Novel Hermeneutics in the Greek Pseudo-Clementine Romance (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen Zum Neuen Testament) 9783161552656, 9783161555848, 3161552652

Citation preview

Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Texte und Studien zum Antiken Judentum Herausgeber/Editor Jörg Frey (Zürich) Mitherausgeber/Associate Editors Markus Bockmuehl (Oxford) · James A. Kelhoffer (Uppsala) Hans-Josef Klauck (Chicago, IL) · Tobias Nicklas (Regensburg) J. Ross Wagner (Durham, NC)

395

Patricia A. Duncan

Novel Hermeneutics in the Greek Pseudo-Clementine Romance

Mohr Siebeck

Patricia A. Duncan, born 1975; 2003 MDiv, University of Chicago; 2014 PhD, University of Chicago; currently Assistant Professor of Religion, AddRan College of Liberal Arts, Texas Christian University.

ISBN 978-3-16-155265-6 / eISBN 978-3-16-155584-8 unveränderte eBook-Ausgabe 2022 ISSN 0512-1604 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament) Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http:// dnb.dnb.de. © 2017 Mohr Siebeck Tübingen. www.mohr.de This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book is typset by satz&sonders in Münster, printed on non-aging paper by GuldeDruck in Tübingen and bound by Großbuchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

For Mom and Dad

Table of Contents List of Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

XI

Preface and Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XIII Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1

The Plot of the Klementia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Overview of the Argument . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

19 24

Chapter 1: The Frame . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

27

Peter, in Paul’s Book . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter, the Authorized Interpreter of Jesus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Problem of Peter’s Books . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Reading of the Epistle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Two Maps of the Klementia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dualistic Creation and the Manipulations of the One Creator . . . . . . Two Kings and Two Kingdoms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . .

27 30 33 36 40 42 52 56

Chapter 2: Trouble with Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

57

How to Read the True Prophet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Reading in a Time of False Scriptures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Be Good Moneychangers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Time of the True Prophet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Klementia’s Digression: Scripture and “Our” Father . . . . . . . . . . Jesus and the Seat of Moses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adam, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit of Christ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Seven Pillars of the World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Doctrine of Pairs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Moses the True Prophet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . How Jesus Taught Us to Read . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . True and False Things in Scripture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Teaching that Saves . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

58 62 64 66 69 72 74 75 77 79 83 86 90 92

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

VIII

Table of Contents

Chapter 3: Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Klementia 4–6: Clement at Tyre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Book Seven: A Prelude to the Tripolis Discourses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Two Ways and Conversion by Baptism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tripolis, Day One: The Initial Private Discourse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tripolis, Day One: The Public Sermon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . An Encounter Between the Two Kings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . An Altered Transition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Parable of the Wedding Feast . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Parable and Salvation History According to an Inspired Clement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Defiled Garment and the Remedy of Baptism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

93

. . . . . . . .

93 97 103 106 110 111 114 118

. . .

121 123 126

Chapter 4: The Family Romance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

129

Peter and Clement: An Abortive Family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fasting, Baptism, and De-Hellenization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Temple Visit on the Island of Arados . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Two Viewings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Heals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Double Conversion of Justa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Gospel Stories Converted . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Eyewitness Account: An Apostolic Apology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Dialogue Converted . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Dialogue in Mark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Dialogue in Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Narrative Exegesis of the Klementia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Another Gospel Interpretation: On Turning the Other Cheek . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

130 135 137 140 141 141 143 145 149 149 151 152 155 159

Chapter 5: Final Harmony . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

161

The Wax Seal Hermeneutic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “What was hidden” when “No one knew ...” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Harmonia of Evil . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

163 164 171 173

. . . .

Table of Contents

IX

Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

175

Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

179

1. Pseudo-Clementines: Texts and Translations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Other Ancient Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Modern Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

179 179 180

Index of References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

189

Modern Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

199

Index of Subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

201

List of Abbreviations ABD ACW AGJU

Anchor Bible Dictionary Ancient Christian Writers Arbeiten zur Geschichte des antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums AsJT Asia Journal of Theology ANF Ante-Nicene Fathers APOCR Apocryphes: Collection de poche de l’AELAC BETL Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium BICSSup Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Supplement BSGRT Bibliotheca Scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana BZNW Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft CAGN Collected Ancient Greek Novels. Edited by Bryan P. Reardon. Berkeley, 1989 CMOM Collection de la Maison de l’Orient et de la Méditerranée CQ Classical Quarterly CREJ Collection de la Revue des Études juives ECCA Early Christianity in the Context of Antiquity EPRO Etudes préliminaires aux religions orientales dans l’empire romain GCS Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunderte HUCA Hebrew Union College Annual ICC International Critical Commentary Int Interpretation JBL Journal of Biblical Literature JECS Journal of Early Christian Studies JSNTSup Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series JSP Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha JTS Journal of Theological Studies KAL Kommentare zur apokryphen Literatur LCL Loeb Classical Library LTP Laval théologique et philosophique NHMS Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies NovT Novum Testamentum NRSV New Revised Standard Version NTAbh Neutestamentliche Abhandlungen NTApoc New Testament Apocrypha. 2 vols. Revised ed. Edited by Wilhelm Schneemelcher. English trans. ed. Robert McL. Wilson. Cambridge: Clarke; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2003

XII NTL OECT PGL

List of Abbreviations

New Testament Library Oxford Early Christian Texts Patristic Greek Lexicon. Edited by Geoffrey W. H. Lampe. Oxford: Clarendon, 1961 PIRSB Publications de l’Institut romand des sciences bibliques PRSt Perspectives in Religious Studies PTS Patristische Texte und Studien SBLDS Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series SC Sources chrétiennes SECA Studies on Early Christian Apocrypha SNTSMS Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series SNTW Studies of the New Testament and Its World STAC Studien und Texte zu Antike und Christentum TSAJ Texte und Studien zum antiken Judentum TUGAL Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur WUNT Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament ZNW Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche

Preface and Acknowledgements This book, a revised version of my doctoral dissertation, represents countless hours of inquiry into the work of early Christian literature widely known as the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies (but which, as I shall explain below, should instead be called Klementia). Given the preoccupation in scholarship with the novel’s various layers and sources, it has been my goal to understand this complex and lengthy work as a narrative whole, avoiding, as much as possible, the temptation to interpret simultaneously its sources or its sister novel, the Pseudo-Clementine Recognition (or Recognitions, as it has been more commonly known). The results may leave some readers wanting, by turns, both more depth on any given part of the novel and more lateral interpretation, comparing the work more extensively with other ancient Christian literature and the other ancient Greek novels. I wish that I could provide both, but in order to satisfy my main goal (i. e., to read and interpret the novel as a literary whole), I simply was not able to go broad and deep throughout. Nonetheless, I hope that what I offer here will provide the spark for new and robust conversations on the rhetoric, the narrative artistry, the fictional world, and the literary and intellectual debts of the Pseudo-Clementine Klementia. There are many to thank, but at the top of the list are my two doctoral advisors. The kind and brilliant Hans-Josef Klauck introduced me to the PseudoClementines in the first place, and his easy command of the literature gave me the courage to pursue my interests in spite of the notorious complexities of Pseudo-Clementine studies. The exceptionally keen criticism and the warm encouragement of Margaret M. Mitchell were indispensible at every step along the way. Many other University of Chicago friends and colleagues stimulated my thinking, as well, but I should like to make special mention of Kristine Culp, Annette Bourland Huizenga, R. Matthew Calhoun, Trevor W. Thompson, and Brandon D. Cline. At the dissertation stage, I received generous financial support as a Junior Fellow in the Martin Marty Center for the Advanced Study of Religion and in the form of a P. E. O. Scholar Award. My new academic home, Texas Christian University, provided a Junior Faculty Summer Research grant to make necessary additions and revisions to the dissertation, and my wonderful colleagues in the TCU Department of Religion have supplied a wealth of encouragement. My family, as always, have been a bedrock of support. My mother, Patricia Elaine Duncan, and my maternal grandmother, Edna Frances Littrell, knew how difficult it can be to work through the early years of child-rearing, and they

XIV

Preface and Acknowledgements

stepped up to help in ways that can be neither measured nor repaid. My father, Fred Duncan, by some miracle I will never understand, slipped a Rosie the Riveter postcard in the mail to arrive just when I was self-indulgently worrying that I might never be able to finish the project. Rosie’s confident “We can do it!” reminded me in an instant that this work, like all work, is deeply communal and that failure was simply not an option. But above all, it was my small tribe of intimates – my husband, Brandon Cline, and our two wonderful daughters, Edy and Vivian – who made the journey consistently meaningful, joyful, and worth the effort. Finally, I would like to thank Prof. Tobias Nicklas of Universität Regensburg, Prof. Jörg Frey of Universität Zürich, and Dr. Henning Ziebritz ki of Mohr Siebeck for the honor of including my work in the esteemed Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament series. Fort Worth, Texas May, 2017

Introduction This book is about a fascinating work of early Christian literature that, sometime in the early fourth century, issued a bold plea for a rather unorthodox understanding of Christianity. 1 It is one of the two main, extant versions of what has been called the first and last ancient Christian novel 2 – a lengthy Greek narrative relating, in autobiographical mode, the story of the conversion of Clement of Rome to the faith of the apostle Peter and the story of the providential reunification of Clement’s long-lost family in Syria. Precisely because of its twinned existence in the historical record, this adaptation of the ancient Greek novel has received less attention as a narrative whole than one might expect. The widely accepted view that each of the two main versions of the “Pseudo-Clementine” novel represents an independent reworking of a common, third-century source (now lost) has made the search for earlier writings embedded within the existing works a major preoccupation. 3 What is missing in contemporary scholarship is a robust analysis of especially the Greek version of the narrative as a literary and rhetorical whole. 4 At the risk of stating the obvious, it is not possible really to read even the most detailed and comprehensive 1 The scanty survival of the narrative in the manuscript tradition is perhaps a witness to its boldness. While a more orthodox version of the same tale survives in Latin translation in more than one hundred manuscripts, our text has been preserved in relatively complete form in only two, the sixteenth-century Codex Vaticanus Ottobonianus gr. 443 and the tenth-century Codex Parisinus gr. 930. The question of the date of the work is bound up with the question of its relationship to Ariainism, and it cannot be dated with precision. Most scholars, myself included, regard the Council of Nicea (325 CE) as an approximate terminus ante quem. The terminus post quem is only vaguely defined by the consensus view that the work revises a third-century version of the tale. See F. Stanley Jones, “The Pseudo-Clementines: A History of Research,” in idem, Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque inter Judaeochristiana: Collected Studies (Leuven: Peeters, 2012), 86–92. The version of the tale represented in the Latin translation of Rufinus, ca. 407 CE, is usually dated slightly later. 2 F. Stanley Jones, “The Genesis of Pseudo-Clementine Christianity,” in idem, Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque, 204–206, 204. Cf. also M. J. Edwards, “The Clementina: A Christian Response to the Pagan Novel,” CQ 42 (1992): 459–474, 464. For a current and thorough introduction to this “Pseudo-Clementine” literature, see Jones, “Introduction to the Pseudo-Clementines,” in idem, Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque, 7–49. 3 The situation is somewhat analogous to that of the Synoptic Gospels of the New Testament, though, as Graham Stanton aptly noted (“Jewish Christian Elements in the Pseudo-Clementine Writings,” in Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries, ed. Oskar Skarsaune and Reidar Hvalvik [Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2007], 305–324, 308), “Here we have a synoptic problem whose complexity turns the inter-relationship of the synoptic Gospels into child’s play.” 4 On the Latin version, see Meinolf Vielberg, Klemens in den pseudoklementinischen Rekognitionen: Studien zur literarischen Form des spätantiken Romans, TUGAL 145 (Berlin: Akademie, 2000), and Nicole Kelley, Knowledge and Religious Authority in the Pseudo-Clementines: Situating the Recognitions in Fourth Century Syria, WUNT 2/213 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006). Both ver-

2

Introduction

attempts to reconstruct the source novel, for all sorts of vital information about the narrative as an act of communication are missing. So long as the PseudoClementine Grundschrift remains hypothetical, we may be able to discern that the text dealt with certain subjects, but how it did so will elude us. Efforts to reconstruct the history of the tradition are certainly important, but to fail also to read each extant version of the novel as a literary whole is to miss an equally significant opportunity. Up to this point, I have avoided naming the work in question, because a word about terminology is necessary before we proceed. Names matter, of course, and it was not inconsequential when Stanley Jones suggested that the ancient Greek narrative we have been accustomed to calling the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies should rightly be known as the Klementia. 5 Jones argued persuasively and with characteristic precision that Klementia should be regarded as the more original title for the work, but it would seem that the factor of antiquity alone has not provided quite enough impetus to risk bibliographic confusion in contemporary scholarship. 6 At present, only Jones and Giovanni Bazzana have made the shift in print, but the time is ripe for scholarship to embrace the designation Klementia and dispense with Homilies. 7 There are several good reasons to make the change. On the one hand, the conventional title Homilies has been a blight upon the text with which it has been associated in a variety of ways. Not only is it generically incongruous with the work it introduces (sometimes leading to actual confusion about the genre of the text), but it has also been oddly bound up with certain persistent misconceptions about the nature of the differences between the two main versions of the Pseudo-Clementine novel. The conventional

sions of the narrative are treated in Dominique Côté, Le thème de l’opposition entre Pierre et Simon dans les Pseudo-Clémentines, Collection des Études Augustiniennes, Série Antiquité 167 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2001). 5 F. Stanley Jones, “Photius’s Witness to the Pseudo-Clementines,” in idem, Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque, 345–355. 6 According to Jones (“Photius’s Witness,” 351–353), the title τ€ Κλεmέnτια is not only attested in one of the two main manuscripts of the text, the tenth-century Codex Parisinus gr. 930, but it is also found in two eleventh-century sermons of Nicon Monachos. Photius may provide an even earlier witness (9th c. CE), although it is not possible to establish with certainty which version of the Clementine novel the bibliophile patriarch had in view. On the “slippage” that allowed Homilies to emerge as the title of choice in eighteenth-century scholarship, see ibid., 353–354, n. 41. 7 Jones, “Introduction to the Pseudo-Clementines,” 7–49; idem, The Syriac Pseudo-Clementines: An Early Version of the First Christian Novel, APOCR 14 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2014), 32–37; idem, “The Distinctive Sayings of Jesus Shared by Justin and the Pseudo-Clementines,” in Forbidden Texts on the Western Frontier: The Christian Apocrypha in North American Perspectives, ed. Tony Burke (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2015), 200–217. Giovanni Bazzana has used the term “Clementia” (“Apelles and the Pseudo-Clementine Doctrine of the False Pericopes,” in “Soyez des changeurs avisés”: Controverses exégétiques dans la littérature apocryphe chrétienne, ed. Gabriella Aragione and Rémi Gounelle, Cahiers de Biblia Patristica 12 [Turnhout: Brepols, 2012], 11–32).

Introduction

3

titles for the two main versions, Homilies and Recognitions, 8 have together been implicated in a particular theory about the origins of the Pseudo-Clementine novel, namely that it was born when an early Christian author added a family romance plot (signaled in the title Recognition) to a set of sermons attributed to the apostle Peter (the “homilies” referenced in the title Homilies) in order to make the latter more entertaining. 9 Probably on the basis of Ben Edwin Perry’s influential work on the Greek novels, it gradually came to be assumed that each title corresponds meaningfully to that component which is emphasized in each of the extant revisions of the novel, 10 though there is in fact little difference between the two main versions when it comes either to the extent and shape of the family plot or to the amount of sermons and debates embedded within the story. Unfortunately, this erroneous notion has been repeated in precisely those places where readers interested in the ancient Greek novel might first be introduced to the Pseudo-Clementine literature. 11 If it is presumed that the principle difference between the versions is that one finds a better story in the Recognition and more sermonizing in the so-called Homilies, it is easy to imagine how this might work to the disadvantage of the Klementia. Indeed one can find this theory of difference invoked as justification for focusing on the “Recognitions” to the exclusion of the “Homilies” even in quite sophisticated and valuable scholarship. 12

8 I shall also follow Jones (“Photius’s Witness,” 349–51) in referring henceforth to the PseudoClementine Recognitions as Recognition, in the singular. 9 Sophie Trenker (The Greek Novella in the Classical Period [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958], 101) introduced her summary of the plot by saying, “The following completely irrelevant story is told of Clement’s family, presumably to make the edifying books more attractive.” The sentiment is echoed, with credit to Trenker, in Ben Edwin Perry’s classic on the Greek novels (The Ancient Romances: A Literary-Historical Account of their Origins, Sather Classical Lectures 37 [Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967], 291). 10 Drawing upon the work of Oscar Cullmann, Perry reasoned, on the basis of the different titles, that the “romance” is better preserved in the Recognition. Musing over the activity of the editor of the Recognition, he writes (Ancient Romances, 286), “Much as he may have favored the theology, as a Christian ought to, still he was more impressed by the romantic narrative, and for that reason put it in his title. The romance as such is better preserved in the Recognitiones than in the Homilies (Cullmann, p. 63); and in the Homilies the sermons of Peter are preserved more faithfully than they are in the Recognitiones (Cullman, p. 70).” Incidentally, this statement would seem to suggest that Perry did not perceive the highly unorthodox nature of the “sermons” of Peter in the Klementia. 11 For example, Tomas Hägg (The Novel in Antiquity [Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991], 163) writes, “The surviving adaptations differ in the emphasis they lay upon the two types of subject-matter: the novelistic intrigue is more developed in the Recognitiones, the disputations and sermons of Peter grow more exuberant in the Homilies.” Niklas Holzberg (The Ancient Novel: An Introduction, trans. Christine Jackson-Holzberg [London: Routledge, 1995], 24) writes, “The respective writers are both more interested in defending the Christian faith than in rendering the original plot of the novel, but they differ, as the titles themselves suggest, in their dosing of theologically instructive passages, so that we learn more about the experiences of the future bishop in the Recognitiones than in the Homiliai.” 12 For example, Kate Cooper (“Matthidia’s Wish: Division, Reunion, and the Early Christian Family in the Pseudo-Clementine Recognitions,” in Narrativity in Biblical and Related Texts, BETL 149 [Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2000], 243–264, 244) describes the Klementia as “a series

4

Introduction

I would furthermore suggest that the title “Homilies” resounds with a stodginess that is ill suited to the narrative. To be sure, not everyone will agree with the claim about the literary quality of the novel that is implicit in this last statement. 13 No less an authority on early Christian narrative than Richard Pervo once referred to the title Homilies as “an adequate consumer warning label” for the lumbering plot and lengthy stretches of didactic discourse found under its cover. 14 While I do not completely disagree with this kind of assessment of the Pseudo-Clementines, I do think the cleverness of the narrative project of the Klementia has generally been underestimated and hope to make a case for its ingenuity in the pages that follow. At the same time, there are good reasons for adopting the title Klementia that have less to do with the deficiency of the old title than with the positive value of the “new” one. This is largely because, as Jones has signaled, Klementia should be understood not merely as a replacement for the title Homilies (i. e., the twenty books of ego narrative). 15 Instead, it must be understood as an umbrella term covering the twenty books of narrative and the three “preliminary” writings conventionally known as the Epistula Petri, the Contestatio or Diamartyria, and the Epistula Clementis. 16 It is to be hoped that having a single title for the work as a whole may finally enable scholarship to move beyond the troubled question of the relationship among these various components. 17

of highly developed set-piece theological speeches connected by a tentative narrative thread.” She goes on to say, “Because the genre conventions in question are those of the ancient romance, the present study is centred on the Recognitions as the version of the Clementine narrative which has the clearest ties to the genre. One of the most significant differences between the two versions is the elaboration in the Recognitions of the romance of Clement and his family ....” On the contrary, it must be emphasized that the Klementia is every bit the family romance that the Recognition is, and it even has some significant elaborations on the theme that are not found the latter. Especially noteworthy are the encomium of the “chaste” wife and the elaboration on the story of Justa, each of which are treated below, in chapter 4. 13 For instance, one detects ambivalence about the literary quality of the work in the ongoing debate about whether to call the writers responsible for the extant Pseudo-Clementines “editors” or “authors.” Although she does not discuss the Pseudo-Clementines per se, helpful context for the question and a nudge toward the latter option can be found in Christine M. Thomas, “Stories Without Texts and Without Authors: The Problem of Fluidity in Ancient Novelistic Texts and Early Christian Literature,” in Ancient Fiction and Early Christian Narrative, ed. Ronald F. Hock, J. Bradley Chance, and Judith Perkins, SBL Symposium Series 6 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998), 273– 291. 14 Richard Pervo, “The Ancient Novel Becomes Christian,” in The Novel in the Ancient World, rev. ed., ed. Gareth Schmeling (Boston: Brill, 2003), 685–711, 706–707. 15 Jones, “Introduction to the Pseudo-Clementines,” 8–9. 16 Henceforth, Epistula Petri (Ep. Petr.), Diamartyria (Diam.), and Epistula Clementis (Ep. Clem.). 17 Admittedly, we are still left with the question of how to cite the twenty books of narrative individually. Even though I understand the title Klementia as properly encompassing the prefatory materials and the narrative, I shall cite the prefatory materials as noted in the previous footnote and use the abbreviation Klem. with book /chapter citations for the narrative proper.

Introduction

5

The three preliminary writings that together form a kind of documentary preface to the ego narrative of Clement have been implicated in a complicated and formidable set of questions in Pseudo-Clementine scholarship. Most influential has been the notion that the Epistula Petri and Diamartyria, with their reference to books containing the “preachings of Peter” (Ep. Petr. 1.2 and 3.1), originally stood at the head of a different document, an early Jewish Christian (or Ebionite) work that went by the name Kerygmata Petrou and was incorporated into the third-century Grundschrift, the hypothetical source novel revised by the Klementia, as one of its key “sources.” 18 The irresistible idea that such an ancient work might lie buried within the Pseudo-Clementine novels generated a great deal of effort toward its extraction and reconstruction, 19 though the quest has now largely been abandoned, either because the methodology seems flawed, 20 or because interpreters have come to doubt that such a document was ever a source for the Pseudo-Clementines in the first place. 21 Nonetheless, reading the Epistula Petri, the Diamartyria, and the Epistula Clementis as integral to

18 As the entrée to the Klementia and the only part of the literature bearing the “living” voice of the apostle Peter himself (even explicitly so; cf. 2.7), the Epistula Petri presents itself as a document predating the others, coming from the period before Clement had joined up with Peter and become his scribe. Certain incongruities between the content of the letter and the body of the novel suggest that its greater antiquity may indeed be more than a literary conceit. Perhaps most notable is the somewhat different view of scripture, stopping short of the assertion that its interpretive challenges are the result of “false pericopes,” as the narrative proper will claim. Graham Stanton (“Jewish Christian Elements,” 309–10) presents a balanced and reasonable view on the relationship between the Ep. Petr./Diam. and the narrative books: “Perhaps the most plausible theory (and also the simplest) is that they were originally intended to introduce the Grundschrift and were retained in the redacted and expanded Homilies, but omitted in the slightly later Recognitions.” Regarding the latter omission, he muses that perhaps Rufinus, the translator of the Recognitions into Latin, was “unimpressed by the ‘Jewish Christian’ character of the Epistula Petri and the Contestatio.” 19 Georg Strecker, Das Judenchristentum in den Pseudoklementinen, 2nd ed., TUGAL 70 (Berlin: Akademie, 1981), 137–220; Johannes Irmscher and Georg Strecker, “The Pseudo-Clementines,” in NTApoc 2: 483–541. For a survey of the relevant scholarship, see Jones, “Pseudo-Clementines: A History of Research,” 62–66; also Bernard Pouderon, “Aux Origines du Roman Pseudo-Clémentin: Lecture critique de récents travaux,” in idem, La genèse du Roman pseudo-clémentin: Études littéraires et historiques, CREJ 53 (Leuven: Peeters, 2012), 285–316, 300–305. 20 As Stanton observed (“Jewish Christian Elements,” 312), “The circular nature of the theory is apparent: a link between the hypothetical KP source and the EpPet and C is assumed, and confirmatory evidence is then sought.” 21 Jones (“Introduction to the Pseudo-Clementines,” 24) writes, “The hypothesis of a source called the Kerygmata Petrou has thus unnecessarily drawn the Pseudo-Clementine studies into a mire of speculation and uncertainty; it has also vitiated virtually all modern presentations of the history of Jewish Christianity. The time seems to have come to abandon this hackneyed hypothesis.” The linguistic analysis of Jürgen Wehnert (“Literarkritik und Sprachanalyse: Kritische Anmerkungen zum gegenwärtigen Stand der Pseudoklementinen-Forschung,” ZNW 74 [1983]: 268–301) has been instrumental in turning the tide of scholarship. Nonetheless, the idea of the KP as a PseudoClementine source has persisted to some degree, even if the quest to reconstruct it out of the Clementina has run its course. See, for example, the concluding remarks of François Bovon, “En tête des Homélies clémentines: La Lettre de Pierre à Jacques,” in Nouvelles intrigues pseudo-clémentines, ed. Frédéric Amsler et al., PIRSB 6 (Prahins: Éditions du Zèbre, 2008), 335.

6

Introduction

the narrative has remained a neglected endeavor. The abruptly shifting perspectives, rough generic juxtapositions, and ideological incongruities found in the opening of the Klementia have largely thwarted efforts to see the prefatory materials as meaningfully and coherently part of the narrative. 22 I would like to suggest, however, that it is impossible to understand the Klementia well without recognizing the critical place the Epistula Petri, the Diamartyria, and the Epistula Clementis occupy in the narrative project. 23 As we have them, the initial documentary fictions work to position the reader in particular ways for the reading of the books of narrative that follow. Whether the author of the Klementia created these materials or received and adapted them matters little. If we enter the interpretive endeavor through the perspective of the reader, we gain a stable footing from which to ask how the shifting perspectives, generic disruptions, and different ideas might work together. 24 Admittedly, the Klementia can seem to be a rather random and inelegant patchwork of “sources,” but once we decide to read the entire work as a coherent narrative project, the plot, so to speak, thickens considerably. The intrigue begins already with the opening letter from Peter to James and the brief narrative account of the letter’s reception in Jerusalem, which together serve the important function of bringing the reader into the project in the morally uneasy yet titillating position of eavesdropping on things expressly not meant for her ears. As the reader continues into the autobiographical narrative of Clement, she will encounter a kind of progressive unfolding of the teachings of the apostle Peter that rewards a sustained and linear reading of the novel. Not only that, she will also come to witness several levels of telling in the narrative. The many religious and philosophical discourses of the novel are woven into

22 See, for example, the theory of Jürgen Wehnert (Pseudoklementinische Homilien: Einführung und Übersetzung, KAL 1/1 [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010], 34) that the “Redaktor ad Jacobum” (i. e., the editor of the source novel underlying the two extant versions, who, according to Wehnert, framed the novel as an over-sized epistle to James) began to transform the work as such but rapidly lost interest in his project. 23 My own thinking about how to read the Klementia as narrative rhetoric has been enhanced especially by the “narrative as rhetoric” approach developed by James Phelan in Narrative as Rhetoric: Technique, Audiences, Ethics, Ideology (Columbus: Ohio State University, 1996); Living to Tell about It: A Rhetoric and Ethics of Character Narration (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2005); and Experiencing Fiction: Judgments, Progressions, and the Rhetorical Theory of Narrative (Columbus: The Ohio State University, 2007). 24 Although the reader I am talking about can, of course, be none other than me, I shall often speak of “her” or “him” in the third person, drawing upon Phelan’s formulation of the recursive relationships among authorial agency, textual phenomena, and reader response. According to Phelan (Living to Tell about It, 19; Experiencing Fiction, 4), the author designs textual phenomena for a hypothetical audience (the “authorial audience”), and each actual reader, in encountering these phenomena, seeks to become part of this audience. You and I read the Klementia from a considerable distance, but we are nevertheless connected with early readers in this common desire to become part of the authorial audience and share in its perspective.

Introduction

7

the story such that some knowledge is presented as public, while other teachings are portrayed as esoteric. When Peter is observed saying certain things to the crowds of Syria-Palestine and slightly different things privately, to his own inner circle of disciples, the reader is poised to discern that the way things seem to be to the masses may not be the way things really are. Commonplace knowledge is, in effect, rendered suspicious, and the reader is positioned to undergo some rather radical transformations in understanding. As the narrative of the Klementia unfolds, what the reader learns, to a significant degree, is how to read other literature. The novel is, in my view, fundamentally hermeneutical, and the prefatory documents forefront a suspicion about texts, and especially about scripture, that renders right reading a matter of critical importance. The narrative’s grave concerns about the scriptures of Israel, as well as its idiosyncratic solution in the doctrine of “false pericopes,” are well known, 25 but the Klementia also betrays an uneasy relationship with the Gospels of the New Testament, and especially the Synoptic Gospels. Scholarship has dealt extensively with the “sayings of Jesus” scattered liberally throughout the narrative, frequently approaching them with the aim of discovering what they suggest about the source(s) employed. 26 Did the author of the Grundschrift have some version of the four Gospels before him? Or perhaps a gospel harmony? Do “variant” forms of certain sayings betray a relationship with Justin Martyr, his milieu, or his gospel source(s)? 27 On a basic level, these kinds of inquiries often appear to be at least as concerned with what can be discovered about the “sources” as they are about the Pseudo-Clementine novels, especially in their final forms. In fact, however, the Klementia is a work so deeply involved 25 Cf. Strecker, Judenchristentum, 166–187; Kevin M. Vaccarella, “Shaping Christian Identity: The False Scripture Argument in Early Christian Literature” (PhD diss., The Florida State University, 2007); Han J. W. Drijvers, “Adam and the True Prophet in the Pseudo-Clementines,” in Loyalitätskonflikte in der Religionsgeschichte: Festschrift für Carsten Colpe, ed. C. Elsas and H. G. Kippenberg (Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 1990), 314–323; F. Stanley Jones, “Marcionism in the Pseudo-Clementines,” in idem, Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque, 152–171, 167–169; Karl Evan Shuve, “The Doctrine of the False Pericopes and Other Late Antique Approaches to the Problem of Scripture’s Unity,” in Amsler et al., Nouvelles intrigues, 437–445; Donald H. Carlson, JewishChristian Interpretation of the Pentateuch in the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2013), 51–75; Bazzana, “Apelles and the Pseudo-Clementine Doctrine of the False Pericopes,” 11– 32. 26 Cf. Jones, “Pseudo-Clementines: A History of Research,” 81–86; Strecker, Judenchristentum, 117–36; Leslie L. Kline, The Sayings of Jesus in the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies, SBLDS 14 (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1975); J. Neville Birdsall, “Problems of the Clementine Literature,” in Jews and Christians: The Parting of the Ways, A. D. 70 to 135, ed. J. D. G. Dunn, WUNT 66 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992), 347–61; Frédéric Amsler has pressed for a broad interpretation of the way the Gospels are used in the Pseudo-Clementines (“Les citations évangéliques dans le roman pseudo-clémentin: Une tradition indépendante du Nouveau Testament?” in Le canon du Nouveau Testament: Regards nouveaux sur l’histoire de sa formation, ed. G. Aragione et al. [Geneva: Labour et Fides, 2005], 141–167), but the results are circumscribed by a restriction of the focus to sayings of Jesus that are explicitly cited as such. 27 Most recently, see Jones, “Distinctive Sayings,” 200–217.

8

Introduction

with the Gospels of the New Testament that we are not likely to understand it well without attending to the many ways it cites, alludes to, and otherwise interacts with gospel materials. To focus only upon sayings of Jesus is to miss much that is of interest. Take, for example, the miniature encomium of Peter that opens the Epistula Clementis, the second prefatory letter of the Klementia (Ep. Clem. 1.2–3). Nearly every epithet of this remarkable little speech is drawn from the Gospels, 28 and through it, the stage is set for a complex work of gospel exegesis executed on the authority of this chief eyewitness tradent of Jesus’s words and actions. A focus on sayings and /or citations also misses allusions to narrative episodes and to parables, taking note of them only insofar as they are sealed with apophthegms. Because the full range of the Klementia’s interactions with the Gospels has not been thoroughly explored, and especially because the issue is significant for the interpretation of the novel as a whole, the diverse forms of the Klementia’s engagement with the Gospels will be a focal point in this study. My analysis of such material will emphasize the distinctive resources for exegesis that are afforded by the genre of narrative fiction and will seek to demonstrate how the many individual moments of interpretation work together to give us a glimpse of the author’s overarching view of the narratives about the life and death of Jesus that had already, by the time he wrote, become the authorized accounts of the origins of Christianity for many. 29 Given the conceit of the narrative, as a recounting of events that happened during the lifetime of Peter, it is not surprising that the Klementia makes no explicit reference to the Gospels per se. In fact, much of its exegetical power is derived precisely from the special resources afforded by the genre of narrative historical fiction, granting it the ability to do an end run around the Gospels and to correct them without ever acknowledging them, though they were undoubtedly in view. By conducting its exegesis through its own construction of the apostolic eyewitness Peter, the Klementia can seamlessly dislodge authority from the Gospels and present its own interpretations of Jesus and his teachings as both more original and more authoritative. The hermeneutic is striking in comparison with the kinds of exegesis carried out in the contemporaneous

28 On the composition as anti-Pauline polemic, see Bart D. Ehrman, Forgery and Counterforgery: The Use of Literary Deceit in Early Christian Polemics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 309– 310. 29 It is worth noting that, if it is our aim to think about the Klementia as an act of literary communication, it is an unnecessarily narrow perspective to restrict our focus to the question of what gospel text(s) the author had at his disposal. Also relevant are broader questions about what gospel text(s) might have been a part of the knowledge base brought to the Klementia by ancient readers and about the cultural form and status of the Christian myth in milieux where the novel was read.

Introduction

9

genres of commentary and homily, where authoritative text is cited, and then, reflection on its meaning ensues. 30 The mode of narrative exegesis in the Klementia works to interesting effect when we consider broadly the relationship between the novel and the basic plot of the Gospels. While the autobiography narrated by Clement appears to begin during the lifetime of Jesus, 31 the reader cannot help but know that Jesus is no longer living at the time of the narration, since the Ep. Clem. locates the composition of the work after Peter’s death. Nonetheless, the event of Jesus’s death – never mind his resurrection – does not register on the storyline of the narrative at all. In the discourses of the novel, one finds only a single, passing reference to Jesus’s death, captured rather obliquely in a citation formula introducing the prayer of Jesus from the cross found in Luke 23:34 (“For the teacher himself, after he was nailed up, prayed ...”). 32 In its context in the Klementia, the citation serves as a paradigm of intercession on behalf of those who inflict evil. Otherwise, there is a single reference to Jesus’s “blood” (Klem. 3.19.1), but the term likely functions as metonymy for his kindred. 33 This nearly complete silence on the death and resurrection of Jesus can be only suggestive, of course,

30 In terms defined by David Brakke (“Scriptural Practices in Early Christianity: Towards a New History of the New Testament Canon,” in Invention, Rewriting, and Usurpation, ed. Jörg Ulrich et al., ECCA 11 [Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2012], 263–280, 263), we may perhaps regard the Klementia as manifesting a “scriptural practice” that does not lead to or equate with the canon of the New Testament. 31 Joseph Verheyden (“Presenting Minor Characters in the Pseudo-Clementine Novel: The Case of Barnabas,” in Amsler et al., Nouvelles intrigues, 249–257, 255) has observed that Barnabas’s mission in Alexandria (Klem. 1.9–14) apparently happens while Jesus is alive: “The Recognitions and the Homilies are not talking about any post-paschal apostolic mission, as one might perhaps have expected, but about the missionary activity that takes place during Jesus’ lifetime!” See also F. Stanley Jones, “Clement of Rome and the Pseudo-Clementines: History and /or Fiction,” in idem, Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque, 139–161, 150. 32 “Father forgive them their sins; for they do not know what they are doing” (Klem. 11.20.4). The verse has an unstable textual tradition in Luke, on which see François Bovon, Luke 3: A Commentary on the Gospel of Luke 19:28–24:53, ed. Helmut Koester, trans. James E. Crouch, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 306–307. 33 It is certainly possible to read the blood referred to here as an allusion to the violent death of Jesus, especially if the polemics that follow in 3.19.2 are taken as a gesture toward the various conflicts that lead up to Jesus’s death in the gospel accounts. More likely, the blood refers to Jesus’s kindred, either working to emphasize, by contrast, the mercy he extends to the Gentiles in the preceding participial clause, or perhaps even alluding to Jesus’s treatment of his immediate family in the episode in Mark 3:31–35, par., an incident which is perhaps somewhat at odds with the familial ethic of the novel (cf. Klem. 12.5, where Clement recalls that Peter instructed his followers not to abandon familial responsibilities for the sake of the itinerant mission). In the end it is really not possible, and perhaps not even desirable, to resolve this question and insist on one meaning to the exclusion of the other. Wehnert, Pseudoklementinische Homilien, 89, n. 20, also notes that the phrase is doppeldeutig, but the ANF translation obscures the ambiguity by rendering αÙmα as “kindred.” Ra’anan S. Boustan and Annette Yoshiko Reed (“Blood and Atonement in the PseudoClementines and The Story of the Ten Martyrs: The Problem of Selectivity in the Study of ‘Judaism’ and ‘Christianity,’” Henoch 30 [2008]: 333–364, 344) settle firmly on the genealogical reading.

10

Introduction

but a number of other factors can be adduced as evidence in support of the hypothesis that the Klementia deliberately avoids the subject. Most notably, signs of the death of Jesus are conspicuously absent from the ritual of Peter’s group. The closest thing to a Eucharistic meal is described in terms of bread and salt; 34 there is not a trace of body /blood symbolism. Baptism is characterized consistently as “rebirth” (anagenesis), a concept that lends itself both to the construal of the faith as filial piety (i. e., one is reborn into the family of the divine father) and to the undoing of the fatalistic genesis that can be read in the configuration of the stars at the time of one’s birth. 35 There is no trace of the Pauline idea that baptism amounts to participation in the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus (e. g., Rom 6:3–11). Furthermore, one would be hard-pressed to find any indication that the death of Jesus has any soteriological value at all for the Klementia. Salvation, insofar as it is linked to Jesus, comes through a dual-pronged Christology built around 1) the authoritative teaching and biblical exegesis of the True Prophet Jesus and 2) the protection of the Good King (also manifest in Jesus), who reigns over all those who believe in God and observe the divine commandments. Once we endeavor to read the Klementia as a progressive, narrative pedagogy in right reading, we are in a better position to see the coherence of the many discourses of the novel and to recognize the distinctive system of thought developed therein. 36 What the Klementia attempts, I would argue, is essentially a reinscription of the contemporaneous religious landscape through the development of a revised story of Christian origins in the apostolic period. As many have recognized, a key concern appears to be the relationship of “Christianity” to “Judaism.” 37 Through the extensive teachings of Peter and through countless

34 For example, after the baptism of Clement’s mother, Clement reports, “Some time later, Peter came, and, after breaking bread with thanksgiving and adding salt, he gave it first to our mother and, after her, to us, her sons. In this way, we feasted together with her and blessed God” (mετ€ Éκαn€ς δà ¹ρας å Πέτρος âλθώn, τän Šρτοn âπ+ εÎχαριστίø κλάσας καÈ âπιθεÈς ‰λας, τ¬ mητρÈ πρÀτοn âπέδωκεn, mετ+ αÎτ˜n ™mØn τοØς υÉοØς αÎτ¨ς. καÈ οÕτως αÎτ¬ συnεστιάθηmεn καÈ τän θεän εÎλογήσαmεn) (Klem. 14.1.4). 35 Jones, “Eros and Astrology in the ΠΕΡΙΟ∆ΟΙ ΠΕΤΡΟΥ,” in idem, Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque, 114–137, esp. 121–124, 134–137. 36 Certainly some elements of the Klementia have been preserved intact from the source novel, some modified, and some added entirely. I operate with the assumption that all of these activities represent meaningful authorial decisions. 37 The question of the nature and source of the so-called “Jewish-Christianity” of the PseudoClementines has been central to the study of the novels. For a concise summary, see Jones, “PseudoClementines: A History of Research,” 101–113. In my view, even if the Klementia bears traces of earlier “Jewish-Christian” perspectives by virtue of its sources, it nonetheless invents something new out of what it has received. Scholars differ widely on the question of the degree to which the Klementia is original. To what extent did its author intervene on the Grundschrift? Was the perspective that we find in the Klementia already mostly formed in G? In my view, a good deal of innovation can be linked to the author of the Klementia, but that perspective will be persuasive only insofar as many of the subarguments of this book, on various portions of the text, are persuasive.

Introduction

11

moments of gospel exegesis, battle lines are, in effect, redrawn to align followers of Moses and followers of Jesus over against Gentile polytheists. At the same time, the religious conversion of Gentile characters to the religion of Peter gives ample narrative space for the illustration of how boundaries of affiliation are to be crossed. To flesh out the contours of the religious landscape in the Klementia, let us turn for a moment to a scene in medias res. In the middle of the Klementia, as Peter and Clement make their way up the Syrian coast in pursuit of the heretic Simon Magus, Peter delivers a series of sermons over the course of four days to a swelling crowd of locals in Syrian Tripolis (Klem. 8–11). When the eager multitude pours like a river into the spacious garden of Peter’s Tripolitan host, a certain Maroones, Peter mounts a statue base and, for a fleeting moment, appears precisely as the evangelistic icon that he is for the novel, addressing the onlookers with a pious gesture (Klem. 8.8.4; cf. 10.3.2). His four sermons in the garden of Maroones together constitute a sharp and sustained polemic against the “idolatry” that is portrayed as the religious norm for the members of the audience in the narrative, beginning already with the opening description of the crowd as full of suppliants reduced to the grotesque contortions of the demon-possessed (cf. Klem. 8.8.4). Peter is eager to explain how such demoninflicted torment is the direct result of pagan impiety, as well as to elucidate the alternative theosebeia, or godly piety, that is the only remedy for it. 38 Well into the fourth and final day of the discourses, he raises the stakes with a lurid description of demonic subterfuge, which has at its disposal a formidable array of instruments of torture, including the sharp emotions of love, anger, and grief, as well as terrible means of destruction such as drowning, hanging, plunging from a precipice, suicide, and madness (Klem. 11.15.8). While he wants to claim that his own co-religionists are exempt from such harm, the apostle is not unaware that the claim sounds implausible on empirical grounds, given the apparently universal reach of suffering and death. Anticipating such an objection, he digresses momentarily on the precise contours of the boundary line between those who are the masters of demons (cf. Klem. 11.16.1) and those who are, on the contrary, mastered by them. What appears to be a digression, I would argue, takes us right to the heart of the Klementia: ‚λλ+ âρεØ τις Òσως· Τοιούτοις πάθεσιn καÈ θεοσεβÀn τιnες Íποπίπτουσιn. φηmÈ íτι τοÜτο ‚δύnατοn. θεοσεβ˜ς γ€ρ οÝτός âστιn, çn âγώ φηmι, å înτως θεοσεβής, οÎχ çς ‹n mόnοn λέγηται, å δà înτως »n τοÜ δοθέnτος αÎτÄ nόmου âκτελεØ τ€ς πρ〈οστ〉άξεις. âάn τις ‚σεβήσù, εÎσεβ˜ς οÎκ êστιn. ínπερ τρόποn â€n å ‚λλόφυλος τän nόmοn πράξù, >ΙουδαØός âστιn, m˜

38

The subject of the Tripolis Discourses is expressly περÈ θεοσεβείας (Klem. 8.2.1).

12

Introduction

πράξας δà “Ελληn· å γ€ρ >ΙουδαØος πιστεύωn θεÄ ποιεØ τän nόmοn, δι+ ©ς πίστεως καÈ τ€ Šλλα τ€ îρεσιn âοικότα καÈ βαροÜnτα mεθίστησιn πάθη. 39 But perhaps someone will say, “Even some of the worshipers of God fall victim to such sufferings.” I say this is impossible. For the worshiper of God (theoseb¯es) I am talking about is the one who really is a worshiper of God – not the person who is only called that, but the one who really is and who carries out the commandments of the law given to him. If a person behaves impiously, he is not pious. In the same way, if a non-Jew keeps the law, he is a Jew; but if he does not keep it, he is a Greek. For the Jew performs the law because he has faith in God, through which faith he removes also the other sufferings that are like mountains and heavy (Klem. 11.16.2–4a).

In this brief passage, we find the kernel of a story that the entire novel tells simultaneously through both its discourses and its several narrative plotlines. The passage encapsulates what the lengthy and rather complicated work is coherently about 40 – namely, the development of a single, sharp boundary line running invisibly through the world and dividing humanity into just two mutually exclusive religious categories. Peter’s message in these few lines emphasizes an either /or simplicity that is not only well suited to his protreptic purposes in the scene, but is also, as we shall see in the chapters to come, anchored deeply within the worldview of the novel. Just as the aseb¯es cannot be euseb¯es, the “Greek” cannot be “Jew.” The critical difference, however, consists of an irreducible combination of belief and practice, and the category to which a person belongs is adaptable by persuasion and choice. For the Klementia, Ioudaios is no more limited to people from Judea than Hellene is limited to those from Greece, and when “Greeks” or “Gentiles” adopt Peter’s theological perspective and way of life, they become “Jews.” Indeed, it is the mission of the apostle throughout the novel to combat the various kinds of cultural inertia, ignorance, and error that hinder the Gentile polytheists of his audience from crossing over into the blessed realm of the “Jewish” monotheistic theosebeia he holds forth. More must be said on this point of terminology, because it has not always been clear to interpreters of the Klementia that the Gentile converts in the novel 39 All citations of the Greek text of the Klementia are from Bernhard Rehm and Georg Strecker, eds., Die Pseudoklementinen I: Homilien, 3d ed., GCS 42 (Berlin: Akademie, 1992). English translations are my own unless otherwise noted. 40 That the Klementia is coherently about anything has seldom been taken for granted. See, for example, the remark of Graham Stanton (“Jewish Christian Elements,” 309): “Anyone who has read the full text of either the Homilies or the Recognitions will readily understand why epitomes of their rambling, loosely organized narratives were made.” An argument for the coherence of the discourses with the narrative of the Klementia can be found in Edwards, “Clementina: A Christian Response to the Pagan Novel,” 459–474. Edwards proposes that the plot of recognitions in the Pseudo-Clementines was a “Christian” creation developed to illustrate the teachings propounded in both of the versions that survive in full – doctrines including the repudiation of Fortune and the promotion of marriage and child-rearing. Edwards is not wrong, but his article does not adequately account for certain central preoccupations of the Klementia, such as its hermeutical concerns vis-à-vis both the scriptures of the Jews and the Gospels.

Introduction

13

become “Jews,” and reluctance is understandable. 41 Can it really be the case that an early fourth-century novel revolving around Jesus Christ, the apostle Peter, and Clement of Rome, intends to correlate the term “Jew” with its own protagonists and sympathizers, and even Gentile ones? The language, after all, might be only a vestige of an ancient Jewish or “Jewish-Christian” source that informed the novel early in its long history of composition and redaction? 42 Or perhaps, in spite of the connection of “the Jew” in Klem. 11.16.4 with the kind of “mountain-moving” faith described by Jesus in Matt 17:20 and 21:21, the passage cited above intends to designate converts to the faith of Jesus not as Ioudaioi, but

41 For example, see James Carleton Paget (Jews, Christians and Jewish Christians in Antiquity, WUNT 251 [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010], 445) on the passage in question: “Whether we can liken ‘Christian’ to ‘Jew’ here is not clear.” Since “Christian” terminology is not in play in the passage (or the novel, for that matter), one wonders if Carleton Paget is thinking of the terms of selfidentification that the fourth-century author and his sympathizers might have used rather than the scenario in the novel. We need not, I think, assume that the two were identical. It may be that, given the historical conceit of the Klementia, the terminology is meant to ring quaint. Perhaps the novel self-consciously registers and interprets certain historical developments in self-identification for its readers. 42 For example, many of the conversion accounts in the story render characters “Jews” (Justa in Klem. 13.7.3; Nicetas and Aquila in 13.7.4; Nicetas, Aquila, and Clement in 20.22.2), but one could argue that these references are relics of an earlier stage in the novel’s history of redaction. One such view has been developed by Bernard Pouderon in a series of articles spanning more than a decade and now made available in a volume of collected essays (La genèse du roman pseudo-clémentin: Études littéraires et historiques, CREJ 53 [Leuven: Peeters, 2012]). Pouderon regards the material found in Klem. 4–6 as the origin of the Pseudo-Clementine novel, as the kernel of an otherwise lost Jewish novella that was later redacted into the Christian one. Of key importance in the argument is the thesis that the Roman consul Flavius Clemens, who was executed by his cousin Domitian (perhaps on the charge of atheism), was already the hero of the Jewish novella and that this figure was conflated by the Christian redactor with the Clement who was an early bishop of Rome. Pouderon argues that we see telltale signs of the redaction of the original Jewish story especially in the conversion accounts, where certain incongruities and redundancies have not been thoroughly eliminated. Most important is the oddity of Clement’s conversion: though the narrator reports in the first book of the novel that he found no satisfying philosophy until he met the apostle Peter in Judea, the same Clement appears to maintain in the flashback in Klem. 4–6 that he had already turned to Judaism before he ever left his metropolis, Rome. A similar “double” conversion, according to Pouderon, is witnessed in the twin brothers of Clement, who first become Jews through the tutelage of their foster mother and then are converted again, this to time Christianity, by Zacchaeus. I would argue, instead, that, within the novel, Nicetas and Aquila do not change their religion when they meet Zacchaeus, but they merely have their messianic views corrected, abandoning Simon Magus for Jesus. In the case of Clement, too, it is not impossible to read the account as coherent, especially if we grant the author some measure of literary sophistication (on which, see chapter 3, below). For Pouderon’s theory, see especially “Flavius Clemens et le proto-Clément juif du Roman pseudo-clémentin,” Apocrypha 7 (1996): 63–79; idem, “Dédoublement et création romanesque dans le roman pseudo-clémentin,” in idem, La genèse du Roman, 3–19; idem, “Aux origines du Roman pseudo-clémentin: Prototype païen, refonte judéo-helénistique, remaniement chrétien,” in idem, La genèse du Roman, 21–46; idem, “L’énigme Flavius Clemens, consul et martyr sous Domitien, ou: le personnage historique et ses doubles littéraires,” Ktèma 26 (2001): 307– 319; idem, “La genèse du Roman clémentin et sa signification théologique,” in idem, La genèse du Roman, 317–337; idem, “Aux origines du Roman pseudo-clémentin: Lecture critique de récents travaux,” in idem, La genèse du Roman, 285–316.

14

Introduction

simply as theosebeis, or “worshipers of God”? Theoseb¯es might serve here as a technical term, an alternative to Christianos, for the adherent to a “third way” with which the novel wishes to align its protagonists, different from both Jew and Greek. Beginning at least as early as the second century of the common era, some Christian authors began to speak of their cohort as a third “race” (γέnος), distinct from Greeks and Jews, and, of course, superior to both. 43 The idea of Christians as a third race may have originated internally, growing perhaps out of the kind of socio-political idealism expressed by Paul in Gal 3:28, 44 even if it carried certain political risks in the imperial context. 45 In Tertullian’s day, opponents apparently wielded it as a slur against Christians, pointing to their novel tradition as something ill formed and monstrous. 46 In spite of any danger it may have involved, however, the idea was a popular one among Christians – so prominent, in fact, that scholars can presume it to have been the view of the Klementia even though it is nowhere explicitly invoked. 47 In an analysis of the passage cited above, Stanley Jones has concluded that such a perspective was indeed part of the Grundschrift. The writer of the source novel, according to Jones, identified himself and his cohort as theosebeis and envisioned this designation as a tertium quid alongside Jews and Greeks. 48 If Jones is right about the source novel, it is all the more interesting that the Klementia develops a different rhetorical strategy for self-identification, one that draws Gentile followers of Jesus into the same “Jewish” category with followers of Moses. 49 In my view, the Klementia does not define its protagonists as a third “race”, other than “Jew” or “Greek,” but it maintains with remarkable consistency that all who rightly worship God and adopt a lawful way of life,

43 Adolf Harnack, The Mission and Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries, 2nd ed. (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1908), 266–278; Judith Lieu, “The Race of the God-Fearers,” JTS 46 (1995): 483–501. 44 “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28; NRSV). Cf. Hans Dieter Betz, Galatians, Hermeneia 62 (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989), 191, n. 79. 45 Cf. Lieu, “Race of the God-Fearers,” 490–91, on the apology of Melito of Sardis. 46 Lieu, “Race of the God-Fearers,” 491. In the Klementia, it is the demons, the bastard offspring (nόθοι τÄ γέnει) of angels and human women, who are likened to “a new race, called by a new name” (±ς καιnän γέnος καιnÄ καÈ τÄ ænόmατι προσηγορεύθησαn), and who expressly desire such a designation (Klem. 8.18.1–2). 47 E.g., Bovon, “En tête des Homélies clémentines,” 332, writes with respect to the first prefatory epistle of the Klementia, “Même s’il respecte la Loi, l’auteur et la communauté qu’il représente constituent une entité sociale et religieuse distincte du judaïsme. Faisant face aussi aux païens, ils se considèrent donc comme un tertium genus, ou le véritable Israël.” 48 Jones, “Jewish Christianity of the Pseudo-Clementines,” in idem, Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque, 148–49), 149–151. 49 Jones’s focus is the Grundschrift, and he makes only a few tantalizing remarks about the Klementia (“Jewish Christianity of the Pseudo-Clementines,” in idem, Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque, 150): “What is distinctive, however is that the author’s ultimate concern is not who is actually a Jew; this concern is rather the way the Homilist tweaked the passage.”

Introduction

15

whatever their ethnic background, are properly Ioudaioi? 50 Why it would do this may have to do with the desire to combat yet another powerful idea alive in the author’s context, namely, the notion that Christianity had superseded Judaism, or that Christians had become the true Israel, or the fulfillment of Israel. A corollary of this notion, that the Jews fell out of divine favor when they rejected Jesus, is an idea that the author of the Klementia appears self-consciously to reject. 51 Nonetheless, one occasionally finds in the secondary literature the idea that the Klementia promoted some form of supersessionism. For example, writing about “the Pseudo-Clementines” generally (i. e., the Klementia and Recognition together), Albert Baumgarten has observed correctly that Pharisees are portrayed in a surprisingly laudatory manner, and he finds in the details of this depiction evidence of direct contact between the “Jewish Christians” who were responsible for the Pseudo-Clementines, on the one hand, and rabbinic Jews, on the other. To explain the admiration expressed for the Pharisees, he postulates that “the Pseudo-Clementines may have claimed to be the ‘true’ Pharisees, as opposed to their rabbinic heirs.” 52 Another insinuation of the idea can be observed in the heading attributed to Klem. 11.16 in the recent Bibliothèque de la Pléiade translation: Les adepts de la vraie religion échappent à l’emprise des démons. Vrai Juif ou faux Juif. 53 The distinction is perhaps a fine one, but we need to be clear that the Klementia does not really posit false Jews. “Jews,” whether followers of Moses or followers of Jesus, are throughout the novel held in high esteem. What the Klementia endeavors is not to define a “third way” beyond Jew and Greek, nor to define its protagonists and sympathizers as the true Jews over against false or failed Jews. Instead, the novel presses the category of Jewishness in an expansive direction, making it broad and flexible enough to accommodate followers of Jesus who adhere to monarchia and lawful politeia, as well as followers of Moses. So far we have begun to open the question of the strategies of self-identification in the Klementia, but we have neglected the question of what the “other” kind of piety looks like in the dualistic world of the novel, though this makes for 50 Cf. Annette Yoshiko Reed, “‘Jewish Christianity’ after the ‘Parting of the Ways’: Approaches to Historiography and Self-Definition in the Pseudo-Clementines,” in The Ways that Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, ed. A. H. Becker and A. Y. Reed, TSAJ 95 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003; repr., Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 189–231, 220. 51 See especially chapter 3, below, on the initial private discourse of Klem. 8. Cf. Annette Yoshiko Reed, “‘Jewish Christianity’ as Counter-history? The Apostolic Past in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History and the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies,” in Antiquity in Antiquity: Jewish and Christian Pasts in the Greco-Roman World, ed. G. Gardner and K. L. Osterloh, TSAJ 123 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 1–41, 21. 52 Albert I. Baumgarten, “Literary Evidence for Jewish Christianity in the Galilee,” in The Galilee in Late Antiquity, ed. Lee I. Levine (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1992), 39– 50, 49. 53 Pierre Geoltrain and Jean-Daniel Kaestli, eds. Écrits Apocryphes Chrétiens, Bibliothèque de la Pléiade 516 (Paris: Gallimard, 2005), 2:1431; cf. also the statement of Bovon in n. 47 above.

16

Introduction

an enquiry equally as complex and interesting. This category, too, even by logical necessity, is vast and accommodating. It must cover all outright enemies of Peter’s perspective, as well as the mission field that lies before the apostle. When viewed in a benevolent light, those who are not Jews tend to be described in the novel as “Gentiles” – ignorant and afflicted by no real fault of their own, and potentially converts. The term “Greek,” the counterpoint to “Jew” in the passage with which we began, is also used with some frequency in the pages of the Klementia, most often in association with characters whose high degree of literary and cultural attainment is emphasized (e. g., Clement, 4.7.2; Simon Magus, 2.22.3; Nicetas and Aquila, 13.7.3). The novel is not entirely dismissive of the cultural fruits of Hellenism, but “Greek” paideia nonetheless correlates rather strongly with depravity in the Klementia (most notably, Klem. 4–6). An episode at Alexandria in the first book of the narrative nicely conveys the ambivalence. When the philosophical seeker Clement first hears the “Hebrew” evangelist Barnabas attempting to tell an Alexandrian crowd about Jesus, he recognizes immediately that the preacher is unsophisticated but genuine, “speaking truth, not with dialectic art” (Klem. 1.9.2). The crowd, on the whole, is inclined favorably toward the artless message, but certain “philosophers” in their midst are determined to derail the sermon with mocking, motivated âκ παιδείας κοσmικ¨ς (Klem. 1.10.1). They brandish their “syllogisms” like weapons and interject inane distractions, asking Barnabas to explain why something so small as a gnat should have six legs in addition to wings, while the elephant has only four legs and no wings at all (Klem. 1.10.1–3). When Clement can no longer tolerate the nonsense, he upbraids the hecklers as the worst of their educated kind, a “Greek mob” betraying themselves to be philologoi rather than philosophoi, while the truth passes them by to consort with barbarians (1.11.4–8). After whisking Barnabas away to safety, Clement makes an offer to Barnabas that, in a sense, encapsulates one of the subtexts of the novel. Though the mission of Barnabas proves an abject failure, the story of Peter and Clement will illustrate how “the church of the Hebrews,” although firmly rooted in the Jerusalem of a bygone era, nonetheless managed to spread its influence in the space of a single generation as far as “Rome,” preserving its spirit in the leadership of a foreign élite thoroughly possessed of Greek culture. 54 “Just expound for me the words you heard from the man who appeared, and I will adorn them with my speech 54 The character Barnabas is clearly based on the well-known figure of early Christianity who was once an intimate companion of Paul (cf. Gal 2:1, 9; 1 Cor 9:6; Acts 9:27; 11:25–26; chs. 13–15) but who may have sided with Peter in the apostolic dispute at Antioch (Gal 2:13) and, as even the conciliatory Luke had to admit, parted company with Paul (Acts 15:36–39). See Richard I. Pervo, Acts, ed. Harold W. Attridge, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), 386–387. The Barnabas of the Klementia is nonetheless a romantic fiction who belongs, like James, to the Jerusalem of old. He appears even to come to this realization himself, for after his missionary failure at Alexandria, he hastens back to Judea for a religious festival (τ¨ς κατ€ τ˜n θρησκείαn áορτ¨ς χάριn), expressing the

Introduction

17

and preach the counsel of God,” begs Clement (Klem. 1.14.1). No response to the offer is recorded in the immediate narrative context, but when Clement later meets Peter in Caesarea, the apostle praises him for the gift of his beautiful speech and promises a hearty return in eternal blessings (Klem. 1.16.3). All the while, the results of the cultural translation project are in the very hands of the reader, having finally taken the form of a Greek novel of no mean skill. But alongside the reference to “Greeks,” there is yet another nod in the direction of opponents in our brief extract from Klem. 11.16. The gesture comes through vocabulary that is quite heavily employed in the novel – the modifier theoseb¯es and the related noun theosebeia. Roughly the functional equivalents of euseb¯es /eusebeia, the general terms for “pious”/“piety” in contemporaneous Greek literature, theoseb¯es /theosebeia seem to have held special resonance for many Jewish and Christian monotheists. 55 What is meant by these terms in the Klementia can be gleaned, summarily, from the passage cited above. The person who attains “godly piety” is, in short, the one who honors the sovereignty of God and maintains a law-observant way of life. Given their positive valence, theoseb¯es /theosebeia are not readily turned into terms of attack to be hurled at one’s opponents. Nonetheless, they were undoubtedly contested terms insofar as those who used them wished to claim exclusive ownership of them. 56 Indeed such a contest is alluded to in Klem. 11.16.2, where Peter clarifies that he is not talking about people who are merely “called” theosebeis, but those who really are theosebeis. But whom are we to perceive in this veiled insult? It can hardly be the followers of Moses, who are characterized in the prefatory Epistula Petri as “everywhere” and always exemplifying precisely the godly piety that is sketched in outline here. 57 It might, however, point to any number of opposing perspectives that are theologically or ethically deficient in the view of the author of the Klementia. Some unacceptable positions are quite transparently portrayed in the pages of the novel, but others are to be glimpsed between the lines. A variety of false theological perspectives, mostly of a Marcionite or gnostic tenor, are associated with the figure of Simon Magus, the arch-enemy of Peter in the narrative, 58 and Peter appears to be keenly interested in displaying the error of such views in the presence of the polytheists whom he would like to convert. At desire to stay with his homoethneis from then on (1.13.4). On Barnabas in the Pseudo-Clementines, see Verheyden, “Presenting Minor Characters,” 249–257. 55 Lieu, “Race of the God-fearers,” 493–497. 56 It is with this observation that Lieu provocatively concludes her article, calling for a new appreciation and understanding of the question of modern scholarship, “Who are the God-fearers?”, a question that has usually queried the existence and nature of a class of Gentile sympathizers who maintained some kind of relationship with the ancient Jewish synagogue without converting (“Race of the God-fearers,” 501). 57 Cf. Ep. Petr. 1.3. 58 Dominique Côté, “La fonction littéraire de Simon le magicien dans les Pseudo-Clémentines,” LTP 57 (2001): 513–523.

18

Introduction

the same time, the “idol worship” and dubious mythology of various stripes of polytheists are ridiculed at every opportunity, usually in gross caricature. 59 More subtle, but surely no less significant, is the opposition to a formidable group of perspectives lying closer to home for the Klementia, revering the same founders and heroes (Jesus, Peter, Clement), sharing an equally strong aversion to Marcionites and gnostics, and also striving to bring Gentiles into salvific communion with the God of Israel. Such groups, which we might want to call “Pauline” or “orthodox” Christianities, were perhaps associated with “Christianity” in the mind of the author of the Klementia, too, prompting a judicious avoidance of the terminology. The Jesus of the Klementia is decidedly Christos, 60 but his followers are nowhere characterized as Christianoi. If indeed the omission of “Christian” terminology is a principled one, it may be possible to glimpse in the polemics of the Klementia several distinct motivations for it, all of which are perhaps a factor to some degree. Specifically “Christian” views that the Klementia appears to be unable to countenance include the lifting of requirements of law for at least Gentile adherents, a soteriology centered on the death and resurrection of Jesus, and vitriol against “the Jews” for their supposed rejection of Jesus. Very often, we witness the Klementia opposing such notions exegetically, by alluding to passages in the Gospels of the New Testament and, in one way or another, reading strongly against the grain of the canonical texts. In some cases, the oppositional nature of the interpretation is clear. In other instances, what may appear on the surface to be rather light or benign allusions – perhaps merely lending a pious tenor to the dialect of the apostle – can yield the substance of a more serious conversation when pressed. A prime example of this phenomenon is found in the passage analyzed above. Peter’s reference there to a faith that can remove the mountainous sufferings produced by demons is a reasonably clear allusion to a saying of Jesus preserved twice in the Gospel of Matthew (Matt 17:20; 21:21). The language is somewhat closer to the first Matthean saying, and that passage, like Klem. 11.16, deals with the issue of demon possession. In Matt 17:14–20, the disciples of Jesus have tried and failed to exorcise a demon bent on the destruction of its human host, perpetually throwing the wretched victim into fire or water. After expelling the demon, Jesus explains privately to his disciples that their impotence was the result of their “little faith” (æλιγοπιστία), or a “faith that lacks trust in God’s miraculous help.” 61 The saying about moving mountains emphasizes the great potential that is inherent in even a speck of unswerving trust: “For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 59

Cf. Klem. 10.16; 11.14–15. Cf. Strecker, Die Pseudoklementinen III: Konkordanz, 517–18. 61 Ulrich Luz, Matthew 8–20, ed. Helmut Koester, trans. James E. Crouch, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001), 409. 60

The Plot of the Klementia

19

‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you” (Matt 17:20). In the Klementia, when this pistis that moves mountains is invoked, the term is gently massaged to take on somewhat different connotations. It is now not only the kind of unwavering trust in divine power that the Gospel of Matthew enjoins in Matt 17:14–20, but it is also a mode of “believing” in God that is irreducibly linked to the observance of the commandments of his law (admittedly also an emphasis of Matthew in other contexts; e. g., Matt 5:17–19). The mountains that represent any impossibly gargantuan challenge in Matthew are used to express, specifically, the severity of the sufferings that demons can inflict on the possessed. It appears that the Klementia has conjured up a saying of Jesus that was perhaps not quite satisfactory in its gospel context and reformed it in the very act of allusion to serve better the needs of the novel. Mere trust or belief in God is simply not sufficient for the Klementia, for demons exert their terrible influence wherever law is not also observed. As we make our way through the Klementia, we will encounter many such moments of narrative exegesis that appear keen to “correct” aspects of the canonical narratives about Jesus.

