Saint Augustine and Mark 16:18

           Saint Augustine of Hippo (354-430) is known far and wide for his work in theology, and for his book Confessions and City of God.  Less well-known is his interpretation of part of Mark 16:18.  This is not surprising, since although his name appears in the UBS GNT’s textual apparatus for this verse, his composition On the Soul and Its Origin is not often consulted by modern commentators.  Too many modern commentators do not offer any comment on Mark 16:9-20, except to say that it is a late and spurious passage.  (I know not why they might imagine that the verdict of “late and spurious” is supported by the evidence from the 100s, which is earlier than any manuscript of Mark 16 known to exist.  More about that, God willing, in a future post.)

          But unlike the commentators who are chronologically further away from Saint Mark,  Saint Augustine, who was chronologically much closer, expressed no doubt about recognizing Mark 16:9-20 as authoritative Scripture.  Some people might wonder, “We have heard Papias’ report that Justus (Joseph Barsabas) was compelled by unbelievers to drink snake-poison, and we have read Luke’s report that Paul was not harmed when a viper struck him on the island of Malta.  But it is not as if Justus prepared his own goblet of poison, and Paul had been looking for sticks, not a viper.  Christian congregations throughout the world have not become famous for putting the LORD to the test by picking up snakes or by drinking deadly poison, which is done at some congregations in American Appalachia – sometimes with disastrous consequences.  How did Saint Augustine interpret Mark 16:18?”
          To find out, we need only take in hand Augustine’s book and turn to the second chapter (or, book), and read.  Augustine cited Mark 16:15 in the second chapter of his Fourth Homily on First John, To the Parthians, but for now, let’s focus on his interpretation of Mark 16:18.  Each chapter of On the Soul and Its Origin is a letter.  In the first letter, written to Augustine’s colleague Renatus, Augustine identified and diagnosed some doctrinal errors he had found in two books written by an author named Victor, which Augustine had received from Renatus.  In the second letter, written to a presbyter named Peter, Augustine informed Peter of the false teachings he found in Victor’s two books, and he counsels Peter to work with Renatus to guide Victor away from his erroneous beliefs.

          That is the context of Book 2, chapter 23.  As Augustine advised Peter to vocally and openly guide Victor away from the false beliefs he has expressed – and after he pointed out that Peter might find additional falsehoods that Augustine has not covered – Augustine compared Victor’s teachings to a goblet of poisoned wine:  mostly good, but deadly if consumed.

          Just as poisoned wine might be served in a beautiful goblet, Augustine wrote, harmful doctrines can be delivered in well-crafted words.  And if Peter were to keep silent about what he has read, some people, after observing that Peter has read Victor’s books, might read them for themselves, and not know which parts Peter digests, and which parts he leaves in the cup. 

          Here I turn directly to the text of Augustine’s On the Soul and Its Origin, which I have slightly paraphrased (Book 2 of On the Soul and Its Origin can be read in English at the New Advent website):   

          “They do not know what you have drunk, and what you have left untasted, and so, in light of your wholesome character, they assume that whatever is drunk out of this fountain will make them healthy.  For what are hearing, and reading, and memorizing what has been read, than different processes of drinking.  However, the Lord foretold, concerning his faithful followers, that even if they might drink any deadly thing, it would not harm them.
          “And thus, those who filter what they read with discernment may give their approval to what is consistent with the standards of our faith, and they may disapprove of things that should be rejected.  And thus, although they commit to memory statements which are declared to be worthy of disapproval, they receive no harm from the sentences that are by nature poisonous and depraved.” 

           This is a correct way to apply the passage.  Such an interpretation never occurs to many commentators today, I suspect, because either (a) English-speakers mainly think of drinking as something done to a physical liquid (although people still might occasionally say things like, “Soak up this lesson,” or “Savor your victory”), or (b) the commentators fail to interpret all of Mark 16:9-20 because they have not taken a close look at the voluminous evidence in its favor.

          Some people might object, “But brother Snapp, Christ the living Word does not speak in riddles.  And the Holy Spirit does not speak in riddles.” But I  commend to them to perceive the meaning of the parables that Jesus told, to listen again to statements such as Luke 12:49-50 (where Jesus refers to the Holy Spirit as a fire, and to his sufferings as a baptism), and to consider that the words of Psalm 78:2 are repeated in Matthew 13:35.  

          While we are on the subject of Augustine’s use of the final portion of the Gospel according to Mark (which was received in the early church as Mark’s presentation of the memoirs of Saint Peter the apostle), let us take a look at another composition by Augustine:  his Harmony of the Gospels, which he composed before the year 400.

          “But brother Snapp,” someone might say, “Those who study the manuscripts scientifically know that the Western Old Latin text is notorious due to its expansions.”  That is true.  It is also true that the most of the changes found in the Western Old Latin text are benign (usually attempting to clarify or specify the authors’ meaning, although occasionally the attempt is very poorly made, like in Mark 1:41) and where the changes are substantial, they tend not to amount to more than a few agrapha.  Also . . . .”  Keep reading. 

           In Book Three of Augustine’s  Harmony of the Gospels, in the 24^th and 25^th chapters, Mark 16 is covered in detail. 

