The Apocryphal Gospels_A Very Short Introduction Read online

  (Gos. Truth 20.24–21.2)

  While some of the images may be unfamiliar (such as ‘putting on the book’), the basic understanding would appear remarkably similar to what was later to become the ‘orthodox’ understanding of the death of Jesus. The reality of the crucifixion is affirmed, and Jesus although dying paradoxically is the one clothed in eternal life. There also appears to be a reflection on the tradition of Christ’s descent into hell – ‘having entered the empty spaces of terrors’ – which was such an important motif in medieval thinking. Furthermore, although incomplete, the text also appears to speak of Jesus making a proclamation of his teaching to those beings that inhabit those regions. Such ideas took on great importance in later non-canonical texts such as the Gospel of Nicodemus, in which the Lord releases all the righteous from the power of Hades. They are led forth by Adam, the originator of sin, who is given the sign of the cross on his forehead (and in one of the Latin versions, on the heads of all the saints who accompanied him; Latin A, 8.2). He then leads the company of the righteous into heaven.

  Another key point of contact between the thought of Justin Martyr and the Gospel of Truth in the area of Christology relates to the Son being the possessor of the Father’s name. The Gospel of Truth states that the Father was pleased to give his own name to the Son (Gos. Truth 40.23–41.3). In effect, this name-sharing denotes the status of the Son as the Father’s emissary and reveals the privileged relationship they share. In his Dialogue with the interlocutor Trypho, Justin makes the striking claim that ‘the name of God himself, which he says was not revealed to Abraham or Jacob, was Jesus’ (Dial. 75). Without rehearsing the convoluted exegesis of Old Testament passages that Justin provides to substantiate this claim, what is striking is the similarity and centrality of this idea in the works of two writers who would be cast as representing the diametrically opposed poles of ‘orthodoxy’ and ‘heresy’ by later Church figures. In fact, comparison of their thought reveals a high level of correspondence at a number of points.

  Both truth and error become animate or personified entities in this text. Thus it is stated that ‘error became powerful; it worked on its own matter foolishly, not having known the truth. It set about with a creation, preparing with power and beauty the substitute for the truth’ (Gos. Truth 17.14–20). Here another key concern of Gnostic theology comes to the fore, the explanation of the disruption of the original higher cosmic order and the origins of the material realm. This area of theology, known as protology, is key in many of these mythological texts. It is assumed that by understanding the cause of the original rupture of the ideal state of existence, the Gnostic disciple may begin to pursue the path of return to that higher state. In essence, soteriological concerns are the central aspect of the majority of Gnostic gospels. Such salvation is usually a personal journey, it is interiorized, involves special knowledge and a return to a pristine state of existence. As these notions became more developed and speculative, the ideas of canonical and non-canonical gospels became more obviously polarized. However, the Gospel of Truth suggests that in the earlier phases, Gnostic thought could be viewed as not too distant from the wider stream of philosophical Christianity, most notably as represented by writers such as Justin.

  The Gospel of the Egyptians

  The fourth ‘gospel’ text to be treated from the Nag Hammadi corpus, the Gospel of the Egyptians, survives in two independent versions found as the second text in both codex III and codex IV. From the outset, in order to disambiguate between texts, it needs to be noted that the work known by the same title from the writings of various Church Fathers and for which some excerpts are preserved in the writings of Clement of Alexandria is not the same text as that preserved at Nag Hammadi. Usually it is a great help to textual critics to have two versions of the same text; however, in this case the different versions exacerbate problems of reconstruction. The text in codex III originally comprised of 30 pages, but only 26 have been partially or completely preserved. Codex IV is in a much poorer state. Although ‘parts of all its eighty-one inscribed pages have been preserved, the majority of them are extant only in fragmentary form and these fragments were thoroughly mixed up by the time these were put in plexiglass containers’. It may be thought that the existence of the copy in codex III would assist in organizing the fragments. However, the two versions represent independent translations of what was presumably an original Greek text. The two versions differ widely in meaning, word order, and choice of terms employed for the Coptic translation. So even prior to attempting to unravel the meaning of this extremely abstruse text, scholars must first try to piece together its form.