The Plot of the Klementia We have delved directly into the worldview of the Klementia through the rhetoric and terminology of a single passage in medias res, but an overview of the plot of the novel is also needed. The continuation of the passage with which we began can provide an entrée to this aspect of the work, too. As Peter elaborates his answer to the objection that even worshippers of God are subject to suffering, his justification makes a turn from defining the true worshipper of God to developing a more nuanced view of suffering, one that can allow for more salutary kinds of trouble (Klem. 11.16.4b–6). He draws the fine distinction that, while those who do not believe in God and adhere to his law are punished as sinners, even Jews may experience torment in order that any debt of sin in their account may be balanced out before the final judgment (11.16.5). The theodicy that is developed here in Peter’s sermon, attributing at least some suffering to divine beneficence, is also at play in the plot, where various kinds of suffering motivate and guide the actions that will eventually bring Clement and his entire family into Peter’s communion. In its broadest outlines, the plot will demonstrate how all things are powerfully guided home by the subtle, benevolent lure of divine providence, which is not to be confused with the inexorable fate (genesis) that is written in the stars at the time of one’s birth. 62 62

137.

On the astrological theme as key to the Grundschrift, see Jones, “Eros and Astrology,” 114–

20

Introduction

The first half of the novel (Klem. 1–11) is constructed as a kind of Bildungsroman 63 for the first-person narrator, Clement, a wealthy Roman of the family of Tiberius Caesar (Klem. 1.1.1; 4.7.2). As he relates the story of his youth from a considerably more mature perspective (for the reader already knows by virtue of the prefatory Epistula Clementis that the narrator is none other than the Clement who succeeded Peter as bishop of Rome), Clement detects in his personal history a mysterious force that was experienced, at the time, as a restless compulsion to know the truth about the way things are, and specifically about the existence of the soul beyond the grave. The unsettling sentiment drove him from one philosophical school to the next, all the while wasting away like one stricken by lovesickness. The usual passions of youth were sublimated by this providential cogitation, which bent âπιθυmία toward ‚θυmία 64 and made itself felt, by turns, as both torment (1.2.1) and pleasure (cf. 1.3.5). Indeed, a kind of mock eroticism washes over the first pages of the novel, returning to brilliant effect a few books later in a complex literary flashback nested within a debate between Clement and a certain Appion Pleistonikes (Klem. 4– 6). In the end, Clement’s mysterious instigator appears to leave him without a human mate, 65 but his situation is an exception to the rule. The story of his natal family will, in any case, endorse the pervasive sentiment in the novel that marriage and children are right and good, pleasing to God and humanity alike. 66 The real action of our plot is set in motion when the restless Clement encounters an anonymous preacher addressing the public in Rome. Though he is aware that he is making a rather odd decision, Clement decides to go to Judea to investigate the claim that a Son of God has appeared proclaiming eternal life for those who would reform their way of life in accord with the will of God (Klem. 1.7). His ship is blown off-course, but the detour to Alexandria only connects him with another missionary, Barnabas. When Clement finally disembarks at Caesarea Maritima some two weeks later, he finds his way to the lodging of the “most esteemed” disciple of the Judean Son of God whose fame had spread far and wide (Klem. 1.15.2), and he is immediately inclined to join this Peter’s cause. It is promptly arranged that Clement will follow the apostle, serving as a

63 Wehnert, Pseudoklementinische Homilien, 30: “Schon die Romanhandlung selbst ist nicht homogen, sondern verweist in der doppelten Suchbewegung des Klemens (erst nach dem Lebenssinn, dann nach den verschollenen Angehörigen, von denen zuvor keine Rede war) auf zwei nicht ganz plausibel verbundene traditionelle Sujets, die dem Werk seinen spezifischen Doppelcharakter – halb Bildungs-, halb Familienroman – verleihen.” 64 Klem. 1.1.1. 65 In hindsight, Clement describes the powerful “thought” (ênnοια) in terms that render it almost a substitute for a wedded lover, calling it his “beautiful cohabitant” (σύnοικος καλή,1.2.2). 66 Admittedly, this ideal is often conveyed in negative terms, i. e., that ungoverned lust and especially adultery are bad (cf. Ep. Clem. 1.7–8; Klem. 3.68; 13.15–19).

The Plot of the Klementia

21

scribe for his sermons on his missionary journey to Rome, but the conversion of Clement is left incomplete. The apostle only blesses his new acolyte with a benediction expressing the hope that Clement may one day be baptized and made fit to eat with his new master (1.22.5). The consummation of this blessing will not come until the end of Klem. 11, where the Bildungsroman is at last drawn to a close and the stage is set for the unfolding of a second plot, the romance of Clement’s family, in Klem. 12–20. The broad narrative span between the initial acquaintance of Clement and Peter and the baptism of Clement (Klem. 2–11) consists largely of discourse material, taking the form of private teaching, public debates, and missionary sermons. In an initial private lesson, the apostle gives Clement an account of the True Prophet and sets forth some of the most distinctive teachings of the Klementia, notably the doctrine of “syzygies” and the notion of “false pericopes” in scripture. Scripture is the subject again when Simon Magus initiates a public quarrel with Peter, resulting in the flight of Simon to Tyre. Peter stays in Caesarea long enough to ordain a local bishop, communicate the rules of the community, and conduct baptisms. Meanwhile, Clement and two other disciples, Nicetas and Aquila, are sent off to spy on Simon Magus and reconnoiter his intentions. Arriving at Tyre, they lodge with the sister of Nicetas and Aquila and learn that Simon has already fled to Sidon, leaving behind three companions, one of whom turns out to be an old friend of Clement’s family. This Appion recognizes Clement and expresses the hope of disabusing him of his newly adopted “barbarian” views. The two debate extensively on the subjects of Greek mythology and, to a lesser extent, philosophy, but the heart of the episode is the clever presentation of a pair of pseudonymous letters exchanged between Clement and Appion while the former was still a youth in Rome. The section (Klem. 4–6) brilliantly raises a host of questions about the complex relationship between fiction and truth, questions that the reader is free to apply to the novel as a whole, which is itself framed as an extended correspondence by virtue of the prefatory documents. The seventh book of the narrative advances the action from Tyre to Tripolis and foreshadows, in summary fashion, the concerns that are at the heart of the most extensive set of public sermons in the novel. The central problem of the sermons, the relationship between idolatry and demon possession, is made a narrative problem, as well, via a report that Simon Magus has recently infected the populace with demons by sacrificing an ox and holding a public feast (Klem. 7.3). When Peter travels onward, the crowd following him grows to the proportions of a veritable river of humanity by the time the Tripolis sermons commence in the garden of Maroones (Klem. 8.7). The discourses cover four days time, but it is reported that Peter and his group stay considerably longer. Clement is finally baptized after three months, and Maroones is ordained as the local bishop before Peter journeys on.

22

Introduction

In the second half of the novel, the family romance of recognitions emerges alongside the story of the ongoing battle between Peter and Simon Magus. At the bridge between the two plots, the Bildungsroman and the Familienroman, an accelerating pace of travel (summarized in 12.1) slows momentarily for a doubly revealing conversation between Peter and Clement. First, the narrative pauses to allow the reader to gaze upon an idealized portrait of the apostle – his modest manner of dress, his simple lifestyle, and his adolescence as an orphan in hardscrabble circumstances (Klem. 12.6). 67 A stark contrast is drawn when Peter observes that his friend has clearly been accustomed to wealth. But when it is Clement’s turn to tell his own story, the reader at last learns of the terrible series of events that left him, too, alone in the world, bereft of family (Klem. 12.8–10). Clement recounts to Peter that, when he was very young, his mother received an ominous dream. In response, she and Clement’s father devised a plan to avert the danger. She was to quit Rome until the threat expired, biding her time at Athens, where she could see to the education of the couple’s elder sons, a pair of twins. After setting sail, she and the two boys were never seen again, and Clement’s distraught father later disappeared in search of his beloved. No sooner does Clement tell Peter this tragic tale than members of the family begin to emerge rather miraculously on the scene, each adding a new perspective and additional details to the common story. First comes the mother, Mattidia, who is discovered when the group takes a day trip to the nearby island of Arados to see some exceptionally large columns and some works of the great Greek sculptor Pheidias (Klem. 12.12–21). From Mattidia, the reader learns that the ominous dream in fact never happened but was the pious fabrication of a devoted wife, who devised it to put her beyond the reach of a wanton brother-in-law without exposing the rogue and dividing the family. The wellintentioned plot went terribly wrong, however. The ship was splintered in a sea storm, and the poor boys were drowned. Soon thereafter, it is discovered that Nicetas and Aquila, acolytes of Peter, are none other than the lost twin brothers (Klem. 13.2–8). The men tell how pirates captured them after the shipwreck and sold them on the slave market to a pious Jewish proselyte who raised them as her own. A short time after the recognition of the twins, while the group is conducting the baptism of the mother in a secluded seaside cove, an old man spies upon their activities from a distance. He is sympathetic to astrology and even an evangelist of sorts, and he approaches Peter keen to convince him that it is vain to pray to God, since everything is ruled by astrological genesis (Klem. 14.2–10). The two men begin to debate the 67 The iconographic quality of the portrait is foreshadowed just prior when Nicetas and Aquila are again sent ahead as spies, this time making melodramatic lament over the fact that they must spend two long days apart from the countenance of their beloved Peter (12.3).

The Plot of the Klementia

23

matter, and in the course of the discussion the elder man relates the story of a wretched “friend” as evidence in support of his position. This unfortunate’s wife had fallen in love with her slave, and in order to elope with him, had made up a story about an ominous dream. She had succeeded in getting away with her lover, the couple’s twin sons, and a good deal of money before it could be discovered that her horoscope predicted her infidelity and death at sea. The miserable man had died of a broken heart after learning the truth. Hearing this familiar tale, Peter is, of course, stopped short, and he makes what will turn out to be a rather unsuccessful attempt to take his leave of the astrologer and get back to his own cohort. The drama reaches its climax when Peter conveys the sad message that the husband of Mattidia, and the father of Clement, Nicetas, and Aquila, is dead. But the old astrologer has apparently followed Peter, for he walks in just as a grief-stricken Mattidia screams in anguish at the terrible news. In an instant, the man is recognized by his wife, and the family is at last fully restored. After the family recognitions are complete, Simon Magus emerges again on the scene as an advocate of a kind of gnostic theology, and he and Peter compete to make a convert of the father, Faustus, who remains skeptical that divine providence surpasses genesis. The lengthy debate unfolds in a complex exploration of the identity and nature of God and the character of divine revelation. Scripture, direct revelation, dreams, visions, empirical observation, prophecy, and sayings of Jesus are examined in turn (Klem. 16.1–19.25). When finally defeated, Simon resorts to magic and threatens to jeopardize the happy reunion of the family by making his own countenance appear on the person of Faustus. Peter sees through the ruse and turns it back on the magician, but not before delivering one final lesson on God and evil to his inner circle (Klem. 20.1–10). With the lesson concluded, Peter sends Faustus, still in the guise of Simon, to Antioch, where he will admit before the populace that he, Simon Magus, was wrong, and Peter was right. The real Simon beats a hasty retreat to Judea, and the ending of the novel witnesses Peter on the road to Antioch, where he will at long last be welcomed with “surpassing affection” (Klem. 20.23.3). 68

68 The conclusion resolves a long-standing tension between Peter and Antioch, the literary history of which can be traced back to Paul’s letter to the Galatians. The conflict is evoked in the first of three prefatory documents that are attached to the Klementia (on which, see chapter 1).

24

Introduction

Overview of the Argument It is the basic thesis of this book that, in spite of its complex literary history, the Klementia can and should be read as a narrative whole, for only this kind of reading can be fully attuned to its rhetoric. When we allow ourselves to enter the narrative project through the Epistula Petri, the Diamartyria, and the Epistula Clementis, we find ourselves in possession of a “secret” document, and we are motivated to read further not by the promise of an entertaining romance (for not a hint of that story will appear until more than half of the novel is behind us), but by the lure of esoteric doctrine. As Clement recounts his own initiation into the teachings of the apostle Peter, we, too, will receive a progressive education in the way things really are. The esoteric conceit of the novel and the interplay of public and private discourses within it condition us to perceive that the majority view of “Christianity” is not entirely to be trusted, and the narrative genre itself provides an effective framework for the corrective exegesis of competing narratives, and especially the narratives about the life and death of Jesus that were on their way to becoming canonical for orthodox Christianity. What is the perspective, or the vision, that is spun out by the author of the Klementia through this lengthy and complex work of Greek narrative fiction? To answer this question, the chapters that follow will adhere as closely as possible to the sequence of ideas and events in the novel. The notable exception to this procedure comes in the first chapter, where we will look at important elements of the “frame” of the novel, both beginning and end. The opening Epistula Petri, the Diamartyria, and the Epistula Clementis lay the groundwork for the narrative books that follow, establishing the authority of Peter, introducing the difficulty with texts that will preoccupy the novel in a variety of ways, and delivering a mock proposal for the mastery of literature. The geographical and temporal parameters of the story are also laid out, and the stage is set for the drama narrated by Clement in the twenty books of the Klementia. Once the narrative proper begins, one of the key concepts that will emerge is the notion that, in spite of the appearance of diversity in the world, there are really only two options when it comes to piety. The Klementia has multiple ways of characterizing this fundamental religious dualism, and in the first chapter, we will look at two of them. First, in the initial private discourses at Caesarea, Peter sketches two systems of piety deriving from the first man, Adam, and from the first prophetess, Adam’s wife. The final private lesson of Peter, located in the last book of the Klementia, gives cosmic underpinnings to this historical account, disclosing that God, in the beginning, created two “kingdoms” and gave human beings a choice between them. In the second chapter, we remain in the initial Caesarea Discourses (Klem. 2– 3). Here, Peter educates Clement about how the teaching of the True Prophet Je-

Overview of the Argument

25

sus secures a right reading of scripture, which contains dangerous blasphemies, or False Pericopes against God. Becoming good “moneychangers” in the coinage of scripture is a key skill, for the corrupt nature of scripture is a defining feature of the era of Jesus, who follows Adam and Moses in a triad of True Prophets. All of the True Prophets of God teach fundamentally the same thing, but a fascinating little discourse in Klem. 3 appears to theorize the decisive moment of separation between the followers of Moses and Jesus, depicting it as the result of Jesus’s decision to rise from the “seat of Moses” and extend truth and mercy to the Gentiles. At the end of the Caesarea Discourses, we find a remarkable Petrine catena of the sayings of Jesus that demonstrates (explicitly) how to read the scriptures of the Jews and (implicitly) how to read the sayings of Jesus. The third chapter rounds out the Bildungsroman, dealing briefly with the Clement / Appion dialogues of Klem. 4–6 but focusing especially on the distinctive miniature sermons of Klem. 7 and on select parts of the Tripolis Discourses (Klem. 8–11). The initial private lesson at Tripolis is a remarkable meditation on the fundamental identity of followers of Moses and followers of Jesus, and the public discourses that follow reveal the practical importance of their lawful politeia, which proves protective over against demons. At the end of the first day of the Tripolis Discourses (Klem. 8), we find an interpolation whereby the author of the Klementia discloses the divine law that governs demons, who are minions of the primordial Wicked King, but who entered history after the great flood. The author of the Klementia has also heavily edited an exegetical account of the Temptation story to make Jesus (the Good King) exemplify the ethic demanded of his followers. Matthew’s Parable of the Wedding Feast serves as the basis for a summary account of God’s economy with humanity down to the present. The fourth chapter engages with the family romance of recognitions (Klem. 12–15), focusing especially on three instances of conversion, or border crossing, that further flesh out the nature of the line that divides “Jew” from “Greek” in the world of the Klementia. The conversion of Mattidia illustrates both the great value of marital fidelity and also the necessity of baptism for salvation. Her discovery in the environs of a pagan temple on the small Syrian island of Arados plays strongly with tropes of the Greek novels and perhaps even interacts with Chariton’s Chaereas and Callirhoe, which also features a scene on Arados. The second conversion account comes in the form of a miniature retrospective narrative in Klem. 2, where Peter tells about the conversion of the adoptive mother of Nicetas and Aquila. This brief passage is especially fascinating for its creative appropriation of the Syrophoenician (or Canaanite) woman of Mark 7 and Matt 15 and for its corrective interpretation of the gospel episodes featuring her. Finally, we witness Peter in the act of persuading Clement’s father of the justice of Jesus’s teachings, using a parable of his own to make the two invisible, primordial kingdoms concretely relevant to the reader.

26

Introduction

The fifth chapter examines the theological resolution that is worked out in various ways in the final set of debates between Peter and Simon Magus (Klem. 16–19), after the family recognitions. In these books, Peter engages both the Scriptures of the Jews and some particularly challenging words of Jesus in the process of defending the monarchia of God over against a variety of competing ideas. The extensive discussion in Klem. 18 of the dominical saying “No one knew the father ...” (cf. Matt 11:27 // Luke 10:22) provides a closing meditation on themes of revelation and concealment that run throughout the Klementia. The last day of public debate deals ostensibly with the problem of theodicy, or the challenge that evil presents to the monarchia of the Creator, but it is the final chapters of Klem. 19 that prove most remarkable, giving the reader a clear picture of the cosmic happy ending that matches the story of Clement’s natal family. In sum, what we find in the Klementia is a novel that makes a consistent and multi-faceted effort to shape the religious landscape such that there is only a single boundary line of any real significance. The territory on one side is occupied by followers of Moses and followers of Jesus who uphold the monarchia of the Creator and observe the laws given to them. These lovers of God are kept pure from a coeval polytheism, the various manifestations of which make it no less unified at a fundamental level, as the kingdom of the Wicked King. Among the significant manipulations that are required to make this worldview cohere is a firm rejection of the idea that Christianity has superseded Judaism, an argument that the Klementia wages frequently on the site of the canonical Gospels. The novel requires many heady discourses to spell out these ideas with sufficient clarity, but the plot is far from extraneous to the effort. Narrative and discourse are thoroughly intertwined and mutually interpreting. In them, we find an elaborately sustained vision of the way things should be, as well as a map of how they might yet be that way, all imagined through the considerable resources of revisionist historical fiction.

Chapter 1: The Frame The early Christian novel entitled Klementia begins with three documents (two epistles and a brief, anonymous account of the reading of the first letter by its recipient) that have sometimes been treated as an almost detachable preface, hardly integral to the plot. 1 I would like to propose, however, that these documents serve several critical functions in the framing of the novel, laying essential groundwork for the complex pedagogical project that will unfold before the reader over the course of the twenty books of narrative that follow. The opening pages of the Klementia prove brilliantly destabilizing, raising a host of important questions about the reliability of the written word under even the most carefully controlled circumstances. But even as the epistolary preface locates the novel within a world of troublesome books, it begins already to suggest that the solution to dangerous literature is to be found in a community of welltrained readers. The apostle Peter, as the chief disciple of the True Prophet Jesus, will be instrumental in the readerly training that the Klementia offers. Peter, however, must first be rescued from his own literary troubles.

Peter, in Paul’s Book The first two words of the Klementia, the beginning of an epistolary prescript, are already laden with potential for the Christian reader. Πέτρος >Ιακώβú. Peter, to James. With this sparest of epistolary prefixes comes the promise of a letter from one well-known figure of early Christian history to another, and the reader is invited to eavesdrop on a moment of communication between two august personalities of the apostolic age. That much is tantalizing enough, but, given who these particular figures are, the informed reader may already be calling to mind a particular intertext. Just the mention of Peter and James in combination, and at an epistolary remove from one another, might be enough to conjure up the infamous “Incident at Antioch” memorialized in the second chapter of Paul’s epistle to the Galatians. There, we glimpse arguably the greatest of the apostles,

1

331.

For a recent survey of the scholarship, see Bovon, “En tête des Homélies clémentines,” 329–

28

The Frame

Peter and Paul, embroiled in conflict at Antioch over the observance of Torah and practices of table fellowship among Jewish and Gentile adherents of Jesus. In Paul’s accounting of events, James, the narratee of the Klementia, appears as a conservative whose authority, though exercised by intermediaries, exerts a powerful and unsalutary pull on Peter (here referred to as Cephas): But when Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood self-condemned; for until certain people came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But after they came, he drew back and kept himself separate for fear of the circumcision faction. And the other Jews joined him in this hypocrisy, so that even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy. But when I saw that they were not acting consistently with the truth of the gospel, I said to Cephas before them all, “If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you compel the Gentiles to live like Jews?” (Gal 2:11–14, NRSV).

The complicated set of issues behind this apostolic altercation was, without a doubt, a source of ongoing debate among Jewish leaders of the early Jesus movement, including Paul, Peter, and James. Paul’s rhetoric in Galatians, however, does not permit retort. Peter is left effectively mute, exposed as a hypocrite by the confrontation of Paul and condemned by his own actions. If the reader of the Epistula Petri has indeed been prompted by its incipit to think of Peter at Antioch, stung by Paul’s accusation and at a loss for words, her intuition is rewarded in the second paragraph of the letter. There, the guarded reference to a certain âχθρäς Šnθρωπος is undoubtedly an allusion to Paul, the author of a “lawless and foolish teaching” that has led some Gentiles to reject Peter’s lawful preaching (2.3). 2 “Peter,” it seems, has finally found his voice in the Epistula Petri, for what follows the allusion to Paul is readily intelligible as an apology responding to the charge of hypocrisy recorded in Galatians. 3 The literary conceit of the letter takes the reader back to the time when the living voices of Paul and Peter could still be heard, but even so, the document rather transparently betrays its own actual situation, in a post-apostolic age. Peter complains not only of a singular opponent, but of a plurality thwarting his purposes by applying diverse interpretations (ποικίλαις τισÈn áρmηnείαις, 2.4) to his words.

2 Wehnert, Pseudoklementinische Homilien, 39; Hans-Josef Klauck, Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles: An Introduction, trans. Brian McNeil (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2008), 201; Betz, Galatians, 331, n. 9; pace Markus Bockmuehl (The Remembered Peter in Ancient Reception and Modern Debate, WUNT 262 [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010], 106), who writes: “Nevertheless ‘the man who is the enemy’ is most naturally Simon Magus rather than Paul, if one takes seriously the integrity of the Epistle’s deliberate placement alongside the Pseudo-Clementine romance’s overall narrative cycle.” It is important to note, however, that the epistle is placed not “alongside,” but at the front of the work. If we take this fact seriously, the identification with Simon would have to be drawn out of the blue by a first-time reader of the novel, and Simon Magus is surely no more natural a choice than Paul. Even on a second reading of the work, the description of this âχθρäς Šnθρωπος scarcely matches the portrait of Simon Magus in the rest of the Klementia. 3 Cf. Betz, Galatians, 108, 331–32.

Peter, in Paul’s Book

29

And though he denies any prophetic gift, the apostle appears prescient in the perception that heresy (2.2) will only proliferate after he is dead and gone (2.7). As the epistolary entrée to a narrative that is, on one level, a grand homage to Peter as the “most excellent disciple” of Jesus Christ (Klem. 1.15.2), the Epistula Petri is especially keen to clear up the charge of hypocrisy left hanging over the legacy of Peter in Gal 2:11–14. Twice in the second paragraph of the letter Peter denies that his words require “interpretation” because he was not bold enough to say what he really thought (2.4; 2.6). The specific actions implicated in the charge of hypocrisy, posed as a rhetorical question in Gal 2:14 (“If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you compel the Gentiles to live like Jews?”), will be critically important for the Klementia. Peter will indeed teach that Gentiles should “live like Jews,” and the Klementia will not countenance the notion that either the apostle or his followers “lived like Gentiles” in their table practices. Discrimination in matters of food and table separation, precisely the sources of trouble in the “Incident at Antioch,” will be key markers of distinction for Peter’s group in the Klementia. For now, in the Epistula Petri, Peter simply answers the charge by invoking his master Jesus (Matt 5:18) to show that neither he nor his Lord advocated the dissolution (κατάλυσις; cf. Matt 5:17) of the law (2.5). But what about the role of James in the Klementia? The cover letters suggest that James was the original recipient of the work, and it has sometimes been asserted that the brother of the Lord holds a place of preeminent authority in the world constructed by the novel. 4 This is perhaps true, but it is important to qualify what kind of importance James appears to have for the Klementia and what function he fulfills. On the one hand, James is the perfect addressee, because the intimacy and frankness of the opening letter from Peter works effectively to dispel the very premise of Paul’s charges in Gal 2:11–14. The reader perceives intuitively that, far from fearing James, as Paul seems to suggest, Peter was in close communication with the bishop of Jerusalem and could even advise him on matters of tradition. In fact, it is Peter who strikes fear in the hearts of the elders of the Jerusalem assembly, and his epistle elicits immediate action on the part of their bishop, James (cf. Diam.). Beyond his role as the intended recipient of the Klementia and as the main actor in the Diamartyria, James is scarcely a factor in the wider work. He is mentioned by name just one more time in the Klementia, and in that context, it is likely the content of a particular doctrine associated with him, rather than the mere fact of his authority, that elicits the reference. This singular reference to James in the narrative comes in Klem 11.35.4, where we witness Peter teaching his own assembly of “elders” at Tripolis that 4 Richard Bauckham, “James the Brother of the Lord in the Pseudo-Clementine Literature,” in Amsler et al., Nouvelles intrigues, 301–312; Klauck, Apocryphal Acts, 202.

30

The Frame

the kerygma of itinerant apostles, teachers, and prophets must be rejected if it does not accord with that of James, “the brother of the Lord and the one entrusted to administer the church of the Hebrews in Jerusalem.” The reference can indeed be read as a general acclamation of the great authority of James, signifying the respect of a “Jewish-Christian” author for this conservative pillar of the early church. The invocation of a kerygma of James makes better sense, however, as an allusion specifically to the so-called “Apostolic Decree,” which is put on the lips of James in Acts 15:19–20 (cf. 15:29) and portrayed as a compromise that self-consciously mends the problems behind the purported schism at Antioch. The terms of the Apostolic Decree are particularly prominent in the set of discourses at Tripolis that conclude with Klem. 11, where the sole reference to James appears. 5 The substance of the decree, as we shall see, is of importance for the Klementia in developing a particular definition of “lawful” conduct that, while not identical with the law, can nonetheless safeguard Gentile followers of Jesus from demonic influence in the same ways that the law of Moses safeguards his followers.

Peter, the Authorized Interpreter of Jesus The “anti-Pauline” polemic for which the Pseudo-Clementines are notorious has frequently been overemphasized. 6 Beyond the Epistula Petri, there is really only one other place in the narrative where tension between the figures of Peter and Paul becomes unmistakably palpable. In Klem. 17, an attack on Paul’s apostolic authority lies just below the surface when Peter and “Simon Magus” meet for a public debate. 7 Paul begins to materialize in “Simon Magus” especially in 17.13, in the claim that knowledge received in visions (åράmατι £ æπτασίø) is

5

See A. F. J. Klijn, “The Pseudo-Clementines and the Apostolic Decree,” NovT 10 (1968): 305–

312. 6

See the critique of Stanton, “Jewish Christian Elements,” 313–317. Strecker, Judenchristentum, 191–194; Jürgen Wehnert, “Petrus versus Paulus in den pseudoklementinischen Homilien 17,” in Christians as a Religious Minority in a Multicultural City: Modes of Interaction and Identity Formation in Early Imperial Rome, ed. J. Zangenberg and M. Labahn, JSNTSup 243 (London: T & T Clark International, 2004), 178–183; Gerd Lüdemann, Opposition to Paul in Jewish Christianity, trans. M. Eugene Boring (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 185–188. The content of Book Seventeen is, on the whole, not found in the Recognitions, and precisely because of the anti-Pauline thrust of the passage, there has been a tendency to view at least parts of it (especially 17.13–19) as a survival of ancient Jewish-Christian tradition going back to the earliest layers of the Pseudo-Clementines. What is puzzling from this perspective, however, is the absence of distinctively “Jewish Christian” concerns in the passage. As Graham Stanton (“Jewish Christian Elements,” 316) has observed, “The silence of this passage on circumcision, the law, and the terms on which Gentiles may be accepted is deafening.” 7

Peter, the Authorized Interpreter of Jesus

31

superior to the knowledge acquired through the senses of sight and hearing. 8 “Simon” may rest his authority upon a kind of visionary experience of the Lord (cf., Gal 1:11–17; Acts 9:1–19), but here we are reminded, in Peter’s own words, that Peter’s identification of Jesus as Son of God at Caesarea Philippi was no reasoned conviction but was likewise the result of a spontaneous revelation. The passage is clearly in conversation with the Gospel of Matthew, 9 but the Klementia is able to reframe the gospel account so that it is viewed from a firsthand perspective, disclosing to the reader what it was that Peter experienced on that day. The apostle tells us in his own words that the insight about Jesus’s identity came to him in a flash, through a fluttering of the divine hand in his heart. The important result of this disclosure of Peter’s experience is the insight for the reader that Peter claims not merely the eyewitness authority that might belong to any of the disciples who journeyed with Jesus, but also the authority of a singular, special revelation that came to him alone among the disciples. 10 There is certainly a positioning of Peter’s authority over against Paul’s authority in Klem. 17.13–19, and there is clearly a further grappling with Paul’s account of the “Incident at Antioch.” 11 What must not be missed, however, is what the discourse in its entirety insists that Peter’s authority is for. What Peter is to do with his authority is precisely what he does most importantly in the Klementia as a whole – he is to interpret the words of the True Prophet. Perhaps most remarkable is the way in which the author of this passage has skillfully woven multiple allusions to the Synoptic Gospels (especially Matthew) into a cleverly coherent justification of Peter’s position as the authoritative and infallible interpreter of the words of Jesus and of their theological implications. 12 In short, what we have in Klem. 17, when the entire discourse is viewed in light of the rest of the Klementia, is not just a rare moment of anti-Pauline polemic,

8 On the value placed upon the faculties of eyesight and hearing in the Klementia, see Nicole Kelley, “What is the Value of Sense Perception in the Pseudo-Clementine Romance?,” in Amsler et al., Nouvelles intrigues, 361–369. 9 Only Matthew (cf. 16:17) calls Peter’s recognition of Jesus’s identity a revelation (cf. the parallel accounts in Mark 8:27–30 and Luke 9:18–21). 10 Markus Bockmuehl (Remembered Peter, 103) resists the identification of Simon Magus with Paul even here in Book Seventeen, but it must be observed that he misreads Peter’s claim to authority. Peter invokes not “the superiority of the original apostles’ actual encounter with the risen Lord” (as Bockmuehl puts it), but the particular revelatory experience attributed to him by the Gospels at Caesarea Philippi during the lifetime of Jesus. 11 See especially Paul’s charge in Gal 2:11 that Cephas “stood self-condemned” (κατεγnωσmέnος ªn) and Klem. 17.19.6, where Peter says to Simon, “If you say I am condemned ...” (£ εÊ κατεγnωσmέnοn mε λέγεις). 12 Graham Stanton (“Jewish Christian Elements,” 315–16) states that Klem. 17.13–19 is “one of the most subtly argued and rhetorically sophisticated sections of the Pseudo-Clementine writings,” but he is silent on the rest of the passage. He is perhaps not wrong to say that 17.13–19 is “dominated by one single issue: who enjoys God-given authority, Peter or Paul, and on what basis?” Nonetheless, the broader discourse is considerably more complex.

32

The Frame

but a robustly exegetical construction of Peter’s authority to do precisely what he does throughout the narrative, interpret scripture. When the public speech of Peter commences in Klem. 17.6, it begins with an explanation and defense of Jesus’s rhetorical mode that reads rather like a commentary on the parables discourse in the thirteenth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew. The passage will at once contend with the notion that the parables of Jesus obscured his message from his immediate audience (cf. Matt 13:10–15) even as it will give full assent to the Matthean disciples’ distinctive claim that they comprehended everything Jesus said (Matt 13:51). Making an observation that puts him in good company with New Testament scholarship on the form of the gospel parables, Peter explains to his audience that Jesus characteristically spoke in a concise, declarative style (συnτόmως τ€ς ‚ποφάσεις âποιεØτο, 17.6.3). 13 He spoke in this way for two reasons, Peter contends, one having to do with the limited amount of time he had for preaching, 14 the other with the nature of his original audience. While Matt 13 maintains that the original crowd of hearers was, in accordance with Isaiah’s prophecy, confounded by the parables (vv. 10– 15), the Klementia asserts that, on the contrary, Jesus was able to speak with concision precisely because his message was not new to his native, pious (θεοσεβεØς) audience, “a people (λάος) able to understand” (Klem. 17.6.6). 15 The disciples of Jesus were part of that sympathetic and understanding group (‚φ+ Án âσmεn καÈ ™mεØς, Klem. 17.6.6), and as Matthew also maintains, the disciples had a special access to Jesus that rendered their knowledge uniquely complete. 16 As if describing the scenario in Matt 13:36, where the disciples ask privately for an explanation of the Parable of the Weeds, Peter declares in Klem. 17.6.6, “on the rare occasion when we did not understand something spoken by him, we inquired privately, in order that nothing spoken by him might be unintelligible to us” (οË åπότε κατ€ τä σπάnιοn οÎκ ânοήσαmέn τι τÀn Íπ+ αÎτοÜ ûηθέnτωn, Êδίø 13 Rudolf Bultmann (History of the Synoptic Tradition, trans. J. Marsh [New York: Harper & Row, 1968], 188–191) described similitudes and parables as extremely economical forms, generally unfolding through the perspective of only one character, mentioning only events and characters necessary to the plot, and omitting elaboration on the character and motivation of even central figures. In an attempt to summarize contemporary understandings of the nature of parables, John Dominic Crossan (“Parables,” ABD 5:146–52, 146–47) similarly finds that metaphor and brevity are key features of parables, defining them as narratives that tell a story with a double meaning in as brief a fashion as possible, thereby provoking or luring the audience to interpret. 14 “... because he had a limited time to preach, he did not use demonstrative discourse, that he might not waste the whole of his limited time on speeches ...” (... προθεσmίαn êχωn κηρύξαι τÄ τ¨ς ‚ποδείξεως οÎκ âχρ¨το λόγú, Ñnα m˜ εÊς λόγους τän πάnτα τ¨ς προθεσmίας δαπαn” χρόnοn...) (Klem. 17.6.4b–5). Later in the same discourse we see that our author imagined Jesus’s teaching ministry to have lasted one year (17.19.2). 15 Cf. also Klem. 17.6.4: “... he used to speak to the pious, who knew how to trust the things pronounced by him in declarative fashion, for the things said were not foreign to their custom” (... πρäς θεοσεβεØς âποιεØτο τän λόγοn εÊδότας τ€ ‚ποφάσει Íπ+ αÎτοÜ âκφερόmεnα πιστεύειn οÎδà γ€ρ ªn ξέnα τ¨ς αÎτÀn συnηθείας τ€ λεγόmεnα). 16 Cf. Klem. 19.20.1–2, which probably alludes to Matt 13:11.

The Problem of Peter’s Books

33

âπυnθαnόmεθα, Ñnα ™mØn τι τÀn Íπ+ αÎτοÜ ûηθέnτωn m˜ ‚nόητοn ®). The kind of perfect understanding that Peter claims here may in fact allude to Matt 13:51, where, in a distinctively perceptive moment, the disciples respond with a decisive Nαί (“Yes!”) to Jesus’s query, “Have you understood all these things?” In the next paragraph (Klem. 17.7), we perceive the precise importance of Peter’s observations about Jesus’s characteristic manner of speaking, and once again, the significance is elaborated exegetically, in conversation with the Gospel of Matthew. Even if Jesus was able to speak tersely and still be understood by his original audience, the variables changed when he commanded his disciples to go forth among the “unlearned” Gentiles (τ€ ‚mαθ¨ êθnη) to teach and baptize them (Klem. 17.7.1). With this clear allusion to the so-called “Great Commission” (Matt 28:19–20), the Peter of the Klementia establishes for himself a relationship with gospel traditions that not only permits, but even demands his interpretive elaboration upon them. “He sent us,” Peter explains, “because he knew that we knew all the things spoken by him and could supply the proofs” (τ€ς ‚ποδείξεις παρασχεØn δυnαmέnους, 17.7.1). It is probably no coincidence that Peter immediately launches into one of the most esoteric theological discussions in the entire Klementia (17.7–12). As if to put an exclamation point on the argument, our apostle takes a single statement of Jesus about angels seeing the face of God (17.7.2; cf. Matt 18:10) and spins out a tour de force account of nothing less than the very “form” of the divine. Jesus’s words and their hermeneutical implications require a great deal of this kind of explanation for the audience of Gentiles who are both in the narrative and (most likely) reading the narrative. It is for this very task that the Klementia rescues Peter from the stigma of Galatians and crowns him with an authority that is based both on his eyewitness status and on revelation.

The Problem of Peter’s Books Returning to the Epistula Petri, we find that, in addition to the apostolic apology at its heart, the letter proves to be much more besides. In fact, in its rather repetitive opening and closing paragraphs, the Epistula Petri provides an intriguing introduction to a key problem that runs throughout the novel. The problem is the very one that ostensibly prompts the writing of the letter in the first place – the danger inherent in texts. In the first lines of Peter’s missive to James, the Klementia opens up for the reader a complex set of issues about the writing, transmission, and, above all, the reading of texts. If one determines to enter this set of problems through the very experience of reading the novel, 17 one is

17

As anyone familiar with the scholarship on the Pseudo-Clementines will recognize, this pro-

34

The Frame

rapidly immersed in the complexity. The reader who suspects that the substantial heft of the text she holds in her hands may correspond in some way with the books of Peter’s kerygmata is immediately and explicitly given pause. “I beg and beseech you,” writes Peter, “to share the books of my preachings, which I am sending to you, with no one, whether a Gentile or someone of our tribe, before a trial” (1.2). With the secretive allure of these documents thus amplified, the reader will no doubt continue, though she is fully aware that she has not (yet) undergone any such trial. After this opening entreaty about the books, Peter commends to James a particular kind of procedure for the protection of the writings. The analogy he draws, on the one hand, works effectively to put the co-religionists of Peter and James in the good company of those who “sit on the seat of Moses,” but as we shall see, it also fails at just the right point. In the first place, Peter gives a relatively large amount of space to an idealized description of those who possess the seat of Moses and the communities they oversee. Apparently untroubled by constraints of verisimilitude, he insists confidently that the homoethnoi of Moses have everywhere preserved the same rule of monarchia and politeia right down to the present day (1.3–4). 18 This incredible unity (εÙς θεός, εÙς nόmος, mία âλπίς, 1.5) is achieved by virtue of a special something (the object is not specified, probably by design) 19 that Moses imparted to the seventy elders who first received his chair (1.2). The followers of Moses continue to require that this special preserve be learned by every teacher, and, according to Peter, it is transmitted and protected by means of a kind of initiation, even a mystery rite (‚γωγή, 1.2; cf. 2.1, mετ€ τοÜ åmοίου τ¨ς ‚γωγ¨ς mυστηρίου), that his own group would do well to imitate. 20 This guarded tradition is itself the safeguard of the people, given the fact that the people of Moses are, like the followers of Jesus, bound up in relationship with something much less secure – that is, scripture, which is, by contrast, a public, complex, and dangerous entity. The problem with scripture, as Peter describes it both here and elsewhere in the novel proper, is, in one sense, merely an extension of more general difficulties associated with all texts in the ancient world. Ancient authors were keenly aware of the vulnerability of texts to corruption, whether by accident or malice,

cedure is not a given. The first full sentence of the Ep. Petr., with its reference to “books of my preachings,” has sent many a reader immediately off in pursuit of another text, namely the hypothetical Kerygmata Petrou. 18 Baumgarten (“Literary Evidence,” 44, n. 29) cites other instances of this “obvious exaggeration of reality,” i. e., this insistence upon the unity of the Jews, among Jewish apologists. 19 The elided referent is often presumed to be books. See, for example, Shuve, “The Doctrine of the False Pericopes,” 440; Ehrman, Forgery and Counterforgery, 305–306. 20 On rabbinic tradition as “mystery,” see Marc Hirshman, A Rivalry of Genius: Jewish and Christian Biblical Interpretation in Late Antiquity (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1996), 17–19.

The Problem of Peter’s Books

35

and indeed the Klementia famously develops, especially in Klem. 2–3, a distinctive theory of the corruption of scripture commonly known as the doctrine of “false pericopes.” The description of scripture in the prefatory letter, however, emphasizes different challenges inherent to the writings. On the one hand, scripture bears an aura of authority that makes it dangerously persuasive, capable of leading untutored readers astray (Ep. Petr. 1.3). This capacity appears to be, in some sense, a feature of an almost visceral effect that scripture has upon its readers. Employing vocabulary at home in ancient medical treatises, Peter suggests that untrained readers may be either overly innervated by it, 21 or, quite the opposite, rendered stiff or numb (nαρκ”, 1.4). Either reaction, needless to say, obtains to the peril of the reader. Yet another layer of problems is tied to the complexity of scripture, a quality that may be understood as a feature of both its antiquity and its nature as a collection of diverse writings, for, in the Epistula Petri, scripture is said to manifest a veritable cacophony of prophetic voices (cf. τ€ τÀn γραφÀn ‚σύmφωnα and τ€ς τÀn προφητÀn πολυσήmους φωnάς, 1.4). Later, in the novel proper, Peter will demonstrate in his debates with Simon how patent contradictions in scripture lead readers time and again to an interpretive impasse. 22 For a people bound in relationship with such problematic texts, it is easy to see why hermeneutical concerns should be of the utmost communal importance. What the people of Moses preserve as a special defense against the dangers inherent in scripture is described as a kan¯on (1.3–4), 23 or a set of traditions (1.4), enabling the authoritative “reformation” (mεταρρυθmίζειn) of the difficulties. When Peter returns in the second paragraph of the letter to the task of applying the flawless exemplum of the people of Moses to his own group, the analogy proves both apt and, at one critical point, strained to the point of rupture. The secretive initiation process instituted by Moses, whereby his followers ensure that every teacher will learn “how to use scripture” (1.5), is a safeguard that can be replicated by imitation. Properly instituted, it will likewise guarantee that 21 Ep. Petr. 1.3 suggests that readers may be led astray Íπä τÀn πολλ€ nευρουσÀn γραφÀn (1.3). The ANF translator, 215, appears to have read the participle of nευρόω as derivative of nεύω, rendering the phrase “much-indicating scriptures.” Perhaps the same can be said of the French translation, “les multiples sens des Écritures,” in Geoltrain and Kaestli, Écrits Apocryphes Chrétiens 2:1217. Even PGL, 906, cites this sentence under nεύω. Wehnert (Pseudoklementinische Homilien, 43) makes the dubious suggestion that the Pauline letters are somehow in view here and translates the phrase as “den tief empörenden Schriften.” Better is the translation of Donald Carlson (Jewish-Christian Interpretation, 17): “sinewy.” Based on the verb nευρόω, I would suggest something like “overly stimulating” or “greatly innervating.” 22 Cf. the interesting comparison with Genesis Rabbah in Shuve, “Doctrine of False Pericopes,” 442–43. 23 The distinctively hermeneutical nature of this kan¯on is key evidence for contact of the PseudoClementines with the rabbis, according to Baumgarten (“Literary Evidence,” 44–46). He writes, “As such, kan¯on is the perfect literal and contextual translation of the Hebrew middah, the term employed by the rabbis for their hermeneutical rules.”

36

The Frame

all teachers in the missionary movement of Peter are “well-provisioned” for the journey (2.1). But this is as far as the analogy can be pressed, for what the “seventy brethren” of Peter and James are to receive after their trial and initiation is not a “rule” or a set of hermeneutical traditions, but the books of Peter’s preaching. 24 That the “mystery” guarding the oral tradition of the people of Moses will not so readily accommodate the preservation of books will be demonstrated promptly in a parodic elaboration of the secret rite of initiation, the Diamartyria.

The Reading of the Epistle Appended to the Epistula Petri is a curious little account of the reception of the letter, known to scholars as either Diamartyria or Contestatio. The report is related by an anonymous narrator who presents himself as an eyewitness (cf. Diam. 5.4) on the occasion when James read Peter’s letter to the elders of Jerusalem and, on the spot, spelled out the full details of the initiation rite Peter had proposed. 25 What this narrator delivers is the description of a ritual that, had it been effective, would have kept the very documents in hand out of the sight of the reader. 26 The terms of initiation are strict, and even exceedingly so. James, more conservative than Peter, adds to Peter’s stipulations a requirement of circumcision and then urges a trial period of no less than six years for access to just the first of the books. What kind of tests of worthiness should be conducted during these six years is left entirely unspecified, probably because the purpose of the narrative is to highlight what might go wrong rather than to

24 Bovon (“En tête des Homélies clémentines,” 331) observed the uneasy tension between oral and written inherent in Peter’s tradition, noting, “La nature du document est exprimée de façon paradoxale: de l’écrit (“les livres” βίβλους) contenant de l’oral (“de mes prédications”) (1,2).” Shuve (“Doctrine of False Pericopes,” 440) makes a similar observation but ascribes relatively less importance to this tension: “The key contrast is not between oral and written but rather between prophetic transmission and non-prophetic transmission.” In my view, the oral /written contrast is the more salient one. 25 This narrator, according to the logic of the novel, cannot be Clement, whom the author of the Epistula Clementis and the narrator of the Klementia impersonates. In my view, this is the best piece of evidence that the Ep. Petr. and Diam. came to the Klementia from some other source, though the author of the Klementia has perhaps edited them in the process of integrating them into his larger project. 26 The insistence on the careful guarding of the written teachings of Peter also cashes in on a familiar trope of pseudepigraphical historical fiction, providing an explanation for the “disappearance” of the novel for so long. In biblical literature, cf. Dan 12:4 (“You, Daniel, keep the words secret and seal the book...”), about which John J. Collins (Daniel, Hermeneia [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994], 399) explains, “The injunction to secrecy is necessitated by the device of pseudepigraphy, because the revelation is supposedly given in the time of Cyrus of Persia.”

The Reading of the Epistle

37

propose a ritual that ever was or could be instituted. 27 What might go wrong is conveyed in imaginative detail as James recites the precise terms of the oath, word by word (Diam. 2–4). Every conceivable way in which the books might be compromised is anticipated and given verbal shape. First, there is the question of the initiate’s enduring obedience, then the impossible difficulties presented by the books themselves. The writings must not be shared with anyone in any way, as the initiate is made to swear in detail: ... οÎ γράψας, οÎ γεγραmmέnοn δούς, οÎ γράφοnτι ‚nαδιδούς, οÎκ αÎτός, οÎ δι+ Šλλου, οÎ δι+ Šλλης τιnäς ‚γωγ¨ς £ δόλου £ mηχαn¨ς, £ ‚mελÀς φυλάσσωn £ τιθÀn £ nεύωn £ Šλλú οÉúδήποτε τρόπú £ âπιnοίø áτέρú αÎτ€ mεταδιδούς. ... neither by transcribing them, nor giving a copy, nor delivering them to a scribe; not myself nor through another; not through any other initiation, nor trick, nor device, nor by guarding them carelessly, nor depositing them, nor giving a tacit nod, nor sharing them with another in any other manner or device whatsoever (Diam. 2.1b).

The further transmission of the books beyond the first recipients is to be effected only through the repetition of the same lengthy initiation procedure, each time following a trial of character lasting no less than six years and overseen by the bishop (Diam. 2.2). But the likelihood that the strategy will succeed appears to diminish line by line as the oath goes on to raise the spectre of the many human foibles that might breach the contract. The oath-taker is made to asseverate that he will not be swayed even by the most intimate of affections; he will not be cowed by threats; he will not be enticed by bribes; he will take the books with him when he travels, or at least he will not leave them unsecured at home; when illness strikes and he fears his end is near, he will have the presence of mind to see to the ongoing security of the books (Diam. 3.1–4). In the dramatic conclusion to the oath, the initiate must swear on the air that he breathes and by the God of all that he will either remain faithful or else go off to everlasting punishment at death. Even the possibility of apostasy is not left to chance, for he must swear preemptively by any other god he might one day be tempted to worship, “whether he exists or not” (Diam. 4.3). The melodramatic effect that this speech and the institution it inaugurates should have upon the reader is registered in the narrative in the response of the august elders of Jerusalem, who go ashen with fear at the conclusion of James’s words (Diam. 5.1). 28 In his summary reassurance, James recalls the point of the

27 For an analysis of Diamartyria as a source of information for ritual practices in Jewish Christian communities, see Jung-Sik Cha, “Diamartyria and the Ordination of Jewish Christian Teachers,” AsJT 13 (1999): 124–158. 28 This was well seen more than a century ago by John Chapman (“On the Date of the Clementines,” ZNW 9 [1908]: 21–34 and 147–159, at 148): “How anyone could read through such docu-

38

The Frame

whole affair, to secure the salvation of those who seek truth (5.2–3). But even if the reader of the Epistula Petri and the Diamartyria may suspect that the means envisioned by Peter and James were doomed from the beginning to fail, she has also been quietly introduced to a better solution. It is the one that was hailed as so remarkably effective among the people of Moses, lying not in the protection of books, but in the training of a reader, or better yet, a community of readers. It is this solution that will be effected in the reading of the appended novel. By now the reader of the Klementia perceives that, should she continue, the narrative that will entertain her was meant only for initiates, and those in a position to teach, at that. Her very experience of reading, in a sense, will constitute its own kind of initiation. She will overhear the mystikos teaching that the apostle Peter imparted to the members of his own inner circle, and by the end of the journey, she will be positioned to comprehend the vision the novel offers about the way things are. Along the way, she will have been trained – sometimes explicitly, sometimes by implication only – to read a variety of other literatures with new eyes.

The Epistula Clementis When we add to the Epistula Petri and Diamartyria a third prefatory document, the pseudonymous Epistle of Clement to James, some fundamental conditions for the subsequent narrative pedagogy in reading emerge. Immediately, with just the incipit of the letter, Κλήmης >Ιακώβú, a gap opens in time and space, waiting to be filled by the lengthy narrative whose pages weigh heavily in the hands of the reader. The purported author of this second letter, like Peter, would have been easily recognizable as a well-known figure of first-century Christianity. According to tradition, Clement of Rome was one of the earliest successors of Peter as bishop of Rome, 29 and his letter to Corinth (1 Clement) was of considerable fame and authority in the early church. Following up on Peter’s correspondence with James, this Clement addresses the same bishop of Jerusalem from a greater remove and at a slightly later stage in the development of the

ments as the letter of Peter and what follows it, and not see that the writer is romancing, I do not know. The way the agony is piled on the Adjuration is amusing; the terror of the presbyters when they hear it read, and the reassuring remarks of James are all quite in the style of the clever author of the romance that follows.” See, however, the dissenting opinion of Jones, “Jewish Christianity,” 144. 29 On the complex set of historical issues associated with the figure of Clement, see Pouderon, “Flavius Clemens,” 63–79; idem, “L’énigme Flavius Clemens,” 307–319; Jones, “Clement of Rome,” 172–193; and, not least, the still valuable study of Joseph Barber Lightfoot, The Apostolic Fathers, 1.1, 2nd ed. (New York: Macmillan, 1890), 14–103.

The Reading of the Epistle

39

church. James is now addressed not merely as “bishop of the holy church” (Ep. Petr. 1.1), but as “bishop of bishops, who conducts the holy Jerusalem church of the Hebrews” (Ep. Clem. 1.1). With an initial encomiastic flourish, a miniature eulogy of sorts, Clement tactfully prolongs delivering the news that nevertheless must be conveyed: Simon – the foundation of the church, called “Peter” by Jesus himself; the firstfruit of our Lord; the first among the apostles; the first to whom the Father revealed the Son; he whom Christ for good reason blessed; the called and chosen; the companion and fellow traveler; the good and approved disciple; the one who was commanded to enlighten the West, as most worthy of all to do so, and he who was able to do it – this Peter has died violently at Rome (Ep. Clem. 1.2–5). For the reader, with just this first sentence, the map of the eastern Mediterranean that was implicit in the first letter (marking Jerusalem, and probably also Antioch, as the implied origin of Peter’s epistle) is unrolled to display also the wide expanse of the Great Sea, the site of so much romantic peril in the Greek novels, with Rome at its western margin. The two prefatory letters together have, in effect, erected a vast, pan-Mediterranean stage for the drama that is to come. As the letter continues, the full credentials of the hero and narrator of the novel are confirmed. By the time the reader arrives at “I, Clement, a citizen of Rome ...” (Klem. 1.1.1), she will know for certain that the voice speaking is that of none other than the bishop of Rome, for the relatively lengthy body of the Epistula Clementis concerns itself with an account of the moment when Peter, knowing that his death was near, prevailed upon his own most excellent disciple to inherit his chair of teaching. Like any good candidate for the office, Clement initially demurred (cf. Zacchaeus, Klem. 3.63), presenting Peter with the opportunity to justify his choice and to highlight the eyewitness authority of Clement: “Propose a better man, who has travelled with me more than you and has heard more of my discourses and has learned more thoroughly the administration of the church ... but you cannot supply your superior, for you are the choice first-fruit of the Gentiles who have been saved through me” (Ep. Clem. 3.3–4). After an impassioned appeal to the call of duty and a full account of the proper order of the church (Ep. Clem. 5–18), Clement’s reluctance is duly chastened, and Peter lays hands on him and compels him to assume the bishop’s throne in the presence of all (Ep. Clem. 19.1). With the chair comes a fortuitous power for the hero of revisionist historical fiction, the power of “binding and loosing” that Peter likewise inherited from Jesus (Ep. Clem. 2.4; 6.3; cf. Matt 16:19; 18:18). The church order embedded in the letter is itself a fascinating study, but I would like to highlight just one aspect of it that has special resonance with the narrative books that will follow. Travel is widely regarded as a fundamental feature of the Greek novels, and the Klementia presents no exception to the rule, with nearly every character traversing the sea at one point or another, and with

40

The Frame

Peter charting a path up the Syrian coast in hot pursuit of Simon Magus. 30 As the narrative progresses, more and more locations are plotted on the map of Antioch-Jerusalem-Rome laid out by the prefatory documents. Alexandria takes its place, then Caesarea, Tyre, Sidon, Berytus, Byblus, Tripolis, and so on, working finally toward a Petrine restoration at Antioch, though it is implied that Peter and Clement will also make their way onward to Rome beyond the horizon of the narrative. 31 In another sense, and even explicitly so, thanks to the Epistula Clementis, the Klementia is also a story about the perilous journey of life that must be endured by every individual. In Clement’s letter, the storm-tossed and violent sea is presented as a metaphor for the many trials and tribulations that can carry a person off to destruction (Ep. Clem. 14.3–5; 15.4–5). Before the vicarious adventure with Clement ever begins, the reader is urged to accept safe passage in the great ship of the church (Ep. Clem. 13.3–14.1), subject to the benevolent care of the well-regulated crew of Christ, namely the bishop, the deacons, and the catechists (Ep. Clem. 14.2; 15.1–3). 32 The ultimate destination of this ship, “carrying men from many places through an exceedingly violent storm,” is the harbor of a certain peaceful city on a dim and distant shore (Ep. Clem. 14.1). The location of this city is, of course, not to be found on the map charting the travels of Peter and Clement, though the whole of the Klementia is, in a sense, working toward its discovery.

The Two Maps of the Klementia So far, I have suggested that the prefatory documents of the Klementia create the conditions for the narrative proper by disclosing at the outset the full spatiotemporal parameters of the story and, thereby, creating a lacuna for the narrative to fill. If I am right about the Petrine apology in the Epistula Petri, the drama begins implicitly during the lifetime of Peter in the city of Antioch, and the complication of the plot already involves the issue of the religious boundary 30 See James Romm, “Travel,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Greek and Roman Novel, ed. Tim Whitmarsh (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 109–126. 31 While Rome is conspicuously absent from the so-called canonical Greek romances of the imperial period, its importance in framing the Klementia may suggest that the venerable ancient city emerged as a fresh and especially fertile context for historical imagination as Constantine’s Nea Roma was dawning on the eastern horizon. On the relationship between East and West and the significance of the Syrian itinerary in the Pseudo-Clementines (but especially the Recognition), see Meinolf Vielberg, “Centre and Periphery in the Ancient and Christian Novel – A Comparison between the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies and Recognitions,” in Bremmer, Pseudo-Clementines, 255– 284. 32 On the metaphor, see Strecker, Judenchristentum, 105–106, 113, and more generally, Jean Daniélou, Primitive Christian Symbols, trans. D. Attwater (Baltimore: Helicon Press, 1964), 58–70.

The Two Maps of the Klementia

41

line, defined by law, that was at the heart of the problem in Antioch (Gal 2:11– 14). With Clement’s epistle from Rome, the stage has broadened considerably, and a temporal gap has opened with the news of Peter’s death. When the firstperson, retrospective narrative of Clement comes in to fill the lacuna, it will take the reader on two complex and overlapping journeys simultaneously – the missionary journey of the apostle, on the one hand, and the misadventures of the five members of Clement’s natal family, on the other. First, the reader will follow Clement from Rome to Judea, where his story promptly intersects with that of the apostle Peter. These two main figures, the apostle and his disciple, begin a tandem trek (back) to Antioch motivated by the missionary conflict between Peter and Simon Magus. At about the mid-point of this journey, the story of the rest of Clement’s family merges dramatically with the account of the ongoing battle between Peter and Simon. Clement’s father even plays a critical role in the final resolution of Peter’s problems at Antioch. The homecoming of Clement at Rome is not to be narrated, but by the end of the novel the reader will have been trained to discern that not only is Clement a changed man, but his home is, in fact, a different kingdom altogether. This is the case because there is yet another layer to the narrative. When the narrative proper commences, it is found to contain not only an entertaining story, but also a series of rather lengthy and complex religious and philosophical discourses (the “homilies” of the PseudoClementine Homilies). These sermons and debates do not merely accompany or adorn the plot, but together they tell a kind of esoteric story of their own. While the drama of Peter and Clement plays out on the surface map of the imperial Roman world, the discourses work to sketch the contours of a pair of kingdoms constituting a rather different map and a different politics. Traces of the fundamental cosmological and soteriological dualism that defines these kingdoms are seeded generously throughout the discourses of the Klementia, but the expressly “territorial” and political nature of these kingdoms is fully revealed only in the final lesson of Peter, in the last book of the Klementia. If we are tempted to view the speeches and debates as a compendium of “Christian” doctrine that was somehow incorporated into the entertaining narrative of Clement, we run the risk of missing certain aspects of the work that lend coherence to story and discourses alike. Throughout the narrative of the Klementia there is an explicit and marked play between public and private, revelation and concealment, that works to disclose progressively the full truth of Peter’s teaching to the reader. Matters are presented somewhat differently to the inner circle as compared to the seeking public, and the reader witnesses the interplay all along. She is, in this way, trained to expect that reality is not quite what it seems to the majority, and she gradually assembles the pieces of an esoteric narrative of the history of the world extending from creation down to the present moment, and even over the horizon into the world to come. It is, however, not until the very last lesson of the apostle that, spying one last time

42

The Frame

on the inner circle of Peter, she witnesses the unveiling of a second map underlying the one that has supported the movements of the plot. While the travel narrative has charted a course up the Syrian coast, the final discourse discloses a different plan of the world, one drawn by the very hand of God in the beginning. The novel, in a sense, is revealed to be a palimpsest, and the fundamental reality underlying its drama proves to be thoroughly dualistic, comprised, from the beginning, of two spatio-temporal kingdoms ruled by two kings, one wicked and one good. All along, seeds of this dualism have been scattered generously, especially in the private discourses, but the dualistic scheme is finally shown to be an all-encompassing one, woven with perfect intention into the divine plan for the salvation of the world, only in Klem. 20.2–3. 33

Dualistic Creation and the Manipulations of the One Creator Before we turn to the final discourse of Peter, it will be helpful to give some attention both to the way that the Klementia develops the conceit that its teachings are somehow out of the mainstream, and to the content of this “secret” message. When we look carefully at the interplay of public and private discourse in the Klementia, a set of interrelated distinctions begins to emerge. The private lessons of Peter, from the beginning, work explicitly to convey the strongly dualistic nature of the world that was created by a decidedly singular divine creator. This dualism, which cannot be neatly equated with a privileging of the spiritual over the material, is not emphasized for the crowds of seekers in the novel. Even for the inner circle of the apostle, it requires patient development over time, as well as the open mind and good will of the catechumen. Peter says as much to his followers in Klem. 3.16, with reference to the most explicitly dualistic element of his teaching, the doctrine of syzygia:

33 Certain aspects of the dualistic view of the Klementia cannot be missed, the most obvious being the well-known “Doctrine of Syzygies.” The pervasive nature of the dualism was observed by F. W. Bussell, “The Purpose of the World-Process and the Problem of Evil as Explained in the Clementine and Lactantian Writings in a System of Subordinate Dualism,” Studia Biblica et Ecclesiastica: Essays Chiefly in Biblical and Patristic Criticism, vol. 4 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1896), 133–188; repr. as Evil as Explained in the Clementine and Lactantian Writings (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, 2006). Others have seen dualistic notions here and there. For example, Bockmuehl (Remembered Peter, 99) writes, “On a number of occasions Peter seems to holds (sic) to a dualistic cosmology involving pairs of opposites” (emphasis mine); Bockmuehl further notes on p. 101 (citing Strecker, Judenchristentum, 491) that Peter defends the faith against positions that “seem gnostic in their cosmological dualism and their resistance to the OT (although the positions advocated by Peter are in some other respects also reminiscent of Gnostic points of view).” Dominique Côté elucidates the dualism of the Klementia especially as it is manifest in the opposition between Peter and Simon Magus in Le theme de l’opposition entre Pierre et Simon (2001).

Dualistic Creation and the Manipulations of the One Creator

43

™ δà πολλ˜ τÀn πεπλαnηmέnωn αÊτία γέγοnεn αÕτη, τä m˜ πρότεροn nο¨σαι τän τ¨ς συζυγίας λόγοn, çn Êδίø ÍmØn áκάστοτε οÎ παύσοmαι âκτιθέmεnος κεφαλαιωδÀς· πολÌ γ€ρ τä κατ+ εÚδος λέγειn. ÍmεØς οÞn τÀn λεγοmέnωn γέnεσθέ mοι φιλαλήθεις κριταί. The chief cause of people being deceived is this: not understanding first the doctrine of syzygia, which I will not stop elaborating for you privately in summary fashion on every occasion, for to speak of it on a case by case basis would take too long. So, please be truthloving judges of the things I say (Klem. 3.16.2).

It is not only creation that is construed somewhat differently in public and in private, however. We find a subtle but nonetheless clear distinction also in the portrayal of the Creator. One of the Klementia’s favorite theological metaphors for the connection between a singular God and the dualistic material world is the image of hands, but when speaking to the public Peter almost always discloses only a solitary divine hand. 34 In various places throughout the novel, the public words of the apostle give glimpses of the benevolent and powerful “hand” of God manipulating creation in particular ways. For example, in the midst of the first public sermon, while extolling creation as a witness to the character of its creator, Peter exclaims, “Oh, the great hand of the wise God, which has made all in all!” He lingers over the attention to detail that is evident in the natural world, invoking the great multitude of fowl, with their various colors and beaks and talons and bird-calls, as exemplary testimony to God’s care. A bit later in the same discourse, when the sermon has given way to a debate with Simon Magus, still in public, Peter conjures up another image of the singular divine hand, this time poised as the hand of an expert scribe, meticulously filling parchments with line after beautiful line of text. According to Peter, the character of the scribe is manifest in his sure and elegant strokes, so that the fixed courses of the stars in heaven, “the handwriting of God” (τä τοÜ θεοÜ χειρόγραφοn), tell of his constancy (Klem. 3.45.4). In the next breath, Peter will hold up this quasi-literary work of the divine hand as a litmus test for detecting the “slanderous sayings” (διάβολοι φωnαί) of scripture, or those parts of scripture that contradict the message of creation because, unlike it, “they were not written by a prophetic hand” (Klem. 3.46). The metaphor of the singular hand of God is associated once again with creation in the public discourse on the inferior nature of “idols” at Tripolis (Klem. 11.21–22). Here, an elemental catena is constructed to project, in exceedingly broad strokes, the vast superiority of the Creator over mere graven images. Tracing the chain of causation, one finds that the raw materials were formed into idols by implements of iron, which was itself softened by fire, which was extinguished by water, which was moved “in the beginning” by the spirit that swept

34 The exception of which I am aware comes in Klem. 7.3.4–5. Here, Peter references the two hands of God in one of two brief, public sermons at Tyre and Sidon (on which, see chapter 3).

44

The Frame

over the primordial chaos. The catena is traced finally to its origin with the rhetorical question, “And does the spirit have the source of its extension from the God who has created all things?” 35 Then, after a citation of Gen 1:1–2, an additional claim about the activity of this spirit is seamlessly appended, in consonance with the continuation of the creation account in Genesis 1. The image of the hand is brought to bear as an organic metaphor for that part of the divine being that stretches out to manipulate and divide into opposites the elements that will form the universe. Much more than stirring the waters, the spirit now “fashions all things” at the bidding of God, “like his hand” (Klem. 11.22.3). In another passage, the hand of God is used similarly to characterize a kind of “extension” of God effecting creation. This time, however, the Klementia uses the metaphor in an explicit effort to explain how the divine unity remains uncompromised despite the problematic plural exhortation of Gen 1:26–27. The figure of “wisdom” is summoned to represent the feminine aspect of God, and, like the spirit in the aforementioned passage, she is the part of God that stretches out to fashion the creation: καÈ å Πέτρος ‚πεκρίnατο· ΕÙς âστιn å τ¬ αÎτοÜ σοφίø εÊπώn· «Ποιήσωmεn Šnθρωποn». ™ δà σοφία, ­ ¹σπερ Êδίú πnεύmατι αÎτäς ‚εÈ συnέχαιρεn, ¡nωται màn ±ς ψυχ˜ τÄ θεÄ, âκτείnεται δà ‚π+ αÎτοÜ ±ς χείρ, δηmιουργοÜσα τä πn. Peter replied, “One is he who said to his wisdom, ‘Let us make a human.’ The wisdom, with which he himself always rejoiced, as with his own spirit, is at once united to God like a soul and is stretched out from him like a hand, creating everything” (Klem. 16.12.1a–b).

In the very next breath, Peter goes on to explain that the male /female duality witnessed in humankind exists precisely because such a duality is found in the one Creator. The mechanism of “extension and contraction” that is invoked to relate gendered duality to generic unity is somewhat more difficult to conceptualize on the human side of the analogy: δι€ τοÜτο δà καÈ εÙς Šnθρωπος âγέnετο, ‚π+ αÎτοÜ δà προ¨λθεn καÈ τä θ¨λυ. καÈ mοn€ς οÞσα τÄ γέnει δυάς âστιn. κατ€ γ€ρ êκτασιn καÈ συστολ˜n ™ mοn€ς δυ€ς εÚnαι nοmίζεται. For this reason, the human was also one, and from it came forth also the female. And, although it is a monad in kind, it is a dyad, for the monad is considered to be a dyad by extension and contraction (Klem. 16.12.1c–2a).

