Book Review ~ The Other Side: Apocryphal Perspectives on Ancient Christian “Orthodoxies”

With the “Beyond Canon” conference at the Universität Regensburg approaching in a few weeks (July 2–5; details HERE), I thought this might be a good time to finally write my review of the essay collection, The Other Side: Apocryphal Perspectives on Ancient Christian “Orthodoxies” (edited by Tobias Nicklas, Candida R. Moss, Christopher Tuckett, and Joseph Verheyden; NTOA 117; Göttingen: Vandenhoek & Ruprecht, 2017; publisher details HERE). The conference is organized by The Other Side editor and contributor Tobias Nicklas and some of the papers take up themes from the collection. The review has been on my to-do list for a long time, delayed in part due to my initial notes on the book going missing. But I went back to it this week and can now present my thoughts on it.

Most of the essays were originally presented at a conference in London, under the auspices of the University of Notre Dame, 3–5 July 2014. The exception is a paper by John Carey (“The Reception of Apocryphal texts in Medieval Ireland,” pp. 251–69) that originated as a plenary lecture at the “International Symposium on Christian Apocryphal Literature: Ancient Christian literature and Christian Apocrypha” in Thessaloniki, 27 June 2014. No explanation is given in the introduction for this outlier; indeed, very little information is provided in the introduction at all, and the few pages that are here seem to be repurposed from a publishing proposal for the book (at one point it states “the proposed volume…”). Nevertheless, some context is given for the papers: “The essays are concerned above all to show where the limitations in the categories discussed above [apocryphal, canonical, heretical, orthodox] play a role; but they also seek to show where these limitations might be overcome and hence how we perhaps should work with new categories (e.g. the significance, function, and authority of texts in different contexts: ‘First & Second Church’) in order to understand better the significance of ‘apocryphal’ texts (or texts which ‘became apocryphal’) within the history of early Christianity, doing justice to the fact that this history was dynamic and multi-dimensional” (p. 12). The lack of a comprehensive introduction is unfortunate, but not peculiar for Vandenhoek & Ruprecht volumes (Christian Apocrypha: Receptions of the New Testament in Ancient Christian Apocrypha [2014], also edited by Nicklas, along with Jean-Michel Roessli, has no introduction at all). They are helpful for putting the papers into the wider scholarly context and for making connections between the papers in the collection. Also absent from the volume are indices, and there is some inconsistency of citation format in the papers (particularly Nicklas’ contribution). This is distracting out for those of us who have edited essay collections, but may go unnoticed by readers and does not detract from the quality of the papers.

There are 13 papers in total, but I will not discuss all of them. Christoph Markschies begins with “Models of the Relation between ‘Apocrypha’ and ‘Orthodoxy’: From Antiquity to Modern Scholarship” (pp. 13–22). The essay seems to be the opening address of the conference and, from what I gather, the topic was assigned to Markschies by the organizers. He spends most of the paper deconstructing its title rather than presenting a historical survey of the topic, as I suspect the organizers expected. Markschies remarks, “The title proposed to me  seems to predicate that there are two entities, ‘Apocrypha’ and ‘orthodoxy’, that have some relationship to each other, or more philosophically precisely, that are in a relation to each other” (16). The reality, he says, is far more complex: apocrypha are multiform and should not be defined by what has become “canonical” in apocrypha collections like his own; orthodoxy and apocrypha are dynamic, not static categories (both change over time and differ based on one’s perspective—my “scripture” is your “apocrypha,” my “orthodoxy” your “heresy”). Markschies objects also to the title’s restrictive duality—it suggests apocrypha and orthodoxy exist in a vacuum. This first paper does introduce some concepts and problems that other contributors touch upon later in the book, but does not treat them in the kind of depth that would be useful at the start of the volume.

But readers do not have to wait long for a challenge to the canonical/noncanonical divide. The second paper of the volume, “Beyond ‘Canon’: Christian Apocrypha and Pilgrimage” (pp. 23–38) by Tobias Nicklas, demonstrates that what made a site “holy” had nothing to do with whether or not it was based on canonical traditions. Nicklas focuses his discussion on seven of the earliest pilgrimage itineraries—including the Bourdeaux Pilgrim (333-334), Egeria (381-384), and Jerome’s account of the travels of Paula and Eustochium (386). He examines the itineraries for what they say about those pilgrimage sites associated with apocryphal tales (whether known from surviving texts or otherwise unknown) and the dissemination of apocryphal texts. Egeria, for example, visited the tomb of Thomas in Edessa where she says her party “read from the writings of the holy Thomas himself” (perhaps the Acts of Thomas), heard the Abgar Correspondence, and was given a copy of the Christ’s letter to Abgar to take with her (Itin. Eger. 19). Egeria mentions also reading the Acts of Thecla in the martyrium of Thecla in Isaurian Seleucia (23.5). Of particular interest for me is the Pilgrim of Placentia’s account of visiting a synagogue in Nazareth where Jesus was taught his letters, and a field where he produced a miraculous harvest—both traditions seemingly derived from or related to stories found in the Infancy Gospel of Thomas. As for sites not mentioned in extant texts, Nicklas notes, among other examples, a rock called Ancona on the Mount of Olives on which Jesus is said to have leaned his shoulders and left an impression (Theodosius 21). Nicklas’s pool of sources is somewhat shallow—there are plenty of other accounts he could draw upon of European Christians visiting Rome and Egypt, and additional apocryphal texts related to pilgrimage could be brought into the discussion, such as the apocryphal acts or the flight to Egypt stories—but the essay opens up exciting new avenues of investigation, particularly for the production and transmission of apocryphal texts and the roles these texts played in the devotional life of Christians, who either visited the holy sites or received souvenirs from those who did.

