Justin Martyr and the Genealogy of Mary

Writing in the first half of the third century, Julius Africanus is our earliest writer to raise the two genealogies of Jesus as a potential apologetic issue.1 But before Africanus, Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, and apparently even Celsus all refer to the two genealogies, yet mention not a word about any conflict between them.

Thus, Origen takes Celsus to task for his failure to mention discrepancies between the genealogies that caused “some difficulty even to Christians.”2 Irenaeus mentions both genealogies by name, but makes no comment on their use of different ancestors.3 With Justin the citations are less clear, though, if we follow one plausible conjecture, he too apparently alludes to both genealogies without any comment on their differences.

Why were these early writers silent about any conflict between the two genealogies?

One possibility is that they believed one of the genealogies to belong to Mary. The obvious choice would have been Luke. While Matthew asserts that Jacob “begat” Joseph, Luke does not say specifically how Jesus was known as “the son of Joseph.”4

The problem is that none of these writers states explicitly that the Lukan genealogy belongs to Mary. Except perhaps Justin.

In his Dialogue with Trypho, Justin is quite interested in Mary’s ancestry.

  • In 43.1 Justin writes of Jesus as “born of a virgin, of the family of Abraham and tribe of Judah, and of David.”5
  • In 45.4 Justin refers to “this virgin of the family of David.”6
  • In 100.3 Justin again refers to “the virgin … of the family of David, and Jacob, and Isaac, and Abraham.”7

Of course, the biblical text never states that Mary belonged to the tribe of David. It is possible though that Justin inferred this from her betrothal to Joseph.

But did Justin have any more secure reason for his belief that Mary, like her husband, was of the tribe of David? Did Justin believe that he had access to Mary’s genealogy?

A Lukan Genealogy of Mary?

It is often thought that Justin alludes to the Lukan genealogy in Dialogue 100.3. In most editions, Justin refers here to a genealogy headed by Adam “from whom Mary derives her descent.” Presumably, this would refer to the Lukan genealogy.8 Thus:

“Jesus said then that he was the Son of man, either because of his birth by the virgin, who was … of the family of David, and Jacob, and Isaac, and Abraham; or because Adam was the father both of himself and of those who have been first enumerated from whom Mary derives her descent.”9

Unfortunately though the word Adam is a conjecture. While this conjecture is popular among editors, our only surviving manuscripts have Abraham where most editors put Adam.10

Editors seem to prefer Adam because it makes better sense in the context.11 After all, it makes little sense to call Abraham the father of a list of patriarchs that includes himself. Moreover, since Justin is trying to explain why Jesus called himself Son of Man, it makes sense that he would refer to the first man in his argument.

So Adam is not a bad guess. But if this is Justin’s intention, in a context that also invokes the descent of Mary, in order to explain why Jesus called himself Son of Man, we have to wonder, did Justin regard the Lukan genealogy as the genealogy of Mary? Perhaps this is why he mentions no conflict between the genealogies.

Fathers of Daughters and their Sons

But Justin leaves us with one more clue. Almost as an afterthought, he adds:

“For we know that the fathers of women are the fathers likewise of those children whom their daughters bear.”12

Is Justin calling Mary’s child the child of Mary’s father? Is Justin connecting Jesus to Luke’s genealogy through Mary? After all, Mary is the only woman or daughter mentioned in the context.

Maybe Justin is referring to the patriarchs as the fathers of Mary. But this hardly makes sense. The patriarchs already had sons to trace their lineage. By invoking the daughter as bearer of her father’s lineage, Justin seems to be referring to Mary’s immediate father and, more specifically, to her father’s lack of sons. Perhaps it is better then to understand Justin’s expression the fathers of women as fathers who have no sons.13 So it is possible that Justin understood Joseph to be the adopted son of Heli, presumably because in his view Mary had no brothers.14

Does Justin believe that the Lukan genealogy is the genealogy of Mary?

We cannot be certain. But his obscure reference to fathers passing their inheritance to the sons of their daughters suggests that he was prepared to understand Mary’s child, Jesus, as the son of her father. At the same time, Justin’s confidence in repeatedly mentioning Mary’s lineage from the family of David suggests that he had a text in mind to back this up. But Justin would have been hard pressed to find such a text outside of the genealogies of Jesus. Of course, since Justin argues passionately on behalf of Jesus’s miraculous birth, this would only have offered him more incentive to emphasize Mary’s tangible role in the genealogy of Jesus.

New Essay on Codex Bezae’s Lukan Genealogy

I have recently published an essay on Codex Bezae’s remarkable and singular Lukan genealogy in the Papers from the Tenth Birmingham Colloquium on the Textual Criticism of the New Testament, edited by H. A. G. Houghton and published by Gorgias Press.1 The essay is a development and expansion of a paper I presented at the Tenth Birmingham Colloquium on the Textual Criticism of the New Testament in March 2017.