          Before focusing on the Gospel of Mark, though, Augustine comments on Luke 24 (showing the “Western” arrangement of the Gospels, Matthew-John-Luke-Mark), only briefly mentioning that “Mark likewise mentions that He appeared first to Mary Magdalene; as also does John,” thus referring to Mark 16:9) and Augustine quotes the Gospel of Luke 24:13-24.  After offering his explanation of how Luke’s account interlocks with the accounts from Matthew and John, Augustine turns to what Paul wrote in his first letter to the church at Corinth:  “He was seen of Cephas, then of the twelve.  After that He was seen of above five hundred brethren at once.” 

          Augustine proceeds to explain why Paul would say “the twelve” rather than “the eleven.”  He noticed a textual variant, saying that some copies of First Corinthians 15:5 read “eleven” rather than “twelve.”  [There are a few Greek-Latin copies, D* F G, which display this reading, which shows how the Old Latin text invaded the “Western” Greek manuscripts.]  Granting that there were just eleven apostles after the death of Judas, Augustine explains that there are three options:  (a) either the reading “eleven” is correct, or (b) Paul was referring to twelve other disciples, or (c) Paul used the term ”the twelve” as a symbolically significant number, the twelve apostles being the counterpart to the twelve tribes of Israel (i.e., the ten sons of Jacob + Jacob’s two grandsons Ephraim and Manasseh). By time time Luke wrote, Judas’ place had been taken by Matthias (as Luke reports in Acts 1:15-26). 

          When Augustine reached the passage known today as Mark 16:12, he stated that Mark reports, “And after that He appeared in another form unto two of them, as they walked and went to a country-seat.’” (It should not be overlooked that Augustine does not attribute this to Peter, but to Mark.)  Augustine proceeds to write:  “In the Greek codices, indeed, the reading which we discover is ‘estate’ rather than ‘country-seat.’”  To make sure everyone grasps and understands the significance of the statement from Augustine, I repeat:  Greek copies of the Gospels in North Africa that were used by Augustine in North Africa show that Mark 16:9-20 was included in the text in those Greek copies.

          Also, Augustine’s use of Old Latin copies shows that Mark 16:9-20 was included in Old Latin copies of the Gospels – contrary to what has been claimed by commentators such as Ron Rhodes (see his error on page 31 of The Complete Book of Bible Answers by Ron Rhodes, © 1997 by Ron Rhodes, published by Harvest House Publishers, republished in 2007 as What Does the Bible Say About…?) and James Edwards (see his error on pages 497-498 of his commentary on the Gospel According to Mark in the Pillar Commentary Series, © 2002 Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.).

          (I do not wish to depart from the subject of Augustine here, but it should be noted that two Old Latin copies lack Mark 16:9-20:  the copy known as Codex Bobbiensis (VL 1, k), which has a very strange text at the end of Mark – it features an interpolation between Mark 16:3 and 16:4, and its text concludes with a truncated text of verse 8 followed by the “Shorter Ending” – and Codex Vercellensis (VL 3, a), which, due to damage, does not have the pages with text after Mark 15:15 that the codex had before it was damaged.) 

          Augustine’s name appeared in the textual apparatus of the fourth edition of the UBS GNT, but an acknowledgment of the testimony of Augustine’s Greek manuscripts did not.  This oversight should be amended.  Greek copies possessed by Augustine in the year 400 provide substantial early testimony about what Greek text of the Gospels was transmitted in North Africa. 

           Readers who see Augustine’s testimony in favor of the inclusion of Mark 16:9-20, and the testimony of Augustine’s Greek manuscripts in favor of the inclusion of Mark 16:9-20 should also observe a beautiful theme that Augustine mentions:  the parallel between the twelve tribes of Israel and the twelve apostles.  The children of Israel would have been made of ten tribes eligible to have land (the tribe of Levi had cities, not territory), if Joseph’s two sons had not been added into the picture (in Genesis 48).  Only after Joseph, Jacob’s favorite son, was removed from the picture, and his place was taken by his two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, did the number of tribes reach twelve. 

          And a counter-part to that is seen in the twelve apostles:  they were initially twelve in number, but Judas betrayed Jesus (a thematic counterpart to the opposition to Jesus by the high priest Caiaphas, of the priestly tribe of Levi), reducing the number of apostles to eleven.  Then James, the brother of John, was killed by Herod according to Luke’s report in Acts 12:2.  That reduced the number of apostles to ten.

          Matthias took Judas’ place (as Luke reports in Acts 1).  And later on, after Jesus called Paul of Tarsus to be his witness, the number of apostles was restored to twelve.  Thus there is a parallel between Ephraim-and-Manasseh and Matthias-and-Paul:  Manasseh was firstborn and had the right to receive the firstborn son’s blessing (and Joseph, in Genesis 48, said that this was his right).  Yet Jacob insisted that while Manasseh would also be great (see Genesis 48:19), he knew that Ephraim would be greater and that his descendants would become “a multitude of nations.”

          Likewise, although James the son of Zebedee was a great apostle, and was chosen first (cf. Mark 1:19), Saint Paul (the last  apostle to be chosen) was greater, for after he heard Jesus’ call, he shared the good news about Jesus Christ to many nations, and wrote epistles which are included among the books of the New Testament, and his spiritual offspring have grown into a multitude of nations all over the world where the good news of Jesus Christ is proclaimed.

