Celsus, Panthera, and the Genealogy of Mary

As preserved by Origen, Celsus is one of our earliest writers to comment on the genealogies of Jesus. Celsus’s failure to mention any conflict between the genealogies appears to support the view that no conflict was perceived in the second-century context in which he wrote.

But if we follow Origen, Celsus seems to have known that there were two genealogies, as he writes:

“the framers of the genealogies, from a feeling of pride, made Jesus to be descended from the first man, and from the kings of the Jews.”1

Presumably, Celsus’s genealogy “from the first man” refers to the genealogy of Luke, while his genealogy “from the kings of the Jews” refers to the genealogy of Matthew. So Celsus seems to allude here to the genealogies of both Luke and Matthew.

But if Celsus had sought to undermine Christianity, how could he have resisted pointing out that these two genealogies publish very different lists of names?2

Origen gives us an explanation, flatly attributing the oversight to his opponent’s incompetence:

“in finding fault with our Lord’s genealogy, there are certain points which occasion some difficulty even to Christians, and which, owing to the discrepancy between the genealogies, are advanced by some as arguments against their correctness, but which Celsus has not even mentioned. For Celsus, who is truly a braggart, and who professes to be acquainted with all matters relating to Christianity, does not know how to raise doubts in a skilful manner against the credibility of Scripture.”3

But could Celsus really have been unaware of the discrepancies to which Origen alludes? Certainly, if he had known that one of the genealogies was “from the first man” and the other “from the kings of the Jews,” he must have known something of their contents.

The Panthera Tradition

It is possible that Celsus dismissed the genealogies as pious fabrications, which could not have been expected to agree and, hence, required no in-depth refutation. After all, earlier in his work, Celsus had advanced the story that Mary had committed adultery with a Roman soldier named Panthera and that Jesus was their illegitimate child:

“When she [Mary] was pregnant she was turned out of doors by the carpenter to whom she had been betrothed, as having been guilty of adultery, and that she bore a child to a certain soldier named Panthera.”4

So it appears that Celsus saw the genealogies as part of a cover up for the liaison that led to Jesus’s birth, a cover up that presumably included the account of the virgin birth as well. Perhaps he had heard of a Jewish tradition, preserved in the Talmud, asserting that Jesus was the illegitimate child of an adulterous union, who acquired magical powers in Egypt.5 Celsus writes:

“[Jesus] invented his birth from a virgin. … [He was really] born in a certain Jewish village, of a poor woman of the country, who gained her subsistence by spinning, and who was turned out of doors by her husband, a carpenter by trade, because she was convicted of adultery; that after being driven away by her husband, and wandering about for a time, she disgracefully gave birth to Jesus, an illegitimate child, who having hired himself out as a servant in Egypt on account of his poverty, and having there acquired some miraculous powers, on which the Egyptians greatly pride themselves, returned to his own country, highly elated on account of them, and by means of these proclaimed himself a God.”6

So in Celsus’s view, not only was Joseph not Jesus’s biological father, but Jesus had never even met Joseph! Of course, any perceived conflict between the genealogies requires that their assertions be taken at face value as giving the lineage of Joseph. But it seems that Celsus was especially eager to point to the irony that Christians considered Jesus to be God despite his apparent illegitimacy, poverty, and lowly birth, circumstances that in his view had only to do with Mary.

Celsus and the Genealogy of Mary

It is not surprising then that Celsus’s criticism of the genealogies focuses entirely on Mary, in particular, on Mary’s supposed ignorance of her noble heritage, as he argues:

“the carpenter’s wife could not have been ignorant of the fact, had she been of such illustrious descent.”7

Of course, nothing in the biblical text speaks to Mary’s awareness or lack of awareness of her heritage. But Celsus tries to use Mary’s ignorance to show that the genealogies are fabrications. If they were not, he suggests, Mary would certainly have known about her descent from royalty. But since she does not appear to know, the genealogies must be false.