Since one of the themes of the colloquium was to reflect on David Parker’s The Living Text of the Gospels, I examine Bezae’s Lukan genealogy through the method Parker outlines in his book, namely, collecting and describing the textual evidence, reconstructing the path of change, and attempting to contextualize these changes in the history of the users of the text.2

As far as external evidence, one startling fact about Bezae’s genealogy, as mentioned in this earlier post, is that its otherwise highly-original list of names, while singular in the manuscript tradition, corresponds to a nearly-identical list in Aphrahat’s Demonstrations. I say “nearly identical” because Bezae’s only divergence from Aphrahat is its puzzling duplication of Jehoiakim’s name, first (according to the reverse order of the Lukan genealogy) under his regnal name, Jehoiakim (ιωακειμ), and then under his birth name, Eliakim (ελιακειμ).

A second surprising observation is that the structure of the genealogy in Bezae the manuscript appears to mirror the structure of the names in Aphrahat’s list. The structure of Aphrahat’s list seems to divide the names into six groups of ten names around a central group of three names, culminating with the name of David. It turns out that Bezae’s page divisions fall precisely at these theorized divisions in the genealogy. Since Bezae has 33 lines per page, three groups of ten and the group of three occupy a single page on Folio 196.

The greater part of the essay is devoted to an effort to contextualize Bezae’s peculiar Lukan genealogy in the early church. Beginning with Justin’s two allusions to Jesus’s genealogy, I consider remarks on the genealogies by sixteen writers, including Aphrahat himself, down to the time of Jerome and Augustine, who were contemporaries of Bezae’s producers.

It is clear that anxiety about discrepancies between the Matthean and Lukan genealogies becomes more pronounced the later we go, reaching a peak in the Latin church in the second half of the fourth century. Earlier writers, such as Justin, Irenaeus, and even Celsus appear to have seen no conflict between the two genealogies, apparently understanding them as belonging respectively to each of Jesus’s human parents, Mary and Joseph. But starting with Julius Africanus, it is generally assumed that both genealogies belong to Joseph, whom they are purported to represent in the two gospel texts.

So later writers, when they mention the genealogy of Jesus, sense a need to explain that any appearance of conflict between the genealogies given by Matthew and Luke is merely an appearance. By the end of the fourth century, the preferred explanation is some form of the interpretation based on Levirate marriage, though this is not the only explanation given, as discussed in the essay.

The Lukan genealogy supplies a fascinating background to examine the development of Bezae’s tradition, given that its secondary character is so obvious and yet it is one of the longest variations in any of the gospels, consisting of eighty words.

How to Classify Codex Bezae’s Greek Text

For two centuries, Bezae’s classification has been thought of in terms of the so-called “Western” text type. Of course, the label “Western” tells us little if anything about Bezae’s relationships with other witnesses.

But Bezae does have relationships. Its parallels with 03 were noted by F. J. A. Hort.1 In Mark, Bezae’s parallels with 038 and 565 were pointed out by H. von Soden.2 Also in Mark, Bezae’s parallels with 032 were observed by H. A. Sanders to be a byproduct of the latter’s parallels with the Latin version.3 The question is, how does Bezae’s peculiar mix of relationships affect the classification of its text?

The most systematic attempt to classify Bezae’s text form to date is Text und Textwert (TuT), a project that seeks to classify every manuscript on the basis of agreement profiles at non-mainstream readings, which are found in the main list for each manuscript and book. When we inspect Bezae’s main list in Mark, we discover that its closest non-fragmentary relative is 038, which attests 40.4% agreement with Bezae’s profile — certainly not an impressive level of agreement.4 Overall, the impression we gain from Bezae’s main list in Mark is that of a text form isolated from the larger Greek tradition.

Of course, TuT considers only Greek manuscripts. For practical reasons, it relies on test passages, 196 in Mark. These test passages are not randomly selected and, hence, reflect a distinct bias in favor of passages of greater perceived text-critical interest. The result is a high proportion of test passages in which Bezae attests a unique reading in the Greek tradition, a situation that tends to exaggerate Bezae’s apparent isolation.

We can resolve the problem of bias in the selection of test passages with either a random sampling or a complete data set of variation units. According to my collation of transcripts prepared for the Editio Critica Maior (ECM) in Mark, in work for my dissertation, Bezae attests 1383 non-mainstream readings in Mark, setting aside readings that are singular or subsingular in the Greek tradition.5

Bezae’s closest Greek neighbors at these 1383 non-mainstream readings in Mark are 565 at 51.2% agreement, 038 at 47.3%, 032 at 39.3%, 01 at 35.3%, and 03 at 35.3%.6 So Bezae’s closest neighbor, 565, still only registers at 51% agreement.

Now according to TuT, 565 and 038 are closely related in Mark.7 So are 01 and 03.8 So we find at least three different traditions represented among Bezae’s closest witnesses in Mark: 565/038, 032, and 01/03. These results are summarized in the table:

Manuscript Non-Mainstream Agreements with Bezae in Mark
565 51.2% (706/1380)
038 47.3% (654/1383)
032 39.3% (522/1327)
01 35.3% (479/1356)
03 35.0% (482/1376)

Still, none of these witnesses exhibits an overwhelmingly high level of agreement.

