PAUL FOSTER
CLARIFYING the understanding of the person and nature of Christ was perhaps the central theological preoccupation of the early Christian religion between the second and fourth centuries. The centrality of this endeavour may be recognized especially in the first six of the seven ecumenical councils (Need 2008). The majority of texts discussed in this chapter were, however, written prior to the meeting of the first of those councils in Nicea in AD 325. Notwithstanding this, the writings commonly known as early Christian apocryphal acts and apocalypses reflect, albeit for the most part subconsciously and not as their central theological purpose, various presuppositions and outlooks concerning the identity of Christ and the salvation of people who come to faith in him. These texts also form part of the wider evidential base of Christian thought that fed into the major councils. As such, the perspectives they enshrine are of importance to perceive the more popularizing forces at work in communicating certain theological understandings within the early church.
Classical approaches to christology have tended to focus on the titles used to describe, depict, or address Christ (standard works that adopt this approach include Cullmann 1959; Hahn 1969). This has proven to be a rich method for elucidating the christological perspectives of a given text or author. In particular, when applied to discursive or propositional texts, such as the letters of Paul, this titular approach has provided helpful access to an author’s core christological convictions. However, when applied to narrative texts, such as the Christian apocryphal acts and apocalypses, while the method of surveying titles remains useful, there is also much to be learnt about attitudes towards Christ through the actions and narratives depicted in such texts. In the discussion that follows, both the titles used and the actions narrated will be considered in determining the christological and soteriological ideas contained in the various texts that are surveyed.
Among the corpus of the Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles (AAA), scholars have identified five major writings as early examples of this genre. The dating of these texts is notoriously difficult, both in terms of their relative and absolute chronology. For convenience, the order in which the texts are treated in this section will follow one of the more widely accepted proposals, although as all scholars acknowledge, the evidence is slight and the proposal is based largely on inferences from internal evidence. The suggested date order places the five texts in the period of the mid-second to mid-third centuries: Acts of Andrew AD 150, perhaps in Alexandria; Acts of Peter AD 180–90, perhaps in Rome; Acts of Paul AD 185–95, perhaps in Asia Minor; Acts of John AD 200–50, perhaps in Eastern Syria; and Acts of Thomas AD 200–50, perhaps in Eastern Syria (Bremmer 2001: 152–3). While this ordering is followed mainly for convenience, if it is correct it may allow one to trace certain christological and soteriological developments. However, it also needs to be remembered that the theologies expressed by the authors of the various AAA (and of the apocryphal apocalypses) do not necessarily follow linear patterns of development. Therefore, one cannot infer from a supposedly ‘more primitive’ christology that a given writing was composed at an earlier date than another text with a ‘more developed’ perspective. Rather the earlier writing may simply reflect a less sophisticated author. Moreover, if some of these texts are unrelated, then their christological and soteriological perspectives may have been shaped in a localized and relatively isolated setting. Other later AAA besides these five texts are also extant. The most extensive of these later surviving texts is the Acts of Philip, so this survey will also consider that text.
As it can be best reconstructed the Acts of Andrew remains a fragmentary text, being a pastiche of various manuscripts, ordered where possible in accord with the sixth-century epitome of Gregory of Tours, Liber de Miraculis Beati Andreae Apostoli (Elliott 1993: 231–2).
In the opening sections, which relate the divine healing of Stratocles’ slave through the words of Andrew followed by Stratocles’ subsequent conversion, Christ is mentioned only once. That reference describes those in the process of coming to faith as ‘being confirmed in Christ night and day’ (Acts Andr. 10). If anything can be gleaned from this fleeting remark, it might be that the author holds to some type of idea of participation or christology of union. Typically the idea of being ‘in Christ’ takes on a spatial sense, whereby believers are seen as existing in a new realm. Here the locative sense seems to transcend mere metaphorical usage, since in Pauline theology believers have in actuality been united with Christ in his death and resurrection through the act of baptism. Although such ideas may find their origin in New Testament thought (cf. Rom. 6.3–8), these do not appear to be a major theological emphasis in the Acts of Andrew.
