that charges dissenters as guilty of heinous and community eroding vices. Who are the opponents the Pastorals denounce? There is good reason to suppose they are disciples of Paul who have interpreted the apostle’s teachings in a radical and ascetical way.4 The references to teachers who steal into households and ‘turn households upside down’ (Tit. 1:11), convince allegedly weak-minded women (2Tim. 3:6) to renounce marriage (1Tim. 4:3), and engage in undisciplined speech (1Tim. 1:6) have been linked with the second century Apocryphal Acts, especially traditions held in common with the Acts of Paul andThecla, with which the Pastorals share a dramatispersonae.5 The trouble seems focused on widows, specifically young women who may or not have been married, and who appear to have renounced marriage presumably under the influence of Pauline teachers (1Tim. 5:11-6). In this regard they resemble also the other Apocryphal Acts, where the same theme of apostles leading women/ widows to lives of continence is the main preoccupation.6 But the Pastorals go beyond the Actsto pillory opponents as teaching Jewish myths and genealogies (Tit. 1:4; 1Tim. 1:4; 4:7). Many have found in the Pastorals a front against Marcion and his teachings.7 We know that Marcion’s rejection of the God of the Old Testament included a 2

For 2Timothy as a testamentary letter, Raymond F. Collins, 1 & 2 Timothy and Titus: A Commentary, New Testament Library (Louisville, 2003), 181-3. 3 John Marshall, ‘“I left you in Crete”: Narrative Deception and Social Hierarchy in the Letter to Titus’, JBL 127 (2008), 781-803. 4 For arguments see, Ronald Macdonald, TheLegendandtheApostle:TheBattleforPaulin StoryandCanon (Philadelphia, 1983), 34-77; Anette Merz, DiefictiveSelbstauslegungdesPaulus. IntertextuelleStudienzurIntentionundRezeptionderPastoralbriefe, NOTA 52 (Göttingen, 2004), 218-22, 318-33, 374-5. For a discussion of the reception of MacDonald’s theory, James W. Aageson, Paul,thePastoralEpistles,andtheEarlyChurch, Library of Pauline Studies (Peabody, 2008), 7-8. 5 For discussion, R. MacDonald, Legend(1983), 59-66. 6 Stevan L. Davies, The Revolt of the Widows: The Social World of the Apocryphal Acts (Carbondale, 1980) remains the definitive analysis. For unmarried widows as a designated group in emergent Christianity, Bonnie Bowman Thurston, The Widows: A Women’s Ministry in the EarlyChurch (Philadelphia, 1989). 7 F.C. Baur first proposed the theory that thePastoralsare anti-Marcionite, Diesogennanten Pastoralbriefe des Apostels Paulus (Stuttgart and Tübingen, 1835). It was later advanced by E.J. Goodspeed, NewChaptersinNewTestamentStudy (New York, 1937), 185; J. Knox, Marcion andtheNewTestament:AnEssayontheEarlyHistoryoftheCanon (Chicago, 1942); Martin Rist, ‘Pseudepigraphic Refutations of Marcionism’, JR 22 (1942), 39-62; Hans Campenhausen, ‘Polykarp von Smyrna und die Pastoralbriefe’, inid.,AusderFrühzeitdesChristentums.Studien zurKirchengeschichtedeserstenundzweitenJahrhunderts (Tübingen, 1963), 197-252; and Helmut Koester, Volume 2 of IntroductiontotheNewTestament, 2nd ed. (Berlin, 1982), 310.

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rejection of the physical creation as evil, and thus also entailed sexual renunciation, especially amongst women, who were also teachers and leaders in Marcionite churches. A number of other aspects of the letters commend themselves to the view that they are written to oppose Marcion, most of which have been championed most forcefully, if at times too cleverly, by R. Joseph Hoffmann, who recovers earlier arguments by Hans von Campenhausen amongst others.8 The stronger arguments for the Pastorals addressing Marcion include the Pastorals’emphasis that there is one God and mediator between God and humans, the man Jesus Christ (1Tim. 2:3, 5) – that is, there are not two gods; that Paul goes on to insist and does not lie that he has been appointed by the God of the Hebrew Scriptures to be a preacher and apostle of this Gospel (v. 7); and that the letters so closely identify Jesus and Paul’s confession of him with the God of the Old Testament (1Tim. 1:12-13,17). Further, the writer of 2Tim. 3:16 teaches that all or every scripture is inspired by God, presumably not only parts of the New Testament and none of the Hebrew Bible; he exhorts that Timothy remain obedient to the scriptures, which we should think is the Old Testament. He emphasizes the need for women to remain silent, bear children, and not have authority over men because of Eve’s deception of Adam, thus linking gender norms with an affirmation of the authority of the Hebrew Bible (1Tim. 2:12-15); that opponents in their opposition to the Old Testament reenact the schismatic story of Jannes and Jambres over against Moses (2Tim. 3:8); that scripture, i.e. the Old Testament, be publicly read aloud and preached and taught; that Jesus is descended from David (2Tim.2:8), building on Rom. 1:3 in a new way not intended by Paul to cement his Christ with the fulfilment of Hebrew Bible expectations, and that Paul’s preaching thus affirms the fulfillment of promises God made ‘ages ago’ (Tit. 1:2). Indeed, the whole import of the Pastoralsis that their recipients not depart from Paul’s teachings or his instructions concerning the appointment of officers. For the first time in the New Testament Pauline teaching is equated with right teaching and sound words, and faithfulness is connected with transmitting Paul’s message along faithfully (1Tim. 1:10-1; 4:6; 6:3; 2Tim. 1:13; 4:3; Tit. 1:9; 2:1,8; see also, 1Tim. 4:1; 6:20). The Paul who emerges in the Pastorals is someone who has converted from a legalistic life under the Law to be a minister of the gospel, but whose Gospel remains firmly couched in the revelation of God in the Hebrew Scriptures. The letters’ numerous terms of virtue and their descriptions of community ideals are fully at home and endorse the civic world of the mid-second century, a world that Marcion roundly rejected as evil.9 8 R. Joseph Hoffmann, Marcion:OntheRestitutionofChristianity.AnEssayontheDevelopment ofRadicalPaulinistTheologyintheSecondCentury, AAR Academy Series 6 (Chico, 1984), 281-305. 9 For discussion of the civic orientation of the virtues, especially in the Hadrianic period, Harry O. Maier, PicturingPaulinEmpire:ImperialImage,TextandPersuasioninColossians,EphesiansandthePastoralEpistles (London, 2013), 164-88.

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All of these are admittedly highly circumstantial arguments, but taken together with a concern on the part of the letters to oppose wrangling over Jewish myths, disputes over the law, combined with ascetical championing of women who are exercising ecclesial authority, the possibility that the Pastorals address themselves at least in part to Marcion is enhanced. One curious aspect of the letters has not been related to a potential connection with Marcion, however, and that is the reference to Paul’s opponents as belonging to the circumcision party. ‘For there are many insubordinate people, empty talkers and deceivers, especially the circumcision party [οἱ ἐκ τῆς περιτομῆς]; they must be silenced, since they are upsetting whole families by teaching for base gain what they have no right to teach’ (Tit. 1:10-1). Indeed, some argue that a decisive strike against the theory that the Pastorals oppose Marcion’s teachings is the representation of opponents as associated with Judaism.10 If thePastorals are motivated by opposition to Marcion, the identification of Marcion as a circumcizer is especially odd, for we would need to posit then that according to our author, Marcion belongs to a group that his whole theological programme was in the first instance motivated to oppose. After all, it is in Gal. 2:1-10 that Paul, having received his Gospel directly from God, goes to Jerusalem, where ‘pseudo-brothers (ψευδαδέλφοι)᾽ (2:4) – presumably allied with those named as ἐκ περιτομῆς in 2:12 – infiltrate the proceedings with James and Peter to try to bend the outcome against the apostle. In this aspect, Acts 15:5 conforms to a limited degree with Paul’s account. So if the Pastorals are intended to oppose Marcion, why would they represent him as belonging to a party so opposed to his own point of view? It is worth noting at the outset that associating Marcion with circumcision can be found elsewhere. Irenaeus uses the term to malign his opponent’s hermeneutical strategies when he ironically draws from Luke to call Marcion ‘a circumciser’ because he selectively uses Luke and rejects the other Gospels to promote his programme.11 Further, Ignatius charges opponents with circumcising, sabbatizing, and Judaizing – a charge some have seen as mounted against Marcion.12 In the Pastorals the strategy is somewhat different, as it is located 10

Thus, for example, Paul Hartog, PolycarpandtheNewTestament:TheOccasion,Rhetoric, Theme,andUnityoftheEpistletothePhilippiansanditsAllusionstoNewTestamentLiterature, WUNT 134 (Tübingen, 2002), 91, where he cites others who reject an anti-Marcionite polemic because of the Pastorals’ascription of Jewish views to opponents. 11 Thus, A.H. 3.1.10: Marcionem autem id est secundum Lucam circumcidens, ex his quae adhucservanturpeneseum,blasphemusinsolumexistentemDeumostenditur. I am grateful to Markus Vinzent for drawing my attention to this passage. 12 Ign. Phld. 6.1; Magn. 9.1; 10.3 thus Markus Vinzent, ‘Marcion the Jew’, Judaïsmeancien– AncientJudaism 1 (2013), 159-201, 188. For Vinzent, 189, associations of Marcion with Judaism are not paradoxical: ‘The call to the gentiles, in Marcion, was a call to join the Christian antithetical Judaism, not a non-jewish Christianity. Such vocation became possible through what Marcion conceptualized as an alter-Judaism, not an anti-Judaism modeled on its antithesis encompassing a strong monotheism…’

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in a rhetorically motivated representation of their opponent. The motivation is to show that Marcion is, despite his claims, not an ally but an enemy of Paul. Such a rhetorical slight, as I hope to show in what follows, belongs to a renunciation of Marcion as the apostle’s ally by depicting him as a factionalist, and thus against Paul, a man set on unity, a unity that some currents of Pauline Christianity, consistent with the Pastorals, were affirming as allied with larger imperial ideals.13 As I hope to show, the strong ideology we find in the Pastorals of being well thought of by outsiders (1Tim. 3:7; Tit. 2:8), praying for the government (1Tim. 2:1-2), and promoting leaders who bear all the marks of civic virtue can arguably also be seen as an assault on Marcion and the political implications of his Gospel.14 There was a concerted effort in the second century to rewrite the relationship of Paul with Jerusalem in a way that contradicts what the apostle’s own letters indicate. Gal. 2:1-11 represents Paul going to Jerusalem to present his circumcision free Gospel to James, Cephas and John for their approval. Paul emphasizes his distinction from them: he insists with an oath (Gal. 1:18-20) that before the trip he had only a private visit with James and Peter three years after his ‘call’ (1:15), that fourteen years later (2:1-2) he took the certification journey in obedience to a revelation, i.e. not as a summons by the Jerusalem leaders – indeed, he demotes them by calling James, Cephas and John ‘so-called pillars [οἱ δοκοῦντες στῦλοι]’ (2:9; also, v. 6). He concludes with the agreement that he is apostle to the Gentiles (vs. 9-10). There then follows (2:11-14) the incident in Antioch when Peter breaks table fellowship with Gentiles after unnamed people from Jerusalem come up to Antioch; Paul accuses Peter of hypocrisy, but famously does not conclude with a report of the outcome of the argument, arguably because Paul lost the debate. If, as I believe, Galatians is Paul’s last letter before Romans, we witness a Paul under attack for his Gospel, and at logger heads with Jerusalem, a point of view reinforced by Paul’s obvious anxiety at the conclusion of Rom.15:30-1, where he asks the Romans pray that his offering of the Gentiles be acceptable to the saints in Jerusalem and that he be delivered from the unbelievers, perhaps the very Jewish Christ followers who had caused him such trouble in Antioch. As we will see, Marcion made much of this event and found in it the historical conditions of the apostle’s life that gave testimony to the revelation of the hitherto unknown God Jesus and Paul revealed and proclaimed. Paul’s break with Jerusalem and the hostility of the Jewish believers there was homologous with a Gospel that has broken with the God of the Hebrew Bible. 13 This is especially the case with 1Clement, where the ideals of communal harmony are mirrored in harmonious political rule (1Clem. 61.1-2), as well as in canonical Acts, for which see Steve Walton, ‘The State They Were In: Luke’s View of the Roman Empire’, in Peter Oakes (ed.), RomeintheBibleandtheEarlyChurch (Carlisle, 2002), 1-41. 14 For leaders bearing marks of civic virtue, H.O. Maier, Paul(2013), 169-73.

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Acts gives us our first taste of a revised history.15 There, contrary to the apostle’s own account in Gal. 1:17, Paul has intimate relations with the Jerusalem church directly upon his conversion when he visits all the apostles there (Acts 9:26). Most significantly, by the time of the report of Acts 15, Paul has visited Jerusalem three times (Acts 9:26; 11:30/12:25; 15:2), not twice as reported in Galatians (1:18; 2:1). There are other inconsistences: in Acts he is appointed by the church of Antioch to go to Jerusalem (15:2); he is sent by the Jerusalem church with a letter to the church at Antioch (15:22-9); there is not a word about the Antioch incident with Peter. Indeed, in Acts 10:1-44 and 11:1-18 it is Peter and not Paul who is the first apostle to the Gentiles with a Gospel free from all dietary regulations save Noachide prescriptions. In Acts Paul’s conversion only helps to reinforce Peter’s and Jerusalem’s endorsement of these ideas and sets the stage for the Gospel spreading through the whole world. Paul continues his association with Judaism by first preaching in synagogues and then turning his back on Jews only when they violently oppose him (Acts 13:46). Paul then is by an unfortunate circumstance, not apostolic decision or revelation or divine foreknowledge, apostle to the Gentiles. His speeches in Acts confirm that his Gospel is the natural outgrowth of Israel’s witness in the Hebrew Bible. Christianity is not so much a replacement of Judaism as its expansion. These are opposing accounts that have given rise to theories of harmonization over the past 150 years.16 For modern scholars, the impetus to harmonize these accounts has sometimes been motivated by a theory of biblical authority and divine revelation. But the early church also sought to integrate these stories, and they evidently did so, in part, under pressure from Marcion. Irenaeus’s polemic against Marcion reflects such pressure. From the shape of his arguments inAH3.13.1-14.4 it is clear that he knows how important the Galatian account is to Marcion. Here he contests a narrow reading of the Galatian report of Paul. Where Marcion sees a wedge between Paul and the apostles, brought about by the revelation of a secret God, Irenaeus finds unity of purpose and shared respect for the Hebrew Scriptures. In a series of passages designed to counter an appeal to Paul over against the apostles as one who rejects the 15 For representative accounts, R.I. Pervo, Paul(2010), 149-55; J.W. Aageson, Paul(2008), 102-11; Daniel Marguerat, ‘L’image de Paul dans les Actes des Apôtres’, in M. Berder (ed.), Les Actes des Apôtres. Histoire, récit, théologie. XXe congrès de l’Association catholique française pourl’étudedelaBible, Lectio divina 199 (Paris, 2005), 121-54. I am convinced by Pervo’s theory that Acts revises Galatians, against the consensus that Acts describes the events at Jerusalem in such a different way because the author is ignorant of Galatians. 16 Two accounts have emerged since the Nineteenth Century. One, the North Galatian Hypothesis sees a real contradiction between the accounts in Galatians and Acts; the other, the South Galatian Hypothesis, seeks to harmonize the evidence. For a history of the debate with literature, see F.F. Bruce (who sides with the South Galatian Hypothesis), ‘Galatian Problems: 2. North or South Galatians?’, BulletinoftheJohnRylandsLibrary52 (1969), 243-66.

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Hebrew Scriptures, Irenaeus picked up an apparently hitherto unknown and obscure little volume, the BookofActs, and invoked it as historically damning evidence of Marcion’s Gospel (AH 3.13-5, esp. 3.14.4-15.1).17 Indeed, he is the first early Christian writer to use the BookofActs as a general polemical tool to help construct and refute heresy. Acts is for Irenaeus the narrative par excellence of the account of the life of Paul and the Jerusalem church. His use of Acts against Marcion is telling. First, as the companion volume to Luke, he uses Acts to charge Marcion with picking and choosing texts that fit into his theory; second he deploys it to draw attention to the harmony of the apostles, especially Peter and Paul; and third Acts allows him to show Paul’s close relationship with Jerusalem and their shared role in bringing the apostolic Gospel to the world. Irenaeus does not so much harmonize the accounts as minimize the Galatian account so important to Marcion. The falling out with Peter at Antioch recorded in Gal. 2:11-4 is for Irenaeus not testimony of apostolic discord, but that Jesus never taught the disciples to disobey the Torah as though from another God and instructed them instead, on the authority of the Hebrew Scriptures, to honour the Scripture’s dietary regulations (AH 3.12.15)! Peter here is not a villain but a hero of pro-Old Testament regulation and Irenaeus simply does not record how the breach between Paul and Peter was healed. Marcion’s supposed championing of Paul reveals him to be little more than a schismatic who ignores the singular purpose of the apostle and his Jerusalem colleagues. Tertullian also knows the importance of these texts for Marcion. Like Irenaeus he focuses on the meaning of Paul’s confrontation of Peter at Antioch. In contrast to Irenaeus, however, who uses the text as evidence for a positive outlook of the Hebrew Bible, Tertullian turns to it to show that Paul was mistaken in his confrontation.18 He discusses the event on four separate occasions, once in his PrescriptagainstHeresies, and three times in his treatise against Marcion (Depraesc.haer. 23-24; Adv.Marc. 1.20; 4.3; 5.3). In all instances, Tertullian comes to Peter’s defense by arguing that Peter, the elder and more mature apostle, was practising the ideal of being all things to all people in the service of the Gospel. Indeed, Paul’s problem at the time was that he was too 17 For the obscurity of Acts before Irenaeus and its uses against Marcion specifically, Christopher Mount,PaulineChristianity:Luke-ActsandtheLegacyofPaul, SuppNovT 104 (Leiden, 2002), 12-29. Joseph B. Tyson argues that Acts was composed to oppose Marcion: Marcionand Luke-Acts:ADefiningStruggle (Columbia, 2006), 59-60; also John Knox, ‘Acts and the Pauline Letter Corpus’, in Leander E. Keck and J. Louis Martyn (eds), Studies in Luke-Acts: Essays Presented in Honor of Paul Schubert (Nashville, 1966), 279-87. For discussion and critique, Sebastian Moll, TheArch-HereticMarcion, WUNT 250 (Tübingen, 2010), 90-2. 18 For a general overview of Tertullian’s response to Marcion’s appeals to Paul’s opposition of Peter, see Stephen Cooper, ‘CommunismagisterPaulus: Altercation over the Gospel in Tertullian against Marcion’, in Todd D. Still and David Wilhite (eds), TertullianandPaul (London, 2013), 224-46, and, in the same volume, Bruce W. Longenecker, ‘Did Tertullian Succeed? Reflections on Tertullian’s Appropriation of Paul in his Response to Marcion’, 247-58.

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recent a convert to Christianity; it would take time for him to learn the ethic of wise accommodation, which he indeed would come to articulate in a few years in 1Cor. 9:20. Tertullian ignores the time line of the events at Antioch recorded in Gal. 2.11-4 and represents them at once as following and preceding the Jerusalem Council. This allows him both to acknowledge the historicity of Paul’s report concerning his relationship to Jerusalem in Galatians, but to minimize its importance. Tertullian thus interprets the event as a difference over practice not teaching (as Marcion interpreted it) and explains Paul’s behavior as evidence of an ardour as yet untempered by longer association with the more experienced disciples. He was well aware of the great emphasis Marcion put on the event. But, like Irenaeus’, Tertullian’s main concern is to privilege the narrative of apostolic unity in the BookofActs as counter to Marcion’s accounts of fissures between Paul and Jerusalem. These texts were clearly of importance to Marcion as evidence of Paul’s disparagement of Peter and the Jerusalem apostles. One sees Tertullian deploying (Praesc. 24; Adv. Marc. 5.3) a similar strategy in taking up the seemingly contradictory accounts of Paul’s attitude to the circumcision of his delegates Titus and Timothy (Gal. 2:3; Acts 16:3). Tertullian sees Peter as Paul’s evangelical example of being all things to all people with respect to questions of when and when not to circumcise Gentiles: in Gal. 2:3 Titus is notcircumcised when Paul meets the apostles in Jerusalem; in Acts 16:3, Timothy iscircumcised in anticipation of preaching the Gospel to the Jews of Derbe and Lystra. Such differences in account were important to Marcion’s twofold belief that the apostles perverted Paul’s Gospel and that the true history of Paul was falsified by later interpreters. These accounts of Irenaeus and Tertullian with reference to Paul and the apostles and his evangelically motivated actions help us to recognize an easily overlooked aspect of the Pastorals’ pillorying of opponents as factionalists. The letters place Paul in a context of apostolic unity and the opposition of Jerusalem factionalism. Tit. 1:10 represents the opposition as insubordinate and deceptive, especially those of “the circumcision party” (ἀνυπότακτοι, ματαιολόγοι καὶ φρεναπάται, μάλιστα οἱ ἐκ τῆς περιτομῆς). Some Mss. omit the reference οἱ ἐκ τῆς περιτομῆς; undoubtedly copyists were puzzled by its presence. 19 But this longer reading is, in fact, critical. It links Paul’s opposition to a turning point in the apostle’s career as represented in both Galatians and Acts. As we have seen, Paul uses the same phrase in Gal. 2:7 to describe those who withdrew with Peter at Antioch. And in Acts 11:2 it is those τῆς περιτομῆς who criticize Peter for his pro-Gentile attitude. For Marcion οἱ ἐκ τῆς περιτομῆς would, of course, have represented those opposed to Paul and the full revelation of the false apostleship of Peter and Jerusalem vis-à-vis the true Gospel. Here the Pastorals turn the tables on such a pronouncement and rather 19 ‫א‬, C and D* notably retain the longer reading while A D1 F and other uncials, as well as the Majority Text, omit it.

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put those opposed to the message as represented in the LettertoTitus on the opposite side of Paul. The passage assigns those ‘from the circumcision’ or the ‘circumcision party’ as insubordinate and deceivers and then goes on to portray them as ‘upsetting whole families (ὅλους οἴκους ἀντρεπέσιν) by teaching for base gain what they have no right to teach’ (Tit. 1:11). Worming into households and taking money for teaching is a stock charge in the catalogue of vices that are assigned to ancient charlatans, but what makes it unique here is the way it belongs to the wider casting of those who teach women to abstain from marriage (1Tim. 4:3), as well as presumably to take up roles of leadership.20 At Tit. 1:14 the author goes on to associate such teachers as those who promote ‘Jewish myths’, a phrase many have suggested could represent a charge against Marcion’s dualistic cosmology. If the Pastorals are written against Marcion, taken together this polemic makes for a rhetorical tour de force. The champion of Paul who invokes a Gospel that has come into the world free from the taint of the God of the Hebrew Bible reveals himself not as the defender of Paul but his opponent, indeed the very kind of opponent Paul most directly assaulted in Antioch and resisted in Jerusalem. Marcion is a circumciser. The invocation of the confrontation as a strike against those who would otherwise have used it as demonstration of their support for Paul is dramatic and a rare high point in a set of letters that manage at once to be largely formulaic and outrageous as presentations of Paul’s attitudes and teachings. The charge against the opponents as being part of the circumcision party belongs to a greater polemical treatment of them as factionalists and seditionists. The Pastorals invoke a whole set of commonplace political terms and conceptions at home in contemporary Hadrianic and Antonine civic rhetoric to describe the vices that undermine the good of the polis and the state: boastfulness, jealousy, faction, sedition, pride, arrogance, and so on.21 Further the charge of undermining the household is itself part of this larger repertoire of charges. As we have noted above, the community ideals the Pastorals promote are those of the wider civic society: bishops and elders are to be well thought of by outsiders, their households are not only to be kept in order but they are to be seen by outsiders to be orderly. The households of leaders are to be models of right household governance. Women are to practice the virtues traditionally outlined for good conduct in properly run households: disciplined in speech, dedicated to the duties of the traditional Greco-Roman matron. The Pastorals roundly condemn asceticism and the renunciation of household duties and roles. However much an earlier Paul commended freedom from marriage (1Cor. 7:2540), the Paul of the Pastorals makes marriage prescriptive (1Tim. 5:9-16).

20 21

For discussion of the charges as part of a topos, H.O. Maier, Paul(2013), 173-9. For discussion, ibid. 179-88.

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All of this is a piece with the larger pro-imperial political frame of the Pastorals: First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, godly and respectful in every way. This is good, and it is acceptable in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and humans, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all, the testimony to which was borne at the proper time. For this I was appointed a preacher and apostle (I am telling the truth, I am not lying), a teacher of the Gentiles in faith and truth’ (1Tim. 2:1-7 [RSV, slightly emended]).

Here the teacher of the Gentiles does not oppose the state, but urges prayers for it. Indeed affirmation of the power of the state and belief in one God and one mediator go hand in hand in the Pastorals. And this accords well with what J. Rufus Fears describes with an increasing tendency toward a kind of monotheistic political theology from the period of Trajan and Hadrian onward, as the emperor as Jupiter’s vice-regent came increasingly to dominate political iconography and panegyric.22 Aelius Aristides (117-181 A.D.), in his Roman Oration (26.103-9), typifies this tendency where he celebrates the single emperor of the earth as analogue to the single rule of the heavens by Zeus. In the Pastorals it is not Zeus but the God of the Hebrew Bible who reigns with Christ as his mediator. Marcion found in Paul a more revolutionary attitude toward the state. For Marcion the world, its laws and regulations, and its rulers are wicked; Paul’s Gospel comes to rescue believers from this world. As Peter Lampe has suggested, Marcion’s association of the evil Demiurge with the imperial order may well have arisen in part from a first hand experience of the injustices of the Roman Empire.23 Lampe argues that Marcion would have been obliged as a naukleros to allow the state to use his ships for transporting foodstuffs and other goods in support of Trajan’s military exploits. For Marcion the capricious God of the Old Testament finds an earthly equal in the emperor he has appointed to rule the nations. Markus Vinzent has suggested in private conversation with me that a similar attitude toward the state is implied in Marcion’s beginning of his Gospel with the reference Jesus’ birth in the 15th year of Tiberius’s rule. In that case, the God Jesus comes to reveal is in direct assault against the Demiurge and evil creator God to whom the Roman Empire is ultimately subject. Here in the Pastorals, however, it is the mark of Paul’s teaching totheGentiles– that is, as the one set aside in Gal. 2:11 as apostle to the uncircumcision, 22 J. Rufus Fears, ‘The Cult of Jupiter and Roman Imperial Ideology’, in Hildegard Temporini and Wolfgang Haase (eds), ANRW 2.17.1 (Berlin, 1981), 737-840. 23 Peter Lampe, FromPaultoValentinus:ChristiansatRomeintheFirstTwoCenturies,trans. M.G. Steinhauser (Minneapolis, 2003), 241-9.