Assessing the Unique Contribution of Witnesses

One question that remains unanswered by these figures is how much overlap exists between these agreements. To what extent do the 51% of agreements with 565 overlap the 47% of agreements with 038, the 39% of agreements with 032, or the 35% of agreements with 03? If we take 565 as the closest witness at 51%, which next witness accounts for the highest percentage of non-mainstream readings not attested by 565?

It turns out that the witness that contributes the most new agreements which are not already attested by 565 is 03 — even though this witness registers at fifth place in overall agreement. While 038, 032, and 01 all agree at higher individual percentages than 03, it turns out that many of their agreements are shared with 565.

On the other hand, 03 contributes the most new agreements. Sixteen percent of 03’s agreements at Bezae’s non-mainstream readings are not attested by 565. So between the agreements of 565 and 03 we can account for nearly two thirds or 67.5% of Bezae’s non-mainstream readings in Mark.

The witness that contributes the most new readings not attested by either 565 or 03 is not 038, but 032, which adds 9% to our cumulative percentage of agreement. This brings the total cumulative agreement between the three witnesses — 565, 03, and 032 — to over three quarters or 76.6% of Bezae’s non-mainstream readings in Mark.

With the fourth witness we start to encounter diminishing returns. The witness that contributes the most new readings after 565, 03, and 032 — 038 — contributes just 3.5% to the total cumulative agreement, bringing the total agreement to four out of five or 80.1% of non-mainstream readings. As we noted above, 038 is closely-related to 565 in Mark. So it is not surprising that it contributes so few new agreements.

The respective contributions of the four witnesses that together agree with 80% of Bezae’s non-mainstream readings in Mark are illustrated in the chart.

How are we to understand this result?

It appears that Bezae is related in Mark, not to a single witness or family, but primarily to three witnesses or families in the Greek tradition, namely, 565-038, 032, and 03-01 and their relatives. The implication is that Bezae attests a composite text form in Mark, a result that can be explained by mixture.

Classifying Bezae’s Mixed Text Form

So to answer our initial question, how to classify Bezae’s Greek text, the answer is that there are at least two ways.

One way is to classify the text as a whole. We find then that Bezae’s text form is closest in the Greek tradition to that of 565 across all of Mark, with which it agrees at 51% of its non-mainstream readings. The downside of this all-or-nothing approach is to create the misleading impression that Bezae’s Greek text is not particularly related to any other traditions.

A second way is to partition Bezae’s non-mainstream readings according to the witnesses and families with which they most closely agree. So we acknowledge that different sets of Bezae’s readings are closely related to different parts of the tradition.

As a starting point, we might assume that the largest set of readings — in which Bezae agrees with 565, 038, or both — represents the base tradition before the mixture of readings from other traditions.9

If so, we can assume that, in the case of readings where 565 and 038 overlap with other traditions, the reading entered Bezae’s tradition through the base text, that is, through the tradition represented by 565 and 038. But the readings of traditions that do not overlap with this base tradition presumably entered through mixture.

So we classify Bezae’s text form in parts rather than as a whole. The upside is that Bezae is now shown to be thoroughly related to the rest of the Greek tradition, though not to any single part of it. The classification of its text form consists of sets of readings that are closely related to different parts of the tradition.

We find then that, while Bezae’s text form is perhaps unique among surviving witnesses in its pattern of mixture, its text form is not unrelated to the larger Greek tradition. In fact, it is closely related to multiple witnesses and families.

Profiling Codex Bezae’s Greek Text Form as a Composite Text

On Tuesday, I presented a paper at the SBL International Conference in Helsinki on profile-based classification of composite text forms, in which I highlighted Codex Bezae’s Greek text of Mark as a case study in the profiling of highly-mixed text forms. This paper previewed some of the research for my dissertation on Bezae’s Greek text of the Gospel of Mark.

Highly-mixed text forms, such as Bezae’s, present unique challenges when we compare them to other known traditions, as their total profiles are likely to be substantially unique — unless of course we can identify other manuscripts with precisely same patterns of mixture, an unlikely prospect for text forms that lie far outside of the mainstream.

Are we to conclude from this that such text forms have no significant relationships with the wider tradition at all? Intuition tells us that this could not be so. After all, mixture by definition implies the existence of relationships with a variety of other traditions. Thus, in Bezae’s text of Mark, we find agreements with a variety of witnesses — for example, 03, 032, 565 — that are not otherwise closely related. In fact, Bezae does agree with other manuscripts and with some manuscripts more than others.

To understand how these diverse traditions may have interacted in the development of Bezae’s final text form, we require a more granular approach to manuscript profiling that relates these traditions only at the specific set of readings that they share in common, rather than across their total profiles. In this paper, I discuss such a granular approach to profiling that addresses complex mixed text forms by splitting the total profile into a composite of smaller sub-profiles, each with specific alignments within the tradition and hence modeling different relationships in the development of the final text form. In this way, we can begin to reconstruct Bezae’s textual history and potentially the textual histories of other highly-mixed witnesses.