Another new perspective on declarations of orthodoxy, this time in the study of heresiological literature, is provided by Ismo Dunderberg in “Recognizing the Valentinians – Now and Then” (pp. 39–53). Scholars have long fussed over which texts should be considered Valentinian; Dunderberg notes that recognizing Valentinian theology was difficult in antiquity also—Irenaeus wrote Against Heresies precisely to distinguish Valentinus’ ideas from those Irenaeus supported. But this paper focuses more on the notion of recognition as “acknowledging acceptance and approval” (41). The process involves one group seeking recognition from another and the second group granting that recognition. In the case of Irenaeus and the Valentinians, Irenaeus indeed acknowledges them, but as enemies not allies. And note that Irenaeus’ attention to the Valentinians does not mean they actually sought his recognition, nor that it would mean anything to them. Later heresy hunters are more harsh in their assessment of the Valentinians than Irenaeus, but Pseudo-Hippolytus stands out among them because he reports protests from followers of the Valentinian Marcus to prior criticism: “When they read this, they, as is their wont, denied that this was their tradition”—they were not recognized correctly. To his credit, Hippolytus responds by stating that he needs to study them more carefully. Dunderberg notes that Clement of Alexandria and Origen are more willing to interact with Valentinus’ works, “recognizing” Valentinus almost as an intellectual peer. Here Dunderberg mentions an apocryphal tradition that is new to me; Clement attributes the following to the apostle Paul: “Take also the Greek books, read the Sibyl, how it is shown that God is one, and how the future is indicated. And take and read Hystapes and you will find much more luminously and distinctly the Son of God is described…” (Misc. 6.5.1). In noting Clement’s and Origen’s more irenic treatment of Valentinus, Dunderberg suggests that when looking at how Christianity developed, we should consider not only areas of conflict between leaders of the early church, but also areas of agreement: “To this range in available evidence leads to the critical question of what part of the evidence seems preferable to the narratives we concoct of the past, and why. Are conflicts more decisive in our conceptualization of the past than examples of less aggressive relationships among people, and if they are, why?” (52).

Reidar Aasgaard argues in his paper that accusations of heresy may have something to do with social level. In “The Protevangelium of James and the Infancy Gospel of Thomas: Orthodoxy from Above or Heterodoxy from Below?” (pp. 75–97), Aasgaard looks at two episodes from the texts—Mary in the Temple at the age of 12 (Prot. Jas. 8:6—9:12) and Jesus and his first teacher (Inf. Gos. Thom. 6:8—7:2)—and seeks to determine the social level of, first the world of the texts, and then the world of the authors. He cautions that “we should, of course, take care not to confuse the world within the texts with the world they relate to: these may very well differ considerably” (84); nevertheless, he concludes that “they seem to a considerable extent to reproduce the world of their respective authors, and probably also of their audiences” (94)—the “urban elite” for Prot. Jas. and the “rural, lower strata” for Inf. Gos. Thom. (92). Such determinations, however, depend on the material used for the study—Aasgaard’s conclusions would be different had he chosen, for example, Jesus’ birth in a cave for Prot. Jas. and Jesus in the Temple for Inf. Gos. Thom. Note too that the authors’ literary choices depend on the necessary contexts of the narratives: urban Jerusalem for the family life of Mary and rural Nazareth for the childhood of Jesus. Aasgaard does not consider the texts heretical—their filling in or supplementation of the canonical accounts suggests they are “orthodox” in their intent (95)—but the criticism of Inf. Gos. Thom. by elite church writers suggests that the gospel may have been considered more intellectually offensive than doctrinally suspect. Even if Aasgaard is wrong in this, he raises a valid point that social class does seem to affect assessments of the texts by modern scholars, who place more value and lavish more attention on gnostic, esoteric apocrypha than on simple “folk narratives” like Inf. Gos. Thom.