More prominent in the section describing Andrew’s imprisonment is a conception of salvation that is understood as the bringing forth of the hidden inner soul (Acts Andr. 37[5]–38[6]). The one who undergoes this soteriological process of releasing the divine soul that is captive in the physical body is ‘deemed worthy of the Lord’s seal’. However a warning is issued: namely that apostasy can defile this seal that has been placed on the soul. The goal for the one receiving salvation by having the liberated soul divinely sealed is to return ‘the deposit spotless to the one who entrusted it to us’ (Acts Andr. 10–12). This section of the text may reveal something of its theological location. The concept of liberation of the soul has affinities with certain forms of Valentian thought, such as that represented in the Gospel of Philip. However, the Acts of Andrew is devoid of any cosmological reflection or discussion concerning the origin of evil (Prieur 1992: 246). For this reason it is more likely that these ideas reflect the widespread view in the Graeco-Roman world that saw death as the liberation of the soul from the body, rather than being drawn from a Valentinian context.
In the next section prayer is addressed to the ‘Lord Jesus’, who is invoked to provide protection from Maximilla’s husband, Aegeates. Andrew prays, ‘save us all by repelling that savage lion armed to attack us’ (Acts Andr. 13). The prayer is answered in a unique manner, with Aegeates being afflicted with severe constipation, and hence being so engrossed in his exertions that the believers are able to escape without his notice. This is also achieved by Andrew laying his hand on each person, with the result that each appears to receive some cloak of invisibility. In this context, the prayer to be saved concerns immediate deliverance, rather than the liberation of the soul. Prayer language continues to pervade this section. Thus, for example, Andrew prays to the ‘Lord Jesus Christ’ on behalf of the now celibate Maximilla that she may be strengthened to withstand the sexual blandishments of her husband (Acts Andr. 16). Such prayer is typical of wider Christian usage. As part of her salvation that brought forth the pure soul free of its material body Maximilla is now ‘repulsed by sexual intercourse … as a heinous and despicable act’ (Acts Andr. 21). This may reflect an encratic mentality behind the theology operative in the Acts of Andrew. Yet, this is not necessarily to suggest some direct point of contact with Encratism (cf. Hippolytus, Ref. 8.13), but rather only to observe that similar forces may have shaped the outlook of the author of this text.
Again, when Iphidama manages to gain entrance miraculously to the imprisoned Andrew, on seeing her he cries out ‘glory be to you Jesus Christ, ruler of true words and promises, who instills courage in my fellow servants. All who make use of you conquer their enemies, for you alone exist’ (Acts Andr. 29). This doxological confession declares Jesus to be the only being with true existence, and that his communications to his followers are recognized for their veracity. Jesus is frequently addressed in prayer, which reveals that he is seen as a figure of devotion and one who is able to respond to the requests of the suppliants. Nevertheless there is little explicit attention given to christology generally.
One passage that does have some bearing on the christology of the author is Acts Andr. 47. While Andrew is still in prison Maximilla visits him. Here the text states that she was ‘led by the Lord disguised as Andrew’ (Acts Andr. 47). Although the text is unclear here—it appears that it is the Lord, not Maximilla, who is disguised as Andrew—nothing further is done with this transformation of appearance. It is, however, significant that here there is a description of the Lord’s altered outward appearance. This is a feature that appears in other apocryphal acts, and is commonly described as polymorphic christology (Foster 2007: 66–99). On being led to the cross for his execution, Andrew makes a series of declarations that may have had christological resonances for readers of this text, yet none of them is explicitly exploited. On seeing the cross he makes the following speech:
Greetings, O cross! Greetings indeed! I know well that, though you have been weary for a long time, planted and awaiting me, now at last you can rest. I have come to you, whom I have known. I recognize your mystery, why you were planted. So then, cross that is pure, radiant, full of life and light, receive me, I who have been weary for so long. (Acts Andr. 21)
This absence of explicit christological reflection continues even during the martyrdom of Andrew. As has been noted, rather than pointing to salvation in Christ, ‘the apostle alone offers a soteriological bridge’ (Bovon 2000: 91). Therefore, in the Acts of Andrew Christ is the object of devotion and prayers are addressed to him. Salvation is a topic of greater interest than that of christology. However, salvation is envisaged as the release of the soul from its current location within mortal bodies. Since this soteriological scheme lacks many of the elements of Valentinian or Sethian cosmologies, it is perhaps better to see such ideas as general reflections on wider Hellenistic understandings of the fate of the soul after death.