Ambrosiaster and the Producers of Codex Bezae

Whether or not we regard the greater part of Codex Bezae’s text form as an ancient second-century text form, it is beyond dispute that the text as we now have it in its final form — scribal peculiarities and all — is, strictly speaking, a product of the early fifth-century context in which the manuscript was produced in ca. 400.

Though we might debate whether the substance and shape of that text is of the highest antiquity or something more recent, we are forced to acknowledge that the text itself, like the manuscript that transmits it, is an artifact of a particular context in which the words, as written, flowed from the pen of the scribe.

A natural first question then is what motivated Bezae’s producers to produce this specific text form at this specific time, given the range of competing text forms available at the turn of the fifth century. Was the goal to preserve an antiquarian curiosity for the benefit of subsequent generations? Or was there some other more strategic objective?

One way to consider this question is to inquire as to which known participants or contexts at the turn of the fifth century might have regarded a text form of the kind found in Codex Bezae with such exceptional interest as to prepare it for transcription at great cost in time and resources. Certainly, a community with some stake in both the Greek and Latin traditions would be a minimal expectation.

In an article that has just recently become available, “Ambrosiaster’s Three Criteria of the True Text and a Possible Fourth-Century Background for Bezae’s Bilingual Tradition,” I examine one such participant, the pseudonymous Latin writer known as Ambrosiaster, who was active in Rome from the 360’s through the 380’s CE.1 The intriguing thing about Ambrosiaster is that he seems to have thought about the Greek and Latin versions in a manner that is suggested also by the presentation of the Greek and Latin columns in Bezae’s bilingual tradition.

In the article, I draw several parallels between Ambrosiaster’s attitude regarding the Greek and Latin versions and the presentation of these versions in Codex Bezae. For example:

  1. Ambrosiaster’s appeal to extrinsic factors, such as reason, history, and authority, as the final arbiters of competing text forms, rather than necessarily the letter of the Greek text, supplies a consistent rationale for the free approach to the Greek tradition we encounter in Bezae’s own text form.
  2. Ambrosiaster’s defense of the Old Latin version as more authoritative than the Greek text of his day assumes that the contemporary Latin version could stand on equal footing with an appropriate archaic — or, indeed, archaizing — Greek text form, as implied by the presentation of Bezae’s Greek and Latin columns.
  3. Ambrosiaster’s critique of the Vulgate would have been well-served by the presentation of mutually corroborating Greek and Latin columns, such as we find in Bezae’s bilingual tradition, in which the Greek column might be taken as a putative Vorlage of the Old Latin text form found in the opposite column.

While we can assume no necessary direct relationship between Ambrosiaster and Bezae’s producers, the compatibility of their perspectives should caution us about assigning Bezae’s text form too readily to the very earliest centuries of Christianity or too hastily dismissing the possibility that Latin readings might in some ways have shaped its final Greek text form.

Presenting on Bezae’s Scribal Habits at the ISBL Conference in Berlin

Due to the demands of writing my dissertation, it has been far too long since I last posted.1 In the coming weeks, I plan another post providing (as far as I am permitted) a general sense of my work in this area.

This week I will be presenting at the International SBL conference in Berlin. A huge benefit of living in Germany is that the trip is a mere hop on the Bahn.

At the conference, I will present on an important aspect of Bezae’s text that I have explored little to date, namely, the issue of scribal habits. It turns out that bilingual codices and (in particular) Bezae present various unique challenges in proceeding with Colwell’s method of deducing scribal habits from apparent singular readings.

J. R. Royse already mentions the problem of Bezae’s numerous readings that are singular only in Greek, but well-attested in the versions and early Christian writers:

“a list of ‘singulars’ of D that failed to consider the Old Latin (and perhaps other versional material) would be quite misleading, since the list would include readings of D that are evidently part of a much older tradition.”2

But there are other issues and questions.

For example, how do we even define a singular reading in a bilingual codex? Is a reading that appears in both columns of Bezae but nowhere else actually singular?

We find such a case in Mark 1:13, where both columns state, not that “the spirit,” but that “the Holy Spirit,” sent Jesus out into the desert, a reading found in no other Greek or versional witness.3

My suggestion is that such readings should not be considered singular for the purpose of scribal habits. In such cases, the scribe prepared two separate transcriptions of the reading in different languages — so clearly it is no accident. The question is whether the scribe inserted such readings in both columns during transcription, a habit that would require translation each time to maintain balance between the columns (an evident concern in Bezae’s tradition). It seems more likely to me that the scribe copied such readings from the exemplar.

Another problem is readings that appear nowhere else in any tradition, but which seem too substantial to credit to a scribe acting alone. For example, Bezae’s so-called Sabbath worker pericope at Luke 6:5 is found in no other witness or early Christian writer. But at twenty-eight words, it is difficult to conceive of this significant change to the gospel narrative in terms of the habits of a scribe.