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to promote obedience to the state. The linking here with the Paul of the Jerusalem Council is remarkable and begs for an answer as to its presence. One possible answer is that the author knows full well that Marcion uses the Jerusalem singling out of Paul as apostle to the Gentiles in order to build on his eventual break with Jerusalem and its Jewish God, as well as advance the rejection of the civil order. With this as the backdrop it is understandable why the Pastorals place Paul in a position of such favour of the state. This further explains why the apostle to the Gentiles so forcefully promotes the recognizably pro-civic features of rightly appointed leaders and household governance. Paul does not foment insurrection, he does not reject society, much less society’s laws and institutions. Rather those laws and institutions are central to the community that is confessing his teachings rightly. For Marcion, on the contrary, rejection of marriage, the role of leadership by women, and opposition to the state expresses the true identity of those who embrace Paul’s Gospel. Again, in the Pastorals, those who oppose the pro-state position of the teacher to the Gentiles belong rather to the opposition, an opposition Tit. 1:10 pillories as ‘the circumcision party’. For Marcion such arguments would have demonstrated only the degree to which the Pastorals were a renunciation of his beloved apostle’s witness and teachings. On this account, it is not surprising that Tertullian states that Marcion expressly omitted the Pastorals from his canon (Adv.Marc. 5.21). This is but the reverse of the polemical strategy of the letters, which expel Marcion from the apostle’s entourage and count him amidst those Paul numbers when he states that ‘all deserted me’ (2Tim. 4:16). On this account, then, we should imagine that when the Pastorals were circulating in Asia Minor there were at least two growing groups of Paulinist disciples, one centred in households that were in Paul’s name throwing off allegiances to the state and all of its pro-civic language and ideals; the other using the apostle’s name to endorse the state and its civic ideals. Either group would have charged the other as being of the circumcision and violators of the Gospel of the apostle to the Gentiles. For the Pastorals, targeting Marcion as a circumcizer is to mark the self-proclaimed champion of authentic Pauline teaching as his arch opponent; for Marcion, the teachings 1 and 2Timothy and Titus advance are a betrayal of Paul’s Gospel. Which one was right does not fall within the purview of this paper to pronounce. It is sufficient to observe here that the Paul of Galatians and Acts could be the inspiration for both points of view, and to see how either group could use pivotal events in the apostle’s career at Jerusalem and Antioch to pillory its opponents.

Which Paul did Marcion Know? Sebastian MOLL, Johannes-Gutenberg-Universität Mainz, Germany

ABSTRACT In the middle of the second century, a war was raging within the Christian world, a war over the legacy of the Apostle Paul. The two main parties involved in this conflict have been identified by scholars as the group behind the Pastoral Epistles and the group behind the ActsofPaulandThecla. Someone who is strikingly missing in this list, however, is the perhaps most important interpreter of Paul in the second century: Marcion! The following article argues that Marcion’s role in the battle for Paul must not be overlooked, not only because he is further proof for the fact that the image of the Apostle as a radical ascetic had a strong presence in the second century, but also because he was the first author to include this image in a larger system of theology and a fixed canon of Pauline texts.

In his excellent study of 1983, Dennis MacDonald identified the Pastoral Epistles and the Acts of Paul as the two main opposing paths regarding the legacy of the Apostle in the second century. He rejected the theory of interdependence between the written sources and instead assumed that the authors of the Epistles and the Acts both knew the same oral legends about Paul.1 The author2 of the PastoralEpistles was unhappy with the way Paul was depicted in these legends, which later found their way into the Acts, and decided to correct them in Paul’s name.3 How could these radically opposing interpretations of Paul develop? When we look at the original Paul, i.e. the one we know through his (authentic) letters, we can detect that his statements are not always unequivocal, particularly 1 See Dennis MacDonald, TheLegendandtheApostle.TheBattleforPaulinStoryandCanon (Philadelphia, 1983), 59-66. 2 Undoubtedly, the three letters can be considered as a unit, see Howard Marshall, ThePastoral Epistles (London, 2004), 1. Whether there was one author or a group of people involved in their composition we cannot say. For the sake of simplicity, I choose the singular term. 3 Recently, Jeremy Barrier argued that there was ‘no sufficient evidence to directly link the APTh to earlier folklore or oral accounts that were the target of the Pastorals’, so Jeremy Barrier, TheActsofPaulandThecla (Tübingen, 2009), 37. This theory is, however, highly questionable. While the evident antagonism between the two texts may not necessarily prove a direct relationship between them, the various marks of oral form contained in APTh, which MacDonald was able to present (see also Stephen Davis, The Cult of St Thecla. A Tradition of Women’s Piety in Late Antiquity [Oxford, 2009], 14-5), clearly demonstrate the dependence on oral tradition.

StudiaPatristica XCIX, 109-114. © Peeters Publishers, 2018.

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regarding questions of asceticism. He states that it is good for a man not to touch a woman, but goes on to explain that, since there is so much immorality, each man should have his own wife, and each woman her own husband (1Cor. 7:1-2). He states that only those of weak faith refrain from eating meat (Rom. 14:2), but goes on to explain that it is better not to eat meat or drink wine or to do anything else that will cause your brother to fall (Rom. 14:21). Beside this general ambivalence, there is also an apparent difference between Paul’s own celibate lifestyle (‘I wish that all were as I myself am’ – 1Cor. 7:7) and his ‘liberal’ teachings on the matter (‘if they cannot control themselves, they should marry’ – 1Cor. 7:9). In the light of these circumstances, it seems understandable that the heirs of Paul wanted to clarify the issues by establishing unambiguous rules. Moreover, with the above stated difference between Paul’s personal lifestyle on the one hand and his teachings on the other, the choice of genre becomes understandable, too. The genre of the Acta, which focuses on Paul’s life and actions, is chosen by the party who wants to portray the Apostle as a rigorist ascetic. The letter, however, is the weapon of choice for a teacher wanting to rectify Paul’s doctrine by assuming his position. The image of Paul in the Acts of Paul and Thecla Compared to the testimony of the letters, the image of Paul in APTh shows several remarkable features. First of all, Paul never refers to the Old Testament except for two passages, which, however, appear to be later additions to the text.4 Secondly, his preaching, particularly his macarisms, is almost entirely devoted to a life of sexual purity: Blessed are those who kept the flesh chaste, for they will be a temple of God […] Blessed are they who though having a wife, are as those not having a wife, for they will inherit God […] Blessed are the bodies of the virgins, for they shall be well pleasing to God and they will not lose the rewards of their purity, because the word of the father shall be to them a work of salvation in the day of his son, and they shall have rest forever.5

As far as food restrictions are concerned, the testimony of the text is less certain. While some scholars are convinced that Paul is being portrayed as a vegetarian and a teetotaler,6 this claim is based on only one passage, in which Paul, Thecla, Onesiphorus, and his family are having a meal consisting of nothing The two passages in question are: ‘καὶ ἐκ μαρίας τῆς παρθένου καὶ ἐκ σπέρματος δαυίδ ὁ χριστός ἐστιν’ (APTh 3,1; J. Barrier, Acts [2009], 65-8) and ‘θεὸς ζηλωτής’ (APTh 3,17; J. Barrier, Acts [2009], 110-2). As for the first addition, Barrier tried to argue against Lipsius and Bonnet (ActaApostolorumApocrypha [Hildesheim, 1959] [first edition 1891], 236) that it was original, without further elaboration, though (see J. Barrier, Acts [2009], 68). The expression ἐκ σπέρματος δαυίδ is particularly striking, as it is also to be found in 2Tim. 2:8. 5 APTh 3,5-6 (J. Barrier, Acts [2009], 78-85). 6 See D. MacDonald, Legend (1983), 58. 4

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but bread, water, and vegetables.7 While this one non-alcoholic and meatless meal certainly does not make Paul a vegetarian or a teetotaler, the specific mentioning of water and vegetables is striking.8 Moreover, in the ancient church, the belief that the consumption of alcohol and meat furthered sexual desire was common. Jerome states: ‘The eating of flesh, and drinking of wine, and fullness of stomach, is the seed-plot of lust. And so the comic poet says, “Venus shivers unless Ceres and Bacchus be with her”.’9 Thus, it may be assumed that someone with such a vigour for sexual abstinence as Paul (APTh) would also favour abstinence from any kind of ‘aphrodisiac’. Finally, another crucial factor is the view of women and their position within the Christian community. Even though Thecla is never assigned an official position such as apostle or bishop (these terms are completely absent from APTh), there can be no doubt that she is the heroine of the story and is fully accepted by Paul. The image of Paul in the Pastoral Epistles The image of Paul in the Pastorals could hardly be more different from the one presented in APTh. There is, to begin with, the very negative image of women regarding their position in the church: Let a woman learn in silence with full submission. I permit no woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she is to keep silent. For Adam was formed first, then Eve; and Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor. Yet she will be saved through childbearing, provided they continue in faith and love and holiness, with modesty. (1Tim. 2:11-5)

Besides the prohibition of women to hold church offices which immediately follows from this passage, there is also the often neglected soteriological aspect: a woman can be saved – apparently only – through bearing children. Accordingly, celibacy is not an option. This issue leads us to another important difference, the question of asceticism. In the judgment of David Hunter, the Pastoral Epistles form ‘perhaps the most striking instance of an anti-ascetic position in early Christian literature’10 – and this judgment may well be correct. While the Epistles are far from promoting any kind of libertine understanding 7

APTh 3,25 (J. Barrier, Acts [2009], 132-6). At the very end of the story, it is reported that Thecla spent her remaining days eating and drinking nothing but vegetables and water. Since this passage is not contained in all the manuscripts (see Richard Adelbert Lipsius, DieapokryphenApostelgeschichtenundApostellegendenII [Amsterdam, 1976] [first edition 1887], 457), it is possible that it was deliberately deleted later, in order to avoid any connection with Marcionite or Gnostic teaching (see below). 9 Adv. Jov. 2,7 (NPNF II, Vol. 6, 394). The quote is taken from the play Eunuchus by the Roman playwright Terence. 10 David Hunter, Marriage, Celibacy, and Heresy in Ancient Christianity. The Jovinianist Controversy(Oxford, 2007), 92. 8

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of sexuality, they are clearly opposed to radical sexual asceticism in the form of celibacy. This anti-ascetic attitude becomes even more obvious regarding questions of food. Besides rather detailed instructions (‘No longer drink only water, but take a little wine for the sake of your stomach and your frequent ailments’ – 1Tim. 5:23), the author of the Pastorals also engages in theological elaborations on the subject: Now the Spirit expressly says that in later times some will renounce the faith by paying attention to deceitful spirits and teachings of demons, through the hypocrisy of liars whose consciences are seared with a hot iron. They forbid marriage and demand abstinence from foods, which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and know the truth. For everything created by God is good and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving; for it is hallowed by the word of God and prayer.(1Tim. 4:1-5)

And, more succinctly: To the pure all things are pure.(Tit. 1:15)

These words found their way into several important theological treatises such as the Asketikon of St. Basil of Caesarea: In order to avoid falling in with the enemies of God who are seared in their conscience and thereby refrain from foods which God created to be partaken of by the faithful with thanksgiving, we should taste each food as the occasion presents itself, to show observers that to the pure all things are pure and that everything created by God is good and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving; for it is hallowed by the word of God and prayer .11

Apparently, in the fourth century, the fight between radical ascetics (e.g. the Manicheans), moderate ascetics (e.g. Basil) and so called ‘anti-ascetics’ (e.g. Jovinian12) was still raging, a battle which becomes tangible for the first time in the conflict between the parties behind the Pastorals and APTh. What about Marcion? One name which is strikingly missing from the work by MacDonald is Marcion.13 This is rather peculiar, given that Marcion was a, if not the key figure in the Pauline debate of the second century. When we consider Marcion’s 11

Anna Silvas, TheAsketikonofSt.BasiltheGreat (Oxford, 2005), 212. Jovinian was not actually anti-ascetic; he rather taught (among other things) that there was no difference between abstinence from food and receiving it with thanksgiving, see D. Hunter, Marriage (2007), 39-41. However, for his adversaries (e.g. Jerome) his beliefs were too radical, which earned Jovinian the nickname EpicurusChristianorum (Adv.Jov. 1,1) and a conviction for heresy. 13 He is briefly mentioned once (85) regarding the question of the canonization of the Pastoral Epistles. 12

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image of Paul, it is striking how distinctly he and APTh coincide. Every (positive) reference to the Old Testament is missing in his collection of the letters of Paul, just as they are missing from APTh. The fact that several Old Testament passages were later added to the text of APTh (see above) strengthens the suspicion that these passages were added to distinguish the text from the theology of Marcion. The most striking parallel between Marcion’s theology and APTh is in the field of ethics. We know of three prohibitions which were in force in Marcion’s community: meat, wine, and sexual intercourse,14 with the emphasis on the last, which is in close parallel to APTh. Paul’s macarisms in APTh, such as ‘blessed are they who are set apart from this world’ or ‘blessed are they who have come out of the image of this world through the love of God’,15 easily could have come from a sermon by Marcion, who made renunciation of this world his primary target. Also, we know that the arch-heretic allowed women to hold offices in his church,16 again in close analogy to APTh. Finally, the glorification of martyrdom, which dominates APTh, finds it equivalent in the substantial number of martyrs within Marcion’s church.17 Having established that Marcion’s image of Paul shows remarkable parallels to the portrait we find in APTh, the crucial question is whether there is any direct link between the two. APTh is certainly not a Marcionite text. Apart from the radical asceticism, which is not exclusive to Marcion’s community, the text contains no characteristic element of Marcionite doctrine (dualism etc.). Does that mean by implication that Marcion knew APTh? Assuming that Marcion had developed his doctrine by the 140s18 and agreeing with the growing consensus that the final redaction of the ActsofPaul (the collection to which APTh belongs) did not take place before the latter part of the second century,19 the probability that Marcion knew these texts is extremely low. Taking into further consideration that Tertullian, who dedicated two entire books to the issue of Marcion’s canon of scriptures and who knew (and despised) APTh, does not mention it in context with his arch-enemy, the plausibility becomes even lower. However, there can be no doubt that APTh is based on oral legends (see above), which originated in Asia Minor,20 where Marcion grew up.21 Thus, even if the arch-heretic had no access to a written document conveying the story of Paul and Thecla, it is most likely that he was aware of the story as 14 See Sebastian Moll, TheArch-HereticMarcion (Tübingen, 2010), 122-3. As far as wine is concerned, it is not entirely certain whether there was a complete ban on it during Marcion’s lifetime, see ibid. 15 APTh 3,5-6 (J. Barrier, Acts [2009], 78/85). 16 See S. Moll, Marcion (2010), 124-5. 17 See ibid. 132-3. 18 See ibid. 31-41. 19 See J. Barrier, Acts (2009), 23-4. 20 This is also where the cult of Saint Thecla originated, see S. Davis, Cult (2009), 4. 21 Marcion was born in Pontus, perhaps in the city of Sinope, see S. Moll, Marcion (2010), 26.

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such. The important thing to notice is that Marcion was the first to include this ascetical image of Paul in a larger system of theology and a fixed canon of Pauline texts. Conclusion The (rough) chronology presents itself as follows: Ca. 50-100 CE Ca. 100-150 CE Ca. 150-200 CE

Oral legends about Paul (and Thecla) originate in Asia Minor The PastoralEpistles attack the portrait of Paul contained in these legends Marcion includes this portrait into his theology The aforementioned legends are incorporated in the Actsof Paul

As for the two events described in the middle, they did not necessarily happen in this order, it is quite possible that the PastoralEpistles were written after Marcion had developed his theology. The idea that the Pastorals are directed against Marcion, however, is denied by many scholars,22 as there is simply not enough evidence to support such a concept. The target of the letters is the ascetical version of Paul, not a dualistic system of different gods. However, given that the legends of Paul and Thecla had been around for almost a century before the Pastorals were written, it is quite possible that the emergence of Marcionism in the middle of the second century served as some sort of wake-up call for those who feared the prevalence of the ‘wrong’ image of the Apostle and thus triggered the publication of the PastoralEpistles. While the exact interaction between these sources may remain a matter for debate, our analysis has clearly shown that Marcion was not the first to come up with a different image of Paul, but rather legitimized an already existing image of a radical ascetic opposed to the created world.

22

See H. Marshall, Epistles (2004), 677.

Reading Luke in Rome: The Temple and Pietas Mina MONIER, King’s College, London, UK

ABSTRACT This paper aims to identify Luke’s attitude toward the Temple of Jerusalem in the light of his interest to introduce Christianity in consistency with the Roman value of piety (Pietas). I will show Luke’s editorial work which led him to give an image of Christianity’s attitude to the Temple that is different to his sources. This peculiar view connects the elements of God’s visitation to the Temple through the person of the Kurios who also brings peace to the Temple. The image is then defended in a series of speeches in Acts against any allegation of disrespect towards the Temple by the peculiar expression ‘the customs of our ancestors’ which appears prominently in Luke-Acts (in the New Testament) and in Augustus’ definition of the Pietas in his ResGestae. The possibility of such reading could be supported by its clearer existence in 1Clement, which is another contemporaneous and independent text. The text makes a direct connection between the Roman Pietas and Christian theology which is manifest in the author’s apology against novelty as well as devotion to the Temple of Jerusalem and its centrality as an expression of allegiance to the customs of the ancestors. I will show that the Pietas elements in Luke-Acts and 1Clement could justify speaking of a common interest to reconcile the Gospel with Roman moral conduct proclaimed in Trajanic Roman literature, and most importantly featured in the Lukan materials unattested in the Evangelion, which is the Gospel text traditionally attributed to Marcion.

Introduction The unprecedented rise in literature produced on Marcion and his legacy in the last three years reflects the significance of this topic for scholarship today.1 One of the most important achievements of its debates is the strong mobilisation 1 In the past three years only: M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels, Studia Patristica Supplement 2 (Leuven, 2014); M. Klinghardt, DasÄltesteEvangeliumunddie EntstehungderKanonischenEvangelien, 2 vols. (Tübingen, 2015); D. Roth, TheTextofMarcion’s Gospel (Leiden, 2015); J. Lieu, MarcionandtheMakingofaHeretic (Cambridge, 2015); see also the recent issue of ZeitschriftfürAntikesChristentum 1 (2017), 1-199, which was dedicated to that topic. Most recently, Andrew Hayes, JustinagainstMarcion:DefiningtheChristianPhilosophy (Minneapolis, 2017). Works of earlier years include S. Moll, TheArch-HereticMarcion, WUNT 250 (Tübingen, 2010); J. BeDuhn, TheFirstNewTestament:Marcion’sScripturalCanon (Minnesota, 2013); J. Tyson, MarcionandLuke-acts:ADefiningStruggle (South Carolina, 2006); M. Gerhard and M. Katharina (eds), Marcion und seine kirchengeschichtliche Wirkung (Berlin,

StudiaPatristica XCIX, 115-138. © Peeters Publishers, 2018.

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of both branches of scholarship in early Christianity: New Testament and Patristics, a hypothetical division that this topic has justifiably deemed irrelevant. In a recent collection of essays that aimed to problematise that division,2 James Carleton Paget’s essay on ‘the Second Century from the Perspective of the New Testament’ unfolded a list of the different approaches of the scholarship that aim to explain the evolution of early Christianity during that formative period. Paget concluded his list with contemporary scholarship on Marcion: ‘the study of Marcion brings many of the different perspectives into focus’.3 This view is not a new trend within scholarship, but a truth known to Christian writers from as early as the second century. In his debate with Marcion, Tertullian himself distinguishes clearly between the Gospels of the apostles and the Gospels of the apostolic men who belonged to a later generation that cannot claim the same authority,4 and particularly Luke’s Gospel, which is late enough not to have authority on its own.5 It is in the spirit of these words that I present this article. The historical developments and literary production of at least the first half of the second century should not be seen posterior, and consequently irrelevant, to the composition and transmission of the Gospels, and particularly Luke-Acts. I will study the theme of the Temple, which is a problem in Lukan scholarship, as a case that could be assessed against that historical milieu that witnessed the activities of Marcion in Rome. In order to make this comparative method helpful, I will focus on what could be seen as characteristically Lukan to examine it in the Roman milieu of historical and literary developments. Without presuming a traditional two-source hypothesis or taking a firm position on the relationship between Marcion’s Evangelion and Luke, I will offer the comparisons between Luke and these different texts whenever it could be necessary for our case, which will eventually provide insights that contribute to the current debate. In this article, I will argue that Luke’s Temple attitude is part of his wider strategy to present a Christianity that is not a novelty, not a superstitio and hence not areligioillicita, but one that is firmly rooted in one of the ancient religions that existed and was accepted in the Roman Empire. The nature of the legitimation appears mostly in Luke’s treatment of the Temple, in which the elements of Roman piety are fulfilled. This fits the historical developments in Trajanic Rome, attested in a Christian Roman text of 1Clement, and most important featured prominently in the materials unattested for Marcion’s Evangelion.

2001). On a list of views in earlier scholarship see D. Roth, ‘Marcion’s Gospel and Luke: The History of Research in Current Debate’, JournalofBiblicalLiterature 127 (2008), 513-27. 2 James C. Paget and Judith Lieu (eds), ChristianityintheSecondCentury(Cambridge, 2017). 3 James C. Paget, ‘The Second Century from the Perspective of the New Testament’, in J.C. Paget and J. Lieu (eds), ChristianityintheSecondCentury (2017), 102. 4 Marc.4.2.2. 5 Marc. 4.2.2, see also Marc.4.2.4-5, and 4.3.1-2.

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The Problem of Luke’s Temple Attitude Scholarship on the Lukan view of the Temple is deeply divided due to the complexity of the task to provide a single definition of that attitude throughout the double work. There are mainly three opinions: the supersessionist one which stems from Hans Conzelmann’s salvation-history hypothesis; Luke abandons the Temple on the road towards a universal Gospel proclaimed in the capital of the Empire.6 Van der Waal for example suggested that Luke ‘replaces Israel who would not listen, by the faithful form of the Gentiles’.7 The same conclusion was reached from the perspective of sociological analysis of the contrast between the Temple and the Household.8 On the other hand, some scholars of late 70’s and 80’s acknowledged the eschatological voice of Luke which was toned down earlier under Conzelmann’s influence, and this led them to a more positive view of the Temple and its role in the eschatological community of Luke.9 Bradley Chance’s dissertation set the most comprehensive case for Luke’s view of a literal restoration of the Temple as part of the eschatological 6

This is the classic view of Hans Conzelmann, TheTheologyofSt.Luke (New York, 1982), 75 C. Van der Waal, ‘The Temple in the Gospel According to Luke’, Neotestamentica 7 (1973), 49-59. He took the argument from terminology to provide an understanding of supersessionism in which the Temple is no longer a ναός but merely a ἱερόν just as any gentile temple (ibid.) The terms appear together 45 times in Luke-Acts; ναός (6) and ἱερόν (39). See Peter Head, ‘The Temple in Luke’s Gospel’, in T. Desmond Alexander and Simon Gathercole (eds), Heaven on Earth:TheTempleinBiblicalTheology (London, 2004), 101-19. Cautiously, Nicholas H. Taylor, ‘The Jerusalem Temple in Luke Acts’, HTS Teologiese Studies 60 (2004), 459-85. J.H. Elliot, ‘Temple versus Household in Luke-Acts’, HTS (1991), 88-120. However, the location and usage of the terms do not suggest what van der Waal implied. Hence, Conzelmann rejects it: ‘Er (Lukas) unterscheidet nicht zwischen den verschiedenen Vorhöfen, sondern sieht das ἱερόν als einheitlichen Bezirk, zu dem nur die Juden Zugang haben’ [DieApostelgeschichte (Tübingen, 1963) 23]. 8 J.H. Elliot, ‘Temple versus Household in Luke-Acts’ (1991), 90: ‘The Household which is capable of embodying socially, symbolically and ideologically the structures, values and goals of an inclusive gospel of universal salvation [...] which is contrasted to the Temple, the bankrupt seat of Jewish power and piety, and to the city, the area of ‘Caesar’s network’ and locus of social control.’ Elliot’s work relied heavily on cultural anthropology and particularly the work of Bruce Malina [ChristianOriginsandCulturalAnthropology(Atlanta, 1986)] and hence I do not find it convincing. In response, see A.G. van Aarde, ‘The Most High Does Live in Houses, But not Houses Built by Men’, Neotestamentica 25 (1991), 51-64. This approach was faithfully followed by M.C. McKeever, SacredSpaceandDiscursiveField:TheNarrativeFunctionoftheTemple in Luke-Acts, Dissertation (California: Graduate Theological Union, 1999) (also projecting a social map from Industrial Europe on Luke, based on Robert Wuthnow, CommunitiesofDiscourse [Massachusetts, 1989]). Young-San Jung, From Temple to House-Church in Luke Acts, unpublished dissertation (University of St. Andrews, 2000). 9 See Francis Weinert, The Meaning of the Temple in the Gospel of Luke, unpublished dissertation (Fordham University, 1979); id., ‘The meaning of the Temple in Luke-Acts’, Biblical TheologyBulletin:AJournalofBibleandTheology 11 (1981), 85-9; id., ‘Luke, Stephen, and the temple in Luke-Acts’, BiblicalTheologyBulletin:AJournalofBibleandTheology 17 (1987), 88-90; M. Bachmann, JerusalemundderTempel:diegeographisch-theologischenElementeinderlukanischenSichtdesjüdischenKultzentrums (Stuttgart, 1980). 7

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hope of Jesus and his movement.10 The problem of identifying the background of Luke that led to this peculiarly positive perspective of the Temple remains as a challenge.11 The third and more contemporaneous opinion is acknowledging the ambiguity of Luke’s attitude. J. Tyson12 acknowledged the centrality of the Temple in the Luke-Acts,13 yet the Temple sometimes appears as the place of peace and, on the other hand, of conflict. This creates ambivalence14 or, in the words of Nicholas Perrin, a ‘deeply paradoxical’ image.15 Therefore, it seems that scholarship reached a dead end with this question. However, this spectrum of opinion shares the same problem which is not taking the leap of reading the Temple attitude of Luke-Acts alongside its contemporaneous Roman challenges that Luke must have felt the need to address. However, the problem of establishing a link between the GospelofLuke and the imperial cult has been a challenging task due to the fact that Luke never explicitly mentions it in his double work.16 This makes the process of finding connections in terminology and possible allusions a cautious process lest we fall into parallelomania, as C. Rowe states.17 Further, the seemingly contradictory impressions in these connections make us less confident in offering a single coherent view of the image of Rome, whether it was positive or negative. On the one hand we find examples of the Roman rulers and officials such as the centurions in Luke 7 and 23 and Julius of the Augustan Cohort in Acts 27 in a relatively decent way.18 On the other hand, Jesus’ image as the ‘Lord above all who preaches peace’ (Acts 10:36-7)19 is unavoidably a serious challenge to the Roman one. Further difficulties arise from understanding Luke’s intention; whether he was offering an apologiaproecclesia or proimperium.20

10 B. Chance, Jerusalem, the Temple and the New Age (Georgia, 1988); Christopher Kavin Rowe, EarlyNarrativeChristology:TheLordintheGospelofLuke (Berlin, 2006) and Joshua W. Jipp, DivineVisitationsandHospitalitytoStrangersinLuke-Acts (Leiden, 2013). Both works paved the way for Gregory Lanier, ‘Luke’s Distinctive Use of the Temple: Portraying the Divine Visitation’, JTS 65 (2014), 433-62. 11 Neither Chance nor Dawsey found a solution to the source of Luke’s Temple attitude. 12 Joseph Tyson, TheDeathofJesusinLuke-Acts (South Carolina, 1986). 13 Ibid. 87-9. 14 Ibid. 107-53. 15 Nicholas Perrin, JesustheTemple (Michigan, 2011), 61. The same position is taken by Joel Green, TheGospelofLuke (Cambridge, 1997), 131. 16 I accept the widely agreed opinion that Luke and Acts are two volumes of the same work. 17 See C.K. Rowe, JSNT27 (2005), 279-300. 18 Klaus Wengst,PaxRomanaandthePeaceofJesusChrist (London, 1987). Joshua Yoder, RepresentativesofRomanRule (Berlin, 2014). 19 τὸν λόγον ὃν ἀπέστειλεν τοῖς υἱοῖς Ἰσραὴλ εὐαγγελιζόμενος εἰρήνην διὰ Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ· οὗτός ἐστιν πάντων κύριος. 20 In his comprehensive work on this topic, Allen Brent offered a more dynamic route by suggesting that the Church, as it appears in Luke, was more concerned to justify its position to itself, see his ‘Luke-Acts and the Imperial Cult in Asia Minor’, JTS 48 (1997), 411-38, 412.