  The formal title given at the end of this document is ‘The Holy Book of the Great Invisible Spirit’. However, at the beginning of the colophon on the last page of this text, the work is described as the ‘Egyptian Gospel’ – hence the source of the modern title. This connection with Egypt is less than obvious. To suggest an Egyptian origin is one possible inference, but there is little to support this apart from the reference in the colophon and the location of discovery (but this does not make other Nag Hammadi texts specifically ‘Egyptian’). The association may have more to do with the central figure of Seth in the narrative, and possible associations that had been drawn between the Seth of the Old Testament and the Egyptian god of the same name.

  Whereas both the Gospel of Philip and the Gospel of Truth are plausibly seen as products of the Valentinian school of thinking, the Gospel of the Egyptians is noticeably different in its worldview. Centring on the figure of Seth and the race that emanates from him, this tractate is representative of a branch of Gnostic thought usually designated as Sethianism. In fact, the diversity of theological outlooks found among the Nag Hammadi writings is one of the key reasons that some scholars have expressed disquiet over retaining the label ‘Gnosticism’. While the observed diversity is a reality, there are points of contact between Valentinian and Sethian thought which probably make the description ‘Gnostic’ a useful umbrella term as long as it is recognized that it covers a number of related, but not identical, religious belief systems.

  The standard critical edition of the Gospel of the Egyptians divides the text into four large units:

  1) the origin of the heavenly world (III 40.12–55.16 ¼ IV 50.1–67.1);

  2) the origin, preservation, and salvation of the race of Seth (III 55.16–66.8 ¼ IV 67.2–78.10);

  3) the hymnic section (III 66.8–67.26 ¼ IV 78.10–80.15);

  4) the concluding section dealing with the origin and transmission of the tractate (III 68.1–69.17 ¼ IV 80.15–81 end).

  The opening section discusses the nature of the supreme God, from whom emanates a series of lesser divine beings. In rank below the supreme God is a trinity of Father, Mother, and Son (Gos. Eg. 40.1–4). The Mother figure also bears the name Barbelo. This figure is a well-known character in Sethian texts, but here, after a series of untranslatable magical words, she is described as being self-originating, she concurs with the supreme God, or the Father of silence, she is virginal and presides over heaven. As beings emanate from each of the successive levels of divine figures the silent Father nods his approval and the pleroma of lights is well pleased.

  Another feature of the text which appears bizarre to modern readers is the use of what appear to be nonsense words or letter combinations. At one point, the text reads as follows:

  Domedon Doxomedon came forth, the aeon of the aeons, and the throne which is in him, and the powers which surround him, the glories and the incorruptions. The Father of the great light who came forth from the silence, he is the great Doxomedon-aeon, in which the thrice-male child rests. And the throne of his glory was established in it, this one on which his unrevealable name is inscribed, on the tablet […]oneistheword, the Father of the light of everything, he who came forth from the silence, while he rests in the silence, he whose name is in an invisible symbol. A hidden, invisible mystery came forth iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii[iii] [ o]ooooooooooooooooooooo uu[uuu] uuuuu
uuuuuuuuuuuuuuu eeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee aaaaaaaa [aaaa] aaaaaaaaaaaa [] .

  (Gos. Egyptians 43.8-44.9)

  The symbolic significance of these vowels is a mystery. They are somehow related to the divine name. Perhaps they are seen as being the vowels that enable one to sound the divine name YHWH, which since Hebrew is a consonantal alphabet does not contain the required vowels. While the best that can be achieved is informed speculation, such non-standard letter combinations appear in a range of other texts, such as the Books of Jeu, and for the devotee of such esoteric knowledge they are often understood as secret passwords that allowed the progress of the soul’s upward ascent through cosmic spheres that were guarded and closed to those without such information.

