A textual culture

The literature of second-century Christianity

The Christian culture was one where books mattered.

Robert Grant¹

One of the most notable features of early Christianity is that it was a religion concerned with books. Such a feature should come as no surprise, of course, given that Christianity was a movement with a deep Jewish heritage that itself was ‘bookish’ in nature. Consequently, Christians were, from the very start, committed to the Hebrew Scriptures as the inspired word of God (2 Tim. 3.16), as foundational to the Christian message (Luke 24.46–47), and even as the basis for the belief in the resurrection (1 Cor. 15.3–4). In fact, early Christianity was so bound to the Hebrew Scriptures that M. F. Wiles was able to declare, ‘There was never a time when the Church was without written Scriptures. From the beginning she had the Old Testament and it was for her the oracles of God.’²

But the bookish nature of early Christianity was not restricted to the use of the Old Testament. Soon, Christians began to write their own books. These writings covered a wide range of literary genres: historical narratives, letters, sermons, theological treatises, apologetic discourse and even apocalyptic and prophetic books. And, as we shall explore more fully in the next chapter, some of these books were eventually regarded as new ‘Scripture’ within the early Christian movement. These different sorts of writing played a central role in the life of the Church, whether in the context of public worship, private reading, or correspondence between congregations. As Margaret Mitchell observed, ‘[Christianity] was a religious movement with texts at its very heart and soul, in its background and foreground. Its communities were characterized by a pervading, even obsessive preoccupation with and habitus for sacred literature.’³

Such a literary focus, particularly in the context of religious worship and instruction, is one of the features that made Christianity distinct from its Greco-Roman context. Indeed, it was this feature (among others) that led Christianity to be viewed more as a philosophical movement than a religious one.⁴ To be sure, religions in the Greco-Roman world did, on occasion, utilize texts in a cultic setting. Texts were certainly used in magical religions (spells or curses were written down on various media), and worshippers would sometimes inscribe expressions of worship and honour in the shrines or sanctuaries of their gods.⁵ Pliny the Younger even tells of his experience in the sanctuary of Clitumnus where he read the many religious inscriptions written by worshippers on the pillars and walls.⁶ And sometimes religious texts in the Greco-Roman world even had an oracular sense about them, as in the case of the supposed prophecies delivered to figures like Orpheus and Sibyl.

However, these instances are really the exceptions that prove the rule. Greco-Roman religions, as a whole, rarely employed texts for religious purposes, and when they did so the texts did not typically function in a normative fashion – as did Jewish or Christian Scripture. Instead, as William Harris has observed, these texts were more utilitarian, often recording or memorializing the cultic rituals that were carried out.⁷ Even Mary Beard, who is sometimes critical of Harris, acknowledges that ‘no other ancient belief system was so reliant on a group of doctrinal written texts’ as was the Judeo-Christian one.⁸ Harry Gamble agrees: ‘In their bookishness, Christianity and Judaism stood apart from all other ancient religious movements.’⁹

The purpose of this chapter is to probe further into the robust literary and textual culture of early Christianity, particularly in the second century. And we will embark upon that task in the light of another noteworthy (and for some, surprising) feature of early Christianity, namely that the vast majority of Christians could not read.

Literacy and orality in early Christianity

The focus on education and literacy in our modern post-Gutenberg world makes it easy to forget that the ancient world of early Christianity was decidedly different. As noted in Chapter 1, most Christians in the second century were uneducated (at least in any formal sense) and very few would have been able to read or write (though the exact percentage is debatable). While such low literacy rates did not make Christianity unusual – on the contrary, most people (Christian or non-Christian) couldn’t read or write – it did make Christianity a target for the attacks of the cultural elites eager to portray the new religion as a backwater movement of uneducated simpletons. Through a number of rebuttals and apologetic treatises, Christian leaders pushed back against these characterizations and eventually earned a level of respect among some of the intellectuals of the day, even leading Galen to acknowledge Christianity was a philosophy of sorts.

Regardless, the largely illiterate nature of Christianity figured prominently in the manner in which the Christian message was delivered in the second century. Individuals were not able to learn about Christianity simply by ‘reading their Bibles’ because it was less common for individuals to possess private copies of either Old or New Testament books, and most couldn’t read those copies even if they did. So, if Christianity was to spread, the message of these books would have to be delivered in another fashion. It would have to be transmitted orally.

Oral instruction in the second century

For the average believer in the second century, the content of Christian writings, particularly books of the Old or New Testament, was not read but was heard. The text was not engaged with the eyes but with the ears. A primary avenue for this aural textual engagement would have been the public reading of Scripture, particularly in weekly worship (see earlier discussion of this topic in Chapter 3). This practice would have been built upon earlier practices, namely the Jewish reading of Scripture in the synagogue, and even Paul’s request to have his own letters read publicly (2 Cor. 10.9; Col. 4.16; 1 Thess. 5.27; cf. Rev. 1.3). We already see this happening in the time of Justin Martyr when both the Gospels and the Old Testament were read aloud.¹⁰ In addition, the letter of 2 Clement references the public reading of Scripture,¹¹ as does the introduction to Melito’s homily On the Passover.¹² Likewise, the Muratorian Fragment distinguishes between books that were allowed to be read ‘in church’ and those that were not.¹³ And, as we shall see below, it seems the characteristics of the earliest manuscripts of New Testament books suggest they were specifically crafted for public reading. It is also worth noting that non-scriptural books were also publicly read, such as letters of correspondence from other churches.¹⁴

But even in the broader Greco-Roman world the public reading of texts would have been nothing unusual. All sorts of texts – poetry, legal declarations, imperial decrees, philosophical orations – would typically have been delivered orally in public settings. Indeed, one of the primary ways that authors would expose their book to a new audience would be through a recitatio, a public reading or performance of a book (or parts thereof) to a select group of people, usually patrons or friends.¹⁵ Public reading was also common at meals and social occasions. Pliny the Younger even recounts his own uncle’s interest in hearing books read at meal time: ‘After dinner a book would be read, and he would take sketchy notes.’¹⁶ In fact, the older Pliny was so keen to listen to the public reading at meals that he even scolded a friend who made the reader slow down to repeat a mispronounced word.

In a Christian context, the importance of the public reading of Scripture is exemplified in the testimony of Irenaeus who complains about those lectors who ‘know not how to read Paul’ and end up transposing words when they read aloud.¹⁷ Although mixing up word order might seem trivial to our modern sensibilities, a Christian culture that relied so heavily on public reading found this sort of mistake to be highly problematic. Indeed, Irenaeus views mistakes in public reading as a potential path to heresy: ‘If, then, one does not attend to the [proper] reading [of the passage], and if he does not exhibit the intervals of breathing as they occur, there shall be not only incongruities, but also, when reading, he will utter blasphemy.’¹⁸

The importance of public reading in Christianity is perhaps most apparent in the story told by Augustine about a congregation in North Africa. While the bishop of that congregation had typically read from the Old Latin translation of Scripture, one Sunday he decided to switch to Jerome’s newer Latin translation during a reading of the book of Jonah. When the congregation noted that just a single word had been changed, ‘there arose such a tumult in the congregation, especially among the Greek-speakers, correcting what had been read and denouncing the translation as false, that the bishop was compelled to ask for assistance’.¹⁹ In order to avoid a near riot, Augustine tells Jerome that the bishop ‘was compelled to correct your version in that passage . . . as he desired not to be left without a congregation, – a calamity which he narrowly escaped’.²⁰ Although this story took place much later than the second century, it remains illustrative of the role public reading of Scripture had in the life of the Church. Congregations did not listen to the reading of Scripture merely to learn new things, but rather to be reminded of what they already knew and had heard read many, many times. The Christians in North Africa had, in essence, memorized the text through public reading and were therefore sufficiently bothered when a single word was changed. It shows that they could be engaged deeply with a text that they themselves did not (or perhaps could not) read.