Drawing this discourse on “the way things are” to a close, Peter adds one final statement on its religious implications. The measured dissonance of his theo35 καÈ τä πnεÜmα ‚πä τοÜ τ€ íλα πεποιηκότος θεοÜ τ˜n ‚ρχ˜n τ¨ς âκτάσεως êχει; (Klem. 11.22.1). The broader passage under discussion (Klem. 11.21–22) was clearly part of the Grundschrift, for it has a close parallel in Rec. 6.6–7. The notion of the spirit’s “extension” (êκτασις) from God, however, is not found in the Latin parallel. The relevant clause of Rec. 6.7.1 reads simply spiritus autem a deo initium habet.

Dualistic Creation and the Manipulations of the One Creator

45

logical metaphor aptly captures the tension buried in his teachings between a creation characterized throughout by dualism and a singular, monarchic Creator: “And so,” Peter concludes, “I am right to give all honor to one God, as to parents” (Klem. 16.12.2b). Here, towards the end of the novel, where even the public debates are growing more abstruse, a flicker of duality registers even in the characterization of God. Finally, there is one more reference in a public context to the singular hand of God, this time working not in the act of creation, but in the living soul of the human being. Peter tells, in Klem. 17.18, of the time when he felt its distinctive movement in his own heart – his own critical moment of “recognition,” as it were, which the Gospels of Matthew and Mark place in the region of Caesarea Philippi (Matt 16:13–20; Mark 8:27–30). 36 Now, with Peter as narrator of his own story, we learn for certain what the reader of the Gospels may only surmise – that the experience was indeed shrouded in an aura of mystery for its subject, the knowledge appearing out of the blue. In the Klementia, Peter goes on to share the epistemological implications of what he learned, namely that “all the truth” lies within, but the “hand of God” conceals and reveals it by degrees, according to the merit of the human subject (Klem. 17.18.3). Thus, the mystagogue Peter, carefully and selectively revealing and concealing information vis-à-vis the different audiences in the novel, is, in a sense, a good imitator of the divine mystagogue, whose critical acts of revelation and concealment will be the subject of the initial private discourse of Peter at Tripolis (see below, chapter 3). 37 In the private discourses of Peter, we find the relationship between God and his creation portrayed with a subtle difference. The duality that creation manifests has a counterpart in the Creator, for God is implicated in the world by means of two hands, often working in balanced opposition to one another. As we have already noted, the most strikingly dualistic teaching of the Klementia is explicitly marked as such by the technical term the “canon of syzygia” (å τ¨ς συζυγίας καnώn; cf. 2.18.1; 2.33.1), or the rule of pairs. Perhaps the most well known (though not always well understood) component of this “rule of pairs” is a series of antithetical figures who appear in association with one another and, in this way, serve as signposts for the informed observer about the progression of history, extending from Cain and Abel down through a yet-to-appear Antichrist who will precede the final revelation of Jesus as the Christ (cf. Klem. 36 The more detailed Matthean account is clearly in evidence here, as can be seen in the statement cited in 17.18.2 (ΣÌ εÚ å υÉäς τοÜ ζÀnτος θεοÜ; cf. Matt 16:16) and in the reference to Jesus’s subsequent pronouncement of blessing over Peter and his affirmation that the knowledge came by revelation (Matt 16:17). 37 The obfuscations and recognitions that will first complicate and then resolve the plot of the family romance are likewise the work of divine providence, even if they lack the subtlety of a Longus or Heliodorus.

46

The Frame

2.16–17). The worse consistently precedes the better in this historical catena of pairs, but the scheme does not constitute the entirety of the doctrine, for it is nested within a created order structured in the reverse manner, through pairs of better /worse elements. The fundamental better /worse ordering of creation is spelled out in the second book of the novel through another clear allusion to Gen 1:1, this time with the crucial addition of a pair of metaphorical hands involving the solitary creator in his dualistic creation: ±ς ân ‚ρχ¬ å θεäς εÙς ºn, ¹σπερ δεξι€ καÈ ‚ριστερά, πρÀτοn âποίησεn τän οÎραnόn, εÚτα τ˜n γ¨n, [καÈ] οÕτως κατ€ τä áξ¨ς πάσας τ€ς συζυγίας συnεστήσατο· As in the beginning, God, being one, like a right hand and a left, first made heaven, then the earth, and in this way he composed all the pairs in an orderly fashion (Klem. 2.16.1).

Other elements of creation that God arranged “dualistically and contrarily” (διχÀς καÈ ânαnτίως) include day and night, light and fire, sun and moon, life and death (Klem. 2.15.1). In loose connection with the creation account of Genesis 1, this better /worse arrangement extends through the creation of “Adam,” who is described in Klem. 2.16.3 as “being in the image of God” (τοÜ κατ+ εÊκόnα θεοÜ γεnοmέnου), again alluding to Gen 1:26. It is only subsequent to Adam that the system of syzygia reverses and worse comes to precede better, beginning with Cain’s priority in relation to his righteous brother, Abel (Klem. 2.16.3). Perhaps the most stunning image of the two hands of God is associated with Adam. As we will see in the next chapter, Adam is not merely the first human being for the Klementia, but he also holds a special christological position. He is the first True Prophet, defined, like Moses and Jesus after him, by his possession of the divine spirit of progn¯osis. In three instances, the exceptional nature that permits Adam to breathe of the divine spirit is expressed through a striking reference to the hands of the creator. Adam is characterized as å Íπä τÀn τοÜ θεοÜ χειρÀn κυοφορηθείς, “the one born of the hands of God” (Klem. 2.52.2; 3.17.1; 3.20.1; without parallel in the Recognition). Unlike all of the other references to the two divine hands, this thrice-repeated epithet depicts the hands of God working in perfect consonance with one another, cupped to form a womb-like hollow for the gestation of the first human. The two hands appear once more working in balanced opposition to one another in the final private discourse of the novel. In that context, it is expressly revealed that the hands of the Creator have remained powerfully and intensively involved in the world, smiting and healing, killing and making alive (Klem. 20.3.6). These hands, in fact, are the force behind both Simon Magus (cf. 7.2.3) and Peter, driving the two up the Syrian coast, inflicting first harm and then healing. 38 38

Cf. Klem. 2.17.3; 2.33.

Dualistic Creation and the Manipulations of the One Creator

47

Before we turn to the final lesson of Peter in Klem. 20.2–3, a distinctive creation account giving the consistent dualism of the novel its full cosmological and soteriological grounding, there is one more manifestation of the pervasive dualism of the Klementia to which we must attend. In the first set of private discourses, in Klem. 2–3, we find an elaborate account of the origins of piety demonstrating that there have only ever been two religious options, going all the way back to the first man and the first woman. Already in these early lessons, the either /or rhetoric we witnessed in Klem. 11.16 – contrasting Jews and Greeks – is supplied with underpinnings in the realm of primeval human history.

Adam, the Syzygos, and the Two Coeval Pieties In the brief discussion of Klem. 16.12 above, we witnessed Peter’s public explanation of the male /female duality of humankind as related to a kind of expansion and contraction that is found even in God. Much earlier, and in private, the dual gendering of humanity at the moment of its creation is invoked rather differently, and towards different ends (Klem. 3.20–28). The Adam who was “born from the hands of God” (3.20.1) does not expand and contract in a kind of mystical male /female duality, but he is instead matched with a female syzygos (the term is a double entendre in the Klementia, for it can mean simply “spouse,” but it is also a technical term for members of the “pairs” in the scheme of syzygia) who appears to be quite independent from him and even strongly at odds with his purposes. As with the twinned elements of the other “pairs” constituting the created order (e. g., sun /moon, light /fire), Adam and his syzygos could not be more different. While she was “co-created” (συnεκτίσθη) with the one who was so tenderly gestated in the hands of God (Klem. 3.22.1), precisely what relation the syzygos may have to the divine hands is shrouded in silence. It is instead her mysterious generative powers that will be the subject of intense scrutiny. Once Adam has been established as the True Prophet, belonging to a broader christological scheme of true prophecy (cf. Klem. 3.17–21), 39 the frame of the discourse shifts to show Adam’s true prophecy in comparison with its opposite. The female syzygos is introduced as “first prophetess” (Klem. 3.22.1), and the seven subsequent paragraphs (Klem. 3.22–28) elaborate a detailed allegory depicting, through the image of the marital relationship, the fundamental religious dualism that is woven into the fabric of human history from the beginning. Insofar as it is exegetical, the lesson draws especially upon the fourth chapter of Genesis. It must be emphasized that, in the process of introducing the first prophetess, Peter recapitulates a fundamental contrast between the present world and

39

On this part of the discourse, see chapter 2.

48

The Frame

the age to come that he has already spelled out in greater detail in the first exposition of syzygia in the second book of the Klementia. In that context, κόσmος and αÊώn are presented as a dualistic pair exemplifying how God changed the better /worse order of creation so that, from the perspective of the human being (Å καÈ τ€ς τÀn συζυγιÀn ânήλλαξεn εÊκόnας, mικρ€ τ€ πρÀτα παραθέmεnος αÎτÄ), worse precedes better, “like κόσmοn, αÊÀnα» (Klem. 2.15.2). 40 The “present world” is characterized as temporary (πρόσκαιρος) and female, the “age to come” as eternal and male, and each realm has its own army of successive “prophets” (including Simon Magus and Peter) battling for human converts (Klem. 2.15.2–5). Perhaps most interesting is the fact that the present female κόσmος and the future male αÊώn are, like human women and men, bound to one another in a kind of spousal and procreative relationship. The κόσmος is like a mother giving birth to souls, and the αÊώn is like a father “accepting” his children (âπεÈ γ€ρ å παρ°n κόσmος θ¨λύς âστιn, ±ς mήτηρ τέκnωn τίκτωn ψυχάς, å 〈δ+〉 âσόmεnος αÊ°n Šρρηn âστίn, ±ς πατ˜ρ ‚ποδεχόmεnος τ€ αÍτοÜ τέκnα). The relationship, thus construed, is patriarchal to be sure, but it is portrayed in relatively neutral, transactional terms, playing into a wider notion in the Klementia that the world exists for the sake of populating heaven. 41 In Klem. 3, Peter’s introduction of the syzygos of the first True Prophet briefly recapitulates the female /male, cosmological /temporal scheme just outlined: πλ˜n τούτú σύζυγος συnεκτίσθη θήλεια φύσις, πολÌ ‚ποδέουσα αÎτοÜ, ±ς οÎσίας mετουσία, ±ς ™λίου σελήnη, ±ς φωτäς τä πÜρ. αÕτη τοÜ nÜn κόσmου ±ς θήλεια åmοίου Šρχουσα πρώτη προφ¨τις εÚnαι πεπίστευται, mετ€ πάnτωn τÀn «ân γεnnητοØς γυnαικÀn» προφητείαn âπαγγελλοmέnη. å δà éτερος, ±ς «υÉäς ‚nθρώπου» Šρσηn ºn, καÈ τ€ διαφέροnτα ±ς Šρσεnι τÄ mέλλοnτι αÊÀnι προφητεύει. But co-created with this one was a syzygos, a female nature, very lacking in comparison to him, like essence to quintessence, moon to sun, fire to light. Because she rules the present world, which is like a female, she has been entrusted to be First Prophetess, proclaiming prophecy with all those “born of women.” The other, being male, like a “son of man,” prophecies to the coming age, as to a male, about the things that matter (Klem. 3.22.1–3).

In his next breath, Peter beckons his audience, his inner circle of adherents, to perceive that what follows is not merely ancient trivia, but it is an esoteric teaching that pertains directly to them. “Therefore,” he exhorts, “let there be

40 This is the first of many references to the pair κόσmος/αÊώn scattered throughout the Klementia. It is fundamental and will appear over and over again in the discussion below. That the Recognition reiterates no equivalent pair is perhaps the most striking indicator that it maintains no comparable dualistic framework. 41 Klem. 2.15.3. Similarly, see Klem. 19.23.3 (with the minor emendation of Quarry): “The world is a well-crafted instrument, that the female may bear righteous, eternal sons for the coming male age” (å κόσmος îργαnόn âστι τεχnικÀς γεγοnός, Ñnα τÄ âσοmέnú Šρρεnι αÊωnίú ™ θήλεια τίκτù δικαίους αÊωnίους υÉούς).

Dualistic Creation and the Manipulations of the One Creator

49

for us two kinds of prophecy.” 42 What he is about to elaborate, as his audience leans in closer, is a mystikos logos (Klem. 3.29.1) disclosing the timeless, invisible boundary line that has always run through the world and divided it into two kinds of piety, one to be rewarded with eternal punishment and the other with eternal glory. Through the image of the primordial couple, he will show that the fundamental choice facing every human being has come down, with unbroken continuity, “from the beginning” (cf. 3.24.4). The first pair, as founders of two different kinds of “prophecy,” laid the groundwork for the existential situation of every human being, down to the very readers of the novel: the same fundamental choice between law-abiding monotheism (monarchia) and polytheistic worship. Among the things gained by connecting the gendered abstraction, “female prophecy,” with the concrete image of the first woman is the ability to paint an image of polytheistic piety that is infused with sexual innuendo and the spectre of marital strife. If the κόσmος/mother discussed above bears children passively, and perhaps even benevolently, for her eternal spouse, this matriarch (pagan piety) strives to attain the authority of her husband, 43 using the hidden, procreative powers of her womb as secret weapons. Explicitly decoding the allegory, Peter unveils her inner machinations: διä κλέπτουσα τ€ τοÜ Šρσεnος σπέρmατα καÈ τοØς Êδίοις τ¨ς σαρκäς σπέρmασιn âπισκέπουσα ±ς íλα Òδια συnεκφέρει τ€ γεnnήmατα, τουτέστιn τ€ ûήmατα. Therefore, stealing the seeds of the male and covering them with her own seeds of flesh, she bears the offspring, that is, the words, as if entirely her own (Klem. 3.23.3).

As the discourse progresses, unsuspecting victims of the devious scheme are brought into view. “Female prophecy” promises a dowry of earthly wealth to anyone who would court her children (καÈ τän παρόnτα âπίγειοn πλοÜτοn ±ς προØκα δώσειn âπαγγέλλεται). 44 But what her adherent does not perceive is that, when he offers sacrifice at one of her altars, he is, in effect, defiling himself with her menstrual blood (±ς θήλεια 〈ân〉 ânmηnίοις γιnοmέnη προφάσει θυσιÀn αÉmάσσεται καÈ οÕτως τοÌς ψαύοnτας αÎτ¨ς mολύnει). 45 It is through this very blood that she conceives and bears the temporal rulers of the earth (πρόσκαιροι βασιλεØς), and in this way, visits mass destruction on humankind through wars, which “pour out much blood” in turn (Klem. 3.24.2). 46 That “prophecy” in this context connotes more than oracles and prognostications, but rather encompasses a comprehensive system of belief and prac42 43 44 45 46

δύο οÞn ™mØn γεnικαÈ êστωσαn προφητεØαι· (Klem. 3.23.1). Cf. 3.23.2, where she “wants to be believed to be male” (‚ρσεnικ˜ εÚnαι πιστεύεσθαι θέλει). Klem. 3.23.4. Klem. 3.24.1. Or perhaps the blood of birth or miscarriage. Cf. Klem. 3.62 on the connection between multiple kings and war.

50

The Frame

tice, words and deeds, becomes clear as Peter sketches the full contours of female proph¯eteia. In fact, what he portrays can be lined up, in nearly every detail, with the caricature of pagan belief and worship that surfaces in various places throughout the novel. This female proph¯eteia is thoroughly enmeshed with the notion that there are many gods, and she is tainted with blood sacrifice (Klem. 3.24.1). To those who earnestly strive to learn truth from her, she offers contradictory statements and diverse means of service (πολλ€ς καÈ διαφόρους Íπουργίας) (3.24.3). Her suppliants are left still seeking and having found nothing on the day of their death. She leads astray those who believe in her by prophesying “deceptively and ambiguously and obliquely” (πλάnα καÈ ‚mφίβολα καÈ λοξά) (3.24.4; cf. 3.25.1). Drawing upon Gen. 4:21–22, Klem. 3.25.3 describes the descendants of her son Cain as the makers of musical instruments and the forgers of implements of war, adding the critical detail that they were also the first adulterers. Then, with a subtle shifting of these elements (adultery, music, and war), a causal relationship is drawn and embellished, and the whole cluster of issues is nested firmly within the prophecy of the syzygos and her offspring: “Therefore, the prophecy of the descendants, because it is full of adulterers and harps, secretly, by means of pleasures, incites wars” (Klem. 3.25.4). In the subsequent paragraph, we find a similarly thick, if somewhat less graphic, description of the male prophecy associated with the first man (Klem. 3.26). Once again, proph¯eteia connotes an entire religious system, but in this case, it is essentially the piety of Peter and his followers: å δà ân υÉοØς ‚nθρώπωn προφητείαn êmφυτοn ψυχ¨ς Êδίαn êχωn, ûητÀς ±ς Šρσηn τοÜ mέλλοnτος αÊÀnος τ€ς âλπίδας mηnύωn τän αÎτοÜ υÉän προσηγόρευσεn —Αβελ, ç Šnευ πάσης ‚mφιβολίας πέnθος áρmηnεύεται. πεnθεØn γ€ρ τοØς αÎτοÜ υÉοØς παρέχει τοÌς âξαπατωmέnους ‚δελφοÌς αÎτÀn, ‚ψευστÈ αÎτοØς ân τÄ mέλλοnτι αÊÀnι τ˜n παράκλησιn Íπισχnούmεnος. θεän énα mόnοn αÊτεØn λέγει, θεοÌς οÖτε αÎτäς λέγει οÖτε Šλλú λέγοnτι πιστεύει. καλän ç êχει τηρεØ καÈ âπÈ πλείοnα αÖξει. θυσίας, αÑmατα, σποnδ€ς mισεØ. γnούς, καθαρούς, åσίους ‚γαπ”. πÜρ βωmÀn σβέnnυσιn. πολέmους καταργεØ, εÊρήnηn διδάσκει. σωφροσύnηn ânτέλλεται. τ€ς mαρτίας καθαιρεØ. γάmοn nοmιτεύει, âγκράτειαn συγχωρεØ, εÊς γnείαn πάnτας Šγει. âλεηmοnικοÌς ποιεØ. δικαιοσύnηn nοmιτεύει, τοÌς τελείους αÎτÀn σφραγίζει καÈ τän τ¨ς ‚nαπαύσεως λόγοn âκφαίnει. ûητ€ προφητεύει, σαφ¨ λέγει. πÜρ αÊώnιοn κολάσεως πυκnÀς Íποmιmnήσκει, βασιλείαn θεοÜ συnεχÀς καταγγέλλει. πλοÜτοn οÎράnιοn mηnύει, δόξαn ‚nαφαίρετοn ÍπισχnεØται, τ¨ς mαρτίας τ˜n Šφεσιn êργú δείκnυσιn. But the one among the sons of men who has his own prophecy implanted in his soul, as a male, expressly disclosing the hopes of the coming age, called his son “Abel,” which is interpreted without any ambiguity as “grief.” For he allows his sons to grieve for their deceived brothers, without deception promising consolation for them in the coming age. He says to petition the one God alone, and he neither says to petition “gods” nor trusts anyone else who says so. He preserves well what he has, and he multiplies it. He hates offerings, blood sacrifices, libations. He loves the pure, the holy, the clean. He extinguishes altar fires. He abolishes wars. He teaches peace. He commands chastity. He cleanses sins. He prescribes

Dualistic Creation and the Manipulations of the One Creator

51

marriage. He makes room for self-control. He leads everyone to purity. He makes people alms-givers. He ordains righteousness. He seals the perfect among them, and he reveals the word of rest. He prophesies distinctly. He speaks clearly. He frequently calls to mind eternal fire of punishment. He persistently proclaims the kingdom of God. He discloses heavenly wealth. He promises imperishable glory. He demonstrates the remission of sin by action (Klem. 3.26.1–6).

Almost every element of this description can likewise be found elsewhere in the novel in association with Jesus or Peter. For example, see Klem. 3.19.3–4 on the enjoining of mourning; Klem. 11.9 on petitioning only the one true God; Klem. 3.45, 52–56 and 11.15 on the displeasure of and problems with sacrifice; Klem. 11.28–33 on purity; Klem. 13.13–21 on chastity; Ep. Clem. 7.1 and Klem. 3.68.1 on the prescription of marriages. In short, the ethic of the novel is given, by its association with the figure of Adam, a grounding in the very origins of human history, in the “first saving religion transmitted to humankind” (cf. Klem. 9.19.2). With these two ancient but still familiar systems of piety thus set forth in detail, the discourse is brought home to the situation of the listener in its final two paragraphs (3.27–28). Here, a different marriage metaphor comes into play to convey the fundamental choice that lies before each individual – a choice that is made possible by the fact that every human being is the offspring of both male and female 47 even as it is complicated by the compounding of male and female elements in the womb. In what is surely one of the most misogynistic statements of the novel, Peter elaborates how a mother enshrines a penchant for sin in the very flesh and bone of her progeny by cloaking the “white” seed of the male with her own red blood (Klem. 3.27.2). The effect, as Peter envisions it, is rather devastating, for in this way, she “strips off the strength of reason by means of short-lived pleasures and leads the majority into adultery,” the queen of sins for the Klementia. 48 That this adultery is metaphorical and spiritual, if also literal, becomes clear in the next lines (Klem. 3.27.3), where different actors and a different marriage emerge on the scene. “Every human is a bride,” Peter informs his audience, and “the coming, comely bridegroom” (å mέλλωn καλäς nυmφίος) can consummate a marriage that will, in effect, reverse the despoiling of the “white” seed of the male and the clouding of reason that occurred in utero. This bridegroom, the True Prophet, disseminates a “white word of truth” that enlightens the mind of its recipient. 49 In what is presented as inadvertently the 47 Cf. 2.15.2, where it is said that, in distinction from all of the paired opposites in the created order, “[God] made the human alone, among these things, with freedom of choice (αÎτεξούσιος), fit to be just or unjust.” 48 Cf. 3.68.2, “... above every other sin, the impiety of adultery is hated by God.” Also 13.19. 49 The ANF edition translates λευκÄ λόγú (“white word”) as “whole word,” thus strangely obscuring the connection between this spermatic word and the white seed of the male that the womb despoils with its fiery blood (3.27.2).

52

The Frame

final paragraph of this lesson, Peter goes on to explain how the human custom for dealing with women caught in adultery is instructive for understanding exactly what will happen, body and soul, to the person who fools around with the words of anyone other than the True Prophet: διä ánäς mόnου τοÜ τ¨ς ‚ληθείας προφήτου ‚κούειn δεØ, εÊδότα íτι å παρ+ áτέρου σπαρεÈς λόγú, mοιχείας êγκληmα λαβώn, ±ς Íπä nυmφίου τ¨ς βασιλείας αÎτοÜ âκβάλλεται. τοØς δà τä mυστήριοn εÊδόσιn Íπä ψυχικ¨ς mοιχείας καÈ θάnατος γίnεται. åπόταn ™ ψυχ˜ Íφ+ áτέρωn σπαρ¬, τότε ±ς πορnεύσασα £ mοιχευσαmέnη Íπä τοÜ πnεύmατος âγκαταλείπεται καÈ οÕτως τä êmψυχοn σÀmα, τοÜ ζωοποιοÜ πnεύmατος χωρισθέn, εÊς γ¨n ‚nαλύεται, καÈ τοÜ mαρτήmατος ™ κατ+ ‚ξίαn κόλασις ân τÄ τ¨ς κρίσεως καιρÄ ‚ποδίδοται τ¬ ψυχ¬ mετ€ τ˜n τοÜ σώmατος ‚nάλυσιn· ¹σπερ âπ+ ‚nθρώπωn ™ âπÈ mοιχείø φωραθεØσα πρÀτοn τÀn οÒκωn âκβάλλεται, εÚθ+ Õστεροn âπÈ καταδίκù κρίnεται. Wherefore, one must listen to the one and only Prophet of Truth, knowing that the one who is sown with a word from another receives the charge of adultery and is cast by the bridegroom, as it were, out of his kingdom. But to those who know the mystery, death also comes about by the soul’s adultery. For whenever the soul is sown by others, then it is forsaken by the spirit as having fornicated or committed adultery. And so the ensouled body, separated from the life-giving spirit, is dissolved into earth, and the rightful punishment of the sin is delivered to the soul at the time of judgment, after the dissolution of the body. Likewise, among humans, she who is caught in adultery is first cast out of the house and later judged and sentenced (Klem. 3.28.1–3).

With this, the private lesson is brought to a close, but not without conveying the impression that it might have gone deeper yet. For just as Peter is “about to disclose fully this mystikos logos,” he is interrupted by the news that Simon Magus stands armed and ready for a battle outside (Klem. 3.29.1).

Two Kings and Two Kingdoms The full exposition of the lesson must be delayed, and in fact, it appears only at the very end of the novel, in the final private lesson of Peter for his own inner circle (Klem. 20.2–10). The created pair kosmos/ai¯on is once again central, but this time, it is given an elaborate political characterization, sketched out as two kingdoms, complete with kings, subjects, border lines, roads, and laws. Here, a soteriological scheme that has been glimpsed piecemeal in various places throughout the novel is finally laid in full view of the reader. To understand how the discourse is framed, a bit of the broader context is helpful. The dénouement of the plot of the Klementia – that is, Simon’s magical ruse involving the identity of Faustus, the reversal of the trick, the final flight of Simon, and the anticipated triumph of Peter at Antioch – is preceded in Book Twenty by one last question-and-answer session between Peter and his followers (Klem. 20.2– 10). This private, nocturnal discourse is presented as a crystallization of the key points of the previous four days of debate between Peter and Simon Magus at

Two Kings and Two Kingdoms

53

Laodicea (Klem. 16–19). Peter explains that, in the public context, many topics were discussed as if they were all of equal weight. The crowd glimpsed something of “gnosis” as they listened to the wide-ranging discourses, but it remains for “the truth” to be set apart from the many kephalaia of the discourses (Klem. 20.1). Thus, responding to Sophonias’s request to hear the “real account” about evil, the existence and origins of which Simon and Peter have indeed just discussed extensively (cf. Klem. 19.2–19), Peter begins a lesson which he entitles “the truth of the ρmοnία concerning evil.” 50 This “harmony” gestures explicitly back to a distinctive vision of the gradually dawning salvation of the world presented in Klem. 19.20, and it aptly captures a fundamental sentiment in the novel – namely, that every dualism has a divinely ordained purpose and every negative element will ultimately be restored under the good and righteous unity of God. Peter says as much about “the wicked one” mid-way through this very lesson, explaining that “because he is not of only one essence bent on wickedness, when he has served God blamelessly to the end of the present world, he can be reformulated and become good” (Klem. 20.3.9b). But this is to anticipate the resolution of a dualism that we have not yet explored. The creation of the world is a topic of discussion several times in earlier books of the Klementia, but in this last discourse, the reader is given a new account. The Creator appears, this time, as a kind of cartographer in the grandest sense, marking out the boundaries of two spatio-temporal territories (the familiar “present kosmos”/ “coming ai¯on” pair) put under the authority of two kings: å θεäς δύο βασιλείας åρίσας καÈ δύο αÊÀnας συnεστήσατο, κρίnας τÄ ποnηρÄ δεδόσθαι τän παρόnτα κόσmοn δι€ τä mικρόn τε αÎτän εÚnαι καÈ παρέρχεσθαι æξέως, τÄ δà ‚γαθÄ δώσειn Íπέσχετο τän mέλλοnτα αÊÀnα, ‰τε δ˜ mέγαn înτα καÈ ‚ίδιοn. God, when he had drawn up the boundaries of two kingdoms, established also two ages. Having decided that the present world would be given to the wicked one, on account of it being small and passing away quickly, he promised to give the coming age to the good one, since it is great and eternal (Klem. 20.2.2).

The discourse will soon turn to a detailed elaboration of these two subordinate kings, but first comes a brief interlude on the nature of the anthr¯opos who finds himself or herself in the present kosmos. Closely echoing Klem. 2.15.2 (see n. 47, above), Peter reiterates that free will is what sets the human being apart from all other inhabitants of God’s creation (Klem 20.2.3a), and, once again, what enables this capacity is the fact that the human is a mixture of female and male, here envisioned as a lump of dough in which the two genders are kneaded

50

>Ακούσατε, êφη, τοιγαροÜn τ¨ς περÈ τοÜ ποnηροÜ ρmοnίας τ˜n ‚λήθειαn (Klem. 20.2.1).

54

The Frame

together (±ς εÚnαι τän Šnθρωποn âκ φυραmάτωn δύο, 20.3.3c). 51 Given the complex and thus changeable constitution of the anthr¯opos, and its placement in a kingdom that is also a rapidly-passing age, the human subject cannot help but travel, and for that purpose, roads are provided – two, to be exact. Each path is defined, like the boundary between the Jew and the Greek in Klem. 11.16, in relation to “law”: “So then, two roads were placed before him, one of law and one of lawlessness” (διä δ˜ καÈ δύο αÎτÄ åδοÈ προετέθησαn, nόmου τε καÈ ‚nοmίας, 20.2.4b). The “Two Ways” get no further elaboration here, though the traditional trope plays a marked role in the public sermons of Klem. 7 (see chapter 3). Instead, the focus shifts immediately back to the two kingdoms /ages – one called “of heaven” and one “of those who now rule on earth” (20.2.4b) – and especially the two rulers ordained to reign over each of them. What ensues is a carefully drawn distinction between the Two Kings, who have each made brief appearances in the discourses of the Klementia under their familiar guises as rulers of the present, temporary kosmos and the coming, eternal ai¯on. Now at last, following an admittedly speculative debate on the origins of “the evil one” in Klem. 19 (cf. 19.3), Peter with careful precision specifies the different origins, natures, and functions of the two kings who reign in subordination to the Divine Monarch. Given that each bears some primordial relationship to God (“for there is no other beginning,” 20.3.7), one might reasonably ask, as Peter’s follower Micah eventually does, if the two are not brothers born of the same divine father (Klem. 20.8.1). The distinction is clear, however. The king of the present world was “mixed” from the created elements (κεράnnυmι, 20.2.5; 20.3.6, 9; 20.8.2), while the king of the coming age was “created” (δηmιουργηθείς, 20.3.3, 6), or even “born” (γεnnηθείς, 20.8.4) of “the most beautiful turn (τροπή)” of God, as his true son (τÄ înτι υÉός âστι, 20.8.4). Furthermore, though both are “kings,” their rule is not of the same kind. The former was “appointed” to serve his temporary post by a legal action of the divine hand (χειροτοnεØται, 20.2.5), while the latter “really is” (Íπάρχωn, 20.2.6) king of the coming age, just as he is truly the son of God. For humanity, what is most relevant about these kings is that each takes a peculiar kind of interest in his subjects. The king of the present world has it in his disposition to rejoice in the destruction of the wicked, while the king of the coming age feels for “the whole nature” of humans the kind of strong bond of affection (στέργει) that a parent feels for his or her child (20.2.5–6). In a much earlier context in the novel (Klem. 3.5, to which we will return in chapter 4), 51 In this case, the dualism that is constructed does appear to devalue materiality, for the human spirit is linked to the male and the body to the female. Each is itself tripartite, the latter deriving lust (âπιθυmία), wrath (æργή), and grief (λύπη) from the female, and the former being capable of reason (λογισmός), knowledge (γnÀσις), and fear (φόβος) by virtue of its male root (Klem. 20.2.3b; cf. 19.21).

Two Kings and Two Kingdoms

55

we find a brief statement to the effect that, in fact, the only thing lacking in “the wicked one,” as compared to “the good one,” is the desire to heal and restore erring human beings. He loves God no less than the good one, but when it comes to humans, he craves the destruction of the impious. Furthermore, the two kings are alike in that each can only “persuade” (and not “force”) the human to dwell in his realm (20.3.1), 52 but once a convert is won, each king makes of him something different: πλ˜n â€n τ€ ‚γαθά τις πράσσειn éληται, τοÜ âσοmέnου ‚γαθοÜ βασιλέως γίnεται κτ¨mα – εÊ δà φαÜλα πράξειέ τις, τοÜ παρόnτος γίnεται ποnηροÜ Íπηρέτηmα ... But if someone chooses to do good deeds, he becomes a possession of the future good king. If someone should do contemptible deeds, he becomes a servant of the present, wicked one ... (Klem. 20.3.2a)

Finally, the reader is guided to see in the two kings the last manifestation of the two hands of God, now reaching out to chasten and restore human beings according to their deeds: πλ˜n οÉ δύο ™γεmόnες οÝτοι ταχεØαι χεØρές εÊσι θεοÜ προλαmβάnειn âπιθυmοÜσαι τä αÎτοÜ θέληmα âπιτελεØn. íτι δà τοÜθ+ οÕτως êχει, εÒρηται καÈ τÄ nόmú âκ προσώπου τοÜ θεοÜ· «>Εγ° ‚ποκτεnÀ καÈ ζ¨n ποιήσω, πατάξω κ‚γ° Êάσοmαι». ‚ληθÀς γ€ρ ‚ποκτέnnει καÈ ζωογοnεØ, ‚ποκτέnnει màn δι€ τ¨ς ‚ριστερς, τουτέστι δι€ τοÜ âπÈ κακώσει τÀn ‚σεβÀn χαίρειn κραθέnτος ποnηροÜ – σ¼ζει δà καÈ εÎεργετεØ δι€ τ¨ς δεξις, τουτέστι δι€ τοÜ âπ+ εÎεργεσίø καÈ σωτηρίø δικαίωn χαίρειn δηmιουργηθέnτος ‚γαθοÜ. Now, these two leaders are the swift hands of God, eager to go forth to accomplish his will. That this is so has been said also in the law, from God’s own person: “I will kill, and I will make alive; I will strike, and I will heal.” 53 For truly he kills and makes alive. He kills through the left hand, that is, through the Wicked One, who was mixed to rejoice in the affliction of the impious. And he saves and benefits through the right hand, that is, through the Good One, who was created to rejoice in the benefaction and salvation of the just (Klem. 20.3.4b–6).

In this manner, the two religious options developed throughout the novel are at last fitted with their full cosmological and theological underpinnings. The kind of either /or, protreptic rhetoric that we witnessed in Klem. 11.16 is, in the final analysis, shown to be grounded not only the first man and the first woman, but also in the invisible political structure of the created kosmos. As will become increasingly clear as we journey progressively through the narrative of the Kle-

52

On the translation of this difficult statement, see chapter 3. If we trace the proof text to Deut 32:39 (LXX), we find explicit reference to the two hands: Òδετε Òδετε íτι âγώ εÊmι, καÈ οÎκ êστιn θεäς πλ˜n âmοÜ· âγ° ‚ποκτεnÀ, καÈ ζ¬n ποιήσω· πατάξω, κ‚γ° Êάσοmαι· καÈ οÎκ êστιn çς âξελεØται âκ τÀn χειρÀn mου. 53

56

The Frame

mentia, the boundary line that separates the “Jew” from the “Greek” in Peter’s social world is the same singular line that, by divine fiat, has always separated the kingdom of the pious from the kingdom of the impious.

Conclusion Some important aspects of the basic framework of the novel are now in view. The three prefatory documents have done the work of grounding the novel in the history of the apostolic period (especially with respect to the “Incident at Antioch”) and setting the spatio-temporal parameters of the narrative. At the same time, they have raised critical issues about the observance of law and about the right reading of scripture, holding up the followers of Moses as exemplary in these endeavors. Perhaps most importantly, they have introduced the notion that books are dangerously powerful and unstable entities. The mock proposal for the guarding of the books of Peter’s preaching has set the stage for an alternative solution to the safe handling of sacred literature, the gradual initiation of the reader into the reading practices of Peter’s community. This training is no simple matter, and it will require a progressive unfolding through the pages of the lengthy narrative that follows. The thoroughly dualistic worldview we have witnessed in the final discourse of the novel infuses the Klementia and lends the novel a coherence that has seldom been fully appreciated. Of key importance is the way that the piety of the novel and its singular alternative (pagan polytheism) are given roots in primeval human history and in the two cosmological kingdoms ordained by God in the beginning. The literary and theological coherence of the novel depends in no small measure on the construction of a coherent history of salvation, a task that is revisited time and again through the many discourses of the apostle Peter. As we turn now to the twenty books of narrative that conduct the reader through the full program outlined here, we will explore the rather unconventional machinations whereby the Klementia works to tie the True Prophet Jesus into its distinctive soteriology, aligning him closely with the figures of Adam and Moses, and defining his particular “time” and prophetic role as uniquely characterized by the problem of False Pericopes in scripture. Especially in the latter connection, we will come into full contact with the novel’s tacit but intensive relationship with the canonical Gospels. The author finds much that is problematic in the Gospels, and he will time and again marshal the distinctive resources of narrative historical fiction to show the reader of the novel how to read them rightly.

Chapter 2: Trouble with Texts Even if the protections outlined in the Epistula Petri and the Diamartyria did not prove effective in securing the books of Peter from the public eye (as the reader empirically knows), the analogy with the safeguards instituted by Moses is nonetheless meaningful. Peter’s group also reads and honors the scripture of the Jews, and the reader of Peter’s kerygmata (i. e., the narrative books of the Klementia) will acquire, in the process of reading, something functionally equivalent to the hermeneutical kan¯on that secures proper interpretation among the followers of Moses. Once the narrative of Clement commences, the first three books spiral again and again around the questions of the nature of scripture and the key to its interpretation, culminating in a passage demonstrating the hermeneutical value of the words of Jesus. This passage, Klem. 3.48–57, constitutes the most sustained and wide-ranging engagement with the Gospels in the entirety of the Klementia, citing or alluding to at least twenty-three canonical traditions, as well as two agrapha, in rapid succession. It deals explicitly with the issue of the proper interpretation of the scripture of the Jews, but perhaps equally important is the implicit message it conveys about the right reading of the Gospels of the New Testament. In this passage, we find the novel’s principle demonstration of the way that a particular understanding and application of the sayings of Jesus, as transmitted through his chief apostle, secures theological truth for his adherents. The group of sayings appears in a form not unlike a traditional catena of scriptural citations, but upon close examination, it is apparent that the collection has been formulated precisely for the christological and hermeneutical needs of the Klementia. In the following pages, we will examine how the Klementia, in its first three books, sets up the fundamental problem with scripture and defines Jesus as the prophet uniquely capable of neutralizing its dangers. The corrupt nature of scripture and the identity of Jesus prove to be issues inextricably bound up with one another.

58

Trouble with Texts

How to Read the True Prophet There are many christological titles and descriptors associated with Jesus in the Klementia, but the most prominent one, without a doubt, is True Prophet. This is the epithet Peter uses when he first describes for Clement the man whose fame had lured Clement from Rome to Judea, and it is the most common designation for Jesus in the novel. That Jesus should be deemed a prophet would come as no surprise to a reader familiar with the canonical Gospels. However, the Klementia develops the notion rather differently, perhaps even signaling its divergence from commonplace understandings by limiting the topic, at least initially, to private conversation. It does not figure in the message that Clement first heard “shouted in public” in Rome, a gospel about a certain Son of God and miracle worker who had appeared in Judea preaching about the kingdom of God, repentance, and eternal life (Klem. 1.6–7). Nor is there any mention of a prophet or prophecy in the public preaching of Barnabas at Alexandria (Klem. 1.9–10). The reader will later learn, however, that when Clement and Barnabas fled the mob and retired to Clement’s place of lodging, it was “the doctrine of prophecy” (τän περÈ προφητείας λόγοn, Klem. 2.4.1) that had occupied their conversation. This information comes through the figure of Peter, who, after his initial acquaintance with Clement, mentions that he knows that Barnabas already “fully expounded” the teaching to Clement. In response, Clement readily affirms as much, but he nonetheless urges that Peter must continually instruct him (συnεχÀς ÍφηγεØσθαι) in the “doctrine about the prophet” (τän περÈ προφήτου λόγοn) as they progress in the relationship of master and disciple (Klem. 2.4.3). The lesson about prophecy will require elucidation over time, for the reader and Clement alike. Right away there is something intriguing going on with the construal of insider knowledge about the True Prophet. Among the first things Peter is keen to convey to Clement is how one ascertains that the True Prophet is indeed a true prophet (Klem. 1.19). In one sense, the procedure prescribed for proving the prophet might have been lifted directly out of the narrative of the Gospel of Mark, for the logic is functionally identical. 1 In Mark, the earliest extant gospel and the one which famously (in its earliest form) does not narrate any resurrection appearances of Jesus, 2 the reader nonetheless knows that the disciples met a resurrected Jesus later in Galilee precisely because Jesus’s predictions about his betrayal, abandonment, and death came true (cf. Mark 8:31; 9:30–31; 10:32–34;

1 As others have also noted, the test of the prophet should also be compared with the criterion for recognizing a word of the Lord in Deut 18:21–22, though the Klementia will take the principle much further. 2 On the ending(s) of Mark, see Adela Yarbro Collins, Mark: A Commentary, ed. Harold W. Attridge, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 797–818.

How to Read the True Prophet

59

14:18, 27). 3 Since it turned out that Jesus did suffer and die on the cross, just as he said he would, the reader can be confident that Jesus also arose from the dead and met with his disciples back in Galilee, just as he also predicted (Mark 14:28). 4 In the Klementia, this narrative logic is transformed into a doctrinal proposition: ¹στε πρÀτοn χρ˜ τän προφήτηn πάσù τ¬ προφητικ¬ âξετάσει δοκιmάσαnτα καÈ âπιγnόnτα ‚ληθ¨, τοÜ λοιποÜ τ€ πάnτα αÎτÄ πιστεύειn καÈ mηκέτι τä καθ+ ãn éκαστοn τÀn Íπ+ αÎτοÜ λεγοmέnωn ‚nακρίnειn, ‚λλ€ λαmβάnειn αÎτ€ βέβαια înτα, δοκούσù màn πίστει, ληφθέnτα δà ‚σφαλεØ κρίσει· ‚ποδείξει γ€ρ mι” τ¬ ‚π+ ‚ρχ¨ς καÈ ‚κριβεØ âξετάσει τ¬ παnταχόθεn τ€ íλα æρθÄ εÒληπται λογισmÄ. And so, having first put the prophet to the test by every prophetic examination and having come to the judgment that he is true, one must thereafter believe him in all things and no longer scrutinize, one by one, each of the things said by him, but accept that they are certain – accepted by what seems to be faith, but actually by secure judgment. For by a single proof from the beginning, and an exacting examination from all sides, the entirety has been accepted by right reason (Klem. 1.19.5–7).

In other words, as with the Markan narrative, one is meant to arrive, by empirical examination, at a point of certainty about the identity of the prophet that subsequently warrants complete trust in all of his predictions, whether they have been, or ever can be, verified. What this procedure wins in each case, however, could hardly be more different. That which demonstrates the resurrection of Jesus in Mark only circles back to reinforce the special knowledge of Jesus in the Klementia, essentially bolstering his credentials as a teacher and a guide to scripture. 5

3 The prediction of Peter’s threefold denial (Mark 14:30) and its precise fulfillment (Mark 14:66–72), among other things, functions similarly to demonstrate the uncanny prescience of Jesus. Matthew and Luke replicate the three-fold passion prediction, but the function is somewhat altered by their narrative elaborations of the resurrection. That is, the reader is witness to the resurrection and does not have to rely on the logic of the narrative to perceive its reality. 4 See Norman R. Petersen, “When Is the End Not the End? Reflections on the Ending of Mark’s Narrative,” Int 34 (1980): 151–166. 5 In accord with the general avoidance of the subject of Jesus’s death and resurrection, do we perhaps detect in the Klementia a certain reticence about what Jesus is known to have predicted, even though it is still epistemologically critical that he made accurate predictions? In the opening discussion of prophecy in the Klementia, it seems rather odd that, while Peter explains how the True Prophet is to be closely scrutinized and verified, he provides his Roman friend (and the reader) with not a single example of prophecy uttered and then fulfilled. A bit later in the same Caesarea discourses, when the nature of the True Prophet’s prophecy is again the subject at hand and an example is provided, it comes not from the passion predictions of the Gospels, but it relies on the socalled “little apocalypse” or “synoptic apocalypse” (Matt 24:4–36; Mark 13:5–37; Luke 21:8–36). In Klem. 3.15.1 (cf. 3.13.1), Peter gives a summary characterization of the kinds of prophecies Jesus made (πάθη, τόπους, ânπροθέσmους χρόnους, τρόπους, íρους) and then goes on to quote a statement of Jesus that amounts to a curious blending of gospel sayings about the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple. Otherwise, the words of Jesus that are marked as prophecies in the Klementia predict

60

Trouble with Texts

This proof of the prophet may only double back to reinforce the knowledge of Jesus, but this validation is in fact key for the Christology and soteriology of the Klementia. Prescience, once it is established, shades imperceptibly into omniscience, for, once proven, the Prophet can be trusted as he who “tells us things as they really are and what we must believe about everything” (Klem. 1.19.4). Both aspects of the formulation – the fact of the omniscience of Jesus and what he knows – are important. True Prophecy turns out to be exactly what Clement needed in order to leap the epistemological gap that kept him tied up in knots as long as he attended to the endless “building up and tearing down” of ideas in the schools of the philosophers (cf. Klem. 1.1–4). The theological content of Jesus’s teaching, which is pithily summarized in Klem. 2.12.3 (“... there is one God, who made the world, and who, because he is completely just, will some day repay each person for his deeds”), is able to satisfy the gnawing curiosity about the afterlife and the post-mortem judgment of the soul that had once led Clement so far as to contemplate employing an Egyptian necromancer in order to see if a soul might be brought up before his very eyes (Klem 1.5). 6 This issue of certainty about post-mortem judgment is an interesting one on several levels. It is portrayed as indispensable for the person who wishes to face the final judgment in an acceptable moral condition, since nothing else can generate and sustain the requisite dose of hope and fear (Klem. 1.4.4–7). Moreover, it is even indispensable for the prophetic status of the True Prophet (and here there is a kind of circularity that is not escaped). The moral perfection (cf. 2.6.1) that permits the Prophet to possess the divine spirit of prophecy is itself dependent on the fact that the True Prophet was perfectly convinced about the judgment: προφήτης δà ‚ληθής âστιn å πάnτα πάnτοτε εÊδώς, êτι δà καÈ τ€ς πάnτωn ânnοίας, ‚nαmάρτητος, ±ς περÈ θεοÜ κρίσεως πεπληροφορηmέnος. A True Prophet is the one who always knows all things, even the thoughts of all, and is sinless, since he was fully convinced about the judgment of God (3.11.2). 7

events that come to fruition in the time of Peter’s ministry, such as the sayings in Klem. 8.4.1 that are fulfilled in the gathering of the crowd at Tripolis and the predictions of heresy that are consummated in the teachings of Simon Magus (cf. Klem. 11.35.3–6; 16.21.3–4). While the verification of the True Prophet by his prophecies is a concept of critical importance, the Klementia nowhere turns to the prominent gospel predictions about the suffering and death of Jesus Christ for proof. 6 Jan N. Bremmer, “Pseudo-Clementines: Texts, Dates, Places, Authors, and Magic,” in idem, Pseudo-Clementines, 16–19. 7 The issue does not appear to be an entirely academic one, for Peter, with some vitriol, cites the notion that the True Prophet was only sometimes in possession of the spirit as a popular one: “If we too, like the majority, allow that even the true prophet does not always foreknow, but sometimes, when he has the spirit, and on account of this [he foreknows], and when he does not have it, he is ignorant – if we should suppose this, we both deceive ourselves and entrap others” (3.13.2).

How to Read the True Prophet

61

Several remarks scattered throughout the Klementia may suggest that the author expected this fundamental teaching on the judgment of the soul to stretch credulity for at least a portion of his audience. The challenging nature of the teaching is acknowledged in a passing comment at the conclusion of a bit of paraenesis in the church order of the Epistula Clementis. After some pithy exhortations on honesty in business affairs, the author concludes: πλ˜n ταÜτα καÈ τ€ τούτοις παραπλήσια mέχρι τέλους ποιεØn ÍποmεnεØτε, â€n ‚χώριστοn mnήmηn περÈ τ¨ς âκ θεοÜ γιnοmέnης κρίσεως ân ταØς καρδίαις êχητε. τίς γ€ρ ‹n mαρτήσù πεπληροφορηmέnος íτι âκ θεοÜ δικαίου, τοÜ nÜn mόnου mακροθύmου καÈ ‚γαθοÜ, âπÈ τ¬ τοÜ βίου συnτελείø γεnέσθαι ±ρίσθη κρίσις, Ñnα οÉ ‚γαθοÈ τοÜ λοιποÜ τÀn ‚πορρήτωn ‚γαθÀn ‚ιδίως ‚πολαύσωσιn, οÉ δà mαρτωλοÈ εÍρεθέnτες ±ς κακοÈ ‚πορρήτου κολάσεως τεύξωnται τän αÊÀnα; καÈ ταÜτα màn οÕτως êχειn, εÊ m˜ å τ¨ς ‚ληθείας προφήτης ânόρκως εÊρήκει êσεσθαι, τάχα ‹n εÖλογοn ªn ‚mφιβάλλειn. But these things and the things like them you will persist in doing until the end, if you hold in your hearts an inseparable reminder about the coming judgment from God. For who would sin once he had been fully convinced that, from a just God, who is only for now longsuffering and good, judgment was ordained to come at the consummation of life, in order that the good may thereafter enjoy unspeakable goods eternally, but those found to be sinful may, as wicked ones, meet with unspeakable punishment forever? That these things are so it would perhaps be reasonable to doubt if the Prophet of Truth had not sworn that they will come to pass (Ep. Clem. 10.4–6).

The passage goes on to prescribe an institutional remedy for lingering doubts: “If one of you is doubtful about the things that I have said will be, let him confess it without shame if he cares about his soul, and he will be fully satisfied by the one who presides” (Ep. Clem. 11.2). The concept of the post-mortem judgment of the soul is also depicted as the target of Simon Magus’s derision in a dialogue Nicetas and Aquila report having once had with him while they were still his close confidants (2.28–31). When the twins had counseled Simon to consider the consequences of his magic in light of the judgment, Simon had responded, “I laugh at your stupid notion, that you believe the human soul to be immortal” (2.29.1). 8 Much later in the novel (Klem. 17.3.1–3), Simon raises the more substantive and immediately pragmatic objection that the doctrine is injurious to the mind, replacing the kind of fear that “gently” proceeds from the worship 8 Here again, as in the case of Clement’s necromantic designs, magic is invoked as a sphere of activity that may, as a by-product of its more direct purposes, be epistemologically probative. Nicetas and Aquila remind Simon that they themselves saw him separate the soul of a child from its body “by unspeakable incantations,” in order that it might become a synergos for him (2.29; cf. 2.26). Simon denies that it was actually a soul and claims that what they saw was a demon pretending to be a soul (2.30.1), but Nicetas and Aquila appear to come out ahead in the debate, for the episode ends with an enraged Simon threatening to kill them if they speak to anyone about his deeds (2.31.4). On the episode, see Tobias Nicklas, “Simon Magos: Erschaffung eines Luftmenschen (pseudo-Clemens Klem II, 26; Rec II, 15),” in Amsler et al., Nouvelles intrigues, 409–424.

62

Trouble with Texts

of “lifeless idols” with the truly terrifying image of a God who is “extremely” (Šκρως) just. If these details suggest that the premise was a hotly contested one in the intellectual context of the author, the narrative would seem to tout the epistemological power of its notion of True Prophecy when its well-educated hero, Clement, reports that he was “fully convinced about everything” on the very first day he heard about the True Prophet (Klem. 1.20.4).

Reading in a Time of False Scriptures Inextricably bound up with the introduction of the True Prophet in the opening books of the Klementia is the development of the distinctive notion of False Pericopes in scripture. 9 The subject is broached twice in the preliminary private teachings of Peter to Clement (Klem. 2.38; 3.5), and it is not withheld from the public debates either (Klem. 3.47–57). When the concept is first introduced to Clement, the discussion appears to draw directly upon remarks about scripture and the seat of Moses in the Epistula Petri, but it adds a new and critical piece of information about scripture. 10 Again, Peter points to Moses’s transmission of something to seventy elect men for the purpose of “provisioning” teachers (cf. Ep. Pet. 1.2), but this time the object is specified not as a kan¯on or a set of traditions, but as “the Law, together with its explanations” (âπιλύσεις). This Law, at least, would seem to constitute the written transcript of Torah, 11 for the next clause goes on to specify that, “not long after the Law was written, it took in also certain falsehoods (ψευδ¨) against the only God, who created the heaven and the earth and everything in them.” It was the “the wicked one” who was the instigator behind the spurious statements, even though the interpolations serve a just purpose in the grand scheme of things (Klem. 2.38.1). What the False Pericopes do, effectively, is render scripture a kind of auditory test, capable of separating the impious reader from the pious one. While the rogue will dare to be entertained by scurrilous blasphemies against God (i. e., “be fond of hearing,” or φιληκόως êχειn), the lover of God not only disbelieves the lies, but he will not tolerate hearing even the first syllable of such slander (‚λλ€ mηδà τ˜n

9 Strecker, Judenchristentum, 166–187; Vaccarella, “Shaping Christian Identity,” passim; Shuve, “The Doctrine of the False Pericopes,” 437–445. 10 In my view, the Epistula Petri does not quite assert that there are falsehoods in scripture, but the argument of Gerhard Uhlhorn to the contrary (Die Homilien und Recognitionen des Clemens Romanus nach ihrem Ursprung und Inhalt dargestellt [Göttingen: Dieterich, 1854], 98–99) should be considered. 11 Klem. 3.47.1 states unambiguously, however, that the Law was not written until after the death of Moses. There appears to be some discrepancy here.

Reading in a Time of False Scriptures

63

‚ρχ˜n ‚κούειn ‚nέχεσθαι). 12 The reading of the corrupted scripture, it seems, is a dangerous endeavor. In Peter’s estimation, it is better to err on the side of caution and run the risk of blocking out something that happens to be true than to assent to blasphemy and live with a bad conscience (Klem. 2.38.2). The whole lesson about the duplicitous quality of scripture is, in fact, nothing less than Peter’s own parallel to the “mystery” (Klem. 2.40.4; cf. Ep. Pet. 2.1) that Moses initiated to protect his own adherents from the dangers of scripture. It is explicitly aimed at “provisioning” Clement (Klem. 2.37.3; 2.40.3; cf. Ep. Pet. 2.1) against the peril, in order that he may be an Šπτωτος ‚κροατής (Klem. 2.37.3) when Simon Magus comes “armed” with the False Pericopes (cf. Klem. 3.3.3). When the time comes for Peter to catalogue the kinds of falsehoods that are found in scripture (Klem. 2.43–44), the list is impressive especially for its extent. Though he has just marveled at the way impious people will pass over the many things said “for God” in their gleeful quest to search out and bring forth slander (τ€ κατ+ αÎτοÜ εÊρηmέnα περιβλεπόmεnοι χαίροnτες φέρουσιn), 13 the apostle’s own list of lies betrays just how pervasive the False Pericopes are: διä ‚πείη πιστεύειn íτι å τÀn íλωn δεσπότης, «çς οÎραnän êκτισε καÈ γ¨n» καÈ πάnτα τ€ ân αÎτοØς, áτέροις συnάρχει £ íτι ψεύδεται (εÊ γ€ρ ψεύδεται, καÈ τίς ‚ληθεύει;) £ íτι «πειράζει» ±ς ‚γnοÀn (καÈ τίς προγιnώσκει;). εÊ δà «ânθυmεØται» καÈ «mεταmελεØται», καÈ τίς nÄ τέλειος καÈ γnώmù êmmοnος; εÊ δà «ζηλοØ», καÈ τίς ‚σύγκριτος; εÊ δà «σκληρύnει καρδίας», καÈ τίς σοφίζει; εÊ δà τυφλοØ καÈ κωφοØ, καÈ τίς δέδωκεn åρn καÈ ‚κούειn; εÊ δà ‚ποστερεØn συmβουλεύει, καÈ τίς δικαιοσύnηn nοmιτεύει; εÊ δà «ânπαίζει», καÈ τίς εÊλικριnής; εÊ δà ‚δυnατεØ, καÈ τίς πάnτα δύnαται; εÊ δà ‚δικεØ, καÈ τίς δίκαιος; εÊ δà «κακ€ κτίζει», καÈ τίς ‚γαθ€ πράξει; [εÊ δà κακ€ ποιεØ, καÈ τίς ‚γαθά;] εÊ δà «τä πØοn îρος» âπιθυmεØ, καÈ τίnος τ€ πάnτα; εÊ ψεύδεται, καÈ τίς ‚ληθεύει; εÊ ân σκηn¬ οÊκεØ, καÈ τίς ‚χώρητος; εÊ δà æρέγεται κnίσης καÈ θυσιÀn καÈ θυmάτωn καÈ προσχύσεωn, καÈ τίς ‚προσδε˜ς καÈ τίς ‰γιος καÈ τίς καθαρäς καÈ τίς τέλειος; εÊ λύχnοις καÈ λυχnίαις τέρπεται, καÈ τίς τοÌς φωστ¨ρας êταξεn ân οÎραnÄ; εÊ ân γnόφú καÈ σκότú καÈ θυέλλù καÈ καπnÄ σύnεστιn, καÈ τίς φÀς »n φωτίζει τän mέγιστοn αÊÀnα; εÊ δι€ σαλπίγγωn καÈ æλολυγmÀn καÈ βολίδωn καÈ τοξευmάτωn προσέρχεται, καÈ τίς ™ τÀn íλωn προσδόκιmος γαλήnη; εÊ πολέmους αÎτäς ‚γαπ”, καÈ τίς εÊρήnηn θέλει; εÊ «τ€ κακ€» αÎτäς «κτίζει», καÈ τίς ‚γαθ€ δηmιουργεØ; εÊ Šστοργος αÎτός, καÈ τίς φιλάnθρωπος; εÊ αÎτäς πιστäς οÎκ êστιn περÈ Án ÍπισχnεØται, καÈ τίς πιστευθήσεται; εÊ αÎτäς ποnηροÌς καÈ mοιχοÌς καÈ φοnεØς ‚γαπ”, καÈ τίς êσται δίκαιος κριτής; εÊ αÎτäς «mεταmελεØται», καÈ τίς βέβαιος; εÊ αÎτäς κακοÌς âκλέγεται, καÈ τίς ‚γαθοÌς προσίεται; Wherefore, far be it from us to believe that the master of all, who created heaven and earth and everything in them, shares his rule with others, or that he lies. For if he lies, then who speaks truth? Or that he tests, as if he does not know; then who foreknows? If he ponders and repents, then who is perfect in understanding and abiding in intention? If he is jealous,

12 Klem. 2.38.2. (cf. also 2.42.1). The trope is not unlike Basil’s recommendation that young readers of Greek literature stop up their ears when encountering passages on wicked men, just as Odysseus blocked out the sirens’ song (To Young Men, 4.2). 13 Klem. 2.40.3.

64

Trouble with Texts

then who is incomparable? If he hardens hearts, then who makes wise? If he makes blind and deaf, then who has given sight and hearing? If he advises robbery, then who legislates justice? If he mocks, then who is sincere? If he is incapable, then who can do all things? If he is unjust, then who is just? If he creates evil things, then who shall make good things? If he does evil, then who shall do good? If he desires the bounteous hill, then to whom does everything belong? If he lies, then who speaks truth? If he dwells in a tabernacle, then who is boundless? If he yearns for the smell of meat and for sacrifices and offerings and libations, then who is without need, and who is holy and pure and perfect? If he is pleased with lamps and lampstands, then who arranged the luminaries in heaven? If he is present in shadow and darkness and whirlwind and smoke, then who, being light, illuminates the most vast eternity? If he comes through trumpets and shouts and darts and arrows, then who is the tranquility expected by all? If he himself loves wars, then who desires peace? If he himself creates evil things, who fashions good things? If he is without affection, then who is philanthropic? If he himself is not faithful with respect to his promises, who shall be trusted? If he himself loves the wicked and adulterers and murderers, then who shall be a just judge? If he himself repents, then who is steadfast? If he himself chooses evil men, then who accepts the good ones? (Klem. 2.43–44)

Furthermore, almost as an afterthought, Peter will add a remark at the end of Book Two indicating that the False Pericopes are not limited strictly to theology, for there are also notorious slanders about the righteous men of old that must not be tolerated (e. g., that Adam sinned, that Noah was a drunk, that Abraham was a polygamist, that Moses was a murderer; Klem. 2.52). The impression left by all of this is that reading scripture by Peter’s methods might prove to be almost comical, requiring the lover of God to reach constantly for his ears to block out impious insinuations.

Be Good Moneychangers Thus far into the novel, the teachings on true prophecy and on the right reading of the corrupt scriptures have intersected only in a rather indirect manner. That is, the True Prophet has been disclosed as he who confirms the monarchy of the divine creator and the final judgment of souls (Klem. 2.12), and the love for the Creator that is engendered by this knowledge serves as a sure guide to blocking out the false statements about God that are embedded in scripture (cf. 2.38.2; 2.42.1). The lesson on scriptural interpretation is not yet complete, however, for there is another favorite image for the hermeneutical task that links the True Prophet Jesus directly to the interpretation of scripture and simultaneously evokes a more studied approach to the written word. At the close of Book Two (Klem. 2.51), Peter introduces Clement to a extra-canonical saying of Jesus that appears three times in the novel (also 3.50.2 and 18.20.4) and seems to function almost as a slogan for the Klementia’s view of the way Jesus taught his disciples to read scripture:

Be Good Moneychangers

65

ΕÊ οÞn τÀn γραφÀn ƒ mέn âστιn ‚ληθ¨, ƒ δà ψευδ¨, εÎλόγως å διδάσκαλος ™mÀn êλεγεn· «Γίnεσθε τραπεζØται δόκιmοι», ±ς τÀn ân ταØς γραφαØς τιnωn màn δοκίmωn înτωn λόγωn, τιnÀn δà κιβδήλωn. If, therefore, some things of the scriptures are true but some are false, our teacher sensibly said, “Be good moneychangers,” since some of the statements in the scriptures are genuine but some are counterfeit (Klem. 2.51.1).

The saying, “Be good moneychangers,” is one of the most widely-known agrapha in early Christian literature, put to a variety of applications and invoked for the discrimination of everything from prophets, to “the spirits,” to various kinds of literature. 14 In association with the idea of False Pericopes, it adds to the notion of right reading an element of critical acumen and learned expertise that is not so well captured in the Klementia’s descriptions of reading as an act guided by the love of God. Moneychangers were a class of skilled professionals in the ancient world, invested with a particular training and authority, 15 and those who bear teaching authority in Peter’s movement are to be, according to the Klementia, similarly adept at scrutinizing the coinage of scripture. Peter makes the point with a fourth and somewhat different reference to “moneychangers” in the narrative account of the ordination of Zacchaeus as the bishop of Caesarea. Chiding the reluctance of Zacchaeus to assume the office, and alluding to the Parable of the Talents (Matt 25:14–30), he warns: εÊ δέ τις τÀn παρεστώτωn, διοικεØn δυnάmεnος τ˜n ‚γnωmοσύnηn τÀn ‚nθρώπωn, Íποστέλλεται, τ¨ς αÍτοÜ ‚nαπαύσεως φροnτίζωn mόnης, καÈ αÎτäς προσδοκάτω ‚κοÜσαι· «∆οÜλε ποnηρà καÈ æκnηρέ, êδει σε τä ‚ργύριόn mου προβαλεØn âπÈ τÀn τραπεζιτÀn, καÈ âγ° ‹n âλθ°n êπραξα τä âmόn· âκβάλετε τän ‚χρεØοn δοÜλοn εÊς τä σκότος τä âξώτεροn». καÈ εÎλόγως. σοÜ γάρ (φησίn), Šnθρωπε, τοÌς λόγους mου ±ς ‚ργύριοn âπÈ τραπεζιτÀn βαλεØn καÈ ±ς χρήmατα δοκιmάσαι. If someone among those who are present is able to manage the folly of the people and shrinks from it, thinking only of his own rest, let him, too, expect to hear, “Wicked and timid slave! You ought to have invested my silver with the moneychangers, and when I came, I would have made my interest. Cast out the useless slave into the outer darkness!” And sensibly so, for he says about you, man, “to put my words, like silver, to the moneychangers and test them like money” (Klem. 3.61.1–2).

This last statement may get at the function of all the “moneychangers” sayings in the Klementia, namely, the application of the sayings of Jesus to the task of interpreting scripture. In addition to the “love” hermeneutic, the followers of Peter must also be trained in the true meaning and value of the teachings of 14 Alfred Resch, Agrapha: Außercanonische Schriftfragmente, TUGAL 30 (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1906), 112–128. 15 Curtis Hutt, “‘Be Ye Approved Money Changers!’ Reexamining the Social Contexts of the Saying and Its Interpretation,” JBL 131 (2012): 589–609.

66

Trouble with Texts

Jesus widely disseminated in the canonical Gospels and other early Christian literature. If the implied speaker in the final sentence above is Jesus (the speaker of the three other citations of the moneychangers agraphon), the further implication is that Jesus’s words, in addition to the words of the scriptures of the Jews, demand a certain scrutiny and critical mastery. 16 The “moneychangers” saying has garnered a fair amount of attention in recent Pseudo-Clementine scholarship, mostly regarding the question of influence (i. e., by what channels the saying may have entered Pseudo-Clementine tradition). 17 When we focus upon the way the saying is used in the Klementia, something interesting emerges. The connection of the agraphon with the doctrine of False Pericopes is perhaps not what is most critical, for the False Pericopes can be (and indeed are) handled otherwise. It is instead, the ability of the agraphon to bring into view what cannot be discussed so openly – False Pericopes in the Gospels. By expounding upon the question of how Jesus taught his disciples to “be good moneychangers,” the author of the Klementia gains an opportunity to cull certain dominical sayings from the Gospels, revise them as needed, and present them as a tradition that is both more ancient and more authoritative than similar sayings transmitted in the canonical narratives about Jesus. According to the Klementia, Jesus taught his disciples to be “moneychangers” vis-à-vis the partly spurious and partly genuine scriptures, and indeed the compendium of sayings at the end of Klem. 3 (3.50–57) is Peter’s answer when Simon Magus asks to be shown “how he taught you to divide the scriptures” (Klem. 3.49.3). In the narrative, this lesson is the coup that finally silences Simon Magus and ends the Caesarea Discourses (cf. Klem. 3.58).

The Time of the True Prophet Before we turn to the collection of sayings that is presented as Jesus’s exegetical catechism for his followers, we must understand how Jesus is situated in the soteriological history developed in these first discourses of the novel. The Klementia does considerable work in its first three books to ground Jesus firmly within a triad of True Prophets, linking his peculiar importance as exegete to 16

Hutt, “‘Be Ye Approved Money Changers!’,” 602–603. Jones (“Marcionism in the Pseudo-Clementines,” 157–158), building on the work of Éric Junod, has espoused the view that the Klementia gives a positive reception, in some measure, to the thought of the Marcionite Apelles on the grounds that the application of the saying to the distinction between true and false scriptures is “absolutely unique to the Pseudo-Clementines and Apelles.” Giovanni Bazzana (“‘Be Good Moneychangers’: The Role of an Agraphon in a Discursive Fight for the Canon of Scripture,” in Ulrich et al., Invention, Rewriting, Usurpation, 297–311) has effectively challenged Jones’s conclusions both by pointing out significant differences between the use of the saying in the Pseudo-Clementines and what little can be known about Apelles, and by showing similarities in its usage by Origen. 17

The Time of the True Prophet

67

his distinctive “time.” His time is one of unique hermeneutical challenges, the time of False Pericopes, which were inserted into scripture after the time of the previous True Prophet, Moses. It is also a time of an unprecedented opening of the truth to Gentiles. The question of the relationship among prophets in the scheme of true prophecy is addressed by the Klementia in a very interesting little digression, just two paragraphs long (Klem. 3.18–19), that interrupts a discussion otherwise focused entirely upon Adam. The two paragraphs give every appearance of having been inserted by a redactor (the author of the Klementia?) into an existing discourse, but that can be only a guess. In this digression, Jesus and the Pharisees (the heirs of the seat of Moses) come into view momentarily in such a way as to provide the reader with a glimpse of a scheme of true prophecy revolving around three critical figures – Adam, Moses, and Jesus. The first point to be observed is that the lesson about Adam, even apart from its two paragraphs on Jesus and the Pharisees, is already complex. The subject matter, as stated, is the “rule of pairs” (å τ¨ς συζυγίας καnώn), a concept Peter introduced on the second day in Caesarea (Klem 2.15–18). When the teaching commences, however, it is with a rhetorical question that makes Adam’s status as a recipient of the divine prophetic spirit, or as a True Prophet (cf. 3.21.1), the question at hand (3.17.1). Although Adam’s name is not mentioned, his identity can hardly be mistaken when Peter opens with an evocative contrast between the exceptional birth of the first man and the rather more messy generation of his human descendants. As Peter poses the problem, if the human who was gestated by God’s own hands (å Íπä χειρÀn αÎτοÜ κυοφορηθείς Šnθρωπος) 18 should be deemed not to have had the “great and holy spirit of his progn¯osis,” how could the prophetic spirit ever be attributed “to another born of a foul droplet” (áτέρú τÄ âκ mυσαρς σταγόnος γεnnηθέnτι), that is, to any other human? 19 In the next sentence, a third major concern in the novel is brought to the surface, namely the fundamental problem of “false pericopes” in scripture, a matter which has already been discussed at length in Klem. 2.38–52 and which lies at the very heart of Klem. 3. Thus, when the reader arrives at what is explicitly marked as the beginning of this new segment of teaching in Klem. 3.17, she encounters a cluster of distinctive notions central to the thought of the Klementia – the doc-

18 Cf. Klem. 2.52.2, where the proper name is associated with the epithet: οÖτε >Αδ€m παραβάτης ªn, å Íπä τÀn τοÜ θεοÜ χειρÀn κυοφορηθείς. 19 While it is conceivable that some specific individual is to be identified with the “other” who is here contrasted with Adam, the reference is likely a general one, to anyone born by the usual biological means (cf. Wehnert [Pseudoklementinische Homilien, 88], who translates âκ mυσαρς σταγόnος as “mittels eines unreinen Samentropfens”; see also Strecker, Judenchristentum, 146, n. 2). The author’s fascination with the mysterious mingling of physical substances that results in human procreation will manifest itself again later in this discourse, (cf. Klem. 3.22–23, 27), with respect to the first man and his female companion.

68

Trouble with Texts

trine of pairs, or “syzygies,” the doctrine of the True Prophet, and the doctrine of false pericopes – brought together in the space of a few sentences. And as if that were not enough, the two paragraphs that are our chief concern (Klem. 3.18–19) constitute an immediate digression from theses matters, adding Jesus and the Pharisees to the mix. 20 This rhetorical digression from the main subject matter is clearly and explicitly marked at its conclusion, for in Klem. 3.20.1, Peter will remark, “But I return to my first account of truth,” and then repeat almost verbatim the rhetorical question contrasting the one “gestated by the hands of God” with the one “born of a foul droplet” with which he opened the lesson in Klem. 3.17.1.

The True Prophet? Before we begin to examine the digression on Jesus and the Pharisees, it should be noted that it comes as something of a surprise to find the question of Adam’s status as True Prophet setting the tone for Peter’s discourse. In Klem. 3.21.1, the one who gave fitting names to all the animals is described as “the only True Prophet” (οÝτος αÎτäς mόnος ‚ληθ˜ς Íπάρξας προφήτης), but up to this point in the novel, Peter’s instruction to the neophyte Clement has seemed unequivocal about Jesus’s unique status and role as the True Prophet. In his very first words to Clement, Peter depicts the world as a house that became so filled with smoke on account of human evil and error that God’s will could no longer be detected (Klem. 1.18–19 // Rec. 1.15–16). “Lovers of truth” were impelled to shout for aid, that someone might come and open the door, letting in the light of day and releasing the smoke. Peter makes it clear that the one who came to the rescue provides the only way past the kind of chronic uncertainty that characterized Clement’s own youthful philosophical questioning (cf. Klem. 1.1–3): τän màn οÞn βοηθän Šnδρα τän ‚ληθ¨ προφήτηn λέγω, çς mόnος φωτίσαι ψυχ€ς ‚nθρώπωn δύnαται, ¹στ+ ‹n αÎτοØς æφθαλmοØς δυnηθ¨nαι [™mς] ânιδεØn τ¨ς αÊωnίου σωτηρίας τ˜n åδόn. Šλλως δà ‚δύnατοn, ±ς οÚσθα καÈ σύ ... The man who is the helper I call the True Prophet, who alone can enlighten human souls so that we can see the way of eternal salvation with our own eyes. Otherwise it is impossible, as you also know ... (1.19.1–2).

Again in Klem. 2, Peter will twice reiterate the necessity for the True Prophet and his perfect knowledge of all things. First, in paragraph six, we find an un20 One wonders if Peter is depicted as making a kind of proleptic apology for the complexity of the discussion as he introduces it in 3.16.2, specifying that the topic is of such importance and so extensive that he will not cease to expound it to his followers, under its major headings (κεφαλαιωδÀς), in private settings. Indeed, this is esoteric teaching (cf. mυστικän λόγοn, 3.29.1), and it sometimes appears to elude elegant and entirely logical arrangement.

The Klementia’s Digression: Scripture and “Our” Father

69

specified exhortation – perhaps a gesture toward the Gospels (cf. Matt 13:17 // Luke 10:24) – to “read” about those who thought they found truth by themselves, followed by the assertion that it is only the True Prophet who can hold out the truth: τοÜτο γ€ρ προφήτου Òδιοn, τä τ˜n ‚λήθειαn mηnύειn, ¹σπερ ™λίου Òδιοn τä τ˜n ™mέραn φέρειn. δι€ τοÜτο íσοι ποτà ‚λήθειαn γnÀnαι âπεθύmησαn, παρ€ δà τούτου mαθεØn αÎτ˜n οÎκ εÎτύχησαn, m˜ εÍρόnτες ζητοÜnτες âτελεύτησαn. For this is the particular function of the prophet, to disclose the truth, just as it is the particular function of the sun to bring the day. For this reason, as many as have ever desired to know truth, but were not fortunate to learn it from this one, died seeking and not having found it (2.6.2–3).

In paragraph twelve, Peter once more repeats the mantra, this time extending the possession of truth to the True Prophet’s disciples, as well as the True Prophet himself: íθεn,  φίλε Κλήmης, εÒγε τ€ τÄ θεÄ διαφέροnτα γnÀnαι θέλεις, παρ€ τούτου mόnου mαθεØn êχεις, íτι mόnος οÚδεn τ˜n ‚λήθειαn. τÀn γ€ρ Šλλωn εÒ τις âπίσταταί τι, παρ€ τούτου £ τÀn τούτου mαθητÀn λαβ°n êχει. Hence, my dear Clement, if you want to know what matters to God, you can learn from this one alone, because he alone knows the truth. If anyone else knows anything, he has it because he has received it from him or his disciples (2.12.1–2).

Given these several characterizations of Jesus as the “only True Prophet,” the reader may be somewhat surprised to arrive at the opening of Peter’s lesson in 3.17 and find herself confronted with the notion that Adam, too, had the spirit of true prophecy; certainly so later in the lesson when the same exclusive designation, “only True Prophet,” is applied to him explicitly (3.21.1). But before the question about Adam’s status can be properly addressed, the focus will shift briefly to Jesus.

The Klementia’s Digression: Scripture and “Our” Father After his initial, and rather oblique, rhetorical question about the “holy spirit of progn¯osis” and the one “gestated by the hands of God,” Peter follows up with a word about what must be believed. This statement, likewise, seems ambiguous. “I do not think,” he opines, “that a person is excused even if he should be led to think terrible things against the father of all by bastard scripture” (Íπä nόθου γραφ¨ς) (3.17.2). What is not entirely clear is if this “father” is meant to indicate God or Adam (or perhaps both simultaneously), but it perhaps hardly matters, for each is “father of all” in his own way. It is in fact the analogy that makes slandering Adam (as the false passages of scripture might lead one to do)

70

Trouble with Texts

a grave sin, since insulting the “image” amounts to insulting what the image represents (3.17.2). The function of the paternal language will grow even more complex as the discourse moves off into the digression that will bring the Pharisees and Jesus into the discussion. It seems that in 3.18.1, “our father” still refers to Adam, but the paternal terminology will soon be applied to Jesus, as well. In the space of this one sentence about Adam (or possibly about God), we find a fascinating explanation of how scripture, or “the law laid out in public” (å δηmοσίø κείmεnος nόmος), works to confound unworthy readers, even as it gestures to those who are ardent for truth: m˜ ‚πατσθε. å πατ˜ρ ™mÀn οÎδàn šγnόει. åπότε καÈ å δηmοσίø κείmεnος nόmος, ‚γnοίας ânκλήmατι δι€ τοÌς ‚nαξίους σκέπωn αÎτόn, τοÌς ‚ληθείας γλιχοmέnους âπ+αÎτän ‚nαπέmπει λέγωn· «>Εξέτασοn τän πατέρα σου καÈ âρεØ σοι, τοÌς πρεσβυτέρους σου, καÈ ‚nαγγελοÜσίn σοι». Be not deceived. Our father was ignorant of nothing. While the law laid out in public shelters him, on account of the unworthy, with an accusation of ignorance, it refers those who strive after truth to him, saying, “Examine your father and he will speak to you; your elders, and they will proclaim to you” 21 (Klem. 3.18.1).

The various operations of the law described here stand in curious tension with one another, effecting a dissonance that perhaps conveys something of the serious difficulty the author has with scripture. At once, this obfuscating literature shelters (σκέπωn) the father from unworthy readers by making “accusations” against him, even as it elsewhere “refers” those readers who are of better disposition to him. 22 It may seem strange that this scriptural “reference” (Deut 32:7), once it has been located by the worthy reader, actually appears to do nothing more than send him on a further quest, with a promise of being spoken to in return. The command is consistent, however, with the novel’s general stance that truth is to be found in authoritative sources external to scripture. Scripture does not so much impart accurate knowledge as it tests the security of the reader’s grasp on the essential articles of faith. It is at this point that the tenor of the discourse takes a somewhat odd turn and clearly heads off in a new direction. Recall that we are in the midst of a private discussion between Peter and his ever like-minded companions, and yet the statement in 3.18.2 strikes an accusing tone over against a singular “you,”

21

Deut 32:7. It is worth noting that Appion, in the dialogue with Clement that spans Klem. 4–6, is criticized for making a similar claim about the composition of the Greek myths about the gods. At the end of the first day of the debate, he promises to show by means of allegorical interpretation that the gods are not really adulterers, murderers, and pederasts, but that the myths which might seem to suggest as much were created by the ancients so that only lovers of learning (φιλοmαθεØς) might know the mysteries, which are depicted as a kind of deeper knowledge of the physical universe (4.24.3–4). 22

The Klementia’s Digression: Scripture and “Our” Father

71

precisely as Jesus, insofar as he is recognized to be the speaker of the citation (a saying quite close to Matt 23:2), emerges: τοÜτοn âχρ¨n τän πατέρα ζητ¨σαι, τούτους τοÌς πρεσβυτέρους âπιζητ¨σαι. ‚λλ+ οÎκ âζήτησας τίnος âστÈn å τ¨ς βασιλείας χρόnος, τίnος ™ τ¨ς προφητείας καθέδρα, καίτοι αÎτοÜ áαυτän mηnύοnτος τÄ λέγειn· «>ΕπÈ τ¨ς καθέδρας Mωυσέως âκάθισαn οÉ γραmmατεØς καÈ οÉ ΦαρισαØοι· πάnτα íσα λέγουσιn ÍmØn, ‚κούετε αÎτÀn». It was necessary to seek this father, to examine these elders. But you did not seek whose is the time of the kingdom, whose is the seat of prophecy, although he discloses himself in the saying, “The scribes and the Pharisees sat on the seat of Moses; whatever they say to you, listen to them” (Klem. 3.18.2).

How exactly the speaker of this saying, the possessor of the time of the kingdom and the seat of prophecy, discloses himself with the statement and imperative about the scribes and Pharisees requires some unpacking. The passage goes on first to exegete the saying by drawing upon the “Woes” of Matt 23:13 and Luke 11:52, or perhaps a harmonized version of the two: 23 αÎτÀn δà εÚπεn ±ς τ˜n κλεØδα τ¨ς βασιλείας πεπιστευmέnωn, ¡τις âστÈn γnÀσις, › mόnη τ˜n πύληn τ¨ς ζω¨ς ‚nοØξαι δύnαται, δι+ ©ς mόnης εÊς τ˜n αÊωnίαn ζω˜n εÊσελθεØn êστιn. ‚λλ€ nαί (φησίn), κρατοÜσι màn τ˜n κλεØn, τοØς δà βουλοmέnοις εÊσελθεØn οÎ παρέχουσιn. He said “them” as ones who had been entrusted with the key of the kingdom, which is knowledge, which alone is able to open the gate of life, through which alone it is possible to enter into eternal life. But indeed, he says, they grasp the key and do not yield to those who want to enter (Klem. 3.18.3).

As we might already suspect, it will become apparent later in Klem. 3 that the “gate of life” invoked here to complement the allegory of the key is probably an allusion to the dominical sayings of John 10:7–9, with the imagery of the sheepfold entrance (™ θύρα τÀn προβάτωn) transformed into that of the city gate (™ πύλη). 24 We will encounter this πύλη τ¨ς ζω¨ς again in 3.52.2, this time retained within the context of an “I am” saying similar to John 10:9. 25

23 The Lukan woe speaks of a “key of knowledge,” while the Matthean version has the Pharisees “locking up” the kingdom of heaven. Both charge the Pharisees with hindering people from “going in,” each utilizing language that is slightly different from what we see here. 24 The Klementia often depicts eternal life in urban terms and consistently characterizes the method for achieving it as πολιτεία, despite the infectious scourge of the cultural life of Greek cities that is described by Clement in Klem. 4.18–19. See Strecker, Pseudoklementinen III: Konkordanz, 313–14, and note especially the elaborate metaphor of the church as a ship trying to reach the harbor of the peaceful city of a great king (Ep. Clem. 13.3–15.5), as well as Peter’s discussion of two kinds of travelers on a road leading to a flourishing city (Klem. 10.2). 25 Strecker, Judenchristentum, 127.

72

Trouble with Texts

Jesus and the Seat of Moses Thus far, Peter has essentially interpreted Jesus’s words with the help of more words of Jesus, but the digression becomes more original beginning with 3.19.1, where the apostle explicitly signals the addition of his own interpretation (φηmί). What follows is a creative characterization of Jesus’s mission that plays with the imagery of the Pharisees sitting on the seat of Moses. The critical statement depicts, through an extended string of participial phrases, Jesus’s actions in response to the Pharisees’ sitting and grasping the key with which they were entrusted: δι€ τοÜτο (φηmί) αÎτäς τ¨ς καθέδρας âγερθείς, ±ς πατ˜ρ Íπàρ τέκnωn, τ€ ‚πä αÊÀnος ân κρυπτÄ ‚ξίοις παραδιδόmεnα κηρύσσωn, mέχρις αÎτÀn âθnÀn τän êλεοn âκτείnωn καÈ ψυχ€ς πάnτωn âλεÀn, Êδίου αÑmατος šmέλει. I say, on account of this, he, having risen from the seat, like a father for children, proclaiming the things that have always been transmitted in secret to the worthy, extending mercy as far as the very Gentiles and having mercy on the souls of all, neglected his own blood (Klem. 3.19.1).

The narrative gaps in this shorthand christological account are large, and certain elements resist easy interpretation. Nonetheless, the statement is intelligible as a neat encapsulation of the view of salvation history espoused by the Klementia. That the divine will was proclaimed to the worthy from the beginning, though in guarded fashion, is affirmed in much the same language already in Klem. 1.11–12. Much later in the novel, it is similarly confirmed that the “secrets” (τ€ ‚πόρρητα) were known by the wise ancients from the time of Adam onward (cf. 18.14). The kerygmatic innovation that comes through the True Prophet Jesus is thus not so much new content as it is an expansion of the audience permitted to receive the original teaching of truth. In Jesus’s mission to the Gentiles, the truth that has been guarded all along in the traditions of “the worthy” is now opened to all, even to the neglect of the True Prophet’s own kindred. What is most remarkable about Peter’s account is the way that it appropriates the “seat of Moses” as a metaphorical site of christological action. Our author appears to transform the “seat of Moses,” drawn from the gospel of Matthew, into a conceptual pivot point in his story of salvation history – perhaps filling the function of the cross in the canonical version of the story, given this author’s apparent aversion to the death of Jesus as a soteriologically significant event. It is from this seat that Jesus rises and marks a critical point of departure from the followers of Moses. It is to Jesus’s act of rising from this seat that the situation which obtains on the main timeline of the novel, the respectful co-existence of two valid chairs (i. e., successions) of teaching, can be traced

Jesus and the Seat of Moses

73

back. 26 An element of the negative connotations associated with the seat of Moses in Matt 23:2 is certainly present, and indeed there is an air of superiority attached to Jesus’s seat when Peter turns to the matter of appointing a bishop over the city of Caesarea later in Klem. 3. Making yet another allusion to Matt 23:2, the terminology of καθέδρα is set in opposition to the more regal θρόnος: θρόnοn οÞn ΧριστοÜ τιmήσετε· íτι καÈ Mωυσέως καθέδραn τιmn âκελεύσθητε, κ‹n οÉ προκαθεζόmεnοι 27 mαρτωλοÈ nοmίζωnται. You shall honor the throne of Christ, because you were commanded to honor even the seat of Moses, even if those presiding on it are accounted sinners (Klem. 3.70.2).

Nonetheless, the Klementia will emphasize that the teaching emanating from Jesus’s seat is still essentially the same as that of Moses, and the pious followers of Moses are to be respected as they continue to observe the law given to them (cf. Klem. 8.5–7). With this scenario of divergence and the creation of parallel chairs of teaching, the author is able to account for certain sociological differences without introducing any strong ideological divide between the followers of Moses and the Gentile adherents of Jesus. The primordial plan of salvation remains intact, and the two basic options for piety that have always existed continue unchanged with the coming of another True Prophet after Moses. From here, the digression will go on to depict Jesus’s mission with a rhetorical flourish that draws upon metaphors deeply embedded in the piety and theology of the novel. As he rises from his seat, Jesus is transformed at once into a royal figure motivated by the deep affection (στοργή) that a father feels for his children; he will go so far as to battle for them, even if they, in turn, fight back out of ignorance (3.19.2). Although the metaphors of king and father are more often applied to God in the Klementia, Peter specifies exegetically how it is that Jesus merits them, alluding to imperatives found in the Sermon on the Plain and the Sermon on the Mount: Jesus is paternal in his love for those who hate, who are disobedient, or who revile him, and he demands a similar fraternal attitude among his disciples. 28 26 On the seat of Moses, see especially the Epistula Petri, which holds up the manner by which Moses handed down his teaching “to the seventy who had received his chair” as a model for the secure transmission of tradition (1.2; 3.1–2) and lauds this method of transmission as the source of the perfect unity among followers of Moses observed everywhere, right down to the present (1.3– 5). The exegetical discussion in Klem. 11.28.4–11.29.2 emphasizes that obedience is to be rendered to the unhypocritcal among the Pharisees, as those entrusted with the seat of Moses. On the other hand, the seat of Jesus’s teaching is transmitted through Peter to Clement, as bishop of Rome (Ep. Clem. 2.2; 3.1–2; 17.1; 19.1–3), and to bishops ordained by Peter in other cities (Zacchaeus at Caesarea, Klem. 3.60.1; 3.63.1). 27 The same participle (in the singular) is used frequently in the Ep. Clem. and in the Klementia to designate the bishop. See Strecker, Pseudoklementinen III: Konkordanz, 324. 28 Cf. Luke 6:27–28 and Matt 5:43–48.

74

Trouble with Texts

Adam, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit of Christ As Peter’s digression comes to an end and Adam re-emerges as the subject of discussion, we are finally in a position to begin analyzing the relationship between these two figures characterized as the “only True Prophet” in the Klementia. The christological connection is specified rather swiftly and evocatively in a series of clauses (marked by italics in the translation below) characterizing the historical activity of the spirit that was first possessed by Adam. The description is so singular that its precise meaning has proved a challenge to interpreters, 29 and the origin and function of this distinctive christological scheme have been the subject of much debate in scholarship. 30 As Peter announces the return to his original subject matter after the digression on the Pharisees and Jesus, he states: â€n τÄ Íπä χειρÀn θεοÜ κυοφορηθέnτι ‚nθρώπú τä ‰γιοn ΧριστοÜ m˜ δÄ τις êχειn πnεÜmα, πÀς áτέρú τιnÈ âκ mυσαρς σταγόnος γεγεnηmέnú διδοÌς êχειn οÎ τ€ mέγιστα ‚σεβεØ; τ€ δà mέγιστα εÎσεβεØ, â€n áτέρú màn m˜ δÄ êχειn, âκεØnοn δà mόnοn êχειn λέγù çς ‚π+ ‚ρχ¨ς αÊÀnος ‰mα τοØς ænόmασιn mορφ€ς ‚λλάσσωn τän αÊÀnα τρέχει mέχρις íτε Êδίωn χρόnωn τυχώn, δι€ τοÌς καmάτους θεοÜ âλέει χρισθείς, εÊς ‚εÈ éξει τ˜n ‚nάπαυσιn. If a person does not grant the possession of the holy spirit of Christ to the human gestated by the hands of God, how does he not commit the greatest impiety by granting possession to some other born of a foul droplet? But he performs the greatest piety if he does not grant possession to another, but says that that one alone has it who, from the beginning of the age, having changed forms along with names, traverses the age until reaching his own times, and 29

This one passage is sometimes taken to be so much a part of the Christology of the Klementia that one need only allude to it, as if it is pervasive and completely characteristic of the novel. For example, see the uncited allusion to this passage in Luigi Cirillo, “Le Baptême, remède à la concupiscence, selon la catéchèse pseudo-clémentine de Pierre: Hom. XI 26 (Rec. VI 9),” in Text and Testimony. Essays on New Testament and Apocryphal Literature in Honour of A. F. J. Klijn, ed. T. Baarda (Kampen: Kok, 1988), 79–90, 85, n. 37. 30 Strecker, Judenchristentum, 149, notes, “Die Identität Adam-Christus ist außerhalb der Klementinen kaum belegt.” Citing parallels in the Valentinian identificaiton of Christ and Anthropos, the Sethian identification of Seth and Christ, and Naassenian Adam worship, he concludes that “die Lehre dürfte in jüdisch-gnostischem milieu entstanden sein.” An alternative explanation was proposed, over against Strecker’s theory, by Han J. W. Drijvers (“Adam and the True Prophet,” 314–323). Drijvers makes a compelling case that the doctrine was developed by the author of the Grundschrift (= Periodoi Petrou, ca. 220–253) as part of a complex of ideas designed to combat the Marcionism prevailing in the Syrian context. Over against Marcion’s emphasis on the sinfulness of Adam, as the creation of an ignorant deity, the Grundschrift exalted Adam and made him identical with Christ, effectively linking the creative and redemptive acts of God. To resolve the problem of the contradictions in scripture to which Marcion devoted his Antitheses, the Grundschrift simultaneously drew upon the thought of Bardaisan to develop the notion of false pericopes in scripture, fitting this doctrine into a broader cosmological and soteriological framework defined by false and true lines of prophecy and negative /positive pairs of figures. Having already expressed doubt about Strecker’s theory of a Jewish Christian KP source, Drijvers concludes his article with the statement that the origin of this critical complex of ideas is better accounted for as third-century anti-heretical weaponry and “not in a supposed Syrian Jewish Christianity which never existed as such.”

The Seven Pillars of the World

75

having been anointed with the mercy of God on account of his labors, will have rest forever (Klem. 3.20.1–2).

This sweeping statement appears to indicate that Adam and Jesus can both be the “only” True Prophet by virtue of the fact that each manifests the same “holy spirit of progn¯osis” (3.17.1), or “holy spirit of Christ” (3.20.1), in his own era. Although Jesus is not explicitly named here, there are a couple of reasons to suppose that he is to be understood as the site of the spirit’s final, or eternal, rest. He would appear to be indicated in the echoing of the phrase “his own times” (ân Êδίοις καιροØς) from 3.16.1, and the association of this unnamed figure with an anointing for mercy fits well with the description of Jesus in the digression, as a king who extends mercy to the Gentiles (cf. 3.19.1, mέχρις αÎτÀn âθnÀn τän êλεοn âκτείnωn καÈ ψυχ€ς πάnτωn âλεÀn). It is even possible that there is an allusion to Jesus’s reading from Isaiah in the Nazareth synagogue in Luke 4:16–21 (i. e., to the spiritual “anointing” for certain divine “labors”). If Adam and Jesus are the two termini for the divine spirit in history, what is still not clear is precisely how the author of the Klementia imagined the spirit of the Christ to have been active as it “ran” through the age from its appearance in Adam toward its final anointing and eternal rest in Jesus Christ (3.20.2). Do these two temporally extreme figures constitute the extent of the True Prophet Christology, or is it implied that the spirit was innate in other key figures in biblical history, as well? The latter possibility has suggested itself to interpreters for a couple of reasons, both having to do with yet other passages in the novel where history is sketched through a succession of notable personalities. This is the case in passages dealing with the so-called “seven pillars of the world” and with the doctrine of pairs, two sets of ideas that, while related and somewhat overlapping, should nonetheless be understood as distinct from one another.

The Seven Pillars of the World Several passages in the Pseudo-Clementines make use of a slightly variable but nonetheless recognizable list of “ideal figures” from biblical history (Klem. 2.16– 17 // Rec. 3.61; Klem. 2.52; Klem.17.4 // Rec. 2.47; Klem. 18:13). 31 Once, in Klem. 18.13.6–18.14.1, these men are designated as the “seven pillars of the world” (áπτ€ στÜλοι κόσmú), although only six (Adam, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob) are named in the immediate context. Comparison with the similar lists in the three other Klementia passages cited above make it clear that Moses also belongs to the group, and precisely this group of seven appears in

31 See Charles A. Gieschen, “The Seven Pillars of the World: Ideal Figure Lists in the Christology of the Pseudo-Clementines,” JSP 12 (1994): 47–82.

76

Trouble with Texts

Klem. 17.4.3 // Rec. 2.47. The tradition employed in these lists is explicitly biblical, 32 holding up these men as ones who were exceptionally pious and close to God. Epithets denoting key attributes or actions are frequently attached to their names, 33 and they are collectively described as those who were “able to please the most righteous God,” were “better than everyone” (18.14.1), and were simply “righteous” (2.52.1; 18.14.2). Because Adam is both included among these ideal figures and described as the True Prophet, it is tempting to envision the rest of the “pillars” as also participants in the True Prophet Christology of the Pseudo-Clementines. Oscar Cullmann’s view, obviously based on Klem. 3.20.2, that the True Prophet was incarnate in all the pillars, has been influential. 34 Charles Gieschen has attempted to nuance and complexify that view by arguing that the men in the “ideal figures” lists of the Clementina (the Klementia and Recognition) were not all “incarnations” of the True Prophet (only Adam was), but they were men with whom the True Prophet was at once always present (on the influence of “Wisdom /Spirit” traditions) and to whom he frequently appeared (on the influence of “Angel of the Lord” mediator traditions). 35 The changing “forms and names” of Klem. 3.20 that Cullmann described as incarnations are, according to Gieschen, better understood as angelomorphic “appearances” made “for the purpose of imparting the holy spirit to others.” 36 While Gieschen is certainly not to be faulted for allowing for a complexity that cannot be easily resolved into a christological “system,” 37 most of the evidence he cites comes from the Recognition, and his theory results in a picture that is a bit too complex for the Klementia. For example, none of the Klementia passages cited by Gieschen to demonstrate that the True Prophet “infuses” or “imparts” the spirit to others 32 Cf. the list of five in 2.52.1, about whom Peter says that he refuses to believe anything κατ€ τÀn ân τÄ nόmú ‚nαγραφέnτωn δικαίωn. 33 Adam is å πρωτόπλαστος, Enoch å εÎαρεστήσας, Noah å δίκαιος, Abraham å φίλος, and Jacob å παλαίσας in 18.13.6. Somewhat different and more extended epithets are applied in 2.52.2, with a markedly Christian quality evident in Jacob’s description: Adam is, å Íπä τÀn τοÜ θεοÜ χειρÀn κυοφορηθείς, Noah å Íπàρ πάnτα τän κόσmοn δίκαιος εÍρεθείς, Abraham å δι€ σωφροσύnηn πολυτεκnίας καταξιωθείς, Jacob çς δεκαδύω φυλωn Íπάρξας πατ˜ρ καÈ τ˜n τοÜ διδασκάλου ™mÀn παρουσίαn âσήmαnεn âλθεØn, and Moses å παnτÈ τÄ αÊÀnι τän τοÜ θεοÜ nόmοn προφητεύσας καÈ δι+ æρθ˜n φρόnησιn πιστäς οÊκοnόmος mαρτυρηθείς. 34 Oscar Cullmann, The Christology of the New Testament, 2nd ed., transl. Shirley C. Guthrie and A. M. Hall, NTL (London: SCM, 1963), 40: “Since the creation of the world, the True Prophet hastens through the centuries, changing his name and form of appearance. He incarnates himself again and again – in Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Moses.” 35 Gieschen, “Seven Pillars of the World,” 48–49. 36 See Charles A. Gieschen, Angelomorphic Christology: Antecedents and Early Evidence, AGJU 42 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 209, 213. The argument provided to demonstrate that the pillars were not “incarnations” of the True Prophet is tautological: “The various ‘forms and names’ need not be regarded as other human beings such as ‘the prophets’ in Wis 7:27 or the Gospel of the Hebrews, since the True Prophet is incarnate only in Adam and Jesus.” 37 Gieschen, “Seven Pillars of the World,” 48, n. 3.

The Doctrine of Pairs

77

make that point explicitly. 38 Klementia 18.13–14 does make the argument that the “seven pillars” must have known the True Prophet in some way, since it would be unjust if such righteous individuals had been kept in the dark while Jesus revealed the Father even to impious Gentiles, but I find no good reason to describe the Christology of the Klementia as especially “angelomorphic,” or marked by “appearances” of the True Prophet to the righteous. Finally, it is not even apparent, as both Cullmann and Gieschen assert, that the Klementia holds up the seven pillars as “prophets.” Of the seven, only Adam and Moses are designated as prophets, and this is, as we shall see below, because both were also associated with the True Prophet Christology of the novel. The “pillars” tradition emphasizes the piety and righteousness of these great men of history rather than lending them prophetic status. 39 Gieschen seems to be led to conclude that the pillars are prophets especially by the one passage where the “ideal figures” tradition is drawn into association with the other schema marked by historical “succession” in the Klementia, the doctrine of pairs.

The Doctrine of Pairs Two notions of “succession,” the concept of the “seven pillars” and the doctrine of pairs, overlap in Klem. 2.15–17, the passage that Gieschen isolates as “the most compelling evidence” that the pillars are to be identified as prophets. 40 In this passage, Peter appears to allude briefly to the scheme of antithetical male and female strains of prophecy that is elaborated much more fully in Klem. 3. Here he speaks only briefly and in general terms of a succession (áπόmεnοι) of prophets who are “sons of the coming age” and have “knowledge of things eternal” (2.15.4), but in 3.22–27 he will fill out in much greater detail how two “families” of prophecy (2.23.1), true and false, descended from Adam and his female counterpart. Moving on to give account of the “prophetic rule,” Peter sets forth a list of “syzygies” spanning the whole extent of history and incorpo-

38 Cf. the interpretations of Klem 8.10, Klem. 1.19, and Klem. 3.27–28 (which is surely erroneously labeled as III.17–18) by Gieschen (Angelomorphic Christology, 207–08). The influence of the True Prophet is characterized as “teaching” and “ordaining an eternal law” in 8.10.2–3; Klem. 1.19 speaks of the “enlightenment” of souls; Klem. 3.27 depicts the True Prophet as sowing the “word of truth” in his bride. 39 Jacob is also once identified as a prophet, but only in Rec. 1.49, not by “Ps-Clem,” as Gieschen, (“Seven Pillars,” 69) states. The Klementia holds Gen 49:10 (part of the prophecy of Jacob about Judah) to be a truly prophetic verse and a hermeneutical key (see below), but it does not explicitly name Jacob in this context. 40 Gieschen, “Seven Pillars,” 72. He goes outside of the Clementina for his next best evidence, stating, “This view of the pillars as prophets is also visible in Epiphanius when he states in Panarion 30.18.4: ‘But after these [the pillars and Aaron] they [the Ebionites] acknowledge no more of the prophets.’”

78

Trouble with Texts

rating, among other figures, all of the pillars except Enoch, some with epithets similar to those found in other passages utilizing the “ideal figures” lists: αÎτίκα γοÜn ‚πä >Αδ€m τοÜ κατ+ εÊκόnα θεοÜ γεnοmέnου âγέnετό τις πρÀτος Šδικος Κάιn, δεύτερος δίκαιος —Αβελ. πάλιn δà ‚πä τοÜ καθ+ Ímς λεγοmέnου ∆ευκαλίωnος πnευmάτωn εÊκόnες δύο ‚πεστάλησαn, ‚καθάρτου λέγω καÈ καθαροÜ, í τε κόραξ å mέλας καÈ ™ λευκ˜ περιστερ€ δευτέρα. καÈ ‚πä màn τοÜ ‚ρχηγέτου τοÜ êθnους ™mÀn >Αβρα€m δύο [πρÀτοι] γεγόnασιn, πρÀτος >Ισmαήλ, εÚτα >Ισα€κ å Íπä τοÜ θεοÜ εÎλογηmέnος. ‚πä δà αÎτοÜ >Ισα€κ åmοίως πάλιn δύο, >ΗσαÜ å ‚σεβ˜ς καÈ >Ιακ°β å εÎσεβής. οÕτως τ¬ τάξει πρÀτος, ±ς πρωτότοκος τÄ κόσmú, å ‚ρχιερεύς, εÚτα å nοmοθέτης. åmοίως – ™ γ€ρ πρäς τän >Ηλίαn συζυγία æφείλουσα âλθεØn áκοÜσα ‚πελείφθη εÊς éτεροn καιρόn, Šλλοτε εÎκαίρως αÍτ˜n ‚πολαβεØn βουλευσαmέnη – [διä] καÈ å «ân γεnnητοØς γυnαικÀn» πρÀτος ªλθεn, εÚτα å ân υÉοØς ‚nθρώπωn δεύτερος âπ¨λθεn. ταύτù τ¬ τάξει ‚κολουθοÜnτα δυnατän ªn nοεØn τίnος âστÈn Σίmωn, å πρä âmοÜ εÊς τ€ êθnη πρÀτος âλθώn, καÈ τίnος »n τυγχάnω, å mετ+ âκεØnοn âληλυθ°ς καÈ âπελθ°n ±ς σκότú φÀς, ±ς ‚γnοίø γnÀσις, ±ς nόσú Òασις. οÕτως δή, ±ς å ‚ληθ˜ς ™mØn προφήτης εÒρηκεn, πρÀτοn ψευδàς δεØ âλθεØn εÎαγγέλιοn Íπä πλάnου τιnäς καÈ εÚθ+ οÕτως mετ€ καθαίρεσιn τοÜ γίου τόπου εÎαγγέλιοn ‚ληθàς κρύφα διαπεmφθ¨nαι εÊς âπαnόρθωσιn τÀn âσοmέnωn αÉρέσεωn· καÈ mετ€ ταÜτα πρäς τÄ τέλει πάλιn πρÀτοn ‚nτίχριστοn âλθεØn δεØ καÈ τότε τän înτως Χριστän ™mÀn >ΙησοÜn ‚nαφαn¨nαι καÈ mετ€ τοÜτο αÊωnίου φωτäς ‚nατείλαnτος πάnτα τ€ τοÜ σκότους ‚φαn¨ γεnέσθαι. Immediately from Adam, who came into being according to the image of God, a certain unjust Cain came first, the just Abel second. Again, from the one called Deucalion by you, two images of spirits were sent out, I mean of an unclean and a clean one, the black raven and the white dove second. And from the founder of our nation, Abraham, two firsts have come, first Ishmael, then Isaac, the one blessed by God. From Isaac himself likewise again two, Esau the impious and Jacob the pious. Thus first in order, as first-born in the world, is the high priest, then the lawgiver. Likewise – for the syzygia with Elijah, although it ought to have come, was willingly set aside for another time, when it took counsel to recover itself at the right moment – therefore also the first among those born of women came, then the second among the sons of men came after. Following this arrangement, it was possible to understand to which belongs Simon, who came first to the Gentiles before me, and to which I belong, who have come after that one and have come in like light upon darkness, like knowledge upon ignorance, like healing upon disease. Thus certainly, as the True Prophet has said to us, it is necessary that first a false gospel come by a certain deceiver and then thus, after a cleansing of the holy place, a true hidden gospel be sent out for correction of the coming heresies. And after these things, at the end, again first an Antichrist must come and then the true Christ, our Jesus, must be revealed and, after this, when eternal light has dawned, all the things of darkness must disappear (Klem. 2.16.3–2.17.5).

What Gieschen misses in citing this passage as the best evidence that the pillars are prophets is that it is really the pairing of positive and negative figures, only some of whom can themselves be called “prophets” in any meaningful sense, that is highlighted in the doctrine of pairs. In other words, what is “prophetic” about the pairs is the way their members point each other out by appearing in relation to one another. It is thus to the observer of history who is “in the know” that they signal the progression of things. Not all of the pairs are even human,

Moses the True Prophet

79

but the fact that the figures in the list need not be prophets per se is best seen in Peter’s inclusion of himself (and his counterpart Simon Magus) in the scheme. Peter is decidedly not a prophet for the Klementia (cf. Ep. Pet. 2.2; Klem. 18.7). Thus, the Klementia can be observed to draw upon, and at times combine, several distinct concepts of “succession” and “prophecy”: a list of righteous “pillars” who followed one another and marked out the pious contours of biblical history; a doctrine of “pairs” that signals the progression of history to the keen observer; and even a notion of unerring “male” prophecy originating with the first man and set over against a kind of deceptive “female” prophecy. The True Prophet Christology of the novel overlaps with the lists of pious “pillars” and is itself drawn into the prophetic historical schema of “pairs” through both Adam and Christ, but these conceptions remain largely distinct. 41 Where they are simultaneously invoked, namely in our focal passage, 3.17–28, the statement connecting Adam and Christ remains stubbornly vague. The “forms and names” identified with the “spirit of progn¯osis” running through history resist identification, with one notable exception. To that exception we shall now turn.

Moses the True Prophet Although Moses is nowhere assigned the title True Prophet, 42 it seems reasonably clear that the Klementia views him as the second in a triad of True Prophets, preceded by Adam and followed by Jesus. 43 Moses clearly possesses the sine qua non of the True Prophet, a share in divine progn¯osis (cf. 2.10), but what is perhaps most interesting about the depiction of Moses is that the proof of his

41 Strecker (Judenchristentum,150) perceives the difficulty of fitting the “pillars” coherently into the doctrine of the True Prophet, but he nonetheless keeps the two sets of ideas together when he states, “Die Inkarnationen [a reference to der Gestaltwandel of 3.20.2] vollziehen sich in vielen ‘Propheten in dieser Welt’ (H II 15,4), ohne daß sie auf die ‘sieben Säulen’ beschränkt werden.” Positing a source critical explanation, he finds the Seven Pillars references in 18.13 and 17.4 embedded in an antimarcionite section of G, and he observes that there it is die Offenbarung and not der Gestaltwandel that is at issue. 42 He is designated simply “the prophet Moses” in 2.38.1 and in 11.22.2. 43 Carlson, Jewish-Christian Interpretation, 85; Wehnert, Pseudoklementinische Homilien, 39; Strecker, Judenchristentum, 150: “Unter den Größen, in denen sich der wahre Prophet = Christus offenbart hat (vgl. H II 15 ff. 52), steht neben Adam Moses an hervorragender Stelle. Auch Moses besaß Vorherwissen (H III 44,1. 47,4); er hat das Gesetz gegeben (H II 16,7.52,3 III 47,1 vgl. H II 38,1), das hernach vom Kyrios bestätigt wurden (Ep. P. 2,5). Wenn ihm Prophezeiung für “die ganze Weltzeit” zuerkannt ist, so ist er damit dem durch die Zeit eilenden wahren Propheten gleichgesetzt.” See also Drijvers, “Adam and the True Prophet,” 315: “From the beginning of the world there was therefore a continuous prophecy appearing in different forms and under different names from Adam to Christ, the first and the last True Prophet (Hom. III,20). Among these Moses had a paramount position. He gave the Law for the whole space of time (panti t¯ou ain¯oni [sic], Hom. II,52,3) and had foreknowledge too (Hom. III,44,1; 47,4).”

80

Trouble with Texts

prophetic power is drawn less from depictions of him in scripture than it is deduced from his authorial relationship with the Pentateuch. At the conclusion of the second book of the Klementia, Peter uses Moses’s authorship of the creation account to secure God’s foreknowledge over against the insinuations in the scriptures that God did not foreknow. The rather contorted argument specifies that Moses could not have known how the world was made unless he was a prophet, and, since a prophet, by definition, has foreknowledge from God, God must have foreknowledge. 44 In the third book, Moses’s authorial relationship to the Bible is again invoked to prove that he had foreknowledge from God. This time, however, his prophetic knowledge is paired closely with that of Adam, for the passage, a debate between Simon and Peter, begins with allegations against Adam drawn from the scriptures. Adam’s ability to name the animals and his son Abel with accuracy are cited as proof of his possession of a kind of foreknowledge that can only come from an omniscient God (3.42–43). A bit further along it is similarly claimed that Moses accurately “foreshadowed the sins of the people and predicted their dispersion among the Gentiles” (3.44.1). Finally, with a clever deployment of inverse logic, Peter makes the prophetic status of Moses hang on the very fact that he transmitted, but did not write down, a Torah destined for instability: Απέθαnεn Mωυσ¨ς»; âπεÈ ân τÄ mετ€ Mωυσέα χρόnú (¹ς γε êτη που πεnτακόσια £ καÈ πρός) ân τÄ κτισθέnτι nαÄ κείmεnος εÍρίσκεται, καÈ mεθ+ éτερά που πεnτακόσια êτη φέρεται καÈ âπÈ τοÜ Nαβουχοδοnόσορ οÕτως ânπρησθεÈς ‚πόλλυται. καÈ ímως mετ€ Mωυσ¨n γραφεÈς καÈ πολλάκις ‚πολωλ°ς τ˜n τοÜ Mωυσέως πρόγnωσιn καÈ οÕτως ±mολόγησεn, íτι τän ‚φαnισmän αÎτοÜ προειδ°ς οÎκ êγραψεn· οÉ δà γράψαnτες τÄ τän ‚φαnισmän m˜ προεγnωκέnαι âπ+ ‚γnωσίας âλεγχθέnτες, προφ¨ται οÎκ ªσαn. The law of God was given unwritten through Moses to seventy wise men to be handed down, in order that it might be able to govern in succession. But after Moses was taken up, it was written by someone, but certainly not by Moses. For in the law itself it is written, “And Moses died, and they buried him near the house of Phogor, and no one knows his grave down to this day.” How, if he had died, could Moses write, “Moses died”? Then, in the time after Moses (about 500 years, or even more) it was discovered deposited in the temple that had been built, and after about another 500 years it was carried off and destroyed, having been thus burned up in the time of Nebuchadnezzar. Nevertheless, although it was written after Moses and has often been destroyed, even so it confessed the foreknowledge of Moses, since he, having foreseen its disappearance, did not write it down. The ones who 44 At least Clement, if not the reader of the novel, is compelled to assent (2.50.3), ‚nάγκη οÕτως êχειn, “Ιt must be so!”

Moses the True Prophet

81

wrote it were convicted of ignorance by not having foreseen its disappearance and were not prophets (3.47.1–4).

From these several passages, it is clear that the same kind of prescience that establishes Adam and Jesus as True Prophets also defines Moses. Furthermore, though Moses authored the law, his separation from its written form is a critical part of his particular place in the schema of true prophecy. One further passage much later in the novel nicely illustrates how history, in the Klementia, is periodized specifically around the Adam-Moses-Jesus triad of True Prophets (and not a more extensive succession of prophets). Again, it is the relationship of the prophet to the law that marks a new era. The context is a dispute between Peter and Simon Magus about whether or not God (or indeed anyone) can be both good and just. To prove that God is both, Peter divides history explicitly into two periods, from Adam to Moses, and from Moses to the present (i. e., the time of the True Prophet Jesus), based on God’s different ways of issuing law through his prophets: ‚γαθäς mέn, íτι ‚πä τÀn χρόnωn >Αδ€m mέχρι Mωυσέως âγγράφως οÎ φαίnεται τεθεικ°ς τän nόmοn – ‚πä δà Mωυσέως εÊς τοÌς δεÜρο χρόnους ±ς γέγραπται καÈ δίκαιός âστιn. He is good, since, having given the law, it does not appear in written form from the times of Adam until Moses; but since it was written from Moses up to the present times, he is also just (Klem. 18.3.2).

The law of God is initially communicated by Adam to his progeny and made manifest to all, 45 but the scenario becomes more complicated after Moses, when the authentic oral tradition of Moses exists alongside the corrupted, written, and public form of the law. As we have already seen in part, Jesus intercedes in 45 Cf. also the description of Adam’s time given by Peter near the beginning of the Tripolis Discourses (Klem. 8.10.1–3): “It is like this: When the only good God had made all things well and had handed (them) over to the human who was according to his image, the one who had come into existence breathing of the divinity of the one who had made him, being a True Prophet and knowing everything, for honor of the father who had gifted all things to him and for salvation of the sons born from him, as a legitimate father preserving goodwill toward the children begotten by him, wanting them to love God for their own advantage and to be loved by him, he revealed the way leading to his friendship, having taught in what sort of deeds of humans the only God and master of all delights; and having revealed the things that seem good to that one, he ordained an eternal law for all, which can be neither burned up in war nor corrupted by some impious one, nor concealed in one place, but can be read by all.” êχει δà οÕτως· τοÜ mόnου ‚γαθοÜ θεοÜ τ€ πάnτα καλÀς πεποιηκότος καÈ παραδεδωκότος τÄ κατ+ εÊκόnα αÎτοÜ γεnοmέnú ‚nθρώπú, å γεγοn°ς τ¨ς τοÜ πεποιηκότος αÎτän πnέωn θειότητος, ‚ληθ˜ς προφήτης »n καÈ εÊδ°ς τ€ íλα, εÊς τιm˜n τοÜ πάnτα αÎτÄ δωρησαmέnου πατρäς καÈ εÊς σωτηρίαn τÀn âξ αÎτοÜ γεnοmέnωn υÉÀn, ±ς πατ˜ρ γnήσιος πρäς τοÌς Íπ+ αÎτοÜ γεnοmέnους παØδας ‚ποσ¼ζωn τä εÖnουn, βουλόmεnος αÎτοÌς πρäς τä συmφέροn αÎτοØς φιλεØn θεän καÈ φιλεØσθαι Íπ+ αÎτοÜ, τ˜n πρäς φιλίαn αÎτοÜ Šγουσαn âξέφηnεn åδόn, διδάξας ποίαις ‚nθρώπωn πράξεσιn å mόnος καÈ πάnτωn δεσπότης θεäς εÎφραίnεται, καÈ τ€ âκείnú δοκοÜnτα âκφήnας nόmοn αÊώnιοn ¹ρισεn τοØς íλοις, mήτε πολέmú âmπρησθ¨nαι δυnάmεnοn mήθ+ Íπä ‚σεβοÜς τιnος Íποnοθευόmεnοn mήτε ánÈ τόπú ‚ποκεκρυmmέnοn, ‚λλ€ πσιn ‚nαγnωσθ¨nαι δυnάmεnοn.

82

Trouble with Texts

history not to alter in any way the securely preserved and faithfully observed teaching of Moses, but to act primarily as an exegete of the confusion introduced by the written word in the period between Moses and himself. Given his position in history, his role vis-à-vis the true law is necessarily different than the role of Moses, though each preserves the same truth. As we saw in Peter’s digression on Jesus and the Pharisees, the watershed moment in Jesus’s activity, that which marks the beginning of a new era, is the opening of truth to the Gentiles. In this way, the present timeline of the narrative, the time of Peter’s mission and the establishment of the churches, constitutes a third and final period in salvation history. These are the “times” proper to the True Prophet Jesus, filled with the activity of his prophets (3.16.1). This period is characterized in various places in the novel in relation to both of the previous two eras. Nostalgia for the time of Adam seems to be at play when Peter, after railing at length about idolatry and the cultic deceptions of the demons, urges the crowd at Tripolis to reclaim, through the “good gn¯osis” he has provided, “the first saving religion (θρησκεία) transmitted to humankind” (9.19.2). At Caesarea, it is Moses’s activity in Egypt that serves as a type for Peter’s mission, which is poised on the cusp of a new Exodus from the slavery of polytheism: âπεÈ γάρ, ±ς êφαmεn, δυικÀς καÈ ânαnτίως πάnτα êχοnτα åρÀmεn καÈ ±ς πρώτη nύξ, εÚτα ™mέρα, καÈ πρÀτοn Šγnοια, εÚτα γnÀσις, καÈ πρÀτοn nόσος, εÚτα Òασις, οÕτως πρÀτα τ€ τ¨ς πλάnης τÄ βίú êρχεται, εÚθ+ οÕτως τä ‚ληθàς âπέρχεται, ±ς τ¬ nόσú å Êατρός. αÎτίκα γοÜn τοÜ θεοφιλοÜς ™mÀn êθnους ‚πä τ¨ς τÀn ΑÊγυπτίωn κακουχίας mέλλοnτος λυτροÜσθαι, πρÀτοn δι€ τ¨ς æφιωθείσης ûάβδου, ¡τις τÄ >Ααρ°n âδόθη, αÉ nόσοι âγίnοnτο, καÈ εÚθ+ οÕτως εÎχαØς Mωυσέως αÉ Êάσεις âπεφέροnτο. καÈ nÜn δà τÀn âθnÀn mελλόnτωn ‚πä τ¨ς κατ€ τ€ εÒδωλα λυτροÜσθαι θρησκείας, ™ κακία πάλιn, ±ς αÎτ˜ βασιλεύουσα, προλαβοÜσα πρÀτοn τän áαυτ¨ς ¹σπερ îφιn êπεmψε σύmmαχοn, çn åρτε Σίmωnα, ποιοÜnτα θαυmάσια πρäς κατάπληξιn καÈ ‚πάτηn, οÎ σηmεØα Êατικ€ πρäς âπιστροφ˜n καÈ σωτηρίαn. For since, as we said, we see all things being in pairs and opposite – like night first, then day; and ignorance first, then knowledge; and disease first, then healing – so the things of error come first in life, then in this way the truth comes upon them, like healing upon disease. For example, when our God-beloved nation was about to be ransomed from the maltreatment of the Egyptians, first diseases came through the serpentine rod that was given to Aaron, and then healings were brought on by the prayers of Moses. And now, as the Gentiles are about to be ransomed from the religion according to the idols, wickedness, as if she reigns, has taken precedence and sent first her own ally like a serpent, the Simon whom you see performing miracles for amazement and deception, not healing signs for conversion and salvation (2.33.2–4). 46

The defining concern of the final era of history, the times of the followers of the final True Prophet, Jesus, is thus the end of a polytheism that originated 46

cf. Klem. 3.3.2.

How Jesus Taught Us to Read

83

alongside the first man through the false prophecy of his female partner. The theology and piety (monarchia and politeia) that are required for a return to the pristine religion of the first man are provided through two chairs of teaching – through the carefully guarded oral traditions preserved among the followers of Moses, and through the exegetical solution to the problem of false pericopes that is preserved by Peter and the bishops he ordains.

How Jesus Taught Us to Read We are now well positioned for an analysis of the public portion of Peter’s discourses at Caesarea, which concludes with an extensive collection of sayings of Jesus. This lesson ostensibly demonstrates and unravels the problem of False Pericopes, but just as importantly, it functions to give the eyewitness disciple Peter an opportunity to present his own distinctive version of the catechism of Jesus. Nearly every element of this lesson is drawn from the Gospels, but the material is marked with modifications that make it suit the precise needs of the Klementia. By presenting its own tradition, conveyed to the reader through the apostolic eyewitness Peter and his eyewitness scribe Clement, the novel is able to show authoritatively how the sayings of the True Prophet Jesus are to be understood and applied to the task of reading the scriptures. Preceding the lesson, we find Peter finally addressing the crowd that has gathered to hear him at Caesarea (after the postponement of the event on the previous day; cf. Klem 2.35). His sermon (Klem. 3.30–37) extols the Creator as the one and only God, the benefactor of humankind, and it commends the love of God as that which may render humans immortal (3.37). Not so much as a single reference to scripture is made in this grand encomium of the Creator, and it is Simon who, predictably, challenges Peter on the grounds that the public books of the Jews (τÀn παρ€ >Ιουδαίοις δηmοσίωn βίβλωn) not only acknowledge many gods but also ascribe countless defects to the one who made the world (Klem. 3.38). In response to the litany of verses that Simon invokes as evidence of God’s inferior nature (Klem. 3.39), Peter offers two exegetical principles that together disclose and unravel the problem of scripture. The first principle operates internally to cast serious doubt on the usefulness of scripture as a source of truth at all. Peter points out that, for every verse in scripture that slanders God, one can find a verse that affirms his perfection. The entire body of testimony is thus rendered self-cancelling unless the truth can be adjudicated by some other means. The second principle, accordingly, looks beyond scripture for something that can resolve the conflict, and that “something” is found in the indubitable “handwriting” of God manifest in the wonders of creation (3.45.4). Comparative scrutiny of these two “writings” will reveal which parts of scripture speak accurately of God.

84

Trouble with Texts

Simon’s next objection is astute – so much so that it appears to present a challenge that will not be thoroughly resolved. The heretic does not quibble with the hermeneutic Peter has presented but simply suggests that it does not go far enough and cannot adequately match the scope of the problem with scripture. Scripture, after all, is law, and it is concerned with far more than merely portraying the divine: >Επειδ˜ τ€ περÈ θεοÜ (±ς êφης) âκ τ¨ς πρäς τ˜n κτίσιn παραβολ¨ς êστιn nο¨σαι, πÀς τ€ λοιπ€ ân τÄ nόmú, âκ παραδόσεως Mωυσέως înτα καÈ ‚ληθ¨ τυγχάnοnτα καÈ τοØς ψευδέσιn mεmιγmέnα âπιγnÀnαί âστιn δυnατόn; Since it is possible (as you said) to perceive the things about God by comparison with the creation, how is it possible to recognize the rest of the things in the law that are from the tradition of Moses and are in fact true, and have been mixed up with the false? (3.48.1).

What comes next is somewhat surprising. Peter asserts that there is a solitary secure pericope planted in scripture by divine providence in order to show what is true and what is false (περικοπή τις ân τÄ γραφέnτι nόmú κατ€ τ˜n τοÜ θεοÜ πρόnοιαn ‚πταίστως âπεmnηmοnεύθη, ¹στ+ ‹n σαφÀς δεØξαι τÀn γεγραmmέnωn ποØά âστιn ‚ληθ¨, ποØα δà ψευδ¨). 47 When pressed by Simon to identify that verse, Peter cites Gen 49:10, the enigmatic and highly contested prophecy of Jacob about Judah: γέγραπται ân τÄ πρώτú τοÜ nόmου βιβλίú πρäς τοØς τελευταίοις· «ΟÎκ âκλείψει Šρχωn âξ >Ιούδα οÎδà ™γούmεnος âκ τÀn mηρÀn αÎτοÜ, éως ‹n êλθù οÝ êστιn· καÈ αÎτäς προσδοκία âθnÀn». âάn τις οÞn τän mετ€ τä âξ >Ιούδα âκλεØψαι Šρχοnτα καÈ ™γούmεnοn âληλυθότα καÈ Íπä âθnÀn προσδοκσθαι mέλλοnτα nο¨σαι δυnηθ¬, οÝτος τ˜n περικοπ˜n âκ τÀn ‚ποτελεσθέnτωn 〈...〉 ‚ληθ¨ τän âληλυθότα âπιγnÀnαι· οÝ τ¬ διδασκαλίø πειθόmεnος γnώσεται τίnα âστÈn τÀn γραφÀn τ€ ‚ληθ¨, τίnα δà τ€ ψευδ¨. It is written in the first book of the Law, towards the end: “A ruler shall not fail from Judah, nor a leader from his thighs, until he come whose it is; and he is the expectation of the Gentiles.” If, therefore, a person is able to perceive the one who has come after ruler and leader failed from Judah, and who will be expected by the Gentiles, he will be able to recognize, from the things that have come to pass with respect to the pericope, that he has truly come; and, being convinced by his teaching, he will know what parts of the scriptures are true and what parts are false (3.49.1–2).

The verse from Genesis is cited frequently as messianic prophecy in early Christian literature, and it is often presumed to indicate in one way or another the time of Jesus’s appearance in history. 48 Some authors see the end of Judahite 47 “A certain pericope is by the providence of God remembered infallibly in the written law, so as to show clearly what sort of the things written are true and what sort are false” (Klem. 3.48.2). 48 For a concise treatment of the textual variants and the interpretation of the verse among the church fathers, see Ronald E. Heine, Reading the Old Testament with the Ancient Church: Exploring the Formation of Early Christian Thought (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), 109–116.

How Jesus Taught Us to Read

85

rule in Herod the Idumean (e. g., Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 1.6); others read the Jewish War as the time of the prophesied failure of native leadership (e. g., Justin, Dialogue with Trypho 52.2–4; Origen, First Principles 4.1.3). Many, including the author of the Pseudo-Clementine Recognition (cf. Rec. 1.50; 5.10– 12), point to the Gentiles filling up the churches and “expecting” the second coming of Christ as the fulfillment of the part of the prophecy about the “expectation of the Gentiles” (cf. Justin, First Apology 32; Origen, First Principles 4.1.3). The Klementia is remarkable only inasmuch as it makes no effort at all to spell out precisely how the verse points to Jesus, in spite of the singular importance that is explicitly attached to it by Peter. The text of the Klementia is difficult at this point, but it appears that the author is confident that “the things that have come to pass” are transparent enough. 49 In any case, whom the verse indicates is not really the question to be adjudicated, for Simon Magus is willing to grant that the one prophesied might be Peter’s teacher. Thus, the discussion is allowed to advance and to address a key concern of the Klementia, i. e., how Jesus, the one signaled by the verse, unravels the problem of a scriptural canon that is composed of both true and false statements. Peter’s extensive answer to Simon’s question of “how he taught you to divide (διακρίnειn) the scriptures” (Klem. 3.49.3) can itself be divided into three main sections, the contours of which echo major concerns manifest over and over again elsewhere in the novel. The various elements of this collection of sayings are gleaned entirely from the canonical Gospels with two (possible) exceptions: 50 the well-known early Christian agraphon “Be good moneychangers,” and one saying that is otherwise unattested in early Christian literature, likely because the author of the Klementia fashioned it himself. The lesson appears to have been crafted with the following structure: 1) the exegesis of seven sayings of Jesus in order to demonstrate the Klementia’s doctrine that there are true and false statements mixed up in scripture, 2) the presentation of seven more gospel sayings identifying Jesus as the teacher of saving truth, the one who can resolve the problem of the False Pericopes, and 3) the application of certain sayings of Jesus to specific hermeneutical challenges, including a single and rather complicated demonstration of the unraveling of an ethical problem presented by scripture, and then the solution to ten questions of theodicy of the sort that dominate the debates of Simon and Peter.

49 Some authors find tokens of Jesus’s identity especially in connections between the details in the surrounding verses (Gen 49:9, 11–12) and the passion narratives (e. g., Irenaeus, Against Heresies 4.10.2; Justin, First Apology, 32), but in keeping with his general silence on the passion of Jesus, the author of the Klementia makes no such associations and limits his citation to Gen 49:10. 50 Kline (Sayings of Jesus, passim) provides synoptic tables (in Greek) setting each Klementia citation alongside its closest canonical counterparts.

86

Trouble with Texts

True and False Things in Scripture The first set of seven sayings is the most complex, though its explicit and overarching purpose is simply to secure the existence of the False Pericopes in scripture. This distinctive doctrine is perhaps where the author of the Klementia expected the burden of proof really to lie for his readers, or at least where he might have wanted them to mark a sharp contrast between themselves and (other) Christians. Throughout the novel, the Klementia is straightforward with its readers about the falsehoods inherent to scripture, but it betrays a certain self-consciousness about the fact that many people approach scripture with the assumption that it is “true.” The doctrine of False Pericopes, for many, will be hard to swallow. Clement presses the point in a moment of private instruction with Peter, asking how one should answer the critic who says, “What is written is true even if the things written against God seem false to you” (Klem. 2.47.2). And elsewhere Peter himself worries aloud that delving into the complex blend of truth and falsehood in scripture in public will only confuse and alienate his audience of potential converts (Klem. 2.39). For this reason, Peter’s preference is that the Bible be left out of public discourse altogether, and it is much to his chagrin when he learns from the spies he has sent into the cohort of Simon Magus that his enemy intends to bring scripture into their debates (cf. Klem. 3.2– 3). In spite of all his talk about the danger of giving any hearing to the slander in scripture, pragmatism reigns. Peter states that his initial strategy must be to affirm the False Pericopes in public, lest the unschooled audience flee from him in shock (Klem. 2.39.4). The effect of Peter’s reciting this worry aloud is, in one sense, to reinforce the conceit of the novel that it bears something esoteric and out of the mainstream. Right from the beginning, we can perceive that the Klementia is not dealing merely with a sayings tradition. 51 It engages not only with sayings (there are some references to events, as well), and the sayings that are invoked are sometimes linked, in various ways, with their narrative contexts in the Gospels. The manner of engagement may be highly selective and wide-ranging, but the Gospels as narrative are certainly in view, even if the conceit of the novel permits

51 The fine study of Amsler (“Citations évangéliques,” 142) concludes that the explicit citations of the Gospels in the Pseudo-Clementines resonate with an old tradition of privileging Jesus’s teaching over his death and resurrection: “Sans qu’on puisse prouver que cette littérature se fonde sur un forme “sauvage” du texte canonique ou sur une harmonie évangélique, il est possible, en revanche, de montrer que, sous le couvert de l’autorité de Pierre, il perpétue l’esprit d’une collection de paroles de Jésus, parce qu’il utilise les évangiles comme un recueil de sentences du Maître dans l’exacte trajectoire de la Source Q.” My approach and conclusions differ somewhat on this point, but I fully agree with the subsequent statement: “Autrement dit, la doctrine du Prophète de vérité, si caractéristique du roman pseudo-clémentin, semble fonctionner comme une clé herméneutique non seulement de l’Ancien mais aussi du Nouveau Testament.”

True and False Things in Scripture

87

the author to pretend that what is conveyed is not really gospel interpretation, but eyewitness, apostolic remembrance of the events. We see the phenomenon in the introduction of the first of the seven sayings of the first section, which is linked to its narrative context in Matthew and Mark by a passing reference to the Sadducees. Peter begins the discourse: “Οτι mέmικται τ€ ‚ληθ¨ τοØς ψευδέσι, mέmnηmαί που αÎτän αÊτιώmεnοn τοÌς Σαδδουκαίους εÊπεØn· «∆ι€ τοÜτο πλαnσθε, m˜ εÊδότες τ€ ‚ληθ¨ τÀn γραφÀn, οÝ εÑnεκεn ‚γnοεØτε τ˜n δύnαmιn τοÜ θεοÜ». That true things have been mixed up with false things, I remember him saying somewhere, while censuring the Sadducees, “You are deceived because you do not know the true things of the scriptures, on account of which you are ignorant about the power of God” (Klem. 3.50.1a).

The saying invoked here is clearly a version of the polemical logion of Jesus that appears in slightly different forms in Matt 22:29 and Mark 12:24 52 as part of the controversy dialogue between Jesus and certain Sadducees who offer up a scenario about the post-mortem marital status of a woman who was married successively to seven brothers. The implications of the gospel statement have been significantly altered, however, by means of a few strategic changes that adapt it to the needs of the doctrine of False Pericopes. The addition of two words (τ€ ‚ληθ¨) deftly turns the gospel saying into a proof text demonstrating that there are both true and false statements in scripture. The author does not risk the implications of this modification escaping the notice of his readers; he follows up with the explicit interpretation, “If he submitted that they were ignorant of the true things of scripture, it is clear that there are false things” (3.50.1b). With another small change (οÝ εÑnεκεn), ignorance of the power of God is rendered a result of failing to grasp the doctrine of the Klementia and thereby reading scripture as if it were entirely true. This first saying happens to be the one that is always linked with “Be good moneychangers” in the Klementia, so the second of the first set of seven sayings is the famous agraphon. What the eyewitness Peter clarifies in this instance is why Jesus made the statement, which, as we noted above, was applied to a variety of kinds of discernment in Early Christian literature: “But also in the saying “Be good moneychangers,” [it is clear] that there are genuine and spurious words” (3.50.2). The agraphon is not linked explicitly by the Klementia to any narrative context in the Gospels, but its consistent connection to the controversy dialogue

52 Matt 22:29 reads, πλαnσθε m˜ εÊδότες τ€ς γραφ€ς mηδà τ˜n δύnαmιn τοÜ θεοÜ. Our saying (∆ι€ τοÜτο πλαnσθε, m˜ εÊδότες τ€ ‚ληθ¨ τÀn γραφÀn, οÝ εÑnεκεn ‚γnοεØτε τ˜n δύnαmιn τοÜ θεοÜ) is slightly closer to Mark 12:24 except that the Markan version is marked as a rhetorical question by an introductory particle anticipating an affirmative answer: οÎ δι€ τοÜτο πλαnσθε m˜ εÊδότες τ€ς γραφ€ς mηδà τ˜n δύnαmιn τοÜ θεοÜ;

88

Trouble with Texts

with the Sadducees may imply a connection with the adjacent gospel pericope about paying taxes to the emperor (Matt 22:15–22 // Mark 12:13–17), where Jesus is witnessed in the act of analyzing a denarius. The third saying in this first part of the lesson is another agraphon that, unlike the popular “moneychangers” agraphon, is not attested elsewhere in early Christian literature: 53 καÈ τÄ εÊπεØn· «∆ι€ τί οÎ nοεØτε τä εÖλογοn τÀn γραφÀn;» βεβαιότεροn τοÜ αÎθαιρέτως εÎγnωmοnοÜnτος τίθησιn τän nοÜn. And with the saying, “Why do you not understand that which is reasonable in the scriptures?” he makes more secure the mind of the one who is well disposed of his own accord (Klem. 3.50.2b).

This statement appears to be deeply embedded in the thought of the Klementia, perhaps modeled on the first saying of the lesson but incorporating a confluence of vocabulary that is significant for the piety of the novel, appearing repeatedly throughout. 54 The collocation nοεØn τä εÖλογοn (or another verb of knowing with the same object) is associated time and again in the Klementia with the notion of a kind of innate moral compass, 55 the guidance of which amounts roughly to the Golden Rule and is entirely sufficient for ethical behavior. 56 We also find the adjective εÎγnώmωn and the related noun εÎγnωmοnσύnη in frequent use, especially in Klem. 2–3, to depict the attitude that is required for the right reading of corrupt scripture, namely a deep affection (στοργή) for God. 57 All of this vocabulary comes together in the lofty exhortation of the public sermon of Klem. 3:

53 Erwin Preuschen, ed., Antilegomena: Die Reste der ausserkanonischen Evangelien und urchristlichen Überlieferungen, 2nd ed. (Giessen: Töpelmann, 1905), 63; Strecker, Judenchristentum, 134. 54 Kline (Sayings of Jesus, 167, n. 1) likewise observes that the frequency of εÖλογος and εÎλόγως in the Klementia points to the creation of the saying by the author of the Klementia. See also Carlson, Jewish-Christian Interpretation, 91. 55 Here, αÎθαιρέτως; cf. εÒπερ ‚φ’ áαυτÀn τä εÖλογοn nοεØn âβούλοnτο in Klem. 8.5.4. 56 Cf. Klem. 2.6.4, where Peter affirms that, while truth can be had only through the True Prophet, politeia can be comprehended because of its reasonable nature (δι€ τä εÖλογοn γnωρισθ¨nαι), inasmuch as it imparts to a person, through her own desire not to be wronged, the knowledge that she must not wrong another. See, similarly, the miniature homily on the Golden Rule in Klem. 7.4, which concludes with the promise, “Thus understanding by yourselves what is reasonable (‚φ+ ÍmÀn αÎτÀn τä εÖλογοn συnnοοÜnτες) and doing it, you will become dear to God ...” (7.4.5a). 57 E.g., Klem. 2.42.1: “I do not think, my dear Clement, that anyone, if he preserves even a little affection (στοργή) toward God and a good disposition (εÎγnωmοσύnη), will be able to accept, or even to hear, the things spoken against him”; Klem. 3.10.4: “For the scriptures say all things, in order that no one who seeks with an ill disposition (‚γnωmόnως) may find that which is true, but what he wants, with the truth being kept for the well-disposed (εÎγnώmοnες). A good disposition (εÎγnωmοσύnη) is preserving affection (στοργή) for the cause of our being.”

True and False Things in Scripture

89

ÍmεØς οÞn ±ς θεοÜ δοÜλοι εÎγnώmοnες, ‚φ+ áαυτÀn τä εÖλογοn nοοÜnτες, τ˜n αÎτÄ ‚ρέσκουσαn ‚nαδέξασθε πολιτείαn, Ñnα οÕτως αÎτän φιλοÜnτες καÈ φιλούmεnοι Íπ+ αÎτοÜ εÊς ‚εÈ τä συmφέροn êχητε· Therefore you, as well-disposed slaves of God, perceiving of yourselves what is reasonable, take up the politeia that is pleasing to him, in order that, in this way, loving him and being loved by him, you may have the advantage forever (Klem. 3.32.1).

Clearly, the vocabulary of this agraphon is enmeshed in the teachings of Peter in the novel, and particularly in the Caesarea discourses. It thus seems reasonable to assume that this saying, which is found nowhere else in early Christian literature, was the creation of the author of the Klementia. The fourth piece of evidence in Peter’s proof is not a saying of Jesus, but is apparently a reference to an episode in his life: τä δà καÈ τÀn γραφÀn προκειmέnωn âπÈ γραmmατεØς καÈ διδασκάλους πέmπειn ±ς τοÜ înτως nόmου εÊδότας τ€ ‚ληθ¨, δ¨λόn âστιn. His sending [them] to scribes and teachers of the manifest scriptures, as though they knew the true things of the real law, is clear (Klem. 3.51.1).

The most likely referent in the canonical Gospels is Matt 23:1–3, where Jesus urges the “crowds and his disciples” to do whatever the “scribes and Pharisees,” who occupy the seat of Moses, require. From Jesus’s exhortation that their teachings be observed, it is inferred that the scribes and Pharisees know what parts of the scriptures are authentic, a fact which serves here as further proof that there is a “real law” embedded within the writings widely regarded as the law of the Jews. The next two sayings of Jesus are juxtaposed with actions or events in order to produce an interpretation. Since Jesus said, “I did not come to destroy the law” (cf. Matt 5:17) but did appear to destroy some things, Peter argues that whatever he destroyed was not an authentic part of the law (3.51.2). Likewise, with the saying “Heaven and earth will pass away; not one iota nor one stroke of the law will by any means pass away” (cf. Matt 5:18), he pointed out that whatever passes away while heaven and earth still exist was not part of the “real law” (3.51.3). Those things that can thus be excluded from the προστάγmατα θεοÜ include “sacrifices, kingdoms, and prophecies among those ‘born of women.’” The seventh and final saying Peter invokes as evidence for the mixed nature of scripture is appended by means of the demonstrative ênθεn and the postpositive restrictive particle γοÜn, perhaps to forge a new contextual connection between the saying, “Every plant which was not planted by the heavenly Father shall be uprooted” (Matt 15:13), and the sacrifices, kingdoms, prophecies, and the like, that were eliminated from the real law in the previous interpretive move. The cementing of this connection is intriguing given the fact that the saying in its Matthean context is part of a strong polemic against the Pharisees, prophesying

90

Trouble with Texts

that these “blind guides” and their interpretive “traditions” will meet unfavorably with divine judgment (Matt 15:1–14). 58 The Klementia, as we have seen, tends to portray the Pharisees in a much more favorable light than the Gospel of Matthew does.

The Teaching that Saves The second set of seven citations in Peter’s lesson (3.52.2–53.3) is not so complex as the first. Its focus is the question of the identity of Jesus, so most of the citations are self-referential, displaying fewer marked differences from their canonical forms. What is most noteworthy is how the citations are framed with interpretive statements, so as to make the point that it is really in the teaching of Jesus that salvation is to be found. If the “I am” saying at the head of the list should seem to lay too much soteriological emphasis on the person of Jesus, the interpretation clarifies: δι€ τοÜτο αÎτäς ‚ληθ˜ς »n προφήτης êλεγεn· «>Εγώ εÊmι ™ πύλη τ¨ς ζω¨ς· å δι+ âmοÜ εÊσερχόmεnος εÊσέρχεται εÊς τ˜n ζωήn» ±ς οÎκ οÖσης áτέρας τ¨ς σ¼ζειn δυnαmέnης διδασκαλίας. On account of this, he, being a True Prophet, said, “I am the gate of life. The one who enters through me enters into life,” since there is no other teaching able to save (Klem. 3.52.2).

Six more citations follow swiftly, all contributing to the identification of the True Prophet, and the section concludes with a summary statement that emphasizes once again that the teaching of Jesus is the domain of truth: íθεn ‚δύnατόn âστιn Šnευ τ¨ς τούτου διδασκαλίας ‚ληθείø σúζούσù âπιστ¨nαι, κ‹n τän αÊÀnά τις ζητ¬ ênθα τä ζητούmεnοn οÎκ êστιn. ªn δà καÈ êστιn ân τÄ >ΙησοÜ ™mÀn λόγú. Thus it is impossible to stand on saving truth without the teaching of this one, even if a person should seek forever where that which is sought is not. It was, and is, in the word of our Jesus (Klem. 3.54.1).

This much is preliminary, for it is only at this point that we finally reach the portion of Peter’s discourse that directly addresses Simon’s question, “Tell, then, how did he teach you to divide the scriptures?” (3.49.1). Furthermore, it is really only the first example that meets the criterion originally specified – to show how one can sort out “the rest” of the law, not just the things περÈ θεοÜ (3.48.1). Making rather convoluted use of Matthew, the author of the passage appears to have crafted something new out of two pericopes. Jesus’s answer to the Pharisees’ in-

58

Ulrich Luz, Matthew 8–20, 324–33.

The Teaching that Saves

91

quiry about the legality of divorce “for any cause” in Matthew 19 is combined with the scenario presented to Jesus by Sadducees in Matthew 22, about the levirate marriage of seven brothers to one woman. In anticipation of the answer composed from Matt 19:4, 8 (“Moses permitted you because of your hardness of heart; from the beginning it was not so, for the one who created the human being from the beginning made it male and female.”), Peter recalls not the question about divorce, but the Sadducees “inquiring on what account Moses allowed marrying seven” (Klem. 3.54.2). While the Sadducees of Matt 22:23– 32, “who say there is no resurrection,” cite Moses on levirate marriage (cf. Deut 25:5) in order to draw Jesus into a discussion about the afterlife, the Klementia makes the query vaguely about the legality of multiple marriages, whether concurrent or successive. 59 As composed, the highly compressed reminiscence of Peter appears to show Jesus applying the principle of comparing scripture with the created order and thereby making an ethical judgment – that is, to the question about the appropriateness of marrying seven times, Jesus responds with the observation that the Creator made humankind in paired fashion, male and female. After this solitary and rather baffling example of ethical reasoning, Peter concludes with a series of ten antitheses, each matching one or more sayings of Jesus with the theological falsehoods they can be taken to refute (Klem. 3.55– 57). Each pair assumes the same basic form (To those who think X [as the scriptures say], he said Y), six with the parenthetical comment and four without. The fourth citation (Klem. 3.55.3), for example, addresses a matter of theodicy that is of critical importance to the Klementia: “To those who suppose that God does not foreknow, he said, ‘Your heavenly father knows that you need all of these things before you ask’” (cf. Matt 6:8, 32). The eighth citation operates likewise (3.56.3): “To those who are certain that he was in the temple, he said, ‘Do not swear by heaven, because it is the throne of God, nor by earth, because it is his footstool’” (cf. Matt 5:34–35). In this way, the teaching of Jesus is mined not for its meaning as ethical exhortation, but for latent theological implications. Furthermore, Peter insists that the correction of theological error was the aim of Jesus when he taught. Throughout this last section of the discourse, Peter repeats over and over that Jesus was speaking to those who held erroneous assumptions about the Creator, especially when those assumptions were informed by scripture. By lining up sayings of Jesus in this manner, the lesson has rather

59 Peter refuses to believe what the scriptures say about the polygamy of the patriarchs Abraham and Jacob in Klem. 2.52.2. Remarriage after the death of a spouse appears to be even encouraged in the case of young widows – see the duty of the elders in arranging marriages for young widows in Ep. Clem. 8 (cf. 1 Tim 5). The mature Justa (cf. chapter 4), however, appears to be praised for not marrying again after being divorced by her husband.

92

Trouble with Texts

elegantly accomplished its explicit purpose, to show how the scriptures of the Jews are to be read, while implicitly also indicating how the teaching of Jesus preserved in the Gospels is to be read.

Conclusion The first major set of discourses in the Klementia, the private and public speeches of Peter at Caesarea Maritima, set up a fundamental problem with the scriptures of the Jews that the True Prophet Jesus is positioned to dispel. It is disclosed that Jesus is not uniquely the True Prophet, for both Adam and Moses before him were also True Prophets, each educating humanity in the manner demanded by his own place on the timeline of a continuous history of salvation. Jesus’s time, however, is uniquely fraught with the problem of False Pericopes because the written Law (that which contains spurious additions) came into existence after Moses, who not only conveyed his teaching orally but also instituted the means by which it would be faithfully preserved among his people in perpetuity. In the final portion of the public debates at Caesarea, Peter offers a carefully crafted discourse showing how to read the scriptures of the Jews as Jesus taught and, implicitly, how to read the Gospels from which most of the catechism is constructed. Peter’s eyewitness status enables him to make authoritative “corrections” to the canonical version of several sayings without remark. In the brief digression interrupting the discourse on Adam, we glimpse the relationship between those who, on the one hand, follow Jesus and his chief apostle Peter, and those who, on the other hand, continue to keep the traditions of the previous True Prophet, Moses. The evocative image of Jesus rising up from among the latter and extending mercy to the Gentiles raises the question of the subsequent, ongoing relationship between the “seat” of his teaching and that of Moses, but it does not fully answer it. As we turn, in the next chapter, to the second major set of Petrine teachings, the Tripolis Discourses, we will encounter a remarkably clear and direct private lesson about the essential identity of the followers of Moses and the followers of Jesus. In the dualistic world of the Klementia, where there are really only two “kingdoms” and thus two religious options, those who adhere to Moses and those taught by Jesus are, at a fundamental and invisible level, unified.

Chapter 3: Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis After the initial Caesarea Discourses (Klem. 1–3), both the scene and the subject matter of the Klementia change significantly. In the present chapter, we shall focus upon the final books of the Clementine Βildungsroman (Klem. 7– 11), paying attention especially to interactions of the novel with material from the canonical Gospels. The so-called Tripolis Discourses (Klem. 8–11) were already a part of the Grundschrift (cf. Rec. 4–6), but the version of the Klementia has been prefaced with a transitional book (Klem. 7) that exemplifies the editorial hand of the author of the Klementia and gives us good insight into his motives in his editing of the existing Tripolis material. As we might now expect, we will see our author maintaining, and fleshing out in a variety of ways, a singular religious boundary line running through history and through God’s creation. It is here that the Klementia will make its most explicit argument for the essential identity of the followers of Moses and the followers of Jesus, and the idea of the Two Kingdoms (Klem. 20.2–3) will surface repeatedly in service of defining precisely what attitudes and actions constitute a line between their godly piety and pagan impiety.

Klementia 4–6: Clement at Tyre Before we arrive at Tripolis, where interaction with the Gospels is abundant, I would like to turn briefly to the remarkable exchange between Clement and a certain Appion Pleistonik¯es at Tyre (Klem. 4–6), a portion of the Klementia that is famously devoid of references to anything specifically Christian. 1 Others have studied this segment of the novel in detail, but I would like simply to reflect upon the implications of its content for the literary enterprise of the Clementine novel, the enterprise of crafting fiction. In the narrative arc of the Klementia, the end of book three signals the beginning of a long apostolic itinerary from Caesarea up the Syrian coast. Simon Magus blazes the trail in accordance with the “law of syzygia” (Klem. 3.59), but he will make almost no appearance at all for the rest of the Βildungsroman

1

Carleton Paget, Jews, Christians and Jewish Christians, 430–436.

94

Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis

(Klem. 1–11). He is little more than a silhouette on the horizon, going ahead of the apostle and spreading a plague for which Peter holds the cure. For the first leg of the journey, even Peter is momentarily out of sight, for he has sent our narrator Clement ahead to Tyre to gain information about the activities of Simon. Simon, in typical vanishing fashion, will depart for Sidon just as Clement arrives, but left behind is a colleague of Simon who just happens to be an old friend of Clement’s father. And so, a cascading movement of characters up the Syrian coast leaves the reader momentarily with Clement alone, poised to narrate, for once, his own discourses. His conversation partner, Appion, despite the doubled π, is clearly meant to conjure up the first-century Alexandrian whose writings elicited Josephus’s Contra Apionem. 2 Quite in character, Appion is vexed to discover that a Roman so learned as Clement has fallen in with the “barbarian” Peter and exchanged his upbringing for the customs of the Jews (Klem. 4.7.2–3). The lengthy debate woven through Klem. 4–6 reflects a learned and eclectic engagement with the paideia Clement is described as possessing (Klem. 4.7.2). 3 I shall argue briefly here that this distinctive and highly creative section of the novel reads as a multi-layered literary joke that is commensurate with the farce of the Diamartyria. The innermost core of the jest is marked explicitly as such in Klem. 5, when Appion does not show up for the second day of the semi-public debate. Clement regales his audience (limited to about thirty associates of Appion; cf. Klem. 4.7.1; 4.9; 5.1.1) with the story of a trick he once played on Appion at Rome (τ€ ân ΙουδαØοι, καÈ ÍmεØς ‚κούσατε ‰παnτες ân πολλοØς σώmασιn mίαn γnώmηn ‚nαλαβόnτες· “Απερ éκαστος áαυτÄ βούλεται καλά, τ€ αÎτ€ βουλευέσθω καÈ τÄ πλησίοn. οÕτω δ+ ‹n ÍmÀn éκαστος nοήσειεn τä καλόn, εÊ áαυτÄ διαλεχθείη τ€ τοιαÜτα· ΟÎ θέλεις φοnευθ¨nαι, éτεροn m˜ φοnεύσùς· οÎ θέλεις τ˜n σ˜n Íφ+ áτέρου mοιχευθ¨nαι γυnαØκα, τ˜n áτέρου m˜ mοίχευε γαmετήn· οÎ θέλεις τι τÀn σÀn κλαπ¨nαι, áτέρου m˜ κλέπτε mηδέn. καÈ οÕτως ‚φ+ ÍmÀn αÎτÀn τä εÖλογοn συnnοοÜnτες καÈ ποιοÜnτες, θεÄ προσφιλεØς γεnόmεnοι, âπιτεύξεσθε τ¨ς Êάσεως, âπεÈ καÈ ân τÄ παρόnτι αÊÀnι βασαnισθήσεσθε τ€ σώmατα καÈ ân τÄ mέλλοnτι κολασθήσεσθε τ€ς ψυχάς. As for the rest, in a word, as the Jews who worship God heard, listen, please, all of you, since you have assumed one mind in many bodies: What good things each person wants for himself, let him wish the same also for his neighbor. 18 Each of you may in this way perceive what is good, if you hold conversations such as this with yourself: “You do not want to be murdered, so do not murder another. You do not want your wife to be debauched by another, so do not commit adultery with the wife of another. You do not want anything of yours to be stolen, so do not steal anything from another.” When you, on your own, thus comprehend and do what is reasonable, after you have become pleasing to God, you obtain 17 It seems that the Grundschrift expounded a theory linking immoderate eating and sexual activity with demon possession (cf. Klem. 9.9–10 and Rec. 4.15–16). Klem. 9.9.2 repeats the assertion of Klem. 7–8 that demons enter bodies by means of “the food given over to them” (i. e., sacrifice), while the parallel statement in Rec. 4.15.1 gives wicked behavior (per malos et turpes actus) as the vehicle for entry. In the subsequent paragraph in the Klementia (9.10), the theory of immoderation is brought to bear as an explanation of why the demons wish to enter human bodies (i. e., to enjoy culinary and sexual pleasures). The prescription for self-exorcism (i. e., a period of strict abstinence) sits rather uneasily alongside the ritualistic reversal of the condition Peter conveys through the image of the wedding garment in Klem. 8.22–23 (see below). As Tigchelaar (“Manna-Eaters and ManEaters,” 112–114) has pointed out, the dining practices described favorably and commended in the Klementia can speak simultaneously to a variety of pious concerns (e. g., the need for gratitude and moderation, as well as separation from pagan cults). 18 This particular formulation of the Golden Rule has been described as the Einfühlungsregel, or the “rule of sympathetic projection.” See Hans Dieter Betz, The Sermon on the Mount: A Commentary on the Sermon on the Mount, Including the Sermon on the Plain (Matthew 5:3–27 and Luke 6:20–49), ed. Adela Yarbro Collins, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), 511.

Two Ways and Conversion by Baptism

103

healing. Otherwise you will be tormented bodily in the present age and have your souls punished in the age to come (7.4.3–5). 19

There is perhaps here an allusion to Matt 7:12, where Jesus appears to equate the same maxim with the essence of scripture (“In everything, do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets”), but it is interesting, given the Klementia’s ambivalence about the written scriptures, that the Rule is not likened to “the law and the prophets” but to an oral, or rather an aural, preserve of the god-fearing Jews. 20 Elsewhere in the Klementia, quite in keeping with its widespread currency in the ancient world, 21 the Golden Rule is treated, more broadly, as the possession of all humanity. In fact, the Klementia readily admits that the contours of an ethical life, or politeia, can be discovered by anyone, whatever his or her religious persuasion. The value added by True Prophecy is a kind of special knowledge about the way things are that both makes the ethical life achievable (i. e., by generating the fear that keeps one from sinning) and elucidates those aspects of nomimos politeia – such as dietary regulations – that are not accessible by reason alone but require a deeper understanding of the divine plan. 22

Two Ways and Conversion by Baptism In the second miniature sermon of Klem. 7 at Sidon, Peter once again invokes the underlying, primordial map as the foundation of piety, this time speaking of invisible territories and the Two Ways laid out before the human traveler (cf. Klem. 20.2.4). Peter is about to disclose the reality behind appearances, and indeed, his language renders him something of a mystagogue vis-à-vis the “two ways”:

19 The description of the “other” as “neighbor” may also play upon Matt 5:43, Matt 19:19, and Matt 22:39, all of which had already forged a connection between the teaching of Jesus and the law of Moses (Lev 19:18) through the repetition of the command, “Love your neighbor as yourself ”. 20 But see also Klem. 12.32.5. “In a word, what [the righteous man] wants for himself, he wants also for his neighbor, for this is the law of God and of the prophets, and this is the teaching of truth” (ánÈ λόγú, ç θέλει áαυτÄ, θέλει καÈ τÄ πλησίοn. οÝτος γάρ âστι θεοÜ nόmος καÈ προφητÀn, αÕτη τ¨ς ‚ληθείας ™ διδασκαλία). 21 Betz, Sermon on the Mount, 508–519. 22 Cf. Klem. 2.6.4: “Again, it will not be possible to get possession of truth from another person (who likewise out of ignorance promises to have knowledge), but only politeia, and at that, that politeia which can be known because it is reasonable, which presents to each person, from the fact that he does not want to be wronged, the knowledge that he must not wrong another” (οÖτ+ αÞ παρ+ áτέρου [τοÜ åmοίως âξ ‚γnωσίας γnÀσιn êχειn âπαγγελλοmέnου] ‚ληθείας κρατεØn δυnατäς êσται, πλ˜n πολιτείας mόnης, καÈ ταÜτα âκείnης τ¨ς δι€ τä εÖλογοn γnωρισθ¨nαι δυnαmέnης, ¡τις áκάστú âκ τοÜ m˜ θέλειn ‚δικεØσθαι τοÜ m˜ δεØn Šλλοn ‚δικεØn τ˜n γnÀσιn παρίστησιn).

104

Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis

ÍφηγεØσθαι δà ÍmØn τän τρόποn δι+ οÝ σωθ¨nαι δυnήσεσθε οÎ φθοnÀ, καÈ αÎτäς παρ€ τοÜ τ¨ς ‚ληθείας προφήτου mαθ°n τοÌς προωρισmέnους τοÜ θεοÜ «πρä καταβολ¨ς κόσmου» åρισmούς, λέγω δà âπÈ ποίαις κακαØς πράξεσιn τοÌς ‚nθρώπους êταξεn Íπä τοÜ τ¨ς κακίας ™γεmόnος κακοÜσθαι, åmοίως τε âπÈ ποίαις ‚γαθαØς πράξεσιn ¹ρισεn πρότεροn πιστεύσαnτας αÎτÄ Êωmέnú τ€ σώmατα σ¼ζεσθαι, êπειτα καÈ τ€ς ψυχ€ς âπαnορθοÜσθαι πρäς τä ‚nώλεθροn. ταύτας τοίnυn τάς τε ‚γαθ€ς καÈ κακ€ς πράξεις εÊδ°ς προmηnύω ÍmØn ±ς åδοÌς δύο, Íποδεικnύωn δι€ ποίας màn βαδίζοnτες ‚πόλλυnται, ποίø δà åδεύοnτες ‚ποσ¼ζοnται, θεÄ åδηγούmεnοι. ™ màn οÞn τÀn ‚πολλυmέnωn åδäς πλατεØα màn καÈ åmαλωτάτη, ‚πολλύουσα δà Šnευ τοÜ πόnου, ™ δà τÀn σúζοmέnωn στεn˜ màn καÈ τραχεØα, σ¼ζουσα δà πρäς τÄ τέλει τοÌς διαπορευθέnτας âπιπόnως. I do not grudge guiding you about the manner through which you can be saved, since I myself, too, learned from the True Prophet the boundaries foreordained by God before the foundation of the world – I mean, for what sort of wicked deeds he arranged that people may be maltreated by the leader of wickedness, and likewise, for what sort of good deeds he ordained that those who have first believed in his healing may be saved with respect to their bodies and then restored to incorruptibility with respect to their souls. Moreover, because I know about these good and wicked deeds, I disclose to you, as it were, two ways, pointing out the one through which people are destroyed as they go and the one on which travelers are kept safe, guided by God. The way of those being destroyed is broad and very smooth, destroying them without distress; but the way of those being saved is narrow and rugged, saving, in the end, those who have traversed it with difficulty (Klem. 7.6.2b–7.7.2). 23

The image, of course, draws upon a deep and broad tradition in ancient moral discourse. 24 When Peter goes on to introduce two figures, πίστις and ‚πιστία, sitting before (προκαθέζεται) the two roads (Klem. 7.7.3), they are probably best understood as vague personifications in the tradition of the two women who accosted young Heracles at the crossroads (cf. Xenophon, Memorabilia 2.1.21– 33). The rest of the passage will emphasize the importance of striving to set one’s thoughts right (καλ€ nοεØn, 7.7.5; ân γnώσει τÀn καλÀn, 7.7.6) in addition to doing good deeds. Effort is key, and punishment is interpreted as a mechanism for the cancellation of debts that is capable of putting the traveler in good standing at the final judgment (Klem. 7.7.6). The opposite of this noetic striving and salutary suffering (i. e., the path of pistis) is to “prefer pleasures” and travel via apistia (åδεύειn δι€ ‚πιστίας, 7.7.3). Even if one should do countless good deeds along this path, the end is devastating, for the traveler has journeyed outside the borderlines drawn by God:

23 Cf. the wide gate and broad road to destruction, as well as the narrow gate and difficult road that are to be chosen instead, in Matt 7:13–14. 24 Monika Pesthy has provided a concise summary of comparanda in ancient Greek, Jewish, and Christian literature (“Duae Viae in the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies,” in Bremmer, Pseudo-Clementines, 157–169).

Two Ways and Conversion by Baptism

105

οÉ δà τ˜n ‚ρχ˜n καÈ τοÜ γnÀnαι τä κρεØττοn âξηmεληκότες, κ‹n mυρία éτερα πράξωσιn καλά, ân ­ δà αÎτäς ¹ρισεn θρησκείø m˜ γέnωnται, ‚mελείας êγκληmα λαβόnτες τ¬ mεγίστù ‚ποσβεσθήσοnται κολάσει παnτελÀς. Those who have at first been utterly neglectful about knowing the better, even if they do myriad other good deeds but are not within the religion he marked out, will be charged with neglect and completely annihilated with the greatest punishment (Klem. 7.7.7).

As the sermon comes to a close with a summary account of the θηρησκεία prescribed by God (Klem. 7.8.1–2), it is noteworthy that we encounter the first reference to baptism in the Klementia that gives a glimpse into how the ritual might be understood. Up to this point, the reader has had little to go on apart from two comments about Clement’s rather curiously postponed baptism – comments that even seem slightly at odds with one another. First, at the end of Klem. 1, upon hearing that Clement is completely persuaded by the doctrine of true prophecy, Peter praises God for his new acolyte’s salvation (σωτηρία) and then goes on to express to Clement the hope that God might also eventually “permit you to be made like me in every way and, after being baptized, to partake of the same table with me” (Klem. 1.22.1, 5). Then, in the middle of Klem. 3, a similar separation is enjoined upon Clement when Peter exhorts “those already perfected” to accompany him in prayer in advance of his public debate with Simon Magus. Here, however, baptism is connected with salvation, for Clement recalls that “Peter, when he heard this, ordered me to withdraw for prayer, since I had not yet received the baptism for salvation” (τä πρäς σωτηρίαn βάπτισmα, 3.29.3–4). Throughout the first half of the novel, Peter does for the crowds what he did not do immediately for Clement and baptizes them promptly. A kind of baptismal catechism, with fasting (possibly for three days) and laying on of hands, is described in a few words at the conclusion of the Caesarea Discourses, after a local church has been established with Zacchaeus at its helm (Klem. 3.73.1). Less detail is given when Peter catechizes, heals, and then baptizes the crowd after his sermon at Tyre in Klem. 7, but here again, the baptisms are put in connection with the establishment and population of a church (7.5.1–3). With only these few cursory references to baptism in the first seven books of the Klementia, the reader has little from which to piece together an understanding of the ritual, but we shall soon encounter quite a bit more detail, if not an entirely coherent vision, as we move into the Tripolis Discourses and beyond. 25

25 For a detailed and thorough effort to sort the various details into strata in the composition history of the novel, see Jürgen Wehnert, “Taufvorstellungen in den Pseudoklementinen,” in Ablution, Initiation, and Baptism: Late Antiquity, Early Judaism, and Early Christianity, ed. D. Hellholm et al., 3 vols. BZNW 176 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011), 2:1071–1114.

106

Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis

Tripolis, Day One: The Initial Private Discourse As the entourage of Peter moves on from Sidon to Tripolis at the beginning of Klem. 8, the apostle is followed by a swelling crowd of locals. Many who have joined the multitude are tormented by demons (Klem. 8.8.4), but the audience is characterized, above all, as philomathesteroi (Klem. 8.1.1), or seekers eager for and open to precisely the sort of didactic sermons that will unfold over the course of the four subsequent days. Peter will be free to preach at length, uninterrupted by his enemy Simon Magus, who has promptly fled in the direction of Syria at the news of the apostle’s arrival (Klem. 8.3.2). Given the leisure to speak, Peter will spin out an elaborate history of the world revealing the sinister origins of polytheistic worship (roughly, Klem. 8–9), and he will deliver a ridiculing attack on the “idolatry” of the latter (roughly, Klem. 10–11). But before the apostle addresses the attentive multitude, the zeal of the crowd provides the spark for a fascinating little lesson reserved only for the inner circle, or the “brethren” of the apostle (8.4.1). In the space of four paragraphs (8.4–7), Peter will knit together no less than five sayings of Jesus and one verse from Exodus to construct a theory of divine concealment explaining how the followers of Moses and the Gentile followers of Jesus, despite appearances, belong securely to one and the same ethereal kingdom. 26 The scene opens upon the moment when Peter is preparing to receive a large crowd of citizens from Tripolis and the neighboring towns of Tyre, Sidon, Berytus, and Byblus in the palatial home of his Tripolitan host, a man named Maroones. The magnitude of the crowd prompts a marveling Peter to recall two sayings of Jesus as prophecy coming to fulfillment in the narrative moment. ΚαÈ å Πέτρος θαυmάσας τÀn îχλωn τ˜n σπουδ˜n ‚πεκρίnατο· Αβρα€m καÈ >Ισα€κ καÈ >Ιακώβ». ‚λλ€ καÈ «πολλοί (φησίn) κλητοί, æλίγοι δà âκλεκτοί». τä màn οÞn âλθεØn αÎτοÌς κληθέnτας πεπλήρωται. âπεÈ δà οÎκ αÎτÀn âστιn τοÜτο Òδιοn, ‚λλ€ τοÜ καλέσαnτος αÎτοÌς θεοÜ καÈ âλθεØn πεποιηκότος, âπÈ τούτú mόnú mισθän οÎκ êχουσιn, íτι m˜ αÎτÀn Òδιοn, ‚λλ€ τοÜ ânεργήσαnτος. â€n δà mετ€ τä κληθ¨nαι καλ€ πράξωσιn, íπερ âστÈn αÎτÀn Òδιοn, τότε âπÈ τούτú mισθän éξουσιn. And Peter marveled at the zeal of the crowd and replied, “See, brothers and sisters, how the words of our Lord are manifestly fulfilled.” For I remember him saying, “Many shall come from the east and the west, the north and the south, and shall recline in the bosoms

26 Like much of the Tripolis Discourses, this miniature lessons derives its contours, its basic subject matter, and many of its details from the Grundschrift. For a comparative analysis, see Patricia A. Duncan, “The Case for Tolerance in the Early Christian (Pseudo-Clementine) Novel,” in Perceiving the Other in Ancient Judaism and Christianity, ed. Michal Bar-Asher Siegal et al., WUNT (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, forthcoming).

Tripolis, Day One: The Initial Private Discourse

107

of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob.” 27 But he also said, “Many are called, few chosen.” 28 On the one hand, therefore, the coming of the ones who were called has been fulfilled. But since this does not belong to them, but to the God who called them and has caused them to come, they have no reward for this alone, because it does not belong to them, but to him who has effected it. But if, after being called, they do good deeds, which do belong to them, then for this they will have a reward” (Klem. 8.4.1–4).

The two prophetic statements of Jesus that our apostolic eyewitness here brings into interpretive juxtaposition with one another – two “many” statements from the Gospel of Matthew – work together to convey what part of salvation is the work of God and what part must be provided by human initiative. The interposed ‚λλ€ καί suggests that the first saying is to be understood in light of the second, and the result is an interpretation of the coming of the crowd as a response to an ineluctable divine calling. 29 The “coming” that Jesus predicted is being fulfilled, but something more, something of human initiative, is still required for the earning of a wage, or reward (mισθός). After this opening paragraph, Peter begins to home in on the question of the proper balance of grace and works in the matter of salvation. It is here that the followers of Moses come into view, when Peter invokes the “Hebrews” as a supreme example demonstrating the necessity of good works for receiving a reward – now qualified as salvation – from God. 30 If anyone might be expected to 27 Peter’s statement is structurally closer to Matt 8:11 than it is to the Lukan parallel (Luke 13:28– 29), although Luke, in different vocabulary than the Klementia, also includes north and south in the directional scheme. Kline (Sayings of Jesus, 51–53) finds inconclusive evidence for the influence of Luke 13:29 here, though Luke 16:23 may have contributed the phrase εÊς κόλπους >Αβραάm. In my estimation, it is possible that the Clementine exegete added Šρκτου καÈ mεσηmβρίας to match his description of the crowd in question as having come from Tyre, Sidon, Berytos, and Byblos (Klem. 8.1.1), cities almost directly south of Tripolis. 28 Cf. Matt 22:14, the concluding sentence of the Parable of the Wedding Feast /Wedding Garment, which we shall encounter again at the end of Klem. 8. However, the saying is found also at the conclusion of the parable of the Wicked Tenants (Matt 20:16) in some manuscripts. 29 Note that, while the language of “calling” is introduced into the discussion via the saying from the parable of the Wedding Feast, it functions quite differently in the two contexts. The point in the gospel parable is that the invitees are genuinely free to decline the invitation and not come to the wedding, however dire the consequences may turn out to be. In the Klementia, the “calling” is apparently inexorable. 30 The term “Hebrew” is not a particularly common one in the Klementia, but it seems clearly to refer to the people and practices belonging to the elect ethnos Israel (cf. Simon’s description of that entity in Klem. 18.4.3–4, a passage containing two of the Klementia’s six uses of the word outside of Klem. 8.4–7; see Strecker, Die Pseudoklementinen III: Konkordanz, 531). It is also applied to Barnabas by the Egyptians (Klem. 1.9.1), to Peter’s manner of giving thanks at table (Klem. 10.26.3), and to the church at Jerusalem that is under the supervision of James (Ep. Clem. 1.1; Klem. 11.35.4). In each of the latter three usages, the persons or practices described as “Hebrew” are at the same time affiliated with the religious movement of Jesus and Peter. The discussion in Klem. 8.4–7 is somewhat distinctive in portraying “Hebrews,” qualified as those who believe in Moses (MωυσεØ πιστεύοnτες, Klem. 8.5.1), as a collective that is at least ostensibly “other,” though the argument works to show how any differences in practice between that group and the followers of Jesus are essentially superficial.

108

Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis

be saved without doing good works, or keeping the commandments of Moses (τ€ δι+ αÎτοÜ ûηθέnτα m˜ φυλάσσοnτες, Klem. 8.5.1), Peter argues, it would be the Hebrews. Just as the pagan crowd has been inexorably “called” to Peter, the Hebrews’ belief in Moses is not their own doing (τä MωυσεØ πιστεÜσαι αÎτοÌς οÎχÈ τ¨ς αÎτÀn βουλ¨ς γέγοnεn), but it is the will of the God who said to Moses, “Behold, I come to you in a pillar of cloud, in order that the people might hear me speaking to you and believe in you forever” (Klem. 8.5.2; Exod 19:9). In Klem. 8.5.4, the radical nature of the Klementia’s vision begins to crystallize in the observation that, ideally, no teacher of truth would have been necessary at all. If people had wanted to “understand what is reasonable” of their own accord (εÒπερ ‚φ+ áαυτÀn τä εÖλογοn nοεØn âβούλοnτο) – a persistent theme in the Klementia, worked out with this very vocabulary, as we have already seen – then neither Moses nor Jesus would have been required. Here we find the first hint of Luke 6:46, “for salvation is not in believing in teachers and calling them lords.” Then, beginning already to interpret the divine act of “concealment” that Jesus praises in Matt 11:25 // Luke 10:21, Peter shows that, while not even one teacher is necessary, one is sufficient. Whereas the Recognition, at this point, cites Matt 11:25 // Luke 10:21 in its canonical form and interprets it explicitly to mean that the Hebrews (i. e., the “wise and prudent ones”) have not accepted Jesus while the Gentiles (the “infants”) have accepted him, the Klementia makes two slight changes to create a new, balanced juxtaposition of groups in the citation. The critical difference is made via the alteration of the second of the two substantival adjectives in the pair σοφÀn καÈ συnετÀn. The replacement of συnετÀn with πρεσβυτέρωn and the removal of the coordinating conjunction results in an attributive relationship between the two adjectives, or a single group of “wise elders” from whom the Father hid “these things.” 31 The opposing group of nήπιοι has been made to match the form of the first group with the addition of the attributive participle θηλάζουσιn, perhaps on the influence of the citation of Psalm 8:3 (LXX) in Matthew 21:16 (âκ στόmατος nηπίωn καÈ θηλαζόnτωn κατηρτίσω αÚnοn). Essentially, these changes work to emphasize a “difference in time” with respect to the revelation of true teaching to the Hebrews and the Gentiles that remains free from a difference in value, for as Peter goes on to expound upon God’s interactions with these two groups in the sentences that follow, he will take great care to portray an entirely balanced scenario. 32

31 The translation of Annette Yoshiko Reed (“‘Jewish Christianity’ after the ‘Parting of the Ways,’” 216) follows the O manuscript “from the wise and prudent,” whereas I have followed the balanced contrast of clauses in the P manuscript. 32 I borrow the phrase from Elizabeth Clark (Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999], 145–152), who identifies “Difference in Times” as one of the exegetical and rhetorical strategies employed by Christian ascetics in

Tripolis, Day One: The Initial Private Discourse

109

It must be emphasized that the concealing activity of God that Peter describes is not punitive. In fact, it is quite the opposite. A teacher is concealed from those who already know “what it is necessary to do” (8.6.5) so that the system has the effect of providing each group with the one teacher that it needs, and nothing more. 33 Because the “wise elders,” i. e., the Hebrews, already understood how to act rightly based on the teachings of Moses, it would have been redundant for God to give them a second revelation through Jesus. One of the most intriguing elements of the discussion comes at the beginning of Klem. 8.7. Up to this point, Peter has taken care to describe two groups, the Hebrews who believe in Moses and those of the Gentiles called to believe in Jesus, as not only equal before God but also fundamentally independent of one another, with emphasis upon the fact that members of each group need only concern themselves with keeping the commandments of their own teacher. But in Klem. 8.7.1, the carefully balanced parallel portraits of the groups advance with a final, reciprocal set of qualifications specifying the one thing that is essential to the relationship between the two followings: οÖτε οÞn ΙησοÜ καταδικάζοnται δι€ τän κρύψαnτα, âάn γε πράττοnτες τ€ δι€ Mωυσέως çn šγnόησαn m˜ mισήσωσιn – οÖτ+ αÞ οÉ ‚πä âθnÀn ‚γnοήσαnτες τän Mωυσ¨n δι€ τän καλύψαnτα καταδικάζοnται, âάnπερ καÈ οÝτοι πράσσοnτες τ€ δι€ τοÜ >ΙησοÜ ûηθέnτα m˜ mισήσωσιn çn šγnόησαn. Therefore, neither are the Hebrews condemned over ignorance of Jesus, on account of the one who concealed him, if indeed, while doing the things commanded through Moses, they do not hate him of whom they were ignorant – again, neither are those from the Gentiles who were ignorant of Moses condemned, on account of the one who hid him, if in fact, while doing the things spoken through Jesus, they do not hate him of whom they were ignorant (Klem. 8.7.1–2)

These rather curious parallel qualifications about hatred of the teacher of the other group, a feature of the Klementia’s version alone, break out of the mode of describing each group’s relationship with God and make a demand that perhaps spoke to the situation of the author. If such scorn characterized the context in which the author of the Klementia imagined his words might be read, the ideal he offers as an alternative would seem to be a kind of appreciative and knowing laissez-faire relationship. In any case, Peter does not dwell upon the stipulation but returns promptly to the notion that “no one is helped by calling teachers lords if they do not act the part of slaves” (Klem. 8.7.3). The return to this sentiment prepares, finally, for the actual citation of Luke 6:46, which is given a Late Antiquity in their efforts to preserve the integrity of scriptural passages that were not always easily aligned with an ascetic program. 33 Kelly Coblentz Bautch, “Obscured by the Scriptures, Revealed by the Prophets,” in Histories of the Hidden God: Concealment and Revelation in Western Gnostic, Esoteric, and Mystical Traditions, ed. A. D. DeConick and G. Adamson (Durham: Acumen, 2013), 128.

110

Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis

vague narrative context not found in the canonical Gospels. The question, part of Luke’s Sermon on the Plain (with an indicative parallel, Matt 7:21, in the Sermon on the Mount), is recast here by Peter not as part of a sermon of the Lord but as a response to an unspecified individual who “frequently” called Jesus “Lord” but observed none of his commandments (Klem. 8.7.4). As the private lesson draws to a close, the Klementia draws upon the terms of Matt 13:52 to characterize the kind of person who is needed to facilitate a peaceful and mutually respectful co-existence between the followers of Moses and the followers of Jesus. The system that has been described requires someone to bear witness to that which God has concealed from the majority of the faithful in both followings. The person who is permitted to perceive about Moses and Jesus that “one teaching has been proclaimed by them” (±ς mις διδασκαλίας Íπ+ αÎτÀn κεκηρυγmέnης) has been “counted wealthy” and “understands the old things as new in time, and the new things as old” (Klem. 8.7.5). One such “rich man,” of course, is Peter, the Hebrew follower of Jesus who has just made precisely this point for his inner circle of followers and who has, simultaneously, made a plea to the reader of the novel to eschew hatred of the “other” out of the secure knowledge that both the followers of Jesus and the followers of Moses are equally acceptable before God.

Tripolis, Day One: The Public Sermon After the initial private lesson on the followers of Moses and the followers of Jesus, the public sermon of Klem. 8 is largely concerned with laying out a sweeping, parabiblical account of the fall of the created world away from its original harmony under God. The story belongs to the extensive history of interpretation of the enigmatic nephilim of Gen 6:4, tracing the ingratitude of humankind that led certain angels to come into the world for the punishment of humankind, the subsequent and unfortunate cohabitation of these angels with human women, the bloodthirsty brutality of their giant offspring, and the flood sent to cleanse the world of the contaminating effects of the latter (Klem. 8.10– 17). 34 Where things become especially interesting for our purposes is the end of Klem. 8. Here, we find a kind of excursus (Klem. 8.18–20), likely an interpolation crafted by the author of the Klementia, on some particular implications of the flood narrative, especially as they pertain to the present audience. The paragraphs constitute a brief diversion that coincides with the splitting of the material that belonged to the first day in the Grundschrift into two days in the

34 Cf. 1 Enoch 15–16. On this Pseudo-Clementine version of the Enochic tradition, or the Watchers myth, and comparanda, see Eibert Tigchelaar, “Manna-Eaters and Man-Eaters,” 92–114.

An Encounter Between the Two Kings

111

Klementia. 35 The historical narrative will pick up rather abruptly on Day Two (Klem. 9) with the story of the descendants of Noah (Klem. 9.1.1; 9.3 ff). The interpolation at the end of Peter’s public sermon in Klem. 8 provides what is, for the Klementia, a vitally important postscript to the story of the great flood. In the death of the giants, an explanation of the origins of the demons is found, and a new law very much like the law issued to the Two Kings seamlessly grants these latecomers a role in the primordial schema. According to the interpolated excursus, the souls of the hybrid giants were as monstrous as their bodies had been, and being a “new race” (καιnän γέnος) of souls, they required a new name (i. e., δαίmοnες; cf. Klem. 8.20.1) and a new law (Klem. 8.18.1–2; cf. 1 Enoch 15–16). The Klementia goes on to report this law in the form of the direct discourse of an angelic messenger (Klem. 8.19). 36 The law forbids the demons, like their ruler (cf. Klem. 8.20.3), to dominate or trouble any human who preserves God’s law for humanity (Klem. 8.19.2). That law, we shall not be surprised to learn, looks a great deal like the prohibitions outlined in the sermons of Book Seven, though with a bit more expansion. The restrictions on idol meat and improperly handled flesh are reiterated, but the strictures now extend to other modes of engagement with pagan worship, including proskyn¯esis, sacrificing, and the pouring of libations (Klem. 8.19.1). Any of these offenses amount to self-imposed enslavement to the demons. The second half of the angel’s message goes on to describe how the kinds of ethical concerns that are also touched upon in the sermons of Klem. 7 can likewise involve demons, though in a somewhat less serious way. Those who “take refuge in God’s law” (Klem. 8.19.2), and thus stay within the borders of piety, generally have command over the demons. Nonetheless, ethical violations such as adultery, the practice of magic, or impurity must be punished, and for such offenses, demons are allowed to administer a measure of affliction for the promotion of repentance (Klem. 8.19.2–3).

An Encounter Between the Two Kings In the final paragraph of the interpolation (Klem. 8.20), Peter makes a turn in his expository sermon to focus his full attention on the audience and spell out, as he did at Tyre (Klem. 7.3), the direct implications of the message about the demons for them. “But you are still ignorant of this law ... (Klem. 8.20.1), ... and you have been corrupted at their altars and filled of them” (8.20.2). The paragraph is, for the most part, a hortatory summary of what has already been explained, but the 35 The Tripolis Discourses occupy four days (Books 8–11) in the Klementia, but only three in the Recognition (Books 4–6). 36 The mode of discourse is similar to the divine prosopopoeia delivered by Clement in Klem. 1.11.9.-1.12.2 (see below), a passage that is also without parallel in the Recognition.

112

Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis

final sentence introduces a new idea, as we shall see below. Simultaneously, it sets up the subsequent paragraph as a brief, narrative illustration fashioned in conversation with the story of the Temptation of Jesus preserved in Matt 4:1–11 and Luke 4:1–13. In the story of the Temptation, which was treated already in the Grundschrift (cf. Rec. 4.34), the author of the Klementia found a direct encounter between his two primordial kings (Klem. 8.21). The “Son of God” and “Devil” who engage with one another in the wilderness in the gospel accounts are here in Klem. 8 characterized as the same Two Kings met in Klem. 20.2–3. In both Klementia passages (cf. Klem. 8.21.1–2 and 20.2.2, 5), we find basileis who are distinguished from one another by the temporality of their kingdoms (future and eternal vs. present and temporary). The parallel Temptation passage in the Recognition – a work which throughout lacks the same strongly dualistic schema of Two Kings found in the Klementia – describes instead a meeting of the “Prince of Wickedness” (princeps malitiae) with the one “appointed King of Peace by God” (a deo destinatum regem pacis, Rec. 4.34.2). There are certain other concrete connections between the Temptation paragraph in Klem. 8 and Klem. 20.2–3 that make comparison of the two illuminating, especially with respect to a textual problem in the latter passage. Both passages appear, in some way, to deal with the question of whether the Two Kings can use force to accomplish their purposes or are constrained only to apply tactics of persuasion. In Klem. 8.21.1, the gospel vocabulary of “temptation” or “testing” (πειράζειn) has been altered to express persuasion, emphasizing that Jesus, the future king, presented no exception to the general condition: the temporary king approached him “not using force, for it was not permitted, but urging and persuading, for being persuaded lies within the authority of everyone” (οÎ βίαn ποιÀn [οÎ γ€ρ âξ¨n], ‚λλ€ προτρέπωn καÈ ‚nαπείθωn, íτι τä πεισθ¨nαι âπÈ τ¬ áκάστου κεØται âξουσίø). The same pair of concepts, force and persuasion, appear to be broached together in Klem 20.3.1, but the text is corrupt at precisely this point. I would suggest that a negative particle was among the illegible elements, 37 and we should read the sentence to mean that the Two Kings are, by the command of God, unable to use force and must rely upon persuasion. The editors of the critical edition postulated some kind of connection with Matt 11:12 38 on the basis of similar vocabulary, and they perhaps missed the closer and more illuminating connection with Klem. 8.21.1. 39

37 The P manuscript breaks off in Klem. 19.14, so we are dealing here only with O. Cf. Rehm and Strecker, Die Pseudoklementinen I: Homilien, IX. 38 ‚πä δà τÀn ™mερÀn >Ιωάnnου τοÜ βαπτιστοÜ éως Šρτι ™ βασιλεία τÀn οÎραnÀn βιάζεται καÈ βιασταÈ ρπάζουσιn αÎτήn. “From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force” (NRSV). 39 Rehm and Strecker, Die Pseudoklementinen I: Homilien, 269.

An Encounter Between the Two Kings

113

The Temptation story is introduced in Klem. 8 as an example demonstrating not only that the one who has abstained from improper worship cannot be enslaved by demons, but also that a person cannot expect to receive desirable things from the king to whom he has not given his allegiance. 40 The rather oblique comment is one of the first hints of an issue that will receive more attention in the second half of the novel, where we will encounter some additional teachings on the ethics surrounding wealth and material possessions (see chapter 4). Here, the author of the Klementia alters the temptation about the authority and glory of “all the kingdoms of the world” (Matt 4:8–9 and Luke 4:5–7) to make wealth explicitly an issue, adding “gold, silver, and luxury” to the offer: 41 ΤÄ γ€ρ τ¨ς εÎσεβείας ™mÀn βασιλεØ προσ¨λθέn ποτε å πρόσκαιρος βασιλεύς, οÎ βίαn ποιÀn (οÎ γ€ρ âξ¨n), ‚λλ€ προτρέπωn καÈ ‚nαπείθωn, íτι τä πεισθ¨nαι âπÈ τ¬ áκάστου κεØται âξουσίø. προσελθ°n οÞn, ±ς τÀn παρόnτωn »n βασιλεÌς τÄ τÀn mελλόnτωn βασιλεØ êφη· Аσαι αÉ τοÜ nÜn κόσmου βασιλεØαι Íπόκειnται âmοί, êτι τε å χρυσäς καÈ å Šργυρος καÈ πσα ™ τρυφ˜ τοÜ κόσmου τούτου Íπä ταØς âmαØς âστιn âξουσίαις· διä πεσ°n προσκύnησόn mοι, καÈ δώσω σοι πάnτα ταÜτα. At one point, the temporary king came to the king of our piety, not using force, for it was not permitted, but urging and persuading, since being persuaded lies within the authority of each individual. Therefore, approaching the king of things future, as king of things present, he said, “All the kingdoms of the present world are subject to me, and besides, all the gold and silver and luxury of this world are under my powers. So, fall down and worship me, and I will give all these things to you” (Klem. 8.21.1–2).

The remainder of the account depicts both of the kings acting out of their common understanding of the temporal relationship of their realms. First, we are given the motive of the king of the present for his attempt at persuasion, then the knowing response of his interlocutor: ταÜτα δà êλεγεn εÊδ°ς íτι mετ€ τοÜ προσκυn¨σαι καÈ τ˜n κατ+ αÎτοÜ εÚχεn âξουσίαn καÈ οÕτως τ¨ς mελλούσης δόξης καÈ βασιλείας αÎτän ‚φ¤ρει. καÈ πάnτα εÊδ°ς οÎ mόnοn αÎτän οÎ προσεκύnησεn, ‚λλ+ οÎδà τÀn Íπ+ αÎτοÜ δεδοmέnωn λαβεØn τι šθέλησεn· áαυτän γ€ρ σÌn τοØς áαυτοÜ κατεnεχύραζεn, íπερ âστÈn m˜ âξεØnαι τοÜ λοιποÜ τÀn αÎτÄ ‚ποδοθέnτωn mηδà ψαÜσαι êτι. ‚ποκριnάmεnος οÞn êφη· «Γέγραπται· Κύριοn τän θεόn σου φοβηθήσù καÈ αÎτÄ λατρεύσεις mόnú». πλ˜n å τÀn ‚σεβÀn βασιλεÌς κατ€ πολλ€ τän τÀn εÎσεβÀn βασιλέα πρäς 40 διä âξουσίαn τιnäς οÎκ êχει m˜ προσκυnήσαnτος αÎτόn· ‚λλ+ οÎδà λαβεØn τις παρ+ αÎτÀn δύnαταί τι Án θέλει, ‚λλ+ οÎδà βλαβ¨nαι οÎδàn, ±ς âκεØθεn δύnασθε mαθεØn. “Therefore he does not have authority over a person who has not worshipped him. But a person can neither receive from them any of the things he wants nor be at all harmed, as you can learn from the following” (Klem. 8.20.4). 41 The parallel paragraph in the Recognition, while different from the Klementia in many ways, suggests that this one temptation had already been selected from the three of the gospel accounts in the Grundschrift. Among the differences are the fact that R has its Prince of Wickedness offer only “all the glory of the world” and not gold, silver, and luxury (Rec. 4.34.2).

114

Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis

τä áαυτοÜ βούληmα παράγειn πειρώmεnος καÈ m˜ δυnηθεÈς âπαύσατο, πρäς τ€ λοιπ€ τ¨ς πολιτείας θηρεύειn αÎτän âπιχειρÀn. He said these things knowing that, after he worshipped him, he would have authority over him and, in this way, would deprive him of the coming glory and kingdom. Because he also knew all things, not only did he not worship him, but he did not even want to receive any of the things that had been offered by him, for he would have pawned himself, together with the things that belong to him 42 – wherefore, it is still not permitted, at any time in the future, even to touch the things that were given over to him. Therefore he answered, “It is written, ‘The Lord your God shall you fear, and him only shall you serve.’” But the king of the impious, although he attempted many times to bring the king of the pious over to his will, was not able and ceased trying to catch him for the remainder of his politeia. 43 (Klem. 8.21.3–8.22.1).

In keeping with the presentation of this episode as an example for human beings, the Klementia draws out the implication that, because Jesus rejected the wealth offered him, a similar rejection, even in a strengthened form, is required of his followers. They are not even to touch what belongs to the king of this world (Klem. 8.21.4). It is not inconceivable that the author of the Klementia here intended to portray Jesus effecting something like the kind of legalistic moves made in the so-called “antitheses” of Matt 5:21–48. 44

An Altered Transition Where the treatment of the Temptation story transitions into the subsequent meditation on the Parable of the Wedding Feast, we find significant differences in the Klementia and the Recognition. Close examination of them can tell us quite a bit about how the author of the Klementia has edited this extended block of material from the Grundschrift. At the end of the Temptation episode in the Recognition, a defeated Prince of Evil sends out false Christian emissaries, and

42 As Jürgen Wehnert (Pseudoklementinische Homilien, 148, n. 12) observes, what I have rendered “things” might be things or people. It is probably best to allow for both, since the human subjects of the King of the Future are among his κτήmατα, according to Klem. 20.3.2. 43 I read âπιχειρÀn as supplementary with âπαύσατο, rather than circumstantial, against the punctuation of the critical edition and the ANF translation. This reading accords somewhat better with Matt 4:11, while the circumstantial reading could reflect Luke 4:13 (å διάβολος ‚πέστη ‚π+ αÎτοÜ Šχρι καιροÜ). 44 Another passage in the Tripolis Discourses, Klem. 11.32, clearly draws upon the Matthean “antitheses” (Matt 5:21–48), though the more stringent way advocated by Peter is relative not to the law, but to whatever good behavior his converts displayed while they were yet “among idols” (Klem. 11.31.1). Peter’s formulation reads, “If those in error do not murder, let us not be angry. If he who is in error does not commit adultery, let us not lust at all. If he who is in error loves the one who loves him, let us love those who hate us. If he who is in error lends to those who have, let us lend to those who have not” (Klem. 11.32.1). If there is here a reticence to draw negative comparisons between followers of Moses and followers of Jesus, it is quite in character with the rest of the Klementia.

An Altered Transition

115

Peter moves immediately into a hortatory mode of address, giving his audience the key to defending themselves against such duplicitous preachers: qua responsione deterritus et metuens ne unius et veri dei repararetur vera religio, festinat continuo emittere in hunc mundum pseudoprophetas et pseudoapostolos falsosque doctores, qui sub nomine quidem Christi loquerentur, daemonis tamen facerent voluntatem. propter quod observate cautius, ut nulli doctorum credatis, nisi qui Iacobi fratris domini ex Hierusalem detulerit testimonium, vel eius quicumque post ipsum fuerit. nisi enim quis illuc ascenderit et ibi fuerit probatus quod sit doctor idoneus et fidelis ad praedicandum Christi verbum, nisi, inquam, inde detulerit testimonium, recipiendus omnino non est. 45 Discouraged by the response and fearing that the true religion of the one true God might be restored, he hastened immediately to send out into this world false prophets and false apostles and false teachers, who would indeed speak in the name of Christ but do the will of the demon. On account of this, be careful that you believe no teacher except he who brings from Jerusalem the testimony of James the brother of the Lord, or of whomever should succeed him. For unless someone has gone up there and has been approved to the effect that he is a fit and faithful teacher for preaching the word of Christ – unless, I say, he brings a testimony from there, he is by no means to be received (Rec. 4.34.5–4.35.2a).

The Klementia, by contrast, has nothing about false emissaries at the conclusion of its handling of the Temptation and, at this point, gives no exhortation about examining the credentials of purveyors of the word of Christ. Peter makes a similar rhetorical turn from the retelling of the Temptation episode to the direct address of his audience, but his mode of discourse remains explanatory, rather than becoming hortatory, and brings in the Klementia’s familiar refrain, “body and soul”: πλ˜n å τÀn ‚σεβÀn βασιλεÌς κατ€ πολλ€ τän τÀn εÎσεβÀn βασιλέα πρäς τä áαυτοÜ βούληmα παράγειn πειρώmεnος καÈ m˜ δυnηθεÈς âπαύσατο, πρäς τ€ λοιπ€ τ¨ς πολιτείας θηρεύειn αÎτän âπιχειρÀn. ÍmεØς δà τän προορισθέnτα nόmοn ‚γnοοÜnτες δι€ τÀn κακÀn πράξεωn Íπä τ˜n âξουσίαn αÎτοÜ âγέnεσθε, διä σÀmα καÈ ψυχ˜n âmιάnθητε καÈ ân màn τÄ παρόnτι Íπό τε παθÀn καÈ δαιmόnωn ânυβρίζεσθε, ân δà τοØς mέλλουσιn τ€ς ψυχ€ς κολασθησοmέnας éξετε. But the king of the impious, although he attempted many times to bring the king of the pious over to his will, was not able and ceased trying to catch him for the remainder of his politeia. But you, being ignorant of the foreordained law, came under his authority through evil deeds. Therefore, you were defiled body and soul, and in the present you are maltreated by sufferings and demons, and in the future, you shall have your souls punished (Klem. 8.22.1–2).

45 Bernhard Rehm and Georg Strecker, eds., Die Pseudoklementinen II: Rekognitionen in Rufins Übersetzung, 2nd ed., GCS 51 (Berlin: Akademie, 1994).

116

Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis

Clearly, there are differences in this material, and at least one of the present versions has made significant changes to the common source. Fortunately, there are substantive clues to afford us a reasonably clear picture of what happened. To unravel the problem, we begin with the observation that Peter’s affirmation of the central authority of James and the Jerusalem church in Rec. 4.35.1 must have belonged to the Grundschrift, for it is found also in the Klementia, but in a different location, at the conclusion of the entire Tripolis Discourses section (Klem. 11.35.4). In its Klementia location, the material about James follows immediately upon the baptism of Clement, in hortatory fashion similar to its mode in the Recognition. The principle difference in substance is that, instead of being addressed to the crowd of seekers at Tripolis, it is urged upon the elders of the church. We would have no sure way of knowing where this tradition about the authority of James was originally located in the Pseudo-Clementine novel, except that the author of the Klementia has left in place an important clue. When he moved the tradition about the authority of James, he retained a hint of its connection to the Temptation narrative. In the new setting, the author of the Klementia has Peter introduce the material about the false apostles and James with a summary reminiscence of the time when Jesus recounted his dispute with the devil to his disciples: οÕτως οÞn εÎωχηθέnτωn τÀn ‚δελφÀn ™mÀn âπÈ τ¬ θεοδωρήτú mου ‚nαγεnnήσει, mετ+ οÎ πολλ€ς ™mέρας τοØς πρεσβυτέροις âπιστρέφωn âπÈ πάσης τ¨ς âκκλησίας ânετείλατο λέγωn· Ιακώβú τÄ λεχθέnτι ‚δελφÄ τοÜ κυρίου mου καÈ πεπιστευmέnú ân Εγ° πάσας τ€ς âσοmέnας «πρä καταβολ¨ς κόσmου» εÊδ°ς προαιρέσεις, áκάστú πρäς τä αÎτοÜ Šξιοn λαnθαnόnτως προαπήnτησα· τοÜτο δà αÎτä íτι οÕτως êχει βουληθεÈς τοÌς προσπεφευγότας mοι πληροφορ¨σαι δι€ τί ‚π+ ‚ρχ¨ς âκ προτέρωn γεnεÀn τ˜n âm˜n βούλησιn δηmοσίø οÎκ εÒασα κηρυχθ¨nαι, nÜn πρäς τÄ τέλει τοÜ βίου κήρυκας âm¨ς βουλ¨ς ‚πέστειλα, οË καÈ γελÀnται καÈ Íβριζόmεnοι χλευάζοnται Íπä τÀn mηδàn ²φελεØσθαι θελόnτωn καÈ âπιτεταmέnως τ˜n âm˜n φιλίαn παραιτησαmέnωn. » mεγάλης ‚δικίας· mέχρι φόnου κιnδυnεύουσιn κήρυκες, καÈ ταÜτα Íπä τÀn εÊς σωτηρίαn καλουmέnωn ‚nδρÀn. τοÜτο δà τä ‚δίκως γιnόmεnοn κατ€ τÀn âmÀn κηρύκωn ‚π+ ‚ρχ¨ς ‹n εÊς πάnτας âγίnετο, εÒπερ ‚π+ ‚ρχ¨ς εÊς σωτηρίαn âκαλοÜnτο οÉ ‚nάξιοι. τä γ€ρ nÜn γιnόmεnοn Íπ+ αÎτÀn ‚δίκως εÊς ‚πολογίαn τ¨ς âm¨ς δικαίας γίnεται προnοίας, íτι καλÀς τän τιm¨ς Šξιοn λόγοn ‚π+ ‚ρχ¨ς δηmοσίø εÊς Õβριn θεØnαι οÎκ âβουλήθηn ‚nωφελÀς, ‚λλ€ σιγσθαι αÎτän ±ς τίmιοn âβουλευσάmηn, οÎκ ‚πä τÀn ‚π+ ‚ρχ¨ς ‚ξίωn (οÙς καÈ mετέδωκα), ‚λλ€ ‚πä τούτωn καÈ τÀn τοιούτωn (±ς åρτε) ‚nαξίωn, τÀn âmà mισούnτωn καÈ áαυτοÌς φιλεØn m˜ βουλοmέnωn. “I, knowing before the foundation of the world all ethical choices that were to be, went forth secretly to each person with a view to his worthiness; but wanting to assure those who have fled to me that this is so, and why from the beginning, and out of the former generations, I did not allow my will to be heralded in public, now, at the end of life, I have sent out heralds of my will; and they are laughed at and, being maltreated (Íβριζόmεnοι, cf. Matt 22:6), they are mocked by those who do not want (θελόnτωn, cf. Matt 22:3) to be helped, and those who have vehemently declined (παραιτησαmέnωn, cf. Luke 14:18–19) my friendship. O, what a great injustice! My heralds are exposed to danger even as far as murder (mέχρι φόnου, cf. Matt 22:7), and by the men who are called (καλουmέnωn) to salvation, at that. And this wrongful treatment of my heralds would have been against all from the beginning if the unworthy (οÉ ‚nάξιοι, cf. Matt 22:8) had been called to salvation from the beginning. For what is now done wrongfully by these men serves as an apologia for my righteous foreknowledge, that it was well that I was not willing from the beginning to expose uselessly to public contempt the word that is worthy of honor, but I wanted to keep it silent, as honorable – not from those who were worthy from the beginning (I shared it with them), but from those who were unworthy, from such as those you see, from those who hate me and do not wish to love themselves” (Klem. 1.11.10–1.12.2).

As the parenthetical references in my translation indicate, Clement’s inspired speech appears to make allusion to the parable of the Wedding Feast and Luke’s parallel parable of the Great Supper in characterizing the response of the Egyptian philosophers to Barnabas’s preaching. The narrative frame leading up to Clement’s words describes the exchange between the philosophers and Barnabas as more mocking than murderous, but the response to Clement that follows

The Defiled Garment and the Remedy of Baptism

123

the speech will intensify to match the more strident tone of the speech. Some in the crowd gnash their teeth at the Roman, prompting the latter to take Barnabas by the hand forcefully and retreat to his lodging, “lest someone lay hands on him” (1.13.2). Thus, in Clement’s speech and in the response to it, the author of the Klementia appears to allude to and re-focus the violence of the parable, making it point the finger at hostile “Greeks” rather than the leaders of the Jewish people. Simultaneously, these φιλόσοφοι (1.10.1), with their rejection of the invitation through Barnabas, vindicate the divine suppression of the truth until the end of the age and serve as a living apologia for God’s foreknowledge and justice. 55

The Defiled Garment and the Remedy of Baptism Besides the shifting of players and relationships in the salvation history of the Parable of the Wedding Feast, one of the more salient features of the Klementia’s treatment of the parable at the end of Klem. 8 is the alteration of the precise nature of the command of the king to the servants who are finally sent into the streets to gather guests for the filling of the banquet hall. The change implicitly addresses a problem that has bothered readers of the Matthean parable throughout its history, namely the king’s harsh condemnation of the guest who was not properly attired, though he was ushered in from the streets. 56 The mission, as Peter describes it to his Tripolitan audience, is to invest (περιβαλεØn) each guest with a clean wedding garment, decoded as baptism, and to bring the good into the supper of God after their repentance (âκ τ¨ς mεταmελείας, 8.22.4). 57 This is a significant departure from the Gospel of Matthew, which insists repeatedly that the separation of the good from the bad is an act of discrimination that belongs only to God and is to take place at the final judgment – all are invited into the feast and permitted to enter, and the unworthy will later be cast out. 58 In the Klementia, the command is molded to match the general commitment that the community, and particularly its table fellowship, must be guarded from those

55 The insistence that knowledge of the will of God has always been available to the worthy will be encountered again in Klem. 18.13–14 (treated below, in chapter 5). 56 On the variety of solutions developed in the history of interpretation, see Luz, Matthew 21– 28, ed. Helmut Koester, trans. James E. Crouch, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005), 58–60. 57 The phrase that here modifies baptism (ç εÊς Šφεσιn γίnεται τÀn πεπραγmέnωn ÍmØn κακÀn) echoes the description of the baptism administered by John the Baptist in Mark 1:4 and Luke 3:3 and by Peter (in the name of Jesus Christ) in Acts 2:38 (εÊς Šφεσιn mαρτιÀn). The “wicked deeds” that take the place of “sins” in the Klementia’s version balance the “good deeds” that are also associated with baptism in the Klementia’s discourse (cf. 8.23.1). 58 Cf. the wheat and the tares (Matt 13:24–30), the good and bad fish (Matt 13:47–50), the foolish and prudent virgins (Matt 25:1–13), and the sheep and the goats (Matt 25:31–46).

124

Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis

whose dining practices are indiscriminate and unreformed and who have not undergone a ritual separation from their previous way of life. 59 As he describes his apostolic commission, Peter lifts up the parable’s imagery of the wedding garment and offers a brief and evocative account of the conversion process by which members of his beleaguered audience may gain entrance to the feast. His plea will, with precisely reversed symmetry, unravel the problem of the demon possession he has just described in great aetiological detail, from its origins in ancient history down to its palpable influence in the very crowd around him. 60 The process whereby the solution can be effected – a process associated with baptism, but also defined by the notion of “good works” – is described in terms that adeptly tailor the Matthean imagery to the rhetorical context. The exhortation that makes up Klem. 8.23 presumes what is implicit also in the outcome of the second plot of the Matthean parable, namely that guests of the royal wedding are, on some level, responsible for their own fitness to attend. While the Klementia stated earlier (8.22.4) that Peter and his fellow apostles were charged with putting wedding garments on the guests, the exhortation now reveals that the real work and zeal demanded by the process belong to those addressed by the speech. While the reader might have expected the apostle to have clean garments at the ready, it turns out that the attire to be attained is actually something more basic – the human being herself, restored to her original, created purity. Peter urges: ênδυmα οÞn εÊ βούλεσθε γεnέσθαι θείου πnεύmατος, σπουδάσατε πρÀτοn âκδύσασθαι τä ûυπαρän ÍmÀn πρόληmmα (íπερ âστÈn ‚κάθαρτοn πnεÜmα καÈ mιαρän περίβληmα). 61 τοÜτο δà οÎκ Šλλως ‚ποδύσασθαι δύnασθε, â€n m˜ πρότεροn âπÈ καλαØς πράξεσιn βαπτισθ¨τε, καÈ οÕτω καθαροÈ σώmατί τε καÈ ψυχ¬ γεnόmεnοι τ¨ς âσοmέnης ‚ιδίου βασιλείας ‚πολαύσετε. Therefore, if you want to become a garment of divine spirit, hasten first to strip off your filthy apprehension (which is an unclean spirit and a defiled cloak). This you are otherwise

59 This is nicely depicted in narrative and didactic fashion through the conversion of Mattidia in Klem. 13 (see chapter 4). 60 The torment associated with the demons is visceral in the description, at the outset of the discourse, of a crowd filled with people gnashing their teeth, wailing, and falling down in supplication (Klem. 8.8.4). The Klementia permits this tension to endure to the end of the discourse by having Peter “rebuke” them into silence, promising healing after the sermon. That the primary concerns of the Recognition lie elsewhere can be seen in the parallel scene-setting description (Rec. 4.7). There, Peter not only rebukes the demons and commands them to depart (which they do without delay) before the sermon begins, but he even commands those relieved of demons and illness to “sit apart” (seorsum residere), while the crowd to which he will speak begins to gather. 61 In addition to retaining the reading of P and O, I have moved the closing parenthesis from its placement in the critical edition (Rehm and Strecker, Die Pseudoklementinen I: Homilien, 131), which reads: οÞn εÊ βούλεσθε γεnέσθαι θείου πnεύmατος, σπουδάσατε πρÀτοn âκδύσασθαι τä ûυπαρän ÍmÀn προκάλυmmα (íπερ âστÈn ‚κάθαρτοn πnεÜmα) καÈ mιαρän περίβληmα.

The Defiled Garment and the Remedy of Baptism

125

unable to strip off, unless you are first baptized following good deeds; and thus you will become pure in body and soul and enjoy the coming, eternal kingdom (Klem. 8.23.1).

In other words, those gathered in from the streets were never lacking wedding attire, for they are, by their created nature, the requisite garment. What is needed is rather a divestment of the kind of unclean spirit that can wrap itself around anyone who has unwittingly subjected himself to the authority of the evil forces via participation in pagan cultic worship. 62 Wieseler proposed προκάλυmmα, or “veil”, in place of πρόληmmα, against the reading of both manuscripts, but the original reading must be retained. 63 The kind of confusion that may have prompted the emendation is understandable, for the passage has, up to this point, presented metaphor first and then decoded the image with parenthetical reference to the reality it represents. In this case, however, the reality has been given first, for πρόληmmα is nothing other than that “apprehension” by the Wicked Ruler that Peter cited as the reason behind the failure of some of his own people to respond to the wedding invitation (cf. προληφθέnτες and πρόληψιn in 8.22.3). A double decoding follows, with the demonic apprehension specified as both an “unclean spirit” and, metaphorically, a defiled cloak. As Peter tells it, the stripping off of the demonic garment is enabled by “good deeds” and baptism. The resulting purity, body and soul (8.23.1), restores the individual to the condition in which he existed before wicked deeds, done in ignorance of the law governing the demons, rendered him “defiled, body and soul” (8.22.2). Precisely what might qualify as a good deed is indicated only implicitly, for Peter concludes with a summary catalogue of prohibitions specifying some of the things that must not be done. That it is merely an illustrative list is indicated by the fact that it ends with an et cetera, the vocabulary of which plays once more into the clothing imagery: “Do not believe in idols, and do not partake of their defiled table. Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not hate those whom it is not right to hate, do not steal, and do not invest yourselves (âπιβάλλεσθε) in any wicked deeds at all” (8.23.2). The closing bookend of the sermon’s hortatory ending hearkens back to 8.22.2 but amplifies its terms, adding flames to the eternal punishment awaiting any soul that does not get rid of its demons while still in the body. 64 With this, we have a reasonably clear 62 The metaphorical stripping off of garments may play upon a disrobing involved in the baptismal ritual. Although it is not directly stated in the description of Mattidia’s baptism in the sea, it is perhaps presumed in the details that the group rose much earlier in the morning and sought out a sheltered spot (ân σκεπιnÄ) to baptize her out of view of spying eyes (ân ‚κατασκόπú). In addition, Clement, the narrator, comments that he and his brothers, “for the sake of the women,” withdrew and washed themselves while Peter performed the baptism (Klem. 14.1–2). 63 Rehm and Strecker, Die Pseudoklementinen I: Homilien, 131. 64 This fiery torture that so captivated the imagination of the evangelist Matthew (cf. Matt 5:22; 13:40, 42, 50; 25:41) is given a special justification in association with the nature of demons later in the Tripolis Discourses. In Klem. 9.9.1–5, Peter explains how the demons, once admitted through

126

Tyre, Sidon, and Tripolis

picture of the soteriological problem (subjection to the Wicked King, body and soul) that can be unraveled by good works and baptism, which restore the original purity that was sullied by demonic infection.

Conclusion The Tripolis Discourses go on to attack the “idolatry” of polytheism at some length in Klem. 9–11, but shortly before Clement finally receives baptism at the end of the eleventh book, Peter gives some further reflections on that ritual as a process of rebirth, wrought in the “first-born” water of God’s creation (Klem. 11.24.2). The necessity of the act is emphasized in various ways – because it is pleasing to God, because it amounts to a change of the first genesis, and even because it was commanded by the True Prophet, who (according to the Klementia) said “Truly I say to you, unless you are born again in living water, in the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven” (Klem. 11.26.1–2). 65 The one who refuses the water betrays that he still bears a hydrophobic spirit (τä τ¨ς λύσσης φέρει πnεÜmα, 11.26.4) and is in danger of being dragged into the flames of eternal torment. Clement’s own rebirth marks his full conversion to the piety of Peter and finally brings closure to the Bildungsroman, through which both he and the reader have learned a great deal of important information about the way things are. With this, the stage is set for something new, and when Klem. 12 opens, it is upon the scene of Peter and Clement alone, discussing together the nature of their relationship as apostolic master and disciple. That apostle /convert bond, the likes of which could rend families apart in early Christian literature like the Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles, will be carefully put in its proper place. After an initial impulse to cling solely to Peter, Clement (and the reader) will learn, through the miraculous story of Clement’s natal family, that divine providence honors and labors on behalf of marriage and filial piety. The genre of Greek romance upon which the second half of the Klementia draws is already well prepared to support such an ethic, though its tropes will also serve the novel in marking out the boundary line between Peter’s group and Greeks, or Gentiles. food, can lurk within and become blended with the soul of the person they occupy. If the problem is not addressed before the death of the individual, the soul united with the demon will be dragged about post mortem wherever the demon wishes to go. When the demon is finally consigned to fiery purification, he is quite pleased to bathe in the flames that match his nature, but the soul, since it is made of light, experiences the flames as unspeakably torturous. Worse yet, the flames have a tempering effect on the demon such that he becomes an unbreakable chain around that unfortunate who once joined him in symposium (δεσmäς δύσρηκτος γεnόmεnος τ¨ς Íπ+ αÎτοÜ συmποθείσης ψυχ¨ς, 9.9.5). 65 >Αm˜n ÍmØn λέγω, â€n m˜ ‚nαγεnnηθ¨τε Õδατι ζÀnτι, εÊς înοmα πατρός, υÉοÜ, γίου πnεύmατος, οÎ m˜ εÊσέλθητε εÊς τ˜n βασιλείαn τÀn οÎραnÀn (Klem. 11.26.2; cf. John 3:5).

Figure 1 Chiastic Structure of the Interpretation of the Parable of the Wedding Feast (Klem. 8.22.2–23.3)

22.2 ÍmεØς δà τän προορισθέnτα nόmοn ‚γnοοÜnτες δι€ τÀn κακÀn πράξεωn Íπä τ˜n âξουσίαn αÎτοÜ âγέnεσθε, διä σÀmα καÈ ψυχ˜n âmιάnθητε καÈ ân màn τÄ παρόnτι Íπό τε παθÀn καÈ δαιmόnωn ânυβρίζεσθε, ân δà τοØς mέλλουσιn τ€ς ψυχ€ς κολασθησοmέnας éξετε. 22.3 τοÜτο δà οÎχ ÍmεØς mόnοι Íπä ‚γnοίας πεπόnθατε, ‚λλ€ καί τιnες τοÜ ™mετέρου êθnους, οÑτιnες âπÈ κακαØς πράξεσιn Íπä τοÜ τ¨ς κακίας ™γεmόnος προληφθέnτες, êπειτα ¹σπερ âπÈ δεØπnοn Íπä πατρäς υÉÄ τελοÜnτος γάmους κληθέnτες οÎχ Íπήκουσαn. 22.4 ‚nτÈ δà τÀn ‚πειθησάnτωn δι€ τ˜n πρόληψιn å τοÌς γάmους τÄ υÉÄ τελÀn πατ˜ρ δι€ τοÜ προφήτου τ¨ς ‚ληθείας âκέλευσεn ™mØn εÊς τ€ς διεξόδους τÀn åδÀn âλθοÜσιn (í âστιn πρäς Ímς) καθαρän ênδυmα γάmου περιβαλεØn (íπερ âστÈn βάπτισmα, ç εÊς Šφεσιn γίnεται τÀn πεπραγmέnωn ÍmØn κακÀn) καÈ τοÌς ‚γαθοÌς εÊς τä θεοÜ δεØπnοn εÊσάγειn âκ τ¨ς mεταmελείας, εÊ καÈ τ˜n ‚ρχ˜n ‚πελείφθησαn τ¨ς εÎωχίας. 23.1 ênδυmα οÞn εÊ βούλεσθε γεnέσθαι θείου πnεύmατος, σπουδάσατε πρÀτοn âκδύσασθαι τä ûυπαρän ÍmÀn πρόληmmα (íπερ âστÈn ‚κάθαρτοn πnεÜmα καÈ mιαρän περίβληmα). τοÜτο δà οÎκ Šλλως ‚ποδύσασθαι δύnασθε, â€n m˜ πρότεροn âπÈ καλαØς πράξεσιn βαπτισθ¨τε, καÈ οÕτω καθαροÈ σώmατί τε καÈ ψυχ¬ γεnόmεnοι τ¨ς âσοmέnης ‚ιδίου βασιλείας ‚πολαύσετε. 23.2 mήτε οÞn εÊδώλοις πιστεύετε mήτε τραπέζης αÎτοØς κοιnωnεØτε mιαρς, m˜ φοnεύετε, m˜ mοιχεύετε, m˜ mισήσητε οÏς m˜ δίκαιοn, m˜ κλέπτετε mηδà κακαØς τισιn íλως πράξεσιn âπιβάλλεσθε. 23. 3 âπεÈ τÀn âσοmέnωn ‚γαθÀn στερηθέnτες τ¨ς âλπίδος, ân màn τÄ παρόnτι Íπό τε κακÀn δαιmόnωn καÈ χαλεπÀn παθηmάτωn συnελασθήσεσθε, ân δà τÄ âσοmέnú αÊÀnι ‚ιδίú κολασθήσεσθε πυρί.

Chapter 4: The Family Romance Even though the story of Clement’s own family does not emerge until the second half of the narrative, the subjects of family and filial piety run as strong currents through the Klementia, touching almost every page in one way or another. In the beginning, the church order of the Epistula Clementis dwells upon the role of the church in enjoining and supporting marriage (Ep. Clem. 7–8), and the same themes return again in the ordination speech for Zacchaeus in Klem. 3.68. Throughout, storg¯e, or filial affection, is woven deeply into the fabric of the novel at the levels of both plot and ideology, imbuing the romance of Mattidia, Faustus, and their children with dramatic pathos, but also serving as a potent and wide-ranging theological metaphor. At times, it is described as a force virtually powerful enough to effect human salvation on its own, drawing individuals irresistibly back to the divine father who created them (cf. Klem. 3.6–8, and especially 3.8.1, αÎτάρκης οÞn εÊς σωτηρίαn ™ εÊς θεän ‚nθρώπωn στοργή). It is described as essential for the right reading of scripture (cf. Klem. 2.38, 42; 3.10.4). It wells up in the contemplative who gazes upon the “mystery of the hebdomad,” and it is capable of drawing his soul to its ultimate rest in the bosom of God. 1 It even serves as a final line of defense for Peter, should it turn out that the scriptures and Simon Magus are right about the creator: â€n τÄ înτι å τän κόσmοn κτίσας θεäς τ˜n γnώmηn τοιοÜτος »n τυγχάnù, åποØοn αÉ γραφαÈ καταλέγουσιn – καÈ εÊ Šλλως πως ‚παραβλήτως κακός âστιn, ±ς οÖτε αÉ γραφαÈ εÊπεØn Òσχυσαn οÖτε Šλλος τις κ‹n ânnο¨σαι δυnατός âστιn, åmοίως âγ° οÎκ ‚ποστήσοmαι τοÜ αÎτän mόnοn σέβειn καÈ τä αÎτοÜ βούληmα ποιεØn. εÊδέnαι γάρ σε θέλω καÈ πεπεØσθαι íτι å εÊς τän αÍτοÜ ποιητ˜n οÎκ êχωn στοργ˜n οÎδà εÊς éτεροn êχειn ποτà δύnαται. εÊ δà êχει πρäς éτεροn, παρ€ φύσιn êχωn, âκ ποnηροÜ τän τÀn ‚δίκωn êρωτα êχωn ‚γnοεØ, ±ς mηδà âκεØnοn βεβαίως φυλάξαι δυnάmεnος. καÈ εÊ Šρα âστίn τις éτερος Íπàρ τän δηmιουργόn, ‚ποδέξεταί mε ±ς ‚γαθäς ταύτù mλλοn, íτι τän âmän ‚γαπÀ πατέρα.

1 Klem. 17.10.4–5: “And if they [souls] should be separated from the body and found possessing a longing for him, they are borne to his bosom immortal, as the mists of the mountains in the time of winter are drawn by the rays of the sun and borne to it. Such affection we are able to conceive if we contemplate his beauty with the mind” (κ‹n χωρισθÀσιn τοÜ σώmατος καÈ τän εÊς αÎτän εÍρεθÀσιn πόθοn êχουσαι, εÊς τän αÎτοÜ κόλποn φέροnται ‚θάnατοι, ±ς ân χειmÀnος ¹ρø οÉ ‚τmοÈ τÀn æρÀn Íπä τÀn τοÜ ™λίου ‚κτίnωn áλκόmεnοι φέροnται πρäς αÎτόn. οÑαn οÞn στοργ˜n συλλαβεØn δυnάmεθα, â€n τ˜n εÎmορφίαn αÎτοÜ τÄ nÄ κατοπτεύσωmεn).

130

The Family Romance

If in reality the God who created the world should happen to be such as this in disposition, as the scriptures recount – even if he is in some other way incomparably wicked, as neither the scriptures are able to say nor anyone else could even conceive – all the same, I will not turn away from worshipping him alone and doing his will. For I want you to know and be persuaded that he who does not have affection for his own maker can never have it for another. If he has it toward another, having it contrary to nature, he is ignorant that he has desire for the unjust from the evil one, since he is not able even to guard that desire securely. And if someone else is above the demiurge, he will welcome me all the more, inasmuch as he is good, because I love my father (Klem. 18.22.3–5).

As supremely important as this divine love is, it is balanced in the Klementia by a romance story demonstrating, in no uncertain terms, that it is not to be leveraged over against the mundane affections and pleasures of the human family. This is made abundantly clear in the first movement of the family drama (occupying Klem. 12–13), which is framed front and back by explicit meditation on the subject of family and the chaste and pious comportment of its individual members. 2 Between two didactic moments defining the contours of the ideal family – the semi-private discussion between Peter and Clement in Klem. 12.4– 7 and Peter’s encomium of the “chaste” wife (σώφρωn γυnή) in Klem. 13.15– 19 – the narrative about the recovery of Clement’s long-lost kin will intervene to confirm, in swift and dramatic fashion, that divine providence looks after those who are faithful to the affections and bonds of human family.

Peter and Clement: An Abortive Family That the subject of family is about to emerge as the focus is signaled in the fascinating set of verbal negotiations between Peter and Clement (Klem. 12.4–7) that follow directly upon Clement’s baptism and full incorporation into Peter’s group (11.35). The conversation lays the groundwork for an apophatic definition, demonstrating implicitly what family is not, when Clement finally discloses (i. e., only at the beginning of Klem. 12) that he is alone in the world. The revelation is preceded by a rather melodramatic attempt to form a new kind of “family,” with Clement claiming the apostle as the sum of his kin and even as his sole beloved. 3 Clement goes so far as to pronounce himself the perfect disciple precisely on the grounds that he is already entirely bereft of filial rela2 In these two books, Clement is reunited with his mother and brothers. With the discovery and conversion of the husband and father in Klem. 14, the subject of astrological fate will emerge as a preoccupation. Jones (“Eros and Astrology,” 114–137) regards the latter as probably a central theme of the Basic Writing, which seems to have been entitled Periodoi Petrou, possibly because the word could connote both peregrination and the orbits of heavenly bodies. In any case, the theme would seem to be attenuated in the Klementia, which does not include the report of the horoscope of Mattidia (cf. Rec. 9.32.5). 3 Dirk Uwe Hansen, “Die Metamorphose des Heiligen: Clemens und die Clementina,” in Groningen Colloquia on the Novel 8, ed. H. Hofmann and M. Zimmerman (Groningen: Egbert

Peter and Clement: An Abortive Family

131

tions, reminding Peter of his own words back in Caesarea (the sentiment is not actually expressed anywhere in the Caesarea Discourses of the Klementia, but cf. Rec. 3.72): πρäς τούτοις δà mέmnηmαί σου ân Καισαρείø εÊπόnτος· ΕÒ τις βούλεταί mοι συnοδεÜσαι, εÎσεβÀς συnοδευέτω. εÎσεβÀς δà êφης τä mηδέnα λυπεØn κατ€ θεόn, οÙοn ‚πολιπ°n γοnεØς, γυnαØκα åmόφροnα £ áτέρους τιn€ς τ¬ θεοσεβείø προσκειmέnους. íθεn âγ° κατ€ πάnτα âπιτήδειός εÊmί σοι συnοδοιπόρος, Å εÊ καÈ τ€ mέγιστα χαρίζù, τ€ς δούλωn mοι Íπηρεσίας συγχωρεØς ποιεØn. In addition, I remember when you said in Caesarea, “If anyone wants to accompany me, let him do it piously.” By “piously” you meant not causing anyone grief because of God, for instance, by abandoning parents, a like-minded wife, or any others who are devoted to godlypiety. On that basis, I am a fit travelling companion for you in every way, to whom you would show the greatest kindness if you allow me to perform slave services (Klem. 12.5.5– 7).

At the end of the discussion, Clement utters what will soon prove to be a misguided assumption about the arc of the narrative. While he is right that God is the author, what he takes to be the happy dénouement of his rather tragic story turns out to be only a part of the complication. Ceding the victory on the preceding point in their discussion to Peter, he concludes, “If I suppose I will defeat you in argument, I am a fool. But I thank the providence of God that I have been deemed worthy of having you in place of parents.” The remarkable and complete reversal of this state of affairs, however, is just around the bend, so to speak. In the next moment, Peter is prompted to ask if it really is the case that Clement has no one, and Clement describes how it happened that his mother, Mattidia, his twin brothers, Faustinus and Faustinianus, and his father, Faustus, all left Rome long ago, never to be seen or heard from again (Klem. 12.8– 10). When Clement’s mother was warned in a dream to seek refuge abroad with her twin sons, she and the boys had disappeared without a trace. The devoted (φιλότεκnος, Klem. 12.9.1) husband and father went in search of them, leaving twelve-year-old Clement under care at Rome (Klem. 12.10.2). That was twenty years ago, and without so much as a letter from his father, Clement has made the reasonable assumption that Faustus, too, has long since died, either of shipwreck or of grief (Klem. 12.10.3–4). Shortly after the telling of this tale, when the mother of Clement is discovered by Peter on the nearby island of Arados, she is a pitiful picture of suffering Forsten, 1997), 119–129, 121; Following Karl Kerényi (Die griechisch-orientalische Romanliteratur in religionsgeschichtlicher Beleuchtung, 3rd ed. [Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1973], 69), Hansen rightly perceives overtones of Liebesgespräch in Clement’s impassioned avowal. After Peter has sent Nicetas and Aquila ahead toward Laodicea, Clement swears that he would have died of grief (âπειδ˜ æδυnώmεnος ‹n διαπεφωnήκειn, 12.4.1) had he been likewise dispatched, despite the fact that he made no such protestations whatsoever when he and the same pair were sent ahead to Tyre earlier in the narrative (Klem. 3.73).

132

The Family Romance

(Klem. 12.13). The love for husband and children that caused her plight has never faded, and the noble lady has remained faithful to the memory of her dear ones, a chaste widow, through years of wretched poverty. When it is soon thereafter revealed that Peter’s disciples Nicetas and Aquila are her long-lost twins, a brief delay in the baptism of Mattidia makes space in the narrative for a lofty (if thoroughly patriarchal) lesson from Peter on the ideal marriage. Framed by vehement warnings about the evils of adultery (Klem. 13.13–14 and 13.19; reminiscent of the words of Clement in Klem. 4.21.2–4) 4 is a richly embroidered vision of the “chaste” (σώφρωn) and pious wife, along with some pointed recommendations to her fortunate husband on the subject of her keeping (Klem. 13.15–17). The ethic of marital fidelity and harmony that is elaborated and extolled is, without a doubt, the main point of at least this first part of the romance plot (Klem. 12–13), for the narrative scarcely attempts to conceal its pedantry. Peter makes the connection between plot and ideology explicit when he begins by musing, with respect to Mattidia, that she might easily have died had she committed adultery. However, “Because she behaved chastely, God took pity on her, averted her destruction, and gave back the children who had been taken away” (Klem. 13.13.3). Beyond the vituperative warnings about adultery, Peter’s lesson, at its encomiastic core, lifts up the chaste wife as a reminder of God’s “first, good creation” (Klem. 13.15.1) and a paradigm of piety for the theosebeis (13.15.3). In an elaboration upon the kind of metaphorical adornment commended in 1 Tim 2:9– 10, Peter waxes eloquent on the subject of her beauty: ™ σώφρωn γυn˜ ±ς nυmφίú τÄ υÉÄ τοÜ θεοÜ κοσmεØται, ânδεδυmέnη τä σεmnän φÀς. êστιn δà αÎτ¬ κάλλος, ™ ân τ¬ ψυχ¬ εÎnοmία. mύρου δà πnέει, τ¨ς ‚γαθ¨ς φήmης. καλ€ φάρεα šmφίεσται, τ˜n αÊδÀ, καÈ τιmίους mαργαρίτας περίκειται, τοÌς σωφροnίζοnτας λόγους. λευκ˜ δà τυγχάnει, íταn τ€ς φρέnας ® λελαmπρυmέnη. καλÄ âσόπτρú åρ”, εÊς τän θεän âmβλέπουσα. καλÄ κόσmú χρ¨ται, τÄ πρäς θεän φόβú τ˜n ψυχ˜n nουθετοÜσα. καλ˜ [™] γυn˜ οÎχ ™ χρυσÄ πεπεδηmέnη, ‚λλ+ ™ τÀn προσκαίρωn âπιθυmιÀn λελυmέnη. ™ σώφρωn γυn˜ mεγάλú βασιλεØ περιπόθητός âστιn, αÎτÄ mεmnήστευται, αÎτÄ τετήρηται, Íπä αÎτοÜ šγάπηται. The chaste wife is adorned as though the Son of God is her bridegroom, clothed in holy light. Her beauty is her well-disciplined soul. She is redolent with the perfume of her good reputation. She is wrapped in a beautiful mantle, her self-respect, and she wears precious pearls, her chaste-making words. She is positively radiant when she has been illumined in heart. She looks in a beautiful mirror, peering into God. She employs fine fashion, admonishing her soul with the fear of God. The woman who is beautiful is not she who is 4 Peter goes so far as to invoke “the prophet” (Moses, as in Lev 20:10? Jesus?) for the view that an otherwise impeccable person must be punished for even a single sin of adultery (13.14.3, with the proposed insertion of ±ς). If the statement should call to mind for the reader Jesus’s intervention in the stoning of the woman “caught in adultery,” a tradition that somehow found its way into the eighth chapter of the canonical Gospel of John, it would seem to represent a sound repudiation of the mercy extended therein (cf. John 8:11).

Peter and Clement: An Abortive Family

133

fettered with gold, but she who has been released from desires for transient things. The chaste woman is greatly desired by the great King, is wooed by him, is guarded by him, is loved by him (Klem. 13.16.1–3).

As the lesson continues, Peter emphasizes how the virtues of the chaste wife are of special value to a husband and should dispose him favorably toward Godfearing communities. 5 He would be a fool to keep his wife from “coming together” to hear the chaste-making discourse, for it is in every way to his benefit if his wife should be instilled with a fear of the God who sees and will punish even what is done behind closed doors (Klem. 13.17). Better yet, he should take her by the hand and lead her to the assembly himself. Then, finding himself in such good company, he too may develop an appetite for the chastity that crowns a marriage with mutual affection and produces children who are the delight of their father and love him in return (Klem. 13.18.1). On one level, the impeccable “chastity” of Mattidia, demonstrated by the great lengths to which she went to escape the snare of adultery, as well as by her longsuffering purity and fidelity through years of poverty (cf. Klem. 13.20), paves the way for a relatively rapid conversion to the piety of Peter. She is, in fact, such a paradigm of the supreme virtue of chastity that Peter cannot believe, as much as he equivocates on the point, that God would ever have abandoned her unbaptized soul to eternal damnation. There is perhaps nowhere else in the novel that we more clearly glimpse the creative tensions at work in the mind of an author who is at once enthralled by serious philosophical debate, beholden to dogma, and yet moved by the pathos of a good story. The Peter of the Klementia knows it to be a matter of divine law and dogma that baptism is required for salvation (Klem. 13.21.2–3) even as he hopes that, in the end, all the world will prove to have been a stage for God’s mysterious, dramatic play. “Even if you had died,” Peter opines to Mattidia, “the deep itself would have become for you, who died on account of chastity, a baptism for the salvation of your soul” (καÈ εÊ τετελευτήκεις, αÎτός σοι å βυθäς δι€ σωφροσύnηn θnùσκούσù βάπτισmα âγίnετο πρäς ψυχ¨ς σωτηρίαn. Klem. 13.20.4). As Kate Cooper has highlighted in a thought-provoking article on the Pseudo-Clementine Recognition, 6 the use of the romance plot in support of marriage and family, while hardly surprising in the context of pagan or Jewish novelistic fiction, is antithetical to “the radical break with the ancient family proposed 5 The promise held out to the fortunate husband through this kind of “chastity” is not cold or austere, but really rather sensual. Beyond merely being trustworthy, the chaste wife will “love deeply and caress and flatter her husband, please and serve him” (Klem. 13.16.4). Even if her husband should be poor, she will not complain, and if the financial balance of the household should be in her favor, she will not leverage it against him (Klem. 13.18.3). What’s more, she will not grow fat with immoderate eating and drinking, such that the soul should be pulled down toward lawless passions by the weight of her body (Klem. 13.18.4). 6 Cooper, “Matthidia’s Wish,” 243–64.

134

The Family Romance

by [the] closest Christian literary parallels [to the Pseudo-Clementines], the Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles.” 7 Thinking broadly about how allegiances to family and faith group were variously negotiated by Christians in the first centuries of the common era, and sometimes at very high costs, Cooper finds in the characterization of Clement’s mother, Mattidia, a pointedly innocent confidence in the easy reconciliation of loyalties as she converts to Christianity. 8 “The reader is invited to imagine that the boundaries which the new religious affiliation exacts are only serious obstacles to those who are unwilling or unable to see matters according to the trusting, affectionate zealotry exemplified by Matthidia.” 9 To be specific, this invitation to the reader comes when Mattidia asks Peter immediately to unite both her and her female housemate with the God of her newly recovered son (Rec. 7.34.1). Cooper commits a slight misreading of the text here, for it is not specified in the Recognition that the friend of Mattidia is a woman of Judea, but rather that she is one who “dwells here” (i. e., on the island of Arados). 10 This small but not insignificant error is what allows her to characterize the “wish” of Mattidia that the article’s title announces as an “innocent readiness to see her own Roman paganism and her friend’s Judaism assimilated to the faith of her long-lost sons.” 11 Nonetheless, Cooper may not be far off the mark when she suggests that, for the Recognition, the sweetly naïve attitude of Mattidia “might best be understood as the sugar on the mildly sinister pill of a Christian totalizing discourse.” 12 If Cooper is, on some level, right about the Recognition, it is all the more interesting that the Klementia utilizes essentially the same family story to resist precisely the kind of orthodox Christian discourse that ultimately won out. The characterization of Mattidia and the story about her are equally bound up with the subject of conversion in the Klementia, but the piety into which Mattidia and her loved ones are incorporated is anything but orthodox and perhaps even resists the designation “Christian.” When examined closely, the details of the family story yield quite a bit of insight into the nature of the piety toward which Mattidia and the reader alike are summoned. In fact, numerous aspects of the family drama would seem to train the attention of the reader on that singular boundary line between the Two Kingdoms separating the theosebeis 7

Cooper, “Matthidia’s Wish,” 245. Cooper (“Matthidia’s Wish,” 253–55) demonstrates the naïveté of this fictional perspective by comparison with scenes in the Apocryphal Acts wherein Christian converts reject parents and spouses with rather heartless cruelty, and with the tragic figure of the pagan father who is glimpsed through the prison journal of Vibia Perpetua, a man distressed over the impending martyrdom of an obdurate but nonetheless beloved daughter. 9 Cooper, “Matthidia’s Wish,” 252. 10 Rec. 7.17.3. This anonymous woman has perhaps been confused with the figure of Justa, who is described as Judean /Jewish and is linked to Caesarea Stratonis in Rec. 7.32.2. 11 Cooper, “Matthidia’s Wish,” 252. 12 Cooper, “Matthidia’s Wish,” 255. 8

Fasting, Baptism, and De-Hellenization

135

of Peter’s group from the pagan world. In the family account, we get a clearer picture of exactly where the line is, what kind of lawful politeia is practiced by worshippers of the one God, and exactly how a Gentile may cross over to join them.

Fasting, Baptism, and De-Hellenization While the encomium of the chaste wife lends to the family story in the Klementia a distinctive emphasis on the theme of “chastity,” there is certainly more to Mattidia and her story than womanly virtue and familial piety. After Nicetas and Aquila have revealed themselves to Peter as the lost twins, Faustinus and Faustinianus, the impending conversion of Mattidia provides an opportunity for the ever-didactic apostle to deliver an explicitly protreptic (¢ρξατο προσαγωγÀς λέγειn) speech (Klem. 13.4; cf. Rec. 7.29) on “the way of life of our religion” (τ¨ς ™mετέρας θρησκείας τ˜n πολιτείαn), exposing why it is that Mattidia and Clement cannot yet celebrate the happy occasion of their reunification, as families like to do, over a shared meal. 13 The lesson is brief, summing up the essentials of monotheism and nomimos politeia in a single opening sentence: ™mεØς énα θεän σέβοmεn τän πεποιηκότα çn åρ”ς κόσmοn καÈ τούτου φυλάσσοmεn τän nόmοn περιέχοnτα ân πρώτοις αÎτän σέβειn mόnοn καÈ τä αÎτοÜ γιάζειn înοmα τιmn τε γοnεØς καÈ σωφροnεØn βιοÜn τε δικαίως. We worship the one God who made the world that you see, and we keep his law, which encompasses, above all, worshipping him alone, hallowing his name, honoring parents, being chaste, and living justly (Klem. 13.4.2).

Peter goes on in the next sentence to specify, with only slightly greater verbosity, the policy of strictly avoiding table fellowship with Gentiles, whose practices are indiscriminate and unclean. Here the reader encounters again issues she met in the allusion to the “Incident at Antioch” in the Epistula Petri, but also to themes in the Tripolis Discourses (Klem. 8–11), though the demons who are a preoccupation there are not mentioned in connection with the virtuous Mattidia. Then, with one more sentence, the remedy to the dilemma of Gentiles and the supper table is offered: “But once we persuade them to think and do the things of truth, after we baptize them with a thrice-blessed invocation, then we eat with them” (Klem. 13.4.3b).

13 On the symbolism of the shared family meal, see Cornelia Horn, “The Pseudo-Clementine Homilies on the Challenges of the Conversion of Families,” in Bremmer, Pseudo-Clementines, 170– 190.

136

The Family Romance

In response to this little lesson, Mattidia reveals herself to be as theologically shrewd as she is chaste. Not only does she already exemplify the moral virtue Peter’s piety requires, but she has already, of her own accord, taken the first steps toward monotheism. Echoing the exact phrasing of the question put to Philip by the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8:36 (ÊδοÌ Õδωρ, τί κωλύει mε βαπτισθ¨nαι;), Mattidia asks, with similar immediacy, “What, then, prevents me from being baptized today?” (τί οÞn κωλύει σήmερόn mε βαπτισθ¨nαι;). Before Peter can reply, she discloses that, in addition to guarding her virtue, she turned away from the “so-called” gods before ever having met Peter, because she had reasoned that her sacrificial devotions, however dutifully performed, came to no effect (Klem. 13.5.1). But while the eunuch’s question is met with a silence and an immediate “going down into the water” that render it rhetorical, Peter has a specific rejoinder for Mattidia – a procedural detail that was not mentioned in his summary account of godly piety and its conversion requirements. Before baptism can occur, she must endure a period of fasting, a process that amounts to nothing less than “dehellenization” (‚φελληnισθ¨nαι, Klem. 13.9.3). Under pressure from the family, Peter deems that, in light of the impeccable character of Mattidia, the usual requirement of fasting may be reduced to a single day, but it cannot under any circumstances be waived entirely. 14 While the full rationale for the ritual complex of fasting and baptism is not detailed in this context, the two-step process of abstention from food and water immersion forms the perfect neutralization zone and threshold for Peter’s group in the Klementia. There is good reason to understand it as a feature of a quarantine sensibility over against Greek culture, which, in various ways, is characterized as contagion. 15 The “Hellenism” from which Mattidia must be extracted is a communicable rabidity that taints “their” myths, theatres, books, and even cities (Klem. 4.19.2–3), but perhaps the core of the problem lies in the “mad supposition” (τ¨ς λυσσώδους Íποnοίας, Klem. 10.21.4) that the images inhabiting the temples are animated with divine spirit. As we have seen, the Klementia devotes a great deal of energy in its middle discourses at Tripolis to showing how the demons gain sway over individuals through the material means of sacrificial cult. Fasting, even as a general practice (i. e., not as part of the baptismal rite), is cited as efficacious for self-exorcism (Klem. 9.10.3), but 14 In both versions, there is a discussion about whether the fact that she hasn’t eaten in two days due to all the excitement might cover the requirement, but Peter insists that the fast must be intentionally related to baptism. Not even the idea that the divine providence that arranged the remarkable series of recognitions perhaps also arranged the inadvertent fast is enough to persuade the apostle (Klem. 13.11–12; Rec. 7.36–37). 15 Otherwise, the language of rabidity, or contagion, is associated in the Klementia with erotic love, and especially with the cardinal sin of the novel, adultery (cf. πρäς λύσσαn êρωτος, 2.2.3; λύσσù γ€ρ êοικεn, 3.68.2; å λυσσÀn κύωn τούτους ‚nαιρεØ, Ánπερ Šn ψαύσù, τ¨ς ‚φαnεστάτης λύσσης mεταδιδούς, οÕτως καÈ τ¨ς mοιχείας τä κρύφιοn κακόn, 4.21.4; χρ˜ γ€ρ τ˜n αÊσθαnοmέnηn γεnοmέnου τιnäς âραστοÜ παρ+ αÎτä φυγεØn τ˜n πρäς αÎτän âπιmιξίαn ±ς πÜρ φλέγοn £ λυσσÀnτα κύnα, 13.14.1).

A Temple Visit on the Island of Arados

137

baptism with the “thrice-blest invocation,” too, has an exorcistic aura, since its water quenches fire, which is not only the vehicle of eternal punishment but also the essence of the demons (Klem. 11.26.3–4; cf. 9.9.4–5). In his explicit defense of the necessity of baptism in Klem. 11, Peter describes the person who resists baptism as literally rabid, or hydrophobic – one who “still bears the spirit of madness” (êτι τä τ¨ς λύσσης φέρει πnεÜmα, 11.26.4). Given the express repudiation of Greek culture embedded within this most “Greek” example of early “Christian” narrative fiction, one wonders how readers sympathetic to Peter and his perspective might have interpreted and negotiated a world saturated with spaces, images, literature, and other forms of cultural expression dedicated to the so-called gods. As we have already seen, the Klementia displays a concern over the contaminating potential of the blood of sacrifice, as expressed, for example, in the lurid description of Adam’s syzygos (Klem. 3.24). Closely related to this is an abhorrence of the consumption of meat sacrificed to idols, a concern developed especially alongside the explication of the origins, the nature, and the activities of demons in the Tripolis Discourses, but also expanded to cover other cultic actions and other kinds of eating. The law issued to the demons in Klem. 8.19 permits demons to enter even those who pour libations (8.19.1), and as Klijn has shown, the “table of demons” is extended to encompass any meal with improperly prepared meat – essentially any act of sharing the τράπεζα âθnÀn (cf. Klem. 13.4.3), whether sacrifice is involved or not. 16 To what extent the dangers of contamination might extend to other realia of Greek cult and culture is a question that can be approached through the scene of the recognition of Mattidia on the island of Arados (Klem. 12.12– 21).

A Temple Visit on the Island of Arados The setting of the scene for the recognition of Mattidia represents one of the most complex “movements” in all of the novel, unfolding when the apostle and his group decide to make a sudden geographical excursus – an attempt to run momentarily away from the anguish that is felt when Clement has revealed the sad story of his past. The detour is introduced with a jarring abruptness that signals its orchestration by the invisible hand of providence, even if it may also betray a certain lack of refined skill on the part of the author. 17 While Peter’s

16

Klijn, “Pseudo-Clementines and the Apostolic Decree,” 309–310. The rapidity with which the story of recognitions unfolds is one of several factors that have, at times, contributed to negative evaluations of the art of the Pseudo-Clementine novels in scholarship. For example, Kate Cooper (“Matthidia’s Wish,” 246) finds in the circumstances surrounding the recovery of Clement’s mother an “immediacy that betrays an incomplete grasp of the narrative 17

138

The Family Romance

cheeks are still wet with tears after hearing the tragic tale of Clement’s family, an anonymous member of the party steps forward and “dares” to propose a rather uncharacteristic tourists’ excursion to the nearby island of Arados (Klem. 12.11–12). The indulgent (πειθήnιος) apostle does not hinder the plan, and, although the suggestion is to journey “early the next morning,” the narrative pace accelerates such that the party has already arrived on the island, disembarked, and begun to see the sights within the space of two sentences. What is on the surface level of the fiction an abrupt geographical detour also brings the reader right up to the underlying boundary line that is the preoccupation of the Klementia – right into the precincts of a pagan temple. The precise destination of the day trip to Arados is described in rather oblique terms in the Klementia, with the group intending to see a pair of vine-columns famous for their extraordinary girth (±ς âπÈ Éστορίø τÀn âκεØ ‚mπελίnωn δύο στύλωn mέγιστα âχόnτωn πάχη, 12.12.1). The implication, nonetheless, is that Peter and his cohort are paying a visit to the sanctuary of a pagan deity. 18 Upon the group’s arrival, the narrator relates that he and his comrades (sans Peter) “went in,” and each went about gazing at some works of Pheidias that happened to be housed within (12.12.3). 19 More can be said about the complexity of the “location” that is constructed for the recognition scene, however, for the Arados visit also brings the novel into conversation with Chariton’s Chaereas and Callirhoe, which situates the recog-

art on the part of our author.” Cooper comments upon the Recognition, but the observation would apply equally to the parallel passage in the Klementia. While I have no intention of making a robust apology for the elegance of the plot, it must be observed that the author of the Klementia, in any case, was not oblivious about the pacing of his plot and could regard its contrivance as an argumentative boon. We see this in Peter’s plea in Klem. 15.4, where the apostle explains to Faustus that the swift and uncanny confluence of events they have just witnessed is formidable evidence for the prevailing hand of divine providence. 18 The Recognition locates the columns explicitly in aede (7.12.3), and Paolo Liverani (“Pietro turista: La visita ad Arado secondo le Pseudo-Clementine,” Contributo delle scienze storiche allo studio del Nuovo Testamento, ed. E. D. Covolo and R. Fusco [Vatican City: Libreria editrice vaticana, 2005], 136–145) makes a convincing case that the temple in question may be envisioned as similar to the proximate one of Syrian Astarte depicted on a Tyrian coin of Elagabalus, with vine-entwined columns flanking the entrance. Such a reasonable image has been lost in translation at least twice. The ANF edition of the “Homilies” conjured up the unlikely vision of “two pillars of vine-wood that were there, and that were of very great girth” (p. 294), and long before that, some of the manuscripts of the Recognition substituted vitreas for viteas, yielding equally fantastic vitreous columns (Rehm and Strecker, Pseudoklementinen II, 202). For the view that the columns in question should in fact be viewed as arboreal, see the note to Klem. XII, 12,1 in Geoltrain and Kaestli, Écrits Apocryphes Chrétiens 2:1451–52. 19 Apart from the Clementine novels, the historical record provides no evidence that there were ever any works of Pheidias on the island of Arados. See Claire Cullen Davison, with Birte Lundgreen, Pheidias: The Sculptures and Ancient Sources, ed. Geoffrey B. Waywell, 3 vols., BICSSup 105 (London: University of London, 2009), 2:726–728.

A Temple Visit on the Island of Arados

139

nition of its title heroine on the same small island, present-day Arwad. 20 While it is impossible to prove that the Pseudo-Clementines were influenced directly by Chariton’s novel, which is generally regarded as the earliest of the canonical Greek novels, dating perhaps from the first century of the common era, there are some suggestive parallels in the account of Callirhoe’s Arados reunion with Chaereas and the ‚nαγnωρισmός (Klem. 12.23.8) of Mattidia. 21 When Arados is first introduced in each novel, it is defined by its distance from land, approximately thirty stades. 22 The only other information the Klementia gives about the island is contained within the indirect references to the shrine that is visited. Chariton, likewise, follows his introductory remark about the island’s distance from land with the additional detail that it possessed an ancient temple of Aphrodite (παλαιän Éερän êχουσα >Αφροδίτης, Chaer. 7.5.1). In both novels, the environs of the shrine serve to shelter the heroine, who in each case is in the company of at least one other woman. Mattidia has taken up residence with a poor widow who is also devoted to the memory of her lost husband (Klem. 12.17.3), and Callirhoe is in the company of the Queen of Persia, who has been sent to the island for her safety while Egypt and Persia are at war (Chaer. 7.4.13– 7.5.1). Prior to her recognition, each heroine expresses to a male interlocutor a desire to die. Mattidia hopes to acquire a deadly φάρmακοn from Peter (Klem. 12.13.5; 12.14.4–15.1; 12.18.4), and Callirhoe prays that the Egyptian general who has come to control her fate will grant her death rather than marriage (Chaer. 7.6.8). After her recognition, each heroine praises the hospitality of her female companion and sees that she is repaid for her former kindness (Klem. 12.23; Chaer. 8.3.2). A small coincidence of detail comes when Mattidia, wishing to disguise the real heritage of her family, tells Peter that her husband was Sicilian, the origin of both Callirhoe and her lover, Chaereas. 23 Given these evocative connections between the two scenes, the reader journeying with Clement and Peter to Arados might very well have understood herself to be entering the

20 Marie-Ange Calvet Sébasti, “Une île romanesque: Arados,” in Lieux, décors et paysages de l’ancien roman des origines à Byzance, ed. B. Pouderon, CMOM 34, Série littéraire et philosophique 8 (Lyon: Jean Pouilloux, 2005), 87–99. 21 If what we are after is a question of “dependence,” the issue would be, in the first place, whether the author of the Grundschrift knew Chaereas and Callirhoe, for the Arados scene follows closely parallel lines in the Klementia and the Recognition. Even apart from the impossibility of proving dependence, however, far more interesting for our purposes is the question of how the Klementia reads alongside Chaereas and Callirhoe, for many of its ancient readers would surely have known the latter, too. For the Greek text of Chaereas and Callirhoe, see B. P. Reardon, Chariton Aphrodisiensis: De Callirhoe Narrationes Amatoriae, BSGRT (Munich: Saur, 2004). English translations are from CAGN, 17–124. 22 τριάκοnτα οÚmαι οÎδ+ íλους ‚πέχουσαn σταδίους, Klem. 12.12.1; n¨σος δέ âστιn αÕτη τ¨ς šπείρου σταδίους ‚πέχουσα τριάκοnτα, Chaer. 7.5.1. 23 Klem. 12.19.4. There is no parallel in Chaereas and Callirhoe, however, for the false Ephesian heritage Mattidia imputes to herself.

140

The Family Romance

precinct of not just any deity, but precisely the shrine of Aphrodite wherein the beautiful Callirhoe was saved.

Two Viewings Once Peter’s party has arrived, the scene on Arados in the Klementia may be understood as a play upon themes of viewing. On the one hand, the account seems bent on conveying its own pointed ambivalence toward the remarkable objects to which it refers only by a casual dropping of the name of the great Greek sculptor Pheidias. 24 Peter does not condemn the “desire to see” 25 and apparently regards it as no danger for his companions to enter the temple, but the apostle himself is described as feeling no compulsion to see what is on display, and he does not go in (Klem. 12.13.1). 26 A kind of idle and desacralizing curiosity takes the place of Callirhoe’s intimate and prayerful gaze (Chaer. 7.5). By bringing the apostle and his entourage to Arados, the novel manages to construct, by way of historical fiction, a kind of retrojected, apostolic spoliation of the holy long before the temples of the gods were ever repurposed under a Christian imperium. The opportunity for ekphrasis is not, however, entirely missed in the temple scene. Instead, it is redirected from the ravishing beauty of Pheidian sculpture – perhaps, the reader might imagine, from the Aphrodite Callirhoe saw through misty eyes of faith – to the grotesque and pitiful form of a woman begging for food at the entrance of the precinct (πρä τÀn θυρÀn, Klem. 12.13.1). Peter notices her and accosts her with a pointed and even indelicate question that trains the eye of the reader on precisely her disfigurement. “Woman, what limb are you missing that you submit to so great an outrage – I mean the begging – and do not rather work with the hands God gave you and procure your daily sustenance?” (Klem. 12.13.2). It just so happens that this woman, who is of course none other than the virtuous Mattidia, has gnawed her own hands to a perverse state of uselessness. They are “dead,” she explains, and when Peter presses her for the “cause” of this suffering, she evades the answer Peter is fishing for with a clever quip about not having the courage to finish herself off (Klem. 12.13.3– 5). Though she shows herself to be a formidable conversation partner for the 24 William Robins (“Romance and Renunciation at the Turn of the Fifth Century,” JECS 8 [2000], 531–557, 539) observes, with reference to the scene in the Recognition, that it is uncommon in the Greek novels for such an obvious opportunity for ekphrasis to be missed. 25 In the interest of not making a scene, he warns only, “Do not go in all at once to view what you desire” (εÊς τ˜n θεωρίαn Án âπιθυmεØτε, 12.12.2). 26 This represents a minor difference from the Recognition, which has Peter enter briefly with the others, though the narrator is careful to note that he was impressed only by the columns and not the pictura (7.13.1).

Peter Heals

141

apostle, 27 Peter will ultimately win her story with the deliberately ambiguous promise of a drug that can end her suffering (Klem. 12.14.4–12.15.1). Only Providence knows, at this point, how right Peter is.

Peter Heals Although the reunion of Mattidia with her beloved children is the focus of the events that promptly unfold, the good mother is not to be left in a disfigured state. In fact, both she and her paralytic hostess will be healed by Peter (Klem. 12.23.4–8), and, furthermore, Clement’s money will ensure that the poor but hospitable widow of Arados need never worry about begging again (Klem. 12.24.3–4). What all of this signifies may be more than a neat tying up of loose ends in the story if the reader still has Chaereas and Callirhoe in the back of her mind. When the scene on Arados is introduced in the pagan novel, it is defined around the ancient temple of Aphrodite, specifying that “the women lived there as in a house, feeling completely secure” (Chaer. 7.5.1). It is the role of the goddess, at this point in the narrative, to protect the women who have sought refuge with her, and she does in fact deliver Callirhoe and the Queen of Persia through their time of danger unharmed. In the Klementia, too, the temple is a site of refuge for women, but protection is patently lacking. The inference comes easily from Mattidia’s beggarly position at the entrance, and it has not escaped her either, as she herself discloses when she tells Peter that she long ago ceased making daily sacrifices (cf. Klem. 13.5.1). When Peter and Clement step in to remedy the physical maladies and financial straits of the women, it is done in full view of the whole city, expressly as evidence of the power of the one Creator God (Klem. 12.23.6). The demonstration works whether the reader knows Chaereas and Callirhoe or not, but if she does, the commonalities in the two scenes on Arados put a finer point on the story of Mattidia.

The Double Conversion of Justa Chaereas and Callirhoe was possibly an influence in the crafting of the PseudoClementine story of the recognition of Mattidia, but there is another small piece of the romance in the Klementia where the literary conversation partners are unmistakable. Long before the family romance becomes the focus of the novel, there is in the Klementia a small gem of a story about a minor female character who will turn out to have played an instrumental role in the family drama 27 It should be noted that the reading of Mattidia I am proposing is quite different from the naïvely sweet character Cooper finds her to be.

142

The Family Romance

(Klem. 2.19–21). Like Mattidia, this woman is a shrewd and impeccably virtuous mother, and her story, like Mattidia’s, is one of conversion. What is most distinctive about her literary cameo, however, is its complex interplay with two pericopae from the canonical Gospels, the story of the anonymous woman from the environs of Tyre in Mark 7:24–30 and the parallel story in Matthew 15:21– 28. 28 The engagement with the Gospels that is woven into the story of this woman amounts to a double conversion of sorts, the first of which was effected by the author of the Klementia in his editing of the Grundschrift. In the earlier novel, there was already a minor Jewish (or Judean) character named Justa, who rescued the twin brothers of Clement by buying them from the pirates who captured them after their shipwreck. 29 In the Klementia alone, this character has been conflated with another woman, whom the scripturally informed reader cannot help but recognize as the Gentile suppliant who petitions Jesus for the exorcism of a demon from her daughter in Mark 7:24–30 // Matthew 15:21– 28. 30 The result of this intertextual conversion of the Judean Justa of the Grundschrift to the anonymous Tyrian Gentile of the Gospels is that Justa is poised, in the Klementia alone, for a conversion to the “Jewish” piety of Peter. Thus, in her story, we find another meditation, via characterological composition, on the critical boundary line between Gentile polytheists and Peter’s group of “Jews,” manifest in an account of its crossing.

28 As Kline (Sayings of Jesus, 81) concluded, “One cannot tell whether the story in H presupposes a gospel harmony or was the author’s own use of both Matthew and Mark.” 29 In addition to her appearance in Klem 2.19.1–2.21.2 and passing references in Klem. 3.73.2– 4.1.1, Justa is described briefly in Klem. 13.7.3. This last passage is the only reference to her that has a parallel in the Latin novel (Rec. 7.32.2–3). It seems that each novel worked fairly closely with the Grundschrift at this point, for both versions note her commercial transaction with the pirates, her admirable character, her name, her treatment of the purchased boys as sons, and her provision of a thorough Greek education for them. The only significant difference in content is that Justa is described as a Jew (Iudaea, but vidua in a few manuscripts) in Rec. 7.32.2 and a proselyte of the Jews in Klem. 13.7.3. 30 Not a single detail in Rec. 7.32.2–3 betrays a knowledge of the association of Justa with the Syrophoenician /Canaanite woman of the Gospels (e. g., that she was once a Gentile or that she had a daughter in addition to the two adopted boys). While it is not impossible that the author of the Recognition expunged the connection, it is more likely that the author of the Klementia blended the original character Justa with the gospel character, used the figure of the healed daughter in the special episode at Tyre (Klem. 4–6), and added “proselyte” to the one later reference (the one securely located in the Grundschrift) to make logical sense of her change in status from Jew (in the Grundschrift) to Gentile (in Mark and Matthew). The musings of Carleton Paget (Jews, Christians and Jewish Christians in Antiquity, 445–446) are insightful but do not quite capture the full complexity of the situation. The “proselyte” reference in Klem. 13.7.3 is not “almost circumstantial,” but it is, in fact, demanded by the elaboration of her story in Klem. 2.19–21.

The Gospel Stories Converted

143

The Gospel Stories Converted The Gospels themselves betray little curiosity about the Syrophoenician woman or her personal history, either before or after her meeting with Jesus. Like other anonymous gospel characters whose lives intersect briefly with the ministry of Jesus, the woman appears as a shade who emerges abruptly in Jesus’s field of action and then just as easily fades back into oblivion. She is presented as a foil who generates actions crafted to reveal at least as much about the identity of Jesus and his disciples as they do about her. She is perhaps also a type illustrating particular virtues (in Mark, wit; in Matthew, faith) that appear all the more striking for their manifestation in a woman and a foreigner. Although this nameless woman who is rewarded for being so persistently vociferous in the Gospels gets no speaking role in the Klementia, she is nonetheless fleshed out in fascinating detail in the novel. In the process of introducing the narrator, Clement, to the two adopted sons of Justa, Peter not only retells the tale of the encounter with Jesus that immortalized the woman in two of the canonical Gospels, but he also gives a brief summary of her life both before and after her meeting with Jesus: >ΙοÜστά τις ân ™mØn âστιn Συροφοιnίκισσα, τä γέnος ΧαnαnØτις, ©ς τä θυγάτριοn Íπä χαλεπ¨ς nόσου συnείχετο, › καÈ τÄ κυρίú ™mÀn προσ¨λθεn βοÀσα καÈ Éκετεύουσα, íπως αÎτ¨ς τä θυγάτριοn θεραπεύσù. å δà καÈ Íφ+ ™mÀn ‚ξιωθεÈς εÚπεn· ΟÎκ êξεστιn ʐσθαι τ€ êθnη, âοικότα κυσÈn δι€ τä διαφόροις 31 χρσθαι τροφαØς καÈ πράξεσιn, ‚ποδεδοmέnης τ¨ς κατ€ τ˜n βασίλειοn τραπέζης τοØς υÉοØς >Ισραήλ. ™ δà τοÜτο ‚κούσασα, καÈ τ¨ς αÎτ¨ς τραπέζης ±ς κύωn ψιχίωn ‚ποπιπτόnτωn συnmεταλαmβάnειn 〈δεοmέnη〉, mεταθεmέnη íπερ ªn, τÄ åmοίως διαιτσθαι τοØς τ¨ς βασιλείας υÉοØς τ¨ς εÊς τ˜n θυγατέρα, ±ς šξίωσεn, êτυχεn Êάσεως. οÎ γ€ρ ‹n âθnικ˜n οÞσαn καÈ âπÈ τ¬ αÎτ¬ πολιτείø mέnουσαn å τ˜n ‚ρχ˜n δι€ τä m˜ âξεØnαι θεραπεύειn ±ς âθnικήn [âθnικ˜n mείnασαn] 〈...〉, âθεράπευεn. αÎτ˜ οÞn αÕτη ™ nόmιmοn ‚nαδεξαmέnη πολιτείαn Íπä τοÜ Êδίου ‚nδρäς ânαnτία φροnοÜnτος ™mØn mετ€ τ¨ς Êαθείσης θυγατρäς Êδίωn οÒκωn âκβέβληται. ™ δέ, εÎγnωmοnοÜσα πρäς τ€ς συnθήκας καÈ ân περιουσίø βίου Íπάρχουσα, αÎτ˜ màn χήρα êmειnεn, τä δà θυγάτριοn αÎτ¨ς ‚nδρί τιnι εÎγnωmοnοÜnτι πρäς τ˜n ‚ληθ¨ πίστιn καÈ πέnητι înτι συnηρmόσατο. ™ δà καÈ τ¨ς θυγατρäς προφάσει γάmου στερηθεØσα, δύο παιδία ²nησαmέnη καÈ παιδεύσασα, εÊς υÉÀn êσχεn τόποn, ‰τιnα τÄ mάγú Σίmωnι âκ παίδωn συnπαιδευθέnτα, πάnτα τ€ κατ+ αÎτän âκmεmαθήκασιn· τοσαύτη γ€ρ αÎτÀn ªn ™ φιλία, ±ς καÈ συnσπεÜσαι αÎτÄ ân πσιn οÙς βούλοιτο αÎτοØς ánοÜn. οÝτοι τÄ ânταÜθα âπιδηmήσαnτι Ζακχαίú συnτυχόnτες καÈ τοÜ τ¨ς ‚ληθείας δι+ αÎτοÜ mεταλαβόnτες λόγου, âπÈ τοØς πρώτοις nεωτερισmοØς mεταmεληθέnτες, ταχέως τοÜ Σίmωnος καταγnόnτες, πάnτα αÎτÄ συnειδότες, ‰mα τÄ âπιδηm¨σαί mε ânταÜθα mετ€ τ¨ς ‚nαθρεψαmέnης αÎτοÌς προσελθόnτες mοι, Íπ+ αÎτοÜ συσταθέnτες mοι, καÈ êκτοτε πάnτοτε σύnεισίn mοι, τÀn τ¨ς ‚ληθείας ‚πολαύοnτες mαθηmάτωn.

31 Both manuscripts, P and O, read διαφόροις, but Rehm and Strecker follow the conjecture of Dunckler in Wieseler, ‚διαφόροις (Pseudoklementinen I: Homilien, 42). I have followed the reading of the manuscripts, since it is intelligible without emendation.

144

The Family Romance

There is among us a certain Justa, a Syrophoenician woman, a Canaanite by race, whose young daughter was afflicted by a terrible illness. She approached our lord shouting and supplicating, that he might heal her daughter. After being petitioned also by us, he said, “It is not permitted to heal the Gentiles, because they are like dogs on account of their use of different foods and practices, while the royal table has been given to the sons and daughters of Israel. When she heard this, she asked also to have a share, like a dog, of the crumbs that fall from the same table. Having changed what she was, by living like the sons and daughters of the kingdom, she obtained healing for her daughter, as she asked. For he, who at first 〈denied her〉 as a Gentile on account of it not being permitted to heal one who remained a Gentile, would not have healed a woman who was a Gentile and remained in that way of life. 32 In fact, she who had taken a law observant way of life upon herself had been cast out of her own house, together with the daughter who was healed, by her own husband, whose thinking was at odds with us. But, being considerate of her obligations and being wealthy, she remained a widow herself but married her young daughter to a man who was well disposed toward the true faith, though poor. Having been deprived even of her daughter by reason of marriage, and having bought and educated two slaves, she held them in place of sons. These two, because they were educated alongside Simon Magus from childhood, have learned thoroughly everything about him. For so great was their friendship that they assisted him zealously in any affair in which he might want to unite with them. When they met Zacchaeus, who was living here, and through him partook of the word of truth, they repented of their first innovations and quickly condemned Simon, since they knew everything about him. No sooner had I come to live here than they came to me with the woman who raised them, and having been commended to me by him, they have remained with me from that time on, enjoying the lessons of truth (Klem. 2.19.1– 21.2)

The first line of the Klementia’s account establishes the literary relationships in play by making precise reference to details about the woman’s heritage found in each gospel pericope – details that all emphasize in one way or another that the woman in question stood outside of Israel. Mark’s description (Ισραήλ. 52 Davies and Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary, 2:552–553. Note also that, while Mark probably locates his second feeding miracle in Gentile territory, Matthew seems to place it in Jewish territory (Matt 15:29, καÈ mεταβ€ς âκεØθεn å >ΙησοÜς ªλθεn παρ€ τ˜n θάλασσαn τ¨ς Γαλιλαίας), perhaps invoking his Moses /Jesus typology, or even a Zion typology, with a mountaintop setting. On the possible Zion allusions in the Matthean context, see Davies and Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary, 2:562–565. 53 πίστις and its relative greatness or paucity is a notable editorial emphasis in Matthew, especially with respect to healings and other miracles. Cf. Matt 8:10, 26; 9:2, 22, 28–29; 14:31; 16:8; 17:20; 21:21–22.

The Narrative Exegesis of the Klementia

153

ter. Viewed in the full context of the Klementia, however, the claim that “it is not permitted” takes on considerable specificity. It is not permitted because it is a factor in the schema of the Two Kings (cf. especially 20.2.5–3.6). Because it was ordained so in the very beginning, healing is performed through the right hand of God on the basis of cosmic geography, and those who are not on the right side of the relevant borderline simply cannot receive it. In Klem. 3, we find a brief passage spelling out the direct relevance of the dualistic framework to healing, and even apparently making allusion to the story of Justa. In that context, Peter is explaining to Clement how the false parts of scripture function positively as a test of piety, insofar as they reveal who is willing to believe impious falsehoods about God. Along the way, he gives the following digression about the behavior of two figures who correspond with our Two Kings: >Εn ταØς θεολογίαις å ποnηρäς τοÜ ‚γαθοÜ τän θεän οÎκ êλαττοn ‚γαπÀn ánÈ mόnú ‚πολείπεται τοÜ ‚γαθοÜ, íτι καÈ τÀn ‚γnοίας αÊτίø ‚σεβούnτωn οÎ συγγιnώσκωn, στοργ¬ τ¬ πρäς τä ‚σεβούmεnοn τÀn ‚σεβούnτωn âπιθυmεØ τän îλεθροn, οÎδà τ˜n Òασιn αÎτοØς προσφέρωn. å γ€ρ ‚γαθäς ʐσθαι πάnτας θέλει ταØς mεταmελείαις, σ¼ζει δà mόnους τοÌς âγnωκότας τän θεόn. τοÌς δà ‚γnοοÜnτας οÎκ ʐται, οÎχ íτι οÎ θέλει, ‚λλ+ íτι οÎκ êξεστιn τ€ ™τοιmασmέnα τοØς υÉοØς τ¨ς βασιλείας ‚γαθ€ τοØς δι€ τä ‚διάκριτοn ‚λόγοις ζ¼οις παρεικασθεØσιn παρασχεØn. In the schema of theology, the Wicked One loves God no less than the Good One and is deficient with respect to the Good One in one thing only. Namely, making no allowance for those who are impious because of ignorance, he longs for the destruction of those who are impious in their affection for what is impious, and he does not offer them healing. For the Good One wants to heal all people by acts of repentance, but he saves only those who have come to know God. He does not heal those who are ignorant, not because he does not want to, but because it is not permitted to offer the good things prepared for the sons and daughters of the kingdom to those who are like irrational animals on account of their lack of discrimination (Klem. 3.5.2–4).

Picking up the language of Jesus’s reply to Justa, Peter makes explicit the desire of the Good One (i. e., Jesus) to heal everyone. 54 If he did not, it was because it was

54 Heidi Marx-Wolf (Spiritual Taxonomies and Ritual Authority: Platonists, Priests, and Gnostics in the Third Century C. E., Divinations [Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016], 21) observes that the Klementia comes closer than any other “Christian” writing to Porphyry of Tyre’s thinking on the question of demon possession. Marx-Wolf does not linger over the connection, however, perhaps because of the lack of an identifiable author for the Klementia. Her project is animated, in large part, by a keen curiosity about philosophers such as Porphyry, Origen of Alexandria, and Iamblichus of Apamae as social personalities, and she seeks to show them interacting and even agreeing with one another in ways that can confound our ideas about religious affiliation as a sharp line of division among intellectual elites. The notion of “spiritual taxonomies” serves as a locus of comparison where, according to Marx-Wolf, we can see these thinkers attempting to order the realms of spirits in an effort to gain social capital. Each philosopher works to position himself as a priest of the highest god and as one whose superior philosophical patrimony makes him uniquely capable of brokering the knowledge that can lead to the salvation of souls. When we view

154

The Family Romance

“not permitted” to breach his kingdom’s laws of rightful inheritance (cf. Klem. 2.19.2, ‚ποδεδοmέnης τ¨ς κατ€ τ˜n βασίλειοn τραπέζης τοØς υÉοØς >Ισραήλ), sharing its bounty with people who, like animals (cf. 2.19.2, âοικότα κυσίn), are undiscriminating (cf. 2.19.2, δι€ τä διαφόροις χρσθαι τροφαØς καÈ πράξεσιn). If it was a concern that Jesus’s statement about casting the bread of the children to the dogs constituted an insult, again the Klementia would seem to make apology in remarkably concise fashion. As in the two gospel accounts, Jesus is the first to insert dogs into the conversation, and his statement in the Klementia likewise makes a connection between dogs and food. 55 But whereas the Gospels leave little room for understanding the reference to dogs as anything but a kind of metaphorical ethnic slur, the Klementia gives meaning to it by rendering it a kind of logical metaphor. The comment has instructive value: Gentiles, like dogs, are not sufficiently discriminating in their eating practices. Accordingly, the remedy by which Justa can, and in fact does, win the healing of her daughter is to Judaize, to change her âθnική (Klem. 2.19.4) politeia “to live like the children of Israel” (τÄ åmοίως διαιτσθαι τοØς τ¨ς βασιλείας υÉοØς, Klem. 2.19.3), indeed becoming >Ιουδαίοις προσήλυτος (Klem. 13.7.3). 56 Had she not “changed what she was,” Jesus could not have performed the healing, 57 and through this inthe Klementia as a whole (and not just its discourses on demons), some of the work it is doing can seem very much like the same kind of endeavor. If I may borrow Marx-Wolf ’s terminology, what we find in Klem. 20.2–3 and in the passage above is a work of spiritual taxonomy that is grounded in a fundamental distinction upon which Porphyry insists in the treatise to Firmus Castricius, On Abstinence from Killing Animals. According to Porphyry, the distinction must be drawn to clarify popular misconceptions about the invisible beings Plato called simply daimones. Many people believe that these daimones, who are frequently named and given honorific cults, are angered and do harm when they are neglected but are appeased and do good for their suppliants when they are propitiated with prayer and sacrifice (On Abstinence from Killing Animals 2.37.4–5). But in fact, Porphyry insists, there are two different kinds of daimones, and each kind interacts with humans in its own way. The good ones “do everything for the benefit of those they rule” (âπ+ ²φελείø τÀn ‚ρχοmέnωn πάnτα πραγmατεύεσθαι; On Abstinence from Killing Animals 2.38.2, trans. Clark). As for the maleficent ones, “there is no evil that they do not attempt to do to the regions around the earth” (On Abstinence from Killing Animals 2.39.3, trans. Clark). The bad are violent in myriad ways, and the good bring healing (2.39.3–4). 55 One of the minor modifications made by the Klementia is a refinishing of the furniture – an act which draws a connection between Jesus’s kingdom and the children of Israel. The Matthean and Markan gospel accounts both give the woman the role of introducing a rather nondescript table into the discussion as a small elaboration upon Jesus’s metaphorical statement about not casting the bread of the children to the dogs. Our passage in the Klementia, however, has Jesus make reference to the table and give it a decidedly regal glow. 56 In the Klementia, this conversion prompted Justa’s husband to throw her and her daughter out of the house (2.20.1–3). Her response demonstrates her virtue: she secures a husband who is pious rather than wealthy for her daughter, and with her own wealth, she buys Nicetas and Aquila and raises them as her own. 57 The corrupted sentence in 2.19.4 (“For he, who at first 〈denied her〉 as a Gentile on account of it not being permitted to heal one who remained a Gentile, would not have healed a woman who was a Gentile and remained in that way of life.”), beginning with an explanatory γ€ρ, is sufficiently intact to show that the healing is used as evidence for the fact that Justa must have adopted a lawful way of life (nόmιnοn πολιτείαn, 2.20.1).

Another Gospel Interpretation: On Turning the Other Cheek

155

sight, the discerning reader is poised to understand that neither did Jesus “make all foods clean” (Mark 7:19) nor is “great faith” (Matt 15:28) alone sufficient.

Another Gospel Interpretation: On Turning the Other Cheek Before we leave the family romance of recognitions and work our way through the final discourses of the novel, there is one more moment of gospel exegesis that gives an important glimpse into the ethics of the Klementia, while demonstrating yet again the apostle Peter’s ability to elucidate the difficult teachings of his master, Jesus. In Klem. 15, the noble and wise Faustus still has some problems with Peter’s perspective, and he confesses that he cannot find justice in the teaching about philanthr¯opia, and particularly in the notions of turning the other cheek, giving the second garment, and going the extra mile (Klem. 15.5.4–5) – clear allusions to the teachings of Jesus in Matt 5:39–41 and Luke 6:29 that Faustus reports having heard from Clement on the previous day (though this conversation between father and son is not recorded in Klem. 14). If the acolyte Clement was unable to make an entirely persuasive case for these rather curious teachings of Jesus, the master apostle will have more success (cf. Faustus’s assessment of the day’s teachings in Klem. 15.10.5). As we saw in chapter 2, the reader has already received a Petrine catechism showing how the sayings of the True Prophet Jesus both prove the existence of the False Pericopes and provide their solution (Klem. 3.50–57). Here in Klem. 15, however, the very problem to be unraveled is with words of Jesus, and to this challenge our eyewitness apostle will bring special knowledge of what the True Prophet taught, even as he shows himself to be a kind of parabolist in his own right. The knowledge that will prove essential for understanding the problematic sayings in question is precisely the dualistic schema of the Two Kings and Two Kingdoms, which Peter presents explicitly as a teaching of the True Prophet during his lifetime. 58 The one teaching of Jesus will, in effect, clarify another. Peter begins, however, by constructing his own hypothetical and heuristic exemplum consisting of two neighboring and hostile kingdoms. 59 As he leads Faustus dialogically through the parable, the two men easily reach consensus on what kinds 58 Cf. Klem. 15.7.4: å τ¨ς ‚ληθείας προφήτης παρ°n âδίδαξεn ™mς íτι å τÀn íλωn δηmιουργäς καÈ θεäς δυσίn τισιn ‚πέnειmεn βασιλείας δύο, ‚γαθÄ τε καÈ ποnηρÄ, δοÌς τÄ màn κακÄ τοÜ παρόnτος κόσmου mετ€ nόmου τ˜n βασιλείαn, ¹στ+ ‹n êχειn âξουσίαn κολάζειn τοÌς ‚δικοÜnτας, τÄ δà ‚γαθÄ τän âσόmεnοn ‚ίδιοn αÊÀnα (“While he was present, the Prophet of Truth taught us that the Creator and God of all portioned out two kingdoms to a certain two, a Good One and a Wicked One, giving to the evil one the kingdom of the present kosmos by law, so as to have authority to punish the unrighteous, but to the good one the coming, eternal ai¯on”). 59 This Peter (like Jesus) participates in a broad tradition of “king-parables” witnessed especially in rabbinic literature. See, recently, Alan Appelbaum, The Rabbis’ King-Parables: Midrash From the Third-Century Roman Empire, Judaism in Context 7 (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, 2010); and Ignaz

156

The Family Romance

of actions toward foreigners would earn the rulers of these realms the designation “philanthropic.” If a subject of one king should be apprehended in the realm of the other, justice would clearly demand capital punishment; if such a person should be released with merely a slap (ûαπίσmατι, cf. Matt 5:39), the one who has released him is surely to be regarded as philanthropic (Klem. 15.6.2); likewise, if this same foreigner should steal something, rightfully meriting a sentence of quadruple repayment and death, the one who exacts a fine for double the amount and lets him go is certainly philanthropic (Klem. 15.6.3). Rounding out the example, Peter next turns his attention to the dilemma of the foreigner who finds himself in a territory governed by such draconian codes as these, and he again easily wins Faustus’s consent. Such an interloper, they agree, would do well to flatter everyone, to yield when prevailed upon, and to avoid quarrels. With the hypothetical scenario now established, Peter brings the discussion back around to the counsel of Jesus that Faustus found objectionable, intimating that the key lies in understanding that Jesus’s words were meant for his own subjects, who are, so to speak, living abroad at present: καÈ å Πέτρος· ΟÎκοÜn οÏς ‚δικεØσθαι êλεγες, αÎτοÈ παρορισταÈ τυγχάnουσιn, καθ€ ân áτέρου εÊσÈn βασιλείø, καÈ τοσοÜτοn πλεοnέκται εÊσίn, íσοn 〈‹n〉 κεκτηmέnοι Âσιn; And Peter said, “Those whom you said were wronged are in fact transgressors, are they not, if they are in the kingdom of another, and are over-reaching insofar as they have obtained possessions?” (Klem. 15.7.1)

Furthermore, the scenario about the neighboring kingdoms also sheds new light on those who would inflict the kind of treatment Jesus taught his followers to accept. Rightly understood, such men are in fact gracious and philanthropic: οÉ δ+ ‚δικεØn nοmιζόmεnοι τοσαÜτα áκάστú τÄ âξ ânαnτίας înτι χαρίζοnται, íσα ‹n αÎτοØς êχειn συnχωρÀσιn. αÎτÀn γάρ âστιn ταÜτα τÀn τ€ παρόnτα áλοmέnωn. καÈ εÊς τοσοÜτοn φιλάnθρωποί εÊσιn, ±ς τä ζ¨n αÎτοØς συγχωρεØn. Those thought to act unjustly are gracious to each person who is from the opposing kingdom inasmuch as they permit them to have possessions, for these things belong to those who have chosen the present things. And they are philanthropic inasmuch as they permit them to live (Klem. 15.7.2–3).

With this, Peter concludes the “example” (παράδειγmα) and signals that he will go on to explain “the thing itself ” (αÎτä τä πργmα), as the True Prophet taught him. The reality, it turns out, is very much like the parable in that it is made of up

Ziegler, Die Königsgleichnisse des Midrasch, beleuchtet durch die römische Kaiserzeit (Breslau: Schottlaender, 1903).

Another Gospel Interpretation: On Turning the Other Cheek

157

two neighboring kingdoms, two kings, and human subjects traversing the borders at will (Klem. 15.7.3b–4). In the space of two sentences, Peter epitomizes precisely the lesson that will be elaborated later in Klem. 20.2–3, with the creator God apportioning two kingdoms, the present kosmos and the coming ai¯on, to two kings, wicked and good. 60 What is distinctive about this iteration of the teaching is that it will go on to flesh out what the choice of king and kingdom means for human ethics in quite practical terms. Peter has alluded already to the key. By establishing allegiance to one kingdom or the other, the human actor has acquired the right to enjoy all of the bounty therein, but none of the goods of the kingdom not chosen. Those who have subjected themselves to the present kingdom have every right to be wealthy, to revel in luxury, and to enjoy all the material pleasures of the present life, but they may expect no share in the goods of the coming kingdom. On the other hand, those who want to partake of the coming goods can rightfully enjoy nothing more than water and bread (the most basic sustenance, procured by the sweat of one’s brow) and one set of clothing, so long as they live in the present world, the realm of the enemy king. Even these meager exceptions are permitted only because of certain laws prohibiting suicide and nudity in the presence of the “all-seeing heaven.” Still, even partaking of bread and water amounts to an injustice against the subjects of the king of the present world, insofar as everything in the present world rightfully belongs to them (Klem. 15.7.6–15.8.1). A bit further along, Peter will offer what would appear to be a memorable slogan capturing the rationale behind and expiatory essence of this rather harsh ethic: πσι τ€ κτήmατα mαρτήmατα. ™ τούτωn åπωσποτε στέρησις mαρτιÀn âστιn ‚φαίρεσις (Klem. 15.9.3). 61 In other words, life is robbery, and those who belong to the coming kingdom and await its bounty must be willing both to turn the other cheek and to make amends for their transgressions as best they can by leading lives stripped of material possessions. Putting this lesson about turning the other cheek in narrative context, we may note that Faustus himself would seem to be a character whose history has prepared him for the stringent and renunciatory ethic that Peter elicits from the gospel sayings. The old man had already left his considerable fortune behind at Rome out of guilt over his role in the loss of his beloved family. At the time of his initial acquaintance with Peter, he was living incognito abroad, appearing in the guise of a common working man (cf. Klem. 14.2.2; 14.10.2–4). Faustus appears like Peter himself, whose lifestyle we glimpse in the dialogue between Peter and Clement with which the family romance begins. When Clement offers himself

60

Cf. Klem. 15.7.4, n. 58, above. To approximate the wordplay in the Greek, one might translate something like, “To all, possessions are transgressions, while deprivation of these things is reparation of sins”. 61

158

The Family Romance

as the perfect traveling companion and even as a slave to the apostle, 62 Peter at first accepts the offer in jest: Τί οÞn οÒει, Κλήmης; m˜ Íπ+ αÎτ¨ς ‚nάγκης σε εÊς δούλωn mοι ταγ¨nαι τόποn; âπεÈ τίς τ€ς καλ€ς καÈ πολλ€ς σιnδόnας mετ€ τÀn áποmέnωn mοι δακτυλίωn καÈ Íποδήσεωn φυλάξει; τίς δà καÈ τ€ ™δέα καÈ πολυτελ¨ îψα προετοιmάσει, ‰τιnα ποικίλα înτα πολλÀn καÈ τεχnιτÀn δεØται mαγείρωn, καÈ πάnτα âκεØnα íσα âκτεθηλυmmέnωn ‚nθρώπωn ±ς θηρίú mεγάλú τ¬ âπιθυmίø âκ πάσης πλεοnεξίας πορισθέnτα áτοιmάζεται; What do you think, Clement? Are you not put in the position of my slave by very necessity? For who else will keep my many fine garments with their matching rings and sandals? And who will prepare the delicious and expensive foods, the variety of which requires many skilled cooks, and all those things procured out of all greed and prepared for the desire of dandies, as if for a great beast? (Klem. 12.6.1–3)

In the next moment, the reader’s gaze is directed at least to the attire of Peter, if not to the beloved countenance of the apostle (τä περιπόθητοn πρόσωποn, Klem. 12.3.3). Peter gestures to the sum of his possessions – one cloak and a threadbare garment (Émάτιοn καÈ τριβώnιοn) – and describes his diet as consisting of only bread, olives, and the occasional vegetable. 63 He is an ideal figure, exemplifying the teaching on possessions that will be spelled out in Klem. 15, but even more importantly, he discloses his mindset with respect to these things, drawing implicitly upon the notion of the present and future kingdoms: καÈ áτέρου χρείαn οÎκ êχω οÎδà Šλλωn τιnÀn· ân γ€ρ τούτοις καÈ περισσεύοmαι. å nοÜς γάρ mου τ€ âκεØ πάnτα åρÀn αÊώnια ‚γαθ€ οÎδàn τÀn ânταÜθα περιβλέπεται. I have no need of another [garment] nor of any other things, for in these things, I abound. For my mind gazes after none of the things here, since it sees all the eternal goods there (Klem. 12.6.4b–5).

While this Peter would in fact seem to avoid the sin that is inherent in owning anything beyond the most basic of possessions, we witness in his acolyte Clement a different kind of appropriation of the principle. In this same passage, Clement is praised by Peter for the ease with which he adapted himself to the “necessities,” though he was formerly a man accustomed to a rich existence (Klem. 12.6.6). Then, almost in apology, Peter explains that the lifestyle is much easier for a man such as himself to bear, since he and his brother Andrew grew 62 On the connection of this passage with the theme of slavery in the Greek novels, see Hansen, “Metamorphose des Heiligen,” 122. 63 Jones, “Jewish Christianity,” 143, states that this description “fairly clearly presents vegetarianism as an ideal.” That may be so in effect, but the emphasis, in context, is really upon simplicity rather than a principled vegetarianism. It is true that the Klementia elsewhere expresses grave concerns about meat as a vehicle for demon possession, but the somewhat detailed descriptions of improperly handled meat (Klem. 7.4.2; 7.8.1; 8.19.1) would seem to imply at least the possibility of properly prepared flesh as food.

Conclusion

159

up as orphans and never knew anything but manual labor and poverty (Klem. 12.6.7). That Clement has not actually abandoned all but the necessities, and that his simplicity should be understood rather as an attitudinal detachment from his possessions, is confirmed just a few chapters later, when Clement gives a reward of 1,000 drachmas to the woman who came to the aid of his mother after her shipwreck (Klem. 12.24.3). On the whole, in spite of the stringent notion that “possessions are transgressions,” renunciation of wealth and possessions does not appear to be a thoroughgoing preoccupation of the Klementia.

Conclusion The Familienroman of the Klementia, elaborated especially in Klem. 12–15, has sometimes been regarded as primarily an attempt to lend entertainment value to the discourses of the text. What we have witnessed in no uncertain terms in the stories of Clement, Mattidia, Justa, and Faustus, however, is that the family romance is thoroughly intertwined with the ideology of the novel in a variety of interesting ways. Mattidia’s recognition and conversion take the reader on a temple visit that plays right along the borderline that the Tripolis Discourses have shown to be so dangerously close to the demonic. And just as the discourses of the Klementia engage intensively with the canonical Gospels, so does the family romance, in equally rich and subtle ways. The miniature story of Justa, which is too seldom discussed in connection with the Familienroman, is a tour de force of gospel exegesis, even as it also sheds light on the contours of the borderline between Jews and Gentiles. Finally, the resistance of Faustus to Peter’s viewpoint makes room for some creative pedagogy on the part of Peter, bringing special knowledge of the True Prophet’s teachings creatively to bear on widely known sayings from the canonical Gospels. However the discursive battle between Peter and Simon Magus, on the one hand, and the story of Clement and his family, on the other hand, may have first come together in the history of the Pseudo-Clementine tradition, they are so completely integrated in the Klementia that one can scarcely be well appreciated without the other.

Chapter 5: Final Harmony Although the family members of Clement are all recovered and restored to one another only shortly after the story of their tragic separation has been told, these remarkable “recognitions” do not quite bring closure to the narrative as a whole. The novel began with an allusion to the trouble its apostle once faced at Antioch, and it will not end until this plot has come full circle, too, with the whole city of Antioch yearning for Peter as he hastens toward it (Klem. 20.23.2, 5). Nested within the Familienroman, between the discovery of the family members of Clement and the restoration of Peter to favor in Antioch, lie two more sets of discourses of the apostle – first, an extended public debate between Peter and Simon Magus (Klem. 16–19), and then the final, private lesson of Klem. 20.2–10, the account of the Two Kings discussed above in chapter 1. The last public debates ostensibly work to correct a variety of theological misconceptions, but at least as significant is the way in which they display Peter’s skill as an exegete of scripture and of the words of Jesus. Perhaps most importantly, however, these debates give the apostle room to reflect upon the precise contours of a salvation history that now, in the era of the third True Prophet, flows in two parallel streams. We have already observed that the Klementia constructs the seat of Moses as a critical site of divergence and of Jesus’s soteriological action on behalf of the Gentiles (chapter 2). Here, Peter will return to the image of the seat of Moses to demonstrate, in exegetical fashion, how its heirs still have a path to the kingdom of God, even though they have suffered some loss. On the last day of the public debates, the subject matter will turn to the subject of evil, concluding with a vision of the final, providential harmonia of the world, which the happy ending of the story of Clement’s family has already foreshadowed.

Monarchia and the Monarchic Disposition The subject matter of the public portion of the final debates is expressly the monarchy of God (περÈ mοnαρχίας, Klem. 16.1.2), and the discourses of Klem. 16–19 contain some of the most esoteric theological musings and sustained discussions of theodicy in the entire work. 1 What is most obviously at stake is the

1

Jürgen Wehnert, “Das Geheimnis der Siebenzahl: Spekulationen über die unendliche Gestalt

162

Final Harmony

defense of the singular superiority of the Creator of the world over against a variety of competing theologies, including concepts of polytheism, a superior gnostic deity, and even the divinity of Jesus Christ. At the same time, this theological monarchia demands, for the author of the Klementia, the construction and defense of a seamless history of salvation in which both Moses and Jesus are True Prophets, each with an independent and faithful following of “Jews.” Peter – as both an impeccable eyewitness authority to the teachings of Jesus and an heir to the ancestral traditions preserved among the people of Moses – is presented as one uniquely credentialed to expound upon and clarify the unified nature and the flawless unfolding of God’s plan. In these last discourses, the reader will witness him repeatedly invoking and interpreting the words of Jesus to this end. Yet, it would seem that monarchia is not simply a theological concept in the Klementia. It is also the disposition that the novel seeks to form in the reader, the mettle of which is forged and tested in the very act of reading. Twice in the Klementia we find the adjective mοnαρχικός applied to aspects of the human being – to the soul well disposed to identify the falsehoods against God in scripture (Klem. 2.41.3–2.42.2) and to the mind (Klem. 5.28.2). 2 Monarchia, for the Klementia, is a sensibility that lies nascent in the human soul by virtue of its creation in the image of God, but it is also a quality that needs to be tried, tested, and proven. This proving is an act of formation that occurs nowhere more powerfully, it would seem, than in the act of reading, and what reading accomplishes for the individual is depicted here in the final discourses in the most intimate terms yet. The Klementia’s doctrine of False Pericopes walks a line perilously close to the rejection of the scriptures of the Jews (as the author of the Klementia was aware), 3 but the first movements of the final set of debates between Peter and Simon work out the necessity of reading the scriptures, especially in all of their complexity (Klem. 16.1–14).

Gottes in den pseudoklementinischen Homilien, Buch 16 und 17,” in Amsler et al., Nouvelles intrigues, 461–467; Dominique Côté, “La forme de Dieu dans les Homélies pseudo-clémentines et la notion de Shiur Qomah,” in Aragione and Gounelle, “Soyez des changeurs avisés”, 69–94. 2 In the latter instance, in the flashback to Clement’s youth at Rome, Clement describes how he had chanced to meet a Jewish linen merchant who had, in the simplest terms, explained his mοnαρχικän φρόnηmα to Clement. 3 Cf. the worry expressed by Peter in Klem. 2.39, to the effect that the unlearned multitude may reject the scriptures altogether if they are introduced to the notion of False Pericopes without proper training. As others have noted, the doctrine of False Pericopes is itself intelligible as an attempt to rescue scripture from Marcionite detractors. See Drijvers, “Adam and the True Prophet,” 318; Jones, “Marcionism in the Pseudo-Clementines,” 152–171.

The Wax Seal Hermeneutic

163

The Wax Seal Hermeneutic When Simon Magus reverses his flight and re-emerges on the scene at Laodicea in Klem. 16, he interposes himself between Peter and Faustus as an expert in the Scriptures of the Jews. His presence is fortuitous, for though Faustus is depicted as an admirable representative of Greek paideia (Klem. 16.3.3) and will be entrusted with the oversight and judgment of the dialogical proceedings, he is unschooled (Êδιώτης) in the subject at hand, in the books confirmed in common among the Jews (τÀn παρ€ >Ιουδαίοις δηmοσίø πεπιστωmέnωn βίβλωn, Klem. 16.2.4). An interlocutor who will lift up the False Pericopes is needed, and Simon is, of course, the man for the part. Once the debate has begun, it does not take the two opponents, Peter and Simon, long to reach an impasse over the Scriptures, much as they already did at Caesarea in their first battle (cf. Klem. 3.38–45). Once again (cf. Klem. 3.39), Simon has a compendium of scriptural statements suggesting that there are many gods, but Peter can produce as many others speaking “to the Jewish multitude” and affirming for them the sole sovereignty of their God (Klem. 16.6–7). The two interpreters can agree that the Bible is theologically schizophrenic, but they differ on what this means for its relationship with readers. Simon holds that the Scriptures, saying sometimes this and sometimes that, “lead us astray” (Klem. 16.9.4). Peter flatly rejects this notion and goes on to insist that the Scriptures constitute a kind of test whereby the character (προαίρεσις) of the individual is assayed and even brought to light for others to see. The act that can expose an evil character, which lurks like that of a serpent in the human heart, is a hermeneutical one, an act of reading (cf. Klem 16.10.1). But more than merely exposing the disposition of human heart, the act of reading the Scriptures, as Peter describes it, is also a formative, and thus necessary, affair. According to the apostle, reading the Bible is a studied, eclectic, and profoundly existential procedure. Just as Peter and Simon presumably did when they assembled the compendia of proof statements that carried their initial argument, the reader begins by “looking around” the Scriptures, the diverse statements of which are laid out before her “like a great variety of types” (πολλοØς γ€ρ καÈ διαφόροις τύποις âοικυØαι πρόκειnται, Klem. 16.10.2). 4 In an act of free will, she selects from these various theological images something to which she can adhere, and in the process, the impression of her choice is stamped on her own waxen proairesis. The exercise is a curiously intimate, creaturely, and embodied one, guided by the very form of the human body, the creation of which can likewise be described as a process of molding and sealing over against

4 Precisely what kind of mold or stamp the author intended to connote with typos is not entirely clear. Wehnert, “Geheimnis der Siebenzahl,” 462, suggests a cylinder seal.

164

Final Harmony

the image of the Creator. 5 In the simplest terms, the idea would seem to be that the human being, who is like wax, takes her shape from the mold of the Creator. When she finds and adheres to a mold in scripture that matches her true form, she has found her Creator, though it is equally possible to take up a false theological impression in the act of reading. In Peter’s view, those who do not select well are guided too much by what they merely “want” to find (Klem. 16.10.3–4; cf. 3.10.4), perhaps not unlike those perverse “Greeks” of old who fashioned stories about the gods to exemplify the depravity they themselves wished to enjoy (cf. Clement’s allegations in Klem. 6.17–18). In any case, the reader is literally marked by the act of reading, and through her choice of deity or deities, her own hidden character is brought to light. This proving and manifesting of character, according to Peter, is the very purpose and essential function of the False Pericopes. The scriptures do not lead us astray, but they test us and, by our hermeneutical choices, demonstrate who we are (Klem. 16.10.1).

“What was hidden” when “No one knew ...” Subsequent to the catena of Jesus sayings that Peter delivered at the end of Klem. 3 in response to the question of how Jesus taught his disciples to read scripture (see chapter 2), the most extensive exegetical musings of Peter come in conversation with Simon Magus in Klem. 18, just after Peter has demonstrated his revelatory authority and his mandate to interpret Jesus’s words (in Klem. 17, on which see chapter 1). Simon Magus provides the two sayings of Jesus that will serve as the foundation for what will become, on one level, a sustained exploration of the question of the status of the followers of Moses in the “times” of the True Prophet Jesus. The exegetical discourse initially revolves around the logion that appears in Matt 11:27 // Luke 10:22 and was widely cited, with multiple variations, in early Christian literature: 6 ΟÎδεÈς êγnω τän πατέρα εÊ m˜ å υÉός, ±ς οÎδà τän υÉόn τις οÚδεn εÊ m˜ å πατ˜ρ καÈ οÙς ‹n βούληται å υÉäς ‚ποκαλύψαι. No one knew the father except the son, as no one knows the son except the father and those to whom the son should wish to reveal him (Klem. 17.4.3).

This first reference to the saying represents the report of Peter’s spies, who have heard that Simon intends to invoke the logion in support of his claim that there 5

See Klem. 16.19.1; 17.7.4. For a thorough assessment of the variants, see Paul Winter, “Matthew XI 27 and Luke X 22 from the First to the Fifth Century: Reflections on the Development of the Text,” NovT 1 (1956): 112–148; a concise treatment of the relationship of the version of the Klementia to other versions can be found in Kline, Sayings of Jesus, 34–39. 6

“What was hidden” when “No one knew ...”

165

is an unrevealed god who is superior to the one who was known by Adam, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, the people, and even the whole world prior to the time of Jesus. The saying is put to the same theological use in its single occurrence in the Recognition, where Simon uses it to show that “even your Jesus confesses that there is another God, incomprehensible and unknown to all” (Rec. 2.47.3). The extended discussion of the saying in Klem. 18 (cf. Klem. 18.4.2; 18.11.3; 18.13.1; 18.20.1), however, is without parallel in the Recognition and would seem to be the work of the author of the Klementia rather than derivative of the Grundschrift, especially since it appears to revisit and elaborate upon several specific arguments made elsewhere in the Klementia for a continuous and unbroken history of salvation from the dawn of creation through the times of Moses and Jesus. When the third day of public debate begins (Klem. 18), it is the theological issue that first comes into focus. On the grounds that justice and goodness cannot cohere in one and the same deity, Simon Magus posits an unknown, good God who is superior to the “just” lawgiver known through the scriptures of the Jews. Most of Peter’s extensive response will be focused on interpreting the saying in question, but in the opening paragraphs of Klem. 18 (18.1–3), the apostle makes concise and elegant use of the overarching structures of thought in the Klementia to show how goodness and justice indeed reside simultaneously in the one Creator God. He first invokes, ever so briefly, the notion of the two kingdoms mapped out in God’s primordial plan, with temporal goods for the wicked and eternal goods for the good, to demonstrate the generous goodness of God’s justice (18.2.5–6). Next, he alludes to the periodization of the schema of True Prophecy. The time from Adam to Moses, when there was no written law, manifests the Creator’s goodness (i. e., when he was not a lawgiver, and thus “just”); the period after Moses manifests divine justice through the law (Klem. 18.3.1–2). Peter’s proof is sealed with the exegesis of a teaching of Jesus (Matt 19:16–22 // Mark 10:17–22 // Luke 18:18–23) that has already been cited by Simon in support of his own thesis that there is a deity superior to the Creator (cf. Klem. 18.1.3). Peter recalls that Jesus, speaking to a Pharisee who had asked how to inherit eternal life, 7 referred to the singular goodness of God and then immediately went on to stipulate that the man should “keep the commandments” (Klem. 18.3.4). When the enquirer had asked Jesus to specify which commandments (as does the young man in the Matthean version), Jesus had “sent him to those of the law” (âπÈ τ€ς τοÜ nόmου êπεmψεn). Peter then draws out the theological implications of this juxtaposition of statements in Klem. 18.3.5: “If he were signaling some other good one, he would not have referred him to the com-

7 Kline, Sayings of Jesus, 46–47. A “young man” in Matthew, and “a certain arch¯on” in Luke, but not explicitly a Pharisee in the Gospels.

166

Final Harmony

mandments of the just one” (οÎκ ‹n δà éτερόn τιnα ‚γαθän σηmαίnωn âπÈ τ€ς τοÜ δικαίου ‚nέπεmπεn ânτολάς). After these initial demonstrations, roughly the first half of the discussion in Klem. 18 (i. e., 18.4–12) appears to address the theological misconceptions advanced by Simon Magus on the basis of the “No one knew ...” logion. First, Simon sketches the proposal that the Creator is not the father identified in the saying, but is instead the son of the unrevealed “Most High.” Of the seventy nations, this “son” was given the Hebrews as his portion, and called “God of gods” with respect to the gods of the other nations (Klem. 18.4). A slightly different theological scheme – positing that a “great power” sent two “angels,” one a creator and one a lawgiver (cf. Klem. 3.2.2–3) – is summarized and denied by Peter in 18.12. It is in the intervening paragraphs, however, that we perceive what unifies the discourse. What is at stake, and what can be resolved through the distinctive theory of revelation that Peter used to trump Simon’s authority in Klem. 17, is witnessed in the frequent repetition of the adverbial phrase ân ‚πορρήτοις (Klem. 18.4.3; 18.4.5; 18.6.1; 18.9.3; 18.12.5). Neither Simon nor Peter will deny that there are “secrets,” or things unknown to at least some; it is the locative question implicit in the phrase ân ‚πορρήτοις that is precisely the issue. Simon Magus reads Jesus’s logion as a claim that the source and measure of all truth (i. e., the Father, or the great power) lies outside the world as we know it, so that the advent of God’s son has effectively brought about a complete paradigm shift. For Peter, however, the Creator and the created world constitute a complete and closed system. All truth lies within it, and even within the microcosm of the individual human heart. Revelation is no penetrating innovation, as Simon would suggest, but it is effected by a mere movement of the divine hand, pulling back the covering on what “lies secretly (‚πορρήτως) veiled in all human hearts” (Klem. 18.6.3b). Not unlike the storg¯e that quietly draws the responsive creature to its Creator, it can be experienced but not taught (Klem. 18.6.3a). In Klem. 18.13, there is a noticeable shift in the discourse towards monologue. It is Peter’s turn to hold the saying of Jesus up to the light and examine its various facets in turn, and Simon Magus fades into the background. His only statement, a peevish interjection in Klem. 18.15.1, serves to provide the second logion (Matt 11:25 // Luke 10:21) that Peter needs to flesh out the contours of the two paths to salvation operative in the present era. Apart from this one statement of Simon Magus, the objections that are raised and refuted are exclusively of Peter’s own making. Moving beyond the theological issues, Peter focuses first on the word οÎδείς (“no one”). Who was it who did not know? Was it really everyone, or did Jesus perhaps have something else in mind?: >ΑποκριnοÜmαι εÊς ç θέλεις, περÈ τοÜ· «ΟÎδεÈς êγnω τän πατέρα εÊ m˜ å υÉός – οÎδà τän υÉόn τις οÚδεn εÊ m˜ å πατ˜ρ καÈ οÙς ‹n βούληται å υÉäς ‚ποκαλύψαι». πρÀτοn màn θαυmάζω πÀς τοÜ λόγου τούτου mυρίας êχοnτος âκδοχ€ς σÌ τä âπικιnδυnότεροn âξελέξω mέρος, πρäς

“What was hidden” when “No one knew ...”

167

‚γnωσίαn τοÜ δηmιουργοÜ καÈ τÀn Íπ+ αÎτοÜ πάnτωn φήσας εÊρ¨σθαι τän λόγοn. πρÀτοn màn γ€ρ δύnαται å λόγος εÊρ¨σθαι πρäς πάnτας >Ιουδαίους, τοÌς πατέρα nοmίζοnτας εÚnαι ΧριστοÜ τän ∆αυÈδ καÈ αÎτän δà τän Χριστän υÉän înτα καÈ υÉän θεοÜ m˜ âγnωκέnαι. διä καÈ οÊκείως εÒρηται· «ΟÎδεÈς êγnω τän πατέρα», âπεÈ ‚nτÈ τοÜ θεοÜ τän ∆αυÈδ πάnτες êλεγοn. τä δà âπάξαnτα εÊπεØn ±ς «οÎδà τän υÉόn τις οÚδεn», âπεÈ αÎτän υÉän înτα οÎκ ¦δεισαn. I will reply, as you wish, about the saying, “No one knew the father except the son, nor does anyone know the son except the father and those to whom the son wanted to reveal him.” First, I am astonished how, while this saying has myriad interpretations, you chose the most dangerous part, having said that the saying speaks to the ignorance of the demiurge and of all those under him. In the first place, the saying could speak to all Jews who think David is the father of Christ and do not know that Christ himself, though a son, is son of God. Wherefore it would rightly be said, “No one knew the father,” since everyone was saying David instead of God, and the subsequent saying, “No one knows the son,” since they did not know he was the son (Klem. 18.13.1–5).

Peter the eyewitness is witnessed here, once again, recalling another conversation of the True Prophet Jesus and bringing it to bear on the saying at hand, for each of Synoptic Gospels records a teaching of Jesus attributing the notion that the Christ is the son of David to some subset of the Jewish population, either to scribes (Mark 12:35–37; Luke 20:41–44) or to Pharisees (Matt 22:41–46). Having briefly discussed this first possible interpretation, Peter goes on to extract from the final clause of the saying another issue, namely the injustice of Simon’s suggestion that Jesus has recently revealed God to everyone, even impious Gentiles, while all who had preceded Jesus in time, even the “seven pillars of the world,” were ignorant. Peter asserts instead that Jesus, being son and appointed for revelation “from the beginning,” must have imparted knowledge to Adam, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, 8 and “all who were worthy among the people” (18.13.5–18.14.1), and furthermore, that it is Simon rather than Jesus who is a latecomer and an innovator. Provoked by Peter’s insult, Simon shoots back with his solitary remark, a version of Matt 11:25 // Luke 10:21 that diverges slightly from the saying as the eyewitness Peter remembers it: Τän σän διδάσκαλοn αÊτιÀ εÊπόnτα· «>ΕξοmολογοÜmαί σοι, κύριε τοÜ οÎραnοÜ καÈ τ¨ς γ¨ς, íτι, ‰περ ªn κρυπτ€ σοφοØς, ‚πεκάλυψας αÎτ€ nηπίοις θηλάζουσιn». Blame your teacher for saying, “I give thanks to you, Lord of heaven and earth, that what was hidden to the wise you have revealed to nursing infants” (Klem. 18.15.1).

8 Although Moses is the unnamed seventh “pillar” in this cohort, he is probably omitted here because, in the Klementia, he is a True Prophet.

168

Final Harmony

The misquotation gives Peter a chance to demonstrate his authority and interpretive skill, invoking Isaiah to show what Jesus would have meant if he had said what Simon thought he said. If he had indeed said “what was hidden,” he would not have meant to signify another god unknown even to the creator, but rather “hidden things” (τ€ κρύπτα) of the creator, such as “the things that have been hidden from the foundation of the world” referred to by “Isaiah.” 9 As we have seen before with reference to Moses (cf. Klem. 2.49–50), if a prophet of God knew of these concealed things, God obviously could not have been ignorant of them (Klem. 18.15.5). At this point, Peter corrects Simon’s citation and illustrates that he can interpret the lectio difficilior, or what was actually said, as well: å δà >ΙησοÜς ™mÀn τÄ înτι οÎκ εÚπεn· «“Ατιnα [οÎκ] ªn κρυπτά», ‚λλ€ τä δοκοÜn τραχύτεροn εÒρηκεn· εÚπεn γάρ· «>Απεκάλυψας αÎτ€ nηπίοις θηλάζουσιn». τä δà εÊπεØn «‚πέκρυψας», ¹ς ποτε âγnωσmέnωn αÎτοØς. παρ+ αÎτοØς γ€ρ ™ κλεÈς τ¨ς βασιλείας τÀn οÎραnÀn ‚πέκειτο, τουτέστιn ™ γnÀσις τÀn ‚πορρήτωn. 10 But our Jesus did not really say, “What was hidden ...,” but he said the seemingly harsher thing, for he said, “... you have revealed them to nursing infants,” and the statement, “You have hidden ...,” since he spoke of things once known to them. For the key of the kingdom of heaven, that is, the knowledge of the secrets (τ€ ‚πόρρητα), was deposited with them (Klem. 18.15.6–7).

Here again the “scribes and Pharisees” of Klem. 3.18.2–3, those “entrusted with the key of the kingdom, which is knowledge, which alone is able to open the gate of life, through which alone it is possible to enter into eternal life,” come

9 The citation is of Matt 13:35, which, in some manuscripts, attributes Ps 77:2 (LXX) to “the prophet Isaiah.” In this discourse, Peter cites “Isaiah” twice by name (Klem. 18.15. 4; 18.18.1) and once anonymously (18.17.1). The only other citation of one of the Major or Minor prophets by name in the Klementia also occurs in book eighteen, but that reference, to “Jeremiah in Lamentations” in 18.4.3, is invoked by Simon Magus in support of his thesis that there is an unrevealed Father. There are other anonymous references and allusions to the books of the prophets in the Klementia to be sure, but they are presented either as the false things in scripture that are not to be believed or as counterpoints to false statements, essentially illustrating the point there are irreconcilable theological contradictions in scripture (cf. Klem. 2.43–44; 16.6–8, 12–14). Klementia 18, especially, does not appear to cohere well with Epiphanius’s often-cited remarks on the Ebionite view of the prophets in Panarion 30.18.4: “They acknowledge Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Moses and Aaron – and Joshua son of Nun simply as Moses’ successor, though he is of no importance. But after these they acknowledge no more of the prophets, but even anathematize David and Solomon and make fun of them. Similarly they disregard Isaiah and Jeremiah, Daniel and Ezekiel, Elijah and Elisha; for they pay them no heed and blaspheme their prophecies, but accept only the Gospel.” (The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis, Book I, Sections 1–46, 2nd ed., trans. Frank Williams, NHMS 63 [Leiden: Brill, 2009], 146). 10 Though the text appears to have suffered some corruption, the citation coheres essentially with the statement as invoked in Klem. 8.6.4. As Cotelier observed, (see Rehm and Strecker, Pseudoklementinen I: Homilien, 248), and as Wehnert (Pseudoklementinische Homilien, 239) explains, the first part of the citation may have fallen out of the manuscripts by homoioarkton, but the sense is clear.

“What was hidden” when “No one knew ...”

169

implicitly into view as at least a subset of “the wise” from whom something has been concealed. As Peter’s testimony continues, working its way through three “objections,” the reader is provided with several clarifications about the history and current status of the relationship between God and his people Israel. The first objection that Peter anticipates has to do with God’s justice vis-à-vis “the wise.” Belaboring the point by piling up allusions to other sayings of Jesus, he sketches a theory of retributive justice and sets the negative actions of the Pharisees criticized in Matt 23:13 // Luke 11:52 in the balance: καÈ m˜ λέγε· >Ησέβησεn εÊς τοÌς σοφοÌς κρύψας αÎτ€ ‚π+ αÎτÀn. m˜ γέnοιτο τοÜτο ÍπολαβεØn. οÎ γ€ρ šσέβησεn, ‚λλ+ âπειδ˜ ‚πέκρυπτοn τ˜n γnÀσιn τ¨ς βασιλείας καÈ οÖτε αÎτοÈ εÊσ¨λθαn οÖτε τοØς βουλοmέnοις εÊσελθεØn παρέσχοn, τούτου énεκεn κατ€ τä δίκαιοn, ±ς ‚πέκρυψαn αÎτοÈ τ€ς åδοÌς ‚πä τÀn θελόnτωn, οÕτω καÈ ‚π+ αÎτÀn ‚πεκρύβη τ€ ‚πόρρητα, Ñnα ±ς âποίησαn, åmοίως καÈ αÎτοØς γέnηται καÈ Å mέτρú âmέτρησαn, mετρηθ¬ αÎτοØς τÄ Òσú. τÄ γ€ρ ‚ξίú τä γnÀnαι ç m˜ οÚδεn æφείλεται, τοÜ δà m˜ ‚ξίου (κ‹n δοκ¬ êχειn) ‚φαιρεØται (κ‹n ân τοØς Šλλοις ® σοφός) καÈ δίδοται τοØς ‚ξίοις (κ‹n ân τοØς χρόnοις τ¨ς mαθητείας Âσιn nήπιοι). Do not say, “He was impious toward the wise, having hidden these things from them.” By no means suppose this! For he was not impious, but since they were hiding the knowledge of the kingdom and neither themselves entered nor permitted those who wished to enter, for this reason, justly, as they hid the ways from those who desired them, so also the secrets (τ€ ‚πόρρητα) were hidden from them, in order that, as they did, it might likewise happen to them, and with what measure they measured, it might be measured to them in equal part (cf. Matt 7:2 // Luke 6:38). For the worthy person deserves to know what he does not know. But from the unworthy person (even if he seems to have it) it is taken away, even if he is wise in other matters, and it is given to the worthy, even if they are infants in the times of their discipleship (Klem. 18.16.1–4).

What is crucial here is the implication that those who “hid the knowledge of the kingdom” (i. e., the “scribes and Pharisees”) are still wise “in other things,” though their actions have also rendered them “unworthy” in some respects. The next objection will go on both to mark the identity of this “wise” group more inclusively, as “the sons of Israel,” and to nuance the nature of their loss, specifying exactly what ‚πόρρητα were concealed. Here again, Isaiah proves to be a useful conversation partner, granting Peter precisely the vocabulary he needs to introduce an important distinction: εÊ δέ τις âρεØ· ΟÎδàn ªn ‚πόκρυφοn τοØς υÉοØς >Ισρα˜λ δι€ τä γεγράφθαι· «ΟÎδέn σε êλαθεn, >Ισραήλ· m˜ γ€ρ εÒπùς, >Ιακώβ· >Απεκρύβη ™ åδäς ‚π+ âmοÜ», συnιέnαι æφείλει τις íτι τ€ διαφέροnτα τ¬ βασιλείø ‚ποκέκρυπτο ‚π+ αÎτÀn, ™ δà εÊσφέρουσα εÊς τ˜n βασιλείαn åδός, ¡τις âστÈn πολιτεία, οÎκ ‚ποκέκρυπτο. δι€ τοÜτο γ€ρ καÈ λέγει· «M˜ γ€ρ εÒπùς íτι ‚πεκρύβη ‚π+ âmοÜ ™ åδός». If someone will say, “Nothing was hidden from the sons of Israel, because it was written, ‘Nothing escaped your notice, Israel. For do not say, Jacob, “The way was hidden from

170

Final Harmony

me,’” 11 he ought to understand that the excellent things in the kingdom were hidden from them, but the way going into the kingdom, which is politeia, was not hidden. For on account of this it says, “For do not say, ‘The way was hidden from me’” (Klem. 18.17.1–2).

So on the authority of the ancient prophet, Peter is able to preserve for Israel the “way” to the kingdom of God. He goes on in the next few lines to specify further that this politeia is the law that was prescribed by Moses and affirmed “somewhere else” by Jesus when someone asked him “What shall I do to inherit eternal life?” (Klem. 18.17.2–4). As we saw in Klem. 8, the followers of Moses and the followers of Jesus are depicted as keeping parallel and equally valid practices of piety. Here, however, we have learned a bit more about what ‚πόρρητα (18.15.7–16.1) were lost by the heirs of the seat of Moses due to their “grasping” at the knowledge with which they were entrusted. What is meant by the “excellent things” (τ€ διαφέροnτα) that are here construed in relation to “the kingdom” can be elucidated in connection with the “unspeakable goods” or the “eternal goods” that throughout the novel provide the recipients of Peter’s preaching with a sense of the things that are to be had in abundance by those who do not stray from the path to the flourishing city that is their final destination (Klem. 10.2). These ‚πόρρητα ‚γαθά or αÊώnια ‚γαθά are held out constantly as a source of inspiration and motivation, often in conjunction with the deterrent of “unspeakable punishment.” 12 But Peter is not finished yet. He has two more possible explanations for Jesus’s “No one knew...” statement, each specifying who it was that did not know and exactly what they did not know. First, in Klem. 18, the prophet Isaiah (speaking âκ προσώπου τοÜ θεοÜ) is made a conversation partner one last time, lest Isa 1:3 (“Israel has not known me, and the people have not understood me”) be invoked in support of Simon’s theory of an unknown God. The point Peter makes is that, when the verse is read in context, one can deduce that there was something that the people did not understand about the Creator. Moving on to Isa 1:4 (“Alas, a sinful nation, a people full of sins!”), one finds that Israel sinned, presumably for the same reason that anyone who shares the worldview of the Klementia might sin: they did not comprehend God’s justice nor sufficiently fear his inexorable punishment. Finally, the last possibility Peter presents brings the discourse back around to the subject of the False Pericopes of scripture, concluding with the Klementia’s favorite pair of proof sayings on this issue. The novel is clear from the beginning that the traditions Moses delivered to his seventy successors, traditions that contain the hermeneutical key to the scriptures and guard the rule of monarchia and politeia, are still preserved without error among the homoethnoi 11 12

Cf. Isa 40:26–27. See Strecker, Die Pseudoklementinen III: Konkordanz, 5–6, 20, 58.

The Harmonia of Evil

171

of Moses. Nonetheless, some fall fearlessly into sin when they fail to recognize the mixed nature of scripture but imitate the God portrayed in false pericopes (Klem. 18.19.1–3). In much the same way that the Greeks find license for wicked behavior in the myths about the gods (cf. Klem. 4.12), such people read about God “deceiving and lying and performing manifold injustices” (Klem. 18.19.2) and imagine that they are pious for doing the like. People such as these, Peter says, could reasonably be the referent of οÎδεÈς, “for if they had known, they would not have sinned by believing in the books that were written against God as a test” (Klem. 18.20.2). Jesus had tried to “show them more clearly the cause of their error” when he spoke the Klementia’s version of the saying addressed to certain Sadducees in Matt 22:29 (cf. Klem. 3.50.1), but they nonetheless failed to become good “moneychangers” in relation to the corrupt scriptures.

The Harmonia of Evil At the conclusion of this extended display of Peter’s distinctive exegetical authority and skill, Simon re-emerges to feign astonishment at Peter’s attitude toward scripture (Klem. 18.21). On the final day of their debates, the pair will turn to a question that forces them to range beyond “what is written,” to the perennial question of the origin of evil, or the Wicked One (Klem. 19.3). 13 Most interesting for our purposes, however, is the rather curious way in which Klem. 19 is resolved. In its final chapters, Peter presents something new – a proleptic vision of a kind of anthropological and cosmic harmonia, toward which the whole drama of the present world is working its way, even though the denouement remains over the horizon. This is the ultimate “happily ever after,” echoing the language Peter used to describe the providential restoration of the members of Clement’s family. 14 The same terminology will be titular for the final private lesson. 15 Here at the end of the intervening public debates, Peter not only discloses a remarkable vision of eschatological harmonia (Klem. 19.20), but he also gives a concrete example of how the observance of divine law is key to its realization. Earlier in Klem. 19 (19.12), when pressed to speak about the origin of the Wicked One, Peter puts evil at a safe remove from the good Creator by explain13 See Meinolf Vielberg, “L’explication du mal et la naissance du polythéisme dans le roman pseudo-clémentin,” in Aragione and Gounelle, “Soyez des changeurs avisés”, 47–67. 14 Klem. 15.4.6: “Therefore, I do not think such a swift harmonia, coming together from all sides unto a single, purposeful goal, happens without providence” (τοσαύτηn οÞn ταχεØαn ρmοnίαn παnταχόθεn συnδραmοÜσαn εÊς énα γnώmης σκοπän οÎκ οÚmαι ‚προnόητοn εÚnαι). 15 Klem. 20.2.1: “And Peter said, ‘Listen, then, to the truth of the harmonia concerning the Wicked One’” (καÈ å Πέτρος· >Ακούσατε, êφη, τοιγαροÜn τ¨ς περÈ τοÜ ποnηροÜ ρmοnίας τ˜n ‚λήθειαn).

172

Final Harmony

ing that the disposition (προαίρεσις) of the Wicked One arose from the mixing of four elements (heat, cold, moisture, and dryness), which God created simple and unmixed (cf. Klem. 20.3.8–9). Composite and impermanent, this evil is destined to resolve eventually into harmonia, after it has served its divinely appointed purpose (Klem. 19.20.6–7). The notion of harmonia is ultimately more expansive, however, pressing toward far more than the dissolution of evil. In the eschatological vision of Peter, nothing less than immortality accompanies harmonia, “when the human being becomes immortal because of righteousness, when the peaceful reign of Christ prevails.” What holds humanity back in the meantime, it would seem, is also a matter of mixtures, for harmonia follows when the temperament (lit. κράσις) of the human being becomes well tempered (εÖκρατος), putting the sharp impulses aside (Klem. 19.20.9). When it comes to the ordering of human life toward a blessed end, it comes as no surprise to the reader of the Klementia that divine law is instrumental. Peter confirms as much in a fascinating little discussion of purity and procreation (cf. Lev 15:19–24 and 20:18) in the penultimate paragraph of the final debate (Klem. 19.22). The reader of the novel is already well aware of the protective function of dietary laws over against the demons, and here she learns, through Peter’s recollection of Jesus’s pronouncement about the man born blind (John 9:1–7), that the observance of legal prescriptions regarding menstruation and intercourse guards against the phenomenon of congenital affliction (Klem. 19.22.2–4). Although Jesus, in the Gospel of John, rejects the idea that the blind man’s condition resulted from either his parents’ sin or his own, Peter remembers the True Prophet speaking of “sins of ignorance.” 16 “And, truly,” the apostle confirms, “such afflictions come about because of ignorance, or rather by not knowing when to cohabit with one’s wife, if she is pure after menstruation” (καÈ ‚ληθÀς ‚γnοίας αÊτίø τ€ τοιαÜτα γίnεται ¢τοι τÄ m˜ εÊδέnαι πότε δεØ κοιnωnεØn τ¬ γαmετ¬, εÊ καθαρ€ âξ ‚φέδρου τυγχάnει, Klem. 19.22.7). This mundane discussion, appended to the last of Peter and Simon’s abstruse theological debates, may appear to be a rather strange and anticlimactic digression. In another light, however, it nicely brings together the novelistic plot of the Familienroman with the content of the discourses embedded within it. The harmonia that is manifest in the family recognitions – the remarkable happy ending that is, in no small measure, the reward for piety – can be the end to each person’s story. The reader need only assimilate the lessons she has overheard throughout the novel, and, like Justa or Mattidia, adopt the monarchia and lawful politeia that protect travelers on the mortal journey. 16 See Nicole Kelley, “The Theological Significance of Physical Deformity in the PseudoClementine Homilies,” PRSt 34 (2007): 77–90; and idem, “The Deformed Child in Ancient Christianity,” in Children in Late Ancient Christianity, ed. C. B. Horn and R. R. Phenix, STAC 58 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 144–225, 210–211.

Conclusion

173

Conclusion As Peter acknowledges in the opening paragraph of the last book of the novel, his final debates with Simon Magus (Klem. 16–19) have ranged over a great many topics (Klem. 20.1.3). The reader of the novel may feel a bit like the disciples of Peter in the narrative, worried that she has missed the “truth” in this progression through one esoteric theological problem after another (Klem. 20.1). Through these meditations on the subject of monarchia, however, Peter has defended the continuity of God’s plan of salvation over against several possible objections, simultaneously reminding the reader that this chief disciple of the True Prophet is uniquely credentialed to elucidate the meaning of difficult sayings of Jesus. Not only that, Peter has shown his ability to speculate where even the scriptures are silent, reassuring us that, in the end, every dualistic element of God’s creation, every syzygia, will be resolved in harmony. With Simon Magus thoroughly routed at the close of the penultimate book (cf. Klem. 19.25.1), all that remains is the full resolution of the conflict with Paul that was alluded to in the opening letter of the novel. The last paragraph of the Klementia leaves no room for doubt, insisting that Antioch awaits Peter in the height of its longing for him. When we finally lose sight of our apostle, hastening on his way, we know that he will restored to favor there, just over the final narrative horizon.

Conclusion When the reader enters the narrative of the Klementia through the Epistula Petri and the Diamartyria, she enters a project of revisionist historical fiction that proves remarkably ambitious in its scope and fairly sophisticated in its means. As she begins to read, she learns that the text in her hands is an esoteric thing, meant only for initiate eyes, and she is cautioned right away to consider the dangers inherent in books. The fact that two full versions of the Pseudo-Clementine novel survive, each one a distinctive elaboration on yet a third, pre-existing novel, serves as its own kind of demonstration of what the author of the Klementia already knew. Books are unstable entities – powerful, and sometimes remarkably durable, but always subject at least to interpretation, if not also revision. Certain other books in the intimate world of the Klementia were of such importance that one could reference them simply as “the writings,” or the scriptures. These scriptures were as complex and problematic as they were important, and in the opinion of the author of the Klementia, they were only to be approached via a curious strategy of reading and non-reading, an intermittent stopping up of the ears against the blasphemies embedded within them. In order to pass the “test” of piety that scripture represents, a reader needs, above all, a correct and unshakable understanding of God and God’s plan. The Klementia stands ready to educate its reader in the monarchia that is required, but because its views cut strongly against the grain of the dominant Christian narrative, a good deal of argument must be waged along the way on the site of the Gospels. The revision of the early history of the followers of Jesus that the Klementia undertakes is an elaborate, ambitious, and multi-faceted project. At the center of the narrative pedagogy is the figure of Peter, the chief apostle of the True Prophet. Through Peter, the words and deeds of Jesus are frequently reconfigured, recontextualized, and newly embedded in narrative to “corrective” effect. Peter is the eyewitness authority in all things pertaining to Jesus, effortlessly able to set the record straight (e. g., Klem. 2.19–21). Even more than an eyewitness tradent, however, he is also the fully authorized interpreter of the sayings of his master, with a wide variety of tools in his toolkit. He can craft a compendium of sayings that will teach the reader about the False Pericopes even as it shows that the logia of Jesus are hermeneutical in nature (Klem. 3.50–57). Peter knows what Jesus taught about the way things are, and he can bring this knowledge fruitfully and creatively to bear on difficult sayings of the Lord (e. g., Klem. 15.5–9). When he curates and transmits the teaching of the True Prophet, what

176

Conclusion

the reader learns is twofold. She discerns not only how to read the scriptures of the Jews rightly, but she also perceives the real import of the True Prophet Jesus. His status as True Prophet and his teaching are key; his death and resurrection are passed over virtually in silence. When the narrative genre of the Greek romance comes fully into view in the second half of the novel, it provides not only a pan-Mediterranean canvas for the narrative but also multiple stories of conversion, or border crossing, worked out through the various members of Clement’s family. The account of Mattidia’s recognition, in particular, brings Peter and his fellows right up to the underlying borderline that separates Peter’s piety from pagan polytheism – that is, to the environs of a pagan temple on the island of Arados, where the Klementia may converse simultaneously with another Greek romance, Chariton’s Chaereas and Callirhoe. From this vantage, the reader can see quite clearly the failings of the pagan system, as well as the protection and blessing promised to those who put their trust in Peter’s God. As we observed in the beginning, the discourses of the Klementia conclude with a private lesson that reveals a primordial map of Two Kingdoms, drawn up by the Creator in the beginning (Klem. 20.2–3). If the reader has assembled and assimilated the pieces of this map glimpsed in the many discourses of Peter leading up to it, she will not be surprised by the dualistic creation account it conveys. She knows about the present kosmos and the coming ai¯on, and she has learned of the Good King and the Wicked One, to whom allegiance can be pledged. She is well schooled by now in the doctrine of syzygia, in things right and things left. The coeval and alternative religious systems initiated by Adam and his female syzygos can still be perceived in the world about her, in the different pieties of “Jews” and “Greeks.” On the favorable side the singular boundary line that divides the Two Kingdoms, a continuous history of salvation has been constructed, organized around the “times” of a triad of successive True Prophets – Adam, Moses, and finally Jesus. The followers of Moses and the followers of Jesus each have their own means of keeping the original faith. Each group has its own nomimos politeia, hedging against the danger of the demonic possession that is permitted through the consumption of sacrificial meat and various other illicit actions. Each group has its own way of preserving knowledge of the monarchia of God in the final period of history, when the public scriptures of the Jews have been corrupted. As the last lesson of the Klementia’s apostolic hero comes to an end, just before the failed ruse of Simon Magus sends Peter on his way to Antioch, the closing remarks give up the narrative game that has been woven through the private and public discourses of Peter all along. Peter’s disciple Joseph comes forward with a final benediction, declaring to Peter, “You have said everything rightly,” and then asking a question that highlights the strange tension of “esoteric” teaching couched in a popular genre of narrative fiction. “Why, when

Conclusion

177

you have preached the same words to all, are some persuaded and others not?” (Klem. 20.10.1). The question does not match the situation in the narrative, where some knowledge has been reserved for Peter’s inner circle. The novel itself, however, has created an audience who has seen everything, “public” and “private,” all along. The catechism of the Klementia is complete, but its power will finally be determined by the reader it has trained. In this study, it has been my aim to ask how the Klementia reads – both how it reads other literature in its context (a major preoccupation of the narrative) and how it attempts to construct its own reader. Too little attention has been paid to the latter question, and its implications, and I hope that this modest contribution to Pseudo-Clementine scholarship may prompt further thinking about the Klementia as a work of narrative and rhetorical ingenuity, and not just as an archaeological site for a lost Jewish Christianity, to be found primarily by peeling back layers and excavating sources. The Klementia appears to have intervened rather strongly in the Pseudo-Clementine tradition to which it is indebted, and if we are to speak of its “Jewish Christianity,” we should be clear, I think, that we speak of a fourth-century novelty as much as of a relic of more ancient history. My attempt to elucidate what the Klementia is doing through its rather complex series of “homilies” and debates is thus offered as an act of hospitality, inviting more of the kinds of scholarly attention that have been lavished so richly, and to such great effect, upon the other ancient Greek novels. There is much more to be said about this fascinating literary gem, and it is to be hoped that the Klementia may yet find its rightful place in the history of ancient Greek narrative fiction.

Bibliography 1. Pseudo-Clementines: Texts and Translations The Clementine Homilies. In vol. 8 of The Ante-Nicene Fathers. Edited by Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson. 1885–1887. 10 vols. Repr. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1994. Geoltrain, Pierre, and Jean-Daniel Kaestli, eds. Écrits apocryphes chrétiens. Vol 2. Bibliothèque de la Pléiade 516. Paris: Gallimard, 2005. Rehm, Bernhard, ed. Die Pseudoklementinen I: Homilien. 3rd ed. Revised by Georg Strecker. GCS 42. Berlin: Akademie, 1992. Rehm, Bernhard, ed. Die Pseudoklementinen II: Rekognitionen in Rufins Übersetzung. 2nd ed. Revised by Georg Strecker. GCS 51. Berlin: Akademie, 1994. Strecker, Georg. Die Pseudoklementinen III: Konkordanz zu den Pseudoklementinen. Erster Teil: Lateinisches Wortregister; Zweiter Teil: Griechisches Wortregister, Syrisches Wortregister, Index nominum, Stellenregister. GCS. Berlin: Akademie, 1986, 1989. Wehnert, Jürgen. Pseudoklementinische Homilien: Einführung und Übersetzung. KAL 1/1. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010.

2. Other Ancient Authors Basil. Letters, Volume IV: Letters 249–368. On Greek Literature. Translated by Roy J. Deferrari and M. R. P. McGuire. LCL 270. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1934. Bonnard, Émile. Saint Jérôme. Commentaire sur S. Matthieu. Tome I, Livres I–II. Texte Latin. Introduction, Traduction et Notes. SC 242. Paris: Cerf, 1977. Butterworth, G. W. Origen on First Principles, Being Koetschau’s text of the De principiis. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1936. Clark, Gillian. Porphyry: On Abstinence from Killing Animals. New York: Cornell University Press, 2000. Doignon, Jean. Hilaire de Poitiers. Sur Matthieu. Tome II. Introduction, Texte Critique, Traduction et Notes. SC 258. Paris: Cerf, 1979. Eusebius. Ecclesiastical History, Books I–V. Translated by Kirsopp Lake. LCL 153. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1926. Irenaeus. Against Heresies. In vol. 1 of The Ante-Nicene Fathers. Edited by Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson. 1885–1887. 10 vols. Repr. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1994. Marcovich, Miroslav. Iustini Martyris: Dialogus cum Tryphone. PTS 47. Berlin: De Gruyter, 1997. Minns, Denis and Paul Parvis. Justin, Philosopher and Martyr: Apologies. OECT. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. Reardon, Bryan P. Chariton Aphrodisiensis: De Callirhoe Narrationes Amatoriae. BSGRT. Munich: Saur, 2004

180

Bibliography

Williams, Frank. The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis, Book I, Sections 1–46. 2nd ed. NHMS 63. Leiden: Brill, 2009. Xenophon. Volume IV: Memorabilia. Oeconomicus. Symposium. Apology. Translated by E. C. Marchant and O. J. Todd. Revised by Jeffrey Henderson. LCL 168. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2013.

3. Modern Authors Adler, William. “Apion’s ‘Encomium of Adultery’: A Jewish Satire of Greek paideia in the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies.” HUCA 64 (1993): 15–49. Amersfoort, Jaap van. “Pagan Sources in the Pseudo-Clementine Novel.” Pages 265–274 in Religious Identity and the Problem of Historical Foundation. The Foundational Character of Authoritative Sources in the History of Christianity and Judaism. Edited by J. Frishman, W. Otten, and G. Rouwhorst. Jewish and Christian Perspectives Series 8. Leiden: Brill, 2004. – . “Traces of an Alexandrian orphic theogony in the pseudo-Clementines.” Pages 13–30 in Studies in Gnosticism and Hellenistic Religions: Presented to Gilles Quispel on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday. Edited by R. van den Broek and M. J. Vermaseren. EPRO. Leiden: Brill, 1981. Amsler, Frédéric. “Les citations évangéliques dans le roman pseudo-clémentin: Unetradition indépendante du Nouveau Testament?” Pages 141–167 in Le canon du Nouveau Testament: Regards nouveaux sur l’histoire de sa formation. Edited by Gabriella Aragione, Eric Junod, and Enrico Norelli. La Monde de la Bible 54. Geneva:Labour et Fides, 2005. Appelbaum, Alan. The Rabbis’ King-Parables: Midrash From the Third-Century Roman Empire. Judaism in Context 7. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, 2010. Bauckham, Richard. “James the Brother of the Lord in the Pseudo-Clementine Literature.” Pages 303–312 in Nouvelles intrigues pseudo-clémentines: Actes du deuxième colloque international sur la littérature apocryphe chrétienne, Lausanne – Genève, 30 août–2 septembre 2006. Edited by Frédéric Amsler, Albert Frey, Charlotte Touati, and Renée Girardet. PIRSB 6. Prahins: Éditions du Zèbre, 2008. Baumgarten, Albert I. “Literary evidence for Jewish Christianity in the Galilee.” Pages 39– 50 in The Galilee in Late Antiquity. Edited by Lee I. Levine. New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1992. Bautch, Kelly Coblentz. “Obscured by the Scriptures, Revealed by the Prophets: God in the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies.” Pages 120–136 in Histories of the Hidden God: Concealment and Revelation in Western Gnostic, Esoteric, and Mystical Traditions. Edited by April D. DeConick and Grant Adamson. Durham: Acumen, 2013. Bazzana, Giovanni. “Apelles and the Pseudo-Clementine Doctrine of the False Pericopes.” Pages 11–32 in “Soyez des changeurs avisés”: Controverses exégétiques dans la literature apocryphe chrétienne. Edited by Gabriella Aragione and Rémi Gounelle. Cahiers de Biblia Patristica 12. Turnhout: Brepols, 2012. – . “‘Be Good Moneychangers’: The Role of an Agraphon in a Discursive Fight for the Canon of Scripture.” Pages 297–311 in Invention, Rewriting, Usurpation: Discursive Fights over Religious Traditions in Antiquity. Edited by Jörg Ulrich, Anders Christian Ja-

3. Modern Authors

181

cobsen, and David Brakke. Early Christianity in the Context of Antiquity 11. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2012. Betz, Hans Dieter. Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Churches in Galatia. Hermeneia: A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible 62. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989. – . The Sermon on the Mount: A Commentary on the Sermon on the Mount, Including the Sermon on the Plain (Matthew 5:3–7:27 and Luke 6:20–49). Edited by Adela Yarbro Collins. Hermeneia: A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible 54. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995. Birdsall, J. Neville, “Problems of the Clementine Literature.” Pages 347–361 in Jews and Christians: The Parting of the Ways, A. D. 70 to 135: The Second Durham-Tübingen Research Symposium on Earliest Christianity and Judaism (Durham, September 1989). WUNT 66. Edited by James D. G. Dunn. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992. Bockmuehl, Markus. The Remembered Peter in Ancient Reception and Modern Debate. WUNT 262. Edited by Jörg Frey. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010. Boustan, Ra’anan S. and Annette Yoshiko Reed. “Blood and Atonement in the PseudoClementines and The Story of the Ten Martyrs: The Problem of Selectivity in the Study of ‘Judaism’ and ‘Christianity’.” Henoch 30 (2008): 333–364. Bovon, François. “En tête des Homélies clémentines: la Lettre de Pierre à Jacques.” Pages 329–335 in Nouvelles intrigues pseudo-clémentines: Actes du deuxième colloque international sur la littérature apocryphe chrétienne, Lausanne – Genève, 30 août–2 septembre 2006. Edited by Frédéric Amsler, Albert Frey, Charlotte Touati, and Renée Girardet. PIRSB 6. Prahins: Éditions du Zèbre, 2008. – . Luke 3: A Commentary on the Gospel of Luke 19:28–24:53. Edited by Helmut Koester. Translated by James E. Crouch. Hermeneia: A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012. Brakke, David. “Scriptural Practices in Early Christianity: Towards a New History of the New Testament Canon.” Pages 263–280 in Invention, Rewriting, Usurpation: Discursive Fights over Religious Traditions in Antiquity. Edited by Jörg Ulrich, Anders Christian Jacobsen, and David Brakke. ECCA 11. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2012. Bremmer, Jan N. “Apion and Anoubion in the Homilies.” Pages 72–91 in The PseudoClementines. Edited by Jan N. Bremmer. SECA 10. Leuven: Peeters, 2010. – . “Pseudo-Clementines: Texts, Dates, Places, Authors and Magic.” Pages 1–23 in The Pseudo-Clementines. Edited by Jan N. Bremmer. SECA 10. Leuven: Peeters, 2010. Bultmann, Rudolf. The History of the Synoptic Tradition. Translated by John Marsh. New York: Harper & Row, 1968. Bussell, F. W. “The Purpose of the World-Process and the Problem of Evil as Explained in the Clementine and Lactantian Writings in a System of Subordinate Dualism.” Pages 133–188 in Studia Biblica et Ecclesiastica: Essays Chiefly in Biblical and Patristic Criticism, vol. 4. Oxford: Clarendon, 1896; repr. as Evil as Explained in the Clementine and Lactantian Writings. Analecta Gorgiana 12. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, 2006. Calvet-Sébasti, Marie-Ange. “Une île romanesque: Arados.” Pages 87–99 in Lieux, décors et paysages de l’ancien roman des origines à Byzance. Actes du 2e Colloque de Tours, 24– 26 octobre 2002. CMOM 34. Série littéraire et philosophique 8. Edited by Bernard Pouderon. Lyon: Pouilloux, 2005. Carleton Paget, James. Jews, Christians and Jewish Christians in Antiquity. WUNT 251. Edited by Jörg Frey. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010.

182

Bibliography

Carlson, Donald. Jewish-Christian Interpretation of the Pentateuch in the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2013. Cha, Jung-Sik. “Diamartyria and the Ordination of Jewish Christian Teachers,” AsJT 13 (1999): 124–158. Chapman, John. “On the Date of the Clementines,” ZNW 9 (1908): 21–34, 147–59. Cirillo, L. “Le Baptême, remède à la concupiscence, selon la catéchèse pseudo-clémentine de Pierre: Hom. XI 26 (Rec. VI 9).” Pages 79–90 in Text and Testimony. Essays on New Testament and Apocryphal Literature in Honour of A. F. J. Klijn. Edited by T. Baarda. Kampen: Kok, 1988. Clark, Elizabeth A. Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999. Collins, Adela Yarbro. Mark: A Commentary. Hermeneia: A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible. Edited by Harold W. Attridge. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007. Collins, John J. Daniel. Hermeneia: A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994. Cooper, Kate. “Matthidia’s Wish: Division, Reunion, and the Early Christian Family in the Pseudo-Clementine Recognitions.” Pages 243–264 in Narrativity in Biblical and Related Texts. BETL 149. Edited by G. J. Brooke and J.-D. Kaestli. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2000. Côté, Dominique. “La figure d’Éros dans les Homélies pseudo-clémentines.” Pages 135–165 in Coptica, Gnostica, Manichaica. Mélanges offerts à Wolf-Peter Funk. Edited by Louis Painchaud and Paul-Hubert Poirier. Quebec: Les Presses de l’Université Laval, 2005. – . “La fonction littéraire de Simon le magicien dans les Pseudo-Clémentines.” LTP 57 (2001): 513–23. – . “La forme de Dieu dans les Homélies pseudo-clémentines et la notion de Shiur Qomah.” Pages 69–94 in “Soyez des changeurs avisés”: Controverses exégétiques dans la littérature apocryphe chrétienne. Edited by Gabriella Aragione and Rémi Gounelle. Cahiers de Biblia Patristica 12. Turnhout: Brepols, 2012. – . “Les procédés rhétoriques dans les Pseudo-Clémentines. L’éloge de l’adultère du grammairien Apion.” Pages 189–210 in Nouvelles intrigues pseudo-clémentines: Actes du deuxième colloque international sur la littérature apocryphe chrétienne, Lausanne-Genève, 30 août–2 septembre 2006. Edited by Frédéric Amsler, Albert Frey, Charlotte Touati, and Renée Girardet. PIRSB 6. Prahins: Éditions du Zèbre, 2008. – . Le thème de l’opposition entre Pierre et Simon dans les Pseudo-Clémentines. Collection des Études augustiniennes, Série Antiquité 167. Turnhout: Brepols, 2001. Crossan, John Dominic. “Parables,” ABD 5:146–52. Cullmann, Oscar. The Christology of the New Testament. 2nd ed. Translated by Shirley C. Guthrie and Charles A. M. Hall. NTL. London: SCM, 1963. Daniélou, Jean. Primitive Christian Symbols. Translated by Donald Attwater. Baltimore: Helicon Press, 1964. Davies, W. D. and Dale C. Allison. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to Saint Matthew. 3 vols. ICC. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1988–1997. Davison, Claire Cullen, with Birte Lundgreen. Pheidias: The Sculptures & Ancient Sources. 3 vols. Edited by Geoffrey B. Waywell. BICSSup 105. London: University of London, 2009. Drijvers, Han J. W. “Adam and the True Prophet in the Pseudo-Clementines.” Pages 314– 323 in Loyalitätskonflikte in der Religionsgeschichte: Festschrift für Carsten Colpe. Edited

3. Modern Authors

183

by Christoph Elsas and Hans G. Kippenberg. Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 1990. Duncan, Patricia A. “The Case for Tolerance in the Early Christian (Pseudo-Clementine) Novel.” In Perceiving the Other in Ancient Judaism and Christianity. Edited by Michael Bar-Asher Siegal, Wolfgang Grünstäudl, and Matthew Thiessen. WUNT. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, forthcoming. Edwards, Michael J. “The Clementina: A Christian Response to the Pagan Novel,” CQ 42 (1992): 459–474. Ehrman, Bart D. Forgery and Counter-Forgery: The Use of Literary Deceit in Early Christian Polemics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Gieschen, Charles A. Angelomorphic Christology: Antecedents and Early Evidence. AGJU 42. Leiden: Brill, 1998. – . “The Seven Pillars of the World: Ideal Figure Lists in the Christology of the PseudoClementines.” JSP 12 (1994): 47–82. Hägg, Tomas. The Novel in Antiquity. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983. Hansen, Dirk Uwe. “Die Metamorphose des Heiligen: Clemens und die Clementina.” Pages 119–129 in Groningen Colloquia on the Novel. Vol. 8. Edited by H. Hofmann and M. Zimmerman. Groningen: Egbert Forsten, 1997. Harnack, Adolf. The Mission and Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries. 2nd ed. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1908. Heine, Ronald E. Reading the Old Testament with the Ancient Church: Exploring the Formation of Early Christian Thought. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007. Hirshman, Marc. A Rivalry of Genius: Jewish and Christian Biblical Interpretation in Late Antiquity. Albany, New York: State University of New York Press, 1996. Holzberg, Niklas. The Ancient Novel: An Introduction. Translated by Christine JacksonHolzberg. London: Routledge, 1995. Horn, Cornelia. “The Pseudo-Clementine Homilies on the Challenges of the Conversion of Families.” Pages 170–190 in The Pseudo-Clementines. Edited by Jan N. Bremmer. SECA 10. Leuven: Peeters, 2010. Hutt, Curtis. “‘Be Ye Approved Money Changers!’ Reexamining the Social Contexts of the Saying and Its Interpretation,” JBL 131 (2012): 589–609. Jones, F. Stanley. “Clement of Rome and the Pseudo-Clementines: History and /or Fiction.” Pages 172–193 in Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque inter Judaeochristiana: Collected Studies. Leuven: Peeters, 2012; Repr. of pages 139–161 in Studi su Clemente Romano. Edited by Philippe Luisier. Orientalia Christiana Analecta 268. Rome: Pontificio Istituto Orientale, 2003. – . “The Distinctive Sayings of Jesus Shared by Justin and the Pseudo-Clementines.” Pages 200–217 in Forbidden Texts on the Western Frontier: The Christian Apocrypha in North American Perspectives. Edited by Tony Burke. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2015. – . “Eros and Astrology in the Περίοδοι Πέτρου: The Sense of the Pseudo-Clementine Novel.” Pages 114–137 in Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque inter Judaeochristiana: Collected Studies. Leuven: Peeters, 2012; Repr. from Apocrypha 12 (2001): 53–78. – . “The Genesis of Pseudo-Clementine Christianity.” Pages 204–206 in Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque inter Judaeochristiana: Collected Studies. Leuven: Peeters, 2012. – . “Introduction to the Pseudo-Clementines.” Pages 7–49 in Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque inter Judaeochristiana: Collected Studies. Leuven: Peeters, 2012.

184

Bibliography

– . “Jewish Christianity of the Pseudo-Clementines.” Pages 138–151 in Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque inter Judaeochristiana: Collected Studies. Leuven: Peeters, 2012; Reprint of pages 315–334 in A Companion to Second-Century Christian “Heretics.” Edited by Antti Marjanen and Petri Luomanen. Leiden: Brill, 2005. – . “Marcionism in the Pseudo-Clementines.” Pages 152–171 in Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque inter Judaeochristiana: Collected Studies. Leuven: Peeters, 2012; Reprint of pages 225–244 in Poussières de christianisme et de judaïsme antiques: Études réunies en l’honneur de Jean-Daniel Kaestli et Éric Junod. Edited by Albert Frey and Rémi Gounelle. PIRSB 5. Lausanne: Éditions du Zèbre, 2007. – . “Photius’s Witness to the Pseudo-Clementines.” Pages 345–355 in Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque inter Judaeochristiana: Collected Studies. Leuven: Peeters, 2012; Reprint of pages 93–101 in Nouvelles intrigues pseudo-clémentines: Actes du deuxième colloque international sur la littérature apocryphe chrétienne, Lausanne -Genève, 30 août–2 septembre 2006. Edited by Frédéric Amsler, Albert Frey, Charlotte Touati, and Renée Girardet. PIRSB 6. Prahins: Éditions du Zèbre, 2008. – . “The Pseudo-Clementines: A History of Research.” Pages 50–113 in Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque inter Judaeochristiana: Collected Studies. Leuven: Peeters, 2012. Reprint of pages 195–262 of Studies in Early Christianity, vol. 2: Literature of the Early Church. Edited by E. Ferguson. New York: Garland, 1993; Reprint of The Second Century 2 (1982): 1–33, 63–96. – . The Syriac Pseudo-Clementines: An Early Version of the First Christian Novel. APOCR 14. Turnhout: Brepols, 2014. Kelley, Nicole. “The Deformed Child in Ancient Christianity.” Pages 199–225 in Children in Late Ancient Christianity. Edited by Cornelia B. Horn and Robert R. Phenix. STAC 58. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009. – . Knowledge and Religious Authority in the Pseudo-Clementines. Situating the Recognitions in Fourth Century Syria. WUNT II, 213. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006. – . “The Theological Significance of Physical Deformity in the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies,” in PRSt 34 (2007): 77–90. – . “What is the Value of Sense Perception in the Pseudo-Clementine Romance?” Pages 361–369 in Nouvelles intrigues pseudo-clémentines: Actes du deuxième colloque international sur la littérature apocryphe chrétienne, Lausanne – Genève, 30 août–2 septembre 2006. Edited by Frédéric Amsler, Albert Frey, Charlotte Touati, and Renée Girardet. PIRSB 6. Prahins: Éditions du Zèbre, 2008. Kerényi, Karl. Die griechisch-orientalische Romanliteratur in religionsgeschichtlicher Beleuchtung. 3rd ed. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1973. Klauck, Hans-Josef. Allegorie und Allegorese in synoptischen Gleichnistexten. NTAbh n.f. 13. Münster: Aschendorff, 1978. – . The Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles: An Introduction. Translated by Brian McNeil. Waco, Texas: Baylor University Press, 2008. Klijn, A. F. J. “The Pseudo-Clementines and the Apostolic Decree.” NovT 10 (1968): 305– 312. Kline, Leslie. The Sayings of Jesus in the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies. SBLDS 14. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1975. Lanzillotta, Lautaro Roig. “Orphic Cosmogonies in the Pseudo-Clementines? Textual Relationship, Character and Sources of Homilies 6.3–13 and Recognitions 10.17–19.30.”

3. Modern Authors

185

Pages 115–141 in The Pseudo-Clementines. Edited by Jan N. Bremmer. SECA 10. Leuven: Peeters, 2010. Lieu, Judith. “The Race of the God-Fearers.” JTS 46 (1995): 483–501. Lightfoot, Joseph Barber. The Apostolic Fathers, 1.1. 2nd ed. New York: Macmillan, 1890. Liverani, Paolo. “Pietro turista: la visita ad Arado secondo le Pseudo-Clementine.” Pages 136–145 in Contributo delle scienze storiche allo studio del Nuovo Testamento. Edited by Enrico Dal Covolo and Roberto Fusco. Vatican City: Libreria editrice vaticana, 2005. Lüdemann, Gerd. Opposition to Paul in Jewish Christianity. Translated by M. Eugene Boring. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989. Luz, Ulrich. Matthew 8–20. Edited by Helmut Koester. Translated by James E. Crouch. Hermeneia: A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001. – . Matt 21–28: A Commentary. Edited by Helmut Koester. Translated by James E. Crouch. Hermeneia: A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005. Marx-Wolf, Heidi. Spiritual Taxonomies and Ritual Authority: Platonists, Priests, and Gnostics in the Third Century C. E. Divinations. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016. Nesterova, Olga. “L’attitude à l’égard de l’allégorie païenne chez les auteurs du corpus pseudo-clémentin.” Pages 397–408 in Nouvelles intrigues pseudo-clémentines: Actes du deuxième colloque international sur la littérature apocryphe chrétienne, Lausanne – Genève, 30 août–2 septembre 2006. Edited by Frédéric Amsler, Albert Frey, Charlotte Touati, and Renée Girardet. PIRSB 6. Prahins: Éditions du Zèbre, 2008. Nicklas, Tobias. “Simon Magos: Erschaffung eines Luftmenschen (pseudo-Clemens Hom II, 26; Rec II, 15).” Pages 409–424 in Nouvelles intrigues pseudo-clémentines: Actes du deuxième colloque international sur la littérature apocryphe chrétienne, Lausanne – Genève, 30 août–2 septembre 2006. Edited by Frédéric Amsler, Albert Frey, Charlotte Touati, and Renée Girardet. PIRSB 6. Prahins: Éditions du Zèbre, 2008. Olmstead, Wesley G. Matthew’s Trilogy of Parables: The Nation, the Nations and the Reader in Matthew 21:28–22:14. SNTSMS 127. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Perry, Ben Edward. The Ancient Romances. Sather Classical Lectures 37. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967. Pervo, Richard I. Acts: A Commentary. Edited by Harold W. Attridge. Hermeneia: A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2008. – . “The Ancient Novel Becomes Christian.” Pages 685–711 in The Novel in the Ancient World. Rev. ed. Edited by Gareth Schmeling. Boston: Brill, 2003. Pesthy, Monika. “Duae Viae in the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies.” Pages 157–169 in The Pseudo-Clementines. Edited by Jan N. Bremmer. SECA 10. Leuven: Peeters, 2010. Petersen, Norman R. “When Is the End Not the End? Reflections on the Ending of Mark’s Narrative,” Int 34 (1980): 151–166. Phelan, James. Experiencing Fiction: Judgments, Progressions, and the Rhetorical Theory of Narrative. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2007. – . Living to Tell about It: A Rhetoric and Ethics of Character Narration. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2005. – . Narrative as Rhetoric: Technique, Audiences, Ethics, Ideology. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1996.

186

Bibliography

Pouderon, Bernhard. “Aux origenes du roman pseudo-clémentin: lecture critique de récents travaux.” Pages 285–316 in idem, La genèse du roman pseudo-clémentin: Études littéraires et historiques. CREJ 53. Leuven: Peeters, 2012. – . “Dédoublement et création romanesque dans le roman pseudo-clémentin.” Pages 3–19 in idem, La genèse du roman pseudo-clémentin: Études littéraires et historiques. CREJ 53. Leuven: Peeters, 2012. – . “L’énigme Flavius Clemens, consul et martyr sous Domitien, ou: le personage historique et ses doubles littéraires.” Ktèma 26 (2001): 307–319. – . “Flavius Clemens et le proto-Clément juif du Roman pseudo-clémentin.” Apocrypha 7 (1996): 63–79. – . “La genèse du roman clémentin et sa signification théologique” Pages 317–337 in idem, La genèse du roman pseudo-clémentin: Études littéraires et historiques. CREJ 53. Leuven: Peeters, 2012. – . La genèse du roman pseudo-clémentin: Études littéraires et historiques. CREJ 53. Leuven: Peeters, 2012. – . “Aux origines du Roman pseudo-clémentin. Prototype païen, refonte judéo hellénistique, remaniement chrétien.” Pages 21–46 in idem, La genèse du roman pseudo-clémentin: Études littéraires et historiques. CREJ 53. Leuven: Peeters, 2012. Preuschen, Erwin, ed. Antilegomena: die Reste der ausserkanonischen Evangelien und urchristlichen Überlieferungen. 2nd ed. Gieszen: Töpelmann, 1905. Räisänen, Heikki. The “Messianic Secret” in Mark. Translated by Christopher Tuckett. SNTW. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1990. Reed, Annette Yoshiko. “‘Jewish Christianity’ after the ‘Parting of the Ways’: Approaches to Historiography and Self-Definition in the Pseudo-Clementines.” Pages 189–231 in The Ways that Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages. TSAJ 95. Edited by Adam H. Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003. Repr., Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007. – . “‘Jewish Christianity’ as Counter-history? The Apostolic Past in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History and the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies.” Pages 1–40 in Antiquity in Antiquity: Jewish and Christian Pasts in the Greco-Roman World. Edited by Gregg Gardner and Kevin L. Osterloh. TSAJ 123. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008. Rehm, Bernhard. “Zur Entstehung der pseudoclementinischen Schriften,” ZNW 37 (1938): 77–184. Resch, Alfred. Agrapha: Außercanonische Schriftfragmente. TUGAL 30. Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1906. Robins, William. “Romance and Renunciation at the Turn of the Fifth Century,” JECS 8 (2000): 531–557. Romm, James. “Travel.” Pages 109–126 in The Cambridge Companion to the Greek and Roman Novel. Edited by Tim Whitmarsh. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Shuve, Karl Evan. “The Doctrine of the False Pericopes and Other Late Antique Approaches to the Problem of Scripture’s Unity.” Pages 437–445 in Nouvelles intrigues pseudo clémentines: Actes du deuxième colloque international sur la littérature apocryphe chrétienne, Lausanne – Genève, 30 août–2 septembre 2006. Edited by Frédéric Amsler, Albert Frey, Charlotte Touati, and Renée Girardet. PIRSB 6. Prahins: Éditions du Zèbre, 2008. Snowden, Joe Rodney. “The Redactors of the ‘Pseudo-Clementines’ in the Tripolis Discourses.” PhD diss., Harvard University, 1990.

3. Modern Authors

187

Stanton, Graham. “Jewish Christian Elements in the Pseudo-Clementine Writings.” Pages 305–324 in Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries. Edited by Oskar Skarsaune and Reidar Hvalvik. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2007. Strecker, Georg. Judenchristentum in den Pseudoklementinen. 2nd ed. TUGAL 70. Berlin: Akademie, 1981. Thomas, Christine M. “Stories Without Texts and Without Authors: The Problem of Fluidit in Ancient Novelistic Texts and Early Christian Literature.” Pages 273–291 in Ancient Fiction and Early Christian Narrative. Edited by Ronald F. Hock, J. Bradley Chance, and Judith Perkins. SBL Symposium Series 6. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998. Tigchelaar, Eibert. “Manna-Eaters and Man-Eaters: Food of Giants and Men in the PseudoClementine, Homilies 8.” Pages 92–114 in The Pseudo-Clementines. Edited by Jan N. Bremmer. SECA 10. Leuven: Peeters, 2010. Trenker, Sophie. The Greek Novella in the Classical Period. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958. Uhlhorn, Gerhard. Die Homilien und Recognitionen des Clemens Romanus nach ihrem Ursprung und Inhalt dargestellt. Göttingen: Dieterich, 1854. Vaccarella, Kevin M. “Shaping Christian Identity: The False Scripture Argument in Early Christian Literature.” PhD diss., The Florida State University, 2007. Verheyden, Joseph. “Presenting Minor Characters in the Pseudo-Clementine Novel: The Case of Barnabas.” Pages 249–257 in Nouvelles intrigues pseudo-clémentines: Actes du deuxième colloque international sur la littérature apocryphe chrétienne, Lausanne – Genève, 30 août–2 septembre 2006. Edited by Frédéric Amsler, Albert Frey, Charlotte Touati, and Renée Girardet. PIRSB 6. Prahins: Éditions du Zèbre, 2008. Vielberg, Meinolf. “Centre and Periphery in the Ancient and the Christian Novel: A Comparison between the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies and Recognitions.” Pages 255–284 in The Pseudo-Clementines. Edited by Jan N. Bremmer. SECA 10. Leuven: Peeters, 2010. – . “L’explication du mal et la naissance du polythéisme dans le roman pseudo clémentin.” Pages 47–67 in “Soyez des changeurs avisés”: Controverses exégétiquesdans la littérature apocryphe chrétienne. Edited by Gabriella Aragione and Rémi Gounelle. Cahiers de Biblia Patristica 12. Turnhout: Brepols, 2012. – . Klemens in den pseudoklementinischen Rekognitionen: Studien zur literarischen Form des spätantiken Romans. TUGAL 145. Berlin: Akademie, 2000. Wehnert, Jürgen. “Das Geheimnis der Siebenzahl: Spekulationen über die unendliche Gestalt Gottes in den pseudoklementinischen Homilien, Buch 16 und 17.” Pages 461– 467 in Nouvelles intrigues pseudo-clémentines: Actes du deuxième colloque international sur la littérature apocryphe chrétienne, Lausanne – Genève, 30 août – 2 septembre 2006. Edited by Frédéric Amsler, Albert Frey, Charlotte Touati, and Renée Girardet. PIRSB 6. Prahins: Éditions du Zèbre, 2008. – . “Literarkritik und Sprachanalyse: kritische Anmerkungen zum gegenwärtigen Stand der Pseudoklementinen-Forschung.” ZNW 74 (1983): 268–301. – . “Petrus versus Paulus in den pseudoklementinischen Homilien 17.” Pages 175–185 in Christians as a Religious Minority in a Multicultural City: Modes of Interaction and Identity Formation in Early Imperial Rome. Edited by Jürgen Zangenberg and Michael Labahn. JSNTSup 243. London: T & T Clark International, 2004. – . “Taufvorstellungen in den Pseudoklementinen.” Pages 1071–1114 (vol. 2) in Ablution, Initiation, and Baptism: Late Antiquity, Early Judaism, and Early Christianity. Edited by

188

Bibliography

David Hellholm, Tor Vegge, Øyvind Norderval and Christer Hellholm. 3 vols. BZNW 176. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011. Winter, Paul. “Matthew XI 27 and Luke X 22 from the First to the Fifth Century: Reflections on the Development of the Text,” NovT 1 (1956): 112–148. Ziegler, Ignaz. Die Königsgleichnisse des Midrasch, beleuchtet durch die römische Kaiserzeit. Breslau: Schottlaender, 1903.

Index of References Old Testament 30:10 LXX 40:5, 11 LXX 53:6 LXX 77:2 LXX 85:3 LXX 93:18 LXX

147 147 147 168 147 147

Isaiah 1:3 1:4 40:26–27

170 170 170

108

Jeremiah 47:4

151

172 103 132 172

Daniel 12:4

36

Joel 3:4

151

Zechariah 9:1–4

151

4 Esdras 1:11

151

Genesis 1:1 1:1–2 1:26 1:26–27 4 4:21–22 6:4 49:9 49:10 49:11–12

46 44 46 44 47 50 110 85 77, 84, 85 85

Exodus 19:9 Leviticus 15:19–24 19:18 20:10 20:18 Deuteronomy 18:21–22 25:5 32:7 32:39 LXX

58 91 70 55

Psalms 6:3 LXX 8:3 LXX 9:14 LXX

147 108 147

1 Enoch 15–16

110, 111

98, 112 113 114 29, 89 89 19 29 114 125

5:31–32 5:34–35 5:39 5:39–41 5:43 5:43–48 6:8 6:32 7:2 7:12

147 91 156 155 103 73 91 91 169 103

New Testament Matthew 4:1–11 4:8–9 4:11 5:17 5:18 5:17–19 5:18 5:21–48 5:22

190 7:13–14 7:21 8:5–13 8:10 8:11 8:26 9:2 9:22 9:28–29 10:5–6 11:12 11:21 11:21–22 11:25 11:27 13:10–15 13:11 13:17 13:24–30 13:35 13:36 13:40 13:42 13:47–50 13:50 13:51 13:52 14:15 14:20 14:31 15 15:1–14 15:1–20 15:12–14 15:13 15:21 15:21–28 15:22 15:23 15:24 15:25 15:26 15:27 15:28 15:29 16:8 16:13–20 16:16 16:17 16:19 17:14–20 17:20 18:10 18:18 18:27 19:3

Index of References 104 110 152 152 107 152 152 152 152 152 112 98 151 108, 166, 167 26, 164 32 32 69 123 168 32 125 125 123 125 32, 33 110 147 151 152 25 90 152 152 89 145, 147 142 144, 147 147, 148 147 147 152 151 152, 155 152 152 45, 151 45 31, 45 39 18, 19 13, 18, 19, 152 33 39 147 147

19:3–9 19:4 19:8 19:13–15 19:16–22 19:19 20:16 21:16 21:21 21:21–22 21:28–32 21:33–41 21:45 21:46 22:1 22:1–14 22:3 22:3–7 22:5 22:6 22:7 22:9 22:14 22:15–22 22:23–32 22:29 22:39 22:41–46 23:1–3 23:2 23:13 24:4–36 25:1–13 25:14–30 25:31–46 25:41 27:15–26 28:19–20

147 91 91 148 165 103 107 108 13, 18 152 119 119 119 119 119 98, 118 119, 120, 122 120 119 119, 122 119, 122 121 107 88 91 87, 171 103 167 89 71, 73 71, 169 59 123 65 123 125 147 33, 121

Mark 1:4 1:14–8:26 1:15–4:34 3:31–35 5:1 5:21–24 5:25–34 5:35–43 6:7–13 6:35–44 6:42–43 6:52 7 7:5 7:15

123 149 150 9 150 150 150 150 150 150, 151 150 150 25 150 150

191

Index of References 7:18–19 7:19 7:24 7:24–30 7:26 7:27 7:28 7:29 7:31 7:31–37 8:22–26 8:27–30 8:27–10:52 8:31 9:30–31 10:17–22 10:32–34 11:1–15:47 12:13–17 12:24 12:35–37 13:5–37 14:18 14:27 14:28 14:30 14:66–72 Luke 3:3 4:1–13 4:5–7 4:13 4:16–21 6:27–28 6:29 6:38 6:46 9:18–21 10:13 10:21 10:22 10:24 11:52 13:28–29 13:29 14:16–24 14:18–19

150 150, 152, 155 145, 150 142 144 151, 152 151 151, 152 150 151 151 31, 45, 151 149 58 58 165 58 149 88 87 167 59 59 59 59 59 59

123 98, 112 113 114 75 73 155 169 108, 109 31 98 108, 166, 167 26, 164 69 71, 169 107 107 121 122

16:23 18:18–23 20:41–44 21:8–36 23:34

107 165 167 59 9

John 3:5 8:11 9:1–7 10:7–9

126 132 172 71

Acts 2:38 8:36 9:1–19 9:27 11:25–26 13–15 15:19–20 15:23–29 15:28–29 15:29 15:36–39

123 136 31 16 16 16 30 101 101 30 16

Romans 6:3–11

10

1 Corinthians 8 9:6

150 16

Galatians 1:11–17 2 2:1 2:9 2:11 2:11–14 2:13 2:14 3:28

31 27 16 16 31 28, 29, 41 16 29 14

1 Timothy 2:9–10 5

132 91

2.2 3.1–4 4.3

37 37 37

Pseudo-Clementines Diamartyria 2–4 2.1

37 37

192

Index of References

5.1 5.2–3 5.4

37 38 36, 118

Epistula Clementis 1.1 1.2–3 1.2–5 1.7–8 2.2 2.4 3.1–2 3.3–4 5–18 6.3 7–8 7.1 7.5 8 9.1–2 10.4–6 11.2 13.3–14.1 13.3–15.5 14.2–5 15.1–5 17.1 19.1 19.1–3

39, 107, 118 8 39 20 73 39 73 39 39 39 129 51 120 91 101 61 61 40 71 40 40 73 39 73

Epistula Petri 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.3–4 1.3–5 1.4 1.5 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7 3.1 3.1–2

39, 118 5, 34, 36, 62, 73 17, 35 34, 35 73 35 34, 35 34, 36, 63 29, 79 28 28, 29 29 29 5, 29 5 73

Klementia 1–3 1–11 1.1–3 1.1–4 1.1.1 1.2.1–2

93 20, 94 68 60 20, 39 20

1.3.5 1.4.4–7 1.5 1.6–7 1.7 1.7–8 1.9–10 1.9–14 1.9.1 1.9.2 1.10 1.10.1 1.10.1–3 1.11–12 1.11.4–8 1.11.8 1.11.9–12.2 1.11.10–12.2 1.13.2 1.13.4 1.14.1 1.15.2 1.16.3 1.18–19 1.19 1.19.1–2 1.19.4 1.19.5–7 1.20.4 1.22.1 1.22.5 2 2–3 2–11 2.2.3 2.4.1 2.4.3 2.6.1 2.6.2–3 2.6.4 2.10 2.12 2.12.1–2 2.12.3 2.15–17 2.15–18 2.15.1 2.15.2 2.15.2–5 2.15.3 2.15.4 2.16–17 2.16.1 2.16.3 2.16.3–17.5 2.16.5

20 60 60 58 20 121 58 9 107 16 121 16, 123 16 72 16 122 111, 121 122 123 17 17 20, 29 17 68 58, 77 68 60 59 61 105 21, 105 25 24, 35, 47, 88 21 136 58 58 60 69 88, 103 79 64 69 60 77 67 46 48, 51, 53 48 48 77 45, 46, 75 46 46 78 120

193

Index of References 2.17.3 2.18.1 2.18.3–4 2.19–21 2.19.1–21.2 2.19.2 2.19.3 2.19.4 2.20.1–3 2.22–32 2.22.3 2.23.1 2.26 2.28–31 2.29 2.29.1 2.30.1 2.32.2 2.33 2.33.1 2.33.3 2.33.2–4 2.35 2.37.3 2.38 2.38–52 2.38.1 2.38.2 2.39 2.39.4 2.40.3 2.40.4 2.41.3–42.2 2.42 2.42.1 2.43–44 2.47.2 2.49–50 2.50.2 2.50.2b 2.50.3 2.51 2.51.1 2.52 2.52.1 2.52.2 3 3.2–3 3.2.2–3 3.3.1 3.3.2 3.3.3 3.4.4 3.5 3.5.2–4 3.6–8

46 45 145 142, 175 142, 143, 144 149, 152 154 154 154 100, 145 16 77 61 61 61 61 61 117 46 45 120 82 83 63 62, 129 67 62, 79 63, 64 86, 162 86 63 63 162 129 63, 64, 88 63, 64, 168 86 168 87 88 80 64 65 64, 75 76 46, 67, 76, 91 25, 48, 77 86 166 100 82 63 100 54, 62 153 129

3.8.1 3.10.4 3.11.2 3.13.1 3.13.2 3.15.1 3.16 3.16.1 3.16.2 3.17 3.17–21 3.17.1 3.17.2 3.17.28 3.18–19 3.18.1 3.18.2 3.18.2–3 3.18.3 3.19.1 3.19.2 3.19.3–4 3.20–28 3.20.1 3.20.1–2 3.20.2 3.21.1 3.22–23 3.22–27 3.22–28 3.22.1 3.22.1–3 3.23.1–4 3.24 3.24.1 3.24.2 3.24.3 3.24.4 3.25.1 3.25.3 3.25.4 3.26 3.26.1–6 3.27 3.27–28 3.27.2 3.27.3 3.28.1–3 3.29.1 3.29.3–4 3.29.5 3.30–37 3.30.1 3.32.1 3.37 3.38

129 88, 129, 164 60 59 60 59 42 75, 82 43, 68 67, 69 47 46, 67, 68, 75 69, 70 79 67, 68 70 70, 71 168 71 9, 72, 75 9, 73 51 47 46, 47, 68, 75 74, 75 75, 76, 79 67, 68, 69 67 77 47 47 48 49 137 49, 50 49 50 49, 50 50 50 50 50, 101 50, 51 67 51, 77 51 51 52 49, 52, 68 105 99 83 99 89 83 83

194 3.38–45 3.39 3.42–43 3.44 3.44.1 3.45 3.45.4 3.46 3.47–57 3.47.1 3.47.1–4 3.48–57 3.48.1 3.48.2 3.49.1 3.49.1–2 3.49.3 3.50–57 3.50.1 3.50.2 3.51.1 3.51.2 3.51.3 3.52–56 3.52.2 3.52.2–53.3 3.54.1 3.54.2 3.55–57 3.55.3 3.56.3 3.58 3.59 3.59.2 3.60.1 3.61.1–2 3.62 3.63 3.63.1 3.68 3.68.1 3.68.2 3.70.2 3.73 3.73–4.1 3.73.1 3.73.2–4.1.1 4–6 4.7.1 4.7.2 4.7.2–3 4.8.5 4.9 4.11.1 4.12

Index of References 163 83, 163 80 168 80 51 43, 83 43 62 62 80, 81 57 84, 90 84 90 84 66, 85 66, 155, 175 87, 171 64, 87 89 89 89 51 71, 90 90 90 91 91 91 91 66 93 99 73 65 49 39 73 20, 129 51 51, 136 73 131 145 105 142 13, 16, 20, 21, 25, 70, 93, 94, 95, 96, 142 94 16, 20, 94 94 96 94 95 171

4.12.1–2 4.14.1 4.18–19 4.18.1–3 4.19.2–3 4.21.2–4 4.21.4 4.24.3 4.24.3–4 4.24.4 5 5.1.1 5.2.4 5.3.1 5.10–19 5.25.1 5.26.3–4 5.27.1 5.28.2 5.29.1 6.2.1 6.2.12 6.11–16 6.17–18 6.18.4 6.20–25 6.20.1 6.26 6.26.1 7 7–8 7–11 7.1.2 7.2–4 7.2.3 7.3 7.3.1 7.3.2–5 7.3.4 7.3.4–5 7.4 7.4.1 7.4.2 7.4.3 7.4.3–5 7.4.5 7.4.5a 7.5.1–2 7.5.1–3 7.6–8 7.6.2–7.7.6 7.7.7 7.8.1 7.8.1–2

96 95 71, 97 97 136 132 136 96 70 96 94, 95 94 95 95 95 97 95 95 96, 162 95 96 96 96 164 96 97 97 97 97 21, 25, 54, 93, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 103, 105, 118, 120 102 93 99 98 46, 99, 100 21, 111 99 100, 101 99 43 88 99 101, 158 102 102, 103 99 88 98 105 98 104 105 101, 158 105

195

Index of References 7.11 8 8–9 8–11 8.1.1 8.2.1 8.3.2 8.4–7 8.4.1 8.4.1–4 8.5–7 8.5.1 8.5.2 8.5.4 8.6.4 8.6.5 8.7 8.7.1–2 8.7.3 8.7.4 8.7.5 8.8.4 8.10 8.10–17 8.10.1–3 8.10.2–3 8.12–20 8.14.1–2 8.15–17 8.18–20 8.18–23 8.18.1–2 8.19 8.19.1 8.19.2–3 8.20 8.20.1 8.20.2 8.20.4 8.21 8.21.1 8.21.1–2 8.21.3–22.1 8.21.4 8.22–23 8.22.1–2 8.22.2 8.22.2–23.3 8.22.3 8.22.4 8.23 8.23.1 8.23.2 8.24 9–11 9.1.1

100 25, 98, 118, 121, 123, 170 106 11, 25, 93, 97, 111, 135 106, 107 11 106 106, 107 60, 106 106, 107 73 107, 108 108 88, 108 168 109 21, 109 109 109 110 110 11, 106, 124 77, 101 110 81 77 120 125 101 110 98 14, 111 101, 111 111, 137, 158 111 111 111 111 113 112 112 112, 113 113, 114 114 102, 119 115 125 127 120, 125 120, 121, 123, 124 124 123, 124, 125 120, 125 98 126 111

9.3 9.9 9.9–10 9.9.1–5 9.9.2 9.9.4–5 9.9.5 9.10 9.10.3 9.19.2 10–11 10.2 10.3.2 10.21.4 10.26.3 11 11.9 11.14–15 11.15 11.15.8 11.16 11.16.1 11.16.2 11.16.2–4a 11.16.4 11.16.4b-6 11.20.4 11.21–22 11.21.22 11.22.1 11.22.2 11.22.3 11.24.2 11.26.1–2 11.26.3–4 11.26.4 11.28–30 11.28–33 11.28.4–11.29.2 11.31.1 11.32.1 11.35 11.35.2–4 11.35.3–6 11.35.4 12 12–13 12–15 12–20 12.1 12.3 12.3.3 12.4–7 12.4.1 12.5 12.5.5–7

111 101 102 125 102 137 126 102 136 51, 82 106 71, 170 11 136 107 21, 30, 117 51 18 51 11 15, 17, 18, 47, 54, 55 11 17 11 13 19 9 44 43, 44 44 79 44 126 126 137 126, 137 101 51 73 114 114 130 116 60 29, 107, 116 126, 130 130, 132 25, 159 21 22 22 158 130 131 9 131

196 12.6 12.6.4–6 12.6.7 12.6.1–3 12.8–10 12.9.1 12.10.2 12.10.3–4 12.11–12 12.12–21 12.12.1 12.12.2 12.12.3 12.13 12.13.1–5 12.13.5 12.14.4–15.1 12.17.3 12.18.4 12.19.4 12.23 12.23.4–8 12.23.6 12.23.8 12.24.3 12.24.3–4 12.32.5 13 13.2–8 13.4 13.4.2 13.4.3 13.4.3b 13.5.1 13.7.3 13.7.4 13.9.3 13.11–12 13.13–14 13.13–21 13.13.3 13.14.1 13.14.3 13.15–17 13.15–19 13.15.1 13.15.3 13.16.1–3 13.16.4 13.17 13.18.1 13.18.3–4 13.19 13.20.4 13.21.2–3 14

Index of References 22 158 159 158 22, 131 131 131 131 138 22, 137 138, 139 140 138 132 140 139 139, 141 139 139 139 139 141 141 139 159 141 103 124 22 135 135 101, 137 135 136, 141 13, 16, 142, 154 13 136 136 132 51 132 136 132 132 20, 130 132 132 132, 133 133 133 133 133 51, 132 133 133 130, 155

14.1–2 14.1–4 14.2.2 14.2–10 14.10.2–4 15 15.4 15.4.6 15.5–9 15.5.4–5 15.6.2 15.6.3 15.7.1 15.7.2–3 15.7.3b-4 15.7.4 15.7.6–8.1 15.9.3 15.10.5 16 16–19 16.1–14 16.1–19.25 16.1.2 16.2.4 16.3.3 16.6–7 16.6–8 16.9.4 16.10.1 16.10.2 16.10.3–4 16.12 16.12–14 16.12.1–2 16.12.2 16.19.1 16.21.3–4 16.21.5 17 17.3.1–3 17.4 17.4.3 17.6.3–6 17.7 17.7.4 17.7–12 17.7.1 17.7.2 17.10.4–5 17.13 17.13–19 17.18 17.18.2 17.18.3 17.19.2

125 10 157 22 157 100 138 171 175 155 156 156 156 156 157 155, 157 157 157 155 163 26, 53, 161, 173 162 23 161 163 163 163 168 163 163, 164 163 164 47 168 44 45 164 60 100 30, 31, 164, 166 61 75, 79 76, 164 32 33 164 33 33, 121 33 129 30 30, 31 45 45 45 32

197

Index of References 17.19.6 18 18.1–3 18.1.3 18.2.5–6 18.3.1–2 18.3.2 18.3.4 18.3.5 18.4 18.4–12 18.4.2 18.4.3 18.4.3–4 18.4.5 18.6.1 18.6.3 18.7 18.9.3 18.11.3 18.12 18.12.5 18.13 18.13–14 18.13.1 18.13.1–5 18.13.2 18.13.5–14.1 18.13.6–14.2 18.14 18.15.1 18.15.4 18.15.5 18.15.6–7 18.15.7–16.1 18.16.1–4 18.17.1 18.17.1–2 18.17.2–4 18.18.1 18.19.1–3 18.19.2 18.20.1 18.20.2 18.20.4 18.21 18.22.3–5 19 19.2–19 19.3 19.12 19.14 19.20 19.20.1–2 19.20.6–7 19.20.9

31 26, 164, 165, 166, 168 165 165 165 165 81 165 165 166 166 165 166, 168 107 166 166 166 79 166 165 166 166 75, 79, 166 77, 123 165 166, 167 81 167 75, 76 72 166, 167 168 168 168 170 169 168 169, 170 170 168 171 171 165 171 64 171 129, 130 26, 54 53 54, 171 171 112 53, 171 32 172 172

19.21 19.22 19.22.2–4 19.22.7 19.23.3 19.25.1 20 20.1 20.1–10 20.1.3 20.2–3 20.2–10 20.2.1 20.2.2 20.2.3 20.2.4 20.2.5 20.2.5–3.6 20.2.6 20.3.1 20.3.2 20.3.3c 20.3.4b-6 20.3.6 20.3.7 20.3.8–9 20.3.9 20.3.9b 20.8.1–2 20.8.4 20.10.1 20.22.2 20.23.2 20.23.3 20.23.5

54 172 172 172 48 173 98 53, 173 23 173 42, 47, 93, 100, 112, 154, 157, 176 52, 161 53, 171 53, 100, 112 53, 54 54, 103 54, 112 153 54 55, 112 55, 114 54 55 46, 54 54 172 54 53 54 54 177 13 161 23 161

Recognition 1.9.8 1.15–16 1.49 1.50 2.3–6 2.5–6 2.47 2.47.3 3.61 3.72 4–6 4.7 4.15–16 4.15.1 4.23.3 4.34 4.34.2

122 68 77 85 145 146 75, 76 165 75 131 93, 97, 111 124 102 102 118 112 112, 113

198 4.34.5–35.2a 4.35.1 4.35.3–4 5.10–12 6.6–7 6.7.1 7.12.3 7.13.1

Index of References 115 116 117 85 44 44 138 140

7.17.3 7.29 7.32.2 7.32.2–3 7.34.1 7.36–37 9.32.5

134 135 134 142 134 136 130

Modern Authors Adler, W. 94, 95 Allison, D. 147, 151, 152 Amersfoort, J. 94 Amsler, F. 7, 86 Appelbaum, A. 155 Bauckham, R. 29, 117 Baumgarten, A. 15, 34, 35 Bautch, K. Coblentz 109 Bazzana, G. 2, 7, 66 Betz, H. D. 14, 28, 102, 103 Birdsall, J. N. 7 Bockmuehl, M. 28, 31, 42 Boustan, R. 9 Bovon, F. 5, 9, 14, 15, 27, 36 Brakke, D. 9 Bremmer, J. 60, 94 Bultmann, R. 32 Bussell, F. W. 42 Calvet-Sébasti, M.-A. 139 Carleton Paget, J. 13, 93, 94, 96, 142 Carlson, D. 7, 35, 79, 88, 94, 97 Cha, J.-S. 37 Chapman, J. 37, 38 Cirillo, L. 74 Clark, E. 108 Collins, A. Y. 58, 102, 144, 150 Collins, J. J. 36 Cooper, K. 3, 133, 134, 137, 141 Côté, D. 2, 17, 42, 94, 162 Crossan, J. D. 32, 119 Cullmann, O. 3, 76, 77 Daniélou, J. 40 Davies, W. D. 147, 151, 152 Davison, C. Cullen 138 Drijvers, H. J. W. 7, 74, 79, 162 Duncan, P. 106 Edwards, M. J. 1, 12 Ehrman, B. 8, 34 Geoltrain, P. 15, 35, 138 Gieschen, C. 75, 76, 77, 78 Hägg, T. 3 Hansen, D. 130, 131, 158

Harnack, A. 14 Heine, R. 84 Hirshman, M. 34 Holzberg, N. 3 Horn, C. 135 Hutt, C. 65, 66 Irmscher, J.

5

Jones, F. S. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10, 14, 19, 38, 66, 130, 158, 162 Kaestli, J.-D. 15, 35, 138 Kelley, N. 1, 31, 172 Kerényi, K. 131 Klauck, H.-J. 28, 29, 94, 144 Klijn, A. F. J. 30, 101, 137 Kline, L. 7, 85, 88, 107, 142, 164, 165 Lanzillotta, L. R. 94 Lieu, J. 14, 17 Lightfoot, J. B. 38 Liverani, P. 138 Lüdemann, G. 30 Luz, U. 18, 90, 123, 146, 148, 152 Marx-Wolf, H.

153, 154

Nesterova, O. 94 Nicklas, T. 61 Olmstead, W.

119

Perry, B. E. 3 Pervo, R. 4, 16 Pesthy, M. 104 Petersen, N. 59 Phelan, J. 6 Pouderon, B. 5, 13, 38, 96 Preuschen, E. 88 Räisänen, H. 146 Reardon, B. 139 Reed, A. Y. 9, 15, 108, 118 Rehm, B. 12, 98, 112, 115, 124, 125, 138, 143, 168 Resch, A. 65 Robins, W. 140

200 Romm, J.

Modern Authors 40 Uhlhorn, G.

Shuve, K. 7, 34, 35, 36, 62 Snowden, J. R. 97, 98, 117, 118 Stanton, G. 1, 5, 12, 30, 31 Strecker, G. 5, 7, 12, 18, 30, 40, 42, 62, 67, 71, 73, 74, 79, 88, 107, 112, 115, 124, 125, 138, 143, 168, 170 Thomas, C. 4 Tigchelaar, E. 98, 102, 110 Trenker, S. 3

62

Vaccarella, K. 7, 62 Verheyden, J. 9, 17 Vielberg, M. 1, 40, 171 Wehnert, J. 5, 6, 9, 20, 28, 30, 35, 67, 79, 105, 114, 161, 163, 168 Winter, P. 164 Ziegler, I.

156

Index of Subjects Aaron 77, 82, 168 Abel 45, 46, 50, 78, 80 Abraham 64, 75, 76, 78, 91, 107, 120, 165, 167, 168 Adam 24, 25, 46, 47, 51, 56, 64, 67, 68, 69, 70, 72, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 92, 101, 137, 165, 167, 176 Adultery 20, 50, 51, 52, 94, 95, 102, 111, 114, 125, 132, 133, 136 Agraphon 57, 65, 66, 85, 87, 88, 89 Alexandria 9, 16, 20, 40, 58, 94, 121 Allegory 47, 49, 70, 71 96, 97, 119, 121 Angel 14, 33, 76, 77, 110, 111, 166 Animal 16, 43, 68, 80, 144, 147, 149, 151, 152, 153, 154, 163 -bird 43 -dog 144, 149, 151, 152, 154 -elephant 16 -gnat 16 -serpent 82, 163 -sheep 147 Antichrist 45, 78 Antioch 16, 23, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 39, 40, 41, 52, 56, 101, 135, 161, 173, 176 Anti-Paulinism 8, 30, 31 Apelles 66 Aphrodite 139, 140, 141 Apocryphal Acts 126, 134 Apology 28, 33, 40, 68, 122, 123, 138, 148, 152, 154, 158 Apostolic Decree 30, 101 Appion 20, 21, 25, 70, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97 Aquila 13, 16, 21, 22, 23, 25, 61, 131, 132, 135, 145, 146, 154 Arados 22, 25, 131, 134, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 176 Asceticism 100 Astrology 10, 19, 22, 130 Athens 22 Autobiography 1, 6, 9 Baptism 10, 21, 22, 25, 105, 116, 118, 123, 124, 125, 126, 130, 132, 133, 136, 137 Barbarian 16, 21, 94 Bardaisan 74 Barnabas 9, 16, 17, 20, 28, 58, 107, 121, 122, 123 Basil the Great 63

Beauty 20, 54, 129, 132, 140 Berytus 40, 106, 107, 120 Bildungsroman 20, 21, 22, 25, 93, 126 Bishop 3, 13, 20, 21, 29, 37, 38, 39, 40, 65, 73, 83 Blasphemy 25, 62, 63, 168, 175 Blood 9, 10, 49, 50, 51, 72, 101, 137 Body 10, 52, 54, 61, 99, 101, 102, 104, 111, 115, 125, 126, 129, 133, 163 Boundary 11, 12, 26, 40, 49, 53, 54, 93, 102, 104, 111, 126, 134, 138, 142, 149, 153, 157, 159, 176 Bread 10, 149, 150, 151, 152, 154, 157, 158 Bride /Bridegroom 51, 52, 77, 120, 132 Byblus 40, 106, 107, 120 Caesarea 17, 20, 21, 24, 25, 40, 59, 65, 66, 67, 73, 82, 83, 89, 92, 93, 99, 105, 131, 134, 146, 163 Cain 45, 46, 50, 78 Callirhoe 25, 138, 139, 140, 141, 176 Cephas 28, 31 Chastity (s¯ophrosyne) 4, 50, 51, 95, 97, 130, 132, 133, 135, 136 Christology 10, 46, 47, 57, 58, 60, 72, 74, 75, 76, 77, 79, 120 Church Order 39, 61, 129 Circumcision 28, 30, 36 Codex O 1, 112, 124, 143 Codex P 1, 2, 112, 124, 143 Commandment 10, 12, 19, 50, 73, 101, 103, 108, 109, 110, 112, 116, 121, 123, 124, 126, 165 Concealment 26, 41, 45, 96, 106, 108, 109, 110, 168, 169 Conversion 1, 11, 12, 13, 21, 25, 55, 82, 96, 99, 124, 126, 130, 133, 134, 135, 136, 142, 154, 159, 176 Corruption 25, 34, 35, 57, 63, 64, 81, 88, 111, 171, 176 David 147, 167, 168 Death of Jesus 8, 9, 10, 24, 59, 60, 72, 101, 176 Death of Peter 9, 39, 41 Demon 11, 14, 18, 19, 21, 25, 30, 61, 82, 96, 99, 100, 101, 102, 106, 111, 113, 115, 118,

202

Index of Subjects

119, 120, 124, 125, 126, 135, 136, 137, 142, 153, 154, 158, 159, 172, 176 Diamartyria 4, 5, 6, 24, 29, 36, 37, 38, 57, 94, 118, 175 Digression 11, 67, 68, 70, 72, 73, 74, 75, 82, 92, 153, 172 Dowry 49 Dream 22, 23, 131 Dualism 15, 24, 41, 42, 45, 46, 47, 48, 53, 54, 56, 92, 98, 100, 112, 153, 155, 173, 176

107, 109, 112, 113, 118, 119, 121, 123, 132, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 149, 151, 152, 154, 155, 157, 159, 165, 167, 172, 175 Gospel Harmony 7, 71, 142 Greece 12 Greek Novel 1, 3, 17, 25, 39, 139, 140, 158, 176, 177 Grundschrift 2, 5, 7, 10, 14, 19, 44, 74, 79, 93, 97, 98, 102, 106, 110, 112, 113, 114, 116, 117, 118, 130, 139, 142, 145, 146, 165

Ebionite 5, 77, 168 Egypt 60, 82, 107, 120, 121, 122, 139 Elder 29, 34, 36, 37, 70, 71, 91, 108, 109, 116, 150 Elijah 78, 168 Encomium 4, 8, 39, 83, 94, 95, 130, 132, 135 Enoch 75, 76, 78, 110, 165, 167 Epiphanius 77, 168 Epistula Clementis 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 20, 24, 36, 39, 40, 51, 61, 71, 73, 91, 101, 107, 118, 120 Epistula Petri 4, 5, 6, 17, 24, 28, 29, 30, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 39, 40, 57, 62, 73, 135, 175 Eucharist 10, 101 Eusebius 85 Exorcism 102, 136, 137, 142, 150 Eyewitness 8, 31, 33, 36, 39, 83, 87, 92, 107, 119, 121, 145, 146, 149, 155, 162, 167, 175

Hand 31, 34, 38, 39, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 54, 55, 67, 68, 69, 74, 83, 99, 100, 101, 105, 123, 133, 137, 138, 140, 150, 152, 153, 166 Harmony/Harmonia 53, 110, 132, 161, 171, 172, 173 Healing 46, 78, 82, 98, 100, 101, 103, 104, 124, 141, 144, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154 Hearing 6, 31, 62, 63, 64, 86, 175 Hebrew 16, 30, 39, 107, 108, 109, 110, 116, 121, 166 Heliodorus 45 Heracles 104 Herod 85 Hilary 148 Horoscope 23, 130 Hypocrisy 28, 29

False Pericopes 5, 7, 21, 25, 35, 56, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 74, 83, 85, 86, 87, 92, 153, 155, 162, 163, 164, 170, 171, 175 Familienroman 20, 22, 159, 161, 172 Fasting 105, 136 Fate 19, 130 Faustus 23, 52, 129, 131, 138, 155, 156, 157, 159, 163 Fiction 6, 8, 16, 21, 24, 26, 36, 39, 56, 93, 95, 96, 97, 133, 134, 137, 138, 140, 149, 175, 176, 177 Fire 18, 43, 46, 47, 48, 50, 51, 125, 126, 137 Flashback 13, 20, 95, 96, 162 Flavius Clemens 13, 38 Flood 25, 110, 111 Genesis 10, 19, 22, 23, 126 Gentile 9, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 25, 28, 29, 30, 33, 34, 39, 67, 72, 73, 75, 77, 78, 80, 82, 84, 85, 92, 98, 99, 101, 102, 106, 108, 109, 121, 126, 135, 142, 144, 150, 152, 154, 159, 161, 167 Giant 110, 111 Golden Rule 88, 102, 103 Gospel (canonical) 1, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 18, 19, 25, 26, 31, 32, 33, 45, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 66, 69, 72, 83, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 92, 93, 98,

Iamblichus 153 Idol 43, 62, 101, 111, 114, 118, 125, 137 Idolatry 11, 18, 21, 82, 106, 126 Interpolation 25, 62, 98, 110, 111, 120 Irenaeus 85 Isaac 75, 76, 78, 107, 165, 167, 168 Ishmael 78 Israel 14, 15, 18, 99, 107, 144, 145, 147, 150, 151, 152, 154 , 169, 170 Jacob 75, 76, 77, 78, 84, 91, 107, 165, 167, 168, 169 James 6, 16, 27, 28, 29, 30, 33, 34, 36, 37, 38, 39, 107, 115, 116, 117, 118 Jerusalem 6, 16, 29, 30, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 59, 107, 115, 116, 150 Jerome 148, 149 Jewish Christianity 5, 10, 13, 15, 30, 37, 74, 177 Jewish Novel 13, 133 John the Baptist 112, 118, 123 Joseph 176 Josephus 94 Judea 12, 13, 16, 20, 23, 41, 58, 121, 134, 142 Judgment (final) 19, 52, 60, 61, 64, 90, 104, 122, 123 Justa 4, 13, 91, 134, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 153, 154, 159, 172

Index of Subjects Justin Martyr

7, 85

Kerygma 5, 34 Kerygmata Petrou 5, 34, 74 Key 71, 72, 77, 168, 170 Laodicea 53, 131, 163 Law 12, 18, 19, 25, 26, 29, 30, 41, 49, 52, 54, 55, 56, 62, 70, 73, 77, 80, 81, 82, 84, 89, 90, 92, 93, 100, 101, 102, 103, 111, 114, 115, 125, 133, 135, 137, 150, 154, 157, 165, 170, 171, 172 Longus 45 Lovesickness 20, 94, 95 Magic 23, 52, 61, 100, 111, 146 Marcion 17, 18, 66, 74, 79, 162 Maroones 11, 21, 106 Marriage 12, 20, 51, 91, 119, 120, 121, 126, 129, 132, 133, 139, 144 Mattidia 22, 23, 25, 124, 125, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 139, 140, 141, 142, 159, 172, 176 Mercy 9, 25, 72, 75, 92, 132, 148 Micah 54 Mission 9, 12, 16, 21, 36, 41, 72, 73, 82, 123, 152 Moderation 102 Monarchia 15, 26, 34, 49, 83, 162, 170, 172, 173, 175, 176 Monotheism 12, 17, 49, 135, 136 Moses 11, 14, 15, 17, 25, 26, 30, 34, 35, 36, 38, 46, 56, 57, 62, 63, 64, 67, 71, 72, 73, 75, 76, 77, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 91, 92, 93, 101, 102, 103, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 114, 120, 132, 152, 161, 162, 164, 165, 168, 170, 171, 176 Murder 64, 70, 100, 102, 114, 120, 122, 125 Myth 18, 21, 70, 95, 96, 97, 136, 171 Necromancy 60, 61 Nicetas 13, 16, 21, 22, 23, 25, 61, 131, 132, 135, 145, 146, 154 Noah 64, 75, 76, 78, 111, 165, 167 Odysseus 63 Origen 66, 85, 153 Paideia 16, 94, 97, 145, 163 Parable 8, 25, 32, 65, 98, 107, 114, 118, 119, 121, 122, 123, 124, 150, 155, 156 Paul 8, 10, 14, 16, 18, 23, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 35, 150, 173 Pharisees 15, 67, 68, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 82, 89, 90, 119, 121, 147, 150, 152, 165, 167, 168, 169

203

Pheidias 22, 138, 140 Philosopher 16, 60, 121, 122, 153 Politeia 15, 25, 34, 83, 88, 89, 102, 103, 114, 115, 135, 143, 154, 169, 170, 172, 176 Polytheism 11, 12, 17, 18, 26, 49, 56, 82, 98, 106, 126, 142, 154, 162, 176 Porphyry of Tyre 153, 154 Poverty 132, 133, 139, 141, 144, 159 Proselyte 22, 142 Providence 19, 23, 45, 84, 126, 130, 131, 136, 137, 138, 141, 171 Pseudonymity 21, 38, 94, 95, 97 Rebirth 10, 116, 126 Resurrection 9, 10, 18, 58, 59, 91, 176 Revelation 23, 26, 31, 33, 41, 45, 108, 109, 130, 166, 167 Rome 1, 13, 16, 20, 21, 22, 39, 40, 41, 58, 94, 95, 96, 121, 131, 157, 162 Rufinus 1, 5 Sacrifice 21, 49, 50, 51, 64, 89, 99, 100, 101, 102, 136, 137, 141, 154, 176 Sadducee 87, 88, 91, 171 Salt 10, 101 Salvation 10, 25, 38, 42, 53, 55, 56, 68, 72, 73, 81, 82, 90, 92, 100, 105, 107, 108, 122, 123, 129, 133, 151, 153, 161, 162, 165, 166, 173, 176 Scripture (Israel) 7, 12, 26, 34, 56, 57, 59, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 69, 70, 74, 80, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 103, 129, 130, 153, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 168, 170, 171, 173, 175, 176 Seat of Moses 25, 34, 62, 67, 71, 72, 73, 161, 170 Sidon 21, 40, 43, 98, 103, 106, 107, 120, 147, 151 Simon Magus 11, 13, 16, 17, 21, 22, 23, 26, 28, 30, 31, 35, 39, 40, 41, 43, 46, 48, 52, 53, 60, 61, 63, 66, 78, 79, 80, 81, 83, 84, 85, 86, 90, 93, 94, 99, 100, 105, 106, 107, 129, 144, 145, 146, 159, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 170, 171, 172, 173, 176 Son of God 20, 31, 54, 58, 112, 121, 132, 167 Sophonias 53 Soul 20, 44, 45, 48, 50, 52, 60, 61, 64, 68, 72, 77, 97, 99, 101, 103, 104, 111, 115, 125, 126, 129, 132, 133, 153, 162 Spirit 43, 44, 46, 52, 54, 60, 65, 67, 69, 74, 75, 76, 78, 79, 101, 124, 125, 126, 136, 137, 153 Suicide 11, 157 Supersessionism 15, 26 Syzygies (Pairs) 21, 42, 43, 45, 46, 47, 48, 68, 77, 78, 79, 82, 93, 100, 120, 145, 173, 176 Syzygos 47, 48, 50, 67, 77, 83, 137, 176

204

Index of Subjects

Temple 25, 59, 80, 91, 136, 138, 139, 140, 141, 159, 176 Tertullian 14 Theodicy 19, 26, 85, 91, 161 Third Race /Way 14, 15 Tiberius 20 Tripolis 11, 21, 25, 29, 30 40, 43, 45, 60, 81, 82, 92, 93, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 105, 106, 107, 111, 114, 116, 117, 118, 120, 121, 125, 126, 135, 136, 137, 159 True Prophet 10, 21, 24, 25, 27, 31, 46, 47, 48, 51, 52, 56, 58, 59, 60, 62, 64, 66, 67, 68, 69, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 81, 82, 83, 88, 90, 92, 101, 104, 117, 119, 121, 126,

145, 146, 155, 156, 159, 161, 162, 164, 167, 172, 173, 175, 176 Tyre 21, 40, 93, 94, 95, 97, 98, 99, 102, 105, 106, 107, 111, 120, 131, 142, 144, 145, 146, 147, 150, 151 Wealth 20, 22, 49, 51, 110, 113, 114, 144, 154, 157, 159 Widow 91, 132, 139, 141, 144 Wisdom 44, 76 Xenophon

104

Zacchaeus

13, 39, 65, 73, 105, 129, 144