Then there is the problem of the scribe working in two languages. In Bezae’s case, the scribe, while perhaps not a native Latin speaker, is nevertheless more comfortable in Latin than in Greek. As David Parker observes:

“the scribe was a Latin speaker – he wrote the Latin as he would hear it, but the Greek as he saw it.”4

One result of this discrepancy is that we can expect different habits in Bezae’s two columns. For example, we should interpret orthographical singularities differently depending on the column in which they occur. While on the Greek side, they are more likely to reflect ignorance or unfamiliarity, on the Latin side, they are more likely to reflect habitual preferences. Ultimately then we have two sets of scribal habits that we must combine into a single picture of the scribe.

From an initial examination of Bezae’s singular readings, my sense is that the greater part of significant singulars in Bezae derive from its traditions rather than its scribe. One reason for this has to do with the practical constraints imposed by the bilingual format on its two matching texts. The presence of two texts offers a constant control against various common types of error, with each column providing a reference against which to check the accuracy of the other column. For example, in the case of scribal leaps, it is immediately apparent when the number of lines does not match in the facing column. In this way, the bilingual structure provides a kind of “safety apparatus” around the text.

I look forward to a great discussion.

Presenting at the Birmingham Colloquium on Bezae’s Lukan Genealogy

This week I am heading to the University of Birmingham for the Tenth Birmingham Colloquium on the Textual Criticism of the New Testament. It will be my first attendance at this colloquium. On Wednesday, I will present a paper entitled “Codex Bezae’s Lukan Genealogy (Luke 3:23-38) as a ‘Living Text’.”

Bezae’s Lukan genealogy is a text I have discussed in a number of blog posts, particularly in relation to the (nearly) parallel list of names supplied by Aphrahat in his Demonstration 23 (in Syriac). Bezae’s Lukan genealogy makes a particularly elegant case study given that few of Bezae’s variations are so clearly secondary. Not only is the problem it solves patently evident (i.e. harmonizing the genealogies), but there are clear traces of the editor’s work in the text and (as I will propose) in the codex itself. Moreover, any argument that Bezae reflects the earlier text form must account for the mainstream tradition. If Bezae’s unified genealogy were the initial text form, why would anyone then replace this with a different genealogy in the mainstream tradition?

The genealogy is also instructive for its illumination of the history of the text. While we might naturally expect Bezae’s Greek text form to represent the source of Aphrahat’s Syriac list of names, in the genealogy we find evidence of secondary development in Bezae’s text, for example, in the duplication of Jehoiakim’s place in the genealogy, suggesting an incomplete grasp of the significance of Aphrahat’s list of names.

At the colloquium, I will approach Bezae’s Lukan genealogy as a “living text,” that is, as a possibly secondary text form that nevertheless stands on its own as a significant contribution to our understanding of the early Christian community who used it as their Lukan genealogy.

The abstract follows:

Codex Bezae’s Lukan Genealogy (Luke 3:23-38) as a “Living Text”:
The Genealogy of Jesus in the Traditions of Codex Bezae and Aphrahat

At eighty words, Codex Bezae’s variant text of the genealogy of Jesus in Luke 3:23-31 presents one of the longest variations in the gospels. Yet the resulting genealogy, while essentially harmonized to Matthew’s names, is no mere assimilation to Matthew, but reflects in several respects the editor’s touch, for example, including Old Testament kings lacking in Matthew’s list, adapting Matthew’s list to Luke’s phraseology, and rearranging the names to follow Luke’s Christ-to-Adam sequence. The end result is a text that betrays little apparent interest in reproducing a putative “original,” but rather reveals a process of development within the community (or communities) that superintended its growth. In this paper, I will suggest that Prof. Parker’s paradigm of the living text offers a particularly apt framework for understanding Bezae’s Lukan genealogy, arguing that close examination of Bezae’s text as a “living text” leads to some surprising results that challenge common conceptions of textual history. I will show that, while clearly dependent on a tradition shared with Aphraates, Bezae’s apparently-mistaken duplication of Jehoiakim’s name — which appears under both his birth and regnal names — and the consequent disruption to the numerology presupposed by Aphraates’ tradition, indicates that, far from representing Aphraates’ source (as might be presumed under the typical assumption that Bezae represents an ancient second-century text form), Bezae rather reflects a derivative and perhaps later form of Aphraates’ tradition, calling into question whether Bezae’s Lukan genealogy can be considered a second-century or even Diatessaronic tradition and prompting us to look to other contexts, possibly as late as the end of the fourth century, for a suitable backdrop to Bezae’s text form.

The Vulgate — Jerome’s idea?

For much of what we believe we know about the origins of Jerome’s revision of the Latin Bible, Jerome himself is our only source.1 To read Jerome’s version of events, we come away with the picture of a persecuted scholar obediently fulfilling a commission from Rome to restore the variant-ridden texts of the Latin church, while virtually directing the course of the Latin version from a cell in Bethlehem. From his self-portrait as innocent victim of unwarranted attacks to his complaints about the ignorant masses incapable of appreciating his vision of the authority of the Greek and Hebrew versions, Jerome’s rhetoric shines when polishing his own literary image.