Now Celsus’s attempt to undermine the genealogies with respect to Mary’s lineage, rather than Joseph’s, implies that in his view one of the genealogies — though he does not say which — was understood to be a genealogy of Mary.

The problem is that both evangelists attribute their genealogies to Joseph.8 So some interpretation is necessary to represent either of the genealogies as a genealogy of Mary. It seems unlikely that such an interpretation could have been Celsus’s own idea. In fact, he appears to assume that his readers would share this understanding.

The most plausible explanation then is that he received this interpretation from Christians with whom he had contact, whether directly or through their writings. So Celsus’s criticism of Mary’s ignorance appears to supply additional evidence of an early understanding that at least one of the genealogies belonged to Mary, an understanding that this early critic of Christianity simply took for granted.

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.

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.

 

Did Hippolytus cite the long ending of Mark?

Michael Holmes writes in “To Be Continued … The Many Endings of the Gospel of Mark” (2001, p. 19):

the church father Hippolytus (c. 170–236) quotes [Mark] 16:17-18

But as far as I can tell, the citation is not found in the major work of the figure(s) known as Hippolytus. For starters, I checked the indices for the critical editions of Refutatio omnium haeresium (Marcovich, 1986), Kommentar zu Daniel (Bonwetsch and Richard, 2000), De antichristo (Norelli, 1987), Contro Noeto (Simonetti, 2000), De David et de Goliath/De Cantico (Garitte, 1965). There is no citation or even allusion to Mark 16:17-18. What’s going on?

It seems the attribution stems from a rather full citation of Mark 16:17-18 in book 8, chapter 1, paragraph 1 of the fourth-century Apostolic Constitutions (=CA) (8.1.1)

Σημεια δε τοις πιστευσασιν ταυτα παρακολουθησει εν τω ονοματι μου δαιμονια εκβαλουσιν, γλωσσαις λαλησουσιν καιναις, οφεις αρουσιν καν θανασιμον τι πιωσιν ου μη αυτους βλαψει επι αρρωστους χειρας επιθησουσιν και καλως εξουσιν

This occurs in a brief section on the charismatic gifts comprising the first two chapters of book 8 of CA (8.1-2). It is true that CA immediately after contains a reworking of much smaller work known by the similar name, Apostolic Traditions (8.3-45), attributed to an elusive Hippolytus of Rome (on the basis of the famous statue). But it seems precarious at best to attribute the adjacent chapters (8.1-2) to the same author merely because of their placement. This seems to be D. C. Parker’s reasoning when he writes in The Living Text of the Gospels (1997, p. 133)

Hippolytus quotes from verses 17 and 18, in a fragment of a writing on spiritual gifts that is preserved in Apostolic Constitutions 8.1

So the attribution of the citation of the Markan long ending to Hippolytus rests on the placement of anonymous material besides a doubtful attribution (yes, based on the statue) to a figure whose existence is no less obscure than the works attributed to him.

Justin Martyr and the “Western” Text

As the 2015 SBL Annual Meeting approaches, I wanted to post a slightly revised version of the paper I presented at the 2014 meeting, “Justin Martyr: An Early ‘Western’ Witness to the Synoptic Gospels?” The topic was inspired by my attempt to validate the claim that Justin’s biblical citations represent the so-called “Western” text (see the paper for citations). It is well-known that Justin’s biblical citations tend to be highly adapted, at least in relation to our canonical texts. It turns out that some of the more frequently-cited “Western” readings in Justin occur in these highly-adapted texts, three of which are examined in the paper. My observation in the present paper is that, when Justin’s form of citation is compared with the presumed “Western” form as found in D and the Old Latin Gospels, Justin’s form appears to be the more primitive on internal grounds. Justin’s form also tends to appear in the African Old Latin tradition, often presumed to be earlier than the European tradition, which attests the form found in D (however, this historical aspect requires further research). It seems we must allow for greater ambiguity in the direction of influence than is usually acknowledged in assertions that Justin used a “Western” text.

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