 

Video Lecture: Luke 23:34a - Father, Forgive Them

 The 19th video lecture in the series Introduction to NT Textual Criticism is accessible at YouTube and at Bitchute.  This lecture is almost 34 minutes long.  Here's an extract:

            Hilary of Poitiers, known as the “Athanasius of the West,” around the year 360, wrote his Twelve Books on the Trinity, and in that work he quoted Luke 24:34a three times.  It might be worthwhile to show some of the context of his statements:

            In Book 1, As Hilary takes his theological opponents to task for perverting the meaning of the words of Christ, he emphasizes the importance of interpreting each passage in light of its context.  In Part 32, he says that his opponents commit blasphemy when they misinterpret the words of Christ, “Father, into Your hands I commend My spirit,” and, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”   Hilary writes, “Their narrow minds plunge into blasphemy in the attempt at explanation.”

            In Book 10, Part 48, as Hilar illustrates the fearlessness and power of Christ shown in the Gospels, he mentions that “He prayed for His persecutors while the nails were driven through Him.”

  

            And near the end of Book 10, in Part 71, Hilary writes, “Christ prayed for His persecutors, because they knew not what they did.” 

             ● Ambrose of Milan, in the 380s, in his Commentary on Job, Part Two, Section 6, in the course of offering a rather unlikely interpretation of Job 9:5, quotes Luke 23:34a.  He cites the passage again in Part 5, Section 12, stating that he is quoting what the Lord Jesus says in the Gospel.

            Ambrose also explicitly quotes Luke 23:34a in The Prayer of Job and David. 

             ● Gregory of Nyssa, working in the late 300s in what is now east-central Turkey, wrote a book On Christian Perfection, and in it, he presented Christ as a model of longsuffering:  Gregory of Nyssa pointed out that the longsuffering of Christ was displayed when He endured chains and whips and various physical injuries, and nails, and His response was “Father, bear with them, for they know not what they do.”

             ● In the fourth-century story called the Acts of Philip, at one point in the story, persecutors hang Philip by his ankles, and it looks like he is about to die. Philip escapes by cursing his persecutors, causing them to all be swallowed up by the earth.  But before he pronounces the curse, his companions John and Barthlomew and Mariamne try to persuade him no to do it:  they say, “Our Master was beaten, and scourged, and was stretched out on the cross, and was made to drink gall and vinegar, and said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

 

            ● A composition known as the Pseudo-Clementine Recognitions, from the mid-300s, uses Luke 23:34a near the beginning of the fifth part of its sixth book, preserved in Latin by Jerome’s contemporary Rufinus: 

            “The Master Himself, when He was being led to the cross by those who knew Him not, petitioned the Father for His murderers, and said, ‘Father, forgive their sin, for they know not what they do.’”  The author’s memory does not seem to have been having its best day, considering that this statement was given while Jesus was on the cross, not while He was being led to the cross.

            ● In the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies, which is basically a different form of the Pseudo-Clementine Recognitions, Luke 23:34a is utilized, specifically in Homily XI, Part 20, where the author wrote:  “The Teacher Himself, being nailed to the cross, prayed to the Father that the sin of those who slew Him might be forgiven, saying, ‘Father, forgive them their sins, for they know not what they do.’”

             ● Amphilochius of Iconium, who lived from about 340 to about 400, is traditionally identified as the author of a brief sermon called Oration #5, On the Holy Sabbath.  In this text, which has been translated by J. H. Barkhuizen, after briefly contrasting the divine nature of Christ with His sufferings during His trials and crucifixion, Amphilochius says, “While suffering these things for the sake of those who were crucifying Him, He prayed as follows: ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’  He conquers the evil through goodness.  He speaks in defense of the Christ-murderers while drawing them in His net toward salvation.  He brings to naught the accusation by blaming their ignorance.”

            ● The heresy-hunter Epiphanius of Salamis, in the late 300s, also quoted Luke 23:34a, in Panarion, also called The Medicine-Chest; in Part 77, which is about the errors of the Antidicomanians.  Epiphanius slightly tweaked the text, replacing the reference to “forgive” with a different word that means “bear with.”   The same word was used by Gregory of Nyssa.

            Epiphanius also reports that James, the Lord’s brother, was martyred in Jerusalem when he was thrown down from the pinnacle of the temple, but survived, and knelt and prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” and he was then struck on the head with a fuller’s rod, and he died. 

            Epiphanius’ main source for this material was probably Eusebius’ work Ecclesiastical History, Book Two, Part 23.  Eusebius acknowledged his own sources for the story:  first, Eusebius says that Clement was his source for the report that James was thrown from the pinnacle of the temple and then beaten to death with a club.  Then he mentions the fifth book of the Ánecdotes of “Hegesippus, whom lived immediately after the apostles,” as his source for a more detailed account. 