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Luke’s view of the Temple 1) The third Gospel starts and concludes in the Temple of Jerusalem. The birth of John is foretold by a vision in the Temple.21 The angel’s key statement in Luke1:19 was redacted to include the Lukan εὐαγγελίσασθαι.22 Thus, for Lukethe Gospel is declared inside and from the heart of Israel’s Temple, not in the Jordan River outside Jerusalem as the Evangelion that starts from Luke3. The Temple then functions as the womb of the good news and this assures the reader of the continuance of the same Israelite salvation history.23 Jesus’ circumcision and the announcement of the details of his ministry in Simeon’s canticle is another step taken after the angel’s announcement of the Gospel in the same place (the Temple).24 Through the infancy section, boy Jesus and his family show devotion to the Temple and ancient customs.25 2) The preparation for the ministry section concludes with the Temptation narrative. The author rearranged his source to make the climactic scene on the pinnacle of the Temple.26 The pericope shows Jesus’ loyalty to the law and the Temple, which was considered by Kloppenborg as a special unit added to Q at some point to tone down the language that could be considered against the Law and the Temple.27 The Temptation unit reflects the entirety of the Lukan narrative in which Jesus’ arrival in the Temple is the climax of his mission. This is confirmed by the Lucan concluding remarks: the devil will leave Jesus at the Temple temporarily (and returns to him in Luke 22:3).28 It is not surprising that Marcion’s Evangelion did not have it. 3) In the vein of Mal. 3:1-4 (Luke 3:1-6) and Is. 58:6, 61:1-2 Jesus ‘sets his face toward Jerusalem’ with an uncompromising determination.29 Attempts 21

Luke1:5-24. It appears only in Luke Acts (23 times). Jeremias correctly observes that “3 Hinzufügungen zur Markus Vorlage (Lk.4:43 dif. Mk.1:38; Lk.9:6 dif. Mk.6:13 und Lk.20:1 dif. Mk.11:27) die Vorliebe des dritten Evangelisten für das mediale εὐαγγελίσασθαί” [DieSprachedesLukasevangeliums (Göttingen, 1980)]. 23 Hence scholars saw the continuum of Judaism and Christianity in Luke: Gerhard Schneider, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (Tübingen, 1984), 46; Walter Schmithals, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (Tübingen, 1980), 24; François Bovon rules out the possibility of the Essenes to be behind the pre-Lukan source due to its positive language regarding the Temple and priesthood [Das EvangeliumnachLukas,Bd. 1 (Einsiedeln, 1996), 50, 61]. Also Raymond E. Brown, Birthofthe Messiah(Yale, 2007), 267-8. 24 Luke2:21-38. 25 His presentation in the Temple (Lk.2:22-40) and his presence there as it is the house of his father (Lk.2:41-52). 26 Luke3:1-4:13. 27 This is Q3 in his stratification of the sayings source. John S. Kloppenborg, ‘Symbolic Eschatology and the Apocalypticism of Q’, HTR 80 (1987), 287-306. 28 See Walter Grundmann, Paul Althaus, and Erich Fascher, DasEvangeliumnachLukas. Evangelium (Berlin, 1974), 117. 29 Luke9:51,54; 13:22; 18:31; 19:28. 22

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to understand the expression of setting the face to Jerusalem as a judgment against the Temple hastily connect it with Ezekiel’s application for bringing judgment,30 which is not the case.31 In the light of the mentioned prophecies Jesus was fulfilling God’s visitation to his people and precisely to the Temple.32 The term ἐπισκοπῇ is characteristically Lukan where it is also used to identify God’s visitation to his people with Jesus’ ministry.33 That visitation (ἐπισκοπῆ) of God is associated with the visitation of Jesus himself to the Temple in an unmistakable Christological tone, whether in the response of the crowd as in the widow of Nain miracle (Luke 7:11-7) or in the final prophetic words Jesus said before his entrance to Jerusalem.34 Most importantly, the words of Jesus right before his entrance (19:41-4) which declare that it is the things which make for peace (τὰ πρὸς εἰρήνην) that Jesus brought with him to the Temple. Jerusalem’s failure to recognise these things and the visitation of God (οὐκ ἔγνως τὸν καιρὸν τῆς ἐπισκοπῆς σου), make its destruction imminent. The scholars who read a negative Temple attitude in Luke’s work focus on the judgment sayings of Luke11:49-51 and 13:34-5 which depict the Temple as a crime scene that leads to its final abandonment.35 However, the criticism is addressed against the sacrilegious murderers who profaned the Temple with 30 See Michael C. McKeever, Sacred Space and Discursive Field: The Narrative Function of the Temple in Luke-Acts, Dissertation (California, 1999), 157. He relies on the apparition of this expression in some places in the LXX with the meaning of bringing judgment. See Jer. 4:10; Ez. 6:2; 13:17 and 21:2-4. 31 The best representative of this case is McKeever’s conjecture that Jesus’ positive attitude towards the Samaritans is an indication of his negative attitude to the Temple [See the Good Samaritan parable Lk.10:25-37; the healing of the Lepers has the only grateful one being Samaritan Lk.17:11-9] contradicts his own interpretation of the expression ‘set his face toward Jerusalem’ because the same Samaritans refused to receive Jesus ὅτι τὸ πρόσωπον αὐτοῦ ἦν πορευόμενον εἰς Ἰερουσαλήμ (Lk.9:51-4). If Luke meant by this term judgment against the Temple, he would not have used it as an excuse for the Samaritan rejection of Jesus. Hence, both arguments of McKeever cancel each other. 32 Luke1:68,78; 7:16 and our discussed text 19:44. It should be noted that the theme of God’s visitation appears in the Old Testament with two implications: bringing punishment (Ps. 88:39; Sir. 2:14), or salvation (Gen. 50:24-5; Ex. 3:16; 4:31; 13:19; 30:12; Isa. 23:17). The Lukan Sondergut has only one consistent meaning which is the positive one. See F. Bovon, DasEvangelium nach Lukas (1996), 104-5; Gerd Petzke, Das Sondergut des Evangeliums nach Lukas (Zürich, 1990), 173. 33 Luke 1:68, 78; 7:16; 15:14; 19:44; Acts 15:14; J. Jeremias, Die Sprache des Lukasevangeliums (1980), 281-2. 34 Luke19:41-4. 35 A. Plummer, ACriticalandExegeticalCommentaryontheGospelaccordingtoSt.Luke (Edinburgh, 1922), 352. See Schulz’s statement of what he calls Q’s judgment (Gerichtswort): ‘Die Stadt als Haus Israels wird von Gott verlassen werden, indem er den Zionstempel als seine Wohnung aufgibt’, so Siegfried Schulz, Q–dieSpruchquellederEvangelisten (Zürich, 1972), 356; John S. Kloppenborg, ‘The Sayings Gospel Q: Recent opinion on the people behind the document’, CurrentsinResearch:BiblicalStudies1(1993), 9-34; Simon J. Joseph, Jesusand theTemple (Cambridge, 2016), 105; B. Gärtner, TheTempleandtheCommunityinQumranand theNewTestament(Cambridge, 1965), 110ff.

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the blood of their victims. The Temple was not criticised as an obsolete or a heretical form of worship to be subject to the judgment, but it was the victim of its occupiers. This theme was used in Josephus’ rhetoric against the zealots whose crimes eventually brought the destruction of the Temple.36 4) The Jerusalem section should actually be called the Temple section because Jesus, unlike other Gospels, remains in the Temple throughout it. A comparison between the Lukan and Markan accounts of Jesus’ activity in Jerusalem shows that Luke carefully edits his source to ensure that Jesus never leaves the Temple which appears to be his final destination,37 and bracketed the section with two Lukan additions emphasising that Jesus was everyday in the Temple.38 In this section Jesus, as Conzelmann correctly states, seems to be claiming the Temple39 and this brings conflict between him as an authoritative teacher against the Jewish authorities. Jesus’ devotion to the Temple then glorifies the God of Israel who comes to his Temple through Jesus’ own visitation, as Jesus himself declares in Luke19:41-4. It is also important to note that Luke also refuses to sandwich Jesus’ brief Temple action by the Markan cursing of the Temple, which was undoubtedly employed by Mark as a criticism of the Temple.40 5) In Jesus’ trial (Luke 23:2), Luke does not share the charges found in other synoptic accounts (the charge made against Jesus threatening the Temple41), particularly in comparison with the Markan explanatory remarks that reflect his negative views about the Temple ‘that is made with hands’, being replaced with

36

From the very beginning of the JewishWar, Josephus made his case clear: Josephus’ country ‘owed its ruin to civil strife’ (στάσις οἰκεία), and that it was ‘the Jewish tyrants who drew down upon the holy temple the unwilling hands of the Romans’ (B.J. 1:10-2). The Temple’s sancta was profaned by the bloodshed inside it (B.J.2:424, 443-6; 4:314-25, 334-44 etal.). Most importantly is his speech to the Zealots in 5:380 in which he explicitly accuses them of polluting the Temple. His conclusion of the consequences of these acts on the Temple is made clear in the last book of Ant. 20:165-6, and this clearly squares with Lk.11:49-51. 37 Luke omits Mark’s account for Jesus’ leaving to Bethany twice (Mk.11:11,19), the prophecy of the Temple’s destruction is brought inside it by removing the reference to leaving it (Mk.13:1) and the last activity (the third flight to Bethany) in Mk.14:1 is pushed back to 7:36-50. 38 Luke19:47-48; 21:37-8. 39 H. Conzelmann, TheTheologyofSt.Luke (1982), 75. See also Eduard Schweizer, TheGood NewsAccordingtoLuke (Atlanta, 1957), 297-8. 40 Mk.11:16-7 with the cursing of the fig tree 11:12-4 and its interpretation 11:20-5. 41 It is important to observe that that accusation appears in Marcion’s Evangelion and several Latin MSS with an extention: καὶ καταλύοντα τὸν νόμον καὶ τοὺς προϕήτας. Exegetes either ignored it or dismissed it as a Marcionite interpolation or a harmonisation with Matth. 5:17, so Joseph Fitzmeyer, TheGospelAccordingtoLuke (New York, 1981), 1475; F. Bovon, Das EvangeliumnachLukas (1996), 257. However, it is well attested in western manuscripts that are not dependent on Marcion. Further, this is the only Marcionite attestation that is longer than Luke’s equivalent; Marcion is always shorter and it would be odd to think that he left the entire Evangelion without additions except for this verse. Besides, we have no evidence on a Marcionite tendency to harmonise Luke with Matthew.

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another ‘not made with hands’.42 The offensive term χειροποίητον is well attested in Second Temple writings in which it had a sharply negative connotation.43 In the light of this, it is not surprising to see Luke’s revision of the Markan eschatology known as the little apocalypse (Mark 13) through which Luke uses what seems to be a pre-lukan eschatological discourse and avoiding the clear Markan reference to the desecration of the Temple (The Desolating Sacrilege Mark13:14). Since the peace has a cosmic dimension, Luke carefully avoids the apocalyptic judgment for a more historical eschatology that would fit the message of the peace just as we saw in his editorial work on the hymns in the infancy section. It would be peculiar to enquire why Luke would omit the desecration of the Temple, which was indeed destroyed in 70 AD. Luke completed the eschatological shape of the oracle with the Markan insertions. Beside the theological coherence between this unit and Luke19:41-4, as we will see, I confidently join the scholars who think of a single continuous source behind this section only.44 Michael Bachmann’s thesis was one of the strong voices against separating the Temple from Jerusalem in the Lukan theology.45 While he finds: ‘auffällig ist es ohne jede Frage’ that the Lukan version of the eschatological discourse (Luke 21:20-4) shifts the reference from the destruction of the Temple (as in Mark) to Jerusalem,46 he made nothing of it. The Gospel ends with the apostles being continually in the Temple praising God.47 This ending connects the Gospel with the book of Acts perfectly. Peter is commissioned by ‘the Lord’ to teach in the Temple48 and with John they perform healing in the Temple49 while the apostles are arrested for their ‘many signs’ in the portico of Solomon.50 The Temple remains as the house of both teaching and prayer even in the existence of the households as places of worship: ‘And every day in the temple and at home they did not cease to teach 42

Mk.14:58. For example see Philo’s Legat. 292; Sib.Or.4,6-11 and 2Baruch 4:2-7. 44 Vincent Taylor, Behind the Third Gospel (Oxford, 1926). Id., ‘A Cry from the Siege: a Suggestion Regarding a Non-Marcan Oracle Embedded in Luke xxi 20-36’, JTS 26 (1925), 13644; Charles H. Dodd, ‘The Fall of Jerusalem and the “Abomination of Desolation”’, Journalof RomanStudies 37 (1947), 47-54; Paul Winter, ‘The treatment of his sources by the third evangelist in Luke XXI‐XXIV’, Studia Theologica – Nordic Journal of Theology 8 (1954), 138-72; Marie-Émile Boismard, EnQuêteduProto-Luke (Paris, 1997); W. Nicol, ‘Tradition and Redaction in Luke 21’, Neotestamentica 7 (1973), 61-71; François Bovon, ‘Le récit Lucanien de la Passion’, in C. Focant (ed.), TheSynopticGospels:SourceCriticismandtheNewLiteraryCriticism (Leuven, 1993), 393-423; Thomas W. Manson, SayingsofJesus (London, 1949); Lloyd Gaston, NoStone on Another (Leiden, 1970); J. Ernst, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (Regensburg, 1977), 561; G. Schneider, Lukas (1984), 423. T. Schramm, DerMarkus-Stoff(Cambridge, 1971), 178-80. 45 M. Bachmann, JerusalemundderTempel (1980). 46 Ibid. 135. 47 Luke24:53. 48 Acts 5:20, see also 3:11-26. 49 Acts 3:1-10. 50 Acts 5:12-6. 43

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and proclaim Jesus as the Messiah’.51 Paul’s arrest was due to his act of bringing gentiles to the Temple in a clear Isaianic eschatological image.52 There, he himself shaves his head, presents his offerings53 and, upon his arrest, he defends himself by saying that he in no way spoke against the Temple.54 Thus, ritual piety extends to the early Church. Most importantly, Paul defended himself against the Jewish accusations, we mentioned before, by affirming his belief in ‘the God of our ancestors’ (Acts 24:14) and in his final speech he makes it clear that he ‘had done nothing against our people or the customs of our ancestors’.55 In his double work, Luke offered an image of Christianity that emerges within the womb of Israel and lives in its commitment to the Temple, whether in the life and ministry of Jesus himself or his movement. Despite the destruction of the Temple, Luke, like post-destruction Jewish literature, preserves the admiration and respect of the Temple, not as an obsolete symbol that belongs to the past but also as a target for the eschatological hope realised in the life of the post-Easter community. To achieve this, Luke carefully redacted his sources and rooted the beginning of the Gospel (by adding the infancy section) as well as the experience of the first community (in Acts) in the Temple. Lukan Characteristic Language But why was Luke keen on delivering such an image of the Temple? This requires a wider search for the possible historical circumstances that might have driven him to deliver this image as a message for his addressee(s). In the following section, I will aim to show what evidence could help us to see the nature of the rhetoric in which this Temple image was part of. There are three observation that could build a case for Luke’s intention to address Imperial ideology through his Temple attitude. Testing the Temple notions in Luke-Acts leads us to three major observations that are peculiarly Lukan and have resonance in the Imperial Cult. 1. The Temple scenes in Luke are associated with Jesus as the Kurios who fulfils the virtue of Pietas. 2. Throughout the double work, the Temple is associated with the special Lukan term ‘customs’ (τὰ ἔθη). 3. Luke introduces the Temple as a model for ‘Peace and Concord’, against the model of ‘Sedition’ of the opponents. 1Clement also provides an example on how such a model is maintained. 51 πᾶσάν τε ἡμέραν ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ καὶ κατ’ οἶκον οὐκ ἐπαύοντο διδάσκοντες καὶ εὐαγγελιζόμενοι τὸν χριστὸν Ἰησοῦν, Acts5:42; see also Acts 2:46-7b. 52 Acts 21:30. See Isa.42:6; 49:6,22 etal. 53 Acts21:26; 24:18. 54 Acts25:8. 55 Acts28:17.

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FirstObservation The first two chapters show the strongest devotion to the Temple of Jerusalem. Yet, the Temple scenes are interwoven with allusions to the Imperial Cult that cannot be explained otherwise. Luke carefully edited his sources to provide us with the same features of the PaxRomana, with resonance in 1Clement as well. This is obvious in announcements of both Mary’s Magnificat and, later, Simeon’s canticle. The God of Israel is praised for his final salvation,56 which launches the dawn57 of a new age of peace,58 social justice59 and Messianic reign.60 Most importantly, this view is not an innovation, but Luke was keen on rooting it in antiquity.61 These eschatological elements comprise the Gospel which was announced inside the Temple.62 The deliberate inclusion of Augustus’ name in the narrative63 and the angelic announcement to the shepherds which are loaded with references connecting Jesus with Augustus64 should also draw our attention to what context his Temple piety is read within. Since Luke’s intention to bring Augustus into his narrative is obvious, this should also lead us to think of Jesus’ divine sonship (by the virtue of his birth, not his ministry65) to have Augustus’ own birth as the closest parallel that could come to the Roman reader’s mind.66 The second and third Temple scenes in the infancy 56

Zechariah Lk.1:68b,71, 77; Mary Lk.1:54-5; Simeon Lk.2:30; 1Clem. 60.3. Zechariah Lk.1:78 (ἀνατολή); 1Clem. 60.4. 58 Zechariah Lk.1:79b; Simeon Lk.2:29; the angels Lk.2:45; 1Clem. 60-1. 59 Mary Lk.1:51-3; 1Clem. 59.3. On the Magnificat see Allen Brent, ImperialCult (Leiden, 1999), 98-9. 60 Zechariah Lk. 1:69; Gabriel to Mary Lk. 1:34-5; the angels to the shepherds Lk. 2:11; Simeon Lk.2:29-32; 1Clem. 59.3, 60.3, 20.11. 61 Zechariah Lk.1:70; Mary Lk.1:55; 1Clem. 23.3, 30.7, 60.4. 62 The angel’s key statement in verse 19 is redacted to include the important verb (εὐαγγελίσασθαι) in its middle voice which he will use frequently later. It appears only in Luke Acts (23 times). 63 Luke2:1. The lack of evidence on such a universal census strongly suggests Luke’s intention to include Augustus’ name for a reason other than history. 64 Luke2:8-14; The angel announces the Evangelion (εὐαγγελίζομαι ὑμῖν) of the birth of the σωτήρ, κύριος (and the υἱὸς θεοῦ in 1:34) who brings εἰρήνη for the οἰκουμένη (2:1). The latter is clearly defined by Luke as the Roman Empire (Acts 11:28). These have striking parallels with the imperial cult. See particularly the Priene inscription as published in W. Dittenberger, OrientisGraecaeInscriptionesSelectae, SupplementumSyllogesinscriptionumgraecarum (Leipzig, 1905), vol. 2, 48-60. See F. Bovon, DasEvangeliumnachLukas (1996), 83; G. Schneider, Lukas (1984), 65-6; John M. Creed, TheGospelAccordingtoSt.Luke (London, 1930), 35-6; see K. Wengst, PaxRomana(1987), 103-4. 65 A. Brent, ImperialCult (1999), 96-7 shows that not every exegesis on the same scripture leads to such a striking similarity with imperial cult. Hence, Luke’s Divine sonship differs significantly from Matthew’s which is not by the virtue of miraculous birth. Hence see John Nolland, ‘No Son-of-God Christology in Matthew 1.18-25’, JSNT 62 (1996), 3-12. 66 Aug. 94:4; see also Dio 45.1.2: ὅτι ἡ Ἀττία δεινῶς ἰσχυρίζετο ἐκ τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος αὐτὸν κεκυηκέναι; several scholars went to suggest Egypt legends (Plutarch, DeIs.etOsir. 12, 355 e): Creed and Bovon rely on H. Gressmann,DasWeihnachtsevangeliumaufUrsprungundGeschichte untersucht (Göttingen, 1914). 57

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narratives67 continue the theme of piety in keeping the customs and unfolding the allusions to the Imperial Cult. The finding of boy Jesus in the Temple has the best parallel in Augustus’ finding in the Temple at the same age and with the same message which identifies the sonship in the Temple of his Father.68 The relationship between Jesus’ mission as the κύριος who brings God to his Temple is not far from Augustus’ mission to restore Jupiter’s worship back to his restored temples. The association of Jesus as the Lord who performs the last divine visitation to the Temple is also shared with 1Clement.69 Similar to Luke’s Christologised visitation, Augustus’ divinity was developed in his devotion to Jupiter’s glory: from the exceptional offerings he made at the restored Capitoline temple which revived the Secular Games onwards.70 However, the most interesting feature is the fact that both Kurioi (Jesus and Augustus) identify their mission with bringing peace to their temples. It is difficult to extract the Temple from the Lukan references to the Imperial Cult and therefore it is legitimate to ask whether his insistence to show Jesus and his family in their Tempelfrömmigkeit being part of his programme to interact with the Roman cultic piety. Pietas is not simply a moral virtue, but it had a larger set of elements making it one of the most prominent Roman virtues that should be acquired by the Roman citizen as well as the Emperor. According to Cicero’s classic definition, Pietas is the loyalty towards the fatherland, the parents and blood-related people.71 However, Pietas could be expanded towards unwavering loyalty to the gods and emperors as we find it in Suetonius and Tacitus respectively.72 Whether the one is an average Roman citizen, a noble or the Emperor himself, he is expected to show Pietas as an expression of mindfulness and goodness, and this could be manifested in the respect offered to the Temples. In his final work, known as ResGestae, in which he enlists his accomplishments shortly 67

Luke2:21-38, 41-52. In search for similar stories, scholars suggested examples from the Greco-Roman world beside Philo’s account of Moses’ childhood and Josephus’ own story, and went as far as Buddha, for example Alexander (Plut., Alex. 5), or Apollonius (Philostratus, VitaApoll. I 7), Philo’s Vita Mos. 1, Josephus’ Vita2. See the suggestions of J.M. Creed, Luke (1930), 44-5; Walter Radl, Der UrsprungJesu(Wien, 1996), 257. On its biographical form see F. Bovon, DasEvangeliumnach Lukas (1996), 154. However, if Luke’s story hinges on the Temple and divine sonship as we illustrated earlier, then Augustus’ story fits the bill (Suet., Aug.94.8; Loeb’s Latin text and translation, 268-71). Another version of the story appears in Dio., Hist.45.2:3-4. In fact the 12 years old Augustus gave the oration of his mother’s funeral, according to Suet., Aug.8. 69 See 1Clem. 29.3; 50.3 where he christologises the visitation (τῆς ἐπισκοπής), which is a feature only found in Luke as said before (see fn. 32 above). 70 Suet., Aug. 30.2, see also Res Gestae 21.2. On how he became associated with Jupiter see Horace’s Odes III 5:1-4, Manilius 1.9.916, Ovid, Tristia V 2:25-50 and later coinage (see D. Fishwick, ‘On the Temple of Divus “Augustus”’, Phoenix 46 [1992], 232-55). 71 DeInventioneII 66. See also Gertrude Emilie, ‘Cicero and the Roman Pietas’, TheClassical Journal 39 (1944), 536-42. 72 Suet.,Vit.3; Tac., Ann.III 53. 68