In addition to public reading, Christians were able to learn texts in other ways. As noted in a prior chapter, new converts were often given a thorough (and sometimes prolonged) period of instruction prior to baptism. This period of ‘catechesis’ would certainly have included the teaching of Scripture, and possibly also the rule of faith – that summary of Christian beliefs discussed in Chapter 5. Other types of catechetical instruction would have occurred, such as Celsus’ description of how women took children ‘to the wooldresser’s shop, or the cobbler’s or the washerwoman’s shop, that they might learn perfection’, a likely reference to some sort of teaching or doctrinal instruction.²¹ And certainly, we cannot discount early Christian preaching as a way that early believers would have orally learned the Scriptures and Christian doctrine. Again, Justin’s account tells us that Scripture was not only read, but ‘when the reader is finished, the Ruler in a discourse instructs and exhorts to the imitation of these good things’.²²

Of course, it needs to be acknowledged that not all Christian instruction in the second century was done on the basis of written texts. Oral traditions about Jesus – what he said and what he did – continued to circulate well into the second century and beyond. And such tradition was often collected, employed and passed down by various Christian leaders during this period. While the idea of oral transmission seems unusual to our modern ears, it would not have been a new experience for Christians in the second century. Indeed, that is how the stories of Jesus had been passed down since the time of the apostles. Although first-century Christians certainly wrote books, it is clear, even from the books themselves, that there was an established and developed pattern of passing down the Christian message by word of mouth. Traces of this process are still visible when the apostle Paul speaks of the ‘tradition’ which he both ‘received’ and ‘delivers’ (e.g., Rom. 6.17; 1 Cor. 11.23, 15.3–5; Gal. 1.9; Phil. 4.9; Col. 2.6–8; 1 Thess. 2.13; 1 Tim. 6.20; 2 Tim. 1.14).

The continuing role played by such oral tradition in the second century (and later) is made evident in a number of ways: (a) some textual variants in early manuscripts seem to be drawn from oral tradition (e.g., Luke 6.5 in codex Bezae); (b) some second-century writers record sayings of Jesus that are not known from written sources;²³ and (c) sayings of Jesus are cited in loose and imprecise ways, differing from their canonical versions, suggesting that, at least at some points, authors (e.g., the Apostolic Fathers) may have been drawing on oral tradition and not written texts.²⁴

Was Christianity an oral culture?

While there is wide agreement regarding the high rates of illiteracy among early Christians, there is less agreement about its implications. Some scholars have used the high illiteracy rates to insist that Christianity must have been an oral culture which despised the written word. In particular, Werner Kelber has argued that early Christianity had an ‘oral state of mind’ and therefore regarded writing as ‘neither necessary nor desirable’.²⁵ Other scholars have offered a similar view, suggesting that early Christians ‘tended to frown upon the writing of books’²⁶ and thought of ‘writing as an unworthy mode of transmission’.²⁷ As a result, these scholars argue that Christianity placed little value on the written word in the earliest centuries.

However, it is doubtful whether widespread illiteracy is itself a sufficient basis for such a conclusion. Indeed, such a view confuses a mode of transmission with a cultural disposition (i.e., an oral state of mind). It is evident already, from what we have discussed above, that a culture can be deeply and seriously engaged in texts, even if the bulk of the population of that culture cannot read. A lack of literacy does not mean a lack of textuality. Chris Keith defines textuality as ‘the knowledge, usage, and appreciation of texts regardless of individual or majority ability to create or access them via literate skills’.²⁸ In other words, illiteracy and textuality are not mutually exclusive. They can exist side by side. Mary Beard explains:

The character of a religious system can still be fundamentally determined by writing and by a ‘literate mentality,’ even in situations where very few of the practitioners of that religion are themselves literate. . . . Seen in this light, the number of literates within a religious community is a secondary issue.²⁹

The interplay between orality and textuality in early Christianity is evident, particularly in the Gospels themselves. Although Jesus’ tradition was originally transmitted orally, it was eventually embodied in the written text of the Gospels. In fact, scholars have argued that Mark’s Gospel was ‘a written transcription of an oral narrative’.³⁰ But the interplay didn’t stop there. The written Gospels would then serve as the script for later oral performances.³¹ Thus, the written Gospels were functionally aides-mémoire for the oral proclamation of Jesus’ tradition. Thus, orality and textuality existed in a complex, symbiotic relationship.

Properly understanding the relationship between orality and textuality can also bring clarity to the much-discussed statement of Papias, the second-century bishop of Hierapolis. Having just described his interest in learning about the teachings of the apostles through the testimony of their companions, Papias provides a rationale for his actions: ‘I did not suppose that information from books would help me so much as the word of the living and surviving voice.’³² Some scholars have used the statement of Papias as further evidence that early Christians preferred oral tradition over the written word.³³ However, the context of the passage makes it clear that Papias is not concerned at all with anonymous oral tradition, but rather with gathering testimony from eyewitnesses (or companions of eyewitnesses) while they are still alive. In other words, Papias was just following the protocol in the ancient world for what counted as good history, namely talking to people who were actually there. Richard Bauckham explains: ‘When Papias speaks of “a living and surviving voice”, he is not speaking metaphorically of the “voice” of oral tradition, as many scholars have supposed. He speaks quite literally of the voice of an informant.’³⁴

Early Christian writings

Thus far we have seen that the existence of widespread illiteracy is not a sufficient basis, in and of itself, to declare that early Christianity had an ‘oral culture’. On the contrary, through public readings and various forms of proclamation and instruction, virtually all Christians could be deeply engaged with the content of written texts. But Christianity’s culture of textuality goes even further than this. It is not as if Christians merely read or heard books. Christians also wrote books. There was a portion of the Christian population that was quite literate – especially those who were in leadership – and they generated texts in great numbers. We now turn our attention to a broad overview of the kinds of Christian literature produced in the second century. Due to the vast nature of Christian literature during this period, our overview will be inevitably limited and selective.

New Testament writings

Before we explore the Christian literature produced in the second century, it should be acknowledged that Christian literary production began much earlier. Indeed, it was present from the very beginning of the Christian movement. We see Christian books begin to appear as early as the 40s with the letter of James (c.45) and Paul’s letter to the Galatians (c.48), followed by increasing numbers of books in the 50s and 60s and beyond. What is particularly noteworthy about these Christian writings is the manner in which they engaged with earlier written texts, primarily the Old Testament. Christian authors did not merely cite the Old Testament; they offered serious, extensive and sophisticated textual interaction with these writings, not that dissimilar from their contemporaries at Qumran.³⁵ Thus, Harry Gamble was able to observe:

Although it need not be denied that there was a period, possibly a long one, during which some Christian traditions were orally transmitted, during that same period Christians were deeply and continuously engaged with texts. Christians were from the beginning assiduous students of Jewish scriptures.³⁶

We also must not forget that Christians began to write even before the date of our extant New Testament writings. Luke tells us that ‘many’ (Luke 1.1) in his day had already written gospel accounts, and scholars have argued that there were probably earlier written texts that pre-date the Gospels, whether the so-called ‘Q’ document or something else. Such earlier texts were probably recorded by Christians on some sort of ‘notebook’³⁷ – a precursor to the Christian codex (see below). Thus, it seems that Christians may have been writing down the teachings and stories of Jesus from a very early point.³⁸

Apostolic Fathers

As we move into the second century, some of the earliest Christian writings we possess apart from the New Testament are found in a collection known as the Apostolic Fathers.³⁹ This collection is a modern scholarly construct and was not identified as a literary unit within the early Christian movement. It is composed of 11 different texts: the Didache, 1 Clement, 2 Clement, fragments of Papias, the Apology of Quadratus, the Shepherd of Hermas, the Epistle of Barnabas, the epistles of Ignatius (of which there are seven), Polycarp’s Epistle to the Philippians, the Martyrdom of Polycarp, and the Epistle to Diognetus. These writings derive from a variety of authors (some known, some unknown) and represent a range of genres, including the genres of homily, church rule, apology, apocalypse, epistle, and even a martyrdom account.

While most of the texts date to the early or middle second century, there are some that can be dated at the very end of the first century. Thus, the Apostolic Fathers provide unparalleled access to Christianity in its earliest, developmental stages, allowing us to see what issues Christians faced, what theological topics concerned them, and how they interacted with one another. But the significance of these writings goes beyond merely date. Many of these writings were quite popular within the early Christian movement, being widely read and copied. In certain quarters, some of these writings (e.g., Shepherd of Hermas) may have even attained a quasi-scriptural status for a brief time. And their continued usage and popularity is exemplified by the fact that some of these texts make an appearance in some of our earliest biblical codices. The fourth-century codex Sinaiticus contains the Epistle of Barnabas and the Shepherd of Hermas at the end, and the fifth-century codex Alexandrinus contains 1 and 2 Clement at the end.

Theological and anti-heretical treatises

A number of important texts in the second century were written with the purpose of educating, encouraging and equipping believers to deal with various doctrinal or practical challenges. A classic example is the five-volume Against Heresies (written c.180) by Irenaeus, bishop of Lyons. In this massive work, Irenaeus focuses largely on the threat of Gnosticism, but also addresses a number of other ‘heresies’ such as those pioneered by Cerinthus, Marcion and the Ebionites. He also lays forth a number of Christian doctrines that help refute false thinking – e.g., doctrines dealing with creation, God, the person of Christ, the authority of the Church, salvation, the resurrection, and the nature and scope of Scripture. As a result, scholars have argued that Irenaeus ‘is the first Christian writer to give a relatively complete and systematic treatise on theology’.⁴⁰

In a similar fashion, the great teacher Clement of Alexandria wrote his book Miscellanies toward the very end of the second century. As the title suggests, this multi-volume work is a miscellaneous (and somewhat disorganized) compilation of thoughts on a variety of theological subjects, particularly the gnostic-like heresies he was facing. What makes this volume noteworthy is that Clement makes his case by appealing not only to Scripture (both Old and New Testaments) but also to apocryphal literature and secular literature – not surprising given the intellectual diversity and cosmopolitan nature of Alexandria. Likewise, the great Latin theologian Tertullian penned his Prescription against Heretics also at the very end of the second century. Drawing upon Roman law, Tertullian argues against the heretics by insisting that they cannot appeal to the Scriptures to make their case on the grounds that the Scriptures do not belong to them – they belong to the Church. In addition, Tertullian undermines the heretics by arguing that only the Church faithfully preserves the true teachings of the apostles.

Of course, there is a seemingly countless number of such theological treatises that were written in the second century and are now lost. These lost works are too many to mention here, but they demonstrate yet again the extensive literary productivity of early Christians. Examples of such lost works include Justin Martyr’s treatise against Marcion, Theophilus of Antioch’s treatise against Marcion, Melito of Sardis’ anti-Montanistic On Christian Life and the Prophets, the numerous letters written by Dionysius of Corinth to second-century churches (covering a variety of theological topics and refuting the heresies of Marcion and Montanism), and the five-volume anti-gnostic work of Hegesippus.

Apologetic works

Christian intellectuals not only wrote for insiders, but also wrote for outsiders. In other words, they wrote to engage the non-Christian world directly, including pagan philosophers, cultural critics, and even political leaders.⁴¹ Such writings put on display, for all to see, the literary, textual and rhetorical acumen of early Christian leaders. Since we have already surveyed many of these apologetic works at length in Chapter 2, we will not repeat that discussion here. However, it is clear that these sorts of writing made up a sizable portion of Christian literary production during the second century. Examples include the apologies of Quadratus and Aristides, the Epistle to Diognetus, Justin Martyr’s First and Second Apology, Tatian’s Oration to the Greeks, Athenagoras’ Plea for the Christians, Theophilus’ To Autolycus, the apology of Apollinaris of Hierapolis, the apology of Melito of Sardis, and Octavius by Minucius Felix.

It should also be observed that early Christians also wrote apologetic works designed to engage (and sometimes attack) Judaism. Indeed, Christians not only had to deal with political and philosophical opposition, but some felt the need to distinguish themselves from their Jewish counterparts. So, Christians put pen to papyrus yet again and wrote treatises, letters and dialogues arguing that Christianity has a legitimate claim on the Jewish heritage and that Jesus is a fulfilment of the divine promises in Scripture. Justin Martyr’s Dialogue with Trypho is a classic example of this sort of literature, as it engages with Jewish objections to Christianity as well as detailed exegesis of Old Testament texts that are in dispute between Jews and Christians. The Epistle of Barnabas (c.130) also engages directly with Judaism, offering a Christian interpretation of Old Testament passages and arguing that the Old Testament is essentially a Christian book. Another example of apologetics towards Judaism is the Dialogue Between Jason and Papiscus (c.140), a second-century work now available only in excerpts in Origen’s Against Celsus, which catalogues the conversation between a Jewish Christian named Jason and a Jew named Papiscus. Again, the focus of the dialogue is the interpretation of Old Testament prophecies and whether Christian or Jewish understanding is superior.

One of the unique forms of apologetic literature in the second century may have been testimonia books which contained excerpts of Old Testament passages designed to bolster the Christian claims about Jesus. Such a collection of texts would have been particularly useful for Christians as they engaged in evangelistic and missionary activities, particularly with Jews in local synagogues.⁴² Although we do not possess extant copies of these sorts of testimonia book from the second century, scholars have argued that the existence of this sort of literature is already evident from the way New Testament passages cite from the Old Testament.⁴³ Discoveries of similar documents at Qumran also suggest this was an established literary genre in the first century (and therefore probably still used in the second). Examples include 4QTestimonia (which includes five messianic texts), 4QFlorilegium (texts related to key eschatological figures), and 4QTanhumim (containing excerpts from the book of Isaiah). We even have a later (fourth-century) Christian example of such a text in Papyrus Rylands Greek (PRG) 460 which contains a thematic selection of Old Testament passages.⁴⁴

Sermons and commentaries

Since early Christians were committed to the Scriptures – both Old and New Testaments – it comes as no surprise that literature emerged that expounded upon and applied the text of these Scriptures. Two kinds of literature that performed this function were sermons and commentaries. We consider these two genres together precisely because of their inevitable overlap. A commentary, in a narrow sense, can be defined as ‘a work consisting primarily of sequential, expository annotation of identified texts’.⁴⁵ In a similar fashion, sermons would also offer comment and exposition of biblical texts, often followed by moral or spiritual application to the reader/audience.⁴⁶ The overlap between these two genres is evident in the fact that some ancient commentaries are really a collection of sermons – such ‘homiletical commentaries’ are evident in later writings from authors like Origen and Chrysostom.

Although Justin Martyr’s testimony suggests that sermons were a regular occurrence,⁴⁷ we possess only traces of these sermons from the second century. As already noted above, the book of 2 Clement (c.140–150) is possibly the earliest sermon/homily in our possession. The author exhorts his audience to recognize the great salvation that is found in Christ and, in response to that salvation, to repent of their sins and to offer their lives to God in renewed obedience. Throughout the sermon, the author appeals to a variety of both Old and New Testament Scripture to make his points, offering expositional and exegetical observations on these texts along the way. Melito of Sardis’ sermon, On the Passover (c.170), is another example of a written homily/sermon in the second century. After reading the Old Testament passages about the Passover, Melito recounts the story of the exodus and then expounds the meaning of those events in the light of the redemptive work of Christ. Christ is the fulfilment of the Passover events, offering himself as the real ‘lamb of God’ who suffers on behalf of a sinful world. For Melito, the divinity of Christ is not in doubt, as he clearly portrays him as the pre-existent creator of the world who was incarnate through the virgin Mary and suffered and was raised from the dead. It is also possible that we have sermons (or parts of sermons) embedded within other literary works that have been passed down to us. For instances, Justin offers what might be a homily-like exposition of Psalm 22,⁴⁸ the Acts of Peter includes a sermon Peter purportedly delivered in a house church,⁴⁹ and the Epistula Apostolorum, while structured as an apocalyptic dialogue (more on this below), contains a number of expositions and applications of Scripture that are also reflective of early Christian preaching.⁵⁰

As discussed in Chapter 4, our earliest known commentary is the one by Heracleon on the Gospel of John. However, there is little reason to think that Heracleon was an innovator or that he was the only second-century Christian engaged in the task of writing commentaries. Some scholars have suggested that Papias’ earlier five-volume Exposition of the Sayings of the Lord (c.125) was a commentary of sorts on the stories of Jesus and other ‘apostolic accounts’ that Papias had collected.⁵¹ This possibility finds support in Eusebius’ comments that Papias’ books seem to interact with, and offer interpretations of, a variety of apostolic writings.⁵² That commentaries may have been an established genre already in the second century is suggested also by Melito of Sardis’ On the Apocalypse of John, a possible commentary-like work (though there is dispute among scholars over its contents).⁵³ Regardless, the appearance of Clement of Alexandria’s Hypotyposeis at the beginning of the third century – an extensive commentary on ‘all the canonical Scriptures’⁵⁴ – suggests the genre was well known by that time. And Origen’s prolific commentary production follows on the heels of Clement. It is difficult to explain the explosion of such expansive commentaries in the third century if they were relatively unheard of during the second.

Apocryphal writings

One of the most notable features of Christian literary production in the second century was the remarkably high number of apocryphal writings. While we have no extant apocryphal work that can be (with any confidence) dated to the first century, there is a virtual explosion of such texts in the second. By the term ‘apocryphal’ we are referring to those books that are quite similar to the books of the New Testament in terms of form and content, may even claim apostolic origins or authorship, but did not (in the end) find a place in the New Testament canon.⁵⁵ While some scholars have objected that the term ‘apocryphal’ is unduly prejudicial because it presents these books as somehow illegitimate,⁵⁶ it still serves as a useful term in distinguishing the different kinds of writing in early Christianity (albeit with limitations).

Although these apocryphal writings did not typically enjoy the same status of acceptance within early Christianity as the core canonical books (see discussion on canon in Chapter 7), they were still widely read and highly influential. Moreover, the content of these books reveals a substantial amount about the beliefs and practices of second-century Christians. These books remind us (again) that early Christian beliefs were quite varied. A number of these apocryphal writings advocate doctrines and concepts that are fundamentally out of sync with the rule of faith that was followed by the mainstream church. The fact that many of these writings also present themselves as apostolic – with names like the Gospel of Peter, or the Acts of John – suggests that they were written to promote alternative doctrines that otherwise may never have received a hearing.

Of course, this is not to suggest that all apocryphal writings were ‘heretical’. On the contrary, a number of them simply contain material not found in the canonical books with no evident heterodox agenda to promote. Indeed, some apocryphal writings are quite orthodox in their theology and may possibly retain oral traditions about the words or deeds of Jesus that go back into the earliest years of the Christian movement. Thus, there may have been a variety of motives for the production of apocryphal books. Some authors may have written to influence doctrine, some may have just wanted to pass along stories they had heard, and others may have even sought to entertain readers with dramatic and fanciful stories of Jesus or his apostles. This last possibility is evident in the highly embellished nature of some apocryphal texts – e.g., the story of the problem-child Jesus who wreaks havoc on his village (Infancy Gospel of Thomas), the story of the heretic Simon Magus who has the power to fly (Acts of Peter), or the story where Paul baptizes a lion (Acts of Paul). No doubt such folktales would have made for entertaining reading for early Christians (or even non-Christians).

The existence of apocryphal literature also raises complex, and even troubling, questions about the role of forgery and literary deceit in early Christianity. While Christians generally deplored deceit and lying, apparently some were quite willing to forge texts in the name of famous individuals (usually apostles). Some scholars have insisted that writing books under another’s name was commonplace and accepted within early Christianity,⁵⁷ but there is substantial evidence to suggest that forgery was widely condemned as unacceptable.⁵⁸ This very sentiment is evident in our earliest canonical list, the Muratorian Fragment (c.180), which explicitly rejects the Epistle to the Alexandrians and the Epistle to the Laodiceans on the grounds that they are ‘forged under the name of Paul’. In addition, there is no evidence to suggest that the fabrication of stories (as opposed to forgery) was an acceptable practice. On the contrary, Tertullian attacks the spurious nature of the Acts of Paul and Thecla by informing the reader that ‘the presbyter who composed that writing, as if he were augmenting Paul’s fame from his own store, after being convicted, and confessing that he had done it from love of Paul, was removed from his office’.⁵⁹ Even though the Acts of Paul and Thecla was not technically a forgery (it did not claim to be written by Paul), and even though it was produced out of noble motives – in this case, ostensibly out of love for Paul – it was still condemned for being a fabricated account.

We shall divide our brief discussion of apocryphal literature into the same four genres that we see in the New Testament itself: gospel, acts, epistle and apocalypse. Again we cannot be exhaustive here – we will restrict ourselves to only representative examples from the second century.

Apocryphal gospels

The most common sort of apocryphal literature in the second century focused on the words and/or deeds of Jesus in some fashion – what we would, generally speaking, call a gospel. However, most of the alternative gospels in the second century are so very different from our canonical versions that, at least according to some scholars, the name ‘gospel’ might not be appropriate.⁶⁰ This is typically the case with second-century gospels that largely fall under the broad ‘gnostic’ umbrella (although there is serious scholarly debate about whether these gospels are, in fact, gnostic at all). One example is the Gospel of Thomas, which contains no birth account, no crucifixion account, and no resurrection account. It is simply a running list of 114 sayings of Jesus. Whether or not Thomas is gnostic, the sayings it contains do have a mysterious and enigmatic quality about them, often pointing the listener to look inward for salvation (e.g., logion 3, 24, 67). While some have attempted to place Thomas in the first century,⁶¹ recent scholarship has made a decisive case that it shows dependence on the Synoptic Gospels.⁶²

Another example is the Gospel of Mary which also does not include (at least in its extant manuscripts) any of the standard historical events in the life of Jesus, but is simply a post-resurrection dialogue between Jesus and his disciples and Mary Magdalene. The Gospel of Mary also points the reader to inward knowledge of the divine spark inside them, which explains why some scholars connect it to Gnosticism.⁶³ Similarly, the more newly discovered Gospel of Judas covers none of the standard moments in the life of Jesus but is basically a dialogue between Jesus, his disciples, and Judas, with a secret gnostic-like revelation given to Judas. The Gospel of Truth, possibly written by Valentinus, is also not a narrative gospel in any sense but is really an extended theological treatise on Valentinian theology written in what seems to be a homiletical style as the author alternates between doctrinal explanation and moral application.

Other second-century gospels, however, did manifest a more narrative style that would be similar to the four canonical Gospels, especially the Synoptics. The Gospel of Peter provides a narrative of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, albeit with some odd literary embellishments which include a talking cross that follows Jesus out of the tomb (!). There has also been much scholarly debate about whether the Gospel of Peter manifests a Docetic theology, given that Jesus feels no pain on the cross and exits the grave in a non-physical body that reaches to the heavens. The complex group of so-called Jewish-Christian gospels – including the Gospel of the Hebrews, the Gospel of the Nazarenes and the Gospel of the Ebionites – also appear to have more of a narrative, Synoptic-like structure.⁶⁴ Although we do not possess extant copies of these Jewish-Christian gospels, the patristic citations from these books often refer to stories/sayings of Jesus similar to the kind found in our Synoptic sources. And some patristic writers even draw comparisons between some of these gospels and the Gospel of Matthew.⁶⁵

Narrative, Synoptic-style apocryphal gospels are also evident in some fragmentary manuscripts, the content of which was produced in the second century (even if the manuscripts themselves are dated later). These gospel fragments cannot be identified with any known apocryphal texts, but nevertheless reveal that stories of Jesus continued to be circulated and copied. Papyrus Egerton 2, often dubbed the ‘Unknown Gospel’, is our earliest apocryphal gospel manuscript (c.150–200) and includes five stories of Jesus (the last of which is very fragmentary) that sound remarkably similar to those found in the Synoptics and John, leading scholars to debate whether the author used the canonical Gospels as a source⁶⁶ (or vice versa).⁶⁷ Papyrus Oxyrhynchus 840 contains two narrative accounts of Jesus, the longer of which details Jesus in the Temple courts with his disciples when he is confronted by a Pharisaic chief priest who challenges his purity status. The text was probably composed in the second century (although the extant fragment is fourth century) and again shows significant awareness of both Synoptic and Johannine Gospel material.⁶⁸

Of all the different kinds of apocryphal gospel in the second century, some of the most popular were those which discussed the birth of Jesus, his family, or his life as a child. It was not unusual for apocryphal literature to fill in the gaps left by the canonical Gospels,⁶⁹ and it seems that ‘infancy gospels’ allowed for people to satisfy their curiosity regarding what Jesus would have been like as he grew up. One of the most widely read infancy gospels during this period was the Protevangelium of James which catalogues the time before and just after the birth of Jesus. Although it has much original material, it is functionally an elaboration of the canonical birth narratives in an almost midrashic fashion. It should be noted, however, that the main character of this account is really Jesus’ mother Mary who has her own near-miraculous birth and is presented as a perpetual virgin. Also probably composed during the second century (though the date is debated) is the Infancy Gospel of Thomas which catalogues the bizarre and sometimes frightening antics of the boy Jesus as he torments his childhood peers and challenges the leadership of the town. Not to be confused with the Gospel of Thomas discussed above, this infancy gospel demonstrates how some early Christians struggled to reconcile the divinity of Jesus with certain aspects of his humanity (in this case, his childhood).

Apocryphal acts

It was not just stories of Jesus that were popular in early Christianity – stories of the apostles and their mighty deeds were also influential. Christians had a nearly insatiable appetite for stories about the lives of the apostles, their miraculous activities, and the spread of the first-century Church. Of course, many such stories are already found in the canonical book of Acts, but soon additional acts began to be produced in the second century containing even more dramatic and sensational stories to inspire and entertain early Christians. In fact, scholars have observed that the style of these apocryphal acts, and their highly embellished story-telling, is quite similar to the genre of the Hellenistic novel – a type of writing in the Greco-Roman world that was known for fanciful story-telling of a hero (or heroes) that goes on an adventure, encounters opposition, experiences divine intervention, and accomplishes great deeds.⁷⁰ Apparently, some Christians adopted the Hellenistic novel genre and filled it in with Christian content, influenced (obviously) by the canonical book of Acts. Needless to say, this raises interesting questions about how seriously Christian readers took these books. Did they think they were reading real history? No doubt some believed they were. But it is possible that others were simply interested in being inspired or entertained.

Three of these apocryphal acts can be dated to the second century (before c.200). The Acts of John (c.150–160) focuses on the city of Ephesus and catalogues the deeds and activities of the apostle John, as opposed to the canonical Acts which tends to focus on Peter and (primarily) Paul. In addition to being known for containing a number of sensational stories – including a scene where John rebukes the bed bugs and sends them out of the room so he can sleep – the Acts of John is also notable for its proto-Valentinian features and a Christology that tends toward Docetism. The Acts of Paul and Thecla (c.170–180) was one of the most popular of the apocryphal acts and contained three units: the Acts of Thecla (story of famous female convert of Paul who journeyed with him), a letter from Paul to Corinth (known as 3 Corinthians), and an account of the martyrdom of Paul. Contrary to the Acts of John, this acts was generally orthodox with no obvious heretical tendencies – though it did press an ascetic lifestyle marked by abstinence and sexual purity (with Thecla as a key example). The Acts of Peter (c.190–200), though starting out with an account of Paul in Rome, quickly transitions to, and focuses upon, the apostle Peter. Other apocryphal works focusing on Peter were popular in the early Church; e.g., the Gospel of Peter, the Preaching of Peter (or Kerygma Petri), and the Apocalypse of Peter (see below). The Acts of Peter highlights Peter’s battle with the heretic Simon Magus, even leading to dramatic scenes where a dog miraculously talks to Simon (at the behest of Peter), and Simon even flies above the city of Rome for a brief time before Peter prays that he would crash to the ground (which he does). Most notably, this acts describes the well-known tradition of Peter being crucified upside down during his martyrdom by the Roman authorities.

Apocryphal epistles

Generally speaking, the epistolary genre was not nearly as popular for apocryphal literature as were genres like gospels or acts.⁷¹ Indeed, there are only a few examples from this period. As already noted above, embedded within the Acts of Paul and Thecla is purported to be additional correspondence between Paul and the Corinthian church, known as 3 Corinthians. This epistolary interchange probably existed as an independent document in the second century and was only later incorporated in the Acts of Paul and Thecla. The subject matter of 3 Corinthians focuses on the validity of the physical creation, whether Jesus came in the flesh, and whether there will be a resurrection in the flesh – suggesting that this letter was written to confront some form of Docetism. Another example of a forged Pauline letter is the Epistle to the Laodiceans, another second-century production that seems to be largely a pastiche of passages from Paul’s other letters (especially Galatians and Philippians). The production of this epistle – no doubt motivated in part by the mention of a ‘letter from Laodicea’ in Colossians 4.16 – seems to be designed to uphold the authority and the teachings of the apostle Paul. It was eventually condemned as a forgery in the Muratorian Fragment, our earliest canonical list.

There are also several apocryphal works that are written in the form of a letter but could perhaps be better categorized as an apocalypse or even a gospel. One example is the Epistle of the Apostles (Epistula Apostolorum) which purports to be a letter from the apostles about Jesus but eventually changes into more of an apocalypse.⁷² The account mainly catalogues post-resur-rection teachings of Jesus – again, like many apocryphal works, filling in the gaps left by the canonical texts – as he discusses the second coming, the resurrection of the body, and the Incarnation. The document has an obvious anti-gnostic bent, even attacking the heretics Simon Magus and Cerinthus by name. Similarly, the Letter of Peter to Philip, discovered in 1945 among the texts at Nag Hammadi, is purportedly a letter from the apostle Peter to the apostle Philip but is really more of a ‘dialogue gospel’ than a true letter. The bulk of its content is devoted to the post-resurrection teachings given by Jesus. Although the date is debated, it was possibly written at the end of the second century and contains obvious gnostic-like material on the myth of Sophia and the Demiurge.⁷³ A final example is the Letter of James (or the Apocryphon of James), which presents itself as a letter from James the Lord’s brother and contains the standard epistolary opening and ending. However, the letter (again) contains secret sayings of Jesus supposedly delivered after his resurrection to James and Peter. This text was also discovered among the Nag Hammadi material and, not surprisingly, has gnostic-like features such as the suggestion that salvation comes through knowledge.⁷⁴

Apocryphal apocalypses

The final category of apocryphal literature we will consider is that of the apocalypse. The apocalyptic genre, though strange to modern readers, was quite well known in the world of early Christianity. Not only did Christians have the canonical book of Revelation, but they also had numerous Old Testament texts with apocalyptic elements (e.g., Ezekiel, Daniel and Zechariah), as well as Jewish apocalyptic-style writings like 1 Enoch or even 4 Ezra. Such writings were popular because they documented God’s future eschatological activity, often involving the defeat and judgement of his enemies.

As odd as it sounds, one of the earliest Christian apocalypses (apart from Revelation) was actually about an Old Testament figure. The Ascension of Isaiah, dated to the beginning of the second century, purports to record a prophetic vision given to the prophet Isaiah about the first coming of Christ (who is called ‘the Beloved’) and his later enthronement and glorification. Also written in the first half of the second century was the Apocalypse of Peter, a post-resurrection dialogue between Jesus and Peter and the disciples on the Mount of Olives. Jesus offers a revelation of the future, the final judgement, and the severe punishments the wicked will endure in hell. The Apocalypse of Peter was quite popular among early Christians, even being mentioned as one of the disputed books in the Muratorian Fragment. This writing should not be confused with the Apocalypse of Peter discovered at Nag Hammadi, a gnostic work of the same name which was probably composed in the early third century.

Early Christian book production

Given the significant role that written texts played within early Christianity, it is not surprising to discover that Christians exhibited a fairly well-developed and (at times) even sophisticated system of book production. As Loveday Alexander observes:

It is clear that we are dealing with a group [early Christians] that used books intensively and professionally from very early on in its existence. The evidence of the papyri from the second century onward suggests . . . the early development of a technically sophisticated and distinctive book technology.⁷⁵

We shall now explore a number of features of early Christian book production. While Christians produced all sorts of literature (as noted above), it is the New Testament manuscripts themselves that will occupy most (though not all) of our attention since they formed the foundational documents of the early Christian movement.

Book format

One of the most noteworthy features of the early Christian book was that it was almost always in the form of a codex.⁷⁶ A codex was formed (at least if it was single-quire) by stacking papyrus or parchment leaves on top of each other, folding them in half and binding them at the spine. This allowed for the traditional leaf book with writing on both sides of the page – a format that we still use today. In contrast to early Christians, the broader Greco-Roman world, and even ancient Judaism, continued to use the roll (or scroll) where sheets of papyrus or parchment were glued together in a long strip and writing was done on only one side of the page. Thus, when the scroll was rolled up, the words were protected.

It is now well established that Christians adopted the codex format certainly by the beginning of the second century, as evidenced by some of the earliest Christian manuscripts: P52 (Gospel of John), Papyrus Egerton 2 (apocryphal gospel), and P. Yale 1 (book of Genesis). Indeed, so dominant was the Christian preference for the codex that we can hardly find copies of the New Testament that do not appear in this format.⁷⁷ The widespread, uniform and early usage of the codex raises intriguing questions about why Christians preferred this distinctive book format – a move that was out of sync with both their Jewish heritage and their broader Greco-Roman context. Although scholars have offered a variety of possible solutions over the years,⁷⁸ most agree that there is a tight relationship between the adoption of the codex and the emergence of the New Testament canon. As J. K. Elliott has argued: ‘Canon and codex go hand in hand in the sense that the adoption of a fixed canon could be more easily controlled and promulgated when the codex was the means of gathering together originally separate compositions.’⁷⁹ Put another way, the adoption of the codex may be a symptom of an emerging canon consciousness in early Christianity. And since the codex was adopted by the beginning of the second century, we have good reasons to think that the canonical process was well underway by that time.

This possibility finds support in the fact that Christians seem to have preferred the codex particularly for books that they deemed sacred or scriptural.⁸⁰ Christians did still employ the roll format on occasion but tended to use it mainly for non-canonical books.⁸¹ This does not mean that any book copied on a codex was deemed scriptural – we have plenty of examples of extra-biblical books on codices. But it does suggest that some Christians, at least in some instances, seemed to reserve the codex format especially for books viewed as Scripture.

Handwriting

Despite prior claims from some scholars that the handwriting of early Christian scribes was unprofessional and utilitarian,⁸² more recent manuscript discoveries have forced an adjustment of this view.⁸³ It is certainly true that Christian manuscripts do not share the elegant, formal and polished style of classical literary texts in antiquity (more on this below). And sometimes the scribal hand is more informal – akin to a documentary hand that might be used for the production of workaday documents like letters, contracts or bills of sale. However, there are quite a number of manuscripts in which the scribal hand is more professional and developed. Indeed, a number of our earliest manuscripts, written toward the end of the second century, have a scribal hand that exhibits an impressive degree of style, beauty and elegance; e.g., P. Oxy. 405 (Irenaeus, Against Heresies), P46 (Paul’s epistles), P4–64–67 (Luke and Matthew), P66 (John), P77 (Matthew), P90 (John), P103 (Matthew), P104 (Matthew).

Such a scenario can tell us quite a bit about the nature of early Christian scribes (or at least some of them). While some scholars have insisted that ‘early Christian texts were not being copied by professional scribes’,⁸⁴ the evidence above suggests otherwise. Sure, Christian scribes were not necessarily employed as copyists in the commercial book trade (although some might have been), but their handwriting suggests they would have been very capable ‘multifunctional’ scribes who were used to copying both documentary and literary texts.⁸⁵ Such scribes would probably have been private scribes, employed in the household of a well-to-do individual for the purpose of general clerical work, letter-writing, and even copying literary texts as needed. If their employers converted to Christianity, or if they converted to Christianity themselves, they would have found themselves using their skills in the service of the early Christian movement. One of the earliest examples of such a Christian scribe is probably Tertius who identifies himself as the scribe writing Paul’s letter to the Romans (16.22). Kim Haines-Eitzen sums it up: ‘The earliest copyists of Christian literature were trained professional scribes, whose multifunctionality may well have been suited best for a private context.’⁸⁶

Nomina sacra

Alongside handwriting, one of the most intriguing inscriptional features of early Christian manuscripts was the use of the nomina sacra. The nomina sacra, meaning ‘sacred names’, were distinctive scribal abbreviations of mainly four Greek words: qeόϛ (God), Ἰhsoῡϛ (Jesus), cristόϛ (Christ) and kύrioϛ (Lord). This scribal invention was remarkably early – probably dating back even to the first century⁸⁷ – and used widely throughout the empire. In fact, so dominant is the presence of the nomina sacra in New Testament manuscripts that one is hard pressed to find one without it. As a result, the presence of this abbreviation is a definitive indicator that a document is ‘Christian’ in nature. This scribal convention, in conjunction with the use of the codex, is yet another indicator that early Christian scribes were not the disorganized amateurs some have portrayed them to be. On the contrary, T. C. Skeat has argued that the nomina sacra ‘indicate a degree of organization, of conscious planning, and uniformity of practice among the Christian communities which we have hitherto had little reason to suspect’.⁸⁸

The use of the nomina sacra (along with the codex) makes it clear that Christians valued these texts as more than simply repositories of oral tradition. On the contrary, they show that Christians, at a very early point, began to value their books as physical objects. Christians had developed a distinctive book technology and a distinctive textual identity. Moreover, some scholars have argued that the nomina sacra would have been an indicator that Christians viewed certain writings as sacred. John Barton, for instance, suggests that these abbreviations would have functioned in a similar fashion to the Tetragrammaton – the special form of the divine name in the Old Testament. Both would have marked a book as sacred.⁸⁹ This doesn’t mean that the nomina sacra do not occur in non-canonical writings – we have numerous examples where they do (e.g., P. Egerton 2, P. Oxy. 840). But the appearance of the nomina sacra in these texts is probably due to the fact that it had already become an established Christian scribal convention by this period. Thus, any new Christian production would be compelled to follow suit.