To judge the effectiveness of Jerome’s rhetoric, we might consider B. M. Metzer’s account of the Vulgate’s origins:

“… various people, at various times and in various places, with varying degrees of success, had translated various parts of the Bible into Latin. The result was chaos. The different versions had become so mixed and corrupt that no two manuscripts agreed. Accordingly Pope Damasus (366–84) undertook to remedy this intolerable situation, and the scholar to whom he entrusted the arduous task was the great biblical scholar of the ancient Latin Church, Sophronius Eusebius Hieronymus, known to us today as St. Jerome.”2

It is evident that Metzger essentially accepts Jerome’s version of events, reciting Jerome’s Preface with scarcely a hint about the potential dangers of such a one-sided account (or Jerome’s tendency to produce such accounts):

“Although we do not have the original request of the scholarly Damasus … we can judge from Jerome’s Preface to his revision of the four Gospels … how he regarded the Pope’s mandate. … There were two reasons … which prompted Jerome to incur such an amount of opprobrium [i.e. for altering the biblical text]. The first reason, as he goes on to say in the Preface, was the command laid upon him by Damasus, the supreme pontiff. The second was the shocking diversity among the Old Latin manuscripts.”3

Of course, this is all Jerome’s story: the Old Latin version in hopeless disarray, a hapless church unsuccessfully striving to lift itself above the chaos, a visionary pope benevolently assessing the situation and appointing for the Herculean task a consummate scholar able to accomplish what no one else could, namely, Jerome himself. We find here no real attempt to probe Jerome’s account, whether of Damasus’s commission, Jerome’s obedience to it, or the persecution he accepts for his obedience. But given Jerome’s pattern of self-promotion and exaggeration in reporting events concerning his own personal narrative, such an approach is not without risk in attempting to acquire an accurate assessment of Jerome’s place in textual history.

The Importance of Rufinus’s Account of Jerome

So we are relieved to find in Rufinus’s Apology against Jerome a voice that for once challenges Jerome’s own carefully-crafted and closely-controlled literary self-portrayal. Rufinus’s characterization of Jerome is nearly the opposite of his own. We hear of Jerome’s meanness, pettiness, fickleness, conniving, perjury, deception, self-delusion, and willingness to preserve his literary reputation at virtually any cost.

We cannot forget of course that Rufinus was himself in conflict with Jerome at this time. Moreover, Jerome is able to defend himself on certain points in his own counter Apology against Rufinus. Yet we get the sense that Rufinus restrains himself from revealing all that he could:

“for God is my witness how truly I can say that I have kept silence on many more points than I have brought forward.” (Against Jerome 2.44; NPNF 2.3, 481)

According to Rufinus, he has spared Jerome a humiliating exposure, just has David spared Saul:

“Let us not follow his example [Jerome’s], but rather that of the patriarch David, who, when he had surprised his enemy Saul in the cave and might have slain him, refused to do so, but spared him. This man [Jerome] knows well how often I have done the same by him, both in word and deed; and if he does not choose to confess it, he has it fixed at least in his mind and conscience.” (Against Jerome 1.31; NPNF 2.3, 452)

Rufinus refers to incriminating letters in his possession:

“he [Jerome] knows that I possess a letter of his in which, while he discharges others, he makes his strictures fall upon Ambrose. But, since that letter contains certain more secret matters, I do not wish to see it published before the right time; and therefore I will corroborate what I say by other proofs similar to it.” (Against Jerome 2.23; NPNF 2.3, 470)

Of course, this evidence of restraint only serves to enhance Rufinus’s credibility.

Rufinus on Jerome’s Commission … or Lack Thereof

But one unexpected revelation of the Apology is Rufinus’s apparent belief that the Vulgate, at least as conceived by Jerome, was entirely Jerome’s idea. Rufinus (like Augustine) is especially concerned with Jerome’s preference for the Hebrew scriptures over the LXX:

“But this emendation of the Seventy, what are we to think of it? … This has been the present which you have made us with your excess of wisdom, that we are all judged even by the heathen as lacking in wisdom [for changing the basis of the text].” (Against Jerome 2.35; NPNF 2.3, 476)

Rufinus echoes the sentiments of other writers (such as Augustine) with facetious disbelief, referring to Jerome as a self-appointed “legislator” of the text, acting on his own initiative:

“When the world has grown old and all things are hastening to their end, let us change the inscriptions upon the tombs of the ancients, so that it may be known by those who had read the story otherwise, that it was not a gourd but an ivy plant under whose shade Jonah rested; and that, when our legislator [Jerome] pleases, it will no longer be the shade of ivy but of some other plant.” (Against Jerome 2.35; NPNF 2.3, 476.) 4

Significantly, Rufinus sees Jerome as challenging the authority on which the text stands from that of the apostles to that of his own critical judgment:

“And what are we to do when we are told that the books which bear the names of the Hebrew Prophets and lawgivers are to be had from you in a truer form than that which was approved by the Apostles?” (Against Jerome 2.32; NPNF 2.3, 475, italics mine)