The Acts of Paul is another text that no longer survives in its entirety. According to the Stichometry of Nicephorus this work comprised 3600 lines. What survives is derived from various manuscripts, including an extensive approximately eighty-page Coptic text that has been reassembled from over two thousand fragments. It appears that about two thirds of the original work is extant (see Sellew 1992: 202–3). The sequencing of some of the surviving manuscript evidence is not unproblematic (Elliott 1993: 355). Overall the text promotes a simple ascetic Christianity, with a strong emphasis on sexual continence, and contains no obvious traces of ‘gnostic’ systems of thought.
Although Paul’s travels, harmonized into one continuous journey, form the narrative framework of the story, the text also reveals aspects of its reflections on Christ and its views on salvation. While the Acts of Paul lacks the mythic conception of salvation as the release of the soul, as found in the Acts of Andrew, it does share a common doxological language. Prayer is unabashedly addressed directly to the Lord (Acts Paul, §9 Corinth). Yet alongside this God can also be addressed in prayer, but interestingly at times in a qualified form to ‘God, … father of Christ’ (Acts Paul, §9 Corinth). The text struggles to present any clear distinction between ‘God’ and ‘Christ’. Thus on occasion it addresses Jesus as ‘my God, Jesus Christ’ (Acts Paul, §7 Ephesus), or ‘my God, Son of the Most High’ (Acts Paul, Thecla 29). Given the prominence of the form of address ‘God Most High’ (theos hypsistos) in the region of Asia Minor (Trebilco 1991: 127–44), this might support the scholarly view of an Ephesian origin for the text. Believers are ‘sealed’ in Christ, or in the Lord (Acts Paul, §7 Thecla 25; Martyrdom 7). As the response to Thecla’s request makes clear (‘Thecla, be patient, you shall receive the water’), this is a description of baptism in the name of Christ. In the latter part of the reconstructed text, Third Corinthians and the Martyrdom, the expanded form of address ‘Lord Jesus Christ’ is employed with greater frequency. Whether this says anything about multiple stages of composition is difficult to determine due to the composite text itself being a pastiche of fragmentary witnesses with differing histories of transmission.
One feature that is significant in the christological outlook of the text is its rebuttal of what can be labelled for convenience as docetic perspectives. During his period at Philippi, Paul receives news from Corinth that Simon and Cleobius have arrived causing distress by teaching that ‘there is no resurrection of the body but only of the spirit … nor has Jesus Christ has been crucified but only in appearance, and he was not born of Mary nor of the seed of David’ (Acts Paul, §8 Philippi). In the part of the text typically known as Third Corinthians, Paul writes a lengthy repudiation of such beliefs, and presents his own doctrinal affirmations. A pithier summary is placed on the lips of Paul during his journey from Corinth to Italy. Paul states that:
Jesus Christ … gave himself for us … For in these last times God for our sakes has sent down a spirit of power into the flesh, that is, into Mary the Galilean according to the prophetic word, which was conceived and born by her as the fruit of her womb until she was delivered and gave birth to Jesus the Christ, our king, of Bethlehem in Judaea, brought up in Nazareth, who went to Jerusalem and taught all Judaea, ‘The Kingdom of heaven is at hand! Forsake the darkness, receive the light, you who live in the darkness of death! A light has arisen on you!’ And he did great and wonderful works, choosing from the tribes twelve men whom he had with him in understanding and faith, as he raised the dead, healed diseases, cleansed lepers, healed the blind, made cripples whole, raised up paralytics, cleansed those possessed by demons. (Acts Paul, §10 From Corinth to Italy)
Earlier in the Acts of Paul, the ‘spirit of Christ’ is described as existing prior to the birth of Jesus. The author declares that Israel itself is saved through Christ since God ‘took from the spirit of Christ and poured it out upon the prophets’ (Acts Paul, 3 Cor. 1). The reference to the ‘spirit of power’ that God sends into the flesh of Mary is the same pre-existing spirit of Christ that empowered the prophets. Therefore, taken together, these statements provide a strongly incarnational and historicized perspective. Thus, the text emphasizes the historical elements of Christ’s earthly ministry. Moreover, Mary becomes a focal point, since the conception and birth of Jesus are essential to the affirmation of the humanity of Christ.