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before his death, Augustus Caesar concludes with the golden shield which bore an inscription of the four virtues of courage, clemency, justice and Pietas. This shield was presented to him by the senate in acknowledgement of what he achieved in his rule.73 This is what we find throughout that book. Augustus identifies Pietas as the devotion to ancient temples, respect to the ancestors and preserving their customs.74 As for the devotion to ancient temples, Augustus was keen to show his conservative approach by restoring ancient temples that were destroyed, founding new ones to commemorate ancient traditions and declaring the climactic achievement of his career there. The temple is where the ultimate message of the PAX is declared. Augustus’ interest to declare his greatest accomplishment, that is peace, was through the symbolic act of shutting the Temple of Janus Quirinus.75 Intertwining both concepts: legitimacy through allegiance to the cult of the ancestors and celebrating peace, Augustus’ name was included to the hymn of the Salii: an ancient hymn by the so-called ‘leaping priests’.76 This particular hymn was sung for the safety and peace of Rome.77 His particular interest in relating himself to Jupiter made him found three temples on his name and to restore the Capitoline in the occasions of his successive victories and pacification of the different areas in the Empire.78 Hence Horace explains the Roman worldview by associating the satisfaction of the gods in the temples with peace in the age of Augustus,79 while Livy describes him as ‘the founder and restorer of all the temples’ (Livy IV 20). His religious devotion went as far as to become the Augur, the Pontificex and the quindecimviri, the chief supervisor over foreign cults as well.80 His evolving divinity is a consequence to his special relationship with Jupiter who apparently receives most dedication in Augustus’ restoration of his temples and ancient cultic practices that were long lost.81 One of Augustus’ most important deeds on this matter was showing his piety against the impiety of his enemies. Augustus replaced the ornaments despoiled

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ResGestae34. ResGestae 34. Interestingly, a copy of the shield (clupeusvirtutis of Arles) explicitly dated to 26 BCE (when Augustus was appointed consul for the eighth time) adds further that his piety was shown to the gods and country: ‘pietatisergaDeospatriamque’; see A. Cooley, ResGestae DiviAugusti:TextTranslationandCommentary (Cambridge, 2009), 266-7. This addition shows how piety is addressed towards the realms of politics and religion. 75 ResGestae13; Livy, Hist. 1.19; Horace, Odes IV 15.9. 76 ResGestae10. 77 P. Brunt’s commentary, ResGestaeDiviAugusti:TheAchievementsoftheDivineAugustus (Oxford, 1969), 52. 78 ResGestae 19-20. 79 OdesIII 6. 80 ResGestae 7. See P. Brunt, ResGestae (1969), 48-9. 81 ResGestae8. 74

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from the Temple of Asia Minor by his ‘adversary’ with new ones.82 Surviving Greek inscriptions suggest that it was forbidden by law to confiscate anything from ‘public or sacred places in cities or in the territory of a city in every province’83 and that whoever is in charge of the province must provide replacements for these lost vessels. This inscription shows that the piety and respect for the temples is not just a Roman imperial law but reflects a culture that includes all recognised sanctuaries – and they are specific ones – not imperial ones only (another part of the inscription in Latin shows how the magistrates of Cyrene in Aeolis were required to restore a shrine of Dionysius for a localcult).84 This culture of Pietas is expected to be appreciated regardless of the political stance of the evangelist. Indeed, Luke introduced Jesus’ life and ministry in a way that fulfils Roman Pietas. Secondobservation Throughout the double work, Luke associates the term ‘customs’ with the Temple. This term is peculiarly Lukan. It appears 13 times in the New Testament, including 10 times in Luke-Acts.85 But the more important fact is that the term appears only once in the Septuagint.86 Luke, who is known to be loyal to the Septuagintal vocabulary chose to use this biblical hapax legomenon frequently in his expression of Christian piety. Further, looking outside the Jewish bible, we see little reference to it in rabbinic literature.87 We start to see the term being used by a Jew in Josephus’ apologetic works addressed to the Romans, in which he defends the Jewish customs.88 For Josephus, preserving Sabbath customs means preserving the ancestral laws (τὸν πάτριον νόμον),89 while keeping the Sabbath is appreciation of the ancestral customs (τῶν πατρίων ἐθῶν).90 The term ‘ancestral customs’ appears only in the book

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ResGestae 8. Henri W. Pleket, GreekInscriptionsintheRijksmuseumvanOudhedenatLeyden (Leiden, 1958), 49-50. See also K.M.T. Atkinson, RevueInternationaledesdroitsdel’antiquité, 3e ser. VII (1960), 227. 84 J.A. Crook, ‘An Augustan Inscription in the Rijksmuseum at Leyden’, Proceedingsofthe CambridgePhilologicalSociety 8 (1962), 23-9. 85 Luke1:9; 2:42; 4:16; 22:39; Acts 6:14; 15:1; 16:21; 17:2; 21:21; 24:4; 25:16; 26:3; 28:17; see J. Jeremias, DieSprachedesLukasevangeliums (1980), 29. 86 IV Macc. 18:5 as part of the letter of the gentile Antiochus V. 87 Zeev W. Falk, IntroductiontoJewishlawofthesecondCommonwealth 1 (Leiden a.o., 1971), 15-8; S. Wilson, LukeandtheLaw(Cambridge, 1983), 1-11. 88 It appears in his works 166 times [S. Wilson, Luke and the Law (1983), 6]. Josephus promised to provide an entire work (he did not survive to meet his promise) on the Customsand Causes which reflects his interest on this matter (Bell.V 237; Ant. IV 198). 89 B.J. 2.392-3. 90 B.J. 4.102. 83

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of Acts as we saw earlier.91 While the Lukan Paul used it in an apologetic context, Josephus mainly used it in addressing the Roman authorities to show the imperial right for the Jews to practise their ‘ancestral customs’.92 In the light of these points, it is right to look for an explanation to Luke’s frequent usage of the term in relation to the Imperial Cult. Here also the image of Augustus appears vividly. This particular expression of ‘the customs of our ancestors’ is a key one in Augustus’ apologia in defending his right to earn the virtue of Pietas in his Res Gestae. Being asked for handling the post of the supervisor of the law and morals without a colleague, he was reluctant to accept it because he saw that this new supreme authority could be inconsistent with ‘the customs of our ancestors’.93 Historically, both Suetonios94 and Dio95 affirm Augustus’ acceptance of this position (around 19 BCE), which leads us to think that Augustus in this passage mainly wanted to emphasise his allegiance to ‘the customs of our ancestors moremaiorum’. He says that via the new laws proposed by him he ‘brought back into use many exemplary practices of our ancestors (examplamaiorum) which were disappearing in our time’.96 Not only in cultic matters but also in politics; Augustus shows that he had to change a decision that could have glorified him (which is taking over Armenia), preferring to follow the ‘example of our ancestors (maiorum nostro exemplo)’.97 Augustus also stated how he pacified the land and the sea, and hence the doors of the temple of Janus Quirinus were shut thrice in his age while they were shut twice only before him.98 Again, he presents his distinguished accomplishment to be in accordance with the will of ‘our ancestors (maioresnostri)’.99 This form of piety must have been part of the Roman ethical code and not only of politics. To provide a culture that could be accommodated in Rome without offending its sensibilities, Christianity must have found the ancestral customs as an important matter to be dealt with. It is striking to see that not only Paul of Acts defended his affiliation to the Jewish ancestral customs,100 but it was also the Roman customs that were Paul’s protective shield from the assault of his opponents. This appears in the explicit accusation made against Paul and Silas in Philippi: ‘These men are disturbing our city; they are Jews and are

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Acts 28:17. Ant. 14.213-6, 245-6; 16.171-6; 19.283-90, 306-11 – Piety: Ant.XVI 43-7. Interestingly, the Slavonic addition no.12 describes Jesus as a man who ‘did not obey the Law and kept not the Sabbath according to our ancestralcustoms’. 93 ResGestae6.2. 94 Aug.27. 95 Historia LIV 10:5. 96 ResGestae8.5. 97 Ibid. 27.2. 98 Livy I 19; Horace IV 15:9. 99 13. 100 Acts 28:17. 92

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advocating customs that are not lawful for us as Romans to adopt or observe’.101 The accusation here puts Paul’s ‘proclamation’ as a violation of the ‘customs of the Romans’. As in the case of Jesus,102 the accusation is positioned in the scene in a way that the reader can easily infer its falsehood, yet it is of great importance for Luke to refute the idea of seeing Christianity as a peace disturbing (ἐκταράσσουσιν) new or anti-Roman cult.103 Not only Paul does not offend ‘the Roman customs’, it is the ‘Roman custom’ (ἔθος Ῥωμαίοις)104 that is appealing to Caesar (Σεβαστός) which saved him from the Jewish rulers. Thirdobservation We also observed that the image of Christians in the Temple was introduced using two unique themes: peace and concord. For the latter Luke used a characteristic term: ὁμοθυμαδόν.105 It expresses consensus in Josephus.106 DioCassius registers the unanimous agreement of the senate members who voted ‘in one accord for peace’ with the Carthaginians.107 However, Luke contrasts the state of the Christians in the Temple (εἰρήνη108 and ὁμοθυμαδόν109) with the state of the Jewish factions: sedition and insurrection (στάσις), which appears 101 Οὗτοι οἱ ἄνθρωποι ἐκταράσσουσιν ἡμῶν τὴν πόλιν Ἰουδαῖοι ὑπάρχοντες, καὶ ἔθη ἃ οὐκ ἔξεστιν ἡμῖν παραδέχεσθαι οὐδὲ ποιεῖν Ῥωμαίοις οὖσιν, Acts 16:20b-21. Paul’s activity does not lead to such an accusation; Paul exorcised a slave-girl which led the owners to this hostility (16:11-40). Further, the remark Ἰουδαῖοι ὑπάρχοντες does not also offend the Roman customs since Judaism was a legitimate religion. Several scholars acknowledge the difficulty to find an easy solution. See Frederick F. Bruce, TheBookofActs (Michigan, 1988), 362; J. Rolof, DieApostelgeschichte (Göttingen, 1981), 246; Daniel Schwartz, ‘The Accusation and the Accusers at Philippi (Acts 16,20-21)’, Biblica 65 (1984), 357-63. Other suggestions such as considering the accusation being made against the practice of magic (exorcism), C.S. de Vos, ‘Finding a Charge That Fits: the Accusation Against Paul and Silas at Philippi (Acts 16.19-21)’, JSNT74 (1999), 51-63 is unconvincing since the charge is made against ‘the proclamation καταγγέλλουσιν’ of Paul, not the exorcism. It appears to me that Luke aimed to show how the accusation was entirely baseless and that it was purely motivated by envy rather than any solid observation. As far as we are concerned, Luke aimed to address the problem of Christianity and Roman customs with the intention to deem the idea of setting the first against the latter as false insinuation. 102 Luke23:1-5. 103 See A.N. Sherwin-White, RomanSocietyandRomanLawintheNewTestament (Oxford, 1963), 79-80. Joseph Fitzmyer, TheActsoftheApostles (London, 1998), 587-8: ‘Luke so formulates the charge that Paul and Silas can easily repudiate it. The charge, however, raises a question about the legitimacy of Christianity then in the Roman Empire: was it religiolicita?’ On the problem of introducing a new cult see Cicero, Delegibus 2.8.19; Dio Cassius, History 57.18.5; 67.14.2. 104 Acts 25:16. 105 Out of 12 times in the New Testament, it appears 11 times in Luke-Acts: Lk. 14:32; Acts1:14; 2:46; 4:24; 5:12; 7:57; 8:6; 12:20; 15:25; 18:12; 19:29. 106 See Josephus, Ant.15.277 and Apion 1.241-2. 107 Dio Cassius History 17.57[83]-8. 108 Acts 9:35. 109 Acts 1:14; 2:46 (προσκαρτεροῦντες ὁμοθυμαδὸν ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ); 4:24; 5:12 (καὶ ἦσαν ὁμοθυμαδὸν ἅπαντες ἐν τῇ Στοᾷ Σολομῶντος); see also 15:25 etal.

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7 times in Luke-Acts out of the 8 times in the NT.110 This appears in the image of the Pharisees and Sadducees being in the state of στάσις against each other when Paul tactically raises the resurrection issue amongst them and the insurrection even goes to the level of violence.111 Luke does not leave the reader unaware of the consequence of this term. On the lips of the town clerk, the Ephesian mob are ‘in a real danger of being charged with rioting’ (στάσεως).112 The Jewish leaders who met Felix accused Paul of stirring the Jews (στάσεις πᾶσι τοῖς Ἰουδαίοις),113 in an attempt to win Felix on their side. Paul also denied that particular charge in the Temple.114 It is also important to observe that Luke uses this term to express the nature of dispute (στάσεως) of Barnabas and Paul with Jewish Christians115 which was resolved by the council of Jerusalem that restored the state of concord (γενομένοις ὁμοθυμαδόν).116 This clear contrast between the two terms, with the legal understanding of στάσις leads us to understand that the ὁμοθυμαδόν should also be understood in the Roman context of stability and consensus as expressed in their attendance in the Temple and announced in the council of Jerusalem. The contrast between the two terms is not unusual in the Roman world.117 Most importantly is seeing this contrast as a quality of Caesar, whether it was Julius,118 or the later achievement of Augustus who restored the ancestral ‘peace and harmony’ with no local ‘sedition’ to be reported in Rome.119 This contrast also becomes the defining terms which stabilise the Greek islands under Rome.120 Luke-Acts and 1Clement Luke’s post-destruction allegiance to the Temple is only found in 1Clement. Clement of Rome’s letter shows admiration of the Temple as the manifestation of Divine order granted to the people of Israel. For 1Clement, Israel is not to 110 Luke23:19, 25; Acts 15:2; 19:40; 23:7, 10; 24:5. Hence it is agreed that it is a characteristic of Luke. M.E. Boismard, LeTexteOccidentaldesActesdesApôtres(Paris, 1984); Adelbert Denaux, Hellen Mardaga, and R. Corstjens (eds.), TheVocabularyofLuke (Leuven, 2009), 567-8. 111 Acts 23:7,10. 112 Acts 19:40: κινδυνεύομεν ἐγκαλεῖσθαι στάσεως. 113 Acts 24:5. 114 Acts 24:12: οὔτε ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ εὗρόν με πρός τινα διαλεγόμενον ἢ ἐπίστασιν ποιοῦντα ὄχλου. 115 Acts 15:2. 116 Acts 15:25. 117 See Diod. Sic. 3.64.7 in which Dionysius demolishes στάσεων and restores ὁμόνοιαν καὶ πολλὴν εἰρήνην. See 12.35.1-3; 29.19.1 et al. Also Dion. Hal., Ant. Rom. 2.76.3. For more examples see O. Bakke, ConcordandPeace, WUNT 143 (Tübingen, 1998), 86-91. 118 Dio Cassius, Hist. 44.1-2,24.2-3. 119 Ibid. 53.8.2. 120 Dio Chrys., Or.38-9; see Bakke, ConcordandPeace (1998), 88-9.

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be replaced by the Christian covenant, but it is the same covenant for the people God elects to become the shrine of the world, and whose Temple will see the visitation and the return of the Messiah.121 Thus, we find no supersessionist gestures in the letter.122 Despite his reverence of Paul and his FirstLettertothe Corinthians, Clement refuses to employ the Pauline images of the Temple as a community123 or as an individual,124 which could have served his case, if he was introducing a new form of post-Judaism existence. His knowledge of Hebrews must have also informed him with the allegorical image of the Temple of Jerusalem as a shadow of the real Temple in heaven.125 Yet he also refrained from it, avoiding any statement that could compromise the validity of the Temple of Jerusalem as a reality for his community. The apocalyptic terrorfree eschatology that resembles Luke’s hosts the expectation of Jesus’ return to the Temple. The Lukan characteristic term (ἐπισκοπῆ) appears in 1Clement126 in the same sense of Luke-Acts, against the classic apocalyptic sense in 1Peter 2:12. In Clement it bears the same concrete concept of the visitation in Luke (amending the concept of visitation in Mal. 3:1-3): the visitation of God through Jesus (Christologised) which brings peace, not apocalyptic judgment as in 1Peter, and ends in the Temple.127 This is what makes Knoch reluctant to connect 1Clem. 50:3 with 1Peter 2:12.128 After exhorting his addressees for an inclusive unity that sustains the weak and the strong together,129 the variety of spiritual gifts130 and the financial difference,131 Clement derives the Temple of 121

See 1Clem. 29-30. I fully agree with James Carleton Paget’s recent publication on this point. J.C. Paget, ‘1 Clement, Judaism, and the Jews’, EarlyChristianity 8 (2017), 218-50. 123 1Cor. 3:16-7. The Temple-as-community image is not necessarily a pure Christian innovation. Its limited existence could be attested to in 1QS. column VIII as a description of the ‫עצת היחד‬ and probably in the DSS community, Paul Swarup, The Self-Understanding of the Dead Sea ScrollsCommunity (London, 2006), 171. This is not far from the conclusions in Judith L. Wentling, ‘Unravelling the Relationship Between 11QT, the Eschatological Temple, and the Qumran Community’, RevuedeQumran 53 (1989), 61-73. The EpistleofBarnabas was also aware of that imagery without the knowledge of Paul, see Barnabas 4:11. However, since 1Clement knew of 1Corinthians and used it, it is safe to conclude that he knew of the imagery and ignored it. 124 1Cor. 6:19-20. 125 Heb.9:20-1. 126 1Clem.50.3. 127 This hope in the Lord’s return to the Temple can be see in Clement’s redaction of Isa.13:22b and Mal. 3:1b in 1Clem. 23. He changed the present ἔρχεται to the future ἥξει and connected κύριος with ἅγιος with one relative clause in order to Christologise it; Harnack observes it as an ‘absichtliche Korrektur (Christus ist höher als die Engel)’ Einführung, 111. See also Horacio Lona, DerersteClemensbrief (Göttingen, 1998), 293. 128 Otto Knoch, EigenartundBedeutungderEschatologieimtheologischenAufrissdesersten Clemensbriefes (Hanstein, 1964), 175-7. 129 Which reminds us of the same duality in Rom. 14:1,13,19; 15:1-2,5-7 and reflected the tension between Jewish and gentile forms of Christian communities. 130 Which is also found in 1Cor. 131 1Clem. 36-9. 122

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Jerusalem and its divinely instated worship as an evidence for God’s will of this unity. Chapter 40 shows Clement’s understanding of hierarchical order as an order of ranks (προστάγμασιν),132 just like the Roman political structure, while Chapter 41 offers a solid argument for following unity and order in worship which appeals to the divine system of worship as manifest in the Temple of Jerusalem: In good conscience, brethren, let each one of us in his own rank become pleasing to God, and not transgress his assigned liturgical canons, but keeping them in all reverence. Not in every place, brethren, are the daily sacrifices or the free-willing offerings, or the sin-offerings and trespass-offerings offered, but only in Jerusalem; and not in every spot (place) offers are made, but before the shrine (Temple), at the altar, being inspected (for blemishes) by the high priest and the previously mentioned ministers (liturgists).133

This part of his argument limits the legitimate liturgical service to a specific place: the Temple of Jerusalem. The service is also officiated and the offers are inspected by the high priest, assisted by other priests. The authority of the Temple’s τοπός is the core of the evidence: it is not anywhere or by anyone the offer could be presented legitimately. The reference to the role of the high priests who inspects the validity of the sacrifice also implies the apostolic authority granted to the bishops who validate worship. The validity of Clement’s argument hinges on the validity of the worship in the Temple of Jerusalem as God’s will, which was not superseded by the Christian church. Since there is no evidence on supersessionism or any allegorical exegesis (as in Hebrews), this analogy shows that the Temple cult remained as an authoritative example of God’s will regardless of its destruction.134 Thus, Christians in Corinth are not called to look at the Temple of Jerusalem as a copy or a symbol of a higher reality as in Hebrews but as a reality in its own which manifests the genuine will of God which should be enacted. As H. Lona puts it: ‘The reality of Jerusalem and its Temple grows immeasurably, when it cannot be measured by any existing parameter’.135 132

1Clem.40.5, see also 1Clem.37.3. Ἕκαστος ἡμῶν, ἀδελφοί ἐν τῷ ἰδίῳ τάγματι εὐαριστείτω τῷ θεῷ ἐν ἀγαθῇ συνειδήσει ὑπάρχων, μὴ παρεκβαίνων τὸν ὡρισμένον τῆς λειτουργίας αὐτοῦ κανόνα, ἐν σεμνότητι. 2. οὐπανταχοῦ, ἀδελφοί, προσφέρονται θυσίαι ἐνδελεχισμοῦ ἢ εὐχῶν ἢ περὶ ἁμαρτίας καὶ πλημμελεία. ἀλλ’ ἢ ἐν Ἱερουσαλὴμ μόνῃ· κἀκεῖ δὲ οὐκ ἐν παντὶ τόπῳ προσφέρεται, ἀλλ’ ἔμπροσθεν τοῦ ναοῦ πρὸς τὸ θυσιαστήριον, μωμοσκοπηθὲν τὸ προσφερόνενον διὰ τοῦ ἀρχιερέως καὶ τῶν προειρημένων λειτουργῶν. 134 See Raymond E. Brown and John P. Meier, AntiochandRome:NewTestamentCradles ofCatholicChristianity (New York, 1983), 170; Johannes Klevinghaus, DieTheologieStellung derApostolischenVäterzuralttestamentlichenOffenbarung (Gütersloh, 1948), 65-6. 135 H. Lona, Der erste Clemensbrief (1998), 440: ‘Die Wirklichkeit Jerusalems und seines Tempels wächst ins Unermeßliche, wenn sie an keinem real existierenden Parameter mehr gemessen werden kann.’ 133

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But in what context does 1Clement provide his Temple rhetoric? Pietas appears throughout the epistle as the goal for his arguments that include allegiance to the Temple. It is the piety of Christ that the author reminds his Corinthian addressees of.136 It is also the concluding goal of the epistle.137 The concept of piety as a Roman virtue appears in his prayer for God to grant, twice, the Roman rulers harmony and peace (ὁμόνοιαν καὶ εἰρήνην),138 whereas he prays for God to lead them to administer in piety (διέποντες εὐσεβῶς).139 Within this context the Temple functions as a model that corresponds to the Roman structure of ranks as part of Clement’s argument for a Christianity that appreciates the Roman empire and respects the Roman values. Clement calls allegiance to this ancient system of Temple worship as respect ‘of our forefathers/ ancestors’,140 calling it pious (ὅσιος)141 and warning his addressees from thinking that the Christian hierarchical system is a novelty: τοῦτο οὐ καινῶς.142 With the religious laws that control public and private services, this rhetoric is understandable as a legitimation process.143 Another factor for a successful religion in the state lies in its ability to introduce its God with open access to the material world and to be publicly worshipped without barriers and this is achieved by adapting an institutional structure acceptable to the city’s senate (in Rome), as Ando puts it: ‘The institutional structures of such cults need not be heterologous with the social and political structures of the poleis in which they are practised’,144 regardless of its theological ideas about the invisible. The late republican works of Cicero and Varro confirm the distinction between religious order (praxis) and theology (religiones),145 and hence an eastern religion could survive, if it could integrate itself into the city. It is important to observe, how the state and religious rite were both founded together according to Cicero, which has become a principle for justifying Augustus’ adoption of

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1Clem. 1.2. 1Clem. 59.3-61.3. 138 1Clem. 60.4; 61.1. 139 1Clem. 61.2. 140 1Clem. 23.3; 30.7; 60.4; 62.2. 141 1Clem. 40.3 [lit. pious manner]. 142 1Clem. 42.5. 143 Cicero’s important definition (Delegibus 2.8.19) has anchored the regulations of dealing with foreign cult. See Georg Wissowa, Religion und Kultus der Römer (Munich, 1902). In the Christian case particularly, Clifford Ando provides a host of patristic references to support the inference that earliest Christians must have understood the divine will for the coming of Jesus in a unified empire under Augustus to prepare it for the unifying message of Christianity, Clifford Ando, ImperialIdeologyandProvincialLoyaltyintheRomanEmpire (Los Angeles, 2000), 48 n. 148. I find his hypothesis justifiable in the case of Luke-Acts and 1Clement who showed the tendency to spread in the oikomene of Rome as we saw before. 144 C. Ando, ‘A Religion for the Empire’, in FlavianRome:Culture,ImageandText, eds. A. Boyle and W. Dominik (Leiden, 2003), 329. 145 Varro, Ant.div. frag. 2a, 3; Cicero’s Denaturadeorum3.5. 137

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the most prestigious religious posts.146 Therefore, 1Clement’s analogy between the Temple and the organisation of the Church reflects a hierarchical order in which he needed to add a layer (λαικός) in his Temple order to perfectly match the Roman order. Here, the Temple service and its hierarchical order becomes the manifestation of the Divine will147 which is also manifest in the Roman military order. Most importantly, outside Luke-Acts the contrast between harmony and sedition and the role of the Temple in it is uniquely found (in Christian literature) in 1Clement. Clement sets out the antonym relationship between ὁμόνοια and στάσις throughout the letter.148 He clearly sets out his worldview in relation to the concept of Imperial Peace. This is referred to in his doxology to the Roman Empire in chapters 60-1 and his frequent prayers for the typically Imperial formula: Peace and Concord(εἰρήνη καὶ ὁμόνοια) which is frequently attested in the epistle,149 in contrast with στάσις which Clement warns the Corinthians against.150 It is that εἰρήνη καὶ ὁμόνοια which bring cosmic stability (Chapter 20) by following God’s will manifested in the structure of the Temple cult. After giving models that correspond to God’s will (including the Roman army structure 37:2-4) he explains God’s will in the structure of the sacrificial and hierarchical systems of the Temple as the model to be followed by Christians.151 Hence, the Temple becomes the embodiment of the hierarchical system that guarantees εἰρήνη καὶ ὁμονοία against the στάσις detected in the Corinthian ecclesiastical alternative. This is a clear analogy to the Roman system which Clement alludes to in Chapter 37.152 This leads us to enquire whether 1Clement could offer us a model that would make our case for the Lukan interest in Imperial Cult plausible. 1Clement helps us to acknowledge two important issues related to LukeActs: First, the destruction of the Temple did not hinder some Christians, as in Rome, to look at the Temple of Jerusalem as the source of legitimacy and hope. Secondly, we note the fusion of the Temple as a model of piety and order with the Imperial Ideology. Both points provide the ground for claiming faith as a religiolicita. Hence, it is not unjustifiable to understand Luke’s Temple attitude, with the three observations made before, in the light of what 1Clement offers.