 

            According to Eusebius, Hegesippus specified that it was the scribes and Pharisees who opposed James the Just, and that after he survived the fall from the temple, they began to stone him, at which point he said, “I entreat You, Lord God our Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

 

            ● John Chrysostom, who became archbishop of Constantinople in 397 after serving at Antioch for about 20 years, quoted Luke 23:34a several times.  In Against Marcionists and Manichaeans, Chrysostom wrote, “He commanded men to pray for their enemies; and He teaches this through His actions, for when He had ascended the cross, He said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

            In Homily 7 on the Epistle to the Ephesians, as Chrysostom describes the grace given to Israel, he says, “And after He was crucified, what were His words? ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’  He was cruelly treated before this, and even cruelly treated after this, even to the very last breath.  For them He did everything; He prayed in their behalf.”
            Chrysostom also says in Homily 14 on the Epistle to the Ephesians that the Son of God prayed for those who crucified Him, and shed His blood for those who hated Him.

            In Homily 79 on Matthew, Chrysostom mention that among the ways in which displayed His meekness, “on the very cross, He was crying aloud, “Father, forgive them their sin.”

 

            In the sixth chapter of The Cross and the Thief, Chrysostom states that during the time when Christ was being nailed to the cross, and His garments were being divided, He did not get angry or have guile in His heart against them; instead, “Hear Him declaring, ‘My Father, forgive them because they do not know what they are doing.’”

            Or does he?  The author of The Thief on the Cross is probably not Chrysostom, but Theophilus, who served as the patriarch of Alexandria from 384 to 412.  Or it might be an anonymous author who attributed his own work to Theophilus. 

            In favor of the idea that the author was in a locale where a Coptic form of the text was in use is the observation that in its ninth chapter, the text says that the lost will be swallowed up in the abyss, and go down to the place of their brother Nineveh.  A mangled form of the name “Nineveh,” without its first syllable, is the name given to the rich man, in the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, in Luke 16:19 in Papyrus 75, and the interpolation “named ‘Nineveh’” also appears in this verse in some later Arabic manuscripts.   

             ● Another author, like Chrysostom, whose name was transferred to material written by someone else, was the second-century writer Justin Martyr.  The composition known as Questions and Answers for the Orthodox was attributed to Justin, but it probably comes from Theodoret of Cyrrhus, who died in 457.

             The 108^th Question in this composition begins something like this:  If the Jews were forgiven, then why did the ancient Jews, who crucified Christ out of ignorance, suffer many unbelievable afflictions, as Josephus testifies in his account of the fall of Jerusalem?  And why have those who refuse to obey Christ now been expelled from their homeland?” And it goes on to say, “Wasn’t the Lord aware of their condition, when He said, "Father, I say, forgive them, for they do not know what they do"?  And doesn’t the Apostle say, "If they had known, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory?”

            The odds that the author is Theodoret of Cyrrhus are increased when we compare this to Theodoret’s Commentary on the Letters of Paul, and see that when he comments on First Corinthians 2:8, he interprets it through the filter of Luke 23:34a, stating that Pilate, Herod, Annas, Caiaphas, and the other rulers of the Jews were unaware of the divine mystery, and that is why they crucified the Lord.  Theodoret writes, “Surely, this is why the Lord, on the cross, also said, “Father, forgive them; they do not know what they are doing.”  Theodoret goes on to say that after the resurrection, and the ascension, and the coming of the Holy Spirit, and the apostles’ miracles, they persisted in unbelief, and so He delivered them to be besieged.

           ● Jerome is another patristic writer whose use of Luke 24:34a should not be overlooked, even though we have already seen that he included this text in the Vulgate.  In his composition Ad Hedibiam, produced around the year 400, Jerome goes off on a little tangent, and writes, “We should not be surprised that after the death of the Savior, Jerusalem is called ‘the holy city.’ 

            “For before it was completely ruined, the apostles did not have a problem entering the temple, and observing the ceremonies of the law, in order not to offend those among the Jews who had embraced the faith of Jesus Christ.

            “We even see that the Savior loved this city so much that the disasters with which it was threatened drew tears from His eyes, and when He was on the cross, He said to His Father, ‘Forgive them, My Father, for they do not know what they are doing.’”              Jerome continues:  “So his prayer was answered, since shortly after His death, the Jews believed in Him by the thousands, and God gave this unhappy city forty-two years to repent.  But in the end, when its citizens  had not taken advantage of the opportunity, and still persisted in their malice, Vespasian and Titus, like the two bears of which the Scriptures speak, ‘came out of the middle of the woods, and killed and mauled those children who blasphemed and insulted the true Elisha, when he went up to the house of God.’”

            The same line of reasoning that is used by Jerome, specifically mentioning Vespasian and Titus, is used in the composition In Principium Actorum, which is often attributed to Chrysostom.

             ● Augustine, in North Africa in the early 400s, wrote the following in his Sermon 382:  “Did He not say, as He hung on the cross, ‘Father, forgive them, because they do not know what they are doing?’”  And he continues:  “When He was praying as He hung on the cross, He could see and foresee.  He could see all His enemies.  He could foresee that many of them would become His friends.  That is why He was interceding for them all.  They were raging, but He was praying.  They were saying to Pilate, ‘Crucify,’ but He was crying out, ‘Father, forgive.’”

And from near the end:

The reason why Luke 23:34a is supported by such a vast array of evidence is that it is original.  It was removed in an early transmission-line that influenced not only the text of Codex Bezae and the Sinaitic Syriac, but also Papyrus 75, and Codex Vaticanus, and the Sahidic version.