Concern about describing the mechanism of salvation is not particularly prominent. When the author makes a soteriological statement, for the most part it appears incidental to the major thrust of the narrative. During one of his speeches in Ephesus, Paul declares ‘hope in Christ and he will give you forgiveness of sin and will bestow on you a crown of freedom, that you may no longer serve idols’ (Acts Paul, §7 Ephesus). Thus in typical Pauline fashion (cf. 1 Thess. 1.9) part of the process of coming to faith in Christ entails rejection of false gods. Another vital aspect is forgiveness. The theme of salvation comes to the fore more explicitly in Third Corinthians. As part of the wider incarnational theology of the text, Paul is presented as making the following soteriological statements:
Our Lord Jesus Christ was born of Mary of the seed of David … that he might come into this world and save all flesh by his own flesh and that he might raise us in the flesh from the dead as he has presented himself as our example.… [God] wished to save the house of Israel; therefore he took from the spirit of Christ and poured it out upon the prophets … For by his own body Jesus Christ saved all flesh, presenting in his own body a temple of righteousness through which we are saved. (Acts Paul; 3 Cor. 1)
Perhaps the most interesting element is the development of the idea that those who are the beneficiaries of salvation in the Hebrew Bible received that divine gift through the spirit of Christ being poured upon the prophets.
The Acts of Paul encapsulates a number of ‘proto-orthodox’ ideas in relation to christology, and where it touches upon the topic of soteriology its outlook is largely conventional, in that it sees Christ’s death as being the means by ‘which we are saved’. The text strongly affirms the incarnation and bodily resurrection of Jesus. It also declares that believers will be raised in the flesh. This position stands in tension with the soteriology of the Acts of Andrew, where salvation entails the release of the soul from the physical body. It would certainly transcend the bounds of the evidence to suggest that the Acts of Paul responded directly to the outlook of the Acts of Andrew. However, the Acts of Paul is obviously aware of similar theological viewpoints, and it even attributes a kind of anti-material christology and soteriology to the figures named as Simon and Cleobius. There is no doubt that the agenda contained in some of its sections is to quash such perspectives, and to offer a robust affirmation of the reality of the spirit of Christ becoming ‘flesh’ and salvation being achieved ‘by his own body’ wherein ‘he saved all flesh’.
The Acts of Peter is an entertaining narrative, which while interested in suppressing certain forms of early Christian teaching that were not considered congenial, does not place detailed theological reflection at the centre of its storyline. Despite earlier scholarly statements that confidently declared the Acts of Paul to be dependent on the Acts of Peter and hence its earliest source of external attestation (Schmidt and Schubart 1936: 127–30), current opinion sees the relationship as more complex and hence as not resolved (Poupon 1988: 4363–83; Elliott 1993: 390; Rordorf 1998: 178–91). The relationship with the Acts of John is equally problematic (Elliott 1993: 390, although Lalleman has argued that that the final form of the Acts of John was known to the author of the Acts of Peter; Lalleman 1998: 161–77). However, here no direct literary relationship is assumed between any of these texts. Again, the extant portion of the text is lacunous, with perhaps only two thirds surviving (based on the Stichometry of Nicephorus). The largest surviving fragment is found in the Latin Codex Vercellenis 158 (sixth to seventh century).
Theologically the Acts of Peter is eclectic, and no uniform christological perspective is discernible. However, it does employ examples of polymorphic appearances: a feature that frequently occurs in docetic texts. Yet, here the function is somewhat different, for such appearances reveal a Christ taking on forms that are beneficial for those in need (Cartlidge 1986: 53–66). The extended title ‘Lord Jesus Christ’ is a favourite throughout the narrative, although shorter forms also are used frequently. People are entreated to ‘pray to’ and ‘believe in’ the Lord Jesus Christ and to trust in ‘the power’ he supplies (Acts of Peter 17, 28). The ‘Lord Jesus Christ’ is declared to be ‘faithful’ and to be ‘pure and undefiled from every impurity’ (Acts of Peter 6, 28). Jesus’ unique filial relationship to the Father is affirmed through the form of address ‘Father of your holy Son Jesus Christ’ (Acts of Peter 17; cf. ‘holy Father of your Son Jesus Christ’, 27). The distinction between God as Father and Jesus Christ as his son dissolves at other points in the text where Jesus is addressed directly as ‘God’: ‘Jesus the living God will forgive’; ‘most excellent and only holy one, for you appeared to us, O God Jesus Christ’ (Acts of Peter 2. 5). Therefore, the christological of the Acts of Peter appears to reflect popular spontaneous piety in the form of outbursts of doxological confession, rather than being the product of mature theological reflection.