146 In Denaturadeorum 3.5, Cicero clearly attributes both the foundation of the state and its rites to Romulus and Numa. 147 1Clem.40.3: ποῦ τε καὶ διὰ τίνων ἐπιτελεῖσθαι θέλει, αὐτὸς ὥρισεν τῇ ὑπερτάτω αὐτοῦ βουλήσει, ἵν’ ὁσίως πάντα γινόμενα ἐν εὐδοκήσει εὐπρόσδεκτα εἴη τῷ θελήματι αὐτοῦ. 148 1Clem. 1.1. Cf. O. Bakke, ConcordandPeace (Tübingen, 1998), 80-3. 149 1Clem.20.10; 20.11; 60.4; 63.2. ὁμοφωνίας: 51.2 etal. 150 1Clem. 1.1; 2.6; 3.2; 4.14; 14.2; 43.2; 46.7; 47.6; 49.5; 51.1; 51.3; 55.1; 54.2; 55.1; 57.1; 63.1. 151 1Clem. 40-1. 152 See Aristides’ EulogyofRome,Or.12 88-9, see K. Wengst, PaxRomana (1987), 48-9.

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Reading Luke in the Trajanic Era So far, we identified in Luke’s Temple a characteristic language that features prominently in the special material and Acts, which finds its parallels in the Augustan imperial ideology, not in the Septuagint or other Jewish materials. We also saw that such rhetoric was employed uniquely by another text produced in Rome, 1Clement, which boosts the historical plausibility of this reading amongst Roman Christians. The next question is: would this resonate with historical developments in early second century? Can there be an explanation to the author’s appeal to Augustan values in the life of Jesus and his followers? Looking into the situation in that period, we will see that a considerable succession crisis after the assassination of Domitian and the short transitional period of Nerva necessitated a special response to maintain the legitimacy of Trajan; the first adopted Emperor after the familial rule of the Flavians. Lacking royal blood, Trajan had to justify his accession to power as an adopted successor, and the solution was championing the values and success story of the indisputably greatest adopted emperor, Augustus. This is what we can see in Pliny the Younger’s Panegyricuswhich was meant, at least in its first edition, to be an expression of gratitude (gratiarumactio) to Trajan who appointed him as a consul in 100 CE.153 Pliny’s gratitude turned into a full ideological programme that offered the necessary propaganda to solidify Trajan’s legitimacy,154 and that was behind their long and strong friendship as it appears in their expansive exchange of correspondence afterwards. In this propagandist work, Pliny highlights the same elements that we found in the characteristic elements used by Luke in his attitude to the Temple: the necessity to show pietas towards the temples and the ancestral customs,155 and the actualisation of peace and concord (pacem, concordiam).156 This is all preceded by the divine proclamation of Trajan as a divine son and emperor in the temple of Jupiter, not in a marriage bed.157 Like Augustus, and unlike the Flavians, Trajan was reluctant to accept the introduction of any form of glorification to himself (Pan. 52).158 In a doxology similar to that of 1Clement in content and position (Pan.94; cf. 1Clem. 60-1), Pliny repeats this point, praying not only for peace 153 Pliny the Younger, Ep. 3.18. See Julian Bennett, Trajan: Optimus Princeps (London, 1997), 65. Bennett suggests that this work is inspired by Cicero’s ProMarcello which appears to be a plausible suggestion when we compare the two texts and their historical conditions. 154 For example, Pliny at some point advises Trajan to accelerate the process of deifying Nerva and to announce him as divine before the adoption of Trajan so that ‘one day posterity might wonder whether he was already god when his last deed [adopting Trajan] was done’ (Pan. 10.5). 155 Pan. 11.1; Pan.94.5. Pliny formally wrote a letter to seek Trajan’s approval to add statues of him in the temple Pliny erected for the deified emperors (Ep.10.8). Pliny calls this an act of piety (pietatis) which precisely resonates with the theme of temple piety we have discussed. 156 Pan.94. 157 Pan.5.4. 158 This is also confirmed in the mail exchange between him and Pliny, Ep.10.8, 9.

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and concord (pacem, concordiam) but also to grant Trajan an adopted son who is worthy to be adopted in Jupiter’s temple on the Capitol as well (Pan.94.5).159 The temple becomes the locus of legitimacy and its ideological manifestations (the restored Augustan values). Pliny’s reading of Trajan’s life in such language found in Luke’s Temple rhetoric is not a fanciful narrative that has no reality on the ground. In fact, this ideological reading of Trajan’s life can be attested to by the most prominent biographers of this period, in a way that suggests how this language was not simply limited to a single propagandist work. J. Bennett rightly notes that the Panegyricus ‘articulated a reality which was readily apparent to his [Pliny’s] contemporaries’.160 This appears in the works of the major historians and biographers of that period, including Suetonius, Tacitus, Plutarch and later Dio Cassius. Suetonius shows how the coming of Trajan overturned the dark age of the Flavians, whose vices that overtook virtues brought destruction and disputed their divine legitimacy.161 This climaxed in the image of Domitian whose impiety reached the level of introducing ‘many innovations in common customs’.162 Therefore, the omens were reported against Domitian as his anxiety was fed with consecutive divine phenomena (strokes of lightning and dreams) that concluded only with his death.163 We can see that disrespect to pietasin violating ‘ancestral customs’ was the situation that the adopted Trajan reversed. Tacitus is clearer on contrasting the situation before and through Trajan’s reign. For him, the era of terror and oppression stretches from the death of Augustus to the assassination of Domitian, and this shows us that the ‘happy age’ (Agr.3; Hist.1.1-2) of Trajan is the restoration of that of Augustus. Tacitus shows that adoptive succession is not a novelty (i.e. impiety), but it is following the precedent of Augustus (Hist. 1.15, 18). Further, Rome apparently suffered under the succession within houses and adoption could turn the situation towards a better future in which the emperor is chosen according to his merits (Hist. 1.16). Dio Chrysostom, who was exiled under Domitian and restored by Nerva, took advantage of the libertas164 of Trajan’s reformations to write his orations περὶ βασιλείας, which seem to set out the ideals a ruler like Trajan should acquire.165 Dio Cassius’ account also confirms that Trajan’s legitimacy stems from Nerva’s appeal to the temple for such an announcement when shouting, ‘May the good be for the Senate, the Roman people and me as I make him Markus Ulpius Nerva Trajan’.166 In another account, Nerva declared him as a son after offering 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166

Pan.8.1. J. Bennett, Trajan (1997), 65. Suetonius, Vesp. 7.2-3; Dom. 3.2; 11.1; 16.1-3; 18.2. Dom. 7.1. Dom. 14-6. This is also not a literary invention but it is attested in coins (see: RIC 123-4). Orationes1-4. Dio Cassius, Hist.68.3.4.

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incense to Jupiter in the Capitole for offering victory to Trajan in Paeonia.167 This also appears in the biographies of Plutarch, a Trajanic Greek writer as well.168 It is important to refer to Jörg Rüpke’s study which shows the increasing interest in the narratological approach of religious texts in the Greco-Roman literature of second century as a means of communicating concepts of religious practices and legitimacy in the lives of notable individuals.169 Based on that, we can see that the revival of the Augustan ideals in the reign of Trajan was not limited to a programme offered by a single author but a wider phenomenon witnessed to by Trajanic historians and biographers. In this phenomenon, the temple, as the place of communication with the gods, is the locus of legitimacy and piety towards it and the ancestral customs associated with it is the manifestation of this legitimacy. Conclusion: Reading Luke in Rome In this article I argued that Luke’s allegiance to the Temple reflects an interest in defending the legitimacy of Christianity, as it appears from his characteristic language. In this language, Luke addresses the elements of the Roman Pietas and shows how Jesus and his movement would not offend the Roman sensibilities. I examined Luke’s rhetoric against the Roman text of 1Clement, which is more explicit in addressing imperial ideology and Roman values (known as Romanitas), and showed the existence of this reading in Rome. Further, I showed that these same Lukan characteristic features, which are not shared with New Testament texts, or even the Septuagint, were at the heart of the revival of Augustan ideology in the Trajanic quest for legitimacy. The question is whether this context is limited to the Trajanic period. While I believe that the rise of this movement, as it appears in the aforementioned biographies, took place during Trajan’s earliest years, we should also see that the heated debate over Christianity’s compliance with the characteristics of the Romanitas continues through the following decades in the second century. Looking into the Marcionite debate in particular, we can see how dangerous his idea of Christianity as a new religion with a new God is. Andrew Hayes’ essay shows the possible impact of Marcion’s ideas on the works of his contemporary writer, Justin, which aimed to respond to the intimidating Roman 167

Hist.176, 365, n. 2 (LCL numbering). See in particular P.A. Stadter, ‘Plutarch and Trajanic ideology’, in P.A. Stadter and L. Van der Stockt (eds),SageandEmperor:Plutarch,GreekIntellectuals,andRomanPowerintheTime ofTrajan(98-117AD) (Leuven, 2002), 227-42; T.E. Duff, ‘Plutarch and Trajan’, TheClassical Review(NewSeries) 55 (2005), 462-5; M.M. Caterine, ‘Alexander-Imitators in the Age of Trajan: Plutarch’s Demetrius and Pyrrhus’, TheClassicalJournal 112 (2017), 406-30. 169 J. Rüpke, ‘Narratives as factor and indicator of religious change in the Roman Empire (1st and 2nd centuries)’, in this volume, pp. 35-53. 168

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view of Christianity as a novelty.170 Looking particularly into the previously mentioned characteristic language of Luke, we will observe that it is mainly present in the materials not attested to in Marcion’s Evangelion; mainly in the birth narrative, the temptations, the final post-resurrection scene of commissioning the disciples to stay in Jerusalem and Acts. This fact raises questions regarding the reason for the addition of these materials. Indeed, this applies equally to the Marcionite controversy and the problem of compliance with the Romanitas, which pre-existed Marcion. Interestingly, Tertullian preserves for us remarks made by Marcion in his Antithesis regarding the Temple. According to Tertullian, Marcion apparently mocked his opponents’ belief in the same God of Israel who let Jerusalem and its Temple be destroyed as the same one who will restore them in the eschaton.171 This reflects his opponents’ allegiance to Jerusalem and its Temple. It is worth mentioning that by the time of Marcion’s controversy (mid-second century) the Church of Rome’s reputation had already become defined by these particular values. This is evidenced in bishop Dionysius’ letter to the Roman bishop Soter. Noting 1Clement, he expresses his appreciation for the tradition of the Roman church in resolving financial and administrative problems of the Corinthian church in a style that fits Romanitas: ‘You Romans keep up the Romans’ ancestral customs (πατροπαράδοτον ἔθος Ῥωμαίων Ῥωμαῖοι φυλάττοντες)’,172 which is extended, from the time of Clement’s letter to his time. These words could be found in the stock of the Lukan language regarding pietas as we saw earlier. In conclusion, reading Luke (and Acts) in second century Rome brings the double work into the power and legitimacy dynamics of that milieu, which explains the characteristic language of pietas. As it stands, and without presuming a source hypothesis, that language stands in stark contrast to Marcion’s theology on the problem of Christianity and Romanitas. While it is beyond its scope to suggest a literary relationship between the Evangelion and Luke, this article suggests that a wider historical investigation of this milieu that accommodates the two texts, and 1Clement would be an instructive addition to the discussion rather than exhausting the scholarship’s current debate on literary comparisons.

170 171 172

A. Hayes, ‘Who are the “Christians”?’, in this volume, pp. 87-95. Tertullian, Marc. 3.24-5. Eusebius, Hist.eccl.4.23.10-1.

Marcionite Influences in the Primum Quaeritur Preface to Vulgate Paul Timothy W. DOOLEY, King’s College London, UK

ABSTRACT A deconstruction of the Vulgate introduction to the CorpusPaulinum uncovers Marcionite influences hidden within the text. After placing texts in parallel, similarities are found between the PrimumQuaeritur and the paratextual material ascribed to Marcion or his disciples. The revelation of these roots provides a richer context to the Vulgate letters of Paul, their production, their provenance, and their compiler. This article seeks to shed light on the complex and opaque compilation of the New Testament ‘Vulgate’ through its prefatory material and argues for a reexamination of the traditional view of ‘Vulgate’ composition.

Jerome addressed his Gospel revisions to Pope Damasus in the early 380’s as piuslabor,sedpericulosapraesumptio in what has since been read as the Vulgate introduction to the Gospels. However, to what extent the accompanying Vulgate documents are the pious work of Jerome is a matter that necessitates further exploration. It is a wholly impractical assumption that Jerome is the originator of the totality of the Latin Vulgate edition of the New Testament. In the course of the last century, scholarship has felt comfortable only in assigning the four Vulgate Gospels to the editorial pen of Jerome.1 My research at present concentrates on the inconsistencies attendant in the history of the Vulgate’s creation, and I must add here – perhaps provocatively and without further comment – that ascribing the text to an author based solely on the paratext is not sufficient evidence of origination. However, a richer picture of the milieu in which the edition was compiled can be built through a critical analysis of the material that introduces its subject. The introduction to the Vulgate Corpus Paulinum, though lacking attribution, through criticism is revelatory of the editor’s source materials. The striking similarity to the Marcionite Pauline paratexts demonstrates the piecemeal production of the patchwork Vulgate. 1 F. Cavallera, ‘Saint Jérome et la Vulgate des Actes, des Épîtres, et de l’Apocalypse’, Bulletindelittératureecclésiastique(1920), 269-92, for which a good summary can be found in J.N.D. Kelly, Jerome(London, 1975), 88-9: ‘Yet in recent years the unlikelihood, not to say impossibility, of this traditional view (the previously popular attribution to Jerome) has progressively forced itself upon scholars’.

StudiaPatristica XCIX, 139-156. © Peeters Publishers, 2018.

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The introduction to the Vulgate Corpus Paulinum, commonly referred to by its incipit PrimumQuaeritur(PQ), consists of three sections. The leading section is a justification of the canonical inclusion of ten Pauline letters as a new Decalogue so that ‘the New Testament does not discredit the Old Testament and that it may itself not contradict the Law of Moses’.2 The second section defends the inclusion of Hebrews. The final section, to which the majority of this article is devoted, consists of a specific introduction of the reasoning behind each Pauline epistle in order. When dissected the introductions can be seen as heavily dependent on the Pauline paratexts identified as Marcionite by D. de Bruyne, P. Corssen, K.T. Schäfer, and recently as the work of Marcion himself by M. Vinzent.3 The reliance on a Marcionite text, regardless of whether the author of the PQ knew of its history, is striking in a document that validates the letters of Paul as a complement to the Law of Moses. Eric W. Scherbenske’s recent CanonizingPaul (2013) has further argued that the Gospels are where Jerome’s New Testament work began and concluded. Scherbenske is the most recent in a long line to ascribe the authorship of at least this Vulgate introduction of Paul, the PQ, to Rufinus of Syria.4 We will return to the possibilities of authorship later in this article. In order to attempt such identification, a thorough critical observation of the Vulgate introduction to the Pauline Epistles is important to make sense of this complicated document. As will be demonstrated, the PQ neatly parallels the Pauline paratexts found in Old Latin and Vulgate manuscripts often attributed to Marcion. The inherent contradiction of a work with potential Pelagian origins with antiMarcionite support for the Old Testament including a set of Marcionite parallels is demonstrative of its iterative construction. This article will demonstrate the parallels between the components of the PQ and its Marcionite predecessor. In so doing, we will unravel the complexity of its composition and seek to better understand the commentator’s intentions and shed some light on the compilation of the Vulgate CorpusPaulinum. If there exists an ‘intrinsically reflexive relationship’ between commentary and the text commented,5 we should expect that the PQoriginally came bundled with the 2

‘UtostenderetNovumnondiscrepareaUeteriTestamentoetsecontralegemnonfacere’. Donatien de Bruyne, ‘Prologues bibliques d’origine Marcionite’, Revuebénédictine 14(1907), 1-16; Peter Corssen, ‘Zur Überlieferungsgeschichte des Römerbriefes’, ZeitschriftfürdieneutestamentlicheWissenschaft 10 (1909), 1-45; K.T. Schäfer, ‘Marcion und die ältesten Prologe zu den Paulusbriefen’, in Kyriakon:FestschriftJohannesQuasten, 1(Münster, 1970), 135-50; M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels(Leuven, 2014), 156-80. 4 All mentions of Rufinus in this paper, unless otherwise qualified, are to Rufinus of Syria, a distinct individual to the otherwise more common Rufinus of Aquiliea found often in the story of Jerome. 5 S. Lunn-Rockliffe, ‘Prologue Topics and Translation Problems in Latin Commentaries on Paul’, inJ. Lössl and J.W. Watt (eds), InterpretingtheBibleandAristotleinLateAntiquity(Surrey, 2011), 33-47, 42. 3

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following Latin Vulgate Pauline Epistles. It follows that further identification of the translator of Vulgate Paul could be more confidently stated with identification of the author of the PQ. However, while precise identification of the PQ’s specific author has been attempted, such attempts naturally rely on assumptions to fill abundant blanks in the history. Rather, this article seeks to understand the original source material from which the unknown author built his commentary. Thus, I shall argue that the identification of the traces of the Marcionite prologues in this typically Vulgate Paul introduction speaks to the nature of amalgamation of the Vulgate as a whole.

Marcionite prefaces v. PQ The PQ is included earliest in the two oldest Vulgate MSS of Paul, F and A, and thus must be considered to have been written no later than 546. For the purposes of this article, F shall be the dominant focus given its early dating and relative completion.6 The third section of the PQ introduces each of the following Pauline epistles in its preferred and Vulgate order: Rom., 1-2Cor., Gal., Laod./Eph.,Phil.,Col.,1-2Thess.,Heb. The order is noticeably different than the Marcionite order: Gal.,1-2Cor.,Rom.,1-2Thess.,Laod./Eph.,Col.,Phil., 1-2Tim., Titus. Notably, the PQ starts with Romans, does neither include Titus nor Timothy, but includes Hebrews, for which it devotes a defence in the previous section. This order was apparently crucial for the compiler of the PQ. Just before the PQ’s main introduction to Rom., the author notes that ‘it bothers some why the Letter of the Romans should be placed first, because obviously it was not written first’.7 It is clear that the author was working against a manifestly different tradition and was set to correct what he saw as errant compilations likely based on the well-known Marcionite order. The final argument in favour of including Heb. further demonstrates the author’s understanding of his audience’s reticence to accept non-traditional texts. I have tabulated the differing orders between the Marcionite/VetusLatina orders and the PQ/Vulgate order as follows:

6

The Codex Amiatinus is from the early 8th Century whereas the Codex Fuldensis (F) was written between 541 and 546. This manuscript (F) is the earliest available for the PQand a Vulgate Paul. As we will see below, the text represented is necessarily much older than 546. F’s text of the PQ is in accord with the later MSS and serves as our earliest point of reference. For an overview of these Vulgate manuscripts, see B. Metzger, TheTextoftheNewTestament(Oxford, 1968), 77. 7 ‘MovetetiamquosdamquareRomanorumepistulainprimositposita,cumeamnonprimum scriptamratiomanifestet’(PQ27-8).

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142 Marcionite Order v PQ Marc. Gal. PQ.

1-2Cor. Rom. 1-2Thess. (Laod.)/ Col. Phil. Eph.

Rom. 1-2Cor. Gal.

(Laod.)/ Eph.

Phil.

1-2Tim. Titus

Col. 1-2Thess. Heb.

An obvious central theme for a Marcionite text is a preoccupation with Paul’s mission to correct the false teachings of the Judaizing ‘Pseudo-Apostles’. The PQ inherits this concept of correction of falsehoods and echoes the Marcionite prologues in Gal. and Phil. In Gal., the PQ notes Paul’s admonishment of the Galatians for their ‘belief in the sophistries of the pseudoapostolis’,8 whereas the Marcionite prologue notes that they were ‘tempted by the falsis apostolis’.9 Phil. provides an even closer parallel. The PQ suggests that the Philippians were ‘conlaudantur more and more for not wanting to hear the falsosapostolos’.10 The Marcionite prologue similarly states that the Philippians ‘did not receive the falsosapostolos’ and for this Paul conlaudat the Philippians. Indirect references to the Judaizing false apostles can be found throughout the PQ. For example, the Marcionite introduction to Cor. suggests that some of the Corinthians had been subverted by the falsisapostolis of legisIudaicae. The PQ takes some of the Marcionite force away from its predecessor but still relies on its structure, stating that Paul sought to ‘rebuke those who did not rebuke the peccantes’. When we pull each section from the PQ and examine it in parallel with the Marcionite prologues, its derivative nature becomes apparent. Nine of the ten sections of the PQ have direct matches in the Marcionite prologues, with the notable exception of Heb. that we will deal with further in a moment. Scherbenske has noted that the seemingly Pelagian PQ included among the otherwise Marcionite Pauline prolegomena in manuscripts like F stands as a competing hermeneutical study.11 Certainly the inclusion of both sets of introductory material in our extant MSS is indicative that neither prefatory tradition had been exclusively selected or considered heterodox with the other. Just as the Marcionite introductions appear throughout MSS, whether OL or Vulgate, so too was the PQ considered intrinsic to the Hieronymean Vulgate and appears exclusively with Vulgate MSS; it is thus appropriate to not only consider the PQ a proper Vulgate introduction to the Pauline letters but to consider the 8

‘callidissimispseudoapostoliscrediderunt’(PQ 39-40). ‘temptatisuntafalsisapostolis’ (MarcioniteGalatians). 10 ‘multomagisconlaudanturquinexaudirefalsosapostolosuoluerunt’ (PQ41-2). 11 E. Scherbenske, ‘The Vulgate Primum Quaeritur’, SP 44 (2010), 139-44; Scherbenske contends that the Codex Fuldensis is proof of early MSS themselves serving as platforms for praetextual criticism in debate. 9

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introduction as intrinsic to the document attributed to Jerome, regardless of its veritable authorship. This chapter explores the areas where the two Pauline introductions are in accord, how such accord might be interpreted, and the greater implications regarding the purpose of the PQ when its originality is considered. The subsections for which this paragraph will devote the largest part of its review in the PQ are found in its concluding third section. This final part deals with each of the ten letters of Paul it assigns to the parallel decalogue of the New Testament. Curiously, its congruency with the otherwise anti-Judaising text of the Marcionite prologues makes this section stand out among its claim for a new law that nonetheless ‘lauds the law so much as to put it on equal footing with the gospels and Paul’.12 If this is so, why should the author have used and preserved Marcionite arguments which consider Judaisers ‘false prophets’? After a critical reading of the PQ in context, there can be only two possibilities: either the author sloppily and contradictorily used existing OL Marcionite prolegomena to fill out his argument, or the author inherited this section adding his argument for the decalogue and rounding it out with Hebrews, ignorant of its source and its true meaning. I favour the second possibility and will demonstrate that the PQ as we have it today relies on another earlier and lost reinterpretation and ordering of the Marcionite prolegomena. As mentioned, the PQ is included earliest in the two oldest Vulgate MSS of Paul, F and A, and thus must be considered to have been written no later than 546. The PQ Formula The introductions, outside of the extended introduction to Rom. and the original introduction to the non-Marcionite Heb., follow a simple paradigm based on the familiar Marcionite prologue model. Each section begins with the name of the Pauline addressee, however without the geographical information found in the Marcionite examples, and follows with the reasons Paul had for contact with each particular Church community. For example, where the Marcionite paratext has Galatae sunt Graeci the PQ has Galatae iam nullius criminis arguuntur forgoing description of their location for exposition of their reasons for Pauline redress. As I will demonstrate further, the reasons given are consistent with, and at times copied from, those given in the Marcionite paratexts. Thus, the PQ can be divided into three primary sections: 1) A response to those who question the need for Pauline Epistles in canon 2) An extended argument for the inclusion of Hebrews to round out a decalogue similar to the commandments 12

E. Scherbenske, ‘The Vulgate PrimumQuaeritur’ (2013), 197.

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3) A series of short introductions to the letters in the style of Marcion that concludes with another argument in favour of Hebrews. We will focus on this last part in this paragraph and its similarities to the argumenta of the OL versions that are attributed to Marcion.13 In order to understand and develop a pattern of similarity between the Marcionite prefaces and the corresponding PQ examples found in Section 3, I have set side-by-side the two different sources where the same epistle is discussed.14 Under scrutiny, it becomes clear that the PQ relied heavily upon the Marcionite argumenta prefatory material and utilised its formula to develop its parallelism. Each PQ subsection for individual epistles opens with the name of the addressed community – albeit truncated from the longer definition of the community found in the Marcionite argumenta. Then, the PQ discusses the reasons for Paul’s writing that is very often either paraphrastically or directly borrowed from Marcion. The PQ’s parallels with the Marcionite texts follow this pattern of fronted audience with missing geographical material – otherwise ubiquitous in the Marcion version – and subsequently Paul’s castigations of wayward communities for trust in ‘false prophets’ or approvals of communities on the straight and narrow. The sections that most strongly break this formula are the first and last, that is Romans and Hebrews; these sections will form the bulk of our considerations after the examination of the parallels in this part of our present chapter. Unique also in the PQ is its propensity to quote directly from the scripture that it introduces, often with rather curious omissions when compared to the expected Vulgate text. The intention of the following parallels and explorations is to understand the strengths of similarities and to question its differences. A further consideration is offered in depth below in an attempt to provide a solution for why such discrepancies might exist. Marcion v. Primum Quaeritur In this section, each individual introduction from the PQ will be separated and introduced in parallel with the Marcionite paratexts that I suggest are the original source for the author of our document. In the following parallels I 13 So M. Vinzent in his book Marcion and the Dating of the Synoptic Gospels (2014) who argues for the distinct Marcionite elements of the prefaces following P. Corssen, ‘Zur Überlieferungsgeschichte des Römerbriefes’ (1909) and P. de Bruyne, ‘Prologues Bibliques d’Origine Marcionite’ (1907). For an argument to the contrary see N. Dahl, ‘The Origin of the Earliest Prologues to the Pauline Letters’, Semeia 12 (1978), 233-77 which is recently countered by E. Scherbenske, CanonizingPaul:AncientEditorialPracticeandtheCorpus Paulinum(Oxford, 2013),237-42. 14 I have maintained the order of their discussion as found in the PQ,however it is important to note that the typical Marcionite preface order is different and a comparison of the two is laid out in the last table of this section.