         There was a strong motivation to make this excision:  a desire to avoid the impression that Jesus had prayed for the Jewish nation, and His prayer had been rejected.

            About 40 years after Jesus’ crucifixion, Jerusalem was destroyed by the Romans, and it was devastated again in the Bar Kokhba Revolt.  Hundreds of thousands of Jews were killed.  The pagan jibe can easily be written:  “Is this what happens when Jesus asks for people to be forgiven?  Their city is laid waste, and they and their families are slain or enslaved.  His intercession does not seem very effective.” 

            Even without a pagan around to express the objection, an ordinary reader could perceive a difficulty when comparing Jesus’ prayer to the history of the Jews in the century that followed.

            When we look at how the passage is approached by patristic writers, we see that addressing this misconception is a high priority.  Almost all of the patristic writers who comment on the passage regarded it as a petition regarding the Jewish people. 

            The author of the Diascalía Apostolorum slightly modified the prayer, framing it with the words “if it be possible.”  Epiphanius and Gregory of Nyssa added a slight interpretive nuance, replacing the term “forgive” with the term “bear with.”     

            Later writers approached the problem thoughtfully, perceiving that the Jews as a nation had been forgiven for what had been done at Calvary, but this did not mean that they were forgiven for later offenses of unbelief.

            But to a reckless early Western copyist, the statement that Jesus asked the Father to forgive those who engineered His death appeared to contradict what they saw God do to the Jewish nation historically.  And to such a copyist, the easiest way to resolve the tension was to excise the sentence.

            Hort’s objection to this is not a good example of his acuity; he basically argues that such a thing can’t have happened because such a thing never happened.  Similarly, Metzger’s claim, that the shorter reading here “can scarcely be explained as a deliberate excision,” is more of a decree than an argument.

            The effects of anti-Judaic tendencies on the part of some copyists show up occasionally in the form of the text that is seen in the Old Latin version, the Sinaitic Syriac, and Codex Bezae. 

            Despite its name, the Western Text was known and used in the east, in Egypt.  Contrary to the claim that the text in all of the New Testament papyri discovered in Egypt is Alexandrian, Papyri 37, 38, and 48 support the Western text-form.

            The Glazier Codex, also known as G-67, written in Coptic in the 400s, strongly supports the Western Text.  The anti-Judaic sympathies of its text’s

producers occasionally manifest themselves; this does not mean that the copyist of this particular manuscript had such views, but they were held somewhere further back in the text’s ancestry.

            For instance, in Acts 10:39, it is not enough for the Western Text to say simply that “they” killed Jesus.  In the Glazier Codex, the text in this verse is changed, so as to specify that the Jews rejected Him and killed Him.  According to Eldon Epp, this reading is supported by the Old Latin Codex Legionensis, Old Latin MS 67. 

            It appears that very early in the history of the text of the Gospels in Egypt, a witness that was corrupted with readings that expressed an anti-Judaic prejudice, existed along with some much better copies.  But although those better copies generally were preferred, here and there a reading supported by this witness was preferred. 

             As a result, one of those corruptions – the removal of Luke 23:34a – was adopted into the transmission-stream from which came Papyrus 75, Codex Vaticanus, the Sahidic version, and a few other witnesses.   

            This may also be the case at other points of textual variation where we see major Alexandrian witnesses agree with the text represented in the Sinaitic Syriac manuscript, and disagree with both the vast majority of early patristic testimony and the vast majority of manuscripts and versions representing a variety of locales.  But this is a more general point that invites separate investigation.

            Although Papyrus 75 and Codex Vaticanus are widely regarded as representatives of a generally reliable transmission-line, this does not make them immune from occasional corruptions, and we should vigilantly avoid giving them an oracular status that they do not deserve. 

            Inasmuch as Luke’s reference to Jesus’ saying, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” is inspired Scripture, we should not cause Bible-readers to perpetually question its authority by introducing  vague footnotes that raise more questions than they solve, pretending that concise footnotes do justice to the evidence. 

            We should acknowledge that Luke 23:34a is original.  And as part of the original text of the New Testament, it was not given so that we could doubt it.  It was given to be profitable to us, to teach us, to rebuke us, to correct us, and to instruct us.

Book Review: To Cast the First Stone

            Last year, Princeton University Press released To Cast the First Stone, a book by Tommy Wasserman and Jennifer Knust about the story of the adulteress (John 7:53-8:11).  Tommy Wasserman (academic dean at Örebro Theological Seminary in Sweden, about 120 miles west of Stockholm) is perhaps best known to American scholars as the author of The Epistle of Jude:  Its Text and Transmission (2006), and as the General Editor of the online TC-Journal.  He is also involved in the International Greek New Testament Project.  Jennifer Knust is a professor of Religious Studies at Duke University, and is the author of Unprotected Texts.

            Back in 2014, Wasserman and Knust were among the participants in a symposium on the pericope adulterae (“section about the adulteress”) at Southeast Baptist Theological Seminary in Wake Forest, North Carolina – a symposium which concluded with an affirmation by all of the participants that the pericope adulterae should be proclaimed in churches.  Instead of a Perspectives-style volume in which all symposium-participants present their views, we have, five years later, To Cast the First Stone:  The Transmission of a Gospel Story.

            This is not the text-critically focused volume that some readers might expect.  Nowhere in its 344 pages (440 if the bibliography and indices are counted) is there a straightforward list of Greek manuscripts in which John 7:53-8:11 follows John 7:52, and of Greek manuscripts which have nothing at all between John 7:52 and John 8:11, and of Greek manuscripts which move all twelve verses to another location (after John 21, or after Luke 21:38, for example), and of Greek manuscripts which have only part of the passage (either John 7:53-8:2, or John 8:3-11).  Readers must reach the table on pages 280-281 to find a presentation of how the passage is treated in uncial manuscripts.  In a book which Bart Ehrman has predicted to be “definitive,” this is a major shortcoming, especially when one notices how much of the book dwells upon minutiae.  The description of patristic evidence presented by Wasserman and Knust is likewise insufficient. (Prosper of Aquitaine?  Faustus?  These names do not appear.)

            Readers are sure to learn much, however, about a wide variety of peripheral subjects.  For example, Marcion (an infamous heretic of the second century) is thoroughly rehabilitated; Wasserman and Knust declare that he was actually “a modest rather than a radical redactor” (p. 113).  Several pages (pp. 185-191) address the question of the provenance of Codex Vaticanus and Codex Sinaiticus – inconclusively.  Mark 16:9-20 comes up again and again, although Wasserman and Knust avoid going into much detail about the voluminous support this passage receives.  They affirm that the passage should be viewed as “unquestionably canonical” (p. 19). 

            Other subjects covered in the first half of the book include Julius Africanus’ rejection of the book of Susanna, singular omissions in early Greek manuscripts of John, the significance of asterisks and obeloi in Origen’s Hexapla, the story of Judith, the prayer of Sarah in the book of Tobit, an episode in the “Martyrdom of Peter,” the Roman story of the rape of Lucretia, the debauchery of Claudius’ wife Messalina, and even Cleopatra.  Readers may find the first half of the book rather padded.

            Things get better after the first 200 pages.  Chapter 6 begins with an account of fourth-century references to the pericope adulterae in Latin patristic writings.  Unfortunately, little care has been taken to differentiate between quotations and allusions and possible quotations and possible allusions.  A statement by Hilary of Poitiers is called an allusion although it may be a case of coincidental uses of the same common terms.  The authors describe the statement of the monk Gnositheos, including the phrase, “if anyone is without sin,” as “a brief allusion to the adulteress” (p. 203) although the similarity to John 8:7 may be entirely coincidental. 

            Wasserman and Knust go into detail about two pieces of evidence which will doubtlessly be of interest to many readers, for these important details have not been covered in popular materials such as Metzger’s Textual Commentary:  (1)  the Greek base-text of Ambrose’s quotations of the pericope adulterae, and (2) the support given to the pericope adulterae as part of the text of the Gospel of John following 7:52 and preceding 8:12, in the Old Latin capitula, or chapter-summaries.   

            Ambrose, the authors observe, “appears either to have translated directly from the Greek or to have consulted diverse Latin witnesses or, as is more likely, both options” (p. 220).   They point out that Ambrose’s term amodo, in his quotation of John 8:11, has no support in Latin manuscripts, and should be considered “a calque, that is, a new Latin word designed to match the Greek phrase ἀπὸ τοῦ νῦν (or ἀπ’ ἄρτι)”  (p. 222).

            The Latin capitula – a subject I have visited previously – were collected, compared, and published by Donatien De Bruyne in 1914.  Wasserman and Knust present De Bruyne’s data showing that the Latin capitula exist in multiple forms that in one way or another mention the account of the adulteress.  Two of these forms of the capitula are especially interesting:  “Form Cy” (“Cy” stands for Cyprian) was assigned by De Bruyne to the time of Cyprian or shortly thereafter, that is, to the mid-200s.  It has the phrase ub adulteram dimisit at the beginning of a chapter-summary, stating that after Jesus dismissed the adulteress, He testified that He is the light of the world, speaking at the treasury in the temple, etc.  Wasserman and Knust also point out that another form, “Form I,” uses the Greek loanword moechatione; this may confirm that the Old Latin text(s) of the pericope adulterae was translated from Greek.           

            Somewhat surprisingly – considering that Wasserman and Knust repeatedly affirm their belief that the pericope adulterae is not original – the authors grant that if De Bruyne is correct in his dating of the Old Latin capitula forms, and also correct in his view that ub adulteram dimisit is not an interpolation (and Wasserman and Knust present nothing to support any other view), then “the pericope adulterae was present in John in a Latin context by the third century” (p. 263).  This admission – basically conceding that the Old Latin capitula constitute plausible evidence that the story of the adulteress was in the Greek text of John from which Latin translations were made in the 100s (“by the third century”) – renders the earliest evidence for the inclusion of the passage practically contemporary with the earliest manuscript-evidence for its non-inclusion.  (I see no way to reconcile this with the authors’ statement on page 268 that “It seems likely that the Johannine pericope adulterae was interpolated in the early third century.”)

            Other evidence is also covered:  the treatment of John 7:53-8:11 in Codex Bezae and its marginalia, Jerome’s reference to the inclusion of the story of the adulteress in many manuscripts, both Greek and Latin, the assignment of a chapter-heading to the passage in some medieval manuscripts, the support for the pericope adulterae in most Old Latin manuscripts, and corrections of some misinformation that has been spread about the passage.   Regarding this last subject, some readers may be shocked by the mercifully brief critique the authors supply as they test the accuracy of a paragraph from Metzger’s Textual Commentary on page 251.  For those who have trusted D. A. Carson’s claim that “All the early church fathers omit this narrative,” or Steven Cole’s claim that no early versions include the story of the adulteress, the data provided by Wasserman and Knust should be illuminating, the way being struck with a cattle prod is illuminating.     

           

            Some readers may be exasperated by the amount of information in this book that does not pertain directly to the text of the story about the adulteress; it pertains instead to what may be called “ancient Christian book culture.”  The tour of ecclesiastical treatment of the New Testament text is far too scenic.  Yet this may be advantageous to readers who might appreciate being told things such as the following:

            ● Codex Bezae might have been copied from a third-century bilingual exemplar (p. 236).

            ● Eighteen papyri manuscripts from the 100s and 200s with text from the Gospel of John have been found, but only two of them (P66 and P75) contain John 7:52 and 8:12. (p. 67)

            ● “In the case of the Gospel of John, a circle of friends added a series of postresurrection appearances to the end of the Gospel.” (p. 91, footnote, referring to John 21.)

            This last data-nugget may serve as a sort of model for the authors’ solution to the question, “What should be done with the story about the adulteress, and why?”.   It would have seemed heavy-handed if they had said, “The passage is not original, but it should be retained because the Council of Trent said so,” or, “The passage is not original, but it should be retained because it has been declared “inspired, authentic, canonical Scripture” by the Orthodox Church.”  Instead, Wasserman and Knust affirm that the pericope adulterae is not original, but offer a more nuanced basis for an argument for its inclusion:  on balance, ancient Christian book culture affirmed the passage and proclaimed its message.  Can a convincing case be made that John did not write the pericope adulterae as part of the Gospel of John?  Yes, say Wasserman and Knust – but similarly they are convinced that John, anticipating his death, did not write the twenty-first chapter of the Gospel of John; the embrace of the supplemented text in ancient Christian book culture may be considered a better guide, when it comes to defining the canonical text, than strict matters of authorship.

            Some readers (myself included) may be disappointed that Wasserman and Knust did not spend more time engaging Maurice Robinson’s theory (presented at the 2014 symposium) that the pericope adulterae is an original segment of the Gospel of John which fell out of the text in an early influential transmission-stream.   Robinson proposed that in an early lection-cycle, the annual reading for Pentecost was John 7:37-52 with 8:12 attached (as it is in the Byzantine lectionary).  An early copyist, either deliberately adjusting the text to make the lector’s job easier, or accidentally misinterpreting marginalia that told the lector to skip ahead to 8:12, omitted 7:53-8:11.  Thus, the theory goes, the pericope adulterae was dropped from the text – not due to anyone’s desire to suppress it, but as a conformation of the form of the text used in a rudimentary lection-cycle. 

            Wasserman and Knust attempt to refute Robinson’s theory by citing the Typikon of the Great Church – a ninth-century liturgical book in which, among other things, Gospels-segments are arranged for each day of the year.  The authors grant that in this source, the Gospels-segment for Pentecost was indeed John 7:37-52 with 8:12 attached.  They also observe that in this Pentecost-lection, there are no instructions to skip from the main segment (John 7:37-52) to the closing segment (8:12), although such skip-from-here-to-there instructions appear for other lections which consist of more than one segment of text.  “This evidence,” Wasserman and Knust state on page 298, “suggests to us that the Johannine pericope adulterae was simply missing from copies available in Constantinople when the Pentecost lection was assigned,” and (p. 299) “It seems fairly certain that the pericope adulterae did not enter Byzantine copies of John until the close of the fourth century, or even later.” 

            Explanations for the Typikon’s non-use of skip-from-here-to-there instructions for the Pentecost lection can easily be imagined, but the thing to see is that the authors’ proposal that the pericope adulterae was not in the text at Constantinople when the Pentecost lection was assigned does not really touch Robinson’s model, in which the basic Byzantine lection-cycle echoes an earlier lection-cycle in which the loss of the pericope adulterae had already occurred.    

            Wasserman and Knust do not adequate address Robinson’s point that it is difficult to picture a Byzantine scribe deciding to insert the pericope adulterae within the lection for Pentecost, when simpler options existed, such as putting it at John 7:36 (so as to immediately precede the Pentecost lection).  They simply acknowledge, “This aspect of Robinson’s argument is convincing.”  So how do they explain the presence of the pericope adulterae within the Pentecost lection in over 1,400 manuscripts of John?  Similarly they offer no explanation for the first sentence of the pericope adulterae:   as Robinson asked in 2014, what kind of freestanding story begins with “Then everyone went home.”???
            A more satisfying explanation is given for the migration of the pericope adulterae to a place after Luke 21:38 in family-13 manuscripts (et al).  As Chris Keith has already shown, the insertion of the pericope adulterae to follow Luke 21:38 is an effect of treating the passage like a lection; the movement to this location made the lector’s job easier; the lector could thus find the lection for Oct. 8 (the Feast of Pelagia) near the lection for Oct. 7 (the Feast of Sergius and Bacchus).  Everything you have read or heard to the effect that the pericope adulterae is shown to be a “floating anecdote” by its appearance after Luke 21:38 in family-13 manuscripts can be safely ignored.

            A few shortcomings of To Cast the First Stone may be covered briefly:

            ● There is no variant-by-variant treatment of the text of the pericope adulterae.  An opportunity has thus been missed to show readers the differences in the forms in which the pericope adulterae appears in various sets of witnesses.  The interesting distinctive readings in the passage in the family-1 manuscripts are never given a spotlight.  In a book that gives two full pages to the Lothair Crystal, this was neglectful. 

            ● Asterisks were discussed briefly but the authors seem to have given up any attempt to analyze their use by scribes producing Gospel-manuscripts:  “The precise meaning of asteriskoi in Byzantine Gospel manuscripts remains opaque,” they acknowledge on page 128.  But what would have been a better occasion to shine a strong light upon copyists’ use of asterisks and other marks than when investigating the pericope adulterae?

            ● Only slight attention is given to the pericope adulterae in the Armenian version; no attention is given to the Georgian version.  No explanation is offered for the treatment of the pericope adulterae in a small group of Georgian copies in which the passage appears after John 7:44.  This is unfortunate, inasmuch as the Christian Standard Bible has a footnote which mentions this dislocation; CSB-readers are bound to think (incorrectly) that the footnote describes Greek manuscripts.             

            ● Wasserman and Knust treat Jerome’s affirmation (in Against the Pelagians 2:17) that the story of the adulteress is found in many copies, both Greek and Latin, with unwarranted skepticism:   “The existence of many copies of John “in both Greek and Latin” with the pericope adulterae,” they write on p. 236, “though presupposed by Jerome, cannot easily be confirmed.”  This is certainly true once one no longer considers a statement (not a presupposition but an assertion) from the supreme scholar of his age to be confirmation.  It seems bold – not in a good way – to look back 1,600 years, squint, and say that Jerome’s claim “may have been an exaggeration.” 

            ● Too little attention is given to Codex Macedonianus; unless readers consults a detail in the footnote on pages 280-281, below the two-page table, they could get a false impression from the table.  Codex Ebnerianus should have been featured, and more attention should have been given to the Palestinian Syriac lectionary’s dislocation of John 8:3-11 to the end of the Gospel.  Also, readers could have benefited from some acknowledgement that dozens of the manuscripts in which the pericope adulterae does not appear are copies of the same medieval commentary, and thus boil down to a single relatively late source.

            ● Codex Fuldensis is erroneously assigned to 569 on page 230; the correct date (546) is stated in a footnote on page 4.  Also, it is difficult to explain the description of Codex Fuldensis as “a fifth-century Latin Gospel harmony” on page 260.

            ● No detailed analysis of the lacuna in Codex Alexandrinus was provided; this would have been helpful.

            ● Annotations found in 039 and in minuscules 34, 135, 1187, 1282, and 1424 should have been included in the discussion of critical notes on pages 279ff.

            ● The description of GA 1333’s secondary inclusion of John 8:3-11 between Luke and John is insufficient.

            ● Didymus the Blind stated in his commentary on Ecclesiastes that there had been found, “in certain Gospels” – ἔν τισιν εὐαγγελίοις – an account in which Jesus says, “Whoever has not sinned, let him take up a stone and cast it” regarding a woman the Jews had accused of sin.  The authors’ case for their view that Didymus was referring to some extra-canonical composition as “Gospels,” rather than to copies containing Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, is not solid at all. 

            ● No foundation is given for the recurring claim that Eusebius “omitted the passage” (see p. 11, p. 23, 176ff. 181, 284) when preparing his Canon-tables.  However reasonable it may be to assume that Eusebius preferred a form of John that did not have the passage, Section 86 looks the same in the Eusebian Canons with or without the pericope adulterae.  

            ● The index is somewhat spotty.

            In closing:  Wasserman and Knust have provided a fascinating and valuable portrait of the ancient Christian book culture in which John 7:53-8:11 was accepted as a canonical part of the Gospel of John.  Their proposal that a non-original reading – one which, they argue, was not part of the text of the Gospel of John until a century after John’s death – should be considered canonical because of that ecclesiastical acceptance invites some problems.  For instance, if widespread ecclesiastical acceptance can veto text-critical analysis, why not simplify the text-critical enterprise by accepting all readings upon which the Vulgate, the Peshitta, and the Byzantine Text agree?  Or, even more simply, if ecclesiastical acceptance is decisive, why not accept, as a matter of course, all readings in the Byzantine Text which are supported by over 85% of the extant manuscripts?  

             To Cast the First Stone contains a lot of helpful data; nevertheless, important aspects of the evidence have been overlooked.  This is far from what a definitive book about the story of the adulteress ought to be. 


To Cast the First Stone:  The Transmission of a Gospel Story is Copyright © 2019 by Princeton University Press. 

P.S. I have written a book, A Fresh Analysis of John 7:53-8:11, maintaining that the pericope adulterae was originally part of the Gospel of John.  It is available as an e-book on Amazon.