Bible in Orthodox Christianity Handbok
Bible in Orthodox Christianity Handbok
THE BIBLE IN
ORTHODOX
CHRISTIANITY
THE Oxford Handbook of
THE BIBLE
IN ORTHODOX
CHRISTIANITY
Edited by
E U G E N J. P E N T I U C
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Pentiuc, Eugen J., 1955- editor.
Title: The Oxford handbook of the Bible in Orthodox Christianity /
[edited by Eugen J. Pentiuc].
Description: New York, NY : Oxford University Press, [2022] |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2021057622 (print) | LCCN 2021057623 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780190948658 (hardback) | ISBN 9780190948672 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Bible—Criticism, interpretation, etc. |
Orthodox Eastern Church—Doctrines.
Classification: LCC BS511.3 .O95 2022 (print) | LCC BS511.3 (ebook) |
DDC 220.6—dc23/eng/20220210
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021057622
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021057623
DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780190948658.001.0001
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Contents
PA RT I . T E X T
PA RT I I . C A N ON
PA RT I I I . S C R I P T U R E W I T H I N T R A DI T ION
PA RT V. L O OK I N G TO T H E F U T U R E
Index 683
Foreword
At first glance, the Orthodox Church might not appear to place as much emphasis on the
Bible relative to other Christian denominations, but, to the contrary, everything in the spir-
ituality of the Eastern Church springs from Holy Scripture. The Church Fathers possessed
an organic relationship with the sacred texts. They were very quickly translated into other
languages as a means for Christian expansion and mission throughout the Roman Empire
and beyond. The Bible is the wellspring of the liturgy. It is inseparable from the sacraments.
It is the source of iconography. The Bible is the life of the Church at the intersection of com-
munion and salvation.
Therefore, I am delighted to commend Fr. Eugen J. Pentiuc’s present work: Oxford
Handbook of the Bible in Orthodox Christianity. As editor of the present volume, he has al-
most four decades of pastoral experience in Romania, Israel, and the United States, and is
a prolific theologian and biblical scholar. He is in a unique position to take on this signifi-
cant project with the collaboration of many Orthodox and non-Orthodox biblical scholars,
in order to celebrate the fascinating development of the Bible in Eastern and Oriental
Orthodox Christianity.
Regarding the text of Scripture, Orthodoxy has never “canonized” a specific textual tradi-
tion (e.g., Old Greek—Septuagint over Hebrew—Masoretic Text). While always breathing
through the Septuagint, the Orthodox Church has not closed the door on other textual
traditions, Origen’s Hexapla being a monumental example of textual fluidity. Moreover,
the Slavic, Arabic, and Romanian translations, as well as Oriental Orthodox translations
(Syriac, Coptic, Ethiopian, Armenian), speak volumes about Orthodox Christianity’s flexi-
bility with respect to the biblical text and its transmission.
A brief survey of the canonical lists in Eastern and Oriental Orthodox traditions shows
a wide variety of views. If the New Testament canon remains relatively well configured at
twenty-seven books, the Old Testament canon is quite elastic in its remote boundaries.
While all thirty-nine canonical books of the Hebrew Bible are to be found in any Bible
of Byzantine and Oriental churches, the number of the ἀναγιγνωσκόμενα (“readable,” St.
Athanasius’s coinage) differs from one community to another: forty-nine Old Testament
books in Byzantine Orthodoxy, and the broadest canon in the Ethiopian tradition. Another
conundrum is the status of these ἀναγιγνωσκόμενα: Are they considered canonical as are
the thirty-nine or noncanonical (οὐ κανονιζόμενα, St. Athanasius)? Put differently, is it the
ongoing liturgical use of these ἀναγιγνωσκόμενα that makes them canonical?
All Orthodox traditions insist on the “centrality of Scripture within tradition.” While
Scripture as God’s word vested in human words remains central, tradition, as the matrix
and living context of the Church, is in a continuous symbiosis with Scripture. Note that tra-
dition from an Orthodox perspective is more than a mere deposit of faith; it is the Church’s
life under the guidance of the Holy Spirit approaching the eschaton.
x Foreword
excavations at Bethsaida, and has published extensively at the intersection of Bible and
archaeology.
Anthony G. Roeber is Professor of Church History, St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Theological
Seminary. Co-author, Changing Churches (2012); co-editor, Oxford Handbook of Early
Modern Theology (2016); author, Mixed Marriages: An Orthodox History (2018); and editor,
Human v. Religious Rights? (2020).
Christopher R. Seitz is Senior Research Professor of Biblical Interpretation, Wycliffe
College in the University of Toronto; his most recent publication is Convergences: Canon
and Catholicity (Baylor University Press, 2020); his collected essays, Prophecy and Canon,
will appear shortly (Mohr Siebeck).
Brent A. Strawn is Professor of Old Testament and Professor of Law at Duke University,
Senior Fellow in the Center for the Study of Law and Religion at Emory University, and an
ordained elder in the United Methodist Church.
Theodore G. Stylianopoulos, a Greek Orthodox priest, taught the New Testament and
Orthodox Spirituality at Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology during 1967–
2008. His most recent works are The Making of the New Testament (2014) and The Apostolic
Gospel (2015).
Hany N. Takla holds an MA in Coptic Studies from Macquarie University, Sydney Australia.
Founding President of the St. Shenouda the Archimandrite Coptic Society and lecturer of
Coptic Language and Coptology in Coptic theological schools in the United States and
Europe.
Alexis Torrance is the Archbishop Demetrios Associate Professor of Byzantine Theology
at the University of Notre Dame, and a priest of the Ecumenical Patriarchate. He recently
published Human Perfection in Byzantine Theology: Attaining the Fullness of Christ (OUP).
Petros Vassiliadis is Emeritus Professor, Aristotle University of Thessaloniki; Director of
Master Program of Orthodox Ecumenical Theology, International Hellenic University;
Honorary President of CEMES and WOCATI, translator of New Testament into Modern
Greek; and author of many books and articles.
Olivier-Thomas Venard is a Dominican priest and Professor of New Testament at the École
Biblique et Archéologique Française in Jerusalem. His largest book in English is A Poetic
Christ: Thomist Reflections on Scripture, Language and Reality (London: Bloomsbury, 2019).
James Buchanan Wallace is Professor of Religion at Christian Brothers University. He is
the author of Snatched into Paradise (2 Cor 12:1–10): Paul’s Heavenly Journey in the Context
of Early Christian Experience (De Gruyter, 2011).
David A. Wilkinson is Principal of St John’s College and Professor in the Department of
Theology of Religion in Durham University, United Kingdom. He is a Fellow of the Royal
Astronomical Society and an ordained Methodist minister.
Introduction
Eugen J. Pentiuc
The lines that follow rely heavily on my own thoughts previously published or not,
and now resuscitated, challenged, and enriched by the contributions to the present
handbook.
A fiddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But in our little village of Anatevka, you might say
every one of us is a fiddler on the roof, trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without
breaking his neck. It isn’t easy. You may ask, why do we stay up there if it’s so dangerous? We
stay because Anatevka is our home. . . . And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you
in one word . . . Tradition. (Bock et al. 1964, 2)
As for Tevye, so for the Orthodox believer, everything is regulated by and wrapped up
in Tradition: the way of praying, the way of hearing or reading the sacred Scriptures, the
way of living, even the way of dressing or eating—be it fasting or feasting, any and all of
these are part of a mysterious, quite elusive, yet all-encompassing Tradition. For this very
reason, any discussion of the Bible in Orthodox Christianity, needs to be preceded by a
preliminary survey of its sacred Tradition.
2 Eugen J. Pentiuc
From the outset, I may admit that talking of Tradition is like the chicken-egg dilemma: You
cannot have one without the other; you cannot talk about tradition without Scripture, and
the other way around. However, given the ubiquitousness of Tradition among the Orthodox,
one needs to make a constructive effort to configure the structure and mechanics of this
omnipresent Tradition.
A caveat is well warranted at this point. For Orthodox, Tradition is not a storeroom or
a deposit of faith, but rather sheer life—the Church’s life, that is, in its diversity and com-
plexity. Tradition is not a closed system, but the unfolding of life in its fluidity. That is why
the great peril for Tradition is for it to be slowly codified—with respect to Scripture, the
process began with the codification by Justinian in the mid-sixth century AD of various
conciliar statements, and thus turning the life-like process of Tradition into a mere deposit
of faith (Pentiuc 2014, 144).
How can one describe the content of Tradition or the Church’s life? As is the case with
life, in general—we know what it is or, rather, we are aware of it, but we cannot analyze
it—the same holds true for Tradition, we have a perception of it, but the moment we come
closer to it, Tradition gains another avatar, eschewing any rigorous analysis. In quantum
mechanics, the moment at which one “observes” or “measures” the light, the light changes
its function, from wave to particle; again, the same holds true for Tradition. When one
begins analyzing it, its ever-changing, fluid, life-like function turns into a composite picture
consisting of pixels, lines, and sections.
Nevertheless, for practical reasons, and due to the gradual codification process mentioned
earlier, one may imagine the sacred Tradition as a wide circle, which can be divided, seg-
mented, in a number of sections or slices. One may imagine Tradition as a wide circle,
having at its center another circle, with a pivot inside of it that I would coin the “Christ-
event” (i.e., Jesus’s irradiating and welcoming rich personality and ministry, comprising
his sayings, wonders, the passion with the cross, death, and entombment, followed by an
empty tomb and some postresurrection appearances, all culminating with his ascension to
heaven). A summary of some of Jesus’s salvific activities may be found listed in one of the
earliest recordings of the apostolic kerygma “proclamation,” namely, 1 Cor 15, functioning
as one of the earliest lens through which the Christ-event was seen and assessed by the
emerging Church. Going outward from the central inner circle (following the Christ-event),
the first concentric circle is that of the New Testament writings, followed by another, wider
circle—that of the Old Testament Scriptures—that is heading for the eschaton-horizon, the
ultimate frontier of these concentric circles. Tradition is a circle that intersects or overlaps
with the two-concentric circles along the pivot (i.e., Christ-event). Thus pictured, Tradition
is infused by Christ’s person and ministry, and Old and New Testament Scriptures. Here,
there is a two-way street. On the one hand, Christ and Scriptures inform and permeate
the Tradition, and, on the other hand, the latter parses and conveys the former. One may
wonder whether a biblical scholar belonging to a community of faith would be able to do
biblical work fully independent from the presuppositions—assumptions and guidelines—
pertaining to their Tradition.
The Bible in Orthodox Christianity 3
Content of Tradition
This circle of Tradition may be imagined divided into a number of slices (sections), fanning
out from the center (Christ-event) to the eschaton-horizon. Here are listed just a few of the
sections that make up the sacred Tradition, in no particular order: liturgical life both aural
(hymns, homilies, lectionaries) and visual (iconography, symbolic acts), patristic writings
(biblical commentaries, theological treatises), conciliar documents, desert fathers’ sayings
(Apophthegmata Patrum), canon law, etc.
Interestingly, all the slices constituting the sacred Tradition emerge from a single point,
the pivot, at the center of the two concentric circles, namely, the very Christ-event. In other
words, the Church’s life or Tradition springs from a variety of manifestations and forms
from within the very heart of Christianity, that is, the person of Jesus the Messiah and his
salvific ministry. This main characteristic of Tradition being centered on the Christ-event
has had a major impact on biblical hermeneutics of Orthodox Christianity throughout its
long history. Orthodox biblical hermeneutics has a deep traditional character while being
centered on the Christ-event (hence its Christological content), as prophesied in the Old
Testament and fulfilled in the New (see the section “Toward an Orthodox Hermeneutics”).
often capitalized, is understood as the Church’s life under the guidance of the Holy Spirit
and tradition(s), transmitted orally, that preceded the act of writing, hence generating
Scripture. Under the latter understanding, one may place ancient Israel’s traditions found
in the writings of the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) and the apostolic Church traditions
lying at the core of New Testament writings, primarily the canonical gospels.
For a useful expression of the Scripture–Tradition relationship, one may use the following
analogy:
Scripture, most especially the Old Testament, may be compared to a daring and untamable
textbook. Holy Tradition in all its avatars—conciliar statements, writings of church fathers,
liturgy, iconography, ascetic teachings—functions as a guiding handout of the textbook.
Following this analogy, one may note a certain complementarity or reciprocity. Handouts
aim to summarize and explain the salient points of a textbook. Similarly, Tradition, based on
Scripture, complements the latter by condensing and illuminating its content. Nevertheless,
the handouts, however complete and clear they may appear, will never be able to exhaustively
elucidate all the angles of scriptural trove or provide an all-encompassing and self-sufficient
summary of Holy Writ. The handouts necessarily depend on a textbook, and they are always
in state of revision and improvement. If the latter to a certain degree can stand by itself, the
handouts always need the textbook as their irreducible point of departure and reference.
(Pentiuc 2014, 165)
One may add here Gregory of Nyssa’s exhortation, “Let the inspired Scripture be our
arbiter (diaitēsatō), and the sentence (psēphos) of truth will be given to those whose
dogmas are found to agree with the divine words” (On the Holy Trinity, and of the Godhead
of the Holy Spirit: To Eustathius), which speaks volumes of the pervasive Orthodox view on
Scripture’s centrality within Tradition.
This is one of the tenets and guiding principles of Orthodox Christianity as a whole.
Orthodox do not speak of a twofold deposit, “Scripture and Tradition” as “two sources” of
divine revelation (Roman Catholic view), neither do they discard the Tradition for a “self-
sufficient” Scripture (i.e., sola Scriptura—Protestant view). While holding both Scripture
and Tradition in high esteem, the Orthodox have always granted Scripture a central place,
viewing in it a lively pulsating heart shooting blood and nutrients throughout the entire
Church’s body. Scripture is central to the Church’s life or Tradition. It spreads throughout all
the sections of Tradition. Scripture is within Tradition, here, there, and everywhere, yet still
remaining at the center of Tradition as a beacon of light and criterion of truth.
Stylianopoulos (2009, 25) underscores the primacy or centrality of Scripture with respect
to Tradition and Church by sharply stating:
The Church does not possess the Bible in such a way that it can do whatever it pleases with
it, for example through virtual neglect or excessive allegorisation. . . . In its canonical status,
scripture occupies the primacy among the Church’s traditions. . . . The Bible as the supreme
record of revelation is the indisputable norm of the Church’s faith and practice. . . . The ne-
glect of the Bible and the silencing of its prophetic witness are inimical to the Church’s evan-
gelical vibrancy and sense of mission in the world. . . . The Church in every generation is
called to maintain the primacy and centrality of the Bible in its life, always attentive, re-
pentant and obedient to God’s word.
How has this living Tradition been transmitted throughout history? Who are
the “tradents” of the Tradition? For Orthodox, the Church as a whole (i.e., laity and
The Bible in Orthodox Christianity 5
Tradition was in the Early Church, first of all, an hermeneutical principle and method.
Scripture could be rightly and fully assessed and understood only in the light and in the
context of the living Apostolic Tradition, which was an integral factor of Christian exist-
ence. . . . It was not a fixed core or complex of binding propositions, but rather an insight
into the meaning and impact of the revelatory events, of the revelation of the “God who acts.”
Since the autographs or the authors’ original manuscripts have been lost, what once were
called “versions” are now more accurately termed “textual witnesses” to the Scripture, the
Old and New Testaments.
As the name intimates, the “textual witnesses” are witnessing to a Scripture whose
autographs are no longer extant, hence they all need to be treated equally just as they
are—mere witnesses. Only through quite laborious historical-critical work are they to be
evaluated and properly used, if not for the reconstruction of the original text, as tradition-
ally believed, at least for a better understanding of the emergence of biblical texts and their
transmission.
Orthodox Christianity exhibits a great deal of textual fluidity and pluriformity with re-
spect to the Scripture. As proof, the Orthodox Church has never “canonized” or “codified”
a certain textual witness as its official text, as has been the case with Jerome’s translation,
the Vulgate (AD 390–405), which at the Council of Trent, on April 8, 1546, was recognized
as the authoritative version of the Roman Catholic Church “in matters of faith and morals.”
One may notice that even such a clear-cut conciliar statement did not reject the importance
of other textual witnesses (e.g., Hebrew text, Septuagint, etc.).
The Septuagint
Although not an officially “canonized” Bible, the Septuagint became the default Bible in
the East, being held in high esteem by Orthodox Christians. For the Orthodox Church, the
Septuagint has, above all, a preeminent religious value. It has been the Bible of the Church
covering all its major phases beginning with the New Testament and apostolic period through
6 Eugen J. Pentiuc
the church fathers, ecumenical councils, and up to the present day. Notably, the Septuagint
was the Bible of the first millennium undivided Church. The dogmatic statements of the ecu-
menical councils were crafted with the help of the Septuagint biblical lexicon.
Moreover, the Septuagint was the Bible of the liturgists. Byzantine hymnographers are
known for their artistic skills in interlacing the hymns with biblical phrases or keywords all
gleaned from the Old Greek Bible (Septuagint).
According to Jerome (Letter 57), the value of the Septuagint is due either to the fact that
it was the first of the Bible versions made before Christ or that it was used by the apos-
tles. Expanding on the former reason, one may add that in the view of the church fathers,
the Septuagint was a praeparatio evangelica by which God in his providence prepared the
gentiles to receive Jesus of Nazareth as Messiah, prophesied by the Jewish Scriptures, as
their own Lord and Savior.
Moreover, due to an intense reception process during the early period of the church,
notices Harl (1992, 33–42), the Septuagint became gradually “un oeuvre autonom, détachée
de son modèle,” with no need to be related to the Masoretic text.
In spite of its long-lasting popularity in the Eastern Church, the Septuagint remains a
textual witness among other textual witnesses. Its textual relativity, clearly articulated in this
handbook, may be explained along the following trajectories.
First, the Septuagint is a translation, and like any translation, with the passing of time, the
Septuagint needs to be revised. One of the most important revisions was Origen’s magnus
opus Hexapla (mid-third century AD). In this early Christian text-critical work, the fa-
mous Alexandrian scholar seeks to revise, or more precisely, to improve the Septuagint
text, by comparing it with the extant Hebrew pre-Masoretic text (exclusively consonantal)
and the three second-century AD Jewish Greek translations (Aquila, Symmachus, and
Theodotion), by placing the textual versions in six columns. The fifth column, the Quinta,
contained the revised text of the Septuagint. This Hexaplaric recension of the Septuagint
was frequently copied, and eventually translated into Syriac by Paul of Tella in AD 616.
Known as the Syro-Hexapla, this Syriac version of Origen’s Quinta was preserved partially
(Prophets and Writings) in the ninth-century Codex Ambrosianus Syrohexaplaris in Milan.
As Hengel (2004, 36) well pointed out, through Origen’s Hexapla “the church was continu-
ally reminded that the LXX is only a translation that can never exceed the Hebrew original
in dignity, but must, rather, always succeed it.”
Second, the Septuagint’s transmission history is quite complex and convoluted, showing
no clear attempts at textual standardization (unlike the Hexaplaric and post-Hexaplaric re-
cession exhibiting a pronounced standardization). The Old Greek (Septuagint) translation
is preserved in three major uncial codices dating to the fourth–fifth century AD (Sinaiticus,
Vaticanus, and Alexandrinus) and many miniscule manuscripts dating to the ninth through
fifteenth centuries. Thus, one cannot speak of the Septuagint, a single, easy-to-define textual
entity. The Septuagint is simply a misnomer.
Third, in the case of the book of Daniel, the Septuagint text (i.e., Old Greek) was replaced
gradually by the Eastern Church with the late-second-century AD translation of Theodotion
and is found in the fourth-to fifth-century uncial codices. However, the Septuagint text of
Daniel (that is, the pre-Theodotion Old Greek version) is still attested in the Syro-Hexapla.
Intriguingly, not only that in this book the latter text has displaced the former in their trans-
mission histories but also the personality of Theodotion and the version associated with his
The Bible in Orthodox Christianity 7
name are shrouded in mystery. Furthermore, the ancient patristic sources perpetuate this
mystery by both offering contradictory comments with regard to the provenance, time, and
religious appurtenance of Theodotion and documenting a change of perception within the
Christian church regarding his version, namely, from suspicion to a positive appreciation of
its merits, leading to its acceptance. (Olariu, in this volume)
Fourth, the Septuagint is not the only biblical text employed by the church fathers.
The patristic interpreters refer in their commentaries to other textual witnesses they have
consulted. Here are a few of them: “Later Versions”; “Hexaplaric Versions”; “the Three
(translators),” or simply, “Aquila,” “Symmachus,” and “Theodotion”; Ho Hebraios (“The
Hebrew [translator]”); To Hebraikon (“The Hebrew [translation]”); Ho Syros (“The Syrian
[translator]”); and To Samaritikon (“The Samaritan [translation]”) (Marcos 2000, 10–11).
During the first millennium, the Eastern Christian Church used the Septuagint as a
working text while not refuting altogether the Hebrew text. The reasons the Eastern Church
chose the Septuagint are not theological, but rather practical: “As practical reasons, one
might mention, on the one hand, the ignorance of Hebrew and, on the other, the suspi-
cion toward the Jews of possible falsification of the Hebrew text. Furthermore, at the time
in question, Greek was, for the East, the lingua franca, and the interest of most Christian
writers was not scientific but pastoral” (Konstantinou, in this volume).
The debate on the authority of the biblical text began in the East relatively late, after
the seventeenth century, almost concurrent with the debate on the extension of the bib-
lical canon. The debates occurred during the controversies between Roman Catholics
and Protestants with respect to the relationship between the Vulgate and the Hebrew text.
Within this context of canon and texts, the Rudder (Greek, Pedalion)—the codified canon
law, by Nicodemus the Agiorite (1749–1809), mentions the Septuagint as the Bible of the
Eastern Orthodox Church.
Up to the nineteenth century, with minor exceptions, Bible translations were done on
the Septuagint. Nevertheless, modern Bible translations published by various Orthodox
Churches show a more balanced and dispassionate view on making use of various textual
witnesses (Mihăilă, in this volume).
The Peshitta
The Syriac translation (Peshitta, Syriac, “simple, plain [translation]”), based on the Hebrew
Bible, preserved in the sixth-to seventh-century Codex Ambrosianus of Milan, was prob-
ably completed by the second century AD. The Peshitta needs to be distinguished from the
seventh-century Syro-Hexapla, the Syriac translation based on the revised Septuagint, more
precisely, Origen’s Quinta. Was the older Peshitta done in a Jewish or Jewish Christian com-
munity? “While there is no conclusive evidence, it is clear that the Peshitta Old Testament is
the work of translators who were quite apt in the Jewish tradition but also closely connected
with early Syriac Christianity. By the third and fourth centuries, the transmission of the
Peshitta was so strong that all later branches of the Syriac church adopted it as their standard
text” (Kiraz, in this volume).
One may add that the Hebrew Vorlage of the Peshitta is much closer to the Vorlage of the
Masoretic text than to the Hebrew textual basis of the Septuagint. In a nutshell, the Peshitta
8 Eugen J. Pentiuc
and Syro-Hexapla are examples of textual fluidity and pluriformity with respect to the use
of Scripture in the East, especially when one compares these textual witnesses to the bib-
lical quotations in Syriac fathers such Ephrem the Syrian (d. AD 373) and Aphraates (fourth
century).
In addition to the ancient Ethiopian (Ge’ez) version, Peshitta is the only translation done
in a language belonging to the same Semitic linguistic family as biblical Hebrew, hence its
unique value to text-criticism as well as to biblical interpretation.
Ethiopian
The first translations of the Bible in classical Ethiopic language (Ge’ez) date back to the first
half of the fourth century AD, when Christianity officially arrived to the kingdom of Aksum.
The whole Bible was translated by the end of the seventh century AD, representing the de-
cline of the kingdom of Aksum. Revisions followed until the nineteenth century, culminating
with the textual standardization of the Ge’ez Bible that became the textus receptus. The Vorlage
of the Ge’ez Old Testament belongs to the Septuagint textual family (i.e., uncial and minis-
cule manuscripts). Similar to Greek patristic interpreters, the andǝmta commentaries refer to
other textual witnesses besides the Ge’ez Old Testament, such as “the Samaritan Pentateuch,”
“the Septuagint,” and the Hebrew text (Abraha 2017). The effortless use of textual variants
points to pluriformity of Scripture in the Orthodox Ethiopian Church.
Coptic
The term “Coptic Bible” is used [ . . . ] to refer to the Coptic Language version of the Greek
Christian Scriptures that was universally accepted by the Orthodox Church of Alexandria . . .
by the fourth century, the entire canon of the Old and New Testament books was translated
in at least the main Coptic dialect, Sahidic, as well as some of the books in several of the other
literary dialects that were in use at that time: Akhmimic, Bohairic, Fayyumic, Lycopolitan,
and Mesokemic. (Takla, in this volume)
The variety of dialects in which the Bible circulated testifies to textual fluidity.
Armenian
Among ancient Bible translations, the Armenian version is probably the most conservative,
showing a low degree of fluidity. “One of the unique characteristics of the Armenian transla-
tion of the Bible is that unlike many other versions, which have had a variety of independent
The Bible in Orthodox Christianity 9
retranslations over the years, the Armenian Bible has been passed down through the centuries
largely unchanged, reaching us in very few versions” (Hambardzumyan, in this volume).
The second section of this handbook covers various aspects of the biblical canon in
Orthodox Christianity.
10 Eugen J. Pentiuc
Unlike the well-configured New Testament canon, except for the somehow convoluted tra-
jectory of the book of Revelation (Baynes 2010), the Old Testament canon has an interesting
history in general, and with respect to Orthodoxy, in particular (McDonald, in this volume).
Characteristic of Orthodox views on the biblical canon, more precisely the Old Testament
canon, is a balance between strictness and flexibility. While there is perfect agreement on
the thirty-nine books appropriated from the Jewish Bible, and held as canonical, that is,
normative in terms of faith or doctrine, Orthodox Christianity has a more flexible view
on the “outside” books (i.e., additions to the Septuagint and other Jewish Second Temple
writings), with respect to their number and canonical status.
One might mention that if early Christian authors speak of kanonizomena “canonized” or
“canonical” books, beginning with late fourth century, the Greek noun kanōn “canon” comes
to designate the corpus or list of canonical (normative) books, as one may see in Amphilochius
of Iconium’s gloss (about AD 380): “This would be the most faultless canon of the divinely in-
spired Scriptures (kanōn . . . tōn theoneustōn Graphōn)” (Iambi ad Seleucum 319 [PG 37:1598]).
There is no ecumenical or pan-Orthodox (emphasis added) council in the East that
decreed on the canonical status of these “outside” books. Athanasius of Alexandria, one of
the few ancient Eastern Orthodox “authorities,” in his Thirty-Ninth Festal Epistle, AD 367,
divides the books (biblia) that a Christian might encounter into three groups: kanonizomena
“canonized,” ou kanonizomena “noncanonized,” and apokrypha “apocrypha.” The Septuagint
additions make up the second group, “noncanonized” or “noncanonical,” also termed
anaginōskomena, “to be read, readable” (in public); in other words, the Septuagint additions,
though noncanonical per se, can be read in the church for spiritual growth of the faithful.
With respect to the first two groups of books (“canonized” and “noncanonized”—
anaginōskomena “to be read, readable”), Athanasius wisely distinguishes between the
two functions of Scripture, namely, “informative” and “formative.” On the one hand, he
considers the thirty-nine canonical (“canonized”) books of the Jewish Bible “fountains of
salvation” (pēgai tou sōtēriou), because “only in these the doctrine of godliness (eusebeias
didaskaleion) is proclaimed”; hence, the “canonized” books exercise the informative function
of Scripture. On the other hand, Athanasius remarks, “there are other books outside of these
(hetera biblia toutōn exōthen) indeed noncanonized (ou kanonizomena), but prescribed
by the fathers to be read (tetypōmena de para tōn paterōn anaginōskesthai) by those who
newly join us, and who wish to be instructed in the word of godliness (katēcheisthai ton
tēs eusebeias logon)”; hence, the “noncanonized” (noncanonical) or anaginōskomena per-
form the “formative” function of Scripture. If in the fourth-to fifth-century AD Septuagint
uncial codices, where anaginōskomena intercalate with canonical books, in Athanasius’s list
the two groups are separated from one another (Pentiuc 2014, 115–116).
Unlike Athanasius’s favorable attitude toward the anaginōskomena, the Laodicea Council
(about AD 363), a local council, though an important ancient “authority” in the East on
matters of biblical canon, prohibits (canon 59) the reading of noncanonical books in church.
The canon debate occurred in the East not as an internal problem, but rather in the con-
text of the seventeenth century controversies between Protestants and Roman Catholics on
the value of the Vulgate in relation to the Hebrew Bible (i.e., Masoretic text).
With respect to the biblical canon, the Reformers placed the “outside” books (i.e., the
Septuagint additions) at the end of the Old Testament (e.g., Luther’s Bible of 1534), calling
them “Apocrypha,” that is, though not on par with the canonical books, they are useful and
good for reading.
The Bible in Orthodox Christianity 11
This harsh attitude of the Reformers toward the Septuagint additions, made the Roman
Catholic Church adopt at the Council of Trent (1545–1563) a wider canon with forty-six
Old Testament books, including the Septuagint additions. The Tridentine decision on the
biblical canon was ratified at the First Vatican Council (1869–1870). The Eastern Orthodox
found themselves caught in the midst of sixteenth-to seventeenth-century polemics be-
tween Protestants and Roman Catholics regarding the text and canon. The seventeenth-
century Orthodox councils and “confessions,” while seeking to clarify Athanasius’s
tripartite division of books, still popular in the East, came eventually to opt for either the
narrower (Protestant) or wider (Roman Catholic) canon. On one hand, the confession of
Cyril Loukaris (1629), influenced by Calvinism, excludes the Septuagint additions, called
apokrypha, from the biblical canon. On the other hand, the Synod of Jerusalem (1672),
convened by Patriarch Dositheus Notaras of Jerusalem, and Dositheus’s confession (a re-
sponse to Loukaris’s confession) consider the Septuagint additions as canonical books, on
par with the thirty-nine canonical books of the Hebrew Bible, a view similar to the Roman
Catholic stance. Moreover, the Russian Catechism of Philaret, Metropolitan of Moscow
(1823), excludes the Septuagint additions from the canon because they are not extant in
Hebrew. The Septuagint additions returned to the Russian Bible in its 1956 edition.
However, none of these statements and confessions should be taken as the Orthodox of-
ficial view, since they all were crafted under the pressure of theological polemics between
Protestants and Roman Catholics. Unlike Protestantism or Catholicism, where the number of
canonical books has been well defined, Orthodox Christianity shows a great variety of canon-
ical lists (McDonald, in this volume). At one end, there is the Eastern Orthodox Old Testament
canon containing forty-nine books: thirty-nine canonical books of the Hebrew Bible and ten
Septuagint additions (anaginōskomena: Tobias, Judith, Wisdom, Sirach or Ecclesiasticus,
Baruch, 1 Maccabees, 3 Maccabees, 1 Esdras, 3 Esdras, with 4 Maccabees in the appendix).
At the other end, there is the Ethiopian Bible, including eighty-one books (in a particular
arrangement), which is similar to the Eastern Orthodox (specifically Greek Orthodox) Bible,
with a number of new additions (for the Old Testament: Jubilees, Enoch, 2 Ezra, Ezra Sutuel,
Tegsats, Metsihafe Tibeb, Joseph son of Bengorion; and for the New Testament: Sirate Tsion,
Tizaz, Gitsew, Abtilis, 1 Dominos, 2 Dominos, Clement, Didascalia). Note that in modern
Bible editions (e.g., Bible in Amharic, 1996) the eight New Testament additions to the twenty-
seven are called “Books of Church Order” (Assefa, in this volume; Abraha 2017).
Today, Orthodox biblical scholars seek to understand the inner workings of the Christian
Old Testament, more precisely, the relationship between the thirty-nine books of the Hebrew
Bible and the Septuagint additions. They ask whether the “outside” books should be considered
an extension of the third section of the Jewish Bible, Ketuvim “Writings,” with a “formative
purpose” (Pentiuc 2014, 107–109), or as a “narrative complement” to the canonical books, e.g.,
Wisdom of Solomon as a complement-match to Proverbs (Chirilă, in this volume).
The status of the “outside” books (i.e., not extant in the Jewish Bible) is still debated within
the Orthodox Christianity. According to Ulrich, one of the most important criteria for bib-
lical canonicity is a community of faith that reflects and ratifies its sacred books. If one takes
a closer look at various communities of faith making up the Orthodox Christianity (Roeber,
in this volume), one notices that such reflective activity is hardly detectable, and the rati-
fication process is restricted to a few statements and confessions crafted primarily under
the pressure of external factors. In this situation when much more reflection needs to be
done, one may dare to say that the Orthodox biblical canon is “open-ended” or a “growing
12 Eugen J. Pentiuc
collection” of scriptures, to use Ulrich’s coinage: “If the canon is by definition a closed list
of books that have been considered, debated, sifted, and accepted, then talk of an open
canon is confusing and counterproductive; it seems more appropriate to speak of a growing
collection of books considered as sacred scripture” (Ulrich 2002, 34).
In this context one may ask: Can the liturgical use of an “outside” book (Septuagint
addition) replace the conciliar authority of an ecumenical or pan-Orthodox council in
granting that book canonical (normative) status? As one knows, the Septuagint additions
have been used for centuries in Orthodox worship, both in hymnography and lectionary
(Vassiliadis, in this volume).
In Meyendorff ’s view, liturgical use cannot alone be a criterion of biblical canonicity:
In spite of the fact that Byzantine patristic and ecclesiastical tradition almost exclusively uses
the Septuagint as the standard Biblical text and that parts of the “longer” canon especially
Wisdom are of frequent liturgical use Byzantine theologians remain faithful to a “Hebrew”
criterion for Old Testament literature, which excludes texts originally composed in Greek.
Modern Orthodox theology is consistent with this unresolved polarity when it distinguishes
between “canonical” and “deuterocanonical” literature of the Old Testament, applying the
first term only to the books of the “shorter” canon. (Meyendorff 1979, 7)
Related to biblical canon is the notion of biblical inspiration. In fact, all the canonical
books (and authors) were thought to have been divinely inspired, as one can also surmise
from Amphilochius’s earlier quoted collocation, “canon of the divinely inspired Scriptures
(kanōn . . . tōn theoneustōn Graphōn).” For Orthodox, “the Scriptures are understood to
be theanthropic, so that divine inspiration and human illumination cohere together”
(Humphrey, in this volume). The Incarnation is the explanatory model of biblical inspira-
tion. As the divine nature coexists with the human nature in the person of Christ, similarly
God’s word coexists with or is vested in human words, and this unique symbiosis makes up
the Scripture, which is “a God inspired scheme or image (eikon) of truth, but not truth it-
self. . . . If we declare Scripture to be self-sufficient, we only expose it to subjective, arbitrary
interpretation, thus cutting it away from its sacred source” (Florovsky 1972, 48).
I conclude this section with the insightful comments of Agouridis on the “open-
endedness” of the biblical canon in the Orthodox Church:
Holy Scripture is not law but “witness,” and its writers are not legislators but “witnesses.”
If for instance an archaeological pickaxe were to uncover an authentic epistle of Paul the
Apostle, no one would imagine excluding it from the canon. Neither is there the least
doubt that the discovery of new texts from early Christianity would pose any problem
whatsoever regarding the essence of faith. Through such a new possession our knowledge
and spiritual experience would simply be enriched in a truly authentic and genuine way.
(Agouridis 1972, 55)
However, given the Orthodox understanding of Tradition, as the Church’s life under the
guidance of the Holy Spirit toward the eschaton, the grand finale of time and history, the
attribute “traditional” needs to be taken in a relative sense. For this reason, the Orthodox
biblical hermeneutics, if such an entity does really exist, is always in transit, not yet fully
configured, but ever struggling to strike a balance between tradition and modernity. I term
this process “recontextualization of traditional hermeneutics.” In other words, what was
handed over in terms of hermeneutics, namely, the interpretive Tradition, is continu-
ously recast in new settings so that the traditional hermeneutics may keep up with new
approaches to the Bible. By recontextualization, I mean traditional hermeneutics in “con-
versation” with various modern and post-modern approaches toward the use and inter-
pretation of Scripture. While aiming at its own configuration, the Orthodox hermeneutics
proves to be intrinsically conversationalist, open to a dynamic dialogue.
When I use “traditional” with reference to hermeneutics, I think primarily of ancient
Christian (“patristic”) interpretations. As mentioned earlier, tradition consists of various
slices (sections), and one of them is the church fathers’ writings that have had significant and
long-lasting relevance for Orthodox biblical hermeneutics. What follow are some examples
of hermeneutical recontextualization. Since most of the examples are discussed in detail in
this handbook, this is a succinct list of personal remarks on various hermeneutical topics.
of Scripture according to the theological, spiritual, and moral needs of the faith community
these interpreters represent.
In addition to its golden age and long-lasting legacy, patristic exegesis offers Orthodox
biblical scholars and readers important “insights that help shape a vision for reading
Scripture that is centered on Christ, that insists on the import of the text for ethical or spir-
itual life, and that is attuned to the complexities and polyvalence of the text without losing
sight of its crucial historical dimension” (Torrance, in this volume).
This modeling role of patristic exegesis on how one reads and understands the Scriptures
applies to both Eastern and Oriental communities with their specific hermeneutical
procedures and foci. For instance, the “exchange” element with respect to God’s covenant
with Israel, so poetically conveyed by Ephrem the Syrian: “He gave us divinity, we gave
him humanity” (Hymns on Faith 5:17), is probably the defining feature of Syriac patristic
exegesis. The interpretive act is a synergeia “cooperation” between God, the main author of
Scripture, and hearers or readers willing to open themselves to the illuminating work of the
Holy Spirit (Brock, in this volume).
As for the ancient Coptic scriptural interpretation in its aural and visual expressions, this
may be compared to “weaving a textile garment” with a pronounced transformative dimen-
sion: “If there was any single purpose of reading, interpreting, and living by the measure of
the scriptures, it was to receive the divine light that allows one to see and participate in the
spiritual realm” (Farag, in this volume).
With respect to ancient Ethiopic patristic exegesis with its two distinctive systems of
commentary, tǝrgwame and andǝmta, based respectfully on Ge’ez and Amharic translations
of the Scripture, this requires a long period of study in order to be acquainted with oral and
textual hermeneutical traditions of the church fathers (Alehegne, in this volume).
In the case of the Armenian tradition, the Bible is the primary source of spirituality and
prayer life, hence this community’s scriptural hermeneutics is foremost liturgical in con-
tent. The defining element of Armenian hermeneutics is a balance between allegorical and
literal interpretations (Hovhanessian, in this volume).
So significant has been the impact of the church fathers on scriptural interpretation that
canon 19 of the Council of Trullo (AD 692) codified patristic exegesis as the only authorita-
tive biblical interpretation in the East.
The preeminent position of patristic exegesis in Orthodoxy as a whole is still celebrated
by scholars and faithful belonging to this important branch of Christianity.
For instance, the twentieth-century Orthodox theologian Georges Florovsky coined
the phrase “neo-patristic synthesis” in an attempt to “sanitize” Orthodox theology from
Western influences through a rather decisive return to the church fathers: “The return to
the fathers was to be, according to Florovsky, not a slavish repetition of their teachings, and
lapsing into patristic fundamentalism, but rather an assimilation of their creative spirit,
generating fresh insights” (Sylianopoulos, in this volume). Unfortunately, Forovsky’s “neo-
synthesis” was not meant to be a biblical approach per se, but a mere return to patristic
thought in general terms.
Surely, no one can overlook the intrinsic value of the church fathers’ contribution to bib-
lical hermeneutics as an important phase in reception history. However, today, the great
challenge, if not a conundrum, is how Orthodox biblical scholars or readers of Scripture
might bring the ancient church fathers’ interpretations, if not in dialogue, at least in a state
of complementarity with modern historical-critical approaches to the Bible.
The Bible in Orthodox Christianity 15
targeted literary unit may be used in complementarity, always keeping in mind the poly-
semy of the biblical text itself, so well conveyed by the Psalmist: “God spoke once, I heard
these two things” (hapax elalēsen ho theos dyo tauta ēkousa) (Ps 61/62:12 [LXX]).
Why should Orthodox biblical scholars need to strike a balance between their patristic
hermeneutical tradition and modern historical-critical approaches to the Bible (Fotopoulos,
in this volume)? The ancient patristic assumption that Scripture was divinely inspired,
hence the divine-human character of Scripture, requires that scriptural interpretation be
done in light of incarnational theology. If Christ as God’s incarnate Word is equally God
and man at the same time, similarly an accurate interpretation of Scripture will underline
both, its human and divine, aspects. For this reason, both approaches, ancient patristic and
modern historical-critical, should be considered as equally beneficial.
Florovsky’s (see earlier) ingenious metaphor, Scripture as icon of truth, rather than the
truth itself, points to a tight, inseparable relationship between the human and divine aspects
of Scripture. As in the case of an Orthodox sanctified icon, where the entity (Christ, Mary,
etc.) and its pictorial representation are mysteriously united, the same holds true with God’s
word and its textual icon (Scripture), both of which share an intertwining, entanglement-
like relationship.
The modern textualists in search of the original meaning of a particular text and the an-
cient seekers of the hidden senses of Scripture, based on the assumption that Scripture is
cryptic, when working separately proceed along different trajectories that diverge from a
traditional hermeneutical perspective, because they reduce Scripture to one aspect, either
human or divine, thus breaking the icon of truth. For this reason, striving for dialogue or
complementarity between ancient interpretations and modern biblical approaches should
be a must for those who want to strike a balance between tradition and modernity.
Among the modern biblical disciplines, textual criticism, given its long-lasting Christian
practice beginning with Origen’s Hexapla, is the best candidate for a conversation with pa-
tristic exegesis. It might be reflected in the study of Old Testament lections, often times,
relying on Syro-Hexaplaric readings (Pentiuc 2021) or in the use of lectionaries in the current
New Testament textual criticism (Paulson, in this volume) or in the recent reevaluation of
the Byzantine form text for critical editions (Crisp, in this volume).
Another example of complementarity between tradition and modernity is Orthodox bib-
lical scholars’ engagement with biblical archeology (Roddy, in this volume) and Ancient
Near Eastern languages and literatures, especially Northwest Semitic philology (Pentiuc
2001, Pentiuc et al. 2017) aimed at the reconstruction of the historical-linguistic context of
the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) and New Testament.
Sitting at the same round table, reading the same Scripture while listening to one an-
other and reflecting on biblical polysemy (Ps 61/2:12) is a wonderful thing. École biblique
et archéologique française in Jerusalem (EBAF) through its intriguing Study Bible project,
known under the acronym B.E.S.T. (La Bible en ses traditions) has achieved this goal, by
fostering complementarity between ancient, synchronic modes of interpretation (Jewish
and Christian, alike) and modern historical-critical approaches to the Bible (Venard, in this
volume; Pentiuc et al. 2017).
As part of this modern praiseworthy and ongoing quest for bridging the ancient and
modern modes of interpretation, one may mention the Bible- theology-science and
Christian- Jewish “conversations.” Pertaining to the former, we are reminded of the
Church’s emphasis on moral theology as new scientific theories are continuously looming
The Bible in Orthodox Christianity 17
Quo vadis?
Despite the fragmented reading of the Bible that came out of the Reformation and
Enlightenment leading to the “death of Scripture” and emergence of the “Bible” as an ac-
ademic entity with its hermeneutics and a number of new biblical disciplines (Legaspi
2010), Orthodox scriptural hermeneutics, through an ongoing and sustained process of
recontextualization, has always been and continues to be holistic and integrative in its
content and scope.
The integrative reading relies on the integrity of the Bible itself calling for a canonical
approach. Through an integrative reading of the Bible, and if I might add, through bal-
ancing and bridging tradition with modernity, there is a “possibility of knowledge be-
coming wisdom in relation to an overall reading of the Bible” (Moberly, in this volume).
An integrative reading requires looking at Scripture simultaneously as a unity and di-
versity of constitutive literary units. To reach such a perspective, Tradition needs to be
recontextualized by being complemented with modern historical-critical approaches fo-
cusing on literary units in their diversity, while holding tightly to traditional Orthodox
hermeneutics.
Earlier I listed a few ways this recontextualization of Tradition can be done. In the
following lines, I mention briefly a few venues by which we can foster creatively the tradi-
tional hermeneutics.
First, patristic interpretations should be critically evaluated and appropriately used
in complementarity with modern approaches (Despotis, in this volume; Mihoc, in this
volume).
Second, the liturgical recontextualization of Orthodox biblical hermeneutics is not a
novelty. Scripture has been always read and interpreted as part of the communal worship
(Vassiliadis, in this volume; Nikolakopoulos, in this volume; Alexopoulos, in this volume).
However, there is a need for an ongoing thorough investigation of the hermeneutical
procedures used by hymnographers and iconographers in interpreting the Scriptures.
Unlike the patristic biblical commentaries that are linear, sequential, and analytical, litur-
gical interpretations are intuitive, imagistic and multidirectional. Although daring at first
18 Eugen J. Pentiuc
sight, a comparison between liturgical exegesis and cubist art might prove helpful. Similar
to a cubist painter who creatively mixes cubes and other geometrical and abstract forms
while using the “collage technique” to assist the beholders in reconstructing the reality in
their own ways, the hymnographer combines bits and pieces of scriptural material while
using hapax legomena and rare words or phrases as “hermeneutical pointers” to assist the
hearers or readers in reconstructing salvation history in their own ways. If this analogy with
cubism proves to be correct, then liturgical exegesis may be considered as a precursor of
postmodern “reader-centered” approaches to Scripture (Pentiuc 2021).
Third, related to liturgical contextualization is the pastoral application of Scripture and
its interpretations, a perennial goal of Orthodox hermeneutics, beginning with patristic
interpreters up to the present day, focusing on concrete faith communities and their spiritual
needs. Current efforts by Orthodox clergy and scholars to amend the past shortcomings in
fostering biblical literacy among faithful are quite commendable (Pappas, in this volume).
In this teaching ministry with respect to Scripture, women—faithful and scholars—hold a
place of honor (Purpura, in this volume).
Fourth, one should not forget that Scripture is above all a preeminent source of spir-
itual renewal with a strong transformative power. “The written word of God becomes God’s
transformative word in prayer, worship, study, preaching, and teaching” (Stylianopoulos, in
this volume). For this reason, Scripture should be not merely an appendix to but an essen-
tial part of the daily prayer-life, as Jerome beautifully puts it: “Do you pray? You speak to the
Bridegroom. Do you read [the Scripture]? He speaks to you” (Letters 22.25).
There are daring voices today within the traditional landscape of Orthodox biblical
hermeneutics asking for free research done by “well-trained biblical exegetes who are
Orthodox but fully competent to engage in contemporary criticism. . . . Orthodox scholars
must be able to pursue their academic research with complete freedom, even if their results
do not conform to however local Church authorities interpret ‘Orthodox teaching.’ . . .
Other scholars—and indeed all the faithful interested in such issues—provide the necessary
community for evaluating individual judgment” (Wallace, in this volume).
Such a courageous stance reflects a significant shift from the twentieth to the current
century. If in the second half of the last century, Orthodox biblical scholars were primarily
theologians by formation, we can currently foresee the emergence of a new breed of bib-
lical scholars trained in well-recognized Bible departments and publishing their works with
prestigious academic presses.
I would personally like to see more Orthodox scholars working directly on the biblical text
than using the reception history as a proxy to Scripture. Moreover, I sense a certain “fear” of
the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) and a notable shortage of Old Testament scholars among
the Orthodox. This unfortunate situation is due in part to those problematic texts often and
erroneously associated only with the Hebrew Bible, though they are to be found throughout
the entire Christian scriptural corpus. Far from putting one away from reading or studying
the Old Testament, these “tough” texts, which “emerge from difficult circumstances (‘rough
times’) can offer helpful, even therapeutic approaches to similarly hard scenarios of more
recent vintage” (Strawn, in this volume).
Not pretending to be a complete list of contributions and topics, the present handbook
seeks to introduce the reader to Orthodox Christianity whose long-standing engagement
with the sacred Scriptures is quite rich, diverse, and to some extent unique.
The Bible in Orthodox Christianity 19
References
Abraha, Tedros. 2017. “The Biblical Canon of the Orthodoks Täwaḥǝdo Church of Ethiopia
and Eritrea.” In Il Canone Biblico Nelle Chiese Orientali, edited by Edward G. Farrugia and
Emidio Vergani, 95–122. Rome: Pontificio Instituto Orientale.
Agouridis, Savvas. 1972. “Biblical Studies in Orthodox Theology.” GOTR 17/1 (1972): 51–62.
Baynes, Leslie A. 2010. “The Canons of the New Testament.” In The Blackwell Companion to
the New Testament, edited by David E. Aune, 91–100. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.
Bock, Jerry, et al., 1964. Fiddler on the Roof. New York: Crown Publishers.
Childs, Brevard S. 1979. Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture. Philadelphia: Fortress Press.
Florovsky, Georges. 1972. Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View. Volume One in
the Collected Works of Georges Florovsky. Belmont, MA: Nordland.
Harl, Marguerite. 1992. “Traduire la Septante en Français: Pourquoi et Comment?” In La
Langue de Japhet: Quinze Études sur la Septante et le Grec des Chrétiens, edited by Marguerite
Harl, 33–42. Paris: Éditions du Cerf.
Hengel, Martin. 2004. The Septuagint as Christian Scripture: Its Prehistory and the Problem of
Its Canon. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic.
Legaspi, Michael C. 2010. The Death of Scripture and the Rise of Biblical Studies. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Marcos, Natalio Fernández. 2000. The Septuagint in Context: Introduction to the Greek Versions
of the Bible. Translated by Wilfred G. E. Watson. Leiden: Brill.
McGuckin, John A. 2008. The Orthodox Church: An Introduction to Its History, Doctrine, and
Spiritual Culture. Hoboken, NJ: Blackwell.
Meyendorff, John. 1979. Byzantine Theology: Historical Trends and Doctrinal Themes.
New York: Fordham University Press.
Pentiuc, Eugen J. 2001. West Semitic Vocabulary in the Akkadian Texts from Emar. Harvard
Semitic Studies 49. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns.
Pentiuc, Eugen J. 2002. Long- Suffering Love: A Commentary on Hosea with Patristic
Annotations. Holy Cross Orthodox Press.
Pentiuc, Eugen J. 2006a. “Between Hebrew Bible and Old Testament: Synchronic and
Diachronic Modes of Interpretation.” SVTQ 50/4, 381–396.
Pentiuc, Eugen J. 2006b. Jesus the Messiah in the Hebrew Bible. New York/ Mahwah,
NJ: Paulist Press.
Pentiuc, Eugen J. 2014. The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition. New York: Oxford
University Press.
Pentiuc, Eugen J. 2021. Hearing the Scriptures: Liturgical Exegesis of the Old Testament in
Byzantine Orthodox Tradition. New York: Oxford University Press.
Pentiuc, Eugen J., et al. 2017. Hosea: The Word of the LORD That Happened to Hosea. The Bible
in Its Traditions 3. Under the direction of Olivier-Thomas Venard, O.P. École Biblique et
Archéologique Française de Jérusalem. Leuven: Peeters Publishers.
Stylianopoulos, Theodore G. 2009. “Scripture and Tradition in the Church.” In The Cambridge
Companion to Orthodox Christian Theology, edited by Mary M. Cunningham and Elizabeth
Theokritoff, 21–34. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Ulrich, Eugene. 2002. “The Notion and Definition of Canon.” In The Canon Debate, edited by
Lee Martin McDonald and James A. Sanders, 21–36. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson.
Zizioulas, John D. 1985. Being as Communion. Contemporary Greek Theologians 4. Crestwood,
NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press.
Pa rt I
TEXT
Chapter 1
The Pl ace of t h e
Hebrew Ol d
Testam ent T e xt i n
the Eastern C hu rc h
Miltiadis Konstantinou
Introduction
On the September 29, 2018, in Mother See of Holy Etchmiadzin, Armenia, a Memorandum
of Understanding and Collaboration between the Eastern Orthodox Church, the Oriental
Orthodox Churches, and the United Bible Societies was formally signed.1 As explicitly stated
in this memorandum, “For the Eastern Orthodox Church and Oriental Orthodox Churches
the Holy Scripture is inseparable from the Holy Tradition of the Church and its mission
in the world, and is addressed primarily to their faithful (laos tou Theou). Therefore, the
reading, interpretation and proclamation of the Holy Scripture take place primarily in the
sacramental life and the living experience of their Churches.” Both parties “are committed
through mutual support and close collaboration . . . to develop Bible translations and
editions which are appropriate for Eastern and Oriental Orthodox audiences, as detailed in
the UBS Guidelines for Scripture Translation (2004).”
1 To achieve the goal of promoting the partnership between the United Bible Societies and the
Orthodox Church a U.B.S. and Patriarchate representatives’ meeting was held from October 3 to 5,
1998, at the headquarters of the Ecumenical Patriarchate in Fanari, to determine the framework of the
partnership between them. A more extended meeting, with a view of exploring further cooperation of
the United Bible Societies with the Churches of the East, in which the General Secretaries of National
Bible Societies in the area of Europe–Middle East and representatives of the Eastern Orthodox and
Oriental Orthodox Churches took part, was held from February 1 to 3, 1999, in Larnaca, Cyprus, and
Antelias, Beirut, Lebanon. A similar meeting with representatives of other Orthodox Churches and with
the same goal was held later that same year (from September 30 to October 4) in El-Escorial, Madrid,
Spain. Several other meetings followed these first steeps: in Larnaca, Cyprus (2003); in Volos, Greece
(2005); in Athens, Greece (2006); and Moscow, Russia (2007).
24 Miltiadis Konstantinou
The signing of this memorandum marks a significant breakthrough in the field of United
Bible Societies, as they now agree to adopt translations of the Old Testament text that are
not based on the Masoretic text, but on texts Orthodox Churches use in their worship. As
it is well known, the Eastern Church since its birth has used as Old Testament text basically
that of the Septuagint (LXX). This fact however must not lead to the conclusion that she
has accepted Septuagint as the sole authority for the text of the Orthodox Old Testament.
Such a conclusion is proven to be inaccurate for three main reasons:
1. The Canon problem, closely connected with the issue of the Old Testament text, was
never faced by the Eastern Church as an internal problem, and therefore could not
have obliged her to be tied to a specific textual tradition.
2. Even the Church writers who raised the issue of the canon of the Old Testament and
opted for the narrow Jewish canon, also made use of the Septuagint as text without
being bound thereby to accept all the books of this corpus.
3. The canon of forty-nine books traditionally said to be valid for the Greek-speaking
Orthodox Church, contained fewer books than the Septuagint. Indeed, one book of
this corpus, Daniel, does not come from the Septuagint, but from the translation of
Theodotion. This last observation alone would have been sufficient to prove that the
Church never tied herself slavishly to a specific textual tradition, but freely, and with
a critical spirit, chose the text that could best serve her needs.
Therefore, the reasons that led the Church to the adoption of the Septuagint text were
not theological but practical. As practical reasons one might mention, on the one hand,
the ignorance of Hebrew and, on the other, the suspicion toward the Jews of possible falsi-
fication of the Hebrew text. Furthermore, at the time in question, Greek was, for the East,
the lingua franca, and the interest of most Christian writers was not scientific but pastoral.
Therefore, in their writings they could refer to and comment on a text that would be com-
prehensible by all.
It should be noted, however, that at least until the tenth century the Jews also used the
Greek language in their worship.2 The disputes between Jews and Christians concerning
the understanding of some crucial for their faith passages led the Jews to reject the LXX,
which was adopted by the Christian Church as her own Holy Bible, and to replace it with
new translations, closer to the Hebrew text. The best-known example of the difference be-
tween the Jewish and Christian understanding of a passage is Isa 7:14, where the Hebrew
word “‘( ”עַ לְ מָ הalmah) is rendered by the LXX with the word παρθένος (= “virgin”)—giving
the Christian the possibility to sow here a prophecy of the virgin birth of Christ—instead of
2 Nicholas de Lange, “The Greek Bible Translations of the Byzantine Jews,” in Paul Magdalino
and Robert Nelson (eds.), The Old Testament in Byzantium, Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and
Collection, 2010, pp. 39–54 (42f.f).
The Hebrew Old Testament Text in the Eastern Church 25
the more appropriate word νεάνις (=“girl”). The attempt of the Jews to distance themselves
from the LXX translation led to various revisions of the Greek biblical text, as well as new
translations, most notably those of Aquila, Theodotion, and Symmachus. This paved the
way for the predominance among the Jews of the text of Aquila, but without ever becoming
a kind of authorized version. The different perception of the importance of the biblical
text between Jews and Christians also played an important role in this development. From
the beginning, Judaism linked the preservation of its national and cultural identity with
the preservation of the Hebrew text of the Bible in its most authentic form; meanwhile, in
contrast, the missionary interest of Christianity led very early to the creation of numerous
translations, in order to make the message of the Gospel accessible to as many peoples as
possible.
The key question in this case, then, is not whether the Church used the Hebrew text
of the Jewish Bible in her Scripture interpretation, but how the Church incorporated the
Synagogue Bible into its own Christian Bible. The beginning of this process is in some way
described already in the New Testament. There is no doubt that the part of the Scripture,
called by the Christians “The Old Testament,” was the Holy Bible of both Jesus and his
Apostles. According to the “account” of the evangelist Luke, when Jesus appeared in public
for the first time in the Synagogue of his village, Nazareth (Luke 4:16–21), he was asked
to read something from the book of the prophet Isaiah. He found the passage Isa 61:1, he
read it, and, when he finished reading, he began his preaching with the following decla-
ration: “What you have just heard me read has come true today” (Luke 4:21 CEV). The
same evangelist narrates that later, when someone asks Jesus about how to gain eternal life
(Luke 10:25–27), Jesus refer his interlocutor to two passages, from Deuteronomy (6:5) and
Leviticus (19:18) respectively: “The Scriptures say, ‘Love the Lord your God with all your
heart, soul, strength, and mind.’ They also say, ‘Love your neighbors as much as you love
yourself ’ ” (Luke 10:27 CEV). And at the end of Luke’s Gospel, there is the description of an
encounter between the risen Jesus and two of his disciples (Luke 24:13-–27), during which
“Jesus explained everything written about himself in the Scriptures, beginning with the Law
of Moses and the Books of the Prophets” (Luke 24:27 CEV); and later, in another meeting
with his disciples, “Jesus said to them, ‘While I was still with you, I told you that everything
written about me in the Law of Moses, the Books of the Prophets, and in the Psalms had to
happen.’ Then he helped them understand the Scriptures” (Luke 24:44–45 CEV).
It is therefore obvious that only if the Old Testament is regarded as part of the Christian
Bible does the content of the New Testament make sense; only thus is it legitimate to
read the New Testament as Holy Scripture. This can easily be confirmed by observing the
manner in which the Church incorporates the Jewish Scriptures into her own canon. To be
specific: The arrangement of the biblical works in the Jewish canon is intended to empha-
size the importance of the Law. In consequence, the books that make up the collection of
the Law rank first in the Synagogue’s canon. The law is immediately followed by the corpus
of “Prophets.” In the first book of this section, the book of Joshua, God is presented as giving
Moses’s successor the following commandment right from the start: “Be strong and brave!
Be careful to do everything my servant Moses taught you. Never stop reading The Book of
the Law he gave you. Day and night you must think about what it says. If you obey it com-
pletely, you and Israel will be able to take this land” (Josh 1:7–8 CEV). The last book of the
corpus, Malachi, ends with a similar command: “Don’t ever forget the laws and teachings
I gave my servant Moses on Mount Sinai” (Mal 3:22 [4:4] CEV). So, the second collection
26 Miltiadis Konstantinou
of the biblical works, taken as a unit, begins and ends with a reminder of the obligation to
observe the Law faithfully, and the same is repeated in the third corpus. The “Writings”
start with the book of Psalms, in the first of which the people who “find happiness in the
Teaching of the Lord, and they think about it day and night” (Ps 1:2 CEV) are blessed.
Similarly, the last books of the corpus, Chronicles, consist of a summary of the history of
Israel aiming to remind the people of Judah, who were trying to reassemble in the wake of
the Babylonian captivity, that their survival depended on faithfully observing the Law and
exercising worship with exactitude.
By contrast, the arrangement of the books of the Bible in the Christian canon aims to
form these writings into a sort of introduction to the New Testament. In the Christian
Old Testament, the Law does not constitute a discrete group of books but is included in a
broader grouping under the heading “Historical Books.” In this grouping, all the biblical
writings that are narrative in character are arranged according to the chronological order
of the events they describe, so as to produce an integrated narrative beginning with the
creation of the world and going up to the last centuries before Christ. The object of this
narrative is to show how evil came into the world because of man, with the result that it be-
came necessary for God to intervene in human history; it is meant to prepare humanity to
receive the salvation that Jesus Christ will bring. The Law now loses its central importance
and becomes a “tutor until Christ came” (Gal 3:24).
The second corpus of scriptural writings in the Christian canon comprises the books
that are poetic and didactic in character. In the “Poetic Books” the people sing praises to
their God and address their petitions and complaints to him, as well as their thanks for
the benefactions they receive; and, above all, they express their hopes for the coming of
Christ. The “Didactic Books,” on the other hand, are a treasury of divine wisdom, which
will be identified by the Christian Church with the second person of the Holy Trinity (1
Cor 1:24): for Wisdom “sits by the throne” of God (Ws 9:4) precedes time and creation (Pro
8:22–31) and “is a breath of the power of God and an emanation of the pure glory of the
Almighty . . . a reflection of eternal light and a spotless mirror of the activity of God and an
image of his goodness (Ws 7:25–26 NETS).
Finally, the Eastern Christian canon concludes with the “Prophetic Books.” The content of
these books is considered by the Church principally as announcing in advance the coming
of Christ, and the various books are arranged in such a way that the image of the awaited
Redeemer becomes gradually clearer. Thus, the Christian Old Testament ends—according
to the classification of the works in the editions that follow the Orthodox tradition—with
the book of Daniel, in which the resurrection of the dead is proclaimed (Dan 12:1–3) and the
figure of the “Son of the Man” is described through a magnificent vision as “coming with the
clouds of heaven, and he was presented to the Eternal God. He was crowned King and given
power and glory, so that all people, of every nation and race would serve him. He will rule
forever, and his Kingdom is eternal, never to be destroyed” (Dan 7:13–14 CEV). Precisely
this same title, “Son of Man,” will be used in the very next book of the Christian Bible, the
Gospel according to St. Matthew, every time Jesus speaks of himself (Matt 8:20; 9:6; 10:23;
11:19; 12:8, 32, 40; etc.).
Nonetheless, the writers of the Church were fully conscious of the fact that, by quoting
the Septuagint text, they were offering a translated text with all the shortcomings that this
might involve—something they never tried to disguise. Indicative for this argument are
the views of Gregory of Nyssa, who, in order to counter the alleged intelligibility of the
The Hebrew Old Testament Text in the Eastern Church 27
Old Testament, stressed that difficulties in understanding the Old Testament text were due
to deficient renderings of Hebrew syntax into Greek, and he pointed out that the problem
would have been solved if those who leveled the charges had had sufficient knowledge of
Hebrew.3 John Chrysostom shared the same view, highlighting that the reason for diffi-
culty in understanding the Old Testament lay in problems of semantic transfer, from the
source text into another language.4 Much later, during the ninth century, Patriarch Photius
returned to the subject in question and enumerated ten shortcomings of the translation
vis-à-vis the original text.5
These examples demonstrate not only that the Church did not reject the original
Hebrew Old Testament text but also that the Church writers in fact frequently referred to
it when trying to find solutions to hermeneutic problems or to elucidate ambiguities in the
Septuagint. The extant tables for transcribing the Hebrew alphabet into Greek dated from
the fourth to the tenth century, lead to the same conclusion. It is noteworthy that in these
tables the recording of the alphabet is done by the teaching method of the time, namely,
memorization—a fact which testifies to the interest by church officials in the teaching and
learning of Hebrew.6
A typical example is enough to show how ecclesiastical writers attempt to deal with
problems arising from misinterpreted passages of the Septuagint text. Procopius of Gaza
(AD 465–527),7 when translating Isa 9:6 (“and his name will be called ‘Wonderful Counsellor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace’ ”), quotes the various translations of the
passage from the ancient translators Symmachus, Aquila, and Theodotion. It is interesting
that Procopius not only cited the various translations of the passage but also attempted to
interpret them. Thus, he attributed the omission of the name of God by the three latter
translators to psychological reasons: “They were awed to place the name of God to a born
child.” He went even farther and, in order to defend the Septuagint, went back to the orig-
inal Hebrew text. After having presented several passages where the Hebrew word ’el is
rendered by “God,” he reached the conclusion that the Septuagint translators were correct
in translating ’el gibor as “Mighty God.”8 The same practice was followed by Procopius in
all his work.
These items, besides the demonstrative character of their presentation, suffice to support
the view that the Church during its first millennium, did not tie itself to a specific textual
tradition of the Old Testament, nor did it ever reject the original Hebrew text. It was for
purely practical reasons that it used the Septuagint text. The examples of Origen (AD 185–
254) and Eusebius (AD 265–340), who paid special attention to the later translations of the
Hebrew text into Greek, confirm the truth of this claim. Origen included, as is well known,
all the translations that were in use during his time, along with the Hebrew text twice, in
Hebrew letters and in Greek letters, in his great synoptic compilation, the Hexapla, while
Eusebius considered them as divinely inspired as that of the LXX and their study necessary
3
BEPES (=Library of Greek Fathers and Ecclesiastical Writers), vol. 66, p. 130 (in Greek).
4
PG 56,178.
5 PG 101,816ABC.
6 Elias Oikonomos, The Hebrew Language and the Greek Fathers, Bulletin of Biblical Studies, Vol. 13
to clarify what the LXX left obscure. As he characteristically states, “If somewhere it is nec-
essary, we do not refrain from the versions of the newer interpreters that were made after it
[i.e., the LXX] and which the Jews prefer to use, in order to present the truth in a safer way
from all sides.”9
The great schism between the eastern and western Church and the tragic events for the
East that followed (e.g., the crusades and Turkish domination) left no room for discussions
about the text of the books of the Old Testament. Moreover, a millennium of Christianity
was long enough for the consolidation of local traditions. The issue of the Old Testament
text was raised again in the West during the sixteenth century, because of the Protestant
Reformation. A century later it reappeared in the East, but under completely different
circumstances from those in the past.
In the West, the zeal of the reformers for a return to the authentic sources of faith led the
Protestant Churches to recognize the Hebrew Old Testament text as the only authoritative
one and, therefore, to adopt the narrow Jewish canon. The books not included in this canon
but endorsed by the Western Church were labeled “apocrypha,” and the rest “pseudepig-
rapha.” In spite of this development and notwithstanding the deprecatory label “apocrypha,”
Lutheran tradition did not altogether proscribe the reading of these books, which to date
are often included in editions of the Bible as addenda. At the opposite end of the spectrum,
other protestant traditions, such as the Calvinists and the Puritans of Scotland, took a more
rigid stance, something that led to the famous “apocrypha controversy” within the British
Bible Society, resulting in the adoption, for a period of time, of the narrow Jewish canon by
the Society.
The attitude of Protestantism occasioned the definitive solution of the problem of canon
in the Roman Catholic Church. The Council of Trent (1545–1563) in its decree Sacrosancta
of 1546 essentially endorsed the ancient Roman tradition by officially accepting the broad
Old Testament canon (with the exception of 1 Ezra and 3 Maccabees). The books included
in the Jewish canon were labeled “canonical” and the rest were designated “deuterocanon-
ical,” having equal authority with the former. The First Vatican Synod (1869–1870) ratified
this decision, thereby definitively concluding this issue for the Roman Catholic Church.
In the Orthodox Church the matter of Old Testament text was raised again, not as an
internal problem but as a reflection of the related discussions that were going on in the
West. By the end of the sixteenth century, many Orthodox were going to the West to study
theology. Western theology, however, at that time, was being shaped to a large degree by
the confrontations between Protestants and Catholics,10 and many Orthodox theologians
were influenced by that trend. Thus, one may observe the phenomenon of Orthodox
theologians turning against Roman Catholicism using arguments that reveal protestant
9
Ευσέβιος Καισαρείας, Ευαγγελική Απόδειξις V Proem. 36.
10
Cf. N. Matsoukas, “Ecumenical Movement,” in History–Theology, Thessaloniki 1986, pp. 207ff (in
Greek).
The Hebrew Old Testament Text in the Eastern Church 29
influence, or vice versa: they turned against Protestantism using doctrinal positions col-
ored by Catholicism. As representatives of this practice, Metrophanes Critopoulos, patri-
arch of Alexandria; Cyril Lucaris, patriarch of Constantinople; and Dositheus, patriarch of
Jerusalem may be mentioned.
Around the end of the sixteenth century, the patriarch of Alexandria, Meletius Pigas,
sent to Poland the eminent theologian and clergyman Cyril Lucaris of Crete, in response
to the demand of orthodox folk there, to assist them in their struggle against the activi-
ties of Jesuits, an event which led to the formation of the first Uniatic Church (Synod of
Brest 1596).11 In this struggle Cyril Lucaris requested support from Protestant communities
in Poland. Later on, Lucaris, as patriarch of Alexandria (1602–1622), sent Metrophanes
Critopoulos (who later succeeded him as patriarch) to England, Germany, and Switzerland,
mainly to study Protestant theology and church policy. Protestant influence on the theology
of Metrophanes Critopoulos is apparent in his Confession of Faith,12 which he compiled in
1625 and by which he tried to enlighten Protestants about the content of Orthodox faith
and, especially, to ally with them against Roman Catholics.
Four years later, in 1629, Cyril Lucaris, as patriarch of Constantinople, published in Geneva
his own Confession of Faith, characterized by vehemence against Roman Catholics. In this
confession the patriarch adopted clearly Calvinistic positions, a matter that caused alarm
among the Orthodox. In reaction to Lucaris, a series of local synods against Protestantism
were held.13
In addition to synodical resolutions, Lucaris’s work gave rise to new Confessions of
Faith, such as those of Peter Mogila, bishop of Kiev (1638/42), and Dositheus, patriarch
of Jerusalem (1672). Especially in the latter, Roman Catholic influence is evident, as the
patriarch defended the doctrine of transubstantiation, the teaching concerning the satisfac-
tion of divine justice, and to some degree the use of indulgences. Moreover, he forbade the
reading of the Scriptures by nonprofessionals.14
In the same line were the developments in Russian Orthodoxy, where both the theolog-
ical views expressed on the text of the Old Testament and the synodical resolutions were
fueled by the confrontation of Catholicism with Protestantism. As is known, Christianity
was introduced in Russia at the end of the tenth century from Byzantium, but the Bible and
the other Church books came from Bulgaria in their Bulgarian translation from Greek.
Although there are indications that the Hebrew text of the Old Testament was not unknown
in the Slavonic manuscript tradition, at the end of the seventeenth century the Russian Holy
Synod declared the translation from the Septuagint as the only true version of the Holy
Scripture.15 The same approach was followed by the Russian ecclesiastical authorities until
the last edition of the Slavonic Bible (Elisabethan Bible 1751).
The rising after the seventeenth century of the issue of the Old Testament text in the
East coincides with an era during which many peoples from the East, being Orthodox in
11
Matsoukas, “Ecumenical Movement,” 205–206.
12
About the confessions of that era, see John Karmiris, The Dogmatic and Symbolical Monuments of
the Orthodox Catholic Church, Vol. 2, Athens, 1953 (in Greek).
13 Synods of Constantinople 1638, 1642, 1672, 1691; Iassi 1642; and Jerusalem 1672.
14 Matsoukas, “Ecumenical Movement,” 208–209.
15 A. A. Alexeev, “Masoretic Text in Russia,” in S. Crisp & M. Jinbachian (eds.), Text, Theology &
Translation: Essays in Honour of Jan de Waard, UBS, 2004, pp. 13–29 (22).
30 Miltiadis Konstantinou
majority, begin, following the effects of the Enlightenment, to formulate a specific percep-
tion of national awareness and seek their independence from the Ottoman Empire. The
main requirement for this independence from the tyranny of the sultan was, according
to the views of the enlighteners, the intellectual awakening of these peoples that could
only be achieved through education, but also through the reformation of outdated social
institutions such as the Church.
Adamantios Koraes, one of the most prominent representatives of the neo-Hellenic
Enlightenment, proposed the introduction of the teaching of the Hebrew language in the
schools that would be established after the liberation of the Greek nation from the Ottoman
yoke. In 1808 he turned to the British Bible Society, asking them to provide a Bible transla-
tion in a language that could be easily understood by the people. The British Bible Society
responded immediately to this request by republishing in 1810 a revised version of the 1636
New Testament translation of the monk Maximos Kallioupolitis. However, the work of
another representative of the same intellectual movement was much more important. It
was the work of the archimandrite Neofytos Vamvas, who worked on one of the most no-
table and long-standing translations of the entire Bible from the original texts (Hebrew and
Greek) in vernacular Greek a few years after the establishment of the Hellenic kingdom.
In parallel with these developments, the subject of an Old Testament text is raised again
in Russia with the founding of the Russian Bible Society in 1812. Two scholars, the priest
Gerasim Pavsky (1787–1863), professor of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, and the
archimandrite Filaret Drozdov (1783–1867) translated for the first time the Old Testament
from Hebrew into Russian. But even in this case the Holy Synod ordered the most im-
portant features of the Slavonic text to be introduced into the new Old Testament transla-
tion.16 But the whole effort did not last long, because in 1826 the Russian Bible Society was
closed down.
Either way, the views that were formulated in that period, even the synodical resolutions,
were fueled by the confrontation of Catholicism with Protestantism. They therefore cannot
claim to be binding solutions of the problem for the Orthodox Church.
With the establishment of the new Greek state, the issue of Scripture was placed on an en-
tirely new footing for Greek Orthodoxy. Therefore, in order to understand the issue, what
is needed is a careful analysis of the era and especially of the place of the Orthodox Church
within the new Greek state.17 The establishment of the new Greek state (and almost all
the Balkan states after the fall of Ottoman Empire) was founded on the principles of the
Enlightenment, which stressed the importance of law as the foundation of an ideal state,
without, however, placing a similar emphasis on other principles, such as those of justice,
equality, and freedom. In this phase the Church, which, due to its struggles during the war
16
Alexeev, “Masoretic Text in Russia,” 24.
17
For the place of the Orthodox Church within the new Greek state, see Ioannis S. Petrou, Church and
Politic in Greece (1750–1909), Thessaloniki, 1992, pp. 141–190 (in Greek).
The Hebrew Old Testament Text in the Eastern Church 31
of independence, enjoyed the confidence of the people, was used by the central government
as an instrument of instruction for the people. Consequently, the people obeyed the law and
the authorities. The Church, which knew from its tradition that all power derives from God,
adapted itself easily to this role. Thereby being Orthodox became a feature of Greek identity.
Whoever was not Orthodox could not be a true Greek.
This situation was intensified by the arrival in Greece of its first king, Otto von Wittelsbach
of Bavaria. Otto was crowned as “king of Greece by the grace of God.” The Church now be-
came “The Church of Greece,” separated from the Ecumenical Patriarchate, and its Holy
Synod became “the highest ecclesiastical authority of the state,” under obligation to legit-
imate the authority of the king. Theocratic interpretation of history became the basis for
understanding social reality. This situation hardly changed under the next king, George I,
when the form of the regime changed to become a democracy governed by a king. George
derived his authority from the nation. However, the nation was now described in terms
borrowed from the Old Testament as “the chosen people of God” and “holy nation.” Greeks
were the people of God, who spoke in their language and had invested them with a spe-
cial mission, to preserve Orthodoxy “undefiled” and to spread it to other peoples, so that
they might also be saved. George I was no longer the “king of Greece” but the “king of the
Greeks,” who were now to be understood as the holy nation of God. In this way the Church
was identified with the nation and with national aspirations.18
In the support of the Church’s role in Greek society, an important part was played, al-
ready from the time of Turkish occupation, by the so-called missionary movement. The first
Protestant missionaries came to Greece during 1810. Initially, they were favorably received.
Indeed, ecumenical patriarchs, such as Cyril VI (1814) and Gregory V (1819), displayed a
positive attitude to their work and especially toward their efforts to distribute the Scriptures.
Unfortunately, these evangelical missionaries had a completely erroneous understanding of
the Eastern Churches. They considered the Orthodox Church as a Church long dead, of
which nothing remained except her ritual, reminiscent of idolatry more than of Christian
worship. Thus, they turned their missionary activity not toward Muslims or “the infidel,”
but toward Orthodox Christians. The first Old Testament translation from Hebrew into
Modern Greek was published in 1834. The widespread distribution of this translation by
Protestants forced the Orthodox Church to be on the defensive, with especially negative
consequences for the spread of Scripture in Greece. As a result, the divine inspiration of
the Septuagint was now stressed, and one of the tasks of the Holy Synod became the pres-
ervation of the New Testament text in the language “which God spoke.” The anxious effort
of Constantine Oikonomos to prove, in a voluminous work,19 the divine inspiration of the
Septuagint is a typical example. Despite its failure,20 this effort constituted by its massive
undertaking a monument to the trend that prevailed. The Church became the self-declared
protector of national traditions, including those of ancient Greece; and because of the iden-
tification of the nation with the Church, as stated earlier, every action turned against the
Church was now considered antinational. It is noteworthy that from 1911 onward every
18
Cf. Petrou, Church and Politic, 170–182.
19
Four Books on the LXX Interpreters of the Old Holy Scripture, Athens, 1844–1849 (in Greek).
20 Cf. Panagiotis Bratsiotis, Introduction to the Old Testament, Athens, 1937, 2nd ed., 1975, pp. 548ff
(in Greek).
32 Miltiadis Konstantinou
21
History of the Greek Nation (Ekdotiki Athinon), vol. 14, p. 175 (in Greek).
22
History of the Greek Nation, 174–177.
23
History of the Greek Nation, 408.
24
Nr. 3171/7.11.1901.
The Hebrew Old Testament Text in the Eastern Church 33
written until the middle of the seventeenth century no one had ever thought to translate
it. The document then refers to the translation of 1629, regarded as the work of a Dutch
Calvinist priest, and to its failure. The Holy Synod boasted that the Greek Church was the
only Church that was privileged to be in possession of the original text. It viewed the newer
translations as being in a language “terribly vulgar, which shamefully and scandalously
defaces the modest beauty of the divinely inspired original text.” The sole theological reason
cited against translating the Gospel was the danger of perverting the original meaning, which
had been developed and formulated into dogmas by the ecumenical synods. For the under-
standing of the Gospel the study of the interpretations of the Fathers was recommended.
Nevertheless, the practical but very real problem of how to gain access to the works of
the Fathers and how to understand them does not appear to have preoccupied the Holy
Synod, nor was it demonstrated just how a Gospel translation might pervert the doctrines
formulated by ecumenical synods. The encyclical continued by referring to the practice of
the Church, up to that time, of not translating Scripture, even during the period of Turkish
domination, when linguistic barriers created particular difficulties for the understanding of
the original. The main argument of the Synod was that, now “that our national language is
advanced, and slowly but surely and happily is on the course of recapturing its ancient acme
and magnificence,” there was no need for a translation. Thus, the encyclical concluded with
disapproval and condemnation of every translation. This encyclical, although making no
reference to the translation of the Old Testament, has nonetheless great importance for the
issue examined here, since it verifies most strikingly the notion of the Church’s hierarchy of
that time as being defenders of national tradition and of the Greek language.
The situation changed in Russia under the rule of Alexander the II at the initiative of
Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow. The so-called Synodical Version of the Bible was first
published in 1876. The Old Testament translation into Russian was based on the Masoretic
text, but it absorbed all the eclecticism of the Slavonic version, combining the Greek and
Hebrew original.25
Conclusion
From the whole study of the matter one may draw the conclusion that the options and
practices of the recent past cannot serve as a tool for solving the problem of the place of
the original Old Testament text in the Orthodox Church. But neither should the practice
of the ancient Church be used as a basis for the solution of the problem, since, as has been
underscored repeatedly, the understanding of Scripture in more recent times differs rad-
ically from that of the first Christian millennium. A survey of contemporary Orthodox
writings validates this view. When reference is made to the ecumenical and free spirit of
Orthodoxy, the translation work of Cyril and Methodius is praised at the same time as
the West is condemned because of its doctrine concerning sacred languages. On the other
25 Alexeev, “Masoretic Text in Russia,” 26. For the developments in Romanian Orthodoxy, see
Alexandru Mihãilã, “The Septuagint and the Masoretic Text in the Orthodox Church(es),” RES 10 (1/
2018):30–60.
34 Miltiadis Konstantinou
hand, when modern Scripture translations are mentioned, the role of the Church in the
preservation of the Greek language, the importance of the text of the Septuagint, and the
role of missionaries are emphasized.
It is obvious, therefore, that today there is a need for a completely new and sober handling
of the problem with purely scientific criteria, but also with a sense of responsibility. Such an
approach cannot disregard the literary, religious, and theological value of the Septuagint.
Its literary value has to do with the fact that it preserves a text, based on a Hebrew parent
text that is more ancient by many centuries than the Masoretic text, the latter beginning
to be systematized after the fifth century and completed as late as the fourteenth century.
This fact offers an important comparative advantage to the Septuagint, the testimony of
which may be valuable as much for the critical restoration of the Masoretic text as for the
clarification of its difficult passages. The religious significance of the Septuagint, however,
should not be overlooked either, provided it is regarded as the Holy Bible of the Church
rather than a literary production of antiquity. From this point of view it is indisputable
that the Septuagint constituted the Bible of the undivided Church, the text on which the
apostles and the church fathers depended, in order to present their theology, the text which
facilitated beyond any other the spread of Christianity in the Greco-Roman world, the text
which assumed the role of the original for a multitude of other ecclesiastical translations
and became the source of inspiration for the hymnography and iconography of the Church.
But also, as a witness of a particular hermeneutic approach, which was dominant at the time
of Christianity’s emergence, the Septuagint has a special importance, from a theological
point of view, for the understanding of the New Testament.
All the foregoing combine to make the Septuagint text invaluable for the theological
research and the religious consciousness of the Orthodox Christians, without in any way
justifying a theological or literary underestimation of the original Hebrew. Moreover, in
addition to the value the Septuagint may have, the possibility of an important divergence of
its text from the original due to likely copying errors or translation tendencies, should not
be, at any event, overlooked.
Therefore, to the extent that, as has been argued, nothing today compels the Orthodox
Church to favor a text of a particular form, it must embrace as its own heritage both texts,
the Hebrew and the Septuagint, encouraging their study and research. The re-establish-
ment of the Russian Bible Society in the 1990s and the transformation in 1992 of the British
and Foreign Bible Society Office that operated in Greece, to an independent national Bible
Society, under the name “Hellenic Bible Society,” contributed significantly to the realization
of the hierarchies of local Churches this need.26
References
Alexeev, A. A. “Masoretic Text in Russia.” In S. Crisp & M. Jinbachian (eds.), Text, Theology &
Translation, Essays in Honour of Jan de Waard. UBS, 2004, pp. 13–29.
Bratsiotis, Panagiotis. Introduction to the Old Testament. Athens, 1937, 2nd ed., 1975 (in Greek).
26 In 1997 the Hellenic Bible Society published a translation of the Old Testament based on the Hebrew
and Greek Texts with the blessing and approval of the Holy Synod of the Church of Greece.
The Hebrew Old Testament Text in the Eastern Church 35
Written in Greek, the books of the New Testament quoted the Scripture (Old Testament)
mostly according to the Greek translation, the Septuagint. But in some cases, especially in
Matthew and Paul’s epistles, where the messianic or theological sense is important, they
quoted the reading of the Hebrew text via Proto-Theodotion (Tov 2015, 459–460). In doing
so, the New Testament prevented the canonization of one version of the Old Testament, be
it the Septuagint or another text.
The Bryennios list (ca. AD 150) attests to a Judeo-Christian community that used the
Hebrew and/or Aramaic titles for the biblical books. This Palestinian community remains
a standard for the entire Church, this explaining why Melito of Sardis traveled to Judea to
check the list of the books that make up the Scripture (Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical
History 4.26.13).
Justin Martyr (d. 165) is the first Christian writer who questioned the authority of the
Hebrew text preserved in the synagogue and favored the Septuagint disseminated by the
Church. Discussing this problem with Trypho the Jew, Justin uses both versions for passages
where the differences might contribute to a better understanding of the text: “keep whatever
interpretation of the psalm pleases you” (Dialogue with Trypho 124.4; cf. 124.2–3). But else-
where he accused the Rabbis for deleting messianic passages from the Hebrew Scriptures,
which the Septuagint preserved: “I would also have you know that from the version com-
posed by those elders at the court of Ptolemy [i.e., the Septuagint], they [the Rabbis] have
deleted entire passages in which it is clearly indicated that the crucified one was foretold as
God and man, and as about to suffer death on the cross” (71.2). Justin mentions examples
of passages allegedly omitted by the Jewish teachers, such as the law of the Passover from
The Old Greek, Hebrew, and Other Text Witnesses 37
Esdras, a reference to the sacrificial lamb from Jeremiah 11, a text about Lord’s descending
to the dead, the words “from the wood” of Psalm 96, and the prophecy from Gen 49.10
(72–73; 120.4).
A more sophisticated view is upheld by Origen (d. 254), who put huge effort into textual
criticism. In his work, Hexapla, he arranged the biblical versions in six columns side by
side: Hebrew text, Greek transliteration of the Hebrew, and versions of Aquila, Symmachus,
Septuagint, and finally Theodotion. For the book of Psalms he added two more versions,
resulting in Oktapla. The versions’ order attests to the importance of the Hebrew text placed
in pole position. The Greek versions of Aquila (according to tradition, a Jewish proselyte)
and Symmachus (a Samaritan) precede the Septuagint, because they are literal translations
closer to the Hebrew text, while Theodotion succeeds the Septuagint, because it has a more
elegant style and sometimes supplements the latter.
Origen explained his whole project as follows:
With the help of God’s grace I have tried to remedy the inconsistencies in the copies of the
Old Testament on the basis of the other versions. When I was uncertain of the Septuagint
reading because the various copies did not tally, I settled the issue by consulting the other
versions and retaining what was in agreement with them. Some passages did not appear in
the Hebrew one; these I marked with an obelus as I did not dare to leave them out altogether.
Other passages I marked with an asterisk to show that they were not in the Septuagint but that
I had added them from the other versions in agreement with the Hebrew text. (Commentary
on Matthew 15.14)
Origen gave some examples of differences between the Hebrew and the Greek text in the
book of Esther, Job, and Jeremiah, and even in Genesis and Exodus (Ep. to Africanus 5[3]–7).
Origen is convinced that the Providence supplied the Christian Church with trustworthy
Scriptures and the Christians do not have to plead for new copies from the Jews (Ep. to
Africanus 8). Origen, like Justin Martyr, regards the Septuagint as a translation of the extant
Hebrew text, not as a different version (Gallagher 2012, 181). But while Justin interpreted the
differences as a result of text distortion by the Jews, for Origen the Septuagint itself might
be a corrupted text that could be restored with the help of the Hebrew text and other Greek
versions, especially Theodotion.
Origen introduced what Kamesar termed an “exegetical maximalism,” taking into con-
sideration beside the Septuagint the Hebrew text and other Greek versions when relevant
for Christian exegesis. For this reason a multitextual Scripture was adopted by the church
fathers in their biblical commentaries: Basil of Caesarea (Ennaration on prophet Isaiah),
Gregory of Nyssa (Apology on Hexaemeron), John Chrysostom (Fragments in Job and in
Jeremiah) explicitly quoted from Aquila, Symmachus and Theodotion. More extended
use is found in the works of bible commentators such as Origen, Eusebius of Caesarea
(Commentaries on Isaiah and on Psalms) and Theodoret of Cyrus (Commentaries on Isaiah
and Interpretation of Psalms), although they have not been declared to be saints by the
Orthodox.
The church fathers assumed divine inspiration for the Septuagint, but on the other hand
they understood the process of translation as a source of unclarities. Gregory of Nyssa
answers the accusation of incoherence raised against the biblical text, by stating, “if there is
some incoherence in the passage, let it be reckoned to the account of those who translated the
Hebrew tongue into Greek” (Homilies on the Song of Songs 2). John Chrysostom underlines
38 Alexandru Mihăilă
the same idea: “whenever a language is rendered into another language, it involves great
difficulty” and therefore “it is not possible to transfer the clarity naturally contained in the
words when converted to another language” (Homilies on the Obscurity of the Prophecies 2).
Due to cultural barriers, the Hebrew text was generally beyond reach for bib-
lical commentaries. Apart from Origen, there are two church fathers who knew
Hebrew: Epiphanius of Salamis and Jerome. Epiphanius (d. 403) could make full use of
Origen’s Oktapla and quoted explicitly the Hebrew text (Panarion 65.4.5–7).
Jerome (d. 420) translated the Old Testament from the Septuagint first (AD 386–389),
convinced of Graeca veritas, but then (AD 390–405) from the Hebrew text, defending the
ultimate Hebraica veritas in his new translation, the Vulgate. Under the pressure of Itala
tradition, he prepared two versions for the book of Psalms: one from the Greek (juxta
Septuaginta) and one from the Hebrew (juxta Hebraicum). When there are different
lections, Jerome recommended to place better faith in the Hebrew text (Prologue to Samuel
and Kings 3), arguing that the Apostles and the Evangelists had quoted the Hebrew text and
giving some examples of passages not found in the Septuagint (Prologue to the Pentateuch 2).
In a letter to Jerome dated 384–385, Augustine defends the “preeminent authority” of the
Septuagint (Ep. 28.2). In 403 Augustine sent another letter (Ep. 71), in which he expressed
his concern regarding Jerome’s work of translating the Hebrew text, not the Greek one. In
405 Jerome answered with irony that Augustine was surely reading a Septuagint not “in the
original form as it was produced by the Seventy, but in an edition corrected or corrupted
by Origen.” Jerome added, “you would be forced to condemn all church book collections
for only one or two copies can be found which do not contain these passages” added
from the Hebrew by Origen (Ep. 112.19–20). This interesting dialogue proves the textual
interferences and that in the fourth century there no was longer a “pure” Septuagint. For ex-
ample, Theodotion’s version was preferred for the book of Daniel instead of the Septuagint
(Jerome, Prologue to Daniel; Apology against Rufinus 2.33).
Multiple factors contributed to the spread of the ecclesiastic expanded text of the
Septuagint, one of them being the political interest of the new Christian emperors.
Constantine the Great ordered Eusebius to prepare fifty leather codices of the Scripture for
use in churches in the new capital Constantinople (Vita Constantini 4.36–37). In 553 (Novella
146) Emperor Justinian permitted Aquila’s version to be read in the synagogue, suggesting
the Septuagint, with all its subvariants, Hebrew influences, and canonical problems, was the
“common” old Scripture, but without excluding the other versions.
This exegetical maximalism was based on exegetical practicality (Seleznev 2019, 196), and
we may conclude with Konstantinou that “during the first millennium, the Church did not
tie itself to a specific textual tradition of the Old Testament, nor did it ever reject the orig-
inal Hebrew text, but used the Septuagint text only for purely practical reasons” (2012, 183).
In the eighth and ninth centuries, as a result of liturgical reform endorsed by Stoudios
Monastery in Constantinople, the Church limited access to the Bible through lectionaries.
The Old Testament was no longer read continuously (lectio continua), but only in ap-
pointed readings in the new lectionary, the Prophetologion. After the Ottoman conquest,
The Old Greek, Hebrew, and Other Text Witnesses 39
the Prophetologion disappeared as an independent book, being absorbed into other litur-
gical books (Menaia, Triodion, and Pentekostarion). The Prophetologion propagated the ec-
clesiastical text of the Septuagint, with the asterisked material for the book of Job (e.g., Job
42.16–17, read during the Vespers of the Great and Holy Friday) and Theodotion’s version
for the book of Daniel. In the book of the Judges, it has a composite text, with readings
found in Vaticanus and Alexandrinus (Mihăilă 2018, 47–51).
A real challenge for the Orthodox churches arose with the printing press and the
Reformation (Kilpatrick 2014). Now for the first time, refuting Johannes Ludovicus de
Vives’s commentary on Augustine’s De Civitate Dei (Basel, 1522) in which the inspiration of
the Septuagint was questioned, St. Maksim the Greek (d. 1556) praised the Septuagint and
condemned the Vulgate as relying on the Jewish Scripture (Seleznev 2019, 198).
1998, 692–7 12). Despite various revisions, it still has a book translated from the Latin Vulgate
(4 Ezdra), but also numerous influences from Latin and Hebrew.
The seventeenth to nineteenth centuries were for the Orthodox churches the time of
shaping their national identity, reflected also in church life. The biblical text in Old Greek
and Slavonic became less and less understandable for lay people. The need to translate the
The Old Greek, Hebrew, and Other Text Witnesses 41
Bible into vernacular languages was a good opportunity to discuss the role of the Bible
versions for the Orthodox churches.
He speaks of the corruption of the Hebrew text, while the Septuagint is “authentic and in-
spired according to the letter and according to the sense.” He listed the Septuagint and New
Testament quotations and out of 238 cases he identified only three or four that are at odds
with the former. Oikonomos’s works, though obsolete in comparison with contemporary
Western scholarship, exerted an enormous influence in the Orthodox world.
The Encyclical of the Eastern Patriarchs from 1848 (§21) states, referring without any
doubt to the Septuagint, “Our Church holds the infallible and genuine deposit of the
Holy Scriptures, of the Old Testament a true and perfect version, of the New the divine
original itself.”
After the riots known as Evangelika, which were caused by New Testament translations
into demotic Greek and resulted in the fall of the government (Delicostopoulos 1998, 301–
302), starting with the Constitution of 1911 and until 1975, any translation of the Scripture
in vernacular was forbidden. In this way, the Septuagint acquired a sacrosanct position in
the Church of Greece.
In 1844–1845 the ober-procuror Nikolai Protasov tried to impose the Slavonic text based
on the Septuagint as inviolable. Metropolitan Filaret answered in 1845 with an essay titled
“Concerning the Dogmatic Value and Preserving Function of the Greek Septuagint and
the Slavonic Translation of Holy Scripture,” published only in 1858. In fact it was the new
emperor, Aleksandr II, who changed the situation. In 1856 by imperial decree the trans-
lation work was resumed. Initially Filaret’s view was just a minority in the synod, with
fierce opposition from the metropolitan Filaret (Amfiteatrov) of Kiev, who sent him a letter
defending the traditional Slavonic Bible. Filaret Amfiteatrov writes that the Jews, “out of
hatred of Christianity, have zealously tampered with the Hebrew text, especially in the pro-
phetic books,” while “from the first centuries our Mother, the Eastern-Greek Church, has
constantly recognized the translation of the Seventy, together with the original text of the
New Testament, as sacred and inviolable.” But in 1857 Filaret Amfiteatrov died, so Filaret
Drozdov had a clear way.
Filaret Drozdov’s essay became the very programmatic document for translating. He
writes, “the text of the Seventy interpreters should have a dogmatic dignity, in some cases
equaling the original and even surpassing the Hebrew text.” On the other hand, “justice,
usefulness and necessity” require that the Hebrew text, in respect of dogmatic dignity too,
might be taken into consideration when interpreting the sacred Scripture, even if there are
some distorted well-known passages.
In 1858 commissions were established with the aid of the theological academies in St.
Petersburg, Moscow, and Kiev, with participation of professors such as Evgraf Loviagin (in-
structor at the department of Greek), Moisei Golubev (professor of biblical exegesis), and,
from 1860, the metropolitan Isidor Nikolski of Novgorod and St. Petersburg, who led the
work after Filaret’s death in 1867. For the Old Testament, the commission included Daniil
Khvolson (a Jew converted to Orthodoxy, professor of Hebrew and Semitic languages from
the Faculty of Oriental Studies in St. Petersburg) and, after Golubev’s death, Pavel Savvaitov
(professor of patristics and hermeneutics at the theological academy of St. Petersburg).
The Old Testament was published in four volumes between 1868 and 1875 (Batalden 2013,
125–182). The translation followed the Leipzig Polyglot, Biblia sacra quadrilingvia Veteris
Testamenti, published by Christianus Reineccius in 1750 (Snigirev 2017, 540), which was
dependent on the Antwerp Polyglot (1569–1572), offering a mixed Hebrew text out of three
recensions: Gershom Soncino’s Bible (Brescia, 1494), Hebrew text of the Complutensian
Polyglot (Alcala, 1512) and Ben Hayyim’s second Rabbinic Bible (Venice, 1524–1525) (Mulder
1988, 124). The Synodal Bible was published as a single volume in 1876, being the common
Bible in Russian until today. Generally the translation reflects the Hebrew text, with
Septuagint additions marked in brackets, although not in a consistent way (sometimes the
explanations are in brackets too).
After 1876, the criticism didn’t cease. St. Theophan the Recluse (d. 1894), former bishop of
Vladimir and Suzdal, argued in a series of articles (Kashirina 2014) that “the pure revealed
word is contained in the Old Testament translation of the Seventy.” He admitted that some-
times, as done by John Chrysostom, the Hebrew text might be referred “as an accessory to
the understanding of the true word of God,” but generally the Church “was not and is not
acquainted with the Hebrew Bible.”
Pavel Ivanovich Gorsky-Platonov, professor of Hebrew at the Theological Academy of
Moscow, wrote an academic rejoinder in which he contended that the differences between
the Hebrew text and the Septuagint amounted to 5 percent, refuting the argument against
44 Alexandru Mihăilă
the validity of the former. Besides, the Church didn’t canonize the Septuagint as the only
“authentic revelation of the Old Testament.” St. Theophan answered, reminding of metro-
politan Filaret and Oikonomos, that the only “legitimate” and “authentic” version is the
Septuagint, while the Hebrew text is “corrupt.” The new Russian Bible sometimes followed
the Septuagint against the Hebrew text (e.g., Psalm 21.17), but sometimes the Hebrew text
against the Slavonic Bible and the Septuagint (e.g., Gen 2.2). Consequently, the Synodal Bible
is a combination of the two, being deprived of “the significance of dogmatic authority.” St.
Theophan recommended primarily the Slavonic Bible with resort to the Synodal Bible only
for reading, education, and instruction, it being in no way a Bible with “dogmatic authority.”
This respect shown to the Slavonic Bible and ultimately to the Septuagint led to concur-
rent translations competing with the Synodal Bible. In 1869–1875 in Kiev, Bishop Porfiry
(Uspensky) translated from the 1821 Moscow editions of the Septuagint the books of Genesis,
Proverbs (partially), Song of Songs, 1–4 Maccabees, and the Old Testament festal readings,
and from a Jerusalem Greek Psalter of 862 the Psalms (reprinted in St. Petersburg in 1893
and 1906). Between 1908 and 1917 in Kazan, professor Pavel A. Yungerov translated from the
Septuagint the prophetical and the poetical books (Psalter in 1915) and partially the book
of Genesis. This traditional direction is represented nowadays by the hieromonk Amvrosii
Timrot’s Psalter (1999) and even by the Psalter translated from Slavonic (and partly from
Greek) by E. N. Birukovа and I. N. Birukov between 1975 and 1985 and published in 2011.
Vasile Radu, mixed the Hebrew text with the Septuagint. The model was without any doubt
the Russian Synodal Bible, whose influences might be found (e.g., in Gen 15.1, where an
explanatory parenthesis is included). This eclectic text has survived with minor changes
through all further synodal editions until present day. A third textual variety is represented
by King Carol II’s Bible of 1938, translated by the priests Gala Galaction and Vasile Radu
from Hebrew. But this translation appeared in the printing house of King Carol’s founda-
tion and not in the ecclesiastical printing house as the Synodal Bible.
In 2001, Bishop (then Metropolitan) Bartolomeu Anania of Cluj rejoined the Septuagint
tradition with a new Bible. It was translated from Greek, but in the manner of the first
Synodal Bible (1914), representing in fact a Septuagint with many external influences. In
2018 the monks Petru and Pavel of Mount Athos translated the Psalter from the Greek
Apostoliki Diakonia edition (in its turn a reprint of Venice Psalter, 1893).
It is interesting that major codices important for the textual criticism belonged initially
to Orthodox institutions, but the Orthodox scholars didn’t understand their value. Codex
Alexandrinus was the property of the Church of Alexandria during the period when Cyril
46 Alexandru Mihăilă
New Insights
One must conclude that for the Orthodox churches the Old Greek and the Slavonic versions
functioned as traditional sources. For the Greeks the intangibility of the divinely inspired
Septuagint and Old Greek New Testament was a sign of national resistance, while for the
others the Slavonic version, in its turn a later adaptation, permitted openness toward the
Latin and finally the Hebrew text.
Nevertheless, especially after the fall of communism, the Orthodox countries tried to re-
discover their confessional identity and therefore the Septuagint came into view, encouraged
also by the new interest in the Septuagint that was breaking through in the Western aca-
demic circles of patristic studies. On the one hand, new studies tackled the importance of
the Septuagint for reclaiming the Greek patristic heritage, but on the other hand funda-
mentalist approaches tried to transform the Septuagint into the only Old Testament version
proper to the Eastern Churches.
Conservative theologians resumed Justin Martyr’s polemics against the Hebrew text,
viewed as corrupted by the rabbis against the Christian messianic interpretations. One can
spot this particular assumption in many theological fields, from essays, novels, and prefaces
of patristic translations to academic studies. While the Hebrew Bible was considered a
product of the Jewish synagogue, accepted by the protestants and the Catholics as a basis
for their Bible translations, the Septuagint was identified as a marker of Orthodoxy, dis-
tinct from the Vulgate appropriated by the Catholics or from the Peshitta peculiar to the
Nestorian Church. This confessionalization of the Septuagint could be found very perva-
sive in some contemporary approaches, in most cases affirmed by dogmatists and patristic
48 Alexandru Mihăilă
scholars, while for most biblical scholars the importance of the Hebrew texts, as well as the
other textual witnesses, is taken for granted.
In 2001 Archbishop Bartolomeu Anania of Cluj-Napoca (Romania) published a new
translation of the Bible, for the Old Testament trying to recover the Septuagint tradi-
tion. In the preface he wrote, “Septuagint became textus receptus (the inspired text) for
the entire European East, later defined as Orthodoxy.” Similarly, Metropolitan Hilarion
(Alfeyev), president of the Synodal Biblical and Theological Commission of the Russian
Orthodox Church, states, “the basis of the Old Testament text in the Orthodox tradition
is the Septuagint,” which served “as a textus receptus [official, ‘received’ text] in the Eastern
Church” (2012, 34). Dogmatician Ioan Ică Jr. appreciated the Septuagint “rapidly changed
from the Bible of Alexandria to ‘the Bible of the Church,’ from the Bible of Hellenistic
Judaism to Scripture of the ancient Christians” (2008, 169). Quoting Mogens Müller, who
coined the Septuagint as “the first Bible of the Church,” he continued, “Discredited and
calumniated by the rabbis, the Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures was adopted by
the Christians, who [ . . . ] defended it as a prophetic revelation and divinely authorized in-
terpretation of the ancient Hebrew Scriptures” (2008, 173). The patrologist Cristian Bădiliță,
who led a team translating the Septuagint into Romanian, wrote that the Septuagint “be-
came the ‘official’ Bible of the Church” (2004, 15) or “probably ‘the authoritative text of the
Orthodoxy’ ” (2008, 232).
In these dogmatic and patristic circles the old polemical issue that the rabbis had
falsified the Scripture reemerged. Professor Ică wrote that the original Hebrew text “was
in fact changed by the rabbinical Masoretes in order to close the possibilities for Christian
interpretations” (2008, 175). More vividly in the afterword to the Romanian translation of
Theodoret of Cyrus’s commentary on the book of Psalms, the translators explained that the
Hebrew Text is “full of omissions and additions” and “the Jews at the end of the first cen-
tury began to change the text of Scripture under the very careful supervision of rabbis with
much hatred of the truth of Scripture, to whom the enemy [i.e., the devil] darkened their
minds, so they made many mistakes” (Teodorit episcopul Kirului 2003, 530, 533).
The Romanian biblical scholar and Semitist Eugen J. Pentiuc represents a particular
case. In addition to his first doctoral dissertation, a commentary on Hosea done on a text
translated from Hebrew, Pentiuc sets on identifying the “classical” messianic texts in the
Hebrew Bible (pre-and Masoretic text) while offering the rationale of such a daring en-
deavor for an Orthodox theologian: “The main objective is to grasp the nuances missing
from Messiah’s previously rendered portraits, which have been fashioned in many instances
based on the language and metaphor of the Septuagint” (Pentiuc 2006, xv).
The systematic theology, separated from a real contact and study of the textual witnesses,
made the mistake of taking over the polemic accents from the second-century controversies
between the Church and the Synagogue. But Justin Martyr explained the discrepancies as
reflecting such a modification of the Hebrew Scriptures by the Jews, starting from the pre-
sumption that the Septuagint and the Hebrew Text must reflect the same textual version. It
is strange to find out from a contemporary theologian that the Septuagint is conceived of
“not as a daughter, but as a sister of the Masoretic text,” but in the same time to admit the
old polemic that the rabbis changed the text out of hatred against the Christians.
Generally, the biblical scholars showed more balanced views, taking into account the pol-
ymorphous state of the Old Testament witnessing version. Recently, Metropolitan Hilarion
(Alfeyev) argued, “the Orthodox Church has never canonized any one text or translation,
The Old Greek, Hebrew, and Other Text Witnesses 49
any one manuscript or one edition of Holy Scripture. There is no single generally accepted
text of the Bible in the Orthodox tradition.” The Septuagint has “an especially important
role,” but it is false “to assert that the Septuagint and only the Septuagint is the Bible of
Orthodoxy” (2017, 31–32). The specialists involved in modern translation assumed this ne-
cessity. As Mikhail Seleznev put it, “If some books of the Old Testament existed from the
very beginning in two editions, then it is desirable to have translations of both editions”
(2008, 61). Professor Miltiadis Konstantinou recommended also that “the Church must
recognize as its own heritage both texts, the Hebrew and the Septuagint” (2012, 186), and
Father Eugen Pentiuc concluded, “I would like to see within the Eastern Orthodox tradi-
tion more concrete steps in raising the awareness of the exegetical and theological value of
the M[asoretic] T[ext] in conjunction with Q[umran], Sam[aritanus], S[yriac Peshitta]”
(2014, 100).
The modern scientific approach assured the importance of the Hebrew and Greek
texts, as a multiple textual reality that existed from the beginning. The Septuagint is not
a mere translation of the same Hebrew text as the Masoretic one, but another ancient tex-
tual witness. I can only hope that the following projects of Bible translations supported
by the Orthodox Churches will be orientated toward the simultaneous valorization of the
Masoretic and the Septuagint versions, along with the other textual witnesses.
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Slovenia. JSOTSupp 289. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press.
Kuzmič, Peter. 2004. “The Bible Society’s South Slavic Bible in the Balkan Maelstrom.” In
Sowing the Word: The Cultural Impact of the British and Foreign Bible Society 1804–2004, ed-
ited by Stephen Batalden, Kathleen Cann, and John Dean, 251–267. Sheffield: Phoenix Press.
Livanios, Dimitris. 2014. “‘In the Beginning Was the Word’: Orthodoxy and Bible Translation
into Modern Greek (16th–19th Centuries).” Mediterranean Chronicle 4: 101–120.
Markovski. 1926–1927—Марковски, Ив. “История на българския синодален превод на
Библията.” Годишник на Софийския универститет. Богословски факултет 4: 1–59.
Mihăilă, Alexandru. 2018. “The Septuagint and the Masortic Text in the Orthodox Church(es).”
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Mulder, Martin Jan. 1988. “The Transmission of the Biblical Text.” In Text, Mikra: Translation,
Reading and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity,
edited by Martin Jan Mulder, 87–136. Assen: Van Gorcum, Philadelphia: Fortress Press.
Naumow, Aleksander. 2016. “Le traduzioni bibliche in serbo, bulgaro e macedone (XIX–XXI
sec.).” In Traduzioni e rapporti interculturali degli slavi con il mondo circostante, edited by
Maria Di Salvo and Giorgio Ziffer, 55–66. Biblioteca Ambrosiana—Slavica Ambrosiana
6. Milano: Bulzoni.
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de istorie și teorie literară 7, no. 1–4: 23–36.
Pentiuc, Eugen J. 2006. Jesus the Messiah in the Hebrew Bible. New York, NY: Paulist Press.
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Pinner, [Ephraim Moses]. 1845. Prospectus der Odessaer Gesellschaft für Geschichte und
Alterthümer gehörenden ältesten hebräischen und rabbinischen Manuscripte. Ein Beitrag zur
biblischen Exegese. Odessa: Gesellschaft [für Geschichte und Alterthümer].
Seleznev. 2008— Селезнев, М.Г. “Еврейский текст Библии и Септуагинта: два
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рубежом, 37, no. 4: 192–211.
The Old Greek, Hebrew, and Other Text Witnesses 51
From Suspi c i on to
Appreciat i on
The Change of Perception Regarding
Theodotion’s Version of Daniel in
Patristic Literature
Daniel Olariu
Introduction
The Septuagint translation of Daniel circulated in antiquity in two Greek versions, known as the
Old Greek and Theodotion. Intriguingly, while the latter text displaced the former in its transmis-
sion history, the personality of Theodotion and the version associated with his name are shrouded
in mystery. Furthermore, the ancient patristic sources perpetuate this mystery by both offering
contradictory comments with regard to the provenance, time, and religious appurtenance of
Theodotion and documenting a change of perception within the Christian church regarding his
version, namely, from suspicion to a positive appreciation of its merits, leading to its acceptance.
The present analysis aims to investigate the earliest patristic sources that have bearings
on the transmission history of Theodotion’s translation in relationship to the Old Greek.
Furthermore, it attempts to show that these sources not only document a change toward a
positive reception of Theodotion’s version within the Christian circles but also preserve val-
uable information regarding the rationales that ultimately led to the complete supplanting
of the Old Greek version of Daniel in the vast majority of the Septuagint manuscripts.
The mystery that shrouds the personality of Theodotion and, implicitly, the version asso-
ciated with his name, is perpetuated by the early patristic comments, which are scanty and
From Suspicion to Appreciation 53
often contradictory. The church fathers that directly or indirectly refer to Theodotion and his
work include, chronologically, Irenaeus of Lyons, Origen, Eusebius of Caesarea, Epiphanius
of Salamis, and Jerome of Stridon.1
God, then, was made man, and the Lord did Himself save us, giving us the token of the
Virgin. But not as some allege, among those now presuming to expound the Scripture, [thus:]
“Behold, a young woman shall conceive, and bring forth a son,” as Theodotion the Ephesian
has interpreted, and Aquila of Pontus, both Jewish proselytes.3
In this brief comment, Irenaeus provides useful information, clarifying the prov-
enance of Theodotion, namely, Ephesus of Asia Minor. He further notes a particular
of his religious identity, that is to say he undertook a religious conversion experience,
becoming a Jew. The most we can add to these particulars is Irenaeus’s characteriza-
tion of Theodotion and Aquila as “expounders” of Scripture.4 The fact that he mentions
Theodotion before Aquila may occasion the question whether it affords some piece of
information concerning the chronological precedence of the former over the latter.
1 For the sake of clarity, a few remarks on the citation method referring to patristic sources are in
order: (1) When a source is quoted for the first time, we offer both the reference to the source text
and its translation in English; (2) for subsequent citations from the same source, we refer the reader
only to its English translation; (3) the patristic citations for which an English translation is lacking
(or in some cases could not be retrieved) are referred to only in their source text.
2 This work, which originally was composed in Greek and now is preserved only in fragments,
comprises five books. However, the work came to us in a complete form in Latin, and its
translation is believed to have been made by the beginning of the third century (A. Cleveland
Coxe, introductory note to Against Heresies [ANF 1:311– 312]). In Migne’s collection (PG 7:
437a–1224d), the available Greek fragments were interspersed in the Latin text. For the composition
date of Contra haereses, see A. Cleveland Coxe, note to Irenaeus, Against Heresies 3.21.1 (ANF 1:451
[at n. 11]).
3 Irenaeus, Against Heresies 3.21.1 (ANF 1:451). The Greek text, which follows the quotation
from Isa 7:14, reads: ὡς Θεοδοτίων ἡρμήνευσεν ὁ Ἐφέσιος, καὶ Ἀκύλας ὁ Ποντικὸς, ἀμφότεροι
Ἰουδαῖοι προςήλυτοι. Irenaeus of Lyons, Contra haereses 3 (PG 7:946a–b).
4 There is no doubt that by the phrase μεθερμηνεύειν τολμώντων τὴν Γραφὴν “audent interpretari
Scripturam (Latin),” “presuming to expound the Scripture,” Irenaeus alludes to Aquila’s and
Theodotion’s work as translators. The passage quoted earlier continues with Irenaeus’s argument
from the Old Greek translation that supports the Christian interpretation of Isa 7:14. Though the
continuation is not extant in a Greek form, the Latin text uses similar wording to the Septuagint:
“interpretatum vero in Graeco ab ipsis Judaeis multum ante tempora adventus Domini nostri,”
“but it was interpreted into Greek by the Jews themselves, much before the period of our Lord’s
advent.” Irenaeus of Lyons, Contra haereses 3 (PG 7:946b); Eng. trans., Irenaeus, Against Heresies
3.21.1 (ANF 1:451).
54 Daniel Olariu
Similarly, the lack of any mention of Symmachus alongside Theodotion and Aquila
could provide a further chronological clue to their disposition in relation to each other.5
5 In this case, Irenaeus’s silence would most likely point to the fact that the translation of Symmachus
was not yet accomplished. See, for instance, Samuel Davidson, A Treatise on Biblical Criticism: The Old
Testament (vol. 1; Boston: Gould and Lincoln, 1853), 219.
6 There are numerous passing references by church fathers to the life and literary activity of
Origen. However, the most notable treatments of his floruit are Eusebius’s Historiae Ecclesticae 6
(PG 20:519a–636c), Eng. trans., Eusebius, Church History 6.1–39 (NPNF2 1:249–281); Jerome’s De
viris illustribus (PL 23:663b–667b), Eng. trans., Jerome, Lives of Illustrious Men 54 (NPNF2 3:373–
374); Epiphanius’s De mensuris et ponderibus, trans. from Syriac, Epiphanius’ Treatise on Weights and
Measures (ed. and trans., James Elmer Dean; Studies in Ancient Orient Civilizations 11; Chicago,
IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1935), 15–39; and further by the same author but a more hostile
treatment, Epiphanii, Adversus Haereses 2/1 (PG 41:1067d–1076b), Eng. trans., Frank Williams, The
Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis: Books II and III (Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies 36;
Leiden: Brill, 1994), 131–134.
7 The industrious character of Origen made Jerome rhetorically ask, “Who has ever managed to read
all that he has written?” (Jerome, Letter to Paula 33 [NPNF2 6:46]). According to Epiphanius’s account,
Origen’s writings amounted to 6,000 volumes (Williams, The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis, section
IV:44[64].63.7–8, 189). However, Jerome disputes the accuracy of this number (cf. Jerome, Apology
against Rufinius 2.22 [NPNF2 3:513–514] and Apology against Rufinius 3.23 [NPNF2 3:530–531]).
8 For Origen’s prodigious personality and knowledge, see Jerome’s account of Lives of Illustrious Men
54 (NPNF2 3:373–374), wherein he claims that “he [Origen] understood dialectics, as well as geometry,
arithmetic, music, grammar, and rhetoric, and taught all the schools of the philosophers.” Apology
against Rufinius 3.23 (NPNF2 3:374).
9 Some historical background information puts Origen’s monumental achievement in
perspective: Origen learned Hebrew mainly for this project, to which he supposedly devoted around
twenty-eight years (Epiphanius, Adversus Haereses 2/1[PG 41:1073b–c]; Williams, The Panarion of
Epiphanius of Salamis, section IV:44 [64].3.1–4, 133–134]). Furthermore, it is estimated that “if it
[Hexapla] had been written on papyrus scrolls, it would have comprised fifty large volumes; if in the
form of a codex, it would have filled nearly seven thousand pages.” See Robert H. Pfeiffer, Introduction
to the Old Testament (3rd ed.; New York: Harper & Brothers Publishers, 1941), 109; see also A. Cleveland
Coxe, introductory note to the Works of Origen (ANF 4:230).
10 Eusebius, Church History 6.16 (NPNF2 1:261).
11 For a recent discussion on the ancient sources referring to Aquila in both Christian and Jewish
literature, see Jenny R. Labendz, “Aquila’s Bible Translation in Late Antiquity: Jewish and Christian
Perspectives,” HTR 102 (2009): 353–388.
From Suspicion to Appreciation 55
(col. 4),12 and a third Greek translation—the Old Greek or Septuaginta—as it was pre-
served in Origen’s time (col. 5).13
As might be expected from such a voluminous work, which probably comprised fifty
volumes altogether, the Hexapla seems to have proved to be unpractical, “far too bulky for
common use, and too costly for transcription.”14 These practical considerations presumably
generated the need for a simplified edition. Ostensibly, the response to this necessity was
the Tetrapla, a work that incorporated only the last four Greek texts from Origen’s six-col-
umned Bible.15
Evidence suggests that in the making of the Hexapla the selection process operated at
the level of manuscript transmission. Origen’s primary goal was to produce a recension of
the Old Greek translation in order to parallel the Hebrew Text quantitatively and, thus, to
assist the church in its polemics with the Jews.16 In order to achieve his purpose, Origen
marked the Greek text with diacritical signs:17 with obeli (–) and metobeli (: or /.) at the
beginning and the end, respectively, indicating those words, phrases, or passages in the
12
According to Eusebius’s account, who admittedly relies on Origen himself for this information,
Origen “received these with interpretations of others, from one Juliana, who, he also said, derived
them by inheritance from Symmachus himself.” Eusebii Pamphilii, Historiae Ecclesticae 6 (PG 20:559a);
English trans. Eusebius, Church History 6.16 (NPNF2 1:264).
13 In addition to these four Greek texts, Origen came across other translations of certain biblical
books, which he appended as additional columns to the Hexapla. Consequently, Origen’s work
comprised for some books seven columns (Heptapla), eight columns (Octopla), and even nine
columns (Enneapla). Jerome, Lives of Illustrious Men 54 (NPNF2 3:374).
14 Cox, introductory note to The Works of Origen (ANF 4:230).
15 The Tetrapla is evidenced by the explicit reference to it by Eusebius: “In a separate work he also
prepared an edition of Aquila and Symmachus, and Theodotion, together with the Septuagint, in
what is called the Tetrapla” (Eusebius, Church History 6.16 [NPNF2 1:263]). Further evidence comes
from the title attached to the MSS 88 of the Book of Daniel, Δανιὴλ κατὰ τοὺς Ο´ ἐκ τῶν τετραπλῶν
᾽Ωριγένους “Daniel according to LXX from Origen’s Tetrapla.” The view that the Tetrapla preceded
the Hexapla, which most likely originated with Montfaucon, is highly problematic; for this view see
Bernardo de Montfaucon, Hexaplorum Origenis quae supersunt (Paris, 1713). Davidson, A Treatise
on Biblical Criticism, 201; and Coxe, introductory note to the Works of Origen (ANF 4:230). Similarly,
Orlinsky’s radical view that no such work ever existed is untenable. Harry M. Orlinsky, “Origen’s
Tetrapla—A Scholarly Fiction?,” in Studies in the Septuagint: Origins, Recensions, and Interpretations
(Library of Biblical Studies; New York: Ktav, 1974), 382–391.
16 Origenis epistola ad Africanum de historia Susannae (PG 11:60b–
61a); English trans., A
Letter from Origen to Africanus (ANF 4:387). The apologetic rationale behind the Hexapla might
have further influenced Origen to organize its columns in a pedagogical-patterned fashion, as
Orlinsky suggests: Harry M. Orlinsky, “The Columnar Order of the Hexapla,” JQR 27 (1936–1937):
137–1 49.
17 For the system of notation employed in the Hexapla, see Origen, Commentariorum Evanghelium
Matthaeum 15 (PG 13:1924a–c), no English trans. available; Jerome, Preface to Psalms (NPNF2 6:494)
and Preface to Genesis, quoted in Apology against Rufinus 2.25 (NPNF2 3:515–516). In addition to the
obelus and asterisk, Epiphanius mentions other two signs, lemniscus (÷) and hypolemniscus (⨪). Like
the obeli, they were placed at the beginning of additions in the Old Greek over against the Hebrew
Text. Epiphanius, Treatise on Weights and Measures, 17–18 (obelus), 21–21 (asterisk), 22–23 (lemniscus
and hypolemniscus).
56 Daniel Olariu
Old Greek translation (col. 5) that represented additions over against the Hebrew Text
(col. 1); and with asterisks (※) and metobeli (: or /.), those words, phrases, or passages
copied from cols. 3, 4, and/or 6 into the Old Greek (col. 5) in order to fill its omissions over
against the Hebrew Text.18 It is this recension of the Old Greek that was mainly copied and
transmitted over the centuries and reached our days.19 As such, the significance of this
Origenic recension of the Old Greek is double: (1) it represents a witness to the form of the
early Greek translation of the Septuagint and, indirectly, to its Hebrew Vorlage; and (2) it
embeds readings from Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion that have survived only in its
manuscripts.20
Origen’s textual undertakings shed further light on the profile of the text attributed to
Theodotion. His high regard for Theodotion’s version is demonstrated by his resort mainly
to Theodotion to fill in the omissions in the Old Greek in comparison with the Hebrew
Text.21 This is particularly true in the books of Job, Jeremiah, and Isaiah, where Origen used
Theodotion to supply long portions that were absent in the Old Greek. In addition, from
the extant Theodotionic readings throughout the fragmentary manuscripts of Origen’s fifth
column, it may be inferred that the Theodotionic text covered almost the entire Bible,22
and even contained supplemental materials such as the apocryphal book of Baruch and the
18 As can be inferred from Origen’s own words (Origenis epistola ad Africanum de historia Susannae
[PG 11:47b–86d], English trans., A Letter from Origen to Africanus [ANF 4:386–392]), the form of the Old
Greek text in Origen’s time differed remarkably from the Hebrew Text. In this letter, besides noting the
textual differences between the Old Greek/Theodotion against the Hebrew Scriptures/Aquila in the book
of Daniel, Origen reviews for Africanus some other major and minor extant disparities between these
texts in the books of Esther, Job, Jeremiah, Genesis, and Exodus.
19 The Hexapla was preserved in the library of Caesarea, where Origen’s disciple Pamphilus was in charge.
The history of transmission of the Hexaplaric recension starts with the copying work of Pamphilus and
Eusebius, who popularized this recension in the Palestinian region (see Eusebii Hieronymi Stridonensis,
Praefatio Hieronymi in librum Paralipomenon [PL 28:1324b–1325a]; Apologia adversus libros Rufini [PL
23:450d–451a]; Commentariorum in epistolam ad Titum [PL 26:595a–b]). A next significant step in its
transmission represents the literal translation of it in 616–617 by Paul, Bishop of Tella, in Mesopotamia,
from one of the Hexaplaric codices in circulation at that time. Most likely, the Hexapla met its end
along with the library of Caesarea in ca. 638, when the Saracens invaded and captured Caesarea. See
Henry Barclay Swete, An Introduction to Old Testament in Greek (Cambridge: University Press, 1900), 75.
Among the collections of readings from the Hexaplaric manuscripts that survived the Middle Ages and
were produced starting with the beginning of the sixteenth century, the most notable are those prepared
by Bernardo de Montfaucon, Hexaplorum Origenis quae supersunt (Paris, 1713), and Fridericus Field,
Origenis Hexaplorum quae supersunt sive veterum interpretum Graecorum in totum vetus testamentum
fragmenta (2 vols.; Oxford: Clarendon, 1875). A new, updated edition of the Hexapla is now in progress
under the auspices of International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies. For more details
on Hexapla Project, see Timothy M. Law, “A History of Research on Origen’s Hexapla: From Masius to
the Hexapla Project,” BIOSCS 40 (2007): 47–48.
20 See Alison Salvesen, “The Role of Aquila, Symmachus and Theodotion in Modern Commentaries
on the Hebrew Bible,” in Let Us Go up to Zion: Essays in Honour of H. G. M. Williamson on the Occasion
of His Sixty-Fifth Birthday (eds. Iain Provan and Mark J. Boda; VTSup 153; Leiden: Brill, 2012), 95–109.
21 Eusebii Hieronymi Stridonensis, Praefatio Hieronymi in librum Paralipomenon (PL 28:1325a). See
further Rufinus’s comment written in the context of his dispute with Jerome over the translation of
Origenic writings into Latin: “But Origen also, you will tell us, in composing his work, called the Hexapla,
adopted the asterisks, taken them from the translation of Theodotion.” Apology 2.36 (NPNF2 3:476–477).
22 According to Gwynn, Theodotion’s translation covered all Hebrew Scriptures but Lamentation. See
additions to Daniel.23 Lastly, another piece of evidence that indicates the preeminence of
the Theodotionic text for Origen relates to the text of Daniel itself. In his lost work Stromata,
Origen supposedly discontinued the use of the Old Greek text of Daniel and replaced it
with Theodotion’s.24
23 Due to their absence in the Hebrew, the additions to Daniel were vigorously debated by the Jewish
and Christian apologists. Traces of these disputes appear in Origen, A Letter from Origen to Africanus
(ANF 4:386); Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 6.26 (NPNF2 1:276); Rufinus, Apology 2.33 (NPNF2 3:475);
and Jerome, Apology against Rufinus 2.33 (NPNF2 3:517) and Preface to Daniel (NPNF2 6:493).
24 From Origen’s Stromata, which ostensibly included ten volumes, there are only three fragments left
(one from vol. 6 and two from vol. 10). See Fragmenta ex Origenis libri Stromatum (PG 11:101a–108a).
In this respect, Jerome notes, “Wherefore also Origen asserts in the ninth book of the Stromata that he
is discussing the text from this point on in the prophecy of Daniel, not as it appears in the Septuagint,
which greatly differs from the Hebrew original, but rather as it appears in Theodotion’s edition.” S. Eusebii
Hieronymi, Commentariorum in Danielem prophetam (PL 25:514a); Eng. trans., Jerome, Commentary on
Daniel (trans. Gleason L. Archer; Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1958), 48.
25 However, the date for the first seven volumes (out of ten) of Ecclesiastical History is set to ca. 303.
The other three volumes “were added in successive editions, the final edition with book 10 being revised
as late as c. 325).” See ODCC, s.v. “Eusebius.”
26 The quote from Irenaeus reads: “Concerning the translation of the inspired Scriptures by the
Seventy, hear the very words which he writes: ‘God in truth became man, and the Lord himself saved us,
giving the sign of the virgin; but not as some say, who now venture to translate the Scripture, ‘Behold,
a young woman shall conceive and bring forth a son,’ as Theodotion of Ephesus and Aquila of Pontus,
both of them Jewish proselytes, interpreted; following whom, the Ebionites say that he was begotten by
Joseph.” Eusebius, Church History 5.8 (NPNF2 1:223).
27 Eusebius, Church History 6.16 (NPNF2 1:262). In this context, Eusebius characterizes the versions of
work was translated in Latin and Syriac. The only complete manuscripts are preserved in Syriac, and
they constituted the base for the Chicago English edition from which we quote. For further details on the
background of this edition, see both Martin Sprengling’s foreword and James Elmer Dean’s introduction
to Epiphanius’ Treatise on Weights and Measures, vii–xii, and 1–9, respectively.
58 Daniel Olariu
notation29 and its incorporated Greek texts.30 Intriguingly, his concise information on
Theodotion offers new details, including one that conflicts with a fact noted in other
authors:
But after this [Symmachus’s translation], in the time immediately following, that is, in the
time of Commodus—I mean, in the time of Commodus II—there was a certain Theodotion
of Pontus, of the doctrine of Marcion, the heresiarch of Sinope. Having been angered with
his heresy, he turned aside to Judaism and was circumcised and learned the language of
the Hebrews and their writings; he also published (a translation) on his own account. He
published many things in agreement with the seventy-two, for he derived many (peculiar)
practices from the translational habit(s) of the seventy-two.31
Epiphanius is at variance with Irenaeus (and implicitly Eusebius) regarding the prove-
nance of Theodotion, namely, Sinope of Pontus as opposed to Ephesus of Asia Minor. As
far as the new details are concerned, his comments provide further biographical insights
to the historical figure of Theodotion. Epiphanius sets Theodotion’s floruit under the time
of Commodus II, which proves to be of significance in assessing Epiphanius’s reliability
as a historical witness. Furthermore, we learn new information about the background of
Theodotion’s conversion to Judaism: He seemingly came into conflict with the adherents of
Marcion’s ideas,32 with whom he also belonged. Lastly, Epiphanius offers a value-judgment
on Theodotion’s translation, explaining that its similarity in translational style to the
Septuagint implies the reliance of the former on the latter.
The Septuagint version of Daniel the prophet is not read by the Churches of our Lord and
Saviour. They use Theodotion’s version, but how this came to pass I cannot tell. Whether it
be that the Language is Chaldee, which differs in certain peculiarities from our speech, and
the Seventy were unwilling to follow those deviations in a translation; or that the book was
published in the name of the Seventy, by some one or other not familiar with Chaldee, or if
23–28), and further details on the versions attributed to Aquila (ibid., 29–32), Symmachus (ibid., 32–33),
Theodotion (ibid., 33–34), and the “fifth” and “sixth” translations (ibid., 34–37).
31 Ibid., 33.
32 For a discussion of Marcion’s views, see Gerhard May, “Marcionites,” EC 3:397–398; and ODCC, s.v.
“Marcion.”
From Suspicion to Appreciation 59
there be some other reason, I know not; this one thing I can affirm—that it differs widely
from the original, and is rightly rejected.33
With the exception of the Septuagint translators (who for some reason or other have
omitted this whole passage [i.e., vv. 6–9]), the other three translators have translated the
word [i.e., ]אָ חֳ ֵריןas “associate” (collega). Consequently by the judgment of the teachers of
the Church, the Septuagint edition has been rejected in the case of this book, and it is the
translation of Theodotion which is commonly read, since it agrees with the Hebrew as well
as with the other translators.34
Although he does not offer a definite explanation for the rejection of Old Greek Daniel,
both comments show Jerome’s suspicion that the questionable quality of this translation
was to be blamed for its differences with the Hebrew original.
The characterization of Theodotion’s version as closely adhering to the Hebrew original
is commended once more in Jerome’s writings, in his Preface to the Chronicle of Eusebius
(ca. 381–382). After acknowledging the difficulties involved in his translation of Eusebius’s
Chronicle, Jerome offers overall characterizations of all Hexaplaric Greek versions. Here,
Jerome again describes Theodotion as adhering closely to its Hebrew original:
[ . . . ] and how difficult the task [of translation] is, the sacred records testify; for the old
flavor is not preserved in the Greek version by the Seventy. It was this that stimulated Aquila,
Symmachus, and Theodotion; and the result of their labors was to impart a totally different
character to one and the same work; one strove to give word for word, another the general
meaning, while the third desired to avoid any great divergency from the ancients.35
In addition to this translational feature of “avoiding any great divergency from the
ancients,” Jerome offers a further characterization of the translation approach adopted by
Theodotion. In the Preface to Job (ca. 392),36 while reacting against his opponents “who
charge my translation with being a censure of the Seventy,”37 Jerome had recourse in his
defense to the previous translation practices exhibited in the works of Aquila, Symmachus,
Theodotion, and Origen’s Hexapla. In this context, Jerome characterizes Theodotion’s
approach as a combination of Aquila’s literalism and the freer style of Symmachus:
I’m compelled at every step in my treatment of the books of Holy Scriptures to reply to the
abuse of my opponents, who charge my translation with being a censure of the Seventy; as
though Aquila among Greek authors, and Symmachus and Theodotion, had not rendered
word for word, or paraphrased, or combined the two methods in a sort of translation which
is neither the one nor the other; and as though Origen had not marked all the books of
33 Eusebii Hieronymi, Praefatio Hieronymi in Danielem prophetam (PL 28:1291b); English trans.
Jerome of Stridon, Preface to Daniel (NPNF2 6:492). See also Jerome’s Preface to Joshua (ca. 404), where,
defending his translation, Jerome points to the fact that the Church reads Daniel from Theodotion: “Quare
Danielem juxta Theodotionis translationem, Ecclesiae susceperunt?” Praefatio Hieronymi in librum
Josue ben Nun (PL 28:464a).
34 Eusebii Hieronymi, Commentariorum in Danielem prophetam (PL 25:514a); Eng. trans., Jerome,
the Old Testament with obeli and asterisks, which he either introduced or adopted from
Theodotion, and inserted in the old translation, thus showing that what he added was defi-
cient in the older version.38
This valuable information on the character of the text attributed to Theodotion, however,
contrasts with other particulars Jerome offers about the life of Theodotion, which conflict
with the testimony given by earlier authors. In a brief description of the life and works of
Origen, the “immortal genius,” Jerome associates Theodotion with the Ebionite sect and
does not characterize him as a Jewish proselyte:
Who is there, who does not also know that he was so assiduous in the study of the Holy
Scripture, that contrary to the spirit of his time, and of his people, he learned the Hebrew
language, and taking the Septuagint translation, he gathered the other translations also in a
single work, namely, that of Aquila, of Ponticus the Proselyte, and Theodotion the Ebionite,
and Symmachus an adherent of the same sect who wrote commentaries also on the gospel
according to Matthew, from which he tried to established his doctrine.39
The survey of patristic evidences on the figure and literary legacy of the historical
Theodotion reveal not only intriguing discrepancies about his floruit but also significant
historical evidences about the distinguished status gained by the Greek version attributed
to him.
Regarding biographical particulars, the church fathers contribute little to unraveling
the mystery that shrouds the personality of Theodotion. The most compelling information
concerns the shared tradition among the patristic writers that Theodotion was a Christian
convert to Judaism. However, less certain is the information whether while Christian, he
cherished Marcionite (Epiphanius) or Ebionite (Jerome) ideas. Even more intriguing are
the conflicting accounts on Theodotion’s provenance: Irenaeus (and Eusebius) assigns his
floruit to Ephesus, and Epiphanius assigns it to Pontus, while Jerome, who was likely aware
of this disagreement, keeps silent on Theodotion’s origins.40
Regarding the date of Theodotion’s translation, Irenaeus appears to be the most reli-
able witness. His silence regarding Symmachus suggests that Theodotion’s translation was
38
Ibid. Similarly, Jerome characterizes Theodotion’s translation technique as “taking a middle course
between the ancients [Seventy] and the moderns [Aquila and Symmachus]”. Preface to the Four Gospels
(NPNF2 6:488).
39 De viris illustribus (PL 23:665b); English trans. Jerome of Stridon, Lives of Illustrious Men 54 (NPNF2
3:373–374).
40 If not directly, Jerome could have known about Irenaeus tradition on Theodotion by way of
Eusebius’s writings (Church History 5.8 [NPNF2 1:223]). Jerome and Epiphanius were contemporaneous,
corresponded each other, and took the same part in the Origenistic controversy (see W. H. Fremantle,
prologomena to Jerome (NPNF2 6:xxi–xxii).
From Suspicion to Appreciation 61
accomplished first. The tradition of mentioning the names of the versions in the order
Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion by no means reflects their historical sequence. Most
likely, this order is secondarily derived under the influence of the disposition of their texts
in Origen’s Hexapla.41
Whereas the church fathers fall short in providing consistent historical information on
the personality of Theodotion, the patristic sources afford us evidence for a significant shift
of attitude within the Christian church, regarding the translation attributed to him. At the
time of the first patristic comments on Theodotion, found in the writings of Irenaeus, the
Old Greek translation was generally adopted and considered “the Bible” in the Christian
circles. Moreover, important church fathers of the time (e.g., Justin Martyr [ca. 100–165],42
Irenaeus [ca. 130–200],43 Clement of Alexandria [ca. 150–215]44) valued this translated Bible
as inspired, conferring on it a status equal to the writings of the prophets.45 Also by that
time, the Jewish community benefited from at least two new Greek translations—Aquila
and Theodotion. In Jewish-Christian polemics, these texts with their new readings on key
messianic passages undermined the long-established Christian interpretations, which were
based on the Old Greek translation. Taking note of these changes, the Christian writers
immediately reacted, denouncing the readings and, with them, the texts as a whole, as re-
flecting a Jewish apologetic agenda.
However, almost two centuries later, Jerome’s writings document a radically opposite
situation. In contradistinction to the translations produced by Aquila and Symmachus,
the Church regarded as favorable the version of Theodotion, abandoning previous hostile
charges against it. The culmination of this development of favorable appreciation ostensibly
resulted in Theodotion completely supplanting the Old Greek text of Daniel. As might be
expected, this shift from suspicion toward positive appreciation demands an explanation
and, in the following, we attempt to underscore some plausible factors that nurtured such
a change.
41 The Hexaplaric disposition of the Greek versions in the order Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion
demonstrably gave rise to a tradition that further perpetuated an imprecise understanding of their
chronological order. The three translations were referred to in this order in the subsequent literature to
Origen’s Hexapla: Eusebius, Church History 6:16 (NPNF2 1:262); Jerome, Apology against Rufinus 2.33–34
(NPNF2 3:517), Letter to Pammachius 58.19 (NPNF2 6:78), Preface to the Book of Hebrew Questions (NPNF2
6:486), and passim; Augustine, The City of God 18.43 (NPNF1 2:386). By contrast, Origen mentions these
versions in the order Aquila, Theodotion, and Symmachus. See Origen, Commentary on John 2.24 (ANF
10:371).
42 Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho 71 (ANF 1:234).
43 Irenaeus states that “the Scriptures had been interpreted by the inspiration of God.” Against Heresies
produce the translation, and make it as it were Greek prophecy.” Stromata 1.22 (ANF 2:334–335).
45 The catalyst for adopting the view of inspiration of the Old Greek is the pseudo-letter of Aristeas,
which was imported on Christian soil by Justin Martyr, To the Greeks (ANF 1:278–279). In order to
emphasize the divine origins of the Old Greek, subsequent patristic literature refers to it, expanding or
underscoring certain aspects of it. See further Clement of Alexandria, Stromata 1.22 (ANF 2:334–335);
Irenaeus, Against Heresies 3.21.2–4 (ANF 1:451–452); Tertulian, Apology 18 (ANF 3:32–33); Epiphanius,
Treatise on Weights and Measures, 23–27; Augustine, The City of God 18.42–43 (NPNF1 2:385–387); Jerome,
Preface to Genesis quoted in Apology against Rufinus (NPNF2 3:515–516); and John Chrysostom, Gospel of
St. Matthew 5.4 (NPNF1 10:32–33).
62 Daniel Olariu
46
In his reply to Augustine, Jerome refers to the widespread acceptance of the Origen’s recension
in the “libraries of the Churches.” Jerome notes, “Then do not read what you find under the asterisks;
rather erase them from the volumes, that you may approve yourself indeed a follower of the ancients. If,
however, you do this, you will be compelled to find fault with all the libraries of the Churches; for you
will scarcely find more than one Ms. here and there which has not these interpolations.” Jerome, Letter
to Augustine 75.5.19 (NPNF1 1:341).
47 Hermann Josef Vogt, “Origen,” DECL, 450–451.
48 Jerome, Letter to Paula 33 (NPNF2 6:46).
49 Consequently, describing the geographical distribution of the current versions in the fourth
century, Jerome notes that the Hexaplaric recension was used in Palestine: “Alexandria et Aegyptus in
Septuaginta suis Hesychium laudat auctorem. Constantinopolis ueque ad Antiochiam Luciani martyris
exemplaria probat. Mediae inter has provinciae Palaestinos codices legunt, quos ab Origene elaboratos
Eusebius et Pamphilius vulgaverunt; totusque orbis hac inter se trifaria varietate compugnat.” Praefatio
Hieronymi in librum Paralipomenon (PL 28:1324b–1325a). This preface is also quoted by Jerome in
Apologia adversus libros Rufini (PL 23:450d–451a).
50 Jerome evidences that Origen’s corrections were known to Western readers as well, presumably by
means of a form of Latin Scriptures. For instance, see the reproof against those who oppose his practice
of copying the obeli and asterisks in his translated Latin books but still keeping them in their extant
translations: “My detractors must therefore learn either to receive altogether what they have in part
admitted, or they must erase my translation and at the same time their own asterisks.” Jerome, Preface
to Job (NPNF2 3:491).
51 In this respect, Jerome asserts that by the labor of Origen to amend the Old Greek with obeli and
asterisks he “showed that what he added was deficient in the Older version.” Jerome, Preface to Job
(NPNF2 3:491). In the same Preface, Jerome describes his work as a translator comparable “to recover
what is lost, to correct what is corrupt, and to disclose in pure and faithful language the mysteries of the
Church” (ibid., 492).
52 For instance, the supplemented chunks of texts marked with asterisks by Origen came to be
perceived as indicators toward the corrupt state of the Septuagint. Referring to the aspect of filling the
lacunae of Old Greek with Theodotionic text, Jerome contends that Origen’s very practice was “showing
that what he added was deficient in the older version.” Jerome, Preface to Job (NPNF2 6:491–492).
Furthermore, referring to the additions in the Old Greek marked with obeli, Basil explains, “in accurate
From Suspicion to Appreciation 63
authority. This development is also reflected in the work of Jerome as translator. He re-
vised certain books of the Vetus Latina at the beginning of his career, relying on Origen’s
Hexaplaric recension. In the last part of his career, however, he turned to the hebraica ve-
ritas to accomplish his work, the Vulgata.53
On the other hand, the Church’s acceptance and use of the Tetrapla and/or the Hexaplaric
recension paved the way for a more amiable attitude toward the Jewish versions of Aquila,
Theodotion, and Symmachus.54 Although these differed from the Old Greek in particular
readings, they did quantitatively reproduce the hebraica veritas in a more precise fashion.
The readings that Origen had collated mainly from Theodotion55 in order to fill in the
lacunae of the Old Greek in his Hexapla most probably elevated Theodotion’s status over the
others, leading to its positive appreciation. Furthermore, the translation technique adopted
by Theodotion to retain as much as possible from the style of the Old Greek, contrasted sig-
nificantly to the slavishly literal style and the paraphrastic approach adopted by Aquila and
Symmachus, respectively. Therefore, Origen’s decision to prioritize Theodotion for filling
in the Old Greek’s long omissions not only represented the most natural choice,56 but also
shaped a friendly attitude toward it in Christian circles.
In the case of the book of Daniel, two further factors might have set the stage for
Theodotion’s version to supplant the Old Greek. The first is the precedent of Origen himself.
Jerome notes that in Origen’s Stromata “he [Origen] is discussing the text from this point on
[from Dan 4:6] in the prophecy of Daniel, not as it appears in the Septuagint, which greatly
differs from the Hebrew original, but rather as it appears in Theodotion’s edition.”57
Second, it appears that a sort of tradition emerged about the Theodotionic text that it
represents a revision rather than a de novo translation. For instance, Epiphanius’s record that
“He published many things in agreement with the seventy-two, for he derived many (pecu-
liar) practices from the translational habit(s) of the seventy-two,”58 suggests that important
translational techniques and/or shared readings between Theodotion and the Old Greek
copies these words [“and it was so” (Gen 1:9)] are marked with an obelus, which is the sign of rejection.”
Basil, Hexaemeron 4.5 (NPNF2 8:74).
53 On Jerome’s use of hebraica veritas, see further Paul B. Decock, “Jerome’s Turn to Hebraica Veritas
and His Rejection of the Traditional View of the Septuagint,” Neotestamentica 42 (2008): 205–222.
54 Though not clear whether referring to Tetrapla or the Hexaplaric recension (which also contained
readings of Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion), Jerome points to the situation that they are accepted
and read in the Churches: “But if, since the version of the Seventy was published, and even now, when the
Gospel of Christ is beaming forth, the Jewish Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion, judaising heretics,
have been welcomed amongst the Greeks—heretics, who, by their deceitful translation, have concealed
many mysteries of salvation, and yet, in the Hexapla are found in the Churches and are expounded by
churchmen.” Jerome, Preface to Job (NPNF2 3:491–492).
55 Though Origen also relied on Aquila and Symmachus to fill in missing readings from Old Greek, it
seems that a sort of tradition emerged, attributing this function mainly to Theodotion (Jerome, Letter to
Augustin 75.5.19 [NPNF1 1:341]). Probably, this overall characterization of Theodotion was influenced by
its major role in filling longer omissions in the Old Greek books of Isaiah, Job, and Jeremiah.
56 A similar opinion is expressed by Horne when he writes, “Origen, perhaps for the sake of uniformity,
supplied the additions inserted in the Hexapla chiefly from this Version [Theodotion].” Thomas Hartwell
Horne, An Introduction to the Critical Study and Knowledge of the Holy Scriptures (6th rev. and enl. ed.;
vol. 2; London: Cadell, 1828), 54.
57 Jerome, Commentary on Daniel, 48.
58 Epiphanius’ Treatise on Weights and Measures, 33.
64 Daniel Olariu
were noticed. On the other side, Theodotion’s different readings over against Old Greek
were apparently valued not so much as alterations but rather improvements of the latter
toward the Hebrew Text.59 Once again the church’s decision to use Theodotion in Daniel
supports this claim. The patristic literature provides ample evidence that the prophecies
contained in this book were interpreted with reference to Jesus. This being the case, it
stands to reason that the church’s decision involved a scrutiny of Theodotion’s version in
this book. Particularly, it had to be determined whether or not key prophetical passages had
been altered. This concern is precisely what a comparison of the extant textual data in Dan
9:21–27 and 8:9–14 shows. That is to say that in these particular passages Theodotion is pri-
marily dependent on the Old Greek, while the differences are meant to bring the text closer
to the Hebrew original.60 As such, the dependence of Theodotion on Old Greek in key
passages such as Dan 8:9–14 and 9:21–27 along with its feature of adhering quantitatively to
the Hebrew Text, both retaining when possible and correcting the Old Greek readings, may
have commended Theodotion to the church fathers. This shift of perception is discernible
in Jerome’s writings by the fact that although he demonstrably knew the previous traditions
of Irenaeus and Epiphanius about Theodotion as a Jewish convert, he tends to Christianize
him. As such, it is difficult to decide whether Jerome has considered Theodotion a proselyte
or only a “judaizer.”61
Another question demands an answer: Why is the phenomenon of Theodotion displacing
the Old Greek confined only to the Book of Daniel?62 Though a convenient alternative is
59
Jerome offers a useful explanation of what he intended to convey by his Preface to Daniel, while he
replies to the charges of Rufinus: “It is true, I said that the Septuagint version was in this book different
from the original, and that it was condemned by the right judgment of the churches of Christ; but the
fault was not mine who only stated the fact, but that of those who read the version. We have four versions
to choose from: those of Aquila, Symmachus, the Seventy, and Theodotion. The churches choose to
read Daniel in the version of Theodotion. What sin have I committed in following the judgment of the
churches?” Jerome, Apology against Rufinus 2.33 (NPNF2 3:516–517).
60 A study intended to assess the common basis between Theodotion and Old Greek led Olariu to
conclude that in passages such as Dan 8:9–14 and 9:21–27 they cluster the most significant readings. See
Daniel Olariu, “The Quest for the Common Basis in the Greek Versions to the Book of Daniel” (MA
thesis, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2015), 120 (at nn. 8 and 9), compare with 136–137.
61 Writing against Rufinus (ca. 402), Jerome characterizes Theodotion as a “judaizer”: “Still, I wonder
that a man should read the version of Theodotion the heretic and judaizer [judaizantem], and should
scorn that of a Christian, simple and sinful though he may be.” Apologia adversus libros Rufini (PL
23:455b–c); English trans., Jerome, Apology against Rufinus 2.33 (NPNF2 3:517) This observation accords
well with Jerome’s silence on the religious appurtenance of Theodotion when commenting on his floruit
in Lives of Illustrious Men 54 (NPNF2 3:373–374). A similar passage (though mistranslated) is found in
Jerome’s Preface to Job (ca. 392): “the Jewish Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion, judaising heretics,
have been welcomed amongst the Greeks—heretics [emphasize mine], who, by their deceitful translation
( . . . ).” However, in its Latin original (Praefatio S. Hieronymi in librum Job [PL 28:1079a–1084a]), not only
that the italicized term heretics is wanting, but also the adjective “Judaeus” (lat.) is nom. sing., defining
only Aquila. As for the Theodotion and Symmachus, they are referred to as “judaizantes haeretici”
(lat.), in accord with the quotation reproduced earlier in this note. To my knowledge, there is only one
reference in Jerome’s literature that appears to support a Jewish affiliation of Theodotion: Jerome, Letter
to Augustine 75.5.19 (NPNF1 1:341).
62 On the implications of the Old Greek’s replacement with Theodotion in the Eastern Orthodox
tradition, see Eugen Pentiuc, The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1989), 93.
From Suspicion to Appreciation 65
to maintain with Jerome that this was due mainly to the great disparities between the Old
Greek and the hebraica veritas,63 we rather contend that the weight of the argument points
to a different explanation. The argument based on great disparities is mitigated by the fact
that the Septuagint books Job and Jeremiah display even greater differences over against
the hebraica veritas than Daniel does, and yet they were not displaced by Theodotion. The
disparities of both of these books with the Hebrew texts were recognized even in the pa-
tristic period, but they were retained.64
In order arrive to a more accurate explanation we must pinpoint from the outset the
distinguishing standpoint maintained by the church fathers about the book of Daniel. The
patristic sources document an interpretative tradition, shared by the Christian writers of
the first centuries, that affirmed both the prophetic character and messianic overtones of
the book.65 Clues to this strong tradition are discernible in the ongoing polemics between
Christian and Jewish apologists and between Christian and heathen thinkers (and others),
who, by various rationales, downgraded to a lesser or greater extent the book’s prophetic
character. While the Jewish group seemingly pointed to both the textual differences between
their copies and those of the church and to the different placement of the book within the
Hebrew canon,66 the heathen Neoplatonist Porphyry negated the authenticity of Danielic
oracles on philosophical grounds.67 The polemics around the former claims generated
Origen’s monumental work, the Hexapla. The latter allegations attracted the answer of var-
ious apologists such as Methodius of Olympus (ca. 311), Eusebius of Caesarea (ca. 260–340),
63
Eusebii Hieronymi, Praefatio Hieronymi in Danielem prophetam (PL 28:1291b); English trans.,
Jerome of Stridon, Preface to Daniel (NPNF2 6:492).
64 For a discussion on the differences between Old Greek and the Hebrew text in the books of Job
and Jeremiah, see Origen, A Letter from Origen to Africanus (ANF 4:386–387). According to Jerome,
similar objections to those of Africanus are raised by Jews against the story of Susanna, the Hymn of the
Three Children, and the story of Bel and the Dragon. See Jerome of Stridon, Apology against Rufinus 2.33
(NPNF2 3:517) and Preface to Daniel (NPNF2 6:493).
65 It could hardly be coincidental that the earliest extant Christian commentary on the Hebrew
Bible pertains to the book of Daniel. Commenting on the Theodotionic version of Daniel, in his
Commentarium in Danielem, Hippolytus (ca. 170– 236) applies some of the prophecies to Jesus,
attesting the special status hold by this book within the Church. Hippolytus of Rome, Commentaire
sur Daniel (eds. M. Lefèvre and G. Bardy; SC 14; Paris: Cerf, 1947). For English trans., see Hippolytus,
Fragments from Commentaries: Daniel (ANF 5:177–194) and Thomas Coffman Schmidt, Hippolytus of
Rome: Commentary on Daniel (North Charleston, SC: Schmidt, 2010).
66 The relegation of Daniel among the Writings in the Hebrew canon attracted the response of
Theodoret (ca. 393–460). As Hill has rightly observed, the urgency stemming from Jewish-Christian
polemics was the major impetus for Theodoret not only to compose his commentary but also to antedate
those of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. English trans. Theodoret of Cyrus, Commentary on Daniel (trans.
with an introduction and notes by Robert C. Hill, WGRW 7; Atlanta: SBL, 2006), xviii–xix, 5 (n. 7). For
the Greek edition, see Theodoreti, Commentarius in visiones Danielis prophetae (PG 81:1256c–1545a).
67 Porphyry (ca. 232–303) was raised at Tyre and afterward traveled to Syria, Palestine, and Alexandria,
studying the popular religious systems of these regions and finally adopting an attitude of skepticism
toward them. In his writing, Porphyry attacked alleged problems in the books of the New and Old
Testaments. ODCC, s.v. “Porphyry.” Regarding Daniel, he is the first that raised doubts regarding the
traditional date of the book, suggesting instead a Maccabean milieu. See further P. Casey, “Porphyry and
the Origin of the Book of Daniel,” JTS 27 (1976): 15–33. The apologetic tradition of referring to Daniel’s
prophecies in dialogues with pagans is further reflected in Augustine’s writings: Homilies on the Gospel
of St. John 35:7 (NPNF1 7:206).
66 Daniel Olariu
and Apollinarius of Laodicea (ca. 310–390).68 Consequently, we suggest that the decision to
displace the Old Greek with Theodotion only in the book of Daniel accords well with both
the high prophetical status ascribed to this book within the Christian circles,69 and the ne-
cessity of the church to have, as much as possible, a text free of textual discrepancies with
the Hebrew text for apologetic reasons.70 This explanation further accords with Jerome’s
comments on the backdrop for this change. According to him, the decision was taken by
the knowledgeable educators, “the teachers of the Church,” and among the gains obtained
by reading Daniel with Theodotion is that “it agrees with the Hebrew as well as with the
other translators.”71
Conclusions
The research goal of this study was to extensively discuss all available data from the earliest
patristic sources with bearings on the textual history of Theodotion’s translation. The survey
of these sources reveals not only intriguing discrepancies about Theodotion’s floruit but
also significant historical evidence about the prominent status gained by the Greek version
attributed to him.
The ancient patristic sources suggest an early rivalry between Theodotion and the Old
Greek translations in their transmission histories. Whereas the first patristic references to
Theodotion reflect an unfavorable attitude toward it (Irenaeus, Eusebius), Jerome’s records
regarding the Church’s decision to replace the Old Greek of Daniel with Theodotion docu-
ment the end of a process of shifting attitudes in Christian circles, from a suspicion toward
Theodotion’s translation to a positive appreciation of its merits. In light of our discussion, this
study argues that the major catalyst for this shift was Origen’s magnum opus, the Hexapla.
Though primarily conceived as a tool to assist Christian apologists in their polemics with the
Jews, Origen’s monumental work had far-reaching consequences. Through its abbreviated
68 The fact that Porphyry’s allegations have been answered in three volumes by Eusebius, in a book
of considerable size by Apollinarius, and partially by Methodius, it points to the great impact of this
hostile work. Jerome, Commentary on Daniel, 15. Moreover, in answering to Rufinus, besides mentioning
Methodius, Eusebius, and Apollinarius as defenders of the authenticity of Daniel’s prophecies, Jerome
further announces his intention of writing “not a Preface but a book” in order to refute Porphyry’s
alleged charges against Daniel. Apology against Rufinus 2.33 (NPNF2 3:517).
69 Indices of a tradition of preeminence of Daniel over other prophetical books is recorded in Jerome’s
prologue to his commentary: “I wish to stress in my preface this fact, that none of the prophets has so
clearly spoken concerning Christ as has this prophet Daniel. For not only did he assert that He would
come, a prediction common to the other prophets as well, but also he set forth the very time at which
He would come.” Jerome, Commentary on Daniel, 15. This preeminence based on similar grounds is also
found in Theodoret of Cyrus, Commentary on Daniel, 6–7.
70 Demonstrably, an additional justification for selecting the Theodotion translation was the fact that
it also included the additions, contrasting Aquila and Symmachus which didn’t. Corroborating also with
the fact that Theodotion was perceived as a Jewish text, this decision was in itself an apologetic move
in order to discourage from the outset any accusation that the additions were of Christian fabrication.
As such, this decision accords with the traditional argument already used by the church in defending
specific Septuagint readings, pointing to its Jewish origins.
71 Jerome, Commentary on Daniel, 48.
From Suspicion to Appreciation 67
forms, the Tetrapla and Hexaplaric Revision, Christians throughout the Greek-speaking
world could assess the extent of the intricate textual differences between the Old Greek and
the Hebrew original. Moreover, the learned Christians of the time (e.g., Jerome) gradually
relied more on the hebraica veritas than on its first Greek translation.
Several characteristics of Theodotion’s translation demonstrably secured its preferred status
over Aquila and Symmachus. Among these, Theodotion was distinguished by its role in filling
the lacunae of the Old Greek, including some additions from the Old Greek, being rather a
revision than a translation, and adopting many readings from the Old Greek, differing from
the extreme literalism of Aquila and the free approach of adopted by Symmachus.
In the case of the book of Daniel, the apologetic rationale determined a more radical de-
cision by the Church in order to clear some textual charges against the faulty nature of the
Old Greek translation. Consequently, the adoption of Theodotion instead of the Old Greek
represented both an innovative answer to such charges and a reflection of the church’s in-
terest in upholding the messianic interpretation of the book.
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Salvesen, Alison. “The Role of Aquila, Symmachus and Theodotion in Modern Commentaries
on the Hebrew Bible.” Pages 95–109 in Let Us Go up to Zion: Essays in Honour of H. G.
M. Williamson on the Occasion of His Sixty-Fifth Birthday. Edited by Iain Provan and Mark
J. Boda. VTSup 153. Leiden: Brill, 2012.
Swete, Henry Barclay. An Introduction to Old Testament in Greek. Cambridge: University
Press, 1900.
The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church. Edited by F. L. Cross and E. A. Livingstone. 3rd
ed. rev. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005.
Vogt, Hermann-Josef. “Origen.” DECL, 444–451.
Chapter 4
The New Testament scholar Bruce M. Metzger dedicated the first chapter of his Early
Versions of the New Testament (1977) to the Syriac Versions (plural).1 Metzger’s first para-
graph aptly sets the stage for the current overview:2
Of all the early versions of the New Testament, those in Syriac have raised more problems
and provoked more controversies among modern scholars than any of the others. The reason
lies partly in the multiplicity of translations and revisions of the Syriac Scriptures, and party
in the ambiguity of evidence concerning their mutual relationship. At the same time, that
five or six separate versions in Syriac were produced during the first six centuries of the
Christian era is noteworthy testimony to the vitality and scholarship of Syrian churchmen. In
fact, as Eberhard Nestle has reminded us, “No branch of the Early Church has one more for
the translation of the Bible into their vernacular than the Syriac-speaking. In our European
libraries, we have Syriac Bible MSS from Lebanon, Egypt, Sinai, Mesopotamia, Armenian,
India (Malabar), even from China.”
Indeed, Metzger’s statement can be extended to the Old Testament to some extent as we
know of two full-fledged versions and at least two revisions that were produced during the
first seven centuries.
1 This outline was produced at the Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton; the author acknowledges
the help of the staff, especially at the library. The discussion is based on Sebastian P. Brock’s The Bible
in the Syriac Tradition, Third Edition (Piscataway, 2020) and various relevant articles in the Gorgias
Encyclopedic Dictionary of the Syriac Heritage (Piscataway, 2011). The New Testament portion derives
from George A. Kiraz, Syriac-English New Testament (Piscataway, 2020).
2 B. Metzger 3, citing Nestle’s “Syriac Versions” in Hasting’s Dictionary of the Bible iv (1902), 645.
70 George A. Kiraz
9th
CE
8th Hebrew MT
CE (Vocalization of
the text) Jacob of Edessa
(Select books)
7th
CE
6th Philoxenus
Syro-Hexapla
CE (Select books) Georgian
CPA
Ethiopic
5th
CE
Latin Vulgate
Armenian
4th
CE
Century
3rd
CE Coptic
Origon’s Hexapla Old Latin
Proverbs
2nd
Peshitta OT Theodotion,
CE Targums
Aquila,
Symmachus
2nd
BCE
LXX
3rd
BCE
Ancient Hebrew Text
Two major versions of the Old Testament are known in Syriac, one from the original
Hebrew and another from the Greek Septuagint. In addition, two further revisions of at
least some books are known. The following diagram depicts the place in the Syriac versions
with respect other early versions.
Syriac Versions of the Bible 71
Peshitta
By the middle of the second century, most of the Hebrew Bible had appeared in Syriac in a
version that was later called Peshitta or “simple” (in contrast with later more philologically
complex versions). We are certain of this early dating because other works in Syriac that
belong to the early period already cite Old Testament verses from this version.
The original translator—more likely translators—of the Peshitta is/are not known. In fact, by
the early days of Late Antiquity, Syriac writers had no memory of who the translators were, some
providing random speculations and guesses. Theodore of Mopsuestia (350–428), whose Greek
writings are known to us from Syriac, acknowledged that the Peshitta translator is unknown.
Modern scholars also battled with this question: Was the Peshitta translated by Aramaic-speaking
(probably non-Rabbinic) Jews for Jewish consumption? Was it commissioned by the early Syriac
Church? Or was it the product of a hybrid Jewish-Christian community? While there is no con-
clusive evidence, it is clear that the Peshitta Old Testament is the work of translators who were
quite apt in the Jewish tradition but also closely connected with early Syriac Christianity. By the
third and fourth centuries, the transmission of the Peshitta was so strong that all later branches
of the Syriac church adopted it as their standard text.
The Peshitta is a direct translation from the Hebrew text in its “standard” first-cen-
tury shape. This Hebrew text, in its consonantal form, is more-or-less equivalent to text
that we find in modern printed editions. The value of the Peshitta is enhanced by its re-
liance on extrabiblical sources. In instances when the Hebrew text was ambiguous, the
Peshitta translators— especially those working on the Prophets and Wisdom books—
seem to have consulted the Septuagint to resolve these ambiguities. The translators—at
least those of the Pentateuch—seem to have been quite aware of the Aramaic traditions
of the Jewish Targums. In fact, many of the distinctive features of the Peshitta show links
with the Jewish exegetical tradition. For instance, the Hebrew text of Gen 8:5 tells us that
Noah’s Ark landed on Mount Ararat. The Peshitta, however, tells us that the Ark rested “on
the mountains of Qardu” further south in an area familiar to the Syriac-speaking world, both
Jewish and Christian. The Peshitta is simply following the Jewish tradition, found in Josephus
and the Targums, which name the mountains of Qardu as the destination for the Ark.
The Jewish-Christian Syriac interaction seem to have been bidirectional. While most
contact went from the Jewish tradition, there is evidence that the Targum version of
Proverbs is indeed based on the Syriac Peshitta. Syriac, as a linguistic identity, transcended
Aramaic-speaking Jews and Christians for centuries to follow. The Muslim writer Ibn Abī
Uṣaybiʿa, writing centuries later, tells us that the physician Masargawayh “was Jewish by
faith, a Suryānī [“Syriac”]—وكان يهودي المذهب سريانيا.”3
The date of the translation is less debated. Peshitta quotations—especially from the
Pentateuch, Psalms, and the Latter Prophets—appear in Tatian’s Diatessaron (ca. 120–ca.
185), the Old Syriac Gospels (see under “New Testament,” later), and other early Syriac
writers. Scholars agree that some form of the Peshitta was in circulation around AD 150.
Some books, such as Chronicles, Ezra, and Nehemiah, appear toward the end of the cen-
tury. The translation went through a number of gradual internal revisions. Implicit complex
3
IAU.
72 George A. Kiraz
Hebrew phraseology was gradually disambiguated in a more explicit manner, and some
Hebrew readings were harmonized. This gradual process of internal revisions came to a halt
by the fifth or sixth century, the same period during which the New Testament text of the
Gospels came to a halt.
Indeed, three textual stages can be defined. The earliest is obviously lost, but some
of its features survive in manuscripts of the fifth century. The text of this stage is the
closest to the Hebrew original. The second stage, present in sixth-century manuscripts,
represents a philological smoothing of the text to make it more idiomatic for the Syriac
reader. This is the period where lectionaries begin to appear, marking a liturgical engage-
ment of the text. The final stage, known to us from ninth-century and later manuscripts,
is considered the Textus Receptus, with a larger number of variants that demonstrate an
increase in transmission. But despite their number, these later variants are of less impor-
tance and most of them belong to the orthographic or internal philological sphere. In
fact, if one compares printed editions based on second-millennium manuscripts (such as
the Mosul Bible) against the Leiden scholarly edition of the Peshitta, one finds that both
texts are identical 99% of the time for many books. The significance of the 1% variants is
further reduced when we learn that almost half of them pertain to differences in plural
mark dotting and prefixes such as the conjunction “and” often found in narratives.
This leads us to conclude that the gradual internal revision of the Peshitta was quite
conservative.
The language of the Peshitta—as we have it today—is the standardized (and fossilized)
Classical Syriac, the Aramaic language of Edessa and its surroundings. This, of course, does not
preclude that the autograph of the translators did exhibit features known from other varieties
of Aramaic, especially considering the close proximity with the literary Aramaic known from
the Targum and other Aramaic forms used by Jews. But by the time the Peshitta reaches the
end of its first stage, it is purely in the Edessene form of Aramaic, what we call Classical Syriac.
As for its provenance, most scholars lean toward Edessa, considered by the tradition and
by scholarship as the birthplace of Classical Syriac, or its close surroundings. However, we
must also take into consideration that by the fourth century—when we begin to receive the
Peshitta in its current form—Classical Syriac has already attained its (quasi) fossilized form
morphologically and syntactically. Writers producing works within a vast geographical area
across the Eastern Byzantine Empire and Persia produced literature in the same mutually
comprehensible idiom. This does not preclude that other parts of the early Syriac world had
some hand in the formation of the Peshitta.
The transmission of the Peshitta Old Testament is quite strong. In fact, prior to the discovery
of the Dead Sea Scrolls, Syriac manuscripts predated Hebrew manuscripts by at least 300 to
400 years. There are no less than twenty-seven manuscripts of one or more books that are dat-
able to the sixth century and no less than thirty-two manuscripts from the seventh century. The
first millennium gave us one hundred manuscripts that survive with a larger number from the
second millennium. Four manuscripts contain the entire Bible: Codex Ambrosianus (Milan,
ms B.21 Inf., sixth or seventh century), Bibliothèque Nationale (Paris, ms 341, seventh or eighth
century), Laurentian Library (Florence, ms Or. 58, ninth century), and Cambridge University
Library (ms Oo.I. 1,2, twelfth century). The sheer number of manuscripts, with little variance
among them, gives us confidence that we possess a stable text.
The Peshitta “canon”—if one can speak of a canon—includes all the books of the Hebrew
Bible as well as the so-called deuterocanonical books as can be demonstrated in the complete
Syriac Versions of the Bible 73
Bible manuscripts listed in the previous paragraph. The order of books, however, differs in the
aforementioned manuscripts. It is interesting to note that the texts of Ruth, Susanna, Esther,
and Judith formed one collection called “The Book of Women.”
Syro-Hexapla
The other major Syriac Version of the Old Testament came a few centuries later. During the
seventh century, the Syriac-speaking world began to retranslate many Greek works that were
previously translated into Syriac. The reason for this is philological. The translation method-
ology of the fifth century was free, translating sense for sense. By the seventh century, how-
ever, translators began to favor literal translations, sometimes replicating the source language
morpheme for morpheme. Such translations were viewed as more accurate. It was in this
philological context that the Old Testament was translated into Syriac, but this time from
Greek, precisely from the Septuagint column of Origen’s Hexapla, or “sixfold.” This translation
was performed by Paul of Tella between 613 and 617 in the Ennaton, a monastery outside of
Alexandria where Paul was in exile.
Unlike the somewhat loose order book in the Peshitta, Paul’s translation followed the order
of books found in the Septuagint. The extreme literal style vis-à-vis the original is of great im-
portance for modern scholarship, as it raises the possibility of recovering the text of Origen’s
lost Hexapla. While scholarship calls this version the Syro-Hexapla, the Syriac church labeled it
“ ܐܝܟ ܡܫܠܡܢܘܬܐ ܕܫܒܥܝܢaccording to the tradition of the seventy,” or “ ܡܦܩܬܐ ܕܫܒܥܝܢVersion of
the Seventy,” or simply “ ܕܫܒܥܝܢof the seventy.”
The earliest of the Syro-Hexapla manuscripts belong to the seventh or eighth century,
not too long after the translation was made by Paul (mss BL Add. 14,442 with parts of
Genesis and Add. 12,134 with Exodus). The second half of the Old Testament is pre-
served in Ambrosian Library, Milan (ms C 313 Inf.) and belongs to the eighth or ninth
century. It was reproduced in a photolithographic edition by Ceriani. We know that
the first half of the Old Testament was preserved in another manuscript that made it to
Europe, as Andreas Masius (1514–1573) used it in the sixteenth century;4 it is now lost.
It contained part of the Pentateuch and the Historical Books. Another source for the
Syro-Hexapla is the corpus of biblical commentaries that sometimes cite it. There are
also Syro-Hexaplaic annotations found in the margins of existing Peshitta manuscripts.
Despite the sources, there has been to this date no scholarly edition of the text, let alone
a systematic textual analysis.
Despite being a West Syriac miaphysite production, the Syro-Hexapla was used to
some extent by other Syriac-using communities. It is cited in the commentaries of some
East Syriac writers. The Melkites, who primarily used the Peshitta in their lectionaries,
seem to have adopted some pericopes from the Syro-Hexapla (especially from Ezekiel).
4
He quoted it frequently in Syrorum Peculium (1572).
74 George A. Kiraz
Subsequent Revisions
Two subsequent versions are known to have been made, though it is unlikely that they cov-
ered the entirety of the Old Testament. The first was made/commissioned by Philoxenos of
Mabboug and the other completed by Jacob of Edessa.
We know that Philoxenus commissioned his Corepiscopos Polycarp to produce a re-
vision of the New Testament (see what follows). The revision of some books of the Old
Testament may have been connected with that same project. Nothing of this revision, how-
ever, survives apart from quotations found in the works of Philoxenus himself. It is thus
difficult to ascertain anything about the features of this revision. If we are to judge by com-
parison, then the revision was probably made from the Greek (Lucianic in the case of the
Old Testament) in a literal manner.
Jacob’s revision partially survives for portions of the Pentateuch, Sam, Isaiah, Daniel,
and Wisdom. The text is a hybrid version between the Peshitta, the Greek Septuagint, and
the Syro-Hexapla. A colophon produced in 719, only fifteen years after Jacob produced his
revision, reads:
This First Book of the Kingdoms was corrected as far as possible and with much effort, from
the different traditions—from that of the Syriacs and from those of the Greeks—by the holy
Jacob bishop of Edessa, in the 1016th year of the calendar of the Greeks, or rather of King
Seleucus [i.e., around AD 704/5], the third indiction, in the great monastery of Tell ʿAdda.5
New Testament
We have five versions of the New Testament in Syriac, not to mention the gradual activities
of revisions that took place in between.
4th
CE
Revised Greek Text
Latin Vulgate Coptic
3rd Old Syriac
CE
1st
CE
1st
BCE
Ancient Greek Text
But things changed in the 1950s, when fragments of St. Ephrem’s commentary in the
original Syriac appeared in the antiquities black market in Paris; the script found in the
fragments dated back to the sixth century. The Chester Beatty Library in Dublin obtained
the newly discovered fragments in 1956 and shelved them under call number MS. 709.
A stray folio from the same manuscript appeared in Barcelona in 1966. Five more folios
appeared in 1984, and a larger chunk in 1986. All in all, about 80 percent of the manuscript
has been recovered. The Chester Beatty Library commissioned Louis Leloir (1911–1992), a
Belgian Benedictine monk, to edit the text with a Latin translation. Later, Carmel McCarthy
provided an English translation.7
7 The Syriac text is published by Louis Leloir in Saint Ephrem, Commentaire de l’Évangile concordant,
texte syriaque (Dublin, 1963) and (Louvain, 1990). An English translation is provided by Carmel
McCarthy, St. Ephrem’s Commentary on Tatian’s Diatessaron (Oxford, 1993).
76 George A. Kiraz
1. Codex Cureton. Sometime in the tenth century, a monk named Ḥabib donated an old
Gospel manuscript to Deir al-Suryān (the Syrian Monastery) in the Egyptian desert.
Whether this manuscript was originally complete or missing some leaves is unknown,
but by the year 1222 it seems that, due to wear and tear, the manuscript was missing
some portions. The monastery administration restored the old manuscript and added
leaves of a similar size from other manuscripts in order to complete the lost gaps. It
appears that those who were using the manuscript noticed that its text does not con-
form to the familiar Peshitta text. They began to alter the text by adding interlinear and
marginal notes to bring it into closer conformity with the Peshitta. During the nine-
teenth century, the manuscript was acquired, along with many others, by the British
Museum; it reached London on March 1, 1843. It was shelved under call number Add.
14,451. Somehow, three leaves ended up in Berlin at the Staatsbibliothek (Ms or. quart.
528). William Cureton (1808–1864), who was then an Assistant Keeper of Manuscripts
at the British Museum, noticed, either on his own or due to the alterations made by
the manuscript’s earlier Syriac readers, that the Gospel text seemed more archaic than
the Peshitta. Cureton was thrilled and announced that he had discovered “the iden-
tical terms and expressions which the Apostle himself employed.” Cureton printed the
text in 1848 at his own expense but did not publish it until 1858, when it appeared with
a lengthy preface and an English translation. He titled it A Very Ancient Recension of
the Four Gospels in Syriac, hitherto Unknown in Europe. Cureton dated the manuscript
to the fifth century on paleographical grounds. Other scholars concurred. Soon, this
text was known in scholarly circles as the Curetonian manuscript.
2. Codex Sinaiticus I. Sometime either in the year 697 or 779 (the colophon is not clear,
but 779 is more paleographically probable), a Syriac monk named John the Anchorite
wanted to write a new manuscript of a text titled “Select Narratives of Holy Women.”
It appears that John did not have access to parchment and decided to reuse an older
manuscript, a common custom in antiquity. John picked up a Gospel manuscript that
did not seem that important to him, rubbed off the text, and wrote the stories of the
holy women on top of the old text. At the time, John was residing in Mʿarrat Meṣren,
a city in the district of Antioch. Somehow, the manuscript ended up at St. Catherine’s
Monastery in the Sinai desert, where it was later assigned the call number Syriac 30.
Centuries later, in 1892, Agnes Lewis (1843–1926) and her twin sister, Margaret
Gibson (1843–1920), were traveling in Egypt.8 During a visit to the library of
St. Catherine’s Monastery, they came across this old palimpsest. They became
intrigued by the Gospel text written underneath the hagiographical material and
took 400 photographs. Back in Cambridge, where Lewis and Gibson lived, they
developed the photographs onto glass slides. Two scholars in Cambridge, Robert
Bensly (1831–1893) and Francis C. Burkitt (1864–1935), recognized a close affinity
between this Sinai manuscript and the one discovered and published earlier by
Cureton. Now, with two manuscripts exhibiting readings that seemed more archaic
than the Peshitta, scholars began to contemplate if the Syriac world had known the
separate Gospels in a version that predated the Peshitta. Agnes published what is
now considered the standard edition of the manuscript in 1910 under the title The
8 For an account of their lives, see A. Whigham Price, The Ladies of Castlebrae: A Story of Nineteenth-
Century Travel and Research (Gloucester, 1985); Janet Soskice, The Sisters of Sinai: How Two Lady
Adventurers Discovered the Hidden Gospels (New York, 2009).
Syriac Versions of the Bible 77
Old Syriac Gospels. Now, these pre-Peshitta Gospels had a new name in scholarly
circles: the Old Syriac Version.
3. Codex Sinaiticus II (New Finds). Very recently, a third manuscript of the Old Syriac was
discovered in another palimpsest in Deir al-Suryān, and awaits scholarly attention.9
Analyzing the Sinai and the Curetonian texts, scholars determined that sometime during
the late second or the early third century, the four Gospels were available in Syriac, along-
side the Gospel of the Mixed. The process by which these Gospels were created from the
Greek original drew on Syriac expressions from the earlier Gospel of the Mixed.
The Syriac Gospel is one of the earliest witnesses to the Greek text that was in circulation
between the second and the fifth centuries. The style of the Old Syriac Gospels was quite
free, aiming to represent the meaning and essence rather than the form of the Greek text
behind it; nevertheless, the Old Syriac version agrees with many features of early Greek
manuscripts against later traditions.
While it is very likely that a pre-Peshitta version of Acts and the Pauline epistles was in
circulation in the Syriac-using Church, no such manuscripts have reached us. We know of
the existence of the text because St. Ephrem wrote commentaries on them and, hence, must
have had access to them.
Gradually, users of the Old Syriac Gospels began to edit the text to bring it closer and
closer to the Greek text of their time. This process took about two centuries. In fact, the
Sinai and Curetonian manuscripts represent two snapshots into this long process, with the
Sinai text exhibiting an earlier stage than the Curetonian. The revision came to a halt during
the fifth century and the resulting text is what we now call the Peshitta, the version that is
presented in this edition.
Peshitta
As the Peshitta is the result of many decades of revisions of the Old Syriac version by many
editors, scholars do not consider it to be a new translation from the Greek. Rather, it brought
what preceded it into closer conformity with the Greek text of the time. More importantly,
it incorporates a long biblical heritage from within the Syriac tradition.
The Peshitta must have been supported by higher church authorities. Within a few
centuries, the Gospel of the Mixed, which coexisted with the Gospel of the Separated, was
suppressed, and began to fade away. The Old Syriac version was used less frequently and
lost its authoritative status to the degree that when John the Anchorite wanted to write the
stories of the holy women in 779, he recycled the Sinai Gospel text.
But the acceptance of the Peshitta as the normative text took some time. Both manuscripts
of the Old Syriac that survive were, in fact, produced during the fifth century, meaning that
their text was still acceptable then. Traces of the Gospel of the Mixed and the Old Syriac also
appear in other manuscripts of the fifth century, most notably a manuscript known as Codex
Phillipps (no. 1388 in Berlin) and another in Paris (BnF syr 30). It might be safe to assume
that by the sixth or seventh century, the Old Syriac version had fallen out of use, making way
for the Peshitta to become the standard text. The fact that the Peshitta became the normative
9
It is the underwriting of New Finds Syriac 37 and 39. The new parts were published by Sebastian
Brock in Deltio Biblikon Meleton 31A (2016), 7–18.
78 George A. Kiraz
text of all the Syriac-using churches regardless of their position on various Christological
controversies is a clear indication that the text began to attain its authoritativeness prior to
the time when the divisions of the fifth century took hold within Syriac Christianity.
The Peshitta does not contain the entire New Testament as we know it today. The largest
portion in the Gospel that is not present in the Peshitta is the story of the adulterous
woman, found in John 7:53–8:11. Here, the Peshitta is representing an earlier, original form
of the Gospel of John: These verses do not appear in the Greek text until the fifth century
(codex D-05 is the earliest witness). The same applies to three verses in Acts. The Peshitta
does not contain Acts 8:37, 15:34, and 28:29 because the Greek text underlying it did not have
these verses, which began to show up in the Greek text around the fifth or sixth century.
The Peshitta also does not include the so-called Comma Johanneum, an interpolation after 1
John 5:7 that first appears in Latin manuscripts in the late fourth century.
Not only verses but also entire books are absent in the Peshitta. No Peshitta manuscript
includes the minor general epistles (2 Peter, 2 & 3 John, and Jude), whose canonicity even
in Greek was disputed up to the fourth century. The same applies to Revelation, which is
entirely absent from the Peshitta. In fact, Revelation is absent in the biblical and liturgical
traditions of Eastern Christendom in general. Its canonicity was debated in the Christian
East during the sixth century; but by then, the liturgical traditions, including lectionary
readings, had been established for so long that, regardless of the debate’s outcome, it would
have no effect on liturgical life.10 Having said that, these texts do appear in Syriac—but in a
post-Peshitta form, as we shall see.
Another feature of the Peshitta New Testament is the order of its books. It was mentioned
that the Old Syriac Cureton manuscript arranged the Gospels in the order Matthew, Mark,
John, Luke. But by the time the Peshitta became the authoritative text, the order had come
to reflect the one we know now: Matthew, Mark, Luke, John. However, the major general
epistles (James, 1 Peter, 1 John) appear directly after Acts in most manuscripts.
The association of the major general epistles with the book of Acts is also attested litur-
gically. The Liturgy of the Word in the West Syriac rite consists of four readings. The first is
from the Old Testament and is read before the procession around the altar. The second is
directly after the procession and is taken either from Acts or the major general epistles. The
third is from the Pauline epistles, and the fourth is from the Gospels. The inclusion of James,
1 Peter, and 1 John in the second reading with the book of Acts is a clear indication that the
Syriac liturgical tradition considers these books as a single unit with the Acts corpus.
Philoxenian
The Peshitta represents the last stage of Syriac biblical developments in the Church of the
East. Syriac Orthodox Fathers, however, embarked on at least two further revisions, each
having its own motivation and style.
The Christological controversies of the fifth century affected the Syriac-using Church. As
a result, three traditions evolved, all accepting the Peshitta as their authoritative Bible: the
Church of the East did not accept the Council of Ephesus, the Syriac Orthodox Church did
10
For a good analysis of Revelation in the Eastern Church, see Stephen De Young, “Is the Book of
Revelation Canonical in the Orthodox Church?” in The Whole Council Blog (August 15, 2018) [blogs.
ancientfaith.com/wholecounsel].
Syriac Versions of the Bible 79
not accept the Council of Chalcedon, and the Melkites (at that point still Syriac-using) and
Maronites accepted both councils. Much theological debate followed.
It was the Christological controversies that led the Syriac Orthodox bishop Philoxenus of
Mabbug (ca. 440s?–523) to have the Peshitta New Testament revised in order to provide a tool
for theological debates. Philoxenos felt that the Peshitta did not represent the Greek texts of
his time accurately. The Peshitta, of course, was rooted in the Syriac tradition, and the Greek
text underlying it was centuries older than the Greek text of the fifth and sixth centuries. The
Christological controversies originated in a Greek linguistic milieu; and the Syriac-using world,
which inherited the debates, needed the necessary philological tools. Having a Syriac New
Testament text that represented the Greek texts of the time seemed, in the eyes of Philoxenos,
a worthy cause. Philoxenus commissioned his Chorepiscopus Polycarp to revise the Peshitta
to bring it even closer to the Greek text. Polycarp completed the task in 507 or 508. As this text
was not intended for liturgical use, it was eventually lost; no manuscript of it survives. All that
survives are citations by Philoxenus himself in his commentaries on the Gospels.
Harklean
Just over a century later, in 616, Thomas of Ḥarqel, another Syriac Orthodox bishop,
completed another revision, this time revising the Philoxenian text and turning it into a
sophisticated literal translation of the Greek text. Unlike Philoxenus, Thomas acted not
out of theological intentions, but rather philological ones. During his time, the Greek lan-
guage had attained such a high prestige in the Syriac-using world that philosophical works
that had been translated into Syriac centuries earlier were now being retranslated to make
them represent the original Greek quite literally. It was within this linguistic milieu that
Thomas operated. If the Greek had a particle or a preposition, Thomas wanted these small
linguistic elements represented in the Syriac text. As one can imagine, while this transla-
tion technique is philologically sophisticated, the result was nonidiomatic for the Syriac
reader, probably sounding clumsy and unnecessarily complicated. Nevertheless, Thomas’s
translation—known as the Ḥarklean version—found its way into liturgical use for some
time before dying out liturgically. It is this complicated, nonidiomatic nature of these later
versions that gave the already existing standard text the name simple, or “Peshitta.”
The Syriac word ܝܛܬܳ ܦܫ
ܺ peshiṭtā is a feminine adjective that means “simple.” It is feminine
because it modifies the feminine noun ܩܬܐ ܳ ܡ ܰܦ,
ܰ mappaqtā: “version” or “revision.” Hence,
ܳ
ܦܫܝܛܬܐ ܳ ܰ
ܺ ܰܡܦܩܬܐmappaqtā peshiṭtā (West Syriac mafaqto fshiṭto) means “the Simple Version.”
The name first occurs in Syriac manuscripts in the ninth century and was used to differentiate
the Peshitta “simple” text from the overly complicated Philoxenian and Ḥarklean Versions.
One positive result of the post-Peshitta revisions is that we now possess Syriac texts for
the minor general epistles (2 Peter, 2 & 3 John, and Jude) and Revelation dating back to the
sixth century. Scholars are not sure if these texts belong to the Philoxenian Version or a
similar, unknown revision. Nonetheless, these texts became part of the Syriac tradition. The
style and idiom of the minor general epistles follows that of the Peshitta so closely that had
these texts been part of Peshitta manuscripts, scholars would not have been able to recog-
nize that they belong to a much later date.
Finally, the story of the adulterous woman (John 7:53–8:11) is also absent from the
Peshitta. Its translation into Syriac is attributed to an Abbot named Paul, who found the
Greek text in a manuscript in Alexandria. It is very likely, but not certain, that this Paul
80 George A. Kiraz
is the same Paul of Tella who produced the Syro-Hexapla (see earlier discussion under
“Old Testament”).
The following bibliography is limited to available editions (including reprints). A fuller bi-
ography can be found in Brock’s The Bible in the Syriac Tradition, 3rd edition.
The C op tic Bi bl e
Hany N. Takla
Introduction
The term “Coptic Bible” is used in this chapter to refer to the Coptic-language version of
the Greek Christian Scriptures that was universally accepted by the Orthodox Church of
Alexandria. It essentially comprises the list of books set in St. Athanasius’s Festal letter of
AD 361, including Old and New Testament books. Unfortunately, there is no single man-
uscript that contains all of these books for a variety of reasons. Though scholars believe
that all the books mentioned by Athanasius were translated into Coptic from Greek, the
surviving manuscript tradition has pronounced gaps in the Old Testament as well as frag-
mentation in others. The New Testament, however, is complete in at least the two major
dialects of Coptic: Bohairic and Sahidic.
The Old Testament is primarily based on the Greek Septuagint except for the book of
Daniel, which was replaced long before by the more literary Theodotian version (Takla
2007:12–13). The New Testament is more complex as it is not based on any one of the extant
Greek manuscripts and was most probably translated from the pre-Diocletian persecution
period. In the summary provided by Bruce Metzger, the Sahidic and Bohairic versions show
different affinities to Codex Vaticanus and Codex Sinaiticus for the different parts of the
New Testament. Otherwise, they can be described as a mixture of Alexandrian and western
texts to varying degrees, although the Alexandrian readings tend to dominate (Metzger
1977: 133–138). The origin of western text in Acts became prominent with the edition of the
Mesokemic Glazier codex (Schenke 1991, Wisse 1995:137).
82 Hany N. Takla
Christianity was introduced in Egypt as early as the middle of the first century AD. It was
done first through the news brought back by Egyptian Jewish pilgrims. The story of Apollo,
an Alexandrian Jew that preached in Ephesus, indicated that the Christian teaching was
incomplete (Acts 18:24–25). The participation of Alexandrian Jews in the trial and stoning
death of St. Stephen the Archdeacon (Acts 6:8–7:60) may have dissuaded the apostles from
going into such a hotbed of opposition early on. However, the appearance of Apollo appar-
ently prompted St. Barnabas to come from Cyprus to preach in Alexandria, though unsuc-
cessfully, as recorded in the Clementine Homilies.1 Shortly after, St. Mark most likely came
alone and preached in Alexandria probably around AD 55.2
The new converts were predominately Hellenized Jews. They adopted the Greek, or
Septuagint version of the Old Testament in addition to the New Testament books, also
written in Greek, that were continually being added to until the end of that first century. By
the middle of the second century, the Christian community included more and more non-
Jewish members. Among them were Egyptians who were bilingual in Greek and Egyptian,
and were now referred to as Coptic. This prompted the appearance of some ad hoc indi-
vidual translations of parts of the Old and the New Testaments from Greek into Coptic.
This process accelerated toward the later years of the second century and into the beginning
of the following one in support of the growing movement of Christian evangelism to the
Egyptian countryside during the papacy of Demetrius I, the Vinedresser (AD 189-–231).
Most biblical scholars agree that by the fourth century, the entire canon of the Old and New
Testament books was translated in at least the main Coptic dialect, Sahidic, as well as some
of the books in several of the other literary dialects that were in use at that time: Akhmimic,
Bohairic, Fayyumic, Lycopolitan, and Mesokemic.
The history of the Coptic version of the Bible was articulated by three scholarly theories
since 1965. The first and most elaborate was advanced by the Swiss scholar Rodolphe
Kasser (Kasser 1965). Using among others the newly discovered Dishna Library, mostly
preserved in Geneva’s Bodmer Collection, he established a seven-stage progress scheme
for the development of the Coptic version. His system starts with ad hoc translation as
early as AD 150 with final standardization of the Sahidic version by the end of the third
century. His seventh and final stage was the Sahidic version being replaced by the Bohairic
version, which is the current dialect in use by the Coptic Church. In 1983, Tito Orlandi of
Rome advanced a more simplified scheme of development that consisted of three stages
(Orlandi 1986). Although agreeing with Kasser’s second-century beginning, he tended
to assign the development of the standard Sahidic version from the fourth to fifth cen-
tury. In 1995, Frederick Wisse of Canada published an article with yet another revised
scheme of the development of this version (Wisse 1995). His four-stage system ignored
1
Consult Swete 1914:104, n.1, for references to that encounter in the Clementine Homilies.
2
This date is assumed based on the death of St. Barnabas the apostle at Cyprus in AD 54 and what
would have been his deathbed instruction to his younger disciple, St. Mark, to complete the mission of
carrying the Gospel to Alexandria, which had eluded them during their earlier visit.
The Coptic Bible 83
the early origin of development advanced by Kasser and Orlandi and agreed with Orlandi
in pushing the standardization of the Sahidic Version from the fourth to fifth century.
He also addressed the Fayyumic version more than any of the other models. While all
three scholars agreed on the last stage being the replacement of Sahidic by Bohairic,
Wisse tended to assign an earlier date, AD 800. However, these models failed to treat the
Bohairic version, which is now used exclusively in the Coptic Church. The Sahidic and
Bohairic versions were independent translations from different Greek originals, currently
in Egypt. This implies that the reemergence of the Bohairic version in eleventh-century
manuscripts was based on copies of older manuscripts rather than a new translation from
the time that the Patriarchate moved from Alexandria to Cairo. This version was complete
in the New Testament and selective in the Old. One would expect that the movement
to translate Bohairic into Sahidic would have extended to completing the Old Testament
books from the available Sahidic. However, the rise of liturgical lectionary use and the en-
croachment of Arabic during this period doomed the process. There is evidence that some
Old Testament texts were translated from Sahidic to Bohairic, but only in form of lections,
primarily from the Holy Week and Lent lectionaries.3
State of Preservation of
the Coptic Version
The Copts have always regarded the Old and the New Testaments as one entity, though they
were never preserved together in a single manuscript. Coptic biblical manuscripts stressed
functionality rather than completeness and tended to contain either a single or a collection
of books rather than the complete canon of the Bible. The manuscripts of the complete
canon, such as the Codex Vaticanus, were reserved for cathedrals in a large metropolis, and
were always in Greek. However, the preserved Coptic manuscripts tended to have a mo-
nastic origin or were used in smaller parish churches.
It is important to note that although biblical texts are found in all major Coptic
dialects, the majority of the attested biblical books are only in Bohairic and Sahidic. Of
those Coptic dialects, only the Sahidic version may have contained the entire canon of
both the New and Old Testaments. On the other hand, the surviving Bohairic version
has significant gaps in the Old Testament, especially in the historical books,4 indicating
that it may never have been complete at any point in history. The rest of the dialects are
attested only in certain books. While only Sahidic and Bohairic were translated inde-
pendently from Greek originals, those of the other dialects were translations primarily
from Sahidic, except for the later Fayyumic version that may have been translated from
Bohairic (Takla 2014: 108).
3
For more details on what has survived from the Old Testament in the Bohairic Lectionaries and
Service books, consult Takla 2007:64–7 1.
4 Historical Books of the Old Testament include: Judges, Joshua, Ruth, 1 and 2 Samuel, 1 and 2 Kings,
Despite the entire canon once being completely found in Sahidic, it has survived mostly
in fragmentary books. Books of the New Testament have been more completely preserved
than those of the Old Testament. In general, however, completely preserved manuscripts of
entire books are rather rare in this dialect.5 In Bohairic, the New Testament has been entirely
conserved in many manuscripts since the twelfth century. Conversely, the Old Testament is
not found completed in any one manuscript or in a combination of manuscripts. Unlike the
Sahidic version, the biblical books that survived were mainly found complete and attested
in multiple manuscripts. Notably missing from among them are the historical books and
some of the poetical ones. Curiously, only the first fourteen chapters of Proverbs are pre-
served in Bohairic. Sarah Wagner argued that this was a result of the use of one incomplete
manuscript as the exemplar for all other Bohairic manuscripts of this book since the four-
teenth century (Wagner 2005).
In terms of number of verses published and/or recovered, Sahidic preserved nearly
70 percent of the Old Testament and all of the New Testament. Bohairic also preserved the
entire New Testament but only about 60 percent of the Old Testament. If all the preserved
verses in these dialects are grouped together, then the percentage of preservation is 82 per-
cent of the Old Testament or 87 percent of the entire Bible canon. Other dialects preserved
much lower percentages of the entire Bible and do not provide a witness to any verse not
found in Bohairic or Sahidic. However, they do provide much important evidence for tex-
tual criticism.
In summary, only Sahidic and Bohairic seemed to have had a standard complete New
Testament as well as a complete Sahidic Old Testament, with a considerable portion in
the case of Bohairic. Combined, Fayyumic and Mesokemic may have had a complete New
Testament, but it is hard to make such a conclusion based on what has survived. The Old
Testament, however, may have had only selected books or sections translated for mostly
private use. Lycopolitan originating from the Late Antiquity’s hub of heterodoxy, Asyut,
revealed its preferences by preserving only the Gospel of John and nothing else from the
New and especially from the Old Testament. Akhmimic, on the other hand, may have
been eclipsed by the Sahidic that was the language of the Monastery of St. Shenouda in
the area. Judging from their scarcity, the rest of the texts found in the other dialects were
for private devotional purposes. For more details, consult the works of Hany N. Takla
(2007, 2014).
Recovered remains of manuscripts found in the library of St. Shernouda Monastery
(WM) in Sohag tend to have 50 percent more New Testament than Old Testament (Takla
2005: 46). The ratio is even higher in Bohairic biblical manuscripts found in the unpub-
lished catalogs of the major manuscript collections of the Red Sea monasteries of St.
Antony and St. Paul, which are the biggest extant monastic manuscript collections in
Egypt. Furthermore, the production of manuscripts of the Bohairic version diminished
with time after the fourteenth century and is now found almost exclusively in currently
inhabited monasteries in Egypt. Many of the older manuscripts can be particularly found
in European collections.
5 It was not until the early twentieth century that several complete New or Old Testament books were
discovered in Sahidic. They came from the Fayyum’s Monastery of St. Michael in Hamuli, and are now
kept at the New York’s Pierpont Morgan Library.
The Coptic Bible 85
Interest in enhancing biblical studies by editing polyglot editions in the late 1500s brought the
Coptic version of the Bible into focus. This spurred the acquisition of Coptic manuscripts,
which began first in Europe and later moved toward the actual source of these manuscripts,
Egypt. In a published introduction to the Coptic Old Testament, Takla proposed a nine-
stage scheme to summarize the research on the subject. Though it was intended to address
the Old Testament, it is entirely valid for the New Testament as well. These nine stages are
as follows:6
The type of biblical manuscripts available in Europe, at a particular time period, dictated
the choice of dialect published and/or studied. During the initial five stages, scholars pre-
dominantly focused on editing and studying Bohairic texts. With the use of Sahidic and
Fayyumic manuscripts in the third stage, such dominance by Bohairic was challenged but
not broken. In the sixth stage, Sahidic texts were eclipsed by Bohairic permanently. Also,
other dialects such as Fayyumic and Akhmimic, began to take prominence in that stage.
Middle Egyptian or Mesokemic texts became prominent in the eighth stage along with
other, though minor, dialects. Also, in the eighth and ninth stages, Coptology emerged
as an academic discipline and with it came specialized scholars. So far, the Bohairic New
Testament has been adequately published by George Horner over a century ago. This is not
the case for his publication of the Sahidic New Testament, which still awaits a comparable
quality publication like that of the Bohairic. As for the Old Testament, nothing resembling
Horner’s Bohairic New Testament in quality and quantity has been published to date.
As mentioned earlier, the Coptic Bible was never transmitted in any single manuscript and
in the case of the Old Testament, is preserved only in an incomplete and at times very
fragmentary state. Publications of the Coptic biblical texts reflect this painful reality. This
6
For more details on what occurred in these nine stages, consult Takla 2007, c hapter 2.
86 Hany N. Takla
section discusses the main publications with significant Coptic text edition in any of the
known dialects. The discussion is arranged in ten divisions, with reference to the stage
numbers listed earlier. Due to the fragmentary state of many of the books, especially for
non-Bohairic text, scholars published valuable lists for what has been published and where.
The first list was by Henri Hyvernat (1896–7). This was followed by the most comprehen-
sive of these lists by Arthur Adolphe Vaschalde, who published a series of articles listing
every text published in each of the known dialects, identified by book and verse, collection,
and publication (Vaschalde 1919–22, 1930–32, 1933). These lists were followed by two less
comprehensive, though very useful, list publications by Walter C. Till (1959–60) and Peter
Nagel (1989). Franz-Jurgen Schmitz and Gerd Mink then began to refine these listings
with regard to the Sahidic New Testament in 1986, emphasizing the grouping of the many
dismembered manuscripts in the different collection around the world (Schmitz-Mink
1986–91). Karlheinz Schüssler took over the publishing task of these lists with a modified
editing method, which also included Old Testament manuscripts (Schüssler 1995–2016).
Currently, there are two projects dealing with Coptic Bible started in twenty-first-century
Germany—Münster for the New Testament, and Göttingen for the Sahidic Old Testament
(Feder and Richter 2020). The responsibility for recovering the Bohairic Old Testament will
most likely fall on the shoulders of the Copts, either in Egypt or in the Diaspora. A roadmap
for such work was published earlier in this century by Takla (2001, 2007).
Now, let us look at what was published and where. Worthy of mention are the earliest
publications of Bohairic texts beginning with a Psalm publication by Theodorus Petraeus
(1663)7 and continuing to our present time. In summary, there is only one comprehensive
edition of the New Testament in Bohairic in four volumes by George Horner (1897–1905).
Although his Sahidic version is published in seven volumes, it consisted of putting man-
uscript fragments together but without proper codicological information, which was not
available in his time.
1. Pentateuch: In Sahidic Genesis and Exodus are in a very fragmentary state. Most
of what has been published can be found in the major WM fragments editions of
Agostino Ciasca (1885–9) from the Vatican Borgia collection [S6], Gaston Maspero’s
1892 edition of the Paris fragments [S6], Carl Wessely’s 1909–14 edition of the Vienna
fragments [S6], and Johannes Schleifer’s 1909–14 edition of the British Library
fragments [S6]. Louis Th. Lefort’s 1940 edition of the Louvain fragments from Genesis
and Exodus is the only other significant Sahidic edition [S7]. Leviticus, Numbers,
and Deuteronomy were published in facsimile form by Hyvernat (Hyvernat 1922, v.I)
[S7]. Ernest A. Wallis Budge published a nearly complete text of Deuteronomy from
a manuscript in the British Library (Budge 1912) [S6]. Many of the other fragments of
these books can be found in the WM editions cited earlier. In Bohairic the complete
text was published first by David Wilkins from manuscripts in the Vatican, Paris, and
Oxford (Wilkins 1731) [S2]. Paul de Lagarde published the same books from a man-
uscript that Henry Tattam transcribed (de Lagarde 1867) [S6]. Due to the problems
found in de Lagarde’s edition, Melvin Peter reedited these books from the original
7
Psalm 1 in Bohairic, Arabic, and Latin.
The Coptic Bible 87
manuscripts. However only Genesis (1985), Exodus (1986), and Deuteronomy (1983)
were published [S9].
2. Historical Books: In Sahidic Herbert Thompson published a palimpsest from the
British Library containing most of what we know from the books of Joshua, Judges,
Judith, and a complete text of Ruth (Thompson 1911) [S6]. Another complete version
of Ruth was published by Louise Shier from a University of Michigan manuscript
(Shier 1942) [S7]. A substantial portion of Joshua was published from a manu-
script from the Dishna collection in two publications by Kasser and Arthur F. Shore
(Kasser 1963; Shore 1963) [S8]. The complete texts of Samuel I and II were published
by James Drescher from a manuscript in the Hamuli collection (Drescher 1970) [S9].
The surviving text of Tobit was published by Takla based on the fragments that had
been published of this book in the past [S9]. Fragments of I and II Kings and I and
II Chronicles are mainly found in the WM editions cited earlier. In Bohairic all that
is known from these books is preserved in different lectionaries and services in the
Coptic Church. These lections were published by de Lagarde from extracts from
manuscripts in the Göttingen University Library (de Lagarde 1879) [S5].
3. Poetic Books: In Sahidic an almost complete edition of Job was published by Ciasca
[S6]. A complete text of Psalms was published by Budge from a manuscript in the
British Library (Budge 1989) [S6]. A substantial part of Psalms was published by
Alfred Rahlfs, student of de Lagarde, from a Berlin manuscript (Rahlfs 1901) [S6].
A complete edition of Proverbs was published by William Worrell from a University
of Chicago manuscript (Worrell 1931) [S7]. The complete text of Ecclesiastes was
published by Ciasca from the Borgia collection [S6]. Another edition of this book
was made by Shier, cited earlier, from a University of Michigan collection in addition
to a complete text of Song of Songs [S7]. Another publication of the Song of Songs
from the Dishna collection was published by Kasser and Philippe Luisier (Kasser
and Luisier 2012) [S9]. What has survived from the books of Wisdom of Solomon
and Wisdom of Ben Sira was published by de Lagarde in 1883 [S6]. In Bohairic a
complete text of Job was published by Tattam from a manuscript in Malta (Tattam
1846) [S4] and by Emile Porcher from manuscripts in Paris (Porcher 1924) [S7].
The Psalms were first published by Raphael Tukhi in Rome (Tukhi 1744) [S2].8
Ekladius Labib published a text of Psalms and Odes in Cairo (Labib 1897) [S6],
which is significant because it preserves the verse number used in all the Psalm
lections used in the Coptic Church lectionaries. The part of Proverbs preserved
in Bohairic was published by Urbain Bouriant from the Cairo Patriarchal Library
(Bouriant 1882) [S6]. Another publication of the same portion of the text was done
by the Coptic Catholic bishop Agabius Bsciai in Rome (Bsciai 1881, 1886) [S6], and
a third publication was done by Oswald H. E. KHS-Burmester in 1930 [S7]. He
also published the lections from the books of Wisdom of Solomon and Wisdom of
Ben Sira (Burmester 1934–5) [S7]. In Fayyumic Kasser and Hans-Martin Schenke
published the complete text of Ecclesiastes (Kasser-Schenke 2003) [S9]. A second
8 This publication was republished without Psalm 151 by Roger Watts in 1826 as part of the help that
the Church of England was giving to the Coptic Church in the first half of the nineteenth century.
88 Hany N. Takla
publication of this book along with the Song of Songs was made by Bernd Diebner
and Kasser from a Greek- Sahidic manuscript in Hamburg (Diebner- Kasser
1989) [S9]. In Mesokemic Gawdat Gabra edited the complete text of the Cairo Modil
Codex of the Psalms (Gabra 1995) [S9]. In Akhmimic Alexander Böhlig published
the complete text of Proverbs kept in the Berlin State Library (Böhlig 1958) [S8]. In
Dialect P Kasser published a substantial portion of the Book of Proverbs from the
Dishna collection (Kasser 1960) [S8].
4. Major Prophets: In Sahidic Hyvernat published the complete text of Isaiah in fac-
simile (Hyvernat 1922 v.III) [S6]. The last portion of the book was published by
Kasser from the Dishna collection (Kasser 1965b) [S8]. Frank Feder published what
has survived from Jeremiah, along with a complete text of Lamentations, Baruch,
and the Letter of Jeremiah (Feder 2002) [S9]. What has survived from Ezekiel and
Daniel was published among the WM publications cited earlier. In Bohairic Tattam
published a complete edition of all the books in this group (Tattam 1852) [S4].
Although imperfect, it is still the standard edition of these books. For Daniel, Joseph
Bardelli’s earlier edition is closer to the arrangement found in the Coptic tradition of
this book (Bardelli 1849) [S4]. In Fayyumic the remaining fragments of a single man-
uscript from the WM collections was published primarily by Etienne Quatrèmere
of the Paris WM fragments (Quatremère 1808) [S3], and Wolf F. Engelbreth of the
other fragments in the Borgia collection (Engelbreth 1811) [S3]. This included parts
of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and a full text of Lamentations.
5. Minor Prophets: In Sahidic there is only one manuscript from the WM collection
that would have contained these twelve books. What has survived is primarily
published in the WM fragments editions mentioned earlier. A complete text of
Jonah was published by Budge in 1912, cited earlier, from a more ancient manuscript
[S6]. In Bohairic Quatremère first published these texts from the Paris collection
(Quatremère 1810) [S3]. This was followed by Tattam’s edition in Oxford (Tattam
1836) [S4]. In Akhmimic there was one manuscript that was split between the Vienna
and the Paris collections that preserved almost the entire text. Bouriant was first
to publish the smaller portion kept in Paris (Bouriant 1897) [S6], which was later
republished by Michel Malinine in a better edition (Malinine 1950) [S8]. The greater
portion in Vienna was published by Wessely along with Bouriant’s edition in parallel
with the previously published Sahidic fragments from WM and Tattam’s Bohairic
edition (Wessely 1915) [S6]. Till republished a better edition of only the Vienna
portion of this manuscript (Till 1927) [S7].
6. Gospels: In Sahidic most of the known fragments were published first by Horner in
his edition of the Sahidic New Testament (Horner 1911–24, v.1–3) [S6–7]. Hyvernat’s
facsimile edition of the Hamuli collection included one volume of complete text
of the Gospels (Hyvernat v.IV) [S7]. Hans Quecke published complete texts of the
Gospels of Mark (Quecke 1972), Luke (Quecke 1977), and John (Quecke 1984) with
variants from the Hamuli collection [S9]. These texts came from the Dishna collection
and were kept at the Barcelona’s Palau Ribes collection. Gonzalo Aranda Perez
published the Gospels of Matthew (Perez 1984) and Mark (Perez 1988) from the
Hamuli collection [S9]. In Bohairic the first edition of all the Gospels was included
in Wilkins’s 1716 edition of the Bohairic New Testament from the Oxford Bodleian
The Coptic Bible 89
collection [S2]. The Church of England published the four Gospels with a parallel
Arabic text in 1829 [S4] for the benefit of the Coptic Church and then a revised text
in 1847–52 [S4]. Tattam was the editor of the Coptic text of both editions (Tattam
1829, 1847–52). The standard edition of all four Gospels was published by Horner in
his edition of the Bohairic New Testament in (Horner 1898–1905, v.1–2) [S6]. A sub-
stantial portion of the Gospel of John in Old Bohairic was published by Kasser from
the Dishna collection (Kasser 1958) [S8]. It was republished by Daniel Sharp with ex-
tensive study of the manuscript and its facsimile with text transcription on opposite
pages (Sharp 2016) [S9]. In Lycopolitan Thompson published a large portion of the
Gospel of St. John (Thompson 1924) [S7]. A parallel text of a portion of this Gospel
from the Dishna collection was published by Wolf-Peter Funk and Richard Smith
(Brashear 1990: 57–123) [S9]. In Mesokemic Schenke published the complete text of
the Gospel of St. Matthew (Schenke 1981) [S9]. This was followed by another edition
of a nearly complete text of the same Gospel from Oslo (Schenke 2001) [S9]. Elinore
Husselmann published a nearly complete text of the Gospel of St. John in the same
dialect (Husselmann 1962) [S8].9
7. Pauline Epistles: In Sahidic Horner was the first to publish most of the known
fragments of these epistles (Horner 1911–24 v.4–5) [S6–7]. The Hyvernat facsimile edi-
tion included two volumes of complete text of these Epistles (Hyvernat 1922 v.VIII–IX)
[S7]. The standard complete edition was made by Thompson from a manuscript kept
in Dublin (Thompson 1932) [S7]. In Bohairic the first edition of all these epistles was in-
cluded in Wilkins’s edition, cited earlier [S2]. Tattam also published the second volume
of his New Testament in 1852 that included these epistles, cited earlier [S4]. The standard
edition of all the Pauline Epistles was published by Horner (Horner 1898–1905 v.3) [S6].
In Mesokemic Orlandi published a fragmentary text of the first ten epistles from a man-
uscript kept in Milan (Orlandi 1974) [S9].
8. Catholic Epistles: In Sahidic Horner was the first to publish most of the known
fragments of these epistles (Horner 1911–24 v.7) [S6–7]. Hyvernat’s facsimile edition in-
cluded one complete text of these Epistles (Hyvernat 1922 v.X) [S7]. Schüssler published
the standard complete edition of these texts from the Hamuli collection (Schüssler
1991) [S9]. In Bohairic the first edition of all these epistles was included in Wilkins’s
edition. Tattam also included them in volume 2 of his edition cited earlier [S4]. The
standard edition of all the Catholic Epistles was published by Horner (1898–1905 v.4)
[S6]. In Fayyumic Kasser and Schenke published the complete text of 2 Peter and 1 John
in 2003 from a University of Michigan Library manuscript, cited earlier [S9].
9. Acts: In Sahidic Horner was the first to publish most of the known fragments of
these epistles (Horner 1911–24 v.6) [S6–7]. The standard complete edition was made
by Thompson in the same 1932 publication cited earlier [S7]. In Bohairic, like the
Catholic Epistles, the text appears in Wilkins [S2], Tattam [S4], and Horner’s volume
4 [S6] editions cited earlier. In Mesokemic Schenke published the entire first half of
the book from a manuscript in the Pierpont Morgan Library (Schenke 1991) [S9].
9
This edition was originally labeled as Fayyumic Coptic.
90 Hany N. Takla
10. Revelation: In Sahidic Substantial parts are published by Heinrich Goussen from
a Berlin manuscript (Goussen 1895) [S6], but the most complete text published
is found in Budge’s 1912 edition, cited earlier [S6].10 In Bohairic, like the Catholic
Epistles and Acts, the text also appears in Wilkins [S2], Tattam [S4], and Horner’s
volume 4 [S6] editions cited earlier.
The value of the Coptic translation of the bible lies in the quality and the literal nature of
the translation. It serves as evidence for a more ancient Greek exemplar that may not have
survived the tests of time and the cycles of persecution. This quality is also derived from the
strong knowledge of Greek that was present in Egypt and how the understanding of some
of the ambiguous, multimeaning, Greek terms was reflected in the less ambiguous Coptic.
It is also essential to understanding the literary corpus that the Copts have produced over
the centuries. This influence is especially observed in the elaborate liturgical system which
the Copts preserved for the most part until this day.
The value of being an indication of an older Greek exemplar and/or literal style can be
limited by the genealogy of these manuscripts and the strict word-order system employed
in Coptic. As far as the genesis of these biblical manuscripts, one finds that variants from
known Greek texts may not always be a reflection of a different Greek exemplar. It could
simply be due to a process of modification of an earlier Coptic text to improve the reada-
bility of the Coptic without any reference to a Greek original. The solution to this problem
will eventually come when more researchers take closer inspections at these manuscripts.
However, the limitation of the strict word-order has no foreseeable solution at this time.
Conclusion
Coptic biblical texts have been published for over three centuries, yet there is no one edition
that exists of both Testaments, albeit incomplete. Horner’s edition of the New Testament, in
both Bohairic and Sahidic dialects, is still the most complete, although the Sahidic version
is much outdated now. In the case of the Old Testament, the situation is much worse; the
larger parts of the Bohairic Pentateuch and the Major and Minor Prophets not only are over
150 years old but also are far from accurate. The Sahidic edition tended to involve individual
books, and only some can be considered authoritative. Translations in modern languages
for the New Testament tend to be simple revisions to the Standard English Bible text, in the
case of Horner’s editions. For the Old Testament, it is more complicated since the larger
10 The missing verses from the beginning of the book were published from a different manuscript
sections are either found in Latin or not at all. It is hoped that the Münster project for the
New Testament and that of Göttingen for the Old Testament can finally yield authoritative
editions that can serve as the basis for translations to modern language. As far as the Coptic
version, providing a witness to the original Greek on the New Testament especially, Wisse
expressed it best: “We have scarcely begun to reap the harvest offered by the Coptic versions
(Wisse 1995: 139).
References
Editions
Böhlig, A. 1958. Der Achmimische Proverbientext nach Ms. Berol. Orient Oct. 987. Teil I: Text
und Rekonstruktion der Sahidischen Vorlage. München.
Bouriant, U. 1882. “Les Proverbs de Salomon; Version Copte Publiée d’après deux Manuscrits
Faisant Partie de la Bibliothèque du Patriarche Copte-Jacobite du Caire.” Recueil de travaux
relatifs à la philology et à l’archéologie égyptiennes 3:129–147.
Bouriant, U. 1897. “Fragments de Petits Prophètes en Dialecte de Panopolis.” Recueil de travaux
relatifs à la philology et à l’archéologie égyptiennes 19:1–12.
Brashear, W., et al. 1990. The Chester Beatty Codex AC. 1390. Mathematical School Exercises in
Greek and John 10:7–13:38 in Subachmimic. Leuven and Paris.
Bsciai, A. 1881. “Liber Proverbiorum Coptice.” Revue Egyptologique 2:356–368.
Bsciai, A. 1886. Proverbia Salomonis Boheirice et Arabice. Rome.
Budge, E.A.W. 1898. The Earliest Known Coptic Psalter in the Dialect of Upper Egypt, Edited
from the Unique Papyrus Codex Oriental 5000 in the British Museum. London.
Budge, E.A.W. 1912. Coptic Biblical Texts in the Dialect of Upper Egypt. London.
Burmester, O.H.E. Khs. 1934–5. “The Bohairic Pericopae of Wisdom and Sirach.” Biblica
15:451–465; 16:35–57, 141–174.
Ciasca, A. 1885–1889. Sacrorum Bibliorum Fragments Copto-Sahidica Musei Borgiani Iussu et
Sumptibus S. Congregationis de Propaganda Fide Edita. 2 vols. Rome.
Diebner, B.J., and R. Kasser. 1989. Hamburger Papyrus Bil. I—Die Alttestamentlichen Texte des
Papyrus Bilinguis 1 Der Staat-und Universitätsbibliothek Hamburg—Canticum Canticorum
(Coptice), Lamentationes Ieremiae (Coptice), Ecclesiastes (Graece et Coptice). Genève.
Drescher, J. 1970. The Coptic (Sahidic) Version of Kings I, II (Samuel I, II). Corpus Scriptorium
Christianorum Orientalium (CSCO) 313, Scriptores Coptici (SC) 35 (text). Leuven.
Engelbreth, W.F. 1811. Fragmenta Basmurico-Coptica Veteris et Novi Testamenti quae in Museo
Borgiano Velitris asservantur. Copenhagen.
Feder, F. 2002. Biblia Sahidica, Ieremias, Lamentationes (Threni) Epistula Ieremiae et Baruch.
(=Texte und Untersuchungen 147). Berlin and New York.
Gabra, G. 1995. Der Psalter im Oxyrhynchitischen (Mesokemischen/Mittelägyptischen) Dialekt.
Heidelberg.
Goussen, H. 1895. Apocalypsis S. Iohannis apostoli versio sahidica. (=Studia Theologica 1).
Leipzig.
Horner, G. 1898–1905. The Coptic Version of the New Testament in the Northern Dialect,
Otherwise Called Memphitic and Bohairic. 4 vols. Oxford.
Horner, G. 1911–1924. The Coptic Version of the New Testament in the Southern Dialect,
Otherwise Called Sahidic and Thebaic. 7 vols. Oxford.
92 Hany N. Takla
Perez, G.A. 1984. El Evangelio de San Mateo en Copto Sahidico. Texto de M 569, Estudio
Preliminar Y Aparato Critico. Madrid.
Perez, G.A. 1988. El Evangelio de San Marcos en Copto Sahidico. Texto de M 569 Y Aparato
Critico. Madrid.
Peters, M.K.H. 1983. A Critical Edition of the Coptic Bohairic Pentateuch. Vol 5. Deuteronomy.
Atlanta.
Peters, M.K.H. 1985. A Critical Edition of the Coptic Bohairic Pentateuch. Vol. 1. Genesis.
Atlanta.
Peters, M.K.H. 1986. A Critical Edition of the Coptic Bohairic Pentateuch. Vol. 2. Exodus.
Atlanta.
Petraeus, T. 1663. Psalterium Davidis in Lingua Copta seu Aegyptiaca, una cum Versione
Arabica Nunc Primum in Latin Versum et in Lucem Editem. Leiden.
Porcher, E. 1924. Le Livre de Job: Version Copte Bohairique. Patrologia Orientalis. Reprint 1990.
Brepols.
Quatremère, E. 1808. Recherches Critiques et Historiques sur la Langue et la Litterature de
l’Égypte. Paris.
Quatremère, E. 1810. “Daniel et les douze petits prophetes. Manuscrits coptes de la Bibliothèque
Imperiale no. 2, Saint-Germain no. 21.” Notices et extraits des manuscrits de la Bibliothèque
impériale et autres bibliothèques Publiés par l’institut de France 8:220–289.
Quecke, H. 1972. Das Markusevangelium Saïdisch. Text der Handschrift PPalau Rib. Inv.-Nr. 182
mit den Varianten der Handschrift M 569. Barcelona.
Quecke, H. 1977. Das Lucasevangelium Saïdisch. Text der Handschrift PPalau Rib. Inv.-Nr. 181
mit den Varianten der Handschrift M 569. Barcelona.
Quecke, H. 1984. Das Johannesevangelium Saïdisch. Text der Handschrift PPalau Rib. Inv.-Nr.
183 mit den Varianten der Handschrift M 569. Barcelona.
Rahlfs, A. 1901. Die Berliner Handschrift des Sahidischen Psalters. (=Abhandlungen der Königl.
Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen, Philologisch-Historische Klasse, Neu Folge,
Band IV, No. 4). Berlin.
Schenke, H.-M. 1981. Das Matthäus-Evangelium im Mittelägyptischen Dialekt des Koptischen
(Codex Scheide). Berlin.
Schenke, H.-M. 1991. Apostelgeschichte 1, 1–15, 3 im Mittelägyptischen Dialekt des Koptischen
(Codex Glazier). Berlin.
Schenke, H.-M. 2001. Coptic Papyri. v.1. Das Matthäus-Evangelium im Mittelägyptischen
Dialekt des Koptischen (Codex Schoyen). Oslo 2001.
Schleifer, J. 1909. Sahidische Bibelfragmente aus dem Britisch Museum zu London, I. (=
Sitzungsberichte der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien, Philosophisch-
Historische Klasse, vol. 162.6). Vienna.
Schleifer, J. 1911. Sahidische Bibelfragmente aus dem Britisch Museum zu London, II. (=
Sitzungsberichte der Kaiserl. Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien, Philosophisch-Historische
Klasse; vol. 164). Vienna.
Schleifer, J. 1912. Bruchstücke der Sahidischen Bibelübersetzung. (=Sitzungsberichte der Kaiserl.
Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse, vol. 170.1). Vienna.
Schleifer, J. 1914a. “Review of Budge’s Coptic Biblical Texts in the Dialect of Upper Egypt.”
Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes 28:253–260, 307–329.
Schleifer, J. 1914b. Sahidische Bibelfragmente aus dem Britisch Museum zu London, III.
Psalmenfragmente. Sitzungsberichte der Kaiserl. (=Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien,
Philosophisch-Historische Klasse, vol. 173.5). Vienna.
94 Hany N. Takla
Schüssler, K. 1991. Die Katholischen Briefe in der Koptischen (Sahidischen) Version. CSCO 528,
SC 45. Leuven.
Sharp, D.B. 2016. Papyrus Bodmer III: An Early Coptic Version of the Gospel of John and
Genesis. Berlin and Boston.
Shier, L.A. 1942. “Old Testament on Vellum.” In William H. Worrell (ed.), Coptic Texts in the
University of Michigan Collection. 23–167. Ann Arbor.
Shore, A.F. 1963. Joshua I–VI and Other Passages in Coptic: Edited from a Fourth-Century
Sahidix Codex in the Chester Beatty Library, Dublin. Dublin.
Takla, H.N. 1996– 7. “The Sahidic Book of Tobit.” Bulletin of the Saint Shenouda the
Archimandrite Coptic Society 3:1–25.
Tattam, H. 1836. Duodecim Prophetarum Minorum Libros in Lingua Aegyptiaca Vulgo Coptica
seu Memphitica ex manuscripto Johannis Lee, J.C.D. Collatos Latine Edidit. Oxford.
Tattam, H. 1846. The Ancient Coptic Version of Job the Just Translated into English and Edited.
London.
Tattam, H. 1847–52. The New Testament in Coptic and Arabic. 2 vols. London.
Tattam, H. 1852. Prophetas Maiores in Dialecto Linguae Aegyptiacae Memphitica seu Coptica
Edidit cum Versione Latina. 2 vols. Oxford.
Thompson, H. 1911. A Coptic Palimpsest Containing Joshua, Judges, Ruth, Judith and Esther, in
the Sahidic Dialect. Oxford.
Thompson, H. 1924. The Gospel of St. John According to the Earliest Coptic Manuscript. London.
Thompson, H. 1932. The Coptic Version of the Acts of the Apostles, and the Pauline Epistles in
the Sahidic Dialect. Cambridge.
Till, W. 1927. Die Achmimische Version der Zwölf Kleinen Propheten. Codex Rainerianus. Wien.
(=Coptica IV). Copenhagen.
Till, W. 1959–60. “Coptic Biblical Texts Published after Vaschalde’s Lists.” Bulletin of the John
Rylands Library 42:220–240.
Wessely, C. 1907. Sahidisch-Griechische Psalmenfragmente. (=Sitzungsberichte der Kaiserl.
Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien; Philosophisch-Historische Klass, vol. 155.1). Vienna.
Wessely, C. 1909. Griechische und Koptische Texte Theologischen Inhalts I. (=Studien zur
Palaeographie und Papyruskunde IX). Leipzig.
Wessely, C. 1911. Griechische und Koptische Texte Theologischen Inhalts II. (=Studien zur
Palaeographie und Papyruskunde XI). Leipzig.
Wessely, C. 1912. Griechische und Koptische Texte Theologischen Inhalts III. (=Studien zur
Palaeographie und Papyruskunde XII). Leipzig.
Wessely, C. 1914. Griechische und Koptische Texte Theologischen Inhalts IV. (=Studien zur
Palaeographie und Papyruskunde XV). Leipzig.
Wessely, C. 1915. Duodecim Prophetarum Minorum Versionis Achmimicae Codex Rainerianus.
(=Studien zur Palaeographie und Papyruskunde XVI). Leipzig.
Wilkins, D. 1716. Novum Testamentum Aegyptium Vulgo Copticum ex MSS Bodleianis Descripsit,
cum Vaticanis et Parisiensibus Contulit, et in Latinum Sermonen Convertit. Oxford.
Wilkins, D. 1731. Quinque Libri Moysis Prophetae in Lingua Aegyptiaca ex MSS Vaticano,
Parisiensi et Bodleiano Descripsit et Latine Vertit. London.
Worrell, W.H. 1931. The Proverbs of Solomon in Sahidic Coptic According to the Chicago
Manuscript. Chicago.
The Coptic Bible 95
Studies
Askeland, C. 2012. John’s Gospel: The Coptic Translations of its Greek Text. Berlin and Boston.
Feder, F., and S.G. Richter. 2020. “Reconstructing and Editing the Coptic Bible: The Munster-
Gottingen Collaboration for a Complete Reconstruction and Edition of the Coptic Sahidic
Bible.” Journal of Coptic Studies 22:95–100.
Hyvernat, H. 1896–7. “Etude sur les Versions Coptes de la Bible.” Revue biblique 5:427–433,
540–569; 6:48–74.
Kasser, R. 1965a. “Les dialects coptes et les versions coptes biblique.” Biblica 46:287–310.
Metzger, B.M. 1977. The Early Versions of the New Testament. Their Origin, Transmission, and
Limitations. Oxford.
Nagel, P. 1989. “Editionen koptischer Bibeltexte seit Till 1960.” Archiv für Papyrusforschung
35:43–100.
Orlandi, T. 1986. “History of Coptic Literature.” In Pearson, B.A. (ed.), Goehring, J. (ed.). Roots
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(ed.), Muhs, B.P. (ed.), and van der Vliet, J. (ed.). Perspectives on Panopolis: An Egyptian
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the Archimandrite Coptic Society 6:33–57.
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4:43–51.
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en Moyen Egyptien. Quatrieme Groupe. Textes Akhmimiques.” Le Muséon 46:299–313.
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History and Its Place with the Book of Proverbs.” St. Shenouda Coptic Quarterly 1.3:3–23.
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Quaestionis—A Volume in Honor of Bruce M. Metzger. 131–141. Grand Rapids.
Chapter 6
T ransl ation of t h e
Bible into A rme nia n
Garegin Hambardzumyan
The Armenian translation of the Bible is among the oldest translations. One of the
unique characteristics of the Armenian translation of the Bible is that unlike many
other versions, which have had a variety of independent retranslations over the years,
the Armenian Bible has been passed down through the centuries largely unchanged,
reaching us in very few versions. Besides its religious significance, the Armenian trans-
lation of the Bible has been praised also for its literary merit: One nineteenth-century
French orientalist, Maturin La Creze, after reading the book of Genesis in Armenian,
was so charmed by its elaborate beauty he acclaimed it “the Queen of the translations.”1
When we speak about the Armenian translation of the Bible we need to first establish
the historical milieu in which the very first translations were made in Armenia. Between
the first and fourth centuries Christianity was slowly spreading within the kingdom of
Armenia under heavy persecution. The dawn of the fourth century became a turning
point, as Christianity was adopted as the state religion. Prior to AD 405, Greek and
Syriac had been used in the churches and religious communities as the official liturgical
languages and the Bible was read aloud in those languages;2 now with the increasing es-
tablishment of the Armenian Church as the state religion, translation of the Old and New
Testaments into the language of the people became a necessity and that required the for-
mation of a distinctively Armenian alphabet, which was formulated by Mesrop Maštoc,3
in AD 405. Almost a century after the beginnings of Christianization, the Armenian
church’s vardapets (highly venerated theological teachers), led by Saint Mesrop, now
embarked on the extensive project of translating precious Christian commentaries,
1
Haykakan hamarot hanragitaran (Yerevan, 1999), p. 399.
2
Łazar P῾arpec῾i, Patmowt῾iwn hayoc῾ ew t῾owłt῾ ar̄ Vahan Mamikonean (ed. G. Ter-Mkrtchyan, S.
Malkhasyan, Yerevan, 1982), p. 30. Here P῾arpec῾i speaks only about the use of the Syriac version. Movses
Xorenac῾i later mentions the Greek translation as the version then used in Armenian monasteries and
churches.
3 Sometimes transliterated Mesrop Mashtots, also known as Saint Mesrop or Mesrob.
Translation of the Bible into Armenian 97
historical, and dogmatic books primarily from the Syriac and Greek, into the new lan-
guage of the Armenian Church.
In a vivid description of the impact and significance of the translation of the Bible into
Armenian, the contemporary historian Koriwn likened the moment to the descent from
Mount Sinai, suggesting that even Moses returning from the peak with the stone tablets
of the commandments, may not have been as happy as Mesrop was when he came out
with his work of the translation of the Bible.4 After almost four centuries of turbulence
following the glory days of Tigran the Great, this literary foundation-stone paved the
way for Armenians to once again create a distinctive literary culture, which would prove
a bulwark against the numerous challenges that future centuries had in store for them,
threats such as cultural assimilation, forced conversion to other religions, and even the
threat of annihilation.
Prior to the formation of the Armenian alphabet, Syriac, Persian, and Hellenic cultures
were dominant across Armenia, and it was necessary for the vardapets to be fluent in many
languages as well as speaking their native Armenian: It is believed likely that the Bible was
translated orally by Mesrop and his disciples as they taught.5 What is certain is that im-
mediately after the translation of the Bible into Armenian, there followed a flood of other
translations as Mesrop and his disciples began at once to transform their entire library of
related texts and create an exceptional school of theology drawing on the rich traditions
of the earliest apostles and texts available from Syriac, Greek, and other languages. The
earliest Armenian literary tradition was thus propelled forward into a new and rich cultural
movement, which quickly spread and grew across the nation. Naturally, the reading and
comprehension of the Bible itself was considered as the most important activity undertaken.
Our earliest information about the process of translating of the Bible comes from two
fifth-century historians, Koriwn and Movses Xorenac‛i.6 Both of these scholars were students
under St. Mesrop, who had himself directly overseen the first translations, and they record
that there were two successive translations of the Holy Bible. In subsequent centuries those
two translations and their recensions became subject to minor textual alterations, to the
extent that it is currently almost impossible to separate the traces of the two parent versions
of the Armenian translations, nevertheless, because of its antiquity and unique philological
origins, the Armenian translation has received great attention in academia.
A prominent twentieth-century scholar, Hakob Anasyan, writes the following of the two
successive Armenian translations of the Bible:
The first one, which was done partly from the Syriac and partly from the Greek texts,
was produced in the period between 405–6 AD, when Armenians created the alphabet, and
the Council of Ephesus (431 AD). The second translation was a revision of the previous
one with amendments from the new Greek text brought from Byzantium straight after the
Council of Ephesus.7
4
Koriwn, Vark‛ Maštoc‛i (ed. M. Abeghyan, Yerevan, 1983), p. 104.
5
B. Ełiaian, K῾nnakan patmowt῾iwn sowrbgrakan žamanaknerow, vol. 5, (Anthelias, 1976), p. 1357
6
Xorenac‛i is sometimes transliterated Khorenatsi.
7
H. Anasyan, Haykakan matenagitutyun, vol. 2 (Yerevan, 1976), p. 308.
98 Garegin Hambardzumyan
This raises the question, Which books of the Bible were included in that first translation,
before the Council of Ephesus? There are indications in a contemporary description of the
translation by Koriwn:
And starting the translation of the Scriptures first they translated the Proverbs of Solomon
which right from the beginning commands “For learning about wisdom and instruction,
for understanding words of insight.”8 At that time our blessed and wonderful land of
Armenia became truly worthy of admiration, where by the hands of two colleagues, sud-
denly, in an instant, Moses, the law-giver, along with the order of the prophets, energetic Paul
with the entire phalanx of the apostles, along with Christ’s world-sustaining gospel, became
Armenian-speaking.9
Koriwn does not list all the books of the Bible individually, and from this one might infer
that Maštoc‛ translated only certain books. However in saying, “Moses, the law-giver,
along with the order of the prophets,” Koriwn manifestly meant all of the books from the
Pentateuch to the Prophecies, since he also mentions only the first and last books of the
New Testament—from the Gospels to the Epistles of Paul. (Noteworthy here that after the
Epistles, Revelation is not mentioned and was indeed omitted since it did not form part of
the Armenian canon before the twelfth century.) Koriwn does not specifically name the
book of Acts, yet there is no reason to doubt that it was translated as part of the Biblical
canon—containing as it does, the activities of the “entire phalanx” of the apostles.
Movses Xorenac‛i sheds yet more light on the question of what was included in the first
canon: “And immediately they embarked on the translation accordingly starting from the
Proverbs and including the 22 known ones and the New Testament.”10 Here Xorenac‛i is
clearly referring to the Hebrew canon of the Old Testament, according to which the Old
Testament consists of twenty-two books, counting each of the following as one book: Judges
and Ruth; 1 Kings and 2 Kings; 3 Kings and 4 Kings; Jeremiah and Lamentations; the Twelve
minor prophets; 1 Chronicles and 2 Chronicles; 2 Ezra and 3 Ezra [Nehemiah].11 The use of
the Hebrew canon in Armenia is most probably explained by the Syriac use of the Peshitta.12
St. Jerome in his Preface to the Vulgate [Prologus Galeatus] maintained of the Hebrew
canon: “Whatever is outside of these is set aside among the apocrypha. Therefore, Wisdom,
which is commonly ascribed to Solomon, and the book of Jesus son of Sirach . . . are not in
the canon.”13 Although the book of Sirach was frequently quoted in the Talmud and other
rabbinic works, it did not make it into the Hebrew canon, being regarded as having been
composed too late.14
8
Koriwn, “Vark‛ Maštoc‛I,” p. 98.
9
Koriwn, “Vark‛ Maštoc‛I,” p. 104.
10 Movses Xorenac‛i, Patmutyun Hayoc‛ (Tbilisi, 1913), p. 327.
11 Anasyan, “Haykakan matenagitutyun,” pp. 311–312.
12 The Peshitta [Pšīṭtā] remains the standard canonical Bible text for churches in the Syriac tradition.
13 St. Jerome, The Prologue to the Book of Kings, <http://www.bible-researcher.com/jerome.html>,
accessed November 2020 [Translations here based on W. H. Fremantle, A Select Library of the Nicene
and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, second series, vol. 6, St. Jerome; Letters and Select Works
(Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1893)
14 D. J. Harrington, “The Old Testament Apocrypha in the Early Church and Today,” in The Canon
Debate (eds. Martin McDonald, E. J. Sanders), pp. 196–210, 2013.. Cf. Josephus, Against Apion, 1, 3–43.
Translation of the Bible into Armenian 99
According to the Armenian Church and several other church traditions, these first
twenty-two books are called canonical,15 while the rest of the books are known as deutero-
canonical16 books. However one should not confuse the significance of the deuterocanon-
ical books with that of the apocryphal books. Eusebius of Caesarea17 in his “Chronicle,” the
second part of which in its entirety is extant only in Armenian,18 certainly describes some
of the deuterocanonical books as “controverted,” however in view of the Eusebius’s own use
of quotations from Baruch and Wisdom, this was not meant as condemnatory, only as a
warning to careful interpretation: The scholar Brooke Westcott suggested quite reasonably
that Eusebius likely “regarded the Apocrypha’ of the Old Testament in the same light as the
books in the New Testament, which were ‘controverted and yet familiarly used by many.’ ”19
Elsewhere the deuterocanonical books long ago gained canonicity within some Christian
denominations and now are an inseparable part of the Bible.20
The second phase of translation was begun after the Council of Ephesus, when the
disciples of Mesrop Maštoc‛ and Sahak Partev brought from Byzantium to Armenia the
Caesarean version of the Greek Septuagint. It was at this time that, in addition to the re-
vision of the old version, the deuterocanonical books were now translated. Koriwn has
this to say:
Yet blessed Sahak, who had rendered from the Greek language into Armenian all the eccle-
siastical books and the wisdom of the church fathers, once more undertook, with Eznak,
the comparison of the former random, hurriedly done translations from the then-available
copies with the authentic copies.21
It’s not possible to discern from Koriwn’s words with absolute certainty which Greek text
provided the source material for the new translation, but we know from Xorenac‛i that
Maštoc‛ and Sahak’s disciples brought back the papers and the six canons22 approved by the
Council of Ephesus together with this authentic example of the Holy Scriptures. Sahak the
Great and Maštoc‛, accepting this example of the Scriptures, returned once more to begin
15
Nakhakanon, “primary.”
16
Yerkrordakanon, “secondary.”
17 Circa 260–340. Eusebius became bishop of Caesarea in around AD 314.
18 J. Karst, “The Armenian Version of Eusebius’ Chronicon,” American Journal of Theology, Vol 20,
Scriptures in the Christian Churches (London: MacMillan & Co., 1896), p. 153.
20 Justin Martyr (2nd c. AD), let us know that there had been books in the Septuagint translation later
removed by some Jewish rabbis (St. Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho, ch. 72). It is not certain, though,
whether he speaks about the deuterocanonical books or possibly other apocryphal books that were
excised later by some Christian churches. The Roman Catholic Church accepted the deuterocanonical
books, officially including them in Jerome’s Vulgate. It is difficult to pinpoint the earliest date when the
Armenian Church accepted these books, but it is clear from the canon that it happened no later than the
first half of the fifth century.
21 Koriwn, “Vark‛ Maštoc‛I,” p. 124.
22 Xorenac‛i does not say eight canons instead of six, because the last two canons, as Dioscorus of
Alexandria said and J. Stevenson mentioned in his book, are not properly a canon but determination
(ὅρος). J. Stevenson, Creeds, Councils and Controversies: Documents Illustrative of History of the Church
A.D. 337–461 (London: S.P.C.K. 1966), pp. 296–297.
100 Garegin Hambardzumyan
translation from the earliest Peshitta version and adding to that the new material approved
at Ephesus.23
The records of Koriwn and Xorenac‛i make it clear that there were certainly two
successive translations of the Bible produced for use in the churches and monasteries
of Armenia, though in some places only the first version was preserved. Today in book
depositories we can still find manuscripts preserving two different versions of Proverbs,
Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, 1 and 2 Chronicles, and Sirach that relate to these earliest
renditions.
Many centuries later, following in this literary heritage, two corresponding versions of
the Armenian translations of the Bible were published drawing directly on the earliest
texts: The first was published by Fr. Hovhannes Zôhrapean24 in 1805 and the second by Fr.
Arsen Bagratowni in 1860, and they will be examined in more detail later.
However, while Bagratowni likened the two editions to Sahak-Mesropian’s first and
second translations,25 an attitude later upheld by Nersês Akinian,26 whether this is really so
remains a matter for dispute. Some literary historians have viewed the original translation
process as the work of two separate and distinct Greek and Syriac schools in Armenia, while
others have held it to be a work undertaken by the same group of scholars based on differing
needs in various parts of Armenia. The truth is likely to be less straightforward, as a recent
scholar, Claude Cox correctly points out in an analysis of the earliest two texts: “Arm1 and
Arm2 are not necessarily two distinct stages. There is a tendency to think of Arm1 as Syriac-
based and Arm2 as a Greek-based revision of that earlier Syriac-based work of translation.
But the textual situation is more complex than that.”27
While it is widely accepted that the Armenian translation of the Bible is among the earliest
biblical translations, with one recent scholar estimating it as the seventh-oldest translation,28
23
Movses Xorenac‛i, “Patmutyun Hayoc,” p. 343.
24
Fr. Zôhrapean, like Fr. Bagratowni who later followed him, was a member of the Monastery of
the Mekhitarists on San Lazzaro island outside Venice; since its foundation in 1717, it has been and still
remains one of the world’s most prominent centers of study for Armenian Language and Culture.
25 A. Bagratowni, Imastutyun Hesua Vordvo Siraqa yev Tught Eremia margarei Ar Geryalsn i Babilon
Only-Begotten Descended: The Church of Armenia through the Ages,” convened at Ann Arbor, Apr. 1–4,
2004 (ed. K. Bardakjian). [unixware.mscc.huji.ac.il/~armenia/articles/ArmBib_tr_AnnArbor.docx],
accessed June 20, 2020. Many scholars have traditionally considered the textual source of Zôhrapean’s
text as Arm 1 and the Bagratowni’s text as Arm 2.
28 N. Nersesyan av., k῾hn., Astvacašownč῾ə ew hay mšakowyt῾ə (BSA, Yerevan, 2001), p. 9.
Translation of the Bible into Armenian 101
the details of the formation of the canon of books contained within it have been the subject
of heated academic disagreement.
In his 1805 edition of the Bible, Hovhannes Zôhrapean sets out his own evidence for
the evolution of the canon of the Armenian translation. Listing all the books of the Old
and New Testaments in their conventional places he then puts the deuterocanonical
books at the end of his edition. He explains this, saying that this order is followed in
the oldest manuscripts of the Armenian Bible.29 Zôhrapean justifies this ordering fur-
ther, by asserting that the linguistic style of some of the deuterocanonical books, such
as the book of Sirach, suggests that they were neither translated by the Holy Translators
(Sahak and Mesrop) nor even by their youngest disciples, but date at the very earliest
to only the twelfth century.30 Though he does not explicitly mention it in his editorial
train of thought, by Zôhrapean’s calculation this would put the translation in the same
time period as the translation of the book of Revelation, which was indeed added in the
twelfth century when some Armenian scholars, comparing the Armenian canon with the
Greek and Latin canons, saw that some books were missing from the Armenian canon.
However, at the time he was working, Zôhrapean did not have access to all extant versions
of the Armenian translation and on wider comparison his editorial statement can be
easily refuted, as references to the deuterocanonical books were already appearing in the
tenth-century works of Xosrov Anjevac‛i and St. Grigor Narekatsi.31 In a statement that
throws a further academic question mark over aspects of Zôhrapean’s work, in the 1950s,
Lyonnet argued persuasively that the Zôhrapean text does not resemble the Peshitta and
is even further from the Latin;32 however, Lyonnet does not single out the Greek text as
the main source for Zôhrapean.
Taking quite a different stance, Arsen Bagratowni in his 1860 edition, insists that the
deuterocanonical books were certainly translated in the fifth century. By his analysis, the
style of the language, contrary to the assertions of Hovhannes Zôhrapean, very closely
resembles the classical style used by the translators of the fifth century. In his introduction
he also insists that the manuscripts he is working from are direct copies of the fifth-century
originals, and accordingly places the deuterocanonical books in their conventional places.33
This position is then later upheld by the German scholar Emil Kautzsch, who consistently
regarded the Armenian translation of the deuterocanonical books as one of the oldest and
best translations. His argument is that it is very close to the fifth-century Greek text,34 and
that classical language unique to the very first translators is found also in the translation of
the deuterocanonical books.
29
Astvacašunč‛ Matean Hin yev Nor Ktakaranac‛, vol. 1 (ed. H. Zôhrapean, Venice, 1805), p. 8.
30
Astvacašunč‛ Matean Hin yev Nor Ktakaranac‛, vol. 1 (ed. H. Zôhrapean, Venice, 1805), p. 8.
31 St. Grigor Narekatsi, Speaking with God from the Depths of the Heart, (trans. Thomas J. Samuelian,
Unlike the biblical canons of some other branches of the Christian Church, the book of
Sirach has always played an important part in the Armenian canon, forming a part of the
earliest translations. In 1927 the Armenian scholar Ełišê Dowrean published an article in
the magazine Sion in Jerusalem, in which he claimed to have found the oldest preserved
examples of the Armenian translation of Sirach 42–46. Dowrean did not dispute the general
belief that Sirach was translated into Armenian in the fifth century AD but moved the date
with more precision to the last quarter of that century, asserting, “There is no doubt that the
chapters we published are part of the oldest translation. We think that Sirach was translated
in the last quarter of the 5th century, because its language is weaker in comparison with the
translation of the Book of Proverbs.”35
To support his assertions Dowrean relies on philological analysis of several classical
Armenian words that appear, such as barebanel in 22:19. These are early compound words
to express complex concepts, for example “barebanel” means to declare a word of glorifica-
tion and is used instead of the more common verb to “paravorel” “to glorify.”
Dowrean is far from alone in his close philological studies, prior to World War II, the
Holy Land remained a scholarly battleground for canonical debate, and further arguments
against some of the deuterocanonical books being translated in the fifth century were
presented by C῾ovakan in an article published in the 1936 edition of Sion.36 C῾ovakan
concludes in his article that certain deuterocanonical books, such as Sirach, only entered
the Armenian canon as late as the seventeenth century, when Oskan of Erevan made
a translation of them from the Latin Vulgate. In 1944, Norayr Połarian, a scholar cler-
gyman from Jerusalem, then published research on the references to the Bible in the
canons of the Armenian Church, the “Kanonagirk῾ hayoc῾.”37 He particularly examined
the groups of canons which are widely known as “The [Second] Apostolic or Clement’s
Canons,”38 “the Canons of the Fathers the Followers of the Apostles,”39 and the canons of
the Council of Partav. From among what Polarian says, the following points are the most
interesting: “In none of the three groups of canons are mentioned the books of the New
Testament, in none of them is mentioned the Book of Esther.” After examining the first
two points, Norayr Połarian boldly concludes, “It is highly unlikely that the appendix
that we find in these groups of canons and especially in the canons of the Council of
Partav was a part of the Apostolic Canon and I think that it was added to the group later
by a scribe and others just copied from that. Thus, it cannot represent the position of the
Armenian Church.”40
35
E. Dowrean, “Noragyut glukhner Siraqa grqin hin targmanutenen,” in Sion (Jerusalem, 1927),
p. 246.
36 C῾ovakan is a pseudonym used by Abp. Norayr Połarian.
37 V. Hakobyan, “Kanonagirk‛ hayoc‛,” vols. 1–2 (Yerevan, 1964–7 1).
38 “Erkrord ar῾elakan kam Kłemesi.”
39 “Kanonk‛ Haranc‛ Hetevołac‛.”
40 N. Połarian, ”Siraqi nor glukhner,” in Sion (Jerusalem, 1944), p. 27.
Translation of the Bible into Armenian 103
The following comparison of the 85th canon of the Apostolic canons with the later canons
accepted by the Armenian Church can possibly shed light on these problems:
Let the following books be counted venerable and holy by all of you, both clergy and laity. Of the
Old Testament: the five books of Moses, Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy;
Joshua the son of Nun; the Judges; Ruth; four of the Kings; two of Paralipomena (the books of
Chronicles); two of Ezra; one of Job; one of Psalms; one of Solomon: Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel,
Daniel. And besides these you are recommended to teach your young persons the Wisdom
of the very learned Sirach.41
This “appendix” may happen to appear by accident only among the Partav canons: which
will be discussed in what follows. But the fact that the appendix was a part of the Apostolic
canons and those of the “Fathers” can be seen from a detailed comparison of the Old
Armenian texts with the Greek originals, which was done by Vazgen Hakobyan in his edi-
tion of the “Kanonagirk῾ hayoc῾.”42 Hakobyan’s research reveals that those parts of the
canons translated from the Greek original texts, which were harder to adopt within the
Armenian environment, had, during the centuries, become subject to redactions. Thus,
canon 85 of the Apostolic Canons is not merely a later addition from Greek but indeed is
and likely was officially accepted by the Armenian Church from the earliest times.
Turning to the exhortation in this canon addressed to both clergy and lay people about
the books that they must read,43 there are variety of translations found in manuscripts
and there are manuscripts in which this passage is missing. It states, “Ełic‛i jez amenec‛un
ekełec‛akanac‛ yev ašxarhakanac‛ paštel girq Surb Hin yev Nor Ktakaranac‛” (“Let the
following books be counted venerable and sacred by all of you, both clergy and laity”)
and then it gives the names of the books starting from the Pentateuch and finishing with
the four prophets. After listing these books the canon orders the following, “Yev artak‛ust
patgamavoresc‛i ar i husuc‛anel jez manunsn zusman bazum zSirak‛ imastno,” (“besides
these you are recommended to teach your young persons the Wisdom of the very learned
Sirach”).44 There is no explanation why the Books of the New Testament are missing from
this list. The entire canon No. 85 is missing from almost all known Armenian manuscripts
and is only found in the manuscript No. 740 of the Etchmiadzin depository with some
books missing from the Old Testament and omitting the whole New Testament.
Likewise, the list of books of the New Testament is missing from the canons attributed
to the Fathers the Followers of the Apostles.45 Listing the books of the Old Testament in-
cluding the poetic and wisdom books, the authors of the canons mention “Soghomon G”
(Solomon 3), which means the three books of Solomon: Song of Songs, the Proverbs, and
the Wisdom of Solomon. The two books of Ezra are placed straight after Wisdom, instead
of Sirach. At the end of the list, after the four prophets and the Maccabees, the canon again
states, “Kaljiq ar I khratel zmankuns dzer` Siraq” (“Take Sirach to exhort your children”).46
41
V. Hakobyan, “Kanonagirk‛‛ hayoc‛,” pp. 557–565.
42
Ibid.
43
Ibid.
44
Ibid.
45
“Kanonk‛ Haranc‛ Hetevołac‛,” No. 27.
46
V. Hakobyan, “Kanonagirk‛‛ hayoc‛,” p. 113.
104 Garegin Hambardzumyan
The Armenian translation of canon No. 55 of the Council of Laodicea (4th c.) brings in
another interesting point relating to the Armenian biblical canon. The Armenian “canon
No. 55” of Laodicea is actually an amalgamation of canons No. 59 and 60 of the Greek
text,47 and, though numbered differently, in content is not greatly different from the orig-
inal. It mentions all the books of the New Testament and omits some of the deuterocanon-
ical books. The point necessary to highlight here is that unlike other Armenian translations
of the aforementioned canons where the books of the New Testament were omitted, in the
earliest canons of Laodicea they are mentioned.
If the aforementioned Armenian canons were translations from Greek or other languages,
then those canons which were accepted at the Council of Partav in AD 70348 were originally
written in Armenian and according to the Armenian tradition. This council was called by
the Armenian Catholicos of Sion and Davit the Catholicos of Ałvank῾ in Partav the capital
of Ałvank῾. As in many of the other councils mentioned, the list of canons produced at the
Council of Partav places that canon which lists the biblical books at the end and in it there is no
mention of the books of the New Testament. This Partav list is related to the Apostolic canons.
It mentions Judges; but Esther and 1–3 Maccabees are omitted along with Judith, Tobit, and the
Wisdom of Solomon. The Partav canons were written largely to regulate the liturgical life of the
Armenian Church it also provides details about social life in Armenia.
The canon from the Apostolic or Clement’s canons was attached to the Partav canons to con-
clude the liturgical regulation of the Church. In other words, along with setting the accepted
ceremonies of the Church, Catholicos Sion and all other participants of this council were de-
termined also to set the list of accepted books of the Bible.49
Subsequent to the council of Partav there has been no such council or formal decision that
would define the canon lists of the Armenian Bible.
We can see from the discussion so far that it is difficult to define the exact shape of the
Armenian biblical canon. Nevertheless, some lists have appeared throughout the centuries
which, although not officially adopted by the church as accepted lists of the Armenian canon,
yet again are worth examining as good sources of historical evolution of the biblical canon of
the Armenian church. After the publication of the 1805 and 1860 editions of the Armenian
bible with their different canonical arrangements, scholarly interest continued to grow, and at
the turn of the twentieth century, M. Ter-Movsisyan50 and S. Webber made early studies of this
subject attempting to establish which books of the Bible were translated into Armenian in the
fifth century. Since then, interest has continued to grow in establishing the authentic route to
the development of the canon.
47
V. Hakobyan, “Kanonagirk‛‛ hayoc‛,” p. 593.
48
The Council of Partav took place in around AD 703; it was called to uphold a view of the united
nature of Christ’s divinity known as Monophysitism. Subtle differences around this theological view
became important to political alliances for many centuries.
49 Since 1966 Michael E. Stone has published a series of very valuable articles in the Harvard
Theological Review about the canon lists of the Armenian Church, the first of which is about the list
of the Partav council. The article is very informative and can be very useful for further research. He
examines some other interesting subjects such as the differences between the Armenian and Greek
texts of the Canon, lists of the Apostolic canons, and those of the councils of Laodicea and the Second
Council of Antioch.
50 M. Ter-Movsesân Mesrop, Istoriâ perevoda Biblii (S. Petersburg, 1902), p. 191. See also S. Webber, “S.
Groc’ yargn ow aržēk’ë hin hayoc’ k’ov,” in Handēs amsòreay, Vienna, 1897, pp. 130–132.
Translation of the Bible into Armenian 105
The first canon list appeared as early as in the seventh century. A renowned scholar,
Anania Širakac’I, produced a stichometric51 list called “A Number of the Books of the Old
and New Testaments.” His list has been preserved thanks to some medieval manuscripts
that contain copies of his work.52 According to this list the following books are included in
the Bible:
Old Testament— Torah (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy), Joshua,
Judges, Ruth, 1–4 Kings, 1–2 Chronicles, 1–4 Maccabees, the twelve Prophets, Isaiah, Jeremiah,
Baruch, Lamentations of Jeremiah, Letter of Jeremiah (interestingly this book is rarely found
in the Armenian Bible), Ezekiel, Daniel, Psalms, Proverbs, Qoheleth, Blessing of Blessings
(Song of Songs), Wisdom of Solomon, Sirach, 1–2 Ezrah, Esther, Tobit, Judith.
New Testament—Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Acts, James, 1–2 Peter, 1–3 John, Revelation,
Romans, 1–2 Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, 1–2 Thessalonians,
Hebrews, 1–2 Timothy, Titus, Philemon.
This is a more or less complete list of the Bible and is important as it lists the books of the
Old and New Testament together. The source of Širakac’i’s list is unknown. Michael Stone
suggests that it reflects a Greek canon list substantiating his argument by the rare appearance
of the Letter of Jeremiah and the 4 Maccabees in it.53 This intriguing list, containing among
other things both Revelation, which as previously mentioned did not enter wide use in the
Armenian translation until the twelfth century, and those Old Testament books omitted,
either intentionally or by oversight, from the Council of Partav’s canon, needs further re-
search to find out whether Širakac’i’s list is a translation of an early Greek list or an original
work by Širakac’i himself.
The next known list is attributed to one Vanakan Vardapet and is usually found along with
a translation of the Bible produced by Mxit’ar Ayrivanec’i in the thirteenth century. Some
believe that Vanakan Vardapet is a well-known medieval scholar, Hovhannes Imastaser.54
This list has come down to us in two editions, more or less corresponding to each other.
They include: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Ruth,
1–4 Kings, 1–2 Chronicles, 1–2 Ezra (in one edition of the manuscripts), 1–3 Maccabees,
Joseph that is the High Priest Caiaphas, Revelation of Enoch, Covenant of the Forefathers,
Prayer of Aseneth, Tobit, Judith, Esther, Ezra Salathiel, Job, Psalms of David, The Twelve,
Proverbs, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, 3 Chronicles, Letter of Jeremiah, Repose of the
Prophets, Jesus Sirach.
51 Stichometry refers to the practice of counting the number of lines of various texts—an ancient way
of seeking to retain accuracy before the age of printing when important texts were copied by scribes,
along with checking the words at the start and ends of lines, maintaining a consistent number of lines
would ensure faithful duplication without loss or interpolation.
52 Cf, Matenagirk’ Hayoc’, Ē dar, hator D (Anthelias, 2005), pp. 790–791.
53 M. Stone, “Armenian Canon Lists II—The Stichometry of Anania of Shirak (c. 615–c. 690 C.E.),”
Harvard Theological Review, Vol. 68, No. 3/4, 1975, pp. 253–260.
54 Some scholars such as Norayr Połarian and Šahe Ačemyan believe that Vanakan Vardapet in fact
refers to Hovhannes Vardapet rather than another scholar called Vanakan Vardapet who established the
Xoranašat monastery with its famous school that produced many prominent theologians. This is despite
the fact that the latter is chronologically closer to Mxit’ar Ayrivanec’i’s times and Ayrivanec’i mentions
Vanakan Vardapet as someone who “clarified” the books of the Armenian translation of the Bible.
Cf., Hovhannes Avetisyan, The canon of the Armenian Bible, dissertation (Sup. G. Hambardzumyan,
Etchmiadzin, 2018), p. 25.
106 Garegin Hambardzumyan
When listing these books, Ayrivanec’i underlines emphatically that these are the au-
thentic books of the Bible.55 Šahe Ačemyan provides information about this list with
some omissions. The New Testament is presented as follows: John, Matthew, Mark, Luke,
Acts, James, 1–2 Peter, 1–3 John, Judas, Plea of Euthalius, Romans, 1–2 Corinthians, Letter
of the Corinthians, 3 Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, 1– 2
Thessalonians, Hebrews, 1–2 Timothy, Titus, Philemon, Revelation, Repose of John.
It is noteworthy that the ordering within the list of the New Testament here in Ayrivanec’i’s
work differs significantly from other canon lists. The two books of Luke are placed together.
The Plea of Evtagh as well as 3 Corinthians are a part of the canon along with the Repose
of John. Although Revelation is part of this list, we know that at this time it was yet to be
widely accepted as a part of the canon. What is more interesting about Ayrivanec’i’s list is
that for the first time in the Armenian tradition he presents a short list of apocryphal lit-
erature, which at the time of his writing activity was read among the Armenians. Those
are: Adam, Enoch, Sibyl, Twelve Forefathers, Joseph’s Prayer, the Elevation of Moses, Eldad
and Medad, Psalms of Solomon, Elijah’s hidden ones, the Seventh vision of Daniel. Is it pos-
sible that Ayrivanec’i here sought to affirm the historical acceptability of some of the apoc-
ryphal works that were feeding his flock, or was his list written to rule out other spiritual
writings that he considered less helpful—we cannot know.
In later centuries further scholars have continued to examine the subject of the bib-
lical canon.
The next author to have touched on the subject of the canon lists was Sargis Šnorhali,56
who lived in the twelfth century. In one of his commentaries57 he lists the books of the
Old Testament and then adds at the end the following: “additionally these are disputable
books: Jesus Sirach, Ezra (along with other seventy-two hidden books).”58 There is no fur-
ther information about his oblique reference to those seventy-two books in his list or in the
text of the commentary. Generally, his Old Testament list of the books corresponds to the
Hebrew canon, with the addition of Judith and Maccabees.59
In his work the New Testament list bears no mention of the book of Revelation, and
instead of the usual name of the book of Acts in Armenian Šnorhali uses Prax, similar
to the Latin Praxis—suggesting a possible source text. Three of the Apostolic letters are
considered “ambiguous” by Šnorhali and only the First letters of Peter and John, along with
the letter of James, which caused Martin Luther such problems, are accepted by Šnorhali
without any concern.60 In the canon list of Šnorhali we also find a short list of what he calls
“refuted books”: the Feast of Mary, the Gospel of Thomas, and the Gospel of the Infancy
of Christ.
Among the most prominent of medieval scholars is the fourteenth-century Armenian
teacher Gregory of Tat῾ew. Gregory produced two canon lists, one of which simply
corresponds entirely to the Hebrew canon of the Bible with twenty-two books. His second
55
See Š. Ačemyan ark῾, Hayeren Astvacašownč῾ə (Yerevan, 2006), pp. 181–183.
56
NB: “Sargis” can be an honorific title meaning “protector” or “defender.”
57 See S. Šnorhali, Meknowt῾iwn eôt῾anc῾ t῾łt῾oc῾ kat῾ołikeayc῾ (Jerusalem, 1998), pp. 398–399.
58 S. Šnorhali, Meknowt῾iwn eôt῾anc῾ t῾łt῾oc῾ kat῾ołikeayc῾ (Jerusalem, 1998), p. 399.
59 Z. Aznavowryan ark῾., Astvacašownč῾in veraberyal owsowmnasirowt῾yownner (ed. V. vrd. Meloyan,
list included all the books known to us and the deuterocanonical books and also includes
the “Covenant of the Prophets,” which inclusion is very rare. In his list Gregory of Tat῾ew
calls the canonical books “astvacakert”—created by God, and the deuterocanonical books
“astvacašownč῾”—breathed by God.61 He adds among the books of the New Testament the
Repose of John, the Acts of Thaddeus (it depicts the visit of the apostle to King Abgar
in Edessa), readings of James, two Apostolic canons, the Words of Justos (this is either a
compilation of the works of Josephus Flavius or a story about a man called Joseph the car-
penter), the book of Dionysius the Areopagite, the Missionary activity of Peter.
Not explicitly mentioned here is the stance of Gregory of Tat῾ew regarding these books and
their place within the canon of the New Testament. It may be assumed that they are added
merely as supplementary reading. Altogether some thirty-six books are included in this canon
list most probably to correspond neatly to the number of the letters in the Armenian alphabet
as it is in the case of the Hebrew canon list.
From the various canon lists issued over this period, we can clearly see first the immense
range of ancient scriptural texts preserved, passed down, and available in Armenian that make
the Armenian scriptural and literary heritage so very precious, and second, that concern for
faithfulness to the ancient scriptural canon was something of a battleground for the Defenders
of the Armenian Church—with scriptural texts defining the shapes of worship and the lives of
communities.
We have already mentioned two printed editions of the Armenian Bible in 1805 and 1860; how-
ever, the very first ever printed edition of the Bible in Armenian was undertaken in 1666 by the
abbot of the Ushi monastery, Oskan of Erevan, in Amsterdam. The edition was produced based
on a thirteenth-century manuscript that belonged to an Armenian king of Cilicia; however
Oskan of Erevan also drew on his own monastic sources in this first printed edition. It mainly
corresponds to the Greek biblical canon list with influences from the Latin Vulgate.62 In the list
of the book of the Old Testament Oskan adds 3 and 4 Ezra, which he translated himself from
Latin. Interestingly, the Prayer of Manasseh and the 4 Ezra are placed at the end of the New
Testament. There are extant copies of this edition in which these latter books are missing.63 In
1705 and later in 1733, Petros Latinac῾i and Mxit῾ar Sebastac῾I, respectively, published their
own editions—both almost direct copies of Oskan of Erevan’s edition of 1666.64 However these
eighteenth-century editions are not highly regarded and have hardly ever been used by later
scholars when doing research on the Armenian text, most probably because of the quality of
61
Š. Ačemyan ark῾., Hayeren Astvacašownč῾ə, p. 192.
62
Z. Aznavowryan ark῾, Astvacašownč῾in veraberyal owsowmnasirowt῾yownner (ed. V. vrd. Meloyan,
Anthelias, 2007), p. 163.
63 This is perhaps to avoid an opposition by the Church hierarchy as such an inclusion of the two
books would have been seen as a direct influence of the Latin text.
64 Z. Aznavowryan ark῾., Astvacašownč῾in veraberyal owsowmnasirowt῾yownner (ed. V. vrd. Meloyan,
the language and the fact that some of the books were directly translated from Latin by the
publisher.
The next printed edition of the Bible as previously mentioned was done in 1805 by Fr.
Hovhannes Zôhrapean,65 whose contribution to the biblical canon we already partially
discussed earlier. Unlike the single-source Oskan edition of the Bible, Zôhrapean’s was
more scholarly, being based on around eight earlier manuscripts; and the main source of
his edition was the manuscript work produced by Geworg Skewrac῾i.66 Zôhrapean’s edition
was published both in four volumes and in a single volume.67 Zôhrapean rearranges the
order in several places, putting Hebrews after 2 Thessalonians; and after the New Testament
he adds an appendix with the following books: Sirach, The Words of Sirach, 3 Ezra, Prayer
of Manasseh, the Letter of the Corinthians to Paul, the Repose of John, and the Plea of
Euthalius. It is not clear whether the text of Zôhrapean is also influenced by an unnamed
Greek parent text or another source. There have been various opinions regarding this matter
in the case of the language and style of certain books included in this edition.68
Arsen Bagratowni’s scholarly edition of 1860 corresponds, with some minor differences,
to the canon of Zôhrapean. Bagratowni adds a helpful summary of content before each
book of the Bible to aid comprehension. Between Zôhrapean’s and Bagratowni’s editions
others were produced which again were more or less reprints of the Oskan edition. After
publication of Bagratowni’s edition of the Bible, Oskan’s edition was slowly withdrawn
from use.
Considering the fact that Classical Armenian (Grabar) was not widely used anymore,
the Bible was translated into the two modern dialects of Armenian—eastern and western.
Since the 1920s various attempts were made to publish the New Testament in modern
dialect. Zôhrapean is among the pioneers of this activity.69 Later, several new versions were
published in Smyrna, first the New Testament in 1842 and then the entire Bible in 1853.
Another translation, called “Ararat,” was published in 1895. The quality of the language
and the style of these translations was criticized by various academics, such as V. Teryan.70
The classical Armenian texts of Zôhrapean and Bagratowni, and of Constantinople 1895,
were later used for numerous translations both in eastern and western dialects. The 1895
edition was produced by the American Bible Society. Unlike all the previous editions, it
lacked the deuterocanonical books. Despite this, it was widely used for almost a century. By
1960 the American Bible Society had added the deuterocanonical books to the new printed
copies.71
65
Astvacašunč‛ Matean Hin yev Nor Ktakaranac‛, vol. 1–4 (ed. H. Zôhrapean, Venice, 1805).
66
H. Anasyan, Astvacašownč῾ matyan. Haykakan bnagir, Haykakan matenagitowt῾yown. 5–18 cc.,
vol. 2 (Yerevan, 1976), p. 340. Cf. A. Manowkyan ark῾., Astvacašownč῾ Matyanə (Tehran, 1995), p. 58.
67 Astwacašownč῾ Matean Hin ew Nor Ktakaranac῾ əst čšgrit t῾argmanowt῾ean naxneac῾ meroc῾
i hellenakann hawatarmagoyn bnagrê i haykakans barbar (ed. H. Zôhrapean, Venice, 1805) and
Astvacašunč‛ Matean Hin yev Nor Ktakaranac‛, vols. 1–4 (ed. H. Zôhrapean, Venice, 1805).
68 Sapientia Jesu Filii Sirach (ed. J. Ziegler, Göttingen, 1965), p. 36; Cf. C. Cox, Hexaplaric Materials
The two latest editions of the Bible were produced first in 1994,72 from classical Armenian
with the use of the Zôhrapean edition, and the second in 2017 by the Bible Society of
Armenia. In the first edition the deuterocanonical books are included in the main canon
and the book of Sirach is placed after the Wisdom of Solomon, unlike the Zôhrapean’s
order, while in the 2017 edition the deuterocanonical books are again placed separately, at
the end of the Old Testament.
Recent developments in the study of the Armenian Bible have heightened yet again the
need for a new edition, preparation of which must address the numerous textual, theolog-
ical, and even political issues that span many editions and manuscripts. In this context, it is
of particular importance to bring together all the known manuscripts and printed editions
to establish the more or less authentic text.
The Syriac and Greek originals of the two parent texts of the earliest (fifth-century)
Armenian translation gradually became merged in their various recensions so that it is al-
most impossible to identify which part of an Armenian translation is taken from the Greek
and which part from the Syriac—to the extent that Hrač῾ya Ačar̄yan, a renowned scholar
of the twentieth century, suggests that even much of the very first translation was done not
from Syriac but from an older Greek parent text.73 Still their early origins remain undeni-
able. The spiritual and cultural significance of the Armenian translation of the Bible and its
impact is evident both in the process of the development of the Armenian language, arts,
and history as well as the shaping of the national identity.
When we speak about the Armenian translation of the Bible, unlike numerous
translations done in other languages, we mainly have in mind the translation done in the
fifth century and copied faithfully by scribes in the centuries that followed. Despite all the
recensions and editions that the Armenian canon of the Bible has been subject to, its direct
textual connection with the earliest extant scriptural sources is undeniable. It is widely ac-
cepted that the translation of the Bible into that “Queen of translations,” classical Armenian,
was the main reason and driving force behind the invention of the alphabet in the fifth
century by St. Mesrop, to overcome political pressures and support the life and faith of a
uniquely Christian people; while the varying texts of the canon over the centuries reveal a
core faithful to the earliest apostles and further enriched by scriptural texts rarely preserved
in any other place or language.
Bibliography
Astowacašownč῾ Matean Hin ew Nor Ktakaranac῾ (Etchmiadzin, 1994).
Astowacašownč῾ Girk῾ Hin ew Nor Ktakaranac῾ (Constantinople, 1892).
Astvacašunč‛ Matean Hin yev Nor Ktakaranac‛, Vol. 1–4 (ed. H. Zôhrapean, Venice, 1805).
Anasyan, H., Astvacašownč῾ matyan. Haykakan bnagir, Haykakan matenagitowt῾yown. 5–18
cc., Vol. 2 (Yerevan, 1976).
72
Astowacašownč῾ Matean Hin ew Nor Ktakaranac῾ (Etchmiadzin, 1994).
73
H. Ačar̄yan, “Sowrb Grk῾i t῾argmanowt῾yownə,” in Etchmiadzin (Etchmiadzin, 1961), pp. 19–
35 With, he considers, the exception of the books of Maccabees, which appears to have come from a
different source text.
110 Garegin Hambardzumyan
Articles
Ačar̄yan, H., “Sowrb Grk῾i t῾argmanowt῾yownə,” in Etchmiadzin (Etchmiadzin, 1961),
pp. 19–35.
Akinian, N., “Sowrb grk‛i hayerên t‛argmanowt‛iwn,” in Handes amsoreay (Tbilisi, 1935) .
Aznavowryan, Z., ark῾ Astvacašownč, in Veraberyal owsowmnasirowt῾yownner (ed. V. vrd,
Meloyan, Anthelias, 2007), pp. 163–164.
Bagratowni A. (ed.), Astvacašunč‛ Matean Hin yev Nor Ktakaranac‛ (Venice, 1860),
pp. 681–704.
Cox, C. E., “The Armenian Translation of the Bible,” in Proceedings of the Conference “Where
the Only-Begotten Descended: The Church of Armenia through the Ages,” convened at Ann
Arbor, Apr. 1–4, 2004 (ed. K. Bardakjian), <unixware.mscc.huji.ac.il/~armenia/articles/
ArmBib_tr_AnnArbor.docx> accessed June 20, 2020.
Dowrean, E. ark῾., “Noragyut glukhner Siraqa grqin hin targmanutenen,” in Sion (Jerusalem,
1927), p. 246.
Harrington, D. J., “The Old Testament Apocrypha in the Early Church and Today,” in The
Canon Debate (eds. Martin McDonald, E. J. Sanders, Baker Academic, 2019), pp. 196–210.
Karst, J., “The Armenian Version of Eusebius’ Chronicon,” American Journal of Theology, Vol
20, No. 2 (1916), pp. 295–297.
Translation of the Bible into Armenian 111
B yz antine Le c t i ona ry
M anuscrip ts a nd T h e i r
Significance for Bi bl i c a l
Textual C ri t i c i sm
Gregory S. Paulson
It is true that, like most texts, those of the New Testament writings settled
down into respectable middle age after an exciting early life. But they also
carried with them many memories of those youthful days. Thus, the editor of
the Greek New Testament has to know and understand what the Byzantine text
is in all its richness.1
Introduction
Even though lectionaries constitute roughly one- third of all extant biblical Greek
manuscripts (MSS),2 they have been largely neglected and relegated to a negligible role
within the field of textual criticism for generations.3 Why is this the case? Lectionaries con-
tain what is commonly referred to as the Byzantine text, a text form that was more or less
the authoritative Greek text read in churches in Asia Minor from the ninth to sixteenth
centuries at the height of the Byzantine MS tradition.4 Historically, the Byzantine text has
been of little significance for scholars in their efforts to establish the “original text” or the
earliest attainable text of the Bible. This is because MSS that contain the Byzantine text were
1
Parker, “New Testament Textual Traditions in Byzantium,” 32.
2
This number is tabulated from the figures in the next section (cf. nn. 24, 25, and 33).
3 Westcott and Hort state that lectionaries constitute “an accessory class of Greek MSS”
(Introduction, 76).
4 See Miller, “The Prophetologion,” 63–65.
BYZANTINE LECTIONARY MANUSCRIPTS 113
copied at a much later date than the early papyri or majuscule MSS, the MSS generally pre-
ferred by editors of critical editions.5
Entering the realm of lectionary research can admittedly be daunting, given the complex
system of readings and numerous differences among lectionaries themselves.6 This chapter
begins by explaining what is meant by the term “lectionary” in the field of Greek biblical
textual criticism and briefly discusses Septuagint (LXX) and New Testament lectionaries.
Then it explores why lectionaries, as primary representatives of the Byzantine text, have
remained largely unused by text critics and highlights the main reasons they have been
regarded as bearing little value for textual criticism. Finally, it discusses how a new para-
digm shift in textual criticism has begun to offer an elevated status to these oft-neglected
ecclesiastical witnesses, arguing that lectionaries not only serve to represent diverse strands
of the Byzantine text but also offer a unique window into how scripture has been used and
understood throughout centuries amidst the rhythms and rituals of public worship.
What Is a Lectionary?
5 Of course, there are exceptions to preferring the oldest MSS, such as the Robinson-Pierpont edition.
See Paulson, “An Investigation of the Byzantine Text of the Johannine Epistles.”
6 See Paulson, “Proposal for a Critical Edition of the Greek New Testament Lectionary.”
7 On defining “lectionary,” see Bouhot and Amphoux, “Lecture Liturgique et Critique Textuelle des
Epitres Catholiques,” 297–298; on “prophetologia,” see Engberg, “Prophetologion Manuscripts in the ‘New
Finds’ of St. Catherine’s at Sinai.” For a general discussion of liturgical books in the Constantinopolitan
rite, see Taft, “I libri liturgici;” and Alexopoulos and Anatolikiotes, “Towards a History of Printed
Liturgical Books.”
8 See Galadza, Liturgy and Byzantinization in Jerusalem.
9 In the Byzantine tradition, the synaxarion starts on Easter Sunday and ends on Holy Saturday;
the menologion starts on September 1 and ends August 31. On lectionary terminology, see Noret,
“Ménologes, Synaxaires, Ménées,” and Myshrall, “An Introduction to Lectionary 299.”
10 Von Dobschütz, “Zur Liste der NTlichen Handschriften,” 201. Cf. also Gy, “La Question du Système
des Lectures de la Liturgie Byzantine,” 261; Velkovska, “Lo Studio dei Lezionari Bizantini,” 258.
114 Gregory S. Paulson
traditions. Some lectionaries contain commemorations for saints that are unique to their
Sitz im Leben. There may also be readings from the Old Testament in an otherwise New
Testament lectionary. Some days (or perhaps most days) may not have a reading from the
menologion at all. All these diverse features contribute to the complexity of lectionary
studies. Lectionaries can be distinguished both by the calendar they are based on as well
as by the biblical contents of their readings. New Testament lectionaries—the Apostolos
(Ἀπόστολος) and Evangelion (Εὐαγγέλιον)11—were used in the Divine Liturgy and matins,
and the Septuagint Prophetologion (Προφητολόγιον)12 was used at vespers (and at Divine
Liturgy only during Lent).13 These three lectionaries14 were the primary mediums through
which the layperson heard Scripture being read aloud in Byzantium.15
11
On different names of the Εὐαγγέλιον, see Karavidopoulos, “The Origin and History of the Terms
Evageslistarion and Evangeliarion.” See also Colwell and Rife, “Special Uses of Terms in the Gospel
Lectionary.”
12 Getcha, The Typicon Decoded, 53. According to Engberg, the term “prophetologion” was invented
in the nineteenth century, possibly coined by Antonin Kapustin in his catalogs of Jerusalem and Sinai
(“Prophetologion Manuscripts in the ‘New Finds’ of St. Catherine’s at Sinai,” 94). The Prophetologion
was formerly called Ἀναγνώσεις (cf. Engberg, “The Needle and the Haystack,” 48 n. 3).
13 Petras, “The Gospel Lectionary of the Byzantine Church,” 115.
14 Only these three liturgical books can be defined as Byzantine lectionaries. See, for example, Höeg
and Zuntz, “Remarks on the Prophetologion,” 225; Engberg, “The Needle and the Haystack,” 48; Zuntz,
“Das Byzantinische Septuaginta-Lektionar,” 184. There are single volume Old Testament and New
Testament lectionaries, e.g., GA L751 and L1605, but these are uncommon.
15 Psalters, or their liturgical form, the Horologion, are not defined as lectionaries in biblical textual
criticism. Although Nestle speaks of the Psalter as a lectionary, Engberg is correct to state, “The Psalms
do not belong in the OT lectionary since in the Cathedral rite they were never recited as lections, but
formed part of the sung repertory as prokeimena, hallelouia verses etc.” Engberg, “The Prophetologion
and the Triple-Lection Theory,” 88; Nestle, Urtext und Übersetzungen der Bibel in Übersichtlicher
Darstellung, 76. On Psalters and their contents, see Parpulov, “Psalters and Personal Piety in Byzantium.”
16 Engberg, “The Prophetologion and the Triple-Lection Theory,” 90.
17 Engberg, “An Early Greek Lectionary Recovered,” 66.
18 Barrois, Scripture Readings in Orthodox Worship, 18.
19 Engberg, “Les Lectionnaires Grecs”; Rouwhorst, “Liturgical Reading,” 168.
20 Spronk, “Prophetologion and the Book of Judges,” 13.
BYZANTINE LECTIONARY MANUSCRIPTS 115
21
Discussions of the Prophetologion are not typically included in handbooks of the Septuagint.
Cf. their absence in three recent popular handbooks, Dines, The Septuagint; Tov, The Text-Critical
Use of the Septuagint in Biblical Research; and Jobes and Silva, Invitation to the Septuagint; but
the exception of Swete, An Introduction to the Old Testament in Greek, 168–170. A discussion of
lectionaries is also missing from the recent primer on Old Testament textual criticism but found in
the New Testament textual criticism portion of that book: Anderson and Widder, Textual Criticism
of the Bible.
22 Miller, “The Prophetologion,” 59.
23 Miller, “The Prophetologion,” 66 n. 29.
24 Engberg, “An Early Greek Lectionary Recovered,” 66.
25 Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen, Septuaginta-Unternehmen, <https://web.archive.org/
web/20150706055315/http://adw-goe.de/forschung/forschungsprojekte-akademienprogramm/septuagi
nta-unternehmen/>.
26 Rahlfs, Verzeichnis der griechischen Handschriften des Alten Testaments, xxvi.
27 Fraenkel, Verzeichnis der griechischen Handschriften des Alten Testaments, 464.
116 Gregory S. Paulson
and New Testament lectionaries developed simultaneously.28 The Evangelion contains four
synaxarion periods of Gospel readings in the order John, Matthew, Luke, Mark; a fifth pe-
riod comprises the copious readings of Holy Week. The Apostolos covers the rest of the New
Testament readings except for Revelation, which is not read in the Byzantine lectionary.29
There are a variety of lectionary reading schedules, from the full lectionary (le) with
readings every day of the movable church calendar to only Sunday readings (lk) (see
Figure 7.1). It is important to note that not every verse of the New Testament is offered—
even in a full New Testament lectionary—and there are some interesting omissions, for
example the reading for Pentecost (John 7:37–52; 8:12) omits the Pericope Adulterae.30
The readings in the menologion are typically less uniform than the synaxarion readings,
with the exception of the thirteen Greater Festivals, which Redus has argued are rela-
tively uniform.31 Unlike the Prophetologion, which did not play a major role in liturgy, the
Evangelion and Apostolos were featured prominently. In fact, Parpulov claims, “In the eyes
of the Byzantines, [the Gospel Lectionary] was the most important book of all.”32
The register of Greek New Testament MSS, the Gregory-Aland Kurzgefasste Liste der
griechischen Handschriften des neuen Testaments (the Liste), records more information
about lectionaries than the LXX Verzeichnis. The Liste has registered over 5,600 MSS, of
which approximately 2,400 are cataloged as lectionaries.33 The problem of clearly defining
what constitutes a lectionary is apparent in the Liste, which has tended to lack clear criteria
for adding lectionaries throughout its over one hundred-year history. Most of the regis-
tered lectionaries in the Liste are either Evangelia, Apostoloi, or both Evangelia-Apostoloi,
28 Junack, “Lectionary: Early Christian Lectionaries;” Engberg, “The Prophetologion and the Triple-
but there are a number of MSS cataloged as “Lit” meaning “other liturgical books” such as
Euchologia, Typica, Menaia, etc. Since the inception of the Liste, if a MS were a Byzantine
liturgical book but not a lectionary, the only requirement for it to be added was that it must
contain at least one reading from the New Testament in Greek.34 Another classification
within the lectionary category has been the Psalms-Odes (PsO) MSS, which often contain
the Magnificat (Lk 1:46–55) and Benedictus (Lk 1:68–79).35 Only twelve of these were regis-
tered, all entered by Gregory in his first installment of the Liste in 1908.
In recent years these categories have been reconsidered in preparation for a revised edi-
tion of the Liste. Henceforth, the “lectionaries” that are already cataloged as “Lit” or “PsO”
in the Liste will remain, but no further additions will be added to these categories. Thus,
the classifications “other liturgical books” and Psalms-Odes MSS will no longer constitute
“Greek NT lectionaries”; and hereafter only liturgical books with the synaxarion and/or
menologion will normally be added as lectionaries in the Liste.
Even though there is a distinction in the Liste between majuscule and minuscule scripts,
it is significant that there are almost the same number of lectionaries written in majus-
cule (approx. 290) as there are continuous-text majuscule MSS (approx. 320). Because most
continuous text majuscule MSS are so fragmented, there are over 5,000 more extant folia
of majuscule lectionaries (approx. 44,400) than continuous text majuscule MSS (approx.
39,100).36 Majuscule continuous text MSS have greater import for traditional textual criti-
cism because the majority of them are dated several centuries earlier than the earliest ma-
juscule lectionaries. This brings us to a discussion of how lectionaries have traditionally
been regarded within the field of textual criticism.
As I have argued elsewhere, the use of lectionaries in critical editions and research of the
Greek New Testament can generally be divided into three chronological periods.37 In the
first period, from the first printed editions (sixteenth century) to Scholz (1830), lectionaries
were generally cited in critical editions more frequently than in the subsequent period.
Critical editions during this period were not based on MSS evidence but were reprints of the
Textus Receptus, which is a form of the Byzantine text that closely resembles lectionaries.
Thus, the citation of lectionaries supported the printed text.
In 1842, however, Lachmann published the first major critical edition based on early
MSS; his apparatus looked drastically different than those before him. He no longer in-
cluded lectionaries or minuscules but only continuous-text majuscules and other earlier
sources. Therefore, this second period of lectionary use in critical editions, which lasted
34
See also Paulson, “What Is the Kurzgefasste Liste?”
35
For a discussion of the Psalms-Odes MS tradition, see Knust and Wasserman, “The Biblical Odes
and the Text of the Christian Bible.”
36 Data calculated from the NTVMR Liste, October 2020.
37 Paulson, “Proposal for a Critical Edition of the Greek New Testament Lectionary,” 122–139.
118 Gregory S. Paulson
until Merk (1933), signaled the overthrow of the Textus Receptus and lectionaries were
relegated to an “accessory class” within textual criticism.38 Since then lectionaries have
been largely dismissed as fruitless for critical editions and not worth the effort to study
because they contribute little insight into the earliest text. Although editors are often si-
lent about their decision to exclude lectionaries in critical editions, three primary reasons
can be deduced for their exclusion: their late date, the purported uniformity of their text,
and their noncontinuous text form. These characteristics made them unappealing for use
in critical editions when the purpose of the edition was to establish the earliest attain-
able text.
is characterized chiefly by lucidity and completeness. The framers of this text sought to
smooth away any harshness of language, to combine two or more divergent readings into one
expanded reading (called conflation), and to harmonize divergent parallel passages.41
However, some scholars held a more nuanced assessment of late-dated MSS. Tregelles,
following Griesbach, was convinced it was possible to find readings in younger MSS that
have preserved the oldest text—as long as these readings could be corroborated by the
earliest MSS.42 Westcott and Hort noted, “Some of these [lectionaries] have been found to
contain readings of sufficient value and interest to encourage further enquiry in what is as
yet an almost unexplored region of textual history, but not to promise considerable assis-
tance in the recovery of the apostolic text.”43 Thus, for the editors of one of the most influ-
ential editions of the Greek New Testament, lectionaries were theoretically able to transmit
valuable readings but had little worth for recovering the earliest attainable text.
As bearers of the Byzantine text, lectionaries have been easy to dismiss wholesale in tex-
tual criticism. Even though the date and number of extant lectionaries is comparable to
minuscules, other features of their text and composition contributed to their overall disre-
gard in scholarship.
38
Westcott and Hort, Introduction, 76.
39
Aland and Aland, Text of the NT, 83, 103.
40
Riddle, The Use of Lectionaries in Critical Editions,” 67.
41
Metzger, Textual Commentary, 7*. Cf. Metzger and Ehrman, Text of the New Testament, 279–280.
42
Tregelles, An Account of the Printed Text of the Greek New Testament, 175–177.
43
Westcott and Hort, Introduction, 76–77.
BYZANTINE LECTIONARY MANUSCRIPTS 119
Textual Uniformity
The biblical text of lectionaries had generally been regarded as uniform; hence, one lec-
tionary would not offer anything fundamentally new when compared with another. About
the text of the Prophetologion, Höeg and Zuntz state, “The first general impression is a great
uniformity in the MS tradition.”44 This holds true even when the rest of the MS tradition
is not uniform at a given passage, e.g., Gen 1:11; Num 24:7; Mich 5:1; Isa 35:7.45 They stated,
“On the background of the general instability of the Septuagint tradition, it is indeed sur-
prising to find long lessons with practically no variants in the MSS.”46 Höeg and Zuntz were
thus able to infer the text of the Prophetologion based on select test passages since the text
was so reliably consistent. They produced a major critical edition of the Prophetologion
(1939–1970) to explore Byzantine philology and the history of Old Testament tradition.47
Even though a summation of their results was never written,48 their critical edition did not
indicate that the text of the Prophetologion was valuable for establishing the earliest text.
One of the formidable problems of the biblical MS tradition is its complexity. For the New
Testament MS tradition, a major series of investigations, published as Text und Textwert
(TuT) in the Arbeiten zur neutestamentlichen Textforschung (ANTF) series, was carried
out to determine the percentage of agreement between MSS. The editors included all extant
New Testament MSS in these investigations, except for lectionaries, which were excluded
due to their assumed uniformity. As Wachtel explains, “For the lectionaries it is not nec-
essary to run the full program [i.e., to include them in TuT], because fewer test passages
are necessary to check whether they contain the standard late Byzantine text.”49 Equally
disappointing was von Soden’s justification for omitting New Testament lectionaries from
his major work: “Sodann war zu besorgen, dass die Textgeschichte der Lektionarien unter
Umständen ihre eigenen Wege ging, und so ihre Herbeiziehung ebenso leicht das Bild
verwirren als aufhellen könnte.”50
Even though TuT and von Soden are two of the best resources to see MSS categorized
according to their textual agreement, both decided to omit lectionaries in their
investigations. The TuT studies did so because the editors believed the lectionary text was
mostly homogeneous, whereas von Soden saw the lectionary text as of secondary impor-
tance to the continuous text, with more potential complications than benefits. The exclu-
sion of lectionaries from these influential scholarly resources constituted a major setback
for lectionary research.
44
Höeg and Zuntz, “Remarks on the Prophetologion,” 200.
45
Höeg and Zuntz, “Remarks on the Prophetologion,” 200–202.
46 Höeg and Zuntz, “Remarks on the Prophetologion,” 200. Elsewhere Zuntz states, “Die
überraschende Festigkeit des Textes macht es möglich, auf Grund von zehn bis fünfzehn Hss. eine
verläßliche Darstellung desselben, samt seinen— wenig zahlreichen— charakteristischen Varianten,
zu geben” (“Der Antinoe Papyrus der Proverbia und das Prophetologion,” 125). Cf. also Metzger,
Manuscripts of the Greek Bible, 116.
47 Höeg and Zuntz, “Remarks on the Prophetologion,” 225–226.
48 Engberg, “The Prophetologion and the Triple-Lection Theory,” 88–89.
49 Wachtel, “The History and Principles of the Latest Nestle-Aland Edition,” 11.
50 von Soden, Die Schriften des Neuen Testaments, 19–20.
120 Gregory S. Paulson
Noncontinuous Text
In addition to the assumptions that lectionaries had a late text and were textually uniform,
editors evinced further biases against lectionaries’ noncontinuous text form. Because the
lectionary’s organization grew out of the exigencies of being read aloud in church services,
the text form itself was seen as a secondary development. These MSS no longer bore the orig-
inal organization of the text, and it makes sense that MSS in this form would often have been
copied from other lectionaries rather than from continuous-text MSS, as Parker stated in
1997.51 Thus, the text form found in the lectionary tradition is farther removed from the orig-
inal text form, and the scholarly consensus was that the lectionary tradition had continued
on its own path, separate from continuous text MSS, yet still Byzantine in textual character.
This secondary form may also have posed practical complications for editing a contin-
uous text edition, as editors had to decide how to cite lectionaries in the apparatus when
a passage is missing and/or when a passage is recorded multiple times. It is not accurate
to state a lectionary “omits” a passage in the same way a continuous text MS might omit a
phrase or verse through homoeoteleuton, nor does a lectionary contain dittography when
a verse is repeated on a different day the way a continuous-text MS might repeat a line of
text. These logistical difficulties made citing noncontinuous text lectionaries in an appa-
ratus cumbersome and likely less appealing as witnesses to be cited in a critical edition.
While editors of critical editions did not usually explain why they excluded lectionaries
in critical editions, I have described three of the most probable reasons for their omission.
Lectionaries are dated later than the early MSS, which were preferred for recovering the
earliest attainable text. Lectionaries were seen as mostly uniform: to examine one was to
have essentially examined them all. Finally, they were deemed farther removed from the
original text due to their noncontinuous text form. Because of these reasons, lectionaries
were unappealing for use in critical editions, especially when the editors already had—as
von Soden claimed—an abundance of evidence from other witnesses to consider.52
We have now explored why lectionaries were omitted historically from critical editions, but
the story does not end there. Although changes have been long in the making, we now find
ourselves in a third era of lectionary research.53 This era essentially began in 1932, when
Colwell founded the Chicago Lectionary Project, which produced a useful volume of pre-
liminary studies and a number of dissertations devoted to the study of the New Testament
lectionary. This wave of fresh lectionary studies occurred while biblical textual criticism
was undergoing a shift in how the field understands its primary objective. The discipline
51
Parker, The Living Text, 109.
52
von Soden, Die Schriften des Neuen Testaments, 19–20.
53
Paulson, “Proposal for a Critical Edition of the Greek New Testament Lectionary.”
BYZANTINE LECTIONARY MANUSCRIPTS 121
that had focused almost exclusively on establishing the “original” text now began to value
all readings as a way to understand “the history and cultural context of the individuals
and communities that transmitted (and, occasionally, created)” these texts.54 Read-
Heimerdinger depicts this paradigm shift as,
a move among textual critics away from the search for the “original” text to the consideration
of individual manuscripts, translations, citations, and liturgical collections as witnesses to a
text that was being adapted to the circumstances of the communities for whom they were
created—an adaptation that can be understood not as a falsification or distortion but as a
genuine modification intended to make the text meaningful to the new recipients. While
some would still confer special authority on the reconstruction of what they believe to be the
oldest form of the text (the ‘initial text’ of the Nestle–Aland edition), others focus attention
more on the historical insights into the development of the Church provided by the texts in
active service among the communities.55
In this new period, Byzantine lectionary MSS are valued not only for reconstructing the
earliest attainable text, but because they offer a unique window into Byzantine Christianity.
Spronk is indicative of this new perspective when he says the Prophetologion has an “ad-
mittedly marginal” use for LXX textual research, but rather has more importance for un-
derstanding “sacred texts within their liturgical context.”56 In what follows, I describe how
Byzantine lectionaries are valuable for the new era of textual criticism in spite of their late
date, perceived uniformity, and noncontinuous text form.
54
Holmes, “From ‘Original Text’ to ‘Initial Text,’ ” 638.
55
Read-Heimerdinger, review of Liturgy and the Living Text of the New Testament, 877.
56 Spronk, “Prophetologion and the Book of Judges,” 13.
57 This theory was developed in the works of Wachtel. For example, see Wachtel on the revaluation of
Testament.”
59 For an introduction to the CBGM, see Mink, “The Coherence-
Based Genealogical Method
(CBGM)—Introductory Presentation.”
122 Gregory S. Paulson
of witnesses to make word by word (or phrase by phrase) comparisons of texts and tallies
percentages of agreement (called pre-genealogical coherence). At every variant passage, a
local stemma of texts is created by the editors, which forms a hypothesis about which texts
descended from other texts. After the local stemmata are created at every variant passage,
a descendant/ancestor relationship is formed between all witnesses (called genealogical co-
herence). All this data can be accessed online in Genealogical Queries, which is used by
the ECM editors to help establish the initial text.60 To help assess the information, ECM
editors have developed a number of guidelines. One reads, “A strong argument for assessing
a variant as initial text is provided by an attestation which combines coherence and a broad
range of diverse witnesses closely related to A [i.e., the Ausgangstext].”61 This “broad range of
diverse witnesses” naturally includes the Byzantine text, which includes lectionaries.
The ECM of Acts established a text different from the NA28 in fifty-two passages. Many
of these changes shifted away from the long-cherished papyri and early majuscules to the
Byzantine text. For example, in Acts 16:17/2-4, the text of the NA28 reads αὕτη κατακολουθοῦσα,
witnessed by P45, P74, 01, 03, 05, et al. The ECM editors decided instead to adopt the reading
αὕτη κατακολουθήσασα as witnessed by the Byzantine text, including all lectionaries that were
selected for the edition.62 The evidence for the priority of the Byzantine reading at this variant
unit is (1) the good coherence of the Byzantine witnesses (see Figure 7.2) and (2) the aorist tense
makes more sense in context than the present.63
This assertion that lectionaries should be included among “a broad range of diverse
witnesses” was also postulated years earlier by Bouhot and Amphoux:
We see another paradigm shift when it comes to the notion that late MSS can possess
an early reading, as long as the reading is also attested by early MSS. It has now been
argued in the ECM that some passages in the Byzantine text do, in fact, contain the
earliest reading, although these readings are not witnessed in the earliest MSS. This ob-
servation has opened the door for lectionaries to be witnesses of the earliest text. As
mentioned earlier, the Byzantine text is known for having accumulated smooth readings,
which were the result of continual modifications over time. The editors of the ECM Acts
created a new guideline that paved the way for isolating readings with a claim to origi-
nality within the Byzantine text, noting, “The priority of a majority reading is indicated if
60 Genealogical Queries tools can be accessed here for Catholic Letters: <http://intf.uni-muenster.de/
supplement: L23, L60, L156, L156S, L587, L809, L1178, L1188, L1188S, L1825, L2010. Cf. ECM Acts, 2:5–15.
63 Cf. Wachtel, “Text-Critical Commentary,” 24–25.
64 Bouhot and Amphoux, “Lecture Liturgique et Critique Textuelle des Epitres Catholiques,” 306.
BYZANTINE LECTIONARY MANUSCRIPTS 123
Figure 7.2 Coherence in attestations showing good coherence for αὕτη κατακολουθήσασα
in Acts 16:17/2–4.
it is linguistically more difficult or contextually less suitable and thus atypical of the ma-
jority text.”65 When the Byzantine tradition offers a reading that is more difficult (but still
sensical) than earlier MSS, this implies that the Byzantine MSS have preserved the earlier,
more difficult reading. Again, Bouhot and Amphoux were already on the right track with
a similar observation, “Les péricopes liturgiques peuvent provenir de témoins archaïques
du Nouveau Testament ou même de descendants d’états du texte antérieurs à la formation
du recueil canonique.”66
The ECM editors have now put into practice what Bouhot and Amphoux theorized years
earlier—that late MSS can contain a reading from descendants of witnesses that are prior
to early MSS. We can see this in Acts 5:33/12, when the Sanhedrin either became furious
(ἐβούλοντο: P74, 02, 03, et al.) or deliberated (ἐβουλεύοντο: 01, 05, and Byzantine text)
and wanted to execute the Apostles. Metzger tries to account for the Byzantine reading
using transcriptional probabilities, stating that ἐβουλεύοντο arose from “scribal blunder.”67
Wachtel, in contrast, rightly asserts that “Neither the context nor the graphical environment
of -ευ-would, however, explain such a slip.”68 The CBGM can assist here by displaying co-
herence between the texts of these MSS. Genealogical Queries elucidates that witnesses
65
Gäbel et al., “The CBGM Applied to Variants from Acts Methodological Background,” 3.
66
Bouhot and Amphoux, “Lecture Liturgique et Critique Textuelle des Epitres Catholiques,” 307.
67
Metzger, Textual Commentary, 291.
68
Wachtel, “Text-Critical Commentary,” 12.
124 Gregory S. Paulson
Figure 7.3 Coherence in attestations showing poor coherence for ἐβούλοντο in Acts
5:33/12.
containing the reading ἐβούλοντο are close descendants of witnesses that read ἐβουλεύοντο
(see Figure 7.3).69
Coherence between witnesses of ἐβούλοντο is not good, while there is “perfect”70 co-
herence between witnesses of ἐβουλεύοντο. These factors suggest that the Byzantine main-
stream ἐβουλεύοντο is actually the initial text; all lectionaries selected for the edition
contain this reading, meaning they—not the traditionally preferred earliest MSS—preserve
the initial text. Thus, in this third era of lectionary use, a late date is no longer a criterion for
excluding a MS from consideration as a witness to the initial text when the earliest MSS do
not also corroborate the reading.
Textual Uniformity
Questions still remain about whether the lectionary text is really so similar that a few
individual lectionaries can serve to faithfully represent the whole lectionary tradition.
Höeg and Zuntz concluded that the Prophetologion offered consistent agreement amid
varied places, but this was based on test passages and still needs to be verified with full
transcriptions.71 Concerning New Testament lectionaries, there is now a trend toward
recognizing more diversity among lectionaries and general agreement that even though
lectionaries can be grouped together by text, not all lectionaries constitute a monolithic
textual group.72 As Gibson states for lectionaries of Acts, “there is no single textual tra-
jectory from lectionary witness to lectionary witness. Rather, the lectionary text of Acts
reflects the whole range of the Byzantine tradition, presenting early and late subvariants
and occasionally following earlier textual traditions.”73 Likewise, Riddle believed that
Evangelia contain a “strata where they have a totally different type of text [than the Textus
Receptus]; there are areas where they agree with one another against the received text.”74
While his conclusions were based on test passages, there has been headway by way of
69
Cf. <https://ntg.uni-muenster.de/acts/ph4/coherence/1201>.
70
Wachtel, “Text-Critical Commentary,” 12.
71 For example, they identify a textual group of South-Italian Prophetologia (Flor. Plut. IX, 15; Vat.
Reg. 75; Crypt. A δ 2), which is especially apparent in Judges 6:36–40 (Höeg and Zuntz, “Remarks on the
Prophetologion,” 198).
72 See especially Wachtel, “Early Variants in the Byzantine Gospels.”
73 Gibson, “Theological Titles in the Greek Lectionary of Acts,” 195.
74 Riddle, “The Character of the Lectionary Text of Mark,” 21.
BYZANTINE LECTIONARY MANUSCRIPTS 125
2280
Number of passages
1399 1402
592 554
392 445
345 260
30 5 0
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Number of lectionaries agreeing together
the CBGM, which uses a comprehensive apparatus based on full transcriptions. Looking
at the General Textual Flow diagram (with A and Z added) in Genealogical Queries for
Acts, we can see one group of lectionaries with L23 as the potential ancestor and L156,
L587, L809, and L1825 (and L156S) as its descendants. When we consider L60, L1188,
L1188S, L1178, and L2010, however, each has a completely different nonlectionary MS as
its closest potential ancestor. Thus, the lectionary tradition of Acts does not depict overall
textual uniformity.75
A similar pattern is observed in the Gospel of Mark.76 There are only thirty variants in
ECM Mark (out of over 5,700 variant passages composed of over 22,000 variants) where
all ten lectionaries that were selected for the ECM of Mark agree together (see Figure 7.4).77
This data clearly refutes the long-held assumption that lectionaries form a single homoge-
neous group. If they did evince such textual uniformity, we would expect a higher rate of
agreement.
Noncontinuous Text
As stated earlier, the noncontinuous text form of lectionaries has been a hinderance for
their use in textual criticism since their text form was seen as secondary and did not align
sequentially with the majority of MSS. This unique characteristic, however, has now been
embraced within the “new” textual criticism as scholars endeavor to plumb the depths of the
75 This is also true concerning Coptic MSS, as Schulz says, “there is no evidence in the Sahidic textual
tradition of the New Testament for a specific lectionary text” (“Evidence for a Lectionary Text in Sahidic
Coptic,” 218).
76 The ECM editors selected ten lectionaries for the CBGM for Mark, two of which have a
supplement: L60, L211, L387, L547, L547S, L563, L563S, L770, L773, L844, L950, L2211. Cf. ECM Mark.
77 A list of all lectionaries at their variant units in Mark are found at: <http://intf.uni-muenster.de/
whole MS tradition and try to discover more about the social milieu of those who used the
text.78 Lectionaries are uniquely poised to shine light on numerous aspects of Byzantium.
For example, Kniazeff interprets the theological, historical, and pedagogical meaning of the
inclusion and arrangement of lections and highlights the importance of the Old Testament
lections for “l’Histoire sainte” of the church.79 The study of the Prophetologion is useful in
its own right, not directly related to textual criticism as it has been traditionally envisioned.
Theories and answers to the Prophetologion’s origins,80 development,81 and discontinuation
may shed light on church history and the liturgical use of scripture. The same can be said
for New Testament lectionaries.82
Studying the noncontinuous text form has also proven useful in recent years for
establishing MSS relationships. As Burns showed, GA 490 and L574 belong to the
group of MSS known as the Ferrar group (Family 13) since their lection systems are in
alignment.83
While it has long been understood that the noncontinuous format can explain the rise
of certain variants in continuous text MSS, this can be easily seen in the ECM Catholic
Letters. Creating a noncontinuous format necessitated introductory phrases called incipits,
which were added at the outset of each lection. Since incipits are clearly later additions, all
indications of them had typically been left out of critical editions. With the ECM Catholic
Letters, the editors included a useful feature, the siglum Λ, in the critical apparatus to iden-
tify this specific occurrence.84 This is evident in 1 John, for example, where there are six
synaxarion readings beginning with “αδελφοι” and all but one of these were copied into
continuous text MSS.85 In the most minimalistic sense, lectionaries have the potential to
explain variants that have arisen from liturgical use, which can often happen when contin-
uous text MSS copy lectionary incipits.
Likewise, indications of the synaxarion or menologion systems were usually omitted from
critical editions because the day of a certain reading was inconsequential for establishing
the initial text.86 Because critical editions have lacked such lectionary details, users were
not given the opportunity to familiarize themselves with lectionaries or encounter their
unique composition and arrangement. The IGNTP Luke edition, however, included such
information to assist the user in finding their way through the peculiarities of lectionaries.
An apparatus of synaxarion and menologion lections was included along with the incipit
text and notifications of lectionary differences.87
Within biblical textual criticism, there is now a better understanding that noncontinuous
text forms can not only illuminate early church practices and interpretation of Scripture
but also help to determine MS relationships and offer evidence for the creation of variants.
78
Cf. Caulley, “The ‘New’ Textual Criticism.”
79
Kniazeff, “La Lecture de l’Ancien et du Nouveau Testament dans le Rite Byzantin.”
80 Engberg, “An Early Greek Lectionary Recovered,” 70.
81 Getcha, The Typicon Decoded, 53.
82 Cf. Bouhot and Amphoux, “Lecture Liturgique et Critique Textuelle des Epitres Catholiques,” 306.
83 Burns, “Newly Discovered F13 MS and Ferrar Lection System.” Duplacy asked this question twelve
Conclusion
This chapter has described the various roles that Byzantine lectionaries (i.e., Prophetologion,
Evangelion, Apostolos) have played throughout the centuries within biblical textual criti-
cism. Starting in the sixteenth century, critical editions consisted of reprints of the Textus
Receptus, and lectionaries were cited with ease since they reflected the main text. After the
Textus Receptus was overthrown and the text was instead based on early MSS, lectionaries
were also jettisoned from the critical apparatus. I have outlined three likely reasons for their
expulsion. First, their late date was seen as hindering their ability to carry an early text,
especially considering there were enough MSS to choose from that were dated centuries
earlier. Second, the lectionary text was regarded as mostly uniform so that consideration
of a minimal number of lectionaries was sufficient to represent the whole tradition. Third,
the noncontinuous text format was farther removed from the original organization of the
text and served as another indicator of lectionaries’ secondary status. Due to these factors
(and likely others), lectionaries were regarded as having little value for reconstructing the
earliest text of the Bible and were left out of critical editions in favor of earlier, continuous
text MSS.
The twentieth century witnessed a rekindled interest in the study of lectionaries, and we
now find ourselves in a new era of textual criticism in which their role has become more
valued and nuanced. Scholars have come to appreciate that a late date does not necessarily
mean a late text is found therein; rather later MSS add to the diversity of text attestations.
With new tools for comparing MS relationships like the CBGM, researchers are able to
scrutinize the notion of textual uniformity and have discovered both distinct groups of
lectionaries as well as single lectionaries that are closely aligned with groups of continuous
text MSS. The noncontinuous format of lectionaries has enabled scholars to identify textual
groups and unique textual variants and has shed new light on the MS tradition and the con-
ception of scripture within Byzantine Christianity.
While positive strides have been made within lectionary research, several areas for fur-
ther study are apparent here. Continued testing of the theory that lectionaries—as part of
the Byzantine text—contain readings prior to the oldest MSS is needed (particularly for the
Prophetologia, since this has not yet begun). Further exploration of textual groups based
on full transcriptions is also desired, especially since only a small percentage of lectionaries
were included in the ECM. Inclusion of more information about the lectionary systems in
critical editions would also be key to inform users of their noncontinuous composition and
contents. A critical edition of the Greek New Testament lectionary is still a desideratum
in textual criticism,88 and more research into the origins and development of the lection
system is needed, particularly what role majuscule New Testament lectionaries have played
or the relationship between Lucianic MSS and the Prophetologion.89
In closing, there is little doubt that lectionaries played an integral part in the life of the
church and the development of the biblical text. Lectionaries, as bearers of the Byzantine
text, offer unique glimpses into how the church in Byzantium understood and used
88
Cf. Paulson, “Proposal for a Critical Edition of the Greek New Testament Lectionary.”
89
Höeg and Zuntz, “Remarks on the Prophetologion,” 213.
128 Gregory S. Paulson
Scripture throughout the centuries in public worship. The field of textual criticism has only
begun to mine the riches of these biblical artifacts and discover therein a distinctive lens
into the Byzantine church, those who worshiped there and how they understood and expe-
rienced Scripture.
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from the Tenth Birmingham Colloquium on the Textual Criticism of the New Testament, ed-
ited by H.A.G. Houghton.” Journal of Theological Studies 71, no. 2 (2020): 876–877.
Redus, Morgan Ward. “The Text of the Major Festivals of the Menologion in the Greek Gospel
Lectionary.” PhD diss., University of Chicago, 1935.
Riddle, Donald W. “The Character of the Lectionary Text of Mark in the Week-Days of
Matthew and Luke.” In Studies in the Lectionary Text of the Greek New Testament, Vol.
1: Prolegomena to the Study of the Lectionary Text of the Gospels, edited by Ernest Cadman
Colwell and Donald W. Riddle, 21–42. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1933.
Riddle, Donald W. “The Use of Lectionary Manuscripts in Critical Editions and Studies of
the New Testament Text.” In Studies in the Lectionary Text of the Greek New Testament, Vol.
1: Prolegomena to the Study of the Lectionary Text of the Gospels, edited by Ernest Cadman
Colwell and Donald W. Riddle, 67–77. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1933.
Rouwhorst, Gerard. “The Liturgical Reading of the Bible in Early Eastern Christianity: The
Protohistory of the Byzantine Lectionary.” In Catalogue of Byzantine Manuscripts in Their
Liturgical Context, subsidia 1: Challenges and Perspectives, edited by Klaas Spronk, Gerard
Rouwhorst, and Stefan Royé, 155–171. Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2013.
Schulz, Matthias H.O. “Is There Evidence for a Lectionary Text in Sahidic Coptic?” In Liturgy
and the Living Text of the New Testament: Papers from the Tenth Birmingham Colloquium
on the Textual Criticism of the New Testament, edited by H.A.G. Houghton, 197–224.
Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2018.
Spronk, Klaas. “The Prophetologion and the Book of Judges.” Journal of the Orthodox Center
for the Advancement of Biblical Studies 6, no. 1 (2013): 9–15.
Swete, Henry Barclay. An Introduction to the Old Testament in Greek, revised by Richard
Rusden Ottley, with an appendix containing the Letter of Aristeas, edited by J. Thackeray.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1902.
Taft, Robert F. “I Libri Liturgici.” In Lo Spazio Letterario del Medioevo, 3: Le Culture Circostanti,
vol. 1. La Cultura Bizantina, edited by G. Cavallo, 229–256. Rome: Salerno Editrice, 2003.
Tov, Emanuel. The Text-Critical Use of the Septuagint in Biblical Research. 3rd ed. Winona
Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015.
Tregelles, Samuel Prideaux. An Account of the Printed Text of the Greek New Testament with
Remarks on Its Revision upon Critical Principles. London: Samuel Bagster and Sons, 1854.
van Lopik, Teunis. “Some Notes on the Pericope Adulterae in Byzantine Liturgy.” In Liturgy
and the Living Text of the New Testament: Papers from the Tenth Birmingham Colloquium on
132 Gregory S. Paulson
the Textual Criticism of the New Testament, edited by H.A.G. Houghton, 151–176. Piscataway,
NJ: Gorgias Press, 2018.
Velkovska, Elena. “Lo Studio dei Lezionari Bizantini.” Ecclesia Orans 13 (1996): 253–271.
von Dobschütz, Ernst. “Zur Liste der NTlichen Handschriften.” Zeitschrift für die
neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 32, no. 2 (1933): 185–206.
von Soden, Hermann Freiherr. Die Schriften des Neuen Testaments in Ihrer Ältesten Erreichbaren
Textgestalt Hergestellt auf Grund Ihrer Textgeschichte. Part 1: Untersuchungen. Section I: Die
Textzeugen. 2nd ed. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1911.
Wachtel, Klaus. “Early Variants in the Byzantine Gospels.” In Transmission and Reception: New
Testament Text-Critical and Exegetical Studies, edited by J.W. Childers and D.C. Parker, 28–
47. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2006.
Wachtel, Klaus. “The History and Principles of the Latest Nestle-Aland Edition.” Paper
presented at the International Bible Forum, Tokyo, Japan, May 2006.
Wachtel, Klaus. “Notes on the Text of the Acts of the Apostles.” In Novum Testamentum
Graecum Editio Critica Maior, Vol. III: Acts of the Apostles, edited by Holger Strutwolf,
Georg Gäbel, Annette Hüffmeier, Gerd Mink, and Klaus Wachtel, part 1.1: Text, 28*–33*.
Stuttgart: German Bible Society, 2017.
Wachtel, Klaus. “Text-Critical Commentary.” In Novum Testamentum Graecum Editio Critica
Maior, vol. III: Acts of the Apostles, edited by Holger Strutwolf, Georg Gäbel, Annette
Hüffmeier, Gerd Mink, and Klaus Wachtel, part 3: Studies, 1–38. Stuttgart: German Bible
Society, 2017.
Westcott, B.F., and F.J.A. Hort. Introduction to the New Testament in the Original Greek [2,]
Introduction [and] Appendix. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1882.
Zuntz, Günther. “Der Antinoe Papyrus der Proverbia und das Prophetologion.” Zeitschrift für
die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 68, no. 1 (1956): 124–184.
Zuntz, Günther. “Das Byzantinische Septuaginta-Lektionar (‘Prophetologion’).” Classica et
Mediaevalia 17 (1956): 183–198.
Chapter 8
Introduction
The New Testament is by some margin the most widely attested text of antiquity. The
latest standard catalog of Greek New Testament manuscripts1 lists more than 5,600 textual
witnesses, ranging from small papyrus fragments to the sixty or so manuscripts containing
the New Testament in its entirety. To this figure must be added the even greater number of
manuscripts, particularly in Latin, that preserve ancient translations of the New Testament,
and that are in some cases older than most of the extant Greek manuscripts.
Since all of these manuscripts were (by definition) copied by hand, they inevitably differ
in many places: indeed, the overall number of differences, known as textual variants, in the
Greek manuscripts of the New Testament has been calculated to be as much as 500 thou-
sand.2 The majority of these variants are of minor interest (and the figure quoted does not
even include things like spelling differences, slips of the pen, and so on), but a substantial
number reflect more significant differences that arose either accidentally or deliberately
in the course of transmission. The study of these variants forms the subject matter of New
Testament textual criticism.
Awareness of, and interest in, the variant readings found in the text of the New Testament
goes back a long way. In her doctoral dissertation of 2009,3 Amy Donaldson documented
1 Kurt Aland, Kurzgefasste Liste der Griechischen Handschriften des Neuen Testaments. The Liste is
kept up to date in electronic form (with both new additions and additional information about existing
entries) at http://ntvmr.uni-muenster.de/liste.
2 Peter J. Gurry, “The Number of Variants in the Greek New Testament: A Proposed Estimate,” 113.
3 Amy Donaldson, Explicit References to New Testament Variant Readings among Greek and Latin
Fathers.
134 Simon Crisp
more than 120 units of variation.4 For example, several Fathers (Apollinaris, Pseudo-
Athanasius, Augustine, Jerome, and Origen) comment on the presence or absence in the
manuscripts at Matt. 5.22 of the word εικη (“without cause”).5 Their interest is primarily
theological (the context being whether anger can ever be justified), but their discussions
testify to their knowledge of textual variation in the manuscript tradition, and to the serious
attention they paid to this matter.
Several centuries passed before the question of textual variation in the New Testament
was taken up once again in a more systematic way. The context for this was provided by the
cultural transformations in Europe ushered in by the Renaissance and the Reformation.
The culture of the Renaissance was founded to a large extent on the study of texts. The
rediscovery of classical learning meant an explosion of interest in the writings of the
classical period, and the reduced dominance of a narrower form of scholasticism controlled
by the medieval Church. One of the revolutionary developments of the Renaissance was
the idea that religious works could be studied in the same way as any other texts, using
methodologies common to other humanist disciplines rather than a single approach
imposed by the Church.
In the case of the Bible, this more independent approach was reinforced by the Protestant
Reformation. The idea that the reading and interpretation of the Scriptures could be a per-
sonal and private matter, rather than laid down within an ecclesiastical context, may be said
to have led directly to the historical-critical method of biblical exegesis, and to scholarly crit-
ical editions of the text itself. It is no coincidence that the first modern edition of the text of
the Greek New Testament was published by the renowned Renaissance scholar Desiderius
Erasmus in 1516, while Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of the Wittenberg Castle
church in October of the following year (widely seen as the beginning of the Reformation).
Erasmus’s edition of the Greek New Testament, undertaken primarily as a support for his
new Latin translation rather than as an enterprise in its own right, was based on a small se-
lection of half a dozen late manuscripts to which he happened to have personal access—and
even then he resorted to translating from Latin back into Greek for some verses (especially
in Revelation) where he had no Greek text in the manuscripts at his disposal. Moreover,
Erasmus’s primary interest was not textual variation in the Greek text, and he did not in-
clude in his edition anything that we would today recognize as a critical apparatus (al-
though among his voluminous other writings there are several discussions of text-critical
matters). In any case, his edition of the Greek text became increasingly influential, to the
extent that it acquired the name of Textus Receptus (“text received/accepted by all”)6 and
dominated study of the Greek New Testament for several centuries. It also served as the
base text for many important translations of the New Testament, including the King James
Version in English.7
4 The units are listed (without differentiating Greek and Latin authors) on pages 342–
343 of the
dissertation, and are then individually presented in detail in a 200-page “Catalogue.”
5 Donaldson, References, 348–353.
6 For an account of how this came about, see Bruce M. Metzger and Bart D. Ehrman, The Text of the
New Testament: Its Transmission, Corruption and Restoration, 152, and especially note 36.
7 For details of Erasmus’s text-
critical work, see the special issue of The Bible Translator, vol. 67,
no. 1 (2016), especially the contribution by J.K. Elliott, “’Novum Testamentum editum est’: The Five-
Hundredth Anniversary of Erasmus’s New Testament.”
Past and Current Trends in New Testament Textual Criticism 135
Over the next centuries we may observe a gradual process: First, an ever-increasing
number of variants in the Greek text were documented (usually in the form of a more
or less extensive critical apparatus); and second, the Textus Receptus itself was gradually
replaced with a new running text formed by analysis of the variants.8 What may in some
sense be considered the culmination of this process was reached with the publication in
1881 of “The New Testament in the Original Greek”9 by the Cambridge scholars Westcott
and Hort.10 Westcott and Hort’s edition was innovative precisely in the sense that they
provided a new running text (and not a critical apparatus),11 a text moreover based on
a clear and consistent methodology, which systematically outlined a series of text-crit-
ical rules and also included a division of the mass of manuscript witnesses to the text
into four recensions or text families (Syrian, Western, Alexandrian, and Neutral).12 The
names of some of these text families changed more than once in the years that followed
(which can make the terminology rather confusing) but from the perspective of this
chapter there are two key features of Westcott and Hort’s approach that should be partic-
ularly borne in mind: First, enormous weight was given to what they called the Neutral
text (essentially the text of the two great majuscule manuscripts Codex Sinaiticus and
Codex Vaticanus) in establishing the base text of their edition; and second, what they
called the Syrian (now more commonly known as Byzantine) text was considered to be
a later revision and therefore of secondary importance. Both of these matters became a
kind of “received wisdom” as New Testament text-critical studies developed in the twen-
tieth century, but (as we shall see) both have been increasingly subjected to criticism in
recent times.
At the end of the nineteenth century an edition of the Greek New Testament appeared
which was to become hugely influential over the following decades. Under the editorship of
Eberhard Nestle the Novum Testamentum Graece was published in 1898 by the Württemberg
Bible Society in Germany. Over the years the edition underwent changes in methodology,
from following existing printed editions (with a small critical apparatus of variant readings)
to being based directly on the manuscripts themselves; there were also several changes of
editor (from Eberhard Nestle to his son Erwin, then to Kurt Aland, and subsequently to an
editorial committee composed of eminent scholars in the field). The Novum Testamentum
Graece (more commonly known as “Nestle-Aland” [NA] after its most prominent editors)
has now reached its twenty-eighth edition (2012) and is undoubtedly the most widely used
edition of the Greek New Testament in scholarly circles.
In the 1950s the American scholar and translation specialist Eugene Nida initiated,
under the aegis of the American Bible Society, a project for a new edition of the Greek
8 See Dirk Jongkind, “The Text and Lexicography of the New Testament in the Eighteenth and
Nineteenth Centuries.”
9 Of course, this title is accurate in the sense that the New Testament was indeed originally written in
Greek, but the larger implicit claim that the critical text itself constitutes in some real sense the original
text, has nevertheless stuck.
10 A recent account of the history of this important edition is Peter J. Gurry, “‘A Book Worth
Publishing’: The Making of Westcott and Hort’s Greek New Testament (1881).”
11 The second volume of their edition did contain a lengthy appendix, “Notes on Select Readings,” in
Contemporary Issues
13
Michael W. Holmes (ed), The Greek New Testament: SBL Edition. Dirk Jongkind (ed), The Greek
New Testament Produced at Tyndale House Cambridge.
14 Apart from the websites of major libraries and other holding institutions, the digital images of
most New Testament manuscripts are gathered together by the Center for the Study of New Testament
Manuscripts (http://www.csntm.org/manuscripts-101/), which has an extensive program of digital
photography, and especially in the New Testament Virtual Manuscript Room of the Institute for NT
Textual Research at the University of Münster (http://ntvmr.uni-muenster.de/home).
15 J.K. Elliott, “Recent Trends in the Textual Criticism of the New Testament: A New Millennium, a
now used to create new critical editions depend on complete manuscript transcriptions as
the raw material for their processing.
Computer Tools
The easy accessibility of New Testament manuscripts in the form of digital images, and
the growth in the number of complete transcriptions of these manuscripts, has been
accompanied by the development of increasingly sophisticated computer programs
allowing analysis of this mass of material. The most influential of these is known as
the Coherence- Based Genealogical Method (CBGM), developed at the Institut für
Neutestamentliche Textforschung in Münster (Germany). This rather forbidding title
actually communicates the key elements of this approach, namely that it is (like its
predecessors) a genealogical method, although it differs from traditional genealog-
ical approaches by focusing on the relationship between texts rather than between
manuscripts, and that it is based on a rigorous understanding of coherence, both in the
degree of closeness between individual text witnesses (pre-genealogical coherence) and
in the direction of the relationship between them (genealogical coherence). While the
actual decisions about coherence are made by the investigator on the basis of normal
text-critical criteria, the computer enables the scholar to keep track of the mass of ma-
terial and the decisions made, thus allowing the process of identifying coherence to be
iteratively refined and gradually building up a picture of the wider relationships between
witnesses. In this way the CBGM allows the investigator both to keep track of an enor-
mous amount of material and to progressively refine the decisions made, while at the
same time addressing the crucial problem of contamination in the process of transmis-
sion (the copying of manuscripts from more than one source, which plays such a critical
role in the New Testament manuscript tradition).16
16 A valuable entry-level to the CBGM (with a commented bibliography of the primary literature)
is Tommy Wasserman and Peter J. Gurry, A New Approach to Textual Criticism: An Introduction to the
Coherence-Based Genealogical Method.
138 Simon Crisp
far, volumes on the Catholic Epistles, the Acts of the Apostles and the Gospel of Mark have
been published, with work in progress at various stages on the remaining writings of the
New Testament. The CBGM was progressively implemented as the basis for establishing
the ECM text of the Catholic Epistles, and the changes in the running text of these writings
have been implemented also in the hand editions Nestle-Aland (28th edition) and UBS
Greek New Testament (5th edition), with plans to follow the same procedure in the future
development of these hand editions.17
Byzantine Text
As we saw earlier, Westcott and Hort considered the Byzantine Text (Syrian text in their
terminology)18 to be a secondary development, a deliberate editorial attempt to pro-
duce a polished and stylistically refined form of the text, and therefore of little value for
reconstructing the original text of the New Testament. This judgment persisted through
the twentieth century and led also to a dismissive attitude toward the mass of later mi-
nuscule manuscripts in which this text-form was preserved and transmitted. The major
editions of the Greek New Testament produced in the twentieth century continued to give
overwhelming weight (as had Westcott and Hort) to the important majuscule manuscripts
of the fourth/fifth centuries, but also above all to the papyrus manuscripts (the majority of
which were discovered only in the twentieth century), which were much older witnesses
to the text and considered more reliable for reconstructing the original.
One effect of the CBGM has been to fundamentally change this picture by showing in a
systematic way how readings previously considered to be Byzantine (and therefore late) can
in fact be found throughout the tradition, including in very ancient witnesses. This has led
in turn to a re-evaluation of the value of minuscule manuscripts,19 and indeed to a move
away from the whole concept of text families.20
One particular form in which the Byzantine text has been preserved and transmitted
is that of lectionaries. These are manuscripts in which the New Testament text is
presented not as continuous text (in canonical format), but in the form of the readings
(lections) prescribed for the days of the church year. These manuscripts are very nu-
merous (amounting to more than one third of all the Greek MS witnesses) and are
constructed according to a complicated system (or systems) reflecting the church cal-
endar. In the past they have been poorly studied for various reasons, but in recent years
17 For a detailed presentation of the background and procedures of the ECM project, see H.A.G.
Houghton, D.C. Parker, Peter Robinson, and Klaus Wachtel, “The Editio Critica Maior of the Greek New
Testament: Twenty Years of Digital Collaboration.”
18 As noted earlier, there are some complexities with the names given to supposed text families in
the Greek New Testament over the decades. In the case of the Byzantine Text, other terms in current
use (albeit not entirely synonymous) are Majority Text (the text of the numerical majority of the extant
manuscripts) and Ecclesiastical Text (the text officially recognized by the Orthodox Church/es).
19 See Michael W. Holmes, “From Nestle to Editio Critica Maior: A Century’s Perspective on
the New Testament Minuscule Tradition”; Gregory R. Lanier, “Taking Inventory on the ‘Age of the
Minuscules’: Later Manuscripts and the Byzantine Tradition within the Field of Textual Criticism.”
20 See Eldon Jay Epp, “Textual Clusters: Their Past and Future in New Testament Textual Criticism.”
Past and Current Trends in New Testament Textual Criticism 139
more sustained and systematic attention is being paid to study of the lectionary tradi-
tion. (For more details about lectionaries and their significance, see the essay by Paulson
in this volume.)
21
Eldon J. Epp, “The Multivalence of the Term ‘Original Text’ in New Testament Textual Criticism.”
140 Simon Crisp
third century: the extent to which this text corresponds to the original text of the New
Testament—and indeed, how the term “original text” is to be defined—remain matters of
lively scholarly debate.
Orthodox Perspectives
From this survey of the highlights of New Testament textual criticism, a number of aspects
can be highlighted that are particularly significant from an Orthodox perspective.
We may begin by continuing the discussion of the goal of text-critical work. As we have
seen, in Western scholarship this goal was traditionally formulated as the recovery of
the original text—in its strictest definition, the words of the New Testament as they were
set down by the pen of the Gospel writers or the Apostle Paul. We have argued further
that the hermeneutical background to this goal was set first by the recovery of classical
learning in the Renaissance, second by the emphasis on the self-sufficiency of Scripture in
the Protestant Reformation, and third by the rise of rationalist scientific methodology in
the Enlightenment. How do these matters look from the perspective of Orthodoxy, which
predominated mainly in countries that were to varying degrees isolated from these western
European cultural movements either by their geographical position or by their subjugation
to Ottoman rule and/or Communist control?
The shift in understanding of the goal of New Testament textual criticism from an
exclusive pursuit of the original text to a more nuanced balance of interest in the “ini-
tial text” on the one hand and the tradition of transmission on the other, resonates with
Orthodox concerns about the importance of the form of the New Testament text officially
accepted by the Church. The significance of this difference between emphasis on original
text versus respect for traditional Church text has been expressed most succinctly by
David Parker (who with his concept of “living text” has perhaps been more influential
than anyone else in proposing a new understanding of the aims of New Testament textual
criticism).22 Writing about the traditional emphasis of New Testament textual criticism
in the West on the recovery or reconstruction of an original text, Parker notes, “This goal
has always been at variance with the Orthodox view of the textual tradition, which is to
revere and accept the form of the text that emerged from the ancient church, that was
broadly adopted by the Byzantine world, and that continues to be read and heard in the
liturgy. This takes seriously the text as it became, rather than setting out to reconstruct
what the text had been.”23 Since “the text as it became” is essentially what is known as the
Byzantine text, the changed assessment of this text-form in text-critical studies resonates
well with Orthodox concerns about the importance of the form of the text traditionally
accepted by the Church.24
22
D.C. Parker, The Living Text of the Gospels.
23
David Parker, “New Testament Traditions in Byzantium,” in Derek Krueger and Robert S. Nelson
(eds), The New Testament in Byzantium, Washington DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and
Collection, 2016, pp.21–32 (here p.26).
24 On the change to a more positive assessment of the Byzantine Text in NTTC, see most recently
Michael W. Holmes, “New Testament Textual Criticism in 2020: A (Selective) Survey of the Status
Quaestionis,” 5–7.
Past and Current Trends in New Testament Textual Criticism 141
Case Studies
25
See Christos Karakolis, “Критический текст Нового Завета: православная перспектива,” 179–
180. The quotation is from the Introduction to Antoniades’s edition; for the English translation of this,
see John Merle Rife, “The Antoniades Greek New Testament,” 57.
26 Rife, “Antoniades Greek New Testament,” 60–61. On the comma johanneum, see further in what
follows.
27
John A. Jillions, “Review Essay: The Greek New Testament, Fourth Revised Edition.”
142 Simon Crisp
was added to the editorial committee, and that the critical apparatus now makes extensive
use of the Byzantine lectionary tradition, while at the same time substantially increasing the
number of patristic citations. He notes further that the focus of GNT on translators gives it
a particular resonance for the Orthodox world, since in Russia and eastern Europe in par-
ticular the fall of communism has led to an explosion of Bible translation work.
The bulk of Jillions’s article consists of a detailed examination of the reference in Matt. 17.21
to the demons going out only by prayer and fasting, the reference to fasting being omitted
from the running text of GNT but included in the critical apparatus as a textual variant. His
presentation of the different kinds of evidence included in GNT allows him to give a clear
account of the structure of this edition. From an Orthodox point of view, however, perhaps
the crux of the matter is that while the editors of GNT “are certain that this verse was not
originally in Matthew” (p 204), the statement about prayer and fasting is nevertheless impor-
tant in Orthodox faith and practice. In this light the difference between Western and Eastern
approaches to textual criticism, in the author’s view, emerges quite sharply. For a Western
(primarily Protestant) approach, “Anything in the text that might be classified as an inter-
polation by a later hand than the biblical author’s is not the infallible and revealed Word of
God” (p 208); “In the Orthodox Church, however, where scriptural revelation is understood
as part of the broader context of the Holy Spirit’s life within the Church, there is much less
burden placed on the original text as the sole bearer of divine revelation” (p 209).
This line of argument allows Jillions to draw two interesting conclusions. First, since in an
Orthodox perspective “there is less anxiety concerning those later additions which have be-
come traditional, sanctified by centuries of use in various churches,” Orthodox translators are
free “to choose in good conscience alternate readings which may be traditional but not the most
ancient.” At the same time there is a recognition that because of the complexities of local trans-
mission (not least the degree of diversity within the Byzantine tradition itself—including the
attestation of “Byzantine” readings in very early manuscripts), the task of an Orthodox trans-
lator cannot be as straightforward as simply to “follow the Byzantine text.” As the multiplying
number of critical editions of the Byzantine text clearly shows (in addition to Antoniades
we may mention the editions of Hodges and Farstad, Robinson and Pierpont, Mullen et al.,
Pickering),28 the Byzantine textual tradition has its own complex and variegated history.
Comma Johanneum
The statement about the “three heavenly witnesses” in 1 John 5.7–829 has long been a cause
célèbre in New Testament textual criticism. It appears to have entered the Greek manu-
script tradition at a late stage from Latin sources, and it became doctrinally important
as almost the only explicit reference to the Trinity in the New Testament. Because of its
28 Zane C. Hodges and Arthur L. Farstad, The Greek New Testament According to the Majority Text;
Maurice A. Robinson and William G. Pierpont, The New Testament in the Original Greek: Byzantine
Textform 2005; Roderic L. Mullen with Simon Crisp and D.C. Parker, The Gospel According to John in the
Byzantine Tradition; Wilbur N. Pickering, The Greek New Testament According to Family 35.
29 “For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost; and these
three are one. And there are three that bear witness on earth, the Spirit, and the water, and the blood: and
these three agree in one” (KJV).
Past and Current Trends in New Testament Textual Criticism 143
very poor attestation in Greek manuscripts, its authenticity was hotly debated in many
sources: Erasmus, for example, declined to include these words in his first edition, but was
persuaded to add them in subsequent editions when one of his critics succeeded in finding a
Greek manuscript (albeit a very late one in which the passage may well have been translated
from the Latin) that included these words.30
On the Orthodox side, there is a very interesting statement in the Introduction to
Antoniades’s edition, to the effect that the editor was minded to omit this passage “since it is
entirely unattested in church texts, in the fathers and teachers of the Eastern Church, [and]
in the ancient versions,” however, “it is retained upon the opinion of the Holy Synod.”31
From this laconic statement there opens out a whole perspective of debate about the relative
weight given to textual scholarship and ecclesiastical authority in Orthodox practice. At the
very least one may say that there is a more explicit link in the East than in the West between
text-critical scholarship and Church tradition.
Conclusion
One of the consequences of the vastly improved access to New Testament manuscripts is a
recognition of the sheer complexity of the transmission of the New Testament text. The tra-
ditional picture of a small number of geographically based text families, and a smooth pro-
cess toward standardization of the text under the aegis of the Church is contradicted by the
mass of data now available, which shows that readings of all degrees of antiquity are spread
across manuscripts of all different kinds (papyri, majuscules, minuscules, and lectionaries)
and from all different locations. Consequently study of the transmission history of the New
Testament text has taken on a new significance in comparison with what some scholars
now consider to be a fruitless, or even an unnecessary search for the “original text.” “What
the text became” therefore (in Parker’s formulation, cited earlier) is now a matter of interest
not just for Orthodox Christians but also for textual scholarship in general. The Byzantine
or Ecclesiastical text, in particular, gains a new importance from this perspective and is
becoming the object of more sustained study; and although the efforts made to date to pro-
duce a critical edition of this text have (for a number of reasons) not been notably successful,
such an edition must rank high on the list of desiderata for the medium-term future, both
for the Orthodox Churches and for scholars of the New Testament text.
References
Kurt Aland, Kurzgefasste Liste der Griechischen Handschriften des Neuen Testaments, ANTF 1,
Second Edition. Berlin & New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1994.
30
For a summary account of the textual history of the comma johanneum, see Metzger/Ehrman,
The Text of the New Testament, 146–148; a more recent discussion of the issues is Grantley McDonald,
“Erasmus and the Johannine Comma (1 John 5.7–8).”
31 Rife, “Antoniades Greek New Testament,” 61.
144 Simon Crisp
Kurt Aland and Barbara Aland, The Text of the New Testament: An Introduction to the Critical
Editions and to the Theory and Practice of Modern Textual Criticism (Translated by Erroll F.
Rhodes). Grand Rapids: Eerdmans /Leiden: Brill, 1987.
Amy Donaldson, Explicit References to New Testament Variant Readings among Greek and
Latin Fathers. PhD thesis, University of Notre Dame, 2009. Available at https://curate.
nd.edu/show/5712m615k50.
J.K. Elliott, “Recent Trends in the Textual Criticism of the New Testament: A New Millennium,
a New Beginning?,” Babelao 1 (2012), pp 117–136.
J.K. Elliott, “‘Novum Testamentum editum est’: The Five-Hundredth Anniversary of Erasmus’s
New Testament,” The Bible Translator 67/1 (2016), pp 9–28.
Eldon J. Epp, “The Multivalence of the Term ‘Original Text’ in New Testament Textual Criticism,”
Harvard Theological Review 92 (1999), pp 245–281. Reprinted in Epp, Perspectives on New
Testament Textual Criticism: Collected Essays 1962–2004 (NovTSup 116). Leiden: Brill, 2005.
Eldon Jay Epp, “Textual Clusters: Their Past and Future in New Testament Textual Criticism,”
in Bart D. Ehrman and Michael W. Holmes (eds), The Text of the New Testament in
Contemporary Research: Essays on the Status Quaestionis, Second Edition (NTTSD 42).
Leiden & Boston: Brill, 2013, pp 519–577.
Peter J. Gurry, “The Number of Variants in the Greek New Testament: A Proposed Estimate,”
New Testament Studies 62 (2016), pp 97–121.
Peter J. Gurry, “‘A Book Worth Publishing’: The Making of Westcott and Hort’s Greek New
Testament (1881),” in Garrick V. Allen (ed), The Future of New Testament Scholarship
(WUNT 417). Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019, pp 103–127.
Zane C. Hodges and Arthur L. Farstad, The Greek New Testament According to the Majority
Text, Second Edition. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 1985.
Michael W. Holmes, “From Nestle to Editio Critica Maior: A Century’s Perspective on the
New Testament Minuscule Tradition,” in Scot McKendrick and Orlaith O’Sullivan (eds),
The Bible as Book: The Transmission of the Greek Text. London: British Library /New Castle,
DE: Oak Knoll Press, 2003, pp 123–137.
Michael W. Holmes (ed), The Greek New Testament: SBL Edition. Atlanta: Society of Biblical
Literature /Bellingham: Logos Bible Software, 2010.
Michael W. Holmes, “New Testament Textual Criticism in 2020: A (Selective) Survey of the
Status Quaestionis,” Early Christianity 11 (2020), pp 3–20.
H.A.G. Houghton, “Recent Developments in New Testament Textual Criticism,” Early
Christianity 2 (2011), pp 245–258.
H.A.G. Houghton, D.C. Parker, Peter Robinson, Klaus Wachtel, “The Editio Critica Maior
of the Greek New Testament: Twenty Years of Digital Collaboration,” Early Christianity 11
(2020) pp 97–117.
John A. Jillions, “Review Essay: The Greek New Testament, Fourth Revised Edition,” St
Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 39/2 (1995), pp 199–210.
Dirk Jongkind, “The Text and Lexicography of the New Testament in the Eighteenth and
Nineteenth Centuries,” in Alan J. Hauser and Duane F. Watson (eds), A History of Biblical
Interpretation, Volume 3: The Enlightenment through the Nineteenth Century. Grand Rapids,
MI/Cambridge, UK: Eerdmans, 2017, pp 274–299.
Dirk Jongkind (ed), The Greek New Testament Produced at Tyndale House Cambridge.
Wheaton: Crossway, 2017.
Christos Karakolis, “Критический текст Нового Завета: православная перспектива,”
in M.G. Seleznev (ed), Современная библеистика и предание Церкви. Материалы
Past and Current Trends in New Testament Textual Criticism 145
C A N ON
Chapter 9
T he Em erg e nc e of
Biblical Canons i n
Orthod ox Chri st ia ni t y
Lee Martin McDonald
Introduction
churches, for example, did not initially accept the Pococke NT Epistles (2 Peter, 2–3 John,
Jude), and Revelation. Initially, they welcomed Tatian’s Diatessaron as scripture as well as 3
Corinthians. In the fourth century Eusebius listed the “recognized” NT (homologoumena)
books, namely, the four Gospels, Acts, Epistles of Paul, 1 John, 1 Peter, possibly Revelation),
and the “disputed” (antilegomena) books (James, 2 Peter, 2–3 John, and Jude), and then the
“not genuine” (nothoi) books (Acts of Paul, Shepherd of Hermas, Apocalypse of Peter, Epistle
of Barnabas, Didache, and possibly also Revelation and the Gospel of the Hebrews; Hist. eccl.
3.25.1–5). He then goes on to distinguish these books from several pseudonymous heret-
ical books written in apostolic names (3.25.6–7). The lists of accepted NT and OT books
varied for centuries, and local churches seldom had complete collections of their books
until the thirteenth century, when the Paris Bibles were produced with small letters and
thinner paper. Even then, mostly scholars, clergy, and students had access to them (see
Liere 2014:4–15, and Light 2011:228–246).
The traditions about Jesus and the creeds reflecting them were long established in
churches well before the fourth century and later were included in the Church’s NT canon.
The identity, teaching, and mission of Jesus were reflected in multiple creeds, as well as bap-
tismal and eucharistic creeds and in Christian songs, e.g., the Odes of Solomon (ca. 125), cir-
culating in churches from their beginnings. Books that ignored or rejected those traditions
could not have been welcomed, but some debates about the identity of Jesus continued even
after the decisions of the Council of Nicea. The books included in the NT canon reflected
those sacred traditions about Jesus. Rejected writings were not believed to reflect those sa-
cred Christian traditions (Gospel of Judas).
Authority in early Christianity began with Jesus the acknowledged Lord of the Church
(Rom 10:9; Matt 28:19), but also the not yet finally defined Jewish scriptures, primarily in
the LXX. The apostolic authority soon followed and was vested not only in the apostles
but also in those they appointed as leaders in the churches, who also transmitted the ap-
ostolic traditions (or regula fidei), the primary proclamation of the early churches along
with their implications for Christian faith. The early and developing creedal formulations
began in the apostolic community and expanded over time but largely with added clarifi-
cation in subsequent generations. However, Christian faith began with an encounter with
Jesus and subsequently with christological and eschatological interpretations of the Jewish
scriptures.
Jesus
Although there were multiple authorities in early Christianity, its foundational authority
was Jesus of Nazareth, who was believed to have a special relationship with God and through
whom salvation from sins and hope for the future were found. The ancient Christian
sources reflect and transmit that faith. As the church began, other authority figures and
artifacts also emerged, namely apostolic leadership, creedal formulations reflecting their
The Emergence of Biblical Canons in Orthodox Christianity 151
sacred traditions, and a new scripture distinguished from their first scriptures by the new
designations “Old” and “New Testaments.” The heart of all of the authorities and sacred
traditions was the identity, resurrection, and mission of Jesus. Several of those traditions
were placed in creedal formulations, e.g., Rom 10:9; 1 Cor 15:3–8; Phil 2:6–11; 1 Tim 3:16.
While apostles were acknowledged as authorities because of their connection with Jesus
and their witness to his resurrection (Acts 1:15–26; cf. 1 Cor 9:1, 15:5–9), the authority of their
new scriptures was not initially recognized except by a few apostolic fathers and thereafter
(e.g., Justin, 1 Apol. 64–66).
Apostolic authority was extended to writings by apostles or those closely associ-
ated with them (Mark and Luke). In the second century, a number of pseudonymous
Christian writings were produced in apostolic names, including more than eighty known
gospels, acts, epistles, and apocalypses, e.g., Gospel of Peter, Apocalypse of Peter, Acts
of Paul, and likely more that have been lost. This parallels more than a 100 such Jewish
pseudonymous writings in prophetic names circulating before and during early Christian
churches. Apostolic authority was rooted in a close association with Jesus, and the apos-
tles held a place of primacy in the church from its beginning (e.g., Acts 1:21–26; 1 Cor 9:1,
12:28, 15:3–8).
Later apostolic authority was transmitted faithfully through the Church’s bishops as
Ignatius, Justin, and Irenaeus claimed. Although initially the role of the prophet in the
church was prominent (Acts 13:1–2; 1 Cor 12–14), its significance was greatly dimin-
ished by abuse in the second century (e.g., Lucian, Passing of Peregrinus 5.11–16; Didache
9–13). This was anticipated in the NT (Matt 7: 21–23, 24:5) and consequently the role
of teachers gained greater priority and esteem and their teaching was reflected in early
proto-orthodox teaching. The level of their influence in second-century Christianity has
been a subject of debate, but their views are reflected in the early church fathers even
before Nicea.
Along with the bishops and teachers, other offices of the church were also recognized
as authorities (e.g., elder, deacon), along with an emerging and growing sacred tradition
believed to have come from Jesus and the Apostles and transmitted by subsequent bishops
(Ignatius and Irenaeus). The heart of this tradition (the church’s regula fidei) was the procla-
mation about Jesus and its implications for Christian faith. In time, the identity of Jesus and
implications of that tradition for Christian faith became more specific, especially that the
God of Jesus was also creator of heaven and earth. The best-known “heresies” of the late first
and second centuries included the Docetics and Marcionites. Gnostics with the Marcionites
rejected the creator God of the OT (Demiurge) who they believed was cruel and not the
Unknown (or Alien) God of Jesus.
Tradition
References to early church tradition (paravdosiß) are common in the NT, especially in
letters attributed to Paul, e.g., 1 Cor 7:10; 11:2, 6, 23; 15:1–11; and 2 Thess 2:15, 3:6. For Paul,
this tradition was the Gospel that he proclaimed. He believed it was a “revelation” from
God handed on in the churches by those who preceded him in faith. The author of Epistle to
Diognetus (ca. 150–200) claimed that “a disciple of the apostles . . . administers that which
has been handed over (paradoqevnta) to those who are becoming disciples of truth” (Ep.
152 Lee Martin McDonald
Diog. 11:1). He claims this word comes from Christ, was proclaimed by the apostles (11:3),
and that the “faith of the Gospels” was guarded “by the tradition of the apostles” (11:6; cf.
also 1 Clem 7:2). Irenaeus admonishes those in every church “who may wish to see the
truth, to contemplate clearly the tradition of the apostles manifested throughout the whole
world” (Haer. 3.3.1, ANF). Soon afterward, he relates how the “church in Rome” dispatched
“a most powerful letter to the Corinthians [1 Clement],” exhorting them to pursue peace, to
renew their faith, and declare “the tradition which it had lately received from the apostles.”
Summarizing their faith, Irenaeus concludes that those who follow it can learn from “the
apostolic tradition of the Church,” adding that, through the succession of apostles, “the
ecclesiastical tradition from the apostles, and the preaching of the truth, have come down
to us” (3.3.3, ANF). The early church’s sacred tradition formed its primary authority before
there was a Christian Scripture. Irenaeus asked where his readers would find the truth if
the apostles “had not left us writings,” and answers, “would it not be necessary to follow
the course of the tradition which they handed down to those to whom they did commit the
churches?” (3.4.1 ANF).
The NT words for tradition (paradi/domi or paradouvnai, and para/dosiß) are some-
times coupled with receiving (pare/labon) tradition as in 1 Cor 15:2–3. These terms are
used in reference to the Church’s sacred teachings reflecting its revelation or proclamation
(compare Rom 6:17; 1 Cor 11:2 [pare/dwka], 23 [pare/labon and pare/dwka]; 15:2–3 [pare/
dwka]; 2 Pet 2:21 [paradoqei/shß] and cf. also Luke 1:2; Acts 16:4 [paredi/dosan]; Büchsel
1964:171–173). In 1 Cor 15:2–3, Paul states that one’s salvation depends on receiving the more
clearly balanced tradition in 15:3–8 (cf. Rom 10:9). In the second century, those traditions
(regula fidei) about Jesus and their implications for faith circulating in churches were cited
to deal with emerging challenges that included heresy, local persecution, the death of the
apostles, and the delay of Jesus’s return. These challenges were also met with the expanded
role of bishops and church order, clarification of the regula fidei (or church tradition),
expanded creeds, and especially the recognition of Christian scripture (McDonald 2013).
1 These designations for the additional LXX and Tanak books began in 1566 with Sixtus of Siena,
who identified this literature in his Bibliotheca Sancta as “Deuterocanonical” (Deuterocanonicos) and
“Protocanonical” (Protocanonicos) for books in the Tanak/Hebrew Bible/MT.
The Emergence of Biblical Canons in Orthodox Christianity 153
We should especially remember the words the Lord Jesus spoke when teaching about gentleness
and patience. For he said: “Show mercy, that you may be shown mercy; forgive, that it may
be forgiven you. As you do, so it will be done to you; as you give, so it will be given to you;
as you judge, so you will be judged; as you show kindness, so will kindness be shown to you;
the amount you dispense will be the amount your receive.” Let us strengthen one another in
this commandment and these demands, so that we may forge ahead, obedient to his words.”
(1 Clem. 13.1–4, LCL, emphasis added)
And again,
Why do we divide and tear asunder the members of Christ, and raise up strife against our
own body . . . ? Remember the words of the Lord Jesus; for he said, “Woe unto that man: it were
good for him if he had not been born, than that he should offend one of my elect.” (1 Clem.
46.7–8, LCL, emphasis added)
The devotion of Ptolemy, the gnostic teacher (ca. 160), to the “words of the Savior” as
his authority for instruction and for understanding of the Law of Moses is seen in his well-
known Letter to Flora:
That is what happens to people who do not see what follows from the words of the Saviour.
For a house or city divided against itself cannot stand, our Saviour declared.
. . . First one must learn that the whole Law which is contained in the Pentateuch of Moses
has not been decreed by some one person, I mean by God alone; but there are also some
commandments in it given by men; and that it is tripartite the words of the Saviour teach
us. . . . How this came about you may learn from the words of the Saviour” (Flor. 3.5, 8; 4.1, 4;
cf. 7.5, 10; Stevenson trans., 1957:92–93. Emphasis added)
For Clement, Ptolemy, and others after them, the words of Jesus functioned as scripture even
though the specific scriptural formulas were often not used.
154 Lee Martin McDonald
Citations of, or allusions to, the words of Jesus in the NT and early church fathers were
quite common and always show that they were viewed authoritatively like Scripture. This
may reflect an early stage of canon formation with the appeal to the words of Jesus found in
the Gospels and regularly functioning as scripture.
Campenhausen rightly observes a distinction between the authoritative words of Jesus
and the Gospels or letters that contain them. The words of Jesus were given prominence in
written and oral tradition and had a scripture-like status in the church from the beginning,
but this did not extend to the texts where they were found (Campenhausen 1968:118–121).
While the Gospels were widely used in conveying the Christian proclamation, they were
not cited as scripture or by their writings generally until the middle to late second century,
when apostolic persons began to have greater significance in the churches. That is also when
pseudonymous writings in apostolic names began to appear (McDonald 2004). Until the
mid-second century, churches gave no prominence either to authors of Christian writings.
Campenhausen concludes that although the Gospels were intended from the outset to be
used (or read) in churches alongside their OT Scriptures, they did not claim or receive ex-
clusive authority initially (Campenhausen 198:123). The history of Gospel transmission with
multiple variants affirms this.
As interest in the notion of a fixed canon of the Church’s scriptures emerged in the fourth
century, there was little interest in biblical canons in eastern Orthodox churches as it was
the case in western churches around the middle to late fourth century and thereafter. As
in the west, eastern churches had multiple creedal formulations and various views on the
scope of their OT and NT scripture collections. While there is considerable overlap in the
156 Lee Martin McDonald
contents of scripture collections with churches in the West, as well as in most of their the-
ological perspectives, forming a fixed OT or NT collection was never a priority for most
eastern churches.
In his Thirty-Ninth Festal Letter (367), Athanasius affirmed the protocanonical Jewish
biblical books as the Church’s OT scriptures and all the NT scriptures, but he also welcomed
the private reading of some deuterocanonical texts, namely Wisdom, Sirach, Esther, Judith,
and Tobit, as well as Didache and Shepherd, but he insists that that they were not “canon-
ical” (kanonizo/menon) and only “read” (ajnagignwsko/mena). He rejected reading of any
of the so-called apocryphal texts that he considered either heretical or pseudonymously
written in prominent prophetic or apostolic names. He noted that those texts assigned
earlier dates “to lead astray the simple” and advance their views. Athanasius shows that
false dating was happening in the fourth century. Clare Rothschild has suggested that this
was likely the origin of the Muratorian Fragment in the late fourth or fifth century, namely,
a “fraud” designed to make a later view on the emerging biblical canon appear earlier and
more acceptable (see Rothschild 2018). Like some church fathers at that time, he did not
accept the canonical status of Esther, but allowed it to be read among his noncanonical
“readable” (ajnagignwsko/mena) in contrast to books “not read publicly” that he called
“apocrypha” (see Pentiuc 2014a:115–116). He allowed the deuterocanonical noted earlier
to be read especially to new converts. Churches have not agreed on the scope of this
collection of “readable” texts or what to call them. (For a helpful discussion of this, see
Brakke 1994 and 2010.)
Eastern Orthodox Christians generally followed Athanasius’s model and like him re-
served the designation “apocrypha” for heretical or pseudonymously written texts. Jerome
was the first to designate the deuterocanonical writings as “apocrypha” and, like Cyril of
Jerusalem, Rufinus, and Epiphanius, he did not want them read at all. Athanasius was the
first known church father to speak of a fixed collection of the Church’s scriptures as “canon-
ical” texts.
those who model this hexis, especially Homer, but after him others, such as Pindar and
the nine lyric poets, and also those who do not rise to that level. He later lists Cicero as
the best of Roman authors (Quintilian, Inst. Orat. 10.1.123). As models for a collection
of sacred Scriptures that form the norm for churches, such works were likely in view,
given that the first two persons to make such lists to refer to the Christian scriptures were
Origen and Athanasius, both from Alexandria (McDonald 2013:13–49). “Canon” began to
be used in reference to divinely recognized books that have their roots in Jesus and the
earliest church traditions about him that were a binding norm (Beyer 1965:600–602). If a
text was considered “scripture,” it was always considered both inspired and authoritative,
that is “canon” as a divine rule.
The Greek term “canon” is used in the late first and early second centuries to identify
the canon or rule of faith, is the church’s sacred traditions. Clement of Rome (1 Clem. 7.2)
indicates that the Christian proclamation was the “rule of our tradition” (thvß parado/sewß
hJmwvn kano/na). Similarly, Irenaeus uses the designation for “the rule of truth” received
at baptism (Haer.1.9.4). Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 6.13.3) says that Clement of Alexandria refers
to an “ecclesiastical canon” or “body of truth” (kanw/n ejkklhsiastiko\ß). This was common
among second-century church fathers and even in the closing of the mid-to-late second-
century 3 Corinthians pseudonymously written in Paul’s name to address the perceived
Gnostic heresies (Hovhanessian 2000:11–16). Its author writes, “whoever abides by the rule
which he received through the blessed prophets and the holy Gospel, he shall receive a re-
ward from the Lord, [and when he is risen from the dead shall obtain eternal life]” (trans.
Schneemelcher 1992, 2:256. Emphasis added).
The most important sacred church traditions from the beginning began with an under-
standing of who Jesus was, what he taught, what he did, his fate, and their implications
for Christian faith. Those traditions including the Church’s first scriptures, their OT, were
always considered binding for Christians, and by the second century several Christian
writings from the first century also began to function authoritatively in some churches. By
the end of the second century several church fathers began calling some of them scripture
and most of those texts were included in the Church’s NT.
Other Christian writings were added later to a growing collection of sacred traditions,
and the writings that supported the core traditions circulating in the churches, along with
several summary creeds, all constituted their regula fidei. Many Christian writings that
functioned like authoritative Christian scripture eventually began to be called “scripture” in
the second century, and several later formed the NT canon. The sacred traditions, emerging
creeds, and some NT writings were cited to address emerging second-century “heretical”
teachings and current crises. The sacred authority recognized in the Church’s traditions
and creeds were soon applied to several first-century Christian texts, especially the Gospels
(mostly Matthew) and several of Pauline letters. The number of citations of first-century
Christian texts in the second century reflects their authoritative function like scripture
accompanied with an implied belief in their divine authority. The traditions, creeds or rules
of faith, and some Christian writings, were all viewed as all divinely authoritative canons
in the Church’s regula fidei. Those authorities influenced the decisions of local and also the
seven ecumenical church councils.
By the end of the second century, an imprecise but growing collection of recognized
Christian scriptures was emerging. Church leaders believed that this collection reflected
158 Lee Martin McDonald
and affirmed the sacred “canonical” traditions (regula fidei) passed on in the churches
and many had been citing them in a scriptural manner earlier in support of those sacred
traditions. As the number of recognized Christian scriptures grew, several church fathers
began distinguishing them from other religious texts that they believed were pseudony-
mous or heretical. As a result, a majority of church fathers eventually rejected them, e.g.,
The Gospel of Judas (Irenaeus, Haer. 1.31.1). By the middle to late fourth century, several
church fathers began to promote and list a fixed collection of OT and NT scriptures for
reading in the churches, but the contents of those collections varied for centuries longer,
despite the considerable overlap in both scripture collections. Also, there was broad
agreement in most creeds in the East and West, as the history of church councils attests,
but later christological distinctions led to divisions over the Monophysite position in
Oriental-Eastern (Chalcedon, 451) and subsequent Greek East and Latin West disputes as
the later double procession Filioque controversy, beginning in 589, 680, and for centuries
thereafter, attests.
As second-century church fathers cited NT texts to support their sacred traditions and
creeds, whether in regard to leadership, organization, baptism, ordination, or Christian
conduct, those writings took on a more important role in ongoing Church life. In the late
first century, Clement of Rome, for example, famously advises the church at Corinth to
“leave behind empty and frivolous thoughts and come to the famous and venerable rule
of our tradition” (1 Clem. 7:2). Irenaeus (1.9.4ff.) identifies the “canon of truth” or “canon
of faith” as that truth that summarizes the most common core elements of Christian faith
and doctrine circulating in churches at that time. This was his regula fidei or rule/canon of
faith. In the fourth century kanon began to appear in some church fathers as a “catalog” or
“list” of sacred texts, and even then, those catalogs were understood as having divine au-
thority as we see in Athanasius list of scriptures (pars. 5–7). Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 6.13.3) cites
Clement of Alexandria as accepting the “ecclesiastical” canon as authoritative as Scripture
and describes the canon of the church as a harmony between the Law and the Prophets on
one side and the covenant instituted by the incarnation of the Lord on the other (see his
Strom. 4.15.98.3; 6.15.125; 7.15.90.2; see also Hippolytus, Ref. 10.5.2).
Citations or references to NT texts began early in the second century, as we see in Ignatius
(Ignatius, Smyrna 3.2) and in Basilides (ca. fl. 130–140), who, according to Hippolytus
(Refutation of Heresies 7.22.4), cites three of the four Gospels and four letters of Paul as
Scripture (Romans, 1–2 Corinthians, and Ephesians; see Hippolytus, Ref. 7.25.1–3 and 7.26.7),
and employs the scriptural formula “as it is written” in reference to them (Grant 1965:121–
124). The author of 2 Clement (ca. 140–150) writes: “For the Lord says in the Gospel” (le/
levgei ga;r oJ kuvrioß ejn tw/ eujaggelivw) (2 Clem 8.5, emphasis added). This is similar to
2 Clement 14.1, where the author cites Jesus’s reference to Jer 7:11 in Matt 21:13. That author
typically cites the words of Jesus in a scriptural manner (e.g., 2 Clem 2:4; cf. 4.1–5, 5.1).
The Emergence of Biblical Canons in Orthodox Christianity 159
The origin of the Orthodox churches is built on the sacred traditions passed on in the earliest
churches in the east that have their roots in first-century Christianity. While those churches
grew and expanded, like other churches, they addressed new and challenging crises with
their earliest core traditions and the church’s leading proto-orthodox church fathers. Scanlin
observes, in contrast to the western churches, that the Orthodox “concept of canon, which
appears to tolerate a degree of difference when compared to attitudes in the West” (Scanlin
1996:308). Pentiuc agrees and speaks of the Orthodox holding to an “intricate and more re-
laxed view on canonicity” that aligns “closely with the position of prerabbinic Judaism” and
observes that the emerging church made use of the LXX additions “as proof-text material
for their preaching of the Messiahship of Jesus” (Pentiuc 2014b:342).
more complete listing of Enoch as scripture in early Christianity, see Vanderkam 1996:44–
61; McDonald 2017a:361–369). Enoch’s popularity and translocal circulation in first-century
Palestine and among the Dead Sea Scrolls helps explain its use in early Christianity.
Orthodox Christians never had a formal ecumenical council decision on the scope of
their biblical canon, but their scriptures are roughly though not exactly the same as those in
the West. They welcomed all of the protocanonical books, including eventually also Esther,
and several of the additional LXX books, but they distinguished them from protocanonical
books. While they use them in their liturgies and lectionaries, like Athanasius they do not
call them canonical scriptures, but rather “noncanonical readable” texts.
The Orthodox churches vary on which disputable or readable books to use in the liturgies,
but all accept the protocanonical Hebrew scriptures. They welcome all of the NT books, but
initially Syrian churches rejected the minor NT texts noted earlier and for a while welcomed
the Diatessaron and 3 Corinthians. Ethiopian Orthodox welcome other texts in their OT
and NT, including Enoch, Epistle of Barnabas, Shepherd of Hermas, 1–2 Clement, Psalms of
Solomon, and 3 Corinthians. The Armenian churches included for centuries 3 Corinthians,
the Repose of Beloved Disciple [John], and others less known). The Ethiopian Orthodox
churches include more books in both their OT and NT.
scriptures that was seldom consistently defined for centuries. Full agreement on the scope
of the Church’s scriptures was never possible before a largely stable sacred tradition about
Jesus (Nicea), but even after that differences continued in churches. Canon lists, citations,
manuscripts, and scripture translations reflect uncertainty over some of the so-called fringe
books in biblical canons (Metzger 1968:38–51).
Conclusion
Local church Orthodox councils did not always agree the scope of their scriptures. Despite
considerable overlap in lists of sacred books, there was seldom complete agreement. The
Orthodox churches regularly included deuterocanonical books in their liturgies and canon
lists, but seldom the same ones, and not on the same scriptural level as the protocanonical
books. Esther was sometimes omitted in their collections and the Pococke Epistles and
Revelation took considerably longer to be welcomed in Syrian churches, which initially
welcomed as scripture Diatessaron and 3 Corinthians.
In antiquity, few laypersons or clergy would have had access to all of their scriptures.
Most would not have known complete collections of scriptures. Indeed, only limited lec-
tionary selections from OT/NT were read in the churches. Because of this, there was little
church focus on the listing all OT/NT books until the middle to late fourth century. It is
also true that no new texts were included that were not cited by the early eastern church fa-
thers. No widely read books were deleted. The Orthodox biblical canon eventually included
Revelation, but not for reading in churches. Differences in canon lists had little to do with
later divisions in churches, but rather the christological issues.
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Egypt: Athanasius of Alexandria’s Thirty-Ninth Festal Letter.” HTR 87: 395–419.
Brock, Sebastian (2006). The Bible in the Syriac Tradition. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press.
Büchsel, Friedrich (1964). “paradivdomi,” in Theological Dictionary of the New Testament.
Edited by G. Kittel and G. Friedrich. Translated by G. W. Bromiley. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans.
2:169–173.
Campenhausen, Hans von (1968). Tradition and Life in the Church: Essays and Lectures in
Church History. London: Collins.
Campenhausen, H. von (1972). The Formation of the Christian Bible. Translated by J. A. Baker.
Philadelphia: Fortress.
162 Lee Martin McDonald
Chadwick, Henry (1990). “The Early Christian Community,” in The Oxford Illustrated History
of Christianity. Edited by J. McManners. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 21–62.
Constantinou Eugenia Scarvelis (2012). “Banned from the Lectionary: Excluding the
Apocalypse of John from the Orthodox New Testament Canon,” in The Canon of the Bible
and the Apocrypha in the Churches of the East. Edited by Vahan S. Hovhanessian. Bible in
the Christian Orthodox Tradition. New York, Oxford: Peter Lang. 2:51–61.
Cowley, R. W. (1974). “The Biblical Canon of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church Today.”
Ostkirchliche Studien 23: 318–324.
Ellis, E. Earle (1991). The Old Testament in Early Christianity. WUNT 1/54. Tübingen: J.
C. B. Mohr.
Gallagher, Edmon L., and J. D. Meade (2017). The Biblical Canon Lists from Early
Christianity: Texts and Analysis. New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Grant, R. M. (1965). Formation of the New Testament. New York: Harper & Row.
Hengel, Martin (2002). The Septuagint as Christian Scripture: Its Prehistory and the Problem of
Its Canon. Translated by Robert Hanhart. Grand Rapids: Baker.
Hovhanessian, Vahan S. (2000). Third Corinthians: Reclaiming Paul for Christian Orthodoxy.
SBL 18. New York: Peter Lang, 2000.
Hovhanessian, Vahan S., ed. (2012). The Canon of the Bible in the Apocrypha in the Churches of
the East. Bible in the Christian Orthodox Tradition. New York, Oxford: Peter Lang.
Kealy, S. F. (1979). “The Canon: An African Contribution.” Biblical Theology Bulletin 9: 13–26.
Liere, Frans van (2014). An Introduction to the Medieval Bible. New York: Cambridge
University Press.
Light, Laura (2011). “The Bible and the Individual: The Thirteenth Century,” in The Practice
of the Bible in the Middle Ages: Production, Reception, and Performance in Western
Christianity. Edited by Susan Boynton and Diane J. Reilly. New York: Columbia University
Press. 228–246.
Lim, Timothy H. (2013). The Formation of the Jewish Canon. AYBRL. New Haven, London: Yale
University Press.
McDonald, Lee Martin (2004). “The Gospels in Early Christianity,” in Reading the Gospels
Today. Edited by S. E. Porter. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. 150–178.
McDonald, Lee Martin (2013). “Hellenism and the Biblical Canons: Is There a Connection?,”
in Christian Origins and Hellenistic Judaism: Social and Literary Contexts for the New
Testament. Edited by S. E. Porter and A. W. Pitts. Early Christianity in Its Hellenistic
Context 2. Leiden: Brill. 13–49.
McDonald, Lee Martin (2017a). The Formation of the Biblical Canon. Volume One: The Old
Testament, Its Authority and Canonicity. Bloomsbury: T & T Clark.
McDonald, Lee Martin (2017b). The Formation of the Biblical Canon. Volume Two: The New
Testament, Its Authority and Canonicity. Bloomsbury: T & T Clark.
McDonald, Lee Martin, and James A. Sanders, eds. (2002). The Canon Debate. Grand
Rapids: Baker Academic.
Metzger, Bruce M. (1968). “The Formulas Introducing Quotations of Scripture in the New
Testament and in the Mishnah,” in Historical and Literary Studies: Pagan, Jewish, and
Christian. Edited by B. M. Metzger. New Testament Tools and Studies 8. Leiden: Brill. 52–63.
Metzger, Bruce M. (1987). The Canon of the New Testament: Its Origin, Development, and
Significance. Oxford: Clarendon.
Metzger, B. M., and B. D. Ehrman (2005). The Text of the New Testament: Its Transmission,
Corruption, and Restoration. New York-Oxford: Oxford University Press.
The Emergence of Biblical Canons in Orthodox Christianity 163
Miller, James (2010). “The Prophetologion: The Old Testament of Byzantine Christianity?”
in The Old Testament in Byzantium. Edited by Paul Magdalino and Robert S. Nelson.
Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. 55–76.
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Church,” in The Apocrypha in Ecumenical Perspective. Edited by S. Meuer. UBS Monograph
Series 6. New York, Reading, UK: United Bible Societies. 16–32.
Penner, Kenneth M. (2010). “Citation Formulae as Indices to Canonicity in Early Jewish and
Early Christian Literature,” in Jewish and Christian Scriptures: The Function of “Canonical”
and “Non-Canonical” Religious Texts. Edited by James H. Charlesworth and Lee Martin
McDonald. Jewish and Christian Texts in Contexts and Related Studies 7. London,
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Christianity. Edited by J. A. McGuckin. Malden, MA, Oxford: Wiley, Blackwell. 341–343.
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and Matthias Henze. Leiden: Brill.
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60: 55–82.
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Perspectives on Historical Theology: Essays in Memory of John Meyendorf. Edited by Bradkey
Nassif. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. 300–312.
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Literature,” in The Jewish Apocalyptic Heritage in Early Christianity. Edited by James C.
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the Bible, Vol. 1: From the Beginnings to 600. Edited by J. C Paget and J. Schaper. Cambridge,
New York: Cambridge University Press. 527–535.
Chapter 10
“ Splendid Bri l l ia nc y”
Orthodox Perspectives on
Biblical Inspiration
Edith M. Humphrey
[T]he grace of [God’s] feast is not limited to one time, nor does its splendid brilliancy decline;
but it is always near, enlightening the minds of those who earnestly desire it. For therein is
constant virtue, for those who are illuminated in their minds, and meditate on the divine
Scriptures day and night, like the man to whom a blessing is given, as it is written in the
sacred Psalms; “Blessed is the man who has not walked in the counsel of the ungodly, nor
stood in the way of sinners, nor sat in the seat of corrupters. But his delight is in the law of
the Lord, and in His law does he meditate day and night.” For it is not the sun, or the moon,
1
Eugene J. Pentiuc, The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2014), 208.
“Splendid Brilliancy” 165
or the host of those other stars which illumines him, but he glitters with the high effulgence
of God over all.2
Here the saint makes several moves in concert with other church fathers—first, extending
to all Scriptures the characteristics attributed to Torah; next, naming as God’s beneficiaries
both all “those who are illumined” and the individual “to whom a blessing is given”; and
finally, understanding the Scriptures as the means by which God imparts divine radiance
to His people. We will take St. Athanasius’s words as emblematic, and examine these typical
Orthodox themes: the source and power of Scripture to show forth the Incarnate Word; the
relationship of Old to New Testament Scripture as part of Holy Tradition; and the practical
and divinizing purposes of the inspired Word. Our approach will be thematic rather than
strictly diachronic: Though later theologians have relied on earlier ones, there is no thor-
oughgoing development to be seen, but an intersection of particular needs with insights of
interpreters, past and present.
We begin with select fathers’ assertions concerning the source and the power of the
Scriptures, and how they show forth the Incarnate Word. Those fathers who emphasize
this commonly speak of the fullness of the Scriptures. The Syrian sage St. Aphrahat (third to
fourth c. AD) “riffs” off John 21:2: “For if the days of a man should be as many as all the days
of the world from Adam to the end of the ages and he should sit and meditate upon the Holy
Scriptures, he would not comprehend all the force of the depth of the words.”3 Similarly, St.
Athanasius speaks of the holy books as “the fountains of salvation,”4 and the eloquent St.
John Chrysostom uses several metaphors to capture their depth and plenitude:
Reading the Holy Scriptures is like a treasure. . . . [Y]ou can get from a small phrase a great
wealth of thought and immense riches. The Word of God is [also] . . . like a spring gushing
with overflowing waters in a mighty flood. . . . [G]reat is the yield of this treasure and the flow
of this spiritual fountain. . . . [O]ur forebears drank from these waters to the limit of their ca-
pacity, and those who come after us will try to do likewise, without risk of exhausting them;
instead the flood will increase and the streams will be multiplied.5
Their awed response indicates that these fathers understood Scripture as intimately
connected with the very wisdom of God. After all, the language of “fountains,” springs,
and running water echoes descriptions of God’s wisdom and power in the Old Testament
prophetic and sapiential books (Prov 8:4, 10:11; Bar 3:12; 4 Ezra/2 Esdras 14:47; Sir 21:3),
and is also appropriated by Jesus, the incarnate Word, who pictures Himself as the source
2
Festal Letter 5.1, tr. R. Payne-Smith, NPNF 2, 4.
3
Demonstrations 22.26, tr. J. Gwynn, NPNF 2, 13.411.
4
Festal Letter 39.6, NPNF 2, 4.
5
Homilies on Genesis 3.1, tr. R. C. Hill, FC 74, 39.
166 Edith M. Humphrey
of living water (John 4). Similarly, the books of wisdom and the prophets envision God’s
words as “treasures” to seek and to guard (Job 23:12; Ps 18/9:10, 118/9:127; Prov 2:1, 2:4, 7:1;
8:10–11; Is 45:3, Wisdom 7:14; Sir 29:11). These images, associated with God Himself, with
His mysterious “Wisdom,” and with Torah, are applied to the entire written Word, which
constantly mediates God’s power-working will, without depletion. As with the figure of
Wisdom, Scripture is seen as that which “comes from the LORD and remains with Him
forever” (Sir 1:11).
In Orthodox theology, the delights of the written Word are discovered by seeing how it
directs the reader to the divine Author. As with the love-language used for the Theotokos,
those who honor her and the Scriptures know that these serve most authentically when they
are signposts to Christ. Scripture’s inspiration consists in its ability to show forth Christ,
and even to “stand-in” for Him. So, then, Orthodox Christianity is not a “religion of the
Book”—at least not as understood by Judaism and Islam. Scripture’s center is the God-Man
Jesus, and its reading serves to glorify the incarnate Word—to explain and make Him pre-
sent. This gives Scripture the quality of a verbal icon, which offers a many-faceted window
by which the Light Himself is seen.
In metaphor, late second-century St. Irenaeus pictured this quality when he instructed
his readers on the difference between Orthodox and heretical interpretation. Grappling
with the many-headed Gnostic movement, the saint taught his fellow Christians about the
“divine Scriptures,”6 calling the Bible “the ground and pillar of our faith.”7 The heretics,
he said, took the components of the Church’s complex divine library, and rearranged its
parts, as one might a mosaic: Instead of seeing the divine King, its picture was deformed
to resemble, say, a fox.8 Then, he said, the Gnostic eisegetes compounded their error by
composing “spurious writings” that further misdirected “the Scripture of truth.”9 Even a
cursory perusal of the varied collection found at Nag Hammadi will show common trends
among those whom St. Irenaeus was criticizing—their attribution of creation to a flawed
semi-deity rather than to the Holy Trinity, an emphasis on esoteric salvation for the “wise”
rather than a generous God who invites all, a conflation of the material world with the fall,
and so on.
The Gnostic decentering of Christ by tendentious reading and esoteric addition was
both dangerous and seductive for those who listened, and dishonoring to the Lord who, St.
Irenaeus proclaims, is “the Truth” and “did not speak lies.”10 It was on the witness of the One
who was the Truth that the apostles relied when they wrote the Gospels: “[T]he apostles,
likewise, being disciples of the truth, are above all falsehood.”11 Christ and the apostles speak
in harmony with the entire body of Scripture, which was, the saint asserts, “given to us by
God, [so it] shall be found by us [to be] perfectly consistent.”12 Christian interpreters, whether
educated or simple, are called on to read the Scriptures according to what St. Irenaeus called
the regula fidei (rule of faith) or kanōn aletheias (rule of truth)—a way of approaching life
6
Against Heresies, tr. A. Roberts and W. Rambaut, NPNF 1, 2.35.4; 3.19.2.
7
AH 3.1.1.
8 AH 1.9.
9 AH 1.20.1.
10 AH 3.5.1.
11 Ibid.
12 AH 2.28.3.
“Splendid Brilliancy” 167
and the Scriptures themselves, in which Jesus is discerned as the cornerstone. Though the
saint does not appeal to Luke 24, it is here that we catch a glimpse of how Jesus teaches the
two on the road to Emmaus, and then all the disciples, how the Law, Prophets (and Psalms)
are fulfilled in Him (Luke 24:27, 43). In contrast, anyone who misconstrues the picture, or
adds to it contradictory writings, will see something other than the King. Scripture’s inspi-
ration consists in its focus on the One who is Truth.
The connection between the incarnate Word and the Word that speaks of Him is cele-
brated also by fourth-century St. Ambrose, who describes how “the soul presses forward for
a glimpse of hidden mysteries, to the very abode of the Word, to the very dwelling place of
that highest Good, and his light and brightness.”13 He rhapsodizes about how the faithful
one is bathed in the Light as he or she reads:
In that bosom and secret dwelling place of the Father the soul hastens to hear His words, and
having heard them, it finds them sweeter than all things. Let the prophet who has tasted this
sweetness teach you, when he says, “How sweet are your words to my lips, above honeycomb
to my mouth.” What else can a soul desire when it has once tasted the sweetness of the Word,
when it has once seen its brightness? When Moses remained on the mountain forty days to
receive the law, he had no need of food for the body. Elijah, resting [under a broom tree],
asked that his life be taken away from him. Even Peter, foreseeing on the mountain the glory
of the Lord’s resurrection, did not wish to come down and said, “Lord, it is good for us to be
here.” How great is the glory of that divine Essence, how great the graces of the Word at which
even angels wish to gaze!14
Fifty years or so later, St. Hilary of Arles, commenting on the reference to Tabor in 2 Peter,
said that the light which shone on the three apostles “was the light of Scripture.”15 This easy
co-relation of Jesus’s glory with the inscribed Word may seem puzzling until we remember
that on the mountain the apostles were astounded not only by the glory of Christ’s face, but
also by the vision of Jesus flanked by representatives of the Law and the Prophets, and by
the word of the Father, which bore witness to Him. 2 Peter 1:16–21 explicitly connects the
written and incarnate Word, since the Transfiguration is seen as that event whereby the
apostles had “the prophetic word made more clear.” The epistle then proceeds to commend
readers to “pay attention to it as to a Light shining” (2 Peter 1:19), until the face of Christ
is eschatologically seen by all. Contemporary readers will find it intriguing that Origen (c
185–254), followed by St. Maximos (c. 580–662), interprets Jesus’s shining garments allegor-
ically as Holy Scripture.16
St. John Chrysostom generalizes this link between Jesus and Scripture, declaring, “This is
why the exhortation of the Scripture is given: that the man of God may be rendered complete
by it. Without this he cannot grow to maturity. You have the Scriptures, he says, in place of
me. If you would learn anything, you may learn it from them.”17 Again, his contemporary, St.
Theodoret of Cyr, speaks of the divine Spirit as streaming like a river, causing trees to flourish,
13
Letter 79 to Irenaeus, tr. Sr. M. M. Beyenka, FC 26, 442.
14
Ibid.
15 Introductory Commentary on 2 Peter, Migne, PL Supp 3.109.
16 Paul M. Blowers, “Exegesis of Scripture,” 253–273 in The Oxford Handbook of Maximos the Confessor,
eds. Allen and Neil (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 336.
17 Homilies on 2 Timothy 9, tr. Schaff, NPNF 1. 13.510.
168 Edith M. Humphrey
just as Christ “called his own teaching water” and David “compared the person devoted to the
divine sayings with trees growing on riverbanks, ever green, bearing fruit in season.”18 Even
those not aware of the tradition linking the written and the incarnate Word are taught in lit-
urgy that the glory of Christ may be seen in the Gospel, for worshipers stand whenever it is
read aloud. The written Word, in echo of the God-Man, is considered both human and divine.
2 Tim 3:16 famously speaks about “all Scripture” (or, possibly “every part of Scripture”) as
“God-breathed” (theopneustos). The pedant might counter that, for the apostle Paul (or the
one claiming his name), “Scripture” referred to the Hebrew Bible. However, that very limita-
tion is not uncomplicated—which version, which collection? Would the apostle have distin-
guished the Hebrew from the Old Greek text? Were Esther, Baruch, and Wisdom referred to
in “all/every Scripture” or only those that would be set as sacred by the Jewish community?
As for the dictum’s application to New Testament writers, we should note the very early asso-
ciation of venerable Jewish writings with the memoires (oral or written) of the apostles and
the epistles. Even 2 Pet 1:17–21 speaks about the “prophetic hope” being made more certain
by the witness of the apostles to God’s spoken word on Tabor; that same letter goes on to clas-
sify the letters of Paul with the “other Scriptures,” explaining that both can be misinterpreted
by those who do not have “the grace and knowledge” of Jesus (2 Pet 3:15–18).
From the earliest times of the Church, the importance of the Old Testament was estab-
lished, insofar as it was understood in consonance with the apostolic witness to Christ.
Marcion’s procrustean attempts to remove the Old Testament, along with any New
Testament references to it, did not prevail. Similarly, the Epistle of Barnabas, however be-
loved by many in the second century, was not eventually recognized as a New Testament
book: perhaps it was Barnabas’s revisionary view of the Old Testament that featured strongly
in this omission. In not canonizing it, the Church maintained her continuity with the Old
Testament people of God, who continued to be seen as actually receiving God’s legal and
cultic instructions in Torah, although these had a temporary value. The historical character
of the Scriptures was thereby established as significant, while pointing forward to Christ.
From time to time, some patristic interpretations of Old Testament passages may have
threatened to devalue their historical significance (for example, in attempts to reclaim dis-
turbing passages by means of a hegemonic allegorization that denied their literal meaning).
Normatively, however, the OT and the NT were seen as inspired together, related, as St.
John Chrysostom puts it, as “two sisters and two maidens [who] serve one Master.”19 St.
Cyril of Alexandria assigns a dominical origin to this link in a luminous paragraph:
In this discourse [on the road to Emmaus] the Lord shows that the law was necessary to
make ready the way and the ministry of the prophets to prepare people for faith in this
18
Commentary on the Psalms 1:7–8, tr R. Hill, FC 48.8.
19
Chrysostom, In illud, Exiit edictum PG 50:796.
“Splendid Brilliancy” 169
marvelous act, so that when the resurrection really took place, those who were troubled at
its greatness might remember what was said of old and be induced to believe. He brings
forward, therefore, Moses and the prophets, interpreting their hidden meaning and making
plain to the worthy what to the unworthy was obscure. In this way he settles in them the
ancient and hereditary faith taught them by the sacred books which they possessed. For
nothing which comes from God is without its use, but all have their appointed place and
service. In their due place servants were sent to make ready for the presence of the Master.
They brought in beforehand prophecy as the necessary preparative for faith, so that, like
some royal treasure, what had been foretold might in due season be brought forward from
the concealment of its former obscurity, unveiled and made plain by the clearness of the
interpretation.20
It may seem curious, however, that the Orthodox Church has not spoken definitively re-
garding the extent of sacred Scripture, at least so far as the Old Testament is concerned. At
some point after the fall of Jerusalem, the Jewish community seem to have come to a con-
clusion regarding the debate over which books “rendered the hands unclean.” (By this they
did not mean books which contaminated a person, but rather those books were set apart
from others: after reading them, the one handling the holy book would mark a return to
the profane by washing his hands.) About the same time Christians came to a conclusion
regarding the extent of the New Testament books, and have not debated this for centuries.
However, they did not make a similar determination that was universally held with regard
to the Old Testament. Athanasius’s Festal Letter 39 is known for listing the twenty-seven
New Testament books that we now recognize (perhaps with a little hesitancy regarding
the Apocalypse), along with most of those older books, in basic agreement with the Jewish
collection (minus Esther, and adding Baruch and the letter of Jeremiah.) Of these he says
with certainty:
These are fountains of salvation, so that the one who thirsts might be satisfied with the oracles
within them. In these alone is found the school which announces the good news of godliness.
Let no one add to these, nor take anything from them. For concerning these books the Lord
shamed the Sadducees, and said, “You err, not knowing the Scriptures.” And He advised the
Jews, saying, “Search the Scriptures, for these are they that testify of Me.” (39.6)21
He then goes on to list other books (Wisdom, Sirach, Judith, Esther, Tobit, the Didache, and
the Shepherd of Hermas) that were “readable” or “knowable”—that is, helpful in growth to
maturity, but apparently not set apart by his community in the same way as the first two
collections (39.7). However, he appears not to be absolutely consistent in such distinctions,
since in Against the Arians (II.79) he refers to Sirach as though it were Holy Scripture.
We might notice that the saint does not actually use the noun kanōn here, but rather find
the participle kanonizomena used in distinction to those that are “readable.” Most English
translations of the Letter render this participle as “included in the canon,” but the term
can as easily mean “according to the canon.” Instead of declaring these books themselves
20
Commentary on Luke 24:13, R. Payne Smith (Astoria, NY: Studion Publishing, 1983), II, 727.
21
This is my own translation of the Greek, which is available online at http://www.earlychurchtexts.
com/main/athanasius/festal_letter_39.shtml. (It seems, from the context, that the saint read the verb
Ἐρευνᾶτε, “Search!” as imperative rather than in the indicative mode used by most contemporary
translators.)
170 Edith M. Humphrey
to be themselves a canon, Athanasius may be implying that these books of the Old and
New Testaments have been recognized by the Church as corresponding to the “rule of faith/
truth,” for they clearly point to Christ, whereas the other “readable” books are important for
the teaching of morals.22
It should be pointed out that St. Athanasius’s letter is descriptive, not prescriptive, and does
not have the status of a council. Properly speaking, the boundaries of the New Testament
and the Old Testament are not dogmatized, but traced in their use. In the case of the New
Testament, there are only limited points of query, such as, for example, the pericope of the
woman caught in adultery (which seems to have been inserted late into John, but is attested
early elsewhere),23 the ending of Mark, or the Johannine “comma” at 1 John 5:7b–8.24 As for the
Old Testament, Orthodox have varying attitudes to the “readable” books, some considering
them authoritative since they are read in worship, with others recognizing a more restrictive
canon. As Eugene Pentiuc remarks, “the patristic statements tell us nothing about canonicity in
stricto sensu of a ‘canon’ as a closed collection.”25 Similarly, John Meyendorff speaks of the “un-
resolved polarity” between those who accept the extended, and those who cleave to a narrower
canon.26 This is not divisive since the Old Testament is not in itself used to establish doctrine,
but is seen as expressly inspired so as to point to Christ. Moreover, Orthodox have not had the
same controversies regarding communion of the saints and the place of Holy Tradition as have
been prominent in the West: the status of these books, which yield “proof-texts,” has thus not
been so crucial. Orthodox doctrine depends on perceiving the Lord and the Holy Trinity as the
center of the body of faith, with Scripture witnessing to this living God. This leads us to con-
sider inspiration and illumination, Scripture, and the whole body of Tradition.
Though some have considered Vladimir Lossky as an “outlier” in other matters, what
he says about Scripture and Tradition may be taken as mainstream. He comments that
22 We might point out, however, that a century later, Amphilochius of Iconium, in his poem Iambics
for Seleucus, does use the noun kanōn (in the final line) in reference to a list that he composes of accepted
holy books that are “God-breathed” (PG 37). The poem, with a translation, may be seen at http://www.
bible-researcher.com/amphilocius.html.
23 See Zacxorowski, “The Pericope of the Woman Caught in Adultery,” JETS 61/
2 (2018): 321–337,
concerning early references to this story, and the complex debate concerning it authority in https://www.
etsjets.org/files/JETS-PDFs/61/61-2/JETS_61.2_321-337_Kaczorowski.pdf.
24 Among Orthodox, such debates are complex, since absence from (what we can determine to be)
the earliest manuscripts is not necessarily the criterion for denying authority; the status of the Textus
Receptus and traditional use is also in play.
25 The Old Testament, 109. Those who are interested in a close analysis of the various attitudes and
dicta made in the patristic period and later, including the Council of Trullo (seventh century) and
beyond (Synod of Jerusalem, seventeenth century), will find this ably and fairly represented in Pentiuc’s
chapter 3, “Canon.”
26 Byzantine Theology: Historical Trends and Doctrinal Themes (New York: Fordham University Press,
1979), 7.
“Splendid Brilliancy” 171
“Tradition implies an incessant operation of the Holy Spirit,” that it is “the complement of
the Bible,” and maintains “the fulfillment of the Old Testament in the New.”27 Tradition
and Scripture are organically related, helping readers in “tracing the inner connections
between the sacred texts,”28 and their own connection with what has been received. Here,
Lossky represents for a contemporary audience what St. Basil tackled in his tome, On the
Holy Spirit. In that pastoral piece, St. Basil reminded his readers that much of the Christian
teaching, whether kerygma (for the world) or dogmata (for the household of faith), has
come through apostolic oral tradition.29 It may be that the examples he gives—sign of the
cross, prayers facing East, the anaphora, blessing of water and oil, triple immersion—are
all in the category of dogmata. His point is clear, however: the Church is governed not only
by what she reads in Scriptures, but also by apostolic words passed down to her. Further,
she is formed and lives in the mystery of Christ, not simply through the written Word
but also by the re-echoed spoken word. So then, Scripture has come, in Orthodoxy, to be
seen as the concrete written core of Holy Tradition, which precedes it, surrounds it, and
continues after it. The Holy Spirit is the One from Whom all this has been breathed out, in-
cluding unspoken mysteries (as St. Maximos reminds us) in which we “hear the silence.”30
When God “speaks” or “breathes” out to us truth, there is that which can be captured by
human words, but there is also a mysterious surplus by which He transforms and changes
readers.
In this sense, the picture of God exhaling the Scriptures is perhaps most helpful, since
this depicts God’s initiative. The actual word theopneustos, found in 1 Tim 3:16, is ambig-
uous, however. Literally, it means “God-breathed,” and this be interpreted as “breathed out”
by God or “breathed upon/into” by God (as the Latin inspiratus, and the English “inspired,”
suggests). Moreover, Scriptures are not a Word from God simpliciter; they are also words of
human beings, who have seen and heard God, and pass on this sight and this sound in their
written interpretation. As Metropolitan Hilarion reminds us, “this or that book of Holy
Scriptures . . . can be thought of as a synergy which, combined with action, works between
God and man. . . . The books of Holy Scripture were written by people who found them-
selves not in a trance-like state but in a sober state of mind.”31 In some ways, then, the image
implied in the word “inspired” captures this human creative written response to seeing and
hearing God, which God then indwells and blesses, as it is passed on to others. However, it
needs to be remembered that the God’s out-breathing proceeds the human interpretation
and the “inspiration”: God is understood as communicating, using human language and
images. He is the initiator, taking up what He has first created, and then commending this
to those who see, speak, hear, and read.
27 Vladimir Lossky, In the Image and Likeness of God (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press,
1974), 198.
28 Lossky, 198.
29 St. Basil, On the Holy Spirit, 27.
30 See Metropolitan Hilarion Alfeyev, Orthodox Christianity, II Doctrine and Teaching of the Orthodox
Church (Yonkers, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2012), 20. We might point out that the element of
mystery and silence is paradoxically present even in the written Word, as we see in some of its vision-
reports, e.g., Rev. 8:6, 9:21, 11:15). On the latter, see Edith M. Humphrey, And I Turned to See the Voice: The
Rhetoric of Vision in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic Press, 2007).
31 Doctrine and Teaching of the Orthodox Church, 21.
172 Edith M. Humphrey
The inspiration of Scripture, then, implies the illumination of those who read it from
within the context of the Church. The second epistle of Peter binds together the hearing
and seeing of the three apostles on the mountain with a clarified understanding of what the
prophets had said: neither prophets nor apostles spoke as individuals, but as joint-hearers
of God. It then goes on to speak about the Scriptures, interpreted by the apostles, as a
“lamp” for those who read them (2 Pet 1:16–21). The prophets and apostles were “borne
along” (pheromenoi) by the Holy Spirit, who also illumines those who see and read in con-
cert with the apostles, as a foretaste of the time when Christ will be seen by all. Insight,
writing, speaking, hearing, and reading are superintended by that same Spirit in a contin-
uing action by which God’s people know ever more deeply the One who is the Word, and
by which they are bound together. In stark contrast to this communal audition and vision
stands the instruction given in some assemblies today: “Listen for the Word of the Lord!”
implies that discernment weighs heavily on the individual listener, who must sort out what
is valuable from the dross, as Psyche sorted seeds in the Greek myth. But the picture in
Orthodox understanding is otherwise: inspiration and illumination are twins, prompted
by the same Spirit, received by all the faithful. John Chrysostom, using Psalm 19/18 as his
catalyst, reminds readers of the sweetness of Scripture, when those who taste it have edu-
cated palettes:
[The words of God] are “desirable above gold and a very precious stone, and sweeter than
honey and the honeycomb,” but they are so only to those in sound health. Therefore he
[i.e., the Psalmist] added, “For your servant keeps them.” And elsewhere again, after saying
that they are sweet, he added, “to my palate.” “How sweet to my palate,” he says, “are your
promises.” And he goes on to insist on their excellence by the words “sweeter than honey and
the honeycomb to my mouth,”57 because he was in very sound health. Well, then, let us not on
our part approach these words in ill health, but let us receive nourishment from them, after
having restored our souls to health.32
Later in Orthodox history, in one of his complex responses to Thalassios, St. Maximos
writes of the synergy of the Holy Spirit, the human transmitters, and the recipients of God’s
revelation:
[I]t is clear that all the saints both received revelations from the Spirit and searched out
their principles in order to unveil what had been revealed to them, and that the grace of
the Holy Spirit in no way abolishes the power of nature. To the contrary: grace makes na-
ture—which had been weakened by habits contrary to nature—strong enough once again
to function in ways according to nature, and it leads it upward to comprehension of divine
realities.33
Here he describes the process of illumination as a healing of nature, so that the biblical
authors can both receive and understand His word. The fall has so weakened human na-
ture that, if left in that fallen condition, it could neither see nor understand God’s will.
By God’s gift, the veil is removed, and the human mind is led upward. Intriguingly, St.
32
Homily 1 on Gospel of John, tr. T. A. Goggin, FC 33, 8–9. (My emphasis on the plural first person
pronouns.)
33 Question 59.6, tr. M. Constas, On Difficulties in Sacred Scripture: The Responses to Thalassios,
FC 136, 415.
“Splendid Brilliancy” 173
And in the same way that the incarnate Word did not effect the natural things of the flesh
without flesh animated by a rational soul and intellect, neither does the Holy Spirit effect
knowledge of divine mysteries in the saints without their natural power to search and inquire
after such knowledge.34
That is, the Holy Spirit works in the human being who is seeking to understand God in the
same way as the Incarnate Word took on human flesh—not by destroying, but by union
with human nature, so as to perfect it. St. Maximos is thorough in his description of anthro-
pological integrity, referring to body, soul, and mind as remaining intact in those who are
seeking God. Illumination is not shamanic “channeling,” but the generous communication
of God with His rational creatures. As Fr. Georges Florovsky puts it, “In Scripture we see
God coming to reveal himself to man, and we see man meeting God, and not only listening
to his voice, but answering him, too.”35
Though God works in us personally, we notice that both the Golden-Mouthed and St.
Maximos stress the communal context, for the ancient Christian mind sees the Church
living as a whole, growing into (to use the words of St. Paul) “the whole man, the measure
of the stature of the fullness of Christ” (Eph 4:13). Similarly, it understands the Church’s cor-
porate reception and reading of the Scriptures. Reading the Scriptures along with the apos-
tles involves understanding and continuing in their approach to the Word, since they were
directly taught this by Christ. Fr. John Breck, in his readable book Scripture in Tradition,
culls eight principles followed by Church fathers as they read. We may rephrase these for
simplicity as follows:36
1. The “Word of God” refers primarily to the Son, the incarnate Logos.
2. Reading Scripture requires a Trinitarian perspective.
3. Scripture is theanthropic,37 both human and divine.
4. Interpretation of Scripture is to help the Church and for salvation.
5. New Testament writings are the norm for the whole Tradition.
6. The Old Testament and New Testament are related as promise and fulfillment.
7. Scriptural passages should be interpreted by reference to each other.
8. Scripture should be interpreted within a life of prayer in the Church.
34
Ibid, 416.
35
Fr. Georges Florovsky, Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View. Volume One in the
Collected Works of Georges Florovsky (Belmont, MA: Nordland, 1972), 21.
36 John Breck, Scripture in Tradition (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s, 2001), 45–46.
37 Fr. Breck uses the term “theandric,” in echo of the description of Christ as the “God-Man,” just as
Ephesians 4:14 speaks of the Church as growing up to “the perfect man” (anēr). I have modified this to
“theanthropic,” since we find, albeit in the shadows, prophecies by women as well, and because today’s
sensibilities will assume that females are excluded in the use of the masculine noun. Even for those who
are rightly concerned to maintain normative masculine imagery for God, this adjustment need not be
troublesome, since Scripture is not only the word of God but also human words, and includes not only
divine initiative but also human response.
174 Edith M. Humphrey
Most of these principles would be accepted without debate by all Christians, although items
seven and eight may raise some contemporary eyebrows. Principle seven was also in place
when the rabbis spoke of the exegetical reciprocity of Scripture interpreting Scripture, re-
gardless of chronological order—an assumption carried on by the Church fathers, and
adapted to a situation where there were two testaments. Contemporary exegetes worry
about anachronism here, but have been recently challenged by the brilliant work of Richard
Hays, who argues cogently that those seeking to understand the New Testament should
follow its own cue, and read the gospels “backwards,”38 even while seeing the preparatory
role that the Old Testament held. It is in the light of this mutual reciprocity that the an-
cient theologians expanded the Pauline reflection of type and antitype, to discern different
senses of Scripture—literal, tropological (moral), allegorical, and anagogical. In the view of
this writer, the best of the ancient exegetes did not obliterate the first level by means of the
three “higher ones,” but saw them as mutually informative. The Bible was thus understood
as a corpus of writings connected historically and materially with the human realm, and
also redolent of the cosmic. As for the last principle (the interpretation of the Scriptures
within the Church), some today might consider it to be unhelpfully restrictive, tending
toward sheer pietism, and threatening to public discourse. However, it is important to re-
member also that Orthodox speak in one of their most beloved prayers of the Holy Spirit
who is “everywhere present” and who “fills all things.” Public discourse, though not graced
by prayer for everyone who participates, when “naturalized” by those who do pray, has the
potential to lead to truth. For those who analyze together, there remains a concrete focus of
study—the scriptural passage(s) under analysis by which God continues to speak. In such
fora, when those on the margins or outside of the Church participate, Orthodox academics
maintain the tradition modeled by the prophets (who spoke of “reasoning together,” cf. Is
1:18), Jesus (who addressed the Sadducees on the basis of Scriptures they accepted), and
Justin Martyr (who dialogued with Trypho). That model of inspiration and illumination
does not bypass the mind in one-way proclamation, but allows for public discussion and
dispute. This potential openness, of course, stands in tension with the mysteries hidden in
Scripture, and its interpretive veil for those who are not yet illumined.
Orthodox exegetes, from the earliest times, have recognized that Scripture is complex and
composite. Embedded within the New Testament itself is that seemingly throw-away re-
mark in 2 Peter, where we hear about those who misinterpret Scripture: “There are some
things in [the letters of Paul] that are hard to understand, which the untaught and un-
stable twist to their own destruction, as they do the other Scriptures” (2 Pet 3:16). Implicit
in this statement is the conviction that fruitful interpretation depends on being taught,
and having a proper (apostolic) foundation, such as the same author commends in his
38 Richard Hays, Reading Backwards: Figural Christology and the Fourfold Gospel Witness (Waco,
The Scripture is “given by inspiration of God,” as the apostle says. The Scripture is of the
Holy Spirit, and its intention is the profit of men. For “every Scripture,” he says, “is given
by inspiration of God and is profitable.” The profit is varied and multiform, as the apostle
says—“for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness.” Such a
gift as this, however, is not within any man’s reach to lay hold of. Rather, the divine inten-
tion lies hidden under the body of the Scripture, as it were under a veil, some legislative
enactment or some historical narrative being cast over the truths that are contemplated by
the mind.42
So, then, accompanied by God’s illumination, Scripture has various uses, including
imparting a deeper knowledge of doctrine and morals, and “instruction in righteous-
ness”: for Nyssa, and other ancient exegetes, “righteousness” goes beyond instruction in
moral living (cf. 2 Cor 5:21). Probably the patristic commentator who most seamlessly
integrates pragmatic and deep readings of specific passages is St. John Chrysostom, who
in his sermons models a style of reading at once practical and illumined, building a bridge
to his congregation. He regularly provides the means by which his hearers can appreciate
the historical context of each passage, while also holding out the hope of spiritual vision
39
For example, e.g., On First Principles 4.9.
40
Blowers, “Exegesis of Scripture,” 253–254.
41
Ibid, 257–262.
42
St. Gregory of Nyssa, Against Eunomius 3.7.1 NPNF 2, 5.19.
176 Edith M. Humphrey
(theōria) and transformation into the divine image (theōsis) catalyzed by contemplation
of the text.
Occasionally the fathers speculate on the actual process of inspiration that led to the
written deposit we call the Bible. The roughly contemporaneous commentators Venerable
Bede (seventh to eight c.) and Oecumenius (sixth to seventh c.) envision rather different
experiences on the part of the biblical authors, the one emphasizing their understanding
of God’s message, and the other emphasizing the relative obscurity of the revelation even
to its prophetic recipients. In his exegesis of 2 Pet 1:16–21, the Venerable Bede remarks:
The prophets heard God speaking to them in the secret recesses of their own hearts. . . .
Some interpret Peter’s words to mean that the Spirit inspired the prophets in much the
same way as the flutist blows into his flute, so that the latter were no more than mechanical
instruments in God’s hands, saying what the Spirit told them to say without necessarily
understanding or believing it themselves. This is ridiculous. For how could the prophets
have given such good counsel to people if they did not know what they were saying? Are
prophets not also called seers? How could a prophet possibly have communicated what he
saw in secret heavenly visions to a wider audience if he did not fully grasp what it was that
he had seen?43
In contrast, Oecumenius comments, “The prophets knew that they were inspired by the
Holy Spirit, even if they did not always understand the full significance of what they were
told. But they were eager to see the outcome of what they did understand, as the Lord him-
self pointed out.”44 At first glance, it looks as though the two are in conflict, Bede insisting
that they “fully grasped,” while Oecumenius suggesting that “the full significance” may have
eluded them.
However, we are helped by our attention to the context of each writer, as Leontius
of Byzantium recommends in his critique of Nestorius and Eutychius, who misread the
fathers, he said, by not seeking their consensus, nor understanding precisely why they
were writing.45 Bede’s concern is to counter an oracular, mechanical understanding of
Scripture that obliterates the understanding of those who were inspired. He also uses the
prophets’ experience to commend readers of his own time to search for the truth of the
divine words, and to seek illumination, just as the prophets and apostles did, on receiving
God’s words. Evidently Oecumenius is more concerned to marvel at the majesty of the
written Word, and to see how the full meaning of the Old Testament was intended ex-
pressly for those who would be illumined by Christ. Thus he reads 2 Peter 1 in the light
of 1 Pet 1:12: “It was revealed to them that they were serving not themselves but you, in
the things that have now been announced to you through those who preached the good
news to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven, things into which angels long to look.”
43
On 2 Peter, PL 93.73.
44
Commentary on 2 Peter, PG 119.592.
45 Christos Ath. Arabatzis, Patristic Hermeneutics: Fourth to Fourteenth Century, tr. and ed. Dragas
(Columbia, MO: NewRome Press, 2013), 28–29. This cogently argued book, replete with extensive and
helpful patristic quotations in the original language, shows how both fathers and those considered
heretical held to the central role of Scripture, but how those outside the mainstream of the Church
were selective rather than unitive in their reading of the fathers, in order to uphold their tendentious
perspectives.
“Splendid Brilliancy” 177
Taking these two voices together, and hearing them alongside the actual practice of exe-
gesis and interpretation among a host of ancient interpreters, Orthodox inherit a view of
inspiration that is neither mechanical nor human-centered. The nature of Scriptures as
theanthropic means that they are to be read with as much contextualization and effort as
other historical books, but with the confidence that what they offer goes beyond historical
and moral instruction.
We have seen a consistent conviction that the Bible resides in the Church as the vital core
of Holy Tradition, speaking with the same power it had when written. This immediacy is
maintained because the Scriptures are read through and in the company of the faithful, with
the consensus of past fathers. Orthodox see themselves, when reading Scripture, as in their
daily living, surrounded by a host of witnesses. Fr. Andrew Louth describes how readers of
Scripture need not be stymied by the “Kantian divide” concerning knowledge, when the
Bible retains its honored place as a family book. Though there are cultural matters that may
puzzle some as they read, and though a knowledge of the Scriptures (and its interpretation
by the fathers) is made more precise by attention to social and historical context, the sacred
Books remain vibrant. It is not a “matter of listening to what once was written . . . across a
historical gulf ” for the Orthodox community. Instead, this historical space is “filled with
the tradition that brings this piece of writing” to us, helping readers to discern their own
“preconceptions and prejudices” so that they can purge these, where they obscure the text,
and so that they can “pick up the resonances of the images and arguments” in the passages
that are being read.46
St. John of Damascus evokes the metaphor of an irrigated garden when he speaks of “the
soul watered by sacred Scripture.” He describes the receptive reader in this way: “[This one]
grows fat and bears fruit in due season, which is the Orthodox faith, and so is it adorned
with its evergreen leaves, with actions pleasing to God, I mean. And thus we are disposed
to virtuous action and untroubled contemplation by the sacred Scriptures.”47 Even this
conceit, which is directed toward the personal contemplative reading of Scripture, ends
with a reference to the first person plural, the “we” who are disposed to godly action and
the vision of God. In the end, for the Orthodox, inspiration and illumination mean that
Scripture itself becomes the “collective song of the community.”48 A clear view of the dis-
tinct, though pluriform nature of Orthodox approaches to Scripture puts Orthodox readers
of the Bible in a position to engage the oppressive hermeneutics of suspicion conceived
during the Enlightenment, that, according to Eugene Pentiuc, still “overshadows the current
46 Fr. Andrew Louth, Discerning the Mystery: An Essay on the Nature of Theology (Oxford: Clarendon,
1983), 106–107.
47 Orthodox Faith 4.17; FC 37, 374.
48 Fr. John A. McGuckin, “Recent Biblical Hermeneutics in Patristic Perspective,” Greek Orthodox
conversation in biblical studies.”49 Jesus assured his hearers that the Father does not give a
stone, but bread, to those who ask: this hope concerning the gift of the Holy Spirit surely
informs Orthodox readers as they affirm the liveliness and the life-giving quality of ma-
turely interpreted Scripture.
References
Alfeyev, Metropolitan Hilarion. Orthodox Christianity, II Doctrine and Teaching of the
Orthodox Church. Yonkers, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2012.
Arabatzis, Christos Ath. Patristic Hermeneutics: Fourth to Fourteenth Century. Tr. and
ed. Protopresbtery George Dion. Dragas. Patristic Monograph Series I. Columbia, MO;
NewRome Press, 2013.
Blowers, Paul M. “Exegesis of Scripture.” Pages 253–273 in The Oxford Handbook of Maximos
the Confessor. Eds. Allen and Neil. New York: Oxford University Press, 2015.
Breck, Fr. John. Scripture in Tradition. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Press, 2001.
Breck, Fr. John. Longing for God: Orthodox Reflections on Bible, Ethics, and Liturgy. Crestwood,
NY: St. Vladimir’s Press, 2006.
Florovsky, Fr. Georges. Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View. Volume One in
the Collected Works of Georges Florovsky. Belmont, MA: Nordland, 1972.
Hays, Richard. Reading Backwards: Figural Christology and the Fourfold Gospel Witness. Waco,
TX: Baylor University Press, 2016.
Humphrey, Edith M. And I Turned to See the Voice: The Rhetoric of Vision in the New Testament.
Grand Rapids: Baker Academic Press, 2007.
Legaspi, Michael C. The Death of Scripture and the Rise of Biblical Studies. New York: Oxford
University Press, 2010.
Lossky, Vladimir. In the Image and Likeness of God. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary
Press, 1974.
Louth, Fr. Andrew. Discerning the Mystery: An Essay on the Nature of Theology. Oxford:
Clarendon, 1983.
McGuckin, Fr. John Anthony. “Recent Biblical Hermeneutics in Patristic Perspective: The
Tradition of Orthodoxy.” Greek Orthodox Theological Review 47 (2002): 295–326.
Meyendorff, Fr. John. Byzantine Theology: Historical Trends and Doctrinal Themes.
New York: Fordham University Press, 1979.
Pentiuc, Eugen J. The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition. New York: Oxford
University Press, 2014.
Zaczorowski, Scott J. “The Pericope of the Woman Caught in Adultery: An Inspired Text
Inserted into an Inspired Text.” JETS 61/2 (2018): 321–337.
49
Pentiuc, The Old Testament, 330.
Chapter 11
Placing the truths of faith under a homogeneous martyrdom was an old preoccupation
of the homogeneous Christianity of the first millennium.1 Nonetheless, there were nu-
merous religious and political challenges,2 which led to definitions and clarifications con-
cerning identity, both in the first and in the second millennium. The second millennium
was decidedly a time of statement of identity, especially because of the schisms.3 It seemed
1
In this respect, we would like to mention the collecting of apostolic writings, the Councils, from
Laodicea and up to Trullo, the Letter of Athanasius, etc. These actions conferred the status of Holy
Scriptures on the canonical books, establishing the transition from the status of collection to that
of Scripture or, according to Father John Behr, the “transition from the Bible to the Scripture” [my
translation].
2 Such challenges occurred, for example, ever since the time of apostolic Christianity, when, in relation
to Marcion’s attitude toward the Scriptures, the Church sought to define the biblical canon, clarifying the
fact that it consisted of the Old Testament and of the Gospels and the Epistles of the Apostles. Ioan I.
Ică Jr., The Canon of Orthodoxy (in Romanian), vol. 1 (Sibiu: Deisis/Stavropoleos, 2008), 198–203.
3 The Great Schism (1054) or the Protestant Reformation (1517) gave birth in the West to churches
which, after separating from the Eastern Church, promoted an action of clarification of their identity
by putting together confessions of faith that would capture, in nuce, their creed. Likewise, the Christian
180 Ioan Chirilă
that, at the end of the second millennium and beginning of the third millennium, the
state of crisis repeated, this time as “a universal cry of the 20th century, caused by a value
crisis, an identity one, a personality crisis etc.” (my translation).4 This situation can only
be overcome by our return to the “word of the Scripture,” which is God’s word using the
Holy Spirit, which is expressed by hagiographers so that we can understand it. Thus, to
objectively understand the status of the Anagignoskomena in the Orthodox editions, we
will state from the very beginning that, in Orthodoxy, the Holy Scripture can be viewed as
an incarnation of the Word, as “the Word becomes incarnate through each of the written
words” (my translation).5
Therefore, the seeking of and the knowledge of the Word, more precisely the knowledge
of God, is our calling to identify Him as Truth or “canon of truth,”6 in Father John Behr’s
words, it is the invitation to look for “eternal meanings,”7 to regain the “lost scriptural
mind,”8 Christ’s mind, for the “Holy Scripture is not the only and supreme authority for the
Church of the apostolic age, given that, for the first Christians, there was a different supreme
authority, namely our Lord Jesus Christ Himself. The value and authority of the Scripture
Orthodox canonical identity also underwent a period of crystallization, as it was necessary to embark
upon a dialogue with the West—be it Catholic or Protestant—and to support its point of view. We see
how the Romanian Orthodox Church witnessed such a situation in the seventeenth century, when,
through the Synod of Iasi (1642), it established its position with respect to the Reformation and, through
the contribution of St. Anthim the Iberian (1708–1716) and of Patriarch Dositheos II of Jerusalem
(1669–1707), it fought back against the Roman Catholic and United propaganda in Wallachia. These
decisions and attitudes, in addition to other similar ones, were nothing else but restatements of the
Eastern Christian identity with respect to the teachings of faith put forward by the West. See Ică, The
Canon of Orthodoxy, 16.
4
Teoctist, the Patriarch of Romania, “Foreword,” in On the Life of Moses or On Fulfilment through
Virtue, Of Our Holy Father Gregory Bishop of Nyssa (in Romanian), transl. by Ion Buga (Bucharest: Sf.
Gheorghe Vechi, 1995), 1.
5 To understand this assertion, we have resorted to the theology of Saint Maximus, who identifies a
triple incarnation of the Logos: in the reasons of creation, in the words of the Scripture, and in the womb
of the Virgin: “God’s word is called a body not only because it became incarnate, but also because God—
The simple Word, Who, in the beginning, was with God and the Father and held within the clear and
revealed models of everyone, consisting of no comparisons or riddles, nor of allegorical histories, when
it comes to people, who cannot fathom all this with their mind rid of the regular, becomes incarnate,
being clothed and multiplied in the variety of histories, riddles, comparisons and dark words. . . . For the
Word becomes incarnate through each of the words written [in the Holy Scripture].” [my translation].
St. Maximus the Confessor, “Gnostic Heads” (in Romanian), in Philokalia, vol. 2, transl. by Dumitru
Stăniloae (Sibiu: Tiparul Arhidiecezan, 1947), 188–189.
6 John Behr, The Formation of Christian Theology. Vol. 1: The Way to Nicaea (New York: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary Press, 2001), 48. Father John Behr also extends the idea of canon of the truth itself to the
classical liturgical anaphoras, which resume the entire Scripture, to the saints whose lives embody the
scriptural word and to the decisions of synods with respect to the life of the Church.
7 Georges Florovsky, Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View (in Romanian), transl. by
of educating his mind to follow Christ’s standard. He considers that the language of the Scripture is
archaic and that it no longer meets current needs. However, it is necessary to relearn the meaning of
repentance, to notice once again the need to change one’s mind to understand the Scripture and to
become aware of the fact that “the faith which was once taught to saints in such an old and archaic
manner” represents an indicative pillar for the times in which he lives. Ibid., 38.
The Special Status of the Anagignoskomena 181
reside only in connection with Christ”9 (my translation)—the living authority of the
Church, Its holy archive.10 The written word is only a partial expression of God’s Revelation.
Jesus Christ is the Supreme Revelation, the Prophet par excellence,11 and the hermeneutist is
the Holy Spirit.12 Therefore, the authority of the Scripture cannot be understood outside the
environment in which it was created (the living community of the faithful) and outside the
Holy Tradition of the Church, which are living structures of His mystical Body, structures
within which anyone can grow and become strong in spirit (acc. Lk 1:80).
When we use Saint Ignatius Theophorus’s terminology, we resort to the time of Moses,
who received the commandment of establishing the “Law” in the Holy Tabernacle.
Likewise, we have in mind the time of the First Temple of what we call “Depositum
Templi,” mentioned during the restoration of the end of the seventh century BC. Then
we get to the “regime of the Torah”13 from the time of the Second Temple, where we start
with Esdras and then reach the time of the Maccabees and the Hasmoneans, the period
when the treasury, the holy archives of Judaism, on which the creation of the Septuagint
was based, were collected.
In the prologue of the Wisdom of Sirach, the tripartite division of the Jewish canon is
mentioned. This confession, dating to the second century BC indicates three categories
of books that are considered Scriptures: The Law, the Prophets, and other writings of the
Fathers (vv. 1–2; 24–25). The same work suggests that the section dedicated to the Prophets
was already closed (Sir 44–49), whereas the last category was still open to debate until the
end of the first century AD (most likely until the legendary Council of Jamnia)14 or even
until the end of the second century.15 This allowed the addition of several formative writings
to the canon of the Septuagint, but none of them had the chance of becoming a “Scripture,”
given that, in the Jewish community, the collection of holy writings had already been
9
Vasile Mihoc, “Bible, Tradition and Church (in Romanian),” Pleroma 5, no. 1 (2003): 98.
10
Answering to those who wanted to base their faith in Christ on reliable sources (archives—writings
from the Old or the New Testament), Saint Ignatius the Theophorus said that, for him, the archives are
Jesus Christ Himself, “His Cross, his death and Resurrection and the faith given through Him [being,
emphasis added] holy archives” [my translation]. St. Ignatius the Theophorus, “The Epistle of Ignatius
to the Philadelphians (in Romanian),” in The Fathers of the Church, vol. 1, transl. by Dumitru Fecioru
(Bucharest: Ed. Institutului Biblic și de Misiune al Bisericii Ortodoxe Române, 1979), 180.
11 Corneliu Sârbu, “Jesus Christ as the Supreme Prophet” (in Romanian), The Metropolitan Church of
the crystallization of the Jewish canon, since it was during this Council that the rabbis talked about the
books they considered to be canonical during their time. See Miltiadis Konstininou, “Old Testament
Canon and Text in the Greek-Speaking Orthodox Church,” in Simon Crisp, Manuel Jinbachian (eds.),
Text Theology & Translation, Essays in Honor of Jan de Waard (London: United Bible Societies, 2004),
98; Robert C. Newman, “The Council of Jamnia and the Old Testament Canon,” Westminster Theological
Journal 38, no. 4 (1976): 349.
15 This reality is also confirmed by the hagiographers of the New Testament, who always distinguish
between the writings of the three canonical categories and the Anagignoskomena books/additions,
calling the former: “scriptures” or “it is written.” Eugen Pentiuc, The Old Testament in the Eastern
Orthodox Tradition (in Romanian), transl. by Nectarie Dărăban (Cluj-Napoca: Renașterea, 2018), 172.
182 Ioan Chirilă
closed. For Flavius Josephus, these books, which were not included in the canon containing
writings “worthy of belief,” were written much later, after the canon was already established
(approx. 5th c. BC), and cannot prove a precise prophetic succession (Against Apion 1.38–
42). What is left besides these writings is only the intertestamental literature, which was not
translated and therefore was not part of the configuration of the Septuagint.
The scriptural editions that are based on the Septuagint would pass on the same struc-
ture, with additions from the Anagignoskomena to the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings.
When the challenge of including additional writings in the scriptural corpus arose, the
Church opted for the filter/canon of the Septuagint. The following fall within this range: the
action of Saint Athanasius the Great against the gnostic literature, the decisions of the local
councils of Laodicea and Carthage,16 and the Apostolic Constitutions,17 which would be
crowned by the decision of the Fourth Ecumenical Council.18 As such, we can say that this
is the end of the road of transition from the scrolls/depositum, from the holy archives to the
Holy Scripture and that, in the Holy Scripture, whose translation is based on the Septuagint,
we will encounter a group of writings called deuterocanonical (for Roman Catholics),
Anagignoskomena (for the Orthodox), and apocryphal (for Protestants).
A particular case is the extended canon of the Non-Chalcedonian Eastern Orthodox
Churches, which seems to have followed the path opened by Esdras.19 They surpassed
the number of seventy writings, sometimes reaching even eighty-one, as is the case of the
Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahdo Church.20 The Coptic Churches, on the other hand, kept
the Jewish canon, without the Anagignoskomena. This shows us that church authority
decides on extension and content, according to the dogmatic, liturgical, and hermeneutic
orientation. Therefore, we would like to mention a characteristic of Romanian Orthodoxy,
highlighted by Father Dumitru Stăniloae, who considered that “the Church is moving within
the Revelation or the Scripture or the Tradition; the Scripture reveals its content within the
Church and the Tradition; the Tradition is living within the Church. The Revelation itself
16 Canon 60 of Laodicea (before 380) and canon 26 of Carthage (397), although similar in terms of
content, represent the first synodal decisions with respect to the biblical canon. They provide the list of
books of the Old and the New Testament, the only ones allowed to be read in the Church. Ică, The Canon
of Orthodoxy, 150. See the text of the canon in The Canons of the Orthodox Church: The Canons of Local
Synods (in Romanian), vol. 2, transl. by Răzvan Perșa (Bucharest: Basilica, 2018), 99.
17 By equally addressing the clergy and the laymen, the 85th apostolic canon (before 380) underscores
the books of the Old and the New Testament which are “esteemed venerable and holy.” Ică, The Canon of
Orthodoxy, 150. See the text of the canon in Perșa, The Canons of the Orthodox Church, vol. 1, 133.
18 The second canon of Trullo (Fifth–Sixth Ecumenical Council) underlines the fact “that the eighty-
five canons, received and ratified by the holy and blessed Fathers before us, and also handed down to us
in the name of the holy and glorious Apostles should from this time forth remain firm and unshaken.”
Perșa, The Canons of the Orthodox Church, vol. 1, 267.
19 “Make public [the twenty-four, emphasis added] books that you wrote first, and let the worthy and
the unworthy read them; but keep the seventy that were written last, to give them to the wise among your
people. For in them is the spring of understanding, the fountain of wisdom, and the river of knowledge.
And I did so.” (4 Esd. 14:45–48). Ică, The Canon of Orthodoxy, 157.
20 Proving to be “the most comprehensive of the existing Christian canons” [my translation], the
extended Ethiopian canon contains forty-six books in the Old Testament and thirty-five in the New
Testament, as it includes books from the intertestamental and from the postapostolic periods. See details
in Ică, The Canon of Orthodoxy, 151–152; R. W. Cowley, “The Biblical Canon of the Ethiopian Orthodox
Church Today,” Ostkirchliche Studien 23, no. 4 (1974): 318–323.
The Special Status of the Anagignoskomena 183
is efficient within the Church and the Church is living within the Revelation. However, this
intertwinement depends on the work of the Holy Spirit of Christ”21 (my translation).
The Anagignoskomena have not been introduced homogeneously in the Orthodox editions,
an important factor in their configuration being the edition of the Septuagint on which the
translation was based. This is how we can explain the differences between the Orthodox
scriptural editions of the Eastern Churches. Before going into further details concerning
these aspects, we would like to mention the meaning of the concept of Anagignoskomena.
In the Homeric poems, the verb “a)nagignw/skw” means “to know better,” “to know again,”
“to recognize.” According to Homer, when used about writing to letters, it means “to know
again,” “to read.”22 In the passive voice, when the verb accompanies the noun “book/books”
(as in the example “ta\ bibli/a ta\ a)negnwsme/na”), it means “the books read aloud,”
meaning “the published book.” The verb “a)nagignw/skw” can also mean “to persuade, to
convince.” Likewise, when the preposition “a)na/” precedes a verb, it can mean “upward,
backward, again.” In G. Lampe’s Patristic Lexicon, the term “a)naginwsko/mena” indicates
“the books which can be read in the Church” (for instance, canonical books, as opposed to
the apocryphal ones) or “the books which can be read by catechumens.”23 The terminolog-
ical details suggest that these books are worthy of reading, that they bring additional data
to certain writings, and that they are useful to catechumens in their preparation for en-
lightenment. This also transpires from Athanasius’s Paschal Encyclical, which speaks about
kanonizo și anaginoskomena.
The relation between the Anagignoskomena and the canonical corpus is evident in the
case of additions,24 but, in the case of books, the correspondence is made based on chro-
nology, subject, form, and style.25 With the new scriptural editions, many of them migrated
21 Dumitru Stăniloae, Orthodox Dogmatic Theology (in Romanian), vol. 1 (Bucharest: Ed. Institutului
in the text of a book or placed as separate narratives yet having a clear relation with the content of
the canonical book. Thus, in the book of Esther, we see a series of noncanonical passages—Mordecai’s
dream, the decree of King Artaxerxes for the killing of Jews, the prayer of Mordecai and Esther, the
appearance of Esther before the King, the decree of King Artaxerxes for the protection of Jews and the
interpretation of Mordecai’s dream—which complete the canonical text, Psalm 151, placed at the end of
the 150 canonical psalms, the text on the origin of Job (42:17), and the Song of the Three Holy Children,
Susanna, Bel, and the Dragon are in direct relation to the events narrated in the book of Daniel. Ioan
Chirilă et al., Introduction into the Old Testament (Bucharest: Basilica, 2018), 736–737.
25 In the Russian Bible, for example, we notice that the Song of Songs is followed by the Wisdom
of Solomon and the Wisdom of Sirach and the Lamentations of Jeremiah is followed by the Epistle of
Jeremiah and the book of Baruch. In the Greek Bible, at the end of the Old Testament, we only find
184 Ioan Chirilă
within the corpus of canonical writings. One can notice that, in the Book of Baruch, we
have detailed elements presenting idols, the state of repentance, and the invocation of the
expiatory liturgical service and the confession of faith in the sense of increased hope in sal-
vation and return to the Promised Land, to Jerusalem.
The correspondence between the books of wisdom and the proverbs of Solomon in terms
of subject, form, and style, is evident; it takes the form of an organic relation between a
sophiological doctrinal synthesis (the canonical book) and a practical work, a practical
guide in the case of the two Anagignoskomena. This makes me mention John Zizioulas,
according to whom orthodoxy is orthe-doxa and orthopraxia.26 We would make the same
evaluation in the case of the relation between Chronicles and Maccabees, seeing it as cor-
respondence in terms of subject, in this case, the subject being the theology of divine
Providence: God saves those who are chosen and whose heart is full of His Law. The books
of the Maccabees can, however, be related to Esther, and thus we will have the most conclu-
sive practical example regarding the reality and concreteness of divine Providence, which is
also viewed as an argument/a confession of the living, loving, and saving God.
Thus, we can understand why St. Athanasius and the church fathers recommended them
as worthy of reading, as preparation for catechumens, but, given Virgil Cândea’s perspective
on the “Dominant Reason”—Maccabees, we can conclude that this biblical literary corpus,
through its pedagogical and formative value, is “giving birth to man” and therefore useful.
Through their content, they support the rule of faith, the canon of truth, as their center is
the living God, in the splendor of the revelation of His eternal dynamism, and do not slide
into the perpetual attempt of knowing in a speculative, analytically conclusive, and conspic-
uously empirical way. The canon of truth is Christ, but one can only understand it in the
Spirit of God (1 Cor. 12:3), who works so that Christ is formed in us (Gal. 4:19) and our life
is hidden with Christ in God (Col. 3:3).
According to John Behr, “In the light of the canon of truth itself, other elements are also
called canons, such as the classical liturgical anaphoras, which epitomize the whole of
Scripture; those saints whose lives and teachings embody the truth are “canons” of faith
and piety, and similarly the decisions of the councils concerning the proper order of the
4 Maccabees and all the rest are placed within the corpus of the canonical books. Thus, Nehemiah is
followed by Tobit and Judith, Esther is followed by the three books of the Maccabees, the Song of Songs
is followed by the Wisdom of Solomon and the Wisdom of Sirach, the book of Jeremiah is followed by
Baruch, the Lamentations are followed by the Epistle of Jeremiah, and Daniel is followed by the three
additions.
26 John D. Zizioulas, Being as Communion: Studies in Personhood and the Church (New York: St.
Church and people of God in particular situations are canons.”27 This makes us state the
following: The Eastern Church did not feel the need to define its biblical canon until the
seventh century, as it was the keeper of the dogmatic and canonical decisions of Ecumenical
Councils, which are reflected in its Confessions of faith.
The controversies between the Protestants and Catholics (16th and 17th centuries) con-
cerning the status of additions have visibly influenced how the Anagignoskomena were
received in Orthodox Churches. Adhering to the background of Western polemics, the
Eastern confessions of faith, which were written in that period, vacillated between a
“narrow” and an “extended” canon. The first of these confessions, which is attributed to
Cyril Lucaris, the Patriarch of Constantinople, was written in 1629. Being influenced by the
Protestant view, Patriarch Cyril excluded the additions of the Septuagint from the canon,
calling them Apocrypha.28 His choice inevitably triggered a reaction, which was meant to
re-establish the books that are “worthy of reading” next to the canonical writings. The first
Orthodox reaction belonged to the Patriarch of Constantinople Parthenius I, who, four
years after the death of his predecessor, Cyril, in 1642, gathered a synod to fight against
the teachings of his confession, which were not consistent with Eastern tradition.29 Cyril
Lucaris’s confession of faith was debated the same year at the Synod of Iasi (Moldavia, now
in Romania), where representatives from Russia, Greece, and the Romanian Principalities
were present. The confession of the Metropolitan of Kyiv, Peter Mogila, which was written
on this occasion, did not tackle the status of additions, but did refer to three books that
are “worthy of reading”: Tb. (12:9), Wisd. of Sol. (3:1), and Sir (3:21; 10:7; 15:11–18, 21; 23:19;
42:18).30 The Synod of Jerusalem (1672), presided by Patriarch Dositheos II Notaras, tackled
the situation of the biblical canon and named the addition of the “Holy Scriptures,” consid-
ering them to be canonical. We would like to point out that the synod’s decision was contrary
to Cyril’s confession, following to a great extent the Catholic vision presented during the
Council of Trent (1545–1563), whose final decision was to accept the additions.31 However,
the extensive text in which the Council answers the question “Which books are called
Holy Scriptures?” suggests that the Anagignoskomena are still different from the canonical
books, even if the fathers of the church placed them together. Father E. Pentiuc mentions
that both confessions distance themselves from the terminology of St. Athanasius, who calls
them noncanonized and readable.32 We would like to specify that the final documents of the
Synod of Jerusalem were signed by the Patriarchate of Constantinople, of Alexandria, and
of Antioch, and by the Patriarch of Moscow.
The positions of these confessions concerning the status of the Anagignoskomena were
not accepted at a Pan-Orthodox level because of the context in which they appeared. The
27
Behr, The formation of Christian Theology, 48.
28
Jon Michalcescu, Die Bekenntnisse und die wichtigsten Glaubenzeugnisse der griechisch-orientalischen
Kirche im Originaltext, nebst einleitenden Bemerkungen (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung,
1904), 275–276.
29 Konstininou, “Old Testament Canon and Text,” 98.
30 Ștefan Munteanu, “Canoniques, non-
canoniques ou bons a lire? La réception des Livres
deutérocanoniques de la Septante dans l’Eglise orthodoxe,” Biblicum Jassyense 39, no. 4 (2013): 49.
31 Miltiadis Konstininou, “Bible translation and National Identity: the Greek Case,” International
Journal for the Study of the Christian Church 12, no. 2 (2012): 181.
32 Pentiuc, The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition, 164.
186 Ioan Chirilă
form in which they were written also contributed to this fact. The Western model, which
promoted the exactitude and the need of clearly articulating the status of addition, was
quite alien to the Eastern way of relating to this category of writings.33 Even if the status of
the Anagignoskomena was not viewed homogeneously in the Orthodox Church, this did
not cause polemics or controversies like those of the West.
Nonetheless, the confessions of faith mentioned previously represent a reference point
for Orthodox countries. In the context of translating the Holy Scripture into national
languages in its entirety, the acknowledgment of these synodal decisions carried a lot of
weight. At a local level, the representatives of the Orthodox Churches decided whether
the additions would be accepted together with the holy books or not. Their decision was
essential, for choosing the edition of the Septuagint based on which the translation would
be made. If an “extended” canon was chosen, according to the provisions of Patriarch
Dositheos’ Confession, the Anagignoskomena were translated and placed next to the other
holy writings. Nonetheless, their number and how they were ordered could vary according
to the edition which was being used as the main source of the translation/edition. The lack
of certain additions from the translated editions did not necessarily mean their rejection.
The decision of the British Biblical Society not to print the group of the Anagignoskomena
was based on financial reasons.34
In what follows, we will present how the writings that are “worthy of reading” have been
viewed in the Slavic, Greek, and Romanian Orthodox environment to have an overview of
the acknowledgment of the Anagignoskomena in mostly Orthodox countries in Europe and
Asia. As such, we will not insist on the number or the order in which they are mentioned
in various editions. Relevant for this research is the attitude toward this category as a whole
and not toward each writing individually. However, whenever necessary, we will refer to
particular additions.
In the Slavic space, the translation of the scriptural writings was due to Cyril and
Methodius, the missionaries who were sent by the Byzantine emperor Michael III
(842–867) to Moravia to preach Christianity in Slavic. They first translated the Divine
Liturgy, the Gospel, the Apostolic reading, and a few writings from the Old Testament.35
Their original translations from the Scripture have not been kept. They could partially be
33
Ibid., 164.
34
See details in Dumitru Abrudan, “The Anagignoskomena of the Old Testament Based on Romanian
Translations” (in Romanian), Theological Studies 33, no. 9–10 (1962): 546.
35 In his study, Henry R. Cooper Jr. offers further details with respect to the writings of the Old
Testament translated by the two brothers: “The Translation of the Bible into the Slavic Languages: Biblical
Citations in the Lives of Cyril and Methodius and the First Slavic Bible Translation,” Slavica Tergestina,
no. 5 (1997): 51–61.
The Special Status of the Anagignoskomena 187
restored from other sources.36 Their translation work was carried on by their disciples,
who translated other writings from Greek into Slavic after the Latin missionaries made
them seek refuge in Bulgaria and Macedonia, where they were received by Tsar Boris
Michael (852–888).37
The Croatian Glagolitic Bible is one of the Croatian literary monuments that mark the
history of the translation of holy texts into Slavic. Although a complete codex of this version
is not available, specialists have identified several pieces of evidence that confirm the ex-
istence of a Slavic Scripture written with Glagolitic characters before or in the fourteenth
century at the latest.38 The texts of this edition have been kept mostly in the worship books
and the prayer books used by priests and monks.39 It was found that more than half are
translated from a Greek original of the Septuagint and the other from the Latin text of
the Vulgate. Thus, we are dealing with a mixed translation. We notice that parts of the
Anagignoskomena that were not included in the edition of brothers Cyril and Methodius
can be found in this version.40 Specialists have identified in the book’s fragments from
Tobit, Judith, 1–2 Maccabees, Wisdom of Solomon, Wisdom of Sirach. These texts were
translated from a version of the Vulgate.41
The first complete codex of the Slavic Bible was made in 1499 in Novgorod, due to
the efforts of Metropolitan Ghenadie. The Metropolitan resorted to existing Slavonic
manuscripts and, where there were missing parts or even missing books, he used the Latin
text of the Vulgate to fill in those gaps. Therefore, the order and the number of writings
that were “worthy of reading” corresponded to the edition of the Vulgate printed by Anton
Koberger in 1487 in Nuremberg.42 The Catholic influence43 would also be felt in the first
complete edition of the Slavic Bible printed in 1581 in Ostrog. The translators’ intention
was that of revising the text of the Bible of Ghenadie based on an edition of the Septuagint
published in 1518 in Venice. However, the Ostrog edition is more of a compilation of texts,
which were revised based on both the Septuagint and the Vulgate. Concerning the texts
which are “worthy of reading,” we would like to mention that 3 Maccabees was included
for the first time in the Slavic Bible and that the Prayer of Manasseh was taken from the
Horologion of Ivan Fyoderov, who was a renowned Russian editor. A new edition of the
Slavic Bible was printed in 1663 in Moscow, with the blessing of the Synod of the Russian
36
Vesna Badurina Stipčević, “The Croatian Glagolitic Bible: The State of the Research,” Studi Slavistici,
no. 13 (2016): 283.
37 Cooper, “The Translation of the Bible into the Slavic Languages,” 53.
38 In this respect, see a document from 1380, tackled by P. Runje, “Hrvatska Biblija u Zadru godine
1380,” Marulić 21, no. 4 (1988): 453–457. Other sources are mentioned by Badurina Stipčević (“The
Croatian Glagolitic Bible,” 284).
39 Six hundred of the 1,320 chapters of the Bible have been restored. However, it is not known for sure
whether they all render the original version of the Glagolitic Bible.
40 V. Badurina Stipčević considers that this is due to the liturgical patterns which are specific to the
Romanian Orthodox Old Testament Studies 4, no. 2 (2020): 34. See also Francis J. Thomson, “The
Slavonic Translations of the Old Testament,” in Jože Krašovec (ed.), The Interpretation of the Bible: The
International Symposium in Slovenia (Sheffield: Academic Press, 1998), 684–685.
188 Ioan Chirilă
Church. Even if it was intended to be a new translation, based on the text of the Septuagint,
this edition was only a revision of the Ostrog edition. Starting with Tsar Alexis (1674) and
continuing with Peter the Great and Catherine I, considerable efforts were made for a new
translation of the Bible, which would also bear in mind the Greek original of the Septuagint
printed in 1597 in Frankfurt. However, the project was accomplished only under the rule
of Empress Elisabeth, who printed a synodal Bible in 1751. The text of this edition became
normative for the Slavic space,44 turning into the official canonical and liturgical text. The
current synodal editions of Bulgaria and Serbia accept the eleven additions of the Bible of
Elisabeth, which they consider to be “noncanonical.” What is noteworthy in this edition,
which aimed to get closer to Codex Alexandrinus by using the London Polyglot Bible, is
the separation of the Epistle of Jeremiah from the Book of Lamentations and the placing
of the book 4 Esdras (which initially followed 3 Esdras) at the end of the Old Testament,
after 3 Maccabees. In 1876, the Bible was translated into Russian, with the blessing of the
Synod. For the canonical texts of the Old Testament, the Masoretic Text was used and, for
the Anagignoskomena, an edition of the Septuagint, except for the book 4 Esdras, for which
the Vulgate was used.45 This edition did not replace the Bible of Elisabeth in worship, but it
was meant for the academic environment and private reading.
In this context of translation and printing of Slavic/Russian editions of the Holy
Scripture, it is necessary to mention that Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow expressed a
clear position concerning additions in his famous Russian Catechism. He rejected the
Anagignoskomena from the list of canonical books because they were not included in
the Jewish Bible.46 Most likely, this attitude was based on the Protestant influence, which
caused the denial of the canonicity of the Anagignoskomena.47 The recent position of
certain Russian biblical scholars is balanced, just as the experience of Eastern tradition
recommends. They consider that, even if the additions are not inspired by God, they are
worthy of reading and enlightening for catechumens. They cannot be biblical arguments
for dogmatic teachings or as the only source of moral teaching. Nonetheless, the Church
uses them to consolidate certain teachings, such as offerings for those who fall asleep (2
Macc. 12:43).48
After the war of independence and, implicitly, after the international recognition of Greece
as a fully fledged state (1832), the Old Testament was printed in the Orthodox space, with
the blessing of the Holy Synod (1843–1850). This edition, which was published in Athens in
four volumes, is a reprint of the Greek Bible, which was printed in 1821 in Moscow.49 The
Anagignoskomena are grouped separately from the canonical writings. Before this version,
the Protestant missionaries of the British Biblical Society printed an edition of the Old
Testament in modern Greek in 1834. The Church was reluctant to the edition, as the text was
translated from the Hebrew original. If, in the beginning, even the Ecumenical Patriarch
44
Ukraine, Belarus, Bulgaria, Serbia, Macedonia, the Czech Republic, and Poland.
45
Munteanu, “Canoniques, non-canoniques ou bons a lire?,” 53.
46 Pentiuc, The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition, 165.
47 Mihăilă, “The Orthodox Bible and the Anaginoskomena,” 34.
48 Aleksei Kashkin, Священное Писание Ветхого Завета (Saratov, Russia: Saratov Metropolitan
Publishing House, 2012), 48. Dmitrii Georgievich Dobykin, Введение в Священное Писание Ветхого
Завета (St. Petersburg, Russia: St. Petersburg Orthodox Spiritual Academy Press, 2014), 23–24.
49 The Moscow edition is quite appreciated in the Athonite environment.
The Special Status of the Anagignoskomena 189
Cyril VI had a positive attitude toward them, after the aforementioned year, the Greek
Church crippled their mission of spreading the Scripture in the Greek space.50
In 1892, the Greek Church reprinted the Athens edition in a single volume. The synodal
editions that appeared in 1928 and 1937 and that used the critical editions of Constantin
Tischendorf and Alfred Rahlfs, respectively, are also noteworthy. As far as the writings
that are “worthy of reading” are concerned, we would like to mention that the 1928 edition
separates them from the protocanonical writings of the Old Testament, calling them deu-
terocanonical or Anagignoskomena. And the 1937 edition regroups the books based on the
order and number of Codex Vaticanus and Codex Alexandrinus. The synodal translation of
the Bible into modern Greek, which was published in 1997, was based on a Hebrew edition
for the canonical writings and an edition of the Septuagint for the additions.51
The attitude of Greek biblical scholars toward the books that are “worthy of reading”
is a balanced one, consistent with that of the aforementioned Russian theologians. The
Anagignoskomena cannot be considered the biblical foundation for dogmatic teachings,
but they are used by the Church for the spiritual enlightenment of the faithful and of the
youth. Therefore, there is a substantial difference between the two categories of writings
(the canonical and the noncanonical/deuterocanonical ones), even if, in the practice of the
Church, there has not always been a clear line between them.52
In the Romanian Orthodox space, the first complete translation of the Bible was
published in 1688 and is called the Bible of Bucharest or the Bible of Șerban Cantacuzino.
The Old Testament was mostly taken from a previous translation made by Nicolae Milescu
Spătaru (1660–1661) based on the edition of the Septuagint that was published in 1597 in
Frankfurt. Given the source text, the books were arranged according to the Protestant
model. We would like to mention that the fourteen additions53 were placed under the cat-
egory of “apocryphal books.” The following complete translation appeared in 1795 in Blaj.
This was also made from the Greek text. The only book translated from the Vulgate was the
Prayer of Manasseh, which concluded the category of the Anagignoskomena. The foreword
to this edition tackles the issue of the so-called Apocrypha. The author considers their place
in the Scripture legitimate and deems them noteworthy, as the Church Fathers use their
texts without making a clear-cut distinction between them and the canonical texts.54 The
following editions, namely, the Bible printed in Saint Petersburg (1819), the Bible of Buzău
50
Konstininou, “Old Testament Canon and Text,” 103.
51
Munteanu, “Canoniques, non-canoniques ou bons a lire?,” 55.
52 Elias Oikonomos, “The Hebrew Language and the Greek Fathers,” Bulletin of Biblical Studies,
no 13 (1994): 30. Petros Vassiliadis, “Canon and Authority of Scripture: An Orthodox Hermeneutical
Perspective,” in Karl-Wilhelm Niebuhr, James D. G. Dunn, Ulrich Luz, Ivan Dimitrov (eds.), Das Alte
Testament als christliche Bible in orthodoxer und westlicher Sicht (Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 270.
Demetrios Constantelos, “The Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical Books: An Orthodox View,” in John
Kohlenberger III (ed.), The Parallel Aprocrypha (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), xxvii.
53 Tobit, Judith, Baruch, the Epistle of Jeremiah, the Song of the Three Holy Children, 3 Esdras,
Wisdom of Solomon, Wisdom of Sirach, Susanna, Bel, and the Dragon, and 1, 2, 3, and 4 Maccabees.
54 “In former times, there was doubt in the Church, but now there is none left, even if they are
introduced in the Bible using the name apocryphal; for many Holy Fathers bring testimony from these
books as from the Holy Scripture” (The Bible of Blaj). See details in Ion Reșceanu, “Canon and Canonicity
in the Bibles of Samuil Micu and Andrei Șaguna: Resemblances, Differences and Controversies,”
Romanian Orthodox Old Testament Studies 4, no. 2 (2020): 60.
190 Ioan Chirilă
(1854–1856), the Bible of Andrei Șaguna (1856–1858), the synodal Bible of Bucharest (1914),
and the Bibles of 1936,55 1938, 1944, 1975, 1982, 1993, 2006, 2009, 2015, etc., mostly abide by
the same pattern of relating to the writings which are “worthy of reading.”56 4 Maccabees
was excluded from their list.57 We notice that the scriptural edition of 1968 separates the
canonical writings from the Anagignoskomena by using the title “noncanonical books and
fragments.”58 Starting with the 1975 edition, the title of noncanonical was no longer used for
this separation until the 2019 edition, which resumed the distinction between the canon-
ical and noncanonical writings, this also being mentioned in the foreword of the edition.59
In current Romanian biblical theology, the additions of the Septuagint are considered
noncanonical. Nonetheless, they have a privileged status, as the Church considers them
important and valuable for the moral and catechetic perspectives they put forward.60 Thus,
they are regarded as a legitimate part of the Old Testament due to their pedagogical char-
acter and not due to their dogmatic and canonical value.61 The status and importance of
these writings were tackled by the Romanian biblical scholars in two stages. The protagonists
of the former were professors Dumitru Abrudan,62 Mircea Chialda,63 and Mircea Basarab.64
They analyzed how the Anagignoskomena were received in Eastern tradition and showed
the attitude the authors of the main Romanian translations/editions had toward this cate-
gory of writings. The last of the aforementioned biblical scholars also made a synthesis of
55
The Old Testament was translated based on the Hebrew original.
56
See details in Ioan Chirilă, “The Septuagint—As Source of the Romanian Editions of the Bible;
Reference Points on the Work of Translating the Bible into Romanian” (in Romanian), Studia Universitatis
Babeş-Bolyai. Theologia Orthodoxa 55, no. 1 (2010): 5–14.
57 The academician Virgil Cândea speaks about the importance of the book 4 Maccabees (which
he calls A Treatise on the Dominant Reason) for the first Romanian editions of the Scripture from a
cultural and historical point of view. He shows that Nicolae Milescu Spătaru and, later, the editors of
the Bible of Șerban Cantacuzino kept this book—which was part of neither the canonical books nor the
Anagignoskomena—for cultural and identity-related reasons. Thus, he correlates the combatant attitude
and the strong character of the seven martyred brothers with the idea of resisting the political and
ideological oppression of the seventh-century Romanian principalities: “Control over passions is achieved
within the limits of human personality, by means of reason, without any miraculous interventions. The
aforementioned episode is not presented as martyrdom, as hagiographic literature would later on do, but
as a battle in the old sense of the term, in which strong, fully and beautifully achieved characters manifest
themselves [ . . . ]. On the Dominant Reason precisely suggested the resistance against the oppressors
and the «observance of the law of the land” [my translation]. Virgil Cândea, On the Dominant Reason
(in Romanian) (Cluj-Napoca: Dacia, 1979), 184.
58 Munteanu, “Canoniques, non-canoniques ou bons a lire?,” 57.
59 The Bible or the Holy Scripture (in Romanian) (Bucharest: Ed. Insitutului Biblic și de Misiune al
Anagignoskomena and of the Apocrypha Acknowledged by the Tradition of the Church,” Romanian
Orthodox Old Testament Studies 4, no. 2 (2020): 54.
62 Abrudan, “The Anagignoskomena of the Old Testament,” 541–
548; “The Apocrypha of the Old
Testament” (in Romanian), The Metropolitan Church of Transylvania 62, no. 9–10 (1983): 562–567.
63 Mircea Chialda, “The Anagignoskomena of the Old Testament in the Orthodox Church”
the opinions of Romanian theologians concerning the authority of these writings in the
Church.65 Their interest in the Anagignoskomena was sparked by the 1961 Rhodes deci-
sion to put the issue of the situation of the biblical canon on the agenda of the coming
Holy and Great Council. The latter stage of interest in the Anagignoskomena was accom-
plished by the current professors of biblical theology from the national faculties of theology
(Alexandru Isvoranu,66 Constantin Oancea,67 Alexandru Mihăilă, Ion Reșceanu, Cristinel
Iatan68), who brought subjects as the reconsidering and re-evaluating of the books that are
worthy of reading back into the limelight. The contribution of Father Eugen Pentiuc, who
presented a few current lines of acknowledgment of these writings in the current Eastern
Orthodox tradition in a volume published in 2014 by Oxford, is also noteworthy.69
Following the short presentation of how the Anagignoskomena has been acknowledged
in the Slavic, Greek, and Romanian environment, we can conclude that the opinions are
mostly harmonious. By adhering to Eastern traditions, local Orthodox Churches have
adopted a balanced position. The Anagignoskomena are placed close to the canonical
writings and are different from the writings that are not part of the canon of the Septuagint.
Even if they are sometimes called apocryphal, they are regarded differently compared to the
Protestant environment. In some cases, the Orthodox have adopted only the terminology
and not the Protestant way of relating to them. Following the Church Fathers who, in cer-
tain situations, considered some of the Anagignoskomena canonical, the Orthodox have
always valued these writings, by using them in worship structures.
This was mostly because the Christian East sees the Scriptures as a living, infinite source
that intermediates the encounter between the faithful and the divine Logos. The tension
between formative (“extended”) and informative (“narrow”), which has marked over the
years the acknowledgment of the canon in the living community of the faithful, be they
65 Mircea Basarab, “The Attitude of Romanian Theologians with Respect to the Anagignoskomena—
Worthy of Reading—of the Old Testament” (in Romanian), The Metropolitan Church of Transylvania 58,
no. 7–9 (1979): 602–618.
66 Alexandru Isvoranu, “The Anagignoskomena of the Old Testament: Interdenominational Attitudes
and Reinterpretations” (in Romanian), Annals of the University of Craiova. Theology, no. 1 (1996): 67–73
67 Constantin Oancea, “Re-evaluating the Issue of the Anagignoskomena in Orthodox Theology” (in
Romanian), in The Importance of Professor Ion Bria’s Works for Current Church and Social Life (Sibiu: Ed.
Universităţii “Lucian Blaga,” 2010), 399–412.
68 The contributions of the last three professors have been mentioned in this study. They were included
in the fourth issue of 2020 of the magazine: Romanian Orthodox Old Testament Studies (ROOTS), which
was dedicated to the subject of canon and canonicity. ROOTS is the first Romanian journal to promote
a Romanian Orthodox exegesis that follows the patristic interpretation of the Holy Scripture of the Old
Testament.
69 Eugen J. Pentiuc, The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2014).
192 Ioan Chirilă
Jewish or Christians, is neither constricted nor forced in the Orthodox Church. Eastern tra-
dition did not visibly manifest its wish to define the status of the Anagignoskomena.70 The
Church made full use of their formative dimensions, recommending their content through
reading them in worship. Thus, Orthodox liturgy is using the books and additions that are
“worthy of reading” to offer the faithful the possibility of maintaining alive their relation-
ship with God.
For example, the martyrdom of the brothers in the second book of Maccabees (chap. 7)
is celebrated in the Orthodox worship on August 1st.71 The songs of Vespers and Matins
highlight their unfailing faith and courage when they endured tortures and stood up to
king Antiochus. We notice that, in one of the songs, the hymnographer sees them as zealous
in Abraham’s faith, sacrificing their soul, their senses, their body, and their youth for their
God and eternal life. Due to this fact, the seven brothers, their mother Solomonia, and
their teacher Eleazar are asked to intercede for the faithful before Jesus Christ (nota bene!)
for Whom they died.72 We have a similar approach on December 17, when prophet Daniel
and the three young men (Hanania, Azariah, and Mishael) who confessed their faith in the
fiery furnace are celebrated. Also, the hymnographer highlights the prefigurative character
of this event. The young men, whose number is exactly that of the Trinity, mysteriously il-
lustrate the “icon of the Trinity” and preach God Who exists in Three Persons. According
to the hymnographer, they saw the Word incarnate, Who descended into the furnace, and
the Spirit, Who, in the form of dew, put out the flames in the oven. Moreover, these young
men are regarded as intercessors of grace, who facilitate the forgiveness of mistakes given by
Christ to those who mention them.73 The hymnographer also pays attention to the prophet
Daniel, who, through his wisdom, saved Susanna from death punishment and killed the
70
Pentiuc, The Old Testament in Orthodox Tradition, 137.
71
Their faithfulness toward the Law, their faith that God would reward them for their sacrifice
after resurrecting them, and the acknowledgment of their role as models of faith are the reasons why
the Maccabee brothers are put next to the Christian martyrs in the tradition of the Church. Sofian
Brașoveanul, Martyrs, Martyrdom and Testimony According to Saint Basil the Great (in Romanian) (Cluj-
Napoca: Teognost, 2005), 16.
72 “The souls of the righteous are in the hands of the Lord: Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the forefathers
before the law were given, the ancestors of the Maccabees whom we now praise. For, as descendants
of Abraham, mighty in soul, zealous for the Faith of their forefather Abraham, they struggled lawfully
even unto death for piety; for, having been raised in devoutness, in suffering lawfully they reproved the
ungodliness of the prideful Antiochus, and in valuing this transitory life as nought for the sake of that
which is everlasting, they offered all unto God: their souls, courage, understanding, theirtender bodies,
and their rewards for having been raised in purity. O the pious root from whom ye sprang forth, O
Maccabees! O thy holy mother, who gave birth to sons equal in number to the days of the week! Yet
pray ye for us, together with your mother Solomonia and the wise priest Eleazar, O Maccabees, when
ye stand before Christ God, for Whose sake ye labored to receive from Him the fruits of thy labors, and
make ye earnest entreaty for mankind; for whatsoever He desireth He doth do, and fulfilleth the desires
of you who fear Him” (sticheron from the Aposticha). Monthly Menaion: August (in Romanian), 3rd ed.
(Bucharest: Tipografia cărților bisericești, 1929), 7.
73 “In the flame the youths prophetically inscribed the image of the Trinity in immaterial ink with the
pen of faith; and they mystically beheld the Word’s extreme descent to the earth and have proclaimed it
to all. Wherefore, receiving the dew of the Spirit from heaven, they pour forth gifts upon the faithful who
cry out to Thee together: O Christ God, as Thou art compassionate grant remission of transgressions
unto those who with love celebrate their holy memory!” Monthly Menaion: December (in Romanian), 6th
ed. (Bucharest: Ed. Institutului Biblic și de Misiune al Bisericii Ortodoxe Române, 1984), 230.
The Special Status of the Anagignoskomena 193
dragon the Babylonians worshiped as a God.74 Likewise, on November 8, when the Eastern
Church celebrates the Archangels Michael and Gabriel together with all angels, one song
reminds us of the experiences of Manoah (Judg. 13:11–21) and Tobit (12:15–20), to whom
angels revealed themselves to reward them for their acts of faith.75
Therefore, the liturgical tradition accepts the content of the Anagignoskomena and
fructifies it so that the distinction between the two categories of writings of the Old Testament
(canonical and noncanonical) disappears.76 This can also be noticed if we think about the
numerous passages from the Wisdom of Solomon or from the Book of Baruch, which are
read as paroemias at Vespers77 and about the fact that, in the Canons of Matins, the seventh
and eighth songs are based on the Song of the Three Holy Children of Babylon.78 Moreover,
during Great Compline, the Prayer of King Manasseh is read, a prayer that captures the pe-
culiarity of Eastern repentance, in which man, aware of his many sins, shows faith in God’s
mercy and thus asks for His forgiveness. Thus, considering all these aspects, we understand
why Petros Vassiliadis claims that the Church has granted the Anagignoskomena a halo of
authority by using them in worship.79
Conclusions
The Anagignoskomena appeared as the fruit of collecting the holy writings after the return
from Babylon and after the action promoted by the scholar Ezra, but, at the same time, we
must also mention as a reason for their being included in the corpus of the Septuagint the
desire of the Hellenists to have the entire treasury of the Jewish literature and the Torah.
That is why those who chose to base their translation on the Septuagint have a broader
configuration of the canon than the compressed form of the Tanakh. These writings have
not been acknowledged as canonical, but as books that are worthy of reading and useful to
catechumens in preparing their access to the community and the word of the Revelation.
There are an organic relationship and a relation of complementarity between the
Anagignoskomena and the canonical corpus, the former giving further details and devel-
oping certain subjects from the canonical books, which is why, in some scriptural editions,
they migrate right next to the canonical writing to which they are connected. However, in
the Orthodox environment, they have not been regarded as a biblical foundation for dog-
matic decisions; instead, they have enjoyed the attention of the faithful in liturgical life,
providing relevant confessions, which justify certain ritual structures, and contributing in a
special way to the assertion of the unity of the Scripture, which is born from its object-sub-
ject, namely the Living God, the Trinity, one in essence and undivided.
74
Monthly Menaion: December, 228–232.
75
Monthly Menaion: November (in Romanian), 3rd ed. (Bucharest: Tipografia Cărților Bisericești,
1927), 125.
76 In fact, in worship, the entire corpus of the Scripture is viewed as a whole.
77 Neculai Dragomir, “A Historical and Liturgical Study on the Biblical Texts Included in the Worship
Books of the Orthodox Church” (in Romanian), Theological Studies 49, no. 3–4 (1981): 225–226.
78 Abrudan, “The Anagignoskomena of the Old Testament,” 548.
79 Vassiliadis, “Canon and Authority of Scripture,” 270.
194 Ioan Chirilă
The pedagogical, formative dimension of these writings grants them the value of “models
for the embodiment and living of faith,” of moral readjustment of one who has fallen into
sin through repentance, serving of and returning to God, of achieving gnomic thinking
and of aligning one’s own will to that of God; this is why they reached into worship, into
the confession of faith and the foundation of the canon of sanctification, visible for each of
the models of acknowledgment of faith, of the canon of faith. The Anagignoskomena are
worthy of reading!
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Chapter 12
Liturgical U se a nd
B iblical Canoni c i t y
Petros Vassiliadis
An Orthodox critical approach is an extremely difficult task. On what ground and from
what sources can one really establish it? The Roman Catholics have Vatican II to draw
from; the Orthodox do not. The Lutherans have an Augsburg Confession of their own; the
Orthodox do not. The Holy and Great Council, held in Crete (June 2016), despite being
defied by Russian Orthodoxy, though it is of equal magnitude as Vatican II and the Augsburg
Confession, was not concerned with biblical issues. The only authoritative, therefore, so-
called sources the Orthodox possess on biblical issues are in fact common to the rest of
the Christians: The Bible and the Tradition. How can one establish a distinctly Orthodox
approach on a basis that is common to non-Orthodox as well? Another issue that makes an
“Orthodox approach” problematic is that Orthodoxy always appears as something “exotic,”
an interesting “eastern communitarian phenomenon” vis-à-vis the “western” individualistic
mentality, provoking the curiosity and enriching the knowledge of Western believers and
theologians. According to an eminent Orthodox theologian (J. Zizioulas), this role has been
played enough up to now.
In addition, there are modern Orthodox theologians (e.g., the late N. Nissiotis) who de-
fine Orthodoxy as meaning the wholeness of the people of God who share the right con-
viction (orthe doxa =right opinion) concerning the event of God’s salvation in Christ and
his Church, and the right expression (orthopraxia) of this faith. Everyone is, therefore,
invited by Orthodoxy to transcend confessions and inflexible institutions without neces-
sarily denying them. Orthodoxy is not to be identified only with us Orthodox in the his-
torical sense and with all our limitations and shortcomings, especially the scholarly ones.
The term was originally given to the Church as a whole over against the heretics who, of
their own choice, split from the main body of the Church. The term is, thus, exclusive for all
those, who willingly fall away from the historical stream of life of the One Church, but it is
inclusive for those who profess their spiritual belonging to that stream. Orthodoxy, in other
words, has ecclesial rather than confessional or even historical connotations.
The liturgical use of the Bible cannot be properly addressed without a critical approach to
specific issues pertinent to canonicity, the role of the Bible in the Church, its authority, etc.
Despite all I said earlier as the necessary preliminary introductory remarks, the Orthodox
198 Petros Vassiliadis
have issued from time to time semi-official doctrinal statements concerning the Bible,
which under certain theological conditions can lend authority to an Orthodox approach
to any biblical issue. And these are the canons of certain local synods (Laodicea, Carthage,
etc.) and of some Church Fathers (Athanasios, Basil, Gregory of Nazianzos, Amphilochios
of Iconion), the canonical status of which became universal (ecumenical) through the
decisions of the famous and at the same time controversial Penthekti (Quinisext) Council
in Troullo (AD 691/2). However, even these canons leave the issue of the number of the ca-
nonical books of the Old Testament (OT)—and in some way (e.g., Revelation/Apocalypse)
of the New Testament (NT) too—unsettled. It may not be an exaggeration to state that the
undivided Church has not solved the issue of, and therefore not imposed on her members,
a “closed” canon of the Bible (Pentiuc, 2014).
The whole problem in a more rigid and authoritarian way was brought to the attention
of the Orthodox only in the second millennium, after the theological discussions be-
tween Catholics and Protestants. After the model of the western “confessions,” a number
of Confessions of the Orthodox Faith from the seventeenth century AD onward (Cyril,
Mitrophanis, Mogila, Dositheos, etc.) started to come out, including statements concerning
the canon of the Bible. With no problem in the content of the NT canon, these statements
differ from both Catholic and Protestant only in the OT canon. But these statements, all
coming from the period of their indirect engagement to the polemics between Catholics and
Protestants, are no longer considered as representing the Orthodox tradition (Florovsky).
In addition, some of them incline toward the wider canon of the OT (forty-nine books),
whereas others seem to support its smaller canon (thirty-nine books), depending on their
Catholic or Protestant source, or the “enemy” they wished to combat those days.
In short, the Orthodox—having to respond to the burning issue of their fellow Christians
in the West—seem to have settled and accepted as canonical:
1. With regard to the NT—together with the Catholics and the Protestants—the twenty-
seven books canon of the NT in their usual order. It is to be noted, however, that
the Apocalypse still enjoys a special status, having yet to enter the liturgical usage.
The only remaining problem is the text the various autocephalous churches use in
their liturgical services. The Greek speaking ones use the so-called Patriarchal text,
a Greek edition similar to the textus receptus, prepared by a synodical committee in
1904, whereas the Slavic churches use the Old Slavonic translation. The Romanian
Orthodox Church uses an old Romanian translation. Only the so-called diaspora
(better, western Orthodox) and the new missionary (Asian and African) churches,
plus the autonomous Finnish Orthodox Church, use modern translations, based on
the critical text. It is an encouraging development that with the interconfessional Bible
Societies movement, and the ecumenical cooperation with Catholics and Protestants,
most Orthodox Churches are in the process of new common language translations.
On a university and scholarly level, of course, the vast majority use the critical editions,
despite their shortcomings.
2. With regard to the OT—together with the Catholics the Protestants and the Jews—for
sure the thirty-eight books of the tanakh (the Hebrew Scriptures), separating Esdras
and Nehemiah and making a total of thirty-nine. The only difference from Catholics
and Protestants is that the official version in the Orthodox Church is not the Hebrew
original, called the Masoretic text, but the Septuagint. In addition to those—together
Liturgical Use and Biblical Canonicity 199
with the Catholics—the Orthodox Church, following the tradition of the Early
Church, has added ten more books to the canon, which are called Anagignoskomena
(i.e., Readable, that is, worthy of reading). As in the Catholic Church, these are nei-
ther of secondary authority (i.e., deuterocanonical, a term invented in the sixteenth
century by Sixtus of Siena), nor Apocrypha (i.e., noncanonical, as in the Protestant
Churches), a term which in the ancient Christian tradition was given to other books
(the Book of Jubilees, the Assumption of Moses, the Martyrdom of Isaiah, etc.) whose
authority was rejected by the Church. Those are the books the Protestants normally
call Pseudepigrapha. Some Orthodox scholars, under the influence of modern schol-
arship and terminology, apply to them alternatively the term (wrongly in my view)
deuterocanonical. In view, however, of their wide use in the liturgy, their authority can
hardly be differentiated from the so-called canonical books of the Bible. It is also to be
noted in addition that the Orthodox Anagignoskomena do not exactly coincide with
the deuterocanonical books (only seven) of the Catholic Bible.
In short, (1) with regard to the text the Orthodox accept the authenticity (some like
Oikonomos ex Oikonomon even their inspiration!) of the Greek translation of the
Septuagint; (2) with regard to the number of the Anagignoskomena, these are the Catholic
deuterocanonical, plus Maccabees 3 and Esdras, and dividing Baruch from the Epistle of
Jeremiah. There are some additional texts that are normally taken up in the Orthodox
Bibles, and are either accorded some value (like the Prayer of Manasses and Psalm 151) or
added as appendices (like Maccabees 4 in the Greek version alone, or (the deuterocanon-
ical) Esdras 2 in the Slavonic version alone); (3) with regard to the sequence, as well as the
naming, of the forty-nine books these are as follows: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers,
Deuteronomy (=Pentateuch), Joshua, Judges, Ruth, Vasileion (Regnorum) 1 and 2 (=Samuel
1 and 2), Vasileion (Regnorum) 3 and 4 (=Kings 1 and 2), Paralipomenon 1 and 2 (Chronicles
1 and 2), Esdras 1 (=deuterocanonical), Esdras 2 and Nehemiah (=the canonical Esdras),
Esther (together with the deuterocanonical additions), Judith (=deuterocanonical), Tobit
(=deuterocanonical; some editions [e.g., the 1928 Bratsiotis edition] follow the order of
codex B and A, i.e., Tobit, Judith, Esther), Maccabees 1 and 2 (=deuterocanonical), and 3
Psalms (in some editions plus Psalm 151 and the 9 Odes and the Prayer of Manasses), Job
(in some editions after the Song of Songs), Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, Wisdom
of Solomon (=deuterocanonical), Wisdom of Siracides (=deuterocanonical), 12 Minor
Prophets (starting with Hosea and ending with Malachias), Isaiah, Jeremiah, Baruch (=
deuterocanonical), Lamentations, Epistle of Jeremiah (=deuterocanonical), Ezekiel, Daniel
(together with the deuterocanonical additions, i.e., Susana, the Prayer of Azariah and the
Songs of the Three Youths, and the story of Bel and Dragon), and Maccabees 4 (as an ap-
pendix in the Greek versions only, whereas the Slavonic version, probably under western
influence, contains also the second deuterocanonical Esdras).
What has so far been presented is the “canon” of the Bible according to the modern es-
tablished editions of the Bible, accepted and blessed by Orthodox ecclesiastical authorities.
There is neither conciliar, nor official canonical or doctrinal authority attached to it yet.
Not to mention, of course, that with the so-called Oriental Orthodox Church the problem
of the canon is still more complicated even for the NT, ranging from a shorter canon to a
much wider one (thirty-seven books in the Ethiopian Church). It was for this reason that
in the agenda of the Holy and Great Council of the Orthodox Church the canon of the
200 Petros Vassiliadis
Bible was originally added for a final settlement. Unfortunately, it was later dropped from
the final agenda.
In addition to the issue of the canon and the text of the Bible, its authority in the Church
also came into the fore from the very beginning of the Church’s life. In contrast to the his-
torical Jesus’s contemporary Judaism, in which the supreme authority of every single word
of the Bible was unquestionable, Jesus and the Early Church did not hesitate even to criti-
cize Scripture and to interpret it in a very radical way. It was not only that they regarded the
whole Bible in the light of the two great commandments (love of God and love of neighbor),
or that Jesus established in the six antitheses of the Sermon on the Mount a new Law; one
can even argue that Jesus’s messianic interpretation of Scripture—namely the fulfillment of
the prophesies in his mission—was not novel, since similar messianic interpretations have
been found in the Dead Sea Scrolls. What was novel and pioneering was Jesus’s revolu-
tionary proclamation, and the early Church’s assured conviction, that the reign of God was
at hand; in fact, it was inaugurated in Jesus’s own work.
Moving now to St. Paul, we can say that it was not merely the rabbinic form in the exe-
gesis of the OT with the striking feature of its verbalism and the emphasis on single words
at the expense of context that was characterized by the Pauline interpretation; nor was the
remarkable similarity between the exegetical work of Paul or of the author of Hebrews
and that of Philo of Alexandria that can provide the clue to trace the trends of the early
Christian hermeneutics. The early Church has never denied the reality of the OT history. Its
main feature was a Christocentric dimension and character.
To be honest, from St. Paul onward some criticism of the Law has reached some extreme
positions, sometimes even to the point of its absolute rejection, especially in the hermeneu-
tical tradition from the time of Luther onward. And nobody can argue that this was a mere
rejection of legalism. The rejection of the Law is an issue to be examined in relation to a new
hermeneutical principle (New Perspective). From the beginning of the second century, es-
pecially in the case of Bishop Ignatius of Antioch, Christian theologians did not replace the
First Testament with the Second. They simply did not appeal in their argumentation to any
Scripture, at least to the extent this has been done after the Reformation. It is significant, e.g.,
that Ignatius’s only authority was Jesus Christ and his saving work and the faith that comes
through him (emoi ta archeia Christos: to me the “charters” are Jesus Christ).
This new understanding of scriptural authority, a unique phenomenon in the process of
the Judeo-Christian religious thinking, was the result of the Early Christian pneumatology,
with which Christianity opened up new dimensions in the understanding of the mystery
of the divine revelation. For the first time humankind ceased to look backward to past
authorities; instead, they turned their attention to the future, to the eschaton. The past no
longer suppressed the present, but it was dynamically reinterpreted to give new meaning and
new perspective to the future. By placing the Holy Spirit to an equal status in the Trinitarian
dogma with the Father and the Son, later Christian theology of the early undivided Church
broke the chains of fear and dependence on the past. The conciliar declaration of the di-
vinity of the Holy Spirit was undoubtedly one of the most radical considerations of the
mystery of deity.
Christian pneumatology was not of course the only forward-looking dogmatic defini-
tion. The principle conviction in Jesus’s resurrection and its consequences was also an-
other mutatis mutandis forward-looking belief, because the centuries-long fear of death
was vanquished: “Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and to
Liturgical Use and Biblical Canonicity 201
those in the tombs, He has granted life,” triumphantly exclaims one of the oldest hymns of
the Christian Church. Of course, the reality of death, the result of man’s fall, and of his free
choice to disobey God and thus break communion with Him, was not abolished. Death, as
human being’s ultimate enemy, “will be the last . . . to be destroyed” in the words of Apostle
Paul (1 Cor 15:26). However, by His death Christ abolished the devil that until then had the
power of death, thus liberating humanity that used to be enslaved by their fear of death. In
the words of the author of the epistle to the Hebrews: “that through death he might destroy
him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; And deliver them who through fear of
death were all their lifetime subject to bondage” (Heb 2:14–15. See also “putting an end to
the agony of death . . . because you will not abandon my soul to Hades,” in the book of the
Acts of the Apostles, 2:24 and 27).
This conviction was preserved unchanged in the century-long tradition of the Eastern
Orthodox Church, where, Easter, that is the Resurrection, is re-enacted not only every
Sunday, especially during the Orthros, but also every year with even more joyfulness than
in the Western world, where they celebrate more the Birth of our Savior.
Regarding the liturgical use of the Bible in the entire Orthodox tradition, the decline of
the Antiochian tradition played a significant, and even catalytic, role. An objective historian
will certainly give some credit to the altera pars, namely to those who vigorously insist in no
change whatsoever in liturgical matters, opposing at the same time any rehabilitation of the
biblical basis of the Orthodox faith. But such a credit can only be given historically, not the-
ologically. In my view the answer to this inherent ambiguity is latent since the early years,
stemming especially from the confrontation between the two major theological centers of
the emerging at that time religion: the Alexandrian and the Antiochian schools, but not
on the basis of a different interpretation (allegory or not), but with far deeper theological
reasons.
This confrontation continued unabated until after the Fourth Ecumenical Council of
Chalcedon, and although it emerged at a plainly interpretation level it shifted to a theo-
logical and Christological one, with excesses on both sides. The Antiochians consistently
emphasized the historical dimension of the Word of God, which brought them close to
the “rational” appropriation of the divine mystery, and the existence of the two natures of
Christ, human (“Son of Mary”) and divine (“Son of God”) as opposed to the identity of
God the Word with the historical Jesus, developed by the Alexandrian school, followed by
the entire ecclesiastical tradition, with a particular ferocity in the Orthodox East, after the
theological controversy between Gregory Palamas and Barlaam of Calabria.
The positions of the Antiochians, which brought them into conflict with Alexandrian
Monophysitism, led them to a mostly tolerant attitude toward Nestorianism, something
that resulted in the final discrediting of the school and the final end of it after the fifth cen-
tury AD. This essentially contributed to almost a minimal effect on subsequent theolog-
ical production. Some of their representatives (Theodore of Mompsuestia and Theodoret
of Cyre) were posthumously condemned by a synodical decision in the sixth century in
the famous anathema of “Three Chapters” (the third one was Ivas of Edessa, also from
the area of Antioch, in eastern Syria). This in fact contributed to the final victory in all
later Christian interpretations of the ahistorical (allegorical and spiritual) method of the
Alexandrian School, at the expense of the historical one of the Antiochian tradition. Only
St. John Chrysostom remained unaffected, and his works continue to maintain the flame of
historical, critical, and mostly reasonable approach to sacred texts up to the modern times,
202 Petros Vassiliadis
when the universal prevalence of the historical-critical principle in the interpretation of the
Bible brought again to the fore the invaluable contribution of the Antiochian theological
thinking, and with it the importance of the Bible in the life of the Church, especially the
Orthodox.
The predominance of the subsequent Church practice and theology of the Alexandrian,
against the Antiochian, theological and interpretative tradition, had another deplorable
side effect: It prevented the formation of a consistent Christian anthropology, based on the
radical and innovative teaching on the resurrection by St. Paul (1 Cor 15:24–26), especially
his point that all believers have a share in the resurrected body of the living Christ. The di-
ametrically opposite views of Dionysius of Alexandria (canon 2) and those of the Apostolic
Diatages (Canon VI. 27) of Antiochian origin, but also of St. John Chrysostom (Homily on
Hebrews, PG 63, 227ff, comment on Heb 13:4), regarding the validity in the Christian Church
of the purity regulations of Leviticus regarding participation of women in the Eucharist, is
quite characteristic. What is certain is that by including en bloc the canons of Dionysius of
Alexandria in the Synod in Trullo, and the simultaneous rejection of the canons from the
Antiochian tradition, more liberal on this issue, preserved the theological inconsistency
between “theological” and “canonical” tradition in the Orthodox East, thus resulting in
an ineffective witness in the contemporary world. Another canon of the Quinisext (highly
valued as ecumenical in the Orthodox Church), the nineteenth, condemned any attempt
thereafter of any autonomous and objective interpretation of Scripture, demanding that, “if
any issue from the Bible is raised in the future, the only acceptable interpretation is the one
given by the Holy Fathers.” And this was just the beginning. During the Ottoman rule there
was even a ban on the translation of biblical texts.
Another significant recent development in our theological argumentation was the over-
dose of eschatology, which has indirectly affected the quite prominent role of the Bible and
its message in the Liturgy. The rediscovery of the eschatology in understanding the pro-
found meaning of the Eucharist (with some patristic attestation [Maximus the Confessor]),
in opposition to the (Antiochian mystagogical) “historical” of the Patriarch Germanos of
Constantinople and the (Alexandrian/neo-Platonic?) “anagogical” of the Ps-Dionysian
school, is of course welcome; but its extension to the highly evangelistic first part of the
Divine Liturgy, the so-called Liturgy of the Word, an inseparable part of the Eucharist, has
created a further problem. All Western Christians who have for the first time attended an
Orthodox liturgy are astonished with dismay (some of them are even shocked) that the
biblical “readings” (anagnosmata) are not read but chanted, as if they were designed not
so much to enable the faithful to understand the word of God as to glorify an event, the
eschatological kingdom of God, and the center of that event, Christ himself. This is one of
the reasons why the Orthodox, though traditionally in favor of the translation of the Bible
(and not only) in a language that people can understand (cf. the disagreement in the pe-
riod of the Patriarch of Constantinople Photios between Rome and Constantinople on the
legitimacy of the use of the Slavonic language, i.e., a language outside the three “sacred”
ones: Hebrew, Greek, Latin), are generally reluctant to use the Prophetic, Apostolic, and
Gospel readings from a modern translation in their official liturgical services.
Today among some systematic theologians there is a widespread view (fortunately still
a theologoumenon) that the entire Divine Liturgy, i.e., both the “Liturgy of the Word” and
the “Eucharistic Liturgy,” is oriented toward the eschaton. Some great Orthodox theologians
still have the view that during the Liturgy of the Word—which in the Orthodox Church is
Liturgical Use and Biblical Canonicity 203
inseparable from the Eucharistic Liturgy—it is not Jesus Christ in his First Coming, who
proclaims the Good News, the “word of God” through the reading of the Bible, but the glo-
rified Lord in his Second Coming!
Closely related to the overdose of eschatology, with regard to the use and the more sub-
stantial role of the Bible in the Orthodox liturgy, but from the opposite side, is the obvious
defects of the prevailing “modern” understanding of the Bible. According to the standards
of modernism, the Bible can be interpreted authentically: (1) by a “magisterium, apparently
because some clerics are considered to have received the power and the right from Christ
Himself to represent Him as successors of the Apostles. In this way, the word of God is
interpreted authentically only by a clergyman, mainly a bishop, and finally the pope—al-
ways as a person, and under any circumstances whatsoever. Or (2) through the word of God
itself, which means—as most Protestants still believe—the Scripture is interpreted through
the Scripture alone (sola scriptura), and it is a matter of proper scientific research to find its
authentic meaning.
This kind of “modern” approach to the Bible has created many problems indeed. With
regard to the first approach (Roman Catholic, but to a certain degree also Orthodox), the
natural question raised is: Why should a bishop be regarded as infallible, or why should
an entire synod of bishops be considered infallible, or why should the pope be infallible?
As to the second (mainly Protestant) position, another problem is raised, which today
preoccupies everyone, at least among the academics: How can the Bible be interpreted by
the Bible and by scientific analysis, when we all know that it was also subject to certain his-
torical and cultural influences, which do not continue to apply forever? This is why some
Protestants today are forced to look for a canon within the canon, seeking certain criteria
on the basis of which they can locate whether something in the Holy Bible is truly authentic.
All these have as their starting point the modern approach to the truth, which places
the essence of the Church and the essence of the truth in decrees that were shaped in the
past (including the Bible and even the synodical decisions). A norm is defined, decided,
and imposed in the past, and we now struggle to adhere to it faithfully. It is on the surface
of this perception that all the problems regarding the hermeneutics of the Bible, but also
the authority of the bishop, of the synods, of the pope, etc., are located. This problem was
very seldom raised in the undivided Church, where the Scriptures were interpreted within
the congregating Church. There, what mattered was not just the narration of how things
happened; it was the way things will happen and will be. There the word of God always had
an eschatological nuance, coming to us not from the past, but from the future. What can the
Holy Bible tell us, outside the congregation of the Church? It will tell us other things. St. John
Chrysostom, analyzing the term “syllable” (in Greek συλλαβή =conception, arresting) says
that “syllabizing” signifies that which the mind conceives/grasps noetically, therefore normal
reading is a conceptualizing by the nous. But the word of God can never be conceived/
grasped because it is far greater than us. It is the word of God that conceives/grasps us. And
St. John Chrysostom goes on, saying that through chanting (instead of reading), the word
of God is “opened up”; the syllable is opened up and it incorporates us, as opposed to us
“conquering” it (Zizioulas). This reminds us of the Pauline “νῦν δὲ γνόντες θεόν, μᾶλλον δὲ
γνωσθέντες ὑπὸ θεου” (knowing God, rather being known by God, Gal 4:9).
This conquering tendency of knowledge that we apply to things is the same one that we
apply every time we strive to make the Scriptural readings comprehensible, to apprehend the
readings! Can one truly apprehend the word of God, or comprehend it? Some Orthodox
204 Petros Vassiliadis
insist that the most appropriate method of knowledge is the one based on the communion
of persons, and not just on the work of the mind. The Bible cannot speak to us in the same
manner when we read it at home, as compared to when the word of God is read and heard in
the Church. There was a time when a slogan was widespread in my Church, that the greatest
destroyers of the word of God in the Church are the preachers! Theologically speaking,
therefore, any attempt to apprehend or comprehend the word of God is not a spiritual but
a “modern” phenomenon. And the Gospel for the Orthodox is never just a book one can
open and read. It is almost a person. One kneels before it, during the (small) “entrance” of
the Gospel the people make the sign of the Cross and kiss it, gestures that surely signify
something deeper.
With all these heavy theological legacies, the most vibrant Greek-speaking autoceph-
alous Orthodox Church, the Church of Greece, has recently decided at a high synodical
level to proceed to a “Liturgical Renewal.” According to most Orthodox theologians of our
time, the Church fulfills its proper saving mission not by what she normally does (social and
moral ethics), or by what she says (dogmatic teaching), but mainly by what she is. This esse,
in other words her identity and self-consciousness, is nothing else than the vision of a new
world different from the conventional one we live in, the vision of the expected Kingdom
of God. And this vision is in effect the transcendent, and expected at the eschaton, ultimate
reality, different and beyond our present, created, conventional, and perishable reality. This
alternative reality is authentically expressed by the Church in the Eucharist, in which the
faithful experience as a glimpse and foretaste the glory of God’s Kingdom, called at the same
time, i.e., in the Liturgy after the liturgy to witness it to the world. A Church without this
holy “mission” is simply not a Church. Although for many Christians it may seem paradox-
ical, the Church does not exist for herself but for the world, now officially decreed by the
Holy and Great Council.
Liturgical Renewal, as an ecclesiastical desideratum is of course a relatively new phenom-
enon in the Church’s life, mainly motivated by the stagnation and the loss of the original
meaning of the community’s liturgical communal acts. It has, however, indirect—if not di-
rect—consequences to the issue of the liturgical use of the Bible. Edward Farley, in his book
Deep Symbols: Their Postmodern Effacement and Reclamation, notes:
[M]any of the problems of modern society are partly due to the loss of “deep symbols” i.e.
those values with which each society defines itself and fulfills its aspirations. These values
define the faith, ethics, and action of community members, form the consciousness of
individuals, and maintain the cohesion of the society. In modern society these fundamental
to the spiritual existence and the survival of humanity symbols have been marginalized to
such an extent that it is almost impossible to reactivate them. For this reason, modern people
should either redefine these symbols, or learn to live without them. (p. 3)
Of course, the term that was chosen in order to set the limits and to determine the role of
this commission refers to a much wider area than the liturgical life of the Church. The litur-
gical renewal in the contemporary theological discipline is not limited to “how” the Church
should worship God but is also extended to what the liturgical event is all about. In other
words, it covers all the necessary steps or measures, which all Orthodox Churches must
constantly take, in order to redefine their identity. It is, therefore, an ecclesiological impera-
tive. One can even argue that in theological terms it can (or rather better should) be applied
to all areas of the theological discipline, from the purely practical to the strictly theological
Liturgical Use and Biblical Canonicity 205
ones. And this was the result of a newly developed discipline, that of “liturgical theology,”
the primary components of which are: (1) the importance of the “ecclesial”/“Eucharistic”
event, over and above any “theological” production of the Christian community; (2) the
priority of the “experience” over the “word”/“reason”; (3) the uniqueness of “communion”
compared to the “message”/“kerygma” or “confession”; and (4) a redefined relationship be-
tween “Eucharist” and “Bible.”
The Leitourgia, i.e., the common worship of the community (as opposed to the individual
prayer), and especially the Eucharist as the central and identifying bond of it, which now-
adays is the only liturgical service attended by the vast majority of the Orthodox, at least
in Greece, became subject of extensive reflection. With regard to the Bible and its liturgical
use, from the very beginning of this renewal effort in Greece I underlined three particular
areas with regard to the biblical readings, which are in a desperate need of change: (1) the
lectionary, (2) the performance, (3) the translation.
Of course, there was a certain prehistory in the Greek-speaking Orthodoxy concerning
the renewal of the Church life, focusing on the liturgy through a campaign for a biblical
awareness of the grassroots people, not to mention of course the biblical renaissance that
took place in the academic field, and a biblical renewal with quite popular bible studies.
Certain efforts for items (2) and (3) earlier had already been made by the religious organi-
zations (ZOE), which by the way were the first to publish a translation into Modern Greek
of the entire Divine Liturgy, having in addition widely disseminated their translated Bibles
(mainly NT) but only for private use (3). They had also tried to teach how the Bible readings
should be performed in the liturgical services, making them again anagnosmata (2). But no
attempt has been made, nor was any thought given, to the lectionary—the selection and
the sequence of the biblical readings in all daily and sacramental services. I recommended
the use of translated Bible readings, participation of women in their reading, and change
of the lectionary from a 1-to a 2-or 3-year cycle, in order that more didactic pericopae be
included. It is an unhealthy situation not to listen, e.g., to the Sermon on the Mount (the
Beatitudes are no longer read/sung nowadays, except in rare cases when the Sabbaitic litur-
gical typicon is followed), repeating instead only Miracle stories; there are still no readings
in any liturgical service from the book of Revelation, the most liturgical book of the NT (!),
etc.; In addition to these recommendations, I also suggested more readings on the themes
of unity, communion, etc.; more emphasis on the reading (than on the chanting) character
of the “readings” (anagnosmata), and the introduction of more “biblical” songs in addition
to the “patristic” (mostly “monastic”) ones.
With regard to a biblical and liturgical renewal in the Church of Greece, there was also a
negative background, which, by the way, especially in liturgical matters affected the entire
Greek-speaking Orthodox Christianity. For more than three generations, Greek society all
over the world was split on the issue of the use of the vernacular language in two bitterly
opposed fronts: on the one hand the progressive, intellectual, etc., and all the non-Orthodox
minority communities, and on the other hand the conservatives, mostly religious people,
politically conservative, the ecclesiastical establishment, etc.
During the period of the official campaign of the Church of Greece for a liturgical re-
newal (1999 onward), which would entail a more biblical renewal in liturgical matters, in-
cluding the use of translated reading and beyond, in addition to the cultural (the classical
Greek of both the Bible and the Liturgy was considered as the main element of preserving
the national identity) and political, a further argument was added: the anti-ecumenical one;
206 Petros Vassiliadis
the translation of the Bible was considered as an inclination toward the Protestant tradition,
whereas the entire set of the liturgical renewal, which indirectly supported a translated lit-
urgy with translated Bible readings, was accused as an imitation of the measures taken by
the Vatican II Council of the Catholic Church.
Along these anti-ecumenical, and particularly anti-Catholic, lines the anti-biblical/
anti-liturgical-renewal theological group invented an additional argument, which has un-
consciously convinced almost the entire ecclesiastical establishment. In simple terms the
argument runs as follows: The Western, non-Orthodox, approach to the truth, and by ex-
tension to the liturgy and the comprehension of the word of God/Bible, is normally through
reason and understanding (katanoesis), whereas the Orthodox approach is through
methexis, a mystical and spiritual participation in the mystery of salvation without the me-
dium of reason. It is not accidental that the only timid reaction in America, especially in
Orthodox Church in America, to the liturgical reforms, the most radical of them all being
the uttering of the prayers of the Eucharistic anaphora loudly (and not secretly by the clergy
alone), was taken from the Bible, from the example of the . . . silent prayer of Hannah
in 1 Sam 1:13. In Greece this kind of argument was avoided as coming from the “heretic”
Protestant tradition. Instead, all kinds of “mystical” arguments paraded to prevent the only
“official” (initiated by Church authorities) decision for a liturgical (and indirectly biblical)
renewal in today’s Orthodox world.
At that moment an unexpected initiative was undertaken in a remote rural diocese, that
of the apostolic city of Nikopolis (and Preveza), by its late bishop, Meletios (Kalamaras),
and almost the entirety of his priests and monastics. Without publicity, they started step
by step not only using all the priestly payers from a modern Greek translation, but uttering
them loudly, using of course the Bible readings in translation in all liturgical services. The
most extraordinary thing in this case is that Metropolitan Meletios was one of the most
revered, traditional, highly educated, and ascetic personalities of the Church establishment,
who had previously served in the Synodical Commission for Inter-Orthodox and Inter-
Christian Relations of the Church of Greece. Even more extraordinary was that he was
recruited by some conservatives within the Church to make a lengthy report to the Holy
Synod recommending that the Church of Greece withdraw her eventual blessing of the
second edition of the 1989 translation of the NT, which he did! However, he had the courage
to publicly acknowledge his mistake and for pastoral purposes not only made use of it but
also introduced, together with his clergy, the translation of the Eucharistic liturgy. Before
his death (2012) he even published a book, with the telling title Methexi or Understanding?
(2011), arguing with comprehensive, concentrated biblical and patristic views, that the
translation of biblical and liturgical texts, as well as their use in the Orthodox worship, was
not only theologically legitimate but absolutely necessary. With his death, his initiative, the
last promising sign for a liturgical renewal in the Church of Greece, came to an end.
It is not accidental that the original biblical, and socially oriented prophetic hymns
(Kanons) have been gradually overwhelmed in most cases by individualistic prayers/
hymns, mostly composed by monastics to meet their struggle against the Devil. Thus, the
primary aim of the Kanons, especially the first and leading one, which praises the liberating
God for leading his people out of the Egyptian oppression and slavery, with all that this re-
membrance entails for the witness of the Church, almost disappeared.
In addition, all the OT readings, which had a prominent place in all ancient Eucharistic
Liturgies, were gradually removed from the Divine Liturgy and pushed to the Vespers. This
Liturgical Use and Biblical Canonicity 207
change seems to be intentional, and theologically motivated. In late Byzantium a theory was
developed that the three main daily liturgical services (Vespers, Matins/Orthros, Divine
Liturgy), follow the tripartite model of σκιά (shadow =OT—Vespers)—εικών (image =NT—
present reality—Orthros)—αλήθεια (truth =eschaton—Eucharist). With this scheme, how-
ever, all the dynamism of the prophetic word was unconsciously relegated. And not only
this; even under this structure the radical message of the Prophets for the contemporary life
of the people of God was step by step marginalized, or replaced by less dynamic, and mostly
individualistic, texts from the (deuterocanonical) sophiological literature.
Needless to say, how urgent for a proper liturgical life, and especially for a liturgy after the
liturgy, is a thorough reform of the Orthodox lectionary! The only Orthodox community
that adopted a modest (not very radical) new 2-year-cycle lectionary is the monastic com-
munity of the New Skete in the United States!
All these, and especially the reluctance of our Church to proceed to a radical reform
in the lectionary, as the minimum of a comprehensive liturgical renewal, are the result of
the loss of the biblical, missionary, and contextual character of the Orthodox ecclesial self-
consciousness. At the bottom of this development was the unconscious loss of the pro-
phetic character of the Church. Ironically, these very elements were the basic spiritual
means that helped a tiny Jewish sect conquer the mighty Roman Empire. To take the argu-
ment to the extreme, one can fairly argue that the Orthodox Church has gradually, step by
step, marginalized the very characteristics of the Church we confess in the Creed, i.e., her
oneness, her holiness, her catholicity, and her apostolicity.
We, therefore, need to rediscover the very meaning of the “liturgy,” and this can only be
done by retrieving the lost elements of the OT. Is not this, what the Fathers of the Church,
mutatis mutandis, did? Only by going back to the origins of the liturgical practice of the
people of God can we explain what happened and how the Christian liturgy from a radical
event of Christian witness became an end in itself, losing almost all its dynamism. Only in
this way can one realize the importance of the Bible in the Orthodox Church’s witness, and
of course reject the appalling fundamentalist hermeneutics.
The first Christians developed their liturgical behavior in accordance with the idea of
the covenant, particularly through the commitment of the people with God and with one
another to the memory of the events of the Exodus, when the Israelites experienced the
liberating grace of God. The liturgy, therefore, was originally understood as the obligation
to worship God, who had led them in particular historical circumstances to liberation, sal-
vation, justice, and peace. The liturgy, however, of the people of God was also a constant
reminder of a commitment to a moral and ethical life, and an obligation for resistance
against any oppression and exploitation of their fellow men and women. In this sense, the
worshiping community was supposed to be also a witnessing community.
With the construction of the Temple of Solomon, the religious life of the community
turned into a cult incumbent with the necessary professional priesthood and the necessary
financial transactions. Jesus’s action against the money changers is quite indicative of the
new situation. His repeated appeal to mercy/eleon, instead of sacrifice, is yet another re-
minder of the real purpose of liturgy.
It has been convincingly argued that the Israel under the monarchy unconsciously
slipped into three dangerous situations that perverted the original meaning of liturgy: (1)
the greed of those in power led to financial exploitation of the weak; (2) a hierarchical so-
cial order was imposed, leading to the political oppression of the weak for the sake of the
208 Petros Vassiliadis
emerging state; and (3) the establishment of a formal and conventional worship, agreed to
serve the kingdom and its political allies. In chapter 8 of the first book of Samuel the con-
versation of Yahweh with Samuel is highly instructive, underlining the implications of this
radical change in the relationship between God and his people, when they asked him to
provide them with a king.
All these were the consequence of, or resulted in, the imposition of private property in
Israel, which caused a strong protest and action by the Prophets. Previously the governing
principle was divine ownership of all the material wealth, according to the Psalmist’s affirm-
ation: “the Earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it” (Psalm
24:1). The economic injustice replaced the justice of God, and the personal accumulation of
wealth the equality in acquiring the necessary material goods for survival. Amos and Hosea
in the Northern Kingdom before its dissolution in 722 BC, and Isaiah, Micah, Jeremiah,
Habakkuk, and Ezekiel in Judea, began to speak of the main components of liturgy: i.e.,
Law and Justice, values that were lost because of the new conception of ownership, which
changed the traditional concept of society (communion) and completely perverted the real
purpose of liturgy.
For the OT Prophets, the abolition of justice and the cancellation of the rights of the poor
meant above all rejection of God Himself. Prophet Jeremiah, e.g., insisted that knowing
God was identical with being fair toward the poor (Jer 22:16). Prophet Isaiah carried his
criticism against the introduction of individual property even further, when he spoke about
the greed and avarice as manifested by the accumulation of land: “Woe to those who add
to their home and joins the field with the field, so that now there is no other place for them
to stay” (Is 5:8). He did not hesitate to characterize the greedy landlords as “thieves” (1:23)
and characterize the confiscation of the land of indebted farmers as a grab at the expense
of the poor.
Therefore, for the future of the Orthodox witness I propose a combination of the pro-
phetic and eschatological dimension of the Orthodox faith. With no thorough liturgical re-
newal the groaning of the creation (Rom 8:23) and the cries of people in poverty (Jer 14:2–7)
will never alert the faithful to just how much their current social, economic, and ecological
state of emergency runs counter to God’s vision for life in abundance (Jn 10:10).
Especially in our days many traditional Orthodox construct divisions, barriers, and
boundaries to distance themselves from other Christians, from their neighbor, from na-
ture, and from God’s justice. Communities are fragmented and relationships broken. Greed
and self-centeredness endanger both people and planet Earth. All these must be urgently
included in the Orthodox praying life. And this can only be done with a thorough biblical
and liturgical renewal.
I propose to focus only on the exact nature of our Christian (and of course Orthodox)
eschatology, which I think is the interpretative key to decode all the issues addressed here.
First, it should be emphasized that Christian eschatology is neither a denial of history,
nor something like an addition to history and the past. The eschatology in its authentic
Christian understanding is rather an invasion of the eschaton into our historical reality.
The eschaton “invades” history through the Holy Spirit, especially during the Eucharist.
That is why a liturgical (and at the same time biblical) renewal is an imperative! It is within
this context that concepts like “word of God,” “Bible,” and also other elements of the life
and mission of the Church, even “priesthood,” acquire their true meaning. Underlining the
Liturgical Use and Biblical Canonicity 209
eschatological dimension of the Church, by no means do we deny the reasonable and crit-
ical scientific process as such; and of course, we do not reject the scientific interpretation of
the Bible. We only question the scientific knowledge as the only and proper way in which
the Bible is recognized as a word of God. The Church has a different context in which she
places the Bible, so that it can eventually “speak” to the faithful as God’s word. All subjects,
therefore, associated with the Bible, not as a literary product of humanity, but as “the” Book
of the Church, are conditioned by eschatology, and of course are closely related to ecclesi-
ology. The key issue for the Church is the relational rather than the cognitive dimension of
a worshiping community, coming together to prefigure the perfect eschatological reality of
God’s Kingdom, with a task (mission) to transform the world.
With the penetration of scholasticism, and later of modernity, this invasion of the End
Times in the historical reality was canceled, or at least marginalized. And this resulted in a
history completely unhooked from eschatology. The latter either: (1) has come to refer only
the “realm beyond history” or (2) is subconsciously identified with some charismatic expe-
rience of an elite who are isolated from the historical context of the ecclesial community,
considered (as by some early heretical groups) as second class. Such an understanding of
eschatology destroys ecclesiology. By dissociating the unity of the Church of Saints from the
historical Church community, the “triumphant” from the “militant” Church, it is doubtful if
we can call “Church” any historical Church community.
References
Bartholomew, His All Holiness Ecumenical Patriarch, Encountering the Mystery: Understanding
Orthodox Christianity Today, Doubleday: New York, London, Toronto, Sydney, Auckland
2008.
Bria, Ion, Liturgy after the Liturgy: Mission and Witness from an Orthodox Perspective, WCC
Publications: Geneva 1996.
Florovsky, G., “The Elements of Liturgy,” in G. Patelos (ed.), The Orthodox Church in the
Ecumenical Movement, Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1978, 172–182.
Kalamaras, Meletios (Metr. of Nikopolis and Preveza), Methexi or Katanoese? Holy Diocese of
Nikopolis and Preveza: Preveza 2011.
Nissiotis, N., “Interpreting Orthodoxy,” ER 14 (1961) 1–27.
Pentiuc, E. J., The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition, Oxford University Press:
New York 2014.
Staniloae, D., Theology and the Church, SVS Press: New York 1980.
Stylianopoulos, Th., The New Testament: An Orthodox Perspective, Volume One: Scripture,
Tradition, Hermeneutics, HC Orthodox Press: Boston 1997.
Vassiliadis, P. (ed.), Orthodox Perspectives on Mission, Regnum Edinburgh Centenary Series
17: Oxford 2013.
Vassiliadis, P., Eucharist and Witness: Orthodox Perspectives on Unity and Mission of the
Church, WCC-HC Press: Geneva-Boston 1998.
Vassiliadis, P., Lex Orandi: Liturgical Theology and Liturgical Renewal, Indiktos Publications,
series Ιdiomela 5: Athens 2005 (in Greek).
Vassiliadis, P., “Scriptural Authority in Early Christian Hermeneutics,” in Μνήμη Ιωάννου Ευ.
Αναστασίου, Thessaloniki: Thessaloniki School of Theology Press 1992, 51–59.
210 Petros Vassiliadis
Vassiliadis, P., “L’ Eschatologie dans la Vie de l’ Église: Une Perspective Chrétien Orthodoxe et
son Impact sur la Vie de la Société,” Irénikon 73 (2000) 316–334.
Vassiliadis, P., “Τhe Canon of the Bible: Or the Authority of Scripture from an Orthodox
Perspective,” in L’ Αutorité de l’ Écriture, edited by Jean-Michel Poffet, Paris: Cerf 2002,
113–135.
Vassiliadis, P., “Canon and Authority of Scripture: An Orthodox Hermeneutical Perspective,”
in I. Z. Dimitrov et al. (eds.), Das Alte Testament als christliche Bibel in orthodoxer und
westlicher Sicht, Μοhr Siebeck: Tübingen 2004, 259–276.
Vassiliadis, P., “La rinascita liturgica e la Chiesa Greca,” in H. Legrand et al. (eds.), Nicola
Cabasilas e la divina liturgia, edizione Qiqajon: Bose 2007, 253–281; and its updated form in
“The Liturgical Renewal and the Church of Greece,” in Holy Scripture and Ancient World.
Fs to Prof. John Galanis, Pournaras Press: Thessaloniki 2010, 537–565.
Vassiliadis, P., “The Word of God and the Church from an Orthodox Perspective,” in
Χριστόδουλος. Αφιερωματικός Τόμος, Holy Synod of the Church of Greece: Athens 2010,
539–561.
Vassiliadis, P., “Ο Θεολογικός Προβληματισμός για τις Μεταφράσεις των Εκκλησιαστικών
Κειμένων. Διάλογος με τους Μητροπολίτες Πρεβέζης και Ναυπάκτου” (The Theological
Problem on the Translation of the Liturgical Texts: A Dialogue with the Metropolitans of
Preveza and Nafpaktos), ΔΒΜ 28 (2010) 34–48.
Ware, Kallistos (Metr. of Diokleia), “How to Read the Bible,” The Orthodox Study Bible,
Thomas Nelson Publishers: Nashville 1992, 762–770.
Zizioulas, John (Metropolitan of Pergamon), Being as Communion: Studies in Personhood and
the Church, SVS Press: Crestwood 1985.
Zizioulas, John (Metropolitan of Pergamon), “The Mystery of the Church in Orthodox
Tradition,” One in Christ 24 (1988) 294–303.
Chapter 13
Introduction
The aim of this chapter is to examine the biblical canon of the Ethiopian Orthodox
Tawāhǝdo Church (EOTC), with special focus on its peculiarity. The Ethiopian biblical
canon of the EOTC records the largest number of books in Christian tradition. How can we
understand this situation? Does it mean the EOTC uses more measures absent from other
churches? Or, did other churches overlook some criteria appreciated by the EOTC? These
questions will be addressed in three steps. The first focuses on early Christianity, the second
on the medieval period, and the last on contemporary time.
1 For a thorough study of these themes, see Louis Alonso Schökel, The Inspired Word: Scripture in
the Light of Language and Literature (London: Burns & Oates, 1967). Paul J. Achtemeier, Inspiration and
Authority: Nature and Function of Christian Scripture (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1999). Denis Farkasfalvy,
A Theology of the Christian Bible: Revelation, Inspiration, Canon (Washington: The Catholic University
of America, 2018).
212 Daniel Assefa
Apostoliticy
The criterion of apostolicity relies on succession from Christ to the Apostles, and from the
latter to the ecclesiastical authority. A text composed by an apostle, or a figure associated
with an apostle, was reckoned as canonical. Among the four canonical Gospels, two are
attributed to the apostles Matthew and John. The other two are ascribed to Mark, and Luke
who are respectively linked with Peter and Paul. On the other hand, if it was believed that
a text was not written by an apostle or someone associated with an apostle it was excluded
from the canon.3
Although there were already doubts about the apostolicity of some writings in ancient
times, the situation is quite different today, where modern exegesis questions the authorship
of a large number of the writings of the New Testament. Yet, until the rise of the historical
critical method, both the East and the West accepted the apostolicity of most of the books
of the New Testament.
Orthodoxy
It was not enough to ascertain a book’s apostolicity. If that were the case, many more books,
Gospels, Acts, Epistles, and Apocalypses would have been included in the New Testament.
For recognition, the text was tested against the “rule of faith.” Be that as it may, there are
cases where this criterion becomes limited. Without denying the existence of a minimum
consensus concerning the person of Christ and his redemptive role, McDonald says:
Several scholars have argued that one of the distinguishing features of the New Testament
literature is the truth, or canon of faith, that it presents. However, as one examines the New
Testament literature carefully, it is difficult to reconcile many of its theological positions and
practical guidelines for living.4
According to Farmer, the way Jesus read and interpreted the Law and the Prophets of the
Old Testament is fundamental for understanding the Christian canon. The meaning of
his death and resurrection as presented in the Gospels, Pauline epistles, and other texts
2 Lee Martin McDonald, “Identifying Scripture and Canon in the Early Church: The Criteria Question,”
in The Canon Debate, edited by Lee Martin McDonald and James A. Sanders (Peabody: Hendrickson,
2002), 423–439.
3 McDonald, “Identifying Scripture and Canon in the Early Church,” 424.
4 McDonald, “Identifying Scripture and Canon in the Early Church,” 428–429.
the Ethiopian Orthodox Tawāhǝdo Church (EOTC) 213
of the New Testament constitute the criterion for accepting or excluding a text from the
biblical canon.5
The criterion of orthodoxy is also relevant in the case of the Old Testament. Books that
did not fulfill the standard set by Jewish authority were not recognized as Scripture. The
canonicity of the Song of Songs and the Ecclesiastes was, for instance, questioned before
the closing of the Jewish canon.6 Also, the suspicion of prophetic and apocalyptic literature
led to the exclusion of some books from the Jewish canon of the first or the second cen-
tury AD.7 The same phenomenon may explain the rejection of some books widely used by
different Christian communities.8
Antiquity
The criterion of antiquity would exclude a book believed to have been composed after
the period of the Apostles.9 However, as McDonald underlines it, this criterion needs to
be accompanied by apostolicity and orthodoxy. A text contemporary with the books of
the New Testament may be discarded for failure to meet the criterion of apostolicity or
orthodoxy.10
Use
If a text is constantly read, interpreted, and used in worship by the majority of important
Christian communities, it had a chance of being recognized as canonical.11 However, this
criterion too has its limitations. McDonald shows that some books, although canonical, are
in fact rarely quoted. Meanwhile some other books are frequently used even if they do not
belong to the canon. Thus, 1 Clement, the Shepherd of Hermas, the Didache, Barnabas, and
the Epistles of Ignatius were more frequently quoted and used than Philemon, Jude, 2 Peter,
and 2 and 3 John.12
5 William R. Farmer, “Reflections on Jesus and the New Testament Canon,” in The Canon Debate,
edited by Lee Martin McDonald and James A. Sanders (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 2002),
339–340.
6 Jack Lewis, “Jamnia Revisited,” in The Canon Debate, edited by Lee Martin McDonald and James
John Collins, “Canon, Canonization,” in The Eerdmans Dictionary of Early Judaism, ed. John Collins and
Daniel Harlow (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 461–463.
8 McDonald, “Identifying Scripture and Canon in the Early Church,” 433.
9 According to Lightstone, in the case of the Old Testament, books written after Ezra were not
reckoned as canonical; Jack Lightstone, “The Rabbis’ Bible: The Canon of the Hebrew Bible and the
Early Rabbinic Guild,” in The Canon Debate, edited by Lee Martin McDonald and James A. Sanders
(Peabody: Hendrickson, 2002), 184.
10 McDonald, “Identifying Scripture and Canon in the Early Church,” 430–431.
11 The same may be affirmed of the Pentateuch, which is central to Jewish liturgy.
12 McDonald, “Identifying Scripture and Canon in the Early Church,” 433–433.
214 Daniel Assefa
Adaptability
According to McDonald, adaptability has played a role in the determination of canonicity.
Some texts that were used at an early age of Christianity, like Barnabas, 1 Clement, the
Epistles of Ignatius, and the Shepherd of Hermas were left out afterward, because they failed
to be relevant in new circumstances. Their later rejection indicates to a certain extent that
the canon was not yet closed in early Christianity. It would have been difficult to exclude
them had the canon been closed earlier, before the fourth century AD.13 For Sanders, rele-
vance or adaptability to the changing needs of a community is the major criterion for the
authority and canonicity of a book, both of the Old and the New Testament.14
Inspiration
Even though inspiration precedes canonicity, the latter comes before the awareness and the
recognition of a book’s inspiration. Once a book is included in the list, Christians accept its
inspiration. MacDonald sustains that inspiration was “a corollary,” rather than a criterion,
of canonicity. He also underlines two problems in this connection. First, it is not easy to
distinguish between an inspired and a noninspired text, due, among other things, to the
ambiguity of the term “inspiration” itself.15 Second, inspiration is not limited to writings. It
was also attributed to oral phenomena like teachings and sermons.16
The translation of the Bible into Ge’ez or classical Ethiopic begins with Christianity’s official
adoption by the Kingdom of Aksum in the fourth century AD.17 The process of translation
must have continued up to the seventh century AD.18 Inscriptions of the Aksumite kingdom
from the beginning of the sixth century indicate that at least the Psalms and the Gospels
were translated at an earlier age.19 However, it is difficult to be more precise concerning
the various steps undertaken during that period. Tradition has it that nine saints of Syrian
origin went to Ethiopia as missionaries in the fifth century AD and played an important
13
McDonald, “Identifying Scripture and Canon in the Early Church,” 434.
14
James Sanders, “The Issue of Closure in the Canonical Process,” in The Canon Debate, edited by Lee
Martin McDonald and James A. Sanders (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 2002), 258–263.
15 There is a whole range of words that are related to inspiration.
16 McDonald, “Identifying Scripture and Canon in the Early Church,” 435.
17 Sergew Hable Selassie, Ancient and Medieval Ethiopia History to 1270 (Addis Ababa: United Printers,
1972), 97–112.
18 Ignazio Guidi, Storia della letteratura Etiopica (Roma: Istituto Per L’Oriente, 1932), 15.
19 Michael Knibb, Translating the Bible: The Ethiopic Version of the Old Testament (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1999), 46–54. A. Tedros, “The Biblical Canon of the Orthodoks Täwaḥədo Church
of Ethiopia and Eritrea,” in Il Canone Biblico Nelle Chiese Orientali: Atti del simposio Pontifico Istituto
Orientale, Roma 23 marzo 2010 (Roma: Pontificio Istituto Orientale, 2017), 95–122, 103.
the Ethiopian Orthodox Tawāhǝdo Church (EOTC) 215
role in the translation of the sacred Scriptures.20 Their Syrian origin and their presumable
influence on the Vorlage of the Ge’ez Gospels has been a matter of debate among scholars.21
The majority of scholars favor the Septuagint as the Vorlage of the Ge’ez Bible for what
concerns early Christianity. There is also a large consensus regarding a revision of the Ge’ez
text in the fourteenth century through the influence of Arabic texts. A further revision is also
supposed to have taken place in the sixteenth century in light of the Masoretic text.22
As mentioned earlier, early Christianity did not have a clear-cut and complete biblical canon
until the fourth century. Nevertheless, the issue of the four Gospels seems to have been settled
earlier, perhaps in the second century AD.23 The same may be said of Pauline literature.24
Criteria of Canonicity
Apostolicity
Most of the twenty-seven books of the New Testament are included in the canon because
of, among other measures, their association with the Apostles. Athanasius, Patriarch of
Alexandria, in his Festal Epistle 39 (AD 367), mentions the twenty-seven books of the New
Testament.25 While it is noteworthy that Athanasius sent the first bishop for Ethiopia in the
person of Frementius between AD 346 and 357,26 nothing can be said of a possible influence on
the Ethiopian biblical canon.27
The Ethiopian tradition gives authority to eight volumes in addition to the
twenty-seven books of the New Testament.28 These are: Ethiopic Sinodos in four
20
Sergew Hable Selassie, Ancient and Medieval Ethiopia History to 1270. For a recent study on
the narratives related to the nine saints, see Antonella Brita, I raconti tradizionali sulla “seconda
cristianizzazione dell’Etiopia”: Il ciclo agiografico dei Nove Santi =Studi Africanistici. Serie Etiopica 7
(Napoli: Università degli Studi di Napoli “L’Orientale,” 2010).
21 Tedros, “The Biblical Canon,” 98–99. Perluigi Piovanelli, “Aksum and the Bible: Old Assumptions
language that was used for the Ethiopic Bible. He underlines that one should consider a complex scenario
with various Vorlagen. See Edward Ullendorff, Ethiopia and the Bible (London: Oxford University Press,
1967), 36–63. The tradition according to which the Old Testament was translated from Hebrew, before
the introduction of Christianity in Ethiopia, is related with the story of the Queen of the South who
visited King Solomon (1 Kings 10). For the history of the translation of the Bible into Ge’ez, both from
the perspective of Ethiopian tradition and the modern scholarly works, see Tedros, “The Biblical Canon,”
100–106.
23 Farkasfalvy underlines that Revelation leads to inspiration and then to canon. Farkasfalvy, A
recensions,29 Clement,30 The Book of the Covenant in two sections31, and the Didascalia.32
It is the criterion of apostolicity that is advocated here. Dibekulu Zewde sustains that the
apostolicity of Ethiopic Sinodos is not questioned by the EOTC, even though some canons
betray ecclesiastical situations of later contexts in Church history.33
According to Beckwith34 and Brandt,35 the Ethiopic Sinodos and the Fǝtḥā Nagaśt36 de-
rive from late Egyptian sources and therefore do not give an accurate image of the Ethiopic
canon that existed immediately after the adoption of Christianity.
The fact that 1 Enoch is quoted in the Epistle of Jude may strengthen the association
with the Apostles. However, the issue becomes complicated when one reads Eusebius, who
mentions the debate over canonical reckoning for books like the Epistle of Jude, James, 2
Peter, and 2 and 3 John.37
It will be well, at this point to classify the New Testament writings already referred to. We
must, of course, put first the holy quartet of the gospels, followed by the Acts of the Apostles.
The next place in the list goes to Paul’s epistles, and after them we must recognize the epistle
called 1 John; likewise 1 Peter. To these may be added, if it is thought proper, the Revelation of
John. . . . These are classed as Recognized Books. Those that are disputed, yet familiar to most,
include the epistles known as James, Jude, and 2 Peter, and those called 2 and 3 John, the work
either of the evangelist or of someone else with the same name.
Questioning the canonicity of Jude’s Epistle will, of course, have an impact on the status of
1 Enoch. Yet, it is not just the mere fact of referring to 1 Enoch that is decisive. Quotations
from noncanonical material exist in books of the New Testament. When one looks at Jude’s
use of 1 Enoch, it is rather the presentation of Enoch as prophet and the citation as prophecy
that is more noteworthy.
29 See Alessandro Bausi (ed.), Il Senodos Etiopico: Canoni Pseudoapostolici: Canoni dopo l’Ascensione,
Canoni di Simone Cananeo, Canoni Apostolici, Lettera di Pietro, CSCO 552 Aeth.101 (Leuven, 1995), 144–
145, 177–178, 228–232, 279–282.
30 Cowley calls “the larger canon” the one that includes these eight books in the New Testament. See
Roger Cowley, “The Identification of the Ethiopian Octateuch of Clement, and Its Relationship to the
Other Christian Literature,” Ostkirchlichen Studien 27 (1980), 37–45.
31 Robert Beylot, Le Testamentum Domini éthiopien (Leuven: Peeters, 1984). Louis Guerrier and
Sylvain Grébaut, Le Testament en Galilée de Notre Seigneur Jésus Christ (Patrologia Orientalis IX,3 =43;
Turnhout: Brepols, 1982).
32 Thomas Platt, The Ethiopic Didascalia or the Ethiopic Version of the Apostolical Constitutions, Received
in the Church of Abyssinia (London: 1834). John Harden, The Ethiopic Didascalia (London: Macmillan,
1920). For the complex relationship between the Didache, the Didascalia, the Apostolic Church Order, the
Apostolic Constitutions, and the Testamentum Domini, see Paul Bradshaw, The Search for the Origins of
Christian Worship (London: SPCK, 2002), 73–97.
33 Dibekulu Zewde, The 81 Holy Books, 84–85.
34 Beckwith, The Old Testament Canon of the New Testament Church, 494–495.
35 Peter Brandt, “Geflecht aus 81 Büchern. Zur variantenreichen Gestalt des äthiopischen Bibelkanons,”
Ignazio Guidi (ed. and trans.), Il “Fetha Nagast” o “Legislazione dei Re,” codice ecclesiastico e civile di
Abissinia (Roma: Casa Editrice Italiana, 1899), 21–22. Paulos Tzadua (ed. by Peter L. Strauss), The Fetha
Nagast =The Law of the Kings (Addis Ababa: Central Printing, 1968), 13.
37 Eusebius, The History of the Church from Christ to Constantine, 3.25, trans. G. A. Williamson
Orthodoxy
What can one say about the Orthodoxy of 1 Enoch, Jubilees, and 4 Ezra? Clement of
Alexandria calls Ezra a prophet when referring to the text,38 just like the Epistle of Jude
in the case of Enoch (Jude 14). Clement of Alexandria seems also to treat equally the book
of Daniel and 1 Enoch.39 Similarly, Tertullian defends 1 Enoch’s canonicity and orthodoxy.
Like the Epistle of Barnabas,40 he affirms that 1 Enoch is part of the Scriptures and refers to
Christ.41
Luisier refers to phrases that seem to imply the acceptance of the book of Enoch and the
Ascension of Isaiah.42 The popularity of the proper name Enoch in southern Egypt perhaps
indicates the significance of 1 Enoch.43 Origen, who was originally more positive about the
inspiration of 1 Enoch, would have influenced Athanasius of Alexandria for the exclusion of
the book.44 Hence a change and an evolution among some ancient figures concerning some
books peculiar to the EOTC biblical canon.
Antiquity
The criterion of antiquity is applicable to 1 Enoch, Jubilees and 4 Ezra. Enoch, Moses and
Ezra are all great ancient figures of the Old Testament. While modern exegesis labels 1
Enoch as pseudonymous, Tertullian and many church fathers believed that Enoch, the sev-
enth generation from Adam, wrote the book of Enoch (cf. Jude). The same is true for the
authority of the EOTC. Since they belong to Second Temple Judaism, there is a sense in
which Jubilees, 1 Enoch, and 4 Ezra enjoy a reputation of antiquity among modern scholars.
The fact that a large number of copies of 1 Enoch and Jubilees were discovered among the
Dead Sea Scrolls shows their significance for the Qumran community too.
Use
The liturgy is one important indicator of the canonicity of the Scriptures. The Gospels and
Pauline letters have always been essential from ancient Christianity up to today. And this is
also the case in Ethiopia. While Book of the Covenant has inspired the Ethiopian Eucharistic
“prayer of the Lord,” the Ethiopic Sinodos has influenced the Ethiopian Eucharistic prayer
“of the Apostles” and the Law of the Kings or the Fǝtḥā Nagaśt.45
38 Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis One to Three, III, 16 (Washington: The Catholic University of
57–61. See also James Vanderkam, “1 Enoch, Enochic Motifs, and Enoch in Early Christian Literature,”
in The Jewish Apocalyptic Heritage in Early Christianity, ed. James Vanderkam and William Adler
(Assen: VanGorcum, 1966), 47–54.
42 Philippe Luisier, “Il Canone Biblico Copto,” in Il Canone Biblico nelle Chiese Orientali (Roma: PIO),
2017, 58–59.
43 Luisier, “Il Canone Biblico Copto,” 59–60.
44 Luisier, “Il canone biblico copto,” 60.
45 Getachew Haile, Whiling with Ge‘ez Literature (in Amharic; Addis Ababa: Djadjaw, 2020), 52.
218 Daniel Assefa
Adaptability
Did 1 Enoch, Jubilees, and 4 Ezra find a favorable environment that facilitated their special
acceptance in Ethiopia? Nickelsburg suggests some reasons that might explain the recog-
nition of 1 Enoch as canonical in Ethiopia’s Early Christianity. First, 1 Enoch must have
been appreciated already during its translation in the Aksumite Empire. Second, there was
congruence between the worldview of 1 Enoch and the one of Ancient Ethiopia. Third, the
arguments that were against recognizing 1 Enoch as canonical were absent from Ethiopia.46
Stuckenbruck makes a distinction between the early position of 1 Enoch in Ethiopian
Christianity and the book’s function in the later period. Like Nickelsburg, he proposes
that 1 Enoch must have been received in Ethiopia before interest in the book had entirely
disappeared in the ancient world, even though it was already being questioned in some
circles.47
46 George W. E. Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch Chapters 1 ̶ 36; 81–
108 (Minneapolis: Fortress press, 2001), 104–108. See also Loren Stuckenbruck, “The Book of Enoch: Its
Reception in Second Temple Jewish and in Christian Tradition,” Early Christianity 4 (2013), 20–24.
47 Stuckenbruck, “The Book of Enoch,” 22–24.
48 Hablessilasse, Ancient and Medieval Ethiopia History to 1270, 232–237.
49 Roger Beckwith, The Old Testament Canon of the New Testament Church (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1985), 497.
50 Beckwith, The Old Testament Canon of the New Testament Church, 497–498.
51 Tedros affirms that the Shepherd of Hermas used in the Ethiopian antiphonary must have had a
However, it is important to ask whether Syria or Egypt had just one version or recension
of the biblical canon. If it is not the case, the correspondence between the Ethiopian and
the Egyptian or Syrian canon needs clarification. Which version of the Egyptian canon
is compared with the Ethiopian one? Luisier, for instance, confirms the existence of local
canons next to the official one in the Coptic Church. Neither the book of Enoch nor the
book of Jubilees is included in the official canon.
For Beckwith, books that were not translated before the fourteenth century did not
figure in the ancient biblical canon. The period was marked by a revival of Ethiopic liter-
ature under Abuna Salāmā the translator, the Egyptian bishop of the fourteenth century
(1348–1388). This would include the Ethiopic Sinodos and the Ethiopic Didascalia (part of
the Apostolic Constitutions), the Book of the Covenant, and the Testament of Our Lord Jesus
Christ. However, to agree with Beckwith here, one needs to demonstrate the absence of
Ethiopic translation of any of these books during the Aksumite period.
Indeed, besides the Garimā Gospel,52 there seems to be evidence for an Ethiopic version of
the Sinodos of the Aksumite period. Bausi refers to a recently discovered corpus of Ethiopic
texts belonging to that period; and this “Aksumite Collection” indicates that there was list of
inspired books that precedes the lists of the medieval period.53 On a similar note, Getachew
Haile asserts that the Ethiopic Sinodos must have been translated during the Aksumite era
since it was cited by the bishop Theofilos who lived during that period.54
Continuity or Innovation
If the majority of the books that are part of the Ethiopian biblical canon were already ac-
cepted in early Christianity, we can speak of continuity. If a real change has come due to the
involvement of Zarā Yā‘qob, we can speak of innovation. Although one may only speculate
about the canonical status of some books in early Christianity, the situation is more certain
during the Middle Ages as far as written references are concerned.
Zarā Yā‘qob (1434–1468) strongly defends the canonicity of the Ethiopic Sinodos, the Book
of the Covenant, and the Didascalia on account of apostolicity. Wendt asserts that a new im-
petus has been given for the canonicity of 1 Enoch because of Zarā Yā‘qob.55
52
Piovanelli, “Aksum and the Bible,” 9–10.
53
Bausi speaks here of canonico-liturgical material translated from Greek that would belong to
the Aksumite period. Alessandro Bausi, “La collezione aksumita canonico-liturgical,” Adamantius 12
(2006). The manuscript contains texts relevant for the study of early Christianity, patristic literature and
ecclesiastical historiography, old Christian liturgy, canon law, the history of Egypt in the fourth and fifth
century, and the history of the councils.
54 Haile, Whiling with Ge‘ez Literature, 53.
55 Kurt Wendt, “Der Kampt um den Kanon Heiliger Schiften in der aethiopischen Kirche der
For Beckwith, Zarā Yā‘qob could reach the symbolic number eighty-one by including
a number of books that were not mentioned in the Sinodos. Now, the opposition to their
inclusion may betray the existence of a tradition according to which these books were
not canonical in ancient Christianity.56 Yet, is that the only explanation? Can we also
not suppose that the opposition to the canonicity of these books came later on through
Egyptian influence?
Antiquity is still valid as a criterion for Jubilees, 1 Enoch, and 4 Ezra. Orthodoxy is also in
force since Zarā Yā‘qob, and, as we shall see later, other Ethiopian texts used these books for
Christological affirmations. Adaptability is also a valid criterion, given that these books enjoy
appreciation by the medieval Ethiopian church.
Zarā Yā‘qob was a theologian, strongly involved in ecclesiastical matters.57 The king’s
arguments, found mainly in the Book of Nativity, are more doctrinal and liturgical. Thus, many
verses of 1 Enoch are interpreted as prophecy about Christ, much like passages of Isaiah or
Daniel.
According to Beckwith, unlike in the case of 1 Enoch, there was no debate over the can-
onicity of Jubilees in medieval period; the book would have been recognized as canonical
in Ethiopia since ancient times.58 However, there was indeed a debate over the canonicity of
Jubilees in medieval Ethiopia.59
The Ethiopic books of Maccabees are entirely different from those of the Septuagint. Two
ancient lists of the Sinodos seem to refer to the books of Maccabees in their mentioning
of three books of Jubilees. The book of Joseph Ben Koryon, also called Zēna ’Ayǝhud (The
History of the Jews) in Ge’ez, is equated with the book of Maccabees in the Fǝtḥā Nagaśt.60
56
Beckwith, The Old Testament Canon of the New Testament Church, 496.
57
For the role played by Zarā Yā‘qob during the complex relationship between Church and State
in Ethiopia, see Tamerat, Church and State in Ethiopia, 221–267; Marie-Laure Derat, Le domaine des
rois éthiopiens (1270–1527): Espace, pouvoir et monachisme (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2003),
153–206.
58 Beckwith, The Old Testament Canon of the New Testament Church, 499.
59 Haile, Whiling with Ge‘ez Literature, 45–47. Leslie Baynes, “Enoch and Jubilees in the Canon of the
Ethiopian Orthodox Church,” in A Teacher for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James Vanderkam,
Volume Two (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 807–818.
60 This book was translated in the fifteenth century and does not appear in the printed Bibles of the
from 1 Enoch.62 Early homilies in honor of archangels also draw heavily from 1 Enoch. The
praises of their effigies are full of quotations and allusions to 1 Enoch. Haileyesus Alebachew
has studied the usage of 1 Enoch in various hymns, besides in a number of medieval texts
of theology.63 Stuckenbruck and Erho assert signs of liturgical use of 1 Enoch based on the
evidence of an old manuscript of Ethiopian antiphonary (Dǝgwā).64 It is thus difficult to
give Zarā Yā‘qob sole responsibility for the use and authority of the aforementioned books.
According to Stuckenbruck, the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries indicate an increase
in the importance of 1 Enoch in the manuscripts, which he associates with the legacy of
Zarā Yā‘qob.65 Stuckenbruck affirms also that looking at the place of 1 Enoch in medi-
eval manuscripts can be suggestive but not conclusive. In some cases the book of Enoch
appears alone, making one whole manuscript. In some other cases, it is with others of the
Pentateuch. In other cases, it is located with prophetic books.66
62 “Le livre d’Hénoch commenté par le livre des mystères du Ciel et de la Terre ,” in Les églises
d’Ethiopie: Cultures et échanges culturels; Actes du colloque de l’Institut Supérieur d’Etudes œcuméniques du
21–22 Octobre 2012 à Paris, ed. J.-N. Pérès and Ursula Schattner-Rieser, JECS 64 (Leuven: Peeters), 29–39.
63 Haileyesus Alebachew, The Role of the Book of Ethiopic Enoch in the Production of Medieval Ge’ez
Texts: Identification, Explanation and Analysis with Translation (Unpublished Thesis; Addis Ababa
University; Addis Ababa), 2018.
64 Stuckenbruck, “The Book of Enoch,” 30–39. Stuckenbruck gives important references to Ethiopic
The Ge’ez Old Testament published in three volumes by Māhǝbara Hāwāryāt in Asmara
(1963) is based on the manuscript IES 0077, one witness of the Textus Receptus. The book
of Jubilees is published after the book of Ruth, forming thus an Enneateuch. As for 1 Enoch,
it is published together with the books of Kings. Publishing parts of the Bible in several
volumes seems to follow the tradition of manuscripts. So far, only the versions in modern
languages like Amharic contain all the books in one volume. In Ge’ez, the Gospels are in one
volume for liturgical service. It is that volume which is raised or lifted up during procession,
kissed by celebrants, and read by the priest during the liturgical service.
As there are different lists, one does not find equivalence between the books in printed
Bibles and the lists of canonical books. Thus a publication of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church
in 1970, entitled The Church of Ethiopia: A Panorama of History and Spiritual Life reads:
The Ethiopic Bible contains 81 Books; 46 of these comprise the Old Testament and 35 are
found in the New Testament.68
81 are the Old Testament and New Testament books which have been accepted as canonical
books of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahido Church.
However, a distinction is made between the twenty-seven books of the New Testament and
the eight books that are called “Books of Church Order.”
Interestingly, the Orthodox Bible published in 1988 includes eighty-five books.70 The large
number is reached even without counting the eight additional books of the New Testament.
It should be remembered here that the several short chapters have been considered as sep-
arate books.
In 2007, the EOTC published a Bible in Amharic in honor of the Ethiopian millennium
and it contained the following books:
Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 and 2 Samuel, 1
and 2 Kings, 1 and 2 Chronicles, Jubilees, Enoch, Ezra, Nehemiah, 1 Ezra Apocalypse (Ezra
Sutu’el), 2 Ezra, Tobit, Judith, Esther, 1–3 Maccabees (entirely different from those found in
the Septuagint), Job, Psalms, Messale (Proverbs 1–24) and Tägsas (Proverbs 25–31), Wisdom,
Qohelet, Song of Songs, Sirach, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Baruch, Lamentations, Rest of Jeremiah, Rest
of Baruch, Ezekiel, Daniel, Hosea, Amos, Micah, Joel, Obadiah, Jonah, Nahum, Habakkuk,
Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi.
Accordingly, the number of the Old Testament books is fifty-four. The New Testament
contains the twenty- seven books known by the Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant
churches. We reach thus eighty-one books, again, without the eight books that were added
to the twenty-seven books of the New Testament.
68 Adamu Amare and Belaynesh Mikael, “The Role of the Church in Literature and Art,” in The
Church of Ethiopia: A Panorama of History and Spiritual Life (Addis Ababa: United Printers, 1970), 74.
69 Anonymous, The Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church Faith: Order of Worship and Ecumenical
The Faith and the Teaching of the EOTC (in Amharic; Addis Ababa: Alem Press, 2002), 56–64.
the Ethiopian Orthodox Tawāhǝdo Church (EOTC) 223
Adaptability
Hermeneutics is not to be separated from the biblical text in the Ethiopian context. The
twentieth century has seen the publication of commentaries for the majority of the books
of the Ethiopic Bible. The commentaries of 1 Enoch and Jubilees have been published in the
71 Ephraim Isaac, “1 Ethiopic Apocalypse of Enoch,” in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, Vol. 1, ed.
James Charlesworth (London: Darton, Longman & Todd), 8–10. See also Ephraim Isaac, The Ethiopian
Orthodox Täwahïdo Church (Trenton: The Red Sea Press), 65–66. Isaac’s emphasis on the influence of 1
Enoch on Ethiopian Christianity has been challenged by Bruk Ayele, 1 Enoch as Christian Scripture: A
Study in the Reception and Appropriation of 1 Enoch in Jude and the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahǝdo Canon
(Eugene: Pickwick, 2020), 19–22.
72 Anonymous, The Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, 24–35. Most of the quotations in these
twenty-first century. In addition, there are a number of books that are given a special status
as deriving from the biblical texts.73
This shows that adaptability and interpretation mattered a lot in the acceptance of these
books in the EOTC. After all, is not the Song of Songs included in the canon because of its
interpretation as an allegory of divine love to his people or Christ’s love for the Church?74
The four Gospels are so important that in a cycle of four years, each year is dedicated to
one evangelist. When one wishes “happy new year,” one says, “Good that the Lord made you
pass from the year of Matthew to the year of Mark.”
The place of the psalms seems even unique, as they are practically omnipresent in ec-
clesiastical prayers. Carried as a faithful companion by teenagers in several regions of the
country, they are recited regularly both by the clergy and a large amount of the laity. The
Psalms of David have even generated the so-called Psalms of Christ, in which each psalm is
“rewritten” or rather recomposed in Ge’ez, with Ethiopian rhymes, with Christian keys. The
book exists in various recensions. The psalters are among the most common books available
in the shops around the Orthodox Churches. Each psalter also contains hymns taken from
the Old Testament, as well as the prayers of Manasseh and the Song of Songs.
Books are derived or inspired by the Sacred Scriptures, Awaled are given authority and
are used in the liturgy and devotional prayers. This includes the antiphonary, the life of the
saints, and homilies in honor of archangels, martyrs, and saints.75
James Barr makes an interesting remark about the way Christians ask questions
depending on whether they accept a book as Canonical or not:76
To the average Protestant Christian the book of Daniel is part of his church setting; he may
not understand it, he may not even have read it, but he recognizes it as part of the context
which he acknowledges, and it belongs in the same circle with the other books of which he
knows, with Genesis, with Isaiah, with the Gospels. But if he looks at Enoch he does not feel
this way at all: the remoteness, the lack of power to communicate, the distance in another
world and another culture, immediately strike him. But there is no such feeling about Enoch
in the Ethiopian church, because it has long been canonical there. Our western canon includes
Chronicles, which is a rewrite of Samuel-Kings, and we accept the coexistence of both without
a thought; but it does not include Jubilees, which is a rewrite of Genesis–Exodus, and Jubilees
is to us a remote and immensely strange universe. Thus, reading Genesis or Isaiah, the western
Christian may probably ask himself “what is this saying to me today?,” but on reading Enoch or
Jubilees he is not likely even to ask the question. But this is not because of the intrinsic merits
or demerits of the books: it is because the books are canonical and uncanonical respectively.
Conclusion
There have always been various lists of inspired books, in early Christianity and in medieval
period not only among various ancient important Christian communities but also within
73
Tedros, “The Biblical Canon,” 101–102, 109–110.
74
It is interesting to note that the Song of Songs is the most copied book in the EOTC. Besides its
place among the wisdom books, it is included in each breviary after the Psalter and other prayers.
75 Tedros, “The Biblical Canon,” 109–112.
76
James Barr, Holy Scripture: Canon, Authority, Criticism (Oxford: Clarendon, 1983), 44.
the Ethiopian Orthodox Tawāhǝdo Church (EOTC) 225
given communities. The number eighty-one does not explain everything about the large
number of canonical books in Ethiopia. Is it not significant that one can even reach more
that eighty-five books as it is in the printed edition of 1988? This shows two things: First,
the way one counts matters very much. Second, more than that, it shows that the EOTC
approach of the biblical canon is the most open one. By that it does not mean that it is in-
cluding new books without discrimination. It rather means that, though selective, it has
been the most open in accepting books.
In any case, one should consider the whole corpus of the biblical canon. The insistence on
the peculiar books betrays the vantage point from which one examines the biblical canon of
the EOTC. The best approach would be to include the Ethiopian perspective and appreciate
the journey taken by the EOTC whereby the written text and the oral tradition coexist and
nourish each other. The Ethiopian Church has its own trajectory, its own challenges, and its
contact with others ecclesiastical communities.
Inspiration is not limited to the written text or the eighty-one books. In the Church,
during solemn vespers, new poems, inspired by the Bible, along the psalms and other bib-
lical verses, are regularly improvised and sung. Surely, these new poems composed in the
Church are not part of the Bible. Yet, the choir does not think that the words are not inspired.
It is a combination of various criteria that explains the EOTC’s peculiarity as far as the
canon is concerned. Apostolicity, orthodoxy, antiquity, and use are valid criteria in Ethiopia
as they were in other ancient churches. Adaptability, not only in innovation but also in
preserving features of early Christianity, explains well the peculiarity of the EOTC.
Bibliography
Anke, Wanger. The Biblical Canon of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahdo Church, MA thesis,
2011, Euclid University, Ethiopia.
Bausi, A. “La collezione aksumita canonico-liturgical.” Adamantius 12 (2006), 43–70.
Bausi, A. “The Aksumite Background of the Ethiopic ‘Corpus Canonum.’” In Proceedings of
the XVth International Conference of Ethiopian Studies. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2006.
Baynes, L. “Enoch and Jubilees in the Canon of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church.” In A Teacher
for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam, 2 vols., edited by E.F. Mason.
JSJ Supp 153. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2011. II:799–818.
Beckwith, R. The Old Testament Canon of the New Testament Church. Grand Rapids:
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Brandt, P. “Geflecht aus 81 Büchern. Zur variantenreichen Gestalt des äthiopischen
Bibelkanons.” Aethiopica 3 (2000), 79–115.
Bruk, A. Asale. “The Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church Canon of the Scriptures: Neither
Open nor Closed.” The Bible Translator 67.2 (2016), 202–222.
Bruk, A. 1 Enoch as Christian Scripture: A Study in the Reception and Appropriation of 1 Enoch
in Jude and the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahǝdo Canon. Eugene: Pickwick, 2020.
Cowley, R.W. “The Biblical Canon of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church Today.” Ostkirchliche
Studien 23 (1974), 318–323.
Knibb, M. Translating the Bible: The Ethiopic Version of the Old Testament. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1999.
Metzger, B. The Canon of the New Testament, Its Origin, Development, and Significance.
Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987.
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Mikre-Selassie, G. “The Bible and Its Canon in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church.” The Bible
Translator 44 (1993), 111–123.
Piovanelli, P. “Aksum and the Bible: Old Assumptions and New Perspectives.” Aethiopica 21
(2018), 7–27.
Tedros, A. “The Biblical Canon of the Orthodoks Täwaḥədo Church of Ethiopia and Eritrea.”
In Il Canone Biblico Nelle Chiese Orientali: Atti del simposio Pontifico Istituto Orientale,
Roma 23 marzo 2010. Roma: Pontificio Istituto Orientale, 2017, 95–122.
Ullendorf, E. Ethiopia and the Bible. London: Oxford University Press, 1967.
Wendt, K. “Der Kampt um den Kanon Heiliger Schiften in der aethiopischen Kirche der
Reformen des XV. Jharhunderts.” Journal of Semitic Studies 9 (1964), 107–113.
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Sources—Canons). Addis Ababa: Commercial Printing Enterprise, 1995.
Pa rt I I I
SCRIPTURE WITHIN
T R A DI T ION
Chapter 14
Traditi on
Generated by or Generating Scripture?
Silviu N. Bunta
Considerations of Approach
More often than not, modern and postmodern Orthodox literature1 engages the question
in the title of this chapter (and, it seems, all other Scripture-Tradition questions) through
a doctrinal lens, a lens concerned primarily with concepts and definitions.2 This dogmatist
approach still dominates the Orthodox scholarly mindset to such an extent that, although
otherwise relegated to a field of its own, biblical scholarship will nevertheless adopt it as
soon as it switches to such “doctrinal” questions.
The number of publications dedicated to the relation between Scripture and Tradition
increases rapidly, in both scholarly and more popular sources.3 A cursory look at this
growing body of texts will give the clear impression that, even as it warns without exception
against any stultified and past-looking understandings of Tradition, it privileges concepts
and categories. The following statement is emblematic:
From an Orthodox perspective, scripture, tradition and Church are viewed as a comprehen-
sive unity with interdependent parts. Scripture finds its centre in the mystery of the eternal
1 The awareness that texts rarely reflect the informal life of the vast majority of the Orthodox through
Theologian and His Paschal Gospel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), 1–29.
3 Among the more influential and more recent publications on the topic are John A. McGuckin,
The Orthodox Church (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2008), 90–119; Theodore Stylianopoulos,
“Scripture and Tradition in the Church,” in E. Theokritoff and M. Cunningham, eds., The Cambridge
Companion to Orthodox Christian Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 21–34;
Sergius Bulgakov, The Orthodox Church (Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1988), 9–35;
Dumitru Stăniloae, Le génie de l’Orthodoxie (Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 1985), 75–144; Vladimir
Lossky, In the Image and Likeness of God (Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1974), 141–168; Fr.
Georges Florovsky, Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View (Belmont: Nordland Publishing
Company, 1972), esp. 37–92.
230 Silviu N. Bunta
Christ, veiled in the Old Testament and revealed in the New. Tradition in its theological sub-
stance is defined by the gospel, the sum of scripture’s saving message. . . . The Church itself,
the ongoing living community of God’s people, far from being a mere historical appendage,
is the body of Christ and the temple of the Holy Spirit, constitutive of revelation. As such, the
Church forms the very ground from which scripture and tradition emerge and together, in
turn, make up a coherent source of revelation, the supreme norm for the life of the Church.4
This chapter approaches the topic from a different perspective. This avoidance is inten-
tional, for two reasons. First, it appears ever more clearly that such a conceptual approach
leads only to greater unclarity and even a fragmentation of conclusion. These outcomes are
themselves indications that the approach itself looks at Scripture and Tradition through
lenses that are foreign to both. Second and more fundamentally, such an approach has a
backward direction: Scripture and Tradition—and this point is valid regardless of how one
understands “Tradition”—are read from the vantage point of the (post)modern researcher
and not from their own. The ancient text, rather than being a present (which at once both
embodies the past and looks to the future), is a past leading to the researcher’s present.5
Scripture and Tradition serve the modern “theologian” for evidentiary and explanatory
purposes and are turned into “sources” of Orthodox “doctrine,” crutches of the contempo-
rary need for confirmation and certainty.6
The disconnect between this approach and its objects happens not in the sense that the
approach misses the self-definitions of Scripture and Tradition. The disconnect is rather
much more profound, because such formalism and self-definitions do not exist in Scripture
and Tradition. A conceptualist approach to them defines that which is not acquiescing to
definition, and it seeks to formalize and systematize that which defies formalization and
systematization. And this—it seems to me—is the central issue: to approach Scripture
and Tradition on their own terms. Therefore, any answer one may hope for requires the
abandonment of the question and method themselves. This chapter is an exercise in such
abandonment.
Only once one realizes that this approach dissolves the Scriptures and Tradition into
“sources” in need of method and meaning, and that this line of inquiry is itself an outside
question, can one begin to look at whatever is there in earnest. From this new vantage
point, from within, the approach can no longer be definitional and categorical, it cannot be
launched on the questions “what is Scripture?” or “what is Tradition?” Neither can it pursue
4 Stylianopoulos, “Scripture and Tradition in the Church,” 21. See similar statements in McGuckin,
The Orthodox Church, 90; Florovsky, Bible, Church, Tradition, 46; Bulgakov, The Orthodox Church, 10.
5 One can only assume that this directionality of Tradition is the product of such non-
Orthodox
concepts as “salvation history” and “development of doctrine.” The first concept sees history as a sequence
of events that lead to a consummate moment: the incarnation in the time of the Old Testament, and the
eschaton in the time of the New. The second concept is bound to hold theology as always peaking in the
epistemological apogee of the present time, the presupposition at work being that faith—as something
that is wholesome, tenable, and transferable— is epistemological. Even Florovsky, who otherwise
criticizes such approaches of the past (Bible, Church, Tradition, 80), ends up reducing tradition to an
interpretive corpus that functions as “an insight into the meaning and impact of the revelatory events,”
i.e., the Scriptures (ibid., 80).
6 It is important to point out that ironically the dogmatist approach is the very method and mindset of
the “scholasticism” the neopatristic synthesis wanted to discard. The synthesis has retained the positive
rationalism and philosophical intellectualism of that which it wanted to replace.
Tradition 231
the method that interprets the Scriptures or the theological premises that unlock Tradition.
Rather the only possible question, the only inside question, is “How do the Scriptures and
Tradition want to be read?” To meet Scripture and Tradition on their own terms is to read
them with the reading they themselves elicit and in the language in which they present
themselves. Definitions, categories, and methodological concerns have to be abandoned for
self-descriptions and for a language that is deeply symbolic.
The inability of modern Orthodox scholarship to read the Scriptures on their own terms
points to an even greater problem. Due, among other reasons, to a justified suspicion
and aversion toward historical criticism,7 with very few exceptions Orthodox scholarship
appears entirely unable to trust Scripture in and of itself. Scripture, as the common warning
goes, can only be handled through and with Tradition—the underlying assumption being
that Tradition is mostly (if not wholly) external to it. As much as such attitudes express a
warranted mindfulness of Church, they are still beholden to the inability to conceive “the
faith” before the essential moments in “the biography of Christ,” to echo Fr. John Behr’s
criticism of “salvation history,”8 and maybe even before Acts 2. At the heart of the issue then
is how one reads the Old Testament.9 The fundamental question—and this question places
the issue in the sharpest focus—is: “Is the Old Testament pre-Tradition?” The statement
on Scripture and Tradition provided previously would be forced to answer in the posi-
tive. Doubtlessly the positive answer would come with qualifications, but for all practical
purposes this response and any such instincts in the Orthodox mindset place the Old
Testament (the largest part of the Scriptures!) in inferiority to the “fathers of the Church,”10
hold it in an awkward irrelevance to the faith, and construe it as incomplete and even void
of sense in and of itself.
Certainly, from the vantage point of the Orthodox liturgy and the fathers themselves the
Old Testament appears very differently than from this dogmatist standing.11 Hymnography
is filled with dialogues between Christ and the patriarchs or prophets; iconography
commemorates Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob alongside the apostles and the great teachers of
the Church; the enveloping of the holy table with incense smoke turns it perceptibly into
Mount Sinai; gestures of both clergy and laity go back to the Jerusalem Temple. Nowhere in
the liturgy—the expressed life of the Church—are the Old Testament saints checked against
7 Michael Legaspi’s argument for the incompatibility of historical criticism to traditional modes of
interpretation is convincing (The Death of Scripture and the Rise of Biblical Studies [Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2011]).
8 John the Theologian, 1–30. Insightful as his criticism of salvation history is, even Behr misses much
of Christ in the Old Testament. The fact that he does not present the theophanies as christophanies is a
symptom of this shortcoming, but the problem is deeper: his solution to salvation history is still history, a
history that begins with the moment of the Cross. The Cross permeates time forward and backward, but
only the forward permeation is physical, while the backward is literary, imbuing the Old Testament with
a sort of semantic fecundity. This conclusion hides under careful wording. It leaves the prophets with
precisely the same disembodied expectation of Christ as the typology that Behr rightly wishes to discard.
9 For an overarching view of the place of the Old Testament in Orthodoxy, see Eugen J. Pentiuc, The
Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).
10 The fact that many Orthodox books on a plethora of subjects refer to the Old Testament only in the
most superficial ways, while being replete with quotes from the fathers, is symptomatic of this inferiority.
11 Bogdan Bucur’s Scripture Re-envisioned (Leiden: Brill, 2019) is a very useful entry point into the
“the fathers.” On the contrary, the Old Testament saints stand on their own, or rather they
too sit at Christ’s feet and speak of him in a symphony with all the other saints. If anything,
even as Tradition consistently sees all the saints as of the same symphonic faith, the fathers
themselves look at the Old Testament writers as their teachers, a sort of fathers of the fa-
thers. Moreover, to my knowledge nowhere do the pupil fathers imagine their teachers as
being incomplete or inaccurate.12
Therefore, Scripture “on its own terms”—particularly the Old Testament—is not done
on the questions of historical criticism.13 On the contrary, this is the Scripture of the fa-
thers themselves and it can be done, and indeed should be done on the questions of the
fathers themselves. As an increasing body of scholarship elucidates, the earliest Christian
hermeneutics was driven by two related and overarching concerns: referent and useful-
ness.14 It is only later on and mostly in the west that some biblical hermeneutics became
driven by epistemology and then by method. In other words, the ancient questions of
“What is this text saying about me?” and “How is it useful to me?”15 have been discarded
for the questions “How does this read?” and respectively “What is the method to un-
derstand this?” Therefore, to approach Scripture on its own terms—which is the same
as to approach it as the fathers did—is to ask questions that are not method-based and
objective, but rather referent-based and subjective. These questions recover the proper
direction between text and listener: The listener is no longer targeting the text, but the lis-
tener offers himself up as the target of the text.16 And fundamentally this is the “Scripture
on its own terms”: not the Scripture as the listener approaches it, but the Scripture as it
approaches the listener.
In order to accomplish this approach in such ways as to clarify the topic of this
chapter, in the second part I will proceed with close analyses of three scriptural texts for
12
To state the obvious, to Christ himself and to many generations of early Christians the “Old
Testament” was simply “the Scriptures.” When the New Testament congeals, it does so not as a correction
or completion of the Old, but as an explication (“fulfillment”) of it. The fathers themselves find that
the Gospel is already told in the Old. The Nicene-Constantinopolitan creed inscribes this reality in the
memory of the Church, when, quoting 1 Cor 15:4, it refers to the Old as “the Scriptures” in the phrase “on
the third day according to the Scriptures” (cf. also Luke 24:46).
13 This is not to say that the findings of historical criticism ought to be ignored or that one cannot
(New York, NY: Cambridge University, 1997), esp. 119–138, on the issue of referent, and, on the question
of usefulness, the cogent remarks in Manlio Simonetti, Lettera e/o allegoria: Un contributo alla storia
dell’esegesi patristica (Rome: Institutum Patristicum “Augustinianum,” 1985), 79–80; McGuckin, The
Orthodox Church, 109–110.
15 The ancient interpreters asked their two questions only because their universal assumption was that
the text was written to them, for them, and about them, and received its ultimate fulfillment in them.
16 A major point in this line of research is marked by the publication of Jon D. Levenson’s Sinai and
Zion: An Entry into the Jewish Bible (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1985). Unfortunately even today,
decades after the publication of this wonderful book, Orthodox academic theology—beholden as it is
to placing the Scriptures in the service of systematics—still has not heeded the justified criticism of
Levenson that Christians should look at the Old Testament as it is, as Tradition. I use “listener” instead of
“reader” in this chapter because until recently listening has been the manner in which the vast majority of
people approached the text, and certainly it was the ancient way. Moreover, it remains the way inscribed
in Orthodox liturgy.
Tradition 233
their self-description and self-hermeneutics. They are all on a common theme which
has already been noted in the Orthodox worship: Sinai. The third and final part of
this chapter will use this language like tesserae for the self-portrait of Tradition and
Scripture.
The Texts
The king stood by the pillar and cut the covenant before the Lord—to walk after the Lord and
to keep his commandments and his testimonies and his laws with all heart and all soul, to
carry out the words of this covenant which were inscribed upon this scroll. And all the people
stood in the covenant.17
In current biblical scholarship the covenant vocabulary, more than any other, is con-
stantly under suspicion of being legalistic and contractual and of being very ancient. These
suspicions are precisely the reasons for which I picked this text out of the many others
which would have served my analysis. The most impressive feature of this early covenant
text lies in the equivalent use of the definite article and of the demonstrative pronoun “this.”
As Hindy Najman observed,
Deuteronomic texts do not use such terms [“the” and “this”] from the point of view of a
specified speaker—say, of Moses. Rather, they use such terms within anonymous third person
descriptions of the speech and actions of Moses. That is to say, they use such terms from the
point of the view of the text’s reader or listener. This is of great importance, for it follows that
the unity of Torah, in the special sense of the Deuteronomist, is secured through the presence
of tradition to those who read or hear the words of Torah.18
I would take Najman’s argument further and suggest that this language makes the cov-
enant a manner of life which, first, the Deuteronomist claims as his own and which,
second, he also expects to be the life of his listeners. Furthermore, such language serves
the obvious function of a self-destruct safety feature, because it is precisely this manner of
writing that makes the entire text collapse, become nonsensical, in the hands of another
life, or—to speak from our vantage point—in the hands of a disjointed, past-looking
approach.
In light of this, Moses’s emphatic negative in Deut 5:3 is best understood not as a polemic
against the Abrahamic covenant, as the current scholarship sees it, but more precisely as a
17
This and all ensuing translations are my own, unless noted otherwise.
18
Hindy Najman, Seconding Sinai: The Development of Mosaic Discourse in Second Temple Judaism
(Leiden: Brill, 2003), 31–32 (her emphasis).
234 Silviu N. Bunta
warning against any lifeless, static understandings of the covenant of the Lord with Israel.
“Beyond the Jordan” (Deut 1:1) Moses shouts to Israel the following words:
It was not with our fathers that the Lord cut this covenant, but with us, we these here today,
all of us living.
The Masoretic text—fragmentarily attested at Qumran19—is even more striking than the
Septuagint because it uses the personal pronoun three times (as opposed to only twice in the
LXX) and once even accompanied by the demonstrative pronoun (missing in LXX): “us, we
these here today, all of us living.” Yet, despite this extraordinary emphasis on the denial “not
with our fathers,” Deut 1:35–40 makes it abundantly clear that the people whom Moses is
addressing here were not at Sinai, but rather the people at Sinai were their fathers. All these
peculiarities invest the shout with a lot of meaning. They point to a self-understanding in
which tradition secures the covenant, rather than the covenant the tradition. The covenant
so secured by tradition is always alive and current, never a past event. It is passed down
from generation to generation as perpetually fresh. In the shout itself the experience of Sinai
is taken away from the ones who were at Sinai and have died, and is given to their living
descendants. Moreover, the transmission of the living covenant does not stop with this gen-
eration. In the acts of listening and reading the shout with its striking use of personal and
demonstrative pronouns and of the adverbial “today,” the listener is to realize that the truth-
fulness of the shout is relinquished by Moses and the Israel who heard it to the writer, be-
cause it is only from the writer’s vantage point that Moses and Israel are “beyond the Jordan,”
and furthermore that in turn it is relinquished by the writer to the listener himself, just as it
was relinquished in the first place by “the fathers”—those at Sinai—to their descendants who
heard the shout. The text expects the living listener to claim the shout as his own and to re-
enliven the covenant in himself, and thus the shout is meant to subsume both the writer and
Moses—together with the people at Sinai and their children—into the listener’s inherited
identity, identity which at once both enacts and detextualizes the shout. Deut 5:3 is a text that
sets itself up for being detextualized and enlivened in the listener, or rather a text that expects
a listener who would give it life by embodying it and thus detextualizing or obliterating it.
The text acts only as an intermediary between different actuations of the same live event, in
the circular trajectory event-text-event. The Sinai tradition, even inscribed in a text, presents
itself as always ultimately fulfilled beyond text, in the present listener.
Moreover, in this very act of giving life to the text the listener surrenders his/her own life.
The one who writes, that which is written, the one who is talked about, and the one who
listens and reads, all these collapse into one identity; the reading is at once both the death
of the text and the death of the listener, because it is the end of selves.
Hebrews 8–11
In tradition, this understanding of covenant as a certain life and of Tradition as the
inheritance of this life or identity (and the two understandings travel together in later
19
See Eugene Ulrich, ed., The Biblical Qumran Scrolls: Transcriptions and Textual Variants (Leiden:
Brill, 2010), 183.
Tradition 235
Jewish texts—the pseudepigrapha, Qumran, Philo, etc.) does not stop with the Old
Testament. On the contrary, the New does not break away from the inherited covenant,
but it rather sees itself in continuity to it. My second text of choice, too long to analyze
in detail, is Hebrews 8–11. What will strike the listener of these chapters is that they
refer to their inherited tradition, the “old” covenant, in the same manner in which the
Deuteronomist does.
For example, both Hebrews 8:10 and 10:16 quote the same Jer 38:33 (MT 31:33), a verse in
which the new covenant is called “this covenant” (“this [is] is the covenant”). Moreover, the
second quote is set up in 10:15 by “the Holy Spirit bears witness to us too.” The semantic cho-
reography of the demonstrative pronoun, the definite article, the conjunction καί, and the
striking use of the present tense is very complex. The language expects the readers/listeners
of Hebrews to share the location and identity of the author of the epistle, which is also re-
vealed as none other than the location and identity of Jeremiah. Once the listener is with the
apostle and Jeremiah, as merging into one communal identity, he/she discovers the whole
reading process to have had the opposite direction: the listener is with Jeremiah through
the author of Hebrews only because Jeremiah is with both of them in the first place: “this
covenant” belongs first to Jeremiah.
Equally impressive and suggestive of the endurance of Tradition as inherited life is the
fact that Hebrews also uses the same demonstrative pronoun in relation to the realities
of the Jerusalem Temple (especially if the epistle was written after the destruction of the
Temple, as seems to be the case). “This/these” is/are in turn: everything of the temple in 9:6,
the rituals twice in 9:23, and the sacrifices in 10:3. Even more significantly, in 7:1 Melchizedek
is “this Melchizedek,” in 11:13 the patriarchs are “these all,” and in 11:39 all the witnesses of
faith are “all these.” Yet, arguably the most striking use of the demonstrative pronoun is for
Christ, who is referred to simply as “this [one]” in 8:3 and 10:12.
The imagery that forms from all these elements is one in which not only are the “old”
texts and “old” realities not superseded in the “new” but also the author of Hebrews claims
for himself, and expects his listeners to function in, the space or life of these realities, with
familiarity. The author of Hebrews writes in such ways that, in order for the listeners to even
see how the old covenant is transitioned into a new one, from the very beginning of this
realization or rather as an essential condition for this transition to take place, the listeners
have to fully participate or be integrated into the identity inherited from of old. Therefore,
the transition to the new is not a departure from the old (cf. Heb 8:13), but a recalibration
of it in the light of Christ. The new covenant is written from within the old, not after it and
not against it.
Heb 12:18–23, with its warning that the community has not come forth to Sinai, seems to
speak against such conclusions. I have argued elsewhere that the setting of this passage is
liturgical, that throughout the letter the community sees its own worship as having access
to the heavenly temple, and that 12:18–23 expresses this liturgical experience.20 In my
opinion, the passage is not about a dislocation from Sinai. The author calls the community
to participate in Sinai only a few lines down, in vv. 26–29. Also, when 13:11–12 describe the
20 “The Convergence of Adamic and Merkabah Traditions in the Christology of Hebrews,” in Craig
A. Evans, Jeremiah J. Johnston, eds., Searching the Scriptures: Studies in Context and Intertextuality
(London: T&T Clark 2015), 277–296.
236 Silviu N. Bunta
central-point of the liturgy of the community as a perennial Yom Kippur, the allusion is to
Sinai.21 At the end of a close analysis of Sinai language in Hebrews, Gabriella Gelardini calls
Exodus 32–33 “the primary intertext” of the entire Hebrews 13 and I couldn’t agree more.22
Therefore, it seems to me that 12:18–23 is excluding from the church experience a specific
shortcoming of Sinai: Sinai included no hearing of actual words, but only a voice. This is
made clear in 12:25: “See that you do not beg off him who is speaking.” Furthermore, the
community’s liturgical experience reaches not only to Zion and Sinai—locations which the
community claims to experience in the highest and fullest—but it goes even further back,
all the way to Eden. The language of 6:7–8 describes the community in terms closely remi-
niscent of Paradise, as I argued elsewhere.23
In conclusion Hebrews speaks for a community that traces its identity, witnessed prima-
rily in the liturgy, all the way back to Eden, through Zion and Sinai.
Corinthians 3:11–18
My third and final text, also related to Sinai, is 2 Cor 3:11–18. It is part of an epistle that is a
long look at suffering, mortality, and death.24 In my translation:
For if that which is brought to naught, [is brought to naught] through glory, how much
more that which remains, [remains] in glory! Having therefore such a hope, we receive great
boldness, and not as Moses put a veil over his face so that the sons of Israel not gaze at the
completion of that which is brought to naught. But their thoughts were petrified; for to this
day of today at the reading of the old covenant, the same veil remains, unlifted, so that it is
brought to naught in Christ. But until today, whenever Moses is read, a veil is set over their
heart; yet, whenever one turns to the Lord the veil is cast off. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and
where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding
within ourselves the Glory of the Lord, are being changed into the very same Image from
glory to glory, as from the Spirit of the Lord.
The parallelism between Moses and the Scripture is evident: both have an aspect which is
brought to naught and an aspect which remains. Furthermore, the ones who hear Moses
(inscribed in the scriptural text) enter the same dynamic; they too are what is brought to
naught and what remains, and they too are veiled like him and like the Scriptures. What is
veiled is the process of being brought to naught, a process which the Glory–Christ works
upon both human and text.
21 This was noticed by Gabriella Gelardini, “Charting ‘Outside the Camp’ with Edward W. Soja: Critical
Spatiality and Hebrews 13,” in Gabriella Gelardini and Harold Attridge, eds., Hebrews in Contexts (Boston,
Leiden: Brill, 2016), 210–237.
22 Gelardini, “Critical Spatiality and Hebrews 13,” 225ff.
23 “The Convergence of Adamic and Merkabah Traditions,” 282–283.
24 To his eastern reception the apostle appears first and foremost as an ascetic and mystic. For this
reception, see particularly Fr. Maximos Constas, “The Reception of Paul and of Pauline Theology in
the Byzantine Period,” in Derek Krueger and Robert Nelson, eds., The New Testament in Byzantium
(Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 2016), 147–176; and Maximos Constas, “Paul the Hesychast: Gregory
Palamas and the Pauline Foundations of Hesychast Theology and Spirituality,” Analogia 4/2 (2017): 31–47.
Tradition 237
The idea of the text is not that Paul and his hearers do not experience the same process
as Moses and his hearers, but rather that, unlike the generation from old, the apostle and
his followers unveil this process. Simultaneously this unveiling reveals the Glory—Christ
in the text and in the listener. Or rather the unveiling of Christ in the text takes place as he
is also revealed in the listener. The difference between the old and new generations is not
one of substance; on the contrary, the passage implies that they share the same indwelling
of Christ. Rather, “today” text and listener are revealed as the dwellings of the Glory, the
Image whom Israel veils but on whom the apostle gazes within himself and into whom he
transforms, to ever greater degrees of Glory. In this unveiling the coming to naught is re-
vealed as “completion.” If Hebrews expresses the newness of “today” in terms of access, Paul
sees it as an unveiling.25
In the rest of the epistle the language continues to echo 3:11–18, but it goes further
and reaches ever greater bluntness. The Glory is revealed as measurelessness in nothing,
treasure in an earthen vessel, light in darkness (4:6–7). To be human means to die at all
times, to be dying flesh, to rot, to be dissolved, to groan, and for Paul this process is a
christophany (4:10–11, 16–17; 5:1–4). The pressure of suffering and dying is the enlarge-
ment of the indwelling Christ (4:8; 6:11–13). The christification of the human being is
not an ethical conformation to Christ, nor a solidarity with him in the cruelty of life,
but rather an ascetical union: the apostle finds his Lord in his dying flesh and in rotting
away. It is significant that the recounting of his own christophanies (which echo Moses’s
vision from 3:11–18) occasions the ultimate statement “I am nothing” (12:11). Therefore,
the program, as it were, of the Christian life is precisely to lose, to be broken, and to die,
to turn to nothing, and in all this to be Christ. The ascetical effort itself comes down to
self-emptying, to hollowing out of one’s self (which is a sort of death), so that inner space
is made for Christ.
What is particularly important for the topic of this essay is that Paul writes all this in
such ways as to be fully intelligible only to the ones having the same experience of death.26
This comes as no surprise. In the opening chapters of 1 and 2 Corinthians (among other
places) he offers a sort of universal hermeneutics, a key that opens all reality (both texts and
nontexts), and this universal hermeneutical key—he insists—is not discursive or intellec-
tual (e.g., 1 Cor 1:21; 2 Cor 1:12), but rather experiential and ascetical: reality and texts can
only be known through the possession of the mind of Christ who is the wisdom of God (cf.
1 Cor 2:6–8, 16, 24, 30). The proper hermeneutical procedure is then the same radical expe-
rience of death which I have already mentioned in relation to Deut 5:3. The hermeneutical
claim of 2 Cor 3:11–18 itself is that a nonascetical, veiled reading is deadening to both text
and reader: It de-spirits the text and “petrifies” the reader. By operating analytically rather
than ascetically, not only does one always end up working on a dead letter, but one also ends
up being lifeless.
25
Both imageries appear in the fifth prayer of Holy Unction.
26
In 6:13 he explicitly asks his readers or listeners to undergo this enlarging death, and in 4:12 he
rebukes their refusal to die.
238 Silviu N. Bunta
27
For example, in The Responses to Thalassios on Difficulties in Sacred Scripture 60.4–6.
28
The Triads open with this essential point (1.1; see also 1.3.3, 2.3.63).
29 E.g., Gregory Palamas, Triads 1.1.11, 13; 1.3.6.
30 Cf. ibid., 2.3.63.
31 The insistence on this goes all the way back to Scripture (e.g., John 1:5, 3:27, 6:34, 12:32).
32 For example, the prologue to The Responses to Thalassios.
33 See for example Gregory of Nyssa, Life of Moses in Werner Jaeger, ed., Gregorii Nysseni opera 7/1
blunders. One can think of the failure of language in Ezekiel 1, a face-to-face vision of the Glory, and also
at the peak of the anaphora (where it reaches unprecedented simplicity).
Tradition 239
its own deductive or discursive inclinations, of imagining God (and this collapse of the in-
tellect is necessary for experiential knowledge to happen), the human being comes to gaze
on God clothed in itself, in its words. These two theophanic lessons are, in my opinion, fun-
damental premises of “Palamism”—a terrible misnomer. And they also clarify the content
of Tradition: Tradition is kinship with God, life as received from God through theophanies
and as passed down through generations.
There is another fundamental point to be made here: the failure of the intellect is in the
Orthodox Tradition a fundamental premise, not the later gain of apophaticism. Not only
is all direct knowledge of God experiential, but it is also at the level of experience that one
encounters apophaticism, not at the level of the intellect. Orthodox apophaticism is the
overwhelming of the heart by the superabundance of the experience. The darkness of the
vision is not the collapse of the intellect and of epistemological categories, but the supera-
bundance of light. This language of vision and apophaticism is also learned of old, from the
theophanies to Israel.
Against this background of scriptural and patristic self-descriptions it becomes clearer
that the impulse of the (post)modern Orthodox to discern a conceptual content to faith
is indicative of another historical reality, inaugurated by radical shifts taking place in the
Christian medieval west. The first is the fundamental shift from living life informally, un-
questioningly (not noninquisitively!), and experientially, to living life in fear, formally,
questioningly, and logically.35 This shift in the communal psyche set in motion a sequence
of theological innovations—the methodolization of scriptural hermeneutics, the ration-
alization of the Christian identity, the scientization of theology—all culminating in the
doctrinalization and pragmatization of faith in some classical Protestantisms, and in the
individualization and voluntarization of it in John Locke’s naturalist philosophy. In brief,
the ascetical framework of Tradition (internal, spiritual, and soteriological) was vitiated
through abstractizations and systematizations. What this long trajectory of major shifts
ultimately supplanted is not a kindred theology with other propositions, nor methods with
other presuppositions, nor another system gravitating around different pivots, nor alterna-
tive conceptualizations or practices, but rather a way of being. These shifts have done away
with Tradition.
As all of this becomes clear, statements about Scripture and Tradition from any other
location but from within this divine life inherited from of old, from the theophanies of
Israel, refuse their self-descriptions. And, to revisit the point which opened this chapter,
this is the fundamental issue: to read Scripture and Tradition on their own terms.
Tradition, even in its written expressions—Scriptures, fathers, hymnography, creeds,
etc.—presents itself not as a metaphysics to be deciphered, a language to be discerned
and learned, concepts to be understood, categories to be employed, propositions to be
adopted, but as an inheritance of theophanic life to be had ascetically, through death.
This understanding of Tradition as inherited life reaching all the way back to God
through Israel accounts for a principal claim of the Orthodox Church, clearly stated in
the liturgy: its faith is the faith of the prophets, of the patriarchs before them, and of the
ancestors before them.
35 See the cogent remarks in Johannes Fried, The Middle Ages (Cambridge: The Belknap Press), esp.
328–330.
240 Silviu N. Bunta
In light of all this, it is improper to speak of “Scripture and Tradition.” It is more accu-
rate to speak of Scripture as an expression of Tradition. And, just like for Paul, this is at
once both a hermeneutical and ascetical point. This means first and foremost that Scripture
solicits a hermeneutic of life integration and has safety mechanisms for the prevention
of other reading practices, distant and discursive; if the latter practices are adopted, the
Scripture makes sure to disintegrate, to become nonsensical in their hands. The selected
texts analyzed earlier practice precisely this hermeneutical strategy, so to speak.
Some ancient fathers, such as Ephrem the Syrian, also expressed this point when they
insisted that the Scriptures are essentially poetic.36 It follows that, just like the author,
the listener functions properly only in a poetic manner. To read the Scriptures in other
ways (such as epistemologically) is tantamount to attempting to understand a love poem37
through analyses of the stylistic devices which the poem uses (rhyme, rhythm, metaphors
etc.). Such analyses can only miss the substance of the poem, or its heart. A love poem elicits
a hermeneutics of love.38
Fundamentally St. Gregory of Nyssa conceives Scripture in the same way when he
envisions it as a portrait and warns against remaining at the level of analyzing the pigments
in it, rather than perceiving and embodying its moving beauty:
In the art of portraiture, there is a piece of wood that, when touched with different colors,
presents an imitation of a living thing, but the person who looks at the image that art has
created with colors does not dwell upon the sight contrived by dyes painted on the tablet.
Rather, he looks solely upon the form that the artist has used colors to indicate. In the same
way, where the writing now before us [the Song of Songs] is concerned, the right thing is not
to attend to the material stuff of the “colors” contained in the words but rather to discern in
them as it were the image of the King traced by pure thoughts.39
The king is Christ, as Gregory explains. Furthermore, the king is of such nature that the
proper gazing at his image is transformation into him.40 Rather, these are not two processes,
but one and the same: The king takes shape inside the one who perceives him, and vice-
versa. If there is any perceptible diachronicity between the two aspects of interpretation—
contemplation and transformation—the primacy belongs to the transformation: Only the
one who is becoming the king is recognizing the king. To echo 2 Cor 3:11–18, the coherence
of the Scriptures is available only to the listener who already “knows” (or rather embodies)
the Image whom the Scriptures are expressing.
In eliciting this hermeneutics Scripture makes a point that is radically Wittgensteinian: The
only hermeneutical key that unlocks Scripture is the very life that produced it, life which
is Tradition. Therefore, the “program” of reading—as it were—that Scripture desires is
ascetical-erotic.41 It is not one of investigation, but one of kenotic death and self-denying
36
See the pertinent remarks in Sebastian Brock, The Luminous Eye: The Spiritual World Vision of St.
Ephrem (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1985), 23–25, 160–161.
37 The Scriptures as a love poem is an imagery used, among others, by Ephrem (Hymns on paradise
Pearl 14.
39 Gregory of Nyssa, Homilies on the Song of Songs, trans. Richard A. Norris (Atlanta: SBL, 2012), 31.
40 See also Homilies on the Song of Songs 3 (GNO 6.91); On Perfection (GNO 8/1.194–196).
41 I am using “erotic” here in the Dionysian sense of going out of one’s self.
Tradition 241
love. The scriptural texts analyzed earlier elicit this hermeneutics of death, ascetical, phys-
ical. The Scriptures are completed in the human being and, in the language of 2 Cor 3:11–18
and of the liturgy, the human being becomes complete (τελέω) only in death.
In this hermeneutics the text, as something which is ultimately human, is also subjected
to death. When the text reaches the listener who is ascetically dead, it dies as a text only to
continue as embodied life. One of the essential functions of this proper (or accurate) her-
meneutic is to obliterate the text, to detextualize it. As we have seen with Deut 5:3, Scripture
comes to die in the listener as a text precisely in order to continue as life. It could be said that
just like its Lord, Scripture is a death and resurrection reality. Scripture is a text that always
wants to die, so that nothing of human deadness remains—letters, words, inks, parchment,
paper, speech, etc.—but only Life. Even though it is enshrined in text, Tradition bears an
essential and constant pull to discard all its textualizations, even the Scriptures, which are
its purest expression, because Tradition is essentially textless. To Tradition, the Scriptures
are as a fall from it.42 Therefore Tradition wants to detextualize and behaves in such ways as
to make texts increasingly redundant.43 The hermeneutic of death presents itself as the only
proper hermeneutic of Tradition and Scriptures, because it serves precisely this essential
pull, for Tradition to detextualize, for the Scriptures to die.44
Finally, this means that, through this ascetical-hermeneutical death, the listener gains
not a perspective, nor vocabulary, neither erudition, but a life that comes with its own flu-
ency. With living a life different from one’s own—the life of the One-who-is—comes the
fluency of that life, the one fluency of Tradition. This fluency is first and foremost expressed
in worship, as Israel has already learned, in the worship inherited from theophanies and
grounded in heaven.
Bibliography
Behr, John. John the Theologian and His Paschal Gospel. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019.
Brock, Sebastian. The Luminous Eye: The Spiritual World Vision of St. Ephrem. Kalamazoo:
Cistercian Publications, 1985.
Bucur, Bogdan. Scripture Re-envisioned: Christophanic Exegesis and the Making of a Christian
Bible. Leiden: Brill, 2019.
Bulgakov, Sergius. The Orthodox Church. Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1988.
Bunta, Silviu N. “The Convergence of Adamic and Merkabah Traditions in the Christology of
Hebrews.” In Searching the Scriptures: Studies in Context and Intertextuality, ed. by Craig A.
Evans and Jeremiah J. Johnston, 277–296. London: T&T Clark, 2015.
Constas, Maximos. “The Reception of Paul and of Pauline Theology in the Byzantine Period.”
In The New Testament in Byzantium, ed. by Derek Krueger and Robert Nelson, 147–176.
Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 2016.
42 See, for example, the comments in John Chrysostom, Homilies on Matthew 1; Gregory of Sinai,
On the Signs of Grace and Delusion 1; Maximus the Confessor, Two Hundred Texts on Theology 2.73–75.
43 Cf. Symeon the New Theologian, 153 chapters 118; Maximus the Confessor, Two Hundred Texts on
Theology 2.80–81.
44 My point is not that Tradition is doctrine-
less and practice-less, but rather that doctrine and
practice are (some of the) ways in which Tradition expresses itself.
242 Silviu N. Bunta
Constas, Maximos. “Paul the Hesychast: Gregory Palamas and the Pauline Foundations of
Hesychast Theology and Spirituality.” Analogia 4/2 (2017): 31–47.
Florovsky, Georges. Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View. Belmont: Nordland
Publishing Company, 1972.
Fried, Johannes. The Middle Ages. Cambridge: The Belknap Press, 2015.
Gelardini, Gabriella. “Charting ‘Outside the Camp’ with Edward W. Soja: Critical Spatiality
and Hebrews 13.” In Hebrews in Contexts, ed. by Gabriella Gelardini and Harold Attridge,
210–237. Boston, Leiden: Brill, 2016.
Gregory of Nyssa. Homilies on the Song of Songs, trans. Richard A. Norris. Atlanta: SBL, 2012.
Jaeger, Werner. Gregorii Nysseni opera 7/1. Leiden, Brill, 1964.
Legaspi, Michael. The Death of Scripture and the Rise of Biblical Studies. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2011.
Levenson, Jon D. Sinai and Zion: An Entry into the Jewish Bible. San Francisco: Harper
Collins, 1985.
Lossky, Vladimir. In the Image and Likeness of God. Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary
Press, 1974.
McGuckin, John A. The Orthodox Church. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2008.
Najman, Hindy. Seconding Sinai: The Development of Mosaic Discourse in Second Temple
Judaism. Leiden: Brill, 2003.
Pentiuc, Eugen J. The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition. Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2011.
Simonetti, Manlio. Lettera e/ o allegoria: Un contributo alla storia dell’esegesi patristica.
Rome: Institutum Patristicum “Augustinianum,” 1985.
Stăniloae, Dumitru. Le génie de l’Orthodoxie. Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 1985.
Stylianopoulos, Theodore. “Scripture and Tradition in the Church.” In The Cambridge
Companion to Orthodox Christian Theology, ed. by E. Theokritoff and M. Cunningham,
21–34. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008.
Ulrich, Eugene, et al. The Biblical Qumran Scrolls: Transcriptions and Textual Variants.
Leiden: Brill, 2010.
Young, Frances. Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture. New York: Cambridge
University, 1997.
Chapter 15
T he U se of th e Bi bl e i n
B yz antine Li t u rg i c a l
Texts and Se rv i c e s
Stefanos Alexopoulos
Introduction
The Orthodox tradition, and rightly so, is characterized as a liturgical tradition. Liturgy
is the heart, the language, and the life of the Orthodox Church, so much so that to the
random observer there is often a false sense of the absence of Scripture from the litur-
gical gatherings and a contrast between being liturgical and biblical is implied. A closer
and more attentive look, however, will reveal its biblical character.1 Scripture abounds
in the Byzantine liturgical tradition; not only are scriptural readings present in almost
every ritual occasion but also every office, service, prayer, and hymn is immersed in
and imbued with direct Scriptural quotations and indirect Scriptural allusions.2 In fact,
Scripture and liturgy are not seen as two antithetical aspects of Christian worship. Rather,
they are to be understood as being intricately and intimately interrelated and connected.
Liturgy is the natural home for Scripture, both for its proclamation and interpretation.
Simultaneously, this liturgical framework of scriptural proclamation functions as a par-
ticular hermeneutical context and lens that should not be ignored. The worshiper is
1 Much has been written on this topic; see, for example, Petros Vasileiades, “Ὁ βιβλικὸς χαρακτήρας
Theological Review 12 (1966), 7–83, here 9. This article is a summary of the author’s master’s thesis
submitted to Princeton in 1959, and reflects the efforts of Orthodox theologians of that era to defend the
Scriptural nature and character of the Orthodox Church and its liturgical life.
244 Stefanos Alexopoulos
exposed to the Scriptures in the liturgical context, and his/her understanding of the
Scriptures is formed through the accompanying ritual context, including hymnography
and iconography.
Among Eastern orthodox scholars the liturgical context of the Bible is more or less taken
for granted. For Western scholars the liturgical context is usually strictly separated from
the exegesis of the biblical text. Textual criticism endeavors to get as close as possible
to the original text. Historical criticism endeavors to find out how and when this text
came into existence. Literary methods analyze how the text is structured. Scholars are
accustomed to the idea that text as part of liturgy is something completely different. This
no longer belongs to the field of scholarly analysis, but to the communities of faith in
which the Bible is read as sacred text and applied in sermons. This is a realm that can be
described and analyzed by church historians, or by people studying the history of inter-
pretation of biblical texts. There may be reasons, however, to question this almost arrogant
opposition to the liturgical approach to the biblical texts. The strict literary and historical
approach probably says more about the scholars using it than about the texts they are
studying. One should at least take seriously that the traditional manner in which the bib-
lical texts function in the Byzantine liturgy certainly stands closer to the way these texts
were used in their original context.3
The last twenty years have seen a number of important conferences dedicated to the
place, function, and interpretation of the Scriptures in the Byzantine tradition and its
relationship to liturgy. Two back-to back conferences held at Saint-Serge in Paris in 2001
and 2002 and titled “La liturgie, interprète de l’écriture,” covered the readings for Sundays
and feasts (2001), liturgical compositions, prayers and chants (2002).4 In 2003 the Special
3 Klaas Spronk, “The Study of the Historical-L iturgical Context of the Bible: A Bridge between
‘East’ and ‘West’?,” in A Catalogue of Byzantine Manuscripts in Their Liturgical Context: Challenges
and Perspectives Collected Papers Resulting from the Expert Meeting of the Catalogue of Byzantine
Manuscripts Programme Held at the PThU in Kampen, the Netherlands on 6th–7th November
2009. CBM—Subsidia 1, eds. Klaas Spronk, Gerard Rouwhorst, Stefan Royé (Turnhout: Brepols,
2013),15–22, here 18–19.
4 A. M. Triacca and A. Pistoia (eds.), La liturgie, interprète de l’écriture I: Les Lectures bibliques pour
les dimanches et fêtes, Bibliotheca “Ephemerides Liturgicae” “Subsidia” 119 (Rome: Edizioni Liturgiche,
2002), and C. Braga and A. Pistoia (eds.), La liturgie, interprète de l’écriture II: Dans les compositions
liutrgiques, prières et chants, Bibliotheca “Ephemerides Liturgicae” “Subsidia” 126 (Rome: Edizioni
Liturgiche, 2003).
The Use of the Bible in Byzantine Liturgical Texts and Services 245
Synodical Committee on Liturgical Renewal of the Holy Synod of the Church of Greece
held a conference with the title: Ἱερουργεῖν τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον: Ἡ Ἁγία Γραφὴ στὴν Ὀρθόδοξη
Λατρεία.5 In 2009 a conference was organized in the Netherlands6 to test the “codico-li-
turgical” method in the cataloging of biblical manuscripts articulated by Stefan Royé. This
method does not isolate the biblical text but looks at biblical manuscripts as a whole and
places great importance on the liturgical context and framework in which the biblical text
appears.7 The conference “Liturgical Reception of the Bible: Dimensions and Perspectives
for Inter-disciplinary Research,” held in 2015 at the University of Regensburg,8 brought to-
gether liturgical and biblical scholars of all Christian traditions to discuss aspects of the
interrelationship between Scripture and liturgy.
Beginning in 1998 the Eastern European Liaison Committee of the Society for the
Study of the New Testament (Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas, hence SNTS) has been
organizing conferences bringing together Orthodox and Western (Roman Catholic and
Protestant) scholars, thus building a bridge between different hermeneutical traditions.
Since 1998, eight such conferences have taken place.9 More recently, Byzantinists are
displaying a growing interest in the place of Scripture in Byzantium, exemplified in the
two symposia organized by Dumbarton Oaks in Washington, DC, in 2006 “The Old
Testament in Byzantium”10 and in 2013 “The New Testament in Byzantium.”11 The Twenty-
Third International Congress of Byzantine Studies held in Belgrade in 2016 included
two thematic sessions titled “Bible in Byzantium: Exegesis and Literary Inspiration” and
“Byzantines and the Bible.”12 Most recently, Claudia Rapp and Andreas Külzer edited
5
Ἱερουργεῖν τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον. Ἡ Ἁγία Γραφὴ στὴν Ὀρθόδοξη Έκκλησία. Πρακτικὰ Ε’ Πανελληνίου
Λειτουργικοῦ Συμποσίου [Ministering the Gospel: Holy Scriptures in the Orthodox Church. Acta of the
Fifth Panhellenic Liturgical Conference], Ποιμαντικὴ Βιβλιοθήκη 10 (Athens: Church of Greece, 2004).
6 Klaas Spronk, Gerard Rouwhorst, Stefan Royé (eds.), A Catalogue of Byzantine Manuscripts in Their
Liturgical Context: Challenges and Perspectives Collected Papers Resulting from the Expert Meeting of the
Catalogue of Byzantine Manuscripts Programme Held at the PThU in Kampen, the Netherlands on 6th–7th
November 2009. CBM -Subsidia 1 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013).
7 Stefan Royé, The Inner Cohesion between the Bible and the Fathers in Byzantine Tradition: Towards
a Codico- Liturgical Approach to the Biblical and Patristic Manuscripts (Tilburg: Orthodox Logos
Publishing, 2007). For a summary, see Stefan Royé, “An Assessment of Byzantine Codex and Catalogue
Research: Towards the Construction of a New Series of Catalogues of Byzantine Manuscripts,” Sacris
Erudiri 47 (2008), 5–144.
8 The acta are to be published soon.
9 See http://snts.international/eelc-east-west-symposia-and-publications/ (last visited September 26,
2020) for the list of conferences, their themes, and publication information of the acta. It is in the context
of the Seventh East-West Symposium of New Testament Scholars that the author delivered a paper titled
“The Gospel Narrative in Byzantine Liturgy,” in T. Nicklas, K. W. Niebuhr, M. Seleznev, eds., History and
Theology in the Gospel Narratives (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020), 235–246. The present contribution
expands on themes first presented there.
10 Paul Magdalino and Robert Nelson (eds.), The Old Testament in Byzantium (Washington,
and Stanoje Bojanin (eds.), Proceeding of the 23rd International Congress of Byzantine Studies, Belgrade,
246 Stefanos Alexopoulos
22–27 August 2016: Thematic Sessions of Free Communications (Belgrade: Serbian National Committee of
AIEB, 2016), 252–261, 336–345.
13
Claudia Rapp and Andreas Külzer (eds), The Bible in Byzantium: Appropriation, Adaptation,
Interpretation (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2019).
14 Mary-
Lyon Dolezal, “The Middle Byzantine Lectionary: Textual and Pictorial Expressions of
Liturgical Ritual” (PhD diss., University of Chicago, 1991); Christopher Jordan, “The Textual Tradition
of the Gospel of John in Greek Gospel Lectionaries from the Middle Byzantine Period” (PhD diss.,
University of Birmingham, 2010). John Lowden, The Jaharis Gospel Lectionary: The Story of a Byzantine
Book (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009).
15 Samuel Gibson, The Apostolos: The Acts and Epistles in Byzantine Liturgical Manuscripts, Texts and
I–II, Monumenta Musicae Byzantinae: Lectionaria 1 (Hauniae: Munksgaard, 1939– 1981); Sysse
Engberg, “The Greek Old Testament Lectionary as a Liturgical Book,” Cahiers de l’Institut du Moyen
Âge Grec et Latin 54 (1987), 39–48; James Miller, “The Prophetologion: The Old Testament of Byzantine
Christianity?” in Paul Magdalino and Robert Nelson, eds., The Old Testament in Byzantium(Washington,
DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 2010), 55–77. For the debate whether there were
ever Old Testament readings in the Byzantine Divine Liturgy, see (in chronological order) Sysse Engberg,
“The Prophetologion and the Triple-Lection Theory: The Genesis of a Liturgical Book,” Bollettino della
Badia Greca di Grottaferrata 3 (2006), 67–91; Robert Taft, “Were There Once Old Testament Readings
in the Byzantine Divine Liturgy? Apropos of an Article by Sysse Gudrun Engberg,” Bollettino della
Badia Greca di Grottaferrata 8 (2011), 271–311; Sysse Engberg, “The Needle in the Haystack: Searching
for Evidence of the Eucharistic Old Testament Lection in the Constantinopolitan Rite,” Bollettino della
Badia Greca di Grottaferrata 13 (2016), 47–60.
17 The Menaion, one for each month (September to August), contains the proper elements for fixed
feasts of the liturgical year. The Triodion contains the proper elements of the services of the pre-Lenten
period, Great Lent, and Holy Week. The Pentecostarion contains the services of the period between Easter
and All-Saints Sunday; see Stefanos Alexopoulos and Dionysios Bilalis Anatolikiotes, “Towards a History of
Printed Liturgical Books in the Modern Greek State: An Initial Survey,” Ecclesia Orans 34 (2017), 421–460.
The Use of the Bible in Byzantine Liturgical Texts and Services 247
The first cycle, also known as Synaxarion, begins on Easter, which is the starting
point of the lections for the movable feasts. In fact, both the Gospel and Apostle lec-
tionary books open with the Easter readings. It divides the year, centered around
Easter, in four liturgical periods: (1) the period of John, from Easter to Pentecost, when
lections from the Gospel of John and Acts are read; (2) the period of Matthew, from the
Monday after Pentecost to mid-S eptember, when lections from the Gospel of Matthew,
Romans, 1 Corinthians, and 2 Corinthians are read (with lections from Mark read on
weekdays after the twelfth week); (3,) the period of Luke, from mid-S eptember to Great
Lent when lections from the Gospel of Luke, 1 Thessalonians, Colossians, and Hebrews
are read (with lections from Mark read on weekdays after the thirteenth week); (4) the
period of Mark, for the Saturdays and Sundays of Lent. During Holy Week lections
from all four Gospels are chosen. During Great and Holy Week, lections from Hebrews,
Galatians, and Romans are read. The second cycle, called Menologion, begins on
September 1 (New Year’s Day in the Byzantine calendar) and defines the lections of
feasts that have fixed dates. Those lections are chosen based on their relevance to the
feast celebrated.
A third cycle coordinates the list of the eleven morning/ resurrection Gospel
readings, numbered first to eleventh, that are read during Orthros/Matins on Sundays:
1. Mt 28:16–20
2. Mark 16:1–8
3. Mark 16:9–20
4. Lk 24:1–12
5. Lk 24:12–35
6. Lk 24:36–53
7. Jn 20:1–10
8. Jn 20:11–18
9. Jn 20:19–31
10. Jn 21:1–14
11. Jn 21:14–25
This cycle is initiated every Easter. The Gospel readings of this cycle are read in sequence,
and each defines hymnic elements of the Sunday hymnography, as each of these eleven
Gospel readings is paired with an exaposteilarion and an eothinon doxastikon. Both
are dependent content-wise on their paired morning/resurrection Gospel. When the
morning/resurrection Gospel is read, its paired exaposteilarion and eothinon doxastikon
are sung. The content of the hymns both reflect and relate to the Gospel reading. Through
these hymns, the themes of these Gospel readings relating to the resurrection of Christ
are repeated through the hymnody emphasizing the significance of the resurrection to
the worshipper:18
18 Texts are from the Ages Digital Stand, https://dcs.goarch.org/goa/dcs/dcs.html (last visited
At that time, the eleven disciples On the mountain in Galilee The Disciples hastened to
went to Galilee, to the mountain let us join the Disciples, so the mountain for the Lord’s
to which Jesus had directed that by faith we see and hear ascension from the earth; and
them. And when they saw Him Christ say that He was given there the Lord appeared to
they worshiped Him; but some authority both in heaven and them. They worshipped Him,
doubted. And Jesus came and on earth, and His teaching and were instructed about the
said to them, “All authority in on how to baptize nations universal authority He was
heaven and on earth has been all, in the name of the Father given; and they were sent out
given to Me. Go therefore and and of the Son and the Holy to the whole world to preach
make disciples of all nations, Spirit, and how He always is the resurrection from the
baptizing them in the name with His Mystics, to the end dead and the restoration to
of the Father and the Son of the age, as He promised. heaven. And He, who never
and the Holy Spirit, teaching lies, promised to be with them
them to observe all that I have forever; He is Christ our God
commanded you; and lo, I am and the Savior of our souls
with you always, to the close of
the age. Amen.”
It is in the context of the liturgical life of the Church that the worshiper becomes
acquainted with the New Testament, both through the readings and their hymnographical
commentary. This reality is highlighted by the fact that personal access to the Scriptures
was quite limited compared to modern times. Today, everyone has or can have access to
the whole Bible, either in print or in electronic form or in audio, allowing for immediate
access, personal study, and reflection. However, it was dramatically different in Byzantine
times. Given the relatively high rates of illiteracy at Byzantine times (compared to today),19
combined with the inaccessibility of the complete text of the Bible,20 the liturgical context
emerges as the primary venue for the dissemination of the Scriptures, both for their procla-
mation, through the scriptural readings, and their interpretation, through homilies, hymns,
and icons.
Derek Krueger and Robert Nelson put it well when they wrote, “Whether literate or not,
most Byzantines absorbed their New Testament through hearing the ritualized reading or
intoning of the text in the course of the liturgy, particularly in the lections, or readings,
appointed for the day. Thus, the lectionary was the primary source of the New Testament’s
19 See, for example, Robert Browing, “Literacy in the Byzantine World,” Byzantine and Modern Greek
Studies 4 (1978), 39–54. Catherine Holmes and Judith Waring (eds.), Literacy, Education and Manuscript
Transmission in Bzyantium and Beyond (Leiden/Boston/Köln: Brill, 2002). Margaret Mullett, Letters,
Literacy and Literature in Byzantium (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2007).
20 See, for example, Nigel Wilson, “Books and Readers in Byzantium,” in Byzantine Books and
Bookmen: A Dumbarton Oaks Colloquium (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Center for Byzantine
Studies, 1975), 1–15; Cyril Mango, “The Availability of Books in the Byzantine Empire, A.D. 750–850,”
in ibid, 29–45; Nigel Wilson, “Libraries in Byzantium and the West,” in St Catherine’s Monastery at
Mount Sinai: Its Manuscripts and Their Conservation; Papers Given in Memory of Professor Ihor Ševčenko
(London: Saint Catherine Foundation, 2011), 17–19.
The Use of the Bible in Byzantine Liturgical Texts and Services 249
stories and teachings. . . . The lectionary mapped the story of the New Testament on the
liturgical year.”21
The Psalter
The Book of Psalms or the Psalter22 is the backbone of the Liturgy of the Hours,23 the struc-
tural grid on which hymnology developed (together with the biblical odes),24 and at the
center of Orthodox devotion and piety.25 The Liturgy of the Hours is the primary context
in which the psalms are used in public worship. The Psalms are part of the nonvariable
elements of each office. For example, Orthros/Matins is the home of psalms 19, 20 (royal
office), 3, 37, 62, 87, 102, 142 (hexapsalmos), 117 (verses for “God is the Lord” response),
118 or 134–135 (polyeleos), 50, 148–150 (lauds).26 The final six to ten verses (always even,
number depending on the liturgical celebration) of psalm 150 receive hymns as responses.
Originally the response would be a verse of the psalm (similarly with psalm 140 at ves-
pers),27 but soon the response expanded to poetical compositions relevant to the liturgical
cycle or feast. Added to these are the variable psalms constituting the “Kathisma” of the day,
part of the continuous reading of the Psalter, so that the whole Psalter is read once every
week during the year, twice every week during Great Lent.28
Liturgical Psalters include as an appendix the nine biblical odes or canticles. These are:
21
Derek Krueger and Robert Nelson, “New Testaments of Byzantium: Seen, Heard, Written,
Excerpted, Interpreted,” in Derek Krueger and Robert Nelson, eds., The New Testament in Byzantium
(Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 2016), 1–20, here 10.
22 For the history of the Psalter in the Byzantine tradition, see Georgi Parpulov, Toward a History of
Press, 1993).
24 Oliver Strunk, “The Byzantine Office at Hagia Sophia,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 9–10 (1956), 177–
202; Stig Symeon Frøyshov, “Byzantine Rite,” The Canterbury Dictionary of Hymnology (Canterbury
Press, accessed November 5, 2020, http://www.hymnology.co.uk/b/byzantine-rite); “Rite of Jerusalem,”
The Canterbury Dictionary of Hymnology (Canterbury Press, accessed November 5, 2020, http://www.
hymnology.co.uk/r/rite-of-jerusalem); “Greek Hymnody,” The Canterbury Dictionary of Hymnology
(Canterbury Press, accessed November 5, 2020, http://www.hymnology.co.uk/g/greek-hymnody); “Rite
of Constantinople,” The Canterbury Dictionary of Hymnology (Canterbury Press, accessed November 5,
2020, http://www.hymnology.co.uk/r/rite-of-constantinople)
25 Georgi Parpulov, “Psalters and Personal Piety in Byzantium,” in Paul Magdalino and Robert
Nelson, eds., The Old Testament in Byzantium (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library
and Collection, 2010), 77–105.
26 For an outline of Orthros/Matins, see Taft, The Liturgy of the Hours, 279–282.
27 Strunk, “The Byzantine Office at Hagia Sophia”; Stefanos Alexopoulos, “When a Column
Speaks: The Liturgy of the Christian Parthenon,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 69 (2015), 159–178.
28 See Mother Mary and Kallistos Ware, The Festal Menaion (South Canaan, PA: St. Tikhon’s Press,
1990), 530–534.
250 Stefanos Alexopoulos
These are significant, for they form the backbone of the hymnological genre of the canon.
The hymns of each of the eight odes of the canon (the second ode is usually omitted as very
penitential) were originally responses to the verses of each ode, and the model hymn for
the responses of each ode needs to be textually dependent on the biblical ode it belongs
to. For example, the eirmos (model hymn) of the first ode of the canon for the feast of the
universal exaltation of the Cross has clear references to Exodus 15:1–19: “Inscribing the in-
vincible weapon of the Cross upon the waters, Moses marked a straight line before him
with his staff and divided the Red Sea, opening a path for Israel who went over dry-shod.
Then he marked a second line across the waters and united them in one, overwhelming the
chariots of Pharaoh. Therefore let us sing to Christ our God, for He is glorified.”30 Similarly,
the eirmos of the first ode of the iambic canon for the feast of the Epiphany (Baptism) of the
Lord reads: “Israel passed through the storm-tossed deep of the sea, that God had turned
into dry land. But the dark waters completely covered the chief captains of Egypt in a wa-
tery grave through the mighty strength of the right hand of the Master.”31 In both of these
sample cases, it is obvious that the poet freely uses material from Exodus 15:1–19 and retells
the story in a hymnographical commentary of the feast celebrated.
29
Mary and Ware, The Festal Menaion, 548.
30
Mary and Ware, The Festal Menaion, 144.
31 Mary and Ware, The Festal Menaion, 367.
32 First presented in Alexopoulos, “The Gospel Narrative in Byzantine Liturgy,” 237–238. What follows
famous Spanish nun Egeria, who describes Holy Friday liturgy at the Holy Sepulcher in
fourth-century Jerusalem:
A chair is placed for the bishop before the Cross, and from the sixth to the ninth hour nothing
else is done except the reading of passages from Scripture. First, whichever Psalms speak of
the Passion are read. Next, there are readings from the apostles, either from the Epistles of
the apostles or the Acts, wherever they speak of the Passion of the Lord. Next, the texts of the
Passion from the Gospels are read. Then there are readings from the prophets, where they
said that the Lord would suffer; and then they read from the Gospels, where He foretells the
Passion. And so, from the sixth to the ninth hour, passages from Scripture are continually
read and hymns are sung, to show the people that whatever the prophets had said would come
to pass concerning the Passion of the Lord can be shown, both through the Gospels and the
writings of the apostles, to have taken place. And so, during those three hours, all the people
are taught that nothing had happened which was not first prophesized, and that nothing was
prophesized which was not completely fulfilled. Prayers are continually interspersed, and the
prayers themselves are proper to the day.33
In this repetitive passage at least two principles emerge: first, that the operating herme-
neutic principle of the Scriptures, and particularly of the Old Testament, is Christological;
the Old Testament is to be read and understood through the lenses of the fulfillment of
the Old Testament in Christ. Egeria notes above that this is done to show the people that
whatever the prophets had said would come to pass concerning the Passion of the Lord
can be shown, both through the Gospels and the writings of the apostles, to have taken
place; second, that liturgy functions not only as the locus for the communal worship of
God but also as the primary context for the faith formation of the believers. Again, Egeria
understands these liturgical gatherings of the liturgical year not just as time-spaces for
worship but also as teaching opportunities: “all the people are taught that nothing had
happened which was not first prophesized, and that nothing was prophesized which was
not completely fulfilled.”
The liturgical principle operative here then is that each liturgical celebration is defined by
and structured around the appointed Scriptural readings of that particular liturgical com-
memoration,34 in this case the Passion of the Lord. The operation of this principle can be
observed in every Dominical feast of the Byzantine liturgical tradition. The themes and the
ecclesial interpretation of the selected Old Testament and New Testament readings (often
overlapping in content and sometimes repetitive) are highlighted through the interspersed
hymnology that draws its contents from the Scriptures read.35
33
George Gigras, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, Ancient Christian Writers 38 (New York: Newman
Press, 1970) 112 (chapter 37).
34 Alexopoulos, “The Gospel Narrative in Byzantine Liturgy,” 237. For a discussion on this same
passage of Egeria, see Eugen Pentiuc, The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2014), 208–209.
35 See, for example, the Royal Hours of Holy Friday, Epiphany Eve, and Christmas Eve. For the texts
in English of the Royal Hours of Holy Friday, see Mother Mary and Kallistos Ware, The Lenten Triodion
(London: Faber & Faber, 1984), 600–610. For the texts in English of the Royal Hours of Epiphany Eve and
Christmas Eve, see Mother Mary and Kallistos Ware, The Festal Menaion (South Canaan, PA: St. Tikhon’s
Seminary Press, 1990), 221–249 and 314–336 respectively. For more on the use of the Old Testament
in Byzantine liturgy and hymnography, see Pentiuc, The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition,
199–262.
252 Stefanos Alexopoulos
This structure of prayer is simple but very powerful. The biblical precedent is invoked in the
anamnesis, as the epiclesis is always based on the assurance that God will act now as He has
acted in the past. This reminder of those instances from the Scriptures assures the praying
believer(s) that God will act accordingly in their cases too. For example, the third matri-
monial prayer of the Byzantine Crowning (Marriage)37 service follows this exact structure:
36
Cesare Giraudo, La struttura letteraria della Preghiera Eucaristica: Saggi sulla genesi letteraria di una
forma: Toda veterotestamentaria, Beraka giudaic, anafora cristiana, Analecta Biblica 92 (Rome: Pontifical
Biblical Institute, 1981).
37 Constantelos, “The Holy Scriptures in Greek Orthodox Worship,” 67; Panagiotes Trempelas,
Μικρὸν Εὐχολόγιον, vol. 1 (Athens: NP, 1950); Stefano Parenti and Elena Velkovska (eds.), L’eucologio
Barberini gr. 336: Seconda edizione riveduta con traduzione in lingua italiana. Bibliotheca “Ephemerides
Liturgicae” “Subsidia” 80 (Rome: Edizioni Liturgiche, 2000), 186.
The Use of the Bible in Byzantine Liturgical Texts and Services 253
The same fundamental structure lies behind the two Eucharistic prayers of the Byzantine
tradition, the anaphora attributed to St. Basil the Great (BAS) and the anaphora
attributed to St. John Chrysostom (CHR). The anamnesis section of both BAS and CHR
abound with scriptural citations and allusions, as one can easily observe by glancing at
annotated texts of the two anaphorae,39 which then lead to the epiclesis section. I would
like to briefly focus on a portion of the anamnesis of BAS. Crucial to the anamnesis of
BAS is the incarnation and the implications of the incarnation, salvation. At the heart
of the anamnesis, and as a turning point, is the following text40 which is laden with
Scripture:
And when the fullness of time had come, Gal 4:4, Eph 1:10
You spoke to us through Your Son Himself, through whom You created Heb 1:2
the ages. Heb 1:3
He, being the splendor of Your glory and the image of Your being, Phil 2:6
upholding all things by the word of His power, Bar 3:38
thought it not robbery to be equal with You, God Phil 2:7
and Father. But, being God before all ages, Phil 3:21
He appeared on earth and lived with humankind.
Becoming incarnate from a holy Virgin,
He emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant,
conforming to the body of our lowliness, that He might change us in
the likeness of the image of His glory.
This text is representative of the use of scripture in the euchology. It is almost exclusively
constructed from scriptural texts (exceptions in italics in the table), and its purpose is to
connect the account of the Creation and the activity of God in the Old Testament in the
preceding section of the anaphora (equally full of scriptural texts) with the effects of the
incarnation in the following section (also full of scriptural texts), in what I would argue is a
theological articulation of what “that He might change us in the likeness of the image of His
September 26, 2020); Mark Searle and Kenneth Stevenson, Documents of Marriage Liturgy (Collegeville,
MN: The Liturgical Press, 1992), 69.
39 See, for example, Panagiotes Trempelas, Αἱ τρεῖς Λειτουργίαι κατὰ τοὺς έν Ἀθῆναις Κώδικας
(Athens: NP, 1935), 21–194; Constantelos, “The Holy Scriptures in Greek Orthodox Worship,” 15–38;
Parenti and Velkovska, L’eucologio Barberini gr. 336, 57–82. Adapted from Stefanos Alexopoulos, “Prayer
at the Eucharist: Shifts in the Use of Scripture,” a paper delivered at the conference International
Conference “Liturgical Reception of the Bible: Dimensions and Perspectives for Interdisciplinary
Research,” University of Regensburg, September 25, 2015.
40 Trempelas, Λειτουργίαι (as in n. 18), 180; Parenti and Velkovska, L’Eucologio (as in n. 18), 66. English
glory” actually means; and this is achieved through a series of scriptural quotations in the
section that follows (Col 1:10, John 17:3, Titus 2:14, 1 Peter 2:9, Eph 5:26, Rom 15:16, Rom 7:6,
Rom 7:14, Eph 4:10, Acts 2:24, 1 Cor 15:4, Acts 2:24, Acts 3:15, 1 Cor 15:20, Col 1:18, Heb 1:3,
Rom 2:6). The Eucharist then is a celebration of salvation in Christ, as the text linking the
anamnesis with the institution narrative reminds us: “As memorials of His saving passion,
He has left us these gifts which we have set forth before You according to His commands.”
And it is within this context that sin is mentioned, something already defeated in Christ: “to
condemn sin in His flesh, so that those who died in Adam may be brought to life in Him,
Your Christ” (Rom 8:3 and 1 Cor 15:22). In other words, our participation in the Eucharist
celebrates salvation in Christ, the conquest and forgiveness of sin, and our participation in
the Kingdom of God. The celebration of and participation in the Eucharist then is an af-
firmation of the reality of salvation rooted in the Divine Economy and the kenosis of the
Word of God, celebrated by the Eucharistic community in the highest expression of public
worship as the unity and communion of one another in the Holy Spirit, participating in
the reality of salvation already present in the communion of the saints: “He acquired us
for Himself, as His chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation”41 (Tit 2:14, 1 Peter 2).42
Shine in our hearts, O Master Who loves mankind, the pure light of Your divine know-
ledge, and open the eyes of our mind that we may comprehend the proclamations of
Your Gospels. Instill in us also reverence for Your blessed commandments so that, having
trampled down all carnal desires, we may lead a spiritual life, both thinking and doing all
those things that are pleasing to You. For You, Christ our God, are the illumination of our
souls and bodies, and to You we offer up glory, together with Your Father, Who is without
beginning, and Your all-holy, good, and life-creating Spirit, now and forever and to the ages
of ages. Amen.”43
Scripture.”
43 Ἔλλαμψον ἐν ταῖς καρδίαις ἡμῶν, φιλάνθρωπε Δέσποτα, τὸ τῆς σῆς θεογνωσίας ἀκήρατον
φῶς, καὶ τοὺς τῆς διανοίας ἡμῶν ὀφθαλμοὺς διάνοιξον εἰς τὴν τῶν εὐαγγελικῶν σου κηρυγμάτων
κατανόησιν. Ἔνθες ἡμῖν καὶ τὸν τῶν μακαρίων σου ἐντολῶν φόβον, ἵνα τὰς σαρκικὰς ἐπιθυμίας
πάσας καταπατήσαντες πνευματικὴν πολιτείαν μετέλθωμεν, πάντα τὰ πρὸς εὐαρέστησιν τὴν σὴν καὶ
φρονοῦντες καὶ πράττοντες. Σὺ γὰρ εἶ ὁ φωτισμὸς τῶν ψυχῶν καὶ τῶν σωμάτων ἡμῶν, Χριστὲ ὁ Θεός,
καὶ σοὶ τὴν δόξαν ἀναπέμπομεν σὺν τῷ ἀνάρχῳ σου Πατρὶ καὶ τῷ παναγίῳ καὶ ἀγαθῷ καὶ ζωοποιῷ σου
Πνεύματι, νῦν καὶ ἀεὶ καὶ εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας τῶν αἰώνων. Ἀμήν. Panagiotes Trempelas, Αἱ τρεῖς Λειτουργίαι
κατὰ τοὺς έν Ἀθῆναις Κώδικας (Athens: NP, 1935), 53–54. English translation from https://www.goarch.
org/chapel/texts (March 31, 2017).
The Use of the Bible in Byzantine Liturgical Texts and Services 255
Based on the above prayer, I would argue that in the Byzantine liturgical context, the proc-
lamation and reception of Scripture involves the following four movements: Inspiration—
Comprehension—Transformation—Action. Obviously the scriptural text is received and
viewed from the standpoint of faith, so its interpretation depends on God’s inspiration—
the prayer asks that the Lord “shine in our hearts” and “open the eyes of our mind.”
Then that leads to our comprehending the message effecting a transformation of self,
demonstrated in action: “having trampled down all carnal desires, we may lead a spir-
itual life, both thinking and doing all those things that are pleasing to You.” And the
liturgical action is directly related to this movement of Inspiration—Comprehension—
Transformation—Action. The celebration of liturgy, and the Divine Liturgy in particular,
not only embodies this movement, but allows for the community’s initiation, participa-
tion, and growth into the salvific message of the Gospel proclaimed, taught, interpreted,
and applied.44
As we have already seen in the case of the morning Gospels and their dependent hym-
nography, the hymns of the Church function also as a theological commentary on the feast
celebrated and the readings proclaimed. Hymns with Scripture (lections and Psalms) be-
come intertwined in celebration of the message of the Gospel. The Royal Hours of Holy
Friday, Christmas Eve, and Epiphany Eve are a great example. They are a theological-litur-
gical reflection on the themes of the approaching Dominical feast that is defined by the se-
lection of Psalms, readings from the Old and the New Testament, and hymns, each focusing
on the particular events of Salvation History celebrated in each case: the Crucifixion and
Resurrection, the Nativity, and the Baptism of Christ. The hymns have a special role, as not
only do they offer a theological-liturgical reflection on the upcoming feast but also they call
the faithful to react to the salvific events celebrated in two ways: first, to worship God as
thanksgiving for God’s love for humankind, as expressed through Christ’s birth, baptism,
crucifixion, and resurrection (in each case), and second, to extend a call to personal trans-
formation/transfiguration, reflecting the impact of these salvific events on one’s life.45 Even
the minor hours in the Byzantine liturgy of the hours become an opportunity to reflect
on key moments in salvation history, such as Pentecost, the betrayal, and the Crucifixion,
allowing for a miniaturized daily celebration of the liturgical year, a daily celebration of sal-
vation history.46
44
Adapted from Alexopoulos, “The Gospel Narrative in Byzantine Liturgy,” 239.
45
Stefanos Alexopoulos, “Οἱ Ἀκολουθίες τῶν Μεγάλων Ὡρῶν” (The Offices of the Royal Hours),
Ἐκκλησία 92 (2015), 686–701.
46 Stefanos Alexopoulos, “Anamnesis, Epiclesis, and Mimesis in the Minor Hours of the Byzantine
narrative images depicting scenes from the life of Christ, from the Annunciation to the
Ascension and Pentecost, a pictorial presentation of salvation history. The liturgical cycle
includes images related to the liturgy celebrated within the walls of the church, such as
the image of Christ “Pantocrator” image in the dome, the Virgin Mary with Christ in the
altar apse, and the communion of the apostles in the apse. The sanctoral cycle includes a
narrative cycle with images from the life of the Virgin Mary, and images of saints, some-
times also narrative cycles of their life. Finally, the narthex oftentimes includes narrative
images and figures from the Old Testament. These images are to be understood as a picto-
rial presentation of the Divine Economy.47
These images affect the worshiper in two ways: a practical and a theological/spiritual
way. On the practical level, this pictorial presentation of the Divine Economy is an indis-
pensable educational tool, as it impresses on the mind of the beholders the events of the
life of Christ; one “reads” the Scriptures by seeing these images, even more important at
a time when those who could read were the minority.48 This pictorial presentation of the
Divine Economy is essentially the Scriptures in images. On the theological/spiritual level,
standing in a church building adorned with images, the worshiper finds himself/herself at
the center, surrounded by the saints and scenes from Christ’s life, and gazing on the image
of Christ Pantocrator in the dome. The purpose of the space, the iconography, and the
ritual is for the faithful to be transformed. The sanctoral cycle of image incorporates the
faithful in the communion of saints; the narrative images of the life of Christ cultivates
and feeds his/her faith, and through the liturgical action and participation the worshiper
becomes a partaker of that Christ, is transformed and embraced by him, becoming a
bearer of Christ.49
The Gospel book itself is adorned with images, one cover with an image of the cruci-
fixion, the other with the image of the resurrection, identifying these two events of salvation
history as key to the Christian faith, and in a way summarizing the contents of the Gospel
book. It is treated with great honor; it is placed on the Holy Table, it is processed with every
honor, it is venerated, for it is the visual connection with the proclamation of the good news
and points to and reveals the mystery of Christ. Alexander Rentel explains the role of the
Gospel book in Byzantine liturgy:
That the gospel readings themselves reveal the presence of Jesus Christ, the Son of God the
Father, in the liturgical assembly can be seen in an ancient ritual described in a liturgical
47 Henry Maguire, “The Cycle of Images in the Church,” in Linda Safran, ed., Heaven on Earth: Art
and the Church in Byzantium (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1998), 121–151.
Thomas Mathews, “The Sequel to Nicaea II in Byzantine Church Decoration,” The Perkins School of
Theology Journal 41.3 (1988), 11–21; Alfredo Tradigo, Icons and Saints of the Eastern Orthodox Church
(Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Museum, 2004); Evan Freeman, “The Lives of Christ and the Virgin
in Byzantine Art” (https://smarthistory.org/christ-virgin-byzantine-art/?fbclid=IwAR2ljJzX-XcN-
tufjZOOf3go2PKoKOFbRUvIpWNRl3OZ7_UOXFgyzRaf-ro; last visited December 5, 2020). See also
George Galavaris, The Icon in the Life of the Church (Leiden: Brill, 1981); Leonid Ouspensky, Theology of
the Icon, 2 vols. (Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Press, 1992); Christoph Schönborn, God’s Human Face: The
Christ-Icon (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1994); Maximos Constas, The Art of Seeing: Paradox and
Perception in Orthodox Iconography (Alhambra: Sebastian Press, 2014).
48 Mathews, “The Sequel to Nicaea II,” 16.
49 Mathews, “The Sequel to Nicaea II,” 19.
The Use of the Bible in Byzantine Liturgical Texts and Services 257
document from around the turn of the first millennium, the so-called Typikon of the Great
Church. The Typikon of the Great Church, a book of rubrics that described the liturgical cel-
ebration in the patriarchal cathedral in Constantinople, speaks of an enthronement of the
Gospel book on the synthronon, which was the patriarchal throne set up in the apse of the
cathedral. One the eve of the feast of the Nativity of Christ, this Typikon prescribes that “a
Gospel book [be] placed on the synthronon and another on the altar table.” This enthrone-
ment took place during the singing of the Trisagion, at that point of the Divine Liturgy
when the patriarch and concelebrating clergy ascended the synthronon and took their seats
there to listen to the daily scripture readings. The Typikon further directs that the patriarch
must sit to the left of the Gospel, in a place normally reserved for a clergyman of lower rank
than the patriarch. In this ritual act the solemn enthronement of the Gospel book not only
proclaims the presence of Christ but also his presidency through his word within the litur-
gical assembly. Although this ritual is no longer in use today, the Gospel book rests on the
altar table, is elaborately decorated, and is regularly venerated and kissed by the faithful both
as an object of pious devotion and a testimony to God’s continued presence in that commu-
nity of believers.50
Conclusion
The Bible is at the center of the life of the Orthodox Church and it occupies a place of para-
mount importance in the worship of the church. It would not be a hyperbole to say that the
Bible is everywhere, permeates all aspects of the life of the church, especially its liturgical
life. The Scriptures have their origins in the life of the church, particularly in the liturgical
gatherings of the very early Christians, are proclaimed in the liturgical synaxis, and are
interpreted in the context of the living tradition of the Orthodox church, expressed in its
liturgical texts and rituals, lived in its liturgical celebrations. At the heart of the Scriptures,
is the proclamation of salvation in Christ; at the heart of liturgy, is the celebration of that
salvation in Christ.
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Chapter 16
Reading Scrip t u re wi t h
t he Chu rch Fat h e rs
Alexis Torrance
The field of patristic exegesis is happily a growing one (e.g., Kannengiesser 2006). On the
surface, expanding interest in the field offers a signal opportunity to Orthodox scholarship
to bring its familial respect for the Scriptural interpretation of the church fathers to bear on
the larger study of the Bible. Before rushing to celebrate, however, we must pause to con-
sider a number of issues. First, has the field of patristic exegesis really found a home as a
subdiscipline in biblical studies itself, or is it mainly a property of patristic or early Christian
studies, and thus still of only minor or fleeting importance to biblical scholars? Barring a
few exceptions, overall, the latter appears to be the case. Patristic exegesis may be generating
significant attention, but not on the whole within the guild of biblical scholarship proper.
Second, it is also worth raising the question of why exactly patristic exegesis has undergone
a revival, especially if its impact on the discipline of biblical studies is rarely discernible. On
the one hand, interest in patristic exegesis accompanies a broader hermeneutical turn in the
humanities, where recognition of the inescapable contextual frameworks that govern even
the most seemingly objective modes of historical-critical inquiry when reading the Bible
in turn make us more sympathetic to the possibility of alternative frameworks for reading
the text. On the other hand, patristic exegesis can also be construed as a convenient way
to sidestep, in the name of allegory, either historical-critical scholarship as a whole, or the
trappings of “biblical fundamentalism.” Such an escapist impulse, however, brings with it its
own problems, and can sometimes amount to an attempt to sidestep history itself, drawing,
in the process, on a concept of patristic exegesis that is generically conceived and ultimately
unfaithful to the understandings of Scripture found in the church fathers.
From an Orthodox perspective, the question of reading Scripture with the church fathers
is on one level not even a question: an Orthodox understanding of Scripture’s meaning
without the mediation of the holy exegetes of the text in the bosom of the Church (both in-
dividually and collectively) is inconceivable. However, beyond this, one can distinguish the
question of reading specific passages or books of the Bible with the church fathers (where
262 Alexis Torrance
there could be a measure of disagreement on the precise meaning), from the question of
how, drawing on the church fathers, to understand and approach the text of the Bible as
such. It is this second matter, what we might call the doctrine of Scripture, that is of pri-
mary interest in this chapter. Getting at this issue gets in turn at the heart of the ongoing
tension between patristic as well as Orthodox readings of the Bible, and the discipline of
biblical studies. This is because each represents, broadly speaking, a complex interpretive
tradition that may indeed overlap with the other from time to time, but is also, on a host
of issues, fundamentally at odds with the other. If we are surprised by this, it might be be-
cause we tend not to mark out modern biblical criticism, in the words of Michael Legaspi,
“as an interpretive tradition in its own right—one framed by particular historical contexts,
metaphysical commitments, political aspirations, methodological prescriptions, and insti-
tutional realities” (Legaspi 2016, 196). And yet it is, just as the patristic and Orthodox tradi-
tion of reading the Bible is its own broad interpretive tradition.
To take the discussion further, at least on the matter of articulating a capacious but also
cohesive account of how precisely Scripture is understood by the church fathers (which in
turn can fundamentally inform an Orthodox account), I would like to be unfashionable
for a moment and insist that to do so involves acquiescing from the outset to the idea that
Scripture is indeed a coherent whole, a divine or “God-breathed” gift whose words bears
witness in their totality to the Word himself. No amount of specific correspondences be-
tween, say, the exegesis of John Chrysostom and the conclusions of historical-critical schol-
arship, can compensate for this basic sense of the overall sacredness of the biblical text. This
is a phenomenon lamented by Georges Florovsky, when he writes, “most of us have lost
the integrity of the scriptural mind, even if some bits of biblical phraseology are retained”
(Florovsky 1972, 10).
The concept of the “scriptural mind” is perhaps more controversial now than in
Florovsky’s day, and yet for the Orthodox I believe it is no less necessary. As Florovsky him-
self argues, however, this concept does not amount to a crass or unsophisticated approach
to the complexities of the biblical text. As he explains in another place: “the Scriptures
transmit and preserve the Word of God precisely in the idiom of man. . . . There is always
some human interpretation in any Scriptural presentation of the divine Word” (Florovsky
1972, 27–28). Moreover, against the penchant for allegory among some of his peers, he
insists on the historical dimension of the text: “The Bible is history, not a system of belief,
and should not be used as a summa theologiae. At the same time, it is not history of human
belief, but the history of the divine revelation” (Florovsky 1972, 29). So, for Florovsky (who
believed deeply in the need for the Orthodox to read Scripture with the church fathers), the
Bible is both a sacred and cohesive whole, a perennial witness to God, but it is at the same
time a historical text whose witness is less concerned with abstracted and disembodied
“truths” than with God’s salvific work and providence in history, whose ultimate orientation
is Christological and eschatological (Florovsky 1972, 35).
In what follows, I will examine in turn three related and foundational approaches to
the biblical text in the early and medieval period. My goal is to lay out some of the under-
lying principles of biblical exegesis that drive so much of the patristic, Byzantine, as well
as Orthodox approach to the Bible. In doing so, I hope to showcase not only what some
might see as the “narrowly” Christ-focused nature of patristic exegesis, but also its simul-
taneous breadth of vision, a breadth that while uncompromising in its overall direction to
and from the incarnate Word, is not thereby escapist or necessarily inhospitable to honest
Reading Scripture with the Church Fathers 263
and serious grappling with the biblical text in other interpretive traditions. The three figures
I will concentrate on are Origen (via the Cappadocian Philokalia), Maximus the Confessor,
and Gregory Palamas.
The controversial aspects of Origen’s thought cannot blind us to his towering significance
as a defender and interpreter of Scripture. This was clearly recognized by Basil of Caesarea
and Gregory of Nazianzus, who together famously compiled a collection of Origen’s texts
known as the Philokalia. Much of this collection has to do with the nature of Scripture and
its interpretation. Without becoming embroiled in a debate over Origen’s overall theolog-
ical legitimacy in the Orthodox tradition, it can at least safely be asserted that Origen’s
understanding of what the Bible is and how it should be approached was considered not
only useful but virtually normative for the later tradition taken as a whole. Using the
Cappadocian Philokalia as a testament to this, I wish to highlight several aspects of this
approach, particularly those aspects that tend to receive less attention or emphasis in the
popular understanding of Origen’s exegesis as pure allegory.
Origen (ca. 184–253) is among the first to give a detailed account of the whole of Scripture
as a revelation of Christ. In fact, when faced with the confusing complexity of the Old
Testament, he gives the problem a Christological solution: “there could be no clear proofs
of the inspiration of the ancient Scriptures before the coming of Christ. But the coming of
Jesus brought men who might suspect that the law and the prophets were not Divine to
the plain avowal that they were written with help from heaven” (Philokalia 1.6). There was
a basic admission, in other words, that taken simply as a bare text, Scripture is hard if not
impossible to fathom or even to justify to our rational minds as divinely inspired. Origen is
at pains to underscore, however, that this is a problem not with the text, but with ourselves,
a problem that will persist if we do not (1) recognize and reproach our own hermeneutical
limitations, marred by our weaknesses, and (2) read the Scriptures through the revelation of
Christ. Thus he can write that just as the doctrine of God’s providence is unimpeded by our
ignorance of its mysterious workings, “so neither is the Divine character of Scripture upon
the whole impaired, because our weakness cannot in each phrase approach the hidden
glory of the truths concealed in poor and contemptible language” (Philokalia 1.7). The basic
attitude toward the reading of Scripture, especially its difficult or obscure passages must,
for Origen, be one of faith: “if in reading the Scripture you should sometimes stumble at a
meaning which is a fair stone of stumbling and rock of offence, blame yourself. . . . First be-
lieve, and you will find beneath what is counted a stumbling-block much gain in godliness”
(Philokalia 1.28). He sees no problem in admitting ignorance of a given passage’s meaning,
of saying, as he puts it, “we have mysteries which we do not understand” (Philokalia 1.9).
He adds that there is a need for grace to know “the mind of Christ,” even as it is present in
the clarity of the Gospels, let alone in difficult passages of the Law (Philokalia 1.10). In fact,
if Scripture is read with faith but nothing is immediately understood, he still considers such
reading profitable (Philokalia 12.1–2).
264 Alexis Torrance
I mean the ‘corporeal’ part of the Scriptures, many ways not unprofitable, but capable of
benefiting the majority of readers according to their capacity” (Philokalia 1.15). The basic
profitability and even truthfulness of the literal biblical narrative is never dismissed by
Origen, despite popular opinion. Thus he writes:
That no one may suppose us to make a sweeping statement and maintain that no history is
real, because some is unreal; and that no part of the Law is to be literally observed, because a
particular enactment in its wording happens to be unreasonable or impossible; or that what
is recorded of the Saviour is true only in a spiritual sense; or that we are not to keep any law
or commandments of Him: that we may not incur such an imputation, we must add that we
are quite convinced of the historical truth of certain passages; for instance, that Abraham was
buried in the double cave in Hebron, as also Isaac and Jacob, and one wife of each of these;
and that Sichem was given to Joseph for his portion, and that Jerusalem is the capital of Judea,
wherein God’s temple was built by Solomon, and countless other statements. For those things
which are true historically are many more than those connected with them which contain
merely a spiritual sense. (Philokalia 1.20)
One could still argue, of course, that Origen’s ambivalence toward the “flesh” or lit-
eral sense of Scripture, however slight, unwittingly opens the floodgates for the total
undermining of the historicity of the text. But this is clearly not Origen’s intention. The
fact that he singles out rather specific elements in the biblical narrative for historical rati-
fication here (like the double cave tomb in Hebron) suggests that the overall narrative arc
of Scripture is not even up for discussion in Origen’s mind. We see this concern for his-
toricity at play elsewhere too, for instance in Contra Celsum 4.41 and Homilies on Genesis
2.2, where Origen is at pains to defend against the sneering Celsus the literal existence
of Noah’s ark and its capacity to hold all that it did. Origen the exegete is no historical
relativist. He even shows interest in what could be seen as a form of scholarly enquiry to
bolster his position on historical details. The example of Noah’s ark is helpful in this re-
gard too, since in his Homilies on Genesis 2.2 he discusses “having learned from men who
were skilled and versed in the traditions of the Hebrews” that the measurements of the ark
given by Moses reflect Egyptian computational methods, and thus that the ark was a lot
larger than one might think. He ends his reflection on the ark’s historicity thus: “Let these
things be said, as much as pertains to the historical account, against those who endeavor
to impugn the Scriptures of the Old Testament as containing certain things which are
impossible and irrational.” We must, in short, be rather careful to interpret what Origen
means when he elsewhere seems to dismiss the literal level of the text. To him, the rela-
tively rare and providential “stumbling-blocks” of historical or literal impossibility in the
text can hardly give license to the hyper-allegorization of Scripture that so often passes as
the approach of Origen.1
The threefold approach to the biblical text, especially when the corporeal or literal level
is not summarily dismissed, lends itself to a constructive interaction and dialogue with
1 For this reason I decided not to include a discussion of the “Alexandrian” versus “Antiochene”
approaches to Scripture, which is in any case amply treated by others. While differences of emphasis do
certainly emerge (some patristic exegetes being more historical, some more allegorical), these differences
are not generally as pronounced, still less mutually exclusive, as many assume.
266 Alexis Torrance
the historical-critical method. True, the terms on which this dialogue takes place would
doubtless be unsatisfactory to most proponents of biblical studies (since the flesh is al-
ways subject to the spirit in Origen), but there is nevertheless in Origen’s approach an
opening for bringing to bear a variety of exegetical tools and even interpretive traditions
for an ever-deeper appreciation of the text. What those tools and traditions can afford,
however, would only ever be preliminary, and would ultimately need to be submitted for
approval to “the mind of Christ” that governs the text as a whole. Furthermore, other than
Origen’s conception of the overarching harmony of the biblical text around the revela-
tion of Christ, his key to interpreting Scripture is not a collection of data from extrinsic
disciplines (much as he might make occasional use of, say, etymology or cosmology), but
Scripture itself. He ascribes the principle of Scripture being its own best and necessary
interpreter to a Jewish teacher. He describes the principle as “a very pleasing tradition
respecting all Divine Scripture in general” whereby the separate books of the Bible are
like locked-up rooms in one house whose keys are dispersed before different rooms. To
interpret a given book or text, in other words, one must find that text’s “key” not in ex-
trinsic disciplines, but in another part of Scripture (Philokalia 2.3). Scripture interprets
Scripture, and thus the first port of call when confronted with textual stumbling-blocks
is Scripture itself. This is what Christ’s command to “search the Scriptures” (John 5:39)
implies for Origen. If a text recounts something that appears impossible, its real meaning
is discovered exegetically first and foremost by “comparing parallel passages scattered up
and down Scripture” (Philokalia 1.21).
One could argue that Origen posits a form of “canonical criticism” when viewing the bib-
lical text that tends to override other hermeneutical possibilities. Conceiving the Bible as a
canonical whole that cannot be dismembered except at the interpreter’s peril is ingrained in
Origen’s understanding of Scripture. Simply put, “Scripture cannot be broken” (John 10:35),
and so if one part is divided and set against another, then the result, however brilliant, is
an exegetical failure. This is because to divide Scripture from itself is to rend the seamless
garment of Christ: “the garments of the Word are the phrases of the Scripture; the Divine
thoughts are clothed in these expressions” (Philokalia, 15.19).
We have seen that from Origen is bequeathed to the Cappadocian fathers and their heirs
a multilayered tradition of understanding and approaching Scripture. This tradition views
Scripture as a complete whole to be reverenced as sacred even down to the last syllable,
whose mysteries are unlocked to the humble, prayerful, and faithful exegete who seeks to
discover the flesh, soul, and spirit of the text by many means, but above all by interpreting
one Scriptural text with another. Ignorance of the meaning of difficult texts is no vice, and
is far better than a false knowledge that misinterprets or excises Scripture’s “stumbling-
blocks” to suit one’s own ends. But importantly, while Scripture is an integrated whole for
Origen, this does not make it “self-sufficient,” and while Scripture is the best interpreter of
Scripture, this is not the same as saying that Scripture is “self-interpreting.” For Scripture
is still subject to its author; it belongs to another who holds and must hand over the means
(the master “key of David”) for its correct interpretation. Hence the importance of the
Christological dimension, Scripture as the “words of the Word.” In Origen, this is brought
out on a number of occasions (as I have highlighted), but is not fully developed. Its further
and clearer articulation awaits the masterful hermeneutical synthesis of St Maximus the
Confessor.
Reading Scripture with the Church Fathers 267
St. Maximus the Confessor (ca. 580–662) offers an approach to the Bible that in many
respects takes its lead from what has just been described in the previous section. He has, of
course, inherited more than simply the distilled views of Origen, most especially a stronger
ascetic and monastic impulse toward exegesis, a deep appreciation for the theology of the
Cappadocian Fathers (especially Gregory the Theologian) and Dionysius the Areopagite,
as well as a fervent devotion to the doctrinal positions of Chalcedonian orthodoxy. All of
these elements, and doubtless more besides, color and shape Maximus’s understanding of
the biblical text. As Constas notes, “Maximos the Confessor’s interpretation of Scripture is
in many ways the summation of the entire patristic exegetical tradition” (Constas 2018, 37).
The governing category of Maximus’s theology as a whole, not least his view of Scripture, is
“the mystery of Christ.” Again, as Constas puts it, for Maximus:
Biblical interpretation is an attempt to explore the hidden facets of this mystery [of Christ].
It aims to discover the larger meanings of narratives, symbols, and their organic interconnec-
tion, engaging cosmology, anthropology, salvation history, ethics, and ecclesiology in light of
the mystery of the incarnate Word. (Constas 2018, 50)
This overriding focus on the incarnate Word is clearer and more sustained in Maximus than
in Origen, even if much of the imagery deployed by Maximus gets its beginnings in Origen.
Scripture as the “garments of the Word” is a good example. In his extensive meditation
on the Transfiguration of Christ in Ambiguum 10, Maximus analyzes this notion at some
length. The garments of the Word illuminated by divine light represent two books: the book
of nature and the book of Scripture through which the Logos is revealed for those with eyes
to see. Origen had likewise made the connection between reading Scripture and “reading”
nature or creation as two divinely inspired and inscribed books, but does not develop the
theme in such detail.
For Maximus, Scripture as the garment of the Word “makes known the dignity of the
one who wears it” (Ambiguum 10.29). Maximus insists on the equality of the natural and
written laws on the basis of their common Logos. The written law is thus “like another world,
constituted by all that has been wisely uttered within it, having its own heaven, earth, and
what comes between them, by which I mean ethical, natural, and theological philosophy”
(Ambiguum 10.31). We find again here the emphasis on Scripture as a complete whole, a world
unto itself, whose profitable contemplation demands as a prerequisite “ethical, natural, and
theological philosophy,” which he summarizes elsewhere as comprising “the love of God”
(Ambiguum 37). Both the natural and the written law simultaneously “reveal and conceal the
same Word” and “when we say that the words of Holy Scripture are ‘garments,’ we understand
from this that their inner meanings are the ‘fleshes’ of the Word” (Ambiguum 10.31).
The incarnate Word is the firm subject of all Scripture for Maximus: its words are his
words. They are even described (again, drawing on Origen) in terms of a kind of enfleshing
of the Logos, “who for our sake became like us and came to us through the body, and like-
wise grew thick in syllables and letters” (Ambiguum 10.32). This “incarnation,” however,
268 Alexis Torrance
becomes ineffectual or rather destructive if those syllables and letters are not referred by
the interpreter back to the Logos: “When the letter is desired only for itself, it tends to kill
the indwelling Word in those who are subject to such desire” (Ambiguum 10.32). The theme
returns in Ambiguum 33, where Maximus grapples with the line “the Logos becomes thick”
from Gregory the Theologian’s Oration on the Nativity, seeing it pointing first and foremost
to the Incarnation itself (the Logos taking human nature upon himself), next the words of
Scripture, and lastly the concealed presence of the Logos in creation through the “logoi of
beings.” Some commentators like to see Maximus proposing “three incarnations” here, but
this might be an overstatement. While he is comfortable equating the natural and written
revelations of the Logos in terms of their dignity and importance, he never equates these
two with the actual Incarnation itself, toward which and from which his whole theology
flows. It is in fact the incarnate Christ who serves as anchor, guarantor, and purpose of the
natural and written law.
This orientation of Scripture toward the incarnate Word can be seen when Maximus
warns against focusing only on the “garments” of Scripture (the letter) and ignoring its
“body” (its inner meanings). Rather than being a straightforward appeal for allegorical
readings at the expense of literal ones, it is an appeal to keep the interpreter’s focus on
Christ: “otherwise there may come a time when we are caught having nothing, since in our
urge to possess these things [the garments] we failed to take hold of the Word” (Ambiguum
10.33). He compares this state of affairs to the Egyptian woman seizing Joseph’s garments
and being left only with them, while the true object of her desire flees. For Maximus, if the
exegete does not have real love for the incarnate Word, reading Scripture will only lead to
the same fate.
There is a temptation to see Maximus’s consistent language of the outer and inner
meanings of Scripture in terms of a disdain for the literal or historical level of the text in
favor of allegory, but when his Christocentric impulse is borne in mind, this need not be the
case. Certainly, the lower is subjected to the higher in his approach, but not so as to abolish
or relativize the lower. As he writes, “that which in the literal account took place in the
past, is always standing before us being mystically present in contemplation” (To Thalassius
49.4). In fact, accessing the “inner meaning” of a given Scriptural text is the only sure means
of properly appreciating its outer or surface meaning too. As he writes, “if the meaning
of the whole of divine Scripture is properly and piously smoothed out, the disagreements
perceived on the literal level of the text will be seen to contain nothing contradictory or
inconsistent” (Ambiguum 21). Similarly, Maximus even adapts philosophical categories to
the “general principle of scriptural interpretation” which he sees as enacted in a “tenfold
manner” via study for a given biblical text of its place, time, genus, person, and rank; rele-
vance for practical, natural, and theological philosophy; and its import for the present age
(type) and future age (truth). These ten categories are all considered a required component
for biblical understanding, and they are laid out in an ascending hierarchy. Crucially, they
altogether form one principle of interpretation, with the first five categories (corresponding
to the literal level of the text) leading to application of the text to the interpreter’s way of life
(the next three categories), which itself is divided into our present condition and our future
condition. That one principle is, he says, the Logos himself:
Therefore the first five modes, through the multiform contemplation to which they are sub-
ject, are gathered together into practical, natural, and theological philosophy and these three
Reading Scripture with the Church Fathers 269
are further gathered into the modes of present and future, that is, type and truth. Present
and future, in turn, are gathered up in the beginning, that is, in the “Word who is in the be-
ginning” (John 1:1) who enables the worthy to experience and see Him, for, in the manner
described above, they diligently pursued their course to Him, and it was for Him that they
transformed into a monad what for their sakes had become a decad. (Ambiguum 37)
This all might seem impenetrable at first glance, but what Maximus is trying to articu-
late is that the proper reading of Scripture includes the faithful reading of the historical
or literal level of the text (found in the first five categories/modes of contemplation), but
this must be combined with, and lead up to, active, even ascetic pursuit of the Word.
Then all discrete modes of scriptural exegesis are seen to be “transformed into a monad,”
that is, they all converge on the focal point of the incarnate Word (who “for their sakes
had become a decad,” i.e., had taken on all the tenfold categories of place, time, genus,
etc., through his incarnation). The emphasis in Maximus on being “led up” via Scripture
to its divine author can be characterized as an “anagogical” approach to the Bible. As
Constas puts it, “for Maximos, anagogy is thus a comprehensive term or process, under
which other exegetical techniques and practices—such as typology, tropology, and alle-
gory—are effectively subsumed” (Constas 2018, 47). It is an anagogy, importantly, always
pointing up toward Christ.
The process of anagogical exegesis is inextricably an ascetic enterprise in Maximus. There
is a deep-seated sense in the Confessor’s work that the real meaning of Scripture—as well as
the meaning of the created world—is concealed from us because of our slavery to passion
and sin. As Constas eloquently expresses it, “the entry of the passions into human life
precipitates a radical hermeneutical crisis, and as such is of fundamental importance for the
interpretation of Scripture” (Constas 2018, 12). Scripture is there to encourage the shunning
of these passions and the pursuit of virtue in the one Logos, but when mishandled by the
slaves of pleasure, Scriptural exegesis becomes a liability (cf. 2 Peter 3:16). When, however,
the text is approached with the ascetic mindset of a soul on fire with the love of God, he sees
the text as living water nourishing the exegete with the Word himself. As he puts it:
the divine word is like water, for just as water operates in different species of plants and veg-
etation and in different kinds of living things—by which I mean in human beings who drink
the Word Himself—the Word is manifested in them through the virtues, in proportion to
their level of knowledge and ascetic practice, like burgeoning fruit produced according to the
quality of virtue and knowledge in each, so that the Word becomes known to others through
other qualities and characteristics. For the divine word could never be circumscribed by
a single individual interpretation, nor does it suffer confinement in a single meaning, on
account of its natural infinity. (To Thalassius Intro.1.2.8)
Scripture’s “infinity” is not, as Constas points out, a means to ratify any kind of exeget-
ical conclusion: “biblical interpretation unfolds within a framework of ethical, doctrinal,
and ecclesial commitments, which are constraints on any potential infinity of interpreta-
tion” (Constas 2018, 39). It is an infinity encountered not by the conscious multiplication of
interpretations of a given passage as such, but by communing with Scripture’s source, the
infinite Logos, a communion that allows the living Scriptural text, the words of the Word,
to be viewed ever afresh and anew, such that “even the world itself could not contain the
books” of exegesis that could be written (cf. John 21:25).
270 Alexis Torrance
When we turn to St Gregory Palamas (ca. 1296–1357) we are dealing with someone who, like
Maximus, largely inherits and sums up what has come before on the matter of approaching
Scripture. We do not, then, need to rehearse the same points we have encountered already.
However, with Palamas there are important accents worth considering, particularly in his
interactions with Barlaam at the outset of the Hesychast Controversy. His most detailed
examination of the nature and purpose of Scripture comes in his second triad In Defense of
the Holy Hesychasts, in the first treatise dealing with the nature of knowledge, in particular
salvific knowledge, and how it is not dependent on the knowledge gained through secular
education.
One of the accusations Palamas’s adversary Barlaam levels against the hesychasts is that
they consider holy Scripture useless, chasing instead material visions of the divine essence
through psychosomatic techniques (Triads 2.1.2). Palamas, of course, rejects this as outright
calumny, and defends reverence for Scripture as a vehicle of salvific knowledge. Drawing on
Paul and James, he sets up an opposition between the wisdom or knowledge of this world
and the wisdom or knowledge of God: the former may sometimes be true, but it is not sal-
vific, whereas the latter is both true and salvific. Scripture falls under the latter category for
Palamas, and as such should not be analyzed and interpreted primarily through the means
of the secular methods so cherished by Barlaam. Interestingly, however, he does not appear
to preclude the use of the tools of scholarship to engage with the text, even if he is wary of
setting much store by them. He writes:
We also, transferring to the inquiry of what is necessary [for salvation] the modes of inves-
tigation espoused by the philosophy of profane learning, and making use of elements of that
education for the elucidation of certain words [of Scripture], might easily stray from the right
path. This can happen if we do not possess the only key to the sacred Scriptures, namely the
grace of the Spirit, and are not led by the divinely-inspired oracles themselves. At all events, it
is clear from this how profane learning can be transformed and transposed to become some-
thing advantageous: for while the wisdom of the Spirit is in need of nothing, in that which is
essentially good that which is not essentially good can be made good. (Triads 2.1.6)
Palamas is denouncing his opponent’s trust in the methods of scholarly enquiry, but in a
rather subtle manner, such that these methods are not a priori excluded from the study of
Scripture. It is a dangerous and tricky enterprise, but he does not consider it impossible
to accomplish. The key to success, as he puts it, is to possess “the grace of the Spirit” and
to place hermeneutical priority on the words of Scripture themselves, a way perhaps of
expressing the principle of Scripture interpreting Scripture. Then, the Spirit can act in the
interpreter to turn what is unstable and not of itself necessarily good, namely the methods
of profane learning, to a good and profitable end.
Palamas detects in Barlaam an unhealthy elevation of the methods and findings of
secular studies such that Scripture can only give us “symbols” about the created order,
whereas the sciences can raise us to the immaterial archetypes of beings. This presupposes,
according to Palamas, that the knowledge of beings is somehow by itself a salvific and
Reading Scripture with the Church Fathers 271
necessary knowledge, which he denies. On this front, Scripture will always reign over such
sciences: “there is something added to us from the divinely inspired Scriptures that is in-
comparably better than the knowledge of beings” (Triads 2.1.10). Natural philosophy and
scientific enquiry “cannot of themselves introduce or lead us up to that which is better
than knowledge,” whereas Scripture can (Triads 2.1.10). Palamas continues by confronting
Barlaam’s allegation that the hesychasts discourage the reading of Scripture because of its
potential to become a source of confusion. He reacts sharply:
Among our hesychasts I know of none who, if they are literate, do not devote themselves to
the Scriptures. If they are not literate, they are themselves like other living books, skillfully
proclaiming the majority of the Scriptures by heart. (Triads 2.1.11)
He goes on to emphasize, with a gloss on Romans 2:13 commending “not the hearers but the
doers of the law,” that Scripture needs to be approached not for knowledge, but for salva-
tion. Specifically, he singles out the need for compunction in this process, citing an uniden-
tified patristic text that runs, “a monk who reads for knowledge and not for compunction
acquires conceit” (Triads 2.1.11).
There was a deep-seated understanding for Palamas, drawing on a long ascetic tradition,
that for all its importance, Scripture and its exegesis could not become a stand-in for the ac-
quisition of divine grace in a human life. Even to read Scripture profitably was only a means
to a greater end. In other words, there was more to Christian life than Scripture, a text which
itself bears witness, and ultimately gives way to, something beyond itself, namely the living
human encounter with God (see Torrance 2016, 2018). Palamas knew this was a delicate
point to make, because it could easily be construed to imply that Scripture was considered
dispensable for the hesychasts. But he nevertheless insists on upholding this point, using
Scriptural exegesis to make it. Thus if the “law and the prophets” can be summarized as
“doing unto others as you would have them do unto you” (Matthew 7:12), then for Palamas
the one who keeps this commandment in a way contains all the Scriptures even if they have
not all been read and memorized (Triads 2.1.43). Likewise, if the Lord commends the one
who hears and does his word (cf. John 14:23) and comes to dwell in him, then such a person
now possesses the Lord of all knowledge and all Scripture:
He who possesses him within himself through the keeping of the divine commandments will
no longer have need for the study of the Scriptures, but without study will know them all
exactly, and will in fact become a sure teacher for those who are studying, just like John [the
Baptist] and Anthony [the Great]. (Triads 2.1.43)
Notice that even while making his potentially controversial argument regarding the pri-
ority of sanctity over study, Palamas is couching it from beginning to end in Scriptural
references. His aim is not to undermine Scripture, but to establish it as a witness to the
sanctified life which itself does not depend on intellectual studies (even study of the text of
Scripture), or literacy, for that matter. Scripture is irreducibly important for Palamas, but as
a means to an end beyond its confines.
The use of Scripture to argue for something higher than Scripture is found again in
Palamas’s third treatise of the second triad In Defense of the Holy Hesychasts. It is in the
midst of a discussion of the light of the Transfiguration as the uncreated light of divinity,
the light of the age to come which can illumine the saints even now. Palamas insists that this
272 Alexis Torrance
light is radically different from the light of knowledge obtained through “Greek learning.”
Its significance is so great that it even surpasses the light of Scripture. Once again, he knows
he is making a daring claim, but he bases it on 2 Peter 1:19: “we have also a more sure word
of prophecy; whereunto ye do well that ye take heed, as unto a light that shineth in a dark
place, until the day dawn, and the day star arise in your hearts.” The latter experience of the
day dawning and the day star arising in our hearts is, quite simply for Palamas, the expe-
rience of the deifying light of Christ manifested at the Transfiguration (the context of the
passage in 2 Peter already strongly suggests this). The fact that it is juxtaposed with the ap-
parently dimmer light of “the word of prophecy” is not lost on Palamas:
Do you see that this light newly shines in the hearts of the faithful and the perfect? Do you see
how superior this light is to the light of knowledge? We are not even speaking about the light
that comes from Greek learning, for that light is not even worthy of the name, being either
all a lie or mingled with lies, and approaching darkness rather than light. No, not that light.
The light of this contemplation differs so much even from the knowledge that comes from the
divine Scriptures, that the latter light is compared to “a lamp shining in a dark place,” while
the light of this mystical contemplation is compared to the day star shining in the day, which
is the sun. (Triads 2.3.18)
Looking at the work of Origen (as he was mediated by the Cappadocian Fathers), St.
Maximus the Confessor, and St. Gregory Palamas, we receive an impressive picture of what
it might mean for Orthodox Christian exegetes to approach Scripture with the church fa-
thers. An emphasis has been placed in this brief study not on individual interpretations of
given biblical passages, important as these are, but on the broader doctrine of Scripture as
such in these authors. The commonalities are striking but not altogether surprising, given
the lines of influence. I have tried to mention in each case elements that are either seldom
acknowledged (like the importance of the text’s historicity in Origen and Maximus) or
little known (like Palamas’s nuanced view of the value of profane methods for Scriptural
study). I would like to end, however, with a note of warning that I think would be shared
by all three.
If the Scriptural text is the garment of the Word, then the study of Scripture should never
be separated from him. To separate Scripture from the Word is to strip once again the Word
Reading Scripture with the Church Fathers 273
of his garments.2 This is a deep-seated scholarly temptation and, I would add, can occur
for two main reasons. The first reason involves a misplaced trust in the overarching power
and efficacy of the methods of biblical studies for the interpretation of the text. As Palamas
so clearly saw, these kinds of methods form at best shifting sands, and thus can never be
definitively relied upon as a basis for truly understanding the text. Such an approach to
Scripture can easily result in a fixation on the garments themselves at the expense of the
Body, forgetting that Scripture is first and foremost an ecclesial text. When this happens,
Scripture is rid of the pure luster it properly possesses when it is draped over and clings to
the light-bearing Body of Christ. Worse, this fixation on the garments alone leads not only
to the dulling of Scripture’s luminescence, but eventually to the dividing of those garments
into innumerable patches of useless cloth. Even what is preserved whole is considered the
result of a game of chance: “they parted my raiment among themselves, and for my vesture
they cast lots” (Psalm 22:18 //John 19:24).
The second reason for stripping the Word of his garments is different but no less prob-
lematic. This is the temptation to overlook the basic and literal words of the biblical text,
and though they are more durable than heaven and earth (cf. Matthew 24:35), to set them
aside completely under the pretext of piously bypassing the question of historicity in favor
of sanitizing allegories. Instead of fixating on the garments, the garments are completely
ignored, tossed out, as if the providence of God had not really chosen these words, and the
history they relate, as his own. The Word is not ashamed of these words and their history,
and he commands his disciples likewise not to be ashamed of them (Mark 8:38 //Luke
9:26). The historical and literal level of the text may not disclose the fullness of the text’s
meaning, but it remains forever the gateway to that meaning, its anchor and frame.
Reading Scripture with the church fathers is an exercise in reverence, to be sure: rever-
ence for Christ above all. But it need not be an artless or unsophisticated reverence, even if
a guileless faith in Scripture—as Origen, Maximus, and Palamas would agree—has much to
commend it. The methods of biblical studies are understandably alarming to many Christian
believers, but what is alarming is not so much the methods themselves as their claims to
power and control over the text and its significance. When such claims are humbled “under
the mighty hand of God” (1 Peter 5:6), they can take their legitimate place in the armory of
the Orthodox Christian exegete. In the end, however, the Orthodox interpreter, no matter
how sophisticated, always knows that the garment must yield to the Body, the light must
yield to the Light, and the words must yield to the Word.
Select Bibliography
Primary Sources
Gregory Palamas, Défense des saints hésychastes [The Triads], 2 vols., ed. J. Meyendorff
(Louvain: Université Catholique de Louvain, 1959).
Maximos the Confessor, On Difficulties in Sacred Scripture: The Responses to Thalassios, trans.
M. Constas (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2018).
2 “They stripped me of my garments” is the opening line of the Doxastikon of the Praises for the
Maximos the Confessor, The Ambigua, 2 vols., ed. and trans. N. Constas (Cambridge MA:
Harvard University Press, 2014).
Origen, The Philocalia, trans. G. Lewis (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1911).
Origen, Contra Celsum, trans. H. Chadwick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980).
Origen, Homilies on Genesis and Exodus, trans. R. Heine (Washington, DC: Catholic University
of America Press, 1982).
Secondary Sources
M. Baker and M. Mourachian (eds), What Is the Bible? The Patristic Doctrine of Scripture
(Minneapolis: Fortress, 2016).
P. Blowers, Exegesis and Spiritual Pedagogy in Maximus the Confessor: An Investigation of the
Quaestiones ad Thalassium (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1991).
M. Constas, “Introduction,” in Maximos, On Difficulties in Sacred Scripture (2018), 3–60.
M. Ford, The Soul’s Longing: An Orthodox Christian Perspective on Biblical Interpretation
(Waymart, PA: St Tikhon’s Monastery Press, 2015).
G. Florovsky, Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View (Belmont: Nordland, 1972).
C. Kannengiesser, Handbook of Patristic Exegesis: The Bible in Ancient Christianity (Leiden:
Brill, 2006).
M. Legaspi, The Death of Scripture and the Rise of Biblical Studies (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2011).
M. Legaspi, “Merely Academic: A Brief History of Modern Biblical Criticism,” in Baker and
Mourachian (eds.), What Is the Bible? (2016), 181–200.
A. Torrance, “Barsanuphius, John, and Dorotheos on Scripture: Voices from the Desert in
Sixth-Century Gaza,” in Baker and Mourachian (eds.), What Is the Bible? (2016), 67–82.
A. Torrance, “Scaling the Text: The Ambiguity of the Book in John Climacus,” Byzantinische
Zeitschrift 111:3 (2018), 791–804.
Chapter 17
Athanasios Despotis
Introduction
This chapter does not offer a general overview of the biblical exegesis in Eastern Orthodox
regions after the fall of Constantinople. Still, it intends to add three perspectives to an al-
ready published overview of the Eastern Orthodox hermeneutics in the early modern era
(Despotis 2016). Byzantine and early modern Eastern Orthodox biblical interpretations
are often understood as paraphrases and repetitions of earlier patristic exegesis. They are
characterized as “ecclesial exegesis” (Nikolakopoulos 2019, 146) and are considered in iso-
lation from the developments in other contemporary traditions. This tendency results from
a superficial survey of the relevant material. According to Krueger and Nelson (2016a), few
scholars have explored and assessed Byzantine biblical interpretation after the patristic pe-
riod, other than to dismiss it as compilation or derivative.
Similarly, scholars often overlook the fact that though patristic and Byzantine exegetes
sometimes condemn philosophy, they adopt and adapt strategies of contemporary
philosophers in puzzling together the deeper meanings of the Scripture and heal the
1 This article was written in the Summer of 2020, a very sad coincidence, when the Turkish
administration ordered the reclassification of Hagia Sophia as a mosque and the Imam used an Ottoman
sword to reopen the worship (July 24, 2020).
276 Athanasios Despotis
souls of their audience (Anagnostou-Laoutides and Parry 2020). An additional reason for
dismissing late Byzantine and early modern exegesis is the fact that scriptural exegesis of
this era flourishes not in scholarly commentaries but mostly in lectionary sermons, catenae,
poems, and icons (Magdalino and Nelson 2010b; Krueger and Nelson 2016b). Last but not
least, a great number of manuscripts including scriptural interpretation of the early modern
era remains unpublished.
As it has been already shown (Magdalino and Nelson 2010a; Krueger and Nelson 2016b;
Kolbaba 2012), the late Byzantine reception of the Scripture deserves more research. The
study of its more essential aspects remains in infancy. For example, though Michael Psellos,
a renowned late Byzantine philosopher and theologian, does not deliver an exegetical
corpus, he draws on an impressive combination of ancient Greek philosophy and patristic
reflections to interpret Christian traditions, beginning from Scripture, in his works. Thus
he both delivers genuine readings of biblical traditions and continues a line of scriptural ex-
egesis in his religious-philosophical treatises that has its beginnings in Hellenistic Judaism
(Ježek 2018). The Hellenistic Jewish philosophical explanation of the Bible had already
been studied, adjusted, and transformed in the early patristic exegesis from Clement of
Alexandria and Origen onward. Since then, the Bible remained at the core of theological
reflection, ecclesial life, and lay spirituality in Eastern Christianity. In the late Byzantine
empire, the Bible has been everywhere, in all aspects of life. Eastern-Roman imperial ide-
ology identified the entire empire with biblical symbols. Accordingly, the first conquest
of Constantinople by the Fourth Crusade (1204) has been interpreted as “the Babylonian
exile” of its people and the second fall by Mehmet II as the fulfillment of the prophecies
about the end of the world and the antichrist. Byzantines believed that they represented
Orthodoxy, i.e., right faith, and Constantinople was the navel of the world (Magdalino and
Nelson 2010a).
Nevertheless, most of the Eastern Orthodox exegetes of the Scripture never ceased to
have a relation to philosophy. This is evident both in the Byzantine and post-Byzantine
era. It is striking that scholars holding the titles “Grand Rhetor” (Μέγας Ρήτωρ) or
“Great Interpreter of the Holy Scriptures” (Μέγας ἑρμηνευτὴς τῶν θείων γραφῶν) in the
Patriarchal School after the fall of Constantinople were masters of philosophy with previous
studies in European universities (Agiotis 2020, 151–158). Thus Patriarch Ioasaph II claimed
about John Zygomalas that “we engaged a master of philosophy like other teachers” (Steiris
2009). This philosopher and interpreter of the Scriptures Zygomalas played a crucial role in
the formation of the official position of Eastern Orthodoxy about the biblical hermeneutics
in the sixteenth century.
Similarly, Eastern exegetes were active participants in the cultural discourses in early
modern Europe. The differentiation between East and West in this era is not as absolute
as many modern scholars believe. We detect not only polemic interactions but also a gen-
uine exchange of ideas and scholarship between Eastern and Western Christianity (Searby
Theology, Philosophy, and Confessionalization 277
2018b) on all levels of theological reflection, from sophisticated theological texts to catechet-
ical homilies in vernacular language (Koukoura 2011). It is remarkable that even Palamists
like Gennadios Scholarios, the first Ecumenical Patriarch after the fall of Constantinople,
have an impressive knowledge of Latin theology and translate Thomistic works. Though
Eastern Orthodoxy experienced a decline after 1453, Scripture remained the foundation of
Eastern Orthodox doctrine and ethics. Under the Ottoman swords, Orthodox theologians
and priests had only a few opportunities for higher education (e.g., the Patriarchal Academy
in Constantinople, or small schools on the islands of Chios and Crete). Still, biblical texts,
e.g., readings in the lectionaries and the liturgical books or the Decalogue (Kalliakmanis
1988) played an enormous role in the formation of both the ecclesial and everyday life of
Orthodox believers.
Some Greek scholars could print biblical texts in the West (Cretan Georgios Alexandrou
printed the Psalterion in Venice as early as in 1486) or study in the major educational
centers of Europe (Oxford, Altdorf, and Venice) and especially in Padua. The University of
Padua was the center of Aristotelian studies in the Renaissance and established the teaching
of philosophy in Greek language in this era (Steiris 2009, 171). The international studies of
Eastern Orthodox theologians had two immediate consequences: Some of them focused
their exegesis quite forcibly against the teachings that they had experienced in the great ed-
ucational centers of Catholicism and Protestantism, while others maintained contact with
Catholic and Protestant groups from which they received funding in order to publicize
their works. The college of St. Athanasius also cannot be ignored, because it was founded
by the Roman Catholic Church to educate priests promoting Roman Catholicism in the
Orthodox regions of the Ottoman empire. These tendencies brought about a polarization
and a climate of polemic between East and West, and also among the Greeks, who often
were caught up in heated arguments.
This was a formative period, a time of confessionalization, i.e., development of denom-
inational identities and territories in western Europe. In the East, while the central part of
Orthodoxy remained under Turkish rule and needed the support of western states, the vast
majority of patriarchates and the local churches tried to draw new boundaries between
themselves, Roman Catholicism, and Protestantism. This is because Roman Catholicism
intended to establish hegemony over Orthodox “schismatics” since the council of Florence
(1431–1449). However, this had proved difficult because eastern Orthodox theologians who
had remained in the East after the fall of Constantinople were against the Florence union.
At the same time, some Protestant theologians tried to establish their own profile in the
eastern Churches and to work against the Roman Catholic initiatives (Karmires 1949, 100).
In the following three sections, relevant texts reveal several aspects of competition and in-
teraction between eastern and western traditions of this era.
The first relevant reflections are delivered by a former master of philosophy and later
Patriarch of Constantinople (1454–1456; 1463–1465), (Georgios) Gennadios II Scholarios.
278 Athanasios Despotis
Though Gennadios Scholarios has been a renowned anti-Latin theologian, he often draws
on Thomistic works. His methodology reveals that he not only challenged but also learned a
lot from the Latin West (Demetracopolous 2018). It is doubtful that Gennadios established
the Patriarchal “Great School of the Nation” and appointed his pupil philosopher Matthew
Kamariotes as the head of the school (Chatzimichael 2002). However, this tradition echoes
the great interest of Scholarios for the education of the enslaved Orthodox faithful. The
school reached its peak between the sixteenth and seventeenth century and played a cru-
cial role in the philosophical and theological training of the eastern Orthodox scholars.
A later principal of the school, Theophanes Eleavoulkos, who had studied the translations
of the Thomistic works by Gennadios, introduced an Aristotelian trend in the syllabus of
the Patriarchal school between 1545–1548. The following principals at the patriarchal school
continued this trend (Agiotis 2020, 152) that also characterizes western universities of this
era (Padua).
In his confession, that was intended to describe the Christian way of salvation to Mehmet
II the Conqueror at the end of 1455 or the beginning of 1456, Scholarios delivers arguments
for “the truth of our faith” (τὴν ἀλήθειαν τῆς πίστεως ἡμῶν). His insights reveal some essen-
tial principles of the eastern Orthodox biblical exegesis of his time. They are so formulated
to be easily understood by a Muslim audience (Des Portes 2014).
First, Gennadios stresses the continuity between the Hebrew Bible and the New
Testament. He continues the “process of the Christianization” of the Hebrew Bible that
began by its appropriation by the first communities of Christ believers (e.g., 1 Cor 10:11).
In Gennadios’s view, Jewish prophets had prophesized the Christ event and the mission
of the apostles that followed (Πρῶτον, ὅτι προεφήτευσαν οἱ προφῆται τῶν Ἰουδαίων, οὓς
στέργομεν καὶ ἡμεῖς, τὸν Ἰησοῦν καὶ ὅσα ἐποίησαν οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ).
Second, Gennadios believed in the divine inspiration of Scripture, and on behalf of this
axiom he conducted a harmonizing and Canonical interpretation. According to the same
author, all Scriptures “of our faith agree on all, for their authors had one master, i.e., God’s
grace. Otherwise, they would contradict each other” (Αἱ γραφαὶ πᾶσαι τῆς πίστεως ἡμῶν
συμφωνοῦσιν ἐν πᾶσι, διότι εἶχον οἱ γράψαντες αὐτὰς ἕνα διδάσκαλον, τὴν χάριν τοῦ Θεοῦ΄
ἄλλως γὰρ ἔμελλον ἔν τισι διαφωνεῖν.)
If one considers the corpus of Gennadios’s works, one realizes that these principles played
a crucial role in his exegetical, homiletical, and apologetic work. Gennadios was a prolific
author. He wrote homilies on biblical narratives in which he interprets the biblical material
by applying the aforementioned principles (Christological focus, harmonization, and ca-
nonical interpretation) and with the aim of spiritual counseling or conversion to Christian
philosophy (κατὰ Χριστὸν φιλοσοφία Oratio 10,3). In his work Refutatio of Jewish errors on
behalf of the Scripture, the Reality and the Christian Truth (Ἔλεγχος τῆς ἰουδαϊκῆς νῦν πλάνης
ἔκ τε τῆς Γραφῆς καὶ τῶν πραγμάτων καὶ τῆς πρὸς τὴν χριστιανικὴν ἀλήθειαν παραθέσεως
(titled Refutatio erroris Judaeorum on the TLG database), he envelopes his Christological
understanding of the Hebrew Bible. Especially, Gennadios’s six treatises on difficult biblical
passages that have been already published (Jugie, Petit, and Siderides 1930) are masterpieces
of genuine exegesis. According to Jugie’s hypothesis, they were written after Gennadios’s
second resignation from the patriarchate in Constantinople, during his retirement in the
Monastery of John the Forerunner, on Mount Menoikion (Jugie 1930). It is striking that
these treatises draw not only on an in-depth analysis of the original text of the biblical text
and its Byzantine exegesis but also on Latin theology, especially Augustine of Hippo and
Theology, Philosophy, and Confessionalization 279
Thomas Aquinas. Due to his acquaintance with scholastic exegesis, Gennadios develops
a critical and systematic view that makes his interpretation in the six treatises on difficult
biblical passages genuine.
The initiative of the classicist professor at the University of Tübingen Martin Crucius (1559–
1607) gave another critical impulse to eastern theologians and philosophers to reflect on
biblical hermeneutics in an official text of the Orthodox Church in the sixteenth century.
Crucius motivated the representatives of the Lutheran tradition in Tübingen to open a
dialogue with eastern Orthodoxy that initially had a unitarian aim. The correspondence
between the Tübingen professors and Patriarch Jeremias II began in 1573–1574, when the
German scholars sent him the Greek translation of the Augsburg Confession. However,
this dialogue could not have been possible if Jeremiah were not an open-minded person,
intending to improve the education of the enslaved Greeks. Jeremiah II had been a pupil
of the philosopher and “Great Exegete of the Holy Scriptures” John Zygomalas. He heard
his philosophical lectures at the Patriarchal Academy in Constantinople.2 Around Jeremiah
II, there also existed a circle of other scholars, who had a neo-Aristotelian orientation and
shared a passion for the Greek language and culture similar to that of Martin Crucius. His
closest advisors and coauthors of his letters to Tübingen theologians were John Zygomalas
and his son, Theodosios, as well as another philosopher, Leonardos Mindonios.
The juxtaposition between the priority of the Scripture and the authority of the patristic
ecclesial tradition was at the top of the Reformation agenda due to its anticatholic apolo-
getics but also because typography had made early biblical interpretation more accessible
in the West. Christian humanists and reformers devoted much energy to recovering and
reading patristic exegesis (Chung-Kim 2019, 688). Especially humanists believed that fa-
thers are the best interpreters of the biblical tradition. Reformers, and particularly Luther,
drew on the later writings of Augustine (his tracts during and after the Pelagian crisis)
for their Pauline interpretation and their teachings on justification, human predestina-
tion, and divine grace. In contrast, Eastern philosophers and theologians continued the
late Byzantine tradition of favoring Greek-speaking fathers as exegetes and especially the
Cappadocians and Chrysostom for their scriptural exegesis.
The much-debated question regarding the relationship between Scripture and eccle-
sial tradition in the western denominations of the sixteenth century was not a new issue
for eastern theologians. For this question had already been answered by the Seventh
2 The most popular exegete of this era was Damascenos Stoudites (+1574), a pupil of Theophanes
Ecumenical Council and the supporters of the restoration of the ecclesial tradition and
the veneration of the holy icons in the eighth century. It is not true that the eastern Church
(Wendebourg 1986, 340) had not problematized this issue. Therefore, the Orthodox saw a
kind of iconoclasm (Dmitriev 2007, 341) in sixteenth-century Protestantism. The “triumph
of Orthodoxy” in the Seventh Ecumenical Council was a victory for those who insisted
that the written tradition of Scripture is not opposed to the oral tradition of the Church.
In the “Synodicon of Orthodoxy,” both the continuity between the Old Testament and the
Christian tradition as well as the restoration of the unity between the written Scriptural
and oral ecclesial tradition that is transmitted by the church fathers are celebrated. The
Synodicon was a liturgical text in active use and had evolved since the ninth century. Its
evolution stopped with the fall of Constantinople, but it has been recited every year since as
a sign of the unity of Orthodoxy (Auzépy 2002) and as praise of those
who acknowledge and accept the prophetic visions in the manner that God gave them form
and figured them and believe in what the choir of the prophets have seen and interpreted
and support the written and oral tradition that extends from the apostles to the fathers (καὶ
τὴν διὰ τῶν ἀποστόλων καὶ εἰς πατέρας διήκουσαν ἔγγραφόν τε καὶ ἄγραφον παράδοσιν
κρατυνόντων).
Accordingly, Patriarch Jeremias II and his advisors at the beginning of their first response
describe the church fathers as:
divine interpreters of the inspired Scripture whom the Catholic Church of Christ receives by
common opinion, for their words and miracles illuminate the whole world like another sun.
For the Holy Spirit was breathing on them and was speaking through them. Their statements
will remain unshaken forever because they are surely founded on the Word of the Lord.
(Epistle, 1576; Karmires 1960, 444; translation Mastrantonis 1969, 55)
The reason for this focus on patristic exegesis is not that scholars in the East are not aware
of the developments in the West, but rather their faith in the enlightenment of the Fathers
by the Spirit of God and their need to remain in relationship to what gone before.
For we may not rely upon own interpretation and understand and interpret any of the
words of the inspired Scripture, except in accord with the theologians who have been
approved by the holy synods [assembled] in the Holy Spirit. (Karmires 1960, 502; transla-
tion Mastrantonis 1969, 176)
In his second reply, Jeremiah II explicitly quotes canon 19 of the Quinisext Council (691–692)
that prohibits varying from the tradition of the fathers in the interpretation of the Scriptures
(Karmires 1953, 435). By doing so, Patriarch Jeremiah II and his advisors were following
Maximus the Confessor, John of Damascus, Gregory Palamas, Nicholas Kabasilas, and
other late Byzantine interpreters (Cunningham 2016). The latter, however, did not assume
that patristic interpretation could not rise to new challenges. Though surrounded by many
Christian heretics, Jews, and also Muslims, late Byzantine theologians and philosophers
could use earlier thought by recording differences of opinion (Lamb 2016) and employing
theological language that arose after the era of the great patristic exegetes (Constas 2016,
159; Parry 1996). On behalf of this retrospective tendency, eastern Orthodox theologians
also remained in continuity with long exegetical traditions rooted in Hellenistic Judaism.
Theology, Philosophy, and Confessionalization 281
This is the case, e.g., with the application of the divine essence/energies distinction on
the interpretation of the Scripture that played a crucial role in the late Byzantine exegesis
(Constas 2016, 169) and also occurred in the Second Epistle of Jeremiah II (Karmires 1953,
437). This view does not stretch as far back as Origen, but has its beginnings in the Philonic
philosophical interpretation of the Scripture (Pino 2017). Similarly, Jeremiah II’s argument
in his third letter that human freedom of choice (αὐτεξούσιον) results from the creation of
man according to the “image of God” and his potential to become assimilated to God (see
text in Karmires 1953, 487) has Hellenistic-Jewish origins. Jeremiah II’s reflections result
from his study of earlier exegetes like Origen and the Cappadocians who had considered
the Philonic biblical interpretation. Thus, the patristic exegesis that had been so important
for the formation of the Orthodox identity in the sixteenth century also was of critical im-
portance for the reconstruction of the religious-philosophical beliefs lying behind the New
Testament writings.
Expectedly, Jeremiah II concludes his second reply by claiming that true philosophy is not
against theology (τὴν ἀληθῆ φιλοσοφίαν οὐδόλως μάχεσθαι τῇ θεολογίᾳ). This assumption
occurs in a context where 1 Col 2:8 is quoted:
For Saint Paul says no one shall “take you captive through philosophy and empty deceit.” We
learn from this holy word that true philosophy in no way challenges theology. For truth does
not fight the truth. This is obvious from what follows: “and empty deceit.” (Karmires 1953, 443)
Given that the interpretation of the Scripture flourished not in scholarly commentaries but
in other forms that were more accessible for Orthodox faithful in this dark era, it is striking
that frescoes portraying ancient Greek philosophers become popular in Greek churches
in the sixteenth century. Similar tendencies also occur in western Christendom at the end
of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth century, e.g., the mosaics of the Siena
Cathedral depicting Socrates, Crates on the mountain of Wisdom, the Sibyls, and Hermes
Trismegistus, or the frescoes in the St. Walburgis church in Zutphen dating from 1500.
Again these representations not only echo western humanism and the Renaissance but con-
tinue the long tradition of interaction between biblical tradition and ancient philosophy
that finds its beginnings in Hellenistic Judaism (Dressen 2011).
As already mentioned, both Roman Catholics and Reformers worked to win converts from
eastern Orthodoxy. The interest of Reformers in eastern Orthodoxy and the correspond-
ence with Patriarch Jeremiah II evoked attempts of the Roman Curia to strengthen its in-
fluence in the Orthodox world (Dmitriev 2007, 323). Jesuit projects were quite successful
in eastern Europe. The pressure of Rome was very noticeable even in Constantinople
at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Under these circumstances, the Patriarch
Cyril Loukaris (1572–1638) tried to build a Protestant-Orthodox front against the Roman
Catholic Church. However, soon Loukaris became a prisoner of his allies (Kitromilides
282 Athanasios Despotis
2006, 197). In exchange for their support against Jesuits who tried to unseat Loukaris,
Calvinist theologians pressured him to introduce Protestant theology in the eastern Church.
Accordingly, Patriarch Cyril Loukaris secretly signed the Confessio Fidei Orthodoxae that
was published anonymously in 1629 in Geneva. This text demonstrated his Calvinistic
support for Protestant interpretations of Scripture (Rocchio 2015) and his attempt to incor-
porate it into the teachings of Orthodoxy (Cameron 2016a, 11). It primarily followed Calvin’s
Institutio christianae religionis and secondarily the Confessio Gallicana and Confessio Belgica
(Karmires 1953, 563). In chapter 3, Cyril claims:
We believe the testimony of the Holy Scripture to be above the witness of the Church. This
is because it is not the same thing to being taught by the Holy Spirit and by man; for man
may through ignorance err, deceive and be deceived, but the word of God neither deceives
nor is deceived, nor can err, and is infallible and has eternal authority. (adjusted transl.
Maloney 1976, 131)
Loukaris’s Calvinistic innovations could only provoke controversy that found its climax
between the years 1629 and 1672, i.e., between the Loukarean and the Dosithean confessions.
Patriarch Dositheos of Jerusalem (1641–1707) used a synod in 1672 to issue a new confes-
sion, which very definitely turned against a Protestant understanding of the Bible. Dositheos
of Jerusalem retained the orientation to the early Greek fathers in the interpretation of
Scripture. Still, at the same time, he adopted the Roman Catholic reticence against the pri-
vate reading of the Scripture. In the second decree of his ὁμολογία, which is structured
according to the Loukarean confession, he challenges the primacy of the Scripture’s testi-
mony against the ecclesial tradition:
Wherefore, the witness also of the Catholic Church is, we believe, not of inferior authority to
that of the Divine Scriptures. For one and the same Holy Spirit being the author of both, it is
quite the same to be taught by the Scriptures and by the Catholic Church. Moreover, when
any man speaketh from himself he is liable to err, and to deceive, and be deceived; but the
Catholic Church, as never having spoken, or speaking from herself, but from the Spirit of
God—who being her teacher, she is ever unfailingly rich—it is impossible for her to in any
wise err, or to at all deceive, or be deceived; but like the Divine Scriptures, is infallible, and
hath perpetual authority. (Karmires 1953, 747; translation: Leith 1963, 487)
Dositheos also expanded the biblical canon, and imitating the Council of Trent, he called
the Septuagint additions canonical books (Pentiuc 2014, 128). He also responded to the
Loukarean thesis regarding the private reading of the Scripture by claiming that Divine
Scriptures:
should not be read by all, but only by those who with fitting research have inquired into the
deep things of the Spirit, and who know in what manner the Divine Scriptures ought to be
searched, and taught, and in fine read. (Karmires 1953, 768; translation: Leith 1963, 506)
Recently, Belezos (2020, 68) has stressed that the Dosithean confession does not in-
troduce a general prohibition of the private reading of the Scripture in the vernacular.
Instead, Dositheos promotes three criteria for a properly Orthodox interpretation and
transmission of the Bible: (1) the respect to the patristic interpretation, (2) the eccle-
sial experience, and (3) the illumination of the Spirit. Accordingly, the exclusive priority
belongs neither to Scripture (sola scriptura) nor the ecclesial authorities (magisterium)
but to the Holy Spirit that inspired the biblical authors and holds the Church together.
Belezos’s claims demonstrate that Dositheos not only imitated Tridentine Catholicism
but also tried to consider the traditional Byzantine theology (Russell 2013, 82). However,
Loukaris also stressed the role of the Spirit. Therefore, the emphasis on the role of the
Spirit in Dositheos’s strange position does not solve its problematic character. This pro-
hibition can be explained only from the perspective of Dositheus’s passion for defending
Orthodoxy. This passion led him to a decision with no parallel in the history of eastern
Christianity (Georgi 1941, 56).
Though the Dosithean confession in its early form embraced some Roman Catholic
positions, Dositheos also developed and integrated into it anti-Catholic apologetics in its
later editions. He also set up a printing press in the Romanian town of Jassy, which published
several Greek patristic works and disseminated them throughout all of the eastern Churches
to prevent both Protestant and Latin theology from penetrating that region.
284 Athanasios Despotis
Conclusion
After the fall of Constantinople, the representatives of the eastern Orthodox tradition
struggled with several thorny matters. On the one hand, the occupation of Constantinople
by Ottomans and the following captivity of the Church damaged the higher theological ed-
ucation in the East and, accordingly, the scholarly exegesis. Greek Orthodox patriarchates
had to survive in a hostile environment. On the other hand, the efforts of Protestant and
Roman Catholic missionaries to attract Orthodox converts evoked either anti-Protestant or
anti-Catholic apologetics in the Orthodox “confessions” and decrees of this era. Confessions
or homologiae are per se Western-style doctrinal texts. Authors of eastern Orthodox
confessions refer to earlier Byzantine decrees. Still, they adopt insights regarding the role
of the Bible in the Church and its hermeneutics that are currently discussed in Europe.
They also adapt Protestant or Roman Catholic ideas in new contexts so that eastern biblical
hermeneutics keep following a different course than western exegesis. This is also true con-
cerning philosophy. Orthodox traditions did not integrate a kind of philosophical specula-
tion in their doctrines according to the scholastic paradigm. Yet, Orthodox scholars were
fully aware of the new approaches, for most of them had studied in western universities.
They used Aristotle, they conducted demonstrative argumentation, but they tried to com-
bine it with Orthodox Byzantine theology “as practiced by the mystics” (Steiris 2009, 185).
Orthodoxy defines itself in both contradistinction and alliance to the West (Butcher 2016,
345). Even Loukaris, who signed a Calvinist confession that recognized the Reformation
principle of sola scriptura, never ceased to feel eastern Orthodox and to appreciate the pa-
tristic interpretation of Scripture. Though his innovations have been condemned by the
Orthodox Church, his work displays a theological pluralism in the East that is often missed
(Butcher 2016, 345). Eastern Orthodox theologians and exegetes developed their own the-
ological identity in the age of confessionalization both by favoring the interpretation of the
Greek fathers and interacting with the developments in the western tradition.
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286 Athanasios Despotis
T he New Testa me nt i n
t he Orthod ox C hu rc h
Liturgical and Pedagogical Aspects
Konstantin Nikolakopoulos
Introduction
We are all aware of the importance and the extraordinary significance of the Holy Scripture
and especially of the New Testament for Christendom.1 Consequentially, the interpreta-
tion of scripture within the entire Christian church was vital, because, among other things,
the endeavor of understanding the New Testament has been a serious concern for the Old
Church since the earliest days of Christianity.2
Christians perceive the Bible as the foundation of their faith. Naturally, it is regarded, as
has been noted, by some western Christians to be the exclusive source of Christendom, yet
by us Orthodox it is perceived as one of the most important sources. By and large, this spe-
cial second part of the Bible, namely the New Testament, assumes a prominent role within
the eastern and western church as regards the process of faith, which has evolved through
time. It constitutes the origin and guideline for the individual believer, the proclamation of
the faith by the church, as well as the “struggle” of theology. Within the (polymorphous)
writings of the New Testament, God reveals himself in the word that has been written down
by Man. Within the written texts the Divine meets the Human. Having originated under
the conditions of time and space, the New Testament requires continuous exegesis in light
of the changing understanding of world and man, so that it can reach each consecutive gen-
eration und perpetually correspond to the modern world.
Without a doubt, the entire Scripture and particularly the New Testament possesses,
throughout the centuries and in any place, a diachronic worth and a permanent prominence;
1
I am very grateful to Mr. Tristan Martin Fincken and Ms. Efrosyne Kataropoulou for their support
with the linguistic processing and the suggestions for correcting my contribution in English.
2 Regarding this central topic, note the enlightening work of S. Agouridis, Ἑρμηνευτική τῶν ἱερῶν
this of course applies to both the clergy and to the faithful. We should however, in this con-
text, keep a clear distinction in mind, which in the Orthodox Tradition relates to the role
allocation of the official church and the plain faithful. Not any faithful randomly, but only
the church, which is led by the Holy Spirit, has the full authority to interpret the revealed
divine truth und to make it subservient to the salvation of the faithful. “Extra Ecclesiam
nulla veritas,” is an ecclesiological principle. Salvation and its subservient truth are essential
attributes of the Church of Christ, which in accordance with the New Testament is called
“Θεοῦ οἰκοδομή” and “γεώργιον” (=“God’s husbandry and God’s building,” 1 Cor 3:9),
“κατοικητήριον Θεοῦ” (=“habitation of God,” Eph 2:22), “οἶκος Θεοῦ, στῦλος καὶ ἑδραίωμα
τῆς ἀληθείας” (=“house of God, pillar and ground of the truth,” 1 Tim 3:15). This means that
on the one hand the church, as the guarantor of truth, is responsible for the exegesis of the
Holy Scripture.
Naturally, on the other hand, a good knowledge of the New Testament, which can only be
obtained through enlightened exegesis, is a major concern for all conscientious Christians.
In other words: In this case, the study of the Scripture is up to each individual member of
the Church. I highlight the importance of study in the first part of this chapter, and in the
second part I examine the functionality of the Orthodox exegesis of the New Testament,
then discussing its importance according to its liturgical aspects in the third part. In the
concluding fourth part of this chapter I present a short outline of some selected pedagogic
characteristics of the New Testament writings.
The holy writings of the New Testament possess an invaluable importance for all faithful,
in part because it was developed neither independent from nor outside of, but within and
in lively connection with the ecclesial life and the ecclesial tradition. We Orthodox should
stress with all clarity: The church did not originate from the New Testament Bible, but
the biblical writings have descended from ecclesial life. According to the orthodox under-
standing, the church is the spiritual fold, from which all development of Christian life,
including the holy writings of the New Testament, originated. The New Testament scholar
Petros Vassiliadis from Thessaloniki put it like this: “it is generally acknowledged that the
proper place of the Bible is the Church, for it existed long before the formation of Scripture.”3
According to the decrees of the Seventh Ecumenical Council (787), the study and know-
ledge of the Scripture is essentially a duty for all Christians. The second canon of the same
Council (Nicaenum II),4 however, gives practical advice and highlights the following
differences: Detailed research and exegesis of the New Testament writings are primarily
the particular duties of the clergy (and especially of the episcopacy); in other words: The
3
Petros Vassiliadis, “Scriptural Authority in Early Christian Hermeneutics,” in Μνήμη, Festschrift for
I. E. Anastasiou (Thessalonica, 1982), 106.
4 G. A. Ralles and M. Potles, Σύνταγμα τῶν θείων καί ἱερῶν κανόνων (Athens: Oikos Regopoulos,
2002), 560–561.
290 Konstantin Nikolakopoulos
ecclesial hierarchy has the institutional stewardship over the mandatory exegesis, which is
to be spread at all times among God’s people for their spiritual gain, the consolidation of
their faith, and eventually their salvation.
Regarding the engagement of the pious folks with the Holy Scripture and especially with
the New Testament, because of its importance, an example of the whole ancient Christian
literature, albeit a significant single one, is to be presented. John Chrysostom († 407), one
of the most important theologians, preachers, exegetes, and shepherds of the ancient un-
divided church, positions himself clearly and distinctively. This church father developed
his homiletic and kerygmatic gifts to such a degree, that he proved himself to be a “golden
speaker” (Χρυσοῤῥρήμων) with a “golden mouth” (Χρυσολόγος),5 and thus has been
bequeathed the exclusive title “golden mouth” since the sixth century.6
John used his kerygmatic debate about the holy writings of the New Testament, in order
to reach his main goals, namely the spiritual edification of the faithful in order to redeem
the human soul7 and the glorification of God. To that end, he modeled his exegetic homilies
after the practical execution of Christian lives. Indeed, this formed his spiritual longing,
which contributed to him proving himself to be a honeysweet preacher as well as a supreme
shepherd of the Church of Christ. He himself was never tired of highlighting the inventive
worth of kerygma and the joy and the spiritual as well as psychic peace, which he received
though his beloved activity. Once, when he wanted to comfort his nervous flock after an
earthquake, he started his speech with the following words: “But the proclamation of the
word turned my sickness into healthiness [ . . . ] Thus, in spite of my sickness, did I not bind
my tongue with silence, nor did you keep away from listening despite being tired. As soon
as I open my mouth, all sorrow is gone. As soon as I start with study, all fatigue has left [ . . .
] Same as you hunger to listen to me, so do I hunger to preach.”8 The vital role the sermon
played in his life, is emphasized quite clearly.
As a tireless shepherd with a gigantic life’s work, Chrysostom, with utmost explic-
itness, links the spiritual and psychic needs of his faithful to the personal study of the
New Testament. Without a doubt, he himself is the first to be a role-model, since all his
homilies are always inspired by biblical writing, which percolates within them. In this
respect, it should be mentioned that John Chrysostom, in all his conserved works, uses
ca. 18,000 direct quotations, of which ca. 11,000 originate in the New Testament.9 During
his preaching and teaching activity, he not only used the New Testament but also turned
5 Ἀποστολική Διακονία τῆς Ἐκκλησίας τῆς Ἑλλάδος (ed.), Μηναῖον τοῦ Νοεμβρίου (Athens:
1993), 322.
7 He often underlines the incalculable worth of the human soul, which, as he stated, is supposed to
be even more precious than the whole world. John Chrysostom, I. Epistolam ad Corinthios, Hom. 3: PG
61,29: “Οὐκ ἔστι ψυχῆς οὐδὲν ἀντάξιον, οὐδὲ ὁ κόσμος ἅπας.”
8 John Chrysostomos, Hom. Post terrae motum: PG 50,713f.: “ἀλλ’ ἡ τοῦ λόγου διδασκαλία καὶ τὴν
ἀῤῥωστίαν τὴν ἡμετέραν εἰς ὑγείαν μετέβαλε [ . . . ] Διὰ δὴ τοῦτο οὔτε αὐτὸς ἀῤῥωστῶν τῆ σιωπῆ τὴν
γλῶτταν κατέδησα, οὔτε ὑμεῖς κεκοπωμένοι τῆς ἀκροάσεως ἀπέστητε· ἀλλ’ ὁμοῦ τε ὁ λόγος ἐφάνη, καὶ
ὁ πόνος ἀνεχώρησεν, ὁμοῦ τε ἡ διδασκαλία ἐφάνη, καὶ ὁ κόπος ἐδραπέτευσεν [ . . . ] Ὥσπερ γὰρ ὑμῖν
λιμὸς τὸ μὴ ἀκούειν, οὕτω καὶ ἐμοὶ λιμὸς τὸ μὴ λέγειν.” See also Karl Suso Frank, Lehrbuch der Geschichte
der Alten Kirche (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schoeningh, 1997), 413.
9 See, in this regard, Fontes Christiani, Johannes Chrysostomus, Taufkatechesen I, 21.
The New Testament in the Orthodox Church 291
it into the beginning, middle, and end of his speeches. It would be no exaggeration to
call his entire life a continuous communion with the inexhaustible wealth of the holy
writings.10 Very often and in different ways he encourages his faithful to study privately by
stressing the gained use: “Overall, what the material nourishment is for the maintenance
of our strength, so is the reading of the Holy Scripture for the soul. It is spiritual food und
strengthens one’s thoughts. It makes the soul stronger, more steadfast and fills it with phil-
osophical wisdom.”11
One of his biggest worries was to draw closer to the deeper-lying biblical word itself and
then to bring it closer to the faithful. He turns to his listeners in one of his homilies with the
following words: “This is what our entire vigilance and our entire diligence targets, that you
all together may stand complete and accomplished, and that you may not miss anything,
that is written in the holy writings.”12 This great church father, however, was aware that most
Christians of his time had problems understanding the biblical words, either because they
did not have the required historical-philosophical fundamentals or because they lacked the
more or less appropriate requirements for such an undertaking.
Inextricably linked to the aforementioned points is another major thematic unit of the fun-
damental exegesis of the Holy Scripture and the New Testament in particular, for which the
official church bears full responsibility. In the context of the Orthodox exegesis, the church
is also the frame or ground, in which the exegesis of God’s word is to take place. A well-
known phrase of Orthodox theology is, “The exegesis as an attempt to delve deeper into the
depths of the meaning of the text, in order to grasp it more completely, is a role, a service
and a gift of the church.”13
“The church alone is, by power of the intrinsic Holy Spirit, not only the infallible Steward,
but the authentic teacher, judge and arbiter of the divine revelation contained within both
10
See also K. Belezos, Χρυσόστομος καί Ἀπόστολος Παῦλος. Ἡ χρονολογική ταξινόμηση τῶν παύλειων
ἐπιστολῶν, 2nd ed. (Athens: Psychogios, 2005), 21 ff.: “Κάθε φορά πού ὁ ἴδιος δίδασκε, δέν κατέφευγε
ἁπλῶς σ’ αὐτό, ἀλλ’ ἐκκινοῦσε καί κυριολεκτικά ἐπληροῦτο ἀπό αὐτό [ . . . ] Δέν ἀποτελεῖ, τέλος,
ὑπερβολή νά λεχθεῖ ὅτι ὁλόκληρη ἡ ζωή του ὑπῆρξε συνεχής ἀναστροφή μέ τόν ἀνεξάντλητο πλοῦτο τῆς
Γραφῆς καί θεοκίνητη ἐνασχόληση μαζί της.” See, in this regard, the interesting remarks of S. Sakkos, “Ὁ
ἱερός Χρυσόστομος ὡς ἑρμηνευτής,” in Πρακτικά ΙΣΤ΄ Θεολογικοῦ Συνεδρίου (Thessaloniki, 1996), 271.
11 John Chrysostom, In Genesim, Homiliae 29: PG 53,262. see also: Prinz Max and Herzog zu Sachsen
(eds.), Des hl. Johannes Chrysostomus Homilien über die Genesis oder das erste Buch Mosis, Band 1
(Paderborn: Ferdinand Schoeningh, 1913), 407. Additionally, see in this regard the words of John
Chrysostom: “I cannot let a single day pass, without feeding you from the treasures of the Holy Scripture”
(In Genesim, Homiliae 28,1: PG 53,252).
12 John Chrysostom, In Genesim, Homiliae 28: PG 53,252. See also: Max and Sachsen, Des hl. Johannes
An important part of the New Testament, the Gospel, which constitutes its heart, is retained
on the altar table of every church. From this table the celebrant receives the text, which, in its
liturgical usage, as a whole book is called “Holy Gospel,” in order to read it to the convention
of the faithful, and then return it after the reading. This shows the special status, that the word
of God has in the Orthodox Church, as well as the close relationship between Holy Scripture
and the Church. Not only does the church safeguard the Holy Scripture and read it to the
faithful, but it also interprets it responsibly throughout the centuries.15
This beautiful image precisely showcases the importance and position of the New Testament
within the Orthodox Tradition.
In modern times, however, we should also acknowledge the evaluation of the Bible
differing from Orthodoxy. Naturally, the New Testament, in which the truth of the revelation
was written down, takes on an important and indispensable role in all Christian churches.
However, there is no uniform exegesis in the entirety of Christendom. The different herme-
neutical methods that are used within Christian biblical sciences, sometimes lead to more
confusion than mutual understanding, something that impedes and burdens the ecumen-
ical reconciliation of the Cristian world.
In the first Christian centuries, especially among the church fathers, the allegorical or
typological as well as the philological-historical exegesis of the Holy Scripture was preva-
lent.16 At the beginning of the modern times—especially during the Reformation—interest
in the sense of the words as well as the original text was created. Since the Enlightenment,
with the development of the modern historical self-consciousness, the historical-critical
method evolved over the course of the twentieth century, which now tries to undertake
the necessary steps, to unlock the biblical writing in conjunction with the history of their
inception and tradition.
This is by no means absurd, but instead rather appropriate, because of occasional
encounters of the different Christian faiths, be it on an administrative, liturgical, or aca-
demic level, to remember the official schism of the eastern and the western Church since
1054. Indeed, ever since the schism, which the ecumenical movement of the last decades
has mended toward a trusting convergence, our churches have walked their own path. This
divergence still strongly shapes all facets of church life and theological science to this day,
including biblical theology.
14
E. Antoniadis, “Die orthodoxen hermeneutischen Grundprinzipien und Methoden der Auslegung
des Neuen Testaments und ihre theologischen Voraussetzungen,” in Procés-Verbaux du premier Congrès
de Théologie Orthodoxe (Athens, 1939), 149.
15 John Karavidopoulos, “Η ερμηνεία της Κ. Διαθήκης στην Ορθόδοξη Εκκλησία,” in: J.
Hermeneutik und die historisch-kritische Methode (Aachen: Shaker Verlag, 2000), 19–23.
The New Testament in the Orthodox Church 293
Thus, in the realm of the exegesis of the New Testament, two differing scientific approaches
developed, as mentioned earlier. In the western church, a strong historical approach with a
suitable exegetical tool, the historical-critical approach, has prevailed.17 In the East, on the
other hand, the acts of God have been given a broader position in history, as the traditional
patristic hermeneutic of Orthodoxy does not like to see the mystery and the rational explo-
ration divided.
The perspective of uninterrupted Orthodox Tradition regarding the meaning, worth,
and exegesis of the New Testament can be effectively illustrated through the church fa-
thers. The orthodox engagement with the spirit-inspired writings obtains its traditional
character through the lived tradition, as transmission of ecclesial life in close combination
with the holy writings, which are viewed as essential hermeneutic factors. It is at this point
that one must point out the very important role of the church fathers, “who are viewed as
living witnesses of apostolic tradition.”18 The church fathers have “never thought, that their
writings could replace the gospel and the letters of the New Testament! To them the scrip-
ture was always a criterion for their views, but also an unplundered treasure trove for inspi-
ration and spiritual life,”19 as the Greek New Testament scholar Savvas Agourides stressed
so clearly.
While dealing with the holy writings, the church fathers, as exegetes of the Scripture,
additionally strove not to lose sight of the promotion of the true and undiluted faith of the
church. Based on the fact that the New Testament does not stand above the Church, but
rather “is the authentic expression of faith and life within the church, which is organically
connected to the faith and life of the whole church throughout the centuries,”20 the patristic
works have proven to be the living connection between scripture and tradition and a bearer
of the Christian faith and life.21
The reception of patristic exegesis is still observed respectfully by orthodox hermeneu-
tics today. However, one should not think of this as a form of duplicate or dry imitative
repetition of the writings of the church fathers. This is not about accordance of today’s
theologians with the sentiments of a church father in grammatical or historical debates
with the biblical text. Rather it is the accordance of the transcribed faith with the patristic
writings. Georgios Galitis puts it like this: “These texts shall not be viewed as a fence by ex-
egesis, also not as obligatory guidelines, but rather as a touchstone, so that we may realize,
if and how they are situated within the spirit of the Church.”22
des Neuen Testaments und ihre theologischen Voraussetzungen,” in Procès-Verbaux du premier Congrès
de Theólogie Orthodoxe (Athens, 1939), 171.
19 S. Agourides, Ἑρμηvευτική τῶv ἱερῶv κειμέvωv (Athens: Artos Zois, 2000), 69.
20 Ibid.
21 On the consistent theme and the meaning of the Christian faith, see also K. Backhaus and
F. G. Untergaßmair (eds.), “Schrift und Tradition”: Festschrift for Josef Ernst for the 70th birthday
(Paderborn: Ferdinand Schoeningh, 1996).
22 G. Galitis, “Historisch-kritische Bibelwissenschaft und orthodoxe Theologie,” Études theólogiques
For the church fathers and the orthodox hermeneutics in general, the Holy Scripture is not
a philological book that primarily transmits historical information to us. The Holy Scripture is
a collection of religious writings, that give testimony about the faithful early-Christian parish.
Especially the New Testament forms the written message of Christendom, the kerygma of
Christian faith. It is the word of God, which intends to redeem humanity. Thus, the church
fathers pursued not only a “word-for-word”-interpretation, but also an allegoric-typological or
anagogical interpretation.
The biblical writings are historical products (western focus), but they also express the mys-
tery of the divine truth (eastern focus). These writings are subject to the principles of histo-
riography, yet they have not been written to describe the historical realities of a certain time,
but rather strive to give this reality another, deeper meaning. The familiarity with this deeper,
soteriological meaning of the biblical writings could be achieved by all Christians throughout
time without the complete evaluation of their historical dependencies. For Orthodox theology,
therefore, the eucharistic communion functions as a guarantee for the living continuation of
the past.
Without a doubt, the New Testament does not constitute a purely liturgical-hymno-
logical book in all Christian churches. It has never been viewed as such in the entirety
of ecclesial history. Its historical, didactical, and at the same time prophetic character
does not leave room for any such speculations. The narrative (historical) and educa-
tional (moral-like) guidelines of the New Testament books obviously leave the impres-
sion that they are writings with only a historical-narrative and apologetic-faith-like
character.23 Nevertheless, the New Testament—and consequentially the entire Bible—is
linked to the liturgical life of the church via a special, outstanding link: This refers to
its usage in the context of the liturgical practice of the parish, which has been recorded
as irreplaceable throughout the Christian centuries, while it needs to be highlighted,
that the structure of all divine services of the Orthodox Church is heavily molded after
the Bible or rather the New Testament.24 Considering the fact that all liturgical writings
are infused with biblical language and biblical spirit, it can be stated, without a doubt,
23 In this context of generic classification of the New Testament, refer to the following publication: D.
Dormeyer, Erträge der Forschung, Bd. 263 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1989). Although
the study limits itself to the genre “Gospel”—one of the most important parts (together with the
parenetic-didactical Epistles however) of the New Testament—the entire history of and all attempts at
generic naming are clearly presented.
24 Compare D. I. Konstantelos, “The Holy Scriptures in Greek Orthodox Worship,” GOTR 12.1 (1966),
7f.: “The starting point in every service is a phrase from the Holy Scriptures and almost every liturgy,
sacrament, and service includes readings from the Bible. Indeed, the Greek Orthodox Church is very
much a Scriptural Church. She is the biblical Church par excellence. It is not only that her faith is derived
from the Holy Scriptures, but her very life is deeply imbued with ideas and teachings of the Bible.”
The New Testament in the Orthodox Church 295
that the Orthodox Church distinguishes itself as the biblical church25 or the church of
the Scripture.
Independent of how often the New Testament is quoted within the orthodox liturgical
congregation or appears indirectly through hints within the textual background, it is un-
doubtedly to be counted among the fundamental parts of orthodox faith and life. The New
Testament is interpreted within the ecclesial body26 and is liturgically enlisted because
of this old church, patristic spirit of tradition. One of the best and most reliable ways to
approach the New Testament and its message is, according to orthodox opinion, to “meet”
it within the liturgical practice. This would be the “main street,” which the liturgical posi-
tion of the New Testament in the center of the communion and parish obviously hints at
and prefers.
It is however also possible to approach the liturgical spirit of the New Testament from a
different angle, effectively a “back road.” This spirit can be found materializing in the byz-
antine Orthodox hymnography over the course of the Christian centuries. Its dominant
presence in the still-relevant divine service writings of Orthodoxy surely gives testimony to
its outstanding hymnological worth. And this can, in effect, contribute to both the under-
standing of its central liturgical meaning and the better communication of its theological-
soteriological role within the church.27
It needs to be mentioned here that another aspect of the topic “New Testament and
hymnology” would be of relevance. This is the contribution of the writings of the New
Testament as historical sources for the early Christian liturgical facts. Naturally, “a closer
examination of the New Testament writings can . . . shed more light . . . on the liturgical life
of the early Christians in this time”;28 such an undertaking could also overlap with the ob-
ject of research of the history of the Christian liturgy.
25
T. Ware, The Orthodox Church (New York: Penguin Books, 1983), 207: “The Christian Church
is a Scriptural Church”; “Orthodoxy regards the Bible as a verbal icon of Christ” (210). Compare also
the interesting statistic: “it has been calculated that the Liturgy contains 98 quotations from the Old
Testament and 114 from the New” (210). See also P. Evdokimov, Ἡ Ὀρθoδoξία, translated from French
by A. Mourtzopoulos (Thessaloniki, 1972), 324, footnote 96. In addition, see J. S. Custer, “An Ironic
Scriptural Wordplay in Byzantine Hymnography,” St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 37 (1993), 97: “The
Hymnography . . . is a poetic fabric woven largely from Scriptural quotations and allusions.”
26 Compare V. Kesich, “The Orthodox Church and Biblical Interpretation,” St. Vladimir’s Theological
Quarterly 37 (1993), 349: “the Orthodox interpreter is free in his research, but free within the perspective
of the Church’s living tradition. Scripture is not a field by itself; its meaning is revealed within the life of
the Church.” See also the remarks of P. N. Simotas, “Τὸ πρόβλημα τῆς ἑνότητoς βιβλικῆς καὶ δoγματικῆς
θεoλoγίας ἐξ ἐπόψεως ὀρθoδόξoυ,” Θεoλoγία 65 (1994), 246: “Ἡ ὀρθόδoξoς δὲ ἔρευνα καὶ εἰς τὸν τoμέα
τῆς βιβλικῆς θεoλoγίας λαμβάνει ὑπ᾿ ὄψιν της τὴν μακραίωνα ἐκκλησιαστικὴν παράδoσιν, ἥτις καὶ
συμβάλλει τὰ μέγιστα εἰς τὴν ὀρθὴν ἑρμηνείαν τῆς Βίβλoυ. Δὲν εἶναι δυνατὸν ἐξ ἄλλoυ νὰ ἀμφισβητηθῇ
ὑπὸ τῆς ὀρθoδόξoυ βιβλικῆς ἐπιστήμης, ὅτι γνήσιoν κριτήριoν τῆς ἑρμηνείας τῆς Ἁγίας Γραφῆς εἶvαι ἡ
δoγματικὴ παράδoσις τῆς ᾿Εκκλησίας.”
27 A penetrative analaysis of the liturgical aspect of the New Testament can also be found in K.
Nikolakopoulos, “Funktion und Hermeneutik der Heiligen Schrift in der orthodoxen Liturgie,” Heiliger
Dienst, Österreichisches Liturgisches Institut 1.72 (2018), 30–40.
28 K. Nikolakopoulos, “Das Neue Testament als hymnologische Quelle in der Orthodoxen
Kirche,” Θεoλoγία 61 (1990), 16. In addition, I refer the reader to the specific work of J. M. Nielen,
Gebet und Gottesdienst im Neuen Testament: Eine Studie zur biblischen Liturgie und Ethik, 2. Aufl.
(Freiburg: Herder, 1963).
296 Konstantin Nikolakopoulos
The extraordinary meaning and the invaluable worth of the New Testament can be found—
among other perspectives—in a particularly distinctive way within its pedagogic function,
which is carried within every Christian, from the first Patriarch to the last faithful. A spe-
cial tool for effective impact of Christian pedagogy is its rhetoric narrative, which utilizes
concrete means of expression. However, before we refer to the special rhetoric technique of
the Holy Scripture, namely the parables, I would like to briefly turn to rhetoric in general
and to the rhetoric figures of the holy writings, which enrich the New Testament both in its
narrative and its poetic form.
Within the frame of a modern philological-hermeneutical treatment of the writings of
the New Testament a not-to-be-undervalued meaning is granted to the engagement with
certain rhetoric elements, that are present in the structural development of these writings.29
The gospels or the epistolary literature of the New Testament is the written testimony of
the authentic meeting with the God-Man Jesus. They transmit the redeeming rendition of
penance and salvation, which was put in effect through the incarnation of the Logos-God,
explicitly through the notable rhetoric means of expression in a pedagogic yet effective
way. The writings of the New Testament reveal without a doubt several rhetorical forms in
common speech, that do their part to contribute to the content wealth of Christian prayer.
Every author, by using his own expressions, underlines the message of the teachings of the
Son of God in his own way.30
A very important and fundamental role for the linguistic expressions and the theological
contents of the New Testament is played by the rhetorical figure of “irony,” which will be
examined here from a purely rhetorical point of view and unlinked to its mundane and neg-
atively connotative meaning. Rhetorical irony is not called a figure of speech, which is used
to mock and humiliate the opposite, but is rather a rhetorical figure of thought, with which
to assign emphasis and a didactic tone to statements. Irony, which is defined as expressing
the opposite of what is actually meant,31 constitutes the most fundamental form of indirect
interaction between the speaker and the listeners. The different books of the New Testament
contain not rarely characteristic passages filled with rhetorical irony. A fundamental frame
of usage of this figure is also the speeches of Jesus, in which irony is invested with remark-
able pedagogic features.
The use of rhetorical irony in the words of Jesus passed down by the evangelists
distinguishes these texts further. Our Lord, as the supreme authority, as the sovereign of
29 See in this regard A. Wilder, The Language of the Gospel: Early Christian Rhetoric (New York: Harper
καί Ρητορική. Τά ρητορικά σχήματα διανοίας στά Ἱστορικά βιβλία τῆς Καινῆς Διαθήκης (Katerini: Tertios
Publications, 1993).
31 Compare [Aristotle], Ῥητορική πρὸς Ἀλέξανδρον 21, 1434a, 17, ed. H. Rackham (London, 1957).
The New Testament in the Orthodox Church 297
faith and life, does not hesitate in his daily, didactical speeches to make use of the rhetor-
ical figure of thought that is irony as well, without devastating or hurting. In doing so—in
accordance with the Socratic method of irony and even more effectively32—he teaches and
educates in a genuinely Christian sense. The respective passages of the Gospel give clear tes-
timony to this. Properly used, rhetorical irony does not humiliate, but instead emphasizes
the salvific message und is educational.33 One of the impressively “harrowing” pedagogical
ironies is transmitted in a logion, meaning a dictum of Jesus, which the Messiah directs
toward a heathen woman, a Syrophoenician. This woman asked the Messiah to heal her
demon-possessed daughter, to which Jesus at first rebukes with the words: “It is not meet to
take the children’s bread, and to cast it to dogs” (comp. Mt 15:26; Mk 7:27). Seeing as we all
know the continuation of this story, we are able to understand the rhetorical pedagogic trial
that Jesus performed on this woman.
At this point, I do not delve deeper into the additional rhetorical figures of the Scripture,
but rather just mention some of the more important ones: One such example is the
Oxymoron, which is defined as the syntactical connection between two immediately neigh-
boring antithetical terms or expressions.34 For example, contained within the Second Letter
to the Corinthians is a remarkable Paulinian oxymoron: “for when I am weak, then am
I strong” (2 Cor 12:10). Regarding this, Paul wrote, that he had received great revelations
(2 Cor 12:1–4), yet God also permitted that great trials befell him. One of these, this great
weakness, constantly accompanied and particularly haunted him. It limited the apostle in
his task and clearly visualized his limitations, yet also strengthened his faith tremendously.
The rhetorical figure of “Paradoxon” distinguishes itself by containing opposing and ap-
parently contradictory meanings, that mask a sense of reason, which, though seemingly
irrelevant and inconceivable to the inattentive onlooker, is in fact the foundation of the
entire rhetorical figure of thought.35 One of the numerous and explosive paradoxes of Jesus
Christ is formed by the following logion: “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a
needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God” (Mt 19:24). This expression is
of fundamental importance, if one wishes to understand the relationship between Jesus and
wealth. He paints a strong, even hyperbolic picture, in order to show that wealth and the
kingdom of God do not match. And we should not try to diminish this sentiment as it can
be found very often in the sermons of Jesus. This is evident when he says that one cannot
serve God and Mammon—meaning wealth,36 or when he demands seemingly impossible
renouncement of wealth from the young rich man.37
The rhetorical figure of “Hyperbole” also shows a remarkable amount of use in these
writings of the New Testament. The morphologic existence of the hyperbole38 reaches its
32 See also K. Nikolakopoulos, “Aspekte der ‘paulinischen Ironie’ am Beispiel des Galaterbriefes,”
zenith in the speeches of the teacher, Jesus. The “exaggeration,” as rhetorical “vestment” of
the numerous didactic Jesus’s dicta, is not a simple, superficial technique of the author, but
rather his endeavor to vividly and subtly accentuate his pedagogic words.39
Likewise, “Wordplay” (Λoγoπαίγvιov), according to which similarly sounding—but not
synonymous—words or expressions are put next to each other, contributes through its rhe-
torical impact to the enrichment of the respective expression.40 This figure is never used
within the confines of polemic dialogue; it serves exclusively to emphasize and intensify its
contents.41
The “rhetorical Question,” finally, is among the most important rhetorical figures of
thought in the texts of the New Testament. It appears either as a simple question, that au-
tomatically contains the answer, or as a combination of question and answer;42 in this last
case its rhetorical impact is stronger. In addition to the common rhetorical questions, Jesus
makes use of the special form of the rhetorical disarming-question without hesitation.
Within the frame of polemic dialogue, he also uses this rhetorical question as a silencing
answer to an appropriate question of his interlocutor, as well as an indirect instruction of
the listeners.43
“The Parable” constitutes one of the most interesting narrative techniques of the peda-
gogue and teacher Jesus Christ. It constitutes a short narration, which our savior uses in
order to proclaim the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven in an understandable manner.
Through the usage of images and everyday situations Christ shows us the real reason of
things. He reveals to us the acting God, who steps inside our life and leads us in this ped-
agogical manner into his kingdom. This special narrative technique of the Holy Scripture
drew, from the very beginning, the attention, and the interest of the church fathers. In order
to illuminate the deeper meaning of such parabolic narratives, they did not limit themselves
to the dry, superficial research of the text, but rather, being open minded, they used the al-
legoric method of exegesis. It is so that the church fathers understand the parables of Jesus
within the Gospel as allegories, which themselves are explained or rather laid-out by either
the Lord himself or within the context of the biblical text.44 This way, they proclaim, wher-
ever the scripture contains allegoric speech, it offers the disclosure for this allegory itself.
In the parables of the gospel the central message of “salvation” rules, which in effect also
forms the core of the entire Lucanian theology. Anthropology, soteriology, or eschatology
all revolve around the salvation of Man. In no other gospel but Luke’s does the element of
the love of Jesus for the lost surface so firmly and distinctly. In the third synoptic gospel,
which is remarkably close to the social und societal hardships, Jesus is proclaimed as the
one who has come to save all humans marked by suffering.45 Chapter 15 is characteristic of
39
See also the striking passages Mt 3:11; Mk 9:43–47; Lk 10:11.
40
See more in W. Bujard, Stilanalytische Untersuchungen zum Kolosserbrief als Beitrag zur Methodik
von Sprachvergleichen (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1973), 170.
41 The following passages are cited as examples: Mt 12:35; Mk 1:16–17; John 8:15–16.
42 More comments can be found in H. F. Plett, Textwissenschaft und Textanalyse, 2nd ed.
orthodoxe Hermeneutik und die historisch-kritische Methode (Aachen: Shaker Verlag, 2000), 21–22.
45 See also K. Nikolakopoulos, Das Neue Testament in der Orthodoxen Kirche: Grundlegende Fragen
einer Einführung in das Neue Testament, 2nd ed. (Berlin: Litt Verlag, 2014), 141–142.
The New Testament in the Orthodox Church 299
this context, with three symbolic “parables of the lost” (Parable of the Lost Sheep, Parable
of the Lost Coin, and Parable of the Prodigal Son). It is not by accident that within the
synoptic gospels it is only in Luke that the words “Redeemer,” “Savior” (Greek: σωτήρ, Lk
2:11; in Lk 1:47 in God), and “Salvation” (Greek: σωτηρία, Lk 19:9 as well as Lk 1:69.71.77)
are written.
As another example from the first synoptic gospel I would like to present a short logion of
our Lord from the well-known Sermon of the Mount, which can also serve as an insightful
parable: “Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid. Neither do
men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto
all that are in the house” (Mt 5:14–15). This very famous parable “about the light of the
world” contains the required key-word: “light,” which is primarily Jesus. This is the light,
that is within us Christians as well and which we follow all our life, so that we may move in
the right direction. Through Christ shines the glory of God unto the face of Man. He wants
that we ourselves shine from within, meaning that we become true light, so that we may
bring light to others. He who has found great truth and insight or great joy, has to pass it
on, for he cannot keep it for himself. Such great gifts are never meant for one alone. Within
Christ the great light has arisen for us. We must not hide it under a bushel, but rather lift it
out of its candleholder, so that with it we may illuminate the whole world.
Conclusion
The hermeneutic tradition of the eastern church does not only allow for scientific research,
but rather demands it. Characteristic is a pertinent statement by John Chrysostom, who
refers to the biblical text: “For it must be ascertained, who the author is, when and where it
was written.”46 With this, however, the orthodox way of exegesis is not exhausted. In order
to attain a comprehensive understanding of the New Testament, we should approach the
holy writings from various angles.
In addition to their pedagogical function, all rhetorical texts of the holy authors con-
tribute to the theological immersion into the redemptory sense of the writings. This stands
out especially in correlation to the unchallengeable force of the language of the teacher-
Jesus, which undoubtedly exhibits an unshakable diachronic validity. Here the didactic-
pedagogical character of the writings of the New Testament can be recognized more clearly;
however, the use of rhetorical figures of thought hints at this fact, especially since, thanks to
these rhetorical elements, pedagogical and consequentially anthropological-soteriological
perspectives have to be attributed to the “spirit” of the writings.
The exegete who participates in the liturgical life of the church and breathes the grace
of the Holy Spirit, uses the methods as tools and is aware that he does not conduct a per-
sonal, subjective exegesis, but instead continues the hermeneutic tradition of the whole
church. It is through the orthodox hermeneutic that the elements of traditionalism and
churchliness are connected to scientific reasoning in a dynamic and nonconservative, but
rather diachronic manner.
46
John Chrysostom, In Scriptionem Altaris et in Principium Actorum 1: PG 51,71.
300 Konstantin Nikolakopoulos
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παύλειων ἐπιστολῶν. 2nd Edition (Athens: Edition Diegese, 2005).
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theólogiques de Chambésy 4 (1984), 109–125.
Karavidopoulos, Ioannes, “Η ερμηνεία της Καινής Διαθήκης στην Ορθόδοξη Εκκλησία.”
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(Thessaloniki: P. Pournaras, 2000).
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Quarterly 37 (1993), 343–351.
Konstantelos, Demetrios I., “The Holy Scriptures in Greek Orthodox Worship.” The Greek
Orthodox Theological Review 12.1 (1966), 7–83.
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Hermeneutik und die historisch-kritische Methode: Exegetische und theologische Deutung
neutestamentlicher Stellen unter Berücksichtigung des orthodoxen Kultus (Aachen: Shaker
Verlag, 2000).
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Testament Studies.” The Greek Orthodox Theological Review 47 (2002), 337–353.
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Fragen einer Einführung in das Neue Testament. 2nd edition (Berlin: LIT Verlag, 2014).
Nikolakopoulos, Konstantin, “Verständnis und Interpretation der Heiligen Schrift in der
Orthodoxen Kirche.” In: Nadine Hamilton (Ed.), Sola Scriptura: Die Heilige Schrift als
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orthodoxen Liturgie.” In: Heiliger Dienst, Österreichisches Liturgisches Institut, Volume 72
(Salzburg: Verlag St. Peter, 2018, 30–40).
Pentiuc, Eugen J., The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition (New York, NY: Oxford
University Press, 2014).
Pentiuc, Eugen J., Hearing the Scriptures: Liturgical Exegesis of the Old Testament in Byzantine
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Stylianopoulos, Theodore, The New Testament: An Orthodox Perspective. Volume One: Scripture,
Tradition, Hermeneutics (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 2002).
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Pa rt I V
TOWA R D A N
ORT HOD OX
H E R M E N E U T IC S
Chapter 19
Toward an Ort h od ox
Hermene u t i c
Theodore G. Stylianopoulos
We make the Holy Scriptures the rule and measure of every tenet; we neces-
sarily fix our eyes upon that, and approve only that which may be made to har-
monize with the intention of those writings.1
—St. Macrina, the Cappadocian
1 Cited by Jaroslav Pelikan, Christianity and Classical Culture (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1993) 220.
2 For bibliography, see Paul L. Gavrilyuk, Georges Florovsky and the Russian Religious Renaissance
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014); Alexandrev I. Negrov, Biblical Interpretation in the Russian
Orthodox Church (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008); and Theodore Stylianopoulos, The New Testament,
An Orthodox Perspective (Brookline: Holy Cross, 1997).
304 Theodore G. Stylianopoulos
The foundations of Orthodox hermeneutics are grounded in Jesus and the apostolic
Church. While Jesus disputed with trained scribes over some texts (Mark 10:2–9; 12:18–
27), he generally approached the Jewish scriptures in the spirit of a prophet, invoking
God’s Spirit and claiming an authority even higher than that of the scriptures (e.g., Mat
5:21, 27, 33). His words carried powerful hermeneutical premises that became norma-
tive in the Christian tradition. First, Jesus viewed the scriptures as a holy book, filled
with inspired words, commandments, images, and symbols, revealing the mystery of
the living God. Second, Jesus held that the scriptures prophetically testified to his own
ministry, enacted in the power of God’s Spirit (Mat 11:3–6; Luke 4:17–21, 11:20). He spoke
of his ministry as the fulfillment of Israel’s legacy, a new blood covenant, inaugurating
the long-awaited epoch of redemption (Mat 5:17; Mark 14:24–25; Luke 16:16). And third,
Jesus presented himself as God’s final agent of salvation, the eschatological revealer of
God’s will, and thus the authoritative interpreter of the scriptures (Mat 5:21–22; 11:27;
Mark 8:38; 10:5–9; Luke 24:27). All these themes and premises, enshrined in the canon-
ical Gospels, became hermeneutical markers of the apostolic gospel tradition.
The early Church formed around apostolic leaders such as Peter, John, James,
Barnabas, Paul, and their associates, and later still others, known and unknown, in the
influx of Gentile Christians. All these figures and their followers passed on traditions and
writings that eventually became a second volume of the scriptures, the New Testament.
None of those leaders or texts elaborated explicit hermeneutical principles or chose par-
ticular methods of interpretation. The New Testament writings exhibit rhetorical styles
and exegetical methods—midrash, pesher, typology, allegory, literal interpretation—al-
ready known in Judaism and the wider Hellenistic world. The distinctiveness of the New
Testament documents lies in their implicit hermeneutical perspective shaped by the im-
pact of Christ and the gift of the Spirit. The Jewish scriptures retained their authority
as holy words of God (logia tou theou, Rom 3:2), now interpreted more and more as a
Christian Bible, seen as massive prophecy of Christ and the Church (Acts 3:24; 5:29–
32; Rom 13:8–9; 1 Cor 10:11; 1 Pet 2:9–10). Similarly, the person and work of Jesus, and
particularly his death and resurrection according to the core Christian message (the
euangelion, Luke 24:47; Rom 1:1–4; 1 Cor 15:3–5), were proclaimed as God’s inaugura-
tion of a new covenant, a cosmic shift to the awaited age of new creation for all nations
(Mat 28:19; Luke 24:44–49; John 17:20–23; Rom 1:5; 1 Cor 11:23–26; 2 Cor 5:17; Eph 1:10).
Further, the transformational experience in Christ and the Spirit generated powerful
faith convictions that drove Christians to new and crucial hermeneutical moves: (1) wor-
shipful devotion of Christ (Mat 28:17; John 20:28; Acts 7:55–56; 1 Cor 8:6; Phil 2:11; Rev
5:12–13);3 (2) use of triadic forms to express the mystery of God (Mat 28:19; John 15:26;
2 Cor 13:13), and (3) unprecedented steps of freedom from the Mosaic law. All these
decisive elements were, once again, integrated into the Church’s apostolic tradition as
3 See Larry W. Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 2003).
Toward an Orthodox Hermeneutic 305
hermeneutical foundations of Christian life and thought in the gradual separation of the
Church from Judaism.
At the fulcrum of the apostolic hermeneutical dynamics was the Apostle Paul. Paul was
driven by a prophetic hermeneutical perspective similar to that of Christ, and not by any
new or single method of interpretation. Paul’s deep commitment to the gospel shaped his
creative and sweeping typological interpretations of the Jewish scriptures and of Israel’s
history, now fulfilled in Christ and the Church (ekklêsia theou, 1 Cor 1:2, chaps 8–10; Gal
3:1–4:7; Rom, chaps 5–8, 9–11, 12). Paul’s methodology functioned as the expressive means,
not the cause, of his powerful implicit hermeneutic, determined by his understanding of the
implications of the gospel (2 Cor 4:5–6, 16–17), his apostolic claim to revelation (Gal 1:11–17;
Rom 11:13), as well as his profound sense of the indwelling of Christ and the Spirit (Phil
3:8–11; Gal 2:20; 1 Cor 2:12–13; Rom 8:14–17). Authorized by his apostolic call, and invoking
the mind of Christ (2 Cor 10:5), Paul interpreted his work as a Spirit-filled ministry of
a new covenant actualized by the Spirit, and contrasted to the written code of the Law
(2 Cor 3:6).4 Thus, Paul became an advocate of the reception of Gentiles into the Church
apart from adherence to the Mosaic law. What to others was apostasy (Acts 15:1; 21:21; Gal
2:11–13), to Paul was testimony to “freedom in Christ” and “the truth of the gospel” (Gal
2:4, 14; Rom 3:29; 9:24; 15:9). His opponents could have claimed biblical authority for the
eternal character of the covenant of circumcision (Gen 17:7, 13). For Paul, however, a “veil”
of ignorance, removed only through faith in Christ and the Spirit, concealed from his rivals
the true meaning of the scriptures (2 Cor 3:14–18; Rom 11:8, 25). The endorsement of Paul’s
mission by the apostolic council confirmed the momentous hermeneutical stance that
Christ himself now formed the new center of life and thought, the Law having been fulfilled
and terminated in Christ (Acts 15:28; Gal 2:6:10; Rom 10:4).5
The question of the continuity of the Church in postapostolic times has been a subject of
much debate.6 Our concern here is with the apostolic churches around the Mediterranean
that maintained a bond of unity through faith and rite; the exchange of letters and visits;
mutual recognition of episcopal leadership; the calling of local and regional councils, and
not least the gradual process of canonization of the Old and New Testaments. From a her-
meneutical vantage point, given the undisputed fluidity and diversity of early Christianity,
the upshot was this: The received apostolic traditions of worship, creedal confessions,
preaching, teaching, pastoral practice, and collection of texts, were formed into more stable
patterns of ecclesial life and thought within the communal hermeneutical context of the
great Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church.
The critical hermeneutical compass in the struggle for ecclesial unity was the “rule of
faith” (kanôn tês pisteôs), at the heart of which in turn was the gospel.7 In their creative
functions, both the gospel and the doctrinal sense of the rule of faith acted simultaneously
4
N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God, Book II (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2013), 980–984.
5
Yet, God’s moral law abides absolute (Mat 5:22; 1 Cor 7:19; Gal 5:13–14; 6:2, 10; Rom 2:13–16).
6 The contrasting views of N. T. Wright and James D. G. Dunn are discussed in Theodore
Stylianopoulos, The Making of the New Testament (Brookline: Holy Cross, 2014), 29–34. See, further,
Arland J. Hultgren, The Rise of Normative Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress (1994), and Andreas J.
Köstenberger and Michael J. Kruger, The Heresy of Orthodoxy (Wheaton: Crossway, 2010).
7 I argue the case in The Making of the New Testament, 125–132, and more recently The Apostolic Gospel
as dynamic celebrations of the new creation in Christ and the Spirit, as well as expressions
of creedal confessions and key truth claims of faith. For example, over against the range of
innumerable sects from the Gnostics to the Arians, the Christians loyal to the great Church
confessed the One true God and Creator, and Father of Jesus Christ; the person and work
of Christ truly incarnate, truly dying and rising, and truly reigning in the fullness of divine
glory; the gift of the Spirit energizing the Church as the Body of Christ; the hope of the res-
urrection of the dead; the goodness of creation now being transformed; and the experience
of the new creation interpreted in diverse soteriological metaphors and concepts (e.g., re-
demption, justification, reconciliation, sanctification, rebirth, and theôsis).
The organic bond between the apostolic gospel and the rule of faith is demonstrated by
comparing their multiple hermeneutical functions in the light of Paul Blowers’s definition
of the rule of faith. According to Blowers, the rule of faith may be defined by the following
multiple dynamic hermeneutical functions:
Each of these hermeneutical functions of the rule of faith is also true of the gospel, as
follows:
* The gospel acts as authoritative church tradition and interpretative key to scriptural
revelation (Rom 1:17–18; 1 Cor 15:1–2; Gal 1:6–9).
* The gospel is discerned as prophetically latent or implicit in the Jewish scriptures
(Rom 1:2) and functions as the criterion of interpretation of those scriptures (Rom
10:5–13; Luke 24:27, 44–49).
* The gospel serves as a strategy of reasoned discourse from, by, and for the integrity of
the Christian faith (John 5:19–23; Acts 15:7–21; Rom 5:1–11; 12:1–8).
* The gospel also functions as the narrative bond connecting the old and new
covenants, and by extension the two developing written versions of the covenants,
now playing out in the life of the Church (John 15:1–8; Acts 13:16–4 1; Rom 5:12–21; 1
Cor 10:11).
To sum up: the historical and theological continuity between gospel and the rule of
faith establishes the organic hermeneutical bond that holds together (1) the Old and New
Testament scriptures as the Christian Bible, (2) the expanding tradition of the Christian
exegetical and theological heritage, and (3) the growth of the great Church—a truly as-
tounding historical achievement of unity in diversity.
8 Paul Blowers, “Scripture and the Fathers,” in the Wiley Blackwell Companion to Patristics, ed. Ken
For their part, the church fathers employed methods of interpretation drawn from con-
temporary culture, such as typology, allegory, and also literal/grammatical exegesis in-
creasingly required for contextual interpretation of disputed texts.9 What was new among
the church fathers was a heightened sense of hermeneutical awareness. Origen had expert
knowledge of philology and philosophy. Athanasius is said to have taken up philosophy to
face the Arian menace. The Cappadocian fathers employed the critical methodologies of
their age when interpreting Homer or the Bible and, in a telling insight, conceded that the
ultimate authority of Old Testament texts resided in “the precise meaning of the Hebrew
phrases” (akribeia tôn hebraikôn lexeôn)!10 Modern scholars have sometimes classified the
church fathers into Alexandrian and Antiochene “schools,” the former devoted to allegory
and the latter to typology. In fact, no sharp categories are warranted. Both sides affirmed the
historical grounding of biblical texts and that the texts carried symbolic meanings beyond
what meets the eye.
The enhanced patristic hermeneutical awareness yielded explicit hermeneutical insights
and theories bequeathed to the Christian tradition. Justin Martyr was the first to relativize
the grand unity of scripture by discerning a tripartite substantive differentiation in the Old
Testament as prophecy, eternal moral law, and temporary historical legislation for Jews.11
Irenaeus developed a comprehensive hermeneutical vision of the organic relations between
scripture as interpreted scripture, the Church as the communal context of interpretation,
and the normativity of the received apostolic tradition of the gospel and the rule of faith—
all interactive and upholding the salvation-historical “plot” (hypothesis) of the scriptures,
its center being Christ.12 The great Origen formulated an enduring vision of Christian edu-
cation (paideia), centered on Christ and the scriptures. He proposed a three-tiered herme-
neutical theory based on the schema of body, soul, and spirit, although neither did he, nor
later interpreters, follow it with any regularity.13 Later, the Cappadocian fathers worked with
a philosophically nuanced hermeneutic, debating the relations between faith and reason,
that is, between the experiential and discursive aspects of the knowledge of God, seeking
to relate the data of revelation to contemporary scientific thought.14 The crowning of this
immense exegetical and theological patristic legacy, and the hermeneutical summation of
the apostolic and patristic tradition regarding the mystery of God, the Church, and salva-
tion, was the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed.15
9
For a review of the patristic legacy, see the Wiley Blackwell Companion to Patristics and Pelikan,
Christianity and Classical Culture.
10 Cited by Pelikan, Christianity and Classical Culture, 221.
11 See further, Theodore Stylianopoulos, Justin Martyr and the Mosaic Law (Missoula: SBL, 1975) 51–
68 and 153–163.
12 Wiley Blackwell Companion to Patristics, 71–83; James L. Kugel and Rowan A. Greer, Early Biblical
Interpretation (Philadelphia: Westminster (1986) 109–113; and Bertrand de Margerie, S.J., An Introduction
to the History of Exegesis: The Greek Fathers (Petersham: Saint Bede’s Publications, 1993) 51–57.
13 Wiley-Blackwell Companion to Patristics, 98–110 and de Margerie, An Introduction to the History of
Exegesis, 95–116.
14 Wiley Blackwell Companion to Patristics, 309–325; de Margerie, An Introduction to the History of
of faith; it is a liturgical song, expressing and celebrating biblical teaching on the mystery of the Trinity
and salvation.
308 Theodore G. Stylianopoulos
It may be helpful to be reminded of the hermeneutical premises behind the exegetical her-
itage of the church fathers:16
* The authority, primacy, and unity scripture, the record of revelation expressed through
holy words, laws, prophecy, symbols, parables, metaphors, wisdom, and commandments.
* The revelation in Christ and the Spirit as the center of salvation history and the su-
preme criterion of interpretation.
* The interdependence of scripture, tradition, and interpretation in the light of the
gospel and the rule of faith.
* The divine and human nature of scripture, God’s word in human words, expressing
God’s unfathomable accommodation (synkatabasis) to human language and
understanding.
* Use of contemporary methods of interpretation, while mindful of the revealed char-
acter and the soteriological intention of the scriptures.
* Attention to the contextual aim or intention (skopos) and coherence (akolouthia) of
texts and of salvation history, interpreting the parts in the light of the whole and the
whole in the light of the parts.
* The edification of the faithful with full access to scripture as the overall purpose of
interpretation.
* The final authority of interpretation is the Church’s living tradition expressed, when
necessary, through councils and reception by the whole Church.
It is also useful to recall the patristic view of the personal attributes of the interpreter,
completing the “mind” (phronêma) of the fathers. This is about the horizon of living faith
whereby the written word of God becomes God’s transformative word in prayer, worship,
study, preaching, and teaching. Christianity is not about texts as much as about a person—
the mystery of Christ.17 Readers and interpreters of the Bible need to be in tune with the
Holy Spirit, the chief Interpreter of Christ (John 16:13–14). They need to be grounded in the
practice of the evangelical virtues of faith, prayer, love of God’s word, love of neighbor, hu-
mility, repentance, and obedience. The transcendent reality of new creation (ta pragmata)
signified by biblical texts (ta logia) are perceived only to the extent that human hearts and
minds were cleansed and illuminated by grace. Dialectic has the capacity either to advocate
or to corrupt the truth. Reason of itself, apart from the action of grace, is unable to break
through the veil of the mysteries of God.18 Interpretation is prayerful charismatic activity,
a God-given contemplative vision (theôria), an act of mystical participation that is capable
both of discerning the insights hidden in the texts and of experiencing their transforming
16 Adapted from Ioannis Panagopoulos, Hermêneia tês Haghias Graphês stên Ekklêsia tôn Paterôn, Vol.
deficiency in a scriptural truth of faith, Oration 29.9, cited by Frederick W. Norris, Faith Gives Fullness to
Reasoning (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1991), v.
Toward an Orthodox Hermeneutic 309
Several major Orthodox hermeneutical paradigms have been proposed in modern times.
The prevailing one is the “neo-patristic synthesis” of Georges Florovsky (1893–1979).22 By
his double call for the liberation of Orthodox theology from Western influence on the one
hand, and for the return to the church fathers on the other, Florovsky captured the imag-
ination of Orthodox students as no other. To be sure, with the turn of the century, critical
voices have been rising.23 But the critique itself, justified in significant ways, underscores
the dominance of the model. Florovsky’s paradigm involves inseparable doctrinal and
spiritual dimensions. The doctrinal dimension is defined by the patristic Trinitarian and
Christological teaching, coined “perennial Christian Hellenism,” a vision of the mystery
of God that pervades Orthodox worship and theology. The spiritual dimension is the per-
sonal life in Christ, energized by the Holy Spirit. Florovsky declared: “Apart from the life in
Christ, theology carries no conviction, and, if separated from the life of faith, theology may
easily degenerate into empty dialectics, a vain polylogia.”24 These two overlapping aspects,
the doctrinal and the spiritual, Florovsky designated as the mind of the fathers, or the eccle-
sial mindset, or the ethos of the Orthodox Church—the neopatristic vision that he himself
embodied in his traditional outlook and scholarly work.
19
On theôria, see John Breck, Scripture in Tradition (Crestwood: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2001),
36–37, 43–44.
20 Cited by Maurice Wiles, The Spiritual Gospel (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1960), 86.
21 The Ascetical Homilies of Saint Isaac the Syrian (Brookline: Holy Transfiguration Monastery, 1984), 6.
22 For Florovky’s intellectual journey and place in Orthodox theology, see Gavrilyuk, Georges
Florovsky. For Florovsky’s proposal, see his articles: “Patristics and Modern Theology,” Procès-verbaux
du premier Congrès de Théologie orthodoxe a Athènes, ed. Hamilcar S. Alivisatos (Athens: Pyrsos, 1939),
238–242; “The Legacy and Task of Orthodox Theology,” Anglican Theological Review 31 (2, 1949), 65–7 1;
“The Predicament of the Christian Historian,” Religion and Culture, ed. W. Leibrecht (New York: Harper
& Brothers, 1959), 140–166; and “The Ethos of the Orthodox Church,” The Ecumenical Review 12 (2,
1960), 183–198, reprinted in Aspects of Church History: The Collected Works of Georges Florovsky, Vol. 4
(Belmont: Nordland, 1975), 11–30.
23 See Paul Valliere, Modern Orthodox Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000); Pantelis Kalaitzidis,
“From the ‘Return to the Fathers’ to the Need for a Modern Orthodox Theology,” St. Vladimir’s Theological
Quarterly 54 (1, 2010) 5–36; and Gavrilyuk, Florovsky.
24 Florovsky, “The Ethos of the Orthodox Church,” Collected Works, Vol. 4, 17.
310 Theodore G. Stylianopoulos
Florovsky’s approach, grounded in the biblical and patristic foundations, embraced key
premises of international scholarship that have become virtual truisms in Orthodox the-
ology.25 He affirmed the historical character of scripture, the word of God in human idiom,
and rejected biblical fundamentalism. He appealed to the symbiotic relationship of scrip-
ture and tradition, and offered general definitions of the two. Scripture is the record of
revelation, the image of truth, not truth itself, and yet, as a canonical record, the supreme
criterion of doctrine. Tradition is not about the antiquity of rituals and customs, but about
theological truth itself, expressed in the salvific experience of the new creation in Christ
and the Spirit, and corporately lived in worship. Tradition is a living and creative force, a
“hermeneutical principle,” anchored on the gospel and the rule of faith, interpreting but
adding nothing to scripture. Lastly, according to Florovsky, the goal of interpretation is
proclamation of the full gospel, i.e., Christ and Church, actualized in sacrament, teaching,
and preaching.
These declarations are as welcome as they are generally true. The problem is that in
Florovsky’s work there is little engagement with neuralgic issues pertaining either to the
historical background or the specific application to Orthodox theology and life. The diver-
sity of both scripture and the patristic writings, and thus of the complexity of their relation-
ship, are not examined. The relations between gospel and rule of faith, especially in the light
of the development of theological terminology and concepts, are not analyzed. The multiple
functions and facets of tradition, differentiating what is truly abiding, from what is useful
but temporary, and from what may be uncritical sociological force inclined to absolutize all
beliefs and customs, are not probed. Not least, there is no exploration of the prophetic use
of scripture as God’s word of life and judgment in the practice of the Orthodox churches,
historically gravitating toward formalism and ethnicism. All these neuralgic issues remain
urgent challenges for Orthodox scholarship even today.
Then, there is the related critique about the “neo” in Florovsky’s neopatristic synthesis.
The return to the fathers was to be, according to Florovsky, not a slavish repetition of their
teachings, and lapsing into patristic fundamentalism, but rather an assimilation of their
creative spirit, generating fresh insights. Florovsky warned of Orthodox isolation and
called for self-criticism. Nevertheless, paradoxically, he repudiated the efforts of Sergius
Bulgakov and other Russian luminaries to engage Western intellectual currents, without
himself offering alternative ways of constructive encounter with the West. Florovsky never
ventured to break new ground, from a patristic perspective, on contemporary topics such
as faith and science, justice and peace, capitalism and democracy, gender and sexuality. His
focus was rather on a synthesis of patristic teaching under major topics such as Creation,
Revelation, Incarnation, Redemption, and Church. Accordingly, it is right to ask whether
Florovsky’s approach truly grappled with contemporary thought and culture, or whether it
simply called for more concentrated patristic research.26 Most devastating in this regard is
the appraisal of Brandon Gallaher, an empathetic critic, on two counts. Gallaher exposed
not only Florovsky’s own unwitting debt to Western Idealism but also his unjustified
wholescale rejection of Western thought, ignoring the historical coexistence and mutuality
25 Based on Florovsky’s articles in Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View (Belmont:
Nordland, 1972).
26 Gavrilyuk, Florovsky, 262.
Toward an Orthodox Hermeneutic 311
of East and West, and thus rendering the neopatristic paradigm partly self-blinding and
unsatisfactory.27
In the end, Florovsky’s is a welcome general patristic, not a specifically biblical approach.
His work focused on the patristic writings rather than the texts of the Bible. Apart from
broad comments on typology and allegory, he did not deeply prove the details of even the
patristic biblical hermeneutics. He was in fact discomforted by the entire field of biblical
studies, apparently unable or unwilling to distinguish their intrinsic value from the rad-
ical claims of Protestant revisionist interpreters. He certainly knew of the work of emi-
nent Orthodox biblical scholars such as Dimitri Bogdashevskii (1861–1933),28 Evangelos
Antoniadis (1882–1962), and Vasileios Vellas (1902–1969),29 but chose silence rather than
engagement. He feared the claim that the biblical field somehow deserved its own integ-
rity, but offered no positive Orthodox case for the right relationship between the biblical
and patristic fields.30 He assumed, as many Orthodox thinkers still do today, that the bib-
lical witness is wholly incorporated in the patristic, without remainder.31 Yet, the crucial
question remains: if we are to go back to the church fathers, why not go back to the Bible
itself, the primary source and supreme authority according to the fathers?32 A great lacuna
thus marks the Florovskian paradigm: the failure to promote the patristic principle of the
direct and full study of the Bible itself in Orthodox life and theology, including the use of
contemporary methodologies. The scriptures, too, in their richness, complexity, and power
as God’s word—the countless texts, the innumerable actors and stories, all the wisdom and
the good news—deserve to be studied, just as much as the patristic texts, directly and thor-
oughly at their own historical and theological levels, as sources of creative thought and
guidance in every generation.
John Romanides (1927–2001), a brilliant, if idiosyncratic, student of Florovsky, advocated
a neopatristic hermeneutical model with a narrow focus, i.e., the ideal of the charismatic
saint.33 For Romanides, the call to freedom from Western influence became a ferocious
polemic against all things Western. Florovsky esteemed Augustine as an eminent doctor of
the undivided Church. Romanides defined him as the fountainhead of all Western heresy.
27 Brandon Gallaher, “ ‘Waiting for the Barbarians’: Identity and Polemicism in the Neo-
Patristic
Synthesis of Georges Florovsky,” Modern Theology 27 (4, 2011), 659–691.
28 See Negrov’s valuable survey of Russian biblical scholarship up to the first third of the twentieth
century.
29 Antoniadis and Vellas presented weighty papers on biblical hermeneutics at the same Athens
Conference (1936), where Florovsky first announced his own proposal. See, Alivisatos, ed. Procès-
verbaux, 135–143 and 143–174.
30 Florovsky, “The Patterns of Historical Interpretation,” Anglican Theological Review 50 (2, 1968),
149–152.
31 See, Exegesis and Hermeneutics in the Churches of the East, ed. Vahan S. Hovhanessian
(New York: Lang, 2009) and What Is the Bible? The Patristic Doctrine of Scripture, eds. Matthew Baker
and Mark Mourachian (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2016), where current Orthodox biblical studies are
entirely ignored.
32 My question of long ago in The Greek Orthodox Theological Review 12 (3, 1967) and 17 (1, 1972).
33 Romanides’s proposal was presented in a lengthy lecture, “Critical Examination of the Applications
of Theology” to the second world meeting of Orthodox theologians in Athens (1976) and published in
Procès-verbaux du deuxième Congrès de Théologie orthodoxe, ed. Savas Agourides (Athens: Eptalophos,
1978), 413–441.
312 Theodore G. Stylianopoulos
Through Augustine, according to Romanides, Western theology allegedly lapsed into bib-
lical fundamentalism by identifying revelation itself with the literal words and concepts
of the Bible. But this view was subsequently destroyed by modern biblical criticism in its
assessment of the Bible as mere historical relic of the ancient Near East. Then followed,
according to Romanides, another collapse in the Western worldview. Analytic philosophy
and the rise of science repudiated the false security of the existence of universals and rejected
the notion of immutable truth whether in the Bible or the cosmos. The consequences were
devastating: total ignorance among Western peoples pertaining not only the Bible, but also
the nature and experience of God’s revelation in their lives. All modern approaches to the
study of scripture are thus disparaged as useless, if not outright fraudulent.
Romanides countered with his own paradigm of the charismatic saint, viewed as an em-
bodiment of the biblical prophet and apostle, recipients of direct and immediate revelation
of the eternal Christ. The saint, quite apart from any formal training, but gifted with the
mystical attribute of theôsis/theôria, enjoys unerring experiential knowledge of God. The
saint possesses a mystical cognition that transcends the biblical texts themselves and serves
as an infallible criterion of their interpretation. Romanides regarded his paradigm as gener-
ally attested in the Church fathers, without however providing specific references. He also
claimed that the paradigm bore resemblance to scientific experimental methodology, i.e.,
proposal and verification, because exegetical options could always be verified by consulta-
tion with living saints who possessed the gift of theôria.
Alluring though it be due to Orthodox respect for saints and anti- Western bias,
Romanides’s proposal fails on several counts.34 First, contrary to patristic hermeneutics, it
rejects the direct study of scripture, including use of contemporary methodologies, fit to the
nature and message of the Bible. Second, it thus stifles the hope of an authentic flowering of
biblical studies, a patristic ideal, and undercuts the value of scholarship in the Church. Third,
Romanides offers not a single church father as corroboration for his exclusivist proposal.
The church fathers, while mindful of their illustrious teachers and predecessors, engaged
the scriptures both directly and thoroughly by means of contemporary methodologies.
Finally, individual saints cannot be placed as infallible authorities above the Bible, above
the Councils, above the corporate witness of the Church. St. Symeon the New Theologian
(949–1022), a glowing charismatic, and Romanides’s probable prototype saint, is himself
proof of the direct and full use of Scripture, and one who did not entirely exclude critique
of his own teaching. He declared, “This, in my opinion, is the truth of the matter, and such
is God’s counsel towards us. . . . You, on your part, must see and test that which we say.”35
John Breck (b. 1939), a biblical scholar with significant hermeneutical contributions to his
credit, has laid out a patristic hermeneutical proposal in direct relation to biblical studies.36
While teaching the New Testament, and out of a sense of professional crisis, Breck discovered
the patristic interpretative approach of theôria, expressed through allegory, typology, and
34
For a detailed critique, see Stylianopoulos, The New Testament, 175–185.
35
C. J. deCatanzaro, trans., Symeon the New Theologian: Discourses (New York: Paulist, 1980), 354. See
further, Theodore Stylianopoulos, “Holy Scripture, Interpretation, and Spiritual Cognition,” in Orthodox
and Wesleyan Scriptural Understanding and Practice, ed. S. T. Kimbrough Jr. (Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary Press, 2005), 55–7 1.
36 John Breck, The Power of the Word in the Worshiping Church (Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary
Press, 1994).
Toward an Orthodox Hermeneutic 313
chiasmus. He discerned that the rational, historical, and literary methodologies of modern
biblical studies, concentrating on the original meaning of biblical texts, were mostly irrel-
evant to students, pastors, and readers of the Bible as God’s word. Breck then formulated
the thesis that the true meaning and saving significance of scripture can be grasped only
within “a closed hermeneutical circle,” i.e., the “great river” of tradition in which scripture
is the main current and norm, but correctly interpreted only within that river. The proper
Orthodox view of the two is “not Scripture or Tradition, or Scripture and Tradition, but
Scripture in Tradition.”37 Much is commendable in Breck’s work—the holy passion to in-
terpret the Bible as God’s word, an analytical approach to patristic biblical hermeneutics,
faithfulness to the Church and her tradition, as well as the emphasis on prayer and worship,
the ecclesial context for the transformational appropriation of the biblical witness.
Breck reacted to radical biblical scholarship, notably the notorious Jesus Seminar, which
he mentions. The work of this group has, of course, been debunked by many Western
scholars themselves, who by no means have lost sight of faith, the gospel, the authority
of the Bible, prayer, and the Church. Breck appears to overlook the wealth of positive bib-
lical knowledge derived from the results of biblical studies, easily accessible through lexica,
dictionaries, journals, commentaries, and online. Further, Breck’s massive concern with the
patristic theôria, operative through allegory and typology, misses the extensive patristic
use of contextual grammatical exegesis in theological disputation, teaching, and preaching,
notably in Athanasius, Cyril, Basil, and Chrysostom. The church fathers feature ample use
of grammatical exegesis on the assumption of the sufficiency and clarity of the scriptures.
They assumed that a person of good will could understand the plain meaning of a text,
without always looking for a second deeper meaning, because the contextual meaning is
sufficiently deep.
Finally, with respect to Breck, the thesis of a closed hermeneutical circle regarding scrip-
ture and tradition needs rethinking. Biblical and patristic scholarship itself has amply
demonstrated the indisputable organic interdependence of scripture and tradition. Yet, the
canonization of scripture has distinguished the Bible as the supreme standard of truth, the
criterion by which the river of tradition itself is subject to critique as necessary. Recall the
words of St. Macrina: “We make the Holy Scriptures the rule and measure of every tenet.”
The complex relations between scripture and tradition can actually be argued in terms of all
three options: scripture “in” tradition, scripture “and” tradition, as well as scripture “versus”
tradition. In all cases, what must be avoided is appeal to the authority and function of tra-
dition in ways that would diminish scripture’s authority to critique tradition as may be
appropriate.38 Breck’s commendable focus on patristic theôria needs reworking toward in-
tegration with the positive methods and aspects of contemporary biblical studies.
Not all appeals to the treasure of the scriptures as received in the Orthodox tradition have
been cast in opposition to historical-critical research. In fact, currently, most Orthodox
patristic and biblical scholars foster loyalty both to the patristic heritage and commitment
to international historical-critical studies of scripture. After World War II, Orthodox bib-
lical studies have grown significantly, securing a permanent place in Orthodox universities,
37
Breck, Scripture in Tradition, 4.
38
For a more detailed assessments of Breck’s proposal, see St. Vladimir Theological Quarterly 48 (1,
2004), 159–164, and Stylianopoulos, The New Testament, 168–175.
314 Theodore G. Stylianopoulos
theological academies, and seminaries throughout the world. They understandably remain
conservative in nature, and operate mostly in traditional societies, where the translation
itself of scripture has proven problematic.39 Nevertheless, next to the assumed dominance
of patristics, Orthodox biblical studies continue to develop without serious impediments.
A striking development is that biblical scholars who are also Orthodox Christians now
teach biblical studies in non-Orthodox universities, colleges, and seminaries without per-
sonal or professional barriers.40
It is no surprise, therefore, that an elegant account of the organic interdependence of
scripture and tradition, under the light of critical-historical study, has been crafted by the
respected biblical scholar and Orthodox Christian Edith Humphrey.41 Another example
is the magisterial study The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition by the biblical
scholar and esteemed colleague Eugen Pentiuc.42 With clear affirmation of critical-histor-
ical studies, Pentiuc draws open the vast horizon of the reception of the Old Testament in
the Orthodox tradition, including the description of a tripartite hermeneutic. The “dis-
cursive” reception of the Old Testament engages the exegetical principles, methods, and
significant samples of the patristic legacy. The “aural” reception appraises the use and inter-
pretation of the Old Testament in the Church’s lectionary, liturgical feasts, and hymnology.
And the “visual” reception appreciates the use and interpretation of the Old Testament
across the riches of Orthodox iconography. Pentiuc’s work, and that of others,43 equally
applicable to the New Testament, illustrates the boundless biblical wealth enshrined and
celebrated in Orthodox worship and liturgical texts as sources for theological and pastoral
instruction.
Still, the question of a contemporary Orthodox biblical hermeneutic, one in full con-
versation with modern biblical studies, remains. The figure who dealt frontally with this
challenge was Savas Agourides (1921–2009), the dean of Orthodox biblical scholars in the
twentieth century.44 Agourides’s hermeneutical approach, broadly shared by two other
Greek scholars John Panagopoulos (1938–1997) and Petros Vassiliadis (1945), advocated the
liturgical context, notably the Eucharist, as the hermeneutical key to the scriptures. Their
particular proposals, versions of the neopatristic model, may be regarded as the representa-
tive approach among Orthodox biblical scholars today.
The landmark of Agourides’s career is the explicit and full endorsement of modern crit-
ical methodology within the scope of the neo-patristic synthesis. He declared, “For us
39 See Stephen K. Batalden, Russian Bible Wars (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 2013) and Michael
Nomikos Vaporis, Translating the Scriptures into Modern Greek (Brookline: Holy Cross, 1994).
40 In the United States, for example, Edith Humphrey at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, John
Fotopoulos at St. Mary’s College in Indiana, and George Parsenios at Princeton Theological Seminary.
41 Edith Humphrey, Scripture and Tradition (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013).
42 Eugen J. Pentiuc, The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2014). Pentiuc holds the Archbishop Demetrios Chair of Biblical Studies at Holy Cross Greek
Orthodox School of Theology, Brookline, MA.
43 Mary Ford, “Reflections on Reading the Scriptures as an Orthodox Christians,” Religions 8 (122,
2017), 1–11 and Bruce N. Beck, “Unbinding the Book: Toward a Restoration of a Patristic Orthodox
Hermeneutic,” St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 63 (2, 2019), 161–189.
44 Savas Agourides, Hermêneutikê tôn Hierôn Keimenôn (Athens: Artos Zôês, 2000), 62. The first
edition was published in 1979. For his views in English, see his “Biblical Studies in Orthodox Theology,”
Greek Orthodox Theological Review 17 (Spring 1972), 51–62.
Toward an Orthodox Hermeneutic 315
Orthodox, there is today no problem regarding the adoption of the modern philological,
historical, and other methods in the study of the sacred texts. That is a given. The problem
for us Orthodox today centers on the [right] meaning of the patristic exegetical inherit-
ance.”45 According to Agourides, Orthodox interpreters cannot ignore the results of critical
history and theology because “whatever is scientifically true is true for everyone. Only what
is true is orthodox [sic.].”46 And again the amazing statement that “the historical-critical
method . . . as a method for the quest of truth, is an historic gift of God to humanity,” no
matter that, at first, historical criticism appeared to dissolve the mystery of God.47
For Agourides, two problems define the hermeneutical issue. The first is the undefined
task of the neopatristic synthesis by Orthodox thinkers. The patristic background is in-
contestable because the church fathers are, on the one hand, unsurpassed teachers of a
synthetic approach, integrating exegesis with the theology, worship, and pastoral care. They
at times indulge in excessive allegorical and mystical interpretations, and their specific ex-
egetical observations may be faulty in specifics. Nevertheless, their overall exegesis is not
faulty in substance because the fathers keep the mystery of God, and the mystery of salva-
tion, front and center in the life of the Church. Also, schooled as they were in Hellenistic
philology, they remain a rich source of grammatical and exegetical insights. On the other
hand, the fathers never meant the study of their writings to replace direct access to scrip-
ture. The difficulty now is that, while the neopatristic model is invoked, what is often
produced are repetitions of patristic teachings, which impedes a true renewal of the pa-
tristic approach today. Agourides provides no conceptual answer to this conundrum, but
repeatedly highlights the urgent need to merge contemporary analytic methodology with
the patristic synthetic approach in ways that might speak to people today.48
The second hermeneutical problem, according to Agourides, is deeper and sharper, op-
erative not at the level of historical exegesis, but at the level of contemporary relevancy. It
involves the “chasm” (chasma) or “distance” (apostasis) in worldviews between the Bible and
modernity, a fact exposed by the long critical impact of the Enlightenment.49 Agourides
surveys Western philosophical hermeneutics from Schleiermacher to Dilthey, and from
Bultmann to Gadamer, but finds no clear answer. He too easily accepts the Enlightenment
demand “to liberate the sacred texts from their ancient bonds [i.e., forms]” and to render their
meaning in new forms.50 He appears to misconstrue the negative effects of historical criti-
cism as being only temporary, e.g., the “newer European conceptions” (neoteres eurôpaïkes
antilêpseis), such as in the case of the historical Jesus project refuted by Albert Schweitzer.51
However, the main problem is not one of only correctable passing misconceptions or ide-
ological biases. Rather it is the false axiom of autonomous reason as the only criterion of
truth, a tectonic shift of authority from biblical revelation to hypothetical universal truth
adjudicated by reason alone. Repeatedly agonizing over the “chasm” between the biblical
45
Agourides, Hermêneutikê, 62.
46
Ibid., 421.
47 Ibid., 389.
48 Ibid., 68–
72, 399–401, 420–423. Agourides, 371, wrongly attributes to me Romanides’s position,
whereas I am closer to that of Agourides.
49 Ibid., 18–25, 368, 389, 421–422.
50 Ibid., 389.
51 Ibid.
316 Theodore G. Stylianopoulos
52 Lurking in the background is anxiety about the Zôȇ movement in Greece, a powerful renewal
movement based on the Bible, highly influential at first, but then becoming moralistic and divisive.
53 Agourides, Hermȇneutikȇ, 386–388, 406.
54 Ibid., 76–7 7, 171, 357–359, 379–380, 384–388.
55 Petros Vassiliadis, “Canon and Authority of Scripture: An Orthodox Hermeneutical Perspective,”
(Athens: Akritas, 1994), 439. A more detailed critique in Stylianopoulos, The New Testament, 224–226.
57 Agourides, Hermêneutikê, 365.
58 Ibid., 410.
Toward an Orthodox Hermeneutic 317
confuse the mystical soteriological tradition with the general ecclesiastical traditions sus-
ceptible to ethnic populism and other corruptive habits.59
Agourides’s valuable book offers an amazing trove of historical and theological insights.
However, the reliance on the Eucharist as the hermeneutical key in corporate Orthodox life
is undercut by the regrettable fact that the Eucharist, precious jewel as it is, often leaves many
Orthodox Christians unmoved and unchanged. Far from a magical charm, the Eucharist is a
prayer event. And effective prayer requires not only communal but also personal/individual
faith, intentionality, and ascetic effort. Rather than antithetical, corporate and personal faith
and study are mutually supportive in the Spirit’s mystical actualization of the divine realities
(theoria), signified by the biblical and liturgical texts. For the stirring of personal and corpo-
rate faith, and subsequent resolute commitment to the life in Christ, something else is also
absolutely essential: evangelization of the baptized by means of informed biblical teaching
and preaching. “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach good news” (Rom 10:15;
Isaiah 52:7)! “For the gospel is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes”
(Rom 1:16). Shocking as it may sound, Orthodox scholars at the academy, and Orthodox
teachers and preachers at the local community—all of us might need to rethink to what
extent we have truly comprehended the depth and power of the gospel and the urgency of
evangelization, as transformational factors in the life of the Church.60
Conclusion
All these proposals represent recitals of Florovsky’s neopatristic paradigm with variations.
The commonality is fidelity to the authority of the Bible, the Church fathers, tradition,
worship, the saints, and the life of prayer as indisputable elements in biblical study and
interpretation. Orthodox theology, in its various aspects and tasks, cannot go beyond the
biblical and patristic foundations, without losing its identity, its spirit, its gifts. Nevertheless,
the scope of Florovsky’s paradigm requires reworking and enhancement in terms of three
points: (1) full application of the patristic ideal of the authority and centrality of the Bible
in Orthodox life and theology; (2) disavowal of sterile polemics against the West and crit-
ical engagement with contemporary culture and thought, as required by the shared human
experience and the universal quest of truth; and (3) the formulation of an Orthodox her-
meneutic (equally applicable to biblical and patristic texts) that maintains a critical balance
of the historical, theological, and transformational tasks in the interpretation of texts. This
latter goal has been my own scholarly burden over a lifetime, a hermeneutic involving three
overlapping and interactive levels or dimensions or tasks, as follows.61
First, each biblical and patristic author deserves full respect, i.e., careful study in his
or her own historical and literary context. This is indisputably the historical task, the di-
mension or level of exegesis in which not only historical and literary analysis but also the
59
Ibid., 365–368.
60
I have tried to grapple with this urgent issue in The Way of Christ: Gospel, Spiritual Life and Renewal
in Orthodoxy (Brookline: Holy Cross, 2002) and The Apostolic Gospel (2015).
61 For an extensive earlier version of my proposal, see Stylianopoulos, The New Testament, 187–238.
318 Theodore G. Stylianopoulos
substantive theological and ethical teachings of the ancient authors merit full critical de-
scriptive exposition at the level of the author’s own world. Here historical reason, stripped
of Enlightenment positivist axioms and other possible biases, has primacy, employing em-
pathetic study of the biblical or patristic author’s teaching and worldview within his or her
own culture. What counts here is not whether the interpreter is Protestant, Catholic, or
Orthodox, but rather the ideal of honest and discerning contextual critical study aiming to
honor the subject matter. Here is the intellectual ground on which each field, whether Old
Testament, or New Testament, or Church fathers, can rightfully claim integrity as a field
with its own hermeneutical considerations, methodology, and training—not in separation
but in distinction from the other fields. That this historical critical approach is possible
and valuable is evident, as noted earlier, by the fact that faithful Orthodox scholars without
personal or professional impediments teach biblical studies in non-Orthodox universities,
colleges, and theological schools in North America and Europe.
Second, more complex is the normative task, the task of theological assessment, closely
related to but distinct from the exegetical task. Here the exegetical findings, whether from
biblical or patristic texts, are selected, critically compared, and interpreted in their abiding
theological and religious significance. Here is where the abiding biblical and patristic witness
creatively engages modern thought and culture. Here the hermeneutical focus shifts to the
normative theological claims of the texts and, as well, to the vital interests of the interpreters,
whose personal commitments are now not to be purged but to be honestly disclosed for
debate in good faith. Thus, for interpreters working with positivist Enlightenment princi-
ples, the Bible may be no more than a historical resource of Western civilization. In con-
trast, for Christian interpreters, committed to the Church’s gospel and rule of faith, both
centered on devotion to Jesus Christ,62 the Bible is a holy book of God’s self-disclosure,
bearing testimony to God’s life-giving words. Here, the supreme criteria derive from the
apostolic gospel of the incarnate, crucified, and risen Christ.63 At this normative theological
level, the factors of faith and reason, theoria and mystical cognition, the interdependence of
scripture, the fathers, and tradition, and not least, fidelity to the prophetic and evangelical
witness of scripture, need to be rightly calibrated and granted respectively their due. Here,
too, Orthodox theologians can assess the merits of philosophical hermeneutics as per the
work of Gadamer.64
And third, there is the task of transformational application, inseparable from the pre-
vious two, but also distinct with its own hermeneutical factors and functions. This is the
level where the exegetical and theological results, assessed through the lens of the gospel
and the rule of faith, seek application and actualization. The nature of the application task
is twofold. On the one hand, there is the conceptual task of identifying and naming urgent
societal, ecclesial, and personal issues to be engaged from the standpoint of biblical and
patristic teaching. On the other hand, there is the practical task of leadership, embrace of
62
So, too, Agourides, Hermeneutike, 77.
63
See further, Stylianopoulos, The Apostolic Gospel.
64 See, the challenge by A. E. Kattan, “Gadamer ‘ad portas,’ ” Journal of Eastern Christian Studies 66
(1–2, 2014), 63–7 1 and a possible Orthodox answer by John McGuckin, “Recent Biblical Hermeneutics
in Patristic Perspective,” Sacred Text and Interpretation: Papers in Honor of Professor Savas Agourides, ed.
Theodore G. Stylianopoulos (Brookline: Holy Cross Seminary Press, 2006).
Toward an Orthodox Hermeneutic 319
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Florovsky, Georges. “The Ethos of the Orthodox Church.” The Ecumenical Review 12
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(2017): 1–11.
Gavrilyuk, Paul L. Georges Florovsky and the Russian Religious Renaissance. Oxford: Oxford
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Toward an Orthodox Hermeneutic 321
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Chapter 20
Orthod ox Ch ri st ia ni t y,
Patristic Exe g e si s , a nd
Historical C ri t i c i sm
of the Bi bl e
John Fotopoulos
Although there are accomplished Orthodox biblical scholars around the world using
historical criticism for their study of Scripture, such use is not always without suspicion
or adversity in the Orthodox Church. Rather, within the Orthodox Church, attempts to
limit biblical interpretation to that of patristic exegesis have been expressed many times
throughout Church history. For example, in AD 692 the Council in Trullo (a.k.a. Quinisext
or Πενθέκτη) issued Canon 19, which asserts that the meaning of Scripture is to be taught
only by presiding Church hierarchs (τοὺς τῶν ἐκκλησιῶν προεστῶτας) through the rep-
etition of patristic exegesis, while such hierarchs are prohibited from engaging in biblical
interpretations of their own.1 Not long after, probably beginning in the seventh and eighth
centuries, the creation of homiliaria (a.k.a. panegyrika)—collections of patristic homilies—
were generated.2 These homiliaria were designed to replace biblical exegetical preaching
1 Canon 19 of the Council in Trullo reads: “Ὅτι δεῖ τοὺς τῶν ἐκκλησιῶν προεστῶτας, ἐν πάσῃ
μὲν ἡμέρᾳ, ἐξαιρέτως δὲ ἐν ταῖς Κυριακαῖς, πάντα τὸν κλῆρον καὶ τὸν λαὸν ἐκδιδάσκειν τοὺς τῆς
εὐσεβείας λόγους, ἐκ τῆς θείας γραφῆς ἀναλεγομένους τὰ τῆς ἀληθείας νοήματά τε, καὶ κρίματα, καὶ
μὴ παρεκβαίνοντας τοὺς ἤδη τεθέντας ὅρους, ἢ τὴν ἐκ τῶν θεοφόρων Πατέρων παράδοσιν. Ἀλλὰ καὶ
εἰ γραφικὸς ἀνακινηθείη λόγος, μὴ ἄλλως τοῦτον ἑρμηνευέτωσαν, ἢ ὡς ἂν οἱ τῆς ἐκκλησίας φωστῆρες,
καὶ διδάσκαλοι, διὰ τῶν οἰκείων συγγραμμάτων παρέθεντο· καὶ μᾶλλον ἐν τούτοις εὐδοκιμείτωσαν,
ἢ λόγους οἰκείους συντάττοντες· ἵνα μή, ἔστιν ὅτε, πρὸς τοῦτο ἀπόρως ἔχοντες, ἀποπίπτοιεν τοῦ
προσήκοντος. Διὰ γὰρ τῆς τῶν προειρημένων Πατέρων διδασκαλίας, οἱ λαοὶ ἐν γνώσει γινόμενοι
τῶν τε σπουδαίων καὶ αἱρετῶν, καὶ τῶν ἀσυμφόρων καὶ ἀποβλήτων, τὸν βίον μεταρρυθμίζουσι πρὸς
τὸ βέλτιον, καὶ τῷ τῆς ἀγνοίας οὐχ ἁλίσκονται πάθει, ἀλλὰ προσέχοντες τῇ διδασκαλίᾳ, ἑαυτοὺς
πρὸς τὸ μὴ κακῶς παθεῖν παραθήγουσι, καὶ φόβῳ τῶν ἐπηρτημένων τιμωριῶν τὴν σωτηρίαν ἑαυτοῖς
ἐξεργάζονται.”
2 Albert Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand der hagiographischen und homiletischen Literatur der
by using patristic exegesis within the liturgical assembly. Such an approach that sought to
replace biblical study and interpretation with pre-established patristic exegesis of Scripture
can help make intelligible the kind of thinking that deemed it acceptable in the twelfth cen-
tury to erase an important Greek uncial manuscript of Scripture dating from the fifth cen-
tury—Codex Ephraemi Rescriptus—in order to reuse those folia for thirty-eight treatises
of St. Ephrem the Syrian. In such case, the treatises of Ephrem the Syrian were deemed
more significant than a codex of Scripture. An interesting irony may be noted here. Canon
68 of the Council in Trullo prohibits the erasure or destruction of Old or New Testament
manuscripts to be reused as palimpsests, or for the purposes of booksellers, a practice that
clearly did not cease after the issuance of this canon.3
In the wake of the Protestant Reformation and an emphasis on individual reading and
study of Scripture, the Orthodox Church issued several official pronouncements against
private biblical study. In 1672, the Synod of Jerusalem issued what is commonly known as
the Confession of Dositheus as a rebuttal to various Calvinist positions. One particular
issue that was raised in the Confession of Dositheus is directly relevant to the discussion of
critical study of Scripture among Orthodox. The following appears in the form of a question
and answer in the Confession of Dositheus:
Question #1: Should the Divine Scriptures be read commonly by all Christians?
Response: No. We know that all Scripture is divinely inspired and beneficial,
and in this way has in it what is necessary, so that without it, it is impossible
to be pious at all. Nevertheless, it should not be read by all, but only by those
who with the proper investigation have inquired into the depths of the Spirit,
and who know which ways the divine Scripture should to be investigated and
taught, and generally read. But to those who are not trained and indifferent,
or who understand only literally, or in any other way what is contained in the
Scriptures that is foreign to piety, the catholic Church, knowing by experience
the damage caused, does not permit its legitimate reading. It is permitted to
every pious person to hear the Scripture so that that person may believe with
the heart unto righteousness, and confess with the mouth unto salvation. But to
read certain parts of Scripture, and especially the Old Testament, is prohibited
for the aforementioned reasons and others similar to them. To order untrained
persons not to read all of sacred Scripture is the same thing as restricting infants
from touching solid food.4
This statement on the reading and interpretation of Scripture was repeated almost ver-
batim in 1723 in An Exposition of the Orthodox Faith by prominent bishops, among
whom were Patriarch Jeremiah III of Constantinople, Patriarch Athanasius IV of Antioch,
and Patriarch Chrysanthos of Jerusalem.5 These Church pronouncements prohibited the
3 Another example of such a palimpsest is GA 094. This 6th century Gospel lectionary was later
erased and reused as writing material for the Life and Martyrdom of St. Menas.
4 Δοσιθέου του Ιεροσολύμων, Ομολογία πίστεως (1672). Greek text found in Ιωάννη Καρμίρη,
Δογματικά και Συμβολικά Μνημεία, 2 vols. (Athens and Graz, Austria, 1960–1968), 2:848.
5 Τα του Ευσεβεστάτου Βασιλέως και των Αγιωτάτων Πατριαρχών Γράμματα. Περί της Συστάσεως
της Αγιωτάτης Συνόδου, μετ’ εκθέσεως της Ορθοδόξου Πίστεως της Ανατολικής Καθολικής Εκκλησίας.
Ἐρώτησις β. Ἀπόκρισις. (Question 2. Answer.). The Greek version commonly cited was published in
324 John Fotopoulos
reading of Scripture generally by all Orthodox Christians, except “by those who with the
proper investigation have inquired into the depths of the Spirit, and who know which
ways the divine Scripture should to be investigated and taught, and generally read.” The
Confession of Dositheus and the Exposition of 1723 also give special emphasis to Orthodox
Christians being prohibited from reading “certain parts of Scripture, but especially the Old
Testament.” These Church pronouncements assert that Orthodox Christians in general are
permitted to hear the Scriptures in church where they are to “believe with the heart unto
righteousness, and confess with the mouth unto salvation.” In their approach to Scripture,
these Church pronouncements emphasize that it is essential for Orthodox Christians to
hear, believe, and confess, but not to read Scripture. Moreover, nothing is said about the
necessity of Orthodox Christians understanding the Scriptures. Indeed, in the response
to Question #2 in the Confession of Dositheus as well as in the Exposition of 1723, it is
asserted that only those “trained in wisdom and holiness” can understand the content of
Scripture.6
Despite these restrictions, the desire for general reading of Scripture by Orthodox and
the influence of historical criticism began to be felt slowly in Greece in the 1830s. There, the
learned Orthodox Deacon Neophytos Vamvas advocated for an Old Testament translation
that used the Masoretic Hebrew as its vorlage. This translation was sponsored by the British
and Foreign Bible Society and gained public attention in Greece in 1834.7 Because this
translation had been made from Hebrew into modern Greek, it sparked an especially sharp
backlash from traditionalist Orthodox Christians. These traditionalist Orthodox Christians
rejected any possible use of Hebrew instead of the Greek Septuagint, while they also denied
the need for modern Greek translations of Scripture in general. In 1835, the Holy Synod of
the Orthodox Church of Greece officially denounced any Old Testament translation done
from Hebrew or any other language, rather than using the Septuagint. Such translations
were declared to be “uncanonical and unacceptable by the Eastern Church.”8 Earlier, in
1822, similar sentiments against biblical translations into the common language of the
people had been expressed by Metropolitan Matthew of Kyzikos, a member of the Holy
Synod of the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople. Metropolitan Matthew stated that
the Scriptures should not be “indifferently offered to the vulgar and uneducated [people],
unable to scientifically investigate God’s revelation without the guidance and faultless in-
terpretation of the Fathers.”9 It was only after 1868, when Nicholas Damalas was appointed
to the faculty at the University of Athens, that historical-critical study of Scripture began
1844, but there is an earlier printed version from 1840. See the English text in the pamphlet translated by
William C. King from the original Greek, titled, “Letters of the Most Pious King, and of the Most Holy
Patriarchs, Concerning the Establishment of the Most Holy Synod; with an Exposition of the Orthodox
Faith of the Eastern Catholic Church,” 87–88 (cited April 12, 2014), https://books.google.com/books?id=
lI0QAAAAIAAJ.
6
Δοσιθέου του Ιεροσολύμων, (Καρμίρη) 2:849.
7
Nomikos Michael Vaporis, Translating the Scriptures into Modern Greek (2nd edition; Brookline: Holy
Cross Orthodox Press, 1994), 58.
8 Holy Synod of the Orthodox Church of Greece, Encyclical 28, April 2, 1835. Translated by Vaporis,
to gain some traction independently of patristic exegesis among Orthodox biblical scholars
in Greece.
An early Orthodox biblical scholar in Russia to employ historical criticism in his study
of Scripture was Archpriest Gerasim Pavskii. A gifted philologist and Hebraist, Pavskii used
the Masoretic text to create his own new Russian translations of various Old Testament
books,10 while Pavskii also produced a new translation of the Gospel of Matthew from
Greek.11 Some scholarly positions on the Old Testament held by Pavskii were in agree-
ment with the findings of critical biblical scholarship in the West. For example, Pavskii
thought that some of the Psalms were not likely written by King David, an idea promoted
by Pavskii as early as his dissertation in 1814. Pavskii also accepted the scholarly theory of
Second Isaiah and held that there were two authors responsible for the Book of Zechariah.12
However, Pavskii’s Hebrew translation, lecture notes, and scholarly influence on Orthodox
seminary students in Russia came under close scrutiny by the Holy Synod of the Russian
Orthodox Church. Investigations and hearings into the matter occurred between 1842 and
1844 and during this time 305 of 308 of lithograph copies of Pavskii’s critical lecture notes on
his Old Testament translations were burned by the Holy Synod.13 It was not until the 1860s
and 1870s that the situation in Russia improved slightly more in favor of using critical tools
for the translation and the study of Scripture.
An early twentieth-century achievement by Orthodox utilizing tools of textual criticism
was the publication of a continuous Greek New Testament by the Ecumenical Patriarchate
of Constantinople. This text was intended for ecclesiastical use and was to be representa-
tive of the textual tradition of the Church of Constantinople. The project began in 1899 and
was led by the gifted New Testament scholar Vasileios Antoniades. In total, one hundred
sixteen Byzantine lectionaries dating from the ninth to sixteenth centuries were studied to
produce the final text. The Greek New Testament that was published appeared in 1904, and
it was reprinted in 1912 with a small number of corrections.14 This Greek New Testament,
the so-called Patriarchal Text, continues to be the Greek text primarily in use today among
Greek-speaking Orthodox Churches.
Although the early and mid-twentieth century saw an increase in Orthodox biblical
scholars using historical criticism for their work, more emphasis was given to the value
of patristic exegesis. In the 1930s, Fr. Georges Florovsky strongly advocated for theolog-
ical renewal in the Orthodox Church with his call for a “return to the fathers.”15 The effects
10 Stephen K. Batalden, “Gerasim Pavskii’s Clandestine Old Testament: The Politics of Nineteenth-
Century Russian Biblical Translation,” Church History 57.4 (1988): 487.
11 Alexander I. Negrov, Biblical Interpretation in the Russian Orthodox Church: A Historical and
Church,” in Aspects of Church History, ed. Richard S. Haugh; vol. 4 of The Collected Works of Georges
Florovsky (Vaduz: Büchervertriebsanstalt, 1972–1989), 22. Florovsky’s call for a return to the fathers
beginning in the 1930s was also referred to by him and is well known as the “Neopatristic synthesis.” See
Florovsky, “Patristic Theology,” in Collected Works, 4:22.
16
Florovsky, “Patristic Theology,” in Collected Works, 4:16.
17
Georges Florovsky, “The Lost Scriptural Mind,” in Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View,
ed. Richard S. Haugh; vol. 1 of The Collected Works of Georges Florovsky (Vaduz: Büchervertriebsanstalt,
1972–1989), 9–16.
18 Rev. Dr. John Palmer, “Homily 1: The Importance of the Holy Fathers.” Accessed on March 27, 2017,
Hermeneutical Tradition for Contemporary Research.” At the close of the conference, the
participants drafted a statement on their deliberations. One of the relevant points of the
statement (Point #2) reads:
All participants recognized the great value and importance of the Patristic hermeneutical tra-
dition, this exquisite spiritual heritage and deposit, for contemporary biblical research. The
Patristic hermeneutical tradition constitutes an indispensable counsel and priceless guide to
the correct interpretation of Holy Scripture.19
In light of what has already been sketched about the emphasis that Orthodox have given
to patristic exegesis, it should come as no surprise that the Penteli conference participants
would stress the value of the patristic tradition for Orthodox interpretation of the Bible.
Nevertheless, those conference participants went on to make a further point regarding pa-
tristic biblical interpretation (Point #3) that has not been given the same kind of attention
as their endorsement of the patristic tradition. Point #3 reads, “The Patristic hermeneu-
tical tradition itself stimulates creative thinking and leads to the critical use of scientific
methodology in the study of Scripture today.”20 Here the conference participants, many of
whom were prominent Orthodox biblical scholars at the time from around the world, were
advocating for more than repetition of the fathers, but for creative, rigorous biblical schol-
arship using the methods and tools of critical biblical study in the academy.
While Orthodox biblical scholars have made great strides during the past fifty years in
their use of historical criticism, strong critiques have been made against historical-critical
interpretation of the Scriptures by various scholars and theologians both outside and inside
the Orthodox Church.21 Many of these critiques have tied historical criticism to methodo-
logical presuppositions stemming from the thought of Ernst Troeltsch in 1898. These meth-
odological presuppositions have been summarized by John J. Collins in the three following
principles:
(1) The principle of criticism or methodological doubt: since any conclusion is subject to
revision, historical inquiry can never attain absolute certainty but only relative degrees of
probability. (2) The principle of analogy: historical knowledge is possible because all events
are similar in principle. We must assume that the laws of nature in biblical times were the
same as now. Troeltsch referred to this as “the almighty power of analogy.” (3) The principle
of correlation: the phenomena of history are inter-related and inter-dependent and no event
can be isolated from the sequence of historical cause and effect.22
19
“First Conference of Orthodox Hermeneutical Theology: May 17– 21, 1972,” Greek Orthodox
Theological Review 17.2 (1972): 305.
20 “First Conference,” 305.
21 See, e.g., Walter Wink, The Bible in Human Transformation: Toward a New Paradigm for Biblical Study
(Philadelphia: Fortress, 1973), 1–10, where historical criticism of the Bible is referred to as “bankrupt” and
a method that reduces the Bible to a “dead letter.” Inside the Orthodox Church, Metropolitan Hilarion
Alfeyev of the Patriarchate of Moscow, frequently disparages positions held by critical New Testament
scholars. In his book Jesus Christ: His Life and Teaching, vol. 1: The Beginning of the Gospel (Yonkers,
NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2018), Alfeyev refers to positions of critical New Testament exegetes
as scholarly “myths” (64, 71–76), “fairy tales” (78), and “hypotheses that have become dogma” (77).
22 John J. Collins, “Is a Critical Biblical Theology Possible?,” in The Hebrew Bible and Its Interpreters,
ed. William Propp, Baruch Halpern, David N. Freedman, Biblical and Judaic Studies 1 (Winona Lake,
IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 2.
328 John Fotopoulos
Collins goes on to add one more principle of his own, that of autonomy, which Collins
states “is indispensable for any critical study. Neither church nor state can prescribe for the
scholar which conclusions should be reached.”23
From an Orthodox Christian perspective, certainly the Troeltschian principles #1 and
#3 could be acceptable among Orthodox biblical scholars if they are understood in a ge-
neral way. However, (1) the principle of criticism or methodological doubt can be applied
in historical-critical biblical scholarship as a kind of hostility toward Scripture. This presup-
position may assume that nothing in the Scripture is to be trusted or believed, that no event
recorded is certain, and that everything is to be doubted—an approach that is highly prob-
lematic for Orthodox biblical scholars. As for (3) the principle of correlation, numerous
Orthodox Christians would likely affirm that in many cases the phenomena of history are
interrelated and interdependent, and thus worthy of historical investigation. However, this
principle of correlation has been used by some biblical scholars to convey that God does
not act in history and that humans are left with, at best, a God who is completely apathetic
to the plight of our world, or, at worst, no God at all.
Regarding (2) the principle of analogy, Orthodox biblical scholars might give quali-
fied agreement that historical knowledge is possible because events are similar in prin-
ciple, and the laws of nature in biblical times were the same as they are now. Despite
such qualified agreement with this principle, the great majority (if not all) Orthodox
biblical scholars would reject the impossibility of the miraculous, or that God’s power
is not able to transcend so-called laws of nature, or that a supernatural, singular event
like the resurrection of Jesus is impossible. In general, it seems safe to say that Orthodox
biblical scholars using historical criticism regard an absolute naturalist ontology to be
objectionable.
Finally, Collins’s principle of autonomy could be understood in a positive way in that the
findings of most Orthodox biblical scholars are not usually predetermined by anyone or by
any institution, but this principle of autonomy might also be viewed as problematic for some
Orthodox biblical scholars because the independence of the individual is asserted to be of
almost “sacred” importance. On the other hand, many Orthodox scholars have given over-
emphasis to the idea that biblical interpretation is only done properly within the Orthodox
Church. For example, Veselin Kesich declares that “to an Orthodox student of the Bible,
the Scripture is not a field in itself, it is not ‘intelligible in itself,’ but its meaning is revealed
within its context, that is, within the life of the Church.”24 So, too, a prominent archiman-
drite of the Orthodox Church of Greece writes, “Consequently, our Orthodox Christian
Church is the criterion for the understanding of Holy Scripture and holy Tradition. An
interpretation done outside the Church travels on paths of error.”25 Such an emphasis on
biblical interpretation being done only within the Orthodox Church (however that might
23
Collins, “Critical,” 2.
24
Veselin Kesich, “The Orthodox Church and Biblical Interpretation,” St. Vladimir’s Theological
Quarterly 37.4 (1993): 349.
25 Archimandrite Ch. P., “Υπακοή στο νόμο του Θεού,” Φωνή Κυρίου (June 10, 2007): 1. In Greek,
Archimandrite Ch. P. writes, “Η Ορθόδοξη Χριστιανική Εκκλησία μας είναι συνεπώς κριτήριο για την
κατανόηση της Αγίας Γραφής και της ιερής Παράδοσης. Μια ερμηνεία εκτώς Εκκλησίας κινείται σε
δρομούς πλάνης.” See also, e.g., Mary Ford, “Seeing But Not Believing: Crisis and Context in Biblical
Studies,” St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 35.2–3 (1991): 111–112.
Orthodox Christianity, Patristic Exegesis, and Historical Criticism 329
be defined) can limit the movement of the Spirit of God, while also sometimes leading
to bland, circular, repetitious, biblical interpretation that can lack creativity, insight, and
relevance.
Certainly a normative environment of intellectual freedom must exist within the
Orthodox Church for Orthodox biblical scholars to pursue their scholarly work in good
conscience and without the Church predetermining the findings of such scholarship a
priori. To be sure, this kind of intellectual freedom is already the norm within the Orthodox
Church, without restrictions being placed on the work of Orthodox biblical scholars living
under the jurisdiction of the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople. To my know-
ledge, there is nothing in the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople akin to the Roman
Catholic Church’s censor deputatus who works in conjunction with a local bishop, nor is
there anything like a nihil obstat or an imprimatur. However, in the Orthodox Patriarchate
of Moscow, the situation is more restrictive. Stamps of approval for Orthodox religious
publications must first be issued by the Publishing Council of the Russian Orthodox
Church before publications can be distributed or used within the Russia Orthodox Church.
Writings addressing more complex issues in biblical studies by Orthodox scholars are sent
to the Russian Orthodox Church’s Synodal Biblical and Theological Commission for ap-
proval, revision, or rejection.26
Although Orthodox biblical scholars under the jurisdiction of the Ecumenical
Patriarchate of Constantinople (and many other Orthodox Church jurisdictions) do not
have to be concerned about submitting their writings for an Orthodox nihil obstat or an im-
primatur before such publications can be used in Orthodox education, or sold in Orthodox
parishes, or used by Orthodox Christians for worship as is required for Roman Catholics
biblical scholars27 or as is the situation in the Patriarchate of Moscow, Orthodox biblical
scholars using historical criticism have a responsibility to pursue their scholarship in good
conscience, striving to pursue their work as members and representatives of the Orthodox
Church. However, this should not imply that the findings or exegesis of Orthodox biblical
scholars should be predetermined, or that Orthodox biblical scholars should anachronis-
tically inject later Orthodox dogmatic positions into the writings of the New Testament
when seeking the Scripture’s literal sense. Here it might be noted that the Orthodox Church
has not yet issued an official statement on par with the Vatican’s Dei Verbum that officially
endorses the use of historical criticism by Orthodox biblical scholars in the search for the
scriptural writings’ literal sense.
The way forward for Orthodox biblical scholars is precisely the manner in which the over-
whelming majority of such scholars have been doing their work. This means that Orthodox
biblical scholars continue to use historical criticism, using the best scholarly methods of
26
For information on the issuance of stamps of approval by the Russian Orthodox Church regarding
publications that are less theologically technical, see http://www.patriarchia.ru/db/text/5458919.html.
For stamps of approval regarding writings requiring more technical approval in the area of biblical
studies, see http://www.patriarchia.ru/db/text/65975.html.
27 See the Roman Catholic Code of Canon Law #827.2 for the necessity of having an imprimatur to
use publications within Roman Catholic education at any educational level; Code of Canon Law #827.4
on the necessity of having an imprimatur for the sale of works at Roman Catholic parishes or oratories;
and Code of Canon Law #826, #827.1 on the necessity of having an imprimatur for publications used by
Roman Catholics in catechism and in private or public prayer (including translations).
330 John Fotopoulos
biblical interpretation in their searching of the Scriptures, while also honoring the exeget-
ical work of the church fathers in all its diversity.
A great deal of work being done by Orthodox biblical scholars who are using historical
criticism seems to be focused primarily on pursuing the meaning of biblical texts within
their respective historical contexts. To be sure, there is no such thing as an uncontextualized
scriptural writing. Although the search for the literal sense of Scripture may be the primary
focus of many Orthodox biblical scholars—and here clarity is especially warranted—this
certainly does not imply that the literal sense is the only viable way that a biblical text can be
understood. Indeed, it is important to remember that “meaning” itself is polyvalent, and not
necessarily something singular and abstract. This applies, of course, even to the contextual
meaning of a biblical text within its original historical and cultural Sitz im Leben. Although
interpretation of the scriptural writings is not restricted to their original context, the search
for the literal sense of Scripture should serve, at a minimum, as a kind of marker for other
kinds of biblical interpretation, even when those interpretations go beyond or away from
the literal sense. There is an acknowledgment among Orthodox Christians that the biblical
writings constitute the Word of God, also constituting a part of the canon of Scripture,28
and thus the Scriptures have been subjected to centuries of recontextualization in light of
the pastoral and theological needs of the Orthodox Church in a variety of locations. Such
recontextualizations permit a recognition as to why various church fathers found it ac-
ceptable to interpret biblical texts differently than one another, and why Orthodox biblical
scholars today may find it to be acceptable to interpret various biblical texts differently
than the fathers. Rather than demanding particular exegetical outcomes from Orthodox
biblical scholars, that is, some predetermined, so-called Orthodox interpretation for par-
ticular texts of Scripture, or even insisting on one particular method of biblical interpreta-
tion, since it is clear that the Fathers used a variety of exegetical methods, it would be more
consistent for Orthodox biblical scholars using historical criticism to conduct their exegesis
within a flexible yet Orthodox interpretative framework.
In this way, what Anthony Thiselton has referred to as the reader’s “horizon of expecta-
tion” may be of use as a springboard for further reflection regarding the work of Orthodox
biblical scholars. Thiselton states that a reader’s horizon of expectation includes:
a network of provisional working assumptions which are open to revision and change; second,
the reader or interpreter may not be conscious of all that the horizon of expectation sets in
motion, makes possible, or excludes. The expectations and assumptions concern the kind of
questions and issues which we anticipate the text will address, and even the types of genre
or mode of communication which it might use. For once, the over-worked phrase about the
need to “ask the right questions” genuinely comes into its own and has its place. The fact that
28
The precise contents of the Old Testament canon are not yet a settled matter in the Orthodox
Church. There is a consensus among the communion of Orthodox Churches that the writings of the
shorter canon of the Old Testament (thirty-nine books) constitute Scripture. That which is still in
question is the precise canonical status of the ἀναγιγνωσκόμενα and the various writings included
among them. From the meeting of the Fourth Pan-Orthodox Conference at Chambésy in 1968, the topic
of the ἀναγιγνωσκόμενα was slated for the agenda of the future Pan-Orthodox Holy and Great Council,
as was the planning of a critical edition of the Byzantine text of the New Testament. Unfortunately, in
later preconciliar meetings these topics were not pursued further and ultimately they were not discussed
at the Holy and Great Council of the Orthodox Church that convened at Crete in 2016.
Orthodox Christianity, Patristic Exegesis, and Historical Criticism 331
a horizon is by definition both a limitation and yet also capable of movement and expansion
as the subject of perception moves focuses the dual element of the strange and the familiar in
processes of seeking to understand texts.29
29 Anthony Thiselton, New Horizons in Hermeneutics: The Theory and Practice of Transforming Biblical
1 Cor 8:8-–1 3, 9:1–2 as being about fasting. In a sermon titled, “Fasting from Sin” for Cheesefare Sunday, an
Orthodox priest discusses fasting on Cheesefare and Meatfare Sundays, stating, “The Scripture readings
reinforce the theme of fasting from food. The Saturday before Meatfare Sunday, 28But if anyone says to
you, ‘This was offered to idols,’ do not eat it for the sake of the one who told you, and for conscience’ (sic)
sake; for the earth is the LORD’S, and all its fullness.’ (1Cor.10:28). Last Sunday on Meatfare, 13Therefore, if
food makes my brother stumble, I will never again eat meat, lest I make my brother stumble. (1Cor. 8:13).”
The bold type and the italics in this quotation have been reproduced just as they appear in the text of the
sermon. See http://stgeorgegoc.org/pastors-corner/fr-ricks-sermons/fasting-from-sin.
32 Thiselton, New Horizons, 46.
332 John Fotopoulos
approaches and methods beyond historical criticism are important, useful, and necessary
(such as literary, patristic/theological, feminist, liberation, etc.) and those approaches and
methods are able to bear fruit for the understanding of Scripture.33 However, if as a general
matter Orthodox exegetes ignore the historical contextualization of scriptural writings,
it is possible for Orthodox to approach the Scriptures as a kind of contemporary bib-
lical docetists, giving lip service to the historical “appearance” the Scriptures, while really
emphasizing the Scriptures divine spirit divorced from their historical contextualization.
The general limitation and overreliance on patristic exegesis as the only appropriate
biblical interpretation within the Orthodox Church has caused the Scriptures to become
largely domesticated to the extent that direct study of the Scriptures is rarely done among
Orthodox Christians today—whether by laity or clergy—since studying the Scripture
may simply be replaced with quoting the fathers. The result is that when biblical in-
terpretation is done in liturgical preaching or in church publications, patristic exegesis
from another era and place is repeated and is oftentimes not directly relevant to the pas-
toral, theological, or socioeconomic challenges faced by Orthodox faithful today. This
may be one major reason why in general the Orthodox Church today is better prepared
to fight theological heresies from the fourth and fifth centuries than it is to search the
Scriptures, allowing the Scriptures to inform, enlighten, comfort, challenge, and trans-
form Orthodox Christians and the world in which we live. In the pursuit of the literal
sense of Scripture, Orthodox use of historical criticism does not have to be singular or
forced, nor do Orthodox Christian beliefs need to be sacrificed. Rather, the Orthodox pur-
suit of the meanings of biblical texts within their particular historical contextualizations
can allow Orthodox to more closely approach Scripture’s normative polyvalent meaning,
thereby better pursuing Scripture’s polyvalent recontextualization in the life of Orthodox
Christians today.
Bibliography
Aland, Kurt, and Barbara Aland. The Text of the New Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1989.
Alfeyev, Hilarion. Jesus Christ: His Life and Teaching, Vol. 1, The Beginning of the Gospel.
Yonkers, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2018.
Batalden, Stephen K. “Gerasim Pavskii’s Clandestine Old Testament: The Politics of
Nineteenth-C entury Russian Biblical Translation.” Church History 57.4 (1988): 486–498.
Collins, John J. “Is a Critical Biblical Theology Possible?” Pages 1–18 in The Hebrew Bible and
Its Interpreters, edited by William Propp, Baruch Halpern, David Noel Freedman. Biblical
and Judaic Studies 1. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990.
Δοσιθέου του Ιεροσολύμων, Ομολογία πίστεως (1672). Page 848 in Δογματικά και Συμβολικά
Μνημεία, edited by Ιωάννη Καρμίρη. 2 vols. Athens and Graz, Austria, 1960–1968.
Ehrhard, Albert. Überlieferung und Bestand der hagiographischen und homiletischen Literatur
der griechischen Kirche. 3 vols. Leipzig, 1937.
33 The theological interpretation of the Scriptures makes room for a contemporary appropriation
of patristic biblical exegesis. However, a return to a precritical approach to the Scriptures or simply
repetition of the Fathers does not seem viable in light of our contemporary situation.
Orthodox Christianity, Patristic Exegesis, and Historical Criticism 333
Τα του Ευσεβεστάτου Βασιλέως και των Αγιωτάτων Πατριαρχών Γράμματα. Περί της
Συστάσεως της Αγιωτάτης Συνόδου, μετ’ εκθέσεως της Ορθοδόξου Πίστεως της Ανατολικής
Καθολικής Εκκλησίας. Ἐρώτησις β. Ἀπόκρισις.
“First Conference of Orthodox Hermeneutical Theology: May 17–21, 1972.” Greek Orthodox
Theological Review 17.2 (1972): 305–306.
Florovsky, Georges. “Wesdiche Einflüsse in der russischen Theologie.” Pages 212–231 in Procès-
Verbaux du Premier Congrès de Théologie Orthodoxe à Athènes, 29 novembre–6 décembre
1936, edited by Ham. S. Alivisatos. Athens: Pyrsos, 1939.
Florovsky, Georges. “Patristic Theology and the Ethos of the Orthodox Church.” Pages 11–30
in Aspects of Church History, edited by Richard S. Haugh; vol. 4 of The Collected Works of
Georges Florovsky. Vaduz: Büchervertriebsanstalt, 1972–1989.
Florovsky, Georges. “The Lost Scriptural Mind.” Pages 9–16 in Bible, Church, Tradition: An
Eastern Orthodox View, edited by Richard S. Haugh; vol. 1 of The Collected Works of Georges
Florovsky. Vaduz: Büchervertriebsanstalt, 1972–1989.
Ford, Mary. “Seeing But Not Believing: Crisis and Context in Biblical Studies.” St. Vladimir’s
Theological Quarterly 35.2-3 (1991): 107–125.
Karavidopoulos, Ioannis D. “The Ecumenical Patriarchate’s 1904 New Testament Edition and
Future Perspectives.” Sacra Scripta 10.1 (2012): 7–14.
Kesich, Veselin. “The Orthodox Church and Biblical Interpretation.” St. Vladimir’s Theological
Quarterly 37.4 (1993): 343–351.
Negrov, Alexander I. Biblical Interpretation in the Russian Orthodox Church: A Historical and
Hermeneutical Perspective. BHT 130. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008.
P., Ch., Archimandrite. “Υπακοή στο νόμο του Θεού.” Φωνή Κυρίου (June 10, 2007): 1.
Thiselton, Anthony. New Horizons in Hermeneutics: The Theory and Practice of Transforming
Biblical Reading. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1992.
Vaporis, Nomikos Michael. Translating the Scriptures into Modern Greek. 2nd edition;
Brookline: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1994.
Wink, Walter. The Bible in Human Transformation: Toward a New Paradigm for Biblical Study.
Philadelphia: Fortress, 1973.
Chapter 21
T he Modern Se a rc h for
the Litera l Se nse
Forerunners of the Challenge at Antioch
Christopher R. Seitz
Introduction
1
Rudolph Bultmann, Die Exegese des Theodore von Mopsuestia, ed. Helmut Feld and Karl Shelke
(Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1984).
The Modern Search for the Literal Sense 335
of the Reformation’s insistence on the literal sense, vis-à-vis the medieval Quadriga, it is
obvious that a great deal of space has opened up between that era’s concerns and what goes
for historical-critical reading in the ensuing centuries.
What we will see in the concerns of AI is a kindred attention for proper historical ap-
praisal. But because AI is a species of Christian interpretation in which the OT is heard
and applied in a second witness, that dimension remains critical to account for. That is, AI
wrestles with the reality of secondary recycling as a first-order affair and not something
to be given over to “New Testament scholars” in the manner of most modern handling.
Though their treatment at this level has been held to be anemic or even sub-Christian, we
hope to show that, even in its provisionality, it demonstrates just what a challenge it is to
coordinate the literal sense and extended sense-making, in the light of a two testament bib-
lical witness.
One challenge, given space limitations, is the idea of a uniform school of Antiochene exe-
gesis. This would misrepresent a genealogy of biblical interpretation popularly depicted as
running from Diodore of Tarsus, through his students Theodore and John Chrysostom, to
Theodoret of Cyrus. We know, for example, that Theodoret is frequently critical of what
appears to be the precise exegesis of Theodore. A classic case is the interpretation of Micah
4:1–5. We will turn to this example later, as it is critical for indicating an ability to regulate
exegesis inside the Antiochene family on theological grounds.
So for our purposes, to speak of Antiochene exegesis can at most serve as a shorthand
for a family resemblance within several generations of biblical commentary.2 This family
resemblance allows certain observations to be made, but it also cautions against stating the
matter without proper nuance. It has long been noted that allegorical exegesis can be quite
literal, and depending on the section of scripture being interpreted, practical and moral-
istic.3 So too, forms of higher meaning (theoria) in AI can resemble in certain ways the
spiritual reading in allegorical commentary.4 This means that defining Antiochene exegesis
as merely opposed to allegorical excesses—for whatever reasons given, and even when this
2 See use of the term in Brevard S. Childs, The Struggle to Understand Isaiah as Christian Scripture
Modern Problem,” in Beiträge zur alttestamentlichen Theologie: Festschrift für Walther Zimmerli zum
70. Geburtstag, ed. Herbert Donner et al. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1977), 80–93, and
Brevard S. Childs, “Allegory and Typology within Biblical Interpretation,” in The Bible as Christian
Scripture: The Work of Brevard S. Childs, ed. Christopher R. Seitz and Kent Harold Richards (Atlanta: SBL
Press, 2013), 299–311.
4 A very thorough survey can be found in Bradley Nassif, “‘Spiritual Exegesis’ in the School of Antioch,”
in New Perspectives on Historical Theology: Essays in Memory of John Meyendorff, ed. Bradley Nassif
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 343–377. See also my “Psalm 2 in the Entry Hall of the Psalter: Extended
Sense in the History of Interpretation,” in Church, Society, and the Christian Common Good: Essays in
Conversation with Philip Turner, ed. Ephraim Radner (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2017), 95–106.
336 Christopher R. Seitz
opposition is articulated in clear ways, as Theodore can do—is not a sufficient or compre-
hensive way to understand features of both so-called schools of interpretation.
There is doubtless much in the idea that certain differences in approach are to do with
educational principles and how texts were meant to be handled, given the schooling and
training in each respective interpretative context. Schaublein and Young have emphasized
this, and this dimension has also been referenced in an essay by John O’Keefe, and in the
translations prepared by Robert Hill.5 But of course one is never merely their alma mater.
The challenge of the peculiar subject matter and the specific form of Christian Scripture
(two testaments, with the first being referred to in the second) means the analogy with sec-
ular literature is broken in part if not entirely.
On a related tack, O’Keefe has been concerned to point to specific theological limitations
in the school of Antioch, so as not to let other issues confuse the matter, including the limi-
tations of a curriculum or training. By this O’Keefe does not mean that Theodore’s exegesis
should not be followed because of his later condemnation, associated with Nestorianism.
This would obviously be a case of explicit censure of theological limitation or distortion.6
At issue is not the success with which one can spot Nestorian tendencies in his exegesis, or
even more, Christological statements he makes which speak of two natures. For O’Keefe, the
dogmatic aspect would render disproportionate his real concern, that is, that the interpre-
tative practices of the Antiochenes as a whole are attenuated or misshapen, thus justifying
later condemnations (and the destruction of their works). In some ways the issue must be
posed this way for O’Keefe because only Theodore is finally condemned for heresy, and yet
he wishes to speak in broad terms of the propriety of finding fault with the exegesis of an
entire school. His failure to deal with Chrysostom is only one place where the ambition of
his argument may create obvious problems. He also acknowledges at places that Theodoret
may well distance himself from the exegesis of his forebears, but appears to believe this does
not handicap his evaluation. We will need to return to this issue.
One further preliminary matter requires comment. At points in recent times it had be-
come popular to see in Antiochene exegesis a kind of foreshadowing of historical-crit-
ical exegesis. From what has been said thus far, one can see how necessary it is to avoid
making too-broad generalizations: If it is unclear that one can speak of more than family
resemblances in Antiochene exegesis, the same is true in many respects of speaking of
“historical-critical exegesis” as a uniform phenomenon. Obviously the search for facts be-
hind the biblical record; or notions of multiple authorship, sources, editors, “situations-
in-life,” the forms of prophetic discourse, three Isaiahs; or the recourse to a landscape of
referentiality somehow independent of the biblical account—these priorities of historical
Theophaneia 23 (Köln: Peter Hanstein, 1974); Frances M. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of
Christian Culture (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997); Frances M. Young, “The
Rhetorical Schools and Their Influence on Patristic Exegesis,” in The Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in
Honour of Henry Chadwick, ed. Rowan Williams (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 182–
199; John O’Keefe, “‘A Letter That Killeth’: Toward a Reassessment of Antiochene Exegesis, or Diodore,
Theodore, and Theodoret on the Psalms,” JECS 8 (2000): 83–104. The commentaries, with introductory
remarks by Robert C. Hill, are cited in what follows where relevant.
6 Useful for this context of concern is John Behr, ed., trans., The Case against Diodore and
Theodore: Texts and Their Contexts (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2011).
The Modern Search for the Literal Sense 337
criticism are wide to the mark of that species of historia prized by this ancient interpretative
school. This form of ancient historia exists within a fully “uneclipsed” biblical narrative, of
the type Frei referred to in his 1974 work and which enabled figural reading and allegory
both to flourish in the Christian interpretative tradition up to and including the reformers,
on his account.7
History for the school of Antioch is indeed a crucial term of reference, but it exists within
the literal world of cross-reference available only in the final form of the Bible. In this sense,
it resembles in form and content the historical scene-setting one can see in Calvin’s exe-
gesis, though it can take odd forms in the case of the Psalter, especially in Theodore’s hands.
Theodore likes to find episodes in the history of Israel in which to place the psalms of
David, even to the degree of disputing the scene-setting the Psalter itself provides when it
provides this, in the form of superscriptions. But here one cannot find a precursor of form-
criticism, which also removed the world of reference stipulated by a superscription, so as to
imagine the psalms in cultic and history-of-religions contexts. The history at question was
located in the books of Kings and in stories found there.8
Parenthetically, this dimension in Diodore and Theodore is fascinating in its own right.9
Especially Theodore, even when he is replicating the conclusions of his teacher, speaks like
something of a modern interpreter armed with set conclusions and facts (if that is the way
to put it). He asserts situations-in-life for the psalms with complete, insouciant confidence.
David speaks of affairs in the Babylonian exile, in the days of the Maccabees, in near-terms,
in the life of Saul, and in kindred episodes provided by Kings and Chronicles. A special
favorite is Hezekiah. One has little sense of strong argument or Auseinandersetzung with a
prior tradition here. Theodore is applying a method, most likely from his school training,
and resolutely deploying it from psalm to psalm. Only one Psalm is interpreted without any
such scene-setting. To be sure he can get exercised on occasion in disputing an alternative
(Jewish or Christian), but in most instances he states his findings as if they are self-evident,
or will prove to be when he puts his pen down.
I stay with the issue at this juncture because it helps focus the kinds of questions O’Keefe
is bringing to the evaluation. O’Keefe also knows that the “history” prized by AI is not that
of modern historical-criticism, but in the end his objections about the earlier work are
theological ones, on his terms, and they could equally be directed at almost all species of
modern historical critical work. O’Keefe believes that something he calls “vertical figura-
tion” (Auerbach) is the warrant for the classification of exegesis appropriately Christian as
“theological.” Christian exegesis, for it to be worthy of the name, must relate the Psalms to
matters of Christ, the church, and redemption. It does this not by plotting the psalms and
their historia on a line of horizontal figuration which in time leads to Christ, nor even when
Antiochene exegetes claim the OT author is prophesying Jesus Christ. On his terms this still
falls short of genuinely Christian reading.
For O’Keefe the literal sense of the psalms appears to require a steady and inherent
Christological referent, and the commentary needs to draw that out and position it front
7
Hans W. Frei, The Eclipse of Biblical Narrative: A Study in Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century
Hermeneutics (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974).
8 Robert C. Hill, trans., Theodore of Mopsuestia: Commentary on Psalms 1–81 (Leiden: Brill, 2006).
9 Robert C. Hill, trans., Diodore of Tarsus: Commentary on Psalms 1–51 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2005).
338 Christopher R. Seitz
and center. At this juncture my point is only that Antiochene commentary on the Psalms,
given the evaluation of properly theological/ Christian exegesis provided by O’Keefe,
does actually look a lot like modern “historical-critical” accounts, if one refrains from
comparing their understanding of history and instead makes a theological appraisal of the
kind O’Keefe prioritizes. Modern commentary on the Psalms focuses on historical context
and intentionality in a mode of past delivery and of past sense-making, and if it seeks to
speak Christianly, it does this by some form of analogy, or by means of a tradition-historical
unfolding. Indeed, some commentary of a Christian kind even resembles allegory, though
this may both be an ironic effect of historical overdetermination seeking some vestige of ap-
plicative sense (as well as a poorly executed, inconsistent, or erratic allegorical application
measured against what has gone by this term in classical commentary). But here the alle-
gorical or applicative sense usually comes as secondary or tertiary commentary, and does
not inhere with the explication of the literal sense in the matter of earlier commentary, as
for example in Augustine or Aquinas.
A minor thesis of the present chapter is that one can identify limitations in the exegesis
of Antioch, and that such limitation can be of a theological nature. But this limitation
belongs, in our judgment, to an overdeployment of historical specification. This is some-
thing quite different to arguing that Antiochene exegesis is to be dismissed on doctrinal
grounds. (In some ways all exegesis of the period has an experimental and provisional
feel to it, seen from a later doctrinal perspective.) It is further our position that specifi-
cally Christian reading is precisely what the Antiochenes can be charged with attempting,
and that it is successful as a theological reading. There is nothing inherently “heretical”
or untheological or unchristian about the exegesis of Diodore, Theodore, Chrysostom, or
Theodoret. Rather, they have an understanding of Christian exegesis that prefers an ec-
onomic unfolding from Old to New Covenants, prophecy and fulfillment, and only lim-
ited forms of typological reading. They are also able to make specifically higher Christian
reflections, in the form of theoria. This usually takes the form of seeking to understand
prophecy and fulfillment, and the way the second testament claims to be in accordance
with the first.
We begin this section with the distinctions O’Keefe uses to describe Antiochene exegesis
and with these to argue such interpretation “did a kind of violence to Christian reading.”10
10
Here is a sample of judgments O’Keefe registers: “Antiochene exegesis did a kind of violence to
Christian reading” (84); “they destroy the coherence of the Psalms as a Christian text” (85); and “the
interpretations do not appear to be overtly Christian” (85). “they failed to grasp both the significance
and the necessity of Christian figurative and theological reading of the Old Testament. In a way, as
Leontius implies, their interpretations became ‘a letter that killeth’ ” (85); “the reader is hard pressed to
find anything particularly Christian in their biblical commentaries” (96); “they went too far and wound
up severing key links between the Old and New Testaments” (104).
The Modern Search for the Literal Sense 339
O’Keefe registers a distinction between “vertical figuration” and what he sees as tem-
poral and causal connection on the historical plane. Auerbach himself used the term “fig-
uration” and spoke of events linked across time, “vertically linked to divine Providence”
and O’Keefe cites him approvingly and for support in his evaluation (95). Auerbach also
distinguished this manner of figuration (and its appeal to providential correlation across
time) from classic historiography. Our cavil with O’Keefe is that AI cannot be described
adequately through the lens of this conceptual dichotomy (pagan historiography here, ver-
tical figuration there).
So, for example, Antiochene exegesis has no problem breaking out of causal connections
in the horizontal dimension. David can speak of events genuinely miraculously, based on
a notion of a prophetic endowment given only to Israel’s inspired seers, as Theodore has it.
This means he can see events much later in the history of Israel, in the days of Hezekiah,
Babylonian exile, or the Maccabean period. There is nothing about this that belongs to classic
historiography of a generic cultural sort, in the rhetorical schools (so Schäublin). And this
same endowment allows Theodore and Diodore to argue, against Jewish interpretations to
which they refer negatively, that David sees Christ and speaks of his day (as they hold David
does in Psalms 2, 8, 45). At issue is also not merely the degree or quantity of material from
the psalms that Diodore and Theodore allow David to see of Christ. That would confuse
the issue. To be sure, in the Psalms where David speaks of Christ, this is because the New
Testament (NT) offers a confirmation (Zaharopoulos sees this dimension as more sober).
But this is in no way a limiting factor if one is trying to understand OT prophecy as such.
Moreover, the fact that in Psalm 45 the inspired David refers to Christ when there is no NT
fulfillment or reference to this, indicates that other principles are at work.
Our main thesis can now be stated. The thing that makes comparison with classical his-
toriography run aground is the character of Christian Scripture, a character which is handled
differently by allegorists and Antiochenes, but which in both schools leads to a specifically
Christian reading. In Antioch the total character of the twofold witness is properly grasped
through the reality of prophecy, whereby figures in the first testament speak of things be-
yond their own day, and which the second testament indicates have been fulfilled in Christ.
This is not a grid of continuous, causally linked events, as might be implied by reference
to classic historiography. Because Christian Scripture has two testaments and not a con-
tinuous tradition-history, but stops and then starts again in a new mode of accordance
and fulfillment, it cannot be compared to rhetorical school conceptions. This fact is eve-
rywhere on view in Antiochene reading. Moreover, the fuller understandings of type and
antitype, while reserved in Diodore and Theodore, are in evidence in Theodoret. Diodore
and Theodore prefer single sense meanings, but this does not prohibit them from seeing
prophecy moving from the first testament to a NT fulfillment.11
The allegorical alternative is not necessarily a ramped-up figural universe, focusing on
temporal connections that are providentially overseen. Rather, the totality of scripture as
a twofold witness is asserted by means of higher senses in the moral and spiritual plane.
To say that this is a more Christian form of scriptural interpretation is to simply miss the
11 See my essay cited earlier in note 2, and also the discussion of Auerbach in my recent works, The
Elder Testament: Canon, Theology, Trinity (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2018), 70, 79–84, and
Convergences: Canon and Catholicity (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2020), 36.
340 Christopher R. Seitz
Challenges
As stated, what needs further investigation is the ability of prophecy and fulfillment to ex-
tend itself to typology and secondary reference. Two ways of considering this matter can be
distinguished. On the one hand, it can be argued that the Old Testament prophet consciously
has two things in view (David speaks of his own kingdom; David speaks of Christ). A subset
of this has David speak of his own kingdom, but know that the language he utters exposes
the transitory character of his reign, and in this sense is a “prophecy” of a future kingdom.
Both of these understandings point to a theoria, or more complex spiritual insight: one based
upon hyberbolic excess and the prophet’s knowledge of its capacity for extension. The second
is based on the prophet’s consciously having two references in his mind at the same time. An
alternative understanding focuses not so much on human agency in the Old Dispensation at
the level of inspired meaning and intentionality. Rather, David speaks of things whose import
is grasped later. At issue on this understanding is the continuous and consistent character of the
later understanding with what the OT figure said, as the letters go. David speaks truly of things
as God will in time show them to be, making his words prophetic even as they are sensibly
grasped in their own day and meaningfully intended. Here the insight into a greater referenti-
ality entails the theoria of the NT writer.
It is on this last point that AI meets its greatest challenge. Theodore is reluctant to speak
of double senses in general because he worries that this tends to fracture the letter of the
first witness. In one species to which he refers, interpretation takes turns, letting the letters
speak here of Christ and there of Solomon (so Ps 45); here of Zerubbabel and there of
Christ (Zechariah 3). That offends against a principle of clarity and human consistency
(as Theodore sees it), even in a highly inspired figure under God’s hand, like David or the
prophet Zechariah.12 A second problem for Theodore arises when it comes to NT use of the
OT. It is important for him to be able to distinguish between kinds of forward speech from
12 Compare here Theodore (Robert C. Hill, trans., Theodore of Mopsuestia: Commentary on the Twelve
Prophets, FC 108 [Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2003]) and Didymus (Robert
The Modern Search for the Literal Sense 341
the OT, and so to differentiate between what the NT does with the OT. If the OT passage
used in the NT contains language that Theodore believes cannot properly be applied to
Christ (failings/sins in Psalm 22), then David cannot be referring to Christ. In such a case,
then, the use of Psalm 22 in the NT is the consequence of a similarity of circumstance
(David’s suffering and Christ’s suffering) and so of a proper use after the fact of an OT
text: Christ uses Psalm 22 applicatively, and not as prophecy in a predictive sense, referring
to him by an inspired David. For Theodore, given his understanding, Psalm 22 cannot be
prophecy in the strict sense, because he is tied to a conception of sense that tracks closely
the letters of the OT and the appropriateness of them being extended directly to Christ,
given what the NT tells us about him. But a correspondence exists all the same, and Christ’s
use of the OT is explicable on these terms. This is as far as Theodore likes to go with double
reference, and it is probably the thinnest form of figuration because it does not have to do
with sense intention, but with subsequent correlation. This means that interpretation of
Psalm 22 ought to avoid letting the subsequent usage drive the interpretation.
Conclusions
First, it is proper to keep the description and evaluation of Antiochene exegesis distinct
from discussions of Christology and dogmatic controversy. This is especially true of matters
related to a proper assessment of theoria and the interpretation of the Old Testament, which
need to be carefully studied on their own merits. We do not have all the material neces-
sary to assess the doctrinal debate, given the enormous output of Theodore of Mopsuestia,
and the percentage of that available for study. This makes it difficult to draw clear lines
of connection between exegetical methodology in the Antiochene school and doctrinal
formulations. The two-subject Christology of Antiochene formulation may have more to
do with neoplatonic presuppositions about the character of God and especially divine im-
passability than exegetical methods per se (we leave aside the politics of the matter as this
unfolded after Theodore’s death).13
So, for example, in Psalm 2, where Theodore distinguishes the “man assumed” from
the divine Word, he seems to be matching a collection of biblical texts with a notion he
has already brought from his dogmatic storehouse. This involves linkages between Psalm
2, Psalm 8, and associations or quotations of them in Hebrews, Acts, and Matthew, thus
urging Theodore to a view that “today I have begotten you” can only apply to the incar-
nate Man and not the eternal word. Neither Diodore nor Theodoret move in this direction
because they do not acknowledge as significant the same, rather curious, assemblage of
diverse biblical references.14 Theodoret speaks only of eternal kingship via a link to Psalm
45, a Psalm the Antiochenes all agree is messianic. Diodore simply refers “today” to the
C. Hill, trans., Didymus: Commentary on Zechariah, FC 111; Washington, DC: Catholic University of
America Press, 2006]).
13
See Behr’s thorough study cited earlier.
14
Hill, Diodore of Tarsus; Robert C. Hill, trans., Theodoret of Cyrus: Commentary on the Psalms, 2
vols., FC 101–102 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2000–2001).
342 Christopher R. Seitz
divine clock, and so an indication of eternity. These simpler ways of handling the matter
will find their counterpart in later exegesis of Psalm 2 as well. In sum, it is proper to keep
the issue of exegesis and hermeneutics within its own frame of reference and not allow
doctrinal controversy to inhibit focused attention on the biblical interpretation of Antioch.
The Antiochenes are struggling with the proper way to relate the testaments and especially
direct associations made by the NT of the OT.
Second, in Micah 4, one sees the Antiochenes struggling with how to keep historia,
prophecy, and NT reference in proper balance. Theodore believes the NT (specifically
Jesus’s comments on proper worship in John) disallows Micah’s prophecy in 4:1–5 reaching
beyond the events of Israel’s own history. Theodoret, by contrast, sees Micah’s prophecy as
too hyperbolic to refer only to events in Israel’s own day, and not specifically to Christ and
the Gospel’s extension (even when the NT does not cite Micah 4 in the manner of formula
citation). The law going forth to Israel and the nations is what he calls “the evangelical law
and apostolic preaching.” He sees the failure of this text to transpire in the history of Israel
as a sign it refers to something greater, and he chastises the Jews and also Theodore (though
not by name) for faulty interpretation. The remainder of Micah chapter 4 indicates that
Zion is in for stormy days ahead and ongoing national assault.
The point here is that Theodore finds faulty a reading of Micah if the appeal to type
overreaches, or fails to match, the NT’s plain sense (as he sees it). Theodoret disagrees that
a match is not to be found. But his reading is not, strictly speaking, typological, for he
believes Micah 4:1–5 is a prophecy with a single referent. Micah prophesies the going forth
of the law and the true fulfillment of that takes place in the events of Jesus Christ and the
Church. Allegorical interpretation for the most part seeks extended meaning not through
a discussion of what the inspired speaker saw beyond his own day, or in his own day and
for another day as well, but by reflecting on spiritual senses conveyed by the biblical story
taken as a whole.
Third, Antiochene exegesis is not historical-critical exegesis. That point has been prop-
erly registered. But to the degree that Antiochene exegesis struggles with history, prophecy,
and a two-testament canon—where the second uses the first in a wide variety of ways—its
struggles have remained familiar ones. What may be said is that AI foregrounds the char-
acter of prophecy and the use of the OT in the NT, and endeavors to think through human
intention, the possibility of extended senses, and providential overseeing of fulfillments in
time. AI takes seriously the complexity of Vetus Testamentum in Novo Receptum, for its own
sake as a material reality, and because this is where doctrinal implications arise. Because the
use of the OT in the NT, and the OT’s pointing beyond itself, raise the question of the rela-
tionship of the God of Israel to NT claims about Jesus, doctrinal clarification is necessary
in the nature of the case. How is God at work in two distinct dispensations, and yet as the
same God?
Because historical-criticism has complicated matters related to human authors, and
so human intentions, by having recourse to a highly differentiated world of sources,
inherited religious forms and traditions, editors, and final redactors, it has obscured
the reality foregrounded in Anthiochene appeal to historia. The Antiochene historia
has become (given the transition from Reformation/Humanist concern for the literal
sense to eighteenth-and nineteenth-century interpretation) a hugely complicated re-
ligious history to which the Bible refers when one reads it as evidentiary clues for the
reconstruction of this external world, now called “historical.” In the older frame of
The Modern Search for the Literal Sense 343
reference, the human author has remained in clearer focus because fused with the final
form of the text.
Canonical readings, which accept the complex diachronic development of a book like
Micah, but seek to comprehend a larger coherent intention in the final form, are able
to reattach the theological concerns of (1) prophecy and fulfillment, (2) a nuanced un-
derstanding of literal sense and figural potential, and (3) the doctrinal implications of
two-testament accordance to what was of concern in the older Antiochene readings.
And what was of primary concern in the older Antiochene universe of historia and prov-
idence may again prove illuminating, as these same theological dimensions call out for
interpretation in our own day.15 This “calling out” has become more obvious or more
urgent, in part because the huge scaffolding of history-of-religions reading began to
overshadow the art of interpretation in something of the manner of allegorical or mul-
tiple sense readings. The fact of that great irony, however, takes us beyond the bounds
of this chapter.
Finally, there is an enormous output today in NT studies focusing on the use of the OT
in the NT. When properly reconstructed, the OT is said to provide the essential historical
timeline and worldview from which to plot the intentions of Jesus. For N. T. Wright, this
is something like “biblical theology” at the bottom line, and also the purpose of the OT as
such.16 Or, Paul’s use of the OT is subject to sympathetic analysis so as to understand its
variety and its penetrating theological insight; and the church finds in this combination of
pneumatological freedom and creativity a model for its own use of the OT today.17 Francis
Watson has further sought to defend Paul’s use of the OT on the grounds that it has seen
the OT’s real sense, even when obscured within that same first witness, or especially by
historical-critical readings that fail to grasp the canonical sense.18
The danger in these studies is that the NT hearing of the OT becomes normative for
Christian theology (and of necessity through a reconstruction)19 thus displacing both
15 See the concluding remarks in Christopher R. Seitz, “The Presentation of History in the Book of
Isaiah,” in The History of Isaiah: The Making of the Book and Its Presentation of the Past, ed. Todd Hibbard
and Jake Stromberg, FAT I (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2021), 145–158.
16 Among other publications, see N. T. Wright, “The Servant and Jesus: The Relevance of the Colloquy
for the Current Quest for Jesus,” in Jesus and the Suffering Servant: Isaiah 53 and Christian Origins, ed.
William H. Bellinger Jr. and William R. Farmer (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1998), 281–
297. Toward the end of the essay he avers that “story, symbol, and praxis” are the key categories for
gaining access to “Jesus’ mind and worldview,” and that these categories illuminate how Jesus’s own self-
understanding and intentions were shaped by Isaiah 52:7 and the idea that he was providing an “end” to
Israel’s story and vocation (i.e., return from exile).
17 Richard B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989).
See more recently, Richard B. Hays, “Can the Gospels Teach Us How to Read the Old Testament?,”
ProEccl 11 (2002): 402–418. The question might better be phrased: Can the OT teach us about the person
and work of Jesus Christ, who is the subject matter of OT and NT both? At issue is not the use of the OT
in the NT, as historically reconstructed to extract hermeneutical models, but the proper appraisal of the
subject matter of both testaments, each as Christian Scripture. See the evaluation of Brevard S. Childs,
The Church’s Guide for Reading Paul (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 32–42. This is an idea shared by
the Antiochenes and Aquinas both, in spite of their differences. See what follows.
18 Francis Watson, Paul and the Hermeneutics of Faith (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2004).
19 “If Mark had Job 9 in mind, it would help explain . . .” is a representative statement of this kind of
what the earlier tradition understood as the discrete theological witness of the OT as a
Christian testimony, or the genuinely forward potential of the literal sense as an exten-
sion of it.20 Hays sees the sense of Psalm 69 revealed in a special way by virtue of the
work of Christ, and he speaks of the “original sense” needing to be honored.21 Yet one
struggles to see wherein the genuine extension and continuity exists. The “meaning” of
Psalm 69 is given by a Christological endowment, rather than arising as inherently part
of the literal sense.
Antiochene exegesis of the OT reminds us that Vetus Testamentum per se and Vetus
Testamentum in Novo Receptum reflect a genuine conversation between two testaments,
providentially overseen, from which arises a theologically truthful statement about the
character of the God of Israel revealed in Jesus Christ. The theological contribution of
the scriptures of Israel lies in its unique testimony to the One God, and not what the NT
authors do with it, as reconstructed by NT scholars in the modern period. It is this stable
scriptural inheritance that allows us, in turn, to appreciate what the NT means when it
speaks of accordance and also how Christian Scripture as a whole speaks of and witnesses
to God in Christ.22
This chapter has implications for modern historical reading and how the character of
extended sense-making in the Old Testament has to be addressed, given the reality of
a two-testament Christian canon. The Antiochenes do not let this dimension fall out,
but they do not like double-referencing in the manner of Didymus. Modern historical
reading tends to hand the challenge of relating the OT and the NT over to NT scholar-
ship, in spite of ambitious projects like von Rad’s tradition-building model.23
The problem here is that NT interest in the use of the OT in the NT fails adequately
to appreciate the role of the OT per se as Christian Scripture, beyond this functional
recycling. It views figuration as a retrospective reality, and not one inherently at work
in the disclosure of God to Israel. Our investigation of AI provides an example of the
challenges facing every age. Aquinas was wary of Theodore’s reading of Psalm 22. For
him the “literal sense” was the “spiritual sense.” Aquinas did not erase the witness of God
to Israel via the plain sense of Psalm 22, but he insisted that the literal sense must not
be confined to the past only, but must be available for extended sense making as well.
Aquinas and AI both knew there was a challenge to be faced in the relationship between
the literal sense and its extensional potential. This challenge is perennial and it remains
with us today.
20 See the trenchant analysis of Don C. Collett, “Reading Forward: The Old Testament and
Retrospective Stance,” ProEccl 24 (2015): 178–196. And Don C. Collett, Figural Reading and the Old
Testament: Theology and Practice (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2020).
21 Hays, “Can the Gospels Teach Us,” 414. “Such retrospective reading neither denies nor invalidates
the meaning that the OT text might have had in its original historical setting” (emphasis mine). Here one
can see the modern assumption of a meaning distant in time that one must assume had a referent now
obscure to us. The relationship between the literal sense and extended sense-making is more organic
than that. It is a prospective sense.
22 See Seitz, Elder Testament.
23 For a fuller discussion on the limitations of the tradition-historical model for biblical theology, see
my “Two Testaments and the Failure of One Tradition-History,” in Figured Out: Typology and Providence
in Christian Scripture (Louisville: Westminster John Know, 2001), 35–48.
The Modern Search for the Literal Sense 345
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zum 70. Geburtstag. Edited by Herbert Donner, Robert Hanhart, and Rudolph Smend.
Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1977.
Childs, Brevard S. The Struggle to Understand Isaiah as Christian Scripture. Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004.
Childs, Brevard S. The Church’s Guide for Reading Paul. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008.
Childs, Brevard S. “Allegory and Typology within Biblical Interpretation.” Pages 299–311 in
The Bible as Christian Scripture: The Work of Brevard S. Childs. Edited by Christopher R.
Seitz and Kent Harold Richards. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2013.
Collett, Don C. “Reading Forward: The Old Testament and Retrospective Stance.” ProEccl 24
(2015): 178–196.
Collett, Don C. Figural Reading and the Old Testament: Theology and Practice. Grand
Rapids: Baker Academic, 2020.
Frei, Hans W. The Eclipse of Biblical Narrative: A Study in Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century
Hermeneutics. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974.
Hays, Richard B. Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul. New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1989.
Hays, Richard B. “Can the Gospels Teach Us How to Read the Old Testament.” ProEccl 11
(2002): 402–418.
Hill, Robert C., trans. Didymus. Commentary on Zechariah. FC 111. Washington, DC: Catholic
University of America Press, 2006.
Hill, Robert C., trans. Theodoret of Cyrus: Commentary on the Psalms, 2 vols. FC 101–102.
Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2000–2001.
Hill, Robert C., trans. Theodore of Mopsuestia: Commentary on the Twelve Prophets. FC 108.
Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2003.
Hill, Robert C., trans. Diodore of Tarsus: Commentary on Psalms 1–51. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2005.
Hill, Robert C., trans. Theodore of Mopsuestia: Commentary on Psalms 1–81. Leiden: Brill, 2006.
Nassif, Bradley. “‘Spiritual Exegesis’ in the School of Antioch.” Pages 343– 377 in New
Perspectives on Historical Theology: Essays in Memory of John Meyendorff. Edited by Bradley
Nassif. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996.
O’Keefe, John. “‘A Letter that Killeth’: Toward a Reassessment of Antiochene Exegesis, or
Diodore, Theodore, and Theodoret on the Psalms.” JECS 8 (2000): 83–104.
Schäublin, Christoph. Untersuchungen zu Methode und Herkunft der Antiochenischen Exegese.
Theophaneia 23. Köln: Peter Hanstein, 1974.
Seitz, Christopher R. “Two Testaments and the Failure of One Tradition-History.” Pages 35–48
in Figured Out: Typology and Providence in Christian Scripture. Louisville: Westminster
John Knox, 2001.
Seitz, Christopher R. “Psalm 2 in the Entry Hall of the Psalter: Extended Sense in the History
of Interpretation.” Pages 95–106 in Church, Society, and the Christian Common Good: Essays
in Conversation with Philip Turner. Edited by Ephraim Radner. Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2017.
346 Christopher R. Seitz
Seitz, Christopher R. The Elder Testament: Canon, Theology, Trinity. Waco, TX: Baylor University
Press, 2018.
Seitz, Christopher R. Convergences: Canon and Catholicity. Waco, TX: Baylor University
Press, 2020.
Seitz, Christopher R. “The Presentation of History in the Book of Isaiah.” In The History of
Isaiah: The Making of the Book and Its Presentation of the Past. Edited by Todd Hibbard and
Jake Stromberg. FAT I. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2021.
Watson, Francis. Paul and the Hermeneutics of Faith. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2004.
Wright, N. T. “The Servant and Jesus: The Relevance of the Colloquy for the Current Quest
for Jesus.” Pages 281–297 in Jesus and the Suffering Servant: Isaiah 53 and Christian Origins.
Edited by William H. Bellinger Jr. and William R. Farmer. Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press
International, 1998.
Young, Frances M. “The Rhetorical Schools and their Influence on Patristic Exegesis.” Pages
182–199 in The Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in Honour of Henry Chadwick. Edited by Rowan
Williams. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989.
Young, Frances M. Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture. Cambridge;
New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997.
Chapter 22
Brevard Childs, a pioneer in the Yale school of canonical interpretation, observed that
the Antiochene’s understanding of theoria is potentially significant for contemporary bib-
lical theology: “The crucial term around which the debate has revolved is the term θεωρíα
[theoria], the spiritual hermeneutic at whose center lies the dual concern for both the his-
torical and a Christological reading of the Bible.”1 Unfortunately, Childs died before he
could develop the implications of theoria for the theological interpretation of Scripture.
A “theological interpretation of Scripture” is a discipline commonly defined as the expo-
sition of the Bible according to theological principles which Christians have considered
to be inherent to Scripture. The patristic era is particularly important due to its being the
common heritage of all Christian communities, but especially because of its lasting influ-
ence on the Eastern Orthodox Church. Although it is a relatively new discipline in ac-
ademia, it has been the standard operating procedure in Orthodox Christianity for two
millennia. Sustained critical reflection on the subject, however, has been largely absent
among contemporary Orthodox theologians.
Exegetically speaking, the School of Antioch consists of Diodore of Tarsus (ca. 330–
394) and the generation of his students, Theodore of Mopsuestia (ca. 350–428), John
Chrysostom (ca. 347–407), and Theodoret of Cyrrhus (ca. 393–458). Whether it is proper
to call them a “school” of interpreters is debated, but I will do so here because they share
a family resemblance of exegetical procedures. The term “theoria” has been fairly well
1 Brevard Childs, The Struggle to Understand Isaiah as Christian Scripture (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans: 2004), 130. See B. Nassif “‘Spiritual Exegesis’ in the School of Antioch,” in New
Perspectives on Historical Theology: Essays in Memory of John Meyendorff, ed. Bradley Nassif (Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 343–377, which provides a detailed overview of the subject and the interpretive
debates surrounding it.
348 Bradley Nassif
understood in the Alexandrian context, but that has not been the case in the Antiochene
setting. The history of scholarship on Antiochene theoria has shown the term to be elusive,
if not altogether confusing for biblical and patristic scholars alike. Even John O’Keefe, and
the many excellent publications of Frances Young, seem to have completely overlooked the
scholarship on Antiochene theoria, resulting in an incomplete understanding of how the
hermeneutic actually functioned in the Antiochene School. This present chapter, there-
fore, attempts to bring clarity to this elusive term by organizing its various usages into
distinct categories that include a selection of primary source materials which illustrate the
different ways in which theoria functioned in the School of Antioch, and to extrapolate
from those sources their relevance for the Church’s theological interpretation of Scripture.
Even though the selection of primary sources is small and merely representative, they are
important for readers to have before them because they illustrate definitive traits of theoria
as well as the Antiochenes’ commitment to biblical inspiration, history, typology, authorial
intent, the literal sense, homiletics and divine providence in salvation history—subjects
addressed throughout the chapter.
In what will now become the standard work on Antiochene theoria, Richard J. Perhai offers
the most thorough analysis of the hermeneutic and its use in Theodore and Theodoret.2
One of the several hermeneutical functions of theoria among the Antiochene writers was
its possible use as a “method” of messianic exegesis. The term, however, may not have
been used as a “method” at all, but simply a means of discerning certain features of mes-
sianic prophecy. In this prophetic context, theoria discerns a “double-fulfillment” type
of prophecy in which a biblical writer saw and recorded a present historical and future
messianic message through one and the same prophecy by using hyperbolic language.
Julian of Eclanum’s (ca. 380–455) commentary on the minor prophets provides a rare
definition of theoria: “Theoria, however, as the erudite are pleased to understand it, is
for the most part a considered perception of either brief forms or causes of those things
which are of greater importance” (“Theoria est autem (ut eruditis placuit) in brevibus
plerumque aut formis aut causis earum rerum quae potiores sunt considerata perceptio”
[PL 21:971B]). Julian’s definition may have come from Theodore of Mopsuestia, with
whom Julian lived during his exile from Italy. Julian interprets Paul’s use of Hosea 1:10
in Romans 9:26:
and, “In the very place where it was said to them, ‘You are not my people,’ there they will be
called ‘children of the living God.’ ”
2
Richard J. Perhai, Antiochene Theoria in the Writings of Theodore of Mopsuestia and Theodoret of
Cyrus (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2015), c hapters 5–6. “My study builds on the foundation of Bradley
Nassif ’s dissertation, which among other concerns, addresses theoria primarily in the writings of John
Chrysostom,” 33–34.
Antiochene Theoria and the Theological Interpretation of Scripture 349
St. Paul declares that the joy allowed by those words will be fulfilled in the time of the
gospel. . . . By this Paul does not want to negate . . . the prophecy that also promises the release
from the Babylonian captivity; but the apostle wants to show us which rule we must follow
in the interpretation of the prophetic books. It is this: When we hear the prophets speaking
about the Jews and something is promised that goes beyond the small circle of people, yet we
see it partly fulfilled in that nation, we know from theoria (per theoriam) that the promise is
given for all people. . . . It will not be appropriate to say that the recall from the Babylonian
captivity is predicted according to history and the liberty given by Christ according to alle-
gory. No. The prophet predicted both things together at one time, jointly, in order that the me-
diocrity of the first fulfillment would predict the abundance of the second [emphasis mine]. . . .
So what Hosea was saying about Babylonian times, Paul attributes to the facts of the Savior.3
In his Preface to the Psalms, Diodore of Tarsus (ca. 330–390) likewise explains the manner
in which the prophets sometimes verbalized their messianic prophecies: “In predicting fu-
ture events, the prophets adapted their words both to the time in which they were speaking
and to later times. Their words sounded hyperbolic in their contemporary setting but were
entirely fitting and consistent at the time when the prophecies were fulfilled.”4 Thus, we
may safely conclude that for Julian and Diodore, a biblical prophet could at times record
an oracle that applied to a prophet’s present historical circumstances as well as to the future
messianic age. Both fulfillments were delivered through one literal and hyperbolic mode of
expression which, together, becomes the direct object of theoria.
The texts cited here do not represent the most common application of theoria in
Antiochene exegesis. Their principles, however, are relevant to contemporary discussions
in canon criticism and the nature of messianic prophecy. Admittedly, modern quests for
the final shape of the Pentateuch, its compositional history and redactional analysis were
not on the agenda of the ancient School of Antioch. Yet, as the French Jesuit Paul Ternant
observed, the goals and principles of Antiochene theoria may be developed in similar ways.5
He extrapolates from theoria the principle that a biblical redactor could at times repurpose
a historical text for use as a messianic prophecy by focusing on the history, authorial intent,
and compositional characteristics of certain prophecies in the Old Testament (OT). Theoria
seeks to discover whether selected narratives of Israel’s history were read as a guide not only
to the past but, more importantly, to the future as well. As will be seen in the next section,
some have described this kind of canonical reading as typological, but that does not seem
to do full justice to the history of the canonical process. Canonical reading today is not a
return to precritical reading, but modern scholars may wish to fruitfully retain and per-
fect the methodological intuitions and assumptions of Antiochene theoria in their attempt
to account for the unity of the Testaments and the original intentions of the authors and
compilers of the biblical text. A modern example of a sophisticated use of Antiochene prin-
ciples can be seen in the canonical theology of John Sailhammer.6
3 PL 21:871B translated from Alberto Vaccari, “La ‘teoria’ nella scuola esegetical di antiochia,” Biblica
Antioch,” 355–356. For the relation of theoria to the sensus plenior debates, especially in Raymond
Brown, see 372–373.
6 John H. Sailhamer, “A Proposal for a Canonical Theology,” in Introduction to Old Testament
Regarding the nature of double-prophecy in the School of Antioch, patristic and bib-
lical scholars over the past century have collectively identified four criteria (in piecemeal
fashion) for discerning the existence of a single prophecy with double or even multiple
fulfillments:
7
Criteria 1 and 2 are by Vaccari in Nassif, “ ‘Spiritual’ Exegesis in the School of Antioch,” 352.
8
Ibid., Ternant, 382 emphasis his.
9 Kaiser explains: “It is from this same Antiochene stance that I propose to interpret the historical and
messianic meaning of Psalm 72. Without using the term theoria, Willis J. Beecher proposed a very similar
approach to interpreting such nuances in Scripture. Beecher did not use the term theoria, but spoke of
a ‘generic interpretation’ of messianic prophecy. Beecher described it this way: A generic prediction is
one which regards an event as occurring in a series of parts, separated by intervals, and expresses itself
in language that may apply indifferently to the nearest part, or to the remoter parts, or to the whole—
in other words, a prediction which, in applying to the whole of a complex event also applies to . . . its
parts. The only major difference between Beecher’s definition and that of the Antiochenes is that Beecher
allows for ‘multiple fulfillments’ (rather than the Antiochene ‘double fulfillment’ . . . ).” Walter Kaiser
Jr., “Psalm 72: An Historical and Messianic Current Example of Antiochene Hermeneutical Theoria,”
Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 52, no. 2 (June 2009): 258; Walter Kaiser Jr., The Uses of the
Old Testament in the New (Chicago: Moody, 1985).
Antiochene Theoria and the Theological Interpretation of Scripture 351
A different use of theoria in the Antiochene School can be observed by answering two
questions: (1) How did the Antiochenes’ understanding of allegory and typology differ
from that of theoria? (2) In what ways did Antiochene writers apply theoria to other figur-
ative readings of Scripture? Regarding the first question, the distinction between “literal”
and “spiritual” readings of Scripture was a distinction between grammatical readings,
governed by the ordinary procedures for making sense of texts in Greco-Roman culture,
and figural readings that went beyond this and employed allegory, typology, and other
figurations in order to explore a text’s fuller Christological or ecclesiological meaning. It
is well known that the Antiochenes attacked Alexandrian allegory for its dehistoricizing,
platonizing, arbitrary, and elitist treatment of the biblical text. It is unnecessary for our
purposes to examine the validity of their perceptions concerning what Alexandrian al-
legory entailed. What is hermeneutically important to learn is the Antiochenes’ own
understanding of allegory and how it differed, in their minds (not ours), from theoria.
Selected passages will explain in their own words how the Antiochenes viewed allegory,
beginning with John Chrysostom. Chrysostom employed the Greek terms allegoria and
anagoge as synonymous with theoria. Commenting on Isaiah 5:2–6:1 he disavows an alle-
gorical interpretation of Christ and the Church and sees the Isaiah passage as an extended
metaphor about God’s faithfulness to Judah as he follows the principle of “Scripture
interpreting Scripture”: “We are not lords over the rules of interpretation, but must pursue
Scripture’s interpretation of itself. . . . This is everywhere a rule in Scripture: When it
wants to allegorize, it tells the interpretation of the allegory so that the passage will not be
interpreted superficially.”10 This principle is applied to Paul’s exegesis of Galatians 4:24–
26, which Chrysostom sees as a typological form of theoria that mediates a twofold sense
of the text: the word-sense (historia) and the thing-sense (typos) as represented through
the Sarah–Hagar typology. “Contrary to usage, he [Paul] calls a type an allegory,” says
Chrysostom. Even the names “Hagar” and “Sarah” are typologically significant by virtue
of their literal sense: “the bondwoman is called Hagar, and ‘Hagar’ is the word for Mount
Sinai in the language of that country . . . for that mountain where the Old Covenant was
delivered has a name in common with the bondwoman.” The interpretation comes from
theoria, which enables the interpreter to discern the interior unity of the Testaments, see
typological correspondences between Hagar and Sarah and understand the spiritual sig-
nificance of the etymology of their names—all of which belong to the so-called allegory
in Galatians 4.
In a Prologue to the Psalter, and the Preface to Psalm 118 (LXX), Diodore of Tarsus
contrasts theoria with allegory while explaining the hermeneutical principles by which
he interprets Scripture. The following quote is lengthy, but worth reading because it is
10 Translated from Jean Dumortier, ed., Jean Chrysostome, Commentaire sur Isaïe, Sources Chrétiennes
one of the clearest statements we have on the difference between theoria and allegory in
Antiochene literature. In the Preface to Psalm 118 we read:
In any approach to holy Scripture, the literal reading of the text requires some truths while the
discovery of other truths requires the application of theoria. Now, given the vast difference
between historia and theoria, allegory and figuration (tropologia) or parable (parabole), the
interpreter must classify and determine each figurative expression with care and precision
so that the reader can see what is history and what is theoria, and draw his conclusions
accordingly.
Above all, one must keep in mind one point which I have stated very clearly in my pro-
logue to the psalter: Holy Scripture knows the term “allegory” but not its application. Even
the blessed Paul uses the term: “This is said by way of allegory, for they are two covenants”
[Gal. 4:25]. But his use of the word and his application is different from that of the Greeks.
The Greeks speak of allegory when something is understood in one way but said in an-
other . . . let me give an example: Zeus called Hera his sister and his wife. The plain text
implies that Zeus had intercourse with his sister Hera so that the same person is both his wife
and his sister. This is what the letter suggests; but the Greeks allegorize it to mean that, when
ether, a fiery element, mingles with air, it produces a certain mixture which influences events
on earth. . . .
Holy Scripture does not speak of allegory in this way. In what way then does it speak?
Let me explain briefly. Scripture does not repudiate in any way the underlying prior history
but “theorizes,” that is, it develops a higher vision (theoria) of other but similar events in
addition, without abrogating history. . . . With the historical account as his firm foundation,
he develops his theoria on top of it; he understands the underlying facts as events on a higher
level. It is this developed theoria which the apostle calls allegory. As we said, he is aware of the
term “allegory” but does not at all accept its application.11 (Froehlich, 87–88)
Diodore later describes theoria as a Spirit-endowed gift that enables the interpreter to
draw out practical applications of Christian theology from the historical events recorded
in Psalm 118:
Now if one understands Psalm 118 in this way, namely, as fitting (the circumstances) of those
who first uttered it as well as those who come after them, one is entirely correct. But this is
not a case of allegory; rather, it is a statement adaptable to many situations according to the
grace of him who gives it power. . . . Being so rich and lavish, the psalm adapted itself readily
to the exiles in Babylon for their request and prayer, but it adapts itself even more precisely
to those who fervently long for the general resurrection. Now the understanding of such a
theoria must be left to those endowed with a fuller charism.12
11
Froehlich, Biblical Interpretation in the Early Church, 87–88.
12
Ibid., 87, 93.
Antiochene Theoria and the Theological Interpretation of Scripture 353
A related application of theoria can be seen in its connection with typology. Chrysostom
is our best source. Unfortunately, lack of space prevents us from analyzing several rich
excerpts of typological theoria that appear in Chrysostom’s homilies.13 All references to
theoria in the Chrysostom corpora, however, can be simply defined as spiritual illumina-
tion into the deeper meaning of divine revelation at it relates to salvation history. Salvation
history is a category used by Chrysostom and other fathers as the theological framework
for the interpretation of Scripture. Revelation takes place in events, but only as they are
interpreted by the words of Scripture. Salvation history refers to the series of historical
events given in the OT and NT that are interpreted by the Christian faith as specific acts
of God to save his people. In that context, theoria is an inspired perception of the great
metanarrative of salvation history given through the words and events of a christologically
focused Bible. Therefore, in Chrysostom’s typology, theoria functions as the hermeneu-
tical processing of historical and theological patterns of unity between type and antitype.
The pattern is discovered by means of a Spirit-inspired search (theoria) for the soteriolog-
ical significance of persons, places, events, objects, or institutions that are providentially
prefigured in the OT and fulfilled in the NT. A prime example of this can be seen in how
Chrysostom patiently prepares his audience for the deeper truths of Hebrews 12 by slowly
going through a chapter-by-chapter exposition of the letter. After patterning his exposition
of the first several chapters after God’s own patient accommodation to human weakness
(sunkatabasis), Chrysostom could then describe in Homily 12 how Paul, the alleged au-
thor, used the Melchizedek typology to explain the differences between the Old and New
Covenants: “And what is particularly noteworthy is that he shows how great the difference is
by the type itself. For, as I said, he constantly confirms the truth from the type, from things
past.” The manner in which theoria operates in the interpretive process is exemplified in
how Chrysostom interprets Paul’s use of the name “Melchizedek”:
And first from the name. “First” (he says) “being by interpretation ‘King of righteousness’: for
Sedek means ‘righteousness’; and Melchi, ‘King’: Melchizedek, ‘King of righteousness.’ ” Do
you see his precision (akribeian) even in the names? But who is “King of righteousness,” save
our Lord Jesus Christ? . . . He then adds another distinction, “Without father, without mother,
without genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life, but made like unto the
Son of God, he remains a Priest always” . . . see how he explains it mystically (hora pos auto
tetheoreken)?14
Exegesis,” Exegesis and Hermeneutics in the Churches of the East, ed. Vahan S. Hovanhessian
(New York: Peter Lang, 2009), 51–66; and more fully in Bradley Nassif, “Antiochene θεωρíα in St. John
Chrysostom’s Exegesis” (doctoral dissertation, Fordham University, 1991), available also on University of
Michigan microfilm.
14 Homily 12, PG 63.97.
354 Bradley Nassif
The loss of faith in providence implies a loss of faith in the sacramental typology of the
church fathers. John J. O’Keefe and R.R. Reno describe this loss by saying that “we have
trouble accepting the crossing of the Red Sea as connected in reality to the death of Jesus and
Christian baptism. We regard it as present and real only in the imagination of the interpreter.”
The reason for this, they rightly suggest, is “our profound lack of confidence in the patristic
understanding of the divine economy;—in other words, our faith of nerve with regard to di-
vine providence.”15
15 Hans Boersma, Scripture as Real Presence: Sacramental Exegesis in the Early Church (Grand Rapids,
MI: Baker Academic, 2017), 88. For the “real presence” of Christ in both type and antitype, see pp. 24–25.
Antiochene Theoria and the Theological Interpretation of Scripture 355
16 Don C. Collett, Figural Reading and the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2020),
129. Collett brings a sophisticated defense of figural readings of Scripture into dialogue with canonical
and cultural-linguistic hermeneutics, and their implications for preaching and exegesis.
356 Bradley Nassif
the meaning of the biblical text over the centuries influences the way we understand it. In
modern parlance, my point is about reception history, i.e., how a biblical passage functions
in the history of the Church. Orthodox interpreters have had a rich treasure trove of sources
at their disposal, which can be applied to their interpretation of Scripture. Instead of fo-
cusing only on the background of the text, Orthodox interpretation has also focused on
its foreground, where Scripture has been heard and expressed in the Church’s dogmatic,
liturgical, iconographic, hymnographic, and ascetic traditions. Appropriating the powerful
impact the Scriptures have had on the faith and life of the Church has prevented disunity
over its core beliefs and the kind of interpretive anarchy that has largely produced over
25,000 Protestant groups and denominations today. Understanding the Church’s consensus
patrum, liturgical witness, dogmas, hymns, iconography, and ascetic exegesis of Scripture
presents to the Orthodox biblical scholar not an obstacle to correct interpretation, but its
proper understanding. This, of course, raises weighty objections: Can the Church’s recep-
tion history misinterpret the Scriptures? Do not the fathers disagree among themselves on
various subjects? Is this not just another variation of the old question of Scripture versus
tradition? The answers to these questions are in the affirmative, but are counterbalanced
with important qualifications. Questioning reception history in this way does not mean we
should throw the baby out with the bathwater by abandoning the Church’s reception of the
faith, or limit our attention to exegeting the background and original meaning of the Bible.
The history of heresy shows the dangers of that approach. For the Orthodox, the key issue
is the content and function of apostolic tradition in the life of the Church. The subject of
holy tradition is undoubtedly the most difficult for an Orthodox to explain to those outside
the Church because the “mindset” (phronema) and dynamics are so different from Catholic
and Protestant notions of authority.17 The mystery of the Church’s tradition is inherent in
the mystery of providence.
This brings us to the second question we raised at the beginning of the second section: In
what ways did the Antiochene writers apply theoria to other figural readings of Scripture?
We return to Diodore’s Preface to Psalm 118. There, Diodore observes figural expressions
that are used in the psalter such as tropes, parables, and enigmas, and contrasts them with
history.
In contrast, history is a pure account of an actual event of the past. . . . I had to give my readers
a clear statement about them [figures of speech] in the preface already in order to alert them
to the fact that some parts of the psalms are meant to be taken literally while others are figur-
ative expressions, parables, or enigmas. What is emphatically not present is allegory. . . . Being
an utterance of God, this psalm accompanies generations of human beings, conforming itself
to events both actual and on a higher plane. (Froehlich, 88–91)
17
Reliable guides through the complexities of Christian tradition include John Meyendorff, Living
Tradition (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1978); Georges Florovsky, Bible, Church,
Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View, Vol. 1 Collected Works (Belmont, MA: Nordland, 1972), c hapters 5,
6; John Breck, Scripture in Tradition (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2001); Eugenia S.
Constantinou, Thinking Orthodox (Chesterton, IN: Ancient Faith Publishing, 2020).
Antiochene Theoria and the Theological Interpretation of Scripture 357
and even the resolving of apparent discrepancies between Gospel writers. In Homily 4 on
Matthew, he explains, “And also with regard to the very names, if anyone were to attempt to
translate even their etymologies he would derive a great deal of deeper insight (theorian).
This is of great importance with regard to the NT.”18 This “deeper insight” could be dis-
covered in the context of salvation history. Chrysostom could also resolve the different
descriptions of John the Forerunner in Matthew 11:2–3 and Luke 7:18 by a deeper contem-
plative analysis of the historical characteristics of the narratives: “However, this contains no
difficult matter, but only requires deeper spiritual insight (alla theorian monon).”19 To arrive
at that “deeper spiritual insight,” Chrysostom relied on the literary, historical, and theo-
logical facts of the narrative. Similarly, in Homily 34 on the Gospel of John, Chrysostom
connects various literary forms of Scripture with theoria. Commenting on John 4:34, “My
food is to do the will of him who sent me, and to accomplish his work,” Chrysostom draws
attention first to the initial confusion the disciples had over the meaning of Jesus’s words,
then explains how the disciples’ bewilderment was intended as a means of divine pedagogy
in order to predispose them for advancing to a higher level of understanding: “He did so
because he wished first to make them more attentive, as I have said, as a result of their per-
plexity, and to dispose them to listen carefully to his words, by reason of such enigmatic
statements (einigmaton).” Such a pedagogical device may at first seem to be nothing more
than the tactful skill of a wise teacher. However, in that same text Chrysostom goes on to
say that Jesus wished to convey a higher theoria by the ordinary use of figurative language:
See once again how by references to ordinary things He leads them up to the higher vision
(anagei pros ten ton megiston theorian). By saying food He signified nothing else than the sal-
vation of the men who were going to come to Him. . . . What end did these figures of speech
(tropai) accomplish for Him? For He used them not only here, but all through the Gospel.
And the Prophets similarly have made use of the same device, uttering many metaphorical
sayings (metaphorikos). What in the world, then, is the reason for this? . . . Do you see how,
while the words refer to sensible objects, the significance is spiritual, and by the words them-
selves He distinguished the things of earth from the heavenly?20
Not all metaphors had a deeper meaning in Chrysostom’s homilies. But notice here
the extent and variety of literary forms that were sometimes capable of expressing the
spiritual meaning of a biblical text. Figural expressions were used not only in the Gospel
of John but also throughout the OT generally. Some figures were so highly saturated with
spiritual meaning that hearers became perplexed because of their own lack of spiritual
preparation. Jesus raised the minds of his disciples to higher planes of soteriological in-
sight by inducing them to contemplate the spiritual counterpart of the figural senses.
In order to apprehend the theoria of the Gospel, one first had to recognize the literal
meaning in its actual, ordinary cultural context. Then, through a contemplative vision
of the literal sense, the relevant points of similarity between the earthly symbol and its
deeper spiritual reality could be known. The hermeneutical restraints on Chrysostom’s
18
PG 57:41.
19
Homily 36 in Mt., PG 57:413.
20 Fathers of the Church, tr. Sister Goggin (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America, 1957),
spiritual exegesis were governed by the nature of the narrative itself. The application of
theoria to symbolic discourse was hermeneutically controlled by the literal events that
occurred within salvation history.
Another feature of Antiochene theoria was its use in the delivery of sermons. I am not
aware of such examples in the homiletical discourses of Diodore, Theodore, and Theodoret,
but Chrysostom, the “golden-mouthed” preacher, provides explicit data. As I have shown
elsewhere,21 the goal of Chrysostom’s exegetical method corresponds to his understanding
of the nature of revelation as a historically conditioned phenomenon. His homiletical ex-
egesis, therefore, occurs once again within the eschatological framework of salvation his-
tory (oikonomia), divine accommodation (synkatabasis), and the Incarnation. Chrysostom
wisely patterned his sermons after the manner in which divine revelation had been given.
Just as a builder carefully lays one brick at a time in constructing a wall, patiently allowing
each layer to dry, so also Chrysostom taught his congregation by carefully placing in
their minds one divine teaching (theorema) at a time. In the same manner in which God
accommodated his speech (sunkatabasis) to the limitations of human understanding in the
providential ordering of salvation history (oikonomia), so also Chrysostom revealed the
deeper things of God gradually, according to the spiritual maturity of his parishioners: “Let
us also imitate these builders and let us build up your souls in the same way. For we are
afraid lest, when the first foundation has just been laid, the adding of the next teachings
[lit. “higher doctrines” theorematon] may weaken the former, because your understanding
is not sufficiently strong to hold all together firmly.”22 Moreover, a synthesis between es-
chatology, ethics, and theoria convergences in at least two of Chrysostom’s homilies on the
Gospel of Matthew. In Homily 1 he explains the eschatological framework of the Gospel to
show that Christians are to pattern their earthly ethics after their heavenly citizenship just as
Jesus’s own life joined together heaven and earth. The eschatological ideals are drawn out in
Chrysostom’s discussion of the unity between the Old and New Covenants as described in
the Sermon on the Mount. In Homily 16 he comments that Jesus in Matthew 5:18 indicates
the Old Covenant had completed its work but Christ initiated a new and altogether loftier
code of spiritual life. He perceives in the text that Jesus “hints obscurely” at this reality in
order to “heighten the hearer’s attention” to prepare them for “a higher way of life.”23 This
“higher way of life” is the theoria of Christian existence that is fundamental to Chrysostom’s
moral exegesis of Scripture.
21
Bradley Nassif, “John Chrysostom on the Nature of Scripture and the Task of Exegesis,” in What Is
the Bible? The Patristic Doctrine of Scripture, eds. Matthew Baker and Mark Mourachian (Minneapolis,
MN: Fortress, 2016), 49–66.
22 Homily on John 7 in Fathers of the Church, 75–76. Photios, the tenth-century patriarchal successor
to Chrysostom, attributes the relative absence of theoria in Chrysostom’s homilies to the practical and
soteriological requirements of his congregation. Codex 174, 119b, Bibliotheca.
23 PG 57:242.
Antiochene Theoria and the Theological Interpretation of Scripture 359
Theoria as Illumination
Finally, the relation of the Holy Spirit to the process of biblical interpretation is the most
distinctive meaning of theoria, according to John Breck, an American Orthodox priest
and biblical scholar. The technical nature of our analysis is more complex in this section
than in other uses of theoria we have discussed in previous portions of our chapter. Father
Breck wants to find an Orthodox way between historicist and fundamentalist approaches
to the Bible, as well as between the papal magisterium for Catholics and the sermon for
Protestants. He rejects all forms of theoria as a method of messianic prophecy including
those described as multiple-fulfillments, typology or the sensus plenior. Breck’s primary
contribution to understanding theoria in biblical interpretation is his emphasis on spir-
itual illumination in the mind of a biblical author, prophet, or later exegete (both NT
writers and contemporary interpreters). Theoria is the synergistic act of an interpreter’s
receptivity of Spirit-illumined insight into the correspondences between type and anti-
type, fulfilled prophecy or sacramental theology. He distinguishes exegesis from applica-
tion and sees the main hermeneutical problem at the applicational or interpretive level.
According to Breck, theoria includes not only the activity of rigorous scientific research
and continuity with the Church’s consensus patrum but also especially spiritual illumina-
tion regarding the person and work of Christ. The fruit of theoria is supremely expressed
in the Church’s worship and doctrine, “For both the literal and the spiritual sense derive
24
Haddon Robinson, Expository Preaching (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1980), 30.
360 Bradley Nassif
from divine activity within history [Breck’s emphasis]. Therefore both senses are discerned
by the Spirit-given grace of theoria.”25
Breck’s interpretation of theoria has been extensively critiqued by Theodore Stylianopoulos,
who is also a priest and American New Testament scholar.26 Some of the main concerns of
Father Stylianopoulos’s critique can be summarized, and evaluated, in five points:
1. Stylianopoulos points out the inadequacies of Breck’s belief that “scientific study” is ca-
pable of conveying the power of Scripture to modern readers. Breck’s views are said to be too
unqualified. They do not account for liberal Christianity’s unfaithfulness to the gospel because
of its accommodation to modern culture, “nor the epistemological problems raised by the
Enlightenment as widely discussed, for example, by Evangelical scholars.”27 In our view, how-
ever, Stylianopoulos overlooks Breck’s treatment of the limits of “scientific study” in several
paragraphs that explicitly address the inadequacies of higher-critical presuppositions.28
2. Stylianopoulos observes that Breck rightly connects theoria with Orthodoxy’s liturgical
tradition, but thinks that Breck fails to adequately distinguish liturgy from theological rea-
soning. Athanasius and the Cappadocian fathers not only worked with an all-embracing
spiritual vision but also interpreted Scripture in contextual and grammatical terms, espe-
cially in their debates with heretics. In balancing Breck’s mystical emphasis on theoria with
discursive reasoning, Stylianopoulos rightly underscores an abundance of grammatical and
contextual methods in patristic exegesis. However, St. Basil’s teaching on the continuity of
tradition (On the Holy Spirit, par. 66) would not seem to support Stylianopoulos’s rejection
of “patristic appeals to the authority of the liturgical tradition for the explication of doctrine.”
Basil himself appealed to doxological expressions of the Trinity as the fruit of discursive pa-
tristic exegesis.
3. Breck includes a section on faith in his writings, but according to Stylianopoulos, Breck
“does not see its affinity to the patristic theoria.” Theoria “is nothing other than the horizon of
living faith . . . that apprehends the transforming saving power of the biblical word released
by the Holy Spirit, whether through sermon, individual reading, or corporate celebration
in worship.” Stylianopoulos concludes there is nothing uniquely Orthodox about Breck’s
interpretation. Catholics and Protestants also affirm this truth and see the need for inner
illumination by the Spirit. Stylianopoulos appreciates Breck’s contention that the church
fathers and biblical authors interpreted Scripture with an inspired theoretic vision. But he
reminds Breck that the fathers “also provided a mass of straightforward [instructional and
ethical] interpretations applied to faith and practice. The bulk of these instructions, as seen
in Chrysostom’s homiletical commentaries, are given without one-sided reference either to
theoria or the eucharistic vision,” though they may well be presupposed.29
25 John Breck, The Power of the Word in the Worshiping Church (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary Press, 1986), 112; “Orthodoxy and the Bible Today” in The Legacy of St. Vladimir, eds. J. Breck,
J. Meyendorff, E. Silk (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1990), 141–157.
26 Theodore G. Stylianopoulos, The New Testament: An Orthodox Perspective, Vol. 1 (Brookline,
4. A fourth area of analysis is Stylianopoulos’s disagreement with Breck’s belief that ty-
pology can be discovered through grammatical-historical exegesis: “Both allegory and ty-
pology go beyond the level of contextual-grammatical exegesis and must be appreciated at
the hermeneutical level of their purpose and function . . . both have their respective merits,
but neither as historical-critical exegesis.”30 However, compared to the evidence set forth
in previous sections of our chapter, Professor Stylianopoulos seems mistaken on the his-
torical nature of prophecy, typology, and the relation of theoria to grammatical-historical
exegesis. The original historical context, and authorial intent, are theologically conditioned
categories that are to be understood in relation to providential history. Providence is both
historical and theological, with a foot in both worlds.
5. Finally, Stylianopoulos correctly affirms that the truth claims of Scripture must be au-
thoritatively interpreted according to the doctrinal consensus of the Church in order to
avoid uncontrolled diversity and ecclesial disunity. This doctrinal consensus “functions
both as the unitive framework and the ultimate measure of the various methods and di-
verse interpretations of Scripture.”31
Conclusion
In this chapter, I have described and illustrated the various usages of Antiochene theoria,
and suggested modest ways in which it can enhance Orthodox theological interpretation
today. As we have seen, Antiochene theoria was much more than simply a literal versus
allegorical approach to Scripture. It was the historical and theological lens through which
Scripture was read and applied. Of course, this is only one of a plurality of hermeneutical
approaches the Orthodox tradition has engaged over the centuries. Yet, its purpose (skopos),
theological theme (hupothesis), and exegetical procedures offer a balanced corrective to the
extremes of allegorical excess and the spiritual barrenness in much of modern historical
criticism. An Antiochene approach provides the Orthodox interpreter with an overall ori-
entation to Scripture that seeks to unite historical exegesis with the Church’s theology. This
unified vision occurs through a synergistic, ascetic effort that is illuminated by the grace of
the Holy Spirit as it relates an interpreter’s exegesis to the events of salvation history, with
Christ and his Church as its goal.
Bibliography
Hans Boersma, Scripture as Real Presence: Sacramental Exegesis in the Early Church (Grand
Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2017).
John Breck, The Power of the Word in the Worshipping Church (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary Press, 1986).
30
Ibid., 173.
31
Ibid., 174–175.
362 Bradley Nassif
John Breck, “Orthodoxy and the Bible Today,” in The Legacy of St. Vladimir, eds. J. Breck, J.
Meyendorff, E. Silk (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1990), 141–157.
John Breck, Scripture in Tradition (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2001).
Eugenia S. Constantinou, Thinking Orthodox (Chesterton, IN: Ancient Faith Publishing, 2020).
Brevard Childs, The Struggle to Understand Isaiah as Christian Scripture (Grand Rapids, MI:
Eerdmans, 2004), 130.
Don C. Collett, Figural Reading and the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic,
2020).
Jean Dumortier, ed., Jean Chrysostome, Commentaire sur Isaïe, Sources Chrétiennes 304
(Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1983).
Georges Florovsky, Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View, Vol. 1 of Collected
Works (Belmont, MA: Nordland, 1972).
Karlfried Froehlich, Biblical Interpretation in the Early Church (Philadelphia: Fortress
Press, 1984).
S. Goggin, tr. Fathers of the Church, vol. 33 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America,
1957).
Walter Kaiser Jr. The Uses of the Old Testament in the New (Chicago: Moody, 1985).
Walter Kaiser Jr. “Psalm 72: An Historical and Messianic Current Example of Antiochene
Hermeneutical Theoria,” Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 52, no. 2 (June
2009): 258–270.
John Meyendorff, Living Tradition (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1978).
Bradley Nassif, “Antiochene θεωρíα in St. John Chrysostom’s Exegesis” (doctoral dissertation,
Fordham University, 1991), available also on University of Michigan microfilm.
Bradley Nassif, “‘Spiritual Exegesis’ in the School of Antioch,” in New Perspectives on Historical
Theology: Essays in Memory of John Meyendorff, ed. Bradley Nassif (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1996), 343–377.
Bradley Nassif, “Antiochene θεωρíα in John Chrysostom’s Exegesis,” in Exegesis and
Hermeneutics in the Churches of the East, ed. Vahan S. Hovanhessian (New York: Peter
Lang, 2009), 51–66.
Bradley Nassif, “John Chrysostom on the Nature of Scripture and the Task of Exegesis,”
in What Is the Bible? The Patristic Doctrine of Scripture, eds. Matthew Baker and Mark
Mourachian (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2016), 49–66.
Bradley Nassif, The Evangelical Theology of the Orthodox Church, foreword Andrew Louth
(Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2021).
Haddon Robinson, Expository Preaching (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1980).
John Sailhamer, “1 Chronicles 21:1—A Study in Inter-Biblical Interpretation,” Trinity Journal
10 (1989): 33–48.
Theodore G. Stylianopoulos, The New Testament: An Orthodox Perspective, Vol. 1 (Brookline,
MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1997).
Alberto Vaccari, “La ‘teoria’ nella scuola esegetical di antiochia,” Biblica 1 (1920): 20–22.
Chapter 23
Anthony G. Roeber
The qualifying terms “Orthodox,” “Oriental,” and “eastern” reveal the assumption that
underlies this chapter—that Christian unity was and remains a work in progress. Diversity
and disagreement about who Jesus of Nazareth was, and is, account for the use of these
three terms. Geographical distance, political upheavals, and lack of awareness about how
Syriac, Greek, and Latin terms and concepts changed over time played a critical role in
the eventual divisions among Christians of the first seven centuries AD. Even the word
“Christian” is a Greek neologism that emerged during the early 30s AD in the multicul-
tural third city of the then-Roman Empire (Antioch on the Orontes). The noun identified
both Jewish and Gentile followers of the “anointed,” the masi()h about whose identity and
role Second Temple Jews disagreed among themselves. Most scholars of early Christianity
share this beginning assumption—that what some choose to call the “Jesus Movement”
covered a large, diverse, and never successfully united set of claims to what followers heard
spoken by Jesus himself, remembered and finally recorded in the earliest Gospel according
to Mark: “Who do you say that I am?” (Mark 8:29); (subsequently Matthew 16:15; Luke
9:20) (Irvin and Sunquist, 2001, 22–46; McGuckin, 2017, 4–14). The earliest description
of what Christians aspired to is revealed in the second-century term “catholic” meaning
“for all peoples of the world.” All of the groups treated in what follows continue to identify
with that term. The term “orthodox” (right praising, right believing) had pre-Christian
roots in Plato’s Symposium (for example) identifying correct (orthe) belief (doxa) that does
not claim provable knowledge (episteme) but is not ignorance, either. Equally important,
the Greek translation of the terms in the Hebrew Bible for “praise” or “glory” had settled
on “doxa” and Christian writers continued that tradition in their own recounting of the
“glory of the Lord.” The need to append this term to “catholic” emerged in fourth-cen-
tury controversies, and the designations “eastern”—eventually replaced the term “East
Roman imperial” or “Melkite” as opposed to “oriental,” i.e., characteristic of the majority
of believers in the eastern Roman provinces of Syria and Egypt and the western Empire
as “Latin” (McGuckin, 2020, 4). Because of geopolitical pressures exerted on them by
aggressive outsiders, Coptic, Ethiopian, and Armenian colorations of Christianity became
364 Anthony G. Roeber
markers of political-linguistic identity as well, a pattern of cohesion that did not include
Syrian Christians, for reasons that will become clear. Nor, finally, did the qualifying term
“eastern” remain the exclusive inheritance of Christians in the Eastern Roman Empire, as
the history of Christians in Georgia revealed.
Pride of time and place remain the prerogative of Christians whose Semitic-language roots
led to self-description as Nasraye (“Nazarenes”) perpetuating their familial-tribal memories
of the Aramaic-speaking early disciples of the southern Galilee district. “Syriac,” a dialect
version of Aramaic, emerged in written form during the first century and remained pre-
dominantly a Christian language in the Persian, Roman, and Arabic empires. Especially on
the far eastern frontiers of Christianity’s spread, what Greek and Latin Christians would
compose as biographies, martyrologies, and lives of the saints, Syriac writers encompassed
in the word “story” or “tale.” Some of Jesus’s early followers may also have had a working
knowledge of koine Greek as propertied fishermen. Jesus himself, a trained worker in
stone, could not have been unaware of the nearby cosmopolitan Roman provincial city of
Sepphoris. The influence of the early Jewish Christian community in Jerusalem in shaping
the collective memory of Syriac/Aramaic speakers was cut short by the city’s complete de-
struction by the Romans in AD 70. Antioch emerged as a prolific and deeply influential
center of liturgical life among the centers of Syriac Christianity within the Roman Empire.
But over time the urban communities of Edessa and subsequently Nisibis provided the
opportunity for the flourishing of Syriac in the disputed lands on the sometimes open,
sometimes closed, borders between the Roman and the Persian Empires (Riedel, 2012;
Debie, 2010).
The Syriac tradition contributed a severe strain of individual asceticism in the form
of isolated or wandering desert male figures who, as members of the “perfect,” had little
positive to say about sex or marriage with the singular exceptions of Bardaisan of Edessa,
Aphrahat, and Ephrem of Nisibis; perhaps more so than in other areas of early Christianity
leadership roles remained in the hands of male ascetics who took a generally dim view of
human sexuality and even marriage and gradually adopted monastic community models
that had emerged in communities further to the west (Roeber, 2018, 24–28). Evidence for
worship and the understanding of the Hebrew Bible—in a form known as the Peshitta, a
“common” “simplified” version also unique to the Syrian tradition—and Christian writings
remain sparse. What is known confirms particular characteristics of the Syriac tradition.
The Didache, a handbook of instructions for those seeking baptism into the Church also
reveals part of the eucharistic prayer life of the Syrian tradition that in the most eastern
areas celebrated an anaphora of Addai and Mari (dating from perhaps the year AD 200
identified with Thaddeus of Edessa believed to be a disciple of the apostle Thomas, or the
apostle Thaddeus himself). The prayer is notable for not including Jesus’s words of insti-
tution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper. The eastern Syrian rituals for baptism also con-
tinued a designation of the Holy Spirit as “she,” reflecting the Hebrew and Aramaic origins
of the Syriac Christians. In the more western Syriac areas, the Liturgy of St. James associ-
ated with Jerusalem and the liturgical developments at Antioch made lasting impressions
Eastern and Oriental Orthodoxy 365
on liturgical life beyond the cultural borders of Syriac communities. So influential was
one central Eucharistic prayer (anaphora) that came out of Antioch that its redaction was
attributed to the spectacular preaching bishop John “the golden-mouthed” (Chrysostom).
A surviving fragment of a Greek gospel harmony at the Dura Europos site (ca. 235?) reveals
that the more famous harmony developed by Tatian the Assyrian had not been unique.
Reliance on such harmonies persisted even when the Syrians adjusted to hearing the more
widely accepted synoptic and Johannine gospel texts (Brock, 2008; Milavec, 2003; Teicher,
1963; Parker, Taylor, and Goodacre, 2013). The development of liturgical chant and hym-
nody in Syriac also fed the prayer life of non-Syriac Christians, nowhere more so than
in the poetry of Ephrem of Nisibis, whose hymnographic impact echoed long after non-
Syriac Christians had forgotten his commentary on Tatian’s Diatessaron. Ephrem’s flight
from his native Nisibis to Edessa encapsulates the perilous life of eastern Syriac Christians
under Sassanid policies of persecution, toleration, and renewed hostility. Increasing iso-
lation from other Christians in the West accounts for the absence of the Syriac from
the ecumenical councils called by the Roman emperors by the fifth century. Participant
defenders of the creedal statements developed at Nicaea (325) and I Constantinople (381),
the Syrian “Church of the East” in the Sassanid Empire had already developed a doc-
trinal position that made it impossible for it to accept the Council of Ephesus (431). That
council’s dominating theologian Cyril of Alexandria had long harbored suspicions about
Syrian Christological teachings held by the Archbishop of Constantinople, Nestorius.
Similar suspicions had been articulated by Eusebius of Caesarea, who believed Tatian to
have been the instigator of the severe asceticism identified with extreme Encratite heresy
and perhaps Manichaean dualisms. The Christians of Antioch by the early fifth century
reflected such internal divisions in the three and eventually four different churches with
rival bishops all claiming legitimacy as heirs of Nicaea. Each needed the approval of those
bishops whose correct doctrine (the bishop of Rome and the pope of Alexandria) the
emperor Theodosius I had identified in his decree cunctos populos in 380. Questionable
degrees of loyalty to Nicaea, to the anathematized Arius of Alexandria, or to “semi-Arians”
such as Eusebius of Caesarea himself alarmed Cyril, who suspected that the root cause of
the Syrian refusal to address the mother of Jesus as Theotokos (the God-bearer) lay in the
teachings of the great Syriac theologians Diodore of Tarsus and Theodore of Mopsuestia.
Both theologians reposed in the communion of the broader Christian catholic tradition
but suffered posthumous condemnation. The Church of the East played no part in these
later disputes, since it had refused assent to the 431 Council and in the judgment of the
churches in Rome, Alexandria, Constantinople, and in part, Antioch, had left the catholic-
orthodox communion (Petersen, 2005; Petersen, 1992; van Rompay, 2008; Behr, 2011,
3–28). The attempt to reconcile Alexandrian and Antiochian theological and linguistic
differences emerged in the Council of Chalcedon’s acceptance of Pope Leo of Rome’s tomos
that failed to convince the Alexandrians and their Syrian supporters in Antioch itself. For
those Christians, any talk of Jesus having “one hypostasis in two natures” could only lead
logically to a teaching that he was really two persons. For the Latin West and the Syrians
and Greeks who accepted Chalcedon, the followers of the deceased Cyril’s insistence on
“one nature incarnate of God the Word” overcompensated for the Church of the East’s
error. As a result of the disagreements, and despite imperial attempts to circumvent the
problematic terms under dispute, Christians by the fifth century had split into three camps
with the East Roman emperors determined to enforce by military coercion adherence to
366 Anthony G. Roeber
all four councils called by their predecessors. “Only in the Syriac tradition [were]all three
strands . . . represented” (Brock and Taylor, 2001, 28).
Attempts by the imperial church to reconcile “diophysite” and “miaphysite” theologies
within the empire failed despite two subsequent councils (Constantinople II, 553, and
Constantinople III, 680– 681). The death (548) of the empress Theodora, who held
miaphysite theological views, discouraged Syrian miaphysites from hoping that their
beliefs and worship could be held without risking persecution. Before her death, Theodora
had saved the miaphysite Patriarch of Antioch Severus from arrest and secured his refuge
in Alexandria. After Severus’s death in 538, Theodora persuaded Pope Theodosius I of
Alexandria to ordain as bishop Jacob Baradaeus (500?–578), who in turn secretly ordained
a clergy and thus established a miaphysite Syrian church that probably represented the ma-
jority of Syriac speakers within the eastern Roman Empire by the end of the seventh cen-
tury (Saint-Laurent, 2015). Both miaphysite and diophysite Christians claimed Antioch as
their patriarchal seat; both eventually had to adapt to the rise of Islam, the Arabic language,
and the subsequent decline of Syriac as the primary language of worship, scriptural com-
mentary, and theological reflection.
The word “Coptic” evolved from the ancient language of Egypt via the Greek (h)ai gyptios
through Arabic to European colonizers to designate the language and the faith that
encapsulates the rich and tumultuous history of early Christianity in Egypt. The language
of ancient Egyptians but written in the Greek alphabet signals the impact of Hellenization
on this ancient civilization. Just so, because the largest-known settlement of postexilic Jews
made Alexandria their home, they too became enmeshed in disagreements about the extent
to which Gentile philosophy, literature, and the arts could be reconciled with the teachings
of the Hebrew Bible. More than one version of a collection of the scrolls in Hebrew that
are commonly known as Torah (teachings) had survived the return from Exile in 538 B.C.
One version of these was translated into the “common” or koine Greek at the behest of the
Ptolemaic ruler Ptolemy Philadelphus (285–247 BC). The historical, prophetic, and wisdom
books received later translation, and most scholars believe competing Greek versions vied
for pride of place. In order to give one translation legitimacy among those who insisted on
the sanctity of only one, received Hebrew version of scripture, the translators were num-
bered to equal the seventy elders of Israel, hence the name Septuagint (h)oi (h)ebdomekonta.
This translation became the most widely used and known among Jews not living in Palestine
and, eventually, the version of the Hebrew Bible cited by the earliest Christian compilers of
the Gospels and epistles. Just as in the case of Antioch, Alexandria (the second-largest city
of the Roman Empire) became a center of Hellenized Judaism and its Jewish community
one of the many whose languages, cultures, and history were collected into the famous
Alexandrian Library that suffered an initial conflagration while Julius Caesar was in the
city, and subsequent losses into the Christian era (Jobes and Silva, 2000, 29–44; Farag, 2014;
Timbie, 2010).
If we seek the origins of Coptic Christianity, we should look first to this large, influential,
preexisting Jewish community that provided the fertile soil to receive the gospel, just as was
Eastern and Oriental Orthodoxy 367
the case in the Syrian lands and culture. That historical fact poses a problem for later oral
traditions that maintained exposure by the Copts to Jesus as an infant as he, his mother,
and his legal father fled into Egypt to escape the murderous intent of Herod the Great. Yet
another oral tradition locates the spread of Christianity in the person of John Mark, the
purported author of the Gospel of that name (AD 60–70). But that Gospel was written in
Rome for a Gentile audience. If John Mark, the cousin of Barnabas, was attempting to re-
cord the memories of Peter the apostle’s preaching, this too appears to be an odd story of
mission and transmission (Meinardus, 1999). Scholars have been forced to conclude that
“nearly everything that is recorded about the early history of Alexandrian Christianity lies
in the Church History of Eusebius,” a controversial work in its own right characterized by “a
judicious mixture of authentic record with a good deal of suppression of fact and occasional
outright lies . . . in defence of himself and his friends and their outlook toward the nascent
imperial church establishment under God’s messenger Constantine” (Grant, 1971, 133).
The impact of Greek philosophy in Alexandria drew immigrants such as the shadowy
Sicilian Pantanaeus, the Stoic–subsequent Christian who is credited with the founding of
the Catechetical School of Alexandria (190?). Its most famous alumni included Clement of
Alexandria and the brilliant and controversial Origen. The use of Old and New Testament
scripture in shaping the liturgical life of Coptic Christians also eludes those searching for
surviving hard evidence before the controversies of the fourth century. The need to ponder
how non-Christian philosophies could be used to support the claims of Christian revelation
emerges in the eventual response by Origen to the critic of Christianity Celsus (ca. 177).
This neo-Platonist dismissed Christian ethics as nothing new and derided the claims of
Christians to an exclusive revelation of an incarnate God (McGuckin, 2017, 146–150).
Beyond cosmopolitan Alexandria, an equally profound movement emerged from
Coptic Christianity and shaped the later history of Christianity world-wide: monasticism.
Although individual hermits and anchorites sought the solitude of the Nitrian desert west of
Alexandria much as their Syrian counterparts had in Syria or Palestine, the Coptic pursuit
of the ascetic life developed into communal collections of male laity intent on fleeing what
they regarded as the dangers of urban life to genuine Christianity. By the time the former
wealthy merchant son “father of monks” Antony (251?–356) began his ascetical pursuits,
Coptic Christianity appears to have become composed of, if not exclusively, predominantly
gentile adherents. Despite his own seeking solitude, Antony attracted followers, but as an il-
literate ascetic, produced no written “rule” for such admirers. In addition to the sayings and
events of Antony’s own life recorded by Athanasius of Alexandria, the revered ascetic would
be called on by that bishop to support the correct understanding of the Christian faith
written in the first creedal statement at Nicaea in 325, in opposition to the Alexandrian pres-
byter Arius. Antony’s rough contemporary, Pachomius (290?–346) solidified the emerging
pattern of communal or cenobitic monasticism that would be studied and emulated in both
eastern and western Christian circles. But monasticism remained a lay-led movement and
despite early admiration for these ascetics, bishops came to regard the movement as a dan-
gerously alternative church whose spiritual authority admired by many remained largely
divorced from the liturgical life of the urban Christian centers led by bishops, presbyters,
and deacons. Over time, however, the monastic ascetic model even captured the episcopal
office itself (Goehring, 1986, 236–257; Sterk, 2009).
The event in the history of Coptic Christianity that shook it to its foundations emerged
in the person of the Alexandrian presbyter Arius (256?–336). A Libyan Berber by descent,
368 Anthony G. Roeber
Arius absorbed during his studies with Lucian of Antioch some of the condemned Paul of
Samosota’s theology. Personally ascetic, reserved, and an accomplished orator and writer,
Arius developed a view of the Son, the Logos, as a created, and hence, subordinate God.
Confronted by his bishop Alexander, Arius refused to admit that his views were not in
accord with the received tradition of the Christian communities throughout the empire.
Unable to corral his obstinate presbyter, Alexander called on the regional synod of bishops
in Egypt first, and when this failed and Arius’s influence manifested itself in nearly every
region of the Empire, the division among Christian communities alarmed the new emperor
Constantine. Sympathetic toward the recently persecuted Christians, Constantine could
not afford internal division among them, given his need for peace within an empire that had
only just witnessed his defeat of a rival for the throne. Perhaps to avoid allowing a pro-or
anti-Arian Egyptian bishop to preside over the imperially called council, Constantine chose
Nicaea, far to the east for the place, and as episcopal presider, his personal friend Hosius,
who occupied the see at Cordoba, in Spain. The decision to choose the word homoousios
(same essence) to describe the Son’s relationship to the Father troubled the participants,
since the word can be found neither in the Greek Septuagint nor in the Greek Christian
New Testament. Despite Arius’s condemnation, Arian Christianity survived and flourished
in both the eastern and western areas of the then-empire. The deacon Athanasius, who had
accompanied Alexander to Nicaea now as Archbishop, would fall under imperial disfavor
as Constantine’s sons revealed their own semi-Arian theological preferences. Athanasius’s
refuge at Trier in the West and the uncompromising support he received from the bishop of
Rome helped to solidify the reputations of Rome and Alexandria as the premier defenders
of Nicaean orthodoxy. When the bishop of the new imperial capital Constantinople was
awarded the second place of honor after Rome in the commemorations of the chief epis-
copal sees in 381, Rome protested the demotion of its ally Alexandria, but to no avail.
Alexandrian Coptic Christianity remained the vital theological center of the imperial
Church into the fifth-century attack on the suspect Syrian theologies. Rome remained
steadfast in its support of Cyril of Alexandria’s success at the Council of Ephesus in 431 that
insisted on the proper Christological understanding of Jesus’s mother as “the God-bearer”
(Theotokos) and gave iconograph symbolism of its support by constructing the new church
of Saint Mary Major in 434. The new temple not only affirmed Ephesus’s teaching but also
through its mosaics showed the connections that bound the Hebrew Bible to the Christian
New Testament (Miles, 1993, 160). The rupture between Coptic Alexandria and Latin Rome
at Chalcedon came therefore as a profound shock and disruption of a long-established re-
lationship. Despite Leo of Rome’s protestations that his tomos and the Chalcedonian for-
mula were in complete accord with the teaching of Cyril of Alexandria, the Copts were not
convinced. Toleration by subsequent emperors of miaphysite candidates for ecclesiastical
offices led to Rome breaking communion with Constantinople between 484 and 519. Both
the emperor Justin and his formidable nephew Justinian I reversed the toleration to appease
Rome. but Justinian then permanently alienated Coptic Egypt by the use of military force
to impose adherence to the Chalcedonian formula. Despite heavy-handed imperial policy,
Coptic Alexandria maintained its pope (at times in exile) from Dioscoros (484–454) even as
a “Melkite,” i.e., imperial-Chalcedonian patriarch also claimed the city, Egypt, and all Africa
as its jurisdiction. The arrival of Islamic invaders in 639 ended the Melkite presence in favor
of the miaphysite Coptic pope Benjamin I, as the Melkite Peter IV fled to Constantinople.
The Islamic rulers established the Coptic Orthodox as the legitimate Christians in Egypt,
Eastern and Oriental Orthodoxy 369
guaranteeing that the ancient see of Alexandria would continue as an episcopacy held in
esteem, though not claiming jurisdiction among the “Oriental” Orthodox (Siecienski, 2017,
180–186; Samuel, 2001).
The earliest reference to Christianity in what is today Ethiopia comes from the Christian
source the Acts of the Apostles (AD 80–90?) that mentions a eunuch from the queen or
kandake of Ethiopia—possibly Amanitore the Kandake of the Kushite kingdom of Meroe
between the Nile and Atbara rivers. The eunuch puzzles over a difficult passage in the Book
of Isaiah and then asks the deacon Philip for baptism (Acts 8:26–40). Philip’s Jewish identity
as one of the seven chosen in Jerusalem to assist the apostles would fit well with a supposi-
tion that he would have conversed easily with a eunuch who was part of a Jewish diaspora
that used the trade route to come from Ethiopia to the Second Temple when the opportu-
nity arose. The later history of warfare and desertification have left no further details of this
Jewish-Christian community. The tradition of a connection of sexual union between King
Solomon and a queen from “Sheba” that produced an ancient Israelite-Ethiopian royal ge-
nealogy cannot be documented before the Ethiopian Middle Ages.
Only in the fourth century does the influence of Alexandria on Ethiopian Christianity
emerge in the person of Frumentius (300?–380) a Roman war captive who was subse-
quently ordained bishop by St. Athanasius the Great, thus beginning the liturgical influ-
ence of Alexandria on whatever had already been practiced since apostolic times. The long
association with Alexandria as the source for its bishops led the Ethiopian Christians to
follow the Copts’ example in refusing to acknowledge the Council of Chalcedon and to
identify Ethiopian Christology as miaphysite. To Jewish and Greco-Roman influences on
Ethiopia’s Christian identity, scholars assign the third, that of Syrian asceticism and eventu-
ally, its miaphysite Christology that grew under the patronage of the king Caleb at Aksum,
where the Septuagint Greek and New Testament writings received translation into the
ancient language of Ethiopia, Ge’ez. Theological training was based on the Jewish Targum
that, much like rabbinic Judaism’s tradition of commentary on the Hebrew Torah, seeks to
inculcate knowledge of biblical and patristic teaching but translating those texts and com-
mentary from the ancient Ge’ez into the contemporary Ambaric language. The contours
of liturgical worship and other mysteries in Ethiopian Christianity were shaped by the
Jewish festivals and Alexandrian practices, including both baptism and circumcision and a
“Christian Sabbath” observance that is not universal but more typical in the northern areas
of Ethiopia, reflective of the Jewish-Christian influence from Axum. Whether Ethiopian
belief that the original Ark of the Covenant is preserved at Axum can be traced to an-
cient, or to later, medieval times remains a subject of debate among scholars. The subse-
quent rise of Islam and the collapse of Christianity in the area of modern Sudan (Nubia)
conspired together to isolate Ethiopians from other Christians in a manner both reminis-
cent of what occurred with the Church of the East, but with the significant difference that
the Ethiopians remained connected to a broader, if persecuted tradition of miaphysite
Orthodox Christians in other lands and cultures (Grillmeier, 1996 2:4, 295–323; Crummey,
2000, 457–462).
370 Anthony G. Roeber
Much like the Orthodox Christians of Ethiopia, whose lands lay beyond the bounds of
Christianity’s birthplace within the then-Roman Empire, Armenian Christians comprised
the first kingdom whose rulers adopted Christianity as the approved religion. An an-
cient area in the mountainous region surrounding Mount Ararat, a Bronze Age civili-
zation developed there into a powerful kingdom before Rome left its republican history
behind for imperial ambitions. Oral traditions attribute Christianity’s arrival to the apos-
tles Thaddeus and Bartholomew, hence the official name: the Armenian Apostolic Church.
Unlike Ethiopia, however, Armenia remained in sometimes close, sometimes distant, con-
tact with its sister churches both prior to, and after, the Christological controversies that
produced the 451 Council of Chalcedon that the Armenians would reject in 506 and 555 at
the Synods of Dvin. Again unlike Ethiopia, Armenia had long been contested ground be-
tween the empires of Persia and Rome even before its disparate and only loosely federated
tribal groups agreed to a “King of Great Armenia” and a conversion to Christianity possibly
in AD 301 or by the time of Constantine the Great’s toleration of Christians in the Roman
Empire. Even the process of Christian missionary activity had reflected outside political
pressures. Syrian Christian missionaries preached the gospel in the southwestern territories
while a Greco-Roman influence dominated the northwestern areas and their local feudal
leaders. The overthrow of Parthian rule in Persia and the rise of the Sassanid Dynasty after
AD 226 endangered those Armenians who had supported the former rulers and guaranteed
the division of Armenia between Persia and the Eastern Roman Empire in 387. The Sassanid
ruler recognized the Church of the East as the only legitimate form of Christianity in Persia
by 410, a development that put additional pressure on Christians in eastern Armenia to
align themselves with a church that was self-consciously separate from the Roman imperial
version (Toumanoff, 1963; Mahe and Thomson, 1997).
The struggle of Armenia for political independence from outside pressure contributed
to a tendency to identify the Christianization of Armenia with the figure of Gregory the
Illuminator (240?–325), who grew up and received his theological formation in Caesarea,
not Armenia itself. Despite establishing a tradition that called for Gregory’s successors to be
ordained to the episcopate in Caesarea that lasted until 374, the patronage of the Armenian
rulers from Tiridates III onward has threatened in the writings of scholars such as the late
Roman Catholic convert Cyril Toumanoff to obscure the fact that the new regime also
patronized and supported Syrian clergy. The importance of both Persian language and cul-
ture as well as Syriac Christianity in shaping part of Armenia’s history has characterized
the career of revisionist scholars such as Nina Garsoian. Theological education in Armenia
demanded mastery of both Greek and Syriac. The Armenian language emerged in written
form with the creation of an alphabet by the early 400s. The subsequent translation of both
Old and New Testament by 434 guaranteed an indigenous legacy of text and commentary
on both Syriac and Greek sources (Clarkson, 2008; McGuckin, 2017, 497–498; Brock and
Taylor, 2001, II: 186).
The liturgical life of the Armenian Apostolic Church reflected the same mix of influences.
The predominant one was Syrian, a reflection of missionary efforts from Antioch, although
the exposure to the growing influence of Constantinople’s imperial church and Gregory’s
Eastern and Oriental Orthodoxy 371
awareness of Cappadocian liturgical customs played their own role in shaping the Armenian
practices. By the late 400s the liturgical influence of Jerusalem became even more pro-
nounced, evidenced in the Armenian retention of Jerusalem’s custom of celebrating the
Nativity of Christ with his baptism by John on January 6. The Armenian celebration of the
liturgical hours amounted to a creative adoption and adjustment to the needs of Armenian
language and culture. Whether Armenian customs that prescribe the use of unleavened
bread, the absence of the Byzantine second mixing water with the wine for Eucharist, and
the distribution of the Mystery to the faithful in the form of the consecrated bread only were
in place from the beginning, or developed later continues to be debated. A major argument
in favor of the latter position would point to the use of leavened bread on the part of the
Church of the East from which group the Armenians rigorously distanced themselves (Taft,
1998, 17, 23; Taft, 1993, 219–24; Findikyan, 2015; Thomson, 2006).
The Armenians did not participate in the Council of Chalcedon. Both geographic dis-
tance and its own tradition of a decentralized political and ecclesiastical polity made it
difficult to resist a belligerent attempt on the part of Persia beginning in 428 to eliminate
any remnants of Roman Christian influence in Armenia. While the Roman Christians
were meeting in Council at Chalcedon, Armenians were fighting and losing the Battle of
Avaryr and only achieved a degree of self-determination from Persia in 485. The growth of
miaphysite theology in Syrian circles led by Philoxenus of Mabbug (?–523) had already led
to an improved version of the Septuagint scriptures in Syriac by 508 only a few years after
the emergence of the Armenian alphabet and liturgical texts of 434. As bishop Philoxenus
championed the miaphysite cause that came to dominate the theology of the eastern regions
of Armenia. Armenia suffered from the East Roman Emperor Justinian’s obsession with
reconquering as much of the vanished western empire as possible. Instead of concentrating
on the growing Persian threat, Justinian’s attempt to end the Iberian War (526–532) with the
“Eternal Peace” of 532 could not disguise long-term military failures despite the invention of
the new post of magister militum of Armenia. The East Roman emperor Maurice, faced with
renewed warfare with the Sassanids (572–591) eventually secured a treaty that guaranteed
the East Roman dominance over much of Armenia. Intent on imposing Chalcedon just as
his predecessor Justinian had, Maurice expelled all miaphysite Armenians from Roman
territory and put to death several hundred miaphysite monastics in Edessa before him-
self falling victim to a revolt and his own execution. Those Armenians in Cappadocia and
Trebizond within the Eastern Roman Empire formally endorsed Chalcedon in 593, but the
vast majority of Armenians remained loyal to the Armenian Apostolic Church (Adontz,
1970; Arutjunova-Fidanjan, 1988–89; Greatrex, 2005; Sarkissian, 1975; Olster, 1993).
The designation of those Christians who accepted the decisions of all the imperially called
councils between AD 325 and 681 as “Eastern” threatens to obscure the fact that through all of
those centuries, despite occasional ruptures, both Latin Western and Greek Eastern citizens
regarded themselves as members of the authentically “catholic” and “orthodox” Church.
Nor did either group ever doubt that this correct understanding of Christianity had been
372 Anthony G. Roeber
present from the time of the apostles. Nor did either group agree to be identified by linguistic
names. Each insisted that it was part of the “Roman” empire in all its linguistic diversity.
Nonetheless, a “Latin” west and “Greek” east accounted for the majority of Chalcedonian
Christians in the Eastern Roman Empire up to the calling of the Council of Chalcedon
in 451. Not long after, however, geopolitical reality forced “the Romans” to acknowledge
the disappearance of the western empire by 476, a scant generation after Chalcedon. Some
Syrian Christians remained within the Chalcedonian consensus, but as already noted, the
separation of the Church of the East by the early fifth century and the subsequent loss of
many others to the West Syrian followers of the miaphysite Jacob Baradaeus by 538 left
Chalcedonian Christianity in “Antioch and All the East” as the patriarch’s title claimed, a
minority voice. The same minority maintained a precarious foothold in Alexandria and
Jerusalem only with the support of imperial military forces. The singular and significant
exception to this pattern lay in the Caucasus, where the Christians of Georgia accepted the
Chalcedonian formula, with an attendant rift between that church and its former ally and
supporter the Apostolic Church of Armenia, against Persian invaders. Georgia’s political
and ecclesiastical history remains even more difficult to reconstruct than that of Armenia.
Despite ancient references to Colchis, descriptions of “Iberia” threaten to create a picture of
a unified political and Christian identity that was not the case. Sharing with Armenia the
Caucasian landscape and dominance of local feudal lords, Georgia also developed patterns
of pro-Roman or pro-Persian allegiances. Eventually three different Georgian scripts de-
veloped, both Syriac and Greek contributing to their emergence. Even the relationship of
the Christian communities to Antioch or Constantinople has remained a matter of contro-
versy. At least one argument suggests that with the participation of Georgians in a revolt
against Persian overlords and the emergence of King Vaktang a connection by 482–484 to
Constantinople becomes clear. The first ordination of a Katholikos of Iberia was done by
the miaphysite Peter the Fuller of Constantinople. But if this was indeed the case, loyalty to
a miaphysite theology did not last beyond the year 555, when Georgia refused to endorse
Armenia’s decision to reject Chalcedon at the second Council of Dvin. It is just as plau-
sible to argue that diophysite Syrian influence from Antioch had already taken deep root in
some areas of the rugged landscape that moved Georgia into permanent alliance with the
Chalcedonians within the Roman Empire (Grdzelidze, 2011; Rapp, 2010; Toumanoff, 1954;
Toumanoff, 1963; Shanidze, 2000).
Rome’s bishops both prior to and after Chalcedon insisted on unqualified endorse-
ment of its understanding of Christology. As a result, attempts to reconcile miaphysites to
Chalcedon faltered in the face of Rome’s refusal to lift anathemas pronounced against those
who could not accept the decisions and definition of Christ’s “two natures in one person”
formula. Nonetheless, it was Greek that remained a vital connective tissue that bound to-
gether Syriac, Coptic, Georgian, and Greek speakers and writers during the entire period
under examination. Latin failed to achieve a similar standing, and with the death of the pro-
lific and influential Augustine of Hippo (430) the Latin “catholic orthodox” had lost the last
theologian who was capable of reading and writing in Greek. Church of the East monastics
and miaphysite West Syrians journeyed to Egypt to consult with Coptic monastics. The
prevalence of koine Greek that had spread throughout the areas of Alexander the Great’s
pre-Christian empire in addition to the impact of the Septuagint version of the Hebrew
Bible put an indelible stamp on that part of the Roman Empire that by the late fifth century
had to admit, politically and geographically that it had become “eastern.” Even the exposure
Eastern and Oriental Orthodoxy 373
to the eastern empire’s inner workings by the deacon and later bishop of Rome Gregory
(590–604) during his time as Rome’s envoy (apocrisarius) to the imperial court did little
to alleviate the growing tension between Rome’s claim to a primacy based on its apostolic
foundation by Peter, and the conviction shared by other bishops in the East (Alexandria,
Antioch, Jerusalem) that they were no less “apostolic.” Even Gregory’s later urging those
four bishops to stand with him against Constantinople’s bid for a primacy that derived
from a see located in the imperial capital failed to convince them. Despite the eventual
designation of the five ancient sees as a “Pentarchy,” Rome never wholly endorsed the idea,
a reticence coupled with its claim to a unique and universal apostolic primacy, the claim
that would by the ninth century, begin the estrangement that ended by the thirteenth, in a
schism between Chalcedonians that has lasted until the present day (Johnson, 2014, 1–122;
Siecienski, 2017, 189–194; L’Huillier, 1996, 53–56, 267–296).
The continuing struggles between dio-and miaphysite Christologies had focused the
attention of both Alexandria and Rome on the Church in Antioch. That city gradually
lost its military, civil, and economic importance and, because of the suspicion cast on
Antiochene theology by Alexandria, was also never named as a center of Nicaean ortho-
doxy. In the wake of Chalcedon, Antioch, like Rome, was a city in decline and the defense
of Chalcedonian Christianity shifted permanently to the imperial capital. “In the eastern
territories of Byzantium, in the aftermath of Chalcedon, neither the Latins or the Syrians
were any longer of great political or theological moment” (McGuckin, 2004, 241). The city
of Antioch suffered a devastating earthquake in 526, and its port never recovered despite
Emperor Justinian’s efforts to restore some of the former glory of what had once been the
empire’s third-largest city. In the controversies of the next century that swirled around im-
perial attempts to bypass Chalcedonian language and reunite mia-and diophysites, Antioch
played no significant part. With the decline of Rome and Antioch and the precarious
standing of Chalcedonians in Coptic Egypt, Constantinople and its emperors played an in-
creasingly definitive role in shaping “eastern” Orthodox identity that by the seventh century
maintained only a distant and sporadic contact with Chalcedonians in the disintegrated
Latin West (Behr, 2011, 100–129; Siecienski, 2017, 195–207). The rise of Islam in the early
seventh century would sever Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem from Constantinople, ef-
fectively ending the possibility of a fully functioning Pentarchy. This set the stage for the
growing tensions between Old and New Rome and their respective claims to be catholic
and orthodox but increasingly pillorying each other as “Latin” and “Greek.” The “eastern”
Orthodox would eventually take some cold and bitter comfort in their quest for proper
identity in the fact that the rising Islamic powers first among Arabs, and then Turks would
always identify these Christians as “Rum,” i.e. “Roman.”
Conclusion
The relationship of the “eastern” Orthodox to the “Oriental” with regard to biblical schol-
arship in the third decade of the twenty-first century remains dependent on specific parts
of the world and the specific churches involved. The degree to which a particular eastern or
Oriental Church embraces or rejects engagement with critical biblical scholarship emerges
as part of a larger set of attitudes. Relationships between the West Syrian (Oriental) and
374 Anthony G. Roeber
(eastern) Greek Antiochian Orthodox include agreements regarding the manner in which
mixed marriages are to be treated, and both groups participate in critical scholarship on the
biblical texts whose interpretations once played a major role in the Christological disputes
that once seemed insuperable (Roeber, 2018, 201–204). West Syrians, Malankara Indian,
and Armenian Apostolic Christians study in European and North American universities
and schools of theology and contribute to their respective churches’ engagement with bib-
lical and liturgical studies. By contrast, in the case of the Ethiopian, Eritrean, and Coptic
Oriental churches, such levels of engagement have been not only rare but also, in some
cases, deeply controversial. The internal tensions within the Coptic Church resulted in the
2018 murder of the monastic bishop Epiphanius at the St. Macarius Monastery. But the
roots lay in the pioneering work of the monastic priest Fr. Matta El Meskeen (1919–2006),
who had written on biblical exegesis as well as liturgical and monastic history and practices
as part of his rejuvenation of that famous monastery. Silencing Fr. Meskeen had been part of
the late Pope Shenouda III’s attempt to perpetuate a largely isolated self-identity for Copts.
Those who embraced engagement with critical scholarship and discussions with other
Christians championed by the current Patriarch Pope Tawadros II saw themselves as the
heirs of Meskeen’s pioneering efforts. Political repression of the Copts within Egypt, while
contributing to the defensive posture of many within that Church, does not characterize the
Coptic diaspora in the Americas or Australia, where awareness and embracing of critical
biblical scholarship is not automatically regarded as a threat to the tradition of that Church
(Ibrahim, 2020). Just so, eastern Orthodox churches in Romania, Serbia, and Greece, and
the “diaspora” members of those churches, including some from the Church of Russia, ex-
pect an informed engagement with critical biblical scholarship from their clergy and lay
leadership. Nonetheless, conservative eastern Orthodox suspicion of critical scholarship
continues to find a voice from within some monastic communities and “Old Calendar”
dissenters, who like their Oriental counterparts regard the contours of biblical scholarship
as but one manifestation of the “pan-heresy” of ecumenism. Whether a common approach
to the question of the Orthodox and the Bible can be found may depend on the work of
joint theological commissions. In at least one geographic context for example, on October
8, 2019, the eastern and Oriental Orthodox bishops in North America revived the Joint
Commission of Eastern and Oriental Orthodox Churches in the continued pursuit of unity
among the Orthodox. Voices of an authentic Tradition revealed in the critical grappling with
Sacred Scripture in worship, teaching, and witness that can be heard in all these churches
and suggest some of the central consequences of that grappling for both the Oriental and
the eastern Orthodox Christians.
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Eastern and Oriental Orthodoxy 377
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Chapter 24
The Setting
While early Christianity was spreading westward in Greek and Latin, it traveled east-
ward in Syriac, a dialect of Aramaic, whose Palestinian form had been the spoken
language of Jesus. No doubt at first Aramaic-speaking Christians had made use of
different local Aramaic dialects, but it was the dialect of Edessa (modern Şanliurfa
in southeast Turkey), known as Syriac, that in due course came to be adopted as the
standard literary language of Christianity to the east of the river Euphrates. The early
history of Syriac Christianity is shrouded in obscurity, an obscurity that was further
obfuscated, rather than illuminated, by the growth of legends, from the early fourth cen-
tury onward, concerning the conversion of King Abgar of Edessa and his correspond-
ence with Christ.
the standard New Testament text, a status it still retains in the modern churches of
Syriac tradition.1
The Christological controversies surrounding the Councils of Ephesus (431) and
Chalcedon (451) led not only to the three-way split in Syriac Christianity2 but also to the
need felt for a further, more accurate, revision of the Syriac New Testament. Behind this
project, completed in 507/8, was the miaphysite theologian Philoxenus (d. 523), whose
Commentary on the Prologue of John contains a polemic against the Peshitta’s lack of ex-
actitude in certain passages:
When those of old undertook to translate these passages of the Scriptures they made mistakes
in many things, whether intentionally or through ignorance. These mistakes concerned not
only what was taught about the Economy in the flesh, but various other things concerning
different matters. It was for this reason that we have now taken the trouble to have the Holy
Scriptures translated anew from Greek into Syriac. (Ed. de Halleux, p. 53)
1
Further information can be found in Brock (2006).
2
Church of the East (East Syriac), Chalcedonian (Maronite), and Syriac Orthodox (West Syriac).
380 Sebastian P. Brock
Basic Assumptions
Virtually all interpreters of the Bible in antiquity, Jewish and Christian, worked with four
basic assumptions: the biblical text is an organic whole, it is divinely inspired, it is relevant
for all times, and it is often cryptic (thus a stimulus to exegetical activity).3 All the different
Syriac biblical translations mentioned above could be described as having “scriptural au-
thenticity,” and so, were understood as inspired, a point that was often stated, though
hardly ever discussed. Being inspired meant that these biblical texts were capable of bearing
meaning to all generations, which in effect meant that Scripture is necessarily multivalent;
as Ephrem put it, “The facets of [God’s] words are more numerous than the faces of those
who learn from them.” He goes on to compare the Scriptures to a fountain that can never be
drunk dry. In order, however, to discover that meaning, or rather the plurality of meanings,
the Syriac Fathers, from Ephrem onward, regularly emphasize that a right approach is es-
sential: the biblical text is not just a dead object of the past, as it were an archaeological
artifact, but a living entity that needs to be treated as such. The poet Jacob of Serugh (d.521)
explains:
With the hearing [of Scripture] let love run to receive it,
for without love the person who hears will not be benefitted.
Scripture is a treasure full of riches for whosoever approaches it:
the guardian who is in charge of it is love;
love is the key which is able to open all doors:
without it no one can enter toward God. (Ed. Akhrass, Memra 86, 180–183)
Aphrahat, in the first half of the fourth century was the first of many Syriac authors to com-
pare the word of God in Scripture to a pearl:
the word of God resembles a pearl: to whichever facet you turn it, its appearance is beautiful.
(Demonstration 22.26)
The image of the Pearl with its multiple facets is explored by Ephrem in his Hymns on
Faith 81–85, but more directly relevant in connection with biblical exegesis is the com-
parison made by Jacob in another memra, between the work of the exegete and that of
a pearl-diver who dives into “the gentle ocean” of the Scriptures in order to bring up
pearls. In this passage Jacob emphasizes the need for the assistance of grace, as well as the
presence of love:
In the depth of the ocean there is a pearl for the person who seeks for it,
in the Scriptures too, there is the Word of Life for the person who loves it.
The divine Scriptures are like the gentle ocean.
the intellect descends like a diver into their depths,
it feels around in the depths of prophecy for the pearl
which is full of beauties, and brings up the pearl.
The intellect is in need of Grace, the Mistress of the Treasure-stores,
for her give over the riches it has discovered in the Lections.
As a result of the gift of the Godhead the soul becomes enlightened
3
All this equally applies to Eastern Orthodox tradition as well: see especially Pentiuc (2014): 169–198.
Biblical Exegesis in the Syriac Churches 381
so that it can see the beauties that exist in the Scriptures and grasp hold of them. (Ed.
Akhrass, Memra 88, 25–29)
Writing about a century and a half later, the monastic author Isaac of Nineveh stresses that
for such assistance of grace, initial prayer is needed:4
Do not approach the words of the mysteries contained in the divine Scriptures without prayer
and beseeching God for help. Say “Lord, grant me to perceive the power in them.” Consider
prayer to be the key to the true understanding of the divine Scriptures.
It has been necessary to devote a certain amount of space to the nature of the biblical text(s)
available to Syriac readers, for the version employed could have an important bearing
on the exegesis; this was especially the case for the Old Testament, since the Peshitta and
Septuagint could sometimes differ considerably. The situation was particularly acute in the
case of commentaries translated from Greek, since earlier translations would supply the
Peshitta text, familiar to the reader, for the lemma, but the Septuagint would be presupposed
in the commentary proper. Around the turn of the fifth/sixth century, when the authority of
the Septuagint began to be seen as being superior to that of the Peshitta, translation practice
changed, and the lemma would henceforth be translated from the Greek, thus removing the
disjunction.
Exegetical activity can be found in a wide range of literary genres, three of which are
of fundamental importance: commentaries proper, homiletic literature, and poetry (in-
cluding liturgy), and within each of these, subcategories can be identified, while in all
cases witnesses may be either in prose or in verse. Each of these three main genres has its
own characteristic type of exegesis. This threefold classification according to genre was
well described in a work by the seventh-century East Syriac author Dadisho‘, who uses the
terms tash‘ithanaya “historical, narrative,” mtargmnaya “homiletic,” and ruḥanaya “spir-
itual.”5 The first term he associates with Theodore of Mopsuestia, aimed at a readership
of eskolaye, students at the theological schools; the second is described as the approach of
Basil and John (Chrysostom), intended for lay people, while the third (associated espe-
cially with the Psalms) is directed toward solitaries (and no doubt other monastic readers
too). An earlier classification, this time binary, had already been provided by Ephrem in
his Commentary on Genesis, where he gave two sets of commentary on Genesis 49, the
first su‘rana’ith, “factually,” “practically,” and the second ruḥana’it, “spiritually.” An impor-
tant further term is also attested, namely pel’ethanaya, lit.’ “parabolic” but also “allegor-
ical.” This was a term that had taken on negative connotations in the East Syriac tradition,
4
(Syriac) Homily 45, ed. Bedjan, II, 329. Elsewhere (Part II.34.12) Isaac cites “the Fathers” as speaking
of “spiritual swimming”; very possibly he was referring to the passage by Jacob just quoted.
5 Draguet (1972): 155–156; for the term mtargmnaya, cf. the Prologue to Theodore of Mopsuestia’s
Commentary on John.
382 Sebastian P. Brock
Commentaries
The earliest surviving commentaries are by, or attributed to, Ephrem (d. 373); his
commentaries on Genesis and on Exodus are likely to be genuine, whereas that on the
Diatessaron was probably put together by his disciples making use of genuine materials.
Although Ephrem’s Commentary on Genesis follows, as one would expect, the sequence of
the biblical text, the coverage is very unequal, and over a third of the space is devoted to the
opening three chapters. The other passage to which Ephrem devotes special attention is the
Blessings of Jacob (Genesis 49), for which he provides, as noted previously, both a “factual”
and a “spiritual” interpretation, introducing these two terms into the tradition for the first
time. References forward to the New Testament and to the Church are very restrained, and
one of the remarkable features of Ephrem’s commentaries on Genesis and Exodus is his use
of Jewish exegetical traditions and (in some cases) terminology.
From the first half of the fifth century there survives commentary on Qohelet by the mo-
nastic author John of Apamaea (aka John the Solitary). Although Qohelet was one of the
Wisdom books favored by Evagrius, there appears to be no direct connection with any of
Evagrius’s works; nor does there seem to be any connection with Theodore of Mopsuestia’s
commentary on the book, for which part of a Syriac translation survives. Spanning the fifth/
sixth century, the Syrian Orthodox theologian Philoxenus was the author of a commentary
(pushaqa) on Matthew and Luke; this, however, only survives in fragments. His major work
Biblical Exegesis in the Syriac Churches 383
on the Prologue of John is also titled “Commentaire” in the French translation, but pushaqa
does not feature in the unique manuscript—written in his own lifetime!—that contains
it: there the work is called a memra, or Discourse. It was in this work that Philoxenus
polemicized against the loose translations of the Greek to be found in the Peshitta in cer-
tain passages of Christological importance.
An extensive Commentary on the Psalms is by Daniel of Salaḥ (Syrian Orthodox; fl.
c. mid-6th c.). After a Prologue, Daniel provides a commentary (described as a memra,
“discourse”) on each psalm in turn; this takes the form of an introductory homiletic text,
followed by comments on selected verses. He describes his interpretation variously as “fac-
tual,” “allegorical,” and “spiritual,” also employing the term theoria several times. At one
point (on Psalm 33) he speaks of “entering the inner veil of the wording.”
During the course of the fifth and sixth centuries a very large amount of Greek Patristic
literature was translated into Syriac, and this of course included several commentaries. The
most important and influential of these which survive were Athanasius on the Psalms (in
long and short recensions, along with his Letter to Marcellinus, on the use of the Psalms);
Basil on the Hexaemeron; Theodore of Mopsuestia on John, with fragments on Genesis,
the Psalms and Qohelet; John Chrysostom’s Homilies on books of both Old and New
Testaments, with those on Matthew and John the best preserved; Gregory of Nyssa on the
Song of Songs; and Cyril of Alexandria’s homilies on Luke.
During the time of Arab rule, from the seventh century onward, Syriac writers share
with their Greek counterparts a learned and encyclopedic approach, and commentaries
are often provided with prologues which take as their model the prolegomena that had be-
come standard in Late Antiquity for medical and philosophical literature. The period opens
with the biblical studies of the learned and wide-ranging Syrian Orthodox scholar Jacob of
Edessa (d. 708); Jacob was exceptional in that he had a smattering of knowledge of Hebrew.
In his Commentary on the Hexaemeron he brought together a vast amount of the scientific
knowledge of his day, whereas his comments on specific passages of biblical books are to
be found in sets of scholia and in the course of his extensive correspondence. Further ma-
terial in the form of extracts from his commentary on the Octateuch features in the Catena
known as the “Catena Severi,” whose text in Vatican Syr. 103 was provided in the eighteenth-
century edition of Ephrem’s works.
For the eighth and ninth century a number of running commentaries on biblical books
survive, all from the East Syriac tradition, two of which are particularly important. The
anonymous commentary on Genesis to Exodus 9:32 has as one of its sources a work by
a certain Gabriel of Qatar, one of several seventh-century writers (who include Isaac “of
Nineveh”) from the Gulf region. Remarkably this commentary quotes “the Hebrew” a
number of times, though what is meant is far from clear; possibly the information derives
from the Commentary on Genesis by Eusebius of Emesa, known today only in the
Armenian translation. Writing in the latter half of the ninth century, Isho‘dad of Merv
provided commentaries on all the books of the Bible that belong to the East Syriac Canon.
His commentary is of especial value since it brings together a great variety of earlier
traditions; it also introduces into the East Syriac tradition for the first time evidence from
the Syrohexapla. Isho‘dad sometimes indicates his preference for a particular tradition,
but quite often he simply juxtaposes them. The very varied character of Isho‘dad’s exe-
gesis can best be illustrated from his commentary on Genesis 22:13, where he combines
384 Sebastian P. Brock
textual and philological matters with practical concerns, typology and a hinted rejection
of Ephrem’s exegesis.
The tree on which the ram was hung. Hebrew and Greek: “Behold, a single ram held in the
plant Sabeq by its horns” [=LXX]. Sabeq: wood of forgiveness [cf. root šbq], that is, the Cross
that absolves, and through Him who was crucified debts are remitted, etc. Now it was hung
by its horns, with its feet extended, and it marked out the type of the Cross. Some (say) “that
ram was a new creation,” but that is not true. Others (say) “the ram was from somewhere else,
or it was a mountain (ram).” Mar Ephrem [Comm. on Genesis 20.3] (says) “that there was
no ram there, Isaac’s question about the lamb testifies; and that there was no tree there, the
(pieces of) wood on Isaac’s shoulder certify. The mountain burst forth with the tree, and the
tree with the ram.” The tradition of the Schools (says) that “an angel took it from the sheep
of Abraham and placed it in that tree”: first, so that an offering which he made from his own
(possessions) might be especially acceptable; secondly, so that it might be known that, just as
it was a natural sheep, and not from that tree, or from somewhere else, so too Christ in His
humanity was created from human nature, and not from any other nature.
Most of the traditions in these two commentaries can also be found in other East Syriac
sources, notably another Anonymous Commentary (on both Testaments), and in the Book
of Scholia by Theodore bar Koni (792) and the series of Questions and Answers on biblical
passages by Isho‘ bar Nun (d. 828). Isho‘dad’s commentaries proved very influential. Later
on in the ninth century use was made of them by the Syrian Orthodox commentator Mushe
bar Kipho (d. 903), and much of the content was translated into Arabic by Ibn al-Ṭaiyib (d.
1043), whence it was translated into Ge‘ez in the fourteenth century, eventually to reach the
modern Amharic commentary tradition.
Mushe bar Kipho was the author of a number of learned works on philosophical subjects
as well as commentaries on a number of books of both the Old and the New Testament,
only a few of which have so far been published. Most are provided with Prologues dealing
with general historical and literary problems; That on the Psalter runs to 32 sections, two of
which (no. 28 on the Greek versions of the Old Testament, and no. 29 stating that both “cor-
poreal” and “spiritual” exegesis should be used, and not just one of them) are also found in
Book I of his Commentary on the Hexaemeron (44 and 47; Schlimme 1977). Apart from in
the Commentary on the Hexaemeron, Mushe was reticent about citing his sources; in the
case of his Commentary on Romans, John Chrystostom has been identified as a recurrent
source (Reller 1994).
To judge by the number of manuscripts preserved, the commentaries by Dionysius bar
Salibi (Syrian Orthodox; d. 1171) and of Barhebraeus have been the most widely read up to
modern times; these cover every book of the Bible though, in the case of Dionysius, none
in such detail as that on the Gospels. For several Old Testament books Dionysius provides
a double, or even threefold, commentary, first on the Peshitta, described as “factual,” and
second on the Syrohexapla, described as “spiritual”; in cases where a second “spiritual”
commentary is given, the base text is the Peshitta (Ryan 2008, where a translation for Psalm
22 is given for all three sets of comments). Like all the later commentators, Dionysius makes
extensive use of the work of his predecessors, both Greek (in translation) and Syriac; among
the latter Mushe bar Kepho is especially prominent.
The succinct commentary on all the books of the Syriac Bible by the most famous of all
Syriac scholars, Barhebraeus (Bar ‘Ebroyo; d. 1286) is titled Awsar Raze, “the Store-house
Biblical Exegesis in the Syriac Churches 385
of Mysteries.” This is very different in character from all other commentaries in that it also
gives great attention to textual and philological matters, the latter concerning in particular
correct reading.
Unique as far as the Syriac tradition is concerned, but with counterparts in Armenian,
is the extensive Commentary on the East Syriac Lectionary, titled Gannat Bussame, “the
Garden of Delights.” Author and date remain uncertain; for the latter, dates between the
tenth and thirteenth century have been suggested.
Although prose was the standard vehicle for commentaries, there was one important ex-
ception: the Six Days of Creation were the subject of verse commentaries by the great fifth/
sixth century poets Narsai and Jacob of Serugh, to be followed at a later date by Emmanuel
bar Shahhare (d. 980).
Little is known about the readership of commentaries, and it is only some of the later
ones that are transmitted in multiple surviving manuscripts. In any case, it is safe to assume
that for the great majority of Christians exegesis of the Bible reached them by way of the
Liturgy, either through homilies (as Dadisho‘ indicated) on the biblical Lections, or through
liturgical texts, in particular hymnography.
Homiletic Literature
As Dadisho‘ realized, homiletic literature, being aimed primarily at a lay audience, required
its own exegetical approach: it was a matter of communication, where the aim was to bring
out the relevance of the biblical text for, and make it meaningful to, the audience. This often
required the imaginative re-presentation of the biblical narrative, at the same time rooted
in a close reading of the passage in question.
While a great deal of Greek homiletic literature was translated into Syriac, the genre was
also popular in Syriac and could take many different forms. The most simple consisted in
expanded retellings of particular biblical episodes, usually introducing direct speech and di-
alogue, or developing dialogue already present in the biblical text. Such “factual” retellings
might be in prose or in verse; early examples of the latter are provided by Ephrem’s narrative
poems on the Repentance of Nineveh and on the Sinful Woman (of Luke 7). Among sev-
eral later examples (sometimes wrongly attributed to Ephrem) are two that offer a dramatic
retelling of Genesis 22, both introducing Sarah into the narrative, while another concerns
Elijah, who holds the “key” to releasing the drought.
A special category is provided by poems that have adapted the ancient Mesopotamian
genre of the Precedence Dispute to a Christian context. Apart from a brief introduction and
conclusion these dialogue poems consist of two biblical characters arguing and speaking
in alternate verses. The aim is to explore more deeply what is said—or left unsaid—in the
biblical narrative; wider theological issues may be brought out, and in several cases the un-
derlying theme lies in the rival claims of reason and faith, a notable example of this being the
dialogue between Mary and Joseph. The starting point is Matthew 1:19, where Joseph returns
home to find his fiancée pregnant: his reaction to Mary’s account of what had happened is
portrayed in a vivid way: it is only when reason eventually admits an element of doubt—that
is, allows for an inkling of faith—that verification comes in the dream of Matthew 1:20.
386 Sebastian P. Brock
In all these cases the exposition is essentially provided by the expansion of the narrative,
and there is little or no authorial application of the biblical text to the context of the audi-
ence. Much more numerous, and distinctive to the Syriac tradition, are the many narrative
verse expositions of biblical passages by the two great poets, Narsai (d. ca. 500) in the East
Syriac tradition, and Jacob of Serugh (d. 521) in the West. Jacob in particular is a master in
the art of bringing out the spiritual meaning and significance of even the most unlikely and
challenging passages. A good example is provided by his memra on Tamar (Genesis 38).
Following his usual practice of opening with a prayer for assistance, Jacob then asks “Why
would [Moses] have written of a woman who sat like a prostitute /by the crossroads had
she not been filled with some mystery?” The clue to the answer had in fact already been
given in brief by Ephrem, who (as so often) was basing himself on Jewish tradition: Tamar,
an outsider, had been cheated of her expected entry by marriage into the lineage of Judah,
and thus she had been deprived of participating in the line of the seed that would eventu-
ally produce the Messiah. It was Tamar’s faith in, and love for, the Messiah to come that
is understood as having justified her action. As is frequently the case, Jacob expands on
hints given by Ephrem, and goes on to explore the woman’s own feelings and reasoning
before resorting to such an outwardly shocking action. By the end of the poem Jacob has
succeeded in indicating how Tamar, in her faith, can be taken as a model both for the
Church and for the individual soul (lines 405–416).
In the passage where Dadisho‘ discusses the three kinds of exegesis, he associates “spiritual”
as being suitable for monks. While that is certainly the case (and he was writing for a mo-
nastic audience), the place where such exegesis is to be found is essentially in poetry and in
liturgy with its profusion of poetic texts, rather than in monastic literature.
6
For this profusion, see Kronholm (1978).
Biblical Exegesis in the Syriac Churches 387
give a deeper meaning to everything in that they serve as pointers to different aspects of
divine Reality, above all represented in the incarnate Christ. In some ways Ephrem’s raze
can be said to correspond to Maximus the Confessor’s logoi. Although these raze are intrin-
sically present in both Nature and Scripture, they lie there latent, and in order to perceive
them the interior eye of the heart needs to be made clear, allowing it to be illuminated by
faith: the greater the faith, the more raze become apparent, allowing the elaborate network
of interconnections between the material and spiritual worlds to be seen, an experience
that gives rise to wonder and praise. Although Ephrem himself does not use the image, the
network of interconnections he envisages might be compared to an elaborate spider’s web,
overlooked and barely visible until it is illuminated and made visible by tiny drops of dew.
Ephrem makes use of several other terms, as well as raze, among them being ṭupsa,
“type”; yuqna “icon, image,” both loanwords from Greek; ṣurta “picture”; dmutha “likeness”;
etc., all having overlapping senses, often hard to distinguish. All are taken up in later poetry,
but usually without a feeling for/conscious awareness of the “substructure” that is implied
in Ephrem’s thought. With this in mind one might draw a distinction between Ephrem’s
symbolic approach to exegesis and the less structured typological approach that permeates
subsequent poetry.
To illustrate the intricacy of the network of interconnections that Ephrem’s exegesis can
produce, the case of John 19:34 is instructive. The text reads “One of the soldiers pierced
Jesus’s side with a lance, and at once there came forth blood and water.” Three elements
serve as the starting points for typological developments: Jesus’s side, the lance, and the
blood and water; the first two provide pointers both backward and forward in time, the
third just forward. Displayed schematically (which of course is something neither Ephrem
nor any subsequent writer ever does), we have:
Sword of Cherub (Gen. 3:24) Lance Lance removes the sword and opens up
closes off Paradise from Adam Paradise to humanity
and Eve/humanity
The Adam-Christ typology (already present in the New Testament, e.g., 1 Corinthians 15:45)
gives rise to the following reversals:
Earth to Adam, Adam to Eve, Mary to Christ, Christ to his Bride (the Church)7
7
Bridal imagery is discussed in the next section.
388 Sebastian P. Brock
In the poetry of both Ephrem and that of later writers the allusion to just one of these
typological aspects provides a background of resonances to all the others. It was typological
considerations, contrasting Eve’s unquestioning listening to Mary’s wise questioning that
gave rise to the image of Mary conceiving through her ear:
Just as it was from the small cavity of [Eve’s] ear that Death entered in and was poured out,
so through the new ear, which was Mary’s, Life entered in and as poured out. (Ephrem,
Hymns on the Church 49:7)
The numerous typological possibilities were explored above all by Jacob of Serugh; thus, for
example, in his long verse homily on the Crucifixion he writes:
The heavenly Second Adam came from the Father’s house;
as He slept on the Cross there came forth Baptism:
the Bridegroom’s side was pierced as He slept,
and He gave birth to the Bride, just as Adam in type did with Eve.
The stillness of the sleep of death fell upon Him on the Cross
and there came forth from Him the Mother who gives birth to all as spiritual beings:
the Lord of Adam bore as fruit the New Eve in His Sleep,
so that, instead of Eve she might be the mother of the descendants of Adam. (Ed. Bedjan,
II, 589; Hom. 53 on the Crucifixion)
Jacob’s introduction of Baptism happens to be reflected in the wording of the epiclesis over
the water in some early West Syriac baptismal rites:
May Your living and holy Spirit come, O Lord, and dwell and rest upon this water, and sanc-
tify and may it like the water which flowed from the side of Your Only-Begotten on the Cross.
(Baptismal service attributed to Timothy of Alexandria, 36)
(qesṭa), containing Manna, from Exodus 16:33). Others focus on her miraculous concep-
tion and birth-giving, notable examples being “Burning Bush” (Exodus 3:2) and “Door,”
based on Ezekiel 44:2; another such is “Tree,” which is discussed in more detail later. Many,
again, point to the product of her birth-giving: the “City,” from which “Grass” springs (Ps.
72 [71]:16), and the “Field” (ḥaqla) from which the “Wheatsheaf ” (shebla) sprouts (evidently
from Mark 4:28). Others have in mind the salvational outcome; this applies to the “Rock”
(kepha) from which “Water” sprang (Numbers 20:8), “Water-jar” (quqta) with the “Salt” (2
Kings 2:20–22) which purified the polluted water supply: thus in the fifth of a series of early
hymns on Mary where she is addressed directly, “Your Son was the salt which restored the
fountain, by which the whole world, which had become dead, has been revived.” Sometimes
the origin of a title is ultimately based on the Septuagint, rather than the Peshitta; this
applies, for example, to the “Swift Cloud” as a title of Mary: This can only derive from
the Septuagint of Isaiah 19:1, since the Peshitta has the plural, leaving “Swift Clouds” to be
applied to the Apostles.
The great majority of the titles for both Christ and for Mary which are of typological or-
igin, can be equally found in Greek and Latin writers, but in a few cases a title is based on
the exegesis of a reading only to be found in the Syriac tradition. Such is the case with Christ
as Grass from the City, based on Psalm 72(71):16, where the Peshitta has “he will sprout
from his city like grass of the earth,” whereas the Septuagint has a plural verb. This is found,
for example in the Weekday Night Office on Wednesdays in the Syrian Orthodox tradi-
tion: “David named her ‘City’ and Christ the ‘Grass within it.’ ” A particularly intriguing
case is that of Mary as “Tree,” based on Genesis 22:13, where the Septuagint has phuton,
“plant” (accompanied by a transliteration of the Hebrew. Although the Peshitta here has
sawkta “branch,” the reading of the Targumim, ilana, “tree” was known to Ephrem and
others. Ephrem’s statement on the origin of the tree and the ram was quoted earlier, incor-
porated into Isho‘dad’s commentary on the passage. Ephrem himself does not go on to offer
any Christological interpretation in his Commentary, but in his Hymns on Faith (13:9) he
alludes to this: “Who has ever seen a Tree that gave birth to one Fruit only?” Subsequent
writers are much more explicit, and the title continues in current use for the Third Hour on
Wednesdays in the Syrian Orthodox Weekday Office where one finds “With three symbols
(raze) was the Church disputing with the Deniers, the Tree, the Rock (ṭarana) and the
Fish: the Tree gave birth to the Lamb, the Rock flowed with water” (Exodus 17:6),8 the Fish
produced the Coin (Matthew 17:27).
Bridal Imagery
A reader of Ephrem and of Syriac poetry in general will soon be struck by the frequency
of bridal imagery, one of the most frequent titles of Christ being “Heavenly Bridegroom,”
while his Bride is the Church, whose betrothal to him was usually understood to have taken
place at his Baptism, though other points in his life are also found, while the poetic exe-
gesis of John 19:34 places her “birth” (where she is represented by the Mysteries of Baptism
8
Rather than Numbers 20:8 or 1 Corinthians 10:4, where the Peshitta has kepha (which is found
elsewhere). The “ram” of Gen. 22:13 is frequently altered to “Lamb” to bring out the typological
relationship.
390 Sebastian P. Brock
and the Eucharist) as having occurred at the Crucifixion. Since sacred, not historical, time
is involved, all the different points in historical time run together in that their salvific con-
tent is identical. On the surface one might expect the appearance of bridal imagery in early
writers, such as Ephrem, to be due to the influence of the allegorical interpretation of the
Song of Songs; this, however, is definitely not the case, and it is only ca. 500, when Gregory
of Nyssa’s Commentary on the Song was translated into Syriac, that his exegesis of it be-
came influential. Instead, it is evident that early writers were drawing on various pointers
in the Gospel text, in particular the implicit description of John the Baptist as the “friend”
of the Bridegroom (John 3:29; cf. Matt. 9:15 and parallels). Another influential passage was
the Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins (Matthew 25). It is remarkable that in clear
allusions to the parable early writers very frequently speak of the Wise Virgins as entering
the Bridegroom’s gnona, or “bridal chamber,” instead of the “wedding banquet” of the bib-
lical text at verse 10 in all the Syriac Gospel versions. This variant reading is certainly very
early, since it is taken up in Valentinian exegesis, and it must already have been widespread
by the late second century, otherwise later writers would have dropped it in view of its
association with a group regarded as heretical. The two different readings “wedding ban-
quet” and “bridal chamber” lead to two different understandings of the passage: With the
standard text, it is the bride (who is specifically mentioned in the Peshitta at Matt. 25:1)
who is assumed to enter the banquet as well as the Wise Virgins; with the variant reading,
however, the Wise Virgins enter the intimacy of the bridal chamber—and so could be
understood as brides. And since the Virgins of the parable were regularly understood as
representing souls, this gave rise to the not infrequent title of Christ as “the Bridegroom of
our souls.” In fact, what we have here are two ways of understanding the parable: with the
standard reading, it is paradigmatic, with the Church as the bride, with the variant reading
it applies to the individual—a movement from general to particular that is a characteristic
of both biblical and early Syriac thought patterns.
It is only from the sixth century onward that imagery from the Song of Songs begins to
feature. An early example is to be found in Jacob of Serugh, who has the personified Church
identify herself as the Black Girl of the Song (1:5),9 while repeated allusion to the Song is
found in an anonymous Epiphany hymn of considerable beauty which is known to both
East and West Syriac liturgical traditions; the poem is entirely in the voice of the Church,
whose opening words are (Brock 1988/9):
In the course of the following stanzas allusions to various further passages in the Song of
Songs occur.
9
Against the Jews VI.313ff. (ed. M. Albert, Patrologia Orientalis 38.1, 1976).
Biblical Exegesis in the Syriac Churches 391
This structural use of typology can also be found employed by several monastic writers,
applied to the spiritual life. In the Greek tradition this goes back to Origen (especially his
Homily 27 on Numbers) and Gregory of Nyssa’s Life of Moses. In Syriac the concept is taken
up especially by Joseph Ḥazzaya (eighth century) in his Letter on the Three Stages (of the
monastic life): “the departure from the world for a person is like the Exodus of the Israelites
from Egypt” (15); the monastic life corresponds to the journeying in the Wilderness in the
hopes of eventually entering the Promised Land (24), where the major stage of “the crossing
of the Jordan is the departure from the coenobitic life to that of (the solitary enclosed in)
the cell” (62).
The Psalter
It can readily be observed that the periods accorded by Gabriel to the individual Psalms
have no correspondence at all with any of the Psalm titles which are found in the East
Syriac Psalter. It seems that the original Syriac translation of the Hebrew Psalms did not
include any of the Hebrew Psalm titles, perhaps due to their obscurity. As a result, the
East and West Syriac traditions developed in due course completely different sets of titles.
Following Theodore of Mopsuestia in his Commentary on the Psalms, the East Syriac tra-
dition attributed all the Psalms to David, but supposed that David often spoke prophetically
“in the person of ” some much later character(s); thus, for example, a considerable number
392 Sebastian P. Brock
of Psalms are associated with the Maccabees, while only those cited in the Gospels (Ps. 2,
8, 45 [44], 110 [109]) are said to be prophecies of Christ. The East Syriac Psalm titles come
down in two slightly different forms; by contrast there seems to be much greater varia-
tion in the West Syriac tradition, for which the earliest witness is provided by Daniel of
Salah in the sixth century and the seventh-century manuscript of the entire Peshitta Old
Testament in the Ambrosian Library, Milan. These not only allocate a number of Psalms to
authors other than David, but provide quite different historical contexts. Thus, for example,
Psalm 51 (LXX 50) is associated with David’s repentance “after he had killed Uriah” in the
West Syriac Psalter, but in the East Syriac it is said to have been uttered (by David) “con-
cerning the People in Babylon, as it were confessing that they had sinned and asking for
mercy.” In the West Syriac tradition the titles were often expanded, sometimes specifying
“and with respect to us . . . .” An interesting ecumenical gesture, whether intended as such
or not is unclear, can be found in Barhebraeus’s Commentary on the Psalms in his Awsar
Raze: instead of using any of the West Syriac Psalm titles, he regularly employs those of
the East Syriac tradition,10 supplementing them with those of the Septuagint (that is, the
Syrohexapla). Barhebraeus’s use of the East Syriac titles has been followed in a recent edi-
tion of the Peshitta Psalter published by the Syrian Orthodox Monastery of Mar Gabriel in
southeast Turkey (Istanbul, 2018), in preference to those found in manuscripts of the West
Syriac Psalter (and in Samuel Lee’s edition of 1823 reproduced by the United Bible Society’s
edition of the Peshitta with the imprimatur of the late Syrian Orthodox Patriarch, Ignatius
Zakka I Iwas).
Conclusion
A prominent feature of early Syriac writers is the concept of exchange between God and
humanity; this is expressed epigrammatically by Ephrem, who states, “He gave us divinity,
we gave Him humanity” (Hymns on Faith 5:17). Salvation history is seen, as it were, as an
educational conversation between God and humanity: God gives and humanity responds,
usually ungratefully, or not at all, but in the supreme case of Mary, the result is the model
10
Cf. Taylor (2006): 375–376.
Biblical Exegesis in the Syriac Churches 393
for sunergeia, true cooperation between human individuals and God. By extrapolating from
remarks by (above all) Ephrem and Jacob, this can be seen to apply to the process of exe-
gesis: What is given is the Scriptures inspired by the Holy Spirit, the response of cooperation
needed from reader/hearer, whether or not through an intermediary exegete (usual in an-
tiquity), is openness to the Holy Spirit and to the assistance of grace. Where such human–
divine synergy occurs, Ephrem’s image of Scripture as an ever-flowing and inexhaustible
fountain will apply:
Anyone who encounters Scripture should not suppose that the single one of its riches that
they have found is the only one to exist; rather, they should realize that they themselves are
only capable of discovering that one out of the many riches which exist in it. Nor, because
Scripture has enriched him, should the reader impoverish it. Rather, if the reader is incapable
of finding more, let him acknowledge Scripture’s magnitude. Rejoice because you have found
satisfaction, and do not be grieved that there has been something left over by you. A thirsty
person rejoices because they have drunk: they are not grieved because they proved incapable
of drinking the fountain dry. Let the fountain vanquish your thirst; your thirst should not
try to vanquish the fountain! If your thirst comes to an end while the fountain has not been
diminished, then you can drink again whenever you are thirsty; whereas, if the fountain had
been drained dry once you had had your fill, your victory over it would have proved to your
own harm. Give thanks for what you have taken away, and do not complain about the super-
fluity that is left over. What you have taken off with you is your portion; what has been left
behind can still be you inheritance. (Commentary on the Diatessaron, I:18–19)
Suggested Reading
Excellent surveys of the material can be found for the Old Testament in L. van Rompay’s
contributions to M. Saebø (ed.), Hebrew Bible/Old Testament: The History of Its Interpretation,
I (Göttingen, 1996), pp. 612–641, and II (2000), pp. 559–577; also in B. Chiesa, Filologia
storica della Bibbia ebraica, I (Brescia, 2000), pp. 109–132. And for the New Testament, see
J.C. McCullough, “Early Syriac Commentaries on the New Testament,” The Near East School
of Theology, Theological Review 5/1 (1982), pp. 14–33, and 5/2, pp. 79–126. For Ephrem, see
especially S.H. Griffith, “Faith Adoring the Mystery”: Reading the Bible with St Ephraem the
Syrian (Milwaukee, 1997); and for Jacob of Serugh, T. Kollamparmpil, Salvation in Christ
according to Jacob of Serugh (Bangalore, 2001), esp. 45–101.
English translations of works by Ephrem include E.G. Mathews and J. Amar, St
Ephrem the Syrian: Selected Prose Works [Comm. on Genesis and Exodus, Homily on
our Lord, Letter to Publius] The Fathers of the Church, 91 (Washington, DC, 1994);
C. McCarthy, Saint Ephrem’s Commentary on Tatian’s Diatessaron (Journal of Semitic
Studies, Supplement 2; Oxford, 1993); K. McVey, Ephrem the Syrian, Hymns (Classics
of Western Spirituality; New York, 1989); S.P. Brock, St Ephrem the Syrian, Hymns on
Paradise (Crestwood, NY, 1990); J.T. Wickes, St Ephrem the Syrian, The Hymns on Faith
(The Fathers of the Church 130; Washington DC, 2015). Many of Jacob of Serugh’s verse
homilies feature in the Gorgias Press’s bilingual series Metrical Homilies of Mar Jacob of
Sarug. A variety of poems on biblical themes, including several of those mentioned pre-
viously, can be found in S.P. Brock, Treasure-House of Mysteries: Explorations of the Sacred
Text through Poetry in the Syriac Tradition (Crestwood, NY, 2012), and in a collection
394 Sebastian P. Brock
of early poems on Mary in S.P. Brock, Bride of Light: Hymns on Mary from the Syriac
Churches (Kottayam, 1994, and Piscataway NJ, 2010).
There are English translations of the East Syriac Weekday Office by A.J. Maclean, East
Syrian Daily Offices (London, 1894; repr. 1969), and of the West Syriac counterpart by
B. Griffith, The Book of the Common Prayer of the Syrian Church (Kurisumala Ashram,
n.d.; repr. Gorgias Press). An abbreviated and adapted translation of the latter by Francis
Acharya is given in vol. 1 of his four-volume Prayer with the Harp of the Spirit (Kurisumala
Ashram, 1983–5), based on the seven-volume Syrian Catholic edition of the Penqitho (~
Festal hymnary). For the Maronite tradition there is the three-volume Prayer of the Faithful
(Brooklyn, NY, 1983–5). The main parts of the liturgical year in the East Syriac Hudra have
been translated by J. Moolan, P. Kuruthukulangara, and P.V. Pathikulangara in volumes in
the monograph series of the Oriental Institute of Religious Studies (OIRSI, Kottayam).
References
Akhrass, R., and Syryany, I. (2017), 160 Unpublished Homilies of Jacob of Serugh, I–II
(Damascus: Syrian Orthodox Patriarchate).
Bedjan, P. (1905–1910; 2006), Homiliae selectee Mar Jacobi Sarugensis, I–V (Paris/Leipzig: Otto
Harrrassowitz; repr. Piscataway NJ: Gorgias).
Brock, S.P. (1988/9), “An anonymous hymn for Epiphany,” Parole de l’Orient 15: 169–200.
Brock, S.P. (1992), The Luminous Eye: The Spiritual World Vision of St Ephrem (Kalamazoo:
Cistercian).
Brock, S.P. (2006), The Bible in the Syriac Tradition (Piscataway NJ: Gorgias).
Brock, S.P. (2011), “Three Syriac Fathers on reading the Bible,” Sobornost/Eastern Churches
Review 33/1: 6–21.
Brock, S.P. (forthcoming), “Biblical exegesis in the Syriac tradition,” in C. Rizk and others
(eds.)
De Halleux, A. (1977), Philoxène de Mabbog: Commentaire du prologue johannique, Corpus
Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Scriptores Syri 165–166 (Leuven: Peeters).
Çiçek, Mar Julius (2004), Pushoq mazmure d-tubono Dawid nbiyo byad Doni’el Salhoyo
[Commentary on the Psalms of the blessed Prophet David, by Daniel of Salah].
(Glane: Monastery of St Ephrem). [A critical edition with translation by D.G.K. Taylor is
in preparation.]
Draguet, R. (1972), Commentaire du livre d’Abba Isaïe par Dadisho‘ Qatraya, Corpus Scriptorum
Christianorum Orientalium, Scriptores Syri 144–145 (Leuven: Peeters).
Griffith, S.H. (2004), “Ephraem the exegete,” in C. Kannengiesser (ed.), Handbook of Patristic
Exegesis, II (Leiden: Brill): 1395–1448.
Kronholm, T. (1978), Motifs from Genesis 1–11 in the Genuine Hymns of Ephrem the Syrian
(Lund: CWK Gleerup).
Murray, R. (1975/6), “The theory of symbolism in St Ephrem’s Theology,” Parole de l’Orient 6/
7: 1–20.
Murray, R. (1978), ‘Der Dichter als Exeget: der hl. Ephräm und die heutige Exegese,” Zeitschrift
für katholische Theologie 100: 484–494.
Murray, R. (2004) Symbols of Church and Kingdom: A Study in Syriac Tradition (Revised edi-
tion, Piscataway NJ: Gorgias).
Biblical Exegesis in the Syriac Churches 395
Neroth van Vogelpoel, A.C.J. (2018), The Commentary of Gabriel of Qatar on the East Syriac
Morning Service on Ordinary Days, Moran Etho 44 (Kottayam: St Ephrem Ecumenical
Research Institute).
Pentiuc, E.J. (2014), The Old Testament in the Eastern Orthodox Tradition (New York: Oxford
University Press).
Reller, J. (1994), Mose bar Kepha und seine Paulinenauslegung, Göttinger Orientforschungen,
Reihe Syriaca 35 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz).
Romeny, R.B. ter Haar (2010), “The contribution of biblical interpretation to the Syriac
Renaissance,” in H. Teule, C. Fotescu Tauwinkl, R.B. ter Haar Romeny, and J.J. van Ginkel
(eds.), The Syriac Renaissance: A Period of Interreligious and Intercultural Dialogue, Eastern
Christian Studies, 9 (Leuven: Peeters): 205–221.
Ryan, S.D. (2008), “Psalm 22 in Syriac tradition,” in R.D. Miller (ed.), Syriac and Antiochian
Exegesis and Biblical Theology for the 3rd Millennium, Gorgias Eastern Christian Studies 6
(Piscataway NJ: Gorgias Press): 189–221.
Schäublin, C. (1974), Untersuchungen zu Methode und Herkunft der antiochenischen Exegese,
Theophaneia 23 (Cologne/Bonn: 1974).
Schlimme, L. (1977), Der Hexaemeronkommentar des Moses bar Kepha, I–II, Göttinger
Orientforschungen, Reihe Syriaca 14 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz).
Taylor, D.G.K. (2006), “The Psalm headings in the West Syrian Tradition,” in R.B. ter Haar
Romeny (ed.), The Peshitta: Its Use in Literature and Liturgy, Monographs of the Peshitta
Institute Leiden, 15 (Leiden: Brill): 365–378.
Valavanolickal, K.A. (1996), The Use of the Gospel Parables in the Writings of Aphrahat
and Ephrem, Studies in the Religion and History of Early Christianity, 2 (Frankfurt a/
M: Peter Lang).
Van den Eynde, C. (1950), Commentaire d’Išo‘dad de Merv sur l’Ancien Testament, I: Genèse,
Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Scriptores Syri 67, 75 (Leuven: Peeters).
Van Rompay, L. (1986), Le Commentaire sur Genèse- Exode 9,32 du manuscript (olim)
Diyabakir 22, Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Scriptores Syri 205–206
(Leuven: Peeters).
Van Rompay, L. (1995), “La littérature exégétique syriaque et le rapprochement des traditions
syrienne orientale et syrienne occidentale,” Parole de l’Orient 20: 221–235.
Van Rompay, L. (1997), “Antiochene biblical interpretation: Greek and Syriac,” in J. Frishman
and L. van Rompay (eds.), The Book of Genesis in Jewish and Oriental Christian Interpretation,
Tradition Exegetica Graeca 5 (Leuven: Peeters): 103–123.
Van Rompay, L. (2006), “Between the School and the monk’s cell: The Syriac Old Testament
Commentary tradition,” in R.B. ter Haar Romeny (ed.), The Peshitta: Its Use in Literature
and Liturgy, Monographs of the Peshitta Institute Leiden, 15 (Leiden: Brill): 27–51.
Van Rooy, H. (2013), The East Syriac Psalm Headings (Piscataway NJ: Gorgias).
Vosté, J.M. (1929), “L’Introduction de Moïse bar Kepha aux Psaumes de David,” Revue biblique
38: 214–228.
Chapter 25
Ethiopia, as one of the oldest religious nations whose culture has been influenced by the
bible since many centuries, has developed and established its own methods of commentary
that help to extol the truths and values of the Scripture. This is in line with the pattern of
other exegetical traditions of other Christian cultures in general and, as it is supposed, the
Antioch exegesis tradition in particular.1
The beginning of commentary or interpretation of the Scripture in Ethiopia is not yet
clearly known. It is not exactly clear who started it, or in which region it originated. But the
most widely held traditional account regarding the beginning of tərgwǝm in Ethiopia fixes
the date to the return of King Mǝnilǝk I, Son of King Solomon of Israel and Queen Makǝdda
of Ethiopia, in the tenth century BC from his visit to Jerusalem.2 According to the tradi-
tion, the wise king warmly bade his “son from the south” farewell by giving him copies of
the sacred books, together with 318 Levites who would translate and interpret them to the
people of his kingdom.
This traditional account traces the genealogy of students to the time when tərgwǝm
started in Ethiopia. It mentions names that sound Hebrew, like Azaryas, Sadoq, Lewi, Aron,
Alʾazar, Ḥəzbä raʾy, Yəwahi, Akin, Səmʿon, and Ǝnbäräm. The tradition connects the Old
Testament to the New Testament by mentioning the ordination of the last teacher Ǝnbäräm
as a Christian priest by St. Frumentius.3 The tradition also lists names of the teachers of the
commentary of the New Testament: Yətamər, Abyud, Gedewon, Yared, Ḥəzbä Barək, Täklä
1
R.W. Cowley, Ethiopian Biblical Interpretation: A Study in Exegetical Tradition and Hermeneutics
(Cambridge: University of Cambridge Oriental Publications, 1988), 38.
2 Tedros Abraha, “Exegesis,” Encyclopedia Aethiopica, vol. 2 (Wiesbaden: Harassowitz, 2005), 472;
Säyfä Śəllase Yoḥannəs, “yäqəddusat mäṣaḥəft ʾandəmta tərgwame bäItəyoppəya Ortodoks Täwaḥədo
betä krəstiyan,” in Yä-Itəyoṗṗəya Ortodoks täwaḥədo betä krəstiyan tarik kälədätä Krəstos əskä 2000
A.M. (Addis Ababa: tənśʾae zägubaʾe Printing Press), 185.
3 Yoḥannəs, “yäqəddusat mäṣaḥəft ʾandəmta,” 187.
Biblical Interpretation in Ethiopian Patristic Literature 397
qäʾat, ʿAṣqä Lewi, Ḥarbä Gwäš, Yəgnah mäsqäl, Yəqna Dawit, Zäləʿul, Minas, Abba Yədla,
Ḥəywät bənnä bä-ṣəyon, Bäkwərä ṣəyon, Ḥəzbä qäddəs, Bərhanä mäsqäl, Ḥəywät bənnä,
Set, Wärädä məḥrät, Zäkkaryas, Zärʿa yoḥannəs, Täklä haymanot, Filəppos, Ḥəzqəyas,
Tewodros, Yoḥannəs, Yoḥannəs kämma, Ǝndrəyas, Märḥa krəstos, Peṭros, Ǝnbaqom,
Yaʿəqob, Matyas, Yoḥannəs, Zäträ Wängel, Abrəham, Zäwängel, Zämikaʾel, Bäträ Giyorgis,
Zäkrəstos, Yämanä ab, Ḥərəyaqos, and Qalä ʿawadi.4
Based on the available interpreted biblical and patristic texts in the enormous wealth of
the Ethiopian Orthodox Church’s literary tradition, we can safely say that two modes of
interpretation were used in the Church. The first and the oldest is the form whereby Gǝʿǝz
texts were interpreted and elaborated in Gǝʿǝz. The second is the form by which the Gǝʿǝz
texts were commented in Amharic.
Translated Commentaries
Striving to learn more about Christianity, Ethiopians pursued a road that led to the Christian
Orient where literature flourished and returned carrying books in original, translation or
copies.6 Apart from these Ethiopian efforts, the presence of Coptic Metropolitans in the
country since c. AD 330 helped to create the circumstances in which translated literature
flooded into the country. Hence, along with other religious texts, different commentary
materials were translated from different foreign sources of the Christian Orient with whom
the country shares not only the tradition of writing but also the Judeo-Christian content of
its literature.
4
Ibid.
5
For example, J.M. Harden, An Introduction to Ethiopic Christian Literature (London: London
Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge New York and Toronto: The Macmillan Co., 1926), 22–36.
6 Getatchew Haile, “Gəʿəz Literature,” in Silence Is Not Golden (Lawrenceville, NJ: Red Sea
Paraphrased Commentaries
In the course of translating (into Gǝʿǝz) the aforementioned books, the adapted scholars
sometimes used paraphrasing as method of transferring knowledge. But it should be
noticed here that when these scholars paraphrased a certain text, they did not simply para-
phrase it but added their own interpretations and notes, probably in an attempt to elucidate
the message. Therefore, commentary texts under this category tend to be more adoptive
than simply paraphrased ones. The Gəʿəz commentary on the Pauline Epistles, which is
based on the commentaries of various early church fathers like St. John Chrysostom, St.
Athanasius, and St. Ephraim the Syrian is an example. The Gəʿəz commentaries on different
readings in the Gəbrä ḥəmamat from Old Testament and New Testament books are also
paraphrased with some additions.8
Indigenous Commentaries
Apart from the translated and adapted commentaries of foreign sources, Ethiopians also
produced indigenous commentary materials on several biblical books. These commentary
texts can be seen as intra-andəmta texts that fall, chronologically, between the tərgwame
and the andəmta. When we speak of indigenous commentary materials, with the translated
and paraphrased ones, it is not to say that these works were not totally influenced by the
foreign works in either style or content. As the work of Roger Cowley show the examination
of the differences and similarities between books of these three categories, including books
within a category remains informative on different disciplines like linguistics, theology and
history. The following are the commentary books which are persistently held by tradition
to be of Ethiopian origin.9
Texts like Mämhərä orit, “The instructor of the Pentateuch,” Tərgwame orit, “The com-
mentary of Pentateuch,” Hulättäñña yä-sǝmmǝntu bəḥerä orit tərgwame, “The second
7
Yoḥannəs, “yäqəddusat mäṣaḥəft ʾandəmta,” 182–184; R.W. Cowley, The Traditional Interpretation
of the Apocalypse of St. John in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church (Cambridge: University of Cambridge
Oriental Publications, 1983), 36–38; Mersha Alehegne, The Ethiopian Commentary of the Book of
Genesis: Critical Edition and Translation (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2010), 6.
8 Yoḥannəs, “yäqəddusat mäṣaḥəft ʾandəmta,” 183.
9 Ibid, 184–186; Cowley, The Traditional Interpretation, 38–40.
Biblical Interpretation in Ethiopian Patristic Literature 399
In Ethiopia, the type of preaching used to address biblical, theological, or religious topics to
the laity was called exegetic preaching, which is a verse-by-verse explanation of a text. The
preacher narrates to the audience the interpretation of scriptures in Gǝʿǝz as he does to his
students. But since Amharic replaced Gǝʿǝz as the day-to-day language of the people, the
type of sermon that had long been in place was challenged.10 The laity could not understand
the message conveyed by the language. This problem was understood by the palace, and the
palace took measures to remedy the situation.
Emperor Iyasu II (1723–1755) is credited with having initiated the revision and organi-
zation of different traditional branches of knowledge which have long been sustained in
the Church. Among the various contents of this traditional knowledge, the ancient com-
mentary tradition of the country was the one that caught the attention of the wise emperor.
Once he learned that exegetical sermons given in all churches and monasteries were out of
touch with the laity, he convened a council of scholars to remedy the situation. The results
of the council were the following:
Based on these decisions, the following scholars who are celebrated in the tradition as
“Fathers of the andəmta commentary tradition” were assigned as heads of departments:
10
Yoḥannəs, “yäqəddusat mäṣaḥəft ʾandəmta,” 187.
400 Mersha Alehegne
Having the full sponsorship of the Emperor, the scholars and members of their respective
teams accomplished this major task and submitted their editions of Amharic commentaries
on different biblical and patristic texts. It is quite clear that the book-loving emperor had
the approval of the Coptic bishop, namely abunä Marqos, who was quoted in records of
the accounts of the emperor as “the father who had an extraordinary knowledge of books.”
Then the emperor declared that all churches and monasteries should copy the prepared
commentaries and preach to the laity accordingly. This paved the way for andəmta to reach
the rest of the traditional schools. The declaration of the emperor also included a strict
order accompanied by the threat of excommunication (by the bishop) that it is forbidden
to make any addition to or deletion from the commented sources. This, according to some
traditional scholars, left the church unable to produce more dynamic scholars who could
come with their own interpretations as we saw during the Gǝʿǝz by Gǝʿǝz interpretation
period.11 Of course the declaration did not stand for long. It was later challenged by some
scholars who were audacious enough to say that the andəmta needed revision. Although
the tradition lists some five scholars credited with revisions, only two are verified by sources
as briefly discussed next.
The first scholar was the famous mämhər Esdros of Gondär, whose interpretations were,
however, not uniformly accepted by all scholars of his period. The discord resulted in the
creation of two schools of thought within the tradition.
In spite of some disputable facts, different traditional accounts12 agreed that he was the
most prominent of those scholars who were not happy with the way the andəmta had been
organized. He decided to analyze and reorganize thoroughly the available andəmta Mss in
his disposal. For him, the available andəmta material in general is shambolic, being packed
with sometimes unnecessary points and continuous misplacing or duplications of andəmta
texts. His dissatisfaction was not only on the content and organization of the andəmta ma-
terial but also with the Gǝʿǝz text, which, according to tradition, is correct and any text
which differs from it is wrong.13 He, unlike most of his contemporaries,14 believed that the
Gǝʿǝz text on which the andəmta rested was defective.
Consolidating his opinion through his long teaching career at the church of
Gondär Lədäta Maryam Church, he finally retired from teaching and went to lake
Ṭana and started examining the Gǝʿǝz texts and the commentaries he could find.15
11
Ibid, 188.
12
For the understanding of these different traditional narrations, see R. W. Cowley, “Mämhər Esdros
and His Interpretation,” in Ethiopian Studies. Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of Ethiopian
Studies, Tel Aviv, 14–17 April, 1980. Edited by G. Goldenberg (Rotterdam: A. A. Balkema, 1986), 41–69.
13 Cowley, The Traditional Interpretation, 3; Alehegne, The Ethiopian Commentary, 28.
14 For example, Qes așe Gäbrä Mädḫən, whose account is recorded by Ḫəruy Wäldä Śəllase: “When he
interpreted books, he would take the text as it was read to him, and did not say, ‘This is an omission, this is
an addition.’ When they asked him why, he would say, ‘One must interpret as it is read, because by reason
of translators’ errors, the true reading of any books written in Gǝʿǝz is not known.’ ” Ḫəruy Wäldä Səllase,
901 (translation by cf. Cowley, Proceedings of the 6th International Conference on Ethiopian Studies, 44).
15 Cowley, The Traditional Interpretation, 41.
Biblical Interpretation in Ethiopian Patristic Literature 401
The objectives he set when he started reorganizing the andəmta of the New Testa
ment were:
To achieve these goals, he based his editions of the Gǝʿǝz text and interpretation on the
commentaries of St. Basil, St. John Chrysostom, and other fathers of the early Christian
era. When he completed his research of reorganizing the andəmta commentaries, he called
on all instructors of andəmta in different schools to use his reorganized andəmta material.
The answer of the scholars led to the establishment of two different traditions in the history
of andəmta: those who accepted his invitation; and those who did not, favoring the older
tradition. The former came to be known as tačč bet (the Lower House) while the later were
called lay bet (the Upper House).
In spite of the formation of these two schools, in comparison with the material held
in common, the divergences are insignificant, especially on the Old Testament.16 But
there are clear differences regarding what can be called the external features of the
commentary.
Esdros’s revised version flourished with the help of the imperial palace. According to the
tradition, it lasted at least two generations of andəmta teachers before one by the name of
Wäldä Ab came and exercised his scholastic observation on the corpus. Aläqa Wäldä Ab
(c. 1760–1850), a celebrated teacher, had acquired much knowledge of the commentaries
developed in other Christian Oriental traditions using his knowledge of Arabic and other
foreign languages. He was a native of Šäwa who went to Gondär, the then-center of ecclesi-
astical knowledge, and learned the commentary of books according to the tačč bet tradition
from the famous disciples of Esdros, Śənä Krəstos, and ʿaqqabe säʿat Käbte. Following in
the footsteps of Esdros, he improved the method of commentary by reading six hundred
foreign, mostly Christian, Arabic, and indigenous books. His improvement was not lim-
ited to the method, but also affected the content of the commentary material. Tradition
credits him with the legacy of enriching the Amharic andəmta of the New Testament with
commentaries in Arabic sources.17 Because of his undisputed contribution and unparalleled
understanding and explaining the sacred texts, the tradition rewarded him with the famous
name “Father of andəmta.”18
The tradition recognizes some other successors of Esdros and Wäldä Ab who followed in
the footsteps of their teachers and revised the andəmta. Aläqa Gäbrä Ḥanna and mämhər
Wäldä Rufa’el are the most frequently mentioned in the list. But even though it is pos-
sible to argue that andəmta did not experience a serious revision19 after aläqa Wäldä Ab, a
16
Ibid.
17
Habtä Maryam Wärqnäh [liqä śəlṭanat], Yä-ityoṗṗya ortodoks täwaḥədo betä krəstiyan emnätənna
təmhərt (Addis Ababa, 1963) E.C., 221.
18 Ibid, 213.
19 Some traditions argue that aläqa Wäldä Mika’el brought further orderliness to the andəmta.
forced review was evident in the late nineteenth century, when Gondär was destroyed by
the Dervishes in 1888. The Church, which has always been the first to suffer any evil that
befell the country, was the most victimized institution and lost many prominent men of
letters and well-established churches and monasteries. Among the victims was the cele-
brated Wäldä Ab Wäldä Mika’el, who was expected to succeed his teacher, Wäldä Mika’el.
He was slain while teaching at his host church of Gəmǧa Bet Maryam. The famous teacher
preferred “to wait for the unbelievers”20 against the advice of colleagues and disciples; he
did not want to interpret his teaching in fear of the assault. Hence, he fell into the hands of
the Dervishes and was beheaded along with four of his disciples who stayed with him. Due
to this incident, it seemed that andəmta almost died out in Gondär, but it was revived by
some survivors.
The disciples of aläqa Wäldä Mika’el gathered in Gondär and reviewed what had been
taught, and successfully revived the tačč bet andəmta tradition. Thus, the tačč bet school
eventually replaced the lay bet school.
ʾAndəmtā, from the Amharic ʾandǝm “and one,” is a mode of exegesis in Amharic that
permits the exegete to interpret in turn singular verses or phrases of a sacred text with a
number of possible explanations or commentaries. Framed in the form of a question, each
is introduced by a phrase like bilu, “if one says” (lit. “if they say”): thereafter the ʾandəmtā
interpretation focuses on the translation and clarification of the Gəʿəz language used in
the passage of the biblical text, certain patristic writings and liturgical books. Thus the
translated Amharic portion of the Gəʿəz text in commentary serves as a point of departure,
which deems to reveal a chain of successive interpretations, be they prophetic, linguistic, or
historical notices on the Gəʿəz text (as many as ten to fifteen alternative understandings) are
given, each one being introduced by ʾandǝm.
As a commentary practice, the ʾandǝmtā follows a strict and uniform standard pattern
when applied to a text. The general purpose of this pattern is to enable the commentator
to use a set of formulae so that he can reach his final aim of clarifying the meaning of the
specific text commented upon. It begins with the presentation of the Gəʿəz text known as
yaliqāwǝnt zär (“the scholar’s text”), which is often referred to as just the zär (“seed”) or
nǝbab (“reading”). This is followed by an often colloquial translation into Amharic called
zayǝbe (“that which it says”); and then an exegetical commentary called tǝrgwāme (“transla-
tion, interpretation”).
In the tradition, the Gəʿəz text (zär) is taken as correct and those texts found to differ from
it are considered wrong. It is usually contained in the text, which is considered as original
or prototype, and correctly called ʾabənnat; a text that is a “prototype,” from which others
are copied. It is usually kept in schools only at the disposal of the instructor.21 However, even
though the zar is always taken as the correct text, the commentator may still find mistakes
such as textual variations or grammatical errors. Hence, he corrects the text, employing
different technical terms in the process of commenting. For example, he may introduce tex-
tual variations with the phrase ʾǝndihǝm yəlal (“and he says”) or ʾǝndihǝm yämmil ʾabənnat
yəggäññāl (“there is a prototypical text that also says”). When he finds a grammatical mistake
20
Yoḥannəs, “yäqəddusat mäṣaḥəft ʾandəmta,” 187.
21
Mersha Alehegne, The Ethiopian Commentary of the Book of Genesis: Critical Edition and Translation
(Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2010), 147
Biblical Interpretation in Ethiopian Patristic Literature 403
in the zar, the commentator corrects it, deploying different technical terms. For example,
when two nouns or verbs are unnecessarily conjoined by wä (“and”), the interpreter warns
the students, hearers, or readers of the text to overlook the conjunction, saying wawen taggas
(“ignore the conjunction”) and moves on reading or hearing the interpretation. If he finds a
calligraphic error in the zär, he confirms that it is an apparent error and discrepancy made
by a copyist or the author saying gədfätä ṣ’ḥአfi (“scribe’s error”).22
The zäyəbe, the Amharic translation of the zär, is presented attempting to bring out, in
fully colloquial and often Gəʿəz-oriented Amharic, the essential meaning of the Gəʿəz text.
Once the zäybe is given, he usually gives different alternative interpretations using ʾandəm
(“and one,” an abbreviation for the phrase “there is one who says,” which is used to intro-
duce contrasting interpretations)23 as a turning point. The final purpose of this prolonged
and complex interpretation process is toward a better understanding of the secret, true
meaning (mǝsṭir “mystery”) hidden behind the “commented” text.
Extensive commentary is often given in the form of questions introduced by a phrase like
bilu (“if they say . . .”). In the ʾandəmtā commentary tradition, the commentator provides a
further explanation to a given text by introducing different kinds of instrumental terms that
are used to supplement, support, or corroborate what has been interpreted in the ʾandəm
mode. One of the technical terms is ḥatäta (lit. “investigation”), a term that introduces
an explanation of an unfamiliar word or narrative. The exegete elaborates on the deep
meaning of the reading by presenting different illustrative histories taken from biblical and
nonbiblical sources, introducing them with Tarik (“history”). He also gives different verses
from different textual sources to enrich his commentary using the term ṭǝqs (“quotation”).
In the commentary practice, textual variations are also introduced with phrases like ʾǝndil
(“and one says”), yammil yǝggäññāl (“there is one who says”). Notes and emendations of
supposed grammatical errors in the Gəʿəz text, and substitutions for words supposedly un-
suited to their context, may also be accompanied with sil näw (“it says”).
Over the past millennium and a half, Ethiopia has developed a unique tradition of ecclesias-
tical scholarship that derives its distinctive character from the unique Christian heritage of the
country. The complex system of church education (known in Amharic as ʾabənnät təmhərt)
provides all levels of training from elementary to higher, in a wide variety of fields, including
reading and writing, theology, poetry and music, art and history, law, and traditional medi-
cine. The entire curriculum may take up to twenty-eight years and more to complete.
The School of Exegesis, the mäsḥaf bet, is positioned at the highest stage in this tra-
ditional system of education of the Ethiopian Orthodox Täwahədo Church (abbreviated
EOTC, consisting, from the lower to higher, of Nəbab Bet “the house of reading,” Zema Bet
“the house of Church music,” Qəne Bet “the house of religious poetry,” and Mäṣḥaf Bet “the
house of books”). It is an advanced level of schooling where students are engaged in the de-
tailed and profound study, analysis, and interpretation of the Scriptures and of the biblical
commentaries. As Friedrich Heyer, a German Ethiopianist, puts it, “here the foundation for
the practice of the Orthodox faith is set forth, the education of monks prescribed, the the-
ology of the fathers of the church firmly standardized, the calendar fixed.”24
22
Ibid, 151.
23
Cowley, The Traditional Interpretation, 3.
24 F. Heyer, “The Teaching of Tergum in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church,” in Proceedings of the 3rd
The School of the commentary of books has four departments out of which the first two
departments are devoted to the books of the Old and New Testaments.
The first department is called Bәluyat (Books of the Old Testament). It is the depart-
ment where the interpretations of all the biblical books of the Old Testament are studied.
The books are the thirty-nine books of the Old Testament and the seven deuterocanonical
books. It takes approximately five to six years of studying, reviewing, and note-taking.
He who masters this subject is called Mägabe Bәluy, “Feeder of Old [Testament].” The
second is called the Ḥaddisat (Books of the New Testament). It is a specialized school on
the commentaries of the thirty-five books of the Ethiopian New Testament that include
the Four Gospels, the Pauline Epistles, the Catholic Epistles, and the Revelation (27). It
takes approximately four to five years; and he who successfully completes this subject
is named as Mägabe Ḥaddis, “Feeder of New [Testament].” The third is department is
Mänäkosat (Books of Monks). It is a field of study where the commentary and explana-
tion of books, such as Arägawi Mänfäsawi (a work of John of Saba), Filksǝyus (a work of
Philoxenus of Mabug), and Mar-Yǝsḥaq (a work of Isaac of Nineveh) are studied. It takes
years, and he who successfully completes this subject is called Mäggabe ḫəruyan, “Feeder
of the selected.” The last department is called the Liqawәnt bet (Books of Scholars). It is
a field of study that presents the commentaries on the various writings of the Church
Fathers, such as Books of Cyril, John of Chrysostom, Haymanot’ Abäw “Faith of Fathers,”
Qǝddase “Anaphora,” etc. It also includes religious and secular legal codes given as Fǝtḥa
Nägäśt “Law of Kings.” Religious laws like Didascalia, Clement, Synodos, and Qännona
Abulides are also given as preliminaries to the Fǝtḥa Nägäśt. It takes approximately five
years to complete.
On top of these departments, the student of the commentary can study different courses,
mainly the calendar. The calendar is the subject which is traditionally considered as the fifth
department of the school of commentary, where the disciple studies the calendar system
and formula of the Church. This subject is given with the books ʾAbušahər,25 Märḥa əwwur,
Baḫərä ḥasab, and ʾAwudä nägäśt.
For scholars outside Ethiopia, the study of Ethiopian Bible commentaries is a field in its
infancy. In fact, the entire bibliography of publications in this area can be listed on one page.
First, there was the groundbreaking work of the late Roger W. Cowley which inspired re-
search in the area. In addition to some preliminary articles, he published two books.
“Preliminary Notes on the Baläandem Commentaries” (1971) is an introductory work
he wrote on the commentary material. Cowley tried to discuss some preliminary notes on
andəmta, which paved the way for his later works. Expressing his regret that the corpus
has attracted little attention of foreign scholars, he discusses the general features of the
commentary books. He also tells his readers that the corpus exhibits a number of note-
worthy features, including archaic features of the Amharic language and sometimes foreign
words, etc. He further discusses the books that are taught in the mäṣḥaf bet, namely, the Old
feasts, and its chronology presents a picture of biblical and secular world history. It is based on the
chronological and chronographical concepts of Islamic astronomy whereas its relation to Christian
calendar of feasts is the center of attention. (Siegbert Uhlig, “Abušaker,” Encyclopedia Aethiopica, vol. 2
(Wiesbaden: Harassowitz, 2003), 57).
Biblical Interpretation in Ethiopian Patristic Literature 405
Testament, the New Testament, the books of the fathers, and the books of the monks as well
as the Liturgy and Canon Law.
Discussing the general format of the books particularly the published ones, he says,
In overall form, they consist of introduction and text with comment. Most of the printed
ones have an imperial preface in Amharic relating the difficulty of obtaining books in Old
Testament times, the activity of Ezra, the translation of the Septuagint, the translation of
the Scriptures into Gǝʿǝz and their interpretation into Amharic, the destruction created by
Graňň, the preservation of the Christian faith in Ethiopia and the Emperor’s desire to have
Christian books printed.26
Cowley’s other study of the subject is the “Beginnings of the andəm Commentary
Tradition” (1972). His aim is to show how marginal annotations to Mss are closely associated
with the development of the written andəmta tradition. According to his view, these mar-
ginal annotations are the actual literary nucleus whereupon this oral tradition is crystallized
and was put to writing. To do this, he examines three annotated Mss and compares them
with the andəmta of the four books of Kings. This work should be taken as an important
guide to explore the commentary material by using the marginal annotations to the rest of
the commented upon texts.
“Old Testament Introduction in the Andəmta Commentary Tradition” (1974) is
Cowley’s third valuable research on andəmta. Here, he discusses how each book of the
Bible is furnished with an introduction dealing with matters of authorship, content, and
canonicity. More importantly, the study gives an English translation of a selection of Old
Testament introductory material “in order to illustrate the traditional attitudes to, and
interpretations of, the Old Testament books in Ethiopia.”27 Cowley tells us that none of
this material had previously been translated into a non-Ethiopian language. As an ap-
pendix to his study, he added a translation of a chapter from a book by liqä śəlṭanat Habtä
Maryam Wärqnäh28 on the commentary tradition together with some bibliographical
and historical annotations.
Cowley also wrote a similar study on New Testament introduction, entitled “New
Testament Introduction in the andəmta Commentary Tradition” (1977). In this research
too, he discusses how matters of authorship, content, and canonicity are treated in the
commentaries of the books of the New Testament. Finally, he gives English translation of
introductory materials of some selected books of the New Testament.
“Mämhǝr Esdros and His Interpretation” (1980) is another study in which Cowley
investigates the life of mämhər Esdros, one of the known exegetes during the Gondärine
period, about whom some information is available from Ethiopian historical sources, from
oral tradition, and from the andəmta commentary material. After briefly telling us about the
biography of the scholar, he gives supplementary material on the traditional line of trans-
mission of the andəmta commentary by listing the names of the scholars alphabetically. The
26 R.W. Cowley, “Preliminary Notes on the baläandem Commentaries,” Journal of Ethiopian Studies
work is helpful to those who want to undertake biographical research about scholars of the
tradition.
The Traditional Interpretation of the Apocalypse of St. John in the Ethiopian Orthodox
Church (1983) is the most useful contribution by Cowley; in it he discusses three closely re-
lated themes. The first (pages 1–61), titled “The andəmta Commentary Corpus, Its Character,
Provenance, and Development,” touches on every important aspect of the Ethiopian exe-
getic tradition. The content of the andəmta is reviewed in detail on pages 61–64. These pages
not only exhibit the impressive wealth of the andəmta material and Cowley’s personal li-
brary but also provide us with his thorough study of each of the books reviewed. The second
subject (pages 65–156) is an annotated translation of the tǝrgwame of the Apocalypse of St.
John as preserved in the B.L. Ms Orient 13830, 116–192. Since this manuscript is apparently
not described in any published catalog, a brief description of it would have been a helpful
addition in Cowley’s work. The third subject (pages 157–381) is an annotated translation
of the andəmta of the Apocalypse in Mäṣaḥǝftä ḥaddisat śostu, nəbab kännä-tərgwamew,
edited by liqä liqawənt Mäḥari Tərfe, and published in A.A. in 1951 E.C. [1958/9], 347–484.
Cowley used the twentieth-century Ms to show some linguistic features that were omitted
in the published text, and to enrich the translation with pieces of information that were ap-
parently not transmitted to or from liqä liqawənt Mäḥari Tərfe.
These three sections are distinctly different from each other so that each can be considered
as a separate work on its own. The book concludes with a useful bibliography of printed
works and unpublished dissertations, and two indices: a general index and a set of indices
to Gǝʿǝz literature.
Cowley’s last contribution on the subject is his Ethiopian Biblical Interpretation: A Study
in Exegetical Tradition and Hermeneutics (1988). The main questions Cowley sets out to
answer are, “With which exegetical tradition(s) does the traditional Biblical (and patristic)
Amharic commentary material of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahido Church stand in es-
sential continuity, and what are the processes that have made this tradition what it is?”29
To answer these questions, he makes some sample studies of the commentary with the
aim of illustrating the use of non-Ethiopian traditions and the selection of material. This
introductory chapter is followed by an investigation of the relationship between Ethiopian
and Jewish commentaries with Greek, Syriac, and Arabic counterparts (or traditions). The
main body of the work consists of the texts and translation of the andəmta commentary on
Genesis 1:1–2:4 and Hebrews 1, preceded by surveys of the materials that have contributed
to Ethiopian Orthodox Christian understanding of the Creation and of Christology
followed by comparative studies of selected exegetical motifs. In the concluding chapter,
Cowley attempts to briefly draw together some of the factors that have generated the com-
mentary. He chose “the Creation” and “Christology” as the central themes to compare
the Ethiopian commentary material with other traditions, “because they are basic to the
Ethiopian Orthodox presentation of the Gospel and are pervasive in the commentaries,
and, in addition, because they are so fully treated in other literatures that they are very suit-
able for comparative study.”30
29
Cowley, Ethiopian Biblical Interpretation, 17.
30
Ibid, vii.
Biblical Interpretation in Ethiopian Patristic Literature 407
In his conclusion, Cowley remarks that Ethiopian biblical commentary is inherited from
much non-Ethiopian exegetical tradition from the second to the thirteenth centuries AD.
He says, “The Ethiopian andəmta commentary tradition is an exegetical tradition which has
an essential continuity with Antioch exegesis, and which Ethiopian scholars have moulded
into its present form.”31 But we see Cowley stating that the andəmta commentary stood
its ground in the face of all the influences. As he puts it, “although its sources have been
variously influenced by hermeneutic theories and doctrinal concerns, these theories and
concerns have not influenced the Ethiopian development of the tradition.”32
Another book on the subject is Kirsten Stoffregen Pedersen’s Traditional Ethiopian
Exegesis of the Book of Psalms (1995). In her introductory remarks, Stoffregen Pedersen
briefly discusses the andəmta commentary, beginning with its definition and describing
its characteristics and the technical terms used in the corpus. In addition, in the second
part, which forms the main part of the book, she gives an annotated translation of selected
chapters of the book of Psalms. As a background for her translation, she discusses the com-
position of the book and its use in the EOTC and other Oriental churches. For example,
she shows how the book is divided in different churches. In the Hebrew canon, the book of
Psalms is divided into five parts, namely, Ps. 1–41, Ps. 42–72, Ps. 73–89, Ps. 90–106, and Ps.
107–150, while the Gəʽəz division in the andəmta version is as follows: Ps. 1–10, Ps. 11–20,
Ps. 21–30, etc.
Stoffregen Pedersen also discusses the matter of authorship of the book of Psalms. Even
though it is traditionally ascribed to King David, she tells her readers that this attribution
of authorship is difficult because, “The Hebrew titles of the Psalms attributed 73 of them to
David, 12 to Asaph, 11 to the sons of Korah, 2 to Solomon, 1 to Heman, 4 to Ethan–Idithun
and 1 to Moses, while 50 Psalms have been handed down anonymously.”33
Stoffregen Pedersen also remarks that the book of Psalms has from the very birth of
Christianity been the backbone of Christian prayer. Here, she discusses how Ethiopian
Christians divide the book to recite privately. To make her study as exhaustive as possible,
she makes a survey of published works of traditional exegesis of the book of Psalms. She
mentions some works that are published in Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Syriac, and Arabic. She
briefly compares the sources, interests, and exegetical methods of the Amharic commen-
tary material with other traditions. Her translation of the andəmta commentary on parts of
the Psalms, which forms the main part of her work, is important to those who are interested
in studying the features of the commentary material of the book of Psalms and the methods
used in it.
“The Teaching of Tərgum in the Ethiopian Church,” by Friedrich Heyer (1960), should
not be forgotten. Although covering a very small portion of the material available, it forms
the starting point of any scientific research on this topic. Heyer discusses when, how, and
where the teaching of tərgwǝm (which is referred to in this chapter as andəmta) takes place.
The article is relevant for those who work on the teaching aspect of the corpus, which I am
not dealing with.
31
Ibid, 382.
32
Ibid.
33 Stoffregen Pedersen, Traditional Ethiopian Exegesis of the Book of Psalms (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz
comprises five Mss, three from the fourteenth/fifteenth and two from the sixteenth century.
A third group, called “later Mss,” is represented by five Mss from the seventeenth/eight-
eenth century. Finally there is one Ms from the sixteenth/seventeenth century, considered
the “odd one out.”
“Andəmta as an Interpretative Strategy: with Reference to the Book of Genesis” (2003) is my
MA thesis submitted to the Graduate Studies Program of Addis Ababa University. It is aimed
“to put forward as a starting point for reasoning or explanation that the Amharic andǝmta
commentary material has its own valuable techniques as it identifies possible interpretative
strategies that may help literary critics in their study of Amharic literature.”34 The research
begins by providing a general introduction to the definition, history, and sources of the com-
mentary material. The main body of the thesis identifies the major peculiar features of the
commentary tradition and shows how these features fit into the overall interpretative strategy
of andǝmta. To do this, different strategic terms that are used in the andǝmta are identified and
their applications in the commentary process are intensively discussed based on quoted texts
from the book of Genesis.
The main indigenous accounts of the andəmta commentary are those by liqä śəlṭanat Habtä
Maryam Wärqnäh Ṭəntawi yä-’ityoṗṗǝya sərəʿatä təmhərt, 1971 E.C., “Ethiopian Traditional
Curriculum”; aläqa Inbaqom Qalä Wäld (Traditional Ethiopian Church Education 1970), Aklilä
Bərhan Wäldä Qirqos Märḥa ləbbuna. 1943 E.C.; abba Kidanä Maryam Getahun Ṭəntawi yä-
qolo tämari, 1954 E.C., “Traditional Student”; mämhər Mänkər Mäkonnən Mäṣḥetä liqawənt,
1972 E.C., “The Mirror of Scholars,” mäggabe bəluy Säyfä Śəllase Yoḥannǝs Yä-’ityoṗṗǝya
ortodoks täwaḥədo betä-krəstiyan tarik kä-lədätä krəstos əskä 2000 A.M., “The History of the
Ethiopian Orthodox Täwaḥǝdo Church from the Birth of Jesus to 2000 AD.” These ecclessiastic
scholars, having had a firsthand experience in the traditional schools of the EOTC, have tried
to discuss the history and some of the features of the corpus. Moreover, they have focused
on how the corpus is taught in the Church schools. In this chapter, however, no attention is
given to the teaching aspect of the corpus. Fəqrä Dəngəl Bäyyänä, too, has tried to discuss the
contribution of the andəmta commentary tradition to the development of Amharic. In his
Yä-andəmta tərgwame lä-amarəñña ədgät) “The Contribution of the andǝmta Commentary
for the Development of Amharic” (1974), Fəqrä Dəngəl has suggested that Amharic will ben-
efit if it takes some techniques of using words from the language of the andəmta commentary
material.
Besides these subjects, the student of the abənnät invests a few months studying history
from oral traditions and written documents. He wanders from place to place searching
for elders and scholars and learns history from them through conversation and dialogue,
visits historical and ecclesiastical places, and reads written historical documents. On top
of that, he learns the art of calligraphy and manuscript-making including arts of preparing
ink from various plants and trees, making reed pens, bookbinding, making leather sheaths
for books, tailoring his own clothing, etc. He also learns the art of wood carving including
the Holy Tablets and crosses. The skill of painting murals and miniatures, and illuminate
manuscripts are also additional areas of his training. According to Imbakom, the total
training period the student devotes to the arts and crafts is four years.35
34
Alehegne, “Andəmta as an Interpretative Strategy,” xiv.
35
Imbaqom Kalewold, Traditional Ethiopian Church Education (New York: 1970), 32.
410 Mersha Alehegne
Bibliography
Tedros Abraha “Exegesis.” In Encyclopedia Aethiopica, vol. 2, edited by Siegbert Uhlig, 472.
Wiesbaden: Harassowitz Verlag, 2005.
Mersha Alehegne The Ethiopian Commentary of the Book of Genesis: Critical Edition and
Translation. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2010.
Cowley, Roger W. “The Beginning of the andem Commentary Tradition.” Journal of Ethiopian
Studies 10, no. 2, 1972: 1–16.
Cowley, Roger W. Ethiopian Biblical Interpretation: A Study in Exegetical Tradition and
Hermeneutics. Cambridge: University of Cambridge Oriental publications, 1988.
Cowley, Roger W. “Mämhәr Esdros and his Interpretations.” Sixth International Conference
of Ethiopian Studies. Edited by G. Goldenberg. Tel-Aviv: A.A. Balkema, 41–69.
Cowley, Roger W. “New Testament Introduction in the Andemta Commentary Tradition,”
Ostkirchliche Studien 26, no. 2/3, 1977: 144–192.
Cowley, Roger W. “Old Testament Introduction in the Andəmta Commentary Tradition.”
Journal of Ethiopian Studies 12, 1974: 133–175.
Cowley, Roger W. “Preliminary Notes on the Balaandem Commentaries.” Journal of Ethiopian
Studies 9, no. 1, 1971: 9–20.
Cowley, Roger W. The Traditional Interpretation of the Apocalypse of St. John in the Ethiopian
Orthodox Church. Cambridge: University of Cambridge Oriental Publications, 1983.
Getatchew Haile “Ge’ez Literature.” In Silence Is Not Golden: A Critical Anthology of Ethiopian
Literature, edited by Tadesse Adera and Jimale Ahmed, 20–56. Trenton, NJ: Red Sea
Press, 1995.
Harden, J.M. An Introduction to Ethiopic Christian Literature. London: London Society for
Promoting Christian Knowledge New York and Toronto: The Macmillan Co., 1926.
Heyer, Friedrich. “The Teaching of Tergum in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church.” Proceedings
of the Third International Conference of Ethiopian Studies, 140–152. Addis Ababa: Institute
of Ethiopian Studies, 1969.
Imbaqom Qaläwäld Traditional Ethiopian Church Education. New York: Teachers College
Press, 1970.
Pedersen, Stoffregen. Traditional Ethiopian Exegesis of the Book of Psalms. Wiesbaden:
Harrasowitz Verlag, 1995.
Habtä Maryam Wärqnäh Yä-ityoppya ortodoks täwaḥədo betä krəstiyan emnätənna təmhərt.
Addis Ababa: Berhanena Selam Qedamawi Hailesellase Printing Press, 1970/7 1.
Säyfä Śəllase Yoḥannəs “yäqəddusat mäṣaḥəft ʾandəmta tərgwame bäItəyoppəya Ortodoks
täwaḥədo betä krəstiyan.” In YäItəyoppəya Ortodoks Täwaḥədo betä krəstiyan tarik kälədätä
Krəstos əskä 2000 A.M., 174–207. Addis Ababa: tənśʾae zägubaʾe Printing Press, 2008.
Kǝnäfä Rǝgb Zälläqä. “Bibliography of the Ethiopian Hagiographical Traditions.” Journal of
Ethiopian Studies 13, no. 2, 1975: 55–102.
Chapter 26
T he Bible a nd t h e
Arm enian C hu rc h
Vahan Hovhanessian
Introduction
One century after the conversion of the Armenian king Tiridates the Great (298–330)
and his kingdom to Christianity,1 Armenians succeeded in translating the entire Bible
into Armenian.2 Until the end of the fourth century they did not have their own al-
phabet and therefore could not have translated the Bible. Meanwhile, missionaries and
clergy struggled to read and teach the Bible to the Armenian people using either its
Syriac or Greek manuscripts. The late fifth-century historian Lazar Pʿarbecʿi describes
the situation in the Armenian Church prior to the translation of the Bible and the frus-
tration of Maštocʿ, the founder of the Armenian alphabet, and of the Armenian people
as follows:
For the services in the church and readings from Scripture were conducted in Syriac in
the monasteries and churches of the Armenian people. As a result, the people of such a
large land were unable to comprehend or benefit. The unusualness of the Syrian language
overburdened the officiants while bringing no benefit to the people. For a long while the
venerable Maštocʿ had been considering this situation. He was grieved that there existed
no alphabet for the Armenian language by which it would be possible to win the souls
1 For a scholarly discussion in English of the conversion of Armenia, see Robert W. Thomson, The
Lives of Saint Gregory: The Armenian, Greek, Arabic, and Syriac Versions of the History Attributed to
Agathangelos (Ann Arbor: Caravan Books, 2010), 6–8; S. Peter Cowe, The Armenian Version of Daniel
(Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992), 441; and Claude E. Cox, The Armenian Translation of Deuteronomy (Ann
Arbor: Edwards Brothers, 1981), 12–13.
2 See Krikor H. Maksoudian, “Introduction,” in Koriwn: Varkʿ Mastotocʿi: Life of Mashtots
(New York: Caravan Books, 1985). Koriwn does not specify the original language from which the
Armenians translated the bible. Most probably it was based on Syriac and Greek manuscripts. See
Claude Cox, “Armenian Translations,” in Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov (eds.), Textual History of the
Bible, 1.3.7. (Brill: Leiden, 2016), 225–227, and Peter S. Cowe, “The two Armenian versions of Chronicles,
their origin and translation technique,” Revue des Études Arméniennes 22 (1990–1991), 53–96.
412 Vahan Hovhanessian
of men and women in all the churches, utilizing the language itself and not a foreign
language.3
It was their desire to read and understand the Bible in their own language that pushed
the Armenians to invent their own alphabet. They wanted to hear Christ and His apostles as
well as the teachings of God’s kings and prophets in their own language. Indeed, the trans-
lation of the Bible into Armenian baptized the Armenian identity in the Christian pathos,
making the gospel of Jesus Christ and the tradition woven around it the main pillar of the
new Armenian identity.
Koriwn, the biographer of Mesrob Maštocʿ, elaborates on the impact of the translation
of the Bible, saying:
At that time, the blessed and fortunate land of the Armenians became glorious, when the
Law-teaching Moses with his prophetic class, and the progressive Paul with the entire class
of the Apostles together with the world-saving gospel of Christ at once and through the
two laborers arrived [our land] and were revealed in Armenian letters speaking Armenian.
There was, henceforth, true joy and [a]beautiful scene in the eye of the beholders, in the
country which was far from the lands of the good news, where the miracles performed by
God took place.4
3 G. Ter-Mkrtchʿean and St. Malxasean, Ghazaray Pʿarpecʿwoy patmutʿiwn hayocʿew tughtʿarh Vahan
Translating the Bible into Armenian was a major turning point in the Armenians’ pur-
suit to read, learn, and understand the Bible. However, there was still more to be done,
especially in the preparation of commentaries to explain and simplify the meaning of the
biblical message. The national momentum that culminated in the translation of the Bible
into Armenian led the same team of theologians also to translate a very valuable collection
of early commentaries on the Bible.8 This in itself encouraged Armenians to produce their
own commentaries of the Bible and gave birth to what is known as the Golden Age of
Armenian Literature.9
Through the centuries the Armenian Church developed Bible research centers and ex-
egetical schools that were well known in the region for their pursuit of critical scholarship
of the Bible and its hermeneutics. Theologians in these centers became famous for their
commentaries on the books of the Bible. Among these centers we mention the monasteries
of Glajor,10 Siwnik,11 Sanahin,12 and others for producing commentaries on the Bible in
Armenian.13
One can speak of three main periods in the history of Armenian Church during which
biblical research and the production of commentaries thrived and blossomed. The first
period covers the centuries immediately after the translation of the Bible into Armenian,
between the fifth and the late seventh centuries, although one can find important
(Antilias: Catholicosate of Cilicia, 2014), 34; Hakob Kyoseyan, “Hermeneutical Literature,” in Christian
Armenian Encyclopedia (Vałaršapat: Mother See of Holy Etchmiadsin, 1997), 71. For a partial listing of
the earliest translated commentaries on the Bible in the Armenian manuscripts of the Matenadaran,
Bishop Yeznik Petrosyan and Armen Ter-Steoanyan, Bibliography of the Armenian Commentaries on the
Bible (Yerevan: Armenian Bible Society, 2002), 116–126.
9 For a detailed list of the translated commentaries, see Robert W. Thomson, A Bibliography
of Classical Armenian Literature to 1500 A.D., Corpus Christianorum (Turnhout: Brepols, 1995);
Karekin Zarbhanalian, Matenadaran haykakan tʿargmanowtʿeancʿ naxneancʿ, Library of the Ancient
Translations: IV–XII Centuries (Venice: Mekhitarist Press, 1889); and Frederick C. Conybeare, “Armenian
Language and Literature,” in Hugh Chisholm (ed.), “Alexandrian School,” in Encyclopædia Britannica,
vol. 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1911), 572; and Puzant Yeghiayan, A Comprehensive
Critical History of the Biblical Times, Book 5 (Antelias: A.T.E.N.E, 1974), 1462–1474. For a partial listing of
the Armenian manuscripts of the commentaries in the Matenadaran, see Petrosyan and Ter-Steoanyan,
Bibliography, 12–114; Aznavorian, History of Interpretation, 34; and H. John Ahmaranian, The Bible
among the Armenians (Los Angeles: Bible Land Mission, 1987), 82–86.
10 Levon G. Khacherian, Educational Centres of Armenian Learning, Part II (Lisbon: Calouste
Gulbenkian Foundation, 1998), 490–492. See also the reference in Hayapatum (Venice: Mekhitarist
Press, 1901), 458.
11 Armenians called this school “Second Athens” because of the serious scholarly work done in there
in philosophy and biblical interpretation. This monastery continued its mission form the sixth to the
fifteenth century, when it was destroyed by the Seljuks.
12 Karo Afataryan, The Monastery of Sanahin and Its Inscriptions (Yerevan: Armenian Museum of
History, 1957).
13 Petrosyan and Ter-
Steoanyan, Bibliography, 8; and Ahmaranian, The Bible, 67–70, Hamazasp
Voskian, The Monasteries of Gougark (Venice: Mekhitarist Press, 1960), 61–83.
414 Vahan Hovhanessian
commentaries written during the eighth to the tenth centuries as well. Among the earliest
surviving commentaries from this period are the commentaries on the books of Genesis,
Joshua, and Judges by Ełišē,14 the commentaries by Stepanos Siwnecʿi’s (680–735) on the
four Gospels,15 Job, Ezekiel, and Daniel, as well as the one by the ninth-century Hamam
Arewelʿci’s on the book of Proverbs.16 The commentary on the book of Genesis by Ełišē is
considered the first fruit of this genre of literature among the Armenians. Despite the fact
that the full text of the commentary has not survived, we have many paragraphs of it pre-
served in the writings of later commentators.17 Furthermore, this commentary is of special
importance in that it sheds light on the influence of the Alexandrian School on the author’s
approach and comments. It demonstrates also the author’s influence by the philosophical
writings of the time or of earlier times such as those of Philo and Plato.18 Similarly, the
commentary on the four Gospels by Stepanos Siwnecʿi’ is the only surviving complete com-
mentary from the earliest phases of the biblical research in the school of Siwnik and is also
one of the earliest Armenian commentaries on the Bible. Through it we have access to parts
of the commentaries and the writings of Dionysius the Areopagite, Gregory of Nyssa, Cyril
of Jerusalem, Maximus the Confessor, and others, which otherwise are not available to us.
The second historical period that witnessed the production of many valuable
commentaries on the Bible in Armenian is the medieval period, especially from the tenth
to fourteenth centuries. Armenian and non-Armenian sources confirm the existence of
Armenian monasteries on the Black Mountain as early as the sixth century. Several of
these monasteries developed a celebrated reputation beginning with the eleventh century
for their research in biblical studies and hermeneutics. Monasteries in Sanahin, Sevan,
Skevra, and Hromkla were of no less reputation for biblical interpretation in the lands of
the Armenians. These centers were known for revitalizing and updating old methodologies
for interpreting the Bible and reconciling them with their contemporary challenges facing
biblical hermeneutic.19 Among the well-known commentaries of this period we mention
the commentary by Gregory of Narek (Narekacʿi) on the Song of Songs, which is based on
Gregory of Nyssa’s commentary on the same book. Of scholarly interest is also the com-
mentary on the Gospel of Luke by Ignatius of Sevler or Ignadios Sevlernecʿi (1090–1160),
which includes quotations from the commentary of John Chrysostom on the Gospel of
Luke that no longer is extant in its original Greek language. Among the other commentators
of this period we mention the twelfth-century Sargis the Graceful, Sargis Kund (1100–1185),
Anania of Sanahin (1100–1070), and Nersēs the Graceful. Nersēs Lambronac’i (1153–1198)
is known for composing voluminous commentaries with detailed theological analysis of
the biblical text. He is the author of commentaries on the book of Psalms and the twelve
14 Zaven Yegavian, Armenian Classical Authors, Vol. 1: Fifth Century (Antelias: Armenian Catholicosate
Etchmiadsin, 1997); and Michael B. Papazian, Stepʿanos Siwnetsʿi Commentary on the Four Gospels
(New York: SIS Publications, 2014).
16 Robert W. Thomson, Hamam Commentary on the Book of Proverb (Leuven: Peeters Publishers, 2005).
17 Levon Xačikyan, Ełišē Araraçocʿ meknowtʿiwnë (Erevan: Matenadaran, 1992).
18 Yegavian, Armenian Classical, 565–567.
19 Erna Shirinian, “Education in the Armenian Monasteries of Black Mountain of Cilician Armenia,”
prophets. One cannot forget the contribution of the theologians of the schools of Glacor
and Tatev to the biblical theology of this period. Esayi Nšecʿi’s (1255–1338) commentary on
the book of Ezekiel is also valuable for the sources the author had used and incorporated
into his work. Equally known commentators of this period are the two disciples of Esayi
Nšecʿi, Yovhannes Erznkacʿi (1260–1335), who wrote commentaries on the book of Daniel
and the Gospel of Matthew, and Yovhan Orotnecʿi (1315–1387), who wrote commentaries,
using the scholastic methodology, on the Gospels of Matthew and John and on the letters of
St. Paul, including the apocryphal 3 Corinthians.20
The third period during which Armenian commentaries thrived is the period from the
eighteenth to the nineteenth centuries. Among the well-known commentators of this period
we mention Yakob Nalyan (1702–1764), who wrote the only Armenian commentary known
to us on the book of Sirach.21 The Armenian Catholicos of Cilicia, Petros Naxičʿewancʿi
(1720–1787) is known for his detailed commentaries on the books of Genesis, Job, Song of
Songs, Parables of the Gospels, and the book of Revelation. Noteworthy is also the three-
volume commentary of Fr. Gabriel Awetikean (1750–1827) on the fourteen letters of St.
Paul,22 and the commentaries by Archbishop Petros Berdowmean (1720–1787) on St. Paul’s
letter to the Ephesians and on the book of Revelation.
In general, Armenian theologians did not write about their methods of interpreting the
Bible. One can detect this from their commentaries. To begin with, the early Armenian
commentators stressed the importance of remaining faithful to the biblical text, and reading
every word carefully to render an accurate interpretation. They advise their students and
the readers of the Bible to read and examine the biblical text very meticulously. The fifth-
century Armenian theologian Mambrē Vercʿanoł exhorts his students, saying,23 “Pay good
attention, I beg you. When you try to read the divine books and to understand the meaning
of the words, let not a single vowel escape your mind. All the writings are pregnant with
heavenly wisdom. They give birth to spiritual messages in the minds of the wise people.”24
Surviving Armenian manuscripts from the early centuries after the invention of the al-
phabet reflect the influence on the neighboring biblical centers on the Armenian Church
hermeneutics. One can trace the influence on the early Armenian commentators of the
Antiochian school, which stressed the literal interpretation of the Bible25 and of the
Alexandrian school,26 which emphasized the allegorical interpretation of the Bible.27
20
Vahan S. Hovhanessian, Third Corinthians: Reclaiming Paul for Christian Orthodoxy (New York: Peter
Lang, 2000), 13–14.
21 Garegin Hambardzumyan, The Book of Sirach in the Armenian Biblical Tradition (Boston: De
Gruyter, 2016).
22 Gabriel Awetikyan, Commentary of the Fourteen Letters by Blissful Apostle Paul (Venice: Mekhitarist
Press, 1806).
23 H. N. Andrikyan, “Mambrē Vercʿanoł,” Bazmavep 7 (1904), 7–8.
24 Homilies of Mambre Vercʿanoł (Venice: Mekhitarist Press, 1894), 30.
25 See Paul Nadim Tarazi, “The Antiochian School of Biblical Exegesis,” The Word 30 (1986), 7–9; and
The School of Antioch: Biblical Theology and the Church in Syria, Vahan Hovhanessian (ed.), Bible in the
Christian Orthodox Tradition, Book 6 (New York: Peter Lang, 2016).
26 See Michael Papazian, “Origen’s Commentaries as Sources for Stepʿanos Siwnecʿi’s Commentary on
While Armenian commentators benefited from both schools, they were not enslaved in
their hermeneutics exclusively to one methodology or one school of interpretation.28 The
choice of which approach to use to interpret the Bible depended on the nature of the bib-
lical text. For example, the text of passages in the Prophets of the Old Testament and in the
book of Revelation usually demanded allegorical interpretation because of the nature of
their contents. On the other hand, passages in the books of Deuteronomy, Kings, Gospels,
and Acts necessitated literal interpretation.29 This observation can be supported by the
fact that the earliest Armenian commentators were not trained in one school. Rather, they
studied the Bible in various schools of the time, including Caeserea, Edsessa, Nisibis, and
Alexandria.30 The use of different methods to explain the Bible can also be explained by the
fact that the earliest commentaries translated into Armenian were not chosen exclusively
from one hermeneutical school. Rather, the translated commentaries came from both the
Alexandrian and Antiochian schools.31 Among these works we mention the commentaries
by Athanasius of Alexandria (295–373), Eusebius of Emesa (d. 360), Ephraim the Syrian (d.
373), Basil of Caesarea (d. 379), Cyril of Jerusalem (d. 386), Gregory Nazianzus (d. 390),
Gregory of Nyssa (d. 394), Epiphanus (d. 403), John Chrysostom, and others.
The Armenian Church was not the only Church that took a moderate approach to both
methodologies and avoided extremisms. This was the approach also of the Cappadocian
Fathers, Basil of Caesarea, his younger brother Gregory of Nyssa, and his lifelong friend
Gregory of Nazianzus. Their writings were translated into Armenian with the Bible during
the fifth century and became the foundation of later commentaries by the Armenian
Fathers.32 In fact, Gregory of Narek in his commentary on Song of Songs clearly states that
his work is based on the work of the Cappadocian Father Gregory of Nyssa, whom he calls
“perfect Vardapet” and “dwelling of the Spirit.”33
St. Ełišē was aware of the allegorical and literal interpretation of the Bible. He wisely
teaches that in many parts of the Bible the message is understood literally, but there are
passages that have hidden meanings and can be understood only when the interpreter
explains them. In his comments on the transfiguration of Christ, Ełišē says, “We know that
the divine books do not speak in a confusing or contradictory manner. Rather they narrate
everything in an exact manner. But there are words that need to be understood as they are
told. There are other words whose meaning is hidden (or ‘dark’) and need to be interpreted
to those who accept it in faith for the sake of the salvation of their souls.”34
In fact, St. Ełišē himself uses both the literal and allegorical methods to interpret verses
from the Bible. Comparing Genesis 1:28 with 9:1, like a contemporary exegete, Ełišē observes
that almost the same blessing bestowed by God in 1:28 is repeated in 9:1. Comparing the
two verses with each other and meticulously detecting the difference between the texts of
28
Aznavorian, History of Interpretation, 34–35.
29
Kyoseyan, “Hermeneutical Literature,” 715.
30 Koriwn, 161–162.
31 Aznavorian, History of Interpretation, 34.
32 Mesrob Aramyan, Song of Songs with Early Commentaries (Yerevan: Gandsasar, 1993), 12–17, and
Aršak Ter Mikaēlean, A Study of the Holy Scriptures (Etchmiadsin, Mother See, 2016), 89–90.
33 Grigor Nareka Vanic Vanakani (Venice: Mekhitarist Press, 1840), 271; and Robert W. Thomson,
“Gregory of Narek’s Commentary on the Song of Songs,” Journal of Theological Studies 34 (1983), 454.
34 The Writings of Our Holy Father Yeghishe Vardapet (Venice: Mekhitarist Press, 1859).
The Bible and the Armenian Church 417
the two blessings Ełišē elaborates on Genesis 9:1, “And the Lord God blessed Noah and his
sons, and said, ‘Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish [the earth].’ God does not give any
new blessing than that which he gave Adam. Because he is the same Master and blesses the
same nature. However, the power [bestowed] is diminished, because God did not say ‘And
you shall rule over the beasts.’ . . . Rather, ‘your awe and fear will be upon all the beasts.’ ”35
The same commentator, on the other hand, uses allegory when explaining the meaning
of the following verses in the Book of Joshua: “Choose twelve men from among the people,
one from each tribe, and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan,
from right where the priests are standing, and carry them over with you and put them
down at the place where you stay tonight” (4:2–3). Ełišē explains, “The twelve stones which
appeared in that river, are similar to the number of the apostles, and the twelve stones
which were placed in the river represent the twelve tribes who could not exit from the sea
of sins.”36
A few centuries later, during the late medieval period, we start detecting another her-
meneutical influence on the Armenian Church commentators of the Bible, which is the
several-fold sense of interpreting the Bible. This approach basically examines the Bible
seeking a literal meaning to its text first. Then the interpreter uses the allegorical approach
to elaborate on its “spiritual meaning.” The allegorical method is then further developed to
explore topological (or moral) and anagogical meanings of the examined text. The latter
tries to explore the spiritual meaning of the text with a moral and eschatological message.37
We find what may be the origins of this method of interpreting the biblical message in the
writings of the second-century Origen, whose writings have influenced the early Armenian
commentators.38 In his De Principiis he offers his well-known discussion of the three-level
meaning of the Scriptures, stating: “A person ought to describe threefold in his soul the
meaning of the divine letters. . . . Thus, as a human being is said to be made up of body, soul
and spirit, so also is the sacred Scripture, which has been granted by God’s gracious dispen-
sation for man’s salvation.”39 Later, in his same work, Origen adds:
There are three general disciplines by which one attains knowledge of the universe. The
Greeks call them ethics, physics, and enoptics; and we can give them the terms moral, nat-
ural, and contemplative. Some among the Greeks, of course, also add logic as a fourth, which
we can call reasoning. Others say that it is not a separate discipline, but is intertwined and
bound up throughout the entire body with the three disciplines we have mentioned.40
35
“Commentary on the Book of Genesis by Ełišē Vardapet,” in Matenagirk Hayoc, vol. 1
(Antelias: Catholicosate of Cilicia, 2003), section 9.1.
36 Ibid.
37 Edgar C.S. Gibson, The Sacred Writings of John Cassian (Altenmünster: Jazzybee, 2017), 263.
38 See Michael Papazian, “Origen’s Commentaries as Sources for Stepʿanos Siwnecʿi’s Commentary on
uses it in his comments on Gospel of John when he discusses John 2:15, “So he made a whip
out of cords . . .” Siwnecʿi states:
Solomon says, you write that three times in your mysticism and knowledge. And as the di-
vine book demonstrates, this saying has a true and allegorical meaning . . . For example, it
is evident that “Do not fornicate” or “do not commit adultery” is a command to withdraw
from bodily desires. Meanwhile, allegorically its first meaning is concerning the service of
demons. According to the saying of the prophet: with fornication they were defiling the land,
committing adultery with wood and stone (cf. Jeremiah 3:9). And the second, he calls those
who deviate from the orthodox doctrine and the church to commit adultery and fornication.41
41
Ibid., 513.
42
Biuzand Yeghiayan, Critical History of the Biblical Times, vol. 5 (Antelias: Catholicosate of Cilicia,
1974), 1460.
43 Antrēas vardapet Narinean, “Introduction,” in Megnutʿiwn srpotsʿ ergodasan markarēits
Spirit, who is from God and with God, thus he calls Him ‘begotten of God’ because of
the union of nature. But how the Word is ‘begotten’ or the Spirit ‘proceeds’ is beyond our
knowledge.”45
An example of the allegorical approach in the interpretation of the Bible is found in
the commentary on the four Gospels by Stepanos Siwnecʿi. “Answering them Jesus said,”
writes Siwnecʿi
A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and he fell into the hands of robbers, and
what follows. The man coming down from Jerusalem to Jericho represents Adam and all the
sinners according to the likeness of their deeds to that of Adam. And Jerusalem is the par-
adise from which he was expelled; Jericho [represents] the world where he went from the
Paradise. The robbers [represent] Satan and all his troops. Being naked [represents] the fall
from the glories and eternity. The wounds, all sins and crimes.46
The early fifth-century father of the Armenian Church and a member of the team of
theologians that translated the Bible into Armenian, Mowses Xorenacʿi, uses typology in
his sermon on the Transfiguration of the Lord, and compares it to the event of the exodus
in the Old Testament. Using Exodus as a type for the miracle of our salvation in the New
Testament, Xorenaci refers to the miracle of the exodus of the Hebrews fleeing Egypt, and
adds, “This feast was ordained for them as a shadow which prescribed the truth of the
gospel. Because as we leave the rational Egypt—I am talking about our bodies which are
inundated in the filth of the darkness-dwelling dirty desires—the light of the gospel leads
us like a sparkling pillar, by the Spirit-protected fog, to climb the spiritual mountain of the
knowledge of God, where God is and where He expiates everything physical by his fire.”47
During the late medieval period, writings like Glossa Ordinaria (Glossed Bibles), books
of questions, postilla, catenae (chain-Bibles), and scholia48 were developed and became
popular ways of interpreting the Bible in the West, which influenced the churches in the
East as well. Similar writings are found in the Armenian commentaries of the same period.
The commentary of the twelfth-century Sargis Kund on the Catholic letters is a good ex-
ample of this genre.49 Commenting on 1 John 3:16, for example, the Armenian commentator
introduces his comments in a brief paragraph first. This is followed by four paragraphs
commenting on the same verse by early church fathers. Each one of these paragraphs
is marked by a marginal reference of two or three letters to indicate the name of a pa-
tristic author whose comment is inserted in the commentary. First, we read the comment
2007), 31.
48 G. Lobrichon, “Une nouveauté: Les gloses de la Bible,” in Bible de tous les temps, 4: Le Moyen Age et
in Exegesis and Hermeneutics in the Churches of the East (New York: Peter Lang, 2009), 121–132; N.
Akinean, “Sargis V. Kund ev ir meknołakan erksirutʿiwnnerә,” Sion (1940), 16–22, 64–67, 94–99; and Eznik
Petrosyan, “Erku Xosk Sargis Vrt. Kundi Meknutiwn Ługasu Ašxatutʿyan Masin,” Ejmiacin (1982), 46–52;
Hakob Kyoseyan, “Introduction,” in Meknutʿiwn Katʿołikeacʿ Tʿłtʿocʿ (Etchmiadzin: Mother See of Holy
Etchmiadzin, 2003), 7–8.
420 Vahan Hovhanessian
The Armenian church fathers were so familiar with the biblical text that they prayed and
sang direct quotations or poetic retellings of the biblical narrative. The eleventh-century
“John the Deacon-Vardapet” Yovhannēs Sarkaak Vardapet from Manjar (Artsakh), for ex-
ample, likens the temptations of the world to traps, snares and pits that one falls into. He
pleads to God, incorporating a collection of imagery from the Book of Daniel, saying: “
Grant me your beloved wisdom and understanding . . . , as you bestowed your Spirit upon the
youth Daniel (Daniel 4:18), to honor him and to thwart off the debauchery of the misguided
and misleading elders. . . . You who strengthened Hananiah and his companions to withstand
the forceful orders and to choose the weightier death (Daniel 1:6), even to be with shackles in
the annihilating fire, so that nothing unpleasing to you may be found in them.53
In iniquity did my mother give birth to me (Psalm 51:5). I beg you, Savior, have mercy
on me. Sighing, the tax collector received forgiveness in the temple (Luke 18:9–14). In his
very words I too call out, “Have mercy on me, God” (Luke 18:13). The thief cried upon the
cross: “Remember me, Lord” (Luke 23:42). In his very words I too call out, “Have mercy
on me, God.” Pleading, the prodigal son begged you, “Father, I have sinned against heaven
and before you” (Luke 15:11–32). In his very words I too call out, “Have mercy on me, God”
(Luke 15:21).54
50
Hovhanessian, “A Medieval,” 128–129.
51
Avedis K. Sanjian, “Esayi Ncecʿi and Biblical Exegesis,” in Christoph Burchard (ed.), Armenia and
the Bible (Leuven: Peeters, 1993), 185–193.
52 See the following manuscripts in the Matenadaran, 1241, 1273, 1275, 5906.
53 Twelve Saints, Twelve Prayers of the Armenian Church, edited and translated by the faculty of St.
Nersess Armenian Seminary (New Rochelle: St. Nersess Seminary, 1998), 10.
54 “Christ, God of gods,” Penitential Hymns, Tone 6, in Jayngał Šarakan (Jerusalem: St. James Press,
1914), 92.
The Bible and the Armenian Church 421
A similar example of incorporating the person praying to God in the biblical narrative
is found in the prayers of the late tenth-century Gregory Magistros (990–1058). In this
case the reader confirms God’s mercifulness expressed in the Bible. Reflecting on Matthew
25:41–46, Magistros prays, “ ‘I was hungered and you fed me,’ You who clothed the naked
ones; ‘I was thirsty and you gave me drink,’ You who took in the strangers; ‘You visited me
in prison,’ You who think of all good things. Prostrated, I fall before you, Savior, make me
worthy of hearing these words.”55
St. Gregory of Narek (950–1011) shares a list of woes for his own sinfulness. He prays
incorporating biblical imagery, saying:
Woe to my sinful soul, for I have angered my creator. Woe to this son of perdition (John
17:12), for I have forgotten the gift of life. Woe to this debtor of untold thousands of talents,
for I haven’t the means to repay (Mt. 18:23–34). . . . Woe to this heap of dried up reeds, for I am
consumed in Gehenna (Is. 5:24.). Woe to me as I remember that the arrows of the wrath of
God are fitted with flames (Ps. 7:14). Woe for my stupidity, for I did not recall that the hidden
shall be revealed (Mt. 10:26).56
However, the same author acknowledges the fact that understanding the Bible is not
easy without having pure heart and mind. He likens the challenges in understanding
the message of the Bible to those of climbing Mount Koreb.57 Referring to the Bible,
he says,
Whoever reads this book must rid his mind and thinking of all kinds of fleshly conjugal
thoughts and then attempt to listen. Because this book is Mount Horeb, God’s dwelling place.
Thus, as the beast approaching the mountain was stoned (Exodus 19:12–13), likewise the
person who approaches the visible words of this book with brutal thoughts will suffer pun-
ishment. Therefore, we should stay away from all fleshly desires, shutting our bodily eyes and
opening our spiritual eyes, so that we might be able to climb this rational mountain, as Moses
did, and on its top, according to our capabilities, to reveal the hidden meaning of the divine
thoughts.58
Purity of the heart should be accompanied by careful reading and examination of the text
of the Bible. Łazar Pʿarpecʿi states, “Divine grace always enlightens those who love right-
eousness and especially those who are occupied with examining the word of God. For, they
have learned from Christ who has said, ‘examine the book’ (John 5:39).”59 The same point
is explained by the eighth-century Grigor of Aršroon, who elaborates on the importance of
continuous and thorough reading of scripture, adding, “Remember the feathers of a pea-
cock. The more you explore it the more its gorgeous beauty makes you forget what you saw
55
Twelve Saints, 9.
56
Thomas J. Samuelian, “Prayer Seven,” in The Armenian Prayer Book of St. Gregory of Narek
(Yerevan: Vem Press, 2005).
57 The biblical Mount Horeb (Hebrew: ח ֵֹרבand Septuagint Greek: Χωρήβ thus the Armenian Koreb)
is the mountain where God gave the Ten Commandments to Moses. See Exodus 3:1 and Kings 19:8). It is
also called the “Mountain of God.”
58 Aramyan, Song of Songs, 11–12.
59 Łazar Pʿarpecʿi, History of the Armenians and the Letter to Vahan Mamikonean (Yerevan: State
earlier. So also the mystery of the Scripture readings, the more you repeat it the more it
clarifies the mystery of our salvation.”60
Developing the idea further, the tenth-century Xosrov Anjewacʿi, teaches his readers that
through continuous reading of the Scripture, one not only gets to know about God but to
love God: “The Scriptures gives birth in one’s life to the love of God. From the Scriptures
come forth the love of prayers and tears; love toward fasting and mercy.”61
Praying the Scriptures, states the twelfth-century Catholicos Nersēs Šnorhali, is nour-
ishment for our souls and bodies like milk is to the children. He adds, “Just as a child does
not know how to choose between good food and bad . . . but when he reaches the age of
puberty . . . he recognizes how to choose food wisely. . . . So also, let us drink the milk of
the Word of God from the samples of the Holy Scripture, until our taste is accustomed to
choosing between good and evil.”62 The same concept is repeated by Nersēs Lambronac’i,
a contemporary to Catholicos Šnorhali who states, “The Holy Scripture provides our
souls with the food and drinks for eternal happiness and for the glory of God.”63 For the
thirteenth-century Barsegh Maškevorecʿi, continuous reading of Scripture is considered a
powerful tool in maintaining our relationship with God and as such an essential component
of prayer. He teaches, “When you listen to the Holy Scripture, God speaks with you. And
when you pray, you speak to God.”64
The truth contained in the Bible, is ammunition for the faithful to confront and defeat
the attacks of Satan. For St. Sargis Šnorhali, the Bible is the most effective weapon against
heretics, deceivers, and cults. Likening Christians to soldiers in an army, St. Sargis says,
Let us educate the palate of our mind by being familiar with the Holy Scripture so that we
can save ourselves and our friends from the temptation of heretics. Like the brave soldiers
at the battlefront who save not only themselves but also their friends in the army and save
them from crises of war, let us also, through our familiarity with the Holy Scripture, examine
the various teachings of the cults and see whether their teaching is the same as that of the
universal apostolic Church which is what is accepted and used in worship. And when they
teach other things, let us flee from them like from a snake, and warn those who are around us
against their teachings, as if about a fatal poison.65
Finally, the lack of continuous reading and praying the Bible and of familiarity with the
gospel and the truth contained therein can have the opposite effect. St. Gregory of Narek
chastises the apathy among some of his brethren the clergy, saying, “The reason why we,
clergy, are in trouble and our entire life, orders, rules and covenant, being corrupt, con-
fused, and have failed, is because we do not listen to the Holy Scriptures and do not keep
what we gain from it.”66 He adds, “Nobody is able to know and worship God, as one must,
without the knowledge of the Holy Scripture.”67
60
Grigor Aršarowni, Commentary on Genesis (Venice: Mekhitarist Press, 1964), 96.
61
Xosrov Anjevacʿi, Commentary on the Hours (Constantinople, 1984), 64.
62
General Epistle (Antilias: Great House of Cilicia, 1977), 280.
63
Nersēs Lambronacʿi, Commentary on the Eucharistic Mystery (Jerusalem: St. James Press), 16.
64
Barsegh Mašgevorcʿi, Homilies (Antelias: Great House of Cilicia, 1980), 328.
65
Anoushavan Tanielian, Sargis Šnorhali—Homilies (Antelias: Great House of Cilicia, 1978), 281–282.
66
Grigor Narekacʿi, Commentary on the Solomon’s Song of Songs (Beirut: 1963), 63.
67
Ibid, 275.
The Bible and the Armenian Church 423
Armenians strived not only to read the Bible but also to celebrate its message in their own
culture. They made the Bible the foundation of their daily services, sacraments, and worship.
The Bible in general is revered during the liturgical services in the Armenian Church as the
Word of God. As such, it is venerated as the presence of God through His word among
the assembled faithful. Armenians elevate the Gospel Book in church services and carry it
in processions among the faithful with incensing. The faithful in turn kiss it bowing their
head, and remain standing up when a reading from the Gospels is chanted. During the
celebration of the Divine Liturgy, for example, when the priest or deacon announces the
introduction to the chanting of the lesson of the day from one of the four Gospels, the
choir responds saying “God is speaking.”68 This confirms that through the chanted words
of the Gospel, uttered by the priest or the deacon, God talks to the assembled faithful then
and there.
Every aspect of worship and public prayer in the Armenian Church is a reflection on, if
not a direct quotation from, the biblical text.69 Armenians sing the biblical text and cele-
brate the good news of our salvation throughout the sacraments and daily services of the
church. This is why the Armenian Church has developed her own lectionary, čašocʿ,70
which contains passages from the Bible organized according to their theme and assigned
to corresponding feasts or fasting days during the year. Scholars have demonstrated that
the Armenian Church lectionary is based on the Jerusalem lectionary, of which the earliest
surviving Armenian manuscripts dates between 417 and 439.71
An important aspect of the “Book of Hours” of the Armenian Church, žamagirk,72 is
the chanting of verses from the Book of Psalms as a liturgical unit on its own or inserted
with hymns, prayers, and litanies. In Armenian monasteries, monks would chant the
Psalms in the middle of the night, often before the Night Office. This is why even in the
recently published editions of the žamagirk the entire Book of Psalms is published before
the Night Office.73
The Night Service preserves a unit that includes prayers for the deceased members of the
church and is known as Hangstean “For the Rest.” This consists of chanting of large blocks
of Psalms known as canons (kanon). Thus, the book of psalms is divided into eight groups
68 M. Daniel Findikyan et al., Divine Liturgy of the Armenian Church (New York: St. Vartan Press,
2000), 18.
69 Vahan Hovhanessian, La Sainte Bible et l’église Apostolique Arménienne (Paris: Diocèse de France,
2018), 33–37.
70 Charles Renoux, ‘Le Casocʿ, typicon-
lectionnaire: Origines et évolution, ” Revue des Etudes
Arméniennes 20 (1986/87), 123–152, and “Lectionnaires et hymnaires arméniens et géorgiens,” Ecclesia
Orans 33 (2016), 279–302.
71 Nicholas Adontz, “Les fêtes et les saints de l’Eglise arménienne,” Revue de l’Orient Chretien 6
(1927–28), 74–104. Frederick C. Conybeare, Rituale Armenorum (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1905), 1–35
; A. Renoux, “Un manuscript du lectionaire arménien de Jerusalem,” Le Museon 74 (1961), 384; and “Le
Codex Arménien Jerusalem 121,” Patrologia Orientalis 35/1 36/2 (1969–1971).
72 Žamagirk Ateni, Book of Hours (Vałaršapat: Mother See of Holy Etchmiadsin, 1999).
73 Ibid., 10–177.
424 Vahan Hovhanessian
and classified under each of the eight tones of the day in the Armenian Church. Each canon
ends with several psalms which are known as kanonaglowx (i.e., “head of the canon”), which
are sung in a more elaborate tune.74 By chanting a canon of the book of Psalms every night,
Armenian monks go through the entire Book of Psalms in one week. This practice attests to
the centrality of this biblical book in the Armenian worship and liturgy.
The liturgy of the Oil-B earing Women in the Morning Service (Matin) is a celebration
of the biblical event of the visit of the women accompanying the Theotokos to anoint the
body of Jesus and the discovery of the empty tomb (Mark 16:1–13).75 Here again, psalms
are chanted and the corresponding passages from the Gospels are read. The daily Night,
Morning, Midday, and Rest services include chanting of paragraphs from the Gospels.76
Originally the Armenian Church hymnal, šaraknoc, was a collection of Psalms and bib-
lical canticles. Through the centuries Armenian hymns were composed and added to the
collection. The introductory phrases to all categories of Armenian hymns, sharakan, are
verses from the Bible. All the hymns of the Night Service, for example, start with the phrase
“Let us praise the Lord for He is triumphed gloriously,” which is part of the song sung by
Miriam with Moses after crossing the Red Sea, and is a direct quote from Exodus 15:21.
Likewise, the second hymn of the Morning Service, the Magnificat, starts with the words of
praise by the Theotokos recorded in Luke 1:46, “My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit
rejoices in God my Savior.” The hymn, sung during the daily Midday service and during the
Divine Liturgy starts with Psalm 93:1 “The Lord reigns he is robed with majesty.”
Furthermore, many liturgical practices in the Armenian Church are based on teachings
and events in the Bible. When ascending to the altar to celebrate the Eucharist, for ex-
ample, the altar servers remove their shoes. They take God’s command to Moses, “Take
your sandals off ” (Exodus 3:5), literally. The altar is seen as the mountain of encountering
God. Referring to the altar, the celebrant of the Eucharist prays saying, “In this dwelling
of holiness, this place of praise; in this habitation of angels, this place of the expiation of
mankind; before these holy signs and the holy place that hold God up to us and are made
resplendent, we bow down in awe and worship.”77
The bread Armenians use for Holy Communion is unleavened, which is based on the
kind of bread Jesus used at the Last Supper.78 The pieces of liturgical vestments used during
the Divine Liturgy are based, almost identically, on the biblical description of vestments to
be worn when serving God.79 The Armenian Church has literally translated God’s command
to Moses in this case, and produced beautiful pieces of the vestments that Armenian clergy
use until today.
74
Ibid., 87–127.
75
Ibid., 242–259.
76 Ibid., 245–256 and 652–653.
77 Findikyan et al., Divine Liturgy, p. 7.
78 “On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread” (Matthew 26:17). See also Mark 14:12–25;
whom I have endowed with skill to make vestments for Aaron to consecrate him as my priest. These
are the vestments they shall make: a breastpiece, an ephod, a robe, a brocade tunic, a turban, and a sash.
In making these sacred vestments which your brother Aaron and his sons are to wear in serving as my
priests, they shall use gold, violet, purple, and scarlet yarn and fine linen.”
The Bible and the Armenian Church 425
Armenians continue the practice of burning incense during liturgy, interpreting liter-
ally the biblical text, “May you accept my prayer like incense” (Psalm 141:2). In the book
of Leviticus we read God’s instructions about worship in the temple: “And he shall take a
censer full of coals of fire from the altar before the Lord, and two handfuls of sweet incense
beaten small, and he shall bring it inside the veil and put the incense on the fire before the
Lord” (16:12–13). One can easily conclude that worship is another way Armenians interpret
and celebrate the biblical message in their life.
In conclusion, since their conversion to Christianity, Armenians made the biblical
message their own, translating its text to their language, explaining its message through
their commentaries and celebrating its good news in their worship and liturgy. Their
sacraments, daily liturgical offices, and prayer life are nurtured by the divine revelation of
the Holy Scripture. However, one must add that much is still needed in the scholarly field.
Serious research is needed to prepare the critical edition of the Armenian text of the Bible,
to publish and translate hundreds of Armenian commentaries remaining in manuscript
forms, and to study the influence of the Bible on the liturgy and spirituality of the Armenian
people through the centuries. This, however, will take us beyond the limits of this modest
contribution.
Bibliography
Ahmaranian, H. John, The Bible among the Armenians, Los Angeles: Bible Land Mission, 1987.
Awetikyan, Gabriel, Commentary of the Fourteen Letters by Blissful Apostle Paul,
Venice: Mekhitarist Press, 1806 (Armenian).
Aznavorian, Archbishop Zareh, History of Interpretation, Vaghinag Meloyan (ed.),
Antilias: Catholicosate of Cilicia, 2014.
Barsegh, Mašgevorcʿi, Homilies, Antelias: Great House of Cilicia, 1980 (Armenian).
Cox, Claude E., The Armenian Translation of Deuteronomy, Ann Arbor: Edwards Brothers, 1981.
Cowe, S. Peter, The Armenian Version of Daniel, Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992.
Cowe, S. Peter, “The two Armenian versions of Chronicles, their origin and translation tech-
nique,” Revue des Études Arméniennes, 22 (1990–1991), 53–96.
Findikyan, M. Daniel, et al., Divine Liturgy of the Armenian Church, New York: St. Vartan
Press, 2000.
Grigor Narekacʿi, Commentary on the Solomon’s Song of Songs, Beirut, 1963.
Hambardzumyan, Garegin, The Book of Sirach in the Armenian Biblical Tradition, Boston: De
Gruyter, 2016.
Hovhanessian, Vahan S., La Sainte Bible et l’église Apostolique Arménienne, Paris: Diocèse de
France, 2018 (French).
Hovhanessian, Vahan (ed.), The School of Antioch: Biblical Theology and the Church in Syria,
Bible in the Christian Orthodox Tradition, Book 6, New York: Peter Lang, 2016.
Hovhanessian, Vahan S., “A Medieval Armenian Scholion on the Catholic Epistles,” in Exegesis
and Hermeneutics in the Churches of the East, New York: Peter Lang, 2009.
Hovhanessian, Vahan S., Third Corinthians: Reclaiming Paul for Christian Orthodoxy,
New York: Peter Lang, 2000.
Grigor Nareka Vanic Vanakani, Venice: Mekhitarist Press, 1840 (Armenian).
Khacherian, Levon G., Educational Centres of Armenian Learning, Part II, Lisbon: Calouste
Gulbenkian Foundation, 1998 (Armenian).
426 Vahan Hovhanessian
Scrip tu ra l
Interpretati on i n t h e
L ate Antiqu e C op t i c
Traditi on
Mary K. Farag
Introduction
Today, the term “Coptic” may mean different things depending on the context.1 It may
refer to the Egyptian people, the Christian ecclesiastical tradition of Egypt, the latest
period of the Egyptian language, etc. For the purposes of this essay, “Coptic” refers to
both the script and the Egyptian language it records. Alongside Greek, Coptic was used
to record texts beginning in the Roman period, throughout Byzantine rule of Egypt,
and the first few centuries of Arab governance, roughly from the second to the eighth
century AD. Although Coptic died as a spoken language probably by the twelfth cen-
tury, Coptic continued to serve with Greek and Arabic as a liturgical language of Egypt
throughout history, even to the present day.2 It lies beyond the scope of this chapter to
offer a comprehensive overview of how scripture has been interpreted in the Greco-
Copto-Arabic history of Christianity in Egypt over the last two millennia.3 Instead,
1 Jean-Luc Fournet, The Rise of Coptic: Egyptian versus Greek in Late Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton
Arab Rule: The Fate of Coptic,” Bulletin de la société d’archéologie copte 27 (1985): 61–70, and Leslie
MacCoull, “The Strange Death of Coptic Culture,” Coptic Church Review 10 (1989): 35–45, both of which
were republished in Leslie MacCoull, Coptic Perspectives on Late Antiquity (Brookfield, VT: Variorum,
1993), chapters 25 and 26, respectively. On the variety of languages in use and their functions in late
antique Egypt, see the articles in Arietta Papaconstantinou, ed., The Multilingual Experience in Egypt,
from the Ptolemies to the ‘Abbāsids (New York: Routledge, 2010).
3 A most prolific period, known as the “Golden Age” of Copto-Arabic literature, was the thirteenth
century. See Adel Sidarus, “The Copto-Arabic Renaissance in the Middle Ages: Characteristics and
428 Mary K. Farag
this chapter highlights key features of scriptural interpretation during the period of
late antiquity.4
One is hard pressed to find an artifact from late antique Egypt that does not make ref-
erence to the scriptures. Scriptural evocation and interpretation pervade not only text,
but material culture, too. What is worn on bodies, viewed on buildings, read in books, or
heard in speeches almost always assumes the scriptures as a point of reference. Indeed, at
times the seamlessness between the late antique work and the scriptural point of reference
makes it impossible to delineate a boundary between the two. In what follows, I will offer
case studies that capture various uses of scripture and methods of interpretation in late an-
tique Egypt.
Pachomius (287–347) founded cenobitic or communal monasticism. By the end of his life,
he led a large federation of monasteries along the Nile River. At these monasteries, monks
were taught to read the scriptures and memorize them.5 Monks were expected to recite the
Oxford Handbook of the Literatures of the Roman Empire, ed. Daniel L. Selden and Phiroze Vasunia
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), <https://www.oxfordhandbooks.com/view/10.1093/oxfordhb/
9780199699445.001.0001/oxfordhb-9780199699445-e-30>, and Anne Boud’hors, “The Coptic Tradition,”
in The Oxford Handbook of Late Antiquity, ed. Scott Fitzgerald Johnson (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2012), 225–238.
5 Precepts 140. On this topic, see further Janet Timbie, “Meleta and Monastic Formation,” in
Coptic Society, Literature and Religion from Late Antiquity to Modern Times: Proceedings of the Tenth
International Congress of Coptic Studies, Rome, September 17th–22nd, 2012 and Plenary Reports of the
Ninth International Congress of Coptic Studies, Cairo, September 15th–19th, 2008, vol. 2, ed. Paola Buzi,
Alberto Camplani, and Federico Contardi (Leuven: Peeters, 2016), 919–927.
Scriptural Interpretation in the Late Antique Coptic Tradition 429
scriptures while engaging in any activity, such as working, distributing food, making sig-
nals, or walking from place to place.6 Pachomian monks heard discourses interpreting the
scriptures five times per week.7
The Pachomian dossier refers to the scriptures as “the measure” by which to live the mo-
nastic vocation of servitude. “Those who serve well are those who stand in the measure of
the scriptures,” according to one of the lines introducing the Precepts and Institutes.8 Later,
one of the rules puts any problems that arise in this regard under the purview of a partic-
ular officer: “Everything outside the measure of the scriptures, all these, the steward shall
judge.”9 Part of the steward’s responsibility included judging actions performed contrary to
the scriptural standard.
The Pachomian dossier is large and replete with quotations, allusions, and still other uses
of the scriptures that may be studied to analyze Pachomian exegetical practices. As for the
writings of Pachomius himself, there exists historical evidence, but its interpretation has
eluded scholars. The eleven or thirteen letters composed by Pachomius to other leaders
of the federation would presumably offer the most direct possible access to Pachomius’s
own exegetical methods. However, Pachomius composed them in code. For example, the
end of letter 11b reads, “I am sending you like sheep among wolves [Matt 10:16]. We have
heard again about ⲉ in ⲱ that two are grinding at the same mill; one is taken, one left [Matt
24:41].”10 What exactly do the alphabetic signs, epsilon and omega, mean and what is the
function of the quotations from the Gospel of Matthew? Scholars have attempted to “crack”
the code, but every proposed solution remains problematic.11 Though we may never know
how to translate the code, it is clear that even the spiritual contemplation of the Greek al-
phabetic signs played a role in Pachomius’s use and interpretation of the scriptures. As Joel
Kalvesmaki explains,
The code conveyed spiritual meaning and insight, and it allowed Christians to contend in a
special site of struggle. [ . . . ] To know the alphabet was to reside with the angels, to partici-
pate in the charism of the leaders, who were fluent in the new language, and it invited awed
devotion. Pachomius integrated his alphabetic code into his persona as holy man, and he
used that code to inspire his followers to participate in the re-creation of society.12
We may ascertain the function of the cryptic letters, though their meaning remains obscure.
By contrast, the scriptural lens applied to Pachomius’s legacy remains far less shrouded
in mystery. The composer(s) of the Life of Our Father Pachomius interpreted Pachomius’s
6
Precepts 3, 6, 13, 28, 36, 37, 49, 59, 60, 116, 128, 139.
7
Armand Veilleux, Instructions, Letters, and Other Writings of Saint Pachomius and His Disciples,
Pachomian Koinonia 3 (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, Inc., 1982), 1.
8 Precepts and Institutes pr. CSCO 159:33. My translation.
9 Precepts and Institutes 10. CSCO 159:34. My translation. See further Janet A. Timbie, “Writing Rules
and Quoting Scripture in Early Coptic Monastic Texts,” in Ascetic Culture: Essays in Honor of Philip
Rousseau, ed. Blake Leyerle and Robin Darling Young (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press,
2013), 29–49.
10 Translation from Veilleux, Instructions, Letters, and Other Writings, 78.
11 For the most recent attempt, see Christoph Joest, Die Pachom-Briefe: Übersetzung und Deutung,
11–28, at 24.
430 Mary K. Farag
spiritual fatherhood through the writings of Paul the Apostle. Paul was the standard against
which Pachomius measured his life. Like Paul, Pachomius “made [himself] a servant” and
became “weak that [he] might gain the weak.”13 Pachomius ascends to heaven like Paul in
2 Corinthians 12 and surveys the places of torment as Paul does in the Apocalypse of Paul.14
The strength of the Pachomian federation weakened as the monasteries became major sites
of conflict between those who adhered to the council of Chalcedon in 451 (Chalcedonians)
and those who objected to it (non-Chalcedonians). When the Chalcedonian emperor
Justinian compelled the leader of the federation in the sixth century, Abraham of Farshut,
to flee, Abraham found refuge at another significant monastic establishment, the White
Monastery federation, known after the color of the main church’s stone.15
Whereas the Pachomian federation adopted apostolic koinōnia as the scriptural standard
by which to model monastic life, the White Monastery federation’s scriptural standard was
“the encampment of God” following Genesis 32:2 and other passages with the keywords
ⲡⲁⲣⲉⲙⲃⲟⲗⲏ or ⲥⲩⲛⲁⲅⲱⲅⲏ.16 The best-known figure of this federation was not the founder,
but the third leader, Shenoute of Atripe (ca. 348–365), the most prolific Coptic writer and
scriptural exegete.17
The encampment of God consisted of the pure who perform good works. In his discourse
with the incipit, I Have Been Reading the Holy Gospels, Shenoute dwells on the importance
of good works. Shenoute uses a Coptic double-entendre to interpret LXX Psalm 15:2.18 The
Coptic verb ⲁϩⲉ means “need” when used transitively, but “wait” when used intransitively.
Shenoute uses this double-meaning to explain the psalmist’s exclamation, “You do not need
my good [works]” (Ps 15:2), and yet insist on the importance of performing good works in the
monastic community:
And I will tell you again what I have told you many times: God does not need a work
from us. Rather, he wishes that we do small [things], in order that he might give us even
13 1 Cor 9:19 and 22 quoted in S1 11–12. On S1, see further James E. Goehring, “The First Sahidic Life of
Pachomius,” in Religions of Late Antiquity, ed. Richard Valantasis (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
2000), 19–33.
14 See further Mary K. Farag, “Pachomius Outside the Shadow of the Vita Antonii,” Harvard
Theological Review 111 (2018): 516–540. It is worth noting that the role of the writings attributed to Paul
may be examined in other monastic contexts as well. For example, 2 Timothy 4:7–8 regularly appears
on monastic epitaphs in Kellia and Pherme. On this, see Stephen J. Davis, “Completing the Race and
Receiving the Crown: 2 Timothy 4:7–8 in Early Christian Monastic Epitaphs at Kellia and Pherme,” in
Asceticism and Exegesis in Early Christianity: The Reception of New Testament Texts in Ancient Ascetic
Discourses, ed. Hans-Ulrich Weidemann (Bristol, CT: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 2013), 334–373.
15 James E. Goehring, “2005 NAPS Presidential Address. Remembering Abraham of Farshut: History,
Hagiography, and the Fate of the Pachomian Tradition,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 14 (2006): 1–26.
James E. Goehring, “Chalcedonian Power Politics and the Demise of Pachomian Monasticism,” in James
E. Goehring, Ascetics, Society, and the Desert: Studies in Egyptian Monasticism (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity
Press International, 1999), 241–261.
16 Janet Timbie, “Biblical Themes and the Founding of the White Monastery Federation,” Journal of
Asceticism and Exegesis in Early Christianity, 320–333. Stephen Emmel, “Shenoute the Archimandrite: The
Extraordinary Scope (and Difficulties) of His Writings,” Journal of the Canadian Society for Coptic Studies
10 (2018): 9–36.
18 Shenoute, Discourses 8.1.
Scriptural Interpretation in the Late Antique Coptic Tradition 431
greater [things], immeasurable in the face of those whom he will make worthy of them.
For it is written, “You do not need my good [works]” [Ps 15:2]. The Lord of the servant
waits for him to do his works, and the God of all, Jesus, waits for his servants to prepare
themselves to receive the kingdom of heaven through good works. For the sun does not
need the light of ten thousand lamps. Rather, what it wishes from those who are lit is eyes
that see through its light. So also, the God of all and his Christ do not need us to do works
for him. Rather, what he wishes from us is what causes the eyes of our heart to receive
light within it.19
While it is true that God does not need good works, God nevertheless waits for his
servants to perform them. Just as the sun does not need eyes, so God does not need good
works. However, eyes see by means of the sun’s light. Likewise, the inner spiritual eyes re-
ceive spiritual light by performing good works. Though God does not need monks’ good
works, they are the means by which monks may receive God’s light in order to see spir-
itually. Shenoute goes on in the discourse to use other scriptural verses to support this
interpretation.
19 Shenoute, Discourses 8.1. René-Georges Coquin, “Le Traité de Šenoute ‘Du Salut de l’âme humaine,’”
Journal of Coptic Studies 3 (2001): 1–43 and pl. 1–2, at 12. My translation and emphasis.
20 On the history of the Red Monastery, see Andrew Crislip, “The Red Monastery in Early Byzantine
Egypt,” in The Red Monastery Church: Beauty and Asceticism in Upper Egypt, ed. Elizabeth S. Bolman
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016), 3–9, and Stephen Emmel and Bentley Layton, “Pshoi and the
Early History of the Red Monastery,” in Bolman, The Red Monastery Church, 11–15.
21 For the identity and significance of these figures, see Elizabeth S. Bolman and Agnieszka Szymańska,
“Ascetic Ancestors: Identity and Genealogy,” in Bolman, The Red Monastery Church, 165–173.
22 See further, Elizabeth S. Bolman, “The Iconography of Salvation,” in Bolman, The Red Monastery
Figure 27.1 The northern semidome of the Red Monastery Church, Sohag, Egypt. Photo
credit: Patrick Godeau. Reproduced by permission of the American Research Center in
Egypt, Inc. (ARCE). This project was funded by the United States Agency for International
Development (USAID).
with the archangels at the textile threshold, guiding and leading one to what lies on the
other side. Beyond the curtains lies the heavenly court, which the words of scripture reveal.
In the northern semidome, Mary sits upon a throne, nursing the Christ-child.
Surrounding her are four large scriptural figures, all Old Testament writers: to Mary and
the Christ-child’s right, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, and to their left, Isaiah and Daniel.23 Their
hand gestures indicate that they are speaking aloud the words on their respective scrolls.
Ezekiel and Isaiah identify the enthroned woman. Ezekiel reads his c hapter 44:2–3, “The
Lord said to me, ‘This gate is shut, it will not be opened. No one will go into it. The Lord
God of Israel will go in [to it],” a verse commonly interpreted in late antiquity to refer to
Mary’s womb and the divine conception that took place in it to generate the Christ-child.24
23
Bolman, “The Iconography of Salvation,” 140, fig. 10.19.
24
Translation from Paul C. Dilley, “Appendix I: The Greek and Coptic Inscriptions in the Red
Monastery Church,” in Bolman, The Red Monastery Church, 288–300, at 290. Bolman, “The Iconography
of Salvation,” 144.
Scriptural Interpretation in the Late Antique Coptic Tradition 433
Isaiah reads his chapter 7:14–15, “Behold, the Virgin will conceive and bear a son, and
you will call his name, ‘Emmanuel.’ He will eat curds and honey until he understands
how to (distinguish?) good and evil.”25 The Virgin’s child sits on her lap nursing at her
breast.
Jeremiah and Daniel identify the Christ-child. Jeremiah reads his chapter 31:4–5,
“Again I will build you, and you, Virgin of Israel, will be built. You will take your timbrels
and go out in the congregation of the joyful. And you will plant vines.”26 The vines refer
to the eucharistic wine. Vines, grape leaves, and small clusters of grapes occupy the
scarlet inner soffit of the semi-arch framing the entire image, symbolic of Christ’s eu-
charistic wine-blood shed on the cross. Daniel reads part of his c hapter 2:34–35, “I was
watching as a rock was cut from the mountain without hands, and it struck the statue
on [its] feet of bronze and iron and clay and silver and gold.”27 The acheiropoietos (made
without hands) refers to the depicted Christ-child.28 These cited scriptural typologies
frame the enthroned woman and child.
Ezekiel and Isaiah literally flank the throne, providing an inner frame. Jeremiah and
Daniel create an outer frame. These Old Testament figures themselves gather round the
throne to peer directly at the viewer and address the viewer in speech. Their words, the
scriptures, reveal to the viewer how to see the nursing mother and her child spiritually.
The viewer’s eyes follow the ascetic guardians standing at the threshold of the heavenly
liturgy, peering from the ground floor up until reaching the scriptural guardians in the
semi-domes, who interpret the spiritual sights.
Artistic media facilitate face to face encounters with scriptural figures in buildings. Texts also
record face to face encounters. Dreams, ecstatic experiences, and wakeful visions of scrip-
tural figures are common features of many Coptic texts. In these recounted experiences, the
scriptural figures themselves use the scriptures to interpret or comment on contemporary
affairs. For example, the fifth-century speech attributed to Dioscorus of Alexandria, the
Panegyric of Macarius of Tkōou, relates a waking vision.29
The larger context tells the story of how Juvenal was forcibly reinstated in Jerusalem in
453 after many months of non-Chalcedonian resistance since the council of Chalcedon
adjourned in 451. As Juvenal made his way with imperial troops, there was a confronta-
tion at a gate of the city, followed by his entry into the Marian church in the Valley of
Josaphat. There, while a presbyter named Silas offers the eucharist, a bloodbath ensues
in the church and Silas sees a vision. Jesus, Mary, and angels appear to him at the altar.
Jesus takes the eucharist from Silas and speaks the same prophetic utterance he had said
25
Translation from Dilley, “Appendix I,” 291.
26
Translation from Dilley, “Appendix I,” 290–291.
27 Translation from Dilley, “Appendix I,” 291–292.
28 Bolman, “The Iconography of Salvation,” 144.
29 On the date of the text, see CSCO 416: 8*–11* and Samuel Moawad, Untersuchungen zum Panegyrikos
auf Makarios von Tkōou und zu seiner Überlieferung (Wiesbaden: Reichert Verlag, 2010), 210–212.
434 Mary K. Farag
in Matthew 23:38 and Luke 13:35 to announce what will happen to Jerusalem now that
Juvenal has returned:
There was a presbyter at that hour named Silas, standing at the altar, celebrating over the holy
prosfora [eucharistic gifts]. His eyes opened and he saw the Savior upon the holy altar and Mary
his mother and the army of angels. And the Savior was saying to the angels, “Take the souls of
the martyrs. Bring them to the altar and I will give them my body and blood before I take them
to the heavens with me. For they gathered here today for this reason. Look, I will go back to the
heavens to my Father with those who loved me. I will leave behind my city Jerusalem, the [city]
in which I endured all my sufferings, and leave their house desolate [cf. Matt 23:28 and Luke 13:35].
For they blasphemed my divinity. As for you, O holy presbyter, complete your sacrifice. For you
will be the last of all these. Afterward, you too will die.”30
The loss of Jerusalem not only to Chalcedonian hands, but to the “Judas” Juvenal marked a
major moment of crisis.31 To non-Chalcedonians, Juvenal betrayed Dioscorus at the council
of Chalcedon in exchange for something to which the see of Jerusalem had aspired for many
generations: the status of a patriarchate and ecclesiastical oversight over all Palestine. In imme-
diate response, non-Chalcedonians claimed Jerusalem, and Theodosius, the Palestinian monk
who had accompanied Juvenal to Chalcedon but criticized Juvenal’s actions there, served as
the bishop for several months. In telling the story of how Juvenal returned by force of arms,
Silas’s wakeful vision at the altar renders Jesus a commentator on the crisis. Jesus identifies
the moment as the fulfillment of the prophecies that Jerusalem would become forsaken and
desolate.
This is only one brief example of a phenomenon that pervades Coptic texts produced in
late antiquity. Divine visions in any state (asleep, in ecstasy, or awake) reveal the contempo-
raneous significance of the scriptures, usually to ecclesiastical or monastic figures engaged in
pious practices.32 In the case just cited, the presbyter Silas has a vision while awake and offering
the eucharist. His vision applies prophecies of Jerusalem’s desolation to a particularly trau-
matic moment: the martyrdom of some non-Chalcedonians and the expulsion of others from
Jerusalem.
In addition to accounts of divine visions, another technique used commonly in Coptic texts
to interpret scriptures is to quote allegedly long-lost texts written by the apostles.33 Both
and emphasis.
31 Ps-Dioscorus of Alexandria, Panegyric of Macarius of Tkōou 7.4.
32 For another example, see Mary K. Farag, “Relics vs. Paintings of the Three Holy Children: Coptic
Responses to Chalcedonian Claims in Alexandria,” Analecta Bollandiana 137 (2019): 261–276. According
to a homily attributed to Theophilus of Alexandria, Theophilus obtains the divine favor to build a
martyrion to the Three Holy Children of Daniel 3 in Alexandria. The entire story supplies scriptural and
theological reflection on contemporary late-sixth-century issues.
33 These have come to be known as “apostolic memoirs.” See Alin Suciu, The Berlin-Strasbourg
370 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017); Joost L. Hagen, “Ein anderer Kontext für die Berliner und
Straßburger ‘Evangelienfragmente’: Das ‘Evanglium des Erlösers’ und andere ‘Apostelevangelien’ in der
koptischen Literatur,” in Jesus in apokryphen Evangelienüberlieferungen: Beiträge zu außerkanonischen
Jesusüberlieferungen aus verschiedenen Sprach-und Kulturtraditionen, ed. Jörg Frey and Jens Schröter,
Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 254 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 339–371;
and Joost L. Hagen, “The Diaries of the Apostles: ‘Manuscript Find’ and ‘Manuscript Fiction’ in Coptic
Homilies and Other Literary Texts,” in Coptic Studies on the Threshold of a New Millenium, vol. 1, ed. Mat
Immerzeel and Jacques van der Vliet with the assistance of Maarten Kersten and Carolien van Zoest
(Dudley, MA: Uitgeverij Peeters en Department Oosterse Studies, 2004), 349–367.
34 Jacques van der Vliet, “Coptic,” in A Guide to Early Jewish Texts and Traditions in Christian
Transmission, ed. Alexander Kulik et al. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019), 73–93, at 85.
35 On the problems of the category “apocrypha,” see especially Péter Tóth, “Way Out of the Tunnel?
Three Hundred Years of Research on the Apocrypha: A Preliminary Approach,” in Retelling the
Bible: Literary, Historical, and Social Contexts, ed. Lucie Doležalová and Tamás Visi (New York: Peter
Lang, 2011), 47–86, and Péter Tóth, “Give Me Another Death! The Apocryphal Vision of Christ in the
Garden of Gethsemane,” in Doležalová and Visi, Retelling the Bible, 87–117.
36 Mary K. Farag, “Rewriting Scriptures as a Homiletic Practice in Late Antique Egypt,” Journal of
Sermons,” in The World of Early Egyptian Christianity, ed. James E. Goehring and Janet A. Timbie
(Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2007), 25–48, at 39–40.
38 See further Jacques van der Vliet, “The Embroidered Garment: Egyptian Perspectives on
‘Apocryphity’ and ‘Orthodoxy,’” in The Other Side: Apocryphal Perspectives on Ancient Christian
‘Orthodoxies,’ ed. Tobias Nicklas, Candida R. Moss, Christopher Tuckett, and Joseph Verheyden
(Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 2017), 177–192.
39 Ps-Evodius of Rome, Homily on the Feast of the Resurrection of Our Lord Jesus Christ 41. CSCO
524:90. My translation.
436 Mary K. Farag
seventh century and served as a bishop during the patriarchate of Damian (577–c. 606).40
He argues against homilies that speculate beyond the bounds laid by the words of the
scriptures and of patristic authorities. For John of Paralos, far from illuminating hearts,
such discourses actually darken them. “It is certainly necessary for those who desire to
take in the ray of the true, unapproachable light of the holy Trinity to abominate all the
homilies written in the blasphemous books, which those workers of lawlessness [cf. 1
Macc 3:6 and Luke 13:27] publish, who are darkness in the darkness of their father, the
devil.”41 All those who wish for light to enter their hearts must actually close their ears
to certain homilies, which interpret the scriptures in ways that “our fathers the teachers
who existed before us did not.”42 John of Paralos speaks in the voice of Matthew 22:29 to
address the writers of such overly speculative homilies, “You have gone astray, and you
do not know the scriptures.”43
There were different opinions among Coptic writers as to the extent of creative license
permissible in the production of derivative works of scripture.44 In time, John of Paralos’s
view would become normative, but what the remains of Coptic texts, both in Coptic and
in Arabic translation, show is that the production of derivative works of scripture was a
common practice in oratorical interpretation of the scriptures.45
Allegorical Interpretation of
the Scriptures
Of course, the method of scriptural interpretation for which Egypt is best known is the
Alexandrian allegorical one, made famous by the exegete par excellence, Origen. Despite
the Origenist controversy during Theophilus of Alexandria’s episcopacy, there is historical
40
Stephen Emmel, “Coptic Literature in the Byzantine and Early Islamic World,” in Egypt in the
Byzantine World, 300–700, ed. Roger Bagnall (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 83–102, at
94–96. Phil Booth, “A Circle of Egyptian Bishops at the End of Roman Rule (c. 600): Texts and Contexts,”
Le Muséon 131 (2018): 21–72, at 28–30 and 47–48.
41 John of Paralos, Homily on the Archangel Michael and the Blasphemous Books of the Heretics.
Arnold van Lantschoot, “Fragments coptes d’une homélie de Jean de Parallos contre les livres
hérétiques,” in Miscellanea Giovanni Mercati, vol. 1 (Vatican: Vatican Library, 1946), 296–326, at 302.
My translation.
42 John of Paralos, Homily on the Archangel Michael and the Blasphemous Books of the Heretics. van
Views in Late Sixth-and Early Seventh- Century Egypt,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 30
(2022): forthcoming.
45 For example, an Arabic text lauds John of Paralos for his purgation of blasphemous books from
the Church in the course of refuting a homily attributed to Theophilus of Alexandria on the angel of
death. Alin Suciu with Ibrahim Saweros, “Appendix: Kitāb al-Īḍāḥ 9,” in New Testament Apocrypha: More
Noncanonical Scriptures, vol. 1, ed. Tony Burke and Brent Landau (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans,
2016), 546–554, at 548.
Scriptural Interpretation in the Late Antique Coptic Tradition 437
“But as for him, John, his clothing was of camel’s hair” (Matt 3:4). Why (are you clothed)
with those camel’s hairs, O John? “It is out of these camel’s hairs,” he said, “that my clothing
is (made) because the lamb has not yet grown wool and been sheared so that the women
might weave and spin and demonstrate the skill of weaving and cut this woven garment.
[ . . . ].” Some one will say to me, “Tell me openly what you are saying.” Listen, O hearer: John’s
garment is (made) out of camel’s hair. The camel does not split the hoof but it does ruminate
[cf. Lev 11:3–7]. The law is spiritual but it does not split the hoof, since those who adhere to
it adhere to it without discernment. It is about the teaching of those old writings that the ex-
pression (i.e., “camel’s hair”) is informing us—this (the teaching) from which those ancients
were taught, from a writing without discernment, since it is like an unshaped and absurd
animal compared to them, that is, the camel. As for this, since it does not split the hoof, so
as not to make good sense out of the difficult text, it is this, the thickness of which was made
thin, the size of which was reduced, so as to make it pass through the eye of a needle (cf. Matt
19:24). The new Word, having made worship of this carnal sort, circumcision, times, festivals,
the temple, and the worldly altar with its furnishings to come to naught, all these things, he
reduced through the spirit to make them enter through the discernment of allegory.49
Rufus explains why John the Baptist was clothed with camel’s hair in Matthew 3:4 by
comparing his camel’s hair to the wool of the lamb of God, Jesus Christ. Rufus brings the
camel’s hair in Matthew 3:4 into conversation with two other pericopes that mention a
camel: Leviticus 11:3–7 and Matthew 19:24. The camel becomes an allegory of bodily scrip-
tural interpretation. Those who adhere to the law, of whom John the Baptist serves as a
46
On the Origenist controversy, see Hans- Joachim Cristea, Shenute von Atripe, Contra
Origenistas: Edition des koptischen Textes mit annotierter Übersetzung und Indizes einschliesslich einer
Übersetzung des 16. Osterfestbriefs des Theophilus in der Fassung des Hieronymos (ep. 96) (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2011).
47 J. Mark Sheridan, Rufus of Shotep, Homilies on the Gospels of Matthew and Luke: Introduction, Text,
in the Sixth Century: The Case of Rufus of Shotep,” in Origeniana Octava: Origen and the Alexandrian
Tradition, vol. 2, ed. L. Perrone in collaboration with P. Bernardino and D. Marchini (Leuven: Leuven
University Press, 2003), 1023–1033.
49 Rufus of Shotep, Homilies on Matthew 21–22. Sheridan, Rufus of Shotep, 138–140, and Sheridan,
symbolic last, contemplate the scriptures, but, like camels, do not “split the hoof ” (Lev 11:4)
because they do not discern the spiritual meaning. By contrast, spiritual interpretation
pushes the camel through the eye of the needle (Matt 19:24). As Rufus continues, the lamb
of God is an allegory of spiritual scriptural interpretation. The lamb of God brought wool
and the wool is spun through the preaching of the gospel.50
Many other examples of the method of interpreting scripture by means of scripture may
be adduced from Coptic texts. The Homily on the Church of the Virgin Mary at Koskam
attributed to Theophilus of Alexandria interprets Isaiah 2:2–3, Revelation 12:1–17, and
Matthew 2:13–15, one with reference to the others. The “mountain of the Lord” in the “last
days” that became higher than all other mountains (Is 2:2–3) is Koskam, the wilderness to
which the woman in Revelation 12:5–6 fled with her child, in Egypt where the Holy Family
fled (Mt 2:13–15). The woman is Mary and because she and her child dwelt at Koskam during
their flight to Egypt, “the mountain of the Lord” became higher than all other mounts in the
last days.51 As Stephen J. Davis has shown, this is only part of a much larger and longer tra-
dition in Egypt of generating “a hermeneutic of the land.”52 Indeed, by the medieval period
a detailed itinerary of the Holy Family’s journey throughout Egypt had formed on the basis
of Revelation 12:6’s timetable that the woman and child spent three and a half years in exile.
The spatial loci of scriptural interpretation included not only the large expanse of Egypt’s
geography or the medium expanse of any given monumental church building (such as the
church of the Red Monastery discussed earlier), but also the smaller space of the human
body. The remains of late antique clothing include woven images of the story of Joseph
in Genesis, the visit of the Magi and the flight of the Holy Family in Matthew 2, for in-
stance.53 The human body, then, was also a site for the representation of significant scrip-
tural stories. Stephen J. Davis has shown how wearing such clothes “ ‘performed’ bodies that
participated iconically in the divinized body of the incarnate Word.”54 One might say that
Rufus of Shotep’s allegory of wool became literal. The preaching of the gospel did indeed
produce spun wool, garments embroidered with scriptural sights that facilitated drawing
the Christian person into the spiritual realm.
50
Rufus of Shotep, Homilies on Matthew 23. Sheridan, Rufus of Shotep, 140.
51
See further Farag, “Rewriting Scriptures as a Homiletic Practice.”
52 Stephen J. Davis, “A Hermeneutic of the Land: Biblical Interpretation in the Holy Family Tradition,”
in Immerzeel and van der Vliet, Coptic Studies on the Threshold of a New Millennium, 1:329–336.
53 Laila Halim Abdel-
Malek, “Joseph Tapestries and Related Coptic Textiles,” PhD dissertation,
Boston University Graduate School, 1980. Stephen J. Davis, Coptic Christology in Practice: Incarnation
and Divine Participation in Late Antique and Medieval Egypt (New York: Oxford University Press,
2008), 153–186.
54 Davis, Coptic Christology in Practice, 170. Compare also work on the significance of wearing amulets
in late antiquity: Joseph E. Sanzo, “Wrapped Up in the Bible: The Multifaceted Ritual on a Late Antique
Amulet (P. Oxy. VIII 1077),” Journal of Early Christian Studies 24 (2016): 569–597.
Scriptural Interpretation in the Late Antique Coptic Tradition 439
Conclusion
The scriptures served as the reference point for all activities: navigating the land, making
the church a spiritual portal, transforming the self. For late antique Christians in Egypt,
the scriptures recorded stories of a spiritual world that is ever present. There was hardly a
way to evade this. Clothing, furnishings, wall paintings, speeches, etc. brought the spiritual
realm to mind regularly, and these items could not be understood without knowledge of the
scriptures. If there was any one purpose of reading, interpreting, and living by the measure
of the scriptures, it was to receive the divine light that allows one to see and participate in
such a spiritual realm.
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Davis, Stephen J. “Completing the Race and Receiving the Crown: 2 Timothy 4:7–8 in Early
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Hans-Ulrich Weidemann, 334–373. Bristol, CT: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 2013.
Davis, Stephen J. Coptic Christology in Practice: Incarnation and Divine Participation in Late
Antique and Medieval Egypt. New York: Oxford University Press, 2008.
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Davis, Stephen J. “A Hermeneutic of the Land: Biblical Interpretation in the Holy Family
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Mat Immerzeel and Jacques van der Vliet with the assistance of Maarten Kersten and
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Studies, 2004.
Dilley, Paul C. “Appendix I: The Greek and Coptic Inscriptions in the Red Monastery Church.”
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Emmel, Stephen. “Coptic Literature in the Byzantine and Early Islamic World.” In Egypt in
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Emmel, Stephen. “Shenoute the Archimandrite: The Extraordinary Scope (and Difficulties) of
His Writings.” Journal of the Canadian Society for Coptic Studies 10 (2018): 9–36.
Emmel, Stephen, and Layton, Bentley. “Pshoi and the Early History of the Red Monastery.” In
Bolman, The Red Monastery Church, 11–15.
Farag, Mary K. “Pachomius Outside the Shadow of the Vita Antonii,” Harvard Theological
Review 111 (2018): 516–540.
Farag, Mary K. “Relics vs. Paintings of the Three Holy Children: Coptic Responses to
Chalcedonian Claims in Alexandria.” Analecta Bollandiana 137 (2019): 261–276.
Farag, Mary K. “Rewriting Scriptures as a Homiletic Practice in Late Antique Egypt,” Journal
of Coptic Studies 23 (2021): 47–61.
Farag, Mary K. “Using Written Records in Liturgical Oratory: Conflicting Views in Late Sixth-
and Early Seventh-Century Egypt.” Journal of Early Christian Studies 30 (2022): forthcoming.
Fournet, Jean-Luc. The Rise of Coptic: Egyptian versus Greek in Late Antiquity.
Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2020.
Goehring, James E. “2005 NAPS Presidential Address. Remembering Abraham of
Farshut: History, Hagiography, and the Fate of the Pachomian Tradition.” Journal of Early
Christian Studies 14 (2006): 1–26.
Goehring, James E. “Chalcedonian Power Politics and the Demise of Pachomian Monasticism.”
In James E. Goehring, Ascetics, Society, and the Desert: Studies in Egyptian Monasticism,
241–261. Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1999.
Goehring, James E. “The First Sahidic Life of Pachomius.” In Religions of Late Antiquity, edited
by Richard Valantasis, 19–33. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000.
Hagen, Joost L. “The Diaries of the Apostles: ‘Manuscript Find’ and ‘Manuscript Fiction’ in
Coptic Homilies and Other Literary Texts.” In Immerzeel and van der Vliet, Coptic Studies
on the Threshold of a New Millennium, 1:349–367.
Hagen, Joost L. “Ein anderer Kontext für die Berliner und Straßburger ‘Evangelienfragmente:’ Das
‘Evanglium des Erlösers’ und andere ‘Apostelevangelien’ in der koptischen Literatur.’”
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Jesusüberlieferungen aus verschiedenen Sprach-und Kulturtraditionen, Wissenschaftliche
Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 254, edited by Jörg Frey and Jens Schröter, 339–371.
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010.
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Kalvesmaki, Joel. “Pachomius and the Mystery of the Letters.” In Ascetic Culture: Essays in
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Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2013.
Scriptural Interpretation in the Late Antique Coptic Tradition 443
Loubser, J.A. “‘Gathering Jewels:’ Biblical Hermeneutics in the Coptic Orthodox Church of
Egypt.” Journal for the Study of Religion 10 (1997): 41–75.
MacCoull, Leslie. Coptic Perspectives on Late Antiquity. Brookfield, VT: Variorum, 1993.
MacCoull, Leslie. “The Strange Death of Coptic Culture.” Coptic Church Review 10 (1989): 35–45.
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d’archéologie copte 27 (1985): 61–70.
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Ascetic Discourses, edited by Hans-Ulrich Weidemann, 320–333. Bristol, CT: Vandenhoeck
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Überlieferung. Wiesbaden: Reichert Verlag, 2010.
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by Daniel L. Selden and Phiroze Vasunia. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. https://
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9780199699445-e-30.
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‘Abbāsids. New York: Routledge, 2010.
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(P. Oxy. VIII 1077).” Journal of Early Christian Studies 24 (2016): 569–597.
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2, edited by L. Perrone in collaboration with P. Bernardino and D. Marchini, 1023–1033.
Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2003.
Sheridan, J. Mark. “Rhetorical Structure in Coptic Sermons.” In The World of Early Egyptian
Christianity, ed. James E. Goehring and Janet A. Timbie, 25–48. Washington, DC: The
Catholic University of America Press, 2007.
Sheridan, J. Mark. Rufus of Shotep, Homilies on the Gospels of Matthew and Luke: Introduction,
Text, Translation, Commentary. Rome: C.I.M. 1998.
Sidarus, Adel. “The Copto-Arabic Renaissance in the Middle Ages: Characteristics and Socio-
Political Context.” Coptica 1 (2002): 141–160.
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Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 370. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017.
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in Cairo Press, 2017.
Chapter 28
Pastoral U se of
the Bible i n t h e
Orthod ox C hu rc h
Harry Pappas
Scripture is the central resource of faith and life. So claims the Orthodox Church,
which regards the Trinity as the sole, unique Primary Source, and the Bible as the most
important, secondary resource that both undergirds and exercises a critical check on all
other resources such as worship, doctrine, and way of life. Ordained clergy are account-
able to faithful observance of Scripture in their ministry.1
The Church’s use begins with Moses the great Lawgiver, David the Psalmist and model
King, Solomon the sage, and the Prophets. The letters of Paul in the New Testament are
not only composed on the basis of the existing Bible of his lifetime (what we now call the
Old Testament) but are commonly considered the first canonical elements of the New
Testament, forged out of the actual pastoral experience of a genius Apostle who was a
brilliant missionary and theologian. Church fathers like Basil the Great, Gregory the
Theologian, and John Chrysostom are worthy successors. Through their lives and writings,
they bear profound witness to the centrality of Scripture in their own formation in faith
and professional work. Symeon the New Theologian testifies to this great heritage not
only as a medieval mystic but also as a biblically inspired prophetic voice, one who in-
cisively critiqued the mainstream clergy of his day for keeping the forms of faith while
exhibiting little awareness of actual presence and activity of Christ that derives from how
the Scriptures are a living resource.2
I will examine the track record of pastoral use among Orthodox in the United States
in the latter half of the twentieth century up to the present. Along the way, I will offer
suggestions for a creative and faithful recovery and development of this extraordinary
legacy.
1
Cf. the canons of the Councils of Ephesus (6 &7), Carthage (2), and Trullo (1) that undergird
contemporary pastoral guidelines of the Orthodox Church today.
2 Echoing the warning of Paul about those who “hold the form of religion but deny its power”
(2 Tim 3:5).
446 Harry Pappas
Personal Devotion
If any pastor truly wants to be devoted to Jesus Christ, the head and sole High Priest of
the Church, he is certainly involved in a lifelong struggle to incorporate Scripture into his
own regular rhythms of prayer, silence, solitude, meditation, and contemplation. Honesty
requires that everyone, from a patriarch down to a part-time pastor, acknowledge how easy
it is to surrender to the ever-present temptation to become preoccupied with loved ones,
work (for many, part-or full-time vocation other than serving a parish), administration,
meetings, correspondence, visits, paperwork, i.e., the lure of our own particular version
of the legitimate cares of this life (τα βιοτικα) that we are always being called to set aside in
order to encounter Christ.3 Every ordained minister is inevitably drawn into the vortex of an
American culture that not only supports great freedom to believe and practice the Christian
faith but also can subvert it in ways that threaten the integrity of ministry.4
Evidence indicates that most Orthodox pastors recognize the central importance of
Scripture and are to connected with portions of Scripture on a regular basis in their own per-
sonal devotion, above all the daily assigned readings of Gospel and Epistles passages, aside
from how these are interpreted and applied in the rich tradition of hymns, prayers, icons,
and lives of church fathers and saints. At the same time, clergy have different priorities. In
recent years, some clergy (including those who may come from other Christian traditions)
show more devotion to less central resources of the Tradition such as the Philokalia, lives of
the saints, or even the Rudder.5 Thomas Hopko (†2015), who perhaps maintained the most
extensive correspondence with pastors around the country, wryly critiqued this by stating
they are more familiar with “Mark the Ascetic than Mark the Evangelist.” The problem is
not with such resources per se, but with the loss of the priority, foundation, and critical
check-and-balance of Scripture.
Tradition clearly points to the priority of Scripture for prayer and devotion. Contemporary
scholarship has rediscovered, in fresh ways, how thoroughly the Gospel accounts as well
as the letters of the Apostle Paul are permeated by interaction with the Old Testament.6
Basil the Great, Gregory the Theologian, and John Chrysostom are remarkable tradents of
bringing the ascetical tradition into pastoral in a society increasingly shaped by the Church.
Intense devotion to Scripture occurs before ordination and then continues throughout their
public service, impacting everything they handed down to us: sermons, commentaries,
letters, treatises, church polity, spiritual writing, social reform, even political action. In an
3
From the so-called Cherubic hymn in the Byzantine Liturgy.
4
One of the most incisive and honest self-critiques of the situation among Protestants come from
the writing of Eugene Peterson, who rediscovered the Church’s pastoral tradition and applied it. See
the introduction to Working the Angels: The Shape of Pastoral Integrity (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
1987), pp. 1–18. Orthodox clergy simply have their own unique versions of falling into the cultural trap
of “running a religious business.”
5 Collected in a thick volume called The Rudder by Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain, translated into
English by D. Cummings, and published by the Orthodox Christian Educational Society in 1957.
6 Such as the work of Richard B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Gospels (Waco, TX: Baylor,
2016) and The Conversion of the Imagination: Paul as Interpreter of Israel’s Scripture (Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 2005).
Pastoral Use of the Bible in the Orthodox Church 447
era devoid of concordances and the Internet, their literary legacy reveals how their minds
and hearts “swam in the Scriptures” so that they carried a truly biblical mind into their per-
sonal and professional life. In a 1951 essay, Georges Florovsky called attention to the great
need for recovering this.7
Such biblical and patristic models await renewal in our very different culture, by crea-
tively and faithfully taking advantage of tremendous advances in knowledge (particularly
in the Scriptures) along with rediscovery of the powerful force of the Church’s perennial life
in the Spirit (Tradition).
One specific discipline from Jewish roots that became enshrined in the ascetical tradition
provides a case in point: lectio divina or spiritual reading, common to both the Christian
East and West.8 Matthew the Poor, the contemporary Coptic Elder, aptly notes:9
• most reading that we do today comes from our desire to control the text and its
meaning by acquiring information and edification or for pleasure;
• spiritual reading is completely different: it springs from our recognition that we seek to
be understood by Christ to whom we are called to surrender, allowing the Lord to act
through the text to inform, inspire and judge us.
John Breck notes the lack of attention by Orthodox today to lectio divina and explicitly calls
for its recovery.10 A variety of contemporary writers, both Orthodox and non-Orthodox,
advocate broader recovery in American culture.11 A widely used contribution by Lev Gillet
aids such reflection.12 It is this writer’s contention that, as more pastors are trained and
practice lectio divina, every dimension of their pastoral work will be positively impacted
and endlessly nourished.
At the same, no matter how deep or regular, devotional interaction to Scripture tends
to be limited only to certain sections of the New Testament and perhaps some Psalms.
Aside from direct contact with overlooked portions of the New Testament, only as the Old
Testament is recovered in a fresh and creative way, beginning in personal devotion and
study, will a more complete recovery of Scripture emerge.
7
“The Lost Scriptural Mind,” in Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View, vol. 1 of The
Collected Works of Georges Florovsky (Belmont, MA: Nordland, 1972), pp. 9–16.
8 Foundational texts include “The Asketikon” of Basil the Great, trans. and ed. by Anna Silvas
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2005) and The Conferences of John Cassian, trans. and ed. Boniface
Ramsey (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1997).
9 Cf. The Communion of Love (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 1984).
10 Scripture in Tradition: The Bible and Its Interpretation in the Orthodox Church (Crestwood, NY: St.
Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2001), pp. 31, 44, 67, 69, 79-–8 9.
11 Joseph Letendre, When You Pray: A Practical Guide to an Orthodox Life of Prayer (Chesterton,
IN: Ancient Faith Press, 2017), pp. 31–33; M. Basil Pennington, Lectio Divina: Renewing the Ancient Practice
of Praying the Scriptures (New York: Crossroad, 1998); Eugene H. Peterson, Eat This Book: A Conversation
in the Art of Spiritual Reading (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2006); and M. Robert Mulholland with
Marjorie Thompson, Companions in Christ: The Way of Scripture, Participant’s Book (Nashville: Upper
Room, 2010). Each of these is helpful in guiding pastors toward practices of silence, solitude, prayer,
meditation, contemplation, and action that derives from deeper encounter of Christ through Scripture.
12 The Year of Grace of the Lord: A Scriptural and Liturgical Commentary on the Calendar of the
Orthodox Church, trans. Deborah Cowan (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s, 1992).
448 Harry Pappas
Directed Study
Nothing is complete without intentional study of the biblical text that can be especially
demanding with the explosion of scholarship in the modern era. However, all too often
Orthodox pastors, most of whom undergo rigorous academic, spiritual, and pastoral
training at a formal graduate seminary to meet certain standards, can arrest spiritual de-
velopment upon graduation, whether by force of circumstance (the practical demands of
larger congregational life and resources) personal weakness, or both. Contemporary re-
sources that are either more devotional or more academic, can, in congruence with the
Tradition, help pastors do for our age what the great fathers did for theirs: take advantage of
advances in any field of knowledge and apply these to Scripture in order to address pastoral
needs. Unfortunately, evidence from the field indicates that only a minority of Orthodox
pastors have disciplined themselves to read and learn from biblical scholars as a comple-
ment to studying the church fathers, hymns, and saints.
Naturally, the guild of the academy has some serious limitations. Michael Legaspi
provides a penetrating critique of how the prevailing method of historical-critical inter-
pretation triumphed over deeply enshrined traditional approaches, something that has
influenced pastors who often do not know the best way to respond.13 Instead of wholesale
rejection (e.g., all historical-critical scholarship has no value), a proper response will neces-
sarily involve an informed critique that engages the discipline by capitalizing on significant
advances in in the variety of disciplines that help illumine Scripture as never before—such
as archaeology, comparative religion, linguistics, Ancient Near Eastern and Greco-Roman
culture, literature, and even human development.
Some contemporary Orthodox biblical scholars stand out in their efforts to lead the way
for pastors. In the field of Old Testament, the challenging and provocative lectures of Paul
Tarazi in the late 1970s began to elevate the status of this discipline at seminaries and be-
yond, as he focused on the Hebrew text with bold exegetical insights. Aside from his three-
volume Introduction, Tarazi has written many commentaries on individual books, along
with both a multivolume Introduction and commentaries on books of the New Testament.14
Patrick Henry Reardon has contributed a variety of monographs.15 Eugen Pentiuc has
published a fundamental book that explores and critiques traditional approaches to the Old
Testament, and then shows how the Old Testament has been reflected in commentaries and
sermons, worship, hymns, and icons throughout the history of the Christian East, making
this an essential resource for pastoral work.16 In particular, Pentiuc challenges the growing
sentiment, especially in a younger generation of pastors, who consider the Old Testament
13
The Death of Scripture and the Rise of Biblical Studies (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011).
14
See a complete listing through the “Orthodox Center for the Advancement of Biblical Studies,”
https://www.ocabspress.org/publications.
15 Christ in the Psalms (Chesterton, IN: Ancient Faith, 2011); Christ in His Saints (Chesterton,
IN: Ancient Faith, 2004); and commentaries on Genesis, Numbers, Chronicles, Job, and Sirach.
16 The Old Testament in the Eastern Orthodox Tradition (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014).
He has also pioneered a creative, contemporary Christological interpretation in Jesus the Messiah in the
Hebrew Bible (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2006).
Pastoral Use of the Bible in the Orthodox Church 449
superseded by the New. Aside from such intentional disregard, pastors are challenged as
never before to recover the Old Testament inheritance that remains just as much as living
Word for their flock today.
In the field of New Testament studies, Theodore Stylianopoulos has labored not just to
integrate contemporary biblical scholarship with traditional Orthodox theology in explicit
dialogue with the patristic tradition but also to contribute an authentic exegetical model.17
His teaching and publications have profoundly influenced many to acknowledge the pri-
ority of Scripture for pastoral work. Vesilin Kesich,18 George Barrois,19 and John Breck20
have contributed a variety of works in the same vein, as have George Parsenios,21 Mary
Ford,22 Edith Humphrey,23 Peter Bouteneff,24 and John Behr.25
Further, ecumenical biblical scholarship offers some marvelous models of significant
influence for the Orthodox. Among Jewish scholars, Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote a
modern classic for recovering the prophets as compelling spokesmen for God’s passionate
concern of the human condition in the present and immediate future,26 providing biblical
foundation for prophetic preaching and ministry. James Kugel has written extensively about
the rich and deep heritage of traditional exegesis while striving to be faithful to the real
issues that arise from contemporary critical study.27 In Christian circles, Brevard Childs
almost single-handedly has pioneered the recovery of the “history of interpretation” in re-
sponsible dialogue with historical-critical scholarship, in ways that incorporate insights
from church fathers of various traditions as well as from Judaism and medieval writers.28
17 His capstone scholarly treatment is The New Testament: An Orthodox Perspective, Vol. 1: Scripture,
Tradition, Hermeneutics (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross, 2004). Other significant works include The Making
of the New Testament: Church, Gospel, and Canon (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross, 2014), and The Apostolic
Gospel (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross, 2016).
18 The Gospel Image of Christ: The Church and Modern Criticism (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary, 1972).
19 Scripture Readings in Orthodox Worship (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 1977).
20 Such as The Power of the Word in the Worshipping Church (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary,
1986); Scripture in Tradition: The Bible and Its Interpretation in the Orthodox Church (Crestwood, NY: St.
Vladimir’s Seminary, 2001); and The Shape of Biblical Language: Chiasmus in the Scriptures and Beyond
(Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 2008).
21 Departure and Consolation: The Johannine Farewell Discourses in Light of Greco-Roman Literature
(Leiden: Brill, 2005); First, Second, and Third John (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2014)
22 The Soul’s Longing: An Orthodox Christian Perspective on Biblical Interpretation (Waymart, PA: St.
Tikhon’s, 2015).
23 Scripture and Tradition: What the Bible Really Says (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2013).
24 Beginnings: Ancient Christian Readings of the Biblical Creation Narratives (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker
Academic, 2008).
25 John the Theologian and His Paschal Gospel: A Prologue to Theology (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2019).
26 The Prophets (New York: Harper & Row, 1962).
27 The Bible As It Was (Cambridge, MA: Belknap, 1997) and How to Read the Bible: A Guide to
commentary with his “canonical” approach and his attention to the history of interpretation (ancient
and medieval Christian and Jewish); The Struggle to Understand Isaiah as Christian Scripture (Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans 2004), with chapters on how this critical book was interpreted in the Septuagint,
the New Testament, and Justin the Martyr all the way to the present; his classic exegetical work—The
450 Harry Pappas
His most productive disciple is Christopher Seitz.29 Gary Anderson also combines contem-
porary biblical scholarship with traditional exegesis.30
Worship
Nothing has remained so central to the corporate life of the Orthodox Church than the
Liturgy. Even during the darkest days under Communism, when 80 percent of her members
were suppressed and persecuted, it was worship in hidden places at odd times that sus-
tained the faithful who had little if any outlets for their faith, aside from than their own
conscience, as Alexander Solzhenitsyn profoundly brought to the attention of the world.31
Throughout the historical pilgrimage of the eastern Church, public worship is critical for
continuity, whether under the Ottomans or any other governmental or social pressure to
restrict if not openly persecute Christians.
Surely, language plays a key part, since the Scriptures cannot be properly comprehended
in those Orthodox Churches that continue to use ancient languages (such as the Septuagint,
Hellenistic Greek, or Old Church Slavonic) which can vary so much from the modern
spoken version that anyone lacking sufficient training may well be moved by emotion
but fail to understand with the mind. Chrysostom himself complained that choirs were
singing the Psalms without really knowing what they meant!32 On the other hand, those
Orthodox Churches that have periodically updated their worship services to cohere better
with the evolving spoken language (such as in Romania) as well as those Churches that
have adopted—in part or as a whole—the spoken language of the people (such as English,
Russian, or modern Greek) facilitate the transmission of the Word. Of course, the visual
image of Scripture—through the Gospel book, icons, incense, gesture, vestments, covering,
decorations, relics, buildings, people, and nature itself—is conveyed without such transla-
tion needs and facilitates in its own right pastoral work in any context: traditional Orthodox
lands, more recent places of migration, and in the mission field. Use of Scripture in this
sense is almost impossible to evaluate, other than to admit the obvious: Pastoral use of the
embodiment of the Bible is inevitable and powerful.
Book of Exodus: A Critical, Theological Commentary (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1974), is
exemplary and quite useful.
29 Word without End: The Old Testament as Abiding Theological Witness (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
1998); Figured Out: Typology and Providence in Christian Scripture (Louisville, KY: Westminster John
Knox, 2001); and The Character of Christian Scripture: The Significance of a Two-Testament Bible (Grand
Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2011).
30 The Genesis of Perfection: Adam and Eve in Jewish and Christian Imagination (Louisville,
KY: Westminster John Knox, 2001); Sin: A History (New Haven, CT: Yale University, 2009); Christian
Doctrine and the Old Testament: Theology in the Service of Biblical Exegesis (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker
Academic, 2017); Creatio ex nihilo: Origins and Contemporary Significance, edited with Markus Bockmuehl
(Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2017).
31 Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago (New York: Harper & Row, 1973).
32 See the stinging critique in the beginning of his commentary on Psalm 141 (140 LXX) in Commentary
on the Psalms, Volume 2, trans. and edited by Robert Charles Hill (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox,
1998), p. 275.
Pastoral Use of the Bible in the Orthodox Church 451
Two examples suffice to reveal the deep-seated struggle over language in worship. In the
first, a priest of a predominantly Greek-speaking congregation in America once requested
from his visiting bishop for the Epistle in Sunday Liturgy to be read in a modern Greek
translation. The request was denied, a matter of concern for the pastor since he knows, as
a native Greek speaker himself, how much more difficult these passages are in Hellenistic
Greek than the simpler Gospel passages. Also, not long ago, a YouTube video showed a
Metropolitan bishop presiding at Vespers for the patronal celebration of a major saint in
one of his parishes in Greece. When time came for the three Old Testament readings—nor-
mally done in the original Septuagint—the bishop publicly read a modern Greek transla-
tion instead. Immediately, scattered voices disrespectfully started to shout, “No!,” “This is
not Orthodox!” Unphased, the bishop completed his assigned role and later spoke about the
loss of younger people from worship, the inability of most to understand such an older form
of their native language, and the need to meet the people by using an idiom they can more
readily understand. In a companion video of a taped interview by a news agency, the same
bishop further explained that this kind of protest came from people outside his diocese who
cannot accept his practice. By contrast, the bishop’s own clergy and people overwhelmingly
support what he does in order to make Scripture more understandable.
Preaching
When it comes to the oral transmission of faith, the sermon remains primary. It is the
single most privileged event in which pastors address their flock to connect the unchange-
able Gospel within Scripture to the changing conditions of congregational life. How re-
freshing it is that people in Romania are far more likely to assess a prospective priest by
his ability to deliver a compelling sermon! This stands in marked contrast to those church
cultures where a handsome countenance, beautiful singing voice, or facility with the tradi-
tional language are considered more important.
The sheer growth of the Liturgy over centuries, along with accumulated pieties and
practices, have contributed in their own way to a problem: the quantity and quality of
sermons. Evidence supports the contention of not a few priests that a sermon is not re-
ally necessary. Yet, how could anyone dismiss vigorous, regular preaching while venerating
John Chrysostom, whose impassioned sermons remain a gold standard out of an ascetical
lifestyle tethered to Scripture, searching investigation of the biblical text, and persistent ap-
plication to his flock that informs, inspires, and convicts?
Insightful are the 1988 St. John Chrysostom Lectures on Preaching that Stanley Harakas
delivered at Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology.33 As a pastor with extensive
experience before becoming a seminary professor, Harakas chose to focus on the prac-
tical, immediate issues in the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese. He went beyond anecdotal
evidence by using the results of over 372 surveys returned by clergy in the United States
and Canada. The following is a summary of his important findings, which take into account
33 Published as Proclaiming God’s Word Today: Preaching Concerns in the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese
of North and South America (Minneapolis, MN: Light & Life, 1989).
452 Harry Pappas
the clergyman (e.g., age, education, years of service), parish setting (e.g., size, educational
level of people, language, degree of interest in spiritual growth), and preparation (e.g., when
started, amount of time, resources used):
He discovered some correlation of the level of formal seminary education (e.g., most
were graduates of Holy Cross in Brookline, Massachusetts) with a more frequent use of
professional resources (as distinct from those who did not have the same level of formal
education).
Harakas assessed the data:
• Most clergy are very interested in preaching and recognize its importance
• However, preaching is not central to pastoral work due to a variety of factors—e.g.,
the number and nature of the demands on a clergyman’s time and energy that mar-
ginalize sermon preparation (which would be quite different for pastors in smaller
congregations, but not unlike those who depend wholly or in part for compensation
from other work, since pastoral salaries can be so poor).
• Pastors are tragically limited by resources for preaching. The existing Lectionary, unre-
vised for over 1,000 years in a very different context, restricts the assigned Gospel (by
far the most used text) and Epistle Sunday readings that repeat every year, along with
feast days.
• The result is that most of Scripture is never used, starting with the preaching and
teaching of Christ himself (the Sunday texts focus on his miracles and some parables),
a great deal of Acts and Epistles, with no mention ever of Revelation (it never became
part of the Lectionary historically), and the loss of Old Testament readings (with the
exception of certain feast day vespers and weekdays in Great Lent) that were originally
Pastoral Use of the Bible in the Orthodox Church 453
part of the assigned lections but dropped out after the era of the great fathers like
Chrysostom who routinely preached on Old Testament passages.
• Pastors are in need of significant help to continually develop their skills and equip
them to preach on a variety of topics that include controversial moral and social topics.
Finally, Harakas moves to his own modest proposal for advancing the ministry of
preaching, which I cite here with an eye to Scripture in particular:
• Developing a fourteen-year cycle for Sundays in which the pastor, without changing
the assigned readings, preaches one full year on the Monday Gospel of each week, the
next year on the Tuesday Gospel, and so on for seven years (including the Sunday lec-
tion); then, doing the same over seven more years for the weekday Epistles.
• Begin to reintegrate the Old Testament into Sunday sermons with the immediate help
of readings from feast day vespers.34
• Expand the use of the growing publication of other resources of Tradition—hymns,
writings of the church fathers, lives of the saints.
• Controversial topics: since the Gospel by definition is already a stumbling block to
any society that is still subject to the power of sin, pastors cannot avoid dealing with
controversy, even though most avoid it “like the plague!” So, to avoid falling into the
predicament of “trying to please everyone,” pastors need guidance to properly prepare
their congregation and recover the spirit of the Old and New Testament prophets and
church saints who often held God’s people and the world accountable not just for per-
sonal and communal sins, but for social, economic, political and, now, environmental
ones. Harakas provides two modern examples: the pastoral work of the Protestant
minister Henry Ward Beecher (d. 1887), who preached against slavery in a parish that
had long accepted it; and, a sermon by Constantine Aliferakis that critiqued the movie
The Last Temptation of Christ, based on the book by Nikos Kazantzakis (1988). Aside
from avoiding subjectivism and relying on all resources of the Orthodox Tradition,
including contemporary documents, Harakas urges such preaching be done in a spirit
of love for edification rather than in a spirit of judgmentalism.
34 Aside from this, note the Lectionary developed by New Skete Monastery to restore Old
35 A very popular, handy anthology of brief patristic commentary on Scripture is the twenty-nine-
volume series Ancient Christian Commentary on both the Old and New Testament books, edited by
Thomas Oden (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2014).
36 Eastern Orthodoxy: A Way of Life (St. Louis Park, MN: Light and Life, 1966).
37 As exhibited by a whole host of published sermons, such as Gems from the Sunday Gospels, Volumes
1 and 2 (Minneapolis, MN: Light and Life, 1976); The Message of the Sunday Gospel Readings, Volumes 1
and 2 (Minneapolis, MN: Light and Life, 1982–3); Treasures from Paul’s Letters: Sermons on the Sunday
Epistle Lessons, Volumes 1 and 2 (Minneapolis, MN: Light and Life, 1978); This Is My Beloved Son,
Listen to Him: Meditations on the Sunday Scripture Readings of the Orthodox Church, Volumes 1 and 2
(Minneapolis, MN: Light and Life, 1988), among others.
38 Light and Life, established 1966 in Minneapolis, Minnesota, https://www.light-n-life.com/.
39 Preaching the Word of God (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross, 1983).
40 Celebration of Faith, Volume 1: I Believe (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 1991), Celebration
of Faith, Volume 2: The Church Year (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 1997), and Celebration of
Faith, Volume 3: The Virgin Mary (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 2001).
41 The Hope of the Hopeless, The Savior of the Tempest-Tossed, Volumes 1 and 2. Self-published, 1985.
42 The Light of Christ: Sermons for the Great Fast (England: St. Stephen’s, 1996).
43 The Cross Stand, While the World Turns: Homilies for the Cycles of the Year (Yonkers, NY: St.
as “The Art of Speaking Workshop”44 and “Kerygma,”45 along with a variety of internal
church publications.46 Wonderful Christian ecumenical resources abound to supplement
Orthodox contributions.47
Teaching
Bible Study
While growing up as a third-generation Greek American in St. Louis and attending a
large church serving the sprawling metropolitan area, I can distinctly recall the first time
I overheard someone mention “Bible Study.” In the hustle and bustle of a large crowd of
adults and children after Sunday Liturgy, a few evidently had discovered a Protestant group
studying Scripture. I sensed that my elders were either uninterested or opposed. Decades
later, Bible study has become a respectable and normal ministry for clergy in parish life,
even if it is not a feature everywhere and devotion to guided, communal study and reflec-
tion is very uneven. Such growth is in no small part due to those pastors who encouraged
Scriptural study as part of congregational life in the last half of the twentieth century, such
as Thomas Hopko,48 Joseph Allen, and Alexander Veronis, who complemented the vig-
orous ministry development of Coniaris, Harakas, and others. A variety of published works
on individual books have been produced by pastors such as William Mills,49 Ted Bobosh,50
44 National event for Greek Orthodox Archdiocese in October 2009, at Holy Cross Greek Orthodox
School of Theology, featuring Archbishop Demetrios, Stanley Harakas, Alkiviades Calivas, John
Chryssavgis, and Juan Carlos Ortiz.
45 Direct Archdiocesan District event in February 2020, at the Catholic University of America in
Washington, DC. It is notable that Archbishop Elpidophoros specifically asked for the three main
speakers to represent different Christians backgrounds—Sergius Halvorsen (Orthodox), Michael Clay
(Roman Catholic), and Veronice Miles (Protestant), who presented well, complemented each other, and
stimulated a lot of conversation and reflection.
46 A suitable example is The Presbyter, a monthly publication for clergy of the Greek Archdiocese. The
September 2009 edition is devoted entirely to preaching with contributions from Steve Tsichlis, Anthony
Coniaris, John Breck, Stanley Harakas, and Thomas Hopko.
47 Two useful examples: Fleming Rutledge, And God Spoke to Abraham: Preaching from the Old
Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2011); and Eugene Peterson, As Kingfishers Catch Fire: A
Conversation on the Ways of God Formed by the Words of God (Colorado Springs, CO: WaterBrook, 2017).
48 The Lenten Spring: Readings for Great Lent (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 1983);
and The Winter Pascha: Readings for the Christmas-Epiphany Season (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary, 1984).
49 Such as Encountering Jesus in the Gospels (Rollinsford, NH: Orthodox Research Institute,
2012); Prepare O Bethlehem: Reflections on the Scripture Readings for the Christmas-Epiphany Season
(Rollinsford, NH: Orthodox Research Institute, 2005); From Pascha to Pentecost: Reflections on the
Gospel of John (Rollinsford, NH: Orthodox Research Institute, 2005); Let Us Attend: Reflections on the
Gospel of Mark for the Lenten Season (Rollinsford, NH: Orthodox Research Institute, 2017); and A Light
to the Gentiles: Reflections on the Gospel of Luke (Rollinsford, NH: Orthodox Research Institute, 2007).
50 Questioning God: A Look at Genesis 1–3 (Minneapolis, MN: Light and Life, 2007).
456 Harry Pappas
Dmitri Royster,51and Lawrence Farley,52 as well as by Tom and Kula FitzGerald,53 and Jim
Forest.54
While most study groups are directly led by pastors, some who purposefully seek to renew
lay ministry, have increased Bible study groups by training and using broader leadership from
deacons or qualified laymen and women. In any case, most groups focus on a particular book,
with the New Testament far more common than anything in the Old. Resources include not
just the expansive commentary of church fathers but also growing publications from con-
temporary Orthodox and non-Orthodox writers.55 Once again, Stylianopoulos has published
invaluable resources for personal and group study among adults,56 while Rebecca Myerly has
written a thorough devotional guide for families with children.57 The Orthodox Study Bible
includes articles and notes for chapter and verse.58 And a variety of both scholars and pastors
have published biblical commentaries.59 However, as one pastor admitted some years ago, he
found a non-Orthodox commentary on a particular book of the New Testament far more
helpful than anything by a church father or contemporary Orthodox writer. For this reason,
among others, pastors can benefit a great deal from contemporary Christian writers grounded
in the Tradition, such as the voluminous popular writings of N.T. Wright,60 Eugene Peterson,
who combines exceptional writing skill with careful attention to scholarship for congrega-
tional life in America,61 and Luke Timothy Johnson,62 among others.63
51 The Kingdom of God: The Sermon on the Mount (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 1993); and
The Epistle of Saint James (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 2011).
52 Such as The Gospel of Matthew: The Torah for the Church (Chesterton, IN: Ancient Faith Press,
2009); The Epistle to the Romans: A Gospel for All (Chesterton, IN: Ancient Faith Press, 2002); Shepherding
the Flock: The Pastoral Epistles of Saint Paul the Apostle to Timothy and to Titus (Chesterton, IN: Ancient
Faith Press, 2008); and The Christian Old Testament: Looking at the Hebrew Scriptures through Christian
Eyes (Chesterton, IN: Ancient Faith Press, 2012).
53 Living the Beatitudes: Perspectives from Orthodox Spirituality (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross, 2006).
54 The Ladder of the Beatitudes (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1999); Loving Our Enemies: Reflections on the
series called “Ologos” in the 1950s that dealt with Scriptural passages, not just doctrinal or ethical matters
(St. Louis, MO).
56 Bread for Life: Reading the Bible (Brookline, MA: Religious Education Department of the Greek
Orthodox Archdiocese, 1980) and the 5-volume series A Year of the Lord: Liturgical Bible Studies
(New York: Greek Orthodox Archdiocese Department of Religious Education, 1981–88).
57 Growing Faithful Families (Minneapolis, MN: Light and Life, 2006).
58 St. Athanasius Academy of Orthodox Theology, 2008.
59 Such as Tarazi, Pentiuc, Dimitri Royster, Patrick Henry Reardon, Lawrence Farley, and others.
60 His popular “For Everyone” series of accessible commentaries on every book of the New Testament
(Louisville, KY: John Knox, 2009–2012) are the perfect complement to his scholarly works, particularly
the massive four-part series, Christian Origins and the Question of God—Volume 1: The New Testament
and the People of God; Volume 2: Jesus and the Victory of God; Volume 3: The Resurrection of the Son of
God; and Volume 4: Paul and the Faithfulness of God (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 1996–2013)
61 Starting with The Message (Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress, 2014), his unique, fresh translation of
Scripture, and a slew of devotional works of insight and substance, such as A Long Obedience in the Same
Direction, with chapters on the Psalms of Ascent that are heard in the Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts
during Great Lent (Downer’s Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2019); Leap over a Wall, an exploration of King David
as a model believer (New York: HarperCollins, 1997); Praying with the Psalms (New York: HarperCollins,
1993); and The Jesus Way: A Conversation on the Ways That Jesus Is the Way (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
2007), among many others.
62 The Real Jesus: The Misguided Quest for the Historical Jesus and the Truth of the Traditional Gospels
ngs/Index.
Pastoral Use of the Bible in the Orthodox Church 457
Catechism
For most of the last fifty years, the bulk of pastoral work has focused on the Christian for-
mation of children, whether in Sunday Schools or other Catechetical programs. A host
of materials in various Orthodox jurisdictions have provided material for teachers, who
learn much themselves.64 Some materials and instruction are often organized around doc-
trinal themes, while greater amounts of Scripture are increasingly, with some teachers or
programs that embody this through some form of service that puts Word into action.
Fortunately, structured catechism for adults has grown significantly in recent decades,
not only because of many seekers, but also due to the overwhelming number of interfaith
marriages (Orthodox and non-Orthodox) along with the clear need for adult formation in
the basics of the faith, since, more than anything else, the lack of this has emerged as one
of the greatest weaknesses in parish life. Long gone are the days when pastors can safely
assume that the vast majority of adults actually share the core convictions of the Orthodox
faith, much less know the content of the Tradition.
While most catechetical materials that are organized by topic or theme, a few sets are ex-
plicitly organized around Scripture: The Living God: A Catechism for the Christian Faith,65
and, in a more liturgical mode, The Incarnate God: The Feasts of Jesus Christ and the Virgin
Mary.66 Aside from these, Hopko’s four-volume “Rainbow” series67 and a one-volume in-
troduction by Coniaris68 are quite popular, while the volume of Timothy (Kallistos) Ware69
has become a modern classic. Although it is very difficult to gauge the impact these re-
sources have had in parish life, such volumes reflect, in varying ways, the emerging cen-
trality of Scripture in Christian education for adults. It truly is stunning how much the
contemporary Church takes for granted inherited assumptions from immigrants, their
offspring of different generations, and converts from various directions (especially con-
servative Protestant ones) that are far more shaped by culture (whether in Greece, Russia,
Lebanon, or America) than the Gospel within Scripture and Tradition.
64 Most used curricula can be found in the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese, http://online.fliphtml5.
Pastoral Work
Spiritual Guidance
Perhaps there is no more intensely personal work done by pastors than counseling those
who are open to growing in faith through worship and study, especially through the
Sacrament of Confession and spiritual guidance. As a traditional hallmark of Christian
life, with core roots in the ministry of Christ himself and the pattern of Apostolic evan-
gelization and parish development, the incidence of guidance has emerged significantly
in the last half of the twentieth century, though not always reflecting healthy and holy
standards since such intimacy can lead to abuse by those in pastoral authority, especially
among adults who abdicate their responsibility to think for themselves. A few notable
publications have exercised significant influence in pastoral work in this regard. For the
Sacrament of Confession, Hopko’s small book, If We Confess Our Sins, is standard with
its direct style that challenges the reader to make a self-examination on classic portions
of Scripture.71 Jim Forest has authored two widely used articles, “Confession in the Age
of Self-Esteem,” and “Confession: The Healing Sacrament,” along with a valuable book.72
Such contemporary writing provides a necessary complement, or even correction, for
those pastors who are centered less on Scripture and more on the canonical tradition,
or perhaps the writing of a venerable Father whose outlook is shaped in a culture quite
different from ours.73
Philanthropy
The Ladies Philoptochos Society has hundreds of chapters around the country as the
leading arm of Greek Orthodox parishes in the United States to provide material ben-
efit and spiritual aid to the poor, homeless, sick, and suffering, following clear Scriptural
foundations and role models in the Tradition.74 Their work in recent years has expanded
into educational and support programs, for example, for those suffering from cancer or
those involved in eldercare. Significant pan-Orthodox agencies, based in the application
of Scripture, have evolved especially in the last thirty years to coordinate philanthropy and
outreach for the common good among all Orthodox in the United States. The International
71
Orthodox Church in America, 1998.
72
Confession: Doorway of Forgiveness (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2002).
73 Such as Exomologetarion: A Manual of Confession, by St. Nikodemos the Hagiorite (Kingsley,
Orthodox Christian Charities provides a wealth of resources for raising funds and materials
for world relief, along with training youth and adults in America, along with indige-
nous people to meet critical needs and develop sustainable local life.75 The Fellowship of
Orthodox Christians United to Serve concentrates on coordinating local philanthropy to
the homeless, poor, and needy in America,76 while Orthodox Christian Prison Ministry77
does this for the incarcerated. Naturally, the degree to which Scripture actively continues to
inspire, inform and lead these vital ministries depends entirely on the disposition of local
pastors and lay leaders.
Missions
The embodied practice of the Gospel and Scripture in parish life emerged in a signif-
icant way in the last half-century to establish and develop missionary work. Efforts in
the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America for spiritual renewal morphed into the
eventual creation of the Orthodox Christian Mission Center78 that coordinates age-ap-
propriate youth as well as adults in a wide variety of short-and long-term missions in
many countries, starting in East Africa under the inspiration of Archbishop Anastasios
Yannoulatos and spreading to a variety of countries. Long-standing, popular venues
for parish life in the Western Hemisphere include Project Mexico79 and Hogar Rafael
Orphanage in Guatemala.80 Missionary trips within the United States have also
emerged.81
Social Witness
Pastoral work in regard to issues of justice and the common good in society have begun
to coalesce in certain ministries. Out of concern for the sanctity of life, Zoe helps women
during and after crisis pregnancies,82 while Orthodox participate in the annual March for
Life in Washington, DC, aside from smaller demonstrations at local governments or clinics
that are known to practice abortion. The Orthodox Peace Fellowship embodies the peace-
making dimension of the Gospel, along with witness to certain issues of social justice.83
75
https://iocc.org/
76
https://focusnorthamerica.org/
77 https://theocpm.org/
78 https://www.ocmc.org/
79 The oldest, established ministry to build small single-
family homes for the poor of Mexico,
operating out of the St. Innocent Orphanage in Rosarito, Mexico: https://www.ocmc.org/
80 http://www.hogarafaelayau.org/
81 Such as “Orthodox Youth Mission Team” under the leadership of Luke Mihaly, pastor of Holy
Trinity Carpatho-Russian Church in Danbury, CT, that has been organizing work in Appalachia since
2011; https://www.oymt.info/.
82 https://zoeforlife.org/
83 https://incommunion.org/
460 Harry Pappas
The Fellowship of the Transfiguration coordinates pan-Orthodox work and witness in the
area of creation care and the environment, with specific focus most recently on the crisis
of climate change.84 Racial reconciliation and the seeking of justice for minorities are re-
flected in the contribution of African Americans to the Orthodox Church in the United
States.85 Social media outlets are expanding the Internet reach of pastoral work such as
Orthodox Christian Network86 and Ancient Faith Ministries,87 aside from websites hosted
by all Orthodox jurisdictions, most dioceses, and many parishes, as well as clergy who are
developing platforms and programs that can reach well beyond their own parish. Some
focus on Scripture in particular, while most incorporate the Bible into their presentations
or dialogue on all matters of faith and life. At the same time, Nicholas Denysenko notes
that, because of the Internet, anyone can access Scripture without ever consulting their
pastor, even if they still choose to participate in study groups and worship.88 The explosion
of websites, blogs, chat rooms, and inquirer forums allow conversations to take place, with
or without guidance from parish clergy.
84
http://www.orth-transfiguration.org/
85
Fellowship of St. Moses the Black; http://mosestheblack.org/.
86 https://myocn.net/
87 https://www.ancientfaith.com/
88 “Pastoral Principles for Orthodox Clergy,” in Church and World: Essays in Honor of Michael Plekon,
ed. William C. Mills (Rollinsford, NH: Orthodox Research Institute, 2013), pp. 29–54.
89 While starting with four Christian pastors, the program has evolved to include Jewish and Moslem
contributors, while attracting up to 100 people at a time. Feedback from members of an Orthodox parish
Bible Study group have been sincere appreciation. The program is now sponsored by the Interfaith
Council of Southwestern Connecticut—https://www.interfaithcouncil.org/.
Pastoral Use of the Bible in the Orthodox Church 461
Conclusion
As a rich, deep and wide Tradition, the Orthodox Church is by definition Scriptural in
every aspect of parish life, even if pastors themselves, along with most members, do not
perceive or understand this because of widespread biblical illiteracy and spiritual immatu-
rity. Fortunately, most pastors know instinctively, if not by training, how central Scripture
is for their own personal devotions and study, worship, preaching and teaching, spir-
itual guidance, service, fellowship, outreach, and mission. With predecessors such as the
prophets, apostles, hierarchs and elders, nothing prevents the continued flowering of cre-
ative and faithful use of Scripture in all dimensions of pastoral, with wise and discerning
use of resources, both within and outside the Orthodox Church, to complement lived ex-
perience among God’s chosen people, society and the world, so that Christ can more fully
emerge in through pastor’s unique character and calling to build up his own Body and
advance his revolutionary Kingdom movement on this earth.
Bibliography
Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture—Old Testament, Volumes I–XII, and New
Testament, Volumes I–XII. Downer’s Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2001.
Barrois, Georges. Scripture Readings in Orthodox Worship. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary, 1977.
Behr, John. The Cross Stand, While the World Turns: Homilies for the Cycles of the Year. Yonkers,
NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 2014.
Breck, John. Scripture in Tradition: The Bible and Its Interpretation in the Orthodox Church.
Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 2001.
Breck, John. The Shape of Biblical Language: Chiasmus in the Scriptures and Beyond. Crestwood,
NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 2008.
Osborne, Bishop Basil of Sergievo. The Light of Christ: Sermons for the Great Fast. England: St.
Stephen’s, 1996.
Coniaris, Anthony. This Is My Beloved Son, Listen to Him: Meditations on the Sunday Scripture
Readings of the Orthodox Church, Volumes 1 and 2. Minneapolis, MN: Light and Life, 1988.
Coniaris, Anthony. The Message of the Sunday Gospel Readings, Volumes 1 and 2. Minneapolis,
MN: Light and Life, 1982–3.
Coniaris, Anthony. The Great I Came’s of Jesus: Meditations on the great “I came . . . ” Statements
of Jesus wherein He Explains the Reasons for His Coming into the World. Minneapolis,
MN: Light and Life, 1980.
Coniaris, Anthony. Treasures from Paul’s Letters: Sermons on the Sunday Epistle Lessons,
Volumes 1 and 2, Minneapolis, MN: Light and Life, 1978.
Coniaris, Anthony. Gems from the Sunday Gospels, Volumes 1 and 2. Minneapolis, MN: Light
and Life, 1976.
Coniaris, Anthony. No Man Ever Spoke as This Man: The Great I Am’s of Jesus. Minneapolis,
MN: Light and Life, 1969.
Coniaris, Anthony. Eastern Orthodoxy: A Way of Life. Minneapolis, MN: Light and Life, 1966.
Forest, Jim. The Ladder of the Beatitudes. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1999.
462 Harry Pappas
Harakas, Stanley Samuel. Proclaiming God’s Word Today: Preaching Concerns in the Greek
Orthodox Archdiocese of North and South America. Minneapolis, MN: Light and Life, 1989.
Hopko, Thomas. The Winter Pascha: Readings for the Christmas-Epiphany Season. Crestwood,
NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 1984.
Kesich, Vesilin. The Gospel Image of Christ: The Church and Modern Criticism. Crestwood,
NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 1972.
Legaspi, Michael C. The Death of Scripture and the Rise of Biblical Studies. New York: Oxford
University Press, 2011.
Nicozisin, George. The Hope of the Hopeless, The Savior of the Tempest-Tossed, Volumes 1 and
2. Self published, 1985.
Pentiuc, Eugen J. The Old Testament in the Eastern Orthodox Tradition. New York: Oxford
University Press, 2014.
Reardon, Patrick Henry. Christ in His Saints. Ben Lomond, CA: Conciliar, 2004.
Stylianopoulos, Theodore G. The Apostolic Gospel. Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox, 2015.
Stylianopoulos, Theodore G. The New Testament: An Orthodox Perspective, Volume 1: Scripture,
Tradition, Hermeneutics. Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox, 1997.
The Orthodox Study Bible. St. Athanasius Academy of Orthodox Theology. Nashville, TN:
Thomas Nelson, 2008.
E astern Ort h od ox
Views on A nc i e nt
Jewish Bibl i c a l
Interpretat i on
Bruce N. Beck
Introduction
1
E.g., M. Rahmer, and S. Kraus. Cf. Kamesar 2005.
2
Cf. Baskin 1985; Kamesar 2006.
3 Cf. Braverman 1978; Kamesar 1993.
4 Cf. Azar 2016b; de Lange 1976; Blowers 1988; Clements 1998; Hirshman 2009; Kimelman 1980;
Martens 2012.
5 Cf. Horbury 1998, 200–225, 25–27, who believed that there was “significant convergence between
Blowers cites Origen’s PA 4.3.2, GCS 5.326; C. Cels. 2.4–6; see also de Lange 1976, 82–83.
15 Origen PA 1.3.4 and 4.3.14, cited by Martens 2012, 139 n. 26.
Eastern Orthodox Views on Ancient Jewish Biblical 465
Jewish songs of the Bible, which he most likely received from a Jewish source or teacher.16
Although Origen often characterized Jews as being “literalistic” in their interpretation of
the Scriptures,17 he both cites and endorses Jewish hermeneutical principles.
Many other scholars have included Justin Martyr in the list of early Christians who reflect
accurate knowledge of rabbinic traditions from contact with either Rabbinic Jews or Jewish-
Christians.18 Trakatellis asserts that since Justin’s work is written in the form of a dialogue, it
demonstrates active communication between Christians and Jews.19 More recently, Boyarin
has offered a more nuanced portrait of Trypho, Justin’s dialogue partner. He explains that
Trypho may represent a more fluid portrait of the boundaries between Gentile Christianity
and Rabbinic Judaism, in which Jewish Christians may play a role in blurring those boundaries
and “smuggling” traditions back and forth between the two so-called communities.20
Other scholars are more expansive in their portrayal of the influence of Jewish exegetical
traditions and methods on patristic exegesis.21 Marc Hirshman, for example, summarizes the
phenomenon of the ongoing relationships between Jewish and Christian leaders this way:
Both Jewish and Christian literature assume mutual awareness of the other’s commentaries
and homilies. . . . Hence, we cannot avoid the slow and systematic collection of the various
methods of exegesis used in both schools and trace, according to them, the picture of the
confrontation and the hermeneutical encounter.22
Research on the question of early encounters between Jews and Christians has seen a recent
growth,23 catalyzed, in part, by challenges to the status quo of the so-called parting of the
ways.24 Though the data showing encounters between Jews and Christians in the second
through the fourth centuries has been difficult to assemble, and evaluate, it seems clear that
these two communities were not as separated as previously projected.25
16
Cf. Kugel 1982.
17
Origen sometimes referred to Jewish literalist teachings as “myths and rubbish” since they lacked
the Christian, higher interpretation. E.g., Origen C. Cels 2.5. See Hom in Gen 6.3; Hom in Exod. 5.1; and
Hom in Lev 3.3, which are cited by Blowers 1988, 110; also Hirshman 2009.
18 Cf. Boyarin 2001, esp. 156–161; Trakatellis 1986; and Stylianopoulos 1975, esp 33–44. Trakatellis’s
primary aim in his article was to offer “some observations on the question of the theological contacts
between Jews and Christians” (288).
19 Trakatellis, 297.
20 Boyarin 2001, 459–460; he cites 10.2 and 38.1.
21 Horbury 1998; Hirshman 1996.
22 Hirshman 1996, 130. Hirshman’s own focus “was on the presentation of the parties’ exegetical
approaches, when each one mentions the other explicitly . . . , to shed light on their common literary
garb—the exegesis of Scripture—and on their differences—the various genres characteristic of the
different religions” (126).
23 Note in particular the consistent research of Adam Kamesar, 1993, 1994, 2005, and 2006, the last of
which is an updated bibliography since Baskin 1985; see also B. L. Visotzky 1995, especially chapter 4 on
midrash as a shared method.
24 Cf. Becker and Reed 2003; Lenk 2010; Paget 2010; Rouwhorst 1997; Wilken 1983.
25 Cf. Jacobs 2008; e.g., the contact between a Jewish student from Palestine (the son of R. Galilee) and
John Chrysostom when studying with Libanius in Wilken 1983, 58–59. See also John Chrysostom’s eight
sermons “Against the Judaizers,” which show that the borders between the Church and the Synagogue
were still porous among the citizens in Antioch. See further Hirshman 2009, 116, and Pieter van der Horst
2000, 2008.
466 Bruce N. Beck
There is a debate among some Orthodox scholars regarding the primary historical influences
on the church fathers regarding their methods of biblical interpretation that cannot be
addressed in this chapter.26 But certainly, by the third century, exegetical writings from
Christian authors reflect many of the standard teaching practices of Greco-Roman schools,
applying them to the biblical literature as “an alternative body of classics.”27 One fact often
missing from this debate is the influence of the Greco-Roman literary analysis methods on
Second Temple Jewish biblical interpretation.
The interpretation of the Scriptures in the New Testament laid the foundations for the bib-
lical hermeneutics of the church fathers. Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and John Chrysostom,
all refer to Paul’s methods of biblical interpretation to support their own methods of in-
terpretation.28 Most, if not all, of the writings of the New Testament demonstrate the wide
array of contemporary Jewish methods of interpretation through their biblical quotations,
pastiches, and typological use of biblical narratives.29
Frances Young has noted that the exegetical rules of Greco-Roman schools resemble the
lists of rabbinic rules for interpreting Scripture (middot)30—Jews and Christians in the third
century “shared a common rationalistic heritage,”—a culture that was shared across schol-
arly communities throughout the ancient Mediterranean world.31 Greco-Roman scholasti-
cism had already arrived on the shores of Palestine during the Second Temple period. And
Jewish writings from this period, including the New Testament, informally share many of
those interpretive practices. Thus, to compare patristic hermeneutics and rabbinic biblical
exegesis is to look at two distinct adaptations of literary methods stemming from first-cen-
tury AD Jewish Palestine, which also continue to adapt to the pervasive Hellenistic scribal
culture of the Greco-Roman world.
Ancient Christian writings, therefore, reflect a shared literary ethos with other Jewish
writings from the second century BC through the second century AD. These similarities
include a shared scriptural “canon-consciousness,” a belief that every word in Scripture is
inspired, and therefore useful, and a practice of solving any perceived difficulties in the
text through an array of scholarly methods.32 This shared literary ethos that stems from
common origins and scribal traditions continues to develop in the second through the
26
E.g., Dragutinovic 2018, 71, 79; Kalaitzidis 2010.
27
Young 1997, 76–96, 76. See also A. Kamesar 1994, 39–41. Kamesar summarizes there conveniently
four aspects of interpretation and four tools. See also Hirshman 1996, 113; and Kessler 2001.
28 Cf. Mitchell 2010, 3, 8, 9, 28, 30, 51–57, 76; also Martens 2012, 158, who quotes Contra Celsum (4.49,
SC 136, 310.16–312.36), which lists examples of Paul’s exegesis, in Marten’s chapter “Allegorical Insight: The
Exegetical Tutelage of Jesus and Paul,” 156–160.
29 Cf. Hays 1989, 2005.
30 Young 1997, 91–94.
31 Young 1997, 91–
92; she cites Daube 1949; Lieberman 1950; Fishbane 1985; and Vermes 1970.
Lieberman (p. 61) did not believe that this similarity meant that the Jews borrowed from the Greeks their
methods (Young, 93); cf. Bickerman 1988, 161–176.
32 Kugel 1998, 14–19.
Eastern Orthodox Views on Ancient Jewish Biblical 467
fourth centuries, as Jews and Christians came into contact with each other, as reflected in
the writings of Justin Martyr, Origen, Jerome, Ephrem, and Melito of Sardis.33
The history of the encounters in antiquity between Christian Orthodox and Jews is com-
plex. On the one hand, contacts such as Origen’s debate with Jewish leaders in Caesarea, or
Jerome’s conversations in Jerusalem, portray an exchange of information between Jews and
Christians;34 Christian authors both received and incorporated Jewish traditions, which
they called either “historical” facts or “myths.”35 On the other hand, it is precarious to sift
out these positive contributions of Jewish tradition when their rhetorical settings are typ-
ically critical of Judaism. The patristic authors who borrowed Jewish exegetical traditions
typically portrayed Judaism as a failed tradition.36 During this era, homilies often included
vituperative rhetoric against the synagogue. Especially in Antioch and Palestine, the church
and synagogue had not yet “parted ways.”37 Rather, the church and the synagogue found
themselves engaged in conflict with each other, often competing to retain their members.38
Therefore, the history of traditions between Christians and Jews presents a major stum-
bling block for the contemporary use of Jewish sources by Orthodox scholars and the-
ological students. Rather than ignoring this complex phenomenon, the study of Jewish
exegetical traditions by Christian scholars might critically take into account both the trans-
mission of Jewish exegetical traditions, and the legacy of anti-Jewish rhetoric by Orthodox
Christian authors.39
Today these two faith communities no longer compete for members, nor define them-
selves vis-à-vis each other. So, the theological tropes that have been passed down about
Judaism, which originated within the painful disputations, and the prolonged process of
separation, need not (and should not) be carried forward. In the process of discovering
and citing ancient parallels and common intertextual connections, new scholarship can,
33
Cf. Paget 2019; and Jacobs 2008.
34
Cf. Kimelman 1980; see also the watershed publication by Rosemary Radford Ruether (1974),
particularly her chapter entitled “the Negation of the Jews in the Church Fathers.” Cf. Efroymson 1979;
Note more recently the article by Michael Azar 2016b, which critiques the use of “supercessionism” to
describe Origen’s views of the Old Testament and Judaism.
35 Cf. Kamesar 1994; Martens 2012, 139 n. 24; and Hirshman 2009.
36 On Origen, see First Principles 4.2.1, and Contra Celsum 1.49–57. Cf. Lubac 2007, 196–199, 296–306;
Martens 2012, esp. 133–156, 178 n. 72, 182, 218; and Azar, 2016b. On Jerome, see Kamesar 1993, 1994 (esp
11–16), 2005, and 2006; and Stemberger 1996. On Justin Martyr, see Boyarin 2001, Trakatellis 1986, and
Stylianopoulos 1975.
37 Cf. Becker and Reed 2003; Wilken 1983; and Rouwhorst 1997.
38 See John Chrysostom Homiliae adversus Judaeos in Meeks 1978; cf. van der Horst 2000; and
VanVeller 2019.
39 E.g., Bucur 2017 and Azar 2016a, who acknowledge this difficult legacy that is still embedded in
importantly, reveal divisive errors, and thereby dispel unfounded misconceptions and
prejudices. And thus, it is hoped that contemporary Orthodox biblical scholars who come
to appreciate the value of Jewish hermeneutics will also come to respect the Jewish commu-
nity which has preserved these traditions.
Canon-Cultures
One of the most fundamental exegetical traditions shared by early Christians and Jews is a
common literary subculture. For both Jews and Christians, the authority of the Scriptures
in all matters was presupposed. That authority, however, did not reside in the text itself,
but rather in its communal interpretation.40 And although many of the interpretations
and text-types of the Scripture diverged, their exegetical methods and the theological
presuppositions that undergirded them were largely shared.41
Both rabbinic Jews and ancient Christians inherited a worldview that treated a canon of
writings as the words of God, the fount of wisdom that is useful for every circumstance.
Though there were many canons in early Judaism, differing in both content and status,
there was nevertheless a ubiquitous belief that a given corpus of texts had both a sacred
and authoritative function that permeated every aspect of the community’s life, including
its liturgical services.42 Frances Young’s Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian
Culture underscores this wide-ranging cultural phenomenon of a shared canon of inspired
writings.
The reception and appropriation of the Jewish scriptures has usually been taken for granted. . . .
But the assumption that Christians inherited a canon to which they then added their own lit-
erature meant that there was nothing surprising in Origen’s adoption of the Jewish traditions
that every jot and tittle mattered, or that inspired texts could be interpreted by means of other
inspired texts. Thus, the unity and inerrancy of the Bible, however problematic for modern
scholars, have been taken to be, for the early Church, unsurprising dogmas.43
James Kugel has traced the ascendancy of the biblical corpus as divine revelation back to
the wisdom school during the second century BC, which shifted the locus of divine wisdom
from the observable world to Torah.44 Once Torah became the primary source of a Sage’s
teaching, then exegesis became the primary tool.
40 Cf. McGuckin 2008, 108–109, who discusses Irenaeus’s concept of the charism of truth (charisma
veritatis).
41 Cf. Horbury 1998, 224–225; e.g., Menn 2000, who compares the interpretations of Psalm 21/22 (“My
God my God why have you forsaken me?”) in Jewish and Christian traditions.
42 Weitzman 1997, 61 n. 5. Weitzman astutely points out that the widespread phenomenon of retelling
biblical narratives in the postbiblical Jewish writings “are themselves a kind of canon-conscious revision
of biblical narrative—one that did not impinge upon the biblical text itself but that reflects how it was
reconceptualized by early canon-conscious readers” (63).
43 Young 1997, 9–10.
44 Cf. Kugel 1997. See recently Newman 2018, 43–44. Kugel shows how Ben Sira and the Wisdom of
The case of Origen affords a particularly clear view into the exegetical workroom
of the ancient Church. More than anyone in this period, Origen self-consciously re-
flected on the methods of biblical interpretation that presupposed an inspired canon of
Scriptures. In his preface to an interpretation of the Psalms, Origen names a principle
that we now refer to as intertextuality.45 First, he notes “the gracious tradition handed
over to us” was from a Jewish source (“the Hebrew”).46 Second, he states that the divine
Scripture is often unclear, and in need of a “key” to open up its hidden meaning.47 To il-
lustrate this phenomenon of divine occlusion, Origen relays the parable from his Jewish
source—Scripture is like a house with locked rooms, with the key for each locked room
lying beside another room.
He says that the greatest task is to find (heuriskein) the keys and to fit them (epharmozein)
to the rooms which they are able to open; indeed, even the scriptures that are unclear are
understood when they receive their point of departure for understanding from no other
source than reciprocal engagement with other passages that have the exegetical principle (to
exêgêtkon) sown into them.48
At the end of this excerpt, Origen gives Paul the last word by letting him provide “the key to
the keys” in 1 Cor 2:13—“interpreting spiritual things with spiritual things” (pneumatikois
pneumatika synkrinontes).49 Therefore, Scripture is designed to be interpreted intertextu-
ally. The fundamental dogma that every biblical book together forms a unified canon is
presupposed by Origen, which he attributes to a Jewish hermeneutical tradition; all the
locked rooms are within one house, and each room contains inspired and useful words.50
These hermeneutical principles were shared by ancient Jews and Christians, even though
their particular interpretations departed from one another. The treasure of a unified canon
of Scripture is very likely the most fundamental, determinative factor in the formation of
both ancient Jewish and Christian literary cultures.51
45 Origen, Philocalia 2.3 (SC 302, p. 244). This excerpt was preserved by Gregory of Nazianzus and
Basil and likely written shortly after the ordination of St. Gregory (McGuckin 2001, 102). See discussion
in Mitchell 2010, 56–57; Paget 2019, 337.
46 Trans. Mitchell 2010, 57.
47 This was a presupposition of early Jewish hermeneutics, as evidenced by Paul and the Gospels;
see esp. 1 Cor 1 and 2 Cor 3 for Paul’s expression of God’s revelation being occluded in the Scripture. Cf.
Kugel 1998, 14–19.
48 Trans. Mitchell 2010, 57.
49 Mitchell 2010, 57. Paul also acknowledged that Scripture is cryptic or “veiled” in 2 Cor 3:12–18.
50 Cf. Origen Philokalia 10: “what else is there need to understand about the Prophets than that every
word spoken through their mouth was one which works? And do not be amazed if every word spoken
by the Prophets works a work which is fitting for a word. For I think that every extraordinary letter
written in the words of God works, and there is not an iota or one dot written in the Scripture which
does not work its own work in those who know to use the power of the Scriptures.” Trans. John Clark
Smith 1998, 278.
51 Cf. Beck 2019, 164–171; Kugel, 1990, 264, who writes, “once one is aware of this ‘canonizing’ interest
as a category, one cannot but be struck by its prevalence, its virtual omnipresence, in rabbinic texts from
earliest times. Here truly is one of the most characteristic features of rabbinic exegesis vis-à-vis earlier
forms of biblical commentary.”
470 Bruce N. Beck
Since the mid-twentieth century, academic engagement with Jewish sources and traditions
by Christian scholarship has grown exponentially. These shifts in the academic study of
Judaism were due, in large part, to the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls in 1947, and the
painful, introspective reflections by Christian theologians in the aftermath of the Nazi
Holocaust. In Orthodox theological schools, the impact of these seismic events was more
indirect through the doctoral training of some of their faculty in major universities. Three
cases of Orthodox scholars who have made Jewish sources integral to their academic
work will be offered. Each represents a different field: (1) John Behr in patristics and early
Christianity; (2) Eugen Pentiuc in Old Testament and intertestamental literature; and
(3) Alexander Golitzin in Christian and Jewish mysticism. Many others could have been
mentioned who actively engage with Judaism in their research.52 By highlighting these
three examples, it is hoped that the benefits of persistent engagement with Jewish sources
will be apparent. Especially in the cases of Orthodox biblical hermeneutics, liturgics, and
historical theology, discussion of the comparable Jewish sources will offer new perspectives
and promote the much-needed awareness of the historical relationships between Christians
and Jews.
52 Recently there have been an increasing number of Orthodox scholars who have made Jewish
studies or Jewish-Christian relations a significant part of their doctoral studies (Azar 2016a; Bucur, 2017;
and Tonias 2014, 2019); others have relied on ancient Jewish sources to trace certain Orthodox traditions
(cf. Bucur, 2019a and 2019b, whose integration of ancient Jewish and Christian sources is exemplary in
his focus on Second Temple Jewish apocalyptic texts that narrate a theophany; lastly, some have engaged
in comparative work between Jewish and Patristic biblical hermeneutics (cf. Behr 1999, 2013; Pentiuc
2017; Beck 2015, 2019).
53 Cf. three entries of The Oxford Handbook on Early Christian Biblical Interpretation, eds. Blowers
and Martens 2019: Reinhart Ceulemans, “The Septuagint and Other Translations,” 46ff; Jeffrey Wickes,
“Poetry and Hymnody,” 280ff (esp. 294ff on “Comparative Hymnic Exegesis” on Jewish liturgical poems
(piyyutim); and James Carleton Paget, “Christianity and Judaism,” 363ff (about the relationship between
Jewish and Christian biblical exegesis and historical encounters); see also Cunningham, “Byzantine
Reception,” 667–685. Likewise, The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, eds. Harvey and
Hunter 2008, includes chapters on the historical relations between “Jews and Christians” (Jacobs), and
“Interpretation of Scripture” (Young).
54 Young 2008, 848.
Eastern Orthodox Views on Ancient Jewish Biblical 471
further study, Young listed “the interface between Jewish (rabbinic) interpretation and that
of the early church.”55
The comparative study of Christian and Jewish liturgies provides ample evidence for
Young’s well-founded prediction that the comparison of rabbinic and patristic hermeneu-
tics would be fruitful. Since the time of Anton Baumstark’s 1923 article “Trishagion und
Queduscha,”56 and Kaufman Kohler’s 1893 discovery that Jewish Sabbath Benedictions were
embedded in the Apostolic Constitutions,57 the connections between Christian and Jewish
forms of prayer have been a vibrant and productive field of study.58
The table is beautifully set for Orthodox biblical, patristic, and liturgical scholars to
engage with comparable Jewish scholarship within their respective fields. By expanding
their horizons, they would build on the work of the previous generation.59 The practice of
comparing contemporary Jewish and Christian biblical interpretations would no doubt ex-
pose both similarities and differences. Paradoxically, the lens of comparative religion allows
one’s own religious tradition to be seen in greater, more vivid relief. Kimberley Patton
has described the fruit of comparative discourse as “a third thing, a magical thing, that
is different from its parents. Not only is it ‘different,’ but it can illumine truths about both
of them in ways that would have been impossible through the exclusive contemplation of
either of them alone.”60 Thus, it seems clear that comparative research on the history of bib-
lical interpretation promises to yield a particularly rich harvest, since we have established
that Christians and Jews share a common scriptural and hermeneutical legacy.
55
Young 2008, 859.
56
Gerhards 2007, 29.
57 AC 7.33–38. Cf. Pieter van der Horst 2008, 9–22, esp. 20–22 for a review of scholarship.
58 Cf. Gerhards and Clemens 2007.
59 E.g., Breck 1986, 2001; Panagopoulos 1991; Stylianopoulos 2008; Stylianopoulos and Stendahl 1997;
63 E.g., the National Conference of Christians and Jews. Cf. Conway 1990; Fisher 2015; and Koester
was filled by visiting professors until the appointment of Prof. Jon D. Levenson in 1988.
65 Cf. Ruether 1974; and Davies 1979.
66 Cf. Efroymson 1979.
67 E. P. Sanders 1977, 1983.
68 E.g., Anthony Saldarini, S.J., who taught for many years at Boston College, wrote his dissertation on
a tractate of the Mishnah, Pirke Avoth, and two books on the community of the Gospel of Matthew and
its relationship with contemporary Jews in the region.
69 Cf. Stylianopoulos 1994, who conveniently records the locations, years, and the publications of
the conference proceedings: New York (1972), Journal of Ecumenical Studies 13 (4, 1976); Lucerne (1977),
The Greek Orthodox Theological Review 24 (4, 1979); and Bucharest (October 29–31, 1979), The Christian
Orthodox-Jewish Consultation II, ed. Archimandrite Nilon Mihaita, Romanian Patriarchate. Theodore
Stylianopoulos, who was the professor of New Testament at Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of
Theology from 1967 to 2007, represented the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople as a Delegate
to the 6th WCC Assembly, Vancouver, BC (1983), and was a member of the Central Committee of the
World Council of Churches, representing the Ecumenical Patriarchate, from 1983 to 1990.
70 Cf. Bucur 2017; and Azar 2018.
Eastern Orthodox Views on Ancient Jewish Biblical 473
By comparing each others’s respective traditional texts, Orthodox and Jewish scholars
might both advance their scholarship, as well as get to know each others’s faith tradition
better. Comparative work stimulates ideas, and naturally transforms the relationships
of those who engage in it. In this case, through encountering Jews, and studying their
sources, Christian Orthodox scholars might view Jewish texts and traditions with what
Krister Stendahl called “holy envy.”71 One of Krister Stendahl’s students at Harvard Divinity
School, who became the professor of New Testament at Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School
of Theology, Theodore Stylianopoulos, said this about collaboration between Orthodox
and Jews:
Then they (a Jew and a Christian) could say to each other, if interested: “Let us therefore dis-
cuss together these important matters in mutual love and respect, under mutual faithfulness
to the Lord God, and see what we can learn about each other, and from each other, and even
clarify our own ideas and convictions about our own respective faiths. Above all, let the truth
itself, revealed in grace and love, draw us to itself and lead us in freedom.”72
71
Krister Stendahl coined and frequently used the phrase “holy envy” to describe the phenomenon of
sincere engagement with the sacred texts of a tradition other than one’s own. Bp. Stendahl was a leader
in the Jewish–Christian relations movement in the United States in the 1970s–1990s; he also cofounded
the Osher Center for Religious Pluralism at the David Hartmen Institute in Jerusalem, Israel. As a dean
and professor at Harvard Divinity School, he influenced students in his courses on Jewish–Christian
relations, and his sponsorship of a Jewish–Christian dialogue group for students in the Boston area
during this era, in which I am grateful to have participated.
72 Stylianopoulos 1994, 154.
73 Behr 2013, 2017, 2019, respectively.
74 James L. Kugel, the Starr Professor of Hebrew Literature at Harvard (1982–2003), and in parallel the
professor of Bible, Bar Ilan University (1992–2013), has made available to a wide audience the principles
of Jewish biblical interpretation at the beginning of the first century AD. As was shown earlier, this
influence can be traced in the publications of both John Behr and Eugen Pentiuc in their use of Kugel’s
“four assumptions” of ancient (Jewish) biblical interpretation to describe patristic exegetical methods.
Behr 2013, 2019; and Pentiuc 2014. Kugel has concisely delighted his readers in his articulation of a Jewish
hermeneutic that both expects and revels in the discovery of difficult readings in Scripture.
75 The subtitle of Kugel’s book is A Guide to the Bible as it Was at the Start of the Common Era.
474 Bruce N. Beck
which he explains also applied to the writings in the New Testament. Though he focuses on
the prerabbinic period, his distillation of the four hermeneutical assumptions are also reli-
able principles for later rabbinic biblical interpretation.
Behr writes that Irenaeus’s approach to Scripture “exemplifies what James Kugel identifies
as ‘four assumptions about Scripture that characterize all ancient biblical interpretation.’ ”76
Behr even cites Kugel’s four characteristics, followed by his commentary on how each one
compares to Irenaeus’ hermeneutic of Scripture. Below are Kugel’s “four assumptions” as
cited by Behr:
For Behr, the phenomenon of Scripture’s being “cryptic” was particularly attractive. Here,
he saw a parallel with Irenaeus’s belief that the meaning of Scripture is revealed.78 Thus the
task of the exegete is to discover hidden meanings in Scripture.
Behr clearly exemplifies the way in which using Jewish sources can inform and bol-
ster the work on patristic hermeneutics. The synthesizing and insightful work by James
Kugel provided invaluable support to Behr’s understanding of Irenaeus’s hermeneutic of
Scripture—that it is hidden until “brought to light by the cross of Christ” like the treasure
that Jesus described hidden in the field (Mat 13).79
76
Behr, 2013, 129; he cites as his source Traditions of the Bible (1998) p. 15, and states that pages 14–19
inform what follows.
77 Behr 2013, 129; on Kugel 1998, 14–19.
78 Behr 2013, 129.
79 Irenaeus, Against Heresies 4.26.1, quoted by Behr 2013, 241. Cf. Behr 1999, where he analyzes
School of Theology. He currently holds the Archbishop Demetrios Chair of Biblical Studies and Christian
Origins.
81 A sample of Pentiuc’s publication topics includes: the book of Hosea (2002, 2017), Messiah in the
Hebrew Bible (2006), Syriac Baruch (2013), the Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox tradition (2014),
Orthodox hermeneutics (2016), and liturgical exegesis in Byzantine Orthodox hermeneutics (2021).
82 While a theological student in Romania, he studied abroad at the École biblique et archéologique
française in Jerusalem for four years. He also served as a teaching fellow for Prof. James Kugel’s popular
course at Harvard College, “The Bible and Its Interpreters.”
Eastern Orthodox Views on Ancient Jewish Biblical 475
I will offer two brief examples Pentiuc’s integration of traditional Jewish texts in his
research. First, in The Old Testament in the Eastern Orthodox Tradition, he makes use of
rabbinic hermeneutics as a useful analog to reconstruct the undergirding assumptions of
patristic exegesis.83 Like John Behr, Pentiuc cites at length the four shared “assumptions” of
ancient Jewish interpretation published by James L. Kugel.84 Pentiuc also refers to the so-
called seven middoth (measures or principles) of rabbinic interpretation attributed to Rabbi
Hillel the Elder (ca. 60 BC–AD 10), observing that “The seven rules . . . of rabbinic interpre-
tation . . . are similar in their basic scope and idea to the four assumptions observed by the
patristic interpreters.”85 While Pentiuc’s distillation of patristic principles of exegesis is quite
traditional,86 I believe his broad comparison of patristic and contemporary rabbinic her-
meneutical principles is distinctive among Orthodox scholars. Pentiuc points to a general
academic consensus that Jewish exegetical traditions influenced Christian hermeneutical
assumptions, both in the apostolic and patristic eras.87
The second example of Pentiuc’s use of Jewish sources for biblical interpretation is his
collaborative work with an international team of biblical scholars on a tradition-historical
commentary on the Bible.88 This series methodically covers twenty-nine categories of thor-
ough annotations for each verse of the Bible. For instance, in his volume on Hosea, Pentiuc
and his contributors drew from both Christian and Jewish traditions, including Aramaic,
Syriac, and Greek translations, in order to provide the widest possible history of tradition
perspective on each verse of Hosea.89 Pentiuc’s participation in this ambitious project of
the École Biblique exemplifies how a history of exegesis approach can fruitfully compare
Christian and Jewish biblical interpretations.
83
Pentiuc 2014, 170–176, esp. 171.
84
Pentiuc 2014, 171; Kugel, 1998, 14–19; see the discussion of these four assumptions in the earlier
section on John Behr.
85 Pentiuc 2014, 175.
86 E.g., Breck 1986, 2001; Stylianopoulos 1997; McGuckin 2008, 106–110; see the useful summary of
man was not a distant ideal or a literary topos . . . but a reality.”92 When he began his aca-
demic post at Marquette in 1989, Golitzin watered the mystical seeds that had been planted
by Elder Aimilianos when some of his colleagues, including Michel Barnes, introduced him
to the work of Alan Segal and others who worked on Jewish apocalypticism and mysticism.93
In the recent Festschrift for Golitzin, its editor Andrei Orlov assessed the scholar’s aca-
demic standing in the mid-1990s within the fields of Jewish and Christian mysticism: Golitzin
was virtually the only Orthodox scholar who consistently advocated for the significance of
Jewish apocalypticism and mysticism “for understanding the conceptual roots of Orthodox
theology and liturgy.”94 According to Orlov, Golitzin’s work particularly impacted four areas
of research: Jewish and Christian apocalypticism and mysticism, the study of theophany
and transformation, Jewish Temple and Christian liturgy, and Pseudo-Dionysios.
Golitzin persistently tried to show that “Eastern Christian asceticism and monasticism . . .
arose out of an original matrix in the pre-Christian era of Second Temple Judaism.”95 In his
updated study of Pseudo-Dionysios,96 for example, Golitzin traced the history of tradition from
Dionysios back to Jewish apocalyptic literature by way of the fourth-century Syrian ascetical
literature. He believed that many of the mystical motifs that figure prominently in Pseudo-
Dionysios had their origins in the Jewish-Christian villages in Aramaic-speaking Palestine,
who themselves carried and transmitted Jewish apocalyptic traditions.97 Of the Syrian ascetical
writers, Aphrahat was a primary exemplar; Golitzin recognized in the thought of Aphrahat
many striking similarities with that of Pseudo-Dionysios, most notably in the metaphor of
“the Christian as the temple of God” and “internalizing the ascent traditions of the apocalypses
and (perhaps) contemporary hekhalot literature in the portrait he offers of the transfigured
Christian sage who has become himself the locus gloriae and site of the heavenly liturgy.”98
Sadly, Golitzin’s advocacy for the continuities of traditions was not widely accepted by other
Orthodox scholars; indeed, Golitzin himself lamented the failure of Orthodox scholarship to
pay attention to the “patrimony of biblical and post biblical Israel.”99 Nevertheless, his former
students and present colleagues at Marquette have taken up his mantle, vigorously publishing
in this niche of Jewish apocalyptic and early Christian theology and monasticism.100
Golitzin offered this conclusion in his address to a conference titled “Apocalyptic Thought
in Early Christianity” at Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology:
I like to think of the late Second Temple era as a kind of supersaturated solution in which
the ideas associated with the apocalypses played a considerable role. The Gospel of the Risen
92
Golitzin 1994, 9; quoted by Orlov 2020, 1.
93
Orlov 2020, 2.
94 Orlov 2020, 3.
95 Golitzin 2009, xxi.
96 Golitzin 2014, with the editorial and collaborative support of his former student Bogdan Bucur.
97 Golitzin with Bucur 2014, 55. See the similar conclusions about Jewish oral traditions in Ephem’s
Orthodox Theological Seminary and continues to work in the area of Jewish apocalyptic literature and
eastern Orthodoxy; see Bucur 2007, 2011. Andrei Orlov holds the Kelly Chair in Theology at Marquette
University as the Professor of Judaism and Christianity in Antiquity.
Eastern Orthodox Views on Ancient Jewish Biblical 477
Jesus provided a catalyst, and what crystallized out as a result—was Christianity substantially
as we have it today. . . . In the ancient (Jewish) apocalypses we meet our grandfathers. . . . And
if we read both fathers and grandfathers, we can begin to discern the connections and maybe
even something of the tradition itself. This is, perhaps, what the little monks knew who con-
tinued to copy those documents, even in the face of thundering denunciations from the likes
of no less than St. Athanasius of Alexandria.101
The work of comparative biblical hermeneutics reveals that Patristic patterns of exegesis
are parallel, in many ways, to both Second Temple and Rabbinic Jewish biblical methods;
additionally, they share many theologoumena about Scripture. Orthodox biblical scholars
may benefit by comparing Jewish exegetical methods, which offer a wide array of inter-
pretive moves, including those that stray from the so-called plain meaning of the text.
These methods of exegesis are richly demonstrated both by patristic and ancient Jewish
methods of reading biblical texts. Shown in this wider, comparative context, strictly his-
torical methods of interpreting the biblical text can be viewed as one of several important
approaches of interpretation, rather than the only one. This essay has presented some of
the parallels between patristic and Jewish hermeneutics, as well as some of the historical
contexts and encounters by which continuities of tradition have been sustained. There are
many reasons for Orthodox biblical scholars to include Jewish sources in their research,
and in their writing on Orthodox biblical hermeneutics. Through a comparative dialogue
between Jewish and Patristic biblical hermeneutics, Orthodox scholars and their students
may see their own Tradition reflected more vividly in the mirror of their common ancestral
heritage with Judaism.102
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Chapter 30
An ti-Jewish Se nt i me nts
in Litu rgi c a l a nd
Patristic Bi bl i c a l
Interpretat i ons
Bogdan G. Bucur
Vituperations against “the Jews” in the writings of the New Testament offer an ex-
ample of inner-Jewish rhetoric that builds on and continues a venerable tradition in
prophetic literature (e.g., Amos 2:9–12; Mic 6:1–5; cf. also Neh 9:26), in a historical con-
text in which polemics is omnipresent and rhetorical excess unremarkable (Harvey,
1962; Harvey, 1967; Murray, 1977, p. 129; Brocke, 1977). The varied religious landscape
of Second Temple Judaism is characterized by the production of texts that articulate
group identity by denying the legitimacy of competing groups, practices, and paradig-
matic characters, locations, and events. One can think of the Qumran community’s
railing against the polluted Jerusalem temple and its illegitimate priesthood (Goranson,
1998–1999); the polemics between Enoch traditions and Moses traditions (Orlov, 2005);
the polemics between solar and lunar calendars, Zadokite and Hasmonite priesthood
(Elior, 2005); the differences and animosity between Pharisees and Sadducees, and the
Christian and Rabbinic pronouncements against both (Evans, 1990); the foundational
role of Jewish–Christian polemics for the articulation of early Christian and early Jewish
identity (Boyarin, 2004; Jaffé, 2005; Yuval, 2006); the telling coincidence between the rise
of Christological monotheism and Christian sympathy for texts and authors with a sim-
ilar binitarian orientation (e.g., Philo’s language of Logos as “second God”; the memrā-
theology of the Targums; the character of Lady Wisdom in Proverbs, Sirach, and Wisdom
of Solomon) and the rejection, by the emerging rabbinic movement, of any exegesis or
religious practice that risks affirming “two powers in heaven” (Segal, 1977; Hurtado, 2015
[1988]; Boyarin, 2004).
Anti-Jewish Sentiments in Liturgical and Patristic Biblical 485
References, almost always negative, to Jews and Judaism abound in early Christian and later
Byzantine literature. They often have little intersection with the flesh-and-blood reality of
contemporary Jewish biblical exegesis or community life, constituting, rather, a topos of
intra-Christian rhetoric aimed at placing certain ideas as practices outside the realm of
acceptability by assimilating them to the already existing “other” of Judaism. Thus, even
though Origen conducted his research and writing with an eye to contemporary Jewish
scholars (see, e.g., Kimmelman, 1980, and Halperin, 1981, on the cross-fertilization between
Christian and Jewish exegesis of the Song of Songs), his description of a tripartite exe-
getical landscape—Jews, dualistic heretics, and the simpliciores (PA 4.2.1)—is a rhetorical
setup enshrining his own hermeneutical theory as the only spiritually authoritative one.
Literal readings of Scripture and the refusal to embrace the allegorical deciphering of Old
Testament cultic realities are labeled “Jewish” in order to persuade the (Christian) reader of
the opposite: Christians ought to flee “the mythologies of the Jews” and embrace “the mys-
tical contemplation of the Law and the prophets” to (CCels 2.6). The same logic applies, at
a doctrinal level, to Tertullian’s calling the theological views of his Monarchian opponents
“Jewish” (Prax 12) and finding that their notion of a divine monad “bears a likeness to the
Jewish faith” (Prax 31), even as he also accuses Marcion of “borrowing poison from the Jews”
(Marc 1.8). Similarly, Athanasius can describe both subordinationist and modalist views as
“Jewish,” even though they are antagonistic to each other. Thus, Marcellus and Photinus
are said to, “equally with the Jews, negate Christ’s existence before ages, and His Godhead,
and unending Kingdom, upon pretense of supporting the divine Monarchy” (Ekthesis
Makrostichos, Anathemas 5 and 6 [=Athanasius, Syn. 26.V–V.1]), while Marcellus’s adver-
sary, Asterius, is said to write “in imitation of the Jews” (CA 3.23.2). In fact, for Athanasius,
the Arian slogan, “there was a time when He was not,” denies the preexistence of Christ and
is, therefore, “no sentiment of the Church but of the Samosatene and of the present Jews”
486 Bogdan G. Bucur
(Athanasius, CA 38). The same observation—using “the Jews” as a rhetorical device to help
delineate orthodox doctrine and practice within Christian communities—has been made
about Ephrem of Nisibis (Cassingena-Trévedy, 2006, pp. 20–21; Shepardson, 2008).
Certainly, early Christian Scripture exegesis is often involved in polemics against real
Jewish scholars and community leaders. The ongoing attraction that many Christians had
for Jewish liturgical practices, rooted as these were in the exegesis of the Hebrew Bible and
surrounded by an aura of mystery, is one important context of such polemical exegesis. In
his homilies on Leviticus, for instance, Origen thinks it imperative “to say something to
those who think that in virtue of the commandment of the Law they must also practice the
fast of the Jews” (Hom. Lev. 10.2). It is also in an effort of “curing” the Christian “body” of
Antioch of the “disease” of Judaism that John Chrysostom warns about the synagogue and
the very souls of the Jews being “a lodging place for demons” (1.3.1–2; 1.4.2; on the metaphor
of “disease” in the Discourses against Judaizing Christians, see Lanfranchi, 2019). The object
of the preacher’s vituperations is, most concretely, the Jewish community in Antioch and
its liturgical observances: “What is this disease? The festivals of the pitiful and miserable
Jews are soon to march upon us one after the other and in quick succession: the feast of
Trumpets, the feast of Tabernacles, the fasts . . . some are going to watch the festivals, and
others will join the Jews in keeping their feasts and observing their fasts . . . now that the
Jewish festivals are close by and at the very door, if I should fail to cure those who are sick
with the Judaizing disease I am afraid that . . . some Christians may partake of the Jews’
trangression” (1.1.5). It has even been hypothesized that the feast of mid-Pentecost, where
anti-Jewish sentiments are expressed in a number of Matins hymns (e.g., “the senselessness
of the lawless Hebrews,” “the grievous and faithless Jews,” “the disobedient Jews,” “slayers
of Christ and slayers of the Prophets”), may have developed as a means of countering the
attraction of the Jewish Lag B’Omer (Pulcini, 2020).
Sometimes anti-Jewish rhetoric flourishes at the intersection of biblical exegesis, ascetical
practices, and claims to visionary experiences. Among the various critiques of Judaism
present in many of his Demonstrations, Aphrahat is perhaps most personally invested in
defending, against Jewish teachers, the way in which Christian ascetics used the biblical
character of Moses and the Sinai theophanies to justify their sexual renunciation (Koltun-
Fromm, 1996, 2000, and 2011). Jacob of Serug’s homily “On that Chariot that Ezekiel the
Prophet Saw” contains a fascinating polemical section in which scholarship has discerned
“allusions to the traditions attaching to the mystical vision of the body of God in rabbinic
circles, the shi’ur qomah, or ‘measurement of the stature (of the divine body),’ texts which
are associated with the merkavah literature” (Golitzin, 2003, p. 196); moreover, Jacob “is to
some extent in actual conversation with contemporary Jews,” even making “a direct appeal
to, as it were, the ‘Jew in the street’ over the heads of the latter’s rabbinic teachers” (Golitzin,
2003, p. 197).
Evidently, rhetorical constructs and social realities are not hermetically sealed categories,
and Adversus Iudaeos writings from the second century to the sixth (see Stroumsa, 1996;
Morlet, 2013) constantly meander between real and literary Jews and Judaism. Chrysostom’s
Λόγοι κατὰ Ιουδαίων may have addressed a Christian audience about other Christians
“held in Judaism” (1.8.4) and ailing from the “Judaizing disease”; they may also occasionally
target Eunomians, as when Chrysostom states that “the Jews and the Anomoeans make
the same accusation . . . that He called God His own Father and so made Himself equal to
God” (1.1.6). It is nonetheless true that, even if negative references against a rhetorically
Anti-Jewish Sentiments in Liturgical and Patristic Biblical 487
After these general observations, it is proper to engage in a more focused discussion of the
intersection between early Christian biblical exegesis and the emergence of an anti-Jewish
animus. Within the broad field of patristic biblical interpretation, Christophanic exegesis of
the Hebrew Bible offers a particularly useful entry-point. This term designates the straight-
forward identification of the “Lord” references in texts such as Genesis 18, 28, 32; Isaiah 6;
Ezekiel 1; Daniel 7; or Habakkuk 3:2 (LXX), with the “Lord Jesus” of Christian worship—a
crucial element in early Christianity’s effort at self-definition, which also entailed sometime
strident anti-Jewish polemics (Bucur, 2018).
Christophanic exegesis contributed significantly to Justin Martyr’s articulation of the
Christian faith in opposition to contemporary Judaism. It figured significantly in catechetical
manuals such as Irenaeus’s Demonstration, and was not absent from Clement of Alexandria’s
Pedagogue. It was part of the antidualistic arsenal deployed by Irenaeus and Tertullian; it was
the crucial argument used by Tertullian and Hippolytus against Monarchians, and later by
Eusebius against Marcellus, and by Homoians against the “modalistic” theology of Photinus.
The exegesis of theophanic texts was, by the end of the first millennium, inextricably linked
to Christianity as performed and experienced in liturgy, irresistibly commanding the gaze
of the iconographer, the ready pen of the hymnographer, and the amazing tales of the hag-
iographer (Bucur, 2018). The Christological interpretation of theophanies also finds visual
expression in numerous icons and manuscript illuminations (Boespflug, 2012; Bucur, 2018).
An alternative view, advocated by Augustine of Hippo—that theophanies were created
manifestations of the divine nature—was gradually adopted as normative in western
Christianity (Studer, 1971; Barnes, 1999; Bucur, 2008; Kloos, 2011) but emphatically rejected
in the course of the Hesychastic controversy in fourteenth-century Byzantium (Romanides,
1960–1961, 1963–1964; Bucur, 2008b). In short, then, “Christophanic exegesis” lies at the
very heart of the Christian exegetical tradition.
To better understand the extent, causes, and context for anti-Jewish sentiments in li-
turgical and patristic biblical interpretations, the pages to follow will consider three early
patristic writers—Justin of Neapolis, Melito of Sardis and Eusebius of Caesarea—and some
examples of Byzantine festal hymnography. The choice of Justin Martyr is quite natural
given that his extensive deployment of the argument from theophanies, which later authors
488 Bogdan G. Bucur
have reprised in similar ways, is coextensive with his attempt to define Christianity in con-
tradistinction to Judaism, and that the exegetical parting of the ways between the Church
and the Synagogue, dramatized in his Dialogue with Trypho and echoed in the Apology,
is highly instructive about the acrimonious sentiments that colored the debate. Melito of
Sardis’s Peri Pascha is important because its Christological interpretation of theophanies
is inextricably linked to anti-Jewish polemics and because of its influence on later hym-
nography. Transitioning into the new, imperial and conciliar, context of Christian exegesis,
theology, and social life, Eusebius of Caesarea offers both “the longest, most elaborate, and
certainly richest reflection that any pre-Nicene author had ever consecrated to the question
of ancient theophanies” (Morlet, 2009, p. 441) and a peculiar exaltation of the “Hebrew”
patriarchs over against Moses and “the nation of the Jews.” As for the Byzantine festal
hymns, their relevance for the discussion resides primarily in their providing a synthesis
of previous patristic thought and in its liturgical usage: Once a certain type of biblical ex-
egesis was injected into the “lifeblood” of Church worship, its influence is amplified and
intensified across temporal, cultural, and linguistic borders, to an extent unrivaled by other
patristic voices (Bucur, 2017, p. 55).
Justin Martyr
Justin of Neapolis is an obvious choice for an examination of early Christian exegesis of
biblical theophanies. The exegetical confrontation between Christianity and Judaism,
dramatized in Justin Martyr’s Dialogue, comprises a substantial discussion of Old
Testament theophanies and their interpretation. Large portions of the Dialogue with Trypho
and even some sections of the Apology are dedicated to proving that all theophanies were
manifestations of the Word-who-was-to-become-man. Indeed, many notable scholars even
credit Justin with the invention of the argument from theophanies (Skarsaune, 1987, pp. 208,
211–212; Kominiak, 1948, p. 4; Trakatellis, 1976, pp. 59, 85).
Justin offers a consistent reading of all biblical theophanies as manifestations of the Logos
to the patriarchs and prophets of Israel, as well as to Heraclitus, Socrates, and Plato, prior to
same Logos’s incarnation, death, resurrection, and worship by Christians (1 Apol. 46.2–3).
This interpretation of theophanies provides solutions—actually, the same Christological so-
lution, consistently—to biblical texts characterized by certain levels of ambiguity. Its main
value, however, is that it produces a coherent narrative leading from Genesis to Jesus, a
Christologically rewritten Bible in which Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, as well as Moses and
the prophets are “men of Christ” (Apol. 63.17), and in which the readers are invited to in-
scribe themselves by following Justin’s own example.
Filtered through a Christian doctrinal prism, the Jewish interpretation of theophanies
appears to identify the subject of such visions and revelations with the Father, “the
unnamable God” (Dial. 56.9; 1 Apol. 63.1, 11, 14). Justin declares this view philosophically
untenable (because it compromises the transcendence of the supreme divinity) and ridic-
ulous for anyone “who has but the smallest intelligence” (Dial. 60.2; cf. Dial. 127.1–3). The
Jewish view articulated by Trypho is nevertheless more complex, as it can accommodate,
up to a point, Justin’s arguments for a binitarian exegesis of theophanies (Dial. 56.12, 16;
Dial. 57.4), in a manner that would warrant comparison with Philo, Wisdom of Solomon, or
the Targums. Trypho holds, for instance, that “the God who communed with Moses from
Anti-Jewish Sentiments in Liturgical and Patristic Biblical 489
the bush was not the Maker of all things, but He who has been shown to have manifested
Himself to Abraham and to Isaac and to Jacob; who also is called and is perceived to be
the Angel of God the Maker of all things, because He publishes to men the commands of
the Father and Maker of all things” (Dial. 60.3). Although, for Trypho the agent “is called
and perceived to be an angel of God and Creator of God” (Dial. 60.3), while for Justin he “is
called an angel, and is God” (Dial. 60.4), the dialogue partners are in basic agreement on a
binitarian monotheistic view. In the words of Boyarin (2004, p. 125), “the Logos Asarkos is
kosher for Jewish worship but not the Logos Ensarkos. . . . Christianity and Judaism distin-
guished themselves in antiquity not via the doctrine of God . . . the ascription of the actual
physical death and resurrection to the Logos was the point at which non-Christian Jews
would have begun to part company theologically.”
Inasmuch as Justin’s “argument from theophanies” produced a Christological reinter-
pretation of the object and manner of divine worship, it also, more than the “proof from
prophecy,” laid the seeds of an ideological and social rift between those who advocated
and those who rejected this exegetical avenue, a rift greater than the one separating, for
instance, the sectarians at Qumran and the religious establishment around the Jerusalem
Temple. As a matter of fact, the Dialogue is a valuable source of information about the shift
from ideological separation to social segregation and the emergence and self-identification
of two distinct religious bodies that develop analogous but distinct and opposite versions of
the theological vocabulary and imagery inherited from the common matrix.
From Trypho’s Jewish perspective, the Christological exegesis of Scripture and the
Christological worship of God are aspects of the same blasphemy that introduces social
separation between those who embrace and those who reject it. Thus, when Justin presents
Trypho with the notion that “[t]his crucified man was with Moses and Aaron, and spoke
with them in the pillar of the cloud . . . became man, was crucified, and ascended into
heaven, and will return again to this earth; and . . . should be worshipped” (Dial. 38.1),
Trypho reacts by accusing him of blasphemy (Dial. 38.1; cf. 37.3, 64.4); conversely, Justin
finds the refusal of such a reading blasphemous (1 Apol. 31.5–7). Indeed, Trypho states that
his teachers had already been warning the Jewish community against holding conversa-
tion with Christian teachers whose sole aim in deploying their biblical interpretations was
to ensnare Jews into worshiping Jesus (Dial. 38.1). Although not yet authoritative (after
all, Trypho does not heed his teachers’ advice to shun all company and discussion with
Christians—he even speaks [Dial. 10.2] of having read “the Gospel”), the voice of these
διδάσκαλοι and ἄρχοντες τοῦ λαοῦ can be clearly discerned in the Dialogue: It is radical
in rejecting two-power theologies, prohibiting any discussion on such topics of minuth,
and seeking to minimize social interaction with the minim. Justin, for his part, offers the
Christian perception of the same: the Jewish “teachers” and “leaders of the people” (Dial.
73.5) are not to be trusted because they reject the Septuagint (Dial. 71.1) and “mutilate” some
of the scriptural passages (Dial. 72–73); overall, Trypho should obey God rather than these
“stupid, blind teachers” (Dial. 134.1).
The older scholarly view, according to which the consistently Christological interpreta-
tion of texts such as Genesis 18–19, Exodus 3, Isaiah 6, Ezekiel 1, etc—i.e., “the argument
from theophanies”—was Justin Martyr’s invention, is no longer tenable today, largely be-
cause, in the last two decades of the twentieth century and the first two of the twenty-
first, a growing segment of scholarship on Christian Origins has traced this second-century
“YHWH Christology” or “Christology of Divine Identity” back to the writings of the
490 Bogdan G. Bucur
New Testament (Fossum, 1987; Hurtado, 2015 [1988]; 2003; Newman, Davila, and Lewis,
1999; Gieschen, 1998, 2004; Bauckham, 2008; Capes, 1992; Binni and Boschi, 2004; S. J.
Gathercole, 2006; McDonough, 2009; Tilling, 2012; Kaiser, 2014). Nevertheless, even if he
“did not originate the basic idea that the preincarnate Jesus could be found active in certain
Old Testament passages” and “reflects an approach to the Old Testament that had been a
feature of devotion to Jesus during the first decades of the Christian movement” (Hurtado,
2003, p. 577), one of Justin’s achievements is the extensive and insistent recourse to the
inherited tradition of Christophanic exegesis in the context of the Christian-Jewish debate.
Melito of Sardis
One generation after Justin, around the third quarter of the second century, the rhythmic
prose of a sermon On Pascha ascribed to Melito of Sardis gives voice to strident anti-Jewish
sentiments:
72 It is He that has been murdered. And where has He been murdered? In the middle of
Jerusalem. By whom? By Israel. Why? Because He healed their lame and cleansed their lepers
and brought light to their blind and raised their dead; that is why He died. . . . 90 in recom-
pense for that you [scil. Israel] had to die. . . . 96. He who hung the earth is hanging; He who
fixed the heavens in place has been fixed in place; He who laid the foundations of the uni-
verse has been laid on a tree. The Master has been profaned, God has been murdered. The
King of Israel has been destroyed by an Israelite right hand. 97 O unprecedented murder!
Unprecedented crime! . . . 99 Therefore, O Israel, you did not quake in the presence of the
Lord, so you quaked at the assault of foes. . . . You forsook the Lord, so you were not found by
Him; you did not accept the Lord, so you were not pitied by Him; you dashed down the Lord,
so you were dashed to the ground. 100 And you lie dead, but He has risen from the dead and
gone up to the heights of heaven.
It is not surprising that a scholar labeled the author of this text as “the first poet of deicide”
(Werner, 1966). His juxtaposing biblical Israel and the Church as “type” and “fulfillment”
also effectively seems to undermine the enduring relevance of the Old Testament and to
completely wipe out any theological justification for the continuing existence of Judaism
after the advent of Christ:
36 A preliminary sketch is made of a future thing out of wax or of clay or of wood. . . . 37 But
when that of which it is the model arises, that which once bore the image of the future thing
is itself destroyed as growing useless having yielded to what is truly real the image of it; and
what once was precious becomes worthless when what is truly precious has been revealed. . . .
43 In the same way as the model is made void, conceding the image to the truly real, and the
parable is fulfilled, being elucidated by the interpretation, just so also the law was fulfilled
when the Gospel was elucidated, and the people was made void when the Church arose; and
the model was abolished when the Lord was revealed, and today, things once precious have
become worthless, since things truly precious have been revealed. 44 Once, the slaying of the
sheep was precious, but it is worthless now because of the life of the Lord; the death of the
sheep was precious, but it is worthless now because of the salvation of the Lord; the blood of
the sheep was precious, but it is worthless now because of the Spirit of the Lord; a speechless
lamb was precious, but it is worthless now because of the spotless Son; the temple below was
precious, but it is worthless now because of the Christ above.
Anti-Jewish Sentiments in Liturgical and Patristic Biblical 491
It is not surprising that many scholars have concluded that “Melito’s basic understanding of
the typological nature of the Old Testament drives him to supersessionist claims” (Knapp,
2000, p. 371), or even that “Melito’s supersessionist tendencies forced him to develop ty-
pological hermeneutics” (Wilson, 1985, p. 348). A more attentive reading of the text, how-
ever, will show that Peri Pascha’s admittedly inflammatory language is primarily driven
by Christology, not polemics; that its biblical exegesis is more complex than is usually ac-
knowledged; and that seeing Peri Pascha as a Christian polemical response to, or parody of,
the Passover Haggada (Werner, 1966; Flusser, 1977; Hall, 1971) is no longer possible. Let us
consider these points in inverse order.
Although older scholarship debated whether the liturgical script for the Passover seder—
the Passover Haggadah—should be viewed as a product of Second Temple Judaism or as a
post–AD 70 composition (Finkelstein, 1938; Zeitlin, 1948), the scholarly consensus today
is that we are dealing with the product of a centuries-long evolution that began after AD
70 and stretched well into the second half of the millennium (Kulp, 2005; Leonhard, 2005,
2005b). Indeed,
[n]early all scholars agree that most of the elements known from the seder as described in
the Mishnah are missing from descriptions in Second Temple literature, including Jubilees,
Josephus, Philo, the Gospels, and the sections of the Mishnah and the Tosefta which deal with
the Passover as offered in the Temple (m. Pesahim 5–9). This includes the absence of a seder or
a haggadah” (112); “Some of the most famous elements of the current seder—recitations such
as the dayyenu [‘it is enough for us’; Glatzer 1989: 52–57] and the ha lachma anya [‘this is the
bread of affliction’; Glatzer 1989: 24–25)—were not part of the evening’s ritual until the post-
Talmudic period” (111); “In all likelihood, many of the elements of the midrash as it appears
in geonic Haggadot . . . first emerged in Babylonia in the talmudic and even geonic periods.
(Kulp, 2005, p. 122)
Since the Haggadah can no longer be presumed to be pre-Christian, it is rather more cred-
ible to entertain the possibility that the Passover Haggadah was constructed in direct and
deliberate opposition to Christian teachings and practices (Yuval, 2006, pp. 87, 73–75, 81)—
though one must take into account the dating of the various elements and layers in the
Haggadah, and consider that the religious polemics discerned in Rabbinic texts does not
always and necessarily carry over into the later Haggadah, which remains only marginally
polemical. According to Leonhard (2005, p. 43n.86), “traces of interreligious conflicts that
are found in the Haggada are either reflections of medieval encounters or the consequence
of quotations of rabbinic texts (that may reflect Jewish opposition against Christianity in
late Antiquity) within the Haggada.”
The biblical exegesis in Peri Pascha is multilayered. There is, first, Melito’s fundamental
conviction about scriptural correspondences between pattern and its reproduction: “if you
wish to see the mystery of the Lord, look at Abel who is similarly murdered, at Isaac who
is similarly bound, at Joseph who is similarly sold, at Moses who is similarly exposed, at
Daνid who is similarly persecuted, at the prophets who similarly suffer for the sake of
Christ” (PP, 59); [Christ] “struck down lawlessness and made injustice childless, as Moses
did to Egypt” (PP, 68).
A second interpretative move is to hold that the type “yields up the image to what
is truly real” (PP, 37) or “gives up meaning to the truth” (PP, 42), but also to posit the
presence of Christ “in” the very same biblical characters noted above, who constitute types
492 Bogdan G. Bucur
of Christ: “This is the one who in many people endured many things. This is the one who
was murdered in Abel, tied up in Isaac, exiled in Jacob, sold in Joseph, exposed in Moses,
slaughtered in the lamb, hunted down in David, dishonored in the prophets” (PP, 69). What
is meant here is that, with the advent of Christ (who “comes from heaven onto the earth
for the suffering one, and wraps himself in the suffering one through a virgin womb” (PP,
66; cf. PP, 46), the types are revealed to always have been contained in the multifaceted
Christ-mystery (PP, 65), which is not a historical occurrence but “both new and old” (PP,
58, reprising #2). “Only there”—i.e., in Christ—“can you see the type, and the material, and
the reality” (PP, 38). The reason Christ can be perceived through the type/sketch/parable
(PP, 35), or model (PP, 36) is that He is already in the sheep (PP, 33) as in all the patriarchs,
prophetic utterances, and rituals of the Old Testament.
How exactly Melito understands this presence of Christ in the Old Testament becomes
clear in PP, 81–85, 88, and 95–96, where the God who guided Israel in a pillar of fire, fed
his people manna from heaven and water from the rock, and gave the Law on Horeb, is ex-
plicitly identified with the Son, the firstborn of God, the Crucified One—Jesus. While it is
certainly true that “Melito graphically retells the story according to rhetorical conventions,
allusion and quotation ‘mimicking’ the scriptural narrative by creatively reminting it”
(Young, 1997, p. 194), and that he offers a prime example for the typological exegesis (Knapp,
2000), the commanding idea seems to be the identification of Christ as the Lord God of all
Old Testament narratives.
When the anti-Jewish rhetoric of the Peri Pascha is considered in the light of his YHWH
Christology, it becomes clear that the polemical element is subservient to Christological
proclamation and to the mystagogical objective of raising a Christian audience to the aware-
ness of the lofty YHWH-identity of the Crucified One. It is also noteworthy that Melito
uses “Israel” throughout, not “Jews.” This might suggest that the object of his criticism is a
rhetorical reconstruction of biblical Israel (implicitly staging the voice of Peri Pascha as a
continuation of the prophetic reproaches). Since Peri Pascha revolves explicitly around the
theme of recognition—recognizing who Adam, “the suffering one,” is (PP, 46; PP, 100) and
recognizing who it is that clothes himself with the suffering one (PP, 66 and 95)—and since
these questions are posed in a liturgical setting, it is evident that this recognition is expected
from Melito’s Christian audience. Highlighting Israel’s failure to recognize its Lord (PP,
82: “You did not perceive the Lord, Israel, you did not recognize the first-born of God”) is
ultimately a rhetorical tool in the service of Melito’s exhortation to his “insider” audience.
In conclusion, it appears that Melito’s interpretation of the Scriptures of Israel is deter-
mined primarily by a mystagogical and kerygmatic intention; the anti-Jewish sentiments,
undoubted present in Peri Pascha, neither derive from exegesis nor do they determine it.
Eusebius of Caesarea
Already an established thinker before Constantine, “still a stranger to preoccupations
that would only emerge after the council of Nicaea,” Eusebius “offers in the Proof of the
Gospel and, earlier, in the Prophetic Eclogues, the longest, most elaborate, and certainly
richest reflection of any pre-Nicene author had ever consecrated to the question of ancient
theophanies” (Morlet, 2009, pp. 441). Like his predecessors, Eusebius finds in theophanies
the doctrinal foundation for the qualified reception of wisdom traditions outside of Israel;
Anti-Jewish Sentiments in Liturgical and Patristic Biblical 493
like Justin Martyr he calls the Logos “second God” (Eclogues 1.12; Dem. Ev. 5.30), identifies
the Logos with the Tetragrammaton (Eclogues 1.10–12), and understands theophanies
as manifestations of the Logos “concerning himself with the work of mankind’s salva-
tion even before the Incarnation” (Eclogues 1.10). He emphatically rejects the interpreta-
tion of theophanies as mere angelic apparitions, and instead ascribes them to one and the
same agent: God’s Logos (Hist. eccl. 1.2; Dem. ev. 5.9; Eccl. Theol. 2.21; Comm. Esa. 1.41).
This Christologically reinterpreted biblical narrative naturally features the patriarchs and
prophets as “men of Christ,” to echo Justin’s formula, of whom the Church is the rightful
heir: “If then the teaching of Christ has bidden all nations now to worship no other God but
Him whom the men of old and the pre-Mosaic saints believed in, we are clearly partakers
of the religion of these men of old time. And if we partake of their religion we shall surely
share their blessing. Yes, and equally with us they knew and bore witness to the Word of
God, Whom we love to call Christ. They were thought worthy in very remarkable ways of
beholding His actual presence and theophany” (Dem. ev. 1.5).
But Eusebius also introduces a new anti-Jewish element (Bucur, 2018b; Kofsky, 1996,
pp. 59–83; Ulrich, 1998, pp. 57–109; Johnson, 2004). He distinguishes between the spirit-
ually advanced “Hebrew” patriarchs (Noah, Enoch, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Job), on the
one hand, and the “nation of the Jews,” whose spiritual infirmity in Egypt required the
Mosaic Law as “a constitution adapted to their (low) moral condition” (Prep. Ev. 7.8.37–41;
Dem. ev. 1.6.13–17). He goes so far as to not allow “the covenant of the pre-Mosaic Saints
to be called ‘the old covenant,’ but that which was given to the Jews by the Law of Moses”
(Dem. ev. 1.6). Moreover, in an exegetical move prominent in the Prophetic Eclogues and the
Demonstration of the Gospel, which he seems to have abandoned by the time of the Church
History, Eusebius places Moses in the same category as the people of Israel—as spiritually
inferior to the patriarchs. “Do not be amazed,” he tells his readers, “that God manifested
himself to Moses and to the people in the very same way” (Extracts 12 [PG 22:1064 A,
B]). He states emphatically that “throughout all of Scripture God is not even once said to
have appeared to Moses” as he had appeared to the patriarchs (Eclogues 9, 12 [PG 22:1052A;
1061A]). Indeed, as Eusebius explains (Eclogues 9 [PG 22:1053 C]), even though it was the
same Logos that appeared to the patriarchs, to Moses, and to the people, the mode of the
apparition differs: to Moses and the people, who were more “material,” the presence of the
Logos was mediated by angel, pillar, cloud, and voice, whereas to the patriarchs, who did
not need all of these veils, he appears himself and in a more direct manner, “simply,” “na-
kedly,” and “clearly” (Eclogues 1.9 [PG 22:1049D; 1052 B]; 1.10 [PG 22:1053 C]; Eclogues 1.12
[PG 22:1061B]).
The meticulous “demotion” of Moses by means of Scripture exegesis, and the reference to
the views of unnamed other interpreters (Eclogues 1.12, PG 22:1061 A) suggests that Eusebius
is attempting to counter an established Jewish tradition which affirmed Moses’s spiritual
excellence as a tenet of faith to be upheld by reference to passages such as Exodus 3, 6, 19,
33–4, and Numbers 12. It has been suggested that Eusebius might have intended to under-
mine the kind of “exalted Moses” traditions that scholars of Second Temple Judaism iden-
tify in writings such as the Exagoge of Moses, Philo’s Life of Moses, or the Liber Antiquitatum
Biblicarum (Bucur, 2018b). We would have, in other words, a faint echo (and reuse) of
earlier intra-Jewish polemics opposing the exalted patriarchs of the “Enochic” tradition
(Melchizedek, Noah, and Enoch) to the exalted Moses (Orlov, 2005, pp. 254–303; Orlov,
2008; Hurtado, 2015 [1988], pp. 53–72).
494 Bogdan G. Bucur
It is obvious that the disjunction between the spiritually advanced “Hebrew” patriarchs
and the spiritually inferior “nation of the Jews”—regardless of whether Moses is counted
among the latter, as in the Demonstration and the Eclogues—is designed to establish the
notion of a spiritual continuum between the “Hebrews” and the multi-ethnic Church. Both,
in fact, are described as “a religion” (θεοσέβεια) “neither new nor original” but “of great
antiquity” (Dem. ev. 1.2), both are defined by their relation to the preexistent Word of God
which became human in the latter days. Eusebius’s Jewish contemporaries are implicitly
consigned to spiritual blindness, not only by comparison to the Church, but even to Moses
and the “Jews” who benefitted from a diminished and veiled perception of the Word.
That “in the official liturgical books used in several Byzantine rites today we still meet with
a drastic and extensive anti-Jewish polemic that also several times degenerates into torrents
of abuse” (Groen, 2008, p. 370) is well established. It is equally clear that for a strand of the
texts, the “we” in the hymns is identified crassly with the Gentiles, thereby eliminating the
oft-suggested reading of anti-Jewish criticism as directed toward the Christian worshipers
(Kratzert, 1994, pp. 161–182). Some statistics are also available, at least for the hymns of the
Triodion: Ioniță (2021) sets the number of “problematic” hymns at around 150 out of a total of
5,000. The case for eliminating or editing such compositions is fairly clear (Papademetriou
1976; Hackel, 1998; Theokritoff, 2003; Groen, 2008; Pentiuc, 2014, p. 40; Azar, 2015; Bucur,
2017), and to some extent these situations are being addressed by some of the local Orthodox
Churches, albeit imperfectly—arbitrarily, unevenly, and without the benefit of a Church-
wide consultation. Since many of these kinds of gratuitous invectives, “to say the least, con-
tribute nothing to our theological understanding” (Theokritoff, 2003, pp. 26, 42), they are
not relevant to a discussion of biblical exegesis in Byzantine hymnography.
There are, of course, Byzantine hymns whose anti-Jewish rhetoric is quite strident but not
theologically vacuous. Many of them occur on Great and Holy Friday:
O My people, what have I done to you, and how have you repaid Me? Instead of manna, you
have given me gall, instead of water, vinegar. (Holy Friday: Antiphon 12)
Today the Jews nailed to the Cross the Lord who divided the sea with a rod and led them
through the wilderness. Today they pierced with a lance the side of Him who for their sake
smote Egypt with plagues. They gave Him gall to drink, who rained down manna on them
for food. (Holy Friday: Antiphon 6)
With Moses’ rod You have led them on dry ground through the Red Sea, yet they nailed You
to the Cross; You have suckled them with honey from the rock, yet they gave You gall. (Royal
Hours of Holy Friday: Troparion of the Third Hour)
Be not be deceived, O Jews: for this is He who saved you in the sea and fed you in the wilder-
ness. (Holy Friday: Antiphon 12)
These texts are Improperia-type hymns—they belong, in other words, to the liturgical tra-
dition that found expression in the Improperia (“Reproaches”) of the Roman Holy Friday
service (Auf der Maur, 1967, p. 134n.380). Their content can be traced to older Greek, Syriac,
Anti-Jewish Sentiments in Liturgical and Patristic Biblical 495
and Latin sources, most notably Aphrahat, Ephrem of Nisibis, Jacob of Serug, Melito of
Sardis, Cyril of Jerusalem, Ps.-Asterius, Romanos the Melodist, the sermon “On the Soul
and the Body” ascribed to Alexander of Alexandria and preserved only in Coptic, and New
Testament Apocrypha such as the Acts of Pilate, the Acts of Thomas, and the Gospel of
Bartholomew. The oldest example of Improperia is found in Melito’s paschal homily, as
Antiphon 15 of the Great and Holy Matins bears evident resemblance to PP, 96, discussed
earlier (Wellesz, 1943; Werner, 1966; Auf der Maur, 1967, pp. 143–151; Schütz, 1968, esp. p. 37;
Janeras, 1988, pp. 264–270).
The very fact that the biblical “Lord’s reproaches to Israel” are here placed on the lips of
Jesus points to the primarily Christological message of the hymns. As in the case of Peri
Pascha, the hymns use Judaism’s faulty perception of Jesus as a foil for their Christological
proclamation—addressed, of course to Christians: the Lord God who chastised Egypt with
plagues is Christ; the Lord God who cut a path through the Red Sea for Israel to cross un-
harmed is Christ; the Lord God who fed Israel with manna in the desert is Christ. In short,
the primary intention of the hymns is the identification of the kyrios of Old Testament
theophanies with the kyrios of Christian worship. We find, then, in the Improperia-type
hymns, the same ancient layer of Christian thought “wrapped in the beauty of poetry, and
consumed liturgically” (Bucur, 2017, p. 55).
Numerous hymns evince the same Christophanic exegesis but do not sharpen this
Christological confession into anti-Jewish polemics. As a matter of fact, the pattern of PP
96, clearly echoed in Antiphon 15, was later extended to the festal hymnography of Palm
Sunday, Nativity, Presentation, Baptism, etc. (see Janeras, 1988, pp. 254–256)—yet there, the
identification of YHWH with Jesus is not given an anti-Jewish twist. Consider the following:
Great and Holy Friday: Antiphon 15 Eve of Nativity: Ninth Royal Hour, Glory Sticheron
Today Today
He who hung the earth upon the waters He who holds the whole creation in the hollow of His
is hung upon the Cross. hand is born of the Virgin.
He who is King of the angels He whom in essence none can touch
is arrayed in a crown of thorns. is wrapped in swaddling clothes as a mortal.
He who wraps the heaven in clouds God who in the beginning founded the heavens
is wrapped in the purple of mockery. lies in a manger.
... He who rained manna down on the people in the
... wilderness is fed on milk from His Mother’s
... breast.
The Son of the Virgin is pierced with a ...
spear . . . The Son of the Virgin accepts their gifts
...
Byzantine festal hymnography discerns the luminous face of Christ in all theophanies
of the Old Testament: the paradoxical identification of Jesus of Nazareth as the Lord of
Paradise, the God of our fathers, of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, He-Who-Is, who spoke
to Moses in the burning bush and gave the Law on Sinai, the Lord whom Ezekiel saw ri-
ding on the cherubim, whom Isaiah saw enthroned and worshiped by the seraphim, whom
Daniel discerned in the characters of both Son of Man and Ancient of Days, the Glory of
his people, the Holy One of Israel, occurs in the hymns of Lent, Holy Week, and Pascha, of
Annunciation, Nativity, Circumcision, Presentation, Baptism, and Transfiguration (Bucur,
2018). The Church at worship delights in the paradoxical fusion between the lofty depiction
496 Bogdan G. Bucur
of the “Lord” in Old Testament theophanies and the humble portrait of the “Lord” in the
Gospels. Hymnographic exegesis essentially proclaims the same theandric mystery in
Jesus Christ that is defended by the Councils, yet in a language very different from that
of conciliar definitions”; hymnography constitutes “the historical companion of dogmatic
writings in the patristic era and should be considered as their interpretative framework”
(Bucur, 2006, p. 21).
The evident centrality of Christophanic exegesis and absence of anti-Jewish polemic in
most hymns indicates that the anti-Jewish overtones are not essential to their theological
message. Consequently, as has been argued (Bucur, 2017, p. 59), a hypothetical liturgical
reform could very well excise all anti-Jewish “flourishes” (for instance, by switching to
the passive voice, by changing the addressee from “Jews” to “believers” or “brothers,” etc)
without, however, changing the Old Testament reference, and thereby maintain the central
Christological message of the hymns.
Conclusion
The topic of anti-Jewish sentiments in patristic and liturgical biblical exegesis is highly com-
plex and resists easy parsing. Scholarly research helps approximate an understanding of
the topic by considering carefully a number of factors, which are themselves neither clear
nor constant across time and region: the gradual shift from intra-communitarian polemics
within the boundaries of Second Temple Judaism to a struggle between the two survivors of
the destruction of the Temple—emerging early Judaism and early Christianity—whose self-
definition as Israel implies the delegitimization of the other; the spectacular demographic
change on the Christian side, from an ethnically Jewish community to an overwhelmingly
Gentile Church; the mirroring efforts, on the Christian and Rabbinic side, of policing the
border between the two groups; starting with the early fourth century, the sociopolitical
implications of Christianity providing the ideological glue of the Roman Empire; etc.—the
list continues.
In the end, readers who have ears to hear will have understood that the question of anti-
Jewish sentiments in liturgical and patristic biblical interpretations is not merely academic,
but touches on the very spiritual integrity of the Church. Those wild shoots that have been
grafted into the nourishing root of Israel (Rom 11:17, 24) and thus granted to share in its
sonship, glory, covenants, Law, worship, and promises (Rom 9:4) should know better than
to hate the Jews from whom comes their salvation (John 4:22).
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Nicolae Roddy
Introduction
The most noticeable aspect of this topic is the dearth of professional involvement of
Orthodox and Oriental Orthodox Christians in the science of archaeology in the Holy Land
over the past two centuries of its existence. At the risk of overspeculating, it might suggest
a relative lack of interest within the Orthodox milieu in the scientific recovery of material
remains of the past (e.g., current excavations at places like Bethsaida or the City of David),
while maintaining reverence for the spiritualized geography of the gospels, some of which
remains lost to history and awaiting discovery (e.g., the first-century villages of Nazareth or
Chorazim). Reasons for why this may be so are probably best left to historical philosophers,
theologians, cultural anthropologists, political scientists, economists, or neuroscientists;
however, it is still possible to offer a few reliable observations set within the context of a
concise overview of Syro-Palestinian, or biblical archaeology.
Having said this, it would be erroneous to assert that eastern Christians have been alto-
gether absent from the picture, especially given the fact that most biblical sites—whether
scientifically verified or not—were maintained by Christians of the Late Roman East
throughout the centuries of Umayyad, Frankish, Ottoman, and colonialist European rule.
Many of these pilgrimage sites remain today under the supervision of various eastern
Christian ecclesiastical bodies, most notably the Jerusalem Patriarchate of the Greek
Orthodox Church and the Russian Imperial Orthodox Palestine Society, discussed later.
Archaeology outside Palestine, which is especially relevant to New Testament (NT)
studies, continues largely under the auspices of Greek professionals who are most likely
to be Orthodox. However, the biblical connection appears to be little more than a subset
of broader Greek cultural interests, so that the Hellenistic-Roman world to which the NT
belongs—three centuries straddling the turn of the Common Era—is often just another set
of strata compressed within three and a half millennia of Hellenic language and culture.
Nevertheless, material finds recovered from Hellenistic-Roman excavations continue to in-
form the NT world and inspire new textual insights among its scholars (Crossan and Reed
2003; McRay 2008). This seems to further support the thesis that the scientific study of the
502 Nicolae Roddy
Holy Land seems to be of lesser interest to eastern Christians than it is to their Protestant
and Roman Catholic counterparts.
Another reason for the apparent disparity might be based on simple demographics.
However, while Orthodox Christians represent a minority in western Europe and the
Americas, it would be remiss to ignore the fact that hundreds of Orthodox scholars in
these regions incorporate significant amounts of archaeological data in their research and
teaching, or lead students on tours of pilgrimage sites throughout the Holy Land. These
colleagues, as well as others in Romania, Serbia, Russia, Lebanon, and elsewhere, are too
numerous to mention by name, but it seems appropriate to mention the editor of this
volume, whose work at Jerusalem’s École Biblique et Archéologique Française and subse-
quent publications help illustrate the point that one does not have to make a career out of
digging in the dirt to prove one’s appreciation for biblical archaeology (Pentiuc 2001).
The focus of this chapter will thus be limited to an overview of the science of archaeology
as conducted in Palestine, including the few Orthodox professionals and institutions that
actually excavate, publish reports, and share their discoveries at professional conferences
throughout the world. I have had the pleasure of knowing members of this rather small co-
hort of independent archaeologists over the past couple of decades, most notably Vasilios
Tazferis (d. 2015), the humble monk-turned-archaeologist who famously discovered the
only set of material remains of a crucified man found to date (Tzaferis 1970; Roddy 2019b)
and in whose memory this article is dedicated. Finally, having been trained in the methods
of Syro-Palestinian archaeology by Joe D. Seger, former director of the Tel Gezer Project,
and having served as codirector and area supervisor for the Bethsaida Archaeology Project
near the Sea of Galilee for the past twenty years, I humbly include myself within this article’s
purview, the perspective of which is all my own with apologies to anyone I may inadvert-
ently overlook.
Archaeology (Gr. ἀρχαῖος +λόγος, “discourse about first things”) is a subdiscipline of the
New Anthropology concerned with the recovery, recording, analysis, and interpretation of
the material remains of human culture.1 Although archaeology was famously defined by
the British archaeologist Stuart Piggott (d. 1996) as “the science of rubbish,” antiquarians,
wealthy adventurers, and colonizers over many centuries have been attracted to the lure of
extracting treasure from that rubbish, which forestalled the development of archaeology
as a science until the late nineteenth century. The general transition from treasure hunting
to science is marked by the abandonment of amateur operations like those of the German
archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann (d. 1890), whose controversial methods to recover the
treasures of Homer’s Troy (Hissalik, Turkey) during the early 1870s reportedly included the
1 For brief introductions to the field of biblical archaeology, see Currid (1999); Biran (2006); or
Cline (2009).
Bible and Archaeology 503
use of dynamite to remove upper layers of earth. It would fall to the controversial British
Egyptologist Sir William Matthew Flinders Petrie (d. 1942) to introduce into Palestinian
archaeology, in 1890, the detailed methodological precision he had previously developed in
Egypt. Since that time, archaeologists have continued using the latest technologies to find
and map potential dig sites; conduct precise stratigraphic excavations; maintain detailed
records of unique features (through mapping, photography, measuring, taking elevations,
and real time recording); clean, preserve, and interpret all finds; enter all data in a secure
database; and promptly publish detailed reports, making them readily available to the sci-
entific community.
Despite all this scientific precision and use of new technologies, the term “biblical ar-
chaeology” remains in use after two centuries by scholars and educated others untrou-
bled by the limits the adjective “biblical” imposes on the scientific noun. In the 1970s,
some archaeologists sought to distance themselves from any suspicion that their scien-
tific methodologies might be contaminated by their own personal or confessional faith in
the historical and geographical reliability of the Bible by rebranding themselves as Syro-
Palestinian, or Levantine archaeologists (Dever 2001, 1244–1253). However, adopting new
terminology does not necessarily lead one to become more objective, for the lure of the
Bible still manages to pull American, European, and Israeli archaeologists off the path of
objectivity.
For example, the discovery of monumental architecture at Bethsaida’s Iron Age strata in
the early 2000s led some excavators, including the project’s chief archaeologist, Dr. Rami
Arav, to proclaim the finding of biblical Geshur’s capital city (2 Sam. 15:8), whose king,
Talmai, king David sought to solidify an alliance by marrying his daughter Maacah (2
Sam. 3:3). However, there are serious methodological problems associated with identifying
biblical sites on the basis of the Bible alone. The generally accepted scientific criteria for
identifying an actual site that may have been mentioned in the Bible include: (1) finding ep-
igraphical evidence such as an ostracon (a piece of inscribed pottery or stone) that bears the
name, such as the early second-century inscription in Greek and Aramaic found at Tel Dan
that reads, “To the God who is in Dan, Zolios made a vow”; (2) extrabiblical corroboration,
such as Canaanite cities mentioned in Egyptian or Mesopotamian texts; or (3) preservation
of the name in Arabic, such as remembrance of the name biblical Gibeon in the Palestinian
village of al-Jib, or Shiloh in modern Seilun. The identification of Iron Age Bethsaida with
the capital of biblical Geshur fulfills none of these criteria. Conjecture, no matter how
boldly asserted, should never be put forward as fact.
One of the most unabashed, self-confessed examples of biblical bias is Eilat Mazar, grand-
daughter of the famed Israeli archaeologist Benjamin Mazar, who has been conducting the
City of David excavations for several years now. To be sure, Mazar has made some notable
discoveries; however, she has publicly asserted in a number of venues that the Bible is an ac-
curate account of modern Israel’s historical past and therefore her primary historical source.
It is surprising that many modern archaeologists and biblical scholars still have not
learned from past experience. In the early 1930s, the British archaeologist John Garstang (d.
1956) discovered a collapsed section of the city wall while excavating biblical Jericho (Tell es-
Sultan), which he immediately associated with the conquest of Joshua (Garstang 1940). Two
decades later, the famed British archaeologist Dame Kathleen Kenyon (d. 1978) arrived at
the site, bringing along sound methods of stratigraphic and ceramic analysis she had learned
working with Sir Mortimer Wheeler in Roman Britain. Kenyon scientifically demonstrated
504 Nicolae Roddy
that the wall Garstang had uncritically assigned to the biblical conquest had fallen—likely
as the result of an earthquake—roughly three centuries before the narrow temporal window
that Joshua and his army would have passed through.2 Moreover, Kenyon found no trace of
fourteenth-century settlement at Jericho at all. Still, biblical inerrancy proponents continue
searching for other possible explanations that would place biblical Joshua with the destruc-
tion at Jericho, let alone the problems of justifying the book’s all but genocidal elimination
of Canaanites as somehow historical. At any rate, scientific discoveries have the advantage
of sending scholars back to the biblical text in order to reexamine what it is biblical writers
more likely had in mind. As a science, archaeology can inform the narrative world of the
Bible, but one must be careful about interpreting finds on the basis of unquestioned accept-
ance of any ancient text.
Persons interested in “biblical archaeology” look to the Middle Bronze Age (ca. 2000–
1550 BC) for the earliest era corresponding to the world of biblical Israel’s patriarchs and
matriarchs. It would not be possible in this brief article to explore all the reasons why crit-
ical scholarship rejects the historicity of biblical Israel’s ancestors out of hand, least of all the
fact that domesticated camels, of which Abraham is said to have many (Genesis 12 and 24),
would not make their appearance in Canaan for another thousand years. William Dever,
a renowned archaeologist who directed the Harvard Semitic Museum and Hebrew Union
College excavations at Tel Gezer for several years and published many volumes on Israelite
origins, has established himself as a staunch critic of so-called biblical minimalists, those
who reject the Bible as a reliable source of history or geography out of hand; but even as a
moderating voice between “maximalists” and “minimalists,” Dever, along with the majority
of established biblical scholars, does not accept the historicity of Israel’s biblical ancestors.3
But despite the absence of biblical personages in the Middle Bronze Age, its history and
material culture is worth exploring in its own right.
Next, the story of the Exodus, the Bible’s second foundational narrative, which many
scholars believe to actually be older than the first, best corresponds with the Late Bronze
Age (ca. 1550–1200 BC), however, despite a wealth of seemingly corroborating informa-
tion—including lists of names of Asiatic slaves, some of who fled Egypt for Canaan—not
2 If it were historical, the conquest of Canaan would be sandwiched between the end of Egypt’s late
fifteenth-, early fourteenth-century BC occupation of Canaan on the one hand, and the emergence of
Israel as a people into the light of history (ca. 1200 BC) on the other.
3 Labels are seldom helpful, but it is worth noting that most of the so-called minimalists are not
archaeologists at all, but biblical scholars. These include Davies (1992), Grabbe (1997), Thompson
(1999), and others. One notable exception is Israel Finkelstein, director of excavations at Tel
Megiddo and coauthor of The Bible Unearthed (2001). Finkelstein sees little historical footing for the
monarchical period prior to the time of King Hezekiah. See Roddy (2001) for a comprehensive review
of Finkelstein’s book.
Bible and Archaeology 505
a shred of extrabiblical evidence exists that anything like our Exodus story ever occurred.
Archaeology indicates that worship of a deity identified as YHWH appears to have been
imported by a priestly people migrating into Canaan from the southern desert sometime
around the thirteenth century BC, and that the bulk of Israel itself largely a rural subset of
Canaanite society grafted into an emerging “Israel” under the principle of a single god. The
earliest epigraphical evidence for this emerging “Israel” is found on Pharaoh Merneptah’s
victory stela, dated to 1207 BC and housed at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. The stone
monolith recounts Merneptah’s many victorious campaigns throughout the Levant. His
conquests in Canaan include three city-states: Ashkelon, Gezer, and Yanoam, but he also
claims to have obliterated an apparently nonurban, seminomadic people called Israel. If
this inscription refers to our biblical Israelites, there were still more of them living in the
hill country, where the confederation of tribes sharing the name “Israel” would eventually
emerge into the light of history.
The stories of Israel’s judges and kings roughly correspond to the Iron Age I (1200–1000
BC) and Iron Age II (1000–586 BC) periods respectively. These, too, are poorly supported in
the material record. Finkelstein and others have argued persuasively that the monumental ar-
chitecture attributed to King Solomon at Hazor, Megiddo and Gezer (1 Kgs. 9:15)—to which
should be added nearly uniform construction at Samaria, Lachish, Kirbet Qeiyafa, and Tel
Dan, which indicates a centralized administration—should be assigned to the reigns of the
powerful and well-attested Omride dynasty of the ninth-century BC. Evidence for relatively
sparse populations in Judah before the ninth century BC further support the later dating of
monumental construction throughout the north. The axiom “history is written by the victors,”
in this case Judah, would explain the Bible’s overblown depiction of the Davidic dynasty’s glo-
rious empire. It would also solve the problem of why Jeroboam’s rebellious, breakaway kingdom
of the north retains the name “Israel” (1 Kings 12), leaving the Davidic kings to refer to their
nation by its tribal name, Judah. By analogy, it would be something like the Confederate states
adopting the name “United States of America” at the outbreak of the American civil war, forcing
President Lincoln to find another name for the nation. The Iron Age II period also marks the
expansion of the Assyrian empire into the Levant by Tiglath-Pileser III (734–732 BC), known in
the Bible as Pul (2 Kgs. 15:19), and Sargon II’s destruction of Samaria a decade later. Finally, the
Bronze and Iron ages are followed by more localized historical and archaeological determiners,
namely, the neo-Babylonian (586–439 BC), Persian (539–333 BC), and Hellenistic-Roman (333
BC–AD 324) periods.
These biblical-period interests notwithstanding, there is good reason to explore the
material remains of human culture in Palestine all the way back to Paleolithic times,
and forward to the Late Roman (Byzantine) and Islamic periods. For example, Geshur
Benoth Ya’aqov (Bridge of the Daughters of Jacob), a 790,000-year-old Acheulian site
located along the Jordan river about 16 km (10 mi.) north of the Sea of Galilee has yielded
the earliest evidence for the controlled use of fire outside of Africa. Excavations in the
caves clustered around Mt. Carmel and the wadis (ravines) of the Galilee (Zutteiyah,
Amud, and others) have made significant contributions to our knowledge of Neanderthal
and Cro-Magnon cultures in the Upper Paleolithic period (50,000–10,000 BP). Finally,
excavations in 2018 at a Natufian burial site at Raqefet Cave, near Haifa, pushed back the
generally accepted date for the invention of beer—a fermented wheat and barley-based
concoction likely used in ritual ceremonies (and apparently predating the invention
506 Nicolae Roddy
of bread itself)—by several millennia, to 13,000 BP.4 Because all of these wonderful
discoveries have nothing to do with the Bible itself, they are often overlooked or ignored.
Albeit for other reasons, the recovery of material remains in Palestine since the close
of the biblical period is also vitally important for countering the dominant narrative,
based on a particular interpretation of the Bible that seeks to overlook roughly 1,300 years
of Islamic culture and erase Palestinian (Muslim and Christian) culture altogether. This
topic is covered in more detail in what follows.
As indicated already, archaeology in the southern Levant moved from what was essentially
colonialist looting and treasure hunting to today’s modern science toward the end of the
nineteenth century, a transition that began with geographical surveys and cartography. This
is not to say that treasure hunting ever ceased, or that systematic archaeology would not
be co-opted to serve political aims, only that properly executed archaeology could offer
the world an accurate, albeit partial glimpse of the region’s material-cultural past. The
growing popularity of archaeology in Palestine inspired the founding of societies dedicated
to further exploration, among them the American Palestinian Exploration Society (1870);
Deutscher Palästina-Verein (1877); Imperial (Russian) Orthodox Palestine Society (1882);
École Biblique et Archéologique Française (1890); American Schools of Oriental Research
(1900); and British School of Archaeology (1919).
The turn of the twentieth century witnessed a number of methodological developments
in stratigraphic and ceramic analysis associated with the discovery of the tell (Heb: tel;
from Arabic: tall, hill), which is a sizable mound of dirt and rubble left by sedentary human
habitation over many centuries that earlier surveyors simply passed by as natural hills. An
exploratory probe dug into a tell reveals discrete occupation levels, or strata, which permit
chronological mapping with the application of careful ceramic analysis. This new devel-
opment was pioneered by the work of William F. Albright (d. 1971), the so-called Father of
Biblical Archaeology, over four seasons at Tell Beit Mirsim, and continued with the work
of Dame Kathleen Kenyon (d. 1978), mentioned earlier. In addition to her stratigraphic
and ceramic analyses, Kenyon’s method involved the mapping of squares on a 5-meter by
5-meter grid, separated on all sides by 1-meter wide dirt walls (balks, or baulks), a method
she had also learned from Wheeler while excavating in Roman Britain.
The establishment of the modern state of Israel in 1948 inspired many pioneering Israeli
archaeologists, some of which had fought in the war of independence. While there was cer-
tainly some interest in paleontology, much of their work focused on Bronze and Iron Age
sites, activities that served to bolster Zionist claims to Palestinian land. In an address be-
fore the Society for the Exploration of the Land of Israel and Its Antiquities in 1950, David
Ben-Gurion, founding father of the newly established state, proclaimed that archaeology’s
chief mission was “to contemporize our past and actualize our historical continuity in the
4
https://news.stanford.edu/press-releases/2018/09/12/crafting-beer-lereal-cultivation/
Bible and Archaeology 507
country [emphasis added]” (Shapira 2004, 24). Almost immediately, the Israel Department
of Antiquities and Museums (IDAM) was established. It was the forerunner of today’s Israel
Antiquities Authority (IAA), which officially regulates the excavation, conservation, and
publication of Israel’s material past.
Even before Ben-Gurion’s mandate, the politicization of archaeology had already begun.
Citing Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA) records, Glock (1995, 50) argued that Palestinian
Arabs living within the approximately 11,000-square-mile territory experienced the eclipse
of their culture even before the Israeli War of Independence (known to both Christians
and Muslims as al-Nakba, the Catastrophe), by which time 3,780 antiquity sites had been
registered, many of which are Bible-related.5 At the same time, Israeli archaeologists were
denied access to the archives of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan’s Palestine Department
of Antiquities and its Archaeological Museum. However, they had already inherited over a
century of western Christian-led archaeological reports and continued to interpret and pro-
mote Bible-related antiquities as political monuments, giving rise to renowned British ar-
chaeologist Sir Mortimer Wheeler’s observation “more sins have probably been committed
in the name of archaeology [in Palestine] than on any commensurate portion of the earth’s
surface” (1954, 16).
The political manipulation of archaeological data and the erasure of Palestinian his-
tory and culture through the use of bulldozers, illegal settlements, and the reassignment
of Hebrew toponyms, has adversely affected Arab Muslims and Christians living in the
West Bank and Gaza.6 Christians during the Mandate period made up roughly 10 percent
of the mostly Muslim population of Palestine. According to the Institute for Middle East
Understanding (IMEU), Christians today constitute only 2 percent of the population of the
West Bank, less than 1 percent of Gaza, and less than 2 percent in Israel. For more informa-
tion on this topic, see (Glock 1994; Abu El-Haj 2001; Hallotte and Joffe 2002; Kletter 2005;
Dodd and Parker 2010).
On a more positive note, the 1950s also witnessed the discovery of dozens of biblical,
cognate, and sectarian texts through the recovery of thousands of scroll fragments from
several caves dotting the barren cliffs along the northwestern shore of the Dead Sea near
Khirbet Qumran, an otherwise nondescript archaeological site. About 40 percent of this
treasure trove of documents were biblical writings that brought us a thousand years closer
to the originals than our earliest known manuscripts; another 40 percent yielded previously
unknown or obscure Jewish writings from the Second Temple period; while the remaining
20 percent consisted of sectarian writings (Schiffman 1995).
Finally, the mid-1960s brought about a significant development in the field of bib-
lical archaeology. Renewed excavations at Tell Gezer undertaken by the Semitic Museum
of Harvard University and the Biblical and Archaeological School at Hebrew Union
College expanded the archaeological enterprise to include specialists from many other
5
Glock was founding director of Birzeit University’s Institute of Archaeology. He was murdered in
1992 by unknown assailants in the West Bank under circumstances many regard as suspicious. For more
information, see Fox (2002) and Lamie (2007).
6 According to the Institute for Middle East Understanding (IMEU), the majority of Palestinian
Christians are Greek Orthodox, with smaller numbers of Roman Catholics, Armenian Orthodox, Copts,
Episcopalians, Ethiopian Orthodox, Greek Catholics, Lutherans, Maronites, Syrian Orthodox, and
several other Protestant denominations.
508 Nicolae Roddy
Orthodox Christian interest in the identification of biblical sites began with Eusebius’s
Onomasticon (Περὶ τῶν τοπικῶν ὀνομάτων τῶν ἐν τῇ Θείᾳ Γραφῇ), a valuable compen-
dium of Palestinian place names compiled near the turn of the fourth century. This catalog
of biblical toponyms contains historical and lexicographical notes that accompany their
putative locations on both sides of the Jordan rift, many of which have been lost to history
(Notley and Ze’ev 2005). Eusebius also relates that Melito of Sardis (d. ca. 180) had traveled
from Asia Minor to visit “places where the Scriptures had been preached and fulfilled.” In
his later Life of the Blessed Constantine, Eusebius records the travels of St. Helena, mother of
Constantine the Great, who was instrumental in discovering new holy sites and dedicating
churches, most notably the Grotto of the Nativity and the Mount of Ascension.8 He also
provides a detailed report of the construction of the Church of the Resurrection, which
Constantine erected on the site of a Roman shrine to Venus, making certain to remove all
pagan material remains—even the polluted dirt itself—before locating and enshrining the
Holy Sepulcher itself.
In his famous homily on the Feast of the Nativity, John Chrysostom notes that people in
his day still come to Bethlehem from the ends of the earth to view the place where Christ was
born. Roughly a decade later, Egeria’s (or Aetheria’s) popular account of her pilgrimage from
Spain to Sinai, Palestine, and Constantinople witnesses to early fascination for biblical sites.
Finally, the archaeological record identifies monasteries and pilgrimage bath complexes at
many sites identified with the Bible, most notably the Bethesda pool in Jerusalem (Jn. 5:2–
9), and Kursi, the putative site of Jesus of Nazareth’s exorcism of the Gerasene demoniac
(Matt. 8:28–34; Mk. 5:1–20; Lk. 8:26–39) (Deforest 2018). Thus, traditions about pilgrimages
to biblical sites, and interest in the recovery of holy artifacts like pieces of the true Cross
and relics from the graves of martyrs, are ubiquitous among early Christians. Situated in
the East Roman orbit, the preservation of pilgrimage sites fell to the Orthodox Patriarch
of Jerusalem, which before the Council of Chalcedon (451) was subject to the jurisdiction
of the Metropolitan of Antioch. Care of the holy sites by the Orthodox continued under
7
Somewhat dated, yet relevant sources for modern archaeological methodologies, tools, and
techniques include Dever and Lance (1978), Dever (1978), and Joukowski (1980).
8 Book III. 43. Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, 2nd series, edited by P. Schaff
and H. Wace, 25–40. Vol. 1 (Edinburgh: reprinted Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1955).
Bible and Archaeology 509
Ummayad domination, but with the arrival of the Crusaders in 1099 control of Jerusalem
was wrested from the Patriarchs, who would reside in Constantinople until 1187. The Fourth
Crusade (1202–1204) brought the looting of relics and other sacred artifacts, as well as the
seizure of property as the rival ecclesiology of the Franks sought to reassert control over
biblical sites. With the Fall of Constantinople in 1453, Orthodox preservation of traditional
holy sites became subject to the Ottoman Sultanate for the next four and a half centuries.
At the end of World War I, Orthodox conservators entered the hegemony of Great Britain’s
Mandate for Palestine, and in 1948, became subject to the modern nation-state of Israel.
Today, the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Jerusalem remains the largest private landowner
in Israel, second only to the nation itself. In fact, the Knesset, Israel’s parliament building
sits on land owned by the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate in west-central Jerusalem at Givat
Ram, near the Israeli Museum.
Even before the end of Ottoman domination of Palestine, the wary, half-millennium re-
lationship between Moscow and the Porte nevertheless permitted the establishment of
Russia’s Imperial Orthodox Palestine Society (Императорское православное палестинское
общество, hereafter IOPS) in Jerusalem. The Society, founded in May, 1882, with support from
the recently crowned Tsar Aleksander III, was not an archaeological institution per se, but a
clandestinely political organ ostensibly founded for “coordinating and supporting scientific ac-
tivities in Palestine, providing charity services to those in need, opening schools and hospitals,
and sheltering Russian pilgrims in the Holy Land” (Urë 2020, 56). Among its many operations,
IOPS sponsored several archaeological projects throughout Palestine.
The establishment of the IOPS in Jerusalem was especially welcomed by Archimandrite
Antonin Kapustin (1817–1894), director of the Russian Ecclesiastical Mission in Jerusalem, who
immediately became part of IOPS leadership. Almost immediately, the IOPS began digging
foundations for a consular office and pilgrimage hostel on a plot of land adjacent to Jerusalem’s
Church of the Resurrection (popularly known as the Church of the Holy Sepulcher). Antonin
already possessed an interest in archaeology, so he became very excited when the excavators
encountered an ancient wall below the surface of the ground. The unexpected turn of events
transformed the site into an archaeological dig under Antonin’s supervision, with support from
the German archaeologist Conrad Shik. Aside from many Byzantine period finds, biblical pe-
riod discoveries included a Herodian gate from the turn of the Common Era, which the archi-
mandrite named the Threshold of the Gate of Judgment, mistakenly identifying it as the gate
Jesus of Nazareth passed through on the way to crucifixion.
The results of the so-called Russian excavations may be viewed today, incorporated as
they are into the structure of St. Alexander Nevsky Russian Orthodox Church. According
to a UN memorandum, dated May 10, 1949, the Orthodox Palestine Society (as the IOPS
came to be known from 1917 to 1992), privately owned and maintained a substantial number
of buildings and land in Jerusalem, including the Russian Compound on Jaffa Road (just
outside the Old City), and the slope of the Mount of Olives, site of the Church of Mary
Magdalene (consecrated in 1886). It also possesses property in Bethlehem, Beit Jala,
Ramallah, Jericho, Nazareth, Cana, Afula, Haifa, and elsewhere.9
orandum-on-the-orthodox-palestine-society-and-its-properties-in-palestine-unccp-s-cttee-on-jerusa
lem-working-paper.
510 Nicolae Roddy
The full story of the IOPS is far more complex than can be covered here. Its beginnings
are rooted in imperial Russia’s tensions with the Ottoman Porte, followed by a century of
Russian post-Revolutionary intrigue during the British Mandate (1918–1948), and then
into the period of Israeli independence, at which time Israel sought to nationalize land
and buildings within its borders despite historic claims of various Christian organizations
(Bialar 2005, 144–165; Urë 2020, 54–59).
Apart from the property owned by the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Jerusalem,10 the
Franciscan Custody of the Holy Land, the Russian Imperial Palestine Society, and a few
other ecclesiastical communities, all major archaeological sites fall under the auspices of
the Israel Nature and Parks Authority and the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA). The IAA
grants all excavation licenses and bears the responsibility for protecting the more than
4,000 antiquities sites in Israel and the Palestine territories under Israeli control. Today,
biblical sites are attractive destinations for up to four million tourists annually (Kaell 2014).
As introduced earlier, Orthodox scholars in biblical studies and church history continue
making ample use of archaeological data in teaching and research. Many of them lead study
abroad tours through the Holy Land and on occasion find an opportunity to actually dig in
the field, as even nonprofessional volunteers may do. Over the years, I have been joined by
about a dozen Orthodox student volunteers, including a priest who was once a student of
mine. Still, very few Orthodox Christians have devoted themselves to digging in the Holy
Land on a long-term or professional basis (Roddy 2019a). As Jon Seligman, district director
for the Israel Antiquities Authority, assures me, “Indeed, the involvement of Orthodox
Christians in the archaeology of the Holy Land has been limited” (personal correspond-
ence, October 9, 2018).
A shining exception to the rule is the late Vassilios Tzaferis, a former monk-priest of the
Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Jerusalem, who left the monastery to marry and pursue a
career in archaeology. In 1968, while still a doctoral candidate, Tzaferis made the archae-
ological career discovery of a lifetime, discovering the remains of a crucified man whose
remains rested in a limestone ossuary inscribed with the name Yehohanan bar Hagkol
(Tzaferis 1970, 1985; Zias and Sekeles 1985). While textual evidence for Roman period
crucifixions abound, the discovery remains the only material witness to the practice found
to date. Other sites Tzaferis excavated include Greek Orthodox Capernaum, Kursi, Tel
10
As the largest private landowner in Israel, the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Jerusalem is
occasionally embroiled in legal issues with Israel and its citizens. In 2005, Patriarch Irenaios was removed
by the Holy Synod of Jerusalem for selling property in East Jerusalem to Israeli investors. Even after
condemning the scandal that led to Irenaios’s removal, it is widely reported that the current Patriarch
Theophilos III secretly engaged in a series of land deals, including the sale of 124 acres of land in west
Jerusalem sold to Israeli developers in 2014, giving rise to angry protests from Palestinian tenants whose
lives would be disrupted.
Bible and Archaeology 511
Dan, Caesarea Philippi (Banias), Beth Shean (Scythopolis), Ashkelon, and elsewhere. From
1991 to 2001, Tzaferis served as director of excavations and surveys at the Israel Antiquities
Authority. He passed away on his Name’s Day, (January 1), 2015, at the age of seventy-eight
(Hasson 2010; Roddy 2019b).
It is perhaps worth mentioning my own work at Bethsaida, the village known from the
Gospels as a primary arena for the activities of Jesus of Nazareth and the home of three—
perhaps five—of his first-called disciples.11 There are seven references to the village in the
gospels, with only Jerusalem and Capernaum mentioned more frequently. Several miracles
are reported to have been performed there, along with an ominous pronouncement against
its inhabitants for failing to repent in light of his extraordinary deeds (Matt. 11:20–24; Lk.
10:13–15). Some might say the curse was effective, for some time during the third century,
Bethsaida was abandoned and disappeared from history. In 1838, Edward Robinson became
the first modern explorer to identify et-Tell, a sizeable mound located near the northern
shore of the Sea of Galilee, as Bethsaida. In 1987, licensed excavations began under the di-
rection of Rami Arav, of Haifa University, which soon confirmed Robinson’s identification
of the site.
One of the problems we encountered in identifying Bethsaida was that it was located
well over a mile from the norther shore of the biblical “sea.” This problem was solved by
various geomorphic studies that indicated seismic activity along the Jordan rift that had
dammed, and subsequently released incredibly large volumes of water many centuries ago,
creating an alluvial plain that pushed the water further away from the village. Other ev-
idence that Bethsaida, which means “House of the Fisherman” (but also “hunter”), once
looked down upon the lake include the remains of aquatic organisms at the base of the tell
(mound), as well as the wealth of fishing equipment recovered from a large, courtyard-
style house in Area C, dubbed the Fishermen’s House. Probably constructed as an elite
family estate during the mid-third century BC (Savage 2011, 69), this repurposed 4,000-
square-foot structure yielded a number of significant finds, including lead net weights, fish
hooks, silver coins, and large basalt anchors weighing upward of 50 pounds each (far too
heavy to be carried very far!). This structure and its finds suggest one must abandon any
idea that the fishermen who left their nets to follow Jesus were poor, or had very little to
lose. On the contrary, despite Philip Herod’s heavy taxation levies, Bethsaida’s fishermen
appear to have been hard-working, economically sound members of a thriving guild in an
industry that, along with other shoreline fishing centers like Magdala, helped nourish the
entire region.
In 2012, we uncovered a first-century road running westward from the Fishermen’s
House, widening to what appears to be a large public area, perhaps the local marketplace
(McLerran 2012). Just beneath the road we discovered a significant concentration of coins
bearing the likeness of Antiochus III from the foundation of a bracket-shaped structure
that opened directly toward the rising sun (Roddy and Arav 2015). In light of the fact that
Antiochus III Megas’s (“the Great”) patron deity was none other than Apollo, the structure
11
These first-called disciples include Andrew “Protocletus”; his brother, Simon Peter; and Philip
(John 1:44; 12:21), fishermen by trade summoned to become fishers of people (Mark 1:17; Matt 4:19). John
Chrysostom (PG 59:30–31) adds James and John sons of Zebedee, probably on the basis of Mark 1:16–20
and Matt 4:18–22.
512 Nicolae Roddy
appears to have been an early second-century shrine celebrating the Seleucid ruler’s defeat
of the Ptolemies in the Fifth Syrian War. If this is the case, it would not have survived the
Jewish renovation of the city in the first century BC.
Beneath Bethsaida’s Hellenistic-Roman ruins, impressive Iron Age monumental archi-
tecture was discovered. During the 1997 season, my team worked to uncover the threshold
of a large, four-chambered gate complex dated to the ninth-century BC. One mid-morning
in June, a young volunteer came running up to me, his eyes wide and face white as a ghost’s
as though he had disturbed a sleeping god. But in a sense he had. Turning over a basalt
stone amid the scattered and charred debris left by Tiglath-Pileser III’s conquest of the city
in 732 BC, he was startled to find the face of a bull peering up at him, its horns cradling the
moon. We eventually discovered the rest of the stela, as well as the high place at the gate
(bamah ha-sha’ar; e.g., Ezek. 20:29) where it stood behind a basalt basin. Reassembled, the
stela measures approximately 5 feet high by 2 feet wide by 1 foot thick. Identified as a rep-
resentation of the Aramean moon god Hadad, it is now on display in the Israeli Museum
in Jerusalem.
Once inside the gate, we uncovered a thick layer of ash in chamber three, including the
remains of an estimated 300 tons of burned barley. Cultic objects were recovered from
chamber four, behind the wall of the altar to the moon god. Finally, we discovered iron
spear tips and fired brick that were melted and sometimes fused together from the 2,800-
degree Fahrenheit temperatures of the city’s smoldering fire.
Finally, interested persons who would like to explore archaeological sites throughout the
Holy Land from the comfort and safety of home, may do so through the Virtual World
Project, a project I have also codirected for a number of years, available at http://moses.
creighton.edu/vr/.
Conclusion
It is difficult to explain why there have been so few Orthodox archaeologists working in the
Holy Land in modern times. Part of the reason might be rooted in eastern Christianity’s
openness to the mystical aspects of earthly existence (Lossky 1944), as well as its diffuse
appropriation of Scripture (Pentiuc 2014), both of which contrast with the West’s scholastic
and nominalist embrace of natural realia that gave rise to Enlightenment-era materialism
(McGrath 1987). This is not to say that Orthodox Christianity devalues material aspects of
reality, or that western scholasticism ever completely rejected platonic metaphysics, only
that the spiritual and intellectual traditions of the Christian East evidence an elemental
acceptance of the material world’s metaphysical integration with ultimate reality.12 By con-
trast, western theological trends that influenced the Reformation, including its concomitant
interest in biblical historical criticism, reasonably account for why German, American, and
12
Palamitism, which arose out of the Hesychast controversy of the fourteenth century, is the most
obvious example of this. The theological disputes between Gregory Palamas and Barlaam the Calabrian
further reinforced the eastern worldview by enshrining it in the classical distinction between the ineffable
divine essence and the hypostatic manifestation of divine energies (Meyendorff 1974).
Bible and Archaeology 513
British colonialist archaeologists and exploration societies blazed the trail in the develop-
ment of modern biblical archaeology.
Relatedly, eastern Christianity’s aloofness toward modern biblical archaeology appears
to find analogy in Islamic attitudes toward the Qur’an. Unlike Jewish and western Christian
efforts to reify biblical narrative through selective recovery and interpretation of ma-
terial remains, Muslim archaeology displays little interest in producing evidence for lit-
eral and historical interpretations of the Qur’an. Instead, Islamic archaeology focuses on
the recovery of material culture in places where Muslims have lived (Insoll 2001, 123–147;
Milwright 2010), not unlike Greek (Orthodox) archaeologists digging up traces of Hellenic
(and Hellenistic) culture wherever it happens to be found. By contrast, traditional biblical
archaeologists over the past century and a half—mostly Protestants, motivated by the con-
viction that Scripture ostensibly offers a consistently reliable historical and geographical
record—have traversed Palestine with the proverbial “Bible in one hand, spade in the other,”
often with an eye toward demonstrating the factual accuracy of the Bible once and for all.13
While this tendency has diminished in recent decades, it nevertheless persists.
Although a general distinction has been drawn between eastern and western attitudes
toward the archaeology of the Holy Land, it is important to note that the motivations
of Roman Catholic archaeologists contrast with their Protestant counterparts, more
closely approximating Orthodox perspectives. The Franciscan order established itself as
custodians of pilgrimage sites in the Holy Land from its founding early in the thirteenth
century, but Roman Catholic involvement in the science of archaeology begins with the
establishment of Jerusalem’s École biblique (after 1920, École biblique et archéologique
française de Jérusalem), founded in 1890 by the French Dominican Fr. Marie-Joseph
LaGrange. Roman Catholic archaeological involvement in the Holy Land continues un-
abated, especially among Italian Franciscan priests excavating in the Galilee, most no-
tably at Capernaum and a small part of Magdala. However, generally speaking, Roman
Catholic archaeologists appear to demonstrate less interest in confirming the historical
letter of the biblical text than their Protestant counterparts, reflecting their respective
perspectives on Scripture.
In sum, Orthodox and Oriental Orthodox Christian involvement in Syro-Palestinian
archaeology has been all but nonexistent, for reasons that are not entirely clear. Perhaps
it has to do with eastern Christianity’s holistic nonliteral, nonhistorical appropriation of
Scripture, an aloofness that does not apply to its long-standing appreciation for the cul-
tivation of pilgrimage sites, or the academic use of archaeological data by Orthodox bib-
lical scholars. This attitude appears to comport with Islamic approaches to archaeology and
scripture, but contrasts with Protestant and (less so) Roman Catholic perspectives. This
does not necessarily indicate a complete lack of Orthodox interest in Syro-Palestinian ar-
chaeology; however, only in rare cases does this interest result in the pursuit of academic
careers in it. It is also possible that geopolitical or economic concerns may factor into one’s
decision; no one has gotten rich from a career in archaeology. But while a career in Near
13
The occasional discovery of a seal or an inscription bearing a biblical name does very little to
support the argument that the Bible is a reliable book of history even when it is found in context and not
a hoax—of which there have been more than a few. For more information on how forgers create fake
artifacts to “prove” the historical veracity of the Bible for monetary gain, see Burleigh (2008).
514 Nicolae Roddy
Eastern archaeology may not be the stuff of Indiana Jones, it remains an exciting and ful-
filling endeavor worth considering.
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Crossan, John Dominic, and Jonathan L. Reed. 2003. Excavating Jesus: Beneath the Stones, be-
hind the Texts. New York: HarperCollins.
Currid, John D. 1999. Doing Archaeology in the Land of the Bible: A Basic Guide. Grand Rapids,
MI: Baker Books.
Davies, Philip. 1992. In Search of Ancient Israel. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic.
Deforest, Dallas. 2018. “Baths, Christianity, and Bathing Culture in Late Antiquity,” in The
Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Archaeology, 189–206. Edited by D. K. Pettegrew, W. R.
Caraher, and T. W. Davis. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Dever, William G., and H. D. Lance (eds.). 1978. A Manual of Field Excavation. Cincinnati:
Hebrew Union College.
Dever, William. 2001. “Syro-Palestinian and Biblical Archaeology,” in Encyclopedia of
Archaeology: History and Discoveries, 1244–1253. Edited by T. Murray. Santa Barbara:
ABCE–CLIO.
Dodd, Lynn Schwartz, and Bradley J. Parker. 2010. Controlling the Past, Owning the Future,
Tucson, University of Arizona Press.
Finkelstein, Israel, and Neil A. Silberman. 2001. The Bible Unearthed: Archaeology’s New Vision
of Ancient Israel and the Origin of Its Sacred Texts. New York: Free Press.
Fox, Edward. 2002. Palestine Twilight: The Murder of Dr. Albert Glock and the Archaeology of
the Holy Land. New York: HarperCollins.
Garstang, John B. E. 1940. The Story of Jericho. London: Hodder & Stoughton.
Glock, Albert. 1994. “Archaeology as Cultural Survival: The Future of the Palestinian Past.”
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Glock, Albert. 1995. “Cultural Bias in the Archaeology of Palestine.” Journal of Palestine Studies
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Prentice Hall.
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516 Nicolae Roddy
L O OK I N G TO
THE FUTURE
Chapter 32
As Orthodox encountered the West again over the past century, this time not from afar
but as their own homeland, and sought to dialogue with Western and academic theology,
the place of the Bible within the Church became a subject of increasing concern, and spe-
cifically the quest for an “Orthodox Hermeneutic.” As expertly surveyed by Theodore
Stylianopoulos (in this volume), this search has largely been carried out in a “neo-Patristic”
mold, for which, in his words, “the biblical witness is wholly incorporated in the patristic,
without remainder,” so leaving actual engagement with the Scriptures or contemporary
scriptural scholarship, with a few notable exceptions, untouched: scriptural exegesis and
(systematic) theological reflection remain two distinct fields. As such, Stylianopoulos asks,
“if we are to go back to the Church fathers, why not go back to the Bible itself, the primary
and supreme authority according to the fathers?” And, indeed, the last two sections of this
Handbook offer various sketches of what doing so might look like.
However, as we continue the quest for an appropriate hermeneutic, one that would bring
together again exegesis and theology, it is worth considering whether in fact the “Bible”
is the proper point of reference or whether, as a book configured in a particular way,
the “Bible” already contains hidden assumptions. As Andrew Louth (2009, 32–33) has
noted, “one might well wonder whether there is anything in Orthodox practice corre-
sponding to the idea of the ‘Bible.’ . . . It was, perhaps, only with the advent of printing
that the notion of the ‘Bible’ gained any real currency (the fifty codices of the Scriptures
that Constantine asked Eusebius of Caesarea to provide for Constantinople in 335 were
clearly an exception).” Rather than a singular noun, the Greek, τὰ βιβλία, is plural—the
books—as also are αἱ γραφαί, “the Scriptures” (though, of course, both can be used, but
less frequently, in the singular for specific purposes). More concretely, the “books” that
are actually employed within the Orthodox Church, in its worship, and the way that they
520 John Behr
are read, point to a different “shape” than what we know as the “Bible”: the Scriptures
(the “Old Testament”) are read, usually now from the liturgical books (the Menaia and
the Triodion) but earlier from collections known as the Prophetologion (readings from
the Scriptures, all classified as “prophetic” and arranged according to the liturgical cal-
endar), at Vespers, looking forward to the coming of Christ, which is then celebrated
in the morning Eucharist, at which extracts from letters of Paul (and occasionally the
other letters) are read, again arranged according to the lectionary and known simply as
the “Apostle,” followed by the Gospel, the book of which (designated by the singular “the
Gospel”), also arranged according to the lectionary, rests sealed upon the altar, carried in
procession and venerated, waiting for its clasps to be opened and the Gospel proclaimed.
Each pericope from the Gospels, moreover, is heralded as “the Gospel” (not “a part of the
Gospel”): “Wisdom, Let us attend. Let us listen to the Holy Gospel.”1 The most significant
exception to this practice of reading the Gospel at the Liturgy are the eleven selections
from the resurrectional accounts, which are read by rotation at Sunday Matins and which,
in the older practice preserved in the Greek tradition (and others), are read from within
the altar rather than from the ambon, marking a distinction between the ministry of
Christ and his resurrectional appearances.2
Finally, the reading of the Gospel is (or should be) followed by a homily, which, to borrow
from Origen, “translates the gospel perceptible to the senses into the spiritual gospel,”
that is, translates the reading of a narrative of a (past) event into the exhortation which,
he argues, belongs to the definition of “gospel,” so that it “presents the sojourn of Christ
[τὴν Χριστοῦ ἐπιδημίαν] and prepares for his coming, producing it [κατασκευάζοντα τὴν
παρουσίαν αὐτοῦ ἐμποιοῦντά τε αὐτὴν] in the souls of those who are willing to receive the
Word of God who stands at the door and knocks and wishes to enter their souls.” Without
this, Origen asks, “what is the interpretation of the gospel perceptible to the senses,” and
answers, “it is little or nothing, even though most believe they receive the things which are
revealed from the literal sense.”3 Without the homily, then, one might say, the gospel has not
been preached even if the Gospel has been read.4
1 The same point can be made from Western liturgy; see John Barton (1997, 128): “I learned as a child
(from oral tradition!) that in Anglican liturgy one begins the reading, ’The holy gospel is written in the
Gospel according to Saint X, in the nth chapter'—emphasizing, that is, that the whole gospel is present
in any given portion; and that one does not say, ’Here endeth the gospel,’ whereas one does (or did) say
’Here endeth the epistle,’ because the gospel has no end.”
2 The Gospel is also read at Vespers on Holy Friday and Pascha, and occasionally at vespers when the
Liturgy is appended to Vespers (or at the Presanctified Liturgy on the first three days of Holy Week).
The resurrectional pericopes are also read during periods of the Pentecostarion (Thomas Sunday and
Myrrhbearers, and occasional other days), and at the Liturgy on Holy Saturday and, in some traditions,
prior to the beginning of Paschal Matins, outside the Church, which might originally have been the
twelfth resurrectional gospel.
3 Origen, ComJn, 1.45, 26; and, in reverse: “Just as Christ visited the perfect before his sojourn which
was visible and bodily, so also he has not yet visited those who are still infants after his coming which has
been proclaimed, since they are ‘under tutors and governors’ ” and have not yet arrived at ‘the fullness of
the time’ ” (ComJn 1.38, citing Gal 4:2, 4).
4 Cf. Schmemann (1988, 77): “For the genuine sermon is neither simply an explanation of what was
read by knowledgeable and competent persons, nor a transmission to the listeners of the theological
knowledge of the preacher, nor a meditation “a propos” of the gospel text. In general, it is not a sermon
about the gospel (‘on a gospel theme’), but the preaching of the gospel itself.”
Reading from the End, Looking Forward 521
As the “Bible,” however, the Scriptures are configured differently. Conveniently divided
up between the “Old Testament” and the “New Testament,” the mental framework the
“Bible” invites, if not forces, can perhaps be represented by the following figure:5
The ubiquity of the “Bible” today has resulted in something like the diagram in
Figure 32.1 being our instinctive and unreflective mental framework for reading Scripture
and practicing theology: The “Old Testament” recounts creation and its history and the
work of God choosing, leading, and preparing his people for the coming Messiah; while the
“New Testament” begins with accounts of the life of Jesus Christ, his teaching and ministry,
culminating in his Pascha6—the crucifixion, resurrection, ascension, and then the sending
of the Spirit at Pentecost—which is then followed by an account of the doings of the apos-
tles, then their letters, and finally, as an odd appendage, the Apocalypse. With the books
already arranged in this way in the book called the “Bible,” we are presented with a (more
or less) continuous narrative and are invited to assume that the thread that holds these
books together is the history or historicity of the narrative described within these books
thus arranged, rather than the historical context in which the books were written.7
The problem, of course, is that such an approach is not in fact historical, if for no other
reason than that the letters of Paul were written before the Gospels. And, significantly, Paul’s
proclamation of the gospel implies a very different way of reading the Scriptures than the
way in which we now read the “Old Testament.”
Now to him who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the preaching of
Jesus Christ, according to the apocalypse of the mystery which was kept secret for long
ages but is now made manifest and made known through the prophetic writings [κατὰ ἀπ
οκάλυψσιν μυστηρίου χρόνοις αἰωνίοις σεσιγημένου φανερωθέντος δὲ νῦν διά τε γραφῶν
προφητικῶν . . . γνωρισθέντος], according to the command of the eternal God, to all the
5 This is how I attempted to describe it in Behr (2006, 173–181), where I also discuss its problematic
pertaining Christ’s crucifixion, resurrection, ascension, and even the bestowal of the Spirit, as it is held
together by John in his Gospel and by the earliest account we have of its celebration, with Melito and his
Peri Pascha; the word “Pascha” was explained by Melito in terms of “Passion” (cf: Pasch. 46: Τί ἐστιν τὸ
πάσχα; . . . ἀπὸ τοῦ παθεῖν τὸ πάσχειν), and, opposing this, by Origen as “Passover” or “Passage” (Pasch.
1: διάβασις). For more on this, see Behr (2019), 82–92.
7 This problem was already highlighted by Wrede (1901, 5), in the first of his three observations: “First
of all, it is indeed an axiom of historical criticism in general that what we have before us is actually just
a later narrator’s conception of Jesus’s life and that this conception is not identical with the thing itself.
But the axiom exercises much too little influence.” Needless to say, my development of this observation
will be different to Wrede’s; whereas he was concerned for the historical Jesus, I will be concerned for
understanding the gospel.
522 John Behr
nations, to bring about the obedience of faith—to the only wise God be glory for evermore.
(Rom 16:25–27).
The gospel is not “what happened next,” but rather the proclamation of the mystery hidden
from eternity and now unveiled, proclaimed through the Scriptures. Paul (as Saul) had of
course read and studied the Scriptures intensively, yet his encounter with Christ forced him
to return to the Scriptures and read them anew. The text of the Scriptures had not changed,
but his reading of them certainly had! The veil has now been lifted, not to reveal something
else, but rather to reveal gospel that had always been there, in the books and their letters
now read as a whole, in the light of the end (cf. 2 Cor 3:4–4:6). As Richard Hays (1989,
169) put it, “the eschatological apokalypsis of the Cross” provided Paul with a hermeneutical
lens by means of which Scripture was brought into focus with “a profound new symbolic
coherence.” The starting point for a Christian account of the Scriptures must, therefore, be
the unveiling effected by the Pascha of Christ. As the apostles and disciples reread what
they thought they had known, now with the books “opened” or “unveiled,” the gospel they
proclaim brings to light the eternal mystery hidden in the Scriptures through (the rereading
of) these same Scriptures.
This point is made emphatically by Irenaeus. Christ, he says, is the treasure hidden in
the Scriptures in the field of the world (cf. Matt 13:38, 44), “indicated by means of types and
parables, which could not be understood by human beings prior to the consummation of
those things which had been predicted, that is, the coming of the Lord.” For this reason, he
continues, it was said to Daniel the prophet: “Shut up the words and seal the book, until the
time of the consummation, until many learn and knowledge abounds. For, when the dis-
persion shall be accomplished, they shall know all these things” (Dan 12:4, 7); and likewise
by Jeremiah: “In the last days they shall understand these things” (Jer 23:20). So, Irenaeus
continues:
For every prophecy, before its fulfilment, is nothing but an enigma and ambiguity to human
beings; but when the time has arrived, and the prediction has come to pass, then it has an
exact exposition [ἐξήγησις]. And for this reason, when at this present time the Law is read
by the Jews, it is like a myth, for they do not possess the explanation [ἐξήγησις] of all things
which pertain to the human advent of the Son of God; but when it is read by Christians, it is a
treasure, hidden in a field, but brought to light by the cross of Christ. (Haer. 4.26.1)
When read in this apocalyptic fashion—with the books being opened at the time of con-
summation, in the last days, and the treasure it contains, Christ himself, being revealed by
the cross—the reading of Scripture, Irenaeus concludes, glorifies the reader “to such an
extent, that others will not be able to behold his glorious countenance” (cf. Exod 34:30–33;
2 Cor 3:7–18). The books are sealed, and what they speak about, the treasure they contain,
cannot be understood until they are opened by the cross; if they are not read in this apoc-
alyptic manner, they will be read as nothing more than myths and fables (even if they are
historically true). What the books contain cannot be understood until the last days, when
the time of their accomplishment has arrived and the book unsealed. And now unveiled,
those who read the same Scriptures through a proper exegesis are themselves transfigured,
to become like Moses in his descent from the mountain after his encounter with God,
themselves shining with the glory of God. From the beginning, then, the gospel is thus
proclaimed through the opening of the Scriptures, which are, as Irenaeus puts it, a mosaic
Reading from the End, Looking Forward 523
depicting the King, when seen with the right hypothesis, but which his opponents, starting
from a different hypothesis, have rearranged into the image of a fox or dog (Haer. 1.8.1).
Historically speaking, the first texts that we have after the gospel began to be proclaimed
are the letters of Paul, correcting various errors that had arisen in his communities and
giving us further insight into his proclamation of the gospel (which is never, however,
spelled out, though 1 Cor 15, to which I will return, would make a good candidate). Only
then, historically again, are the Gospels written. Each of these Gospels, however, are desig-
nated as the particular Evangelist’s version or account of the gospel, where the term “gospel”
naturally refers back to the proclamation already made, and their version is also given by
recourse to the same Scriptures. For the Evangelists, the Scriptures are, as Joel Marcus puts
it, drawing on E. Grässer a “paint box” from which they depict Christ.8 The Gospels are, as
I have elsewhere argued, essentially “scripturally mediated memory” (Behr, 2019, 326). It
is as such that each portion or pericope of the Gospels does indeed present, as Barton put
it, “the whole gospel.” The whole life and ministry of Jesus Christ—from his birth onward,
not only in his teaching and working miracles, but also by growing “in wisdom and stature
and grace” (Luke 2:52), being tempted in the desert, “tempted in every way as we are, yet
without sin” (Heb 4:25), to his Pascha, “learning obedience through what he suffered and
being made perfect becoming the source of salvation to all who obey him” (Heb 5:8–9)—is
now understood to have been, and proclaimed as, a continual model of the Cross, Lordship
by service, in which he, as Irenaeus puts it, sanctifies every age of life, offering for each “an
example of piety, righteousness, and submission” (Haer. 2.22.4).
Historically, then, and hermeneutically—and also liturgically, as we have seen earlier—
the order is: the Scriptures unveiled by the Pascha in the proclamation of the gospel, then
the letters of Paul, and only then the Gospels. Seen in this way, the Scriptures do indeed
speak of the economy of God that leads from Adam to Christ, but the starting point for
this narration is the Pascha: Indeed, the very description of Adam as “a type of the one to
come” (Rom 5:14) implies that the one to come, as the prototype, preexists the one who is
a type, just as the stamp or seal is prior to the impress it makes in wax, or the reality the
shadow that it casts. If Adam is made “in the image of God” (Gen 1:27), it is Christ who is
“the image of the invisible God” (Col 1:15), so that it is with reference to Christ that Adam
was made.9 As such, as J. Louis Martyn points out: “the fundamental arrow in the link
joining scripture and gospel points from the gospel story to scripture and not from scrip-
ture to the gospel story.” He then continues: “In a word, with Jesus’s glorification, belief
in Scripture comes into being, by acquiring an indelible link to belief in Jesus’s words and
deeds.”10 Perhaps it would be more accurate to say, in the light of the Cross, the books are
constituted as Scripture, rather than, as Irenaeus put it, “myths” (even if historically true);
not to read them “apocalyptically,” with the veil being lifted is, for Christians, not to read
8 Marcus (1992, 2). See now the magisterial volume of Richard B. Hays (2016), and more briefly Hays
(2014).
9 Cf. Nicholas Cabasilas: “It was not the old Adam who was the model for the new, but the new Adam
for the old. . . . Because of its nature, the old Adam might be considered the archetype to those who see
him first, but for him who has everything before his eyes, the older is the imitation of the second.” The
Life in Christ 6.92–93 (ET 6.12 modified).
10 Martyn (1997), 216–217, his emphasis. For a discussion about how this relates to the position of N. T.
them as Scripture. Constituted as such, Scripture has a particular shape, one that is different
to the “Bible,” as discussed previously. To speak of the Scriptures as the “Old Testament,”
reading these books as what happened prior to Christ, and the Gospels (and Acts and the
Epistles) as “what happened next,” is to misunderstand the Scriptures, the gospel/Gospels,
and indeed Christ himself.11
Not only does the apocalyptic unveiling of Scripture enable reading Scripture as a coherent
whole, from Adam to Christ, but it also opens up a two-level narrative or discourse: that of
how the text was read and things seemed before the unveiling, and how, from the point of
view of the end, God was always and already at work in previously unexpected ways. This
double-take, as it were, is evident throughout Scripture, perhaps most clearly at the end of
Genesis: Joseph’s brothers did undoubtedly sell him into slavery from sinful passion, yet at
the end of the narrative, when the brothers approach him, he can tell them: “Do not be dis-
tressed or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to
preserve life. . . . So it was not you who sent me here, but God” (Gen 45:5, 8). Both aspects
are true, but they are not said in the same register. It is evident again in Peter’s speech in
Acts: “This Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God,
you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men” (Acts 2:23). The “stereoptic vision,” to
borrow a phrase from J. Louis Martyn, facilitated by reading from the end, “the eschatolog-
ical apocalypsis of the cross,” enables us to see the whole of creation, in its present state, as
groaning in travail, “awaiting with eager longing the unveiling of the sons of God” as Paul
puts it (Rom 8:19–25). But, on the other hand, one cannot conflate the two registers opened
in this way or reduce them to a single horizon; to offer an account of why a particular
tragedy happened or why a specific person suffers in a particular way (the question of the-
odicy is often framed) would be to embark on a different kind of discourse, with a different
hypothesis, no longer starting from the end, the life that comes through death.12
It was, no doubt, the reception of the letters of Paul and the Gospels as part of Scripture
that led to the conventional designation of the Scriptures as the “Old Testament.” Yet even
then, for Christ himself, the Apostle, the Evangelists, and even the Nicene Creed, these
books are simply “the Scriptures” which speak about Christ and his Pascha. To neglect the
11 For the connection between reading the “OT” and “NT” as continuous, but separate, bodies of
will indeed be “all in all,” we can indeed affirm that all things are held together by God, providentially
ordered and arranged toward that telos; but this does not give us permission or grounds to explain how
or why anyone or anything is where or how it is: we may certainly, as he puts it, “endeavour to inquire
and examine how that great variety and diversity of the world may appear to be consistent with the whole
rationale of righteousness”; but he then immediately adds, “I say ‘rationale,’ of course, in a general sense,
for it is the mark of an ignorant person to seek, and a foolish person to give, the particular rationale for
each being” (Princ. 2.9.4; cf. 2.9.8; 3.5.8).
Reading from the End, Looking Forward 525
fact that the Epistles and Gospels, even now as Scripture, themselves refer to the Scriptures
is to miss the hermeneutical key that this reference provides. Moreover, the relationship
between the Scriptures (OT) and Christ, together with the gospel proclaiming him, as type
or prophecy and fulfilment, as beautifully expounded and analyzed by Melito of Sardis,
does not strictly speaking map on to the relationship between the “Old Testament” and
the “New” (as in the common dictum that what was predicted in the Old is fulfilled in
the New). Rather, the inclusion of the writings now known as the New Testament opens
up a threefold schema: shadow (OT), image (NT), fulfillment (Christ). As Maximus the
Confessor puts it: “The Law is the shadow of the Gospel. The Gospel is the image of the
blessings held in store.”13 Christ is always the “coming one,” even in the New Testament (cf.
Matt 11:3 etc.), whose “coming” (παρουσία, not “second coming”; cf. 1 Thess 3:13; 2 Thess
2:1) Christians now “await,” for at his coming he “will change our lowly body to be like
his glorious body, by the power which enables him even to subject all things to himself ”
(Phil 3:21), so that when he appears we will “also appear with him in glory” (Col 3:4), for
“when he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2).14 Recall
the points made earlier: that the gospel prepares for and effects the coming of Christ, now,
in the present, to those who are prepared to open their hearts to him; and that in reading
Scripture (OT) in this way, readers are themselves transformed, shining with the glory of
God. This, indeed, is “the mystery” proclaimed by Paul: “we shall not all sleep, but we all
shall be changed, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet,” so that God will be “all in
all” (1 Cor 15:52, 28).
Much excellent scholarly work has been produced in recent decades regarding the use
of Scripture in the Gospels and the interpretation of Scripture in early Christianity, seeking
out more sophisticated and adequate understandings of the various reading strategies
deployed, such as allegory, typology, anagogy, and so on.15 I would suggest, however, that
these are all variations, as it were, within what can more generally be called an “apocalyptic”
reading: Both Jesus of Nazareth and the Scriptures turn out to be other than previously
understood or thought when the veil is lifted by the Cross and the glory of Christ is seen
shining throughout Scripture, revealing the true and eternal identity of the Lord. What is
important, it would seem, is not to define the right method or strategy for reading these
texts, but that they are read as Scripture, that is, within the apocalyptic framework pivoted
on the Cross.16
Scripture (OT) is thus, as Irenaeus put it, the “field” in which Christ is hidden, brought to
light by the cross and the apostolic preaching of Christ in accordance with the Scriptures;
or, alternatively, a mosaic, depicting the king when read with the right hypothesis. Thus,
13
Maximus, Chap. Theol. 1.90.
14
Cf. Irenaeus, Haer. 3.16.6, citing Eph 1:10: “There is, therefore, as we have shown, one God the
Father and one Christ Jesus, who is coming throughout the whole economy, recapitulating all things in
himself.’ ”
15 The literature for this is vast. A good starting place is F. M. Young (1997).
16 Gregory of Nyssa, Hom. Songs, Pref. (ed. Norris, 2–5): “One may wish to refer to the anagogical
interpretation of such sayings as “tropology” or “allegory” or by some other name. We shall not quarrel
about the name so long as a firm grasp is kept on thoughts that edify.” Regarding the term “apocalypse,”
and related words and phenomena (e.g., “apocalyptic” as a genre or a social movement), together with an
assessment of contemporary scholarship on this, see Behr (2019), 100–114.
526 John Behr
rather than the linear schema (Figure 32.1, earlier) presumed by the “Bible,” it would per-
haps be better to think in terms of the following figure 32.2:
Here, the larger circle represents Scripture (OT), with the smaller circle representing
the writings of the New Testament, which do not so much describe “what happened next,”
but rather, in the light of the Cross, proclaim the gospel in accordance with the Scriptures,
so unveiling the mystery which the Scriptures have always contained. To borrow from
Irenaeus once again, the writings of the New Testament provide a “recapitulation” of the
whole, a “recap” that brings into focus, by summarizing the whole, what had previously
been presented at length; this is, for Irenaeus, the “concise word” that God promised
through Isaiah that he would bring about.17
We can however go further. As recent scholarship has made clear, the idea of a drama played
out in two different registers was a common one in late Second Temple Judaism. To describe
this phenomenon, J. Louis Martyn coined the phrase “stereoptic vision.” The literary form
of two-level drama, he argues,
was at home in the thought-world of Jewish apocalypticism: the dicta most basic to the apoc-
alyptic thinker are these: God created both heaven and earth. There are dramas taking place
17
Isa 10:22–23, cited by Paul, Rom 9:28, and Irenaeus, Demonstration 87; Cf. Behr (2013), 124–144.
Reading from the End, Looking Forward 527
both on the heavenly stage and on the earthly stage. Yet these dramas are not really two, but
rather one drama. . . . One might say that events on the heavenly stage not only correspond
to events on the earthly stage, but also slightly precede them in time, leading them into ex-
istence, so to speak. What transpires on the heavenly stage is often called “things to come.”
For that reason events seen on the earthly stage are entirely enigmatic to the man who sees
only the earthly stage. Stereoptic vision is necessary, and it is precisely stereoptic vision which
causes a man to write an apocalypse: “After this I looked, and lo, in heaven an open door! And
the first voice, which I had heard . . . said, ‘Come up hither and I will show you what must
take place after this.’ ”18
It is the correspondence between these two levels that is directly invoked in the Lord’s
Prayer: “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” But, as with the two different registers
opened by an apocalyptic reading (Joseph being sold into slavery; God at work preserving
life), there is, as Martyn emphasizes, only one actual drama. In such apocalyptic thinking,
as John Ashton (2007, 327) puts it, “the whole of reality is split into matching pairs (rather
like the biological theory of DNA) in which one half, the lower, is the mirror-image (albeit
in this case a distorting mirror) of the higher.”
In an apparent attempt to quash such apocalyptic thinking, the Mishnah cautioned
against reading too freely certain passages of Scripture that invite such reflection, and pro-
hibited following certain other avenues:
The forbidden degrees [i.e., Lev 18:6ff] may not be expounded before three persons, nor the
story of creation [i.e. Gen 1:1ff] before two, nor [the chapter of] the chariot [i.e., Ezek 1:4ff]
before one alone, unless he is a sage that understands his own knowledge. Whoever gives his
mind to four things it were better for him if he had not come into the world: what is above?
what is below? what was beforetime? and what will be hereafter? (Hagigah 2.1)
18 Martyn (2003), 130, quoting Apoc. 4:1. Martyn’s application of this to the parallel between the life of
Jesus in the Gospel of John and the life of John’s community has been called into question (see Hägerland,
2003), but the general idea has been received fruitfully.
19
Cf. Steenberg (2004).
528 John Behr
Heaven
The Man from Heaven
Earth
The Man from Earth
of the world to its end (for what comes to be in time will certainly pass away in time), or
more precisely the passing away of the fashion of this world, to be renewed, finally be-
coming, in the end, the paradise of God.20 And third, the movement that is, for each of us,
our own: We come into existence in Adam, as earthly, in both necessity (“No one asked me
if I wanted to be born,” protests Kirillov in Dostoyevsky’s The Demons) and mortality (what-
ever we do we will die)—that is, in Egypt—and as infants; but so begins our movement to-
ward Christ, the perfect human being from heaven and our own entrance into the Paschal
mystery, which is anticipated in the voluntary death/birth of baptism, passing through
which we leave this world, experienced as Egypt, to live in it as the desert, in which we are
nourished by the Eucharist, again anticipating our sharing in the cup, as we move towards
the promised land, the paradise in which the cross is the tree of life.
Movement, however, requires time. Although we tend to think of time as a horizontal
line on which we move forward (as in Figure 32.1), there is, in fact, no spatialized timeline
along which we move. As Augustine points out in his Confessions (11.17–26), although there
was a past, there is no past; all we have is the past-in-the-present. Likewise, there is only
the future-in-the-present. And yet the present is always passing. What we envision as a line
20
For Irenaeus’s “chiliasm,” and his reading of Isaiah’s and John’s words about “a new heaven and a
new earth” in terms of Paul’s qualification that it is “the fashion of this world [that] shall pass away,” the
fashion in which the apostasy occurred and humans grow old, while its substance or reality remains
(Haer. 5.35.2, referring to Rev 21:1, Isa 65:17, and 1 Cor 7:31, and Haer. 5.36.1), see Behr (2013), 182–185.
Reading from the End, Looking Forward 529
along which we move is our projection, as also is what we call “history,” the past told on the
basis of the past-in-the-present, which is but an miniscule portion remaining of what was,
in the past, and always subject to revision in the light of new discoveries (our “history” of
Second Temple Judaism, for instance, has significantly changed as a result of the discovery
of the Dead Sea Scrolls).
Time, rather, is what happens in us, as we physically and spiritually progress along the
horizontal and vertical axis: from left to right, from birth to death; and from below to above,
from earth to heaven—in each case, from Adam to Christ. Time is the measurement of our
growth, or as Plotinus suggests: “Time is the life of the soul in its changing motion from
one way of living to another.”21 As Irenaeus argues, only that which is subject to time is ca-
pable of growth and changing its mode of existence while remaining what it is by nature,
and so, although being and remaining created, humans are able to come to share in the
power of the Uncreated, through a growth that has order, rhythm, and movement.22 What
we call “history,” and our sense of ourselves as moving along a line, as intuitive as that is
(and perhaps necessary, as we plan for tomorrow), is also, as it were, a veil, “eternity in
disguise” as Heschel puts it (1994, 16), veiling the fact that each present moment is the last
moment, always passing, a present that can thus also be “the fulness of time” (Gal 4:4) when
seen unveiled: Each moment, unveiled, is thus open to the “coming” of Christ. Always in
the present, we constantly stand at the foot of the Cross, entering ever more fully into the
Paschal mystery, as we “move” (temporally, not spatially) along the horizontal and vertical
axes, from Adam to Christ.
As such, perhaps we can now reposition Figure 32.3 as Figure 32.4. We stand—at the apex
of the cone, the foot of the Cross—looking out, “seeing” the drama of salvation played out
from Adam to Christ, as we move, neither in space nor in a spatialized time, but growing
from Adam to Christ, from coming-into-existence in mortality to birth into life through
death. Schematizing the framework this way should not be taken to suggest that everything
is a “projection”; there was indeed a past and there will be a future, though these are not
“spatialized,” existing in the present somewhere else in space. Rather Figure 32.4 attempts
to depict what we in fact “see,” as we, in the present, read Scripture. The time of Scripture,
as it were, is the time it takes us to read, not a linear line in the past (Figure 32.1), but in the
present such that the “history” we read in Scripture is our own.23 The movement thus indi-
cated by the axes in the diagram is again the movement or growth that takes place in us, a
movement that takes time, from birth to death, from being in Adam to being in Christ, and
indeed in the time it takes to read from Genesis to the Apocalypse; and so the “coming” of
21 Plotinus, Enn. 3.7.11, 43. Space does not permit a full analysis of time here. For the ancient
philosophers, see Manchester (2005); for contemporary philosophy in the phenomenological tradition,
see especially Henry (2003, 158–159; 2015, 59–64). For a clear and accessible presentation of “time” in
contemporary science, see Rovelli (2018).
22 Haer. 4.38.3: Cf. Behr (2000), 40–43; Behr (2013), 185–198.
23 Cf. Williams (2000), the conclusion of which parallels the thrust of this essay: “In the light of all this,
we might try re-conceiving the literal sense of Scripture as an eschatological sense. To read diachronically
the history that we call a history of salvation is to ‘read’ our own time in the believing community (and
so too the time of our world) as capable of being integrated into such a history, in a future we cannot but
call God’s because of we have no secure human way of planning it or thematizing it” (58).
530 John Behr
ven ven
Hea m Hea
f r o
Man
The
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Com
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Ada of On
e
Typ nt
Infa
ist
Chr ty
e a li
R he
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f
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Fu Hum
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Figure 32.4 Reading Scripture at the Foot of the Cross in the Present
Christ is not only or simply a moment now in the past, but our encounter with Christ in
the present, as we respond to the gospel which effects his coming and presence in us, now.
Reading Scripture in an apocalyptic mode, rather than reading the Bible in a linear mode
(Figure 32.1), invites the further question about how we speak of the economy of God, his
act of creation and bringing all things into subjection such that God becomes all in all.
Although we are used to using the single English word “creation,” referring it to the initial
act of God, with “salvation” coming later (almost as a plan B), the vocabulary of Scripture is
more varied and surprising. We have already seen, for instance, that, at least with God (and
Scripture read apocalyptically, from the end) Christ precedes Adam, who is but a type. In
a similar reversal, Psalm 103/4:29–30 speaks of “creation” as happening at the end, through
death and resurrection: “When you take away their breath they die and return to their dust;
Reading from the End, Looking Forward 531
when you send forth your Spirit, they will be created [κτισθήσονται] and you renew the face
of the ground.” Creation, here, would be eschatological, not protological.
The most controverted use of the verb “to create” is of course Proverbs 8:22, “The Lord
created me, the beginning of his ways” (κύριος ἔκτισέν με ἀρχὴν ὁδῶν αὐτοῦ εἰς ἔργα αὐτοῦ).
While Athanasius, in opposition to Arius, would argue that this verse applies to Christ, the
Wisdom of God, as human, in a “partitive reading” of Scripture that becomes standard
thereafter, Origen seems to take another route. As Rowan Williams (2001, 141) puts it:
It could be said, though rather awkwardly, that the world we inhabit as material beings is
not “created” by God: it is made, or at least conditioned, by the choices of his creatures, and
regulated by his providence. “Creation,” ktisis, is strictly only the unimpeded expression of
God’s rational will.
It is the one who “reconciles all things to himself,” “making peace by the blood of his cross,”
who is “the image of the invisible God, the first born of all creation” (πρωτότοκος πάσης
κτίσεως), “in whom the fulness of God was pleased to dwell” (Col 1:20, 15, 18). Or as Christ
is described in the Apocalypse: “The Amen, the faithful and true witness (μάρτυς), the be-
ginning of the creation of God [ἡ ἀρχὴ τῆς κτίσεως τοῦ θεοῦ]” (Rev 3:14). To be the “crea-
tion” of God in this sense thus requires a response: an Amen, a Let it Be, given by one who
in this way bears witness to the work of God.
It is, of course, as “Almighty” that the “One God, Father” is “the creator of heaven and
earth,” as the Nicene Creed puts it. But this omnipotence, by which God is creator, is not
simply that of brute force. Analyzing the verse which describes Wisdom, a title of Christ, as
“the emanation of the purest glory of the Almighty” (Wis 7:25), Origen argues that if God
creates “in Wisdom” (Ps 103/4:24) or “by his Word” (cf. John 1:3), then, “the title “Almighty”
cannot be older in God than that of Father, as it is through his Son that the Father is
Almighty” (Princ. 1.2.10). But, he continues, this “omnipotence” is exercised in a particular
manner, that is, through his Son (who thus also bears the title “Almighty,” Rev 1:8), for “at
the name of Jesus every knee shall bow” (Phil 2:10). After reasoning in this way, Origen
adds, “so that it may be more clearly understood what the “glory” of omnipotence is”:
The God and Father is “Almighty” because he has power over all things, . . . and he exercises
power over them through his Word, “for at the name of Jesus every knee bows, . . .” And, if
“every knee bows” to Jesus, then, without doubt, he it is who exercised power over all things,
and through whom “all things have been subjected” to the Father, for it is through Wisdom,
that is by Word and Reason, not by force and necessity, that they have been subjected. And
therefore his glory is in the very fact that he possesses all things, and this is the “purest and
most clear glory” of omnipotence, that by Reason and Wisdom, not by force and necessity, all
things have been subjected. (Princ. 12.10; citing Phil 2:10; 1 Cor 15:27–28)
The omnipotence of God, by virtue of which he is the Creator of heaven and earth, is an om-
nipotence that is exercised not “by force and necessity,” but rather by “Reason and Wisdom”
(a Christian replaying of Plato’s account in the Timaeus, 47e–48a, of how mind persuades
necessity to bring all things to perfection). And the end of this exercise is to bring all things
into subjection, accomplished in every knee bowing at the name of Jesus, when the name
above all names is bestowed on him as a result of his voluntary self-emptying on the Cross;
the paradigm for this “omnipotence” is thus not a projection of humanly conceived power,
but rather the strength that is perfected in weakness (2 Cor 12:9), the paradigm of which
532 John Behr
is the Cross. When all things are thus brought into subjection (for, indeed, all shall die),
and Christ then subjects all things to the Father, God will then, in the end, be “all in all.”
“Creation” here is thus understood as “possession,” bringing all things to their final end.24
Moreover, as an omnipotence exercised through Reason and Wisdom, the end requires our
cooperation, and thus our education, so that we too may give our Amen, our “let it be” to
that which is God’s own project.
Origen knew that the Hebrew text of Proverbs 8:22 could also be translated in Greek
in terms of “possession”: “The Lord possessed me.”25 Using the image of iron and fire
that Origen introduces in Princ. 2.6, where the iron, once placed in the fire, is no longer
known by its own properties but, even while remaining the iron that it is, is now only
known by the properties of the fire, one could perhaps say that it is only when the iron is
in the fire, “acquired” by the fire, that it is “created,” that is, it is now what God has made
it to be. Intriguingly, the image of God as a “consuming fire” (Deut 4:24; Heb 12:29) ties
us back to time. Origen (Princ. 2.8.3) notes how, throughout Scripture, those who are far
from God are described by Scripture as “cold,” while those who approach him become
hot—“he makes his ministers a flame of fire” (Ps 103/4:4; Heb. 1:7)—, kindled by the “fire”
that Christ has come to cast upon the earth (Luke 12:49), so that his disciples’ hearts
burn when he opens the Scriptures (Luke 24:32). The interplay between cold and heat
is intrinsic to the passing of time. As Carlo Rovelli observes, “heat cannot pass from a
cold body to a hot one. . . . This is the only basic law of physics that distinguishes the past
from the future. . . . The link between time and heat is therefore fundamental: every time
a difference is manifest between the past and the future, heat is involved.”26 For Origen,
growing from Adam to Christ is a “heating up” of the cooled psyche so that it becomes a
nous on fire, a process which thus requires, or is, time, or time is the measurement of the
transfer of heat, of “deification.”
In addition to the word “create,” however, Scripture also uses other words. Regarding the
human being, God’s own particular project (for everything else is simply spoken into exist-
ence: “let there be”), the first creation account in Genesis uses the word ποιέω (“to make”),
while the second uses πλάσσω (“to fashion”). Far from Genesis describing the creation of
the human being, as a distinct act (plan A) to the work of salvation (plan B) recounted in the
New Testament, reading linearly (Figure 32.1), Irenaeus, starting rather with the one who
opens the scripture, can affirm: “Since the Saviour pre-exists, it was necessary that he who
would be saved should come into existence, so that the Saviour doesn’t exist in vain” (Haer.
3.22.3). Creation and salvation belong together, in such a way that God’s project of making
a human being comes to realization at the end:
just as, from the beginning [ab initio] of our formation [plasmationis] in Adam, the breath
of life from God, having been united to the handiwork [plasmati], animated [animavit] the
human being and showed him to be a rational being, so also, at the end [in fine], the Word
of the Father and the Spirit of God, having become united with the ancient substance of the
24
For a full exposition of how this same point is expounded, with great sophistication, by Maximus,
see Wood (2018).
25 See Origen’s Hexapla (ed. Field, 2.326): κύριος ἐκτήσατό με, that is, using κτάομαι rather than κτίζω.
26 Rovelli (2022), 24–25.
Reading from the End, Looking Forward 533
formation [plasmationis] of Adam, rendered [effecit] the human being living [viventem] and
perfect, bearing the perfect Father, in order that just as in the animated we all die, so also
in the spiritual we may all be vivified [vivificemur]. For never at any time did Adam escape
the Hands of God, to whom the Father speaking, said, “Let us make the human being in our
image, after our likeness.” And for this reason at the end [fine], “not by the will of the flesh,
nor by the will of man,” but by the good pleasure of the Father, his Hands perfected a living
human being [vivum perfecerunt hominem], in order that Adam might become in the image
and likeness of God. (Haer. 5.1.3, citing Gen 1:26, John 1:13)
God is continually at work, fashioning with his Hands the earth that we are (for “the human
being is earth that suffers” as the Letter of Barnabas, 6.9, puts it), so that at the end there
is finished “the living human being,” “the glory of God” (Haer. 4.20.7). As described here,
following 1 Cor 15:45–48, this is also a movement from breath to Spirit (which cannot co-
exist according to Irenaeus, cf. Haer. 5.12), as Adam, earth animated by a breath, is contin-
ually molded by the Hands of God, till at the end, the project announced at the beginning,
is completed, the human being living by the Spirit. Time is, once again, the movement from
one form of life to another.
In an intriguing passage, Origen seems to coordinate these three different verbs—κτίζω
(“to create”), ποιέω (“to make”), πλάσσω (“to fashion”)—not to refer to distinct or discrete
separate acts, but rather as different aspects of God’s act of creating, much in the same way
as he analyzes the different title of Christ as various aspects of the one Christ. According
to Origen,
Because, therefore, the first human being fell away from the superior things and desired a
life different from the better life, he deserved to be a beginning neither of something created
nor made [οὔτε κτίσματος οὔτε ποιήματος], but “of something moulded [πλάσματος] by
the Lord, made [πεποιημένον] to be mocked by the angels.” Now, our superior being [ἡ
προηγουμένη ὑπόστασις] is in our being made [κτίσαντος] “according to the image” of
the Creator, but that resulting from a cause [ἡ ἐξ αἰτίας] is in the thing moulded [ἐν τῷ . . .
πλάσματι], which was received from the dust of the earth. (ComJn 20.182, citing Job 40:19
and Gen 1:26)
As Marguerite Harl (1987, 244) points out, by noting the different verbs used in the two
creation accounts in Genesis, by way of the verse from Job, Origen seems to be indicating
a hierarchy of terms describing the different aspects of “creation,” a descending gradation
of “create” (κτίζειν), “make” (ποιεῖν), and “mold” (πλάσσειν). Our “προηγουμένη being” is
not simply a “superior” existence, as created in the image of God, an intellectual reality su-
perior to bodily matter, but, more immediately, our primary or primordial existence—Gen
1:26 comes, literally, before Gen 2:7—while that which is moulded from earth, on the other
hand, is neither simply “created nor made,” but, as resulting “from a cause,” it has “been
made to be mocked by the angels.” What this cause might be, we will consider in a moment.
In addition, Origen, ever attentive to precise textual matters, notes that there are two
other words which speak about “creation.” Of particular importance is Paul’s words in
Ephesians 1:3–4:
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with
every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose [ἐξελέξατο] us in him be-
fore the foundation [πρὸ καταβολῆς] of the world, that we should be holy and blameless
before him.
534 John Behr
Although regularly translated “foundation,” the Greek word καταβολή, as Rufinus notes
in his translation of On First Principles, “has been very improperly translated into Latin
as constitutio; for in Greek καταβολή signifies rather deicere, that is, to cast downwards”
(Princ. 3.5.4). Related to this “throwing down,” of course, is Rev. 13:8, which speaks of
those who worship the beast, “whose names have not been written in the book of life of
the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world” (ἐν τῷ βιβλίῳ τῆς ζωῆς τοῦ ἀρνίου τοῦ
ἐσφαγμένου ἀπὸ καταβολῆς κόσμου). While we are chosen before the foundation of the
world, the Lamb is slain from its foundation, a change of preposition to which we will
return.
To see how these different words pertaining to “creation” might be coordinated, we could
perhaps align them with the different dimensions of Figures 32.3 and 32.4, as indicated in Figure
32.5. In doing so, it must be borne in mind that, as with the titles of Christ, these different words
relating to “creation” are not distinct or discrete moments in a linear time, but different aspects
of the one reality, being formed to be ready for God, in the end, to be “all in all”.
We are, primarily, from the upper register, “called” into being, “chosen” by God, “before
the foundation or throwing down” of the world: it is God, not the world, that is the cause
of our existence. But, as Maximus puts it, our first act, as it were, at the very moment of
our coming-into-being (ἅμα τῷ γενέσθαι), is to turn away from God, squandering our
spiritual capacity for enjoying God by turning it toward the material world, attracted by
the beauty of the world rather than God; it is this “cause” that results in our need for a slow,
long, patient pedagogy, teaching us, through the reciprocity of pleasure and suffering, till
Reading from the End, Looking Forward 535
we too reverse the order, and through “changing the use of death,” giving our “Amen” or
“Let it be” to God in Christ, and are so born into the life of God.27 Being made (ποίησις/
πλάσις) “in Adam” (left and below, on diagram), with the world having been “thrown
down,” we first know Christ as “the Lamb slain from [not before] the foundation of the
world” (Rev 13:8), that is, within the appearances of this world as “thrown down” we see
Christ as “crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men” (Acts 2:23). But, as we grow
in Christ, we come to see that his Pascha is in fact “the definite plan” foreknown by God
(Acts 2:23), not merely an act of atonement in response to our sinfulness (which it also
is in the dual-level drama, seen from the end) but instead the expression of the love of
God, originating in God himself, as in Gospel of John, a love which is unconditional and
unconditioned: “This is the way [οὕτως] God loves the world” (John 3:16), and it is “for
this reason that the Father loves” Christ, because he “lays down my life, that I may take
it again,” and, moreover, “No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of his own accord”
(John 10:17–18). Pascha thus appears in two “registers”: the Suffering Servant and Lord of
Glory, on the Cross, with the original depiction being the living Christ on the Cross (the
Rabbula Gospels, Doors of St. Sabina, etc.) which is eventually refracted into the image
of the dead Christ on the Cross and the Anastasis, which presents the same Christ, in the
same figura, arms outstretched, raising Adam and Eve, the human race. Moreover, as we
progress from left to right, from below to above, from infancy to maturity, sacramentally
and ascetically dying in Christ, we finally come to see that we were called into existence
“before the foundation of the world” (Eph 1:4): while the primary cause of our existence,
seen in the lower register, is our biological parents, we increasingly come to realize, as we
manifest the fact, that God is our point of origin, the fundamental cause of our existence,
such that, as the Psalmist proclaims: “You are gods, sons of the Most High” (Ps 81/2:6).
Perhaps, then, the “antecedent cause” to which Origen appeals in On First Principles, is our
reaction to seeing what divine life and love looks like: from our first breath, we prefer to
hold on to our breath, committing ourselves to death, resulting in the long pedagogy (in
which we are “mocked by angels”), culminating in death, whereby we finally experience, in
weakness, the perfect strength of God. The treasure hidden in the Scripture, waiting to be
unveiled, is also the treasure contained in earthen vessels, showing that “the transcendent
power belongs to God and not to us” (2 Cor 4:7).
Returning from the “Bible” (and Figure 32.1) to the Scriptures (and the subsequent Figures),
then, involves more than returning from the Fathers (or rather the “neo-Patristic synthesis”)
to the “Bible” (and Figure 32.1). It requires, rather, a perspectival or paradigm shift in the
mental framework that accompanies our reading.
27
Maximus, Ad Thal, 61. For a similar insight from phenomenology, see Henry (2003), I Am the
Truth, 135; cf. Behr (2019).
536 John Behr
Yet, if what is sketched out here does indeed capture something of the idiom and thought-
world of the Fathers (and Liturgy), using, as we have done, all the resources of historical
investigation and scriptural scholarship (together with philosophy and indeed physics), it
might well open the path for a careful entry into the world of Scripture, the Fathers, and
Liturgy, in which these all cohere as the single discipline of theology, the Queen of the
Sciences, as we, its practitioners, also await, live into, and are transformed by, the coming
of our Lord.
References
Ancient Sources
Augustine, The Confessions. ET M. Boulding, The Works of Saint Augustine: A Translation for
the 21st Century 1.1 (Hyde Park, NY: New City Press, 1997).
Barnabas, Letter of Barnabas. Ed. and ET K. Lake, LCL Apostolic Fathers 1 (Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press, 1985).
Gregory of Nyssa, Homilies on the Song of Songs. Greek text and ET Richard H. Norris, Gregory
of Nyssa: Homilies on the Song of Songs, Writings from the Greco-Roman World 13 (Atlanta,
GA: SBL, 2012).
Irenaeus, Against the Heresies. Ed. and French trans. A. Rousseau et al., Haer. 1–3 SC 263–264,
293–294, 210–211 (Paris: Cerf, 1979, 1982, 1974); Haer. 4 SC 100 (Paris: Cerf, 1965); Haer. 5
SC 152–153 (Paris: Cerf, 1969); ET A. Roberts and J. Donaldson (eds.), Ante-Nicene Fathers
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On Difficulties in Sacred Scripture: The Responses to Thalassios, FC 136 (Washington,
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Press, 2015).
Melito of Sardis, On Pascha. Ed. and ET Alistair C. Stewart, Melito of Sardis, On Pascha, with
the Fragments of Melito and Other Material Related to the Quartodecimans, 2nd ed., Popular
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(Paris: Cerf, 1989, 1990); ET C. J. deCatanzaro (Crestwood, NY: St Vladimir’s Seminary
Press, 1974).
Origen, Commentary on John. Ed. Erwin Preuschen, GCS 10, Origenes Werke 4, (Leipzig,
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Reading from the End, Looking Forward 537
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538 John Behr
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Chapter 33
W ho’s Afr a i d of
the Old Testa me nt ?
Tough Texts for Rough Times
Brent A. Strawn
In light of its title (provided by the editor), the task of the present chapter is twofold: (1)
to discuss difficult texts in the Old Testament (OT); and (2) to provide some sort of reck-
oning for them. I will first argue that the difficulties that face the OT—or, perhaps better,
that face modern readers of the OT—are, contrary to popular (mis)conception, not present
only there, but are also found equally in the New Testament (NT). This is to say that the
difficulties at hand—the “tough texts,” as it were—are thoroughly biblical, not restricted
to the elder testament. This observation does not, of course, resolve the trickiness of these
texts; if anything it makes the situation worse since Christian believers (or a particular sub-
section thereof) are not able to “flee like a bird to the mountains” (Ps 11:1) of the NT to find
refuge there from the “fear and trembling . . . and horror” (Ps 55:6) caused by the difficulties
that supposedly live only in the OT. Said differently, if one is to be afraid of anything when
it comes to Scripture, it should be of the entire Bible, Old and New Testaments alike, both,
together.
Following this point, I will next attempt to account for some of these biblical difficulties,
asking after what they doing in the Bible, why they are found in Scripture, and so forth.
There is only space here for a few suggestions that might move readers from a specific fear
of “OT problems” to a more generalized phobia of all of Scripture, to, finally, some pos-
sible understandings of the function and meaning of difficult passages. The subtitle of the
chapter points a way forward: many of these “tough texts” are helpful, somehow useful,
maybe even therapeutic, during “rough times,” exactly when the faithful need them most.
They may, that is, be texts precisely “for” such times. This is a hermeneutical claim, of
course, as well as a claim of faith. It is also very much a re-claiming—an attempt to salvage
(if not still more than that) various biblical materials that many readers find off-putting
(if not much worse than that). While I deem a hermeneutics of reclamation to be essential
to any constructive enactment of Christian theology, I want to be clear that some texts are
much harder to reclaim than others. Indeed, some texts have proven disturbingly effective
in causing or otherwise somehow generating rough times insofar as they have been used
540 Brent A. Strawn
to justify all manner of terrible acts of oppression (see, e.g., Haynes 2002).1 Though this
latter type of situation is not the primary focus of the present chapter, it is imperative
that it be recognized. It is also provides an appropriate starting point, since the language
of re-claiming assumes a prior deployment that stands in need of correction.
In the published version of his Bampton Lectures given at the University of Oxford in 1885,
Frederick W. Farrar threw down the gauntlet with reference to the “tough texts” of the OT.
There, under the rubric “Crimes of Misinterpreters,” he wrote:
I have quoted Farrar at length for two reasons. First because, in many ways, the concerns
he raises here could have been written last week, on the one hand, or millennia ago, on
the other. To begin with the latter, the moral problems posed by certain passages in the
1
Of course biblical texts have also been used to stop terrible acts of oppression (cf. Pinfold 2007).
2
In a footnote, Farrar observes, “The last attempt to murder the Emperor of Germany (1884) was
calmly defended by the murderer from Old Testament examples!” (Farrar 1961:39 n. 3).
Who’s Afraid of the Old Testament? 541
OT—the conquest, perhaps, above others (see the next section)—were a primary motivator
in the arch-heretic Marcion’s campaign to rid Christianity of the first three quarters of the
Bible (see Strawn 2017:103–121). The contrasts between the OT and NT were irreconcilable
according to Marcion, leading him to compose his central text: The Antitheses, which set
OT and NT texts in stark opposition, with the NT material deemed—not surprisingly—
clearly and obviously superior.3 With regard to more recent sentiments like Farrar’s, one
might note the innumerable sightings of Marcion’s ghost which continues to haunt many
Christian communions. A particularly disturbing example is the megachurch pastor Andy
Stanley’s book Irresistible (2018), which, in a nutshell, blames all of Christianity’s problems
on the OT. Best, therefore—according to him—for Christians to “unhitch” their faith from
the OT altogether (Stanley 2018:72, 158). This line of thinking recalls Adolf von Harnack’s
encouragement, in his definitive biography of Marcion (2007:134), to stop affording the
OT canonical significance in the Christian church (see Strawn 2007:121–129). It is not dif-
ficult, given the original date of von Harnack’s work (1920/1924) and his location (Berlin,
Germany), to tie such remarks directly to the anti-Jewish movement that included the so-
called German Christians’ support of the Nazis (see Bergen 1996).
More could be said about Marcion and his theological descendants, but this is enough to
show that Farrar is not alone in his worries about the OT and the poor ethical activity sup-
posedly derived directly therefrom, which are defended by sad (but poetically described by
him as) “scraps of text and shreds of metaphor.” The problem with Farrar’s opinion at this
point is not the moral concerns he expresses, which seem incontrovertible, but, rather, with
where he levels the moral judgment—with the same true of Marcion, Stanley, von Harnack,
et al.: namely, that the fault lies resolutely with the OT, and primarily so, if not exclusively.
But, to the contrary, the cold hard facts are that the NT, yes, even Jesus’s own teachings, do
not and cannot escape the selfsame moral critique. This is the second reason why I have
quoted Farrar at length: because much of what he says in the excerpt above is patently
false—at least insofar as the connections he makes between the moral problems and the OT
texts (alone) are nonsequitur and nonnecessary.4
It seems Farrar recognizes this error, at least to some degree. While he dismisses OT
ethics quickly by appealing to “what Christ so plainly taught”—namely, that the OT was
“as yet an imperfect law . . . the morality of the Old Testament [was] as yet an imperfect and
undeveloped morality” (Farrar 1961:39), he must admit that the textual scraps and meta-
phorical shreds used to defend “instruments of torture” come from none other than “the
mercy-breathing parables of Christ” (Farrar 1961:41). This revealing comment shows Farrar’s
errors are, in truth, several. Christ also “plainly taught” that he was not at odds with the OT
law (see Matt 5:14–30) and so the OT, its law, even its morality, was evidently quite sufficient
3
An important historical point is that, at the time of Marcion, there was as yet no definitively closed
collection of twenty-seven books constituting the NT canon.
4 In addition to the considerations that follow, note Earl (2010:238 n. 128; 2013:19–
43), who has
argued—contra perspectives like Farrar’s—that during the Crusades Joshua was hardly ever cited as
support for military actions. Hofreiter’s work (2018:167–193, esp. 169, 181–182, 188, 184, 194) nuances
Earl’s: Joshua is cited with reference to the Crusades, though not as often as one might expect, especially
in light of comments like Farrar’s. The Crusades aside, Hofreiter offers irrefutable evidence that the
conquest narratives have often been used in connection with horrific acts in Christian history (2018:160–
213, esp. 197–201, 211–213).
542 Brent A. Strawn
for salvation (see Luke 16:19–31). Indeed, according to the dominical saying in Luke 5:39, no
one who tastes the old wine wants any of the new; the old is better! Furthermore, a goodly
number of Christ’s parables don’t breathe mercy at all—quite to the contrary (see, e.g., Luke
19:11–27; Matt 25:14–30).
Some thirty years after Farrar, the great theologian Karl Barth noted the same conun-
drum: that the NT, too, is implicated in problematic Christian ethics. Barth made his ob-
servation almost in passing, doing so with reference to war:
To mention only a single problem, but to us today [i.e., 1916] a mortal one: how unceremo-
niously and constantly war is waged in the Bible! Time and again, when this question comes
up, the teacher or minister must resort to various kinds of extra-Biblical material, because the
New as well as the Old Testament almost completely breaks down at this point. (Barth 1978:39;
emphasis added)
Others from outside the Christian fold have also seen the issue clearly. The “New Atheist”
Christopher Hitchens includes a chapter on how the NT “exceeds the evil” of the OT
(2007:109–122). If one is for some reason yet convinced of the point at hand, perhaps be-
cause Barth is a systematic theologian, not a biblical scholar—not to mention Hitchens’s
card-carrying atheism—mention could be made of various books from biblical scholars
that engage the question of violence in the NT (e.g., Desjardins 1997; Matthews and Gibson
2005; de Villiers and van Henten 2012; cf. Creach 2013:217–239). This expansive list does
not yet include the numerous ethical critiques of the NT (not just the OT) that have been
published (e.g., Lüdemann 1996).
Contrary to what Farrar suggests, the data supporting the point are in fact found in the
Gospel accounts, even in Jesus’s own teachings. A sampling would include (among many
others): Matt 10:35–39; Luke 12:49–52; and John 9:39.5 Jesus’s parables, too, particularly
those concerning enslaved persons, have occasioned great concern and strident critique
(Glancy 2002).
The Pauline corpus also employs plenty of violent language (e.g., 2 Thess 1:5–10). This
is not yet to mention the violence in Revelation. There one must reckon not only with the
death of (those deemed) the wicked but also with “the second death” (Rev 21:8; cf. 20:14).6
The general point seems irrefutable: The NT suffers from the same kinds of problems that
have been identified in the OT by Farrar and so many others, whether heretics or saints, theists
5 It is perhaps worth noting that the liberation theologian José Miranda made a case for violent revolt
against oppression on the basis of (inter alia) Jesus’s somewhat passing citation of Exod 21:17 in Mark 7:9–
11 //Matt 15:3–6, concluding that “Jesus explicitly approves and defends the use of violence” (1982:75).
He continues: “All the vindictive justice of the Old Testament is approved and defended by Jesus in
this passage” (1982:75); and, further, memorably: “The fact that Jesus maintains and defends Exodus
21:17 would be enough to demonstrate that the honey-sweet saccharine gospel forged by establishment
theology is counterfeit. . . . [W]hat has happened is that a candy theology has grabbed ‘love your
enemies’ and torn it away from the whole gospel—and refuses to take the trouble to verify in what
sense Jesus understood it. Evidently he does not understand it in a sense that would be incompatible
with the obligation to repulse the aggressor of the human community by use of violence” (1982:76).
Further: “[D]oes flabby theology think [Jesus] exhorted them [the merchants and money changers] out
of the temple?” (1982:78).
6 But note the thoughtful work of Johns 2003, who argues that nonviolence is at work in the image of
or atheists. To be sure, many Christian readers would wish to dispute this fact, holding the NT
somehow inculpable—set apart and distinct from the ugliness that purportedly besmirches
the reputation of its older testamental sibling. But that is mostly wishful thinking, perhaps
even a case of psychological projection (see Strawn 2021b). Less generously, such a move is
likely duplicitous in some way; in the case of Marcion, one should note that he (only partially)
achieved the purity he wanted by extreme surgery on the Gospel of Luke and the Pauline
letters. The rest of (what became) the NT didn’t survive, and what was left of Luke and Paul,
too, was but a shadow of its former self. In the case of Stanley, his argument “succeeds” only
by extreme ignorance with regard to what both testaments have to say, or by outright men-
dacity: pulling the wool over his readers’ eyes. I’m not sure which is worse.
To summarize to this point: While it is a sobering, perhaps even depressing observa-
tion, it is nevertheless crucial to admit that the difficulties so often identified in the OT
live also in the NT: war, violence, judgment, wrath, and so forth—the list can go on. These
are thoroughly biblical difficulties, not restricted solely to the First Testament of Christian
Scripture. Furthermore, the fact that some of these difficulties live equally also in the NT
means, by definition, that so many attempts to “fix” the problem of OT violence through
recourse to the NT or Christology simply won’t do (cf. Boyd 2017; see Cornell 2017). The
words of C. S. Lewis, originally made with reference to the curses found within beloved
psalms (on which see further in what follows), are appropriate with reference to Scripture
writ large: “the bad parts will not ‘come away clean’; they may . . . be intertwined with the
most exquisite things” (2017:25).
Tough texts live, therefore, in both Testaments. But what are we to do now, beyond simply
throwing up our hands and saying c’est la vie or c’est le Livre? Despite his prior faux pas,
Farrar may yet point a way forward:
How then is it possible better to maintain the divine authority of the Holy Scriptures than by
pointing out, and by forsaking, the errors whereby men [and women] have so often wrested
them alike to their own destruction and to the ruin and misery of their fellow men [and
women]? How can we better prove their sacredness and majesty than by showing that in spite
of such long centuries of grievous misinterpretation, they still remain when rightly used,
a light unto our feet and a lamp unto our paths? How can we render them a loftier service
than by endeavouring to set them free from false dogmas? . . . I add that there is one way
in which the very humblest of us may prove how inviolable is the truth, how infinite the
preciousness of the lessons which we can learn from Scripture. It is by living in simple and
faithful obedience to its highest and its final teaching. On that point at least, amid multitudes
of imperfections, the greatest and holiest interpreters have ever been at one. “Scriptura scopus
est,” says St. Augustine, “dilectio Dei et in ordine ad Deum aliorum hominum.”7 “The fruit
7
Farrar (1961: 43 n. 1) attributes this to Augustine’s De Genesi ad litteram, but it seems mostly a
summation of what Augustine teaches more generally, especially in De doctrina Christiana I.39–40.
Farrar’s Latin sentence may be rendered, “The aim of Scripture is the love of God and of other human
beings in relation to God.” (Thanks to Christopher Beeley for his assistance with Augustine.)
544 Brent A. Strawn
of sacred Scripture,” said Bonaventura, “is fulness of felicity.” “Do not hear or read it,” says
Bishop Jeremy Taylor, “for any other end but to become better in your daily walk, and to be
instructed in every good work, and to increase in the love and service of God.”—And this
may God grant us all for His Son’s sake! (Farrar 1961:42–43)
Farrar offers here a roadmap for handling difficult biblical texts that includes the following
steps: (1) correcting and abandoning misinterpretations, (2) demonstrating the benefi-
cence of these texts “when rightly used,” and (3) norming or ruling our interpretations
by means of the highest and loftiest of goals: love (Augustine), happiness (Bonaventure),
and service (Taylor). If we are honest, the latter-mentioned goals seem so idealistic as
to be unattainable; small wonder Farrar that interrupts his prose by praying for God’s
assistance!
To be sure, there are other ways to account for the tough texts found in Scripture. One
approach, which in actual practice takes various forms, is to eliminate them in some
fashion. Such elimination could be in terms of a thin historicism: the texts are deemed
primitive in some fashion, subpar when viewed with modern eyes. This thin histori-
cism leads easily to modern moralizing: These texts are somehow beneath us; we can pass
judgment on them for any number of reasons. Modern moralizing leads finally to con-
temporary censorship: We needn’t read these texts; we can forget about them, leave them
behind definitively, forever.
This kind of elimination appears frequently throughout the history of biblical interpre-
tation. The initial citation of Farrar offered earlier takes this approach with its mentions of
how OT law is “imperfect” and how OT morality is both “imperfect and undeveloped.” And
it must be granted that judgments like these are often (though certainly not always) offered
for good reason.8 These are “tough texts,” after all! But in my judgment thin-historicism-
become-modern-moralism-become-contemporary-censorship simply will not do when
it comes to Scripture and its tricky texts. Once again the bad parts will not “come away
clean” in the Bible; they are too intertwined with the “most exquisite things.” Some other
approach is required, therefore, though it will be arduous: long and involved, complicated
and controverted, which is to say that instead of being thinly historicist (with correlates) it
will be thickly hermeneutical and pragmatically so.
Pragmatics will be discussed most directly later. In the present section I focus on two par-
ticularly thorny examples of “tough texts” in the OT: the matter of the conquest of Canaan
and the problem of curse (imprecation) in the Psalms. In both cases I will argue that the
Bible offers strategies of containment by which their most disconcerting aspects are attenu-
ated, if not quieted altogether, and which thus allow them to be taken up in beneficent and
perhaps even benevolent ways.
8
But note, once more, Miranda’s critique of such judgments (1982, esp. 73–78).
Who’s Afraid of the Old Testament? 545
conquest narrative is most certainly violent, with some of the destruction horrifically
totalizing. Consider, for example, the description of the battle of Jericho, which contains
the detail that the Israelites “devoted to destruction by the edge of the sword all in the city,
both men and women, young and old, oxen, sheep, and donkeys. . . . They burned down the
city, and everything in it” (Josh 6:20–21, 24a; NRSV). This is disturbing material, to be sure,
though we should note that it is not uncommon for moderns to entertain themselves with
extensive exposure to violent images that are far more gruesome and graphic than anything
found in Joshua (see Strawn 2021b). This latter point duly entered, the problem with the
conquest of Canaan is no doubt exacerbated because God is said to be behind this violence
in some way, commanding it and/or condoning it. Consider, for example, the injunction in
Deuteronomy:
When the LORD your God brings you into the land that you are about to enter and occupy,
and he clears away many nations before you—the Hittites, the Girgashites, the Amorites, the
Canaanites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, seven nations mightier and more
numerous than you—and when the LORD your God gives them over to you and you defeat
them, then you must utterly destroy them. Make no covenant with them and show them no
mercy. (Deut 7:1–2; NRSV)
This kind of divine legitimation is decidedly not the case in most contemporary violent
media, which may somehow exculpate the latter. In truth, however, modern entertainment
media often functions as (if not far more) authoritatively in many peoples’ lives as does
Holy Scripture.
A close inspection of the conquest narrative reveals that it is not nearly as straightfor-
wardly brutalizing or divinely legitimated as the texts from Joshua 6 and Deuteronomy 7
suggest. The first battle across the Jordan takes place at Jericho, but before that battle—in-
deed before any military conflict at all—Israel’s leader, Joshua, has a curious encounter:
When Joshua was near Jericho, he looked up. He caught sight of a man standing in front of
him with his sword drawn. Joshua went up and said to him, “Are you on our side or that of
our enemies?” He said, “Neither! I’m the commander of the LORD’s heavenly force. Now
I have arrived!” Then Joshua fell flat on his face and worshipped. Joshua said to him, “What
is my master saying to his servant?” The commander of the LORD’s heavenly force said to
Joshua, “Take your sandals off your feet because the place where you are standing is holy.” So
Joshua did this. (Josh 5:13–15; CEB)
In this exchange Joshua learns that the commander of God’s army is decidedly not on
his side, or at least not on his alone (cf. Dozeman 2015:328). Joshua also learns that the
place of this encounter is holy ground—a sacred place that is decidedly nonpartisan,
not able to be reduced to “our side” vs. “our enemies.” It should again be underscored
that this text comes first, before all that follows about the destruction of Jericho
and the rest of Canaan’s conquest. All that follows about all of that is prefaced first and
foremost by a statement that God’s army—and, thus, the God behind that army—is
“above the fray.”
The conquest is, in this light, perhaps misnamed, if by “conquest” one assumes some-
thing thoroughgoing and comprehensive. A careful reading of Joshua shows that what
transpires is not an all-out, aggressive, and completely successful military engagement.
To be sure, the book does occasionally claim that “all” the land was taken (Josh 11:16,
546 Brent A. Strawn
23), but it also admits a goodly number of exceptions to that judgment (e.g., Josh 13:1–7,
15:63, 16:10, 17:12–13, 23:15–13; cf. Judges 1). In fact, the conquest was so ineffective that
Canaanites are said to live in the land as late as NT times (see Matt 15:21–28; Strawn 2015)!
It may be, therefore, that those parts of Joshua that portray the successful conquest of
the land are idealized in some fashion, but then again, perhaps not, since the book also
contains parts that report otherwise—these latter, more realistic (?) texts are surely just
as important, canonically speaking, as the former. Not yet mentioned are those passages
that detail how several Canaanite individuals and groups prove savvy in negotiating their
own ways to peaceful coexistence with Israel: Rahab and her family in Josh 2:9–13; and
the Gibeonites in 9:1–27.
Three further points deserve brief consideration with reference to the problem of the
conquest of Canaan:
1. Back in Genesis 15, God makes a covenant with Abram, addressing him as he sleeps:
Know this for certain, that your offspring shall be aliens in a land that is not theirs, and shall
be slaves there, and they shall be oppressed for four hundred years; but I will bring judgment
on the nation that they serve, and afterward they shall come out with great possessions. As for
yourself, you shall go to your ancestors in peace; you shall be buried in a good old age. And
they shall come back here in the fourth generation; for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet
complete. (Gen 15:13–16; NRSV)
This text is mostly about Egypt and the slavery there, but it speaks with reference to the
denizens of Canaan, here called “the Amorites.” What is crucial for present purposes is to
note how the duration of Egyptian servitude is explained by the fact that Amorite wick-
edness is “not yet complete” (lōʾ-šālēm, v. 16). Said differently, any sort of return to “here”
(hēnnāh)—that is, Canaan, where Abram is during this encounter—would be premature;
correlatively, any “conquest” before the allotted time period would be unjustified. After the
full quota of Egyptian slavery, however, things will evidently be different. Amorite iniquity
will then be “complete,” suggesting that, already in Genesis 15, there is concern to prop-
erly motivate, even justify, the military action that comes only much, much later in Joshua
(Anderson 2011).
This concern and justification belong, of course, to God according to Genesis 15, but
they belong equally (and properly) to the author of Genesis 15. All sorts of complicated
literary and historical questions present themselves at this point that cannot be engaged
here. It suffices to say that, long before Joshua, long before Moses, long before Egypt and
Exodus, the canonical narrative is already offering nothing less than an apologia for the
conquest of Canaan. If Genesis 15 comes at a later stage of Israel’s literary history, this ap-
ologia would be post eventum, after the fact, but even if that is the case it only underscores
the point that such an apologia was deemed necessary—and deemed necessary long before
modern concerns over the settlement of Canaan (or the problematic legacy of the texts
pertaining thereto; see Hofreiter 2018). Said differently, this situation suggests that the bib-
lical authors themselves were concerned about the conquest; it was a real problem that had
to be addressed, justified, explained.
2. This explanation is, in truth, rather extended and developed, beginning already in
Genesis 15. Only one aspect of it can be pursued here, which concerns what is called chain
of title in property law (see G. P. Miller 2015; Strawn 2021a). The Canaanites, one might
presume, have the greater right to the land since they inhabit it prior to Israel. But chain of
Who’s Afraid of the Old Testament? 547
title must be traced back to its origin, the root of title. Scripture makes clear that the root of
title belongs to God, not only in the call of Abram wherein God calls Abram and Sarai to
go to Canaan (Gen 12:1–3), but long before that, all the way back to God’s initial creation
of the land/earth (Heb. ʾereṣ) in Genesis 1. That the chain of title for “Canaanland” is legit-
imately transferred to Israel is demonstrated (or justified) in a number of ways in the OT,
but depends ultimately on God’s own root of title (see G. P. Miller 2015:176–77). Yet divine
ownership is two-edged: It may eventuate in Israel’s assumption of title for Canaan but it
lies antecedent to and above that. That is, God’s claim of ultimate proprietary rights over the
land of Canaan supersedes Israel’s, as is captured memorably in Leviticus:
The land must not be permanently sold because the land is mine. You are just immigrants and
foreign guests of mine. (Lev 25:23; CEB)
And so it is that prophets like Amos repeatedly assert that God has the power to exile Israel
from its land in the face of disobedience (5:5, 27, 6:7, 7:17). And so it is that Leviticus justifies
the expulsion of prior inhabitants of the land for the very same reason (see, e.g., Lev 18:23–
30, 20:22–23). The land is and remains a gift of and from God; it is and remains at God’s
unrestricted disposal.
3. The texts just discussed may be seen as strategies of containment. In Joshua 5, Israel is
reminded of their God’s nonpartisan stand on military matters before the first trumpet
blows, let alone a first blow is struck; in Genesis 15, Israel is notified that their own landed-
ness is related to the wickedness of prior landholders (a cautionary tale to be sure); and
in Leviticus 25, Israel learns that it, too, exists in a subsidiary relationship to the Ultimate
Landlord. The largest containment strategy, however, is how the matters of the conquest
are, in the main, restricted to the period of Joshua and the Judges. The practices of “holy
war” (and that is hardly the right term, see Chapman 2013) are not repeated, especially
repeated repeatedly, in the subsequent texts of the OT.9 This situation can and should be
contrasted with the way the Exodus event is repeatedly repeated elsewhere in the pages of
the OT (and NT; see, e.g., Watts 1997; Pao 2000; Estelle 2018; Roberts and Wilson 2018).
The noticeable absence of the conquest in subsequent material could be explained in terms
of history or literary fabula: After the conquest Israel is portrayed as a landed presence
that need not engage in military activity against prior inhabitants. But such an explana-
tion is only partly accurate: For one, the Canaanite presence continues—as late as Jesus’s
encounter with a Canaanite woman in the Gospel of Matthew. For another, there are texts
that could have easily enjoined the conquest as major, extended metaphor but do not. One
example is Ezra-Nehemiah, another is Esther.10 This is not yet to mention (later) figural
reading strategies where, say, the seven nations “mightier and more numerous” than Israel
that must be displaced are not actual people groups at all but, with John Cassian (AD
360–432), the vices that outnumber the virtues (Lienhard 2001:286). Lest one think such
an interpretation is nothing but the strained creation of early Christian readers, it should
9
Cf. Goldingay 2015:117: “the OT treats Israel’s attack on the Canaanites as a once-off event, not one
that it views as ever repeatable.”
10 Cf., respectively, Najman 2014:1661 and Strawn 2009. Note also Collins 2018:159, for “the model of
be noted that some scholars have argued that similar figuration is happening already in
the redaction of the book of Joshua, shifting its register from the historical to the spiritual
(Stone 1991; cf. Chapman 2013). Whatever the case, it is not surprising to read later, in the
NT, that when Christians “gear up” for battle with appropriate armor and armament, that
the enemy in question is precisely not flesh and blood and the primary offensive weapon,
the sword of the Spirit, is nothing more (but also nothing less!) than the word of God (Eph
6:10–17).
The conquest narrative still exists in the OT—it is still present within Holy Scripture—
and it is still difficult. To quote Stephen Chapman, “this is the hard part” of the conquest
narrative: namely, that “God was not able, given the violence of the world, to preserve Israel
purely nonviolently,” and so God’s purposes in history have occasionally intersected with
violence (2013:64). Even so, the preceding considerations suggest that that intersection has
been limited as far as possible and so the matter is far more complex than the erroneous
equation of Joshua with genocide, or, even more incorrectly, than the erroneous assertion
that the Bible sanctions genocide. Not, that is, in the permissive sense of the verb “sanction.”
But in the other meaning of that verb, wherein “sanction” refers to penalties for prohibi-
tive actions, the statement seems quite appropriate after all. By means of various strategies
of containment, the Bible itself sanctions, circumscribes, and limits the violence of the
conquest.
No personal vendetta is authorized, no pouring sugar in the gas tank, no picking up a gun
or hiring one. On the contrary, the validity of any punishing action that may occur depends
entirely on its being God’s action, not ours. (Davis 2001:27)
Psalm 58 serves as a more developed example of what may be observed in Psalm 139. The
struggle is once again between the wicked (rĕšāʿȋm, v. 3; hā-rāšāʿ, v. 10) and the righteous
(ṣāddȋq, vv. 10–11). And the reader of the Psalms knows, from Psalm 1 forward, that the
Lord is intimately aware of the way of the righteous (derek ṣaddȋqȋm), but the way of the
wicked (derek-rĕšāʿȋm) perishes (Ps 1:6). The poet of Psalm 58 is doing nothing more, that
is—but also nothing less—than praying that God be true to what Psalm 1 (among many
other psalms) has already said to be the case.
These details are important and, not unlike the considerations delineated earlier
about the conquest narrative, help to contain the violent speech found in these
psalmic sentiments. More must be said, however, because the most important contain-
ment device has yet to be mentioned: that these psalmic sentiments are uttered in the
midst of prayer. This is “a severely limiting condition,” according to Davis (2001:27).
As Patrick D. Miller has so eloquently noted, uttering brutal imprecation in prayer
550 Brent A. Strawn
has a profoundly transformative effect. Praying this kind of rage is “at one and the
same time to let it go and to hold it back. It is not now a part of our dealing with our
neighbor-enemy. It is a part of our life with God” (2004:200). And so, in the con-
text of prayer, “the rage and brutality [of these psalms] are not allowed to go public”
(2004:200). Instead, to return to Davis, “[t]he cursing psalms help us to hold our anger
in good faith” (2001:25).
Two additional points deserve mention:
1. Davis has noted that the transformation of curse within prayer can, at times, mean a
transformation for the objects of wrath if not also for the praying subject:
God’s action is free, directed not only to our healing but to the healing of the whole moral
order. Through these psalms we demand that our enemies be driven into God’s hands.
But who can say what will happen to them there? For God is manifest in judgment of our
enemies but also, alas, in mercy toward them. Thus these vengeful psalms have a relation-
ship with other forms of prayer for our enemies. . . . [T]he cursing psalms are the vehicle
whereby we yield to God our own claim to vengeance, and that is the crucial first step to
the healing of the entire community. (Davis 2001:27–28; cf. Ps 83:16, 18)
The preceding discussion has attempted to demonstrate that texts that are sometimes
considered “tough” may not be so hard after all—or, at least, perhaps they are not something
Who’s Afraid of the Old Testament? 551
to be afraid of, whether they live in the OT or the NT or both. The previous section has
also gestured toward some ways these tough texts may be helpful, “a light unto our feet
and a lamp unto our paths” (Ps 119:105) if and “when rightly used” (Farrar 1961:42). At this
point, then, we come at last to how difficult texts might be for something—specifically for
“rough times.” What is their raison d’etre, especially in difficult circumstances? How does
one “rightly use” tricky texts like the conquest narrative and the imprecatory psalms?
In the case of the conquest, right use would seem to involve non-use. Certain things
are not to be replicated. Certain things are bound, restricted, limited to “once upon a
time”: way back when and way over there. They are no longer dominant images or con-
ceptual metaphors by which to live one’s life (or faith). They may remain intractably
mysterious—is violence ever easily understood?—but we can be clear enough that God’s
forces aren’t on anyone’s side, that exceptions to “anti-Canaanitism” are well attested and
are approved by Christ himself, who is thrice addressed as “Lord” (κύριε) by a Canaanite
woman begging for mercy for her child (Matt 15:21–28). If the conquest narrative is
taken up now, therefore, it cannot be in any way, shape, or form about “Canaanites” or
“Girgashites” if for no other reason that no such people groups exist anymore. The way of
appropriating these difficult texts for our own rough times, therefore, must be a more fig-
ural way: but not by any identification of our own personal enemies (whomever they may
be) as “Canaanite” others. No, as the Psalms teach us, the only enemies that are properly
cursed are God’s enemies, not our own. And, as the NT’s belated appropriation of the point
at hand informs us, the inhabitants of the land that pose a real threat and temptation to
us are not flesh and blood at all, but “the rulers . . . the authorities . . . the cosmic powers
of this present darkness . . . the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph 6:12;
NRSV). Such powers and principalities must be engaged, but by means of the utility belt
of truth, with the Kevlar vest of righteousness, boots laced up with the gospel of peace, with
a riot shield of faith, a helmet of salvation, and the word of God as our own only weapon.
That is a very different arsenal than employed by any other army known to human history.
And yet, when times are rough, these “tough” texts remind us that our unusual “armor” is
nevertheless highly effective, perhaps especially rhetorically:
For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we
fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to de-
molish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against
the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. (2
Cor 10:3–5; NIV)
What, then, of imprecation—how are the cursing psalms “rightly used”? Cursing is surely
the most common of speech-acts whenever we humans hit “rough times.” The so-called
“tough texts” of the imprecatory psalms offer us a better way, however, than the one we are
prone to taking. Instead of cursing our enemies directly, whether in our hearts or to their
faces (or both), the psalms teach us to utter such things in prayer; indeed, we might well
ask if the kinds of thoughts expressed in the imprecatory psalms “have any . . . permissible
context [other] than conversation with God, from whom no secrets are hid, from whom no
rage or anger can be concealed” (P. D. Miller 2004:200; his emphasis). As noted earlier, the
practice of cursing prayer might drastically change things, and for the better: it offers us a
way to release our anger—to God!—without allowing it to go public in damaging ways. Still
further, in the process of such prayer, we may come to think differently about ourselves, if
552 Brent A. Strawn
not also our enemies. Perhaps they aren’t as bad as we thought, perhaps we aren’t as good
as we think (cf. Davis 2001:27–28). In the process of such prayer, fellow pray-ers might
overhear and be summoned to our aid, if not also our defense. And in the process of such
prayer, we may realize that, while praying our enemies into God’s hands, God may choose
to treat them differently than we would desire. They are, after all, God’s enemies and God has
been known to be merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and
faithfulness (Exod 34:6). Vengeance is the Lord’s, after all (Deut 32:35; Rom 12:18–21; Heb
10:30), and it is God who will repay . . . or pass on such requital, much to our displeasure
(cf. Jonah 3:10–4:1). The execution of mercy is God’s business, subject to God’s generosity,
as the prophet Jonah comes to learn, and as Jesus underscores in the parable of the labors
in the vineyard (Matt 20:1–16). Our business, according to these “tough” psalms is to pray,
and by praying—even by praying rage-filled prayers—to maintain attachment to the Lord,
from whom comes our help (Ps 121:1–2; Strawn 2014). If that is too lofty a goal in some
instances, there are other biblical voices to heed, like the pragmatic if occasionally cranky
voice found in Ecclesiastes: “Do not give heed to everything that people say, or you may
hear your servant cursing you; your heart knows that many times you have yourself cursed
others” (Eccl 7:21–22; NRSV).
Pragmatism is a good place to end. Tough texts pose certain, very real challenges. And
yet these challenges are never, in my judgment, insurmountable, even if the way lies only
over their difficult, craggy summits, or somehow only through their difficult centers
(never around them). Careful reflection suggests, furthermore, that tough texts tend to
emerge out of “rough times”: the fraught situation of imminent, risky battle, for example
(so Joshua), or the distressing and unjust circumstances brought about by enemies of var-
ious sorts (so Psalms). The emergence of such texts from rough times means, of course,
that they may also be profitable for rough times of a much belated variety. Such texts may
even be therapeutic, good for our souls, lighting our way, offering us fullness of felicity
(flourishing), whereby we become better people, “instructed in every good work” and
enlarged in our “love and service of God” (Farrar 1961:43). That, most certainly, would be
an instance of these texts “rightly used.” Whenever and if ever that happens, we might join
in Farrar’s exuberance: “[H]ow infinite the preciousness of the lessons which we can learn
from Scripture” (Farrar 1961:43)! In the end, therefore, there is no reason to fear difficult
texts wherever they are found in Scripture—or anything else, for that matter—“for Thou
art with me” (Ps 23:4; KJV). This, too, “may God grant us all for His Son’s sake!” (Farrar
1961:43).
References
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Chapter 34
It should happen no more that one would give an opinion on Jews or on the
Orthodox Church without being thoroughly acquainted with the Jewish and/or
the Orthodox Scriptures, traditions, and faiths, and without having encountered
the living representatives of Judaism and of Christian-Orthodoxy.1
The first modern Orthodox hierarch to make an official effort to begin a dialogue with
Jews was Archbishop Iakovos of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America (as it is now
called). The January 1972 meeting in New York City that his efforts engendered was not only
the first of its kind; it was also the last. Never again did Jews and Orthodox Christians meet
on such a level in the United States. However, events transpiring in 1970s Europe, particu-
larly amid the ecumenical fervor surrounding plans for a pan-Orthodox council (led by the
Orthodox Center of the Ecumenical Patriarchate in Chambésy, Switzerland),2 blossomed
five years later into the first of what has been, as of 2020, ten international “academic
meetings” between Orthodox Christians and Jews. While these meetings are important in
their uniqueness and regularity (no other meetings of such a level have taken place), most
of the documents have not become widely available, and therefore their impact has paled
in comparison to other Jewish–Christian dialogues. Nonetheless, the meetings have served
remarkably well, often to the surprise of the participants themselves, to demonstrate that
Orthodoxy and Judaism have significant, ongoing commonalities in terms of Scripture and
hermeneutics, especially when both are compared to other Christian traditions. And these
commonalities still bear much potential for further cooperation and challenge as Jews and
Orthodox Christians continue to come together, as Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew has
1
Walter Gut, “Welcome Address to the Christian-Orthodox and Jewish Delegations,” GOTR 24.4
(1979): 325–327, here 326.
2 See Gary Vachicouras, “Historical Survey on the International Bilateral Dialogues of the Orthodox
exhorted, not to “convert” but “to strengthen the calm and peaceful cooperation between
people.”3
While the 1972 New York meeting was the first official meeting between Orthodox
Christians and Jews in the modern period, the papers presented evidence that what
transpired was not quite a meeting between two theological traditions per se, but a meeting
between two ethnic traditions: Greeks and Jews, or “Hellenic and Hebrew cultures,” as
the Archbishop mentions in his opening address.4 Thus one paper tellingly speaks of
Judaism’s relationship with ancient Hellenism, Byzantium, and modern Greece as a sort
of continual strand of its relationship not with Christians, but with Greeks.5 Nonetheless,
despite the overshadowing ethnic dimension, this first meeting proved remarkable for its
affability and depth.
The Jewish participants in particular demonstrated a familiarity with Orthodox thought
and culture that allowed for both to see important commonalities in regard to Scripture
and hermeneutics, such as the singular role that the contemporary community (and there-
fore tradition as a whole) plays as the authoritative interpreter and inheritor of Scripture,6
or the mutual importance placed on inspiration, not just in the composing of Scripture,
but in its interpretation as well (especially among the rabbis and fathers).7 Jacob Agus in
particular highlighted the diversity of the Second Temple period (to which we will return
later) and strongly asserted that fellow Jews, in order to understand better the history of
Judaism, must become more familiar with the New Testament.8 Likewise, Eric Werner, an-
other Jewish participant, displayed a remarkable knowledge of Orthodox worship and “the
continuity of the Old and New Testaments” that it seeks to exhibit.9 Given the fruitfulness
and potential of these biblical discussions, the participants recommended the formation
of committees so that Jews and Orthodox Christians could regularly study, among other
topics, “Jewish and Greek views of the Bible (the Old Testament or Hebrew Scriptures).”10
3
“Patriarchal Message” to the fourth meeting (unpublished manuscript, 1998), typescript.
4
“Statement by Archbishop Iakovos” GOTR 22.1 (1977): 2–3, here 2. The January 1972 meeting
documents were published, without minutes, in GOTR 22.1 (1977) and JES 13.4 (1976). All references
here are to the former—though the editor notes that the volume contains only a “selection,” so it remains
unclear whether there were more papers.
5 Zvi Ankori, “Greek Orthodox-Jewish Relations in Historic Perspective—The Jewish View,” GOTR
Unfortunately, the New Testament was not included in the recommendation, as Agus had
encouraged, and neither was such a committee ever formed anyway.11
Four years later, Metropolitan Damaskinos (director of the Orthodox Center in
Chambésy and soon to become the Metropolitan of Switzerland) gave an invited speech at
a 1976 meeting of a Swiss Jewish-Christian society in Zurich (known now as the Christlich-
Jüdische Arbeitsgemeinschaft in der Schweiz) on “The Claims to Absoluteness in Both
Religions, Judaism and Christianity, and the Necessity of Their Dialogue.”12 Damaskinos’s
speech, which would soon jumpstart the international Orthodox– Jewish meetings,
demonstrated both the possibility of and necessity for Orthodox dialogue with Jews: the
possibility in the sense that an internationally prominent Orthodox bishop was calling for
dialogue, and the necessity in the sense that some of his Jewish auditors, while on the whole
reacting positively, nonetheless believed that the Metropolitan was lacking significantly
in his portrayal of Jewish interpretations of Scripture. “You need to receive,” Shemaryahu
Talmon noted later to the Metropolitan, “a lesson in biblical interpretation.” And so Talmon
proposed that the inaugural meeting address the concept and significance of the Hebrew
Bible.13 After some back and forth, the organizers of the first meeting settled on the title and
theme, “The Law in Christian-Orthodox and Jewish Understanding.”14 Thus, fittingly, it was
the Bible and its interpretation that became the inspiration for and theme of the first inter-
national Orthodox Christian–Jewish meeting.
The March 1977 meeting in Lucerne, co-led by Metropolitan Damaskinos and Gerhart
Riegner, a seminal and historic voice of European Jewry, included four presenta
tions: two Jewish, one Catholic, and one Orthodox.15 Remarkably, while there were still
misunderstandings and disagreements, the participants pleasantly found that in terms of
“law” (torah/nomos), Orthodox Christians appeared to hold far more in common with
Jews than with their Western counterparts. Both this meeting and the Orthodox–Lutheran
dialogues of the same year demonstrate that the Orthodox were as hesitant to distance the
apostolic and patristic traditions from law as Jews were to distance the rabbinic traditions
11 Theodore Stylianopoulos (who attended the 1972 meeting), email message to the author, August
14, 2020.
12 The original German title is “Die Absolutheitsansprüche der beiden Religionen, Christentum
und Judentum und die Notwendigkeit ihres Dialoges.” For an overview of the speech and reactions to
it, particularly as preserved in unpublished archives, see Thomas Kratzert, Wir sind wie die Juden: der
griechisch-orthodoxe Beitrag zu einem ökumenischen judisch-christlichen Dialog (Berlin: Institut Kirche
und Judentum, 1994), 210–213. I am grateful to Gary Vachicouras for sending me a copy of this important,
unpublished speech, along with a myriad of other published and unpublished documents related to these
meetings.
13 “Minutes of the meetings of IJCIC of October 18, 1976,” in Kratzert, Wir sind wie, 212–213, n60.
Unfortunately, without access to these minutes, I simply have retranslated Kratzert’s German rendition
back into the original English.
14 While an earlier thematic proposal had been “Jewish and Christian Understanding of the Concepts
of God and Law,” the organizers eventually settled, more simply, on “the Law in Christian-Orthodox and
Jewish Understanding,” due, it appears, to objections raised to the former by Jewish participants. See
Kratzert, Wir sind wie, 214, n64.
15 The papers from the 1977 meeting, along with minutes, were published in GOTR 24.4 (1979). Alexis
Kniazeff was likewise meant to offer another paper, but an illness prevented him from attending, so a
summary was read in his place. However, for unclear reasons, neither is reflected in the GOTR collection.
The Bible in Orthodox Christian–Jewish Dialogue 559
from torah.16 As the Orthodox contributor, Basilios Stoyiannos says simply, there is “no pos-
sibility of isolating the Law and of considering it as antagonistic to the Gospel.”17 Moreover,
the Jewish emphasis that torah rightly understood is not merely “law” in the legalistic sense,
but an all-encompassing guide orienting every aspect of life toward God—“not the expres-
sion of rigid legalism, but the revealed Divine answer to man’s call”18—proved to bear many
similarities to the Orthodox concept of “tradition” (or, more commonly, “Tradition”), not
as something additional to and independent of Scripture, but as an all-encompassing guide
orienting the spiritual life, from which Scripture arises and in which Scripture is, as an
Orthodox writer elsewhere notes, “rightly understood.”19 The Jewish notion of torah as the
means by which God makes for himself a “dwelling place on earth”20 also found signifi-
cant correspondence with Orthodox Christian notions of Christ, the Logos, incarnate in
Scripture, the Church, and the Eucharist.21
Thus fittingly, the second meeting, two years later in Bucharest, turned directly to the
relationship of torah/Christ to Scripture and tradition under the banner, “Tradition and
Community.”22 In many ways, the stagnant political environment of 1970s Bucharest
allowed for a more fruitful discussion of theology that further revealed “theology” to be
inseparable from Scripture and practice, for both Orthodox and Jews. Issues of religion
and state, which would largely eclipse Scripture and hermeneutics in later meetings, here
in Bucharest arose only for the hosts (both Jewish and Christian) to note that the tripar-
tite, irenic relationship between Romania’s Orthodox Church, its Jewish community, and
its Communist government should be the ideal for all. Undoubtedly, the watchful eye of
Nicolae Ceausescu’s authoritarian rule inhibited any critique thereof.
Once again, Jews and Orthodox Christians found many points of commonality, particu-
larly in the unwillingness of both to conceive of the study of Scripture as something separate
16
See the summary of the August 1977 meeting in Kiev (only five months after the Lucerne meeting
discussed earlier) between Finnish Lutherans and Russian Orthodox in Hannu T. Kamppuri, ed., Dialogue
between Neighbours: The Theological Conversations between the Evangelical-Lutheran Church of Finland
and the Russian Orthodox Church, 1970–1986 (Helsinki: Luther-Agricola Society, 1986), 68–76. Orthodox
dialogues with German Lutherans were even more divided. See Michael G. Azar, “The Law and the
New Life in Romans 7:1–6: Eastern-Western Dialogue and Romans,” in Participation, Justification and
Conversion: Eastern Orthodox Interpretation of Paul and the Debate between Old and New Perspectives on
Paul, WUNT 442, ed. Athanasios Despotis (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 247–276, here 243.
17 “The Law in the New Testament from an Orthodox Point of View,” GOTR 24.4 (1979): 309–322,
here 322.
18 Shemaryahu Talmon, “Torah as a Concept and Vital Principle in the Hebrew Bible,” GOTR 24.4
Church,” in Bible, Church, Tradition: An Eastern Orthodox View, vol. 1 of The Collected Works of Georges
Florovsky [Belmont, MA: Nordland, 1972], 73–92, here 74–75), has won widespread acceptance in the
Orthodox world.
20 Nachum L. Rabinovitch, “The Law in Rabbinic Judaism,” GOTR 24.4 (1979): 301–307, here 303.
21 Cf. ibid., 302, 304.
22 Nifon Mihăiță, ed., The Christian Orthodox–Jewish Consultation II: Bucharest, October 29–31, 1979
(Bucharest: Bucharest Biblical and Mission Institute, c. 1979). While this publication is neither widely
available, professionally edited, nor, perhaps, complete (cf. Kratzert, Wir sind wie, 219, n86, regarding
Cyril Argenti’s missing paper), it nonetheless is the only collection of the papers and responses from the
second meeting.
560 Michael G. Azar
from the multifaceted notion of “tradition” and obedience to God’s commands. While there
were hermeneutical/theological differences, there was nonetheless a palpable sense of com-
monality in the emphasis that Orthodox Christians and Jews place on the importance of
community and its tradition as the interpreter of Scripture—and such was, accordingly, the
focus of the joint statement issued afterward. In Michael Wyschogrod’s words, “The truth
is that there cannot be a Bible without tradition,” the latter of which, he earlier notes, is
simply the “tradition of revelation.”23 The ideas posited by Elias Jones-Golitzin in the paper
that followed are little different from Wyschogrod’s basic points, except that Wyschogrod
speaks of “rabbis,” Jones-Golitzin of “fathers.”24 Both contributors, moreover, speak criti-
cally of Sola Scriptura and the related partitioning of “Scripture” and “tradition” into two
separate sources, but, while Wyschogrod revealingly misunderstands this partitioning to
be a more universal Christian idea against which stands Judaism, Jones-Golitzin describes
this partitioning as specifically Western and “foreign to Orthodoxy.”25 Feeling, once again,
that they had more in common with Jews than with Catholics or Protestants, the Orthodox
respondents heartily agreed with Wyschogrod’s understanding of the Bible as part of tra-
dition.26 As John Romanides later recounted of Wyschogrod’s and Jones-Golitzin’s papers,
“The two conference papers on ‘Bible and Tradition’ had essentially such similar positions
which made it possible to terminate discussion early.”27 The difference, of course, lay in
which tradition? If both Orthodox Christians and Jews claim a continuity in which Torah/
Scripture is not added to but rightly understood through a life of practice guided by tradi-
tion, and each becomes willing—contrary to many previous generations—to recognize the
other not merely as an aberration but, in some or most ways, simply a different continua-
tion, should not each learn from the continuity of the other?
And so, in 1993—after a delay due in part to the turbulent world events of the 1980s—
Orthodox Christians and Jews met for the third time, this time in Greece, fittingly under
the theme, “Continuity and Renewal.”28 The conference for the first time addressed
note 22), 30–31. See also Dimitru Abrudan’s paper on the following day, “Role [sic] des diverses traditions
(liturgiques, rituelles, canoniques, familiales etc [sic]) dans l’Église Orthodoxe,” in The Christian
Orthodox–Jewish Consultation II (see note 22), 44–52, which further confirms the commonality of
“tradition” in Judaism and Orthodoxy.
27 John S. Romanides, personal account (which also mentions points of commonality that were not
and Jews on Continuity and Renewal: The Third Academic Meeting between Orthodox Christians and Jews
(Immanuel 26/27) (Jerusalem: Ecumenical Theological Research Fraternity in Israel, 1994).
The Bible in Orthodox Christian–Jewish Dialogue 561
directly a topic that had nonetheless regularly surfaced in previous meetings: “Scripture
and Hermeneutics.” Once again, the inseparability of Scripture and tradition revealed
itself, in that for both, the practice of the community (tradition) was again shown reg-
ularly to constitute the ultimate authority in regard to the hermeneutics of Scripture.
Yet perhaps the strongest point to arise here in regard to Scripture from the Orthodox
side was the unrelenting emphasis on the unity of Scripture—that one cannot read the
Old without the New anymore than one can read the New with no knowledge of the
Old.29 The Orthodox speakers again disavowed themselves from supposedly Western
tendencies to distance law from gospel and the closely related tendency to reduce
Judaism to a merely legalistic phenomenon.30 The sense that comes out of this en-
counter is that, for the Orthodox, to separate Scripture into the New Testament and Old
Testament too starkly, whether, more obviously, by a Jew who rejects the New Testament
or, less obviously, a Christian who nonetheless accepts both, automatically leads to a
misunderstanding of both.
In many ways, this meeting fulfilled the aspirations of the previous two by developing
their theological investigations and broadening their reach. The fall of Communism,
which was the cause of much hope in the early 1990s, enabled wider Jewish and, especially,
Orthodox Christian participation. The proceedings and transcripts of the discussions were
edited and published in their entirety in English, along with additional essays, and soon
afterward translated into Russian.31 This was the first publication of any meeting between
Orthodox Christians and Jews in its entirety, and, if for that reason alone, has perhaps be-
come the most impactful of all of the meetings.
Nonetheless, while Jews and Orthodox Christians have continued to meet regularly
since 1993, there has never been a comparable publication. The presentations from the
fourth meeting in 1998 in Ma’aleh HaChamisha (a kibbutz near Jerusalem) were the last
to be collected. What remains of the latter six meetings comprises only communiqués and
a smattering of otherwise mostly unpublished papers, programs, participant lists, personal
accounts, and addresses.32 The fourth meeting saw a variety of other changes as well. It was
the last to be overseen by the Orthodox Center in Chambésy rather than, as with subsequent
meetings, the Ecumenical Patriarch’s liaison office to the European Union in Brussels, and
it was the last to be co-led by the originators of these meetings, Metropolitan Damaskinos
and Gerhart Riegner, with Metropolitan Emmanuel of France succeeding Damaskinos and a
29 See especially Vitaly Borovoy, “Christian Orthodoxy in the Modern World,” in Lowe, Orthodox
Christians and Jews (see note 28), 107–119, as well as the author’s comments in the discussion that
followed, 131–132. Cf. Elias Oikonomou’s earlier paper, “Scripture and Hermeneutics: An Orthodox
View,” in Orthodox Christians and Jews (see note 28), 49–56, here 53: “The Old Testament did not come
to an end with the coming of the New; the New did not abolish the Old but it’s self-sufficiency, it’s self-
supporting adequacy.”
30 See, e.g., Theodore Stylianopoulos, “Faithfulness to the Roots and Commitment toward the
Future: An Orthodox View,” in Orthodox Christians and Jews (see note 28), 142–159, here 157.
31 The Russian translation is available at http://vstrecha-center.ru/lib/book/read/638/#toc1, accessed
September 2020.
32 In addition to Gary Vachicouras, I am grateful to Cyril Hovorun, Noam Marans, Eugene Korn,
Spyros Tsitsigkos, Malcolm Lowe, Isabella Nespoli, Anne-Emmanuelle Tankam, Norman Solomon, and
Avril Promislow for providing me with a variety of documents and personal accounts related especially
to the latter six meetings and to Dan Koski for additional insight.
562 Michael G. Azar
variety of prominent Jewish thinkers succeeding Riegner.33 The 1998 meeting also showed a
key shift in the thematic focus of the meetings: While the earlier meetings were characterized
by largely theological discussions—Orthodox Christians and Jews coming together to hear
of the theology of the other (again emphasizing that practice is inseparable from theology for
both)—the latter six are characterized more by the two traditions standing together against
common issues facing, in many ways, religion in general. The thematic focus shifted to be-
come “not theological but social in nature,” and that primarily in a cooperative, rather than
mutually challenging, way.34 Discussion of Scripture and hermeneutics, moreover—as far
as can be pieced together from the communiqués, programs, papers, and personal accounts
that remain—has never reached the potential of the first three meetings.
Thus, the fourth meeting addressed the Orthodox and Jewish “encounter with moder-
nity,” though also, for the first time, issued a common Orthodox statement on “expressions
considered antijewish [sic] in certain texts of worship” (a statement which had been called
for at the third meeting).35 The fifth (Thessaloniki, 2003) considered the mutual commitment
to “sources” in the “common commitment to peace and justice.” The sixth (Jerusalem,
2007) focused on issues of religious liberty while the seventh (Athens, 2009) focused on
economic and ecological crises. The eighth (Thessaloniki, 2013) again addressed ecological
matters, but also issues of religious prejudice (including antisemitism). The ninth (Athens,
2015), indicative of the importance that the Greek and Israeli governments had come to
place on these meetings, was hosted by the Israeli ambassador to Greece and celebrated the
twenty-fifth anniversary of Greek–Israeli relations with a focus on “spiritual centers and
diasporas.” Finally, the tenth and most recent meeting (Jerusalem, 2017) focused on the
concept of “Jerusalem” in the two traditions (but with deliberately less attention drawn to
the current tension in the Holy City).
Riegner, in his final words to the fourth meeting in 1998, had requested that, should these
meetings improve Jewish relations with Orthodoxy overall, they must focus on Russian
participation and a Russian locale, where the majority of Orthodox Christians live and
where one of the largest Jewish communities remains.36 Nonetheless, though continuing
to include Orthodox participants from most other autocephalous churches, the subsequent
meetings have never again met beyond Greece or Israel and have been noticeably explicit in
addressing Greek–Israeli concerns. It seems that Zvi Ankori’s hope—expressed at the 1972
meeting—for the strengthening of the relationship between “Greece and Israel, Greeks and
Jews, Greek Orthodoxy and Judaism”37 has been realized, while Riegner’s has not.
33
Sponsorship on the Jewish side has most often come from the International Jewish Committee
for Interreligious Consultations, but at other times more directly from the World Jewish Congress or
American Jewish Committee—though both are nonetheless members of the former.
34 Patriarch Bartholomew, “Patriarchal Message” to the fourth meeting.
35 The original English version remains unpublished, but a French translation is in Istina 44
(1999): 247–248.
36 “Closing Address” (unpublished manuscript, 1998), typescript. The same point was voiced earlier
in the fourth meeting by Mikhail Chlenov (“Statement Delivered at the Inter-Religious Academic
Conference on ‘Orthodox Christianity and Judaism’ held at Maale-Ha’hamisha, Israel, in December
1998” [unpublished manuscript, 1998], typescript) and, even more strongly, by Vitaly Borovoy, at one
of the third meeting’s discussions five years earlier, in Orthodox Christians and Jews (see note 28), 166.
37 Ankori, “Greek Orthodox-Jewish Relations,” 57.
The Bible in Orthodox Christian–Jewish Dialogue 563
While the latter six meetings have turned to the Bible primarily as a resource for what-
ever topic was under consideration, it is the first three that really speak the most force-
fully toward the mutual benefit and challenge that Orthodox Christianity and Judaism
offer each other in terms of biblical interpretation.38 Yet, despite the many major, afore-
mentioned points of commonality that have been revealed by these meetings, gaps and
obstacles in understanding have also revealed themselves, both in terms of mutual un-
derstanding and in light of developments in biblical scholarship since the 1970s and
even 1990s. While it was once commonplace to assert that “Christianity” grew out of
“Judaism” or that “Judaism” grew uninfluenced by “Christianity”—and, indeed, many
of the participants thus far have assumed such—scholarship of the last few decades
has regularly noted that both traditions grew as clear, varied, and mutually influencing
continuations of various Hebrew (and Hellenized) practices that had flourished in the
Roman-controlled world, both in the Land of Israel and the Diaspora.39 A better rec-
ognition of this diversity and its significance for later and contemporary interaction
between Orthodox Christianity and Judaism, would lead, I believe, to more fruitful
encounters between the two that more fully appreciate the scriptural traditions of the
other. In what follows, I will focus on four points for further development (from an
explicitly Orthodox Christian perspective) in regard to the role Scripture has, can, and
should serve in these encounters.
The Septuagint
First, with a better a sense of the diversity in thought and practice that preceded and
accompanied Jesus and his followers (such as was demonstrated by Agus in 1972), Orthodox
Christians and Jews would do well to recognize the significance of the Septuagint in the
history not just of Orthodox Christianity, but of Judaism as well, and to employ this know-
ledge in a more thorough understanding of themselves and of one another. At the third
meeting (1993), the Orthodox contributor to the “Scripture and Hermeneutics” session,
Elias Oikonomou, unsurprisingly emphasized the importance of the Septuagint in his-
toric and contemporary Orthodox thought and practice.40 It has long been known and
38 An exception may be the ninth meeting (2015), at which, according to the communiqué, participants
discussed the “understanding of various Old Testament passages in the two traditions.” However, I have
thus far been unable to confirm this from either the participants or available documents.
39 The scholarship on this abounds, but see, for example, Adam H. Becker and Annette Yoshiko
Reed, eds., The Ways That Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages
(Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), or Lori Baron, Jill Hicks-Keeton, and Matthew Thiessen, eds., The Ways
That Often Parted: Essays in Honor of Joel Marcus (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2019).
40 Oikonomou, “Scripture and Hermeneutics.”
564 Michael G. Azar
understood that, uniquely for the Orthodox, the “Old Testament” is the Septuagint—
which itself cannot be overlooked as a Jewish translation.41 However, the Jewish contrib-
utor to the same session, Walter Wurzburger, cited the Septuagint simply to demonstrate
how “hermeneutics in the form of translation sometimes does violence to the meaning of
a biblical text,” pointing to the Greek translations of nomos in place of the Hebrew torah
and pistis in place of emunah as key culprits.42 The former “mistranslation,” he suggests,
contributed to the “misconception that Judaism is not a religion but merely a legal code
devoid of genuine spirituality,” while the latter obscures the fact that emunah “does not
refer at all to faith as an act of dogmatic affirmation, but rather denotes unswerving faith-
fulness and loyalty.”43 This was by no means the only time that the Jewish side spoke neg-
atively of the Septuagint.44
Regardless of these points as they relate to Christianity broadly speaking, they none-
theless allow a negative view of the Septuagint to obscure a better understanding of
what nomos and pistis have in fact meant for Orthodox Christianity, where nomos
has rarely reached the clearer, legalistic sense more known from Latin Christianity,
and pistis has hardly been reduced to merely “dogmatic affirmation.” It is fitting that
at the previous meeting, Jones-Golitzin had described the Orthodox canonical tra-
dition as being “a Christian halachah, if you will, which shows us the way in which
to live, the way along which to walk in fulfilling our vocation as children of the Most
High.”45 And Theodore Stylianopoulos, in the discussion after the 1993 “Scripture
and Hermeneutics” session, likewise challenged Wurzburger’s misunderstanding and
characterizing of the Septuagint as “a calamity and tragedy”: “Incidentally, the legalistics
[sic] that are called interpretation of the Old Testament pertain more to Western
scholarship than to Eastern scholarship, because in the patristic tradition nomos is still
custom in the way of life rather than a legalistic principle.”46 While it was once com-
monplace, moreover, for scholars to assume that the Septuagint bore no influence on the
development of Jewish thought (and thus it is unsurprising that Wurzburger here claims
what he does), such an assumption is no longer tenable.47 Accordingly, further study of
the Septuagint in its original contexts and historic impact, especially vis-à-vis Hebrew
textual traditions, would do well to further contemporary Orthodox Christian-Jewish
dialogue.
41
Different manuscript traditions notwithstanding.
42
Walter S. Wurzburger, “Scripture and Hermeneutics: A Jewish View,” in Lowe, Orthodox Christians
and Jews (see note 28), 42–48, here 44.
43 Wurzburger, “Scripture and Hermeneutics,” 43 and 44.
44 See, e.g., Talmon, “Torah as a Concept,” 279.
45 Jones-Golitzin, “The Role of the Bible,” 41.
46 “Session II: Scripture and Hermeneutics” discussion, in Orthodox Christians and Jews (see note
28), 58. Indeed, New Testament scholarship has likewise shown that neither word necessarily carried
the sense that Wurzburger here assumes of Christian text and tradition. See, for example, the varied
perspectives in Mark D. Nanos and Magnus Zetterholm, eds., Paul within Judaism: Restoring the First-
Century Context to the Apostle (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2015).
47 See., e.g., Nicholas de Lange, “The Septuagint as a Jewish Classic,” in Modernity’s Classics, ed. Sarah
C. Humphreys and Rudolf G. Wagner (Berlin: Springer, 2013), 143–164, or Timothy Michael Law and
Alison Salvesen, eds., Greek Scripture and the Rabbis (Leuven: Peeters, 2012).
The Bible in Orthodox Christian–Jewish Dialogue 565
Second, a recognition of the multifaceted nature of Second Temple practice would allow
not just for the Septuagint, but also for the New Testament, to be seen anew as a fundamen-
tally Hebraic text. Approaching the New Testament as such can and should lead to better
mutual understanding between Jews and Orthodox Christians, with the latter learning of
certain Hebraic elements eclipsed by later Christian tradition, and the former learning of
other Jewish elements eclipsed or deemphasized in later Jewish tradition (here, Romans
9–11 would prove to be an especially fruitful subject of study for both sides).48 At the third
meeting in 1993, this issue arose in a question posed by Metropolitan Chrysostomos about
whether Jews could see the New Testament as a valid continuation of Hebrew traditions.49
To this, Jean Halpérin, a Jewish participant, noted that, despite the similarities between
the New Testament and the Hebrew Scriptures, this was not “a proper place to engage in
a debate on that particular subject.”50 Thus, though Jacob Agus observed in 1972 that “the
thoughtful Jew who desires to follow the ancient counsel, ‘know thyself,’ must grapple with
the many riddles posed by a study of the New Testament,”51 and his assertion was echoed
later,52 his enjoinder has not been put into practice among later Jewish participants. Indeed,
the Bucharest meeting in 1979 indicated that it was the Orthodox Christians, not the Jews,
who were more open to understanding Jesus witin Judaism.53 Such need not to be the case
any longer, as the growth in both the scholarly understanding of the Jewish milieu of the
New Testament (particularly since the 1970s) and the ever-widening circle of Jewish New
Testament scholarship in recent years have shown.54 For these dialogues to progress, the
participants must grapple with the New Testament as an expression of Second Temple
Jewish thought no less significant than those concurrent traditions that became central to
later rabbinic thought.
Furthermore, of the few times that Jewish participants have brought up the New
Testament (at least since Agus and Werner in 1972), they have often mischaracterized or
overlooked Orthodox Christian interpretation itself (sometimes clearly with more fa-
miliarity with Western Christian thought).55 Such is especially the case in regard to the
48 Indeed, a few Orthodox have raised this important passage: Stylianopoulos at the first and
third meetings (“New Testament Issues in Jewish-Christian Relations,” GOTR 22.1 [1977]: 70–79, and
“Faithfulness to the Roots,” respectively) and Borovoy at the third meeting (“Christian Orthodoxy”).
See also Cyril Argenti’s discussion comments at the second meeting (The Christian Orthodox-Jewish
Consultation II [see note 22], 32–33).
49 “Session III: Memory and Responsibility” discussion, in Lowe, Orthodox Christians and Jews (see
Annotated New Testament, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017).
55 The latter has been a repeating problem. Aside from Wyschogrod’s misunderstanding of Scripture
and tradition noted earlier, see also Siegel, “Judaism and Eastern Orthodoxy,” 66.
566 Michael G. Azar
Orthodox stress not on a “breach”56 between the Old and New Testaments, nor, chiefly, on
a linear progression from one to the other—let alone a belief that the one “superseded”57
the other—but on the fundamental, timeless unity of both,58 wherein the “New” neither
adds to, nor subtracts from, the “Old,” but serves, in the language of Irenaeus of Lyons, as
a “recapitulation” of the “Old,” a concise summary that assists in the reading thereof.59 The
distinction that Wurzburger, for example, paints between Christian and Jewish readers—
Christians who “attempt to read into the Hebrew Scriptures the message of the Gospels”60
and Jews who read simply “in accordance”61 with rabbinic tradition—is significantly una-
ware of both Orthodox hermeneutics (particularly the role of the “canon of truth”) and the
achievements of the previous meetings surveyed above. With an emphasis on the supposed
diminishment of the Old Testament in Greek patristic or Orthodox thought that thereby
accentuates the Old Testament’s division from both the New Testament and tradition as
a whole (beyond what even the Orthodox themselves have been willing to claim),62 too
many Jewish participants have failed to live up to Riegner’s closing remarks at the third
meeting: “We have to understand each other as the other understands himself and not as
we would want him to be.”63
56
It is important to note that it was after a Catholic contribution to the first meeting (in 1977) that
“Jewish participants stressed that contrary to Christian interpretation of salvation which assumed a
breach in time before and after Jesus, Judaism considered the process of salvation a constant dynamic
flow” (meeting minutes in GOTR 24.4 [1979], 300).
57 The term is tellingly introduced by a Jewish participant in order to describe—
in this case,
misleadingly—the Christian view of Scripture (Wurzburger, “Scripture and Hermeneutics,” 46).
58 Examples of Orthodox participants stressing the unity of Scripture abound, but see, e.g., Borovoy,
esp. 129.
60 Wurzburger, “Scripture and Hermeneutics,” 46.
61 Wurzburger, “Session II: Scripture and Hermeneutics” discussion, 68.
62 See, e.g., Talmon, “Torah as a Concept,” 274. Cf. John Behr, John the Theologian and His Paschal
tradition, even at times offering sustained interaction both with the Hebrew language and
rabbinic thought in pursuing scriptural points (normally to elucidate similarities rather
than criticisms).65 Yet, few on the Jewish side, since Siegel, Agus, Ankori, and Werner
in 1972, have reflected this approach, preferring instead—when speaking of Orthodox
Christian thought—to focus on issues of anti-Judaism or antisemitism almost exclu-
sively.66 Even when Zvi Werblowsy, a Jewish participant in 1993, summons the importance
of “self-criticism” for both traditions, he does so chiefly to demand that the Orthodox tra-
dition, not his own, needs to be more self-critical (he also, relatedly, portrays Christian
hermeneutics as an aberration from a more faithful, Jewish approach).67 When Norman
Solomon in 1998 does uniquely well to argue for many of the points above—that a better
understanding of Second Temple diversity ought to lead both the Jew and Orthodox
Christian to a more appreciative approach to the other—he nonetheless focuses on the
need for Orthodox, not Jews, to be more self-critical.68 And when Eric Greenberg, in
2013, sets himself toward highlighting the “obstacles and challenges” that have hindered
the “establishing of solidarity” between Orthodoxy and Judaism, he focuses almost ex-
clusively on anti-Jewish and antisemitic expressions in Orthodox history and contem-
porary personalities, including those ill-conceived perceptions of Jews and Judaism
that appear “to derive from the image of the Jewish antagonists of Christ who populate
the pages of the New Testament.”69 Whatever the admitted validity of these points that
much of Orthodox history is replete with anti-Jewish or antisemitic trends, the emphases
and concerns on the Jewish side have clearly changed from 1972, when Agus had declared,
“I can say without fear of contradiction that no passage in the New Testament gives aid
or comfort to anti-Semitism, if it is seen in the light of the social-cultural context of con-
temporary Jewish life.”70
While the Orthodox Christians have been rightly pushed to forgo an understanding of
rabbinic thought and Judaism as a moribund attempt to read the Torah without Christ,
so also Jewish participants need to forgo an understanding of Orthodox hermeneutics as,
at its worst, a resource of anti-Judaism or antisemitism or, at its best, a Greek parallel to
a more continuous Hebraic thought (however much Orthodox participants themselves
have contributed to either notion). Agus recognized in 1972 that the old adage, “while
Christianity must take account of Judaism, the latter does not have to evaluate the import
and truth of the other” should no longer hold, but few at these meetings have borne the
full implications of his words.71 What is needed from the Jewish participants is a better
65
Notable examples include Jones- Golitzin at the second meeting (“The Role of the Bible”),
Oikonomou at the third (“Scripture and Hermeneutics”), and Spiros Tsitsigkos at the tenth (“Jerusalem,
as Archetypal ‘House’ of Being Religious” [unpublished manuscript, 2017], typescript).
66 Cf. Ankori’s point that the more unfortunate past should be left there (“Greek Orthodox–Jewish
Relations,” 47).
67 “Faithfulness to the Roots and Commitment toward the Future: A Jewish View,” in Lowe, Orthodox
knowledge of Orthodox Christianity beyond its sins—a better knowledge of its reception
of the Scriptures in thought and practice and its own preservation of Hebrew traditions not
otherwise known in Judaism, or even similarly preserved in Western Christianity (such
as temple themes in liturgy, deuterocanonical writings, or liturgical commemoration of
Hebrew patriarchs and prophets). Such would help Jewish participants to take into account
Orthodox traditions as continuations of Hebraic thought, rather than aberrations thereof,
and so avoid a disparaging sense of Christianity as an inheritor of the Hebrew Scriptures
that pales in comparison to rabbinic traditions and Judaism thereafter. In terms of mutual
understanding and perceptions, it is indeed telling that for Jewish participants, the fourth-
century saint, John Chrysostom—for whom there is “no point in making excuses”—has
functioned as the prime example of the sins of the Orthodox tradition that need to be
exorcised.72 Yet, for Orthodox participants, the same saint has proved to be a significant re-
source for both articulating the unity of the Old and New Testaments (against accusations
of “supersession”) and elucidating the inseparable blend of hermeneutics and practice in
both traditions.73 For Jews to dismiss John Chrysostom entirely, despite the remarkably un-
paralleled acerbity of his rhetoric, would be akin to the Orthodox acknowledging little from
the Talmudic tradition beyond its subtle jibes about Jesus or his mother’s sexual exploits—
especially since the very same slander has reappeared in anti-Christian graffiti in the con-
temporary Holy Land.74
Scripture and
Diversity in the Holy Land
Norman Solomon aptly and correctly noted in 1993 that these dialogues need to explore fur-
ther “supersessionist theology,” as both Orthodox and Jewish traditions “have types of the-
ology which claim exclusive correctness.”75 Such is perhaps most evident in the Holy Land,
where—unlike as in previous centuries—the asymmetrical relationship has been reversed,
with Jews now forming the “state-structure” and Orthodox Christians a “subject-commu-
nity.”76 Indeed, a few Jews and Orthodox Christians at these meetings have recognized the
need to discuss the “the situation of the Orthodox Church in the Near East”77 and “the rights
72 Werblowsky, “Session IV: Christian Orthodoxy and Judaism in the Modern World” discussion, in
Hermeneutics” discussion, 61–62 and, more generally, Borovoy’s comments soon after, 64–65.
74 Regarding Jesus as “the son of a whore” in, first, Talmudic traditions, see Peter Schäfer, Jesus in
the Talmud (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007), esp. 109–111, and, second, in contemporary
events, Judah Ari Gross, “Jerusalem Christian Seminary Targeted in Apparent Hate Crime,” The Times of
Israel, February 26, 2015, http://www.timesofisrael.com/jerusalem-christian-seminary-targeted-in-alle
ged-hate-crime/, accessed October 2020.
75 “Session VI: Conclusion” discussion, in Lowe, Orthodox Christians and Jews (see note 28), 177.
76 Ankori, “Greek Orthodox-Jewish Relations,” 33 (Ankori is here discussing the Byzantine period).
Cf. Israel Finestein, “Judaism in the Modern World,” in Orthodox Christians and Jews (see note 28),
100–106, here 102.
77 Eric Werner, “Tribus Agathas,” 153.
The Bible in Orthodox Christian–Jewish Dialogue 569
of Palestinian Orthodox Christians living in Israel,”78 but the topic has yet to be addressed
fully, not merely as a political issue that concerns Greeks and Israelis, but as a biblical one
that concerns Jews and Christians.79 In that the Jewish side at these meetings has rightly
and regularly called on the Orthodox to assess and reassess how their use of the Bible has
led to a varied history with anti-Judaism and antisemitism (despite, as it has regularly been
noted, its pale comparison to Western expressions80), so also the Orthodox must call on the
Jewish side to assess and reassess historic and contemporary uses of the Bible that promote
anti-Christian or anti-Arab sentiments81—especially when such sentiments are expressed
at these meetings themselves, as with one participant, who after deriding Arab obstinacy,
praises Israel, in familiarly colonial language, for transforming “a stony, arid, and long-ne-
glected land into an agriculturally flourishing ‘garden of the Lord.’ ”82 How does Jewish
tradition serve to challenge certain Zionist uses of the Bible in the modern period that have
deemphasized the wellbeing of non-Jews, including the militant use of the Book of Joshua
championed not just by fringe settler movements (as David Rosen explicitly, rightly, and
uniquely critiqued in 199883), but by influential Jewish and Israeli thinkers, like David Ben-
Gurion?84 To what degree have Jewish uses of the centrality of the Israelite people in the
Old Testament lent to contemporary prejudices against, in this case, Orthodox Christians
and other Arabs living under Israeli sovereignty? To what degree does the divine approval
of David’s taking of Jerusalem from the Jebusites in 2 Samuel inspire, or serve to critique,
contemporary Jewish and Israeli approaches to Jerusalem, where, as Werner noted of Jews
in the Byzantine Empire, most Palestinians have neither “the status either of the foreigner
or of the regular citizen?”85
Particularly at the fourth meeting, but elsewhere as well, the participants have
recognized the dangers of a nationalistic outlook when it inherits religious prejudices. Yet,
aside from David Rosen’s 1998 contribution, which examined “religious nationalist ex-
tremism” as tantamount to “idolatry—in this case, idolatry of the Land,”86 there has been
78 Stylianopoulos, “Faithfulness to the Roots,” 148–149, critiquing the previous speaker’s disregard of
it has often been in acknowledgment of Greek interests specifically, rather than those of the Palestinian
Christian community (cf. Ankori, “Greek Orthodox–Jewish Relations,” 43, 48–50; Bishop Irineos in the
“Session III: Memory and Responsibility” discussion, 95; Nicholas Bratsiotis in the “Session IV: Christian
Orthodoxy and Judaism in the Modern World” discussion, 122). Stylianopoulos’s comments in the
previous note are the only significant exception in the available documents, of which I am aware, though
see also Constantin Patelos’s point regarding “the Palestinian question” in the “Session V: Faithfulness to
the Roots and Commitment toward the Future” discussion, in Lowe, Orthodox Christians and Jews (see
note 28), 164.
80 This is a regular theme in many of the papers. See, e.g., Salo Wittmayer Baron, “Nationalism and
Religion in the Contemporary World,” GOTR 22.1 (1977): 117–135 and Ankori, “Greek Orthodox-Jewish
Relations.”
81 Cf. “Statement by Archbishop Iakovos,” 2.
82 Baron, “Nationalism and Religion,” 125.
83 David Rosen, “Nationalism and Religious Fundamentalism and Interreligious Dialogue”
little that has sufficiently considered nationalistic uses not only of anti-Jewish polemic in
Orthodox Christian countries, but anti-Christian prejudices in Israel, where historic po-
lemic against the aberrations of Eastern Christian biblical interpretation, as evidenced in
texts like Qissat Mujadalat al-Usquf (“The Account of the Disputation of Priest,” known
more popularly by its later Hebrew translation, Sefer Nestor Ha-Komer), have provided
a harmful combination in contemporary Jewish society.87 Such points of a theological
and ethical nature must be addressed in order to further Jewish and Orthodox Christian
understanding that serves to wrestle the Bible away from internecine uses, even if such
points do not necessarily serve the shifting national and ethnic interests of the nation-
states who have sponsored or participated in these meetings—meetings, one should note,
which have so far lacked the benefits of a significant Arab Orthodox Christian presence.
Conclusion
From a position fraught with multifaceted religious and political challenges and
challengers, the message of Theophilus III, the current Patriarch of Jerusalem, to the
tenth (and latest) meeting speaks to the concrete ripples caused by both misguided and
misunderstood biblical hermeneutics.88 One cannot, he says, understand Jerusalem
“simply from historical, archeological, political, ethnic or cultural perspectives”; one
needs to grapple with “its religious and spiritual character as well.” And one of the “keys
to understanding” its “specifically Christian character” in this regard (in addition to
Jewish and Muslim), is to appreciate a point that so many speakers at these meetings in
the decades preceding highlighted: the Orthodox sense of the deep, fundamental, and
entirely inseparable unity of the Old and New Testaments. “For Christians,” Theophilus
says, “this is one continuous language of the witness of God that was made manifest in
this Holy Land and in this Holy City.” His speech indicates that actions, whether delib-
erate or accidental, hostile or innocent, that serve to separate Christian identity from
biblical holy sites (of both the Old and New Testaments) is tantamount to severing the
New Testament from the Old. And such is not a position that the Orthodox Patriarch of
Jerusalem can entertain.
These dialogues over almost five decades have brought to the surface a remarkable rep-
ertoire of commonalities between the biblical hermeneutics of Orthodoxy and Judaism
little noticed (or deliberately ignored) in previous centuries, particularly when consid-
ering the relationship of each to other Christian traditions. Such commonalities, well
established at the first several meetings as the two traditions encountered each other,
served to provide a fitting foundation for familial cooperation in the latter meetings
as both traditions together have encountered the wider world. One hopes that, as the
87
See note 74.
88
“Speech of H.H.B, the Patriarch of Jerusalem Theophilos at the Opening Reception of the
Orthodox-Jewish Dialogue” (unpublished manuscript, 2017), typescript, available at https://en.jerusa
lem-patriarchate.info/blog/2017/12/06/speech-of-h-h-b-the-patriarch-of-jerusalem-theophilos-at-the-
opening-reception-of-the-orthodox-jewish-dialogue/?print=print, accessed October 2020.
The Bible in Orthodox Christian–Jewish Dialogue 571
meetings continue, biblical hermeneutics, which undeniably has the greatest impact
on the manner in which each tradition approaches the world, will continue to be at
center stage. As both traditions—especially through study of the Septuagint, the New
Testament, the Hebraic milieu whence they arose and the interpretive history whither
they have gone—recognize the diversity of both ancient practice and, accordingly,
contemporary inheritances, one further hopes that neither would diminish the deep
claims of either, but instead recognize the other as a formidable inheritor of ancient
traditions that cannot be dismissed, distanced or erased, particularly, as Theophilus here
recognizes, in a city as central, holy, and contentious as Jerusalem, where biblical in-
terpretation goes well beyond a merely academic enterprise and Orthodox Christian-
Jewish dialogue bears a unique immediacy.
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574 Michael G. Azar
Bible, Theol o g y,
and Sci e nc e
Learning from the Past and
Looking to the Future
David A. Wilkinson
The disease caused by a new coronavirus (COVID-19) was first identified in December
2019 in Wuhan, China, and has led to a worldwide pandemic. Its effect is far beyond the
tragedy of infections, illness and death on a global scale. It has posed challenges for na-
tional economies, governmental structures of decision-making and legislation, and ways of
relating on a human scale whether in business, education, or families. It has also questioned
structures and practices for the Christian church when congregational worship has not
been possible. However it has also provided new opportunities in scientific and technolog-
ical developments.
This chapter argues that the Covid crisis crystallizes the importance of the science the-
ology dialogue both for the church and the world. In posing questions for the future it
points us back to the rich resources of scripture and tradition that have enriched and
guarded theological discourse in times of crisis. This can be illustrated by some references
to how theology has responded to science and specifically biological challenges in the past.
During the Covid-19 pandemic the United Kingdom and other national governments used
the mantra that its decisions were “led by the science.” It gave the impression that there is
a solid foundation of unified knowledge provided by science that politicians could use to
navigate the way ahead in the midst of the pandemic. Some have pointed out that this gives
politicians opportunity to deflect the blame when things go wrong back onto scientists.
The trouble is that this does not represent the provisional nature of science, its complexities
of disciplines and its limitations in informing public policy. Over only a period of months,
scientific understandings changed on the wearing of face masks and there were heated
576 David A. Wilkinson
debates about the effectiveness of lockdowns and herd immunity. Science is a complex ac-
tivity involving the interplay of observation and theory, influenced by its cultural context
and done within a worldwide scientific community of peer review and challenge. This is
not to undermine its power to both fruitfully understand and change the world based on
evidence, but it is a reminder that its models function within critical realism, that is they
give us an ever tightening grip on the nature of reality but not a final description of that re-
ality. In addition, science has its own interdisciplinary challenges. Scientists from different
disciplines bring different expertise. In responding to the virus, the dialogue between public
health professionals and mathematical modelers, epidemiologists, and psychologists has not
been easy nor has it allowed scientists or politicians to come to easy solutions. “Decisions
are informed by science, they’re not led by science,” Sir Patrick Vallance, told Parliament’s
Health and Social Care Committee on April 5, 2020, in his role as the UK government’s
chief scientific adviser.1
These insights are an important reminder of the nature of the dialogue of science with
scripture and theology. The engaging of science as a conversation partner is a multitextured
and open- ended enterprise where attention needs to be given to different scientific
disciplines and the status of scientific models of the world. This requires biblical theologians
to be attentive and have a degree of scientific literacy within specific scientific disciplines.
Some Christians who hold an interpretation of Genesis as a six-day creation some six thou-
sand years ago will often dismiss evolution as “only a theory,” completely misunderstanding
how theories rely on evidence and indeed that all of science is built on theory.2
Other Christians feel that theological models have to be dominated by science. The adop-
tion of a clockwork mechanistic view of the world stemming from Newton’s laws of motion
led to a number of theological claims that there was no room for God to work within the
physical world in special providence or miracle and this contributed to the demythologizing
agenda within New Testament scholarship. One of the foremost New Testament scholars of
the twentieth century, Rudolf Bultmann saw science describing the universe in completely
Newtonian mechanistic terms. On this basis he was concerned for theological integrity
both within the Christian faith and how that faith was communicated to others:
We cannot use electric lights and radios and in the event of illness avail ourselves of modern
medical and clinical means and at the same time believe in the spirit and wonder world of the
New Testament. And if we suppose that we can do so ourselves, we must be clear that we can
represent this as the attitude of Christian faith only by making the Christian proclamation
unintelligible and impossible for our contemporaries.3
1
https://www.researchprofessionalnews.com/rr-news-uk-politics-parliament-2020-5-government-
decisions-informed-not-led-by-science-says-vallance/
2 Rosenhouse, Jason. Among the Creationists: Dispatches from the Anti-
Evolution Front Line.
New York: Oxford University Press, 2012; Numbers, Ronald L. The Creationists: From Scientific
Creationism to Intelligent Design. Expanded ed. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2006;
Coleman, Simon, and Leslie Carlin. The Cultures of Creationism: Anti-Evolutionism in English-Speaking
Countries. Aldershot, Hants, UK; Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2004.
3 Bultmann, Rudolf. The New Testament and Mythology and Other Basic Writings. Philadelphia: Fortress
Ironically just as Bultmann and others were pursuing this agenda, an understanding of
the quantum world was arising among physicists which at the very least demolished the
clockwork universe and began to show that the world had a richer and more open struc-
ture than was previously thought.4 Newton’s clockwork universe was a provisional de-
scription of the world and it was a mistake to build a theological superstructure on a
foundation which would later be shown to be severely limited.
The provisionality and complexity of science means that theology needs to be informed
by but not dominated by science. This works out in a number of ways. First, science
becomes one tool among many in hermeneutics, in interpreting scripture.5 Certainly this
has been the case in interpreting Genesis 1. It is far too simplistic to argue that modern
cosmology has led to a move away from a literal reading of the creation narratives. A long
time before theories of the Big Bang or natural selection, the narratives were understood
among Jewish interpreters and the church fathers as far more profound than simply a
historical account of creation.6 Yet scientific models of origins have contributed to work
in this area, both within the academy and within the public sphere. John Polkinghorne
has suggested that doing theology in a context of science has parallels in the approaches
of feminist and liberation theologies.7 This is helpful as long as we recognize the power
dynamics involved. Feminist and liberation theologies come from communities that have
been disempowered. The difficulty of science is the power it inhabits in the modern world
due its success, whether it be in understanding black holes or its ability to provide the
individual with such powerful computing power on a personal phone. Science is to be
brought into the web of interpretation of scripture but it is not to be given the most dom-
inant role. A significant example of this is done well can be seen in the recent work of the
world-leading physicist Tom McLeish in the way that he engages with the book of Job.8
McLeish works with the depth of biblical scholarship but also brings to Job the insights
of a physicist.
Second, the provisional nature of science means that its voice is to be heard with both
humility and patience by the theologian. An interesting example of this can be seen in the
latter part of the nineteenth century. In the midst of the cultural upheaval of the Darwinian
controversies 717 scientists of the day, signed “The Declaration of Students of the Natural
and Physical Sciences” (1865):
We, the undersigned Students of the Natural Sciences, desire to express our sincere regret,
that researches into scientific truth are perverted by some in our own times into occasion for
casting doubt upon the Truth and Authenticity of the Holy Scriptures. We conceive that it is
4
Polkinghorne, J.C. Science and Providence: God’s Interaction with the World. London: SPCK, 1989;
Wilkinson, David. When I Pray, What Does God Do? Oxford: Monarch Books, 2015.
5 Gilkey, Langdon B. “Cosmology, Ontology and the Travail of Biblical Language.” Journal of Religion
41 (1961): 194–205; Moritz, Joshua M. “The Hermeneutics of Science and Scripture and Emergent Levels
of Meaning.” Theology and Science 12, no. 1 (2014): 1–5.
6 Barton, Stephen C., and David Wilkinson. Reading Genesis after Darwin. Oxford; New York: Oxford
impossible for the Word of God, as written in the book of nature, and God’s Word written
in Holy Scripture, to contradict one another, however much they may appear to differ. . . .
We cannot but deplore that Natural Science should be looked upon with suspicion by many
who do not make a study of it, merely on account of the unadvised manner in which some
are placing it in opposition to Holy Writ. We believe that it is the duty of every Scientific
Student to investigate nature simply for the purpose of elucidating truth, and that if he finds
that some of his results appear to be in contradiction to the Written Word, or rather to his
own interpretations of it, which may be erroneous, he should not presumptuously affirm that
his own conclusions must be right, and the statements of Scripture wrong; rather, leave the
two side by side till it shall please God to allow us to see the manner in which they may be
reconciled.9
9
Gay, H. “‘The Declaration of Students of the Natural and Physical Sciences,’ Revisited Youth, Science,
and Religion, in Mid-Victorian Britain.” In Religion and the Challenges of Science, edited by W. Sweet and
R. Feist, 19–41. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007.
10 Chadwick, Owen. The Victorian Church. London: Adam and Charles Black, 1970, p. 84.
11 Brooke, J.H. Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1991.
12 Green, J.B. “Resurrection of the Body: New Testament Voices Concerning Personal Continuity and
the Afterlife.” In What about the Soul? Neuroscience and Christian Anthropology, edited by J.B. Green,
85–100. Nashville: Abingdon, 2004.
Bible, Theology, and Science 579
At various points in the pandemic, political and religious leaders used the language of war
against the virus.13 Dr. Franziska Kohlt and a team at York University noted this use of war
metaphors and narratives within public discourse.14 While acting to unite public opinion
and action in a common cause, these images also have dangers. For example, healthcare
workers can be described in terms of heroic sacrifice, which lessens any criticism of in-
adequate healthcare funding by government. In addition, theologically such language of
warfare sets up a conflict between human beings and nature with “victory” of one over the
other being the desired outcome. In the search for a vaccine and our fervent action against
illness and death, it may be easy to see the natural world as something to be conquered and
subjugated and science as the only source of salvation. To characterize the virus as evil may
understandably express the anger and emotional pressure of a world in crisis and try to
frame the scale of the challenge ahead.
However, for those biblical scholars concerned with the biblical view of creation and its
implications for environmental ethics this is a road which has been seen before. In a now
famous paper at the American Association for the Advancement of Science in 1967, the his-
torian Lynn White argued that our ability to harness natural resources was marred by the
deep-rooted assumption that, “we are superior to nature, contemptuous of it, willing to use
it for our slightest whim,” and proceeded to claim pointedly that:
We shall continue to have a worsening ecological crisis until we reject the Christian axiom
that nature has no reason for existence but to serve man. . . . Both our present science and our
present technology are so tinctured with orthodox Christian arrogance towards nature that
no solution for our ecological crisis can be expected from them alone.15
Thus, Christianity, he claimed, bears “a huge burden of guilt” for the environmental crisis.
The warfare language of political and religious leaders in the midst of the Covid pandemic
sets up a similar understanding. It encourages a view of nature as evil and opposed to the
flourishing of humanity. Nature therefore has to be mastered by humanity. The distinction
between nature and humanity in this model of conflict is destructive to a long-term view of
being part of the created order and learning to live within it.
It is important to note, however, that White went on to argue that if the problem was the-
ological in origin, its solution had also to take theology seriously. His call for a “refocused
Christianity,” has been embraced in recent decades by biblical scholarship exploring cre-
ation, stewardship and the place of animals.16 This re-examination of the biblical texts in
13
https:// w ww.theguardian.com/ world/ 2 020/ m ar/ 1 7/ e nemy- d eadly- b oris- j ohnson- i nvokes-
wartime-language-coronavirus
14 Kohlt, Franziska. (2020). ‘‘Saints Informed by Science’: Identifying Productive Science-
Religion
Narratives in Times of Covid- 19,” Christian Theology in the Midst of COVID- 19. University of
Winchester: June 17, 2020.
15 White, L. “The Historical Roots of Our Ecological Crisis.” Science and Christian Belief 155 (1967): 1203.
16 Horrell, David G. The Bible and the Environment: Towards a Critical Ecological Biblical Theology.
Biblical Challenges in the Contemporary World. London; Oakville, CT: Equinox, 2010; Bauckham, R.
“Jesus and the Wild Animals (Mark 1:13): A Christological Image for an Ecological Age.” In Jesus of
580 David A. Wilkinson
order to make ecology an integrating concern is an example of how biblical scholarship can
offer much to science and public discourse.
An illustration of this can be seen in the history of an earlier pandemic. It was only in
1980 that the World Health Assembly officially declared the world free of smallpox. Almost
two centuries earlier, Gloucestershire physician, Edward Jenner published a pamphlet on
his belief that vaccination could eradicate the disease. During his apprenticeship as a sur-
geon, the teenage Jenner overheard a milkmaid repeat a popular belief she could not have
smallpox because she had a cowpox sore on her hand from milking. Although such stories
were dismissed as nonsense by many doctors, over the next thirty years Jenner studied the
claim and in 1796 he took material from a cowpox pustule on the hand of Sarah Nelmes and
vaccinated eight-year-old James Phipps, who was rendered immune to smallpox. His paper
detailing arguments and experiments however was rejected for publication by colleagues
in the Royal Society and so he published it himself.17 After initial opposition, it became the
foundation that would lead to a world free of the disease.
It is interesting that Jenner did not speak of this as a battle or crusade against a malevo-
lent natural enemy. He was passionate for scientific truth and for relieving human suffering,
but he also had a passionate love of nature. This stemmed from seeing it as creation in-
formed by his Christian faith. In an article in 1896, N.S. Davis drew attention to Jenner’s
“fondness for natural history” observing animal habits and also collecting fossils. This was
a constant interest throughout his life. Sir Joseph Banks employed him to arrange the val-
uable specimens, zoological and otherwise, gathered by Captain Cook during his first vo-
yage of discovery ending in 1771. Later in life, in 1823, Jenner presented a paper to the Royal
Society on the migration of birds. Davis linked this to love of nature to Jenner’s “marked
reverence for nature’s great Architect.”18 This pursuit of truth and goodness, reverence for
the Creator, and his unselfish desire to prevent or relieve human suffering framed Jenner’s
view of science. In a letter to a friend written when he felt he had sufficient evidence for the
genuineness of his discovery, Jenner says:
While the vaccine discovery was progressive, the joy I felt at the prospect before me of
being the instrument destined to take away from the world one of its greatest calamities,
blended with the fond hope of enjoying independence and domestic peace and happiness,
was often so excessive, that in pursuing my favorite subject among the meadows, I have
sometimes found myself in a kind of revery. It is pleasant to me to recollect that these
Nazareth: Lord and Christ: Essays on the Historical Jesus and New Testament Christology, Festschrift for
I. Howard Marshall, edited by J.B. Green and M. Turner. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994; DeWitt, Calvin
B. The Environment and the Christian: What Does the New Testament Say about the Environment? Grand
Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1991; Bredin, Mark. The Ecology of the New Testament: Creation, Re-
Creation, and the Environment. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2010; Brueggemann, Walter, and
K.C. Hanson. The God of All Flesh: And Other Essays. Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2015; Gilmour, Michael
J., and Laura Hobgood-Oster. Eden’s Other Residents: The Bible and Animals. Eugene, OR: Cascade
Books, 2014.
17
Jenner, Edward. An Inquiry into the Causes and Effects of the Varioloe Vaccinae: A Disease Discovered
in Some of the Western Counties of England, Particularly Gloucestershire, and Known by the Name of the
Cow Pox. 2nd ed.: Printed for the author, by S. Low, and sold by Law [etc.], 1800.
18 Davis, N.S. (1896). “Address on the Character of Dr. Edward Jenner and the History of his Discovery
of the Protective Value of Vaccination.” Journal of the American Medical Association 26(19): 915–919.
Bible, Theology, and Science 581
reflections always ended in devout acknowledgements to that Being from whom this and
all other mercies flow.19
It is also widely reported that on his death bed Jenner said, “I do not marvel that men are not
grateful to me, but I am surprised that they do not feel grateful to God for making me a me-
dium of good.”20 His respect for science and the natural world came from his sense of both
being gifts from God. His faith also energized his practice in providing his vaccine for the
poor in his own home. It is worth noting some of the language used here. Jenner will often
use “solution” to the problem, “relief of human suffering,” and “taking away calamities.”
There is no mention of mastery, victory or war. There is no sense of human arrogance to-
ward the rest of creation.
Donald MacKay (1922–1987) was a British physicist, and the founding professor of the
Department of Communication and Neuroscience at Keele University. He is known for
his pioneering contributions to information theory and the theory of brain organization.
Deeply influenced by biblical scholarship, he often likened science to a child exploring their
family garden, a place of wonders, mystery and some dangers to be coped with. But this is
a very different image to the triumph of a battlefield. In fact for MacKay, a Christian rather
than pagan view of nature was a much more effective inducement to science:
In place of the craven fear instilled by a pagan theology of nature—the fear of being regarded
as an unwelcome and over-inquisitive intruder in matters that are not his business—the
Christian who finds scientific talents in his tool bag has quite a different fear—the fear that
his Father should judge him guilty of neglecting his stewardly responsibilities by failing to
pursue the opportunities for good that may be opened up by the new developments.21
The importance of the contribution of biblical framework to public attitudes to the funding,
risks and benefits of science should not be underestimated. In a study of public fears in
the United Kingdom about the emerging field of nanotechnology, Phil Macnaghten and
colleagues suggested that at the root of unease were strong narratives derived from Greek
myths rather than the Judaeo Christian understanding.22 Thus, “opening Pandora’s box” or
“messing in the realm of the gods” were strong themes rather than the positive theme of
science as God’s gift.
The contribution of biblical scholarship is therefore essential in framing perceptions of
science. Here of course there needs to be much better relationship within the theological
academy between biblical studies and areas such as systematics, philosophical theology,
and ethics.23 This has not always been the case, but is essential if theology is going to have
19
Ibid., p. 919.
20
Harris, D.F. (1915). “Edward Jenner and Vaccination.” The Scientific Monthly 1(1): 66–85.
21 MacKay, D. The Open Mind. Leicester: IVP, 1988, p. 102.
22 Macnaghten, P. (2014). “Nanotechnology, Risk and Public Perceptions.” In In Pursuit of
Publishing Company, 2015; Green, J.B. “Scripture and Theology: Uniting the Two So Long Divided.” In
Between Two Horizons: Spanning New Testament Studies and Systematic Theology, edited by J.B. Green
and M. Turner. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000.
582 David A. Wilkinson
fruitful engagement with science. An outstanding example of this approach was seen in
N.T. Wright’s engagement of biblical passages with the pandemic.24
While this is an extensive task it seems to me that there are some important biblical
themes which can contribute much towards current scientific questions. First, the nature of
what it means to be human. Within developments in animal studies, human neuroscience,
artificial intelligence or the search for extraterrestrial intelligence, scientists are confronted
with the central question of the nature and status of humanity.25 The temptation is to try
and answer this question by drawing hard distinctions between humans and the rest of cre-
ation such as the possession of a soul or by simply stating the Imago Dei. But being created
in the image of God needs careful biblical analysis. It will involve the creation narratives
with their emphasis on the gift of relationship with and responsibility from God, the im-
portance of being human within community, and the New Testament insights anchored in
Christ being the image of the invisible God.26
Second, the importance of the physical nature of both creation and new creation. While
much discussion within the field of science and theology has focused on the past in the Big
Bang and evolution, the future holds many important questions. From the short-term en-
vironmental crisis through to the far future of the decay of an accelerating universe, what
is God’s commitment to and role in the physicality of creation? The biblical understandings
of incarnation, bodily resurrection, and new creation are key in this. In his 1781 sermon
“The General Deliverance,” John Wesley took Romans 8:19–22 as text and used it to speak
of animal salvation.27 It was a consequence of his increasing belief that new creation was
central category for New Testament hope. He saw new creation as both continuity and dis-
continuity with this creation. His emphasis on this physicality of new creation and his need
to explore the question of animal salvation was motivated by a picture of the redemption of
all creation. This picture of the redemption of all creation came from what he saw as a clear
scriptural basis. Indeed, there is a clear conviction among some contemporary theologians
that we must recover this deeper appreciation for the biblical affirmation of the physical
cosmos, both as God’s good creation and as the object of God’s renewing work.28
Third, a robust Trinitarian approach can be often neglected within the science theology
engagement. Too often we are left with a deistic creator who sets the universe off and then
retires from it. Alternatively a divine being is so constrained in the process of the uni-
verse, that divinity is unable to do anything significant in the universe. Here the “messiness”
of biblical theology subverts and critiques attempts to provide too simplistic and overly
systematized accounts of God. What I mean by this is that the biblical writers in a wide
variety of genres communicate a Trinitarian God who reveals but is at times mysterious,
who is Lord of nature but vulnerable to death on a cross, and a Spirit who breaks down
24
Wright, Tom. God and the Pandemic a Christian Reflection on the Coronavirus and Its Aftermath.
La Vergne: SPCK, 2020.
25 Rees, Amanda, and Charlotte Sleigh. Human. Animal. London: Reaktion Books, 2020.
26 Wilkinson, David. Science, Religion, and the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence. Oxford: Oxford
as God’s Gift, edited by D. Fergusson and M. Sarot, 235–236. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 2000; Wilkinson,
David. Christian Eschatology and the Physical Universe. London; New York: T & T Clark, 2010.
Bible, Theology, and Science 583
expectations and is at much at work in the world as in the church. Wood rightly points
out that in systematic theology providence has been seen in relation to the Father with the
neglect of any Christological or pneumatological considerations.29 Thus the tendency is
to see the providential God as the Supreme Being of philosophical theism, and his actions
can be determined by natural theology. Such a sterile doctrine of providence is corrected
by Trinitarian thinking. The nature of God’s providential action is complex and how we
perceive it is also complex. The triune pattern is the way God relates to all things but is also
the pattern of our knowledge of that relation. To the extent that we can understand how
God is related to what goes on, we understand it “through Jesus Christ” and “in the Holy
Spirit.” Biblical scholarship in this area safeguards a specifically Christian understanding
while posing creative questions to how we understand God’s activity.
The pandemic raised the public perception of scientists, with leading medical scientists
sharing news conferences with politicians and being in great demand to give their inter-
pretation of the rates of infections and progress on treatments and the search for a vaccine.
This highlights the issue of the role of scientists within culture and how the profession of
being a scientist is viewed.
Another brief historical vignette may be helpful at this point. In 1867, The Lancet
published a paper by Joseph Lister, the first of a series of articles on his discovery of anti-
septic surgery.30 As with other surgeons, Lister had high mortality rates after operations.
Then his attention was drawn to the work of Pasteur that suggested infection was due to
living organisms. Lister was also struck with the effect of carbolic acid on the sewage of the
English city of Carlisle, easing the stench and leaving fields that seemed to be safe for cattle
to graze on. Putting these two things together, he used carbolic acid on instruments, sur-
gical incisions, and dressings—leading to a significant reduction in gangrene in wounds.
His passion for his patients’ welfare was in part due to his Christian faith, which shaped
his life and his sense of vocation. Raised as a Quaker, Lister became a Scottish Episcopalian
when he married Agnes, who worked with him in his research. At a Graduation Address at
Edinburgh University in 1876 he told doctors,
If we had nothing but pecuniary rewards and worldly honours to look to, our profession
would not be one to be desired. But in its practice you will find it to be attended with peculiar
privileges, second to none in intense interest and pure pleasures. It is our proud office to tend
the fleshly tabernacle of the immortal spirit, and our path, rightly followed, will be guided by
unfettered truth and love unfeigned. In the pursuit of this noble and holy calling I wish you
all God-speed.31
29 Wood, Charles M. “How Does God Act?” International Journal of Systematic Theology 1
(1999): 138–152.
30 Lister, Joseph. “On a New Method of Treating Compound Fracture, Abscess, Etc., with Observations
S.B. Doctors: The Biography of Medicine, Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 2011, p. 361
584 David A. Wilkinson
Now it is a long way from antiseptic surgery to the development of the vaccines of today,
but Lister’s view of science as a noble and holy calling is important. While the vocation to
medical work has often been valued as a Christian calling, the concept of calling and voca-
tion as it applies to scientists has sometimes been neglected by theological studies.
In a famous lecture Science as a Vocation given in 1917 at Munich University, the
German sociologist and political economist Max Weber considered the career of
a university academic who studies science.32 As Shapin has recently pointed out,
Weber’s address to the Munich students was primarily career counseling about the
“circumstances, demands, rewards, risks, and obligations of the academic occupa-
tion.”33 This was an exploration of the bureaucracy and politics of the career develop-
ment of the professional scientist. It is not an easy profession to follow, not least in the
sense that the work of an individual scientist is by its very nature meant to be surpassed
by other scientists. However within this, Weber explored the nature of science. He saw
the pursuit of science as a distinct enterprise to do be done for its own sake rather than
for those who would exploit it for economic success. But he also argued that science
can never answer the fundamental questions of life, such as directing people on how to
live their lives and what to value. This sets up a separation between reason and faith.
Indeed in a time of post-Darwinian controversies, Weber sees scientific naturalism as
destroying any sense of natural theology. He falls quickly into a conflict model of the
relationship of science and theology.
In fact, this conflict model arose in part out of power struggles over profession and voca-
tion. “Darwin’s bulldog,” T.H. Huxley, wanted to free emerging professional science from
the control of the Church of England. In the nineteenth century the Church controlled
many academic appointments in universities, including scientific appointments. Huxley
and his fellow members of “The X Club” produced a model that became extremely
successful in moving science away from the Church. The model was one of conflict and
indeed warfare between science and religion.34 The model’s popularity grew through its
simplicity in communication. Books such as J.W. Draper’s History of the Conflict between
Religion and Science and A.D. White’s A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in
Christendom rewrote scientific and theological history emphasizing controversy and con-
flict.35 Today the conflict model is still widespread. It is sustained by the media and has
been at the heart of the movement of new atheism. It has also been adopted at the other
end of the theological spectrum in the growth of creation science.
While the conflict model can be shown to be inadequate through careful historical anal-
ysis, it continues to have traction in both academic and public spheres. Against this back-
ground, there is much that biblical scholarship can give to a rediscovery to the sense of
32
Weber, Max. “Science as Vocation.” In From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology, edited by Hans Gerth
and C. Wright Mills, xi. New York: Oxford University Press, 1946.
33 Shapin, Steven. “Weber’s Science as a Vocation: A Moment in the History of ‘Is’ and ‘Ought.’”
(1989): 3–26.
35 Draper, John William. History of the Conflict between Religion and Science. The International
Scientific Series. London: Henry S. King, 1875; White, Andrew Dickson. A History of the Warfare of
Science with Theology in Christendom. New York: D. Appleton, 1897.
Bible, Theology, and Science 585
vocation for the whole people of God.36 This in itself would do a huge amount to subvert the
conflict model between science and faith. First, science should be seen as a gift from God
rather than an expression of human arrogance. In the early Genesis narratives, the gift of
the garden comes with the gift of work. The gift of the world comes with the gift of respon-
sibility and creativity. In Genesis 2:5–9 the fertility of the ground is linked to the presence of
someone to “work the ground.” Human presence and work is essential to the fruitfulness of
the world. There is no sense in the biblical account that nature is better off without human
beings. Human beings are provided with responsible work by God himself. God put human
beings into the garden in order to work it and take care of it (Genesis 2:15). This is the initia-
tive and gift of God. To work the garden uses a word commonly used in a religious sense of
serving God (Deuteronomy 4:19) and in tabernacle duties (Numbers 3:7–8). To cultivate the
soil is to serve God. Here we see the nature of the dominion referred to in Genesis 1:26–28.
Rather than rule over in an arrogant and exploitative way, human beings are given the work
of “to serve and keep it,” not least through science and technology.
The Tower of Babel later in Genesis is not a condemnation of the engineering of a
tower, it is a condemnation of the motivation for fame and security apart from trust in
God. Science of course can be used for the purposes of economic or military supremacy
but a biblical view sees it as a gift to explore the works of the Creator, and as a way to
transform the world for the good. Einstein spoke of the “temple of science” and likened
it to a spiritual exercise:
The longing to behold this pre-established harmony is the source of the inexhaustible pa-
tience and endurance with which . . . [scientists devote] . . . to the most general problems of
our science. . . . The state of mind which enables a man to do work of this kind is akin to that
of the religious worshiper or the lover; the daily effort comes from no deliberate intention or
program, but straight from the heart.37
Now this is not to claim that science is a pure religious experience. After all, as Weber
rightly points out professional science has a harsh reality. It is at times frustrating and te-
dious. It is about experiments that do not work, funding bodies that do not fund what each
scientist thinks is the most important research program, and peer-reviewed journals that
do not recognize the brilliance of the submitted article! But there moments of awe in under-
standing and using the natural world which are capable of religious interpretation.
Second, science should be seen as an act of service. David T Hansen in his study of
teaching and vocation points out that a sense of call can either be from God or one can be
called by human society with its needs and possibilities.38 What is common is a sense of a
life of serving. Vocation finds its expression at the crossroads of public obligation and per-
sonal fulfillment. As Dorothy Emmet put it, to “venture and devote oneself in working in
a first-hand kind of way.”39 While it is true that some scientists have become celebrities in
36
Stevens, R.P. The Abolition of the Laity: Vocation, Work and Ministry in a Biblical Perspective.
Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1999.
37 Einstein, A. “Principles in Research.” In Ideas and Opinions. New York: Three Rivers Press, 1954,
pp. 224–227.
38 Hansen, David. “Teaching and the Sense of Vocation.” Educational Theory 44 (1994): 259–275.
39 Emmet, Dorothy. Function, Purpose and Powers: Some Concepts in the Study of Individuals and
modern culture,40 the majority of scientists see their work as service through illuminating
truth, healing, and reconciling.41
The vocation of a scientist has a strong biblical framework. Mintz in his study of the nov-
elist George Eliott argues that in the nineteenth century a new subgenre of fiction emerged,
the novel of vocation.42 Work became a vehicle for self-definition and self-realization. He
suggests that Eliot, in particular, linked this to the older Puritan doctrine of vocation. While
Eliott gave a secularized view of this, the biblical view sees self-definition and self-realiza-
tion in a sense of being called by God and doing work to the glory of God.
There is an interesting question of how intentional the church can be in reflecting this
biblical framework in teaching and preaching and in liturgy. Very often the impression
is given of a hierarchy of holiness in terms of calling. The “most holy” are the priests, the
missionaries, or even the medics. This is reflected in who the church regularly prays for. It is
also reflected in how we recognize, celebrate or affirm people responding to certain callings
from God. Liturgy and the whole of life are part of the same reality and need to be held
together. As Michael Ramsey commented, “The Christian does not share in the Liturgy in
order to live aright; he lives aright in order to share in the Liturgy.”43
If the church needs to affirm the vocation of scientists, then a healthy dialogue needs
scientists to affirm the role of biblical scholars. This is not trivial when as a result of the con-
flict model, new atheists such as Richard Dawkins comment:
What has “theology’ ” ever said that is of the smallest use to anybody? When has “the-
ology” ever said anything that is demonstrably true and is not obvious? I have listened
to theologians, read them, debated against them. I have never heard any of them ever
say anything of the smallest use, anything that was not either platitudinously obvious or
downright false.44
A quick answer, given by historians of science and many other contemporary scientists
is that theology contributed one of the main tributaries that fed into modern science.
Belief in a God who freely creates the universe and welcomes the enquiring mind gives a
strong basis for the empirical method.45 Science owes a great deal to the biblical theology
of creation.
40 Giberson, Karl, and Mariano Artigas. Oracles of Science: Celebrity Scientists versus God and Religion.
Christian Doctrine of Creation and the Rise of Modern Science.” Mind 43 (1934): 446–468; Collingwood,
R.G. An Essay on Metaphysics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1940; Needham, Joseph. Science Religion
and Reality. Port Washington, NY: Kennikat Press, 1970; Hooykaas, R. Religion and the Rise of Modern
Science. Edinburgh: Scottish Academic Press, 1973; Harrison, P. The Bible, Protestantism and the Rise of
Natural Science. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998; Ungureanu, James C. Science, Religion,
and the Protestant Tradition: Retracing the Origins of Conflict. Science and Culture in the Nineteenth
Century. Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2019.
Bible, Theology, and Science 587
theology . . . is the most beautiful of all the sciences. To find the sciences distasteful is the
mark of the Philistine. It is an extreme form of Philistinism to find . . . theology distasteful.
The theologian who has no joy in his work is not a theologian at all. Sulky faces, morose
thoughts and boring ways of speaking are intolerable in this science.46
It is the mutual recognition of joy and what W.H. Auden would say is the form of love in-
herent in vocation47 that will allow the dialogue of science and theology to flourish.
Bibliography
Barton, Stephen C., and David Wilkinson. Reading Genesis after Darwin. Oxford; New York:
Oxford University Press, 2009.
Bredin, Mark. The Ecology of the New Testament: Creation, Re-Creation, and the Environment.
Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2010.
Brooke, J.H. Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1991.
Coleman, Simon, and Leslie Carlin. The Cultures of Creationism: Anti-Evolutionism in English-
Speaking Countries. Aldershot, Hants, UK; Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2004.
DeWitt, Calvin B. The Environment and the Christian: What Does the New Testament Say
about the Environment? Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1991.
Giberson, Karl, and Mariano Artigas. Oracles of Science: Celebrity Scientists versus God and
Religion. London: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Gilmour, Michael J., and Laura Hobgood-Oster. Eden’s Other Residents: The Bible and Animals.
Eugene, Oregon: Cascade Books, 2014.
Green, J.B. (ed). What about the Soul? Neuroscience and Christian Anthropology. Nashville:
Abingdon, 2004.
Harrison, P. The Bible, Protestantism and the Rise of Natural Science. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1998.
Hooykaas, R. Religion and the Rise of Modern Science. Edinburgh: Scottish Academic
Press, 1973.
Horrell, David G. The Bible and the Environment: Towards a Critical Ecological Biblical Theology.
Biblical Challenges in the Contemporary World. London; Oakville, CT: Equinox, 2010.
MacKay, D. The Open Mind. Leicester: IVP, 1988.
46 Barth, Karl. Church Dogmatics Ii/1, the Doctrine of God. Translated by W.B. Johnston, T.H.L. Parker,
Harold Knight, and J.L.M. Haire. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1957, p. 656.
47 Auden, W.H. “Vocation and Society.” In “In Solitude, for Company”: W. H. Auden after
1940: Unpublished Prose and Recent Criticism, edited by Katherine Bucknell and Nicholas Jenkins, 15–30.
Oxford: Clarendon, 1995.
588 David A. Wilkinson
McLeish, Tom. Faith and Wisdom in Science. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016.
Numbers, Ronald L. The Creationists: From Scientific Creationism to Intelligent Design.
Expanded ed. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2006.
Polkinghorne, J.C. Science and Providence: God’s Interaction with the World. London: SPCK, 1989.
Polkinghorne, J.C. Theology in the Context of Science. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009.
Pyenson, Lewis, and Susan Sheets- Pyenson. Servants of Nature: A History of Scientific
Institutions, Enterprises and Sensibilities. London: HarperCollins, 1999.
Rees, Amanda, and Charlotte Sleigh. Human. Animal. London: Reaktion Books, 2020.
Rosenhouse, Jason. Among the Creationists: Dispatches from the Anti-Evolution Front Line.
New York: Oxford University Press, 2012.
Ungureanu, James C. Science, Religion, and the Protestant Tradition: Retracing the Origins
of Conflict. Science and Culture in the Nineteenth Century. Pittsburgh, PA: University of
Pittsburgh Press, 2019.
Wilkinson, David. Christian Eschatology and the Physical Universe. London; New York: T &
T Clark, 2010.
Wilkinson, David. When I Pray, What Does God Do? Oxford: Monarch Books, 2015.
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Aftermath. La Vergne: SPCK, 2020.
Chapter 36
Theol o gy –S c i e nc e
Dial o g u e
An Orthodox Perspective
Nikolaos Chatzinikolaou
Introduction
In our days there is a prevailing idea that modern science is set against faith, which, as a
result, affects its relationship with the Christian Orthodox tradition, and theology. It seems
that science, which is so up to date and dynamically opens new avenues for the future, is
totally different or even contradictory to tradition, which seems to be so stagnant and old-
fashioned. Moreover, science, which encompasses profound knowledge and undisputable
proofs does not seem compatible with faith and theology, which focuses on the mystery that
is inscrutable and not proven. The first one deals with the nature of beings, the second with
the reasons (logoi) of beings. The first one examines what is naturally perceivable and log-
ically verified, whereas the second one studies what truly exists, but is “beyond words and
understanding” and can only be inwardly experienced.
Contemporary science has managed to make possible the impossible. Just in the last
century, namely in 1953, the DNA double helix was discovered; in 1968, the first heart
transplant took place; in 1978, artificial insemination was accomplished; on April 13, 2003,
the mapping of the human genome was completed; on February 11, 2016, the discovery
of gravitational waves was announced. In the meantime, the explosion of informatics and
computer sciences inoculated everyday life with terms such as “cybersurgery,” “nanotech-
nology,” “Internet,” “Facebook,” “tweeting,” “artificial intelligence,” etc., totally unknown a
few years ago. At the same time, the theory of evolution is being promoted and issues such
as artificial life, cloning, mechanistic interpretations of mental functions, theories of every-
thing, trapping and storing of antimatter, the CERN experiment, and the so-called transhu-
manism are being discussed widely. There is a fast-spreading viewpoint that the foundation
of the world created and provided for by God is collapsing; when interpreting the world, the
person of God is fading away and is being replaced by randomness and religion by scientific
triumph, by the newly emerged human omniscience and omnipotence.
590 Nikolaos Chatzinikolaou
It seems that scientific thought is based on the belief that since God cannot be proven
logically, He does not exist, and thus religions struggle hopelessly to prove their necessity in
the modern scientific world.
Do the Orthodox Christian theology and tradition have anything to say about all this?
As St. Nicholas Velimirovitch claims,
When people continually felt God above them, before them, and around them, in the same
way air and light is felt, they attributed and dedicated all their technological works and hand-
iwork to Him, their Lord and Creator.
When the feeling of God’s presence became dulled and spiritual vision darkened, that
is when pride entered into tradesmen and technologists, and they started to give glory ex-
clusively to themselves for their buildings, handiwork, and intellectual works, and began to
misuse their work, when the fear of God vanishes, and the moral law of God is trampled, then
the mountain of human technology falls into the dust from which it was built. However, evil
does not come from unfeeling, dead technology, but from the dead hearts of people.1
According to the Orthodox Patristic tradition and theology, there are two kinds of know-
ledge or wisdom: the knowledge of the uncreated (God), which is achieved with the synergy
of man with God, and the knowledge of the created (matter, nature, creation), achieved
through science and research. In that respect, there is no conflict between theology and
science, since the two cannot overlap2 and thus this conflict is actually a pseudo-problem.3
11. Through the contemporary development of science and technology, our life is changing
radically. And what brings about a change in the life of man demands discernment on his part,
since, apart from significant benefits, such as the facilitation of everyday life, the successful
treatment of serious diseases and space exploration, we are also confronted with the negative
1 Saint Nikolai Velimirovich, “Ethics and Technology,” in Complete Works of Bishop Nikolai (in
Serbian), Book 12, translated by Marija Miljkovic (Valjevo, Serbia: Glas Crkve Publishers), 23.
2 Rev. Prof. George Metallinos, “Faith and Science in Orthodox Epistemology and Methodology Ch.
8,” in Relations and Antitheses (Σχέσεις καὶ Ἀντιθέσεις, in Greek) (Athens: Akritas Editions, 1998).
3 Rev. Prof. George Metallinos, Orthodox Faith and Natural Sciences, (Ορθοδοξία και Φυσικές
Church, Encyclical of the Holy and Great Council of the Orthodox Church, V. The Church in the face of
contemporary challenges, § 11–14, Crete: Pentecost 2016. https://www.holycouncil.org/-/encyclical-holy-
council?_101_INSTANCE_VA0WE2pZ4Y0I_languageId=en_US.
Theology–Science Dialogue 591
consequences of scientific progress. The dangers are the manipulation of human freedom, the
use of man as a simple means, the gradual loss of precious traditions, and threats to, or even
the destruction of, the natural environment.
Unfortunately, science, by its very nature, does not possess the necessary means to prevent
or address many of the problems it creates directly or indirectly. Scientific knowledge does not
motivate man’s moral will, and even though aware of the dangers, he continues to act as if un-
aware of them. The answer to man’s serious existential and moral problems and to the eternal
meaning of his life and of the world cannot be given without a spiritual approach.
12. In our age, there is a very prevalent enthusiasm for the impressive developments in
the fields of Biology, Genetics and Neurophysiology. These represent scientific advances,
the wide-ranging applications of which will, in all likelihood, create serious anthropological
and moral dilemmas. The uncontrolled use of biotechnology at the beginning, during, and at
the end of life, endangers its authentic fullness. Man is experimenting ever more intensively
with his own very nature in an extreme and dangerous way. He is in danger of being turned
into a biological machine, into an impersonal social unit or into a mechanical device of
controlled thought.
The Orthodox Church cannot remain on the sidelines of discussions about such mo-
mentous anthropological, ethical and existential matters. She rests firmly on divinely taught
criteria and reveals the relevance of Orthodox anthropology in the face of the contempo-
rary overturning of values. Our Church can and must express in the world her prophetic
consciousness in Christ Jesus, who with His Incarnation assumed the whole man and is the
ultimate prototype for the renewal of the human race. She projects the sacredness of life
and man’s character as a person from the very moment of conception. The right to be born
is the first of human rights. The Church as a divine-human society, in which each human
constitutes a unique being destined for personal communion with God, and she resists every
attempt to objectify man, to turn him into a measurable quantity. No scientific achievement
is permitted to compromise man’s dignity and his divine destination. Man is not defined only
by his genes.
Bioethics from an Orthodox point of view is founded on this basis. At a time of conflicting
images of man, Orthodox bioethics, in opposition to secular autonomous and reductionist
anthropological views, insists on man’s creation in God’s image and likeness and his eternal
destiny. The Church thus contributes to the enrichment of the philosophical and scientific
discussion of bioethical questions through her scriptural anthropology and the spiritual ex-
perience of Orthodoxy.
13. In a global society, oriented towards “having” and individualism, the Orthodox
Catholic Church presents the truth of life in and according to Christ, the truth freely
made incarnate in the everyday life of each man through his works “till evening” (Ps 103),
through which he is made co-worker of the eternal Father [“We are co-workers with God”
(1 Cor 3.9)] and of His Son [“My Father is working still, and I am working” (John 5.17)].
The grace of God sanctifies in the Holy Spirit the works of the hands of the man who
works together with God, revealing the affirmation in them of life and of human society.
Christian asceticism is to be placed within this framework; this differs radically from all
dualistic asceticism that severs man from life and from his fellow man. Christian asceti-
cism and the exercise of self-restraint, which connect man with the sacramental life of the
Church, do not concern only the monastic life, but are characteristic of ecclesial life in all
its manifestations, as a tangible witness to the presence of the eschatological spirit in the
blessed life of the faithful.
14. The roots of the ecological crisis are spiritual and ethical, inhering within the heart of
each man. This crisis has become more acute in recent centuries on account of the var-
ious divisions provoked by human passions—such as greed, avarice, egotism and the insa-
tiable desire for more—and by their consequences for the planet, as with climate change,
which now threatens to a large extent the natural environment, our common “home.” The
592 Nikolaos Chatzinikolaou
rupture in the relationship between man and creation is a perversion of the authentic use
of God’s creation. The approach to the ecological problem on the basis of the principles of
the Christian tradition demands not only repentance for the sin of the exploitation of the
natural resources of the planet, namely, a radical change in mentality and behavior, but
also asceticism as an antidote to consumerism, the deification of needs and the acquisitive
attitude. It also presupposes our greatest responsibility to hand down a viable natural en-
vironment to future generations and to use it according to divine will and blessing. In the
sacraments of the Church, creation is affirmed and man is encouraged to act as a steward,
protector and “priest” of creation, offering it by way of doxology to the Creator—“Your
own of your own we offer to You in all and for all”—and cultivating a Eucharistic relation-
ship with creation. This Orthodox, Gospel and Patristic approach also turns our attention
to the social dimensions and the tragic consequences of the destruction of the natural
environment.
This document displays the basic theological position of the Orthodox Church in regard to
science and more specifically to bioethics and ecological issues.
Along with this Encyclical, the Holy and Great Synod of Crete issued an official
Message to the Orthodox people and to all people of good will, citing among others the
following:5
7) In regard to the matter of the relations between Christian faith and the natural sciences, the
Orthodox Church avoids placing scientific investigation under tutelage and does not adopt
a position on every scientific question. She thanks God who gives to scientists the gift of
uncovering unknown dimensions of divine creation. The modern development of the natural
sciences and of technology is bringing radical changes to our life. It brings significant benefits,
such as the facilitation of everyday life, the treatment of serious diseases, easier communi-
cations and space exploration, and so on. In spite of this, however, there are many negative
consequences such as the manipulation of freedom, the gradual loss of precious traditions,
the destruction of the natural environment and the questioning of moral values. Scientific
knowledge, however, swiftly it may be advancing, does not motivate man’s will, nor does it
give answers to serious moral and existential issues and to the search for the meaning of life
and of the world. These matters demand a spiritual approach, which the Orthodox Church
attempts to provide through a bioethics, which is founded on Christian ethics and Patristic
teaching. Along with her respect for the freedom of scientific investigation, the Orthodox
Church at the same time points out the dangers concealed in certain scientific achievements
and emphasises man’s dignity and his divine destiny.
8) It is clear that the present-day ecological crisis is due to spiritual and moral causes. Its
roots are connected with greed, avarice and egoism, which lead to the thoughtless use of nat-
ural resources, the filling of the atmosphere with damaging pollutants, and to climate change.
The Christian response to the problem demands repentance for the abuses, an ascetic frame
of mind as an antidote to overconsumption, and at the same time a cultivation of the con-
sciousness that man is a “steward” and not a possessor of creation. The Church never ceases
to emphasise that future generations also have a right to the natural resources that the Creator
has given us. For this reason, the Orthodox Church takes an active part in the various inter-
national ecological initiatives and has ordained the 1st September as a day of prayer for the
protection of the natural environment.
5 The Holy and Great Council, Official Documents of the Holy and Great Council of the Orthodox
Church, Message to the Orthodox People and to All People of Good Will, § 7–8 (Crete: Pentecost 2016).
https://www.holycouncil.org/-/message?_101_INSTANCE_VA0WE2pZ4Y0I_languageId=en_US.
Theology–Science Dialogue 593
It is worth mentioning that the Orthodox Russian Church has also been involved in the
dialogue between theology, modern science, and technology by including in its official doc-
ument, titled “The Basis of the Social Concept,”6 issued in August 2000, a spiritual rather
than a theological approach to relevant issues.
6 The Russian Orthodox Church, The Basis of the Social Concept, XIV. 1., Secular
Science, Culture and Education (Moscow: The Russian Orthodox Church, August 2000).
https://old.mospat.ru/en/documents/social-concepts/xiv.
594 Nikolaos Chatzinikolaou
on scientific achievements and on their inclusion in an ideological system, however, can take
place in a wide framework beginning from religious to openly atheistic.
Though science may be one of the ways to know God (Rom. 1:19–20), Orthodoxy sees in
it also a natural instrument for building life on earth, which is to be used very prudently. The
Church warns man against the temptation to view science as a realm completely independent
of moral principles. Today’s achievements in various areas, including the physics of funda-
mental particles, chemistry and microbiology, show that they are essentially a double-edged
sword that can both benefit man and take away his life. The evangelical norms of life make
it possible to educate a person in such a way that the knowledge and abilities obtained could
not be abused. This is why the Church and secular science are called to co-operation for the
sake of life and its proper order. Their interaction contributes to the healthy creative climate
in the spiritual and intellectual sphere, thus helping to create the best conditions for the de-
velopment of scientific research.
Prominence should be given to social sciences, which by their nature are inevitably linked
with theology, church history and canon law. While welcoming the works of secular scientists
in this area and recognising the importance of humanitarian studies, the Church does not
consider the rational picture of the world, sometimes formed by these studies, to be complete
and comprehensive. The religious worldview cannot be rejected as a source of the ideas of
truth and the understanding of history, ethics and many other humanitarian sciences which
have the reason and right to be present in the system of secular education and formation and
in the building of social life. It is only the combination of spiritual experience and scientific
knowledge that ensures the fullness of cognizance. No social system can be described as har-
monious as long as it gives monopoly to the secular worldview in making socially significant
judgements. Unfortunately, there is still a danger of ideologised science for which the nations
have paid too high a price in the 20th century. This ideologisation is especially dangerous in
the area of social studies, which are laid in the bases of state programs and political projects.
While opposing attempt to substitute ideology for science, the Church supports the especially
important dialogue with humanitarian scholars.
Man as the image and likeness of the Incomprehensible Creator is free in his myste-
rious depths. The Church warns against the attempts to use the scientific and technolog-
ical progress for establishing control over the inner world of the personality, for creating
any technologies making it possible to infuse and manipulate the human consciousness or
sub-consciousness.
Τhe Bioethics Committee of the Church of Greece also deals with issues pertaining to the
dialogue between theology, science, and technology, and periodically publishes official
documents on related issues. In fact, its official document on Assisted Reproduction focuses
on the role and impact of technology stating the following:7
7 The Holy Synod of the Church of Greece Bioethics Committee, Basic Positions on the ethics of Assisted
Reproduction (Athens: Apostoliki Diakonia of the Orthodox Christian Church of Greece, 2007), 32–33.
Theology–Science Dialogue 595
Nevertheless, its irrational use threatens to desacralize man and treat him as a machine with
spare parts and accessories.
56. Although man regulates technology, he could ultimately be governed by it, unless he is
prudent. He may be easily enchanted by technological achievements, and consequently be-
come subjugated by them. He risks destroying his own freedom in the name of the freedom
of scientific and technological progress that aim at expanding human dominance over nature.
57. The use of technology and human intervention, to the extent that it safeguards and
assists in the sacredness of human fertilisation, is not only acceptable but also desirable
and pleasing to God. However, technological progress is not considered successful when it
imposes choices contrary to nature, affects family unity, interrupts the cooperation of spir-
itual and natural laws and replaces God. Success is not only the discovery of a new revo-
lutionary technique within the wide context of genetic engineering; it is also the effective
confrontation of numerous problems (genetic, psychological, social, ethical, financial, etc.)
that emerge from an irrational practice, particularly in the field of invasive fertilisation.
58. The Church is not afraid of changes, neither is She against novel discoveries.
Nevertheless, She firmly rejects disrespect for creation and the human person as well as dese-
cration of the institution of family. Fertilisation forms the holy altar of life; therefore, entering
inside it, requires respect and fear of God.
For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being un-
derstood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are
without excuse.8
In other words, science tries to interpret and understand the “things that are made,”
namely God’s creation, the material world, which refer and shed light on the “invisible
things,” namely “His eternal power and Godhead,” elements that belong solely to the field
of theology. On this basis, science could very well be in harmony with theology. One
could say that science focuses on the natural reality, while theology deals with the hidden
truth of facts, of life and of the world in general.
Let us examine those elements of scientific knowledge that discreetly insinuate
a dimension which is beyond the natural and tangible world that can be rationally
comprehended.
An “Inconceivable” Cosmos
One basic element of the created world, which springs from divine wisdom, is harmony.
One can witness harmony rather than understand it; it is more perceivable and less com-
prehensible. It offers a satisfying feeling to our senses but not a satisfactory interpretation
to our mind. In the world, we find not only one color, one frequency or one species; there
8
Romans 1:20.
596 Nikolaos Chatzinikolaou
Big Bang, and before we can seize upon this moment, our equations collapse and we are left with the
so-called singularity.
Theology–Science Dialogue 597
“singularity.” The Big Bang portrays our ignorance. We chase after the ends of the uni-
verse and we realize that the closer we approach, the faster they are drawing away from us
(Hubble’s Law). The more our knowledge of the world increases, the more it reveals our
expanding unknowability. This is also expressed with the Uncertainty Principle. We desig-
nate with accuracy a certain quality of nature and at the same time we make an error on a
respective one.
This applies to both the universe and the microcosm: We carry on researching into it and
we find black holes, dark matter and energy, hidden symmetry, unknown particles, strange
entities, to which we give names that pertain to the metaphysical (i.e., strange quark, God’s
particle), and which conceal the most beautiful secrets.
The world becomes very alluring but is revealed to be tragically isolating. The great
constants of physics have values that justify our existence as human beings (Anthropic
Principle), but necessarily lead to our isolation as beings. The universe is enormous, and
speeds are insuperably low. The speed of light, the greatest speed there is, the speed of com-
munication, is at once both unsurpassable and finite. We can hear—receive stimuli, we can
speak—send messages, but we cannot develop a cosmic communication within the uni-
verse. We can only see with our telescopes 4 percent of the entire universe. The remaining
23 percent is dark matter and 73 percent is dark energy. And this is where the secret of our
world lies. We know so little and there is so much more that we are unaware of.
Under specific conditions, physics and geometry are expressed in ways that conflict
with our senses. Reality resembles fantasy. In the large scale of the universe, space is being
curved and the Euclidean geometry collapses. In the very small and infinitesimal scale,
space acquires multiplicity and natural dimensions—perhaps seven in total—entirely un-
known and strange to our natural perception. In extra high velocities, time is expanded,
length is contracted, and our natural senses are infringed. In the dimensions of the nano-
scale, that can be technologically processed, matter presents completely unusual qualities.
However, while we work miracles with technology, even in the area of biosciences, new
diseases appear and old still remain incurable.
One more glance at our world persuades us that its truth and beauty coexist with
imperfections, disabilities, decay, and death. The universe despite its luminous stars, is
very dark—with very few photons; despite its high temperatures, it is very cold—just 2.7
K; despite its immeasurable stellar systems, it seems actually empty, dominated by cosmic
vacuum; despite the unending movement of its galaxies, it looks static.
Contemporary science uses terms that sound metaphysical, knowing that its means and
instruments are in essence inaccessible. For example, infinity, which has a mathematical
symbol, and eternity, namely timelessness, a term in use in modern physics, both are used
quite often. In expounding the latest theories, scientists are anxious to speak of perfec-
tion and a completeness of interpretations. Nevertheless, science in its effort to enrich our
knowledge of the created world is led to the awareness of its inability to comprehend it.
cannot be confirmed. We learn more about the genome in the hope that we are discovering
the truth of our genetic identity, and we are led to the proteome, which confirms our greater
ignorance. Before we can even get to grips with one alphabet, we are forced to learn an even
more difficult language.
As some forms of life disappear, more developed ones emerge. Within the genetic trea-
sure of the human cell, even in the so–called junk DNA, precious secrets are hidden that
play a very significant role in the hereditary process and the determination of the biological
characteristics of each individual.
Contemporary scientific fields such as neurophysiology and neurobiology lead to the
conclusion that the organ of the mental functions is entirely unknown. We neither under-
stand the mechanisms of the brain nor the dynamics of understanding.
It seems that the real universe is the one of our unknowability, in which, however, we can
enjoy scattered stars and galaxies, namely viewpoints and theories of an impressive yet par-
tial knowledge, “through a glass, darkly.”12
Moreover, philosophical theories are also unable to help us understand how the long life
of the universe can coexist with man’s extremely short lifespan, or the wisdom and beauty of
the cosmos with destructiveness, or human grandeur with pettiness, or love and kindness
with evil.
The fact that we live as human beings thinking, yet with limited knowledge; intellectually
developed, yet physically weak; full of life, yet constantly chased by death; with an innate
metaphysical quest, yet totally unable to discover what is beyond our logic indicates that it
is not only nature that is a mystery but the created human being as well.
It seems that a human being is much more than a biological cell system. The variety
of choices every man makes, his characteristic otherness, the uniqueness of his psy-
chology, the creativity of his intellect, and the formation of his personhood are much
more than just anatomic features and detectable biochemical processes. The biolog-
ical beginning bears the weight of the onset of personhood, while the end refers to an
unknown continuation in a higher state of being. The realization of the grandeur and
uniqueness of each human being hints at his unending life and the sense of his eternal
perspective.
In that respect, the “if,” “how,” and “when” of the beginning and end of the life of every
person is also of utmost importance for the Orthodox Church. In our modern age, we
have the technology for preventing and terminating a pregnancy, and therefore we can
determine whether someone will be conceived—that is if he will come into being, and
whether in the end he will be born—that is if he will live. Our age can alter at will the
form and the characteristics of life. It can also delay death, relieve pain, and be invasive
by using advanced technology and thus create new forms of life and novel conditions of
dying. It can create the possibility of a vast number of choices.
Nevertheless, it poses novel questions that cannot be answered and provokes new
dilemmas that modern society tries in vain to undermine. The debate on the exact
moment of the onset of the human life, on the status of the cryopreserved embryos, on
how our soul is connected with our body, on what is the ontology of the soul and what
is death, although it is so exciting, does not reach any conclusions. Its consequences are
12
1 Corinthians 13:12.
Theology–Science Dialogue 599
tremendous, since at times they either lead to a logic justifying eugenics or euthanasia on
seemingly “ethical” criteria or to a code of ethics that appears to be very harsh and unde-
sirable. On the basis of the arbitrary knowledge of the unknown, the world of ethics and
values becomes truly distorted.
The exact moment of the beginning or end of human life is not a mere scientific matter. It
cannot be defined with exact terms, legal statements, social declarations, political decisions,
or statistics and numbers. The “how” and “why” of human life is an inscrutable mystery. The
same applies to death. For these reasons we do not view life as a right that belongs to us, but
we respect it as a mystery that transcends us.
13
W.D. Ross, Aristotelis Politica (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957).
14
W.D. Ross, Aristotelis, Post Naturalis, 922α, first line (Oxford: Clarendon, 1955).
600 Nikolaos Chatzinikolaou
handywork.”15 This cosmic rationality can be approached scientifically, while its truth is
better revealed spiritually.
Today we use terms in physics such as “supersymmetry,” “superstrings,” and
“superuniverses,” because we wish to show what is beyond human sense and logic; like-
wise, in Church, the prefix “super” is used to express what is beyond our mind and un-
derstanding, and to stress the existence of a world that is above nature, “and “beyond” all
scientific “super” terms. For instance, to describe the grace of the Theotokos, we use the
word “Ὑπερ-ευλογημένη,” literally Super-blessed or Most-blessed; the otherworldliness
of the angelic powers “Ὑπερ-κόσμιος,” namely supra-mundane, beyond the natural world;
the magnificence of God “Ὑπερ-ούσιος,” in other words Super-substantial, “He who is
above all being.”
Nevertheless, modern scientific philosophy is fixated on proving its self-sufficiency and
therefore it questions the existence or disregards the presence of God, the reason probably
being that it tries to compete with Him on the level of knowledge and power. It does not
want an almighty God neither an omniscient One; rather it favors an all-powerful and all-
knowing man. That is why it looks for values that, according to its opinion, can stand better
without God.
The Orthodox tradition seeks the experience of the presence of God. It was never
preoccupied with the question of His existence. God can be experienced, therefore He
exists. He is partakable; He is true. A god that cannot be communed of is a questionable
god. God’s existence cannot be proved, but His presence can be experienced.
Therefore, instead of a direct answer to the question of the relationship between science
and theology, Orthodoxy provides an indirect reply by using the word “communion”
(κοινωνία).
The word (κοινωνία) “communion,” when it refers to human or any other relationships,
means encountering, being on the same path, sharing, truly communicating, close associ-
ation, loving bond, spiritual union. When it refers to our relationship with God, it means
partaking, interdwelling with God, resulting in adoption, revelation of truth, and “extraor-
dinary transformation.”16 Respectively, although modern science and the Orthodox the-
ology seem to be opposing or at least incompatible, their relationship in some ways reflects
the above characteristics.
Science fails to prove either the existence or the nonexistence of God. Every attempt
to prove His existence is pointless. God is an inscrutable mystery! Therefore, it is better
to question His presence spiritually than to try to prove His existence rationally or
15
Psalms 19:1.
16
“ὀθνεία ἀλλοίωσις εὐπρεπεστάτη,” (Canon of the feast of Pentecost).
Theology–Science Dialogue 601
scientifically. A god whose existence or nonexistence can be logically proven does not exist.
He is not the God!
In the light of the Orthodox theology, all questions on the seeming conflicts between
science and theology, such as the onset of the human life, the evolution theory, the big bang
theory, and the origin of the universe, are actually meaningless.
God as “HE WHO IS” (Ο ΩΝ) appears to be unapproachable to creation; we look for
Him and He hides Himself, He is not partakable in His essence, His existence is unprovable.
On the contrary, God as “HE WHO IS PRESENT” (O ΠΑΡΩΝ), is a friend and father to
creation; He reveals Himself and is partakable in His uncreated energies. His presence can
be experienced.
Augustine proclaimed that we can see God with our mind or intellect (νοῦς), since our
nous is akin to Him, and thus he led Western thought on a fruitless quest to comprehend
the incomprehensible. On the other hand, the fathers of the eastern Church maintain that
we can transcend the limitations of our created nature only through the Holy Spirit. God
combines both that which is comprehensible and that which is not.17
Christian Orthodox faith proclaims to the modern world that we know a lot less than we
ignore, that what we comprehend is very little in regard to what is incomprehensible, and
that apart from the affirmative course toward knowledge there is also the apophatic course;
namely that the mystery exists, but even if it is incomprehensible, it can be communed of.
God is not partakable in regard to His essence, but he is partakable in regard to his uncre-
ated energies. The term “uncreated” limits our knowledge but does not weaken the mystery,
which we can partake of. God appears “as He is”;18 “to attain true vision and knowledge is to
see and know by not-seeing and unknowing, Him Who is above vision and knowledge.”19
Finally one thing is comprehensible: the incomprehensibility of God and of the world.20 The
effort of the West to commune with God’s unpartakable essence, led to a vain struggle to
prove His existence. The same applies to modern scientific philosophy.
God, as experienced in the life of the Orthodox Church, is of course transcendent in His
power, although He is transcendent mainly in His wisdom and love. He does not express
His love to us by arrogantly demonstrating His power but by offering us the possibility of
partaking in His uncreated energies and love. God is not an opponent that science should
either ignore or extinguish bat rather He is the God of love that science must on all accounts
discover.
17 “As I conceive, by that part of It which we can comprehend to draw us to itself (for that which is
altogether incomprehensible is outside the bounds of hope, and not within the compass of endeavour),
and by that part of It which we cannot comprehend to move our wonder, and as an object of wonder to
become more an object of desire, and, being desired, to purify, and by purifying to make us like God,
so that, when we have thus become like Himself, God may, I being united to us, and that perhaps to the
same extent as He already knows those who are known to Him.” Saint Gregory the Theologian, “Homily
38,” in Greek Fathers of the Church, Works of Saint Gregory the Theologian (in Greek), vol. 5, compiled and
translated by P.K. Christou (Thessaloniki: Byzantium Editions, 1986), 44–46.
18 1 John, 3, 2.
19 Sancti Dionysii Aeropagitae, De Mystica Theologia, Caput II, PG3, 1025A.
20 Saint John Damascene, An Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, Book 1, Ch. 4. “God then is infinite
and incomprehensible and all that is comprehensible about Him is His infinity and incomprehensibility.”
http://www.orthodox.net/fathers/exacti.html#BOOK_I_CHAPTER_I
602 Nikolaos Chatzinikolaou
God can also be communed through scientific knowledge, yet He reveals His wisdom
and His truth to the “lowly in heart.” He conceals it from the arrogant. The way toward true
knowledge is the acceptance of our limited knowledge. As Socrates claims, “I neither know
nor think that I know. All I know is that I know nothing”; and concludes that “it is better to
have honest ignorance than self-deceptive knowledge.”21 There are values that derive from
our knowledge; however, there are values that spring from the way we reconcile ourselves
with our limitations. The awareness of our ignorance, the still “vision” of our inner “desert,”
namely the deep humbleness constitutes an “excellent way,” so as to experience the un-
known and incomprehensible mystery of the world in which we live.
The scientific way hides within it an air of despair, because while it is enchanting and
stimulating, it creates a false anticipation: Even though we think that we can wholly com-
prehend the created world, finally we are led to accept our own limits. The possibility of
fully discovering the natural world is blocked. Ultimately, we can achieve a lot less than we
wish to.
On the contrary, the humble stance of the eastern Orthodox theology before the se-
cret mystery of God allows for our personal partaking in the revelation of the divine light.
Communion with God is not a personal achievement that you can be proud of, but it is a
divine revelation and gift that you have to be grateful for. An Orthodox faithful does not ask
from God, who continually empties Himself, to reveal Himself. He does not hope for a re-
ward, neither does he have any special requests. In this way, he is offered greater knowledge,
more than he can imagine or expect. He is granted “new” knowledge, “other” experience,
“strange sight”; God is revealed to him as a person.
Science can elevate man to the higher step of knowledge, to the humble realization of his
natural and intellectual limits. Theology can take man from this point and introduce him
into the holy altar of divine revelation.
Modern science leads us straight to the truth of the apophatic Orthodox theology. God
has no relation with proofs, or with discoveries. God is revelation. One more thing; science
is for some people. God is for everyone. Even for those who think they can take His place;
even for those who wish to comprehend Him. He is the God of believers and nonbelievers,
of brilliant scientists and simple people, of prominent theologians and unknown ascetics.
Combining faith with scientific logic seems to be an uneasy way. However, if you finally
succeed to bring them together you will discover a unique and profound relationship.
Bibliography
Baloyannis, St. “Hunan Enhancement from the Orthodox Point of View.” In Human
Enhancement. Scientific: Ethical and Theological Aspects from a European Perspective, edited
by Theo Boer and Richard Fischer. Strasbourg, France: Church and Society Commission of
the Conference of European Churches, 2013, 120–128.
Boué, André. La Médicine du Fœtus. Paris: éd. Odile Jacob, 1995.
Buxhoeveden, Daniel, and Woloschak, Gayle (eds.). Science and the Eastern Orthodox Church.
London and New York: Routledge Taylor and Francis, 2016.
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Plato, Socrates’ Apology, 21d.
Theology–Science Dialogue 603
2016. https://www.holycouncil.org/-/encyclical-holy-council?_101_INSTANCE_VA0W
E2pZ4Y0I_languageId=en_US.
The Holy and Great Council of the Orthodox Church. Official Documents of the Holy and
Great Council of the Orthodox Church. Message to the Orthodox People and to All People
of Good Will. Crete: Pentecost 2016. https://www.holycouncil.org/-/message?_101_INSTA
NCE_VA0WE2pZ4Y0I_l anguageId=en_US.
The Holy Synod of the Church of Greece Bioethics Committee. Basic Positions on the Ethics
of Assisted Reproduction. Athens: Apostoliki Diakonia of the Orthodox Christian Church
of Greece, 2007.
The Russian Orthodox Church. The Basis of the Social Concept. XIV. 1. Secular Science. Culture
and Education. Moscow: The Russian Orthodox Church, August 2000. https://mospat.ru/
en/documents/social-concepts/xiv/.
Vlachos, Hierotheos (Metropolitan of Nafpaktos). Bioethics and Biotheology (in Greek).
Levadia, Greece: The Birth of the Theotokos Monastery, 2005.
Vlachos, Hierotheos (Metropolitan of Nafpaktos). The Science of Spiritual Medicine (in Greek).
Levadia. Greece: The Birth of the Theotokos Monastery, 2009.
Ware, Kallistos. Orthodox Theology in the 20th Century. Geneva: World Council of Churches
Publications, 2012.
Ware, Kallistos, Michael, M.G., and Michael, Katina. Religion. Science and Technology: An
Eastern Orthodox Perspective. Wollongong, Australia: University of Wollongong, 2017.
Chapter 37
Introduction
This chapter invites the reader to consider “How Orthodox Women Read and Teach the
Bible,” but even its title presumes a space of gender-based difference that is somewhat prob-
lematic. Presumably within most volumes on Orthodox approaches to “X” there are not
comparable chapters about how men read and teach the Bible, tradition, or whatever “X”
may be.1 Men are often assumed as the normative authority within Orthodox Christianity,
because they are most represented in the historical and textual tradition and hold hier-
archical positions from which to speak authoritatively for Orthodoxy’s positions and
interpretations—even though it may be that women (who hold less officially visible yet
ostensibly more significant roles) have done more to maintain and perpetuate Orthodox
Christianity globally. Considering Orthodox women collectively, one might assume that
there is some sort of distinct gender essentialism that provides women a common experi-
ence of the Bible based on their gender more so than other aspects of their identities (such as
class, race, lay status, convert, etc.). Such gender-based distinction has been the ire of even
nascent feminist critique within Orthodox Christianity and the subject of its rebuttals.2
1 See the related observation, “One can publish an anthology on women in early Christianity, because
women are marked as a particular, extra-curricular, and unnecessary component of the Christian past.
One cannot publish an anthology on men in early Christianity, because men are treated as synonymous
with early Christianity, thus rendering such an undertaking tautological,” in Blossom Stefaniw, “Feminist
Historiography and Uses of the Past,” Studies in Late Antiquity 4 (2020): 260–283, 272.
2 See, for example, the very different views expressed in Valerie Karras, “Patristic Views on the
Ontology of Gender,” in Personhood: Orthodox Christianity and the Connection between Body, Mind, and
Soul, ed. John Chirban (Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey, 1996), 113–119; Ashley Purpura, “Innovating
‘Traditional’ Women’s Roles: Byzantine Insights for Orthodox Christian Gender Discourse,” Modern
Theology 36, no. 3 (2020): 641–661; Elisabeth Behr-Sigel, The Ministry of Women in the Church, trans.
Steven Bigham (Crestwood, NY: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1999); Sarah Cowie, More Spirited than
Lions: An Orthodox Response to Feminism and a Practical Guide to the Spiritual Life of Women (Salisbury,
MA: Regina Orthodox Press, 2007).
606 Ashley M. Purpura
Yet ambiguous theological positions on gender’s relationship with the human person
aside, without such special attention devoted specifically to focus on women, women’s
contributions and identities are often left unacknowledged in discussions of Orthodox in-
terpretation. What then can be said about Orthodox women that speaks inclusively to their
experiences as readers and teachers of the Bible, that is connected to gender, and attends to
the particularities of diverse women?
Collectively women cannot be ordained hierarchs and priests within the Orthodox
Church and in this way might have a less official voice in their reading and teaching of
the Bible. Yet, there are numerous men who either cannot or will not ever be clerics, and
in terms of scriptural use laymen and laywomen, or saintly men and saintly women might
have more in common as Orthodox Christians than if divided along the lines of gender.
Indeed Orthodox men and women in terms of their teaching and reading of the Bible have
likely more in common than Orthodox women and non-Orthodox Christian women, as is
perhaps evident in the rich ecumenical conversations that took place in the last half cen-
tury.3 For example, the rich feminist theology developed through scriptural approaches
presented by Rosemary Radford Reuther, Elisabeth Schüssler-Fiorenza, and others has yet
to find a constructive parallel in Orthodox scholarship, although some do respond to such
approaches from various Orthodox positions. Orthodox women’s scholarship on the Bible
is most often not directed at women specifically or reflective on a particular female expe-
rience, but rather in dialogue with the broader field of biblical studies or Orthodox the-
ology. Some Orthodox women biblical scholars teach and write in a more broadly Christian
ecumenical context, where their Orthodox identities do shape their research, but it also
considers and finds interlocutors with the broader biblical and early Christian studies (just
as male scholarship does) that is not explicitly focused on gendered concerns.4 There has
not yet emerged some sort of consensus around a uniquely Orthodox feminist theology or
scriptural hermeneutic, even as Orthodox women with theological degrees and publications
in biblical studies are increasing.
Aside from the publications and scholarship by Orthodox women on topics related to
the Bible, but also other religious reflections (on motherhood, marriage, womanhood,
conversion, head-covering, grief, etc.) there is an infusion with scriptural vernacular and
interweaving of scriptural reflection as central to argument making. Many women theo-
logical scholars and spiritual mothers (just as their male counterparts) use the scripture
as the breath of their work and prayerful theological reflection that is often intertwined
with words and interpretations via hymns, prayers, and other traditional and sanctified
teachings.5 Likewise, women in various other theological adjacent scholarly or publication
3 Leonie Liveris, Ancient Taboos and Gender Prejudice: Challenges for Orthodox Women and the
Church (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing, 2005); Eleni Kasselouri-Hatzivassiliadi, Fulata Mbano
Moyo, & Aikaterini Pekridou, Many Women Were Also There . . . : The Participation of Orthodox Women
in the Ecumenical Movement (Geneva: WCC Publications, 2010).
4 See for examples Edith Humphrey, Scripture and Tradition: What the Bible Really Says (Grand
Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2013); Aikaterini Tsalampouni, “Jesus in the View of Luke,” in Gospel
Images of Jesus Christ in Church Tradition and in Biblical Scholarship, eds. Chr. Karakolis, Karl Wilhelm
Niebuhr, & Sviatoslav Rogalsky (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 153–180.
5 Examples can be found in St. Maria Skobtsova’s “The Second Gospel Commandment,” in Mother
Maria Skobtsova: Essential Writings, trans. by Richard Revear and Larissa Volokhonsky (New York: Orbis
How Orthodox Women Read and Teach the Bible 607
fields may invoke and use the Bible in understanding and making their philosophical, his-
torical, lived-religious, or art-historical interpretation in ways that are consistent with and
supported by the Orthodox tradition and liturgy.6 Additionally, sociological and anthropo-
logical research on the everyday lives and views of Orthodox women, so that understanding
the diverse ways Orthodox women of different communities might reflect on their religious
participation and relation to established religious authorities in either affirming or subver-
sive ways is increasing.7
Of course, in domestic spheres and lay settings women read and teach the Bible in
diverse ways, just as men do. Often this reading and teaching is oriented around spir-
itual self-development and a daily rule of prayer, the catechism of others—especially chil-
dren, support of personal relationships, continuing religious education and study either
independently or through a parish community, and seeking spiritual knowledge in the
Bible during times of transition or distress. Women also read and teach the Bible in in-
formal contexts, in online meeting groups, social media, blogs, and forums just as male
counterparts do, even when some of these gender-specific discussions focus on what
scripture and Orthodox tradition overall say about being a good and holy Orthodox wife,
mother, or woman. A quick internet search related to any specific term and Orthodox
Christian women or gender brings up numerous pages and posts related to reproduc-
tion and parenting, sexuality, gender subordination, modesty, and ecclesiastical partici-
pation. Certainly, for some Orthodox women the ways they understand their Orthodox
identities are directly tied to scriptural verses or understandings, but for others wisdom
and religious understanding may come from less textual sources. Nevertheless, women
are not a monolith, they are not limited to fulfilling socially determined gender roles, and
the types of experiences, bodies, desires, and suffering they encounter in their lives might
be more different than similar. Additionally, in their approaches to the Bible, women
employ a range of readings (just as men do) from more literal to historically situated or
deeply spiritualized. Just like the men who also read and teach the Bible, many Orthodox
women interpret the Bible through a Christological understanding grounded in patristic
and liturgical tradition.
Where women have written about their views, experiences, and theological insights
from their perspectives as or informed by being Orthodox women, scripture is frequently
used to teach or reflect on a particular moment or concern beyond a strict biblical
focus. For example, women from various disciplinary fields and professional situations
contributed reflections to a volume on the reception of the 2016 Holy and Great Council
that took place in Crete. Several of the contributors use scripture as a way of explaining
what “Our Lord calls us” or the “church teaches,” such that the Bible is identified by them
Books, 2003), 45–74; Carrie Frederick Frost, Maternal Body: A Theology of Incarnation from the Christian
East (New York: Paulist Press, 2019).
6
For instance, Christina Gschwandtner, Welcoming Finitude: Toward a Phenomenology of Orthodox
Liturgy (New York: Fordham University Press, 2019); Bissera Pentcheva, Hagia Sophia: Sound, Space and
Spirit in Byzantium (University Park, PA: Penn State University Press, 2017).
7 Nadiezda. Kizenko, “Feminized Patriarchy? Orthodoxy and Gender in Post-
Soviet Russia,”
Signs 38, no. 3 (2013): 595–621; Helena Kupari & Elina Vuola, Orthodox Christianity and Gender
(London: Routledge, 2020); Ina Merdjanova (ed.), Women and Religiosity in Orthodox Christian Contexts
(New York: Fordham University Press, forthcoming).
608 Ashley M. Purpura
as the voice of God and the church for the world, but given the plethora of sources pro-
vided by the various authors it is clear that this is understood not to be the only way
that God and the Church teach or speak in the world. Nevertheless, such scriptural
interpretations that anachronistically and interpretively say, “Our Lord calls us” or “the
church teaches” are quite typical for Orthodox to employ, reflecting centuries of pious
discourse approaching the Bible as divinely communicative and the foundation for sub-
sequent church teachings.8
Even though women in Orthodox Churches are rarely given the opportunity to
preach, women as experts in various fields and as Orthodox authors are regularly given
opportunities to teach scripture in nonliturgical public settings such as retreats, lectures,
schools, the home, as catechists, as chaplains, etc. Several Orthodox jurisdictions include
laywomen regularly as readers, chanters, and volunteers for reading the Epistle or Old
Testament during liturgical services, but this is not yet universally accepted or necessarily
culturally supported, even where it is permitted by the priest and bishop.9 Historically there
is very little access to how Orthodox women read and taught the Bible before the modern
era aside from monastic contexts, wealthy patrons, and royal women. What is perhaps more
prominent in shaping the Orthodox traditions of women and their reading and teaching
the Bible is appearance of women in religious texts (patristic writings, hagiographies, pious
sayings, hymns, etc.) even if these appearances are determined through a patriarchal lens of
the mostly male authors who wrote about them.10 Despite exclusion from ministerial ordi-
nation at the higher levels of the hierarchy, some women from the past to the present have
had significant liturgical authority to teach and interpret the scripture through biblical fig-
ures, and images of holiness. Even if these figures and images find expression within a patri-
archally determined liturgical system, their presence and significance might be rendered in
diverse and even subversive ways for those who receive them. Women may be excluded from
the ordained ranks that primarily liturgically read and preach the scriptures, but the litur-
gical and commemorative traditions of the Orthodox Church present women as public and
universal authorities who read, teach, and create scripture.11 If women are commemorated
as significantly informing the Orthodox reception of scripture, then perhaps this might
challenge those who assume that women’s leadership, teaching, and speaking in Church
are somehow scripturally and traditionally limited, because as examples from the Bible it-
self, Orthodox hymns, saints, and icons attest that Orthodox women do publicly speak and
teach the Bible quite a lot in liturgical contexts.12
8 Carrie Frederick Frost (ed.), The Reception of the Holy and Great Council: Reflections of Orthodox
Christian Women (New York: Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America Department of Inter-Orthodox,
Ecumenical & Interfaith Relations, 2018).
9 For example, the Antiochian Archdiocese of North America regularly has invited women to offer
sermons during a designated “Women’s Month,” but not the rest of the year; of course the situation in
women’s monasteries is markedly distinct from these observations.
10 Herrin, Unrivalled Influence; Stavroula Constantinou, “Male Constructions of Female
Identities: Authority and Power in the Byzantine Greek Lives of Monastic Foundresses,” Wiener Jahrbuch
für Kunstgeschichte 60, no. 1 (2012): 43–62.
11 Eugen Pentiuc, The Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2014), 156.
12 1 Corinthians 14:34–35; 1 Timothy 2:12.
How Orthodox Women Read and Teach the Bible 609
Within the Bible, women contribute songs, words, and interactions that form the scriptural
text itself. Regardless of the gender of the scribe, evangelist, or prophet who is attributed
with actually writing the scriptural text, women characters create biblical content from
their experiences of God and serve as actors in communicating the story of divine revela-
tion and divine incarnation. Many of these women are also commemorated in Orthodox
feasts as saints or even sinners whose presence as a woman in the Bible communicates the
story of God in relationship with, and ultimately in communion with, humanity. These
women teach the Bible and serve to support it as Orthodox Christian scripture from within
the text itself.
Some women teach and sometimes give voice to or prophetically create scripture, which
then is given authority within the Orthodox Church. The songful verses of Miriam (Exodus
15:20–21), Hannah (1 Samuel 2:1–10), and Mary (Luke 1:46–55) not only find expression
in later liturgical developments, but also as part of the scripture itself record an ongoing
teaching of the words of scripture from the voice of women themselves every time they are
read or chanted.13 These women are not merely regarded as Old Testament women, but are
commemorated as Orthodox saints. They are Orthodox women whose words build and sig-
nify scriptural prayer, and whose actions model holiness. In this way these biblical women
teach the Church how to pray, they teach scripture as a form of prayer, and they teach the
Bible as a form of praise, from within the text itself reaching outward to believers.
Other women of the Bible, specifically of the New Testament, feature as teachers of per-
sistent faith even in the face of potential rejection or rebuke. Mary at the wedding feast
in Cana (John 2: 1-–12), the Syro-phoenician woman from Matthew 15:27 who asks for
healing as “crumbs,” the woman with the issue of blood who touches Jesus’s hem in a state
of impurity (Matthew 9:20–22, Mark 5:25–34, Luke 8:43–48), Mary and Martha of Bethany
(Luke 10:38–42; John 11:1–44), and the Samaritan woman (John 4:4–26)—these women,
serve as examples of women being emboldened in faith and humility to seek and share di-
vine mercy. Each of these women provides examples of teaching the Bible from within the
Gospel narratives themselves, not as a mere text but as an account of, and humble response
to, divine revelation.
Similarly, women characters feature in parables and as types used to teach and inter-
pret the Gospel message as the lens by which the entire scriptures are understood. For
example, female characters such as the wise and foolish virgins (Matthew 25:1–13), women
exemplified as wisdom and idolatry from the Old Testament (i.e., Proverbs and Hosea),
and the Church identified as a bride (Ephesians 5:22–33) form the framework by which
other scriptures and Church teachings are interpreted. Perhaps most significantly, the per-
sonification of the voice and teaching of the Church, is gendered as a woman, such that any
teaching from the scriptures and the biblical canon itself are handed down through a fem-
inine maternal and bridal figure. As John Behr has rightly observed, “Christians, from the
13 Susan Ashbrook Harvey, Song and Memory Biblical Women in Syriac Tradition (Milwaukee,
earliest times onwards, have spoken of the Church as their Mother, or the Virgin Mother.”
The Church as Virgin Mother not only gives us life through bringing us into relationship
with Christ but also nourishes us in that relationship.14 In this way the Church figured
as woman, as mother, teaches and gives her meaning to the scriptures. Kallistos Ware
likewise observes that Mary “serves as a mirror, as a living icon of the biblical Christian,”
obedient and receptive to the word of God.15 Elisabeth Behr-Sigel further explains that
Mary is “thus the image and the personification of the Spirit-bearing Church, the womb
of the new humanity,” an observation that aligns all Christian believers with specifically
maternal imagery.16 Mary is thus figured as the symbol of the Church, with the believers as
the body of Christ, and as the beloved bride of the heavenly bridegroom. Such gendering
is not without any significance for both men and women who themselves reflect and enact
gendered identities within the church.
Although the biblical accounts of the resurrection vary in their details, the traditional
interpretation expressed liturgically is that the women are the first witnesses to the empty
tomb and the proclaim the resurrection to the disciples.17 Even the abrupt initial ending of
Mark wherein the women after seeing the risen Christ “said nothing to any one, for they
were afraid,” proclaimed by Orthodox at Pascha is overridden by the accounts of the other
evangelists. Mary and the other women with her at the tomb receive the first news of the
resurrection and are told to proclaim it even if they are unbelieved by the male disciples as
an “idle tale,” (Luke 24:11–12). Even though in the Lukan account the women are initially
unbelieved or at least doubted by some who need to confirm their news for themselves,
their mistrust of the women is misplaced, because what the women announced was the
truth. The women are divinely authorized in the scripture itself to preach the resurrection.
It is women who are first entrusted with preaching the Gospel in its most literal form. Mary
and the women with her then are teachers of the “good news” because they are instructed
by Jesus himself to “Go and tell my brethren . . . meet me in Galilee” (Matthew 28:10). They
are not told only to tell other women, or men privately, but rather to be bearers of divine
instruction to other followers.
Similarly, in the Epistles, women feature as prominent patrons of the new Christian
church, as apostles, and deaconesses.18 Women teach the spread, reception, and support
of the early Christian community in the record of their lives, names, actions, gifts, and
households. Women are significant in teaching scripture (despite 1 Timothy 2:12 and 1
Corinthians 14:34) even if just by their support of the community in which the scripture is
taught. Women teach the Bible as figures who recognize the importance and authenticity of
the scripture as divine revelation and foster its reception, spread, and interpretation. Thus,
in every liturgical reading and preaching on the texts in which the women of the Bible are
present, these women continue to teach the scriptures to those who hear them.
14 John Behr, The Mystery of Christ: Life in Death (Crestwood, NY: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press,
2006), 121.
15 Kallistos Ware, “How to Read the Bible,” The Orthodox Study Bible (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson
In addition to the biblical voicing and depicting of women as creators and proclaimers of
scripture, women prominently feature in the Orthodox hymnographic tradition as readers
and teachers of the Bible. Eugen J. Pentiuc rightly observes that hymnography is “the zenith
of the Eastern Orthodox contribution to biblical hermeneutics.”19 In the genre of hymnog-
raphy women feature prominently as figures who communicate the Gospel to the Church,
and who teach communities how to interpret and spiritually apply biblical sayings.20 This
occurs in three particularly interesting ways: through a reimagining of the biblical narrative
to include past and present persons, to expand the meaning and words of the biblical text in
a way that is spiritually instructive, and to clearly link together scriptures from the Old and
New Testament into a common offering of prayer. These models of hymnographic exegesis
and biblical imagination are not unique to female characters, but gender does quite inter-
estingly shape the message of the Bible as universal and communicated by women in a way
that they are rarely given voice in the congregation.21
With the first example, a hymn for the feast of Anastasia that directly precedes the
Nativity there is a retelling of the biblical narrative through a collapsing of time to orient
around the incarnation—one that extends into the hearer’s present and into moments of
extrabiblical holiness. The hymnographer depicts Anastasia offering the gift of her mar-
tyrdom to Christ at his birth alongside the Magi. The hymn sings, “Thy brightly beaming
memory, O martyr Anastasia, foreheraldeth the Birth of Christ from the pure Virgin Mary;
it calleth Magi with presents to Bethlehem from Persia; it calleth shepherds forth to sing
a divine hymn with Angels; for thou didst bring thyself to thy Master through thy brave
contests as gold and frankincense and myrrh, O godly-minded victor.”22 With this hymn
a fourth century martyr appears at the biblical scene of Christ’s nativity through an act
of holiness. Such a liturgical time warp uses Anastasia to teach the liturgical participants
how they might offer themselves in the liturgical present to Christ, and unfolds for them
an interpretation of the incarnation as ongoing. There may not be anything particularly
gendered in this example, a male martyr could likely have been commemorated in the
same way, but in the fact that such a hymn does include a woman demonstrates a spir-
itual and timeless reinterpretation of a biblical event for pious reflection can be rendered
through women.
In addition to the collapsing of time in order to integrate participants into the biblical
events, in some hymns there is a collapsing of text by which female characters provide inter-
pretive meaning. One of the sessional hymns from matins of the Nativity uses the voice of
19
Pentiuc, Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition, 212.
20
Further discussion of hymns as a mode of exegesis can be found in Bogdan Bucur, “Exegesis of
Biblical Theophanies in Byzantine Hymnography: Rewritten Bible?,” Theological Studies 68 (2007): 92–112.
21 See also the related observations in Susan Ashbrook Harvey, “Women’s Voices Bearing
Witness: Biblical Memory in Ancient Orthodox Liturgy” (Orthodoxy in America annual lecture,
Fordham University, February 28, 2008).
22 Matins Exopostilaria for St. Anastasia (commemorated December 22), English translation is from
the Greek Menaion, vol. 4 December (Boston: Holy Transfiguration Monastery, 2005), 175.
612 Ashley M. Purpura
Mary to marvel, “I have given birth in time unto the timeless Son, yet none hath taught me
concerning my Child’s conception: without a man am I, how shall I bear a Son? Who hath
ever seen a birth without man’s seed? But, as is written, where God willeth, the order of na-
ture is overcome. Lo, Christ is born now of the pure Virgin in Bethlehem of Judea.”23 In this
instance, Mary serves as a scriptural interpreter, to conclude the Christocentric proclama-
tion of God incarnate, and to recall the news of the annunciation in a state of wonder (Luke
1:26-–3 8). In this way, a virgin mother serves as an interpreter, witness, and teacher for how
to understand the texts of the Gospel, and imagines her as a biblical character marveling at
the incarnation. Such interpretation goes beyond the Gospel literal proclamation, showing
Mary to be a teacher of Orthodox hermeneutical tradition, affirming the child of Mary is
the divine “timeless Son.”
In prominent parts of Orthodox tradition, hymnographers use a pious imagining to ex-
pand on a biblical or hagiographical character’s experience as a pedagogical tool of spiritual
formation for those who hear and sing it—regardless of gender.24 The theotokion of the
Cross, for example, gives the Virgin a voice at the foot of the cross to incorporate those
hymning into a uniquely maternal moment, regardless of the chanters’ gender or parental
status. In this hymn, the Virgin laments, “Woe is me, O my sweetest Child! How is it Thou
hast been so unjustly hanged on the Tree. . . . Yet, in Thy compassion, Thou art well pleased
to suffer these things in the flesh, my Son, Thou most kind and forbearing God, greatly mer-
ciful Lord of all, to save Thine own creation, O Word, from the bitter bondage of the enemy.
Wherefore, I praise Thy surpassing condescension unto us.”25 Biblically these are not words
of Mary, but the hymnographer has used a biblical scene including the figure of Mary as
mother to theologically interpret the scriptural scene of Jesus on the Cross. One might just
as well hear this hymn and interpret the Gospel accounts of Jesus’s death and crucifixion in
light of the hymn, instead of the other way around.26
In other hymns Mary not only theologically explains and shares a participative identity
through which one should view the scriptural scene, but also weaves together prophetic
sayings with their fulfillment in the incarnation. The canon for the Annunciation preserves
a dialogue between Mary and the Angel wherein Mary uses the scriptures to understand her
present revelation and marvel at divine power. This again serves as a model of a woman (not
just for women) to read the scriptures in light of the incarnation and teach them through
their own sanctifying experiences. In the hymn Mary says, “I have heard the Prophet of old
foretelling the birth of Emmanuel from a sacred Virgin; yet I long to know, how shall mortal
nature withstand union with the Godhead?”27 In this canon, Mary not only demonstrates
knowledge of prophecy fulfilled but also teaches the interrogation of theological claims
through scripture Christocentrically oriented. The angel presents her with news, and she
questions the angel based on her knowledge of scripture and her own experience, ultimately
23
Matins of the Nativity, Greek Menaion vol. 4, 217.
24
Ashley Purpura, “Beyond the Binary: Hymnographic Constructions of Eastern Gender Identities,”
Journal of Religion 97, no. 4 (2017): 524–546.
25 Theotokion of the Cross (appears numerously throughout the year, for example July 22), Greek
Beyond the strictly aural liturgical context of the Orthodox Church, women also teach
and read the Bible in hagiography and female saints’ writings. That is, the female saints
commemorated as holy, whose lives Orthodox Christians have recognized as worthy of
emulation, and whose hagiographies are sometimes familiar and at least in one instance
liturgically prescribed to be read, include passages of the female saints speaking scriptur-
ally, referring to reading the Bible as secondary to knowing it in one’s life, and interpreting
28
Lenten Triodion, trans. Mother Mary and Kallistos Ware (South Canaan, PA: St. Tikhon’s Seminary
Press, 2002), 540.
29 Catherine Brown Tkacz, “Singing Women’s Words as Sacramental Mimesis,” Recherches de
it through theological reflection on its innovative continuity with tradition. Examples from
the well-known lives of St. Mary of Egypt and St. Macrina, and the writings of St. Maria of
Paris, attest to a tradition of holy women knowing, using, and living the scripture in ways
that show the Bible to not be a mere book for intellectual consideration, but rather a divine
gift for making sense of, and giving voice to, one’s life in Christ.
In one scene of the Life of Mary of Egypt, Mary displays a weaving together of Old and
New Testament speech in narrating her life to the hieromonk Zosimas.30 It is enough for
her to just to say, “For it has been written,” without giving more precise citation infor-
mation, thus demonstrating the particularities that concern contemporary biblical critical
scholarship are different from the concerns of the use of scripture in lived holiness.31 In
her account, after quoting “verses of Scripture, from Moses, Job, and the Book of Psalms,”
Mary explains, “I have never learned to read, nor have I heard anyone chant psalms or read
sacred texts. Yet the word of God which is living and powerful teaches man knowledge.”32
Mary knows the Bible because she foremost knows God and has given herself humbly to be
filled with divine knowledge by self-emptying asceticism. Mary thus presents a “reader” of
the Bible who does not read, yet knows the Bible well enough for its verses to fill her speech.
This is both a testament to her holiness and, as she explains, a result of divine instruction.
Mary’s example teaches that the Bible is universal in its applicability, it is not just for the
educated hieromonk Zosimas to recite, but for the penitent illiterate woman too; who has
learned through divine grace more than through letters. Mary is just one example of an
Orthodox woman who teaches and knows the Bible as a living divine knowledge known
through knowing Christ and seeking Him, one that Mary is authorized to teach as an un-
ordained, uneducated woman, even to a clerical man through her devotion to God. In as
much as Mary’s life is commemorated and read each liturgical year, she continues to teach
the Orthodox communities that venerate her.
Less liturgically prominent, but more significant in the patristic tradition, is Gregory of
Nyssa’s fourth-century Life of Macrina, which presents to those who read or hear it a vision
of a holy woman whose knowledge of the scriptures and ability to teach theology did not
come from formal study, but through ascetic practice and piety. This is exemplified in the
final prayer Macrina offers before her death that is interwoven with scriptural references.
Macrina’s prayer (even if hagiographically written or edited by her brother) presents a
woman praying from the Bible in ways that pull verses synthetically together from different
books and contexts into a cohesive prayer—a new type of biblical speech. Gregory explains
that he provides Macrina’s words to demonstrate her relationship with God saying, “I quote
it (the prayer), so that there may be no doubt that she was in the presence of God and that
he was listening to her.”33 Again we have a saint demonstrating the use of scripture as a
prayerful voice that gives expression to spiritual reality. Macrina teaches a prayer with the
Bible, demonstrating that it is not only men who create prayers this way (at least if we are to
30
“The Life of Mary of Egypt,” in Holy Women of Byzantium: Ten Saints Lives in English Translation,
trans. Maria Kouli and ed. Alice-Mary Talbot (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 1996), 65–94.
31 “The Life of Mary of Egypt,” 79.
32 “The Life of Mary of Egpyt,” 87.
33 Grégoire de Nysse, Vie de Sainte Macrine, ed. Pierre Maraval, SC 178 (Paris: Cerf, 1971); see the
English translation in Joan Petersen, Handmaids of the Lord (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications,
1996), 71.
How Orthodox Women Read and Teach the Bible 615
believe Gregory), but also women who can weave together scripture anew as an expression
of divine indwelling.
The last example in this section, St. Maria Skobtsova of Paris offers a modern example of
how holy women read and teach the Bible, and as we shall see it is not significantly different
from the models of the earlier periods.34 One brief example of her writing, “The Second
Gospel Commandment,” displays an integration of scripture in understanding and forming
a Christo-centric life. St. Maria thus reads and teaches the Bible as directly applied and ev-
ident in her own actions and life. She begins to reflect on the second commandment from
the Gospel not by turning to the biblical passage itself first but to morning and evening
prayers.35 St. Maria writes with authority for what the Bible means, there is no equivocation
or gendered hesitation, but assertion in the Spirit and how the Gospel is lived out in her
life. She explains, “Anyone who loves the world, anyone who lays down his soul for others,
anyone who is ready, at the price of being separated from Christ, to gain salvation for his
brothers—is a disciple and follower of Christ,” thus providing her own interpretation of
John 3:16 and 15:13.36 St. Maria then turns to explore the words of the Philokalia and patristic
writings to support her interpretation.37 St. Maria’s writings present an Orthodox woman
interpreting the scriptures in a way that is perhaps no different than a male saint, yet as a
woman represents working through a space of lived difference and gendered experience to
find expression.
In the iconographic tradition, although variations among different churches are significant,
certain types of icons or saints featured in churches around the world include lessons re-
garding how women read and teach the Bible, for the icons teach a type of “visible gospel,”
which one could say is directly dependent on the faith and agency of women.38 Pentiuc has
rightly shown the visual component to Orthodox practices of biblical interpretation, where
patristic interpretations, hymnographic verses, and iconographic traditions merge to retell
biblical narratives in typological, theological, and anagogical ways beyond what might be
in the plain reading of the scriptural text.39 Thus, women serve through icons to teach and
interpret the Bible visually to liturgical participants.
34 Katerina Bauerova, “The Play of the Semiotic and the Symbolic: The Authenticity of the Life of
Writings, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky (New York: Orbis Books, 2003), 46.
36 Maria Skobtsova, “The Second Gospel Commandment,” 48–49.
37 Maria Skobtsova, “The Second Gospel Commandment,” 49–53.
38 John of Damascus, Three Treatises on the Divine Images, trans. Andrew Louth (Crestwood,
NY: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2003), 67; Judith Herrin, Unrivalled Influence: Women and Empire in
Byzantium (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013), 69.
39 Pentiuc, Old Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition, 319.
616 Ashley M. Purpura
First, icons of female saints holding scrolls on which there is scripture such as Ruth,
Hannah, and Miriam visually communicate the scriptural songs and verses attributed to
them. The Theotokos, perhaps most notably holds a scroll in many deisis icons with Luke
1:46–55 on it, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.”
Such imagery transforms these female saints and biblical figures into living teachers of
scripture through iconography.40 Others without scriptural sayings attributed to them, with
some regularity hold scrolls or even the Gospel book as a way of indicating their role as
teachers, apostles, or deaconesses.41 These images allow these woman saints to teach the
Bible as something that women publicly and liturgically proclaim.
Second, there are depictions of biblical scenes in iconography that use female biblical
characters to interpret the biblical meaning through extrabiblical traditions. For example,
the icon of the Resurrection, includes Eve along with Adam being liberated from Hades by
the risen Christ. This icon teaches an interpretation of the resurrection that in and of itself
is not found in the scriptural accounts, but visually teaches that the redemption of both
Adam and Eve is the hermeneutical lens by which the scriptural accounts of the significance
of the resurrection should be understood.42 Eve, ostensibly responsible for the fall, is thus
depicted as being uplifted by Christ. Eve thus teaches the full redemption of humanity in
the resurrection (inclusive of women), and iconographically confers a particular interpre-
tation of the scriptures.
Iconographic exegesis finds numerous other expressions using women. For example,
the icon of Mary as the burning bush encountered by Moses incarnationally interprets
Exodus 3:1–17. In this iconographic presentation, Mary teaches the mystery of the di-
vine incarnation and that her Son is the God who spoke in to Moses.43 Even the most
pervasive iconographic female depiction that of the Theotokos such as that found com-
monly in the iconostasis, teaches biblical verses and scriptural understanding as Mary
points to her divine-human Son who holds a scroll or Gospel book, and is labeled with
“I AM” (Exodus 3:14).44 In addition to the biblical scenes that add information via illus-
tration or interpret it in particular ways through imagery, even textually close depictions
of numerous biblical scenes include female characters from scripture who help icon-
ographically teach the Bible to all who might view them. Iconographically the saints
depicted in these icons through participation in their archetype make this visual scrip-
ture one in which women are still speaking and teaching the gospel liturgically to men
and women.
40 “Three Icons of Half-Figured Deesis,” The Sinai Icon Collection, accessed August 1, 2020, http://vrc.
princeton.edu/sinai/items/show/7643.
41 For instance, some versions of icons of St. Thecla include her holding a Gospel book, while other
female saints such as Tatiana, Pelagia, Elizabeth, Nina, Irene, Phoebe, and Catherine can sometimes be
found holding a scroll.
42 The icon of the Anastasis in the Chora church is an excellent example. See the discussion in Anita
Strezova, “The Fresco of the Anastasis in the Chora Church,” in Hesychasm and Art The Appearance
of New Iconographic Trends in Byzantine and Slavic Lands in the 14th and 15th Centuries (Canberra,
Australia: Australian National University Press, 2014), 131–172.
43 “Virgin in the Burning Bush,” The Sinai Icon Collection, accessed August 10, 2020, http://vrc.prince
ton.edu/sinai/items/show/7 133.
44 On the tradition and significance of the iconostasis, see Pavel Florensky, Iconostasis, trans. Donald
Conclusion
In its liturgical and commemorative traditions Orthodox Christianity evidences a rich tra-
dition of celebrating women as teachers, creators, and interpreters of the Bible. Orthodox
female saints, biblical figures, the Theotokos, and even the Church as “mother” herself give
voice and understanding to scriptural interpretation with divinely recognized authority.
Thus, Orthodox women do proclaim the scriptures liturgically, in much the same inter-
pretive modes that male saints do, and in ways that are deeply part of Orthodox tradition.
Of course, there are numerous women readers and teachers of the Bible besides the few
biblical and sainted examples mentioned, both known and unknown, who read and teach
the Bible as part of their lived Orthodox lives as women. Some may indeed be scholars,
spiritual mothers, or laywomen in immensely diverse social and cultural contexts. These
women bring with them their understanding of the Bible experiences and insights that can
be brought into spiritual understanding and given meaning through the scriptural text.
Their lives perhaps without any overt reference to scripture, may very possibly become
known to those around them as embodying and exemplifying the Gospel through lived
holiness. While the experiences and scriptural approaches of these women may vary widely
and their authority to share their interpretations with others might meet varying receptions,
what is evident from the Orthodox liturgical context and commemoration of female saints
is that women alongside men have the possibility of reading, teaching, interpreting, and
embodying the scripture for others in their manifestation of Christ-likeness. The scriptures
just as the women who embody them are an inexhaustible font, having new meaning and
finding new expression in continuity with Tradition and yet manifesting holiness in new
ways. Yet, it remains to be seen how better acknowledging the liturgical commemoration of
women as creators, readers, interpreters, and teachers of the Bible might impact the lives of
presently living Orthodox women, and if such acknowledgment might have the potential to
shape gendered expectations about ecclesiastical participation for men and women overall.
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Chapter 38
B.E.S. T.
Bridging Synchronic and Diachronic Modes
of Interpretation
The École Biblique de Jérusalem was founded in 1890 at St. Stephen’s Priory, a Dominican
convent established on the precinct of Empress Eudocia’s basilica of the Protomartyr. As
an institution run by the Order of Preachers, the École has been ministering to the divine
truth mediated by Scripture as transmitted by the Church through an ever changing and
challenging cultural history.
Building on the heritage of the Bible de Jérusalem, an achievement of the École in the
midst of last century which became a standard for printed study bibles, The Bible in Its
Traditions (La Bible en ses Traditions, French acronym: B.E.S.T.) aims both at completing its
overall diachronic (historical) reconstitution of a “literal” or “original” meaning with its his-
torical reception and supplementing it with synchronic approaches such as those presented
by Walter Moberly or Christopher Seitz in this volume. Using the Internet, we wish to re-
invent the glossa ordinaria as the most fitting way to publish the Bible in the pluralistic cul-
ture of our digital era. This chapter tries to capture the coherence of our present endeavor
with the intuitions of our founder, Rev. Marie-Joseph Lagrange and the evolutions of the
Catholic magisterium about biblical studies over the last 150 years.
An Audacious Life
Strongly inspired by the method of Saint Thomas Aquinas, which always begins by distin-
guishing the fields, Marie-Joseph Lagrange admitted candidly that real questions arose in
the historical and archaeological fields, and that answering them meant much work in these
areas, rather than repeating from previously revealed truths. He thus introduced the rational
and historical critique of the Scriptures into Catholic thought, with the boldness required
for the real defense of the faith. He alone was able to devise and carry out in Jerusalem
the magnanimous design of answering the “biblical question,” as it was then called, by all
the resources of the historical-critical method; he carried out that which he himself called
“the highest intellectual enterprise that can be attempted: to snatch the weapon of criticism
from unbelievers and rationalists in the field of Scripture1” (Letter to Fr. André Frühwirth,
master of the Dominican Order from 1891 to 1904, April 20, 1902, cited in *Montagnes, Le
Père Lagrange, 97).
Upon his arrival in Jerusalem in 1890, Lagrange’s goal was to “study the Bible in the Land
of the Bible.” In the (anti)positivist problématique of that time, it amounted to “comparing
the document and the monument”—ideally, checking the biblical texts on any trace of
biblical times uncovered through field exploration and archaeological excavation. He was
encouraged at the highest level of the Church: Leo XIII’s Encyclical letter Providentissimus
Deus in 1893 aimed at fostering biblical scholarship in the clergy and the confrontation of
believers with current discoveries. Lagrange immediately published it in the Revue Biblique,
which he had just founded in 1892), and he was appointed as a consultant to the recently
created Pontifical Biblical Commission.
One of his first field explorations, in 1893, was the road of the Exodus. From a geolo-
gist uncle, Father Lagrange had inherited an acute faculty of observation, and the “fear of
hampering the development of factual observations by alleged reasons of faith, borrowed
from an obsolete exegesis.” Here is how he recalled his first trip to Sinai by the end of his life:
What I was looking for everywhere, was the trace of the Israelites, the confirmation of the
Pentateuch. In my mind, it was like a discernment in a complex issue, and it seemed to me
that the Land itself had a say in the literary criticism of the Pentateuch. On the one hand,
the substantial reality of the facts related in the last four books seemed to me to be in per-
fect harmony with the nature of the country, its aspects, its cultures, its traditions ( . . . )
But on the other hand, is the Pentateuch, as we have it, a historical account of these facts
in each of its manners of telling? How would the millions of souls of which the current
text speaks have wandered, not in a desert without limits and flat as a sheet of paper, but
in these abrupt valleys and without water? And if one alleges faults of copyists, how can
one explain the solemn order of the tribes, lined up as for a parade (Num. 11, etc.)? The
R.P. Julien, S.J., an attentive traveler, admitted to me that he had been struck by these
difficulties to the point of anguish. Should we not conclude that perfectly historical facts
had been idealized to become the symbol of the people of God, of the future Church of
God?” (*Le P. Lagrange au service, 54–55)
Obviously, truth had to be found elsewhere than in the reduction of the revelation to
mere fiction, or in the routine of ready-made traditional formulas. As his reflection about
the setting of scriptural stories went on, Lagrange issued his stance toward the vexing
question of the sources of the Pentateuch at a Congress in Fribourg (Switzerland) in August
B.E.S.T. 621
1897: Moses could not have personally written the five books of the Pentateuch attributed
to him. In November 1902, he lectured in Toulouse, and published his teachings shortly
after under the title *La méthode historique, in which he promoted courage in the search for
truth, privileging faith over piety or traditions too easily maintained out of fear or laziness.
“The great merit of the Church,” he proposed, “is that we are sufficiently enamored with the
truth to allow ourselves to demolish traditions which are certainly false, while maintaining
the true ones.”
Such bold conclusions stirred many opponents in the clergy. Once Leo XIII died, his
follower Pius X launched the great “antimodernist” reaction within the Church, and from
that time Lagrange’s work was held in suspicion: his persecutors in Rome managed to have
him silenced by Pius X, who prohibited the release of Lagrange’s commentary on Genesis in
1907; in 1927, his Jesuit archenemy Fr. Fonck was allowed to establish a branch of the Biblical
institute in Jerusalem, with the goal to quench life at the École biblique, etc. As late as 1955,
many years after Lagrange’s death, Rev. Louis-Hugues Vincent was not permitted to pub-
lish his biography (cf. *Montagnes, Le P. Lagrange devant la question biblique, 97)! While
he acclimated historical criticism to the Catholic Church’s ways of dealing with Scripture,
Lagrange was well aware of seeming transgressive, as compared to the authoritarian way
chosen by most of the ecclesial hierarchy. Yet he knew that he was actually continuing a
long tradition of dealing with the sacred text seriously, which started as early as Origen, the
founder of both acute textual criticism exemplified in his Hexapla, and inventive allegorical,
mystical-christological interpretations. As a matter of fact, Lagrange never stopped citing
the Fathers in his work.
First Fruits
Lagrange’s legacy is much more than the introduction of the “historical-critical method”
in Catholic exegesis. He is mostly a hero of faithfulness to the imperatives of one’s con-
science. His amazing *Journal spirituel, recovered a long time after his death, offers multiple
occurrences of the troubles of conscience, the perplexity or even anxiety he had to suffer
as his superiors opined against his publishing or lecturing on biblical matters—though
they never imposed on him the infamous “obedience of judgment,” i.e., denying his own
conscience (see the poignant excerpts selected by *Montagnes, Le Père Lagrange devant la
question biblique). The challenge was to welcome the light of Scriptures transmitted by the
(hierarchical) mediation of the Church to faithful rational reading. Lagrange struggled to
find the crest line between the conclusions resulting from his skillful study of Scripture and
the decisions made by his often ill-informed ecclesiastic superiors, quite reluctant to allow
any critical approach to Scripture.
His work (if not his person) was recognized by Pius XII in his encyclical letter *Divino
Afflante Spiritu #5, where the pope explicitly re-endorsed Leo XIII’s praises for and ap-
proval of the École Biblique, “from which,” to use his own words, “biblical science itself had
received no small advantage, while giving promise of more.” The process for the beatifica-
tion of the “Servant of God” Marie-Joseph Lagrange, founder of the École Biblique, started
in 1988, fifty years after his death. In 1992, while rehabilitating Galileo at the Pontifical
Academy of Sciences, John Paul II paid him homage:
622 Olivier-Thomas Venard
Allow me to evoke here a crisis similar to the one we are talking about. In the past century
and at the beginning of our own, advances in historical science have made it possible to ac-
quire new knowledge about the Bible and the biblical environment. The rationalist context
in which, most often, these achievements were presented, seemed to make them ruinous
for Christian faith. Some, for the sake of upholding the faith, thought it necessary to reject
seriously established historical conclusions. This was a hasty and unfortunate decision. The
achievement of a pioneer like Father Lagrange was to make the necessary discernments on
the basis of sound criteria. (*Acta Apostolicae Sedis 85 (1993), 764–775, citation 767–768, our
trans. of the French original)
A long-expected fruit of this history could thus be one more canonized saint in the
Roman Catholic liturgical calendar! Ironically, his Dominican hagiographer wrote a critical
life (*Montagnes, Marie-Joseph Lagrange—an homage paid to Lagrange’s own “scientific”
habit?), rather than the edifying life according to the three cardinal virtues (faith-hope-
charity) expected by the Roman judges, which belated his cause of beatification. Yet when
this celebration happens, it will be quite significant, coming after the canonization of John
Henry Newman, the great defender of the authority of conscience in matters of faith, which
happened only in 2019.
Regarding biblical sciences, the most spectacular result of Lagrange’s interest in the
land of the Bible developed by his École is arguably the excavation of Khirbet Qumran
and the subsequent publication of the Dead Sea Scrolls, both under the responsibility of
Fr. De Vaux, then-successor of Lagrange at the head of the École. The Dead Sea Scrolls
have altered our perspective on the text of the Old Testament; also, it is fair to say that
Qumran studies have brought about a revolution in New Testament studies. Both the
monuments uncovered (today being published by Fr. Jean-Baptiste Humbert of the
École), and the documents restored, with epigraphy as an “auxiliary science” mediating
between archaeology and exegesis (Rev. Émile Puech continuing the work of the pioneers
at the École, while a large number of younger scholars take over the discipline), epitomize
the ideal of Lagrange.
Globally, the Catholic Church owes much to Lagrange’s courage. His œuvre was cru-
cial for the evolution of the magisterium from Leo XII’s Providentissimus in 1892 to
Pius XII’s Divino Afflante Spiritu in 1943, passing by Pius X’s constant suspicion against
critical exegesis during the “Modernist crisis” and the ill-advised decrees of the Biblical
Commission during his years 1907–1915, or Benedict XV’s timid Spiritus Paraclitus in
1920 (partly redacted by Fr. Fonck), where the possibility of biblical “errors” in pro-
fane matters is still rejected (#13–20) and the importance of the Evangelist’s redaction
utterly downplayed (# 27). At long last, Pius XII (himself a fine intellectual) revived
Leo XIII’s enlightened magisterium on the Bible with Divino Afflante Spiritu, where he
clearly stated the “juridical,” not “critical” (#21) nature of the Tridentine promotion of
the Vulgate as the reference text for Catholics (# 22: the “authority of the Vulgate in
matters of doctrine by no means prevents—nay rather today it almost demands—[ . . . ]
the corroboration and confirmation of this same doctrine by the original texts”); ac-
knowledged the recourse to sound textual criticism, the research for the literary genres
or “manners of speaking, relating and writing” of the biblical authors (#12), and the “as-
siduous study” of patristic exegesis (#28) without denying that the Fathers let some new
B.E.S.T. 623
questions go unsolved (#31–33); and urged all the Catholics to cherish and foster those
who devoted their lives to Scriptural exegesis (#47).
More than twenty years later, Dei Verbum, one of the two dogmatic constitutions of the
Council Vatican II, clearly stated that the inerrency of Scriptures concerns salvation, not
necessarily other fields (#11: “since everything asserted by the inspired authors or sacred
writers must be held to be asserted by the Holy Spirit, it follows that the books of Scripture
must be acknowledged as teaching solidly, faithfully and without error that truth which
God wanted put into sacred writings for the sake of salvation”). It also stressed the necessity
of both the historical critical study of Scripture if one is to take seriously the incarnation of
God in the real history of mankind (cf. the guidelines regarding the historical layers of the
Gospels, #19) and the Christological reading of the entire Bible including the Old Testament
(#15–16), while encouraging the production of new “editions of the Sacred Scriptures, pro-
vided with suitable footnotes, should be prepared also for the use of non-Christians and
adapted to their situation” (#25).
Another fruit of Lagrange’s courage was the publication of a new translation of the Bible
from the Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek texts (rather than the Latin Vulgate), accompanied
by a full-fledged annotation. As Pius XII was about to publish the encyclical Divino Afflante
Spiritu in 1943, which explicitly approved the critical study of the Bible, Fr. De Vaux gathered
a team of scholars to produce a bible that would make available to a wide readership all the
historical-critical discoveries realized since the foundation of the École. Published in one
volume in 1956, this new translation, dubbed “la Bible de Jérusalem” by its readers and re-
vised twice in 1973 and 1999, became a standard of twentieth-century quality bibles.
As such, even through its several revisions, both in French and in English and in other
languages, the Jerusalem Bible is a work of the mid-twentieth century. Much has happened
since then, which could only be partially reflected in successive revisions.
Diversification of Hermeneutics
Biblical hermeneutics have massively changed under the influence of several important
philosophers of the twentieth century, such as Ricœur or Gadamer, and their reception
in literary studies. The previously prevailing positivism has vanished, and the historical
disciplines have been enriched by the renewal of criticism due to the rise of the “human
sciences.”
A present-day Bible should reflect a more realistic hermeneutic of the act of reading. The
counterpart of the positivistic view was the idea of the autonomous reader face to face with
a text that already had a meaning determined by the intention of the author, a meaning that
had only to be discovered. We cannot now doubt the active role of the reader in establishing
the meaning. Further, every reader, and so every act of reading, is necessarily situated
within a tradition. Since the traditions that have produced the text and conveyed them to
us are plural, and irreducibly so, they cannot be brought back to a single original. Perhaps
this is symmetrical with the new approach to textual criticism, which is more aware of a
plurality of textual traditions.
The renewal of literary approaches (rhetorics, narratology, semiotics, enunciative studies)
and the rise of reception history in human sciences contextualize the importance of history.
The world after—influenced by Scriptures—is no less important to their significance for
the present-day readership than the (reconstruction of) the world before them—the set of
physical and material conditions in which they appeared.
The texts had to be rooted in history since suspicion against their accuracy was perva-
sive. But the background of a text is not all its meaning. Here again, Lagrange was pro-
phetic: speaking of the Fathers of the Church, the founder of the École Biblique wrote,
their “exegetical writings must be studied, honored, and discussed if necessary. The history
of exegesis is a guide for the exegete.” many exegetes seek today in this direction. If the
Fathers’ reading was based on less material details than modern exegesis, it undoubtedly
shows more “true knowledge” (Allocution on the November 15, 1890, for the inauguration
of the École Biblique, in: *Lagrange, L’Écriture, 107). This is no question of dismissing his-
torical critical study but rather of situating it in a larger framework. Only through such an
integral act of interpretation can Scripture truly become again the soul of theology. Or, as
Paul Beauchamp noted, “The last two centuries of exegesis had to examine whether the re-
ported facts had actually happened. Today, we focus on the meaning of the words ‘real’ and
‘past,’ and even more on the question of what the book really does with the real of the past”
(*Beauchamp, L’un et l’autre Testament, 32).
Multiplication of “Methods”
In 1993, a profuse document on The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church solemnly
launched by John Paul II listed all sorts of possible methods, approaches and readings
of Scripture, as well as several “hermeneutical issues.” Quite composite, it continued
to declare the historical critical approach indispensable, while making room for all
B.E.S.T. 625
sorts of contextual approaches, and reaffirming the importance of the Patristic reading
(*Pontifical Biblical Commission, The Interpretation, B2) and entrusting biblical scholars
with this task (among others): “Exegetes should also explain the Christological, ca-
nonical and ecclesial meanings of the biblical texts” (*Pontifical Biblical Commission,
The Interpretation, C.1). These approaches certainly altered the role or function of the
exegetes. They no longer featured as the inventors and warrants of “the” meaning of the
text. With a greater awareness of the literary significations of biblical texts besides their
historical or doctrinal meaning, exegetes more and more feature as the guides to their
varied possible meanings.
The large embrace of many diverse ways to read the bible was rightly celebrated; yet the
lack of integration of the document and its transient character were obvious: The dialectic
between diachronic and synchronic studies of the Bible was not solved. I remember Fr.
Jean-Luc Vesco OP, one of the main redactors of the document, who presented it to our no-
vitiate as early as in October 1993, telling us that “actually, nobody today knows what ‘literal
meaning’ really means”!
the biblical database results in a new appraisal of the diversity of versions, traditions, and
approaches. In this early twenty-first century, is it not the new task of Bible scholars to pro-
mote the rediscovery of what a popular author has called the “liquidity” of the Scriptures?
The project launched by the École addresses many of the aforementioned issues both sci-
entifically and technically. The challenge is to release a Bible synthesizing the whole history
of God’s word as we know it in this early twenty-first century. It took us ten years to devise
ways to meet this challenge, and that story is already told and published (Venard et al.,
*Commencements, 20–26). Given our new awareness of the importance of the role of the
readers in determining the meaning of texts, we want to empower them so that they can
read the biblical text along with the history of its reception.
Textual Diversity
In order to do so, our future Bible must embody two major characteristic features.
First, the text itself is presented in the plurality of its different (Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek)
versions whenever they are irreducible. This may occur either for whole books (for ex-
ample, the two versions of Job will be synoptically printed), or for only parts of some books
(fragments of interesting versions may be inserted in frames into the main text). We give
a detailed presentation and justification of the editions retained in our Demonstration
Volume (Venard et al., *Commencements, “Quels textes traduire?,” 31–34). As a result, the
typographic display of the biblical text in parallel columns with indentations for the minor
variants in The Bible in Its Traditions printed series (since 2016), is reminiscent of the poly-
glot Bibles of the Renaissance.
Second, the notes concerning the biblical text will result in a large amount of informa-
tion surrounding the text and allowing polyphonic commentaries on the biblical text. They
invite the readers to a comprehensive hermeneutic journey, starting from the world that
accounts for the production of text, going to the world that has been influenced or “created”
by its meaning effects, passing by the textual world made up of the linguistic material itself.
Enriched Database
This annotation is analytically grouped in three main registers. Since the analytic descrip-
tion of the content of each rubric is available in Venard et al., *Commencements (39–46),
suffice it here to review their titles.
Text is divided in: Textual criticism, Vocabulary, Grammar, Literary devices, and Literary
genres. It includes all the notes dealing with the linguistic and literary description of
the text, from points in textual criticism to more literary remarks.
B.E.S.T. 629
Liturgy is not forgotten, and surprising at it may seem, it fits well with Lagrange’s own
experience. In St. Stephen’s Priory, which houses the École biblique, the conventual church
and the library are separated by only a few meters. The passage is natural “from the oratory
to the laboratory,” a motto attributed to Lagrange himself. The liturgy played a leading role
in the exegetical approach of the scholar he was. The first pages of the Revue Biblique al-
ready bear witness to this: “I like to hear the Gospel sung by the deacon at the ambo, in the
middle of the clouds of incense: the words then penetrate my soul more deeply than when
I find them again in a review discussion. But this saint is the light of ‘souls and I must make
her shine to souls, even if for that she must come out of the sanctuary’ ” (Foreword, Revue
Biblique 1 [1892] 2).
Traditional Diversity
The plurality of traditions envisaged in the presentation of the texts in The Bible in Its
Traditions leads to a resolute ecumenism and interfaith conversation that the notes will
reflect. Our project is Catholic indeed. This is seen already in our choice of the canon
approved by the Council of Trent. But precisely because it is Catholic, our project wants to
embrace and give due place to the Orthodox traditions, very much in unison with goals de-
fined in the Introduction to the present volume by Eugen Pentiuc (“The Bible in Orthodox
Christianity: Balancing Tradition and [Post]Modernity”). Such ecumenism is well illus-
trated by the fact that the main author of our second printed book professor Pentiuc, him-
self a Romanian Orthodox, is tenured in a prestigious Greek Orthodox institution (Holy
Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology, Brookline, MA) and teaches often in St.-Joseph
Roman Catholic Seminary in New York.
This interest in patristic interpretation also continues Lagrange’s recourse to the Fathers.
Extra-lucid in his inaugural lecture on November 15, 1890, he dared to speak of an “almost
excessive zeal for history” and began by extensively praising the reading of the Fathers.
As a matter of fact, the founder of an école intended to devote itself to the study of arche-
ology and history never forgot the Fathers in his exegetical reasoning, even though they
have been too often ignored in the works of his epigones. By the end of the nineteenth
630 Olivier-Thomas Venard
century, Lagrange already foresaw what the second half of the twentieth century would
increasingly underline: the Bible is not a database but rather a story, an écriture, where
multiple voices intersect, respond, and sometimes even contradict each other. Indeed, one
of Lagrange’s favorite resources to remain open to these many voices was the encyclopedic
patristic catenae compiled centuries before by Cornelius a Lapide (1567–1637), whose work
remained a benchmark for him.
The principle of a catena (chain), or a gloss is to “cover” Scripture in traditional, some-
times competing, readings so that the meaning of the text can never be reduced to what I,
the present reader, am understanding and remains opened to the understanding of those
who handed over the text to me. The Bible in Its Traditions research program now promotes
this same principle of covering, by extending it to all cultural fields irrigated by Scripture,
including those that claim to be secular.
The Bible in Its Traditions also accords a special place to Jewish traditions of reading
the Bible, in accordance with the instruction of the Pontifical Biblical Commission on The
Jewish People and Their Sacred Scriptures in the Christian Bible (2001). And here again, we
are in line with the inspiration of Fr. Lagrange: Jewish friends and colleagues attended his
conferences in Jerusalem as early as 1891 (*Montagne, “Le père Marie-Joseph Lagrange et
les Juifs”).
In our series, the page still presents together the text and the notes, but looks now more
like a page of the Talmud or of the medieval and early modern commentaries on the Bible—
the very glossæ and catenæ that the Christian Daniel Bomberg imitated to dispose the tal-
mudic traditions in the first printed edition of the Talmud (Venice, 1519–23)!
“Liquid” Making
From the first experiments and throughout the preparatory work for our demonstration
volume, it was clear that the project would grow on a scale that was hardly compatible with
the constraints of traditional print publishing. After several years of collaborative work,
it occurred to the researchers involved that the Bible in Its Traditions ought in some way
to take advantage of emerging technology, particularly the Internet. Several aspects of the
project correspond naturally to, and can benefit greatly from, possibilities provided by the
Internet.
Fr. Kevin Stephens, a Dominican from the Central Province of the United States
(Chicago), was then studying biblical science at the École Biblique. A genius IT developer,
as soon as he heard about The Bible in Its Traditions, he set about developing a suitable tool.
In connection with the Editorial Committee, he achieved much more than a publishing
site: he transformed the methodological tools developed by the Editorial Committee for
translation or annotation into a real interactive program allowing scientists to work directly
online and organize themselves into autonomous laboratories.
Today, bibletraditions.org is a unique digital collaborative platform, using the best pos-
sible software development practices to allow contributors to work online. As a result,
contributors sign in and enter their translation of the text directly on the website. They
then add marginal references and notes in the same way. All contributions are subject to an
B.E.S.T. 631
established editorial process. Text, marginal references, and notes are first written as drafts,
then submitted for approval. If a contribution is approved, the editorial committee must
then explicitly publish the contribution before it appears to readers of the website.
The kinds of contributions which contributors make can be customized according to type
of expertise and book. Contributors can be granted permission to write text or notes in ge-
neral or granted permission to write specific kinds of notes in only one book. Contributors
can be organized into teams based on books. Contributors can also be given permission to
write only one kind of note but in several books.
One advantage of such an approach is each contributor can contribute as much or as little
as they like. If their current interest is only in textual differences between the Hebrew and
the Greek texts of a single pericope, they may contribute a single note to that effect. Or they
may contribute notes across several books, for example relating to an aspect of Hellenistic
culture or one domain in reception history.
Thus, on bibletraditions.org, the “making” of the Bible is interactive. Ideally, every lab,
book by book, takes the form of an ancient scriptorium or a medieval schola, with each
collaborator contributing to a continuous and interdisciplinary disputatio through the
biblical text. The gloss directly inspires The Bible in Its Traditions: creating a note on the
bibletraditions.org platform amounts to glossing the margins with laconic intertextual
glosses; glossing a lemma, a verse, or a group of verses under a heading and in an area very
specific; or composing on a theme or a biblical phenomenon in a “synthetic note.” Martin
*Morard has detailed the phenomenon of “sententiarization” of Tradition at work among
the glossers: they selected, abbreviated, and reorganized significant patristic passages. In so
doing, they constituted a corpus, without sufficing themselves with what was already known,
but looking for forgotten works (Thomas of Aquinas is famous for his rediscovery of Greek
patristics). They selected the most relevant passages, stripping them of the superfluous; they
even “clarified” them by rearranging them—even altering the order of the sentences within
a quotation—, synthesizing what did not deserve to be kept literally, recalling scriptural
lemmas with commentary so as not to mislead the reader. These are all operations that the
contributor to La Bible en Ses Traditions must reinvent, taking into account the “learned”
conventions of the twenty-first century: headings, references, lemmas, title devices, bullet
lists, and bibliographies are all tools aiming to clarify as much as possible the abundant in-
formation arranged around the biblical text.
“Liquid” Reading
Changes in technology in the last twenty years further encouraged a dynamic, versatile pre-
sentation never before imaginable. Many biblical texts could already be found online, both
older and newer translations. However, there were very few websites which also presented a
suitable framework for viewing accompanying notes and marginal references. The Internet
is an ideal venue for realizing the vision of the Second Vatican Council to link Scripture and
Tradition. The Bible in Its Traditions online is in a position to be both at the forefront of bib-
lical scholarship and at the cutting edge of a new technology perhaps as revolutionary—for
better or for worse—as the codex or printing press.
632 Olivier-Thomas Venard
One further advantage of this approach is that the website remains only one presenta-
tion of, or one face imposed on, the data. The biblical text, marginal references, and notes
are stored in a database. The website retrieves and formats the data. Beyond all our digital
interfaces, it will also be possible for publishers to retrieve the specific data that interests
them and produce a printed book—a kind of snapshot of a select portion of the data at a
given point in time.
On scroll.bibletraditions.org, our experimental user interface, the Scriptures are pro-
vided to the readers in the living process of their appropriation and transmission, from
ancient volumen to contemporary multimedia database, including the medieval gloss and
the polyglot of the Renaissance. The ergonomics developed for the arrangement of the
biblical text on that digital scroll is comparable to a polyphonic score. The standard width
of a screen, in fact, does not allow vertical scrolling of four or even five columns of text,
corresponding to the large traditional versions retained for the project. This is why hor-
izontal scrolling has become essential, like in the ancient volumina. The identification of
each version with its own signet and the effort to translate in the same words as much
text of the diverse versions as possible make their similarities and differences evident,
like the voices in a polyphonic score. The ergonomics of the reference to notes on scroll.
bibletraditions.org also seeks to demonstrate this kinship with the gloss. Clicking on
“notes” transforms the central column of what initially looked like an ancient volumen,
into a medieval gloss.
Our online workshops today bring together some three hundred researchers, collaborating
to varying degrees, from a few notes on a pericope or in a given discipline, to a whole exe-
getical work on an entire biblical corpus. They belong to twenty-five different nationalities
and several major denominations: Catholics, Protestants, Orthodox, and Jews. With its on-
line, international, interdisciplinary, interfaith, and interactive laboratories, after centuries
of rather static “printed” communication. In the end, we dream of transforming the Bible in
Its Traditions into an edited, critical Wiki for the Bible. Thus, it could be continually updated
but some editorial control over the content would be maintained. . . . By reinscribing their
transmission in communities of scribes and readers interacting in real time with the text
and with each other, we invite everyone to take their place in the centuries-old and creative
movement of the preservation and transmission of the Bible.
In 2011, Pierre Assouline, a member of the prestigious Académie Goncourt in France,
devoted several pages of his novel Vies de Job to our research program. Here are a few quite
inspiring lines of his:
Gütenberg turned the Bible into a book. With the Bible in its Traditions project, it
once again becomes a vision. Who would have thought that, thanks to sophisticated
technologies, its dematerialization would return it to its original vocation? It will exist
as never before through its transmission, the text and its reception again in osmosis.
B.E.S.T. 633
Watching them all working on their great work, giving themselves thirty years to com-
plete it, knowing that it will by definition be forever unfinished, one lets oneself be
crossed by a feeling of another age, as if the builders of cathedrals had just resurrected in
front of us, behind their computers, and were building something bigger than them for
the glory of God alone.
(Pierre Assouline, Vies de Job. Roman, Paris: Gallimard, 2011, 195)
Bibliography
Sites of The Bible in Its Traditions
Bibletraditions.org: collaborative platform (you need to create account in order to access the
interior of the labs book by book).
Scroll.bibletraditions.org: consultation interface (a small annual donation makes it possible to
follow the work of the teams in real time).
Blog.bibletraditions.org: news from the research program.
Catholic Magisterium
Acta Apostolicæ Sedis. http://www.vatican.va/archive/aas/documents/AAS-85-1993-ocr.pdf.
Benedict XV, Spiritus Paraclitus, Encyclical Letter on St. Jerome, Rome, 1920. https://w2.vati
can.va/content/benedict-xv/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_ben-xv_enc_15091920_spiritus-
paraclitus.html.
634 Olivier-Thomas Venard
Council Vatican II, Dei Verbum, Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation, Vatican City,
1965. http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_
const_19 651118_dei-verbum_en.html.
Leo XIII, Providentissimus, Encyclical Letter on the Study of Holy Scripture, Rome, 1893.
http://www.vatican.va/content/leo-xiii/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_l-xiii_enc_18111893_
providentissimus-deus.html.
Pius XII, Dei Afflante Spiritu, Vatican City, 1943. http://w2.vatican.va/content/pius-xii/en/
encyclicals/documents/hf_p-xii_enc_30091943_divino-afflante-spiritu.html.
Pontifical Biblical Commission (P.B.C.), The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church, Vatican
City, 1993. http://catholic-resources.org/ChurchDocs/PBC_Interp-FullText.htm.
P.B.C., The Jewish People and Their Sacred Scriptures in the Christian Bible, Vatican City,
2001. https://w ww.vatican.va/roman_c ur ia/congregations/cfaith/p cb_doc uments/rc_
con_cfaith_doc_20020212_popolo-ebraico_en.html#4.%20return%20to%20the%20lite
ral%20sense.
P.B.C., The Inspiration and Truth of Sacred Scripture, Vatican City, 2014. Read in the French
version: http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/pcb_documents/rc_
con_cfaith_doc_20140222_ispirazione-verita-sacra-scrittura_fr.pdf.
Miscellaneous
Beauchamp, Paul, L’un et l’autre Testament: Essai de lecture (Parole de Dieu 15), Paris: Seuil, 1976.
Benoit, Pierre, “Préexistence et incarnation,” in Exégèse et théologie IV, Paris: Cerf, 1982, 11–61.
Codex Vaticanus, facsimile online. https://digi.vatlib.it/view/MSS_Vat.gr.1209.
Lagrange, Marie-Joseph, La méthode historique, surtout à propos de l’A. T. (Études bibliques),
Paris: Lecoffre, 1903.
Lagrange, M. J., L’Écriture en Église. Choix de portraits et d’exégèse spirituelle (1890–1937),
(Lectio Divina 142), Paris: Cerf, 1990.
Lagrange, M. J., Journal spirituel, Paris: Cerf, 2014.
Lagrange, M. J., Le P. Lagrange au service de la Bible. Souvenirs personnels, préface du P. Benoit
(Chrétiens de tous les temps 22), Paris: Cerf, 1967.
Montagnes, Bernard, Le Père Lagrange, 1855–1938. L’exégèse catholique dans la crise moderniste,
Paris: Cerf, 1995.
Montagnes, B., “Le Père Lagrange devant la question biblique,” Science et Esprit 54/1 (2002),
97–108.
Montagnes, B., Marie-Joseph Lagrange—Une biographie critique, Paris: Cerf, 2005.
Montagnes, B., “Le père Marie-Joseph Lagrange et les Juifs,” in Elias H. Füllenbach, OP,
and Gianfranco Miletto (eds.), Dominikaner und Juden / Dominicans and Jews (Quellen
und Forschungen zur Geschichte des Dominikanerordens– Neue Folge, 14). Berlin,
Germany: Walter de Gruyter, 2014, 475–490.
Morard, Martin, et al., Glossae.net, Internet platform, CNRS and several French Research
centers, launched in 2010.
Pentiuc, E. J. Jesus the Messiah in the Hebrew Bible, Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2005.
Thome, Paul, The Liquid Bible: Recapturing the Flow of the Great Story of God. Charleston,
NC: BookSurge, 2009.
Venard, O.-Th., “Christology from the Old Testament to the New,” chapter 2 of Francesca
Aran Murphy dir. and Troy A. Stefano, co-ed., The Oxford Handbook of Christology.
New York: Oxford University Press, 2015, 21–39.
Chapter 39
Justin A. Mihoc
In the introduction to the groundbreaking Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception, the
editors highlight the relatively recent interest in the “reception and culture-forming in-
fluence of the Bible” and discern that it represents the new frontier in the field of biblical
studies.1 Reception history is a poststructuralist approach for the interpretation of Scripture
that has gained significant support in biblical studies in recent decades. In some circles it
is taken for granted and given little attention. The term “reception” itself, from the Latin
recipere, indicates a focus on what has been received from the past, to some implying some-
thing foreign. The roots of reception history may be found in the Stoffgeschichte (thematic
analysis) of literary criticism of the nineteenth century and the reader-response theory of
the late twentieth century. It would be overly simplistic to understand this method as uni-
form and as a strict scientific paradigm. It is rather a sum of interpretative methods and
provides the literary critic with a range of tools that may be invaluable in understanding the
way in which the text has been read and its impact over time. Reception analyses are often
used to supplement the traditional methodologies of historical-critical studies, and regu-
larly understood only as an Auslegungsgeschichte (“history of exegesis”).
It must be noted that the door toward an interest in the afterlife of canonical texts has
been gradually opened through the postmodern advances in reader-response criticism, lit-
erary criticism, Gadamer’s history of influence, Jauss’s aesthetic of reception, or cultural
studies, and even before these by Heidegger’s phenomenological proposal in hermeneutics.
And it is now undeniable that reception criticism has taken the field of biblical studies by
storm, with more and more publications and significant projects with such focus appearing
each year. It is almost impossible nowadays not to take reception history seriously or engage
with it as part of one’s studies. Or, as John F. A. Sawyer notes in a 2012 journal issue ded-
icated to reception history, “to understand what the Hebrew Bible meant it is not enough
1 “Introduction,” in Hans-
Josef Klauck, Bernard McGinn, Paul Mendes-Flohr, et al. (eds.),
Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception, Vol. 1: Aaron–Aniconism (Berlin/New York: Walter de
Gruyter, 2009), pp. x–xi.
636 Justin A. Mihoc
anymore to be an expert in Semitic languages and ancient Near Eastern history—we also
have to know something about the afterlife of the texts we are handling. . . . Without some
expertise in reception history, we can no longer pretend to be experts on the Bible.”2
A Brief History of
Reception-C ritical Studies
Biblical scholars in the recent decades, especially in the West, have discovered fresh ways
to approach the canonical texts, perhaps in an effort to detach from the well-established
methods of interpretation developed post-Enlightenment, as well as with an aim to incor-
porate even more aspects than those allowed by the traditional historical-critical method.
The famous Gadamerian notion of Wirkungsgeschichte, or effective history, proposes a
fresh way of looking at and understanding traditionary texts. It goes beyond the endeavor
of historical inquest to explore the rich world of tradition and how this can inform us in
understanding and interpreting any given text. In his seminal work, Truth and Method
(Wahrheit und Methode, 1960), Hans-Georg Gadamer appeals to historical conscious-
ness through the concept of “horizon,” a notion he undoubtedly adopts from Husserl and
Heidegger.3 Understanding the horizon of a literary text is to seek for its meaning through
the eyes of its readers.4 And, as Gadamer argues referring to what he calls the history of
effect, “a hermeneutics adequate to the subject matter would have to demonstrate the reality
and efficacy of history within understanding itself.”5 The history of effect should therefore be
part of an inquiry into understanding the text by widening the horizon or opening up new
horizons of hermeneutics. By doing so, the reader is able to see beyond the narrow horizon
of the text itself and understand that he or she is part of a tradition or culture of herme-
neutics. “It is the historically experienced consciousness that, by renouncing the chimera of
perfect enlightenment, is open to the experience of history,” Gadamer posits.6 This is to say
that the horizons of understanding enable the interpreter to engage actively with the text,
acting as mediator.
Furthermore, for the interpretation to be possible, the language needs to be shared.7
The relationship between the text, or its author, and the interpreter must be established,
2 John F.A. Sawyer, “A Critical Review of Recent Projects and Publications,” Hebrew Bible and Ancient
but both activities are always fleshed out historically, that is, the production and the reception of a
work are rooted in the cultural life of authors and readers.” Víctor Manuel Morales Vásquez, Contours
of a Biblical Reception Theory: Studies in the Rezeptionsgeschichte of Romans 13.1–7 (Göttingen: V&R
Unipress, 2012), p. 17.
5 Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method, 2nd edition (London: Continuum, 2004), p. 299.
6 Gadamer, Truth and Method, p. 370.
7 “Every conversation presupposes a common language, or better, creates a common language.
Something is placed in the center, as the Greeks say, which partners in dialogue both share, and
concerning which they can exchange ideas with one another. Hence reaching an understanding on the
Reception History 637
that is to be in a dialogue that would transform the latter’s understanding of the former.
For Gadamer, history and language are the media for understanding the text, and this
happens as an event. The importance of hermeneutics is thus seen as a historical realization
of Dasein.8 And hence what he calls “wirkungsgeschichtliches Bewußtsein,” or conscious-
ness that is influenced by the effects of history, enables us to understand the effect the text
has upon one’s interpretation historically. This dialogical liaison between the text and the
readers is key to understanding the text’s Wirkungsgeschichte and, more specifically, its re-
ception history.9
Building on Gadamer’s philosophical hermeneutics, Hans Robert Jauss attempts to
apply these principles to literary historiography and develops an aesthetic of hermeneu-
tics. In Jauss’s view, the literary text exercises a transformative influence on its reader, and
emphasizes the latter’s creative role in understanding the writing.10 This led to the develop-
ment of the Rezeptiongeschichte, or reception history, as a method for assessing the value
of literary works through intrinsic and extrinsic values. For the reception of aesthetics, the
reader or interpreter is as important as the author of the work and the text itself. Or, as
Ormond Rush observes, “the receiver is as much a co-producer of the work’s meaning as the
artist.”11 This approach to understanding the text highlights the active and creative work of
the reader, as the text’s significance can be seen through its reception. Since texts are written
only to be read and their meaning grasped, the reader as receiver of the author’s intention
participates in the creative act of discovering its sense. Furthermore, Jauss argues that “if
the literary text is taken primarily as an answer, or if the later reader is primarily seeking an
answer in it, this by no means implies that the author himself has formulated an explicit an-
swer in his work. The answering character of the text, which provides the historical link be-
tween the past work and its later interpretation, is a modality of its structure—seen already
from the viewpoint of its reception; it is not an invariable value within the work itself.”12
This means that while the importance of assessing the original context of production and
reception of a text is inherent, of equal significance for understanding its effects is to look
at its later reception and interpretation, as well as its influence throughout history. Thus,
it is essential to examine the ways in which the text not only actively influenced, but also
subject matter of a conversation necessarily means that a common language must first be worked out in
the conversation.” Gadamer, Truth and Method, p. 371.
8
Gadamer, Truth and Method, p. 250; cf. Morales Vásquez, Contours of a Biblical Reception Theory,
pp. 18–20.
9 Reception theory “integrates the history of the text’s reception into the traditional hermeneutical
model which is concerned with the dialogue between the interpreter and the text.” David Paul
Parris, Reception Theory and Biblical Hermeneutics, Princeton Theological Monograph Series 107
(Eugene: Pickwick, 2009), p. 301.
10 “His [i.e., Jauss’s] aesthetic-
historical model singles out the centrality of the creative role of the
readers in understanding a literary work. This creativity is grounded in their aesthetic experience and
praxis, which is based on the productive, receptive and communicative abilities of readers.” Morales
Vásquez, Contours of a Biblical Reception Theory, p. 27.
11 Ormond Rush, The Reception of Doctrine: An Appropriation of Hans Robert Jauss’ Reception
Aesthetics and Literary Hermeneutics, Tesi Gregoriana—Serie Teologia 9 (Roma: Editrice Pontificia
Università Gregoriana, 1997), p. 122.
12 Hans Robert Jauss, Toward and Aesthetic of Reception, Theory and History of Literature 2
13 Applied to art, Jauss’s theory asserts that “the formation of the immortal is not only visibly carried
out through the production of the works, but also through reception, by its constant reenactment of the
enduring features of works that long since have been committed to the past.” Jauss, Toward and Aesthetic
of Reception, p. 75. The significance of this act of constant re-enactment is clearly seen in relation to
commemorative or anamnetic liturgical practices in the early Church as receptions of the Jesus
tradition and the biblical text. On the hermeneutic and performative aspects of Scripture in Byzantine
hymnography, see Eugen J. Pentiuc, Hearing the Scriptures: Liturgical Exegesis of the Old Testament in
Byzantine Orthodox Hymnography (New York: Oxford University Press, forthcoming).
14 As Morales Vásquez states in the conclusion of his treatment of Gadamer and Jauss, “both of them
furnished us with concepts and terms concerning the idea of understanding as an event and process.
Gadamer provided the necessary philosophical foundation which, in principle, Jauss worked out
as methodological guidelines for his purpose of turning literary historiography into the backbone of
Literaturwissenschaft. Their insights into the historicity of understanding and the centrality of readers
are the most important contributions to the development of a Biblical Reception History” (Contours of
a Biblical Reception Theory, p. 39).
15 Among the examples of wirkungsgeschichtliche contributions in the field of Biblical Studies, the
following are significant: Ulrich Luz’s commentary on Matthew (1985, 1990; EKK), the Blackwell Bible
Commentary series, the Oxford Handbook of the Reception History of the Bible (2011), the Ancient
Christian Commentary on Scripture series, the aforementioned Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its
Reception (projected in 30 vols.), the Brazos/SCM Theological Commentary on the Bible series, the Novum
Testamentum Patristicum project (of which the first 3 vols. have appeared to date: Galatians, vol. 1 of
1 Peter, and Matthew 19–21), the Bible in Its Traditions project of the École Biblique et Archéologique
Française de Jérusalem (in progress; see: Eugen J. Pentiuc et al., Hosea: The Word of the Lord That
Happened to Hosea (BEST 3; Leuven: Peeters, 2017)), as well as the Oxford Handbook of the Reception
History of the Bible (2011).
16 Brevard Childs, The New Testament as Canon: An Introduction (Philadelphia: Fortress Press,
1985), p. 31.
Reception History 639
Comparable with Gadamer and Jauss, Childs aims to emphasize the creative role of the
reader in understanding the biblical message, seen as an “act of construal” within a ca-
nonical framework.17 Without denying the importance of a historical-critical examination
of the text, he nevertheless is keen to defend the legitimacy of the ecclesiastical exegetic
tradition in order to avoid fallacy. By adding this reader/reception-oriented dimension,
the exegete can sketch a more developed image of the effect the Scripture had and accord-
ingly understand its meaning. Following Childs’s perspective allows us to return to the pa-
tristic idea of the Church as the organ of true exegesis; the orthodox meaning of Scripture
cannot be attained outside her.18 In patristic theology, the unfolding of the multiple senses
or meanings of the Bible is one endeavor made possible through the work of the Spirit in the
Church, and so inspiration and revelation are essential for proper exegesis.19 Determining
the authority and effect of the New Testament texts in relation to their Christian readers
as proprietors of a sum of traditions is essential for a proper understanding of the texts
themselves and will shed new light on hermeneutical analyses.20 Significantly, the canonical
approach looks at the final received form of the text, integrating the Church’s reading and
interpretation of those canonical writings.21
Therefore, by looking at how the canonical texts were received as kerygmatic and
liturgico-instructive in the early Church one will be equipped to respond to the question
of what their place and importance was in the first centuries.22 This, in turn, will enable
the modern reader to grasp their meaning more fully and immerse themselves in the lush
17
Childs, The New Testament as Canon, p. 40.
18
Methodologically, Childs’s approach “seeks to sketch a different vision of the biblical text which
profoundly affects one’s concept of the enterprise, but which also makes room for the continuing activity
of exegesis as a discipline of the church.” Childs, The New Testament as Canon, p. 53.
19 2 Tim 3:14–17; cf. Irenaeus, Ad. haer. 3.5.1; Augustine, C. ep. Mani. 5.6; Basil, Ep. ad Eustathius;
Epiphanius, Panarion 61.6; among others. Andrew Louth insists that “inspiration does not guarantee an
infallible text, as exponents of scriptural interpretation have claimed from the Enlightenment onward: It
does ensure a reliable text, if approached in the right spirit, but what we find in the Fathers is rather
a conviction that reading the text of Scripture is itself an inspired activity—the Spirit moving in us to
enable an engagement with the Spirit present in the Scriptures. That is something worth recovering.” A.
Louth, ”The Fathers on Genesis,” in Craig A. Evans, Joel N. Lohr, & David L. Petersen (eds.), The Book of
Genesis: Composition, Reception, Interpretation, VTSup 152 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), p. 577.
20 Rather than looking at the text from an “objective” and detached viewpoint, the study of the
Wirkungsgeschichte places the reader as part of the larger historical hermeneutical framework. Cf. Ian
Boxall, Patmos in the Reception History of the Apocalypse, Oxford Theology and Religion Monographs
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), p. 9.
21 Morales Vásquez is right in observing that Childs “argues that the canon has been a pervasive
structure within the ecclesiastical life-world and the genesis of the New Testament. The effect the texts
have had right from the outset on the Church’s life-world are proportionately related to its creative
appropriation of their meaning in the process of the formation of the canon” (Contours of a Biblical
Reception Theory, p. 42).
22 The two most important reasons for an engagement with the Wirkungsgeschichte of a canonical
text for hermeneutical purposes are outlined by Parris, in his Reception Theory and Biblical Studies
(p. 281). He argues that “first, at the contemporary or synchronic level it allows us as readers to check
our understanding of the text against the wider perspective of our contemporary community. Second, at
the historical or diachronic level it allows us to verify or correct our understanding against those of our
tradition.” Cf. Eugen J. Pentiuc, ”Between Hebrew Bible and Old Testament: Synchronic and Diachronic
Modes of Interpretation,” St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 50.4 (2006), pp. 381–396.
640 Justin A. Mihoc
stream of the Christian traditions. This may be seen as a reader-orientated exegesis that
places a high emphasis on the receiver of the text,23 without ignoring the larger reference
framework of the communitarian tradition passed on through the Church.24 Thus, under-
standing the context in which these authoritative documents emerged and were received is
one of the steps needed to understand their meaning.25
Incorporating many of the methods developed by the historical-critical paradigm, re-
ception criticism takes into account the reader of the texts throughout history and aims to
actualize them. It is a method that acknowledges the significant gap between the intended
reader and the contemporary one. Too often, the precritical exegeses of the biblical text had
been either completely ignored or insufficiently taken into consideration in biblical studies,
at least in the West. As examples of this approach stand the many, otherwise excellent,
commentaries to Scripture published during the last couple of centuries or so. Once an in-
terest in patristics was revived, what became obvious was that “the typical moves made by
modern interpreters have been anticipated by their pre-modern predecessors,” as one of the
prime scholars of reception-critical studies observed.26
23
See as an example of applying this approach Moisés Mayordomo-Marín’s monograph on the
introductory chapters of Matthew’s Gospel: Den Anfang hören: Leseorientierte Evangelienexegese am
Beispiel von Matthäus 1–2, FRLANT 180 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998).
24 “Canonical and literary critics alike at the ‘end of modernity’ can fully appreciate the fact that
literary (including biblical) texts do not make themselves into canons–people do. The survival of the
canon, as such, is community-dependent.” James E. Brenneman, Canons in Conflict: Negotiating Texts in
True and False Prophecy (New York/Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), p. 68.
25 Frances Young is right in speaking of “appropriation” as well as reception, as being “the exegetical
process whereby readers make the text their own.” Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian
Culture (Cambridge: CUP, 1997), p. 6.
26 Christopher Rowland, “Reception history,” in Paula Gooder (ed.), Searching for Meaning: An
2007), p. 61.
Reception History 641
validity that an original Orthodox method for interpreting the biblical text is yet to be de-
veloped.28 Yet, the lack of a scientific-empirical method unique to Orthodox biblical studies
does not mean that there is no such thing as an Orthodox exegesis, or rather exegeses. The
biblical text all but permeates the eastern Church’s liturgical, iconographical, or theolog-
ical traditions. One common criticism contemporary Orthodox exegetes face is that they
tend to rely too much on the exegetical tradition of the church fathers, and thus ignore
or even disregard the value of the historical-critical (diachronic) and literary (synchronic)
analyses.29 And even then, sometimes the treatment of patristic exegesis can be uneven,
inconsistent, and uncritical.30 On the other hand, Orthodox exegetes have long argued that
Western critical approaches are insufficient and too narrow in their scope, unable to capture
the spirit and rich symbolism of the biblical message. Eugen Pentiuc pertinently asks how
one “can bring the patristic biblical exegesis into today’s biblical scholarly arena” and make
the connection between precritical and postmodern approaches, proposing “that we look to
rhetorical approaches, or more precisely to the analysis of metaphorical language as a pos-
sible match to the ancient interpretive mode.”31 In many ways, reception history represents
a way to bridge or bid rapprochement between the two methodological traditions, the
historical-critical and the Orthodox.
If we were to look at their exegesis anachronistically, through the lens of modern crit-
ical studies, we might see some church fathers employing textual and source criticisms
(like Origen or Jerome), others a theological interpretation (Clement of Alexandria, John
Chrysostom), and find in patristic sources even an attempt at the Auslegungsgeschichte; as
evidenced by the many florilegia, a strong interest in authoritative readings of the past always
existed. Thus, there is little argument to be made on the lack of methodical and systematic
exegesis in the precritical period; rather, the history of interpretation shows the develop-
ment of a variety of exegetical schools and methods. I find great value in Cosmin Pricop’s
argument that the two traditions, the spiritual and the historical-critical exegeses, are mu-
tually empowering and enriching.32 And, in Parris’s words, “this type of approach helps to
overcome the artificial divisions between biblical studies and church history,”33 specifically
28
Cosmin Pricop, “The Historical-Critical Method and the Holy Fathers: A Brief History of a Mutual
Reception with Ecumenical Implications at the Level of Biblical Studies,” Review of Ecumenical Studies 6.3
(2014), p. 354. See also the insightful and timely (though embryonic) proposals by Predrag Dragutinović,
“Is There an Orthodox Exegesis? Engaging Contextual Hermeneutics in Orthodox Biblical Studies,”
Ortodoksia 55 (2015), pp. 7–42; and Eugen Pentiuc, Long-Suffering Love: A Commentary on Hosea with
Patristic Annotations (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 2002).
29 Marian Vild argues that in many cases this is little more than an “exegesis on the Fathers’ exegesis.”
“Exegeza biblică ortodoxă—între știință și harismă,” in M. Vild, C. Pricop, A. Mihăilă (eds.), Lucrările
Simpozionului “Identitatea ortodoxă a studiilor biblice” (Bucharest: Editura Universității din București,
2017), p. 222.
30 Pricop (“The Historical-
Critical Method and the Holy Fathers,” p. 355) observes that in some
Orthodox circles “the personal approach to the biblical text is limited to adopting the patristic
interpretation unreflectively and often crudely, thus a positive intention turning into first class Orthodox
scholasticism.” Cf. Dragutinović, “Is There an Orthodox Exegesis?,” pp. 12–15.
31 Pentiuc, “Between Hebrew Bible and Old Testament,” p. 395.
32 For a tentative proposal of this approach, see his: Die Verwandlung Jesu Christi: Historisch-kritische
seen in Western academic institutions. Many scholars, whether or not Orthodox, found
reception history a liberating attitude, an opportunity to explore new forms of exegetical
engagement and diverse meanings. But it must not be reduced to an unsystematic and su-
perficial endeavor: The Fathers may represent a rich spring of hermeneutical insight, but
their exegeses must be discerned and carefully placed in a meaningful conversation with
contemporaneity. Addressing this issue in the field of patristic studies, Augustine Casiday
duly insists that “paying attention to the details of how the Church’s heritage is transmitted
from Father to Father helps us to understand that theology does not consist in a static body
of propositions that attained perfection centuries ago as ‘timeless insight into God,’ one ca-
pable of reception by future Christians struggle-free.”34
Studying the world behind the text and understanding the traditions that produced it is and
must remain the starting point for any serious biblical scholar,35 while reception history allows
one to go beyond the limited framework of the historical-critical approach. The study of recep-
tion means much more than only textual and literary reception: visual art (iconography, but
also painting or sculpture), music (liturgical, hymnographic, as well as more secular genres),
architecture (including archeological sites), performing arts (theater, dance, etc.), textiles, and
every other form—it studies every aspect of the afterlife of the text and the many forms of
its influence.36 The challenge is then not only to order and present these idiosyncratic forms
of reception into an eloquent narrative but also to discern between them and find relevant
connections in order to inform and communicate something meaningful.
34
Casiday continues, observing that, “the Fathers faced complex dilemmas about how to assimilate
what they received, dilemmas no less perplexing than our own. There is much to learn from their
sophisticated processes of discernment—and their deep sense of charity.” Remember the Days of
Old: Orthodox Thinking on the Patristic Heritage, Foundations 6 (Yonkers: SVS Press, 2014), p. 64.
35 Hermann Spieckermann notes that, “Biblical criticism is only adequate when analysis and synthesis
are allies.” “From Biblical Exegesis to Reception History,” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 1.3 (2012),
p. 349. Cf. Dragutinović, “Is There an Orthodox Exegesis?,” pp. 21–22.
36 As Ulrich Luz argues in his seminal commentary on Matthew’s Gospel, “speziell die Wirkungsgeschichte,
die über die Auslegungsgeschichte hinausgeht, erinnert daran, daß Verstehen eines biblischen Textes nicht
nur durch Feststellen seiner Aussagen geschieht, sondern darüber hinaus durch Praxis und Leiden, durch
Singen und Dichten, durch Beten und Hoffen. Sie erinnert daran, daß Verstehen biblischer Texte Aufgabe
des ganzen Menschen ist.” U. Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, Vol. 1: Matt. 1–7 (4th ed.; Zürich &
Düsseldorf: Benzinger/Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1997), p. 81.
37 An example of such an eclectic approach is found in James Crossley’s “The End of Reception
History, a Grand Narrative for Biblical Studies and the Neoliberal Bible,” in Emma England & William
Reception History 643
For example, Orthodox exegesis will always appeal to the church fathers as instances of au-
thoritative hermeneutic of the canonical text, yet not all interpretations are equal and some
may not even be accepted as orthodox. And even the label “church fathers” may have a
different connotation to Orthodox compared to non-Orthodox scholars—certainly, for the
Orthodox, those fathers whose doctrine and hermeneutic has been accepted as “correct”
are treated separately from those whose teachings were deemed heretical.
Reception history presupposes the conceptualization of the scriptural text as literature,
one that produced evident effects not least because it was read as the Word of God in human
language. However, the Bible is examined through the critical lens as just another piece of
writing, and its posthistory is only meaningful insofar as it produced quantifiable effects. In
some cases, reception historical studies celebrate the fluidity of the text and its modes of in-
terpretation, almost trying to find the odd and unusual in the history of the text’s impact.38
Another assumption is that the modern interpreter is somewhat overconfident with regard
to the advances in and virtues of the scientific-critical methods, and thus will benefit from
rediscovering the rich exegetical tradition. Parris concludes his admirable study by saying,
“the practice of reception theory leads to the formation of the interpreter’s phronesis and
wirkungsgeschichtliches Bewußtsein. Historically-effected consciousness is characterized by
an openness on the interpreter’s part which consists in knowing that he still has something
to learn from his tradition.”39 Undoubtedly, it is essential to learn from one’s own past, yet
in order to discover fully the treasures of the Christian interpretative traditions, one ought
to cross the boundaries of one’s own culture. An informed reception history must be both
focused enough and adequately open to the previously untapped hermeneutical resources,
and this undeniably demands competence in many and diverse domains.40 Therefore, the
interpreter should not assume that reception history does not require the critical skills de-
veloped through the traditional methodologies, nor that reception history is an easy way to
evade them. Mark Knight reasonably observes that one major risk is to place the equal sign
between the biblical text and its various interpretations, in line with Gadamer’s idea that the
text and its reader are coparticipants in the hermeneutical conversation.41
One final challenge of reception-historical approaches is the contextualization of exe-
getical sources. The danger is detaching the source from its environment in an attempt to
John Lyons (eds.), Reception History and Biblical Studies: Theory and Practice, Scriptural Traces: Critical
Perspectives on the Reception and Influence of the Bible 6/LHB 615 (London: T&T Clark, 2015), pp. 45–
59. Cf. Michael Lieb, Emma Mason, & Jonathan Roberts (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the Reception
History of the Bible (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).
38
“History itself in its inexhaustible universal horizon is the given, and as such the best dialogue
partner to help us discover that life never needs to be dull.” Karlfried Froehlich, “Church History and the
Bible,” in Mark S. Burrows & Paul Rorem (eds.), Biblical Hermeneutics in Historical Perspective: Studies in
Honor of Karlfried Froehlich on His Sixtieth Birthday (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), p. 6.
39 Parris, Reception Theory and Biblical Hermeneutics, p. 301.
40 See, for instance, the admirable tour de force in different media of biblical reception by Robert
Evans, Reception History, Tradition and Biblical Interpretation: Gadamer and Jauss in Current Practice,
Scriptural Traces: Critical Perspectives on the Reception and Influence of the Bible 4/LNTS 510
(London: Bloomsbury, 2014).
41 He points to the work of Gerard Loughlin, Francis Watson, and Kevin Vanhoozer who “insist,
in different ways, that elevating the reader at the expense of the text is problematic.” Mark Knight,
“Wirkungsgeschichte, Reception History, Reception Theory,” in JSNT 33.2 (2010), p. 141.
644 Justin A. Mihoc
actualize it, and thus misreading or misusing its meaning and significance.42 An appeal
needs to be made for the scholar to immerse themselves in the world of their source and
to ensure that its milieu is appropriately presented. In Augustine Casiday’s words, “there
are many lines of transmission from past authors to present readers, and the process is
rarely a smooth one.”43 Appropriating and meaningfully ordering the meanings of past
interpreters is not a straightforward pursuit, but one that poses many pitfalls and challenges
to the careless reader. Equally, if done right, the exploration of a text’s reception can be im-
mensely rewarding and enlightening, informing and enriching our modern understandings
consumed by the chimera of objectivity.
Conclusion
Bibliography
Ian Boxall, Patmos in the Reception History of the Apocalypse, Oxford Theology and Religion
Monographs (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013).
Brennan W. Breed, Nomadic Text: A Theory of Biblical Reception History, Indiana Studies in
Biblical Literature (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2014).
42 Brennan W. Breed, Nomadic Text: A Theory of Biblical Reception History, Indiana Studies in Biblical
James E. Brenneman, Canons in Conflict: Negotiating Texts in True and False Prophecy
(New York/Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997).
Augustine Casiday, Remember the Days of Old: Orthodox Thinking on the Patristic Heritage,
Foundations 6 (Yonkers: SVS Press, 2014).
Brevard Childs, The New Testament as Canon: An Introduction (Philadelphia: Fortress
Press, 1985).
James Crossley, “The End of Reception History, a Grand Narrative for Biblical Studies and
the Neoliberal Bible,” in Emma England & William John Lyons (eds.), Reception History
and Biblical Studies: Theory and Practice, Scriptural Traces: Critical Perspectives on the
Reception and Influence of the Bible 6/LHB 615 (London: T&T Clark, 2015), pp. 45–59.
Predrag Dragutinović, “Is There an Orthodox Exegesis? Engaging Contextual Hermeneutics
in Orthodox Biblical Studies,” in Ortodoksia 55 (2015), pp. 7–42.
Robert Evans, Reception History, Tradition and Biblical Interpretation: Gadamer and Jauss in
Current Practice, Scriptural Traces: Critical Perspectives on the Reception and Influence of
the Bible 4/LNTS 510 (London: Bloomsbury, 2014).
Karlfried Froehlich, “Church History and the Bible,” in Mark S. Burrows & Paul Rorem (eds.),
Biblical Hermeneutics in Historical Perspective: Studies in Honor of Karlfried Froehlich on His
Sixtieth Birthday (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), pp. 1–15.
Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method, 2nd edition (London: Continuum, 2004).
Hans Robert Jauss, Toward and Aesthetic of Reception, Theory and History of Literature 2
(Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1982).
Hans-Josef Klauck, Bernard McGinn, Paul Mendes- Flohr, et al. (eds.), Encyclopedia
of the Bible and Its Reception, Vol. 1: Aaron-Aniconism (Berlin/New York: Walter de
Gruyter, 2009).
Mark Knight, “Wirkungsgeschichte, Reception History, Reception Theory,” in JSNT 33.2 (2010),
pp. 137–146.
Michael Lieb, Emma Mason, & Jonathan Roberts (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the Reception
History of the Bible (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).
Andrew Louth, “The Fathers on Genesis,” in Craig A. Evans, Joel N. Lohr, & David L. Petersen
(eds.), The Book of Genesis: Composition, Reception, Interpretation, VTSup 152 (Leiden: Brill,
2012), pp. 561–578.
Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, Vol. 1: Matt. 1–7 (4th ed.; Zürich & Düsseldorf:
Benzinger/Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1997).
Ulrich Luz, Matthew 1–7: A Commentary, trans. James E. Crouch, Hermeneia (Minneapolis:
Fortress, 2007).
Moisés Mayordomo-Marín, Den Anfang hören: Leseorientierte Evangelienexegese am Beispiel
von Matthäus 1–2, FRLANT 180 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998).
Víctor Manuel Morales Vásquez, Contours of a Biblical Reception Theory: Studies in the
Rezeptionsgeschichte of Romans 13.1–7 (Göttingen: V&R Unipress, 2012).
David Paul Parris, Reception Theory and Biblical Hermeneutics, Princeton Theological
Monograph Series 107 (Eugene: Pickwick, 2009).
Eugen J. Pentiuc, Long-Suffering Love: A Commentary on Hosea with Patristic Annotations
(Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 2002).
Eugen J. Pentiuc, “Between Hebrew Bible and Old Testament: Synchronic and Diachronic
Modes of Interpretation,” in St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 50.4 (2006), pp. 381–396.
Eugen J. Pentiuc, Hearing the Scriptures: Liturgical Exegesis of the Old Testament in Byzantine
Orthodox Hymnography (New York: Oxford University Press, 2021.).
646 Justin A. Mihoc
Eugen J. Pentiuc et al., Hosea: The Word of the Lord That Happened to Hosea, BEST 3 (Leuven:
Peeters, 2017).
Cosmin Pricop, “The Historical-Critical Method and the Holy Fathers: A Brief History of a
Mutual Reception with Ecumenical Implications at the Level of Biblical Studies,” Review of
Ecumenical Studies Sibiu 6.3 (2014), pp. 354–377.
Cosmin Pricop, Die Verwandlung Jesu Christi: Historisch-kritische und patristische Studien,
WUNT II.422 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016).
Christopher Rowland, “Reception history,” in Paula Gooder (ed.), Searching for Meaning: An
Introduction to Interpreting the New Testament (London: SPCK, 2008), pp. 111–119.
Ormond Rush, The Reception of Doctrine: An Appropriation of Hans Robert Jauss’ Reception
Aesthetics and Literary Hermeneutics, Tesi Gregoriana–Serie Teologia 9 (Roma: Editrice
Pontificia Università Gregoriana, 1997).
John F.A. Sawyer, “A Critical Review of Recent Projects and Publications,” in Hebrew Bible and
Ancient Israel 1.3 (2012), pp. 298–326.
Hermann Spieckermann, “From Biblical Exegesis to Reception History,” in Hebrew Bible and
Ancient Israel 1.3 (2012), pp. 327–350.
Anthony C. Thiselton, Hermeneutics: An Introduction (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009).
Marian Vild, “Exegeza biblică ortodoxă—între știință și harismă,” in M. Vild, C. Pricop,
A. Mihăilă (eds.), Lucrările Simpozionului “Identitatea ortodoxă a studiilor biblice”
(Bucharest: Editura Universității din București, 2017), pp. 221–239.
Frances M. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1997).
Chapter 40
Mode rn Orth od ox
B ib l ical Interpretat i on
James Buchanan Wallace
Introduction
1
Predrag Dragutinović, Interpretation of Scripture in the Orthodox Church: Engaging Contextual
Hermeneutics in Orthodox Biblical Studies, Library “Christian Theology” 2 (Belgrade: Biblical Institute
of Faculty of Orthodox Theology, 2018), 88, pleas that Orthodox hermeneutics must necessarily be
dialogical and ecumenical.
648 James Buchanan Wallace
Veselin Kesich, a Serb who spent most of his academic career at St. Vladimir’s seminary in the
United States, once observed, “The lack of interest in biblical criticism in the Orthodox Church
is not inherent in the nature of the faith, but it is due to historical circumstances, to the long
period of isolation.”2 According to Alexander Negrov, systematic study of Scripture began in
Russia in the late eighteenth century,3 but serious engagement with Western critical approaches
to the Bible emerged in earnest in Russia around 1820.4 Russian biblical studies were influenced
by conservative German Protestant scholars, such as C. F. Keil.5 By the late nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries, a distinctive Russian Orthodox approach to biblical studies emerged.
Russian Orthodox scholars were open to the lower criticism (i.e., text criticism), philological
study, the study of biblical history and the historical contexts of biblical writings, as well the
relevance of genre. Patristic exegesis, however, held higher authority and was thus enormously
influential on these scholars.6 They generally rejected conclusions of the higher criticism when
these did not match Orthodox tradition; no results could contradict dogma, and any hint that
the biblical texts could be unreliable, even in mere matters of historical fact, were rejected.7
According to the Belarussian New Testament scholar Sviatoslav Rogalsky, the Communist
era more or less squelched any forward progress in theological studies in Russia, Belarus, and
the Ukraine.8 Many Russian Orthodox scholars fled the country and headed to Serbia and/or
western Europe, and ultimately the United States.
Engagement with the intellectual trends of the Enlightenment was hampered in some
countries by the domination of the Ottomans.9 When the Ottoman yoke ended, academic
study of the Bible could only emerge slowly among Serbian and Greek scholars, though
circumstances remained challenging. In nineteenth-century Greece, Protestant missionary
activity eventually led the Ecumenical Patriarch to forbid the private study of the Bible.10
2
“Biblical Studies in Orthodox Theology: A Response,” GOTR 17 (1972): 63–68, see 66.
3
“Biblical Interpretation in the Russian Orthodox Church: A Historical and Hermeneutical
Approach,” Verbum et Ecclesia 22 (2001): 352–365, see 355.
4 Biblical Interpretation in the Russian Orthodox Church: A Historical and Hermeneutical Perspective,
BHT 130 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 298. On this period, see also Sviatoslav Rogalsky, “A Historical
Overview of Pre-Revolutionary Russian Biblical Scholarship,” in Gospel Images of Jesus Christ in Church
Tradition and in Biblical Scholarship, ed. Christos Karakolis, Karl-Wilhelm Niebuhr, and Sviatoslav
Rogalsky, WUNT 288 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 19–37, esp. 22–23.
5 Vladan Tatalović, “Orthodox New Testament Scholarship in Serbia,” in The Holy Spirit and the
Church according to the New Testament, ed. Predrag Dragutinović, Karl-Wilhelm Niebuhr, and James
Wallace, WUNT 354 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 37–70, see 49 and n. 32–33. According to Negrov,
“Biblical Interpretation,” 354, Russians had been producing commentaries based on Latin and German
models since the late seventeenth century.
6 Negrov, “Biblical Interpretation,” 359.
7 Negrov, Biblical Interpretation, 299–303.
8 “Historical Overview,” 19; so also Negrov, “Biblical Interpretation,” 358–359.
9 Dragutinović, Interpretation, 18.
10 Savas Agourides, “The Orthodox Church and Contemporary Biblical Research,” in Auslegung der
Bibel in orthodoxer und westlicher Perspektive, WUNT 130 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000), 139–152,
Modern Orthodox Biblical Interpretation 649
By the middle of the same century, scholars in Athens made fledgling steps to pursue bib-
lical studies on Western models.11 Although they met with limited success and support,12
many of these Greek scholars were able to study in Germany, and they began a tradition of
Greek Orthodox critical scholarship that has lasted, unbroken, to this day.13
Serbian theological scholars of the nineteenth and early twentieth century looked
to Russia, so biblical studies reflected the characteristics just described; investigation of
historical contexts was welcomed, but theories that did not mesh with Church tradition
were to be refuted.14 While the influx of Russian immigrants in the wake of the Russian
Revolution was in many ways a helpful catalyst for theological studies in Serbia,15 the per-
secution of the Church in Russia also meant that Serbian scholars began to look to Athens,
where there was more openness to historical-critical studies.16 The major figure of Serbian
New Testament scholarship during the Communist period, Emilijan Čarnić (1914–1995),
wrote “commentaries to almost every NT book,” and in the estimation of Vladan Tatalović,
provided “readers with historical, archeological, and philological material, but . . . tended
to assemble only the positive, mostly popular results of modern biblical scholarship.”17 In
Romania, there was some rapprochement with Western biblical scholars in the late nine-
teenth and early twentieth century, interrupted by World War II and then the Communist
regime. Korinna Zamfir observes that, “paradoxically, this oppression induced a sort of
ecumenical collaboration between Orthodox and Protestant professors, with a number of
joint conferences, often under the heading of the peace movement.”18
The First Congress of Orthodox Theology, held in Athens in 1936, was a watershed moment
for modern Orthodox theology. At this Congress, the Greek Old Testament scholar Vasilios
Vellas defended the practice not only of the lower but also of the higher criticism. Vellas
maintained that while the higher criticism may investigate issues of authorship, sources, and
composition history, these studies do not in and of themselves challenge the authority or
inspiration of the biblical texts.19 Cassian Besobrasov, of the Russian Institute of Orthodox
Theology in Paris, welcomed historical investigation of New Testament documents, but, not
surprisingly in light of the Russian tradition of biblical studies, argued for a more determi-
native role for tradition and dogma.20
see 140. See also Dragutinović, Interpretation, 18; Pantelis Kalaitzidis, “Challenges of Renewal and
Reformation Facing the Orthodox Church,” Ecumenical Review 61 (2009): 136–164, see 151–153.
11
Agourides, “Orthodox Church,” 140–142.
12
Ibid.
13 Theodore G. Stylianopoulos, The New Testament: An Orthodox Perspective: Volume 1: Scripture,
Tradition, Hermeneutics (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1997), 72, and see the scholars
listed there and in the notes on pp. 72–73.
14 Tatalović, “Orthodox,” passim, esp. 49–53, and nn. 32–33, and 50–64.
15 Ibid., 53.
16 Ibid., 59–60.
17 Ibid., 61, 63.
18 “Exegesis in a Multi-
Ethnic and Multi-Confessional Region: Challenges and Responsibilities,”
Sacra Scripta 15 (2017): 51–72, see 53.
19 “Bibelkritik und kirkliche Autorität,” in Procès-verbaux due premier congrès de théologie Orthodoxe
a Athènes, 29 Novembre–6 Décembre 1936, ed. Amilkas Alivizatos (Athens: Pyrsos, 1939), 135–143.
20 “Introduction spéciale au Nouveau Testament: Remarques de méthodologie,” in Procès-verbaux due
premier congrès de théologie Orthodoxe a Athènes, 29 Novembre–6 Décembre 1936, ed. Amilkas Alivizatos
(Athens: Pyrsos, 1939), 185–193.
650 James Buchanan Wallace
The seminal contribution to the Congress, however, was that of George Florovsky,
who issued his famous call for a neopatristic synthesis. Florovsky lamented that while the
Fathers were often cited in Orthodox theological works, such books were too influenced
by Western models and hence departed from a genuinely patristic mind. Hence, we should
note, Florovsky viewed even the conservative models of the previous centuries as tainted by
“Western” theological thought.21 Orthodox theologians needed to rediscover this patristic
mind, but not simply “return to the letter of old patristic documents.”22 Florovsky’s words
would help rejuvenate Orthodox identity at a time of great need, both in the new contexts
of western Europe and America, and in the Orthodox countries that had fallen—or would
soon fall—under the Communist yoke.
We will assess Florovsky’s legacy further in what follows. For now, we observe that
Tatalović, for example, credits Florovsky with providing an impetus that helped to cultivate
an authentic Serbian theology, even during the time of Communism. This impulse lived on
in Irinej Bulović, who received his doctorate in Athens, and became Čarnić’s successor at the
Faculty of Orthodox Theology Belgrade, which now boasts several Serbian biblical scholars
and generates significant scholarship.23 Likewise, biblical studies are being pursued with
great zeal in virtually all of the traditionally Orthodox countries that had once been under
the Communist rule. Nonetheless, the parameters of such research and its potential con-
tribution to Church life remain disputed. Moreover, connections between the Church and
national identity can lead to those scholars’ who embrace critical methods being attacked
as insufficiently Orthodox.24
Orthodox Hermeneutics in
the Wake of Florovsky
As we have seen, biblical scholarship continued in some Eastern European countries de-
spite Communism, but there was, of course, much greater freedom in Greece, Western
Europe, and the United States. In the United States, Orthodox biblical scholarship, espe-
cially New Testament studies, was dominated in the last four decades of the twentieth cen-
tury by four scholars: Veselin Kesich (St. Vladimir’s Seminary—SVS), John Breck (SVS,
then moving to St. Sergius Theological Institute, Paris, in 1996), Paul Tarazi (SVS), and
Theodore Stylianopoulos (Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology). In a 1972 essay,
Theodore Stylianopoulos could already look back on a long legacy of historical-critical
study of Scripture among Greek Orthodox scholars.25 This essay was a response to a paper
21
See Timothy Clark, “Recent Eastern Orthodox Interpretation of the New Testament,” CBR 5.3
(2007): 322–340, see 324–325.
22 “Patristics and Modern Theology,” in Procès-verbaux due premier congrès de théologie Orthodoxe a
Athènes, 29 Novembre–6 Décembre 1936, ed. Amilkas Alivizatos (Athens: Pyrsos, 1939), 238–242, see 240.
23 Tatalović, “Orthodox,” 65–68, and see fn. 98.
24 See Zamfir, “Exegesis,” esp. 64–66; cf. Dragutinović, “Fundamentalist Tendencies in the Orthodox
by the colossal figure of modern Greek Orthodox New Testament studies, Savas Agourides
(Thessaloniki and Athens), who tirelessly advocated for the study of Scripture as of vital
importance for the renewal of the Orthodox Church. Agourides called for the critical ex-
amination of the composition and distinctive theological voices of the New Testament
documents but also claimed, “Patristic texts ought to be studied by the Orthodox biblical
scholar as an initiation into the spirit of organic unity between Scripture and the life of
the Church.”26 Stylianopoulos criticized Agourides for continuing to subordinate the free
investigation of the New Testament to the neopatristic synthesis, which signaled a con-
tinued dependence of biblical studies on the fields of patristics and systematic theology.27
According to Stylianopoulos, the biblical interpreter must be guided by the quest for the
meaning of the biblical text in its earliest discernable contexts. The interpreter should be
free to argue that, in its original contexts, a passage may have had a different meaning from
that of later dogmatic formulations. The tables would turn by the end of the millennium,
with Stylianopoulos endorsing the neopatristic synthesis and Agourides decrying it with
palpable frustration.28
Stylianopoulos became more critical of academic interpretation, assessing it as driven
“by philosophical assumptions” and working with a vast “diversity of methodologies,”
thereby leading “to the chaotic result of dismantling the Scriptures, undermining the au-
thority of their witness, and providing few commensurate benefits to either Church or
society.”29 In The New Testament: An Orthodox Perspective, Stylianopoulos sought to lay
out a three-level approach that could lead to New Testament interpretation both critically
sound and theologically relevant for the Church. Throughout, he seeks to hold in creative
tension two pressing concerns: on the one hand, the Church may so co-opt Scripture in
the name of tradition that the Church becomes impervious to any real prophetic critique
from Scripture, in which case Scripture is no longer truly a norm.30 On the other hand,
unreflective use of historical-critical approaches may run roughshod over what is cen-
tral to Scripture: its theological claims that can lead the reader to communion with God.
The interpreter must begin by doing exegesis according to the most appropriate methods
and best resources of contemporary scholarship, though always being sure to avoid the
philosophical presuppositions that covertly attach to some approaches.31 The next step
is interpretation, in which the interpreter determines the theological and ethical claims
the text makes relative to the interpreter’s own situation, and the interpreter determines
whether she or he will assent to those claims.32 In this stage, the interpreter’s tradition,
26
“Biblical Studies in Orthodox Theology,” GOTR 17 (1972): 51–62, see 56. See also Agourides,
“Structure and Theology in the Gospel of John,” in Sacred Text and Interpretation: Perspectives in
Orthodox Biblical Studies: Papers in Honor of Professor Savas Agourides, ed. Theodore Stylianopoulos
(Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 2006), 111–137.
27 Stylianopoulos, “Biblical Studies,” 73 and passim. See further Clark, “Recent Eastern Orthodox,”
326–327.
28 The change in Stylianopoulos’s attitude toward historical-critical biblical interpretation is noted by
such as the church fathers, can be valuable, so long as one can also allow the overall witness
of Scripture to criticize that tradition. Hence, in this book, Stylianopoulos embraces the
neopatristic synthesis of Florovsky.33 The final interpretive stage, which Stylianopoulos
calls the “transformative” stage, goes beyond mere cognitive work; here, the interpreter
must cooperate with the Holy Spirit, Who inspired the text, to be transformed by the
text, actually experiencing God’s love and presence.34 These three “levels” must operate in
tandem; for example, the objective critical work and tradition help to control the dangers
of subjective spiritual experience.35
John Breck also seeks to determine the proper role of academic exegesis for Orthodox
readings of Scripture. Like Stylianopoulos, Breck insists that historical-critical investigation
is necessary and valuable, while at the same time criticizing its excesses.36 Breck argues that
Scripture developed in the believing community, and hence Scripture should be interpreted
first and foremost in light of the liturgical and sacramental life of the Church, which seeks to
“reactualize” for all believers what is written about in Scripture.37 This contention that a dis-
tinctively Orthodox approach to biblical interpretation emphasizes the “actualization” of the
text in the lives of believers is a recurring theme among Orthodox scholars. At any rate, Breck
advocates that interpretation must culminate in theoria—a Greek word meaning “contempla-
tion” but often employed in patristic exegesis for meanings that go beyond the literal—and
thereby serving for the “spiritual enlightenment of the people.”38 Unfortunately, the rela-
tionship between exegesis and theoria is not entirely spelled out. Breck says that when read
Christologically, Scripture determines “what are and what are not authentic elements of Holy
Tradition.”39 Later, however, he says that the Orthodox “exegete will perform his or her task
within the limits of the discipline, then submit the results to the ‘mind of the Church,’ that is,
to Holy Tradition.”40 But Breck lays out no program by which one might know how to deter-
mine when Scripture can criticize tradition versus when one must submit to Holy Tradition.
As Stylianopoulos rightly observed, Breck’s proposal leaves little room for Scripture to offer a
prophetic critique of church practices.41
While Breck’s hermeneutical proposals fall short, his practice of exegesis offers some in-
structive examples of how an Orthodox scholar might contribute both to scholarly dis-
course and the life of the Church. As an Orthodox priest, Breck’s interest in the intersection
of liturgy and dogma enable him to critique some scholars’ facile distinctions between litur-
gical and confessional formulas in the New Testament, noting that “liturgical elements are
33
Ibid., 7, 163–165, 187.
34
Ibid., 214–238.
35 Ibid., 223.
36 Scripture in Tradition: The Bible and Its Interpretation in the Orthodox Church (Crestwood, NY: St.
Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2001), 2, 17–19; Breck, “Exegesis and Interpretation: Orthodox Reflections on
the ‘Hermeneutic Problem,’ ” SVTQ 27 (1983): 75–92.
37 Scripture in Tradition, 9–13.
38 “Theoria and Orthodox Hermeneutics,” SVTQ 20 (1976): 195–
219, see 208; Breck refined his
understanding of theoria considerably in Scripture in Tradition, 21–31, which represents a superior
discussion.
39 Scripture in Tradition, 10.
40 Ibid., 41.
41 Review of Scripture in Tradition: The Bible and Its Interpretation in the Orthodox Church, by John
42 The Power of the Word in the Worshiping Church (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press,
Seleucid Period in the Light of The Rise of Scripture,” Journal of the Orthodox Center for the Advancement
of Biblical Studies 11 (2019): 1–7, esp. 1. Roddy is sympathetic to Tarazi’s arguments but suggests that the
Persian period may be a more likely setting for the final form of much of the Old Testament; see 6.
46 Daniel Ayuch, review of The Rise of Scripture, by Paul Nadim Tarazi, Theological Review 39
the Pauline Gospel, and Paul’s own life was a significant influence on the structure of this
Gospel.49 Tarazi even suggests that the same John Mark was the author of both the Gospel
of Mark and the Gospel of John (and Revelation), which was written as a later supple-
ment to the gospels due to changed circumstances.50 This specific theory that the same
person wrote Mark, John, and Revelation is, frankly, preposterous, not taking into sufficient
account the stylistic differences between these compositions, especially between Mark and
John. Likewise, Tarazi never addresses the possible tension between a passage like Rev 2:14
and 1 Cor 10:25–33. But this is precisely what makes Tarazi’s approach conservative and
perhaps appealing from an Orthodox perspective: The New Testament is essentially a the-
ological unity.51 There are no tensions between Pauline thought and other New Testament
witnesses. Not only are the theories of authorship often untenable, however, but also one
may ask whether the distinctive voice of some compositions is blunted by this approach.
Despite the efforts of Agourides, Breck, and Stylianopoulos, biblical scholars in Orthodox
countries in the post-Communist era continue to grapple with the role of biblical studies.
The conservative impulse remains alive and well in the work of Metr. Hilarion (Alfeyev),
an immensely influential figure of the Russian Orthodox Church. His multivolume work
on the life and teachings of Jesus Christ, aimed at a general readership, is filled with
insights but serves an apologetic purpose. On the one hand, Hilarion lauds the numerous
contributions of scientific study. On the other hand, he gives enormous weight to tradition
(as Besobrasov did) and is critical of guild scholarship, which he views as frequently driven
by presuppositions and covert ideologies.52 Although he does not unilaterally dismiss all
critical theories that sit uneasily with Church tradition, he gives substantial attention to any
scholarly criticism of these theories but only minimal examination of the evidentiary basis
of the theories themselves. Not only is he rather dismissive of the Q hypothesis, but he even
suggests that there is no “literary interdependence between the three Synoptic Gospels.”53
So while Metr. Hilarion does not simply appeal to tradition, neither does he refute scholarly
theories on their own terms. The criticisms often rely, as has been the case too often, on
caricatures of “Western” biblical studies.54
The rich intellectual tradition of the Orthodox Church gives us better tools and categories
of dealing with the issues critical scholarship raises. Indeed, Metr. Hilarion’s own book on
Symeon the New Theologian offers resources for thinking about the meaning of biblical
passages. According to Hilarion, Symeon stresses participation in those realities expressed
in scripture: “The aim of the reading of Scripture in church is to enable the faithful to par-
ticipate in the reality described in it: the experience of the biblical personages must become
the faithful’s own experience.”55 If we were to follow this hermeneutical tack, could we say
49
Ibid., 120–132; see also Clark, “Recent Eastern Orthodox Interpretation,” 333.
50
The New Testament: Introduction: Volume 3: Johannine Writings (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary Press, 2004), 13–17.
51 Clark, “Recent Eastern Orthodox Interpretation,” 332.
52 Jesus Christ: His Life and Teaching: Volume 1: The Beginning of the Gospel (Yonkers: St. Vladimir’s
2000), 47.
Modern Orthodox Biblical Interpretation 655
that not all teachings of Jesus have to have occurred historically (in the narrowest since of
being historisch) for them to be true and lead readers to participation in the life of God?
Both Breck and Hilarion, then, argue that biblical texts should, one way or the other,
lead readers to participate in or actualize what the texts depict. The Romanian scholar
Cosmin Pricop pursues this impulse further in Die Vervandlung Jesu Christi, while seeking
for a distinctively Orthodox exegetical method. He analyzes the Markan account of the
Transfiguration and in so doing examines an array of historical-critical approaches in com-
parison with the readings of Origen, John Chrysostom, and Jerome. Pricop observes that
like historical-critical exegetes, the church fathers use a variety of methods, including text
criticism, synoptic comparison, and even an interest in Old Testament precedents similar to
tradition criticism.56 Notably absent from the church fathers, however, is an interest in the
distinctive voice of a given evangelist, along the lines of what redaction criticism has sought
to uncover. Generally, when the church fathers look at other versions of the Transfiguration,
they seek to harmonize versions and simply gather more information, because it is the event
itself and its full meaning that interests them, not a specific evangelist’s depiction. Most
significantly, the patristic authors sought to actualize the event, to make the event itself
accessible to later generations through their interpretation.57 This work calls to the fore an
acute difference between patristic exegesis and modern approaches: were events shaped by
God to have certain typological similarities, or did the human authors shape their accounts
by Old Testament allusions and with specific theological aims? Does the distinction matter,
if Scripture is inspired? We should bear in mind what is lost if we opt for the former: the
distinctive voice of the evangelist. Through his analysis, Pricop calls for a conscious exe-
getical method on the part of Orthodox interpreters but does not really articulate one, and
the analysis ultimately creates some false dichotomies by comparing exegetical methods
(as opposed to pastoral applications) to the Fathers’ interpretation, which in some sense is
always applied.58 Indeed, among others, Eugen Pentiuc had already commented on this gap
between the Fathers and modern academic interpreters, and the difficulties of bridging it.59
Other scholars call for a complete liberation of Orthodox exegesis from the constraints
of tradition. In 1998, the year after Stylianopoulos’s The New Testament appeared, Savas
Agourides decried the negative effects of the neopatristic synthesis on Orthodox biblical
scholarship in Greece. Agourides lamented that while a “neo-patristic exegesis” was a rea-
sonable idea, it has not been realized in practice but becomes the cloak by which tradi-
tionalist understandings are smuggled back into interpretation: “Theologians influenced
by other, traditionalist and older factors, while speaking of the non-repetitive patristic tra-
dition, in practice continue to use the Fathers in a repetitive way.”60 Likewise, the Serbian
scholar Predrag Dragutinović complains that “the patristic heritage has to play the role of
mediator between the biblical text and a contemporary Orthodox interpreter. In some sense,
this has paralyzed the autonomous and creative work of Orthodox biblical scholars on the
56
Die Verwandlung Jesu Christi: Historisch- kritische und patristische Studien, WUNT II.422
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), see esp. 331. And see my review in TLZ 142.6 (2017): 629–632.
57 Verwandlung, 332.
58 Wallace, review of Verwandlung (by Pricop), 631–632.
59 Eugen J. Pentiuc, “Between Hebrew Bible and Old Testament: Synchronic and Diachronic Modes
biblical texts themselves.”61 He claims that it is “problematic” to start from patristic exegesis
and then go to the biblical text.62 He points out the obvious problem: The Fathers’ work
“must also be interpreted firmly with respect to their historical contexts and ecclesiastic
needs. In this sense, the problem becomes apparent when something which itself has to be
interpreted is treated as the main instance and measure for the interpretation of something
that precedes it chronologically and theologically.”63 Dragutinović, like Stylianopoulos only
more forcefully, argues that Scripture must be freed to offer a prophetic critique of Church
practice; without this, tradition is an easy tool in the hands of nationalism, and the Church
risks becoming a place to escape the world and not transform it, so long as Orthodox re-
main exclusively captive to Byzantine mysticism.64
While several scholars, especially Pricop, have made strides in articulating the similarities
and differences between historical-critical exegesis and patristic interpretation, in many
respects, the same basic attitudes have persisted for over a century: Most agree that the
Orthodox should resist fundamentalism and engage in critical studies so long as such
scholarship is self-critical (i.e., careful to be as objective as possible and to avoid philosoph-
ical presuppositions blatantly hostile to the faith). For some, this means pursuing exegesis
with complete freedom. For others, tradition remains preeminent, and while critical tools
are used, results are conservative. Still others seek a mediating position between the two.
All agree that critical investigation imitates the spirit of the church fathers, but what about
fidelity to their conclusions?
61
Interpretation, 28. See 23–32.
62
Ibid.
63 Ibid., 29.
64 Ibid., passim, esp. 20, 23, 66–
68. See also Dragutinović, “Fundamentalist Tendencies,” 149–160;
Zamfir, “Exegesis.”
65 Clark, “Recent Eastern Orthodox Interpretation,” 338; Dragutinović, Interpretation, 75–90.
Modern Orthodox Biblical Interpretation 657
66 On the latter point, see further, Brenda Dean Schildgen, Power and Prejudice: The Reception of the
IN: Eisenbrauns, 2001; repr. Brill, 2018); Pentiuc, Long-Suffering Love: A Commentary on Hosea with
Patristic Annotations (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 2002); Pentiuc, Jesus the Messiah in
the Hebrew Bible (New York /Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2006); Pentiuc et al., The Word of the LORD
That Happened to Hosea, ed. Olivier-Thomas Venard, Ecole biblique et archéologique française, The Bible
in Its Traditions 3 (Leuven: Peters, 2017). Finitsis, Visions and Eschatology: A Socio-Historical Analysis of
Zechariah 1–6, LSTS 79 (New York: T & T Clark, 2011).
71 John Fotopoulos, Food Offered to Idols in Roman Corinth: A Social-Rhetorical Reconsideration of
1 Corinthians 8:1–11:1, WUNT II.151 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); and on Fotopoulos, see Clark,
“Recent Eastern Orthodox Interpretation,” 334. George Parsenios, Rhetoric and Drama in the Johannine
Lawsuit Motif, WUNT 258 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010); Parsenios, Departure and Consolation: The
658 James Buchanan Wallace
are diverse in their interests and approaches, but we observe a special interest in the final
form of the text and its overall coherence. Indeed, while advocating for openness to all
forms of historical criticism, Pentiuc suggests that contemporary “rhetorical approaches”
promise the best match with patristic interpretation, since “both modes use a synchronic
methodology.”72
We should not, however, go the other direction and label all engagement with tradition
as reactionary. At some level, Church tradition did grow, in large part, out of Scripture; the
Orthodox Church is one world Scripture produced.73 It is completely understandable that
some Orthodox will want to use the riches of our tradition to arrive at insights others may
have missed or to criticize the theological assumptions other scholars take for granted. For
the purposes of biblical research, we do not need to “acquire the mind of the Fathers,” but we
need to engage in critical understanding and assessment of the tradition itself. This rigorous
investigation may lead to insights into scripture that turn out to be defensible within the
framework of academic study, or such study may reveal genuine tension. Further theolog-
ical reflection is then called for as to the appropriateness of such a tradition.
In what follows, I will briefly discuss some specific areas of academic inquiry to which
Orthodox especially need to contribute. Next, I cite some examples of how biblical study
grounded in historical criticism (in the broadest sense) can and should challenge the
Church. In so doing, I turn briefly to the work of David Bentley Hart, who serves as an ex-
ample of a scholar who challenges Orthodox thought through his critical reading but who
also draws effectively on Orthodox tradition to rethink what, exactly, such a reading should
be. With this shift, I conclude by looking at some promising examples of scholars who
have drawn on Orthodox tradition to clarify and/or challenge the consensus positions of
modern scholarship but have done so in a fashion that is compelling within the framework
of historical-critical study.
Johannine Farewell Discourses in Light of Greco-Roman Literature, SuppNovT 117 (Leiden: Brill, 2005);
John Barnet, Not the Righteous but Sinners: M. M. Bakhtin’s Theory of Aesthetics and the Problem of
Reader-Character Interaction in Matthew’s Gospel, JSNTSupp 246 (London: T & T Clark, 2003).
72
Pentiuc, “Between Hebrew Bible and Old Testament,” 391–396, esp. 392.
73
Here, I am influenced by Luke Timothy Johnson, especially, “Imagining the World That Scripture
Imagines,” in The Future of Catholic Biblical Scholarship: A Constructive Conversation, by Johnson and
William S. Kurz (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2002), 119–142.
74 I wish to express my gratitude to Juan Hernández Jr., for his suggestions for and review of this
section.
75 “Textual Criticism in the Orthodox Church: Present State and Future Prospects,” in Sacred Text and
Interpretation: Perspectives in Orthodox Biblical Studies: Papers in Honor of Professor Savas Agourides, ed.
Theodore G. Stylianopoulos (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 2006), 379–394.
Modern Orthodox Biblical Interpretation 659
favored by Orthodox, though many scholars are beginning to recognize the value of this
type.76 The Byzantine text has not yet been thoroughly researched. Karavidopoulos cites
the Patriarchal Edition of 1904 as “the first and only edition of an approved text of the New
Testament in the Orthodox Church.”77 While an important reflection of the Byzantine tra-
dition, this edition “was based almost exclusively on lectionaries and not on manuscripts of
continuous text of the New Testament, which do not agree exactly in many details with the
text of the lectionaries.”78 Karavidopoulos thus calls not only for increased engagement with
textual criticism by Orthodox scholars, but also for a new critical edition based on a more
extensive set of textual witnesses (including manuscripts and patristic citations) and using
the expertise of textual critics employing the principles of text criticism.79
Now is the ideal time for the Orthodox to engage in textual criticism, and we may do so
with a variety of goals in mind, so long as we articulate these goals clearly and fit methods
to these specific goals. By and large, text critics have abandoned claims to be able to re-
construct the “original text” and recognize that research into textual variants is inherently
worthwhile, for they reflect Christian social and theological history. The creation of a crit-
ical edition that does not seek the “original” text but rather an edition appropriately re-
flecting the distinctive liturgical and theological culture(s) of a specific group, such as the
Greek Orthodox, is an acknowledged deseridatum that would benefit other scholars, insofar
as it further clarifies relationships between different manuscripts, lectionaries, and patristic
attestations.80 Indeed, the year after Karavidopoulos’s essay was published, a first step to-
ward his goal appeared: The Gospel according to John in the Byzantine Tradition, edited by
Roderic L. Mullen with Simon Crisp and David C. Parker.81 Interest in Byzantine textual
traditions has surged among scholars far beyond the Orthodox world.82 David Parker has
even argued that “the concept of a unified Byzantine text is barely tenable,” so we should
probably not even think of the Byzantine manuscripts as representing a “text type” at all.83
Orthodox scholars stand well poised not only to develop new critical editions but also
76
Ibid., 382, 386–389. See also Juan Hernández Jr., “Critical Editions and Apparatuses of the New
Testament,” in The Text of the New Testament in Contemporary Research: Essays on the Status Quaestionis,
ed. Bart Ehrman and Michael Holmes, 2nd ed., NTTSD 42 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 689–7 10, esp. 692–693,
where Hernández notes with regard to NA27: “Manuscripts that stand further from the Byzantine text
type continue to enjoy privileged status in the apparatus.”
77 Karavidopoulos, “Textual Criticism,” 379.
78 Ibid., 390.
79 Ibid., 390– 391. Karavidopoulos himself collaborated on the fourth edition of UBS’s The Greek
New Testament and notes that in this context “a group of scholars from the University of Thessaloniki
undertook the preparation of certain variants of the Byzantine lectionaries” (391).
80 For both of the preceding sentences, see Hernández, “Critical Editions,” and esp. 703.
81 Ed. for the United Bible Societies (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschft, 2007).
82 See The New Testament in Byzantium, ed. Derek Krueger and Robert Nelson, Dumbarton
Oaks Byzantine Symposia and Colloquia (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and
Collection, 2016); The New Testament in Antiquity and Byzantium: Traditional and Digital Approaches
to Its Texts and Editing: A Festschrift for Klaus Wachtel, ed. H. Houghton, David C. Parker, and Holger
Strutwolf, ANTTF 52 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2019).
83
“New Testament Textual Traditions in Byzantium,” in The New Testament in Byzantium, ed.
Derek Krueger and Robert Nelson, Dumbarton Oaks Byzantine Symposia and Colloquia (Washington,
DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 2016), 21–32, see 28. See the review by Karin
Krause, The Medieval Review, November 14, 2017, https://scholarworks.iu.edu/journals/index.php/tmr/
article/view/24194.
660 James Buchanan Wallace
to emerge with a richer understanding of how the text was read and used in worshiping
communities.
Along with textual criticism, the investigation of the pathways by which Orthodox
editions and translations of the Bible have come down to us is underway, and it is vital
that such work continue in collaboration with church historians. Which editions of the
Bible have been used by and influenced Orthodox communities historically? What editions
and translations did Orthodox translators consult when crafting their translations for use
in a given Orthodox area? And hence, what does it mean for a version of the Bible to be
“Orthodox”? This ongoing work dispels common Orthodox assumptions, such as the claim
that only LXX should be studied as the Orthodox Old Testament or claims that Orthodox
historically shield themselves from outside influence.84 One may cite the Ostrog Bible, or
the Romanian Synodal Bible of 1914, which made use primarily of a previous Greek Catholic
translation into Romanian—a translation that, while using LXX primarily, consulted nu-
merous versions that were the fruit of humanistic research.85 As we recognize the role
played by versions other than LXX, perhaps more Orthodox will be spurred to study of the
Old Testament in Hebrew.86 Generally, Orthodox have gravitated more to New Testament
studies than Old Testament. Moreover, such research should complement ongoing inves-
tigation into the nature and history of the canon of Scripture, since Orthodox Bibles often
exhibit diversity in terms of which exact books are printed in Bibles.87
Confronting Anti-Semitism
Orthodox biblical interpretation can help confront and criticize anti-Semitism and anti-
Judaism in the Church. Eugen Pentiuc has begun confronting this issue through a nuanced
discussion of supercessionism, and this discussion is rooted in a deep understanding of
both Testaments and Orthodox tradition.88 To cite another example: The Gospel of Matthew
contains harsh words against some groups of Jews, but it reflects the conflict between Jewish
Christians and Jews who do not follow Jesus. Dragutinović, therefore, argues that we should
interpret a passage like Matt 23 (the woes to the scribes and Pharisees) not as an accurate
portrayal of Judaism at the time (which could lead to anti-Judaism), but as a criticism of
religious formalism, which can run roughshod over common human beings, especially the
poor and oppressed. In this regard, the text is as relevant to Orthodox Christians as it is to
anyone else.89
84
On text of the Old Testament in the Eastern Orthodox Church, see Eugen J. Pentiuc, The Old
Testament in Eastern Orthodox Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 62–100.
85 Prince Konstantin of Ostrog (1526–1608) consulted a wide variety of editions, including the Vulgate,
according to Rogalsky, “Historical Overview,” 24–25. Moreover, the Hebrew was used, along with LXX,
in the translation of the “Synodal Bible,” a full translation of the Bible into Russian, published in 1876
and approved by the Church for personal study (the Slavonic continued to be used in liturgy); see 28–29.
On the 1914 Synodal Bible Edition of the Romanian Orthodox, see Constantin Oancea, “Can Orthodox
Biblical Theology Be Autonomous? The Case of the Bible from 1914,” RES Sibiu 6 (2014): 449–459.
86 So also Pentiuc, Old Testament, 100.
87 Cf. ibid., 101–135.
88 Ibid., 3–61.
89 “Is There Anti-Judaism in This Text? Some Reflections on Matt 23,” Sacra Scripta 17 (2019): 30–41.
Modern Orthodox Biblical Interpretation 661
90
On universal salvation, New Testament, xxiv and 547–548.
91
Ibid., xxviii; see xxv–xxxii.
92 Ibid., 297–298, and notes r–s.
93 Discussed in The New Testament, 537–
543 (quotation from p. 538), and Hart, That All Shall Be
Saved: Heaven, Hell, and Universal Salvation (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2019), 120–127.
94 See the list in That All Shall Be Saved, 95–102.
95 “First Timothy and Universal Salvation” (paper presented at the annual meeting of the SBL, San
96 Inhabiting the Cruciform God: Kenosis, Justification, and Theosis in Paul’s Narrative Soteriology
(Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009), 37; others who interpret Paul using the lens of theosis include M.
David Litwa, We Are Being Transformed: Deification in Paul’s Soteriology (BZNW 187; Berlin: de Gruyter,
2012), and Ben C. Blackwell, Christosis: Pauline Soteriology in Light of Deification in Irenaeus and Cyril of
Alexandria, WUNT II.314 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011).
97 Ecclesiology and Theosis in the Gospel of John (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017),
169, and see my longer discussion in “New Testament Studies and the Orthodox Church,” RSR 45
(2019): 11–18, esp. 14.
98 Ecclesiology, passim, but esp. 202–216.
99 Ibid., 3.
100 Die “New Perspective on Paul” und die griechisch-
orthodoxe Paulusinterpretation, VIOT 11
(St. Ottilien: EOS Verlag, 2014). See my longer discussion in “New Testament,” 11–13; and see the
collection of essays: Participation, Justification, and Conversion, edited by Athansios Despotis, WUNT
II.442 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017).
Modern Orthodox Biblical Interpretation 663
in Christ”), contrary to the general trend of the NP.101 Moreover, Despotis demonstrates the
diversity of patristic approaches, as well as points of general continuity.
In John the Theologian and His Paschal Gospel, the patristics scholar John Behr employs
the interpretations of church fathers to arrive at what he argues is the original message
of the Fourth Gospel: John does not depict the “incarnation” as an “episode in the biog-
raphy of the Word”; rather, “in and through the Passion, the one Lord Jesus becomes, as
human, that which he, as God, always is.”102 Indeed, the Prologue itself should be read as
“a paschal hymn.”103 Behr even draws on Christian iconography to reinforce that the early
Church viewed the crucifixion and resurrection as one event—an insight by no means
unique to Behr but a helpful illustration of how artistic tradition can be used in interpre-
tation.104 Behr’s work is, moreover, replete with insights into the sacramental vision of the
Fourth Gospel. Such investigation not only corrects readings of the Prologue but can pose
a challenge to those interpretations that present the Fourth Gospel as lacking a true sacra-
mental theology or as being antisacramental.
Conclusion
Ultimately, Orthodox Christians must seek not a way out of or around critical scholarship,
but a way through. We need the courage and faith to bear the ways such study may force us
to revise the narratives we have created about our own tradition and our assumptions about
biblical texts. With Dragutinović, I would assert that our efforts must continue to be dialog-
ical—engaging with non-Orthodox, as well as with experts in other fields.105 We have much
to gain and to contribute, not only by training Orthodox scholars to generate new critical
scholarship, but also by bringing our set of theological traditions, practices, and questions
to bear on the larger conversation, so long as we do so with methodological clarity. In the
end, what we need most are the intellectual virtues of truth telling and clarity—and those
are always relevant.
Bibliography
Agourides, Savas. “Biblical Studies in Orthodox Theology.” Greek Orthodox Theological Review
17 (1972): 51–62.
Agourides, Savas. “The Orthodox Church and Contemporary Biblical Research.” In Auslegung
der Bibel in orthodoxer und westlicher Perspektive, edited by James D. G. Dunn, Hans Klein,
and Vasile Mihoc, 139–152. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 130.
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000.
101
Despotis, Die “New Perspective,” 81, 117–118, 246.
102
John the Theologian and His Paschal Gospel: A Prologue to Theology (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2019), 326.
103 Ibid., 270.
104 Ibid., 325.
105 Interpretation, 88.
664 James Buchanan Wallace
Agourides, Savas. “Structure and Theology in the Gospel of John.” In Sacred Text and
Interpretation: Perspectives in Orthodox Biblical Studies: Papers in Honor of Professor
Savas Agourides, edited by Theodore Stylianopoulos, 111–137. Brookline, MA Holy Cross
Orthodox Press, 2006.
Alfeyev, Hilarion. St. Symeon the New Theologian and Orthodox Tradition. Oxford Early
Christian Studies. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000.
Alfeyev, Hilarion. Jesus Christ: His Life and Teaching: Volume 1: The Beginning of the Gospel.
Yonkers: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2018.
Ayuch, Daniel. Review of The Rise of Scripture, by Paul Nadim Tarazi. Theological Review 39
(2018): 53–56.
Barnet, John. Not the Righteous but Sinners: M. M. Bakhtin’s Theory of Aesthetics and the
Problem of Reader-Character Interaction in Matthew’s Gospel. Journal for the Study of the
New Testament Supplement Series 246. London: T & T Clark, 2003.
Behr, John. John the Theologian and His Paschal Gospel: A Prologue to Theology. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2019.
Besobrasov, Cassian. “Introduction spéciale au Nouveau Testament: Remarques de
Méthodologie.” In Procès-verbaux due premier congrès de théologie Orthodoxe a Athènes,
29 Novembre–6 Décembre 1936, edited by Amilkas Alivizatos, 185–193. Athens: Pyrsos, 1939.
Blackwell, Ben C. Christosis: Pauline Soteriology in Light of Deification in Irenaeus and
Cyril of Alexandria. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament II.314.
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011.
Breck, John. “Theoria and Orthodox Hermeneutics.” St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 20
(1976): 195–219.
Breck, John. “Exegesis and Interpretation: Orthodox Reflections on the ‘Hermeneutic
Problem.’” St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 27 (1983): 75–92.
Breck, John. The Power of the Word in the Worshiping Church. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary Press, 1986.
Breck, John. Scripture in Tradition: The Bible and Its Interpretation in the Orthodox Church.
Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2001.
Byers, Andrew. Ecclesiology and Theosis in the Gospel of John. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2017.
Clark, Timothy. “Recent Eastern Orthodox Interpretation of the New Testament,” Currents in
Biblical Research 5.3 (2007): 322–340.
Despotis, Athanasios. Die ‘New Perspective on Paul’ und die griechisch- orthodoxe
Paulusinterpretation. Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Orthodoxe Theologie 11. St.
Ottilien: EOS Verlag, 2014.
Despotis, Athanasios. Participation, Justification, and Conversion. Wissenschaftliche
Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament II.442. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017.
Dragutinović, Predrag. “Fundamentalist Tendencies in the Orthodox Biblical
Scholarship: Some Examples and Hermeneutical Observations.” Bogoslovska smotra 89
(2019): 149–160.
Dragutinović, Predrag. Interpretation of Scripture in the Orthodox Church: Engaging
Contextual Hermeneutics in Orthodox Biblical Studies. Library “Christian Theology”
2. Belgrade: Biblical Institute of Faculty of Orthodox Theology, 2018.
Dragutinović, Predrag. “Is There Anti-Judaism in This Text? Some Reflections on Matt 23.”
Sacra Scripta 17 (2019): 30–41.
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Tarazi, Paul Nadim. The New Testament: Introduction: Volume 3: Johannine Writings.
Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2004.
Tarazi, Paul Nadim. The Rise of Scripture. St. Paul, MN: OCABS Press, 2017.
Tatalović, Vladan. “Orthodox New Testament Scholarship in Serbia.” In The Holy Spirit and
the Church according to the New Testament, edited by Predrag Dragutinović, Karl-Wilhelm
Niebuhr, and James Wallace, 37– 70. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen
Testament 354. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016.
Vellas, Vasilios. “Bibelkritik und kirkliche Autorität.” In Procès-verbaux due premier congrès de
théologie Orthodoxe a Athènes, 29 Novembre–6 Décembre 1936, edited by Amilkas Alivizatos,
135–143. Athens: Pyrsos, 1939.
Wallace, James B. “First Timothy and Universal Salvation.” Paper presented at the annual
meeting of the SBL. San Diego, November 2019.
Wallace, James B. “New Testament Studies and the Orthodox Church.” Religious Studies
Review 45.1 (2019): 11–18.
Wallace, James B. Review of Die Verwandlung Jesu Christi: Historisch-kritische und patristische
Studien, by Cosmin Pricop. Theologische Literaturzeitung 142.6 (2017): 629–632.
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Responsibilities.” Sacra Scripta 15 (2017): 51–72.
Chapter 41
Toward an In t e g rat i v e
Reading of t h e Bi bl e
R. W. L. (Walter) Moberly
Where are we in history, and how best do we understand the particular challenges of
our time? A common way of periodizing history is in terms of “ancient,” “medieval,” and
“modern,” which makes everybody now permanently “modern.” Increasing dissatisfac-
tion of various kinds, however, has led some thinkers to formulate the notion of the “post-
modern.” This is essentially a way of indicating the limits of modernity as it has developed
so far—however infelicitous “postmodern” itself as a term may be.
For example, the astonishing developments of the natural sciences and their technolog-
ical applications have widely led to the sciences becoming determinative of what constitutes
the most desirable and worthwhile knowledge in the modern world. But may it be that
important things that matter deeply have become obscured in this process? The people
who shaped modernity often lost sight of the ways in which factors like their religious and
cultural history and social location could too easily make contestable things seem self-ev-
ident, at least to themselves; the formative roles of language and of conceptual frames of
reference were often downplayed; the possible significance of God was reduced to the status
of a questionable hypothesis with no role (other than aesthetic or ceremonial) in the public
sphere. Today, it is not just the case that our contemporary world is raising new challenges
not envisaged previously but also that important truths about life and God, which have
been marginalized in modernity, are being rediscovered in various ways.
Put differently, our contemporary world is not short of information and knowledge, but
it is significantly less well off in terms of wisdom. The thesis of this chapter, which is about
how to move in a scholarly way toward a renewed integrative reading of the Bible,1 is that it
is possible, indeed necessary, to find good ways of freshly seeking wisdom. The challenge is
to do so in ways that are informed by, but not restricted to, the insights of modernity, and
are also able to use the insights both of premodernity and of postmodernity.
1
Throughout this chapter I am focusing on the Christian Bible without prejudice to the significance
of the Jewish Bible, though many of the issues raised here have analogies there, even if the contours tend
to differ between Christian and Jewish frames of reference.
Toward an Integrative Reading of the Bible 669
I will set the scene with a broad-brush outline of ways of thinking about the Bible that have
come to prominence in the modern world. Whatever the simplifications, I hope it will be
recognizable.
To prepare the ground: A fundamental principle of biblical interpretation is that how
one interprets the text depends on why one is interpreting it. Many different questions and
concerns may legitimately be brought to bear on reading. This has not always been suffi-
ciently appreciated in modern scholarship, where, until recently, one particular mode of
study came to take precedence over all others.
For over two hundred years, from the late eighteenth century onward, there has been
a predominant tendency among biblical scholars to assume the supreme importance of
what has come to be known in shorthand as “the historical-critical approach.” This means
seeking to understand the biblical documents as ancient documents, like other documents
of the ancient world. This brought with it a tendency to reserve the prestige scholarly term
“critical” to those who adopted this approach: Those who came before were “precritical,”
while those who in recent years have sought to change the agenda are “postcritical.” Yet the
key issue is the criteria one invokes for critical reflection and judgment, as people think
critically according to differing priorities and interests.
Much Christian use of the Bible down the ages has felt free to assume the kind of in-
trinsic unity in the Bible as a whole that makes it appropriate for the interpreter to roam
freely within it, using and combining content from many different biblical contexts in the
articulation of Christian theology, ethics, and spirituality. The synthetic use of Scripture in
Christian liturgies is a prime example of such an approach, but many classic works of the-
ology are not dissimilar.
In modernity this has become problematic. One of the most characteristic scholarly
emphases has become the need to attend to the distinctive voices of the different biblical
writers and hear them in their own right, and to recognize the meaningfulness of composi-
tional units as a whole. This means that the primary context for understanding a particular
verse or paragraph is the particular composition of which it is a part. These units may be
coextensive with particular biblical books, as is generally the case in the New Testament,
such that one attends to the thought and meaning of, say, the Gospel of Matthew or of John,
or of Paul in Galatians. This issue tends to be more complex, however, in the Old Testament,
where many of its books are reasonably reckoned to have developed over time and so to
have different voices within them. And there have always been unresolved questions in both
New Testament and Old Testament about the status to be assigned to possible underlying
sources behind, or likely redactional additions to, the books.
Alongside this emphasis on the authentic voices of the various human authors there has
been a concern to set these voices in their context of origin, to try to understand the na-
ture and purpose of their writing in relation to their life situation. This brings with it an
awareness of the differences of context and time of the writers, whose various compositions
originate from a period of, very roughly, a thousand years. The concerns of Isaiah as he
addressed Israel and Judah in the time of threat from the Assyrians, are not those of Ezra or
Nehemiah as they sought to strengthen the Jewish community in a rebuilt Jerusalem in the
670 R. W. L. (Walter) Moberly
time of the Persian Empire. The concerns of Paul as he wrote to the church in Corinth with
its many internal problems are not those of John in Revelation as he addressed believers
facing hostile and destructive threat within the Roman Empire.
A further natural interest is the relationship between the thought and practice of the bib-
lical writers and that of the wider world of which they were a part. In what ways was ancient
Israel similar to, or different from, its neighbors, especially when its neighbors produced
texts and artifacts that look comparable to those of Israel? There are well-known affinities
between, say, the legal and sapiential writings of ancient Israel and those of her ancient Near
Eastern neighbors (e.g., the Mesopotamian Code of Hammurabi, or the Egyptian Instruction
of Amenemope). How similar might the first Christians have been to the Jewish sectarians at
Qumran? Or how does the ethical thought of Paul relate to that of, say, Seneca (a question
that arose already in antiquity, as attested by the creation of a curious “Correspondence of
Paul and Seneca” (see James, 1924), though its creator’s mind is nowhere near the level of
those he purports to depict)?
All such questions and concerns are valid and interesting. When they become domi-
nant in scholarly discourse the historical imagination of the biblical reader can be enriched
through seeing the content and imagery of the text as grounded in the lived realities of the
ancient world, and fresh thinking can be stimulated in countless ways. It is a simple fact that
we understand the biblical languages better, and we know more about the ancient world,
than previous generations did.
Nonetheless, there are also debits. What was once exciting historical insight has all
too often descended into a scholasticism of irresolvable arguments about the fine-tuning
of scholarly hypotheses. The extent of disagreements over, say, dating the narratives of
the Pentateuch or constructing accounts of “the historical Jesus” raises hard questions
about the practicability of such enterprises. The question of God, not least as ultimate
author of Scripture in Christian understanding, has also tended to recede into the back-
ground in favor of a foreground interest on particular human writers’ understandings
and purposes.
To put this latter point differently, key notions such as “theology” or “ethics” have tended
to shift in meaning in the context of biblical scholarship. They become less of a constructive
discipline within the life of the church and more of a descriptive historical task, a history
of ideas and practices, an investigation into how key notions developed and differed over
time. In the Old Testament, the prime theological issue has tended to be the origins and de-
velopment of “monotheism” (a seventeenth-century term of questionable value in biblical
interpretation; see Moberly 2013:7–40), while in the New Testament the prime issue has
tended to be the origins and development of Christology. In such discussions it has been
important to try to discern how the biblical writers themselves understood these notions,
and to keep their understandings distinct from those of postbiblical contexts, whether they
be Nicaea or Constantinople or Chalcedon or other contexts in the continuing life and
thought of the churches.
Integrative reading of the Bible thereby becomes a problem. With so many different
writers and theological notions, what holds it all together? Long-running and seemingly
irresolvable arguments have developed about the sense, if any, in which one can speak of
the “unity,” or perhaps the “center,” of either Old Testament or New Testament, let alone of
the two-testament Bible. What has Qoheleth do with Deuteronomy, or either of them with
Luke’s Gospel or Romans?
Toward an Integrative Reading of the Bible 671
The notions of “canon” and “reading as Scripture” were first given fresh prominence in bib-
lical interpretation in recent years by the Old Testament scholar Brevard Childs.3 Childs
used “canon” as a shorthand for an overall rethinking of what biblical interpretation might
look like, as he attempted to reconfigure the relationship between academic biblical study
and Christian faith.
In the ancient world “canon” (which is a preservation of the Greek term kanōn) originally
signified on the one hand a standard or rule (either grammatical or religious) and on the
other hand a list or register (for mathematical and chronological tables). In the fourth cen-
tury the term was used by Eusebius for the Gospels, and it soon came to be taken to apply
to Christian scriptures as a whole. Scholarly study prior to Childs had characteristically
focused on which of the two existing senses of canon was uppermost when the term was
applied to the scriptures, though there was also interest in the historical processes by which
the collection of scriptures as first the Jewish and then the Christian canon—whether as list
and/or norm—came about. Childs fully recognized this, yet sought to broaden the possible
significance of the term. He characteristically said:
I am using the term canon in a broader sense than is traditionally the practice in order to en-
compass the entire process by which the formation of the church’s sacred writings took place.
I am including under the term not only the final stages of setting limits on the scope of the
sacred writings—canonisation proper—but also that process by which authoritative tradition
was collected, ordered, and transmitted in such a way as to enable it to function as sacred
scripture for a community of faith and practice. (Childs 1984:24–25)
Those who try to change well-established scholarly frames of reference, and do so in part by
using old terms in new ways, tend to receive a distinctly mixed reception; there is welcome,
puzzlement, misunderstanding, opposition. All of these characterized responses to Childs’s
work. Strikingly, one of Childs’s most eminent contemporaries, James Barr, attacked him
2 I in no way wish to deny the continuing value, for faith and theology, of the work of major figures
in twentieth-century biblical scholarship, be it, say, Bultmann and Kāsemann in New Testament or
Eichrodt and von Rad in Old Testament. My concern is that the changed and still-changing context of
contemporary culture requires fresh work to be done.
3 Bibliography by and about Childs is extensive. Probably his most indicative works are Childs 1974
at length, saying, for example, of Childs’s use of the term “canon” that “canonical criticism
depends upon systematic confusion in the use of its favourite word” (Barr 1983:79).
My purpose here is not to trace the particular critiques and responses generated by
Childs’s work in his lifetime. Rather, I intend to take for granted the lasting impact of
Childs’s work—whether or not in exactly the ways that he himself envisaged—as some-
thing that, alongside many other factors, has contributed to a reshaping of the agenda
for biblical scholarship. Thus I propose to develop the possible implications of taking
seriously the Bible as a “canonical collection” which is to be “read as Scripture” in fresh
ways beyond what either Childs envisaged or Barr would have approved, but that I hope
will nonetheless be helpful for a concern with integrative reading of the Bible. I will do
so by highlighting a number of hermeneutical issues and value judgments that have
tended to be left on the margins of mainstream historical-critical scholarship (see also
Moberly 2018).
However, when Christendom has receded into history, and post-Christian culture thinks
differently (although many of its assumptions and values remain indebted to its Christian
heritage, whether or not people recognize the fact), the status of the Bible as more than a
classic, as Scripture, becomes open to question. Secular logic reconfigures its status. One
can still be interested in the Bible in the same way as one might be interested in the lit-
erature and artifacts of ancient Egypt or Mesopotamia, as windows into once-flourishing
cultures that still retain their human interest and whose visual remains can be mutely elo-
quent. Or one can be interested in the Bible as a major influence in Western cultural history.
Its contemporary resonance, if any, can be aesthetic (e.g., the Bible as mediated musically
by Handel or Bach), or suggestive in terms of the human condition (e.g., as Shakespeare is),
or a continuing source of cultural images (e.g., adaptations of biblical scenarios or phrases
in art or advertising).
Biblical scholars, even when motivated to their work by their faith, have tended, under the
constraints of modernity’s privileging a historically oriented approach, to struggle to know
how to give an account of the Bible as other than, at most, a classic. John Rogerson, for ex-
ample, opens his Theology of the Old Testament with an approving citation of some reflections
of Rudolph Bultmann on his famous Theology of the New Testament. Bultmann says:
Either the writings of the New Testament can be treated as “sources” which the historian
uses in order to reconstruct early Christianity as a phenomenon of the historical past, or the
reconstruction serves the need of the interpretation of the New Testament writings, on the
assumption that these writings have something to say to the present. The historical investi-
gation involved in the picture that is presented here is put at the service of the latter view.
Rogerson likes the way in which Bultmann uses historical work on the assumption that
the New Testament writings “had something to say to the present” and hopes that his work
similarly will “enable the writings of the Old Testament to say something to the present.”
(Rogerson 2009:1–2, citing, in his own translation, Bultmann 1955:251).
Indeed, the biblical documents “have something to say.” And the content of Rogerson’s
Theology, as Bultmann’s, is full of interest. But this “having something to say” could be said of
any classic, such as the writings of Sophocles or Plato or Dante or Shakespeare. As such this
is surely a thin account of what it means that the biblical documents are Christian Scripture.
The issue here can be sharpened by the question of God. Is the God of the Bible the one
true God as Jews and Christians (and, distinctively, Muslims) maintain? Or is the biblical
deity no more than the many other deities of the ancient world, a construct that may be
illuminating for the world view and sociology and psychology of its ancient, and contin-
uing, adherents, but that lacks the reality it purports to represent? The issue here is posed in
a characteristic way by Richard Dawkins:
I have found it an amusing strategy, when asked whether I am an atheist, to point out that
the questioner is also an atheist when considering Zeus, Apollo, Amon Ra, Mithras, Thor,
Wotan. . . . I just go one god further.
All of us feel entitled to express extreme scepticism to the point of outright disbelief —
except that in the case of unicorns, tooth fairies and the gods of Greece, Rome, Egypt and the
Vikings, there is (nowadays) no need to bother. In the case of the Abrahamic God, however,
there is a need to bother, because a substantial proportion of the people with whom we share
this planet do believe strongly in his existence (Dawkins 2006:53–54).
674 R. W. L. (Walter) Moberly
Over against this, Brevard Childs speaks of his approach to the Old Testament thus:
I do not come to the Old Testament to learn about someone else’s God, but about the God
we confess, who has made himself known to Israel, to Abraham, Isaac and to Jacob. I do not
approach some ancient concept, some mythological construct akin to Zeus or Moloch, but
our God, our Father. The Old Testament bears witness that God revealed himself to Abraham,
and we confess that he has broken into our lives. I do not come to the Old Testament to
be informed about some strange religious phenomenon, but in faith I strive for knowledge
as I seek to understand ourselves in the light of God’s self-disclosure. In the context of the
church’s scripture I seek to be pointed to our God who has made himself known, is making
himself known, and will make himself known. . . . Thus, I cannot act as if I were living at the
beginning of Israel’s history, but as one who already knows the story, and who has entered
into the middle of an activity of faith long in progress. (Childs 1985:28–29)
One of the paradoxes of much modern biblical scholarship is that its practitioners have
predominantly been believers, and have shared Childs’s preunderstanding (with whatever
qualifications), and yet have handled the biblical material in historically oriented ways that
have insisted on bracketing out postbiblical developments of faith and theology within
living traditions of Christian faith, even though the living traditions have generated the
assumptions and expectations that have brought them to the Bible in the first place. The
question of the reality of God is a reminder that Christians have more invested in the Bible
than just the reckoning that “it has something to say to the present.” How best that can be
expressed and explored, not least in relation to secular contexts of academic study, is an
underexplored challenge.
Apart from the canon’s role as a collection of texts the church assembled to serve its specific
needs, the volume comprising the canon is not a plausible literary or historical unit, and
Toward an Integrative Reading of the Bible 675
no one would be reading it nor would I be writing about it. Apart from the fact that Israel’s
Scripture funded the initial church, and apart from the fact that the church collected writings
of its own in one book with this Scripture, there would have been no “Holy Bible,” and there
would be no reason to treat the documents now bound together under that title as anything
but sundry relics of two or more ancient Mideastern religions. It is only because the church
maintains the collection of these documents, with the texts they presented, as the book she
needs, that we are concerned for their interpretation. (Jenson 2010:55)
Protestantism emphasizes that these precise documents impose themselves on the church;
Catholicism East and West emphasizes that it is the church that recognizes the exigency.
I mean only to make the simple point presupposed by and included in both emphases: the
collection comes together in and for the church.
Where the church’s calling to speak the gospel is not shared, the binding of these particular
documents between one cover becomes a historical accident of no hermeneutical signifi-
cance. (Jenson 1995:89)
If, then, “the binding of these particular documents between one cover” is not to be
considered “a historical accident of no hermeneutical significance,” then one must explore
what that hermeneutical significance might be. If one does not take into account the recep-
tion and use of the Bible within the continuing life and witness of the Christian churches, it
is hard to see how one might come up with a good answer.
really was. It is, however, sobering to read a version of the Bible in which all its contents
are indeed rearranged according to their supposed historical sequence, as was attempted
in a 1975 version of the Jerusalem Bible, The Bible in Order. It is consistently a more diffi-
cult and less engaging read than the familiar Bible.
What, however, if one grants, in principle, on the one hand, that characteristic modern
accounts of the history of biblical literature and thought should, in general, be accepted
(while still reserving the right to contest any particular point on its own merits)? Yet what
if, on the other hand, one nonetheless grants the canonical sequence and portrayal in-
terpretive significance in its own right, and seeks to understand biblical content accord-
ingly? The gathering and preservation of documents in particular groupings as distinct
collections—Law, Prophets, Writings; Gospels, Pauline Letters, Catholic Letters; Old
Testament and New Testament—creates new literary contexts, and sets up intertextual
linkages and resonances that may not have been envisaged by the original writers. Biblical
scholarship has often been dismissive of this literary-canonical context, on the grounds
that “original” meaning is what really matters. Yet there are value judgments here that need
scrutiny. Recognition of the importance of recontextualization of biblical texts within a
continuing living tradition of thought and practice is crucial (one partial analogy worth
pondering is the continuing role of the eighteenth-century US Constitution in the twenty-
first-century United States). Many biblical texts have a semantic potential that can be
realized in more than one way.
What I am proposing is an approach that sees the canonical portrayal as the mature fruit
of a long and searching process of engagement with God in ancient Israel, and a compa-
rable though less prolonged process in the early Church, whereby the earlier stages of un-
derstanding are now reframed and reinterpreted in the light of a fuller and more mature
understanding of their significance. Supremely, whatever may usefully and interestingly
be said about “the Jesus of history,” the Jesus who matters for Christian faith is the risen
Jesus as interpreted by the four canonical evangelists and the other New Testament writers.
Whatever the course of Israel’s religion or early Christianity on the ground, the literary
deposit of that history, the book (as the many originally separate scrolls/books eventually
became) has its own distinctive dynamic. The question of the meaning of the book is an
importantly distinct task from the question of the course of the history of religion that
underlies it. Although the book has arisen out of the religious histories, its concern is to
present the lessons learned from, and the deepest understandings within, the history, rather
than the developing course of the history, even though numerous elements of that can still
be discerned.
One corollary of such an approach is a primary focus on the “received form” of the biblical
text. This (like “final form”) is an imprecise term in relation to textual history, but mean-
ingful as an alternative angle of vision to the origins-and-development concerns of much
historically oriented scholarship, which has focused on putative underlying sources and
contexts as representative of earlier (more “original”) forms of the biblical text—whether J,
E, D, and P in the Pentateuch, or Q, M, and L in the Gospels. Such work can have real heu-
ristic value for an appreciation of various facets of the text. Nonetheless, the received form
of such texts is a whole that may be more than the sum of its parts, and recent literary theory
has enabled a greater nuance in their reading as meaningful in their own right. It is also the
world depicted within the text that is the natural primary focus for a reader’s or hearer’s im-
aginative engagement with the text.
Toward an Integrative Reading of the Bible 677
Such reading also enables a rejoining of conversation with great premodern interpreters,
who read the texts in their received form. Contemporary readings that are informed not
only by historical-critical work but also by literary theory and theological understandings
in relation to an intertextual canonical context will be both similar to and different from
premodern readings. There can be fresh hermeneutical reflection on the relationships be-
tween contemporary and premodern—what moves does one make when confronted by
depth or difficulty, and why?—in a way that is less possible when the focus of study is the
origins and formation and initial contextual significance of the texts.
Like citizens in the classical liberal state, scholars practicing historical criticism of the Bible
are expected to eliminate or minimize their communal loyalties, to see them as legitimately
operative only within associations that are private, nonscholarly, and altogether volun-
tary. . . . But . . . the new arrangement exacts a price. For example, it tends subtly to restrict
the questions studied and the methods employed to those that permit the minimization of
religious difference with relative facility—Northwest Semitic linguistics, for example, or the
material culture of ancient Palestine, as opposed to questions of theology, ethics, or the phe-
nomenology of religion. (Levenson 1993:118)
Or, put differently, it is easier for biblical scholars to become experts in facets of religion
in antiquity than for them to contribute constructively to the living faith traditions whose
thought and practice are continuous with, though not identical to, what is found in the
Bible. Insofar as sociopolitical arrangements are open to change, so too can be operative
assumptions about the role of religious identity in scholarship.
Second, if special assumptions and expectations about the privileged status of the Bible
and the enduring value of its content are inseparable from its role as integral to Christian
faith, it is surely incumbent on Christians to show afresh how the Bible can still be truthful
and life-giving for human life in relation to God. This suggests a need for fresh ways of
reading and interpreting and appropriating that can sound notes that other approaches
678 R. W. L. (Walter) Moberly
cannot sound. The general point here was nicely made by Nicholas Lash, in the context of
interpreting the thought of Karl Rahner with reference to the future of theology:
The academic theologian is, we might say, the literary critic of faith’s autobiographical perfor-
mance of the Christian story of the world. The critic may not, however, take the telling of the
tale for granted, leaving it to other people or to another time. In speaking of what he called a
“missionary and mystagogic” element necessary in theology today, Rahner was insisting that
even the most rigorous and technical academic theology must itself exhibit something of the
message, the announcement, God’s announcement, to which it points and of which it seeks
some understanding. To vary my earlier metaphor, we might say that the theologian, as music
critic of the song of songs, must also—in the very texture of her critical activity—make some
contribution to its singing. (Lash 1996:121–122)
Third, one of the key rediscoveries of recent years is that questions about the context
of the biblical interpreter may be no less important than questions about the context of
the biblical text. Where we stand makes a difference to what we see; what we are inter-
ested in makes a difference to the questions we ask; the values and priorities that we hold
make a difference to how we appraise what we read. Scholars working in historical-critical
mode have often highlighted a “morality” of historical work—the patient and disciplined
mastering of requisite philological tools, the willingness to follow the evidence wherever it
leads even if the result appears uncongenial, the need for dispassionate honesty in appraisal
of the evidence. This is indeed valuable. But when the subject matter of the material being
studied raises fundamental existential questions about human nature and identity, and the
status of the Bible raises expectations about the enduring validity of what is said, any re-
sponsible and insightful interpretation of such material will necessarily bring into play the
interpreter’s own understanding of human nature and identity. (If this does not happen,
then scholars generally resort to unilluminating paraphrase of the biblical text even when
their focus is on the text as such rather than its background and formation). There is a
necessary dialectic between the interpreter’s own understanding and their ability to offer
a meaningful account of the subject matter of the biblical text (see Bultmann 1985 [1957],
Lash 1986).
This is where there is positive value in an interpreter’s inhabiting a living tradition of faith
that is rooted in the Bible. Knowledge and appropriation of ways of thinking and living
that are continuous with those depicted in the Bible should in principle give a deeper and
more nuanced understanding of what the biblical text says. Of course, this hermeneutical
interaction between text and interpreter can be handled poorly, and it can cease to be a
hermeneutical spiral of ever-renewed and increasing understanding, and instead become a
traditionalism that claims already to have fully grasped everything that matters in the bib-
lical text and refuses to acknowledge blind spots. But, as ever, poor use does not disqualify
right use.
To be sure, there needs to be openness to recognize that some of the assumptions that the
biblical writers were happy to work with may no longer be appropriate in the contemporary
world. This has led to some scholars deliberately reading against the grain of the biblical
text in attempts to diminish its continuing influence, at least in certain areas of life (see,
e.g., Clines 1995, Schwartz 1997). In the nineteenth century the biblical writers’ willingness
to work with the institution and imagery of slavery was claimed by some Christians to jus-
tify slavery in their own context. Other Christians appealed to the fundamental concerns
Toward an Integrative Reading of the Bible 679
and tenor of the Bible—all humanity in the image of God, the nonnegotiable priority of
justice and mercy, Christ’s self-giving for all which is to characterize also his followers—to
argue for the unacceptability of slavery. These latter carried the day, and were recognized as
having the deeper and truer grasp of the Bible’s significance. In recent years not dissimilar
arguments have been, and are still being, conducted about the role of women in the light
of the legal and social emancipation of women over the last two hundred years. In short,
biblical interpreters who inhabit a living tradition of Christian faith, from which they can
learn, inhabit also their wider culture, from which they can also learn. Numerous questions
about how best to discern the enduring significance of the Bible necessarily remain open
and ongoing.
Fourth, if the biblical books are recontextualized within a canonical collection, which is
itself contextualized within living and growing traditions of Christian thought and prac-
tice, then a rule of faith becomes important for interpretation. A rule of faith is a rich set of
Christian understandings and judgments about the meaning of the Bible. It is drawn from
the Bible and then plays back upon it in a constant hermeneutical interplay. The point is
that those who approach the Bible with questions of faith uppermost are not encouraged
by the churches to make of it what they will. For it is all too easy to misread and misunder-
stand. One need not find in the Bible the truth of God in Christ that the Christian Church
finds. This is not to say that a rule of faith means that all understanding and interpreta-
tion is already settled, but it is to say that Christian understanding of the Bible has certain
guidelines, contours, and parameters. Even with a rule of faith, some biblical content can
remain puzzling and so is usually left aside rather than appropriated in any way (the episode
of God, Moses and Zipporah in Exodus 4:24–26 is such a passage). And of course it always
remains possible, should one so choose, to read the Bible as ancient history or as cultural
classic without questions of faith in mind at all, and so without reference to a rule of faith
but rather with different interpretive priorities and methods.
In antiquity the creeds were developed as early forms of a rule of faith. Also the writings
of certain biblical interpreters, such as Augustine in the West and Chrysostom in the East,
set ways of reading that were enduringly influential. Down the centuries other credal
formulations and influential interpreters have played similar roles. Given the diversity of
contemporary Christian churches, it is probably more appropriate to speak of “a” rule of
faith rather than “the” rule of faith. The theological and ethical and spiritual judgments that
come naturally to a Baptist will likely differ from those that come naturally to an Anglican
or an Orthodox. Nonetheless, there is a family resemblance to them all.
Thus far I have tried to articulate some of the larger framing concerns that need to be in play
if an integrative reading of the Bible is to become a meaningful fresh possibility. In conclu-
sion, I will offer a preliminary sketch of some of the interpretive moves that one might make
with the first chapter of the Bible, Genesis 1.
Mainstream biblical scholarship encourages a reading of Genesis 1 as the beginning
of the Priestly strand of the Pentateuch, a composition probably originating in the sixth
century in the context of the Babylonian exile. It is often compared with the Babylonian
680 R. W. L. (Walter) Moberly
creation account, the Enuma Elish, elements from which may have been incorporated and
polemically transformed by the Priestly writer as part of a newly developed theoretical
monotheism. Genesis 1 is to be seen as part of an attempt to re-establish Jewish identity in
a more codified form than previously, not least with reference to Sabbath observance as a
community marker. The reader’s imagination is directed toward Jews in Babylon, a mature
statement of belief in one God, and community reformation. This (with some variants) is all
plausible and illuminating, even if it is less historically secure than most standard accounts
make it seem.
The canonical literary context invites a different reading. After all, Babylon is not
mentioned, and there is nothing about Israel in the chapter. The reader is invited imagi-
natively to see the world through God’s eyes as “good,” something in which God delights,
with the implication that the reader should do so also. This majestic portrayal of God and
the created order introduces and frames all that follows in the Bible. Even if the text’s vision
of the one God was formulated relatively late in Israel’s history, it has now become the lens
through which to see all else that follows, even if much that follows was written earlier. It
also becomes a lens through which to see the world as a whole.
The canonical context invites intertextual reading of Genesis 1 with other biblical passages
about creation, and this can be done in many ways (notable in strikingly different ways are
Levenson 1988 and Chambers 2020). An early and persistent intertextual linkage was seen
between Genesis 1:1 “In the beginning (rē)shit) God created the heavens and the earth” and
Wisdom’s self-depiction in Proverbs 8:22, “The Lord created me, beginning (rē)shit) of his
way” (and also Proverbs 3:19, “The Lord by wisdom founded the earth”) (see Alexander,
2009; Burney, 1926). Apart from the common concern with creation, there is the specific
verbal link of the same word for “beginning” in both Genesis 1:1 and Proverbs 8:22. This
enables a line of thought other than that suggested by Genesis 1:1 in its own right. The
Hebrew preposition of Genesis 1:1, be, which qualifies “beginning,” and which means both
“in” and “by,” can shift in sense from temporal to instrumental when related to Wisdom’s
self-depiction as “beginning”: “By wisdom God created the heavens and the earth.” This is
of course not exegesis in grammatical-historical mode, but rather exegesis in synthetic con-
ceptual mode that is attentive to scriptural wording and subject matter. Jews and Christians
have then further asked what supremely gives content to the idea of wisdom. For Jews, this
is Torah, for Christians it is Jesus Christ. Most famous in the New Testament is the Prologue
to John’s Gospel, which retells Genesis 1 with the conceptuality of Proverbs 8 in relation to
the Word which becomes flesh in Jesus Christ: “In the beginning was the Word, and the
Word was with God, and the Word was God. . . . All things came into being through him”
(Jn. 1:1, 3). When Old and New Testaments are thus read together, the key to understanding
the world—not in the genetic analytical categories of the natural sciences, which offer a
different kind of understanding, but in the holistic existential categories of living and reflec-
tive creatures—is an eternal divine reality made accessible in Jesus Christ in his life, death,
and resurrection.
The key point is that how we interpret the biblical text depends on why we interpret it.
Modernity has shown that it is possible, and fruitful, to interpret the biblical documents
as documents of the ancient world, and to explore their meaning prior to their becoming
the canonical Scripture of the Christian Church. But our contemporary postmodern con-
text offers fresh ways of rethinking the nature and purpose of biblical interpretation and
reclaiming premodern insights in a new way. If the goal is not just knowledge of ancient
Toward an Integrative Reading of the Bible 681
religion but also knowledge of God and the gaining of wisdom, and if the goal is to read the
discrete biblical documents as integrated Scripture, then the continuing life and thought
and worship of the Christian churches forms the most appropriate frame of reference
within such study can best be undertaken.
References
Alexander, Philip. 2009. “‘In the Beginning’: Rabbinic and Patristic Exegesis of Genesis 1:1.”
In The Exegetical Encounter between Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity, edited by E.
Grypeou and H. Spurling, 1–29. Leiden: Brill.
Barr, James. 1983. Holy Scripture: Canon, Authority, Criticism. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Bauckham, Richard. 2003. “Reading Scripture as a Coherent Story.” In The Art of Reading
Scripture, edited by Ellen Davis and Richard Hays, 38–53. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003.
Bible in Order, The. 1975. London: DLT.
Bultmann, Rudolph. 1955. Theology of the New Testament, Vol. 2. London: SCM Press.
Bultmann, Rudolph. 1985 [1957]. “Is Exegesis without Presuppositions Possible?” In New
Testament and Mythology and Other Basic Writings, 145–153. London: SCM Press.
Burney, C. F. 1926. “Christ as the Archē of Creation.” Journal of Theological Studies 27: 160–77.
Chambers, Nathan. 2020. Reconsidering Creation Ex Nihilo in Genesis 1. University Park,
PA: Eisenbrauns.
Childs, Brevard. 1974. Exodus. London: SCM Press.
Childs, Brevard. 1984. The New Testament as Canon: An Introduction. London: SCM Press.
Childs, Brevard. 1985. Old Testament Theology in a Canonical Context. London: SCM Press.
Childs, Brevard. 1992. Biblical Theology of the Old and New Testaments. London: SCM Press.
Clines, David J. A. 1995. Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew
Bible. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press.
Dawkins, Richard. 2006. The God Delusion. London: Bantam Press.
Driver, Daniel. 2012. Brevard Childs Biblical Theologian: For the Church’s One Bible. Grand
Rapids: Baker Academic Press.
Hays, Richard. 2020. “Narrative Interpretation and the Quest for Theological Unity.” In
Reading with the Grain of Scripture, 9–28. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans.
James, R. R (1924, 1972), “The Correspondence of Paul and Seneca.” In The Apocryphal New
Testament, 480–484. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Jenson, Robert. 1995. “Hermeneutics and the Life of the Church.” In Reclaiming the Bible for
the Church, edited by Carl Braaten and Robert Jenson, 89–105. Edinburgh: T & T Clark.
Jenson, Robert. 2010. Canon and Creed. Louisville: WJK Press.
Lash, Nicholas. 1986. “What Might Martyrdom Mean?” In Theology on the Way to Emmaus,
75–92. London: SCM Press.
Lash, Nicholas. 1996. “Contemplation, Metaphor, and Real Knowledge.” In The Beginning and
the End of “Religion,” 112–131. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Levenson, Jon D. 1988. Creation and the Persistence of Evil. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Levenson, Jon D. 1993. “Historical Criticism and the Fate of the Enlightenment Project.” In The
Hebrew Bible, the Old Testament, and Historical Criticism, 106–126. Louisville: WJK Press.
Moberly, R. W. L. 2013. Old Testament Theology: Reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian
Scripture. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic Press.
Moberly, R. W. L. 2018. The Bible in a Disenchanted Age. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic Press.
682 R. W. L. (Walter) Moberly
Rogerson, J. W. 2009. A Theology of the Old Testament: Cultural Memory, Communication, and
Being Human. London: SPCK.
Schwartz, Regina M. 1997. The Curse of Cain: The Violent Legacy of Monotheism. Chicago &
London: Chicago University Press.
Wellhausen, Julius. 1973 [1883]. Prolegomena to the History of Ancient Israel. Gloucester,
MA: Peter Smith.
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Nature of New Testament Theology, edited by R. Morgan, 68–116. London: SCM Press.
Index
For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–53) may, on occasion,
appear on only one of those pages.
Figures are indicated by f following the page number
A B
Abgar, king of Edessa, 106–7, 378 Basil, Caesarea of, 37, 62–63n.52, 170–71, 197–98,
Aksum, Kingdom of, 8, 214–15, 218, 369 253, 263, 313, 360, 381–82, 383, 398, 401,
allegory, 13–14, 201, 224, 261, 262, 263, 264–65, 415–16, 445, 446–47
268, 298, 304–5, 307, 311, 312–13, 334, 336– Bible in Its Traditions (B.E.S.T.), 619, 629, 630,
38, 351–52, 356, 361, 381–82, 417, 437–38, 631, 632–33
525, 525n.16 biblical canon, 9, 10, 11–12, 98, 104, 107–8, 156,
Ambrose, Milan of, 167 160–61, 179n.2, 182n.16, 184–85, 190–91,
Amharic (dialect, commentary), 14, 221, 222, 211–12, 215, 217, 218, 219, 221, 224–25, 282,
384, 397, 400, 401, 402, 403, 404–5, 406, 283, 609–10, 629, 675
407, 408, 409 Bohairic, dialect, 8, 81, 82–83, 84, 85–87,
anagignoskomena, 179–80, 182, 184, 185–86, 88–89, 90
187–88, 189–92, 194, 198–99. See also Book of the Covenant, 215–16, 217, 218, 219
anaginoskomenon, anaginoskomena Book of Women, 72–73
anaginoskomenon, anaginoskomena, 156, 183. Byzantine Text, New Testament of, 112–13,
See also anagignoskomena 117, 118, 119, 121–24, 127–28, 136, 138–39,
anagoge, anagogy, 13–14, 269, 351, 525 138n.18, 140, 142, 171n.28, 658–60
andǝmta, 8, 14, 402, 408–9 Byzantine tradition, 113n.9, 121–23, 124–25,
anti-Semitism, 471–72, 485, 566–67 142, 244–45, 246, 252, 253, 255–56, 279
Aphrahat, 165, 364–66, 380, 476, 486, 494–95
Apostolos, 113–14, 115–16, 127, 246 C
Aramaic (language, version), 36, 41, 71, 72, canonical approach, 17, 639. See also canonical
364–66, 378, 475, 476, 503, 623, 628 criticism
Armenian translation(s), 75, 96–97, 100–1, Canonical criticism, 266, 671–72. See also
102, 104, 105, 109, 383–84 canonical approach
Athanasius, Alexandria of, 9, 10, 46, 81, 133– Codex
34, 156–57, 158, 160, 164, 165, 169–70, Alexandrinus, 6, 38–40, 45–46, 160, 187–88,
179n.1, 182, 183, 184, 185, 215, 217, 277, 307, 189
313, 360, 367–68, 369, 383, 398, 399, 419– Ambrosianus, 6, 7, 72
20, 476–77, 485–86, 531 Ephraemi Rescriptus, 322–23
Athos, Mount of, 45, 475–76 Sinaiticus, 6, 45–46, 75–76, 80, 81,
Augustine, 38, 41, 62n.46, 65n.67, 133–34, 135, 160
278–79, 308, 311–12, 337–38, 372–73, 487, Vaticanus, 6, 38–39, 40, 81, 83, 135, 160,
528–29, 543–44, 543n.7, 545–46, 601, 679 189, 627
684 Index
E H
Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople, Hexapla, Origen of, 6, 16, 27–28, 37, 54–56,
23n.1, 31, 32, 40, 324–25, 329, 556–57 55n.13, 55n.15, 56n.19, 57–58, 59, 60–61,
Edessa, Aramaic dialect of, 72, 378 62, 63, 63n.54, 65–67, 73, 379, 621, 658–59
Index 685
historical criticism, 231, 232, 244, 314–15, 324–26, John, Damascus of, 177–78, 280–81
327, 327n.21, 328, 329–30, 331–32, 361, 512–13, John, Paralos of, 435–36, 437
521n.7, 621, 657–58, 677 John Zygomalas, 276, 279
hymnography, 12, 34, 231–32, 239, 243–44, 247, Joseph Ḥazzaya, 391
295, 385, 487–88, 494, 495–96, 611 Jubilees, book of, 11, 198–99, 217, 218, 219, 220,
hypothesis (perspective), Scriptures of, 15, 307, 221, 222, 223–24, 491
522–23, 524, 525–26 Judaism, 24–25, 48, 58, 60, 159, 166, 181, 200,
217, 276, 280–81, 304–5, 366, 369, 378–79,
I 452, 463, 465, 467–68, 470, 471–72, 473–
iconography, 3, 4, 34, 231–32, 243–44, 256, 314, 74, 476, 477, 484, 485–89, 490, 491, 493,
355–56, 616, 642, 663 495, 496, 526, 528–29, 557–58, 559–61,
Incarnation, 12, 158, 172–73, 179–80, 180n.5, 562, 563–64, 565, 567–69, 570–7 1, 626,
223, 230n.5, 253–54, 267–68, 269, 296, 660
310–11, 331, 355, 358, 488, 492–93, 582, 591, Justin Martyr, 36–37, 47–48, 61, 61n.45,
609, 611–13, 623, 663 99n.20, 174, 307, 465, 466–67, 487–88,
integrative reading, Scripture of, 5, 17, 506, 489–90, 492–93
670, 672
Irenaeus, Lyons of, 5, 52–53, 54n.5, 57, 58, K
60–61, 60n.40, 63–64, 66–67, 151–52, 157, kenosis, 253–54, 661–62
159–61, 166–67, 174–75, 307, 468n.40, 474, kerygma, 2, 170–7 1, 204–5, 290, 294, 454–55,
474n.79, 487, 522–24, 525–26, 525n.14, 492, 627
527, 528n.20, 529, 532, 533, 565–66 Koriwn, 97, 98, 99–100, 411n.2, 412
Isaac, Nineveh of, 381, 404
Isho‘ bar Nun, 384 L
Isho‘dad, Merv of, 379, 383–84, 389 lectionary, 12, 38–39, 78, 82–83, 113–14, 116–17,
Islam, Islamic, 166, 366, 369, 373, 404n.25, 120, 121, 124–25, 126, 127, 138–39, 141–42,
505–6, 513–14 159, 205, 207, 223, 246, 248–49, 275–76,
314, 385, 423, 452–54, 519–20
J liturgical exegesis, 5, 17–18
Jacob, Edessa of, 74, 383
Jacob, Serug(h) of, 380, 385, 386, 388, 390, M
486, 494–95 Maronites, 45
Jeremias II, Patriarch, 279, 279n.2, 280–81 Marqos, abunä, 404
Jerome, Stridon of, 5, 6, 18, 38, 41, 52–53, 54n.7, mäshaf bet (“exegetical school”), 403, 404–5
56n.21, 57n.24, 58, 59, 59n.33, 60, 61, 62– mashal, 653
67, 62n.46, 62nn.49–50, 62–63nn.51–52, Masoretic Text, 6, 7–8, 9, 10, 24, 33, 34, 48,
63n.54, 64nn.59,61, 65n.64, 98, 99n.20, 187–88, 198–99, 234, 325, 623, 627
133–34, 156, 464–65, 466–67, 641–42, 655 Maximus, Confessor the, 180n.5, 202, 238,
Jesus Seminar, 313 254, 262–63, 266, 267–68, 269, 270, 272,
Jewish-Christian interaction, 17, 53, 61, 280–81, 282, 386–87, 413–14, 524–25,
65n.66, 470n.52 534–35
John, Anchorite the, 76, 77 Melito, Sardis of, 36, 160, 464, 466–67, 487–
John, Apamaea of, 382–83 88, 490, 491, 492, 494–95, 508, 521n.6,
John Chrysostom, 9, 26–27, 37–38, 43, 165, 524–25
167–69, 172, 175–76, 201–2, 203, 239, 253, Melkites, 73, 78
262, 290, 299, 335, 347–48, 351, 401, 414– memra, 382–83, 386, 484
16, 419–20, 445, 446–47, 451, 454–55, 466, Mesrop, 96–97, 99, 101, 109
486, 508–9, 567–68, 641–42, 655 midrash, 15, 17, 304–5, 491
686 Index