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present the Marcionite edition compiled and translated by Markus Vinzent in his recent StudiaPatristicaSupplement on MarcionandthedatingoftheSynoptic Gospels on the left-hand side,15 and the Vulgate edition from Biblia Sacra Vulgata with my own translations on the right-hand side. I encourage the Latin reader to consider the original texts, especially where I have highlighted particular correspondences in bold. The order is that which is presented in the PQand the line notations follow each Latin quotation for reference. Recall that the last table in this section indicates the differences between the ordering of the PQand the typical Marcionite (and Tertullian) order. Such conflicting order is especially noted in the PQdiscussion of Rom. below. The following tables work with the order provided in the PQ so as to maintain its sequential argument. Individual line references follow each of the examples from the PQ. The differences in order should be noted here, but will be discussed at greater length where variation is significant in the following sections. Our first concern will be the PQ’s primary placement of Romans and its extended apology for such a placement. The PQ will also defend the inclusion of its final letter, Hebrews, which is not found in older traditions. Movet etiam quosdam quare Romanorum epistula in primo sit posita, cum eam non primum scriptam ratio manifestet. Nam hanc se proficiscentem Hierosolymam scripsisse testatur, cum Corinthios et alios ante iam, ut ministerium quod secum portaturus erat colligerent, litteris adhortatus sit. Unde intelligi quidam volunt ita omnes epistulas ordinatas, ut prima poneretur quae posterior fuerat destinata, ut per singulas epistulas gradibus ad perfectiora veniretur. (27-32) Romani sunt in partibus Italiae. hi praeventi sunt a falsis apostolis et sub nomine domini nostri Iesu Christi in legem et prophetas erant inducti. hos revocat apostolus ad ueram evangelicam fidem scribens eis a Corintho.

Romanorum namque plerique tam rudes erant, ut non intellegerent Dei se gratia et nonsuis meritis esse salvatos, et ob hoc duo inter se populi conflictarent. Idcirco illos indigere adserit confirmari, uitia gentilitatis priora commemorans. (32-35) It bothers some why the Letter of the Romans should be placed first, because obviously it was not written first. For it is proven to have been written when he was heading to Jerusalem, as he had

15

M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels(2014),182-8.

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been instructing the Corinthians and others before with letters, and as he collected the ministry which was carried along with him. Thus some want to have all the letters ordered, so that the one should be placed first which was destined to have come later, so that in steps through individual letters he came to perfection. The Romans live in the regions of Italy. They had been reached by false apostles and in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ they were misled into the Law and the Prophets. These the apostle calls back to the true evangelical faith, writing to them from Corinth.

For a great part of the Romans were so unsophisticated that they had not come to understand that they are saved by the Grace of God, not through their own merits. And on account of these two options the people fought among themselves. Thus he asserted that they were in need of strengthening, reminding them of the prior vices of the gentiles.

The first epistle deals with in the PQ is Rom. and departs from the established previous order. As mentioned earlier, the author knew that such a placement would cause some consternation and thus writes a pre-emptive defence of his reordering. In so doing, the PQ implicitly acknowledges the precedence of the Marcionite argumenta in its pre-preface to Rom. Having argued for the new order, the PQ moves into our established paradigm of an incipit of the name of the community to be addressed, followed by its reasons for address. While the Marcionite Rom. suggests the community had fallen afoul of the falsisapostolis of ‘the Law and Prophets’, the PQ suggests that an argument between salvation through works or through faith tore the community apart, thus divorcing directly anti-Judaizing concepts from the PQ. The two documents are in accord that Paul initiated communication in order to strengthen euangelicamfidem, as in the Marcionite example, or through a need to strengthen them in view of ‘the prior vices of the gentiles’.16 The formula for the PQ’s borrowings from Marcion is evident from lines 32-5 in this parallel and we would profit to review it here and follow it with the remaining parallels: the section opens with an introduction of the audience of Romans17 without the geographical references expected in the Marcionite 16

‘idcircoillosindigereadseritconfirmari,uitiagentilitatisprioracommemorans’(PQ 34-5). The PQalways opens with the audience as the first word of the section (with the notable exception of Heb.) but is not always consistent with its case, sometimes using the genitive as here in Rom. or nominative in Gal., while the Marcionite examples use the nominative to introduce their addressees throughout. 17

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examples, and then discusses the reasons Paul had for his contact with this particular Church community. In our current example of Romans, a certain strong similarity is found in the discussion of Paul’s reasons for writing following the introductory material (indicated in bold). What does not follow from the Marcionite example is the first five lines of the PQ on Rom., and indeed the beginning of section 3 as outlined above. In this part, the author argues for the primary placement of Romans among the list of Pauline Epistles. Corinthi sunt Achaici. et hi similiter ab apostolo audierunt verbum veritatis et subversi multifarie a falsis apostolis, quidam a philosophiae verbosa eloquentia, alii a secta legis Iudaicae inducti sunt. hos revocat apostolus ad veram et evangelicam sapientiam scribens eis ab Epheso per Timotheum.

Corinthiis autem iam dicit scientiae gratiam esse concessam, et non tam omnes increpat quam cur peccantes non increpaverint reprehendit, sicut ait: « Auditur inter vos fornicatio », et interum: « Congregatis vobis cum meo spiritu tradere huiusmodi Satanae ». (35-38)

The Corinthians are Achaeans. Similarly, also they heard from the apostle the word of truth, but in many ways were subverted by false apostles, some led away by the verbose eloquence of philosophy, others misled by a sect of the Jewish law. These the apostle calls back to the true and evangelical wisdom, writing to them from Ephesus through Timothy.

And now he says that the gift of knowledge follows the Corinthians, as he does not rebuke all of them but rather he faults those who did not rebuke the sinners, saying thus: “It is heard that there is fornication among you”, and also, “You assembled with my spirit to give over the such a sort to Satan”.

Post actam paenitentiam consolatorias In secunda vero laudantur et ut magis ac scribit eis a Troade et conlaudans eos hor- magis proficiant admonentur. (38-39) tatur ad meliora. After penitence was made, he writes In the following [second] (2Cor.) truly consolatory words to them from Troas, they are praised that as they are admonand also praising them he exhorts them ished they improve more and more. on to better things.

The two introductions for 1-2Cor. follow the expected pattern by starting the passage with the name of the community. We touched above on the shared theme between our two texts of falsisapostolis found in Cor. and the perceived necessity for Paul’s correction. The two introductions to 2Cor. share the same commentary that Paul’s warnings were effective by the time of his follow-up to the community. ‘Truly laudantur, they are praised, for as they are admonished they improve magis ac magis, more and more’,18 the PQ says of the 18

‘utmagisacmagisproficiantadmonentur’ (PQ38-9).

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community in 2Cor. The Marcionite predecessor states in parallel that Paul is ‘conlaudans eos, praising them, urging them further on ad meliora, to better things’.19 The PQ adds a citation from 1Cor. in introducing the work. Naturally we should expect that the lemmata found within the commentary should match the text to be commented, especially if we should wish to claim that the collator and commentator were the same individual. This particular lemma deviates. Where the Vulgate has ‘InnomineDomininostriIesuChristicongregatisuobis et meo spiritu cum uirtute Domini Iesu tradere huiusmodi Satanae in iterum carnisutspiritussaluussitdieDominiIesu’, our commentary leaves off both references to Christ and reorganizes its opening as ‘Congregatisuobiscummeo spiritu tradere huiusmodi Satanae’. The fronting with ‘cum meo spiritu’ and not the invocation of Christ changes the actor to the Apostle and the congregation and action of the Corinthians to the work of Paul’s spirit. This curious refocusing of the subject will be seen again in our discussions of Col. and Heb. to follow. Again, our established formula is maintained with an opening of the addressee (Corinthi/Corinthiis) but with the larger geographical note intrinsic to the Marcionite paratexts absent. The introduction to the second letter in both cases omits an introduction and rather mentions in a short introduction that Paul continued to urge the community to improve. The Marcionite text is one of the strongest worded against the ‘sect of the Jewish law’. The PQ does not follow this stringent line of attack, but does echo that there are those among them ‘who did not rebuke the sinners’. The references to Paul’s letter itself should presumably match the Vulgate translation that it introduces. While the short three words ‘auditur inter vos fornicatio’ (1Cor. 5:1) match the Vulgate, the second passage is truncated from the expected: ‘InnomineDomininostriIesuChristicongregatisvobisetmeo spiritucumvirtuteDominiIesutraderehuiusmodiSatanaein iterum carnis ut spiritus salvus sit die Domini Iesu’ (1Cor 5:4-5). The absent invocations of Christ and initialisation of the quotation with an ablative suggesting congregation ‘cummeospiritu’, that is Paul’s spirit, bizarrely puts an emphasis on the power of Paul rather than Christ. We shall see such an omission of Christ again in PQ Colossians, below. Galatae sunt Graeci. hi verbum veritatis Galatae iam nullius criminis arguuntur, primum ab apostolo acceperunt, sed post nisi quod callidissimis pseudoapostolis discessum eius temptati sunt a falsis apos- crediderunt. (39-40) tolis, ut in legem et circumcisionem verterentur. hos apostolus revocat ad fidem veritatis scribens eis ab Epheso. 19

‘conlaudanseoshortaturadmeliora’ (Marcionite Cor.).

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The Galatians are Greeks. At first, they The Galatians were accused of no crime accepted the word of truth from the except that they believed in the sophistApostle, but after his departure they were ries of the false apostles. tempted by false Apostles, so that they converted to the law and circumcision. These the apostle calls back to the faith of truth, writing to them from Ephesus.

Gal. follows the prescribed paradigm and is one of our clearest thematic connections to the Marcionite original. As discussed above, both texts agree that the Galatians had fallen prey to heterodox teaching. The PQ stops at mentioning the callidissimis, sophistries, of the pseudoapostolis, whereas the Marcionite paratext expressly states that these false prophets taught ‘the Law and circumcision’. As should be clear at this point, the PQ shies away from the overtly anti-Judaizing themes of the Marcionite text but readily borrows from its basic structure. The parallels for Galatians are clear; both the Marcionite text and the PQ refer to the Galatians as a church that fell to the temptations and belief in false prophets. Of course for Marcion, these false prophets are those espousing the Law and circumcision, and the parallel mention in the PQ strikes as either a deliberate echoing of this opinion or an accidental transmission. Gal. is one of Paul’s most strident attacks against Judaizers, a fact that developed Marcion’s negative view toward the so-called Old Testament and the Jewish sect.20 As such, this passage serves as particularly strong evidence for the PQ’s reliance on the Marcionite texts both for form and theme, and hence speaks to the PQ’s inadvertent vectoring of Marcionite dogma. Laodicensis sunt Asiani. Hos conlaudat Ephesii sane nulla reprehensione sed multa beatus apostolus Paulus quod semel accepta laude sunt digni, quia fidem apostolicam fidem evangelicam perstiterunt in verbo servaverunt. (40-41) veritatis scribens eis. The Laodiceans are Asians. These, the The Ephesians are soundly worthy of apostle Paul also praises that, once they no reproach but rather of many praises had accepted the evangelical faith, they because they served the apostolic faith. persisted in the word of truth when he wrote to them. 20 On Marcion and the origins of his antithetis to Judaism, the seminal works are A. von Harnack, Marcion:DasEvangeliumvomfremdenGott (Leipzig, 1921) and id., NeueStudienzu Marcion(Leipzig, 1923). For a synopsis see F.F. Bruce ‘Marcion’, in id., TheCanonofScripture (Glasgow, 1988), 134-44. A contemporary reexamination of the influential ‘heretic’ can be found in the recent works of Markus Vinzent, Christ’sResurrectionintheNewTestamentandtheMaking oftheNewTestament(Farnham, 2011) and id.,MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels (2014).

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Whereas some sections – such as Gal. above – in the PQ carry over thematic elements and paraphrase longer materials from its source, some such as Eph., Phil., and 1-2Thess. contain directly lifted phrases Eph., occasionally misattributed in VetusLatina texts as Laodiceans, notes Paul’s approval of the community’s service to the apostolic faith, fidemapostolicam. This is a clear reproduction of the praise found in the Marcionite predecessor that states Paul’s praise stems from their persistence in the evangelical faith, fidemeuangelicam. The following PQ section dealing with Phil., as discussed above, directly copies the words falsosapostolos and the verb conlaudantur. The PQ Thess. relies heavily on its source and uses the same vocabulary in its introduction in stating that the community ‘fideminconcussamservaveritueritatis,sedetiamin persecutioneciuiumfuerintconstantesinuenti’, which neatly carries over the Marcionite’s text which states ‘hiacceptoueritatisperstiteruntinfideetiamin persecutioneciuiumsuorum’. The exact copying of ‘persecutioneciuium, fide’, and the serving of ‘ueritatis’, the truth, along with the paraphrased idea of remaining ‘constantes’ or ‘perstiterunt’ leaves little doubt that the author of the PQ had the Marcionite paratexts readily available. Philippenses ipsi sunt Macedones. hi accepto Philippenses etiam multo magis conlauverbo veritatis perstiterunt in fide, nec dantur qui nec audire quidem falsos aposreceperunt falsos apostolos. hos apostolus tolos voluerunt. (41-2) conlaudat scribens eis a Roma de carcere per Epaphroditum. The Philippians themselves are Macedo- The Philippians are celebrated more nians. Once they had accepted the word and more as they never wanted to hear of truth, they persisted in the faith, and did those false apostles. not receive false apostles. These the apostle also praises, writing to them from Rome, from prison, through Epaphroditus.

Again, there is no mention of the geography of the Philippians in the PQ as we find in the Marcionite text. The parallels otherwise are very strong: both use the verb ‘conlaudare’ to demonstrate Paul’s praise of the community for rejecting the falsosapostolos. The parallels are so strong in this section as to nearly suggest direct copying. Colossenses et hi sicut Laodicenses sunt Asiani. et ipsi praeventi erant a pseudoapostolis [cf V Gal. above], nec ad hos accessit ipse apostolus, sed et hos per epistulam recorrigit. audierant enim verbum ab Archippo qui et ministerium in eos accepit. ergo apostolus iam ligatus scribit eis ab Epheso.

Colosenses autem tales erant ut, cum ab Apostolo visi corporaliter non fuissent, hac laude digni haberentur: « Et si corpore absens sum, sed spiritu vobiscum sum gaudens et videns ordinem vestrum. » (42-5)

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The Colossians, they too are Asians, just as the Laodiceans. And even though they had been reached by pseudo-apostles, while the apostle himself had not reached them, even still he corrects them through an epistle. For they had heard the word from Archippus, who also accepted the ministry to them. The apostle therefore, already arrested, writes to them from Ephesus.

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The Colossians were such a sort that while they were not seen in the flesh by the Apostle (Paul) they were worthy of praise. “And although I am absent in body, in spirit I am with you rejoicing and seeing your order”.

The PQ section introducing Col. shares the same central concern found in the Marcionite paratext, namely that Paul had never met the community in person and maintained only epistolary contact with the Colossian church. The PQ states ‘cumabApostolouisicorporaliternonfuissent,haclaudedignihaberentur’, or, ‘while they were not seen in the flesh by the Apostle, they were worthy of praise’. This echoes the Marcionite example that claims that while they had been reached by ‘pseudoapostoli necadhosaccessitipseApostolus’, that is, ‘the Apostle himself had not yet reached them’. As the stated PQ concentration on Paul’s alienation from his addressee makes up the totality of the section and the majority of the Marcionite paratext, their connection is apparent. In supporting this concept of Paul’s didacticism by proxy, the PQ cites a passage from Col. 2:5: ‘Etsicorporeabsenssum,sedspirituuobiscumsum gaudensetuidensordinemuestrum’. Similarly to the aforementioned example found in 1Cor., the text here strangely omits the nine following words which would refocus the verse: ‘etfirmamentumeiusquaeinChristoestfideiuestrae’. Again, the author of the PQ has reorganized a verse to lay the emphasis upon the work of Paul and the order he praises within his Pauline church community. We will return to this in a moment, but the PQ clearly exhibits Pauline tendencies even if the author was ignorant to the putative origin of the Marcionite texts. Col. is missing a further geographical description, as can now be expected based on the consistency of this feature in above examples. Furthermore, the locations of historical places in the creation of the letter are missing, such as Paul’s writing from Ephesus. The bulk of the conversation in both examples regards Paul’s writing to the Colossians despite never having physically visited them. Both examples on Col. discuss Paul’s lack of direct contact. For the PQ, this further suggests again that the author was relying on the Marcionite example. As in Cor. above, we should expect that the quotations from Paul should match the Vulgate, and it does. However, the given example is shortened and Col. 2:5 should follow as: ‘ordinem vestrum et firmamentum eius quae in Christoestfideivestrae’. References to Christ are again missing, if not potentially removed. Only their order is remarkable, not also their firmament of faith

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in Christ. Thus, the passage when read with its omissions seemingly advocates for the ordered community of Pauline Christianity over faith. This is explicable when we consider the Marcionite text that again advocates against the reception of false prophets into their community and upright standards of ministry. As the Marcionite edition makes no mention of faith in Christ, it follows that a PQ reliant on its Marcionite predecessor should omit such a mention as well. To include the longer quotation would have perhaps required the PQto make theological pronouncements on faith independently from his Marcionite guideposts. Thessalonicenses sunt Macedones in Christo Iesu. hi accepto verbo veritatis perstiterunt in fide etiam in persecutione civium suorum; praeterea nec receperunt ea quae a falsis apostolis dicebantur. hos conlaudat apostolus scribens eis ab Athenis.

Thessalonicenses nihilominus in duabus epistulis omni laude prosequitur, eo quod non solum fidem inconcussam servaverit veritatis, sed etiam in persecutione civium fuerint constantes inventi. (45-7)

The Thessalonians are Macedonians in Christ Jesus who, after the word of truth was accepted, persisted in the faith even during the persecution by their fellow city; furthermore, they did not receive those things that were said by the false apostles. These the apostle praises, writing to them from Athens.

The Thessalonians, nevertheless, in two epistles are followed by all praise, not only because they served the unshaken faith of Truth, but also that they were found standing together against the persecution of their fellow city.

Ad Thessalonicenses scribit et notum facit ibid. eis de temporibus novissimis et de adversarii detectione. scribit ab Athenis. To the Thessalonians he writes and makes note to them concerning the very novel times and of the detection of the adversary. He writes from Athens.

The PQ section on Thess., as previously alluded to, directly lifts the concept of ‘persecutioneciuium’ from its predecessor. Like all of our previous nine examples, it follows with its sub-incipit of the name of the group to be addressed, followed by Paul’s reasons for educating the group at hand. In our last example in parallel, again the PQ drops the geographical location of its addressee. The parallels in the body of the introduction are very strong. The bolded sections show a direct copying of the Marcionite work ‘inpersecutionecivium’ and the similar discussions of‘fide(m)’ and ‘perstiterunt/contantes’. Not only are the concepts in accord but also the PQ directly mimics entire phrasings.

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De Hebraeis vero quid dicendum est, quorum Thessalonicenses qui plurimum laudati sunt imitatores facti esse dicuntur, sicut ipse ait: «Et vos fratres imitatores facti estis ecclesiarum Dei quae sunt in Iudaea, eadem enim passi estis et vos a contribulibus vestris quae et illi a Iudaeis.» Apud ipsos quoque Hebraeos eadem commemorat dicens: «am et vinctis conpassi estis et rapinam bonorum vestorum cum gaudio suscepistis cognoscentes vos habere meliorum et manentem substantiam.» (47-53) Truly, something ought to be said of Hebrews, of whom the highly praised Thessalonians are said to be imitators, as he puts it: “And you, brothers, have become imitators of the churches of God which are in Judea. You have suffered the same from your own tribesmen as you had from the Jews”. Among them he commemorates the same Hebrews, saying: “You had compassion for prisoners and with joy you accepted the plunder of your goods knowing that you had a greater and lasting substance”.

Our final letter in the PQ introduction is the non-Marcionite Heb. As mentioned before, the second section of the PQ argues that its inclusion is important to round out a proper New Testament Decalogue. Similarly, this final section reads more as a defense of its addition to the corpus than an introduction to the work. The different structure can also be explained by its lack of source material, that is a lack of a Marcionite paratext for Heb. The author of the PQ endorses Hebrews, opening the section similarly to that of Rom. by stating ‘de Hebraeisuerodicedumest’, ‘truly something ought to be said of the Hebrews’, rather than something akin to ‘The Hebrews were a group truly worthy of praise, etc.’ In order to endorse the document, we read that the ‘Thessalonians are said to be imitators [of the Hebrews]’.21 The author then continues with two Pauline citations of support, one of which requires further investigation. The passage in question is from 1Thess., and as per our established pattern, strangely omits a reference to Christ. The PQ states ‘etuosfratresimitatoresfactisestis ecclesiarumDeiquaesuntinIudaea,eademenimpassiestisetuosacontribulibus uestris quae et illi a Iudaeis’. The omission of ‘in Christo Iesu’ after ‘ecclesiarumDeiquaesuntinIudaea’ stands out and refocuses the leadership of the Church not on the body of Christ, but on the contemporaneous leadership of Paul. The section on Heb. reads more as support for its inclusion and not a didactic introduction for the text to come. This is unsurprising given its lack of Marcionite predecessor. The reasoning for this is two-fold: the author of the 21

‘Thessalonicenses...imitatoresfactiessedicuntur’ (PQ47-53).

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PQ lacked a template from which to build his paratext, and the author needed to argue for the inclusion of a text which went against the well-established tradition linked to the Marcionite paratexts. This introduction breaks from the other Marcion-paralleled texts by speaking ‘deHebraeis’ rather than Hebraei ... etc. It seems the author does not even try to mimic the previous sections, but rather launches his apology for the inclusion of Hebrews. Very little is said of why Paul should write to the community of the Hebrews specifically, and in fact its support is found in a quotation from a separate work 1Thess. 2:14. As seen before, the biblical reference to 1Thess. 2:14 lacks the expected reference to Christ. In this case, however, the reference is particularly integral to the original meaning. The Vulgate gives: ‘vos enim imitatores facti estis fratresecclesiarumDeiquaesuntinIudaeain Christo Iesu quiaeadempassi estisetvosacontribulibusvestrissicutetipsiaIudaeis’. The omission of Christ in this instance is certainly striking, given that ‘Paul’ was speaking to Jewish communities who had accepted Christ in the regions of Judea; yet, the PQ frames the reference to ‘Churches of God in Judea’. The amount that this quotation rearranges the expected Vulgate text is certainly odd for a text supposedly introducing the CorpusPaulinum. The PQ puts in primary focus the appellation with ‘etuosfratresimitatores’. While an argument could possibly be made that the grammatical sense is maintained and that the PQ is simply fronting the subject, it is certainly unnecessary to do so and even more peculiar if we are to expect that this was a preface for our Vulgate form. The latter half is also changed after the aforementioned omission of Christ; the ‘quia eadem’ construction is dropped in favour of eadem with the postpositive enim. The PQ quotation is thus rather more concessive than causative compared to the Vulgate version, especially since the PQ has removed the reference to Christ. Furthermore, the Vulgate provides ‘sicutetipsiaIudaeis’ becomes‘quaeetilliaIudaeis’. The following pastoral letters have Marcionite introductions but are lacking in the PQ. I leave them here to further demonstrate that the Marcionite exemplars follow the formula established above and to emphasize their omission in the PQ. Philemoni familiares litteras facit pro Onesimo servo eius. Scribit Ø autem ei a Roma de carcere. He composes familiar letters to Philemon on behalf of Onesimus his servant. He writes to him, however, from Rome, from prison. Timotheum instruit et docet de ordinatione episcopatus et diaconii et Ø omnis ecclesiasticae disciplinae.

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He instructs Timothy and teaches him concerning the ordination to the episcopate and to the diaconate and concerning all aspects of ecclesiastical discipline. Item Timotheo scribit de exhortatione martyrii et omnis regulae ver- Ø itatis et quid futurum sit temporibus novissimis et de sua passione. Likewise he writes to Timothy concerning the exhortation to martyrdom and all aspects of the rule of truth, and what will be in the last times, and concerning his own passion. Titum commonefacit et instruit de constitutione presbyterii et de spiri- Ø tali conversatione et hereticis vitandis qui in scripturis Iudaicis credunt. He warns and instructs Titus concerning the constitution of the presbytery and concerning spiritual conversation and heretics to be avoided who believe in the Jewish scriptures.