In tour-of-hell literature, orthodoxy takes a back seat to orthopraxy. In “Lacerated Lips and Lush Landscapes: Constructing This-Worldly Theological Identities in the Otherworld” (pp. 99–116), Meghan Henning illustrates that being a Christian, even a member of orthodox clergy, is not enough to guarantee salvation. Indeed, little attention is paid in the apocalypses to heretical thought. Some patristic writers consign arch-heretics and their followers to hell—Tertullian does so to Valentinus and Gregory the Great to Origen—but not the apocalypses. The earliest texts indict false prophets (Apoc. Pet.) and allot punishments to those who deny certain fundamental doctrines (the incarnation and bodily resurrection in Apoc. Vir. and Apoc. Paul) but for the most part these texts are more concerned with such issues as magic, infanticide, and sleeping in on Sunday. The visionaries of the texts do see a number of saints in Paradise, so they do not resist placing historical figures in the afterlife; perhaps their avoidance of arch-heretics is because the careers of the visionaries predate those of Valentinus, Marcion, and their ilk. The only exception to this rule is another apocalyptic text, the Questions of James to John, which does not appear in Henning’s discussion since it is not a tour-of-hell apocalypse. Here John talks to James about the possibility of forgiveness and lists a number of figures with checkered pasts—such as Cyprian of Antioch, Mary of Egypt, and Andrew of Crete—who post-date the apostles by a century or more.

Practice is the focus also of Candida Moss’ paper, “Notions of Orthodoxy in Early Christian Martyrdom Literature” (pp. 165–75). For some ancient writers, the only “true” Christians were martyrs, and those groups who escaped persecution, or were too eager to suffer death (the “volunteers”), were considered heretics. Moss focuses primarily on the Martyrdom of Polycarp, which juxtaposes Polycarp, who dies much like Jesus did, with Quintus of Phrygia, who came forward as a Christian voluntarily but turned coward when he saw the wild beasts. Moss wonders if Quintus’ actions are meant to represent those of a particular group of Christians, perhaps the Montanists, though others have suggested the Valentinians. Whether Quintus is an individual or a group, Moss cautions readers to be suspicious of how he is presented in Mart. Pol. as the heresy hunters have shown us that their polemical portrayals of opponents often poorly match reality.

Another noteworthy contribution to the volume is Jacques van der Vliet’s “The Embroidered Garment: Egyptian Perspectives on ‘Apocryphicity’ and ‘Orthodoxy’” (pp. 177–92). The core of the paper juxtaposes the positive portrayal of apocrypha in the Homily on the Passion and Resurrection attributed to Evodius of Rome (successor to the apostle Peter in Coptic tradition) and their condemnation in Shenoute of Atripe’s I Am Amazed (Contra Origenistas). Hom. Pass. Res. is itself an apocryphal text—the author claims to have witnessed the events of Jesus’ Passion and Resurrection. At one point in the narrative, the true author of the text interjects with a defense of noncanonical traditions, saying in part, “For the king shall not find fault, if plaits are woven into his garments; rather, he shall acclaim those who have given them even more, since everyone shall praise the garment on account of the plaits which adorn it. Thus shall the Lord Jesus not find fault with us, should we add some adornments to the Holy Gospels; rather, he shall acclaim us all the more, and he shall bless those who bear fruit through them!” (42). Shenoute, archimandrite of the White Monastery in Upper Egypt, wrote I Am Amazed between 431 and 451, not long after Athansius dispatched his 39th Festal Letter which condemns heretics and their writings. He is far less positive about apocryphal texts, warning his readers: “Listen so that you will discover that those who write apocrypha are blind and blind are those who accept them and believe them, and together they lie down prostrate in pits” (par. 101). The main target of Shenoute’s polemic is Origen, so his denigration of apocrypha is tied to accusations of heretical teaching. Van der Vliet sees in these two writers a distinction between the positive use of apocryphal texts to supplement the canon (Evodius) and heretical teachers drawing upon apocryphal texts to advance their own doctrines (Shenoute). Van der Vliet’s argument would be more nuanced if he mentioned that several of the manuscripts for Hom. Pass. Res. are from the White Monastery—clearly Shenoute had no problem with Evodius’ type of apocrypha.

In all, the papers address issues relating to orthodoxy/heresy and canonical/noncanonical with some nuance and sophistication, posing new questions about how authors and figures of authority drew these boundaries. They also show how applying these terms as historians can be problematic. The motives of writers in antiquity for calling someone a heretic or a text apocryphal are suspicious, but so are ours. We need to be careful not to let the opponents of apocrypha color our perceptions of these text and note that champions or orthodoxy are just as likely to compose and value apocrypha as the so-called heretics. “Apocrypha” and “heresy” are terms for “other”—the “magic” to others’ “miracle”—and not in themselves representative of the quality of the opponents’ ideas, texts, or practices.