“he [Jerome] has altered the sacred books which the Apostles had committed to the churches as the trustworthy deposit of the Holy Spirit” (Against Jerome 2.43; NPNF 2.3, 480, italics mine)

 “… to pervert the law itself and make it different from that which the Apostles handed down to us,—how many times over must this be pronounced worthy of condemnation?” (Against Jerome 2.32; NPNF 2.3, 475, italics mine)

“Who but you would have laid hands upon the divine gift and the inheritance of the Apostles?” (Against Jerome 2.32; NPNF 2.3, 475, italics mine)

This is no abstract charge. Of course, the apostles were no longer present in person. But the Roman see evidently understood itself to be exercising the same authority. At the Roman synod of 378, during Damasus’s reign, we encounter the first reference to Rome as an apostolic see.5 From a vantage point in Rome, Ambrosiaster notes that

“the succession is preserved beginning with the apostle Peter and handed down to the present time by the succession of bishops” (Quaest. 110.7)6

Meanwhile an inscription on the old Vatican baptistery, ascribed to Damasus, attributes the project vicariously to Peter, head of the apostles:

“Not by human power or art, … but with the help of Peter, pre-eminent [among the apostles], to whom was handed over the very door of heaven, I, Damasus, Bishop of Christ, built this. 7

So Rufinus’s charge that Jerome has undermined the authority of the apostolic text comes close to a denial that he is presently acting on behalf of a pope who claimed to possess apostolic authority.

While Rufinus focuses on the Hebrew translation as in his view the most egregious example of Jerome’s pretension to authority, he also cites Jerome’s Preface to the Four Gospels, suggesting that his criticisms are not limited to the Old Testament translation, but to a certain extent apply to the entire revision:

“To the daring temerity of this act we may much more justly apply your words: ‘Which of all the wise and holy men who have gone before you has dared to put his hand to that work?’ [citing the Preface]” (Against Jerome 2.32; NPNF 2.3, 475)

According to Rufinus, it is Jerome’s “style” to make unilateral judgments according to his “own arrogant authority” on which texts are suitable for the larger church:

“with that ‘censor’s rod’ of yours, and by your own arrogant authority, you make your decrees in this style: ‘Let this book be cast out of the libraries, let that book be retained; … Let this one be counted as Catholic …” (Against Jerome 2.30; NPNF 2.3, 474, italics mine)

Rufinus then states explicitly what he has previously only suggested, namely, that Jerome has no support from any authority in Rome:

“This action [translating the OT] is yours, my brother, yours alone. It is clear that no one in the church has been your companion or confederate in it …” (Against Jerome 2.37; NPNF 2.3, 477)

So Rufinus is apparently convinced that the Vulgate — at least in the Old Testament and apparently in the gospels as well — is solely Jerome’s idea. Rufinus mentions nothing of the commission by the pope that Jerome mentions in the Preface, of which he presumably must have known had it existed. It is clear then that, in Rufinus’s view, Jerome never had the support of any ecclesiastical authority.

How then did the Vulgate prevail? In a fascinating picture, Rufinus depicts Jerome as essentially the director of a scriptorium of his own works, who floods the churches with unsolicited copies of his revision:8

“But how are we to regard those translations of yours which you are now sending about everywhere, through our churches and monasteries, through all our cities and walled towns? are they to be treated as human or divine?” (Against Jerome 2.32; NPNF 2.3, 475)

So according to Rufinus, Jerome is acting entirely on his own initiative with no commission from Rome, while propagating the results by effectively “spamming” the churches and monasteries, cities and walled towns with unsolicited copies of his work.

From the point of view of the history of the text, we must be wary then of accepting Jerome’s claims at face value, especially when contradicted by a contemporary, such as Rufinus, who appears to have known Jerome personally as well as anyone else. In our inquiry concerning the history of the text, we simply cannot afford to accept Jerome’s word as definitive, especially when he is our only source.

Article published on the angry Jesus reading in Mark 1:41

I have published a new article on the angry Jesus reading in Mark 1:41, which appears in the latest issue of Tyndale Bulletin. The article is posted here.

This well-known reading, in which Jesus becomes angry at a leper he is about to heal, has been the subject of a number of articles and essays over the past few decades, many claiming that the reading’s difficulty makes it all but certain to have appeared in the tradition before the current mainstream reading.

Rufinus’s “other” citation of the pericope adulterae – against Jerome

Rufinus’s knowledge of the pericope adulterae (= PA) is usually cited in connection with his translation of Eusebius’s Church History, where he appears to have changed Papias’s reference to a woman “accused of many sins” to an “adulterous” woman, presumably under the influence of the PA found in John.