Rufinus and Pelagian Possibilities Unfortunately, identification of a specific author of the PQ is more difficult that the identification of its influences. H.J. Frede suggested two possible camps from which we can derive its origin: Augustine or Pelagius.22 The Pelagian suggestion has since been constructively explored and has much to commend it.23 A further intriguing possibility, Rufinus of Syria, brings the text tantalizingly close to the work of Jerome. Seen as one of the Church’s protoPelagians, and as an irony of Chruch History, this Syrian Rufinus was a close associate of anti-Pelagian Jerome who sent him as a legate on his behalf to Rome. Yet, the fact that this Rufinus seemed to espouse proto-Pelagian views has led many to suggest that there were at least three distinct Rufini: the Aquilean, the Syrian, and a third Pelagian.24 However, the preponderance of evidence and contemporary scholarship supports that the Syrian and protoPelagian are the same character.25 As Elizabeth Clarke notes, the fact that this 22 H.J. Frede, ‘Altlateinische Paulus-Handschriften’, inid., GeschichtederLateinischenBibel, 4 (Freiburg, 1964), and id., EpistulaeadPhilippensesetadColossenses(Freiburg, 1966-1971), 42-3. 23 See G. de Plinval, ‘Précisions sur l’authenticité d’un prologue de Pélage: Primumquaeritur’, RA12 (1966), 247-53. 24 The proto-Pelagian Rufinus attested by Caelestius is declared by H. Marrou in ‘Les Attaches Orientales du Pelagianisme’, Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres 112 (1968), 459-72, 463-5 as necessarily a distinct Rufinus not to be associated with Jerome. 25 G. Bonner, ‘Rufinus the Syrian and African Pelagianism’, AugStud1 (1970), 30-47; Eugene Te Selle, ‘Rufinus the Syrian, Caelestius, Pelagius: Explorations in the Prehistory of the Pelagian Controversy’, AugStud 3(1972), 61-95, 61-5; E.A. Clark, TheOrigenistControversy:TheCultural

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Rufinus of Syria’s work, the Liberdefide, exhibits a particularly anti-Origenist perspective, especially during the great Origenist controversy, further supports his proximity to Jerome.26 But the certainty of its attribution to anyone character in Church History without definitive biographical evidence found within the PQ leads mostly to speculation. It is far easier to state impossibilities than possibilities. The strongest of these impossibilities is that this final edition of the PQ was the work of Jerome. The inclusion of Heb. does not match with what we know of Jerome’s opinions on the letter. Chapter V on Paul of his Devirisillustribus states that Hebrews ‘is not credited to him, on account of its different style and manner of speaking’.27 This contradiction in support for Hebrews between the known opinions of Jerome and the PQ has found a common resolution in scholarship that the PQ must necessarily not be Jerome’s.28 Such contradictions in the formation of the PQadds depth to the understanding of the Vulgate and its creation as a collection of the work of many editors, and not a monolithic creation of Jerome. There rests a possibility that our text at hand is not the second in the chain from the Marcionite paratexts, and thus the possibility remains that an original PQ did not include Heb. at its end. However, the most important aspect of the PQ is its prosaic nature. In collating the original Marcionite capitula into a single longer introduction to a Pauline Decalogue, the author of the PQ was making a statement on the collective nature of his Latin translation. By the time the PQ first appears in F and A, its purpose is to impose upon its readership the intrinsic and theological link between its ten Pauline letters. In conclusion, the author of the PQ had sought to use readily available texts that had established the first Pauline corpus to introduce the ten letters as sharing common themes. The exact identity of the author may never precisely be identified, nor is it so simple to demonstrate the PQ’s author was likewise the translator of the material it introduces. What is however safe to say is that the author of the PQ worked with common texts that we now call Marcionite. The author clearly did not exhibit strong Marcionism in his text, as especially evidenced by his preference to bolster the Old with the New Testament, but was still an empathetic transmitter of some of the Marcionite texts Pauline sensibilities. ConstructionofanEarlyChristianDebate(Princeton, 1992), 202-7; T.S. de Bruyn, Pelagius’s Commentaries on St Paul’s Epistle to the Romans (Oxford, 1993), 18-24, and E. Scherbenske, CanonizingPaul (2013), esp 183-4. 26 E.A. Clark, TheOrigenistControversy (1992), 203. 27 Jerome, Devir.ill.V: ‘EpistolaautemquaeferturadHebraeos,nonejuscreditur,propter stylisermonisquedissonantiam,sedvelBarnabae,juxtaTertullianum,velLucaeEvangelistae,juxta quosdam,velClementisRomanaeposteaEcclesiaeEpiscopi,quemaiuntipsiadjunctumsententias Pauliproprioordinasseetornassesermone’. 28 So H.J. Frede, EpistolaeadThessalonicenses,Timotheum,Titum,Philemonem,Hebraeos (Freiburg, 1975), 99-101, and B. Fischer, ‘Das Neue Testament in lateinischer Sprache’, in Kurt Aland (ed.), DieAltenÜbersetzungendesNeuenTestaments,dieKichenväterzitateundLektionare (Berlin, 1972), 73.

Pre-canonical Paul: His Views towards Sexual Immorality Janelle Priya MATHUR and Markus VINZENT, King’s College London, UK

ABSTRACT Today the question is no longer simply, how quickly the letters of Paul acquired normative status, since the work of David Trobisch, Jan Heilmann and Matthias Klinghardt, we also have to ask, in which textual form Paul was read first. As this article will show, it is most likely that the text which our sources know as the Marcionite version of Paul (PaulMcn) give us a pre-canonical text which later seems to have been reworked and broadened by the same or similar redactors who were responsible for creating of the fictive Pauline Pastoral Letters. The following discussion examines how the precanonical letters of Paul underwent considerable alterations, each time for the purpose of more comfortably fitting the culture of the day. Taking one case in point, namely canonical Paul and his alleged views on homosexuality (and more broadly speaking, sexual immorality as it is discussed in the context of homosexuality), this essay focuses primarily on 1Corinthians 4-6, and argues that the pre-canonical Pauline writings were much shorter than the textusreceptus, and presents the surprising conclusion that the pre-canonical Paul is not concerned with homosexuality at all. Finally, it is submitted that redactors of the second century expanded these passages to criticize homosexual behavior, due to historical situations. The article is based on the findings of Ulrich Schmid and Jason BeDuhn, but refines their results and suggests – compared to their reconstructive efforts of PaulMcn – a slightly revised reconstruction of 1CorMcn. 4-6, particularly based on Tertullian’s commentaries, as they are the earliest available on these writings, presenting us with a different version than that of the textusreceptus.

Introduction Homosexuality is traditionally taught by the church to be among the most abhorrent sins one can commit, and Jennifer Wright Knust concludes that ‘Paul and later followers of Christ frequently defined the boundaries of their movement in sexual terms’.1 In the first official document regarding this topic, Homosexualitasproblema, the Catholic Church reacts against ‘a new exegesis of Sacred Scripture which claims variously that Scripture has nothing to say on the subject of homosexuality, or that it tacitly approves of it.’ Interestingly, 1 Jennifer Wright Knust, AbandonedLust.SexualSlanderandAncientChristianity, Gender, Theory and Religion (New York, 2006), 51-87, 51.

StudiaPatristica XCIX, 157-175. © Peeters Publishers, 2018.

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however, when examining Biblical text, we are referred to very few passages only. The first is Lev. 20:13: If a man lies with a man [arsenoskoiten] as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads.

Three passages are noted from the New Testament, all from Paul (Rom. 1:26-7; 1Cor. 6:9-10), or Pauline letters (1Tim. 1:9-10), but not from the gospels.2 Indeed, not only Jewish-Christian Scriptures very rarely write against homosexuality, except for the passages mentioned, ancient commentaries on these verses, too, prove to also be rare, even rarer than the frequency with which the topic is discussed in the New Testament. There is, however, a specific historic setting when criticism of homosexuality occurs. Justin Martyr is one of the few witnesses who writes in his FirstApology: ‘We who not long ago delighted in porneia now embrace sophrosyne alone’ (1Apol. 14). With his Apology, he addresses the Emperor Antoninus Pius (and Senate), assuming a critical stand on homosexuality that contrasts with his predecessor Hadrian who had fallen in love with a young boy Antinous whom he must have met at his journey to Bithynia in the year 124 CE before moving further to Athens. The unlucky boy later drowned in the Nilus in the year 130 CE on Hadrian’s second journey to Egypt.3 A further harsh reaction against homosexuality is found in the Syriac version of Aristides’ Apology4 which scholars have referred to Hadrian and, similar to Justin, seems to have been voiced after the death of Hadrian in the text that was handed to his successor.5 Looking into the mentioned Pauline passages against homosexuality, this article takes into consideration the earliest commentary on the writings available, provided by Tertullian (known as the ‘father of Latin Christianity’6 and ‘father of Western theology’).7 Aside from being the closest commentator on Paul’s works chronologically, Tertullian was also a passionate arguer, zealous in his Christian faith, and adamant in his position that modesty and sexual purity were of extreme priority.8 2 On this topic, some refer to Matth. 19:4-6 and Mark10:5-9, where Jesus discusses marriage as being between man and woman. However, this paper is focused primarily on evaluating the authenticity of that which directly references homosexuality, rather than looking at all which may be used to argue or defend its acceptability. 3 S. Perowne, Hadrian (London, 1960), 100. 4 Arist., Apol. 8,1; 9,3; 13,5; 17,2. 5 See R.M. Grant, GreekApologistsoftheSecondCentury (London, 1988), 38-9. 6 Andrew J. Ekonomou, ByzantineRomeandtheGreekPopes:EasternInfluencesonRome andthePapacyfromGregorytheGreattoZacharias,A.D.590-752 (New York, 2007), 22; recent literature in Markus Vinzent, Tertullian’sPrefacetoMarcion’sGospel, Studia Patristica Supplement 5 (Leuven, 2017). 7 Justo L. Gonzales, TheStoryofChristianity,Volume1:TheEarlyChurchtotheDawnof theReformation(New York, 2010), 91-3. 8 See particularly Tertullian, Depudicitia; Devirginibusvelandis.

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Paul’s textus receptus on homosexuality In examining the three scriptural references attributed to Paul, we find first Rom. 1:27: 1:27 Likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust for one another, men with men committing what is shameful, and receiving in themselves the penalty of their error which was due.9

The main aspect worthy of attention here is the specificity with which this passage defines the sin of homosexuality – that is, instead of implementing the generic Greek term for man lying with man, ἀρσενοκοίτης, to convey a generalized sense of homosexual behaviour, the text distinctly defines both the lust and the behaviour. The importance of this choice becomes clear with the advancement of this discussion, but for now we simply note that this passage establishes one of a few characteristics within Paul’s writing. In a similar passage found in 1Cor. 6:9, the addressees are warned: 6:9 Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived. Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor homosexuals, nor sodomites…10

In this case, homosexuality is again outlined rather specifically (where both the passive and active engagers are referenced) but not with the same method used in Rom. 1:26. In fact, this is the first of only two occasions in the New Testament where ἀρσενοκοίτης is found,11 and the only occasion in which the Greek word μαλακός is used to describe not just a man, but a person in general.12 It is also of note that sexual immorality (translated here as fornication) is explicitly referenced outside of homosexuality, giving reason to think that the author believed that it is in some way or another different. The third passage regarding homosexuality is found in 1Tim. 1:9-10 (a chapter regarded by most scholars as a pseudo-Pauline writing), which reads: … that the law is not made for a righteous person, but for the … fornicators, for sodomites, for kidnappers, for liars, for perjurers…13 9 1:27 ὁμοίως τε καὶ οἱ ἄρσενες ἀφέντες τὴν φυσικὴν χρῆσιν τῆς θηλείας ἐξεκαύθησαν ἐν τῇ ὀρέξει αὐτῶν εἰς ἀλλήλους, ἄρσενες ἐν ἄρσεσιν τὴν ἀσχημοσύνην κατεργαζόμενοι καὶ τὴν ἀντιμισθίαν ἣν ἔδει τῆς πλάνης αὐτῶν ἐν ἑαυτοῖς ἀπολαμβάνοντες. 10 6:9 ἢ οὐκ οἴδατε ὅτι ἄδικοι θεοῦ βασιλείαν οὐ κληρονομήσουσιν; μὴ πλανᾶσθε: οὔτε πόρνοι οὔτε εἰδωλολάτραι οὔτε μοιχοὶ οὔτε μαλακοὶ οὔτε ἀρσενοκοῖται. 11 The second being in 1Tim. 1:10. 12 The other three occasions this word is used (twice within Matth. 11:18 and once in Luke 7:25) is in the context of describing tangible softness, such as that associated with cotton. 13 1:9 εἰδὼς τοῦτο, ὅτι δικαίῳ νόμος οὐ κεῖται, ἀνόμοις δὲ καὶ ἀνυποτάκτοις, ἀσεβέσι καὶ ἁμαρτωλοῖς, ἀνοσίοις καὶ βεβήλοις, πατρολῴαις καὶ μητρολῴαις, ἀνδροφόνοις, 1:10 πόρνοις, ἀρσενοκοίταις, ἀνδραποδισταῖς, ψεύσταις, ἐπιόρκοις, καὶ εἴ τι ἕτερον τῇ ὑγιαινούσῃ διδασκαλίᾳ ἀντίκειται.

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It is in this case that ‘Paul’s’ previously mentioned tendency towards detailed language becomes relevant; in comparison to Romans and 1Corinthians, he fails to be so specific in this line, only including ἀρσενοκοίτης (which is strangely enough interpreted by the translators of the New King James Version the same way μαλακός is in 1Cor. 6:9, though the words are decidedly different). This is the third variation in method of description of homosexuality, which is remarkable since we are to believe they were all written by the same author, and these are the only references to this topic in the entire New Testament. Minimally, it is intriguing that Paul does not remain consistent in his language or degree of specificity within his own messages, even though it is in the context of something so significant as losing the inheritance of ‘the Kingdom of God’14 or so common as worshiping idols or gods other than the Hebrew God.15

Tertullian’s role Bearing this in mind, we turn to Tertullian’s role in this argument to discover that he does not have to say anything in his commentary on any of the aforementioned verses attributed to Paul.16 Again, Tertullian is nothing if not verbose in his commentary on early Christian documents, and is recorded as taking most opportunities to promote his arguments, which include a fixation on the purity and blessing associated with a virgin marriage.17 So it is at least unusual that he has nothing to say with regards to Rom. 1:26 or 1Cor. 6:1-12. Of course, as he comments on Marcion’s collection of Paul’s letters,18 which the ‘Pastoral Letters’ are not part of, he does not give a commentary on the passage from 1Timothy. There exist a few possible reasons for this lacking reference: perhaps Tertullian recognized that he was addressing an audience who was already familiar with the traditional Jewish rules regarding sex, and felt it would be extraneous to address these passages. He was indeed quite occupied with emphasizing the finer points of purity,19 conceivably because his audience was unlikely to engage in the more obvious deviations from the traditional 14

1Cor. 6:9. Rom. 1:26. 16 Tert, Adv.Marc. V 7; ed. and trans. here and later Tertullian, AdversusMarcionem, Books I-III, and Books IV and V. Edited and translated by Ernest Evans (Oxford, 1972) (online accessible: , accessed 9.11.2016). 17 Tert., Devirginibusvelandis; see also his Aduxorem. 18 On Marcion of Sinope, the second century teacher and businessman who, after the Bar Kokhba war had moved from Asia Minor to Rome, see Markus Vinzent, MarcionandtheDating oftheSynopticGospels, Studia Patristica Supplement 2 (Leuven, 2014). 19 Ibid. 15

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definition of heterosexual marital sex and would be more prone to the more frequently mentioned sins of adultery, immodesty, idolatry, etc. But that argument would assume that he was writing primarily to a religious audience, and besides, assumes a trait that conflicts with a character who is both thorough in his range of discussion, and well established in his inclination towards expounding on the topic of sexual morality. Furthermore, Tertullian does provide commentary on Paul’s discussions of sexual immorality elsewhere,20 which indicates that when the text provided him with such statements, he picked them up and made use of them. Finally, it could be that Tertullian’s silence on the passages concerning homosexuality is simply an indication that those verses did not exist in Marcion’s collection of Paul’s letters, which still leaves open the question of whether Marcion had deleted those or whether these were additions made by unknown redactors of Paul’s Letters in the second century. Of the possibilities, as we will see, the latter conclusion proves to be the most convincing, as it explains first the consistent line of argument in the text that Tertullian comments upon and second the variances in language choice between the three excerpts, which are similar, but not similar enough. Given how the passages list and denounce specific sins, it is striking that they are not a more perfect reflection of each other, especially when they are (in theory) written by the same author or within the same tradition; these difficulties vanish if they are not only written by someone other than Paul, but are the works of redactors. In this case, 1Timothy could be an unpolished mirror of a 2nd century’s addition to 1Corinthians.

Paul and sexual immorality Moving from the three instances in which Paul is credited with condemning homosexuality, the focus shifts to discuss the views on sexual immorality that Paul may have originally expressed, based on Tertullian’s commentary of 1Corinthians. In 1Cor. 5:1 one reads: ‘It is actually reported that there is sexual immorality among you, and such sexual immorality as is not even named among the Gentiles – that a man has his father’s wife!’21 From this, we can assume that sexual immorality at least refers to the act of incest. To this one has to add 1Cor. 5:9-10 which seems to broaden the definition: ‘5:9 I wrote to you in the letter not to associate with the sexually immoral. Yet I certainly did not mean with the sexually immoral of this world.’ Who Paul means by the 20

Tert., Adv.Marc. V 7, V 14. 1Cor. 5:1: Ὅλως ἀκούεται ἐν ὑμῖν πορνεία, καὶ τοιαύτη πορνεία ἥτις οὐδὲ ἐν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν, ὥστε γυναῖκά τινα τοῦ πατρὸς ἔχειν. 21

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‘sexually immoral’ which are not ‘of this world’ is clarified in 1Cor. 5:10: ‘In no way did I mean the immoral people of this world, or the greedy and swindlers and idolaters, since you would then have to go out of the world.’22 Two worlds and two types of beings are referenced – the ‘immoral people of this world’ who Paul does not refer to, and beings not of this world (and therefore, of another) which Paul means and which the Corinthians should not associate with, leading the reader to understand that distinguishing between the two sets is necessary. The phrase ‘sexually immoral’ specifically does not refer to the people of this world, that is, mankind. If not the people on planet Earth, then whom? We will need to come back to this question. Paul is clear, however, in his assertion that one cannot abstain from the ‘immoral people of this world’, as to do so one would need to leave the world; immorality is all over the place and surrounds everybody, including his addressees. Despite this clear distinction, the critical reader is surprised to read in the following verse 1Cor. 5:11: ‘But now I have written to you not to keep company with anyone named a brother, who is sexually immoral…’23 Already the opening (νῦν δὲ ἔγραψα ὑμῖν) points out that, in this verse, Paul either disregards the distinction he has just made, and now does mean to refer to ‘people of this world’, or builds on a distinction between ‘the people of this world’ and the brothers and sisters of the church who would then be regarded as being not of this world. Indeed, 1Cor. 5:9-10 is commonly read with the understanding that the author is likely making a reference to the same context in which ‘of this world’ is used in John 8:23, 15:9, 17:14.16. There, the idea that Christians are in the world, but not of it, is established, with ‘of’ expressing a direct relationship between a part and its larger whole. Applying this, 1Cor. 5:9-11 then means, ‘I wrote to you not to associate with sexually immoral Christians’.

Tertullian vs. Marcion Despite the pleasing congruity of these three verses, their meaning is obfuscated when taken in the context of the chapters as they are accepted and used today. This confusion is amplified further when we consider where in 1Corinthians4-6 Tertullian comments verses and where he does not:

22 1Cor. 5:9-10: Ἔγραψα ὑμῖν ἐν τῇ ἐπιστολῇ μὴ συναναμίγνυσθαι πόρνοις, οὐ πάντως τοῖς πόρνοις τοῦ κόσμου τούτου ἢ τοῖς πλεονέκταις καὶ ἅρπαξιν ἢ εἰδωλολάτραις, ἐπεὶ ὠφείλετε ἄρα ἐκ τοῦ κόσμου ἐξελθεῖν. 23 1Cor. 5:11: νῦν δὲ ἔγραψα ὑμῖν μὴ συναναμίγνυσθαι ἐάν τις ἀδελφὸς ὀνομαζόμενος ᾖ πόρνος ἢ πλεονέκτης ἢ εἰδωλολάτρης ἢ λοίδορος ἢ μέθυσος ἢ ἅρπαξ, τῷ τοιούτῳ μηδὲ συνεσθίειν.

Pre-canonical Paul: His Views towards Sexual Immorality Tert., Adv.Marc. V 7 (E. Evans)

1Corinthians 4-6

4:1 One should think about us this way – as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God. 4:2 Now what is sought in stewards is that one be found faithful. 4:3 So for me, it is a minor matter that I am judged by you or by any human court. In fact, I do not even judge myself. 4:4 For I am not aware of anything against myself, but I am not acquitted because of this. The one who judges me is the Lord. 4:5 So then, do not judge anything before the time. Wait until the Lord comes. He will 7. [1] Et occulta tenebrarum bring to light the hidden things ipse illuminabit, utique per Christum, qui Christum of darkness and reveal the motives illuminationem repromisit, se of hearts. Then each will receive quoque lucernam pronuntiavit, recognition from God. scrutantem corda et renes. 4:6 I have applied these things Ab illo erit et laus unicuique to myself and Apollos because of a quo et contrarium you, brothers and sisters, so that laudis, ut a iudice. through us you may learn “not to Certe, inquis, vel hic go beyond what is written,” so that mundum deum mundi none of you will be puffed up in interpretatur, dicendo, favor of the one against the other. 4:7 For who concedes you any superiority? What do you have that you did not receive? And if you received it, why do you boast as though you did not? 4:8 Already you are satisfied! Already you are rich! You have become kings without us! I wish you had become kings so that we could reign with you! 4:9 For, I think, God has exhibited us apostles last of all, as men condemned to die, because Spectaculum facti sumus mundo we have become a spectacle to the et angelis et hominibus: quia si world, both to angels and to peomundum homines ple. 4:10 We are fools for Christ, mundi significasset, non etiam but you are wise in Christ! We are homines postmodum nominasset. weak, but you are strong! You are Immo ne ita argumentareris, distinguished, we are dishonored! providentia spiritus sancti 4:11 To the present hour we are hungry and thirsty, poorly clothed, demonstravit quomodo dixisset, brutally treated, and without a roof Spectaculum facti sumus mundo, dum angelis qui mundo over our heads. 4:12 We do hard ministrant, et hominibus quibus work, toiling with our own hands. ministrant. When we are verbally abused, we respond with a blessing, when

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7. [1] He himself will bring to light the hidden things of darkness – evidently by Christ as agent – who has promised that Christ will be a light, and has declared that he himself is a lantern, searching the hearts and reins. Praise for each several man will come from him from whom, as from a judge, will come also the opposite of praise. Surely, you say, here at least by ‘world’ he means the god of the world, when he says,

We are made a spectacle to the world and to angels and to men, because if by ‘world’ he had referred to the men of the world he would not have gone on to mention ‘men’. Nay rather, to deprive you of this argument the Holy Spirit’s foresight has indicated in what sense he meant We are made a spectacle to the world,(namely) the angels who minister to the world, and the men to whom they minister.

164 [2] Verebatur nimirum tantae constantiae vir, ne dicam spiritus sanctus, praesertim ad filios scribens, quos in evangelio generaverat, libere deum mundi nominare, adversus quem nisi exserte non posset videri praedicare.

Non defendo secundum legem creatoris displicuisse illum qui mulierem patris sui habuit. Communis et publicae religionis secutus sit disciplinam.

J.P. MATHUR – M. VINZENT persecuted, we endure, 4:13 when people lie about us, we answer in a friendly manner. We are the world’s dirt and scum, even now. 4:14 I am not writing these things to shame you, but to correct you as my dear children. 4:15 For though you may have ten thousand guardians in Christ, you do not have many fathers, because I became your father in Christ Jesus through the gospel. 4:16 I encourage you, then, be imitators of me. 4:17 For this reason, I have sent Timothy to you, who is my dear and faithful son in the Lord. He will remind you of my ways in Christ, as I teach them everywhere in every church. 4:18 Some have become arrogant, as if I were not coming to you. 4:19 But I will come to you soon, if the Lord is willing, and I will find out not only the talk of these arrogant people, but also their power. 4:20 For the kingdom of God is demonstrated not in idle talk but with power. 4:21 What do you want? Shall I come to you with a rod of discipline or with love and a spirit of gentleness? 5:1 It is actually reported that sexual immorality exists among you, the kind of immorality that is not permitted even among the Gentiles, so that someone is cohabiting with his father’s wife. 5:2 And you are proud! Shouldn’t you have been deeply sorrowful instead and removed the one who did this from among you? 5:3 For even though I am absent physically, I am present in spirit. And I have already judged the one who did this, just as though I were present. 5:4 When you gather together in the name of our Lord Jesus, and I am with you in spirit, along with the

[2] Do you think a man of such strong convictions – I leave the Holy Spirit out of account – especially when writing to his sons whom he had begotten in the gospel, would hesitate to name freely the god of the world, against whom he could not give the impression of preaching except by doing so openly?

I make no claim that it was by the Creator’s law that the apostle disapproved of the man who had his father’s wife: suppose him to have followed the rule of natural or state religion. {I indeed absent in body but present in spirit, have already judged, as though I were present, him who has so done, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. When you are gathered together along with my spirit, with the power of our Lord Jesus}24

24 So Adam., Dial. II 5: Ἄκουε τοῦ αὐτοῦ ἀποστόλου λέγοντος, ἐγὼ μὲν γὰρ ὡς ἀπὼν τῷ σώματι, παρὼν δὲ τῷ πνεύματι, ἤδη κέκρικα ὡς παρὼν τὸν οὕτω τοῦτο κατεργασάμενον, ἐν τῷ ὀνόματι τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ, συναχθέντων ὑμῶν καὶ τοῦ ἐμοῦ πνεύματος σὺν τῇ δυνάμει τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ, παραδοῦναι τὸν τοιοῦτον τῷ Σατανᾷ εἰς ὄλεθρον.

Pre-canonical Paul: His Views towards Sexual Immorality Sed cum eum damnat dedendum satanae, damnatoris dei praeco est. Viderit et quomodo dixerit, In interitum carnis ut spiritus salvus sit in die domini, dum et de carnis interitu et de salute spiritus iudicarit, et auferri iubens malum de medio creatoris frequentissimam sententiam commemoraverit:

power of our Lord Jesus, 5:5 turn this man over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, so that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord. 5:6 Your boasting is not good. Don’t you know that a little yeast affects the whole batch of dough?