Despite using polymorphic appearances and language, the author affirms the reality of Christ’s crucifixion. Thus the author appears to struggle to find a middle path between affirming the transcendence of Jesus as God and his immanence as human:
For he is in the Father and the Father in him, in him is the fulness of majesty, who has shown us all his benefits. He ate and drank on our account though he was neither hungry nor thirsty; he suffered and bore reproaches for us, he died and rose for us. He also defended and strengthened me by his greatness when I sinned; he will also comfort you so that you may love him: this one who is great and small, beautiful and ugly, young and old, appearing in time and yet utterly invisible in eternity;… not subject to suffering, but having now made trial of suffering for our sake, never chastised, yet now chastised; who was before the world and is now perceived in time;… This Jesus you have, brethren, the door, the light, the way, the bread, the water, the life, the resurrection, the refreshment, the pearl, the treasure, the seed, the abundance (harvest), the mustard seed, the vine, the plough, the grace, the faith, the word: he is all things and there is none other greater than he. To him be praise in all eternity. Amen. (Acts of Peter 20)
This rich litany of christological affirmations leaves the reader in little doubt that from the author’s perspective Jesus is an intended focus of devotion. However, the tension between acknowledging that Jesus partook of food and drink, while simultaneously declaring he was never hungry or thirsty, does betray some residual resistance to the idea of full humanity. It is probable that this should not be read as a denial of the incarnation, especially given the stress on the reality of Christ’s suffering. Instead the statement that ‘he was neither hungry nor thirsty’ appears to stress the fact that Jesus was the pre-existent one who became human and yet remained divine. At this juncture the text struggles to find a suitable way to affirm humanity and divinity alongside each other. Although both aspects are present in these statements, this uneasy juxtaposition is not resolved.
Reports of conversion are prominent in the text, and without extended reflection such occurrences are viewed as soteriological moments. Thus Marcellus, whose faith is more fully confirmed on seeing Peter best Simon in a miracle confrontation then rebukes Simon for attempting ‘to lead me away from Christ my Lord and Saviour’ (Acts of Peter 14). During the martyrdom account, Peter addresses the cross not as an implement of execution, but as the ‘unspeakable mercy, which is expressed in the name of the cross’. In the same speech, still ostensibly addressed to the cross although it seems to have wandered into a more general exhortation, Peter declares ‘withdraw from actions which are seen outwardly and you shall perceive the facts about Christ and the whole mystery of salvation’ (Acts of Peter 37). Hence in line with some of the martyrological fervour within certain strands of the early church, the world-negating nature of salvation in Christ is affirmed. Outward appearance is not able to apprehend the salvation that is being won by the martyrs.
The Acts of Peter is a complex and in many ways theologically unsophisticated text. Yet as a reflection of popular piety, it depicts the doxological nature of christological affirmations and the growing veneration of the cult of the martyrs who are understood as having some fast-track access to salvation, as well as a heightened perception of the nature of the heavenly life of which they are about to be part. The famous Quo Vadis story, which is part of this text, presents the martyrs as being in closer communion with Christ, and hence through the mystical sharing in crucifixion, or other forms of execution, they become participants in the salvation of Christ.
The critical edition of Acts of John (Junod and Kaestli 1983, 2 vols) provides a composite text, reconstructed from fragments preserved in different manuscripts. Hence, this final form may bring together stories from different sources with differing theological perspectives. This is particularly relevant to a discussion concerning the text’s christology, since a Valentinian influence appears to pervade the outlook of chapters 94–102 and 109, but is not present in other sections such as the immediately preceding chapters 87–93. The text is officially condemned in the proceedings of the Second Council of Nicea (AD 787).