But Rufinus cites the PA in another context that is potentially revealing of Jerome’s own ambiguous connection with the story. 1 In his Apology against Jerome (401), Rufinus takes his erstwhile friend Jerome to task for the vicious accusations he has lodged against fellow Christians for Origenism, while failing to acknowledge his own record of promoting Origen. He then cites the story of Jesus and the adulteress (which he oddly calls “a parable”) to demonstrate the proper response of a convicted conscience, ironically displayed by the Jewish accusers:

“There is a parable of the Gospel which illustrates this. A woman taken in adultery was brought before our Lord by the Jews, so that they might see what judgment he would pronounce according to the law. He, the merciful and pitying Lord, said: ‘He that is without sin among you let him first cast a stone at her.’ And then, it is said, they all departed. The Jews, impious and unbelieving though they were, yet blushed through their own consciousness of guilt; since they were sinners, they would not appear publicly as executing vengeance on sinners. And the robber upon the cross, said to the other robber who was hanging like him on a cross, and was blaspheming, “Dost not thou fear God, seeing we are in the same condemnation?” But we condemn in others the things of which we ourselves are conscious; yet we neither blush like the Jews nor are softened like the robber.” (Against Jerome 1.44; NPNF 2.3, 459) 2

Rufinus’s reference is of particular significance because the work in which it is found is intended for Jerome, another writer who cites the PA and presumably included it in his Vulgate revision. Nevertheless, if Rufinus alludes to the Vulgate version, the connection is obscure at best. In favor of the allusion is the fact that the woman is actively “brought before” Jesus “so that they might see what judgment he would pronounce according to the law,” suggesting that the intent is to test Jesus against the Law of Moses (as it is in John). Yet Rufinus does not explicitly mention a “test” and his account seems somewhat abstracted from the context of John, where the antagonists are identified specifically as the scribes and Pharisees. Rufinus rather identifies the antagonists simply as “the Jews.”

Much more palpable is the connection with Didymus’s account, which, like that of Rufinus, identifies the antagonists as “the Jews.” The connection is especially strong in the latter half of Didymus’s story (lines 10-13):

We find, therefore, 7 in certain gospels [the following story], A woman, it says, was condemned by the Jews for a sin and 8 was being sent to be stoned in the place where that was customary to happen. The saviour, it says, 9 when he saw her and observed that they were ready to stone her, said to those 10 who were about to cast stones, ‘He who has not sinned, let him take a stone and cast it.’ 11 If anyone is conscious in himself not to have sinned, let him take up a stone and smite her. And no one 12 dared. Since they knew in themselves and perceived that they themselves were guilty in some things, they did not 13 dare to strike her.3

Rufinus’s closest parallel with Didymus is found at the end of the story, where we find a warning against judging (an idea that is not explicit in the Johannine version). In both Rufinus and Didymus, the accusers are unexpectedly convicted in their conscience and quickly depart from the scene. We must conclude then that, despite his allusion to details known only in the Johannine story, Rufinus adopts primarily the perspective and emphasis of Didymus’s version.

But perhaps most striking of all is Rufinus’s attribution of the story, not to John’s gospel (as we might expect from a Latin writer writing fifteen years after the Vulgate), but rather to “the Gospel.” Of course, this recalls Didymus’s own attribution of the story to “certain gospels.”

What then shall we make of Rufinus’s puzzling silence about his apparent dependence on details found only in John? Why with the Vulgate so close at hand does he draw such clear parallels with Didymus?

In fact, the links to Didymus are no coincidence. Throughout the Apology, Rufinus repeatedly brings up Jerome’s relationship to Didymus, which he treats as symptomatic of Jerome’s invidious habit of slandering fellow Christians, as Rufinus observes:

“it is habitual to him to disparage all good men, and that, if he can find something to blame in one man after another of those who are highly esteemed and have gained a name in literature, he thinks that he has added to his own reputation.” (Against Jerome 2.43; NPNF 2.3, 480)

And again:

“these invectives of yours are the cause of sadness and confusion to all who fear God, since they see you a prey to this hideous lust of detraction, and me driven to the wretched necessity of recrimination.” (Against Jerome 2.39; NPNF 2.3, 478)

Like Rufinus himself, the esteemed Didymus has suffered from Jerome’s pen the same vituperative attacks for his alleged Origenism. Rufinus reminds Jerome that they both had once claimed Didymus as their mentor, though Jerome has now deserted the teacher he once “praised to the sky”:

“I will therefore set forth a Preface of his by which you may see … how he praises Didymus to the sky, though he has since cast him down even to the infernal region.” (Against Jerome, 2.23; NPNF 2.3, 470)

Rufinus suggests that Jerome had used his relationship with Didymus to advance his career, while quickly dissociating himself when the relationship proved inconvenient:

“He [Jerome] … has not in his whole life stayed more than thirty days at Alexandria where Didymus lived; yet almost all through his books he boasts, at length and at large, that he was the pupil of Didymus the seer, that he had Didymus as his initiator, that is, his preceptor in the holy Scriptures; and the material for all this boasting was acquired in a single month. But I, for the sake of God’s work, stayed six years.” (Against Jerome, 2.12; NPNF 2.3, 466)

According to Rufinus, Jerome has shown more loyalty to the Jewish teachers on whom he relies for his Hebrew translation. Yet in this ironic “parable,” it is the Jews who repent under the Savior’s conviction. So while the Vulgate allusions reflect Rufinus’s context in the Latin church, the parallels with Didymus reflect a last plea to Jerome on behalf of their former friendship.