Reader’s aids

Most copies of Greek literary texts in the second-century Roman world (e.g., Homer, Plato, Plutarch) were not produced with the reader in mind. The practice of scriptio continua, narrow line spacing, no sense-unit divisions, and little or no punctuation made reading a difficult task. William Johnson argues that such manuscripts reflect the cultural and social purpose for which they were written, namely they were to be read in gatherings of the elite, educated, upper class.⁹⁰ Thus, Greek manuscripts of these classical literary works were often more akin to an object of art rather than a practical tool for reading. They were designed to reflect the exclusive cultural context in which they were utilized.

However, when we turn to our earliest New Testament manuscripts, we see something very different. As already noted above, early Christian manuscripts were often put in the format of the codex, a more informal structure compared to the more proper roll. Likewise, we observed that the handwriting of our earliest New Testament manuscripts, while certainly more on the literary end of the spectrum than prior scholars have acknowledged, is not typically as formal as the highly calligraphic bookhand often present in classical Greek texts. On top of this, our earliest New Testament manuscripts offered much more in the way of reader’s aids. Examples include more frequent use of punctuation, fewer lines per page, fewer letters per line, spaces within lines to mark sense-units, enlarged first letters, and breathing marks. In other words, the features of Christian manuscripts functioned to relieve the burden on the reader by making the text easier to follow and to pronounce.

Several implications can be drawn from these textual features. First, it is clear that many of these New Testament manuscripts (at least the ones that possessed these features), even as far back as the second century, were constructed for the purpose of public reading.⁹¹ This comports quite well with what we have already observed in prior chapters, namely that early Christians were keen to read their books publicly in settings of worship. Second, and closely related to the first, these scribal features demonstrate that Christians were deeply concerned with the content of these books. Texts were not produced by Christians as merely objects of art, but they were produced to be read, studied and learned. And these scribal features were designed to aid and facilitate that task as much as possible. This supports our contention above that early Christianity was a culture of textuality, not orality. Third, and perhaps most intriguing, these textual features tell us something about the socio-cultural identity of early Christianity. In contrast to the elite reading contexts of the cultural elite – highly educated, wealthy, socially homogeneous – Christian manuscripts appear to be designed to make the text accessible to a wider and more diverse reading audience.⁹² In other words, it seems Christian manuscripts were produced for a social setting that would have included a wider range of educational backgrounds and socio-economic classes. This confirms our earlier discussions in Chapter 1 that second-century Christians were a diverse and non-homogeneous group, covering a broad range of social and economic situations, from slaves to the wealthy elite.

Transmission and circulation of Christian books

The physical production of a book was only one aspect of the literary culture of early Christianity. There still remains the question of how those books were copied, circulated and transmitted in the earliest centuries of the Church. Since this subject is too vast to cover in a small section of a single chapter, we shall just provide a general overview of the main issues here.

Publication networks

As observed in the prior chapter, second-century Christianity was not composed of an array of isolated, independent Christian groups. On the contrary, Christians were highly networked across the empire, exchanging literature between themselves with an impressive amount of frequency.⁹³ Of course, this sort of literary networking was already present in the first century. Paul would send his letters through friends or associates to various churches (Rom. 16.1; Eph. 6.21; Col. 4.7) where he would ask them to be read publicly to the church (2 Cor. 2.9; Col. 4.16; 1 Thess. 5.27). Such a public reading was in itself a form of publication – it was analogous to the Roman recitatio (discussed above) where a book would be introduced to a new group. In addition, it seems evident that Paul would have expected his letters to be copied and then distributed among the churches. After all, several of his letters were written to regions (e.g., Galatia) or to sizable cities (e.g., Rome) which would have been composed of numerous local congregations. It is unlikely that each of these smaller congregations read the original copy of Paul’s letters – they undoubtedly read copies and then subsequently made their own copies. Such a vast literary network explains how Paul’s letters would have circulated rapidly enough around the empire to allow Peter to assume his audience was already familiar with a collection of Paul’s letters (2 Pet. 3.15).

As we move into the second century, we continue to see an impressive circulation network for Christian literature. One example can be found in the apocalyptic-style work the Shepherd of Hermas where Hermas receives the following instructions:

And so, you will write two little books, sending one to Clement and one to Grapte. Clement will send his to the foreign cities, for that is his commission. But Grapte will admonish the widows and the orphans. And you will read yours in the city, with the presbyters who lead the church.⁹⁴

In this intriguing account, Hermas is asked to make two copies of the revelation he is receiving (‘two little books’) which he will in turn give to Clement and Grapte who will themselves make copies for their constituencies. It is evident that these two individuals are secretaries of sorts for their groups with the special role of making sure copies are made (‘for that is his commission’). Harry Gamble even refers to Clement as an ‘ecclesiastical publisher’ in the church at Rome who is responsible for circulating Christian literature to other churches and Christian communities.⁹⁵ Then finally Hermas is asked to take a copy to his own group (‘the presbyters’) and have it read aloud.

A similar publishing network is evident in Polycarp’s letter to the Philippians to which he attached the collected letters of Ignatius. The Philippians had originally written a letter to Polycarp requesting copies of Ignatius’ letters, as well as asking Polycarp to forward a letter to Antioch.⁹⁶ In reply, Polycarp forwarded the Philippians’ letter to Antioch (something he apparently did regularly for other churches), had copies made of Ignatius’ letters (implying copies of Ignatius’ letters were stored at Smyrna), and then sent a new letter to the Philippians with the letters of Ignatius attached. And all of this appears to have happened within the span of a couple of weeks.⁹⁷ Evidently, Polycarp’s home church at Smyrna was a hub of literary activity dedicated to letter-writing, copying and distributing Christian literature. Implicit in such activity is that Polycarp’s church possessed the scribal infrastructure to accomplish these tasks.

These are just two examples that demonstrate that the second century was a time when Christianity possessed a relatively developed and intensive publication and communication network for the copying and distribution of its books. The widespread and uniform use of the codex and nomina sacra provides even further confirmation of a high level of ecclesiastical interaction and organization.

Copying of Christian books

We have already discussed above that many Christian scribes were probably private multifunctional scribes in the service of well-to-do Christians. However, this should not be taken as evidence that all Christian scribal activity occurred in an isolated and disconnected fashion. On the contrary, the evidence above from the Shepherd and Polycarp suggests that second-century churches must have had substantial scribal resources at their disposal. While we do not have evidence that there were established ‘scriptoria’ in the second century, Scott Charlesworth has argued that the uniform features of many second-century manuscripts of the Gospels – features that include semi-literary scribal hands and reader’s aids – suggest that they were ‘produced in controlled settings, i.e., in small copy centers’.⁹⁸ Such centres would have provided more control, uniformity and consistency in the copying task – especially in regard to the books of the New Testament. It seems probable that the language we find in Polycarp and the Shepherd may indicate the existence of these sorts of centre at Smyrna and at Rome. And if such centres existed in these cities, we might expect them to also exist in other major urban locations. Gamble argues: ‘The churches in Rome, Antioch, Caesarea, and Alexandria (to name only the most obvious) were probably centres almost from the beginning for the composition of Christian writings.’⁹⁹ Gamble even leaves the door open for the possibility of full-blown ‘scriptoria’ in the second century at places like Alexandria and Oxyrhynchus.¹⁰⁰

If in fact manuscripts were copied in these copy centres in the second century, Charlesworth argues that these centres would probably have maintained ‘master copies’ of New Testament books from which scribes could make additional copies.¹⁰¹ These master copies would probably have also been the very copies that were publicly displayed and read aloud in corporate worship. Such master copies would have served to reduce the number of textual variations in the copying process by virtue of the fact that the scribes would always return to the same exemplar rather than copying from other copies of that exemplar. A recent study by Craig Evans has suggested that it was not unusual for ancient papyri to be in use (and thus copied) for two centuries or more.¹⁰² Thus, these master copies could have exhibited a stabilizing influence on the text of the New Testament for generations.