[3] Expurgate vetus fermentum, ut sitis nova conspersio, sicut estis azymi. Ergo azymi figurae erant nostrae apud creatorem. Sic et pascha nostrum immolatus est Christus. Quare pascha Christus, si non pascha figura Christi per similitudinem sanguinis salutaris pecoris et Christi? Quid nobis et Christo imagines induit sollemnium creatoris, si non erant nostrae?

5:7 Clean out the old yeast so that you may be a new batch of dough – you are, in fact, without yeast. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed. 5:8 So then, let us celebrate the festival, not with the old yeast, the yeast of vice and evil, but with the bread without yeast, the bread of sincerity and truth.

[4] Avertens autem nos a fornicatione

manifestat carnisresurrectionem.

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But when he sentences him to be delivered unto Satan, he becomes the apparitor of a God who condemns. Pass over also what he means by, For the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord, provided you admit that by destruction of the flesh and saving of the spirit he has spoken as a judge, and that when he orders the wicked person to be put away from among them, he has in mind one of the Creator’s most regular expressions. [3] Purge out the old leaven, that ye may be a new baking, even as ye are unleavened:so that unleavened bread was to the Creator a figure of ourselves, and in this sense too Christ our Passover was sacrificed. Yet how can Christ be the Passover except that the passover is a figure of Christ because of the similitude between the saving blood of the lamb and of Christ? How can he have applied to us and to Christ the likenesses of the Creator’s solemnities, if they were not ours already? [4] In telling us to flee fornication

5:9 I wrote you in my letter not to associate with the sexually immoral. 5:10 In no way did I mean the immoral people of this world, or the greedy and swindlers he gives evidenceofthe and idolaters, since you would then resurrectionoftheflesh: have to go out of the world. 5:11 But now I am writing to you not to associate with anyone who calls himself a brother who is sexually immoral, or greedy, or an idolater, or verbally abusive, or a drunkard, or a swindler. Do not even eat with such a person. 5:12 For what do I have to do with judging those outside? Are you not to judge those inside? 5:13 But God will judge those outside. Remove the evil person from among you. 6:1 When any of you has a legal dispute with another, does he

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Corpus, inquit, non fornicationi sed domino, et dominus corpori, ut templum deo et deus templo. Templum ergo deo peribit, et deus templo?

J.P. MATHUR – M. VINZENT dare go to court before the unrighteous rather than before the saints? 6:2 Or do you not know that the saints will judge the world? And if the world is to be judged by you, are you not competent to settle trivial suits? 6:3 Do you not know that we will judge angels? Why not ordinary matters! 6:4 So if you have ordinary lawsuits, do you appoint as judges those who have no standing in the church? 6:5 I say this to your shame! Is there no one among you wise enough to settle disputes between fellow Christians? 6:6 Instead, does a Christian sue a Christian, and do this before unbelievers? 6:7 The fact that you have lawsuits among yourselves demonstrates that you have already been defeated. Why not rather be wronged? Why not rather be cheated? 6:8 But you yourselves wrong and cheat, and you do this to your brothers and sisters! 6:9 Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived! The sexually immoral, idolaters, adulterers, passive homosexual partners, practicing homosexuals, 6:10 thieves, the greedy, drunkards, the verbally abusive, and swindlers will not inherit the kingdom of God. 6:11 Some of you once lived this way. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God. 6:12 “All things are lawful for me” – but not everything is beneficial. “All things are lawful for me” – but I will not be controlled by anything. 6:13 “Food is for the stomach and the stomach is for food, but God will do away with both.” The body is not for sexual The body,he says, is not for immorality, but for the Lord, and fornication but for the Lord, the Lord for the body. and the Lord for the body,as the temple is for God and God for the temple. Shall the temple then perish for God, and God for the temple? But you see it written,

Pre-canonical Paul: His Views towards Sexual Immorality Atquin vides, Qui dominum suscitavit, et nos suscitabit; in corpore quoque suscitabit, quia corpus domino, et dominus corpori. Et bene quod aggerat, Nescitis corpora vestra membra esse Christi? Quid dicet haereticus? Membra Christi non resurgent, quae nostra iam non sunt? Empti enim sumus pretio magno.

[5] Plane nullo, si phantasma fuit Christus nec habuit ullam substantiam corporis quam pro nostris corporibus dependeret. Ergo et Christus habuit quo nos redimeret, et si aliquo magno redemit haec corpora, in quae eadem committenda fornicatio non erit, ut in membra iam Christi non nostra, utique sibi salva praestabit quae magno comparavit. Iam nunc quomodo honorabimus, quomodo tollemus deum in corpore perituro?

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6:14 Now God indeed raised He that hath raised up the Lord the Lord and he will raise us by will also raise us up:in the body also he will raise us up, because his power. the body is for the Lord and the Lord for the body. And well it is 6:15 Do you not know that that he piles it on, know ye not your bodies are members of that your bodies are the Christ? Should I take the mem- members of Christ? bers of Christ and make them What has the heretic to say? Shall members of a prostitute? Never! those members of Christ not 6:16 Or do you not know that any- rise again, which are ours no one who is united with a prostitute longer? For we have been bought is one body with her? For it is said, at a great price. “The two will become one flesh.” [5] Evidently at no price at all if 6:17 But the one united with the Christ was a phantasm without any Lord is one spirit with him. 6:18 corporal assets which he could pay Flee sexual immorality! “Every sin over as the purchase-price for our a person commits is outside of the bodies. So then Christ did possess body” – but the immoral person something to redeem us with, and sins against his own body. 6:19 Or since in fact he has at some do you not know that your body is great price redeemed these bodies the temple of the Holy Spirit who against which we are not to is in you, whom you have from commit fornication because they God, and you are not your own? are now not ours but Christ’s, 6:20 For you were bought at a price. he will surely bring to salvation Therefore glorify God with your for himself possessions he has acquired at so great a cost. And body. besides, how can we glorify God, and how can we exalt him, in a body meant for destruction?

In the context of 1Corinthians 4-6, Tertullian (Adv.Marc.V 7,1) first makes a direct quote of verse 4:5 (‘He himself will bring to light the hidden things of darkness’), and simultaneously mentions the search for the ‘hearts’ and the reception of ‘praise for each’. On this, he points out the antithesis between praise and the opposite of praise (lausunicuique…et contrariumlaudis,uta iudice), as well as the antithesis between Marcion’s god of the other world and the God of this world, the judge. This may be Tertullian’s own inference from Marcion’s interpretation of verse 4:5,25 from whom Tertullian had distinguished the judging ‘god of the world’ from the revelator Christ. Given this, it is then surprising that Tertullian does not mention 1Cor. 4:6-8, where Paul applies the revelatory activity to himself ‘and Apollos … so that through us you may learn … “not to go beyond what is written”’. If Tertullian had read this in Marcion’s version of Paul, he could have easily made an argument against Marcion as 25 This states that the God who brings light to the hidden things of darkness is one and the same with the God of the other world, the revelator Christ.

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being somebody who goes against the text as it was handed down by Paul (which he does in other cases where he evidently finds the opportunity),26 but does not. When Tertullian, instead, continues by picking up the second part of verse of 1Cor. 4:9 (‘We are made a spectacle to the world and to angels and to men’), it reads like a straight continuation of Marcion’s text of Paul: 4:5 He will bring to light the hidden things of darkness and reveal the motives of hearts. Then each will receive recognition from God. 4:9 We are made a spectacle to the world and to angels and to men.

This gives us reason to conclude the probability that the text in between (4:6-8) is a gloss which was applied by a later editor; the advice ‘not to go beyond what is written’ may even reveal the redactor’s hand which is, ironically, going beyond what Paul had written. Then in 4:9, Tertullian’s commentary again leaves aside the rest of chapter 4 (4:10-21) and only resumes later in 5:1.27 In other words, he speaks nothing on the content between 4:10 and 4:21, where Paul talks so vividly about himself in contrast to his addressees: 4:10 We are fools for Christ, but you are wise in Christ! We are weak, but you are strong! You are distinguished, we are dishonored! 4:11 To the present hour we are hungry and thirsty, poorly clothed, brutally treated, and without a roof over our heads. 4:12 We do hard work, toiling with our own hands. When we are verbally abused, we respond with a blessing, when persecuted, we endure, 4:13 when people lie about us, we answer in a friendly manner. We are the world’s dirt and scum, even now.

And again, Tertullian, who likes such contrasts and criticisms of the world, would have certainly been able and willing to make a point against the rich businessman Marcion, had these verses been part of Marcion’s text of Paul. So also the following verses of 4:14-21 seem to have been missing in the version of Paul that Tertullian comments on. Note, parenthetically, that mention is made of ‘Timothy’ ‘who is my dear and faithful son in the Lord’ and he is endorsed as the one who ‘will remind you of my ways in Christ, as I teach them everywhere in every church’ (4:17). We will see below, what – if this were the next redactional addition – the function of it might be. Tertullian is as explicit in his commentary in 1Cor. 5:1 as he is again in his commentary for verses 5:5 and 5:7-9. The way Tertullian uses Marcion’s quotations of Paul to turn them against Marcion’s views can be clearly seen by 5:5 – Paul states that the man who sleeps with his father’s wife should be turned

26 27

See, for example, Tert., Adv.Marc. V 4,2. Tert.,Adv.Marc. V 7.

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to Satan (a verse evidently accepted and used by Marcion), and Tertullian deduces that, therefore, Marcion’s God is a judge – a qualification that Marcion had associated with the God of the Jews, not with Christ. Thus, as Tertullian points out, Marcion contradicts himself. And yet, Tertullian lets us know that Marcion must have read this first part of the verse together with the second part of it, where there is mention of ‘the destruction of the flesh, so that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord’. Marcion, therefore, understood Paul as teaching a condemnation of the flesh and a handing it over to Satan (without indicating a distinction between Satan and the god of the world), and a salvation of the spirit alone ‘in the day of the Lord’. This is a crucial paragraph, as it sets up the evidence for the next sentence, pointing to the celebration of Passover and the sacrifice of Christ, the Passover lamb. Verse 5:6 is another direct address to the readers which, as with the aforementioned potential glosses, is not referred to by Tertullian’s commentary. Tertullian’s commentary continues with 1Cor. 5:7, which reads: 5:7 Purge out the old leaven, that ye may be a new baking, even as ye are unleavened. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed.

As before, the text without the unreferenced interjection reads like a continuous Pauline text. The cleaning out the old yeast is reminiscent of Passover, which is then mentioned in this verse. Paul, however, demonstrates an even higher degree of radicalness in his first assertion that the destruction of the flesh (and the saving of the spirit) does not only mean a clearing out of the flesh, but a total doing away with any flesh (‘You are, in fact, without yeast’), so that there is not a single trace of flesh left, neither old nor new. If ‘the day of the Lord’ meant the resurrection, then this was conceived of as a purely spiritual one – a future Passover with ‘unleavened bread’, with a spirit without flesh. The additional text in 5:8, which is unreferenced by Tertullian (‘So then, let us celebrate the festival, not with the old yeast, the yeast of vice and evil, but with the bread without yeast, the bread of sincerity and truth’), moralizes this clear eschatological message of Marcion’s Paul, which Tertullian could have used; instead, he develops his own argument, to support his belief in ‘the resurrection of the flesh’, for which he takes recourse to our core verse 1Cor. 5:9.28 Marcion interpreted Paul to support his focus on the separating the yeast of vice from the bread of truth, whereas Tertullian took it to emphasize the separation of the flesh and the spirit, and the bodily resurrection of the flesh.

28

5:9 ‘I wrote you in my letter not to associate with the sexually immoral. 5:10 In no way did I mean the immoral people of this world, or the greedy and swindlers and idolaters, since you would then have to go out of the world’.

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Sexual and spiritual immorality The context has made it plain that fleeing fornication or not associating with the sexually immoral was a pointer to ‘the resurrection’, where the line ‘but now I am writing to you’ of 5:11 acts as a formula that makes a distinction to the previous verse, and Tertullian’s commentary indicates that 5:10 was still part of Marcion’s Paul. If this is true, Paul took the dissociation to be one between his addressees and the ‘sexually immoral’, and not to be one between ‘people of this world’ and the immoral brethren. This is an admission to the fact that, while living in the temporal realm, one cannot flee the sexual immorality of this world (or its greed, swindle, and idolatry), but that this is only possible once we have totally left the flesh (in death). Nevertheless, as is added in the next verse that Tertullian references and which seems to have come straight next in Marcion’s Paul, the second part of 1Cor. 6:13 (‘The body, he says, is not for fornication but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body’), the spirit will not reside without a body in the resurrection, although it will be an ‘unleavened bread’ – a spiritual body. If so, the sexual immorality in the verse before (5:10) which is meant to be unrelated to ‘people of this world’, extends to the otherworld. When we follow Tertullian’s commentary on Marcion’s text of Paul, therefore, the reader learns that Paul’s main concern was with the sexual purity of the members of the church and how their actions effected their spiritual selves. Unusual as the idea may sound today, there exist several reasons supporting why it is likely that Paul (and Marcion) was concerned about sexual relations with spiritual beings, which center within Paul’s traditional Jewish context. The first biblical discussion of sexual relations between humans and non-humans occurs in Gen. 6:1-4.29 This chapter simultaneously assumes the ability for humans and angels30 to sexually engage and the ability for women to produce half-breeds, commonly thought of to be the Nephilim. Later in Gen. 19:1-22, two angels are described as spending the night with a man named Lot, resulting in Sodom’s male populace surrounding Lot’s house and demanding the angels come out so they could have sex with them. The book of Jubilees (Jub. 15:25-7) knows the story as the begetting of a monstrous generation of Giants. Likewise, the book of Enoch (1Enoch 6-19) reports the sinning of angels and the death

29

‘Now it came to pass … that the sons of God saw the daughters of men, that they were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves of all whom they chose… There were giants on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of men and they bore childrento them…’ 30 In this case, the beings who are described as cohabitating with women are referred to as sons of God, and are traditionally thought of as being fallen angels. While there exist different schools of thought debating whether the creatures referred to as sons of God are angels versus something else altogether, this paper will assume the former position.

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of their bodies which might even be reflected in 1Peter 4:631 and other early Christian writings.32 Heb.13:12 warns Christians to be kind to all, because it may not be obvious when they are in the presence of angels. Acts 12 tells of a group of intercessors insisting that a young girl was confusing Peter’s angel for Peter, indicating that the two are evidently similar and common enough in nature to be confused. Although Bauckham is correct in his suggestion, that some of the Gospel pericopes which refer to the topic of demons may have these stories as their background, there exists no explicit narrative about sexual interactions between angels and human beings in these canonical writings. Nevertheless, the stories that describe angel-human sexual interactions, with occasionally added homosexual variants, are casual commonplace in Jewish and Christian writings. Thus, Paul was likely aware and against the idea of church members engaging in sexual relations with the spiritual, and believed doing so would pervert the body, as it is ‘for the Lord’ and vice versa (1Cor.6:13), that ‘the one who raised the Lord will also raise us up’ (6:14) and that one should ‘know that’ one’s ‘bodies are members of Christ’ and shall not make ‘a prostitute’s limbs’ (6:15), (verses all of which are referenced by Tertullian).33

Rationale for Redactions If Paul truly did compose only the contents of 1Cor. 4-6 referenced explicitly by Tertullian, then what remains is his criticism of incest in 5:5, but not homosexuality, as it, in that case, never comes up. Then arises the question of when and by whom could the redaction have been done. If it was because of Paul’s obvious contradiction to what, for example, was taught in 1Timothy, the redactor might have been from the tradition of the ‘Pastoral Letters’ which would also explain why in the aforementioned potential gloss there is an explicit endorsement of Timothy. In this case, the later editor attempted to clarify what he believed Paul had meant. Just as plausibly, Paul was initially 31 ‘

4:6 For this reason the gospel was preached also to those who are dead, that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit.’ 32 See on these and similar stories Richard Bauckham, Jude, 2 Peter (Waco, 1983), 53; A.T. Wright, ‘Evil Spirits in Second Temple Judaism: The Watcher Tradition as a Background to the Demonic Pericopes in the Gospels’, Henoch 28 (2006), 141-59; Andrei A. Orlov, Divine Scapegoats:DemonicMimesisinEarlyJewishMysticism(New York, 2015), 235; Grant Macaskill, ‘Priestly Purity, Mosaic Torah and the Emergence of Enochic Judaism’, Henoch 29 (2007), 67-89; Eibert J.C. Tigchelaar, ‘Some Remarks on the Book of the Watchers, the Priests, Enoch and Genesis, and 4Q208’, Henoch 24 (2002), 143-5. 33 1Cor.6:13-5. The second part of 1Cor. 6:15 is not referenced by Tertullian in Adv.Marc.V, but in IV 34.5, and we have the additional witness by Adam., Dial. V 22, so also Jason D. BeDuhn, The First New Testament. Marcion’s Scriptural Canon (Salem, 2013), 235 with his comments ibid. 276.

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clear with what he wanted to say, but the message referred to the intercourse with the spiritual, something which the later editor was unfamiliar with, and accordingly changed the text to what he was predisposed to believe. Or, because the redactor noticed that any criticism of homosexuality was missing in Paul, but wanted to impart such criticism to the Apostle. It is interesting to note that the so-called Prologues to the Pauline Letters, preserved in many Latin Bible codices, mention that 1Corinthians was written ‘from Ephesus by Timothy’ (abEphesoperTimotheum).34 Though, Harnack and BeDuhn regard ‘by Timothy’ as a later addition – for which the unanimous manuscript reading of this prologue gives no reason – it might have been that this prologue paved the way for both the introduction of the gloss in 1Cor. 4:17 and the creation of the PastoralLetters, if the Prologue dated from the time (and perhaps hand) of Marcion, or, if it were later, took this information from the already redacted 1Corinthians. Conversely, if Harnack and BeDuhn were right that ‘by Timothy’ was a later addition,35 in this case – against the manuscript reading of this passage – one can point to the Prologue to Galatians where at the end in two manuscripts ‘by Titus’ was added, to the Prologue to 2Corinthians where various manuscripts introduced ‘by Titus’ at different places, to the Prologues to 1-2Thessalonians where at the end some manuscripts added ‘by Timothy’ or ‘by Tychicus (and Onesimus)’, and similarly to the Prologue to Colossians where at the end some manuscripts added ‘by Tychicus (and Onesimus)’ or ‘by Titus’, to the Prologue to Philippians where at the end most manuscripts added ‘by Epaphrodites’ and to the Prologue to Philemon where at the end some manuscript added ‘by Onesimus’.36 Just like Paul’sLetters, so the Prologuesto thePaulineLetters seem to have been re-worked in light of the redaction of Paul’s Letters by people who created the Pastoral Letters and added these with references to them. Regardless of why the meanings of the verses in 1Corinthians became obscured (for how can we know the exact motivations with which an unknown editor distorted his copies?) it remains clear that if Tertullian (through Marcion) gives us Paul’s initial ideas, they somehow conflicted with those of later editors, and were accordingly changed and added to in a way that was and continues to be far more normative for the more recent culture. The same can be said particularly for the verses (or rather lack of verses) that pertain specifically to homosexuality. The presented evidence strongly suggests that Paul may have never touched on the subject, and what is available today are additions from 34 See the edition of this text in M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDatingoftheSynopticGospels (2014), 118. 35 Adolf von Harnack, Marcion.DasEvangeliumvomfremdenGott.NeueStudienzuMarcion, 2nd ed. (Leipzig, 1924 = Darmstadt, 1960), 128*; id., ‘Der marcionitische Ursprung der ältesten Vulgata-Prologe zu den Paulusbriefen’, ZNW 24 (1925), 204-18, 204. 36 For the readings with the variations see the edition in M. Vinzent, MarcionandtheDating oftheSynopticGospels (2014), 121.

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redactors who fine-tuned Paul by not only adding to his collection of Letters those which we call ‘Pastoral Letters’, 1-2Timothy, Titus, but also re-writing Paul with references to these Letters. In all likelihood, they acted on motivations that coincided with the time in which they lived. According to 1Tim. 1:9-10 it was clear that 1:9 the law is made not for the righteous but for lawbreakers and rebels, the ungodly and sinful, the unholy and irreligious, for those who kill their fathers or mothers, for murderers, 1:10 for the sexually immoral, for those practicing homosexuality, for slave traders and liars and perjurers – and for whatever else is contrary to the sound doctrine. (trans. NIV).

If what was observed above is right, then the ‘sound doctrine’ may not have been Paul, or even Pauline, but instead a reflection of the tradition of the PastoralLetters. In that case, it would seem that Paul’s letters and his views did not spread very rapidly without being drastically altered and changed. In order to obtain a better idea of the text that Tertullian comments upon, we give this text of the passage of 1Corinthians 4-6 in what follows:37 4:5 He will bring to light the hidden things of darkness and reveal the motives of hearts. Then each will receive recognition from God, 4:9 because we have become a spectacle to the world, both to angels and to people … 4:15 … whom he had begotten in the gospel. 5:1 It is actually reported that someone is sleeping with his father’s wife, 5:3 For even though I am absent physically, I am present in spirit. And I have already judged the one who did this, just as though I were present. 5:4 When you gather together in the name of our Lord Jesus, and I am with you in spirit, along with the power of our Lord Jesus, 5:5 turn this man over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, so that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord. 5:7 Clean out the old yeast so that you may be a new batch of dough – you are, in fact, without yeast. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed, 5:8 the bread without yeast. 5:9 I wrote you in my letter not to associate with the sexually immoral. 5:10 In no way did I mean the immoral people of this world, or the greedy and swindlers and idolaters, since you would then have to go out of the world. 5:13 Remove the evil person from among you. 6:13 The body is not for fornication but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. 6:14He that has raised up the Lord will also raise us up, because the body is for the Lord and the Lord for the body. Do you not know that your bodies are the members of Christ? Should I take the members of Christ and make them members of a prostitute?38 37

Text in bold is attested by our sources (Tertullian, Adamantius), normal text is unattested, but somehow needed and taken from the canonical version. The text has been checked against the reconstructed wording of Marcion’s Paul in Ulrich Schmid, MarcionundseinApostolos (Berlin and New York, 1995), I/322 and J.D. BeDuhn, TheFirstNewTestament (2013), 235-6 with his comments ibid. 275-6. 38 In J.D. BeDuhn, TheFirstNewTestament (2013), 235-6 the passage is given as follows: 5 ‘4 [Hence do not judge anything before the due time, until the Master comes, who] will bring the secret things of darkness to light [and make the counsels of hearts manifest, and then] the

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Looking at this version, it is necessary to underscore that just because Tertullian does not directly quote all the text on which he comments should not lead us to automatically conclude that this text was not present in Marcion’s Paul (though, as evidenced by this discussion, it is compelling enough when combined with other factors to consider it probable).39 Furthermore, it is equally important to recognize that the verses taken in the above passage are occasionally only part of the verses associated with the textus receptus (for example, verse 4:9 in this revised version only takes the latter half of verse 4:9 in the textusreceptus). While the decision process of which phrases ought to be omitted versus kept for analysis was carefully determined based on Tertullian’s direct quoting and general commentary, as well as with some regard to what is known about the culture of the day in which the text was probably written, some of it was also decided upon with an eye towards grammatical necessity demanded by the English language. That combined with the inescapable subjectivity with which all humans are (to varying degrees) plagued, this revised edition is ironically subject to the same critique with which this discussion is concerned – that is, the matter of varying redactions. That said, this version of Paul’s message is far more easily read than the longer version of the textusreceptus, especially in terms of topic, language, and logical consistency. At a glance, it is clear by 1Cor. 5:9-10 that Paul is concerned with illicit interactions between humans and some unidentified non-humans. Yet whether that is his primary focus throughout the text remains difficult to discern, due to his fluid movement between the metaphorical and the literal40 and between the spiritual and the temporal.41

praise for each one will come to be from God… 9 … We [emissaries …] have become a show to the world, and to angels, and to humanity… 15… I gave birth to you by the proclamation… 17 [… I sent Timothy to you …] 5 1[… It is reported among you … that] someone possesses his father’s wife. 2[… The one who has done this deed should be removed from among you.] 3For I, thus absent in (my) body but present in (my) spirit, have already judged, as though present, the one who has carried this out this way, 4in the name of our Master Jesus Christos drawing together your and my spirit with the energy of our Master Jesus, 5to hand over such a person … for the destruction of (his) flesh, so that (his) spirit may be rescued on the day of the Master. 6[… Do you not know that a little yeast spoils the whole batch?] 7Clean out the old yeast, so that you may be a new batch, since you are unleavened. For, indeed, our Pascha was sacrificed: Christos… 13… Remove the wicked from yourselves. 6 … 13… The body (is) not for sexual misconduct, but for the Master; and the Master (is) for the body, asthetempleisforGodandGodforthetemple. 14 God both awakened the Master and will awaken us… 15Do you not know that your bodies are limbs of Christos? Shall I, then, take the limbs of the Christos and make them a prostitute’s limbs? May it nob be!’ 39 See U. Schmid, MarcionundseinApostolos (1995); J.D. BeDuhn, TheFirstNewTestament (2013); Dieter T. Roth, TheTextofMarcion’sGospel (Leiden, 2015). 40 1Cor. 5:7. 41 1Cor. 5:9-10.

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Conclusion The New Testament as it is known today contains few verses that pertain directly to homosexuality. A close analysis of these verses in light of Paul’s detailed writing style suggests that he may not have written them at all, and they are in fact results of added edits of unidentified later authors. Whether these edits were genuine attempts to ‘clarify’ Paul, or whether they were intended to change his original meaning remains to be seen, however, the discussion between Marcion and Tertullian allows us clearer insight into where these edits may have been made. After reconstructing what Paul’s letters may have looked like, based on Tertullian’s commentary, it appears that Paul’s concerns in 1Corinthians 4-6 had nothing to do with homosexuality, but with sexual relations with spiritual beings. However, as this tradition of thought became less acceptable and/or relevant through and over time, redactions were made to make the context more amenable to local culture.