On “The Heresy of Orthodoxy,” Part Four

In this final post of my critique of Andreas J. Köstenberger’s and Michael J. Kruger’s The Heresy of Orthodoxy: How Contemporary Culture’s Fascination with Diversity has Reshaped our Understanding of Early Christianity (Wheaton, ILL: Crossway, 2010) I focus on K&K’s chapter on the Christian Apocrypha: “Establishing the Boundaries: Apocryphal Books and the Limits of Canon.” 

This chapter asks the question, “whether the diversity of apocryphal literature threatens the integrity of the twenty-seven-book canon as we know it” (152). Again, K&K are challenging the pop-scholarship of Bart Ehrman which asserts that all Christian texts, canonical and non-canonical, are equal, that some apocryphal texts could easily have made it into the canon.  K&K justifiably, I think, criticize Ehrman for a statement he makes in Lost Christianities in this regard: “But where did [the New Testament] come from? It came from the victory of the proto-orthodox. What if another group had won? What if the New Testament contained not Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount but the Gnostic teachings Jesus delivered to his disciples after his resurrection? What if it contained not the letters of Paul and Peter but the letters of Ptolemy and Barnabas? What if it contained not the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John but the Gospels of Thomas, Philip, Mary, and Nicodemus?” (Ehrman, p. 248). Ehrman’s point is sound, that the New Testament represents the views of one particular group (or several likeminded groups) in early Christianity; whether or not they are a group with greater claims of being true to the message of Jesus, while an issue of great concern for K&K, is immaterial. It is unfortunate, however, that Ehrman has chosen some texts for his argument that are unlikely to have been contenders for canonicity by any Christian group. For example, the Letter of Ptolemy to Flora is not apostolic—i.e., it makes no claim to be written by an intimate of Jesus. Mind you, 1 Clement and the Shepherd of Hermas are also not apostolic and they were considered scripture by some proto-orthodox Christian groups for some time. Also, the Gospel of Nicodemus is a late (5th/6th cent.) reworking of the earlier Acts of Pilate, and thus makes a poor example of a possibility for inclusion.

K&K make the point that the other texts cited were never included in discussions of the canon by orthodox writers (Irenaeus, Origen, Eusebius). “Although much is made of apocryphal gospels in early Christianity,” they write, “the fact of the matter is that no apocryphal gospel was ever a serious contender for a spot in the New Testament canon” (157). However, that does not mean groups who valued these texts did not consider them scripture. Indeed, all of our evidence of discussion of the contours of the canon is by (proto) orthodox writers; we have no evidence of such deliberations on the part of heretical groups, save for Marcion, whose canon was rather limited (Luke and select letters of Paul). It’s possible that these groups did discuss which texts were authoritative, and likely this list would include some of the texts now found in the New Testament, but they also may have felt it unnecessary to place such limits on their literature.

K&K raise another good point about the amount of early agreement among proto-orthodox writers on which texts were valuable. By the time of Irenaeus, there seems to have been substantial agreement on the status of Paul’s letters and the four gospels. I would argue also that heretical groups would have also found these texts foundational, though certainly they would have interpreted them differently. K&K should not, however, diminish the amount of disagreement (and sustained disagreement at that) about the other texts that were contenders for the canon. They argue that the canon was essentially determined early (second-century?), whereas Ehrman et al see it as closed fairly late: “in the end, one’s definition of ‘closed’ depends on whether one views the canon from a merely human perspective (whatever is finally decided by the fourth-century Christians) or from a divine perspective (books that God gave to his people during the apostolic time period). By myopically focusing only on the human element, the Bauer thesis cannot allow a ‘closed’ canon, in any sense, until the fourth-century” (171). Both sides need to remember, however, that even after the fourth-century the canon was not really “closed” at all, as we see evidence of other texts being included in biblical codices and constant interplay between canonical and non-canonical texts and traditions throughout the medieval period. And as noted in my previous post, Christian groups outside the influence of Rome had different shapes to their canons.

On a final note, I take issue once again with K&K’s invoking of the Holy Spirit or divine providence in the shaping of the canon. Their conclusion to this chapter sums up this perspective: “In the end, we have no reason to think that the plethora of apocryphal literature in early Christianity threatened the integrity of the New Testament canon. The historical evidence suggests that under the guidance of God’s providential hand and through the work of the Holy Spirit, early Christians rightly recognized these twenty-seven books as the books that had been given to them as the final and authoritative deposit of the Christian faith” (175). Supernatural forces were also at play in the canon process to prevent the proper selection of books: “One area that is regularly overlooked (or dismissed) is the role of spiritual forces seeking to disrupt and destroy the church of Christ…their existence gives us greater reason to expect there would be controversy, opposition, and heresy in early Christianity” (160). Ehrman et al do not consider the impact of such forces because of their “anti-supernatural assumption” (155).

I think it is important for moderate voices to be heard in this debate. Ehrman is intentionally provocative in his statements about the possibilities of other books being included in the New Testament; and K&K are adamant about defending church tradition and bolstering the confidence of Christians that the Bible contains the rightfully-selected, apostolic, and doctrinally-correct writings. As historians, we should be careful to avoid either of these extremes. Forces were certainly at work in the canon-selection process, but they were not supernatural. And these natural forces more likely worked from the ground up, reflecting the wishes of a majority of Christians who valued these particular texts and preferred to live as best as possible in the world rather than to deny the world as most heretical Christians groups advocated. Orthodoxy won out over heresy because its point-of-view was more palatable to the greater number of Christians, and by its nature it was better organized—it championed structure and tradition. It’s unfortunate, mind you, that orthodoxy felt it had to destroy opposition in order to achieve success.

Whether or not orthodox Christianity is “true” or more authentic to the life and teachings of Jesus is not a question for historians. Similarly, whether or not the canon is the “right” selection of texts is also not a determination that we should be making.

The remainder of K&K’s book deals with NT text-criticism; this final section is called “Part 3: Changing the Story: Manuscripts, Scribes, and Textual Transmission” and challenges Ehrman on his views as expressed primarily in his book Misquoting Jesus. While I find the debate on these issues important and fascinating, they belong on a different blog.