Of course, not all manuscripts of the New Testament would have been copied with such care. Indeed, we have numerous examples of manuscripts that clearly stem from ‘uncontrolled’ environments where the scribal hand is more informal, unprofessional and on the documentary end of the spectrum (e.g., P37). Such manuscripts typically lack other features such as punctuation and reader’s aids. There is little doubt that these more uncontrolled environments in which manuscripts were copied provide a partial (though not complete) explanation for why some manuscripts in early Christianity can be designated as ‘wild’ or ‘free’ in terms of the quality of the text they preserve.¹⁰³ Such uncontrolled environments would have no doubt allowed for more scribal mistakes, resulting in an increased number of textual variations.¹⁰⁴ Of course, there is not a one-to-one relationship between the copying environment and the quality of textual transmission. After all, some scribes in controlled environments may have still made many mistakes (e.g., P66), and some scribes copying in ‘uncontrolled’ environments may have still managed to produce a faithful copy. Even so, there is probably a general correlation between the copying environment and the quality of textual transmission.

Regardless of the reasons that some manuscripts were poorly copied, the fact is that some were. Some scribes made changes to the text. Most of these changes were accidental – ranging from misspellings to accidentally skipped lines – while other changes seem to have been intentional.¹⁰⁵ Such changes raise important questions about the stability of the New Testament text during the second century. Some scholars have argued that the text in this period could be characterized as ‘free’, ‘wild’, or even ‘chaotic’, thus casting doubt on the reliability of the transmission process. However, such a characterization overlooks the fact that many of the New Testament manuscripts in this period contained a text that could be regarded as ‘normal’ or even ‘strict’ in terms of its faithfulness to a presumed original.¹⁰⁶ Thus, it would be more accurate to say that the second century was a time when the state of the New Testament text was mixed – some manuscripts appear to preserve the text with great fidelity (e.g., P103, P104), while other manuscripts demonstrate a greater degree of textual fluidity (e.g., P66). Or, as Michael Holmes observes, ‘We are dealing with a situation [in the second century] that involves a mixture of both fluidity and stability.’¹⁰⁷

Of course, the challenge is that our extant New Testament manuscripts only take us back to the second century – and most likely the end of that century. While that is remarkably (if not stunningly) early for comparable documents from this period,¹⁰⁸ questions still remain about the state of the text in the early second century or even late in the first. Is it possible the text was radically different during these earlier stages that are inaccessible to us? Some scholars say yes. Helmut Koester, for example, has argued that the New Testament text in the early second century was probably more wild and fluid even than the later, extant manuscripts indicate.¹⁰⁹ Koester bases his argument on the fact that the Gospels were not regarded as Scripture in the second century (and thus were more likely to be changed) and that the Gospel citations from second-century patristic sources indicate a more loose and ever-changing textual tradition.

However, there are a number of problems with Koester’s argument. For one, patristic citations are notoriously unreliable as a basis for determining the state of the text at any given point. It was common for authors to cite the Scripture loosely, paraphrasing and rewriting it to suit their purposes.¹¹⁰ In addition, it is not always clear whether patristic citations are even citations of Gospel texts at all – sometimes church fathers are simply citing free-floating oral tradition.¹¹¹ Thus, we must be careful not to make broad declarations about textual transmission on the basis of patristic citations alone. But the larger problem for Koester’s argument is that we have evidence that New Testament writings were regarded as Scripture even in the second century (more on this in the next chapter). And when we look at second-century attitudes toward the reproduction of scriptural texts, there is a clearly expressed desire that the text be transmitted carefully and precisely. In fact, there is a principle of ‘neither adding nor taking away’ (cf. Deut. 4.2) that is repeatedly cited by second-century authors when discussing the transmission of texts.¹¹² Thus, we have no reason to think that Christians (and particularly Christian copyists) at this stage would have viewed unbridled textual changes as acceptable.

This concern for accurate and reliable textual transmission is borne out by the fact that we see scribal corrections to the text in our very earliest manuscripts – even those dated in the second century. Such corrections often occur in the same scribal hand, showing that a scribe has carefully checked his manuscript, most likely comparing it to the exemplar from which he copied. Sometimes we see scribal corrections in another hand (though still contemporary with the original scribe) which might suggest that scribal work is being routinely checked by another scribe, perhaps even in a supervisory role. It is worth noting that P103 – a second-century manuscript of Matthew which has a ‘strict’ text and was copied in a controlled environment – has corrections from a second scribal hand.¹¹³ This sort of situation, where there are multiple scribes working to transmit a single text, supports the existence of the kind of ‘copy centres’ mentioned above and perhaps even the possibility of early scriptoria. Regardless, at a minimum it reveals an attitude toward that text where scribes were concerned to make careful and exact copies.

The general stability of the text is confirmed by another reality, namely that if there were wild textual changes made in the earlier stages of textual transmission, it is extremely unlikely that they would not be visible in our later manuscripts. For that to occur, we would have to believe that these wild textual changes took place and that the text somehow stabilized so that no trace of those changes was left behind. Frederik Wisse comments:

There is no indication that the Gospels circulated in a form different from that attested in the later textual tradition. . . . If indeed the text of the Gospels had been subjected to extensive redactional change and adaption during the second century, the unanimous attestation of a relatively stable and uniform text during the following centuries in both Greek and the versions would have to be considered nothing short of a miracle.¹¹⁴

In other words, the textual tradition of the New Testament has a stubborn quality about it. It is what the Alands referred to as the ‘tenacity’ of the text. Once a reading enters the textual tradition, ‘it will persist with obstinacy’.¹¹⁵ There is simply not enough time therefore for radical textual changes to be made in, say, the early second century, and such changes to be entirely invisible in the textual tradition at the end of the second century. This suggests that we should expect no greater level of textual diversity in these earliest (unobservable) stages than we find preserved in our current manuscript tradition.¹¹⁶

Conclusion

The purpose of this chapter has been to survey one of the unique features of the early Christian movement, namely its decidedly ‘bookish’ nature. Contrary to portrayals of early Christianity as an exclusively oral religion or as having an oral culture, the evidence surveyed above suggests something very different. It suggests that from the beginning Christians had a distinctive textual identity that was rooted in its Jewish heritage and manifested in an impressive and voluminous production of new books. Christians wrote all sorts of books – doctrinal treatises, apologetic works, sermons/commentaries, letters, gospels, acts and apocalypses. And this prolific literary production is one of the reasons why the Roman world viewed Christianity as more of a philosophy than a religion. Its focus on intellectual content, content preserved in books, made it unlike the popular religions of the Greco-Roman world.

Even more notable than the quantity of books produced by Christians is the distinctive book technology and scribal practices they employed. The use of the codex and the nomina sacra not only indicate a rather organized and developed scribal culture, but demonstrate that Christians began to view some books as sacred and belonging together in a canonical collection. Moreover, the impressive use of reader’s aids suggests that many books were copied in ‘controlled’ settings and were intended for public reading in the churches.

In addition, it is evident that Christian scribes were keen to copy these texts with care and precision. While the text of the New Testament in the second century exhibited both stability and fluidity, there is little reason to think that the earlier, unobservable stage of the text was as wild and uncontrolled as some scholars maintain. On the contrary, the attitudes toward textual reproduction, the evidence for early scribal corrections, and the tenacity of the text suggest that we should expect no more diversity in the earlier stages of textual transmission than is already visible in our extant manuscripts.

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