  The mythology that is outlined is often beyond the comprehension of modern readers and one suspects that only those ’insiders’ fully immersed in the secret meanings of the text would have any chance of grasping the hidden esoteric sense of these recondite writings. The purpose of such texts was to veil their hidden wisdom from outsiders. They have certainly succeeded in this goal.

  Conclusions

  These four ‘gospels’ found among the Nag Hammadi corpus of texts show vast differences in the literary forms they employ, the transparency of their contents, and the underlying cosmological systems that govern their worldview. By comparison, the four canonical gospels show a far higher degree of homogeneity in form and theological outlook. Admittedly, the Gospel of John is somewhat different in tone from the other three canonical accounts, but when compared to the range of non-canonical texts considered here the differences among the canonical accounts appear relatively minor.

  This raises the larger question of how such a disparate group of texts were brought together in the same collection. We know nothing of the person or group responsible for the collection, but it can be observed that the perspectives of these four Nag Hammadi gospels, although different, do nonetheless have various similarities. They all promote the pursuit of hidden knowledge, they offer hermeneutical keys to progress in the spiritual journey, in various ways they are all world-denying, and their chief concern is soteriological – seeking the salvation of the individual and a return to a repristinated state of being. For elitist mystical Christians, such a diverse range of texts was presumably a repository of spiritual ideas that enriched one’s ascent through the heavenly spheres.

  Examination of the texts themselves both problematizes and yet simultaneously helps in answering the question, ‘what is a gospel?’ A text like the Gospel of Thomas shows that a series of sayings attributed to Jesus could be regarded by certain disciples as encapsulating the core teachings of the movement’s foundational figure. By contrast, in the Gospel of Philip, although not totally absent, sayings are minimized, and descriptions of liturgical rites and a compendium of Valentinian beliefs constitute ‘a gospel’ for those who read this text. The Gospel of Truth records no sayings or deeds of the earthly Jesus – yet the text remains very Christocentric.

  It stands in a stream of Christological reflection that asserts that Jesus is to be understood as the divine Logos. This understanding, which in its own day was the prevalent means of representing the relationship between the Father and the Son, may suggest that the outlook of the Gospel of Truth was perhaps not seen as aberrant in its contemporary setting as it would be viewed by later generations. However, what is striking is that a text written in the form of a treatise with little concern to record the words or deeds of the historical Jesus could nonetheless self-referentially call itself a ‘gospel’. Finally, the Gospel of the Egyptians is perhaps the text that looks least like what most people would understand as a gospel. In fact, this text may even represent the ‘Christianization’ of a pre-Christian complex salvation myth. So how does one answer the question, ‘what is a gospel?’ In part, it depends on the selection of texts that are allowed to be described by that term. The approach here has been to consider texts from Nag Hammadi that refer to themselves as gospels or have the word ‘gospel’ appended to them as titles or colophons. Admittedly, this may cast a wide net – but it is representative of the usage of the term in early Christian circles.

  Chapter 3

  The infancy gospels

  The infancy of Jesus in the canonical accounts

  In the earliest surviving Christian writings – the letters of Paul – there is little interest in the events surrounding the early life of Jesus. Indeed, for Paul, only two ‘facts’ from that phase of Jesus’ life seem to have been of importance, because of their theological significance. First, Jesus was a descendant of David (Rom. 1.4) and secondly, he was born of a woman (Gal. 4.4). If these fleeting details could not have been exploited for theological purposes it is virtually certain that Paul would not have alluded to them. Similarly, the earliest canonical gospel – Mark – opens with Jesus commencing his public ministry in Galilee. However, the curiosity of early believers naturally meant they wanted to know more and more about the life and origins of Jesus. The author of John’s Gospel described Jesus’ origins in a brilliantly cosmological way, which equated Jesus with the Logos that featured in the Jewish wisdom tradition. Such a theological innovation provided some of the major impetus for the more developed cosmologies found in other early Christian texts, such as those discovered at Nag Hammadi. However, that approach was not the only possibility.

  Among the canonical evangelists, Matthew and Luke both relate events from the earthly life of Jesus prior to his public ministry. These ‘hidden years’ have intrigued and fascinated believers down through the centuries, and the very compressed details contained in Matthew and Luke represent the beginning of a process of ‘reconstructing’ the early life of Jesus that increased in late antiquity, flourished in the medieval period, and has continued even in the works of modern authors. In his opening two chapters, Matthew combines purported historical details with theological interpretation. Above all, Jesus’ Davidic pedigree is affirmed. He is presented as belonging to the kingly line and is described as being born at home in Bethlehem, the city of David (Matt. 2.7–11). When his father Joseph (who is the second biblical seer of dreams by the name of Joseph, cf. Gen. 37.39–50) is warned in a dream the family have an exodus into Egypt prior to returning to Nazareth, a city of Galilee, after the death of Herod the Great.

  Luke’s account shares many details in common with Matthew, but there are also striking differences. Mary, not Joseph, receives angelic visions. The hometown is Nazareth, not Bethlehem. Yet nonetheless, the couple travel to Bethlehem because of a census that requires people to be enrolled in their ancestral homes. Jesus is not born at home, but at an inn. And contrary to Matthew, there are no magi (wise men) who present gifts, but simple shepherds who come to observe the newborn child.

  Both stories do identify the parents – named as Joseph and Mary – the actual birth takes place in Bethlehem, and there is an association with Nazareth. These narratives reveal a core of shared traditions, but they create decidedly different ways of weaving these details into an extended narrative. Luke alone, among the canonical gospels, records an incident from the adolescent years – the family visit to Jerusalem when Jesus is 12 years old (Luke 2.41–52). During this visit, the family unwittingly leave the prodigious youngster behind in the city where, in common with childhood stories of prominent figures in antiquity, he already displays his phenomenal abilities by demonstrating a wisdom that surpasses his years. Such scant details of the ‘hidden years’ perhaps created more interest than satisfying readers’ curiosity. Later writers sought to please pious readers by supplying additional information. It may be debated whether the non-canonical accounts of the young Jesus represent mere fabrications or enshrine kernels of historical incidents. However, it is apparent that in order to make an informed answer, it is necessary to consider those non-canonical traditions in some detail.

  The Infancy Gospel of Thomas

  One of the better known non-canonical texts, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas contains some of the most striking and b
izarre of Jesus’ miracles. Yet these are challenging not only because of their intrinsic implausibility. The greater challenge arises from the portrait they create of the child Jesus. No model Victorian child Jesus here, whom the hymn writer could laud as ‘meek and mild’. Instead readers are confronted with a precocious and capricious child, ‘shaming teachers and maiming playmates’, who constantly leaves a trail of havoc wherever he goes – and this is presumably from the pen of a scribe who wrote as a pious follower of Jesus. No wonder such a portrait of the uncontrollable enfant terrible has left subsequent readers bemused concerning the purpose of this text.

  This gospel account covers a period of approximately 7 years of Jesus’ life. It opens, after the initial prologue, by recounting a story that occurred when Jesus was 5 years old and it concludes by telling its own modified version of the story recorded in Luke’s Gospel of the visit of the 12-year-old Jesus and his family to Jerusalem. The text of the Infancy Gospel of Thomas was known in antiquity. However, the title attached to it was either simply the ‘Gospel of Thomas’ (mentioned by Origen, Hippolytus, and others) or the ‘Childhood of Jesus’ (mentioned by John Chrysostom, Epiphanius of Salamis, and others). Among modern scholars, the confusion that the first title caused with the sayings Gospel of Thomas was not appreciated until fragments of the latter text were discovered in the late 19th century. Thus comments of early Christian writers to the effect that the Gospel of Thomas was a ‘Gnostic’ text led scholars working on the Infancy Gospel of Thomas to misunderstand the character of the text. This initial problem has been clarified, but many others remain.