The suitability of the term ‘christology’ to describe the perspectives on Christ contained in the Acts of John has been questioned (Junod and Kaestli 1976: 138). Instead it is suggested that it is more appropriate to speak of a holistic doctrine of God, since one cannot find a clear distinction in the text between Christ and God. On numerous occasions Jesus is addressed or identifies himself as God: ‘Who am I? You shall know when I go away … I am your God’ (Acts of John 96); ‘glory be to you, my Jesus, the only God of truth’ (Acts of John 43); ‘our God Jesus Christ’ (Acts of John 107); ‘Christ Jesus, God, Lord, who with your gifts and your compassion protect those who hope in you’ (Acts of John 108); ‘God Jesus, Father of the supernatural, ruler of those in heaven’ (Acts of John 112). Put simply, the one addressed as ‘Jesus’ or ‘Christ’, according to the highest perception offered in the Acts of John, is none other than the appearance of the deity proclaimed in the text. This may in part explain the multiple forms in which he is perceived in certain sections of the text. An eminent believer from Ephesus, Drusiana, confesses that ‘the Lord appeared to me in the tomb in the form of John and of a youth’ (Acts of John 87). The character of John validates this polymorphic appearance when he recalls that during his initial call with his brother James the two of them had seen the Lord in different forms. In another incident, during a period of feigned slumber, John recalls that ‘I saw another like him whom I also heard saying to my Lord, “Jesus, those whom you have chosen still do not believe in you.” And my Lord said to him, “You are right, for they are men”’ (Acts of John 92). The identity of the second figure is not stated in this context. However, a clue may be given in later sections. During the crucifixion, John is confronted with three different forms of the one he recognizes as the Lord.
He was hung upon the cross on Friday … And my Lord stood in the middle of the cave and lit it up, and said, “John, to the multitude down below in Jerusalem I am being crucified … but to you I am speaking … And having said this he showed me a cross of light set up, and around the cross a great multitude which had no one form; and in the cross was one form and one likeness. And the Lord himself I beheld above the cross, not having a shape, but only a voice, and one truly divine. (Acts of John 97–8)
This confusing scene appears to depict a physical form of Jesus being crucified, another form speaking with John in the cave, and a third manifestation without form hovering above the cross that is identified as divine.
This section of the text, which is likely influenced by similar Valentinian ideas, appears to posit a three-level christology. The cross is the location where humanity is discarded by the one John addresses as Lord, and that is identified as the third and lowest level of perception. The figure speaking with John immediately subsequent to the crucifixion now self-identifies as the Logos. This three-level schema is reiterated in a later passage:
And thus I speak, discarding manhood. Therefore, in first place think of the Logos, then you shall perceive the Lord, and thirdly the man, and what he has suffered. (Acts of John 101)
While this christological outlook may not permeate the whole composite text, it was integrated into the text at some stage and may, at least in part, explain the rejection of its perspectives at later Councils.
Salvation in the text is a vague concept, but appears to be related to gaining an understanding of the non-material cosmological significance of the figure of Jesus. Therefore, what John describes as ‘the whole spectacle of salvation’ (Acts of John 77) is explicated in a christological panegyric addressed to the ‘Lord Jesus Christ’ who possesses ‘great mercy and endless forbearance’. As the passage continues, without any change of referent the figure is addressed as ‘Father, full of mercy and compassion’ and then concludes ‘holy Jesus, for you alone are God and none else; you against whose power all devices can do nothing now and in eternity’ (Acts of John 77). Therefore salvation appears to be obtained by those who recognize that the Lord Jesus is himself the immaterial and transcendent holy God. Yet, alongside this in other portions of the text more traditional ethical imperatives are directed towards potential recipients of salvation. Thus John preaching to the Ephesians places the following stark choice before them: ‘If you do not wish to die, let me convince you of your idolatry…. Be converted by my God, or I will die at the hands of your goddess. For I will pray in your presence to my God, and ask him to have mercy upon you’ (Acts of John 40). So here the typical concern of turning from idolatry and receiving the true God is part of the soteriological landscape of this text. Later in the text the unique saving efficacy of the Lord is stated, when he is described as being ‘alone a Saviour and righteous,… Christ Jesus, God, Lord, who with your gifts and your compassion protect those who hope in you’ (Acts of John 108).
Consequently, in the Acts of John salvation primarily involves gaining a correct perception of transcendent realities. It is presented as an immediate reality for those who gain such understanding, and hence there appears to be no future or eschatological aspect to salvation in the Acts of John. Salvation is based upon the recognition that the one known as Jesus and Lord is the only God, and he is the one towards whom belief is directed. The soteriological event is directed towards individual converts, and results in that person no longer being subject to the constraints of the material realm (Junod and Kaestli 1976: 136–7).
The Acts of Thomas is the only one of the five early apocryphal acts for which a complete text survives. It has been noted that describing the text as ‘gnostic’ is an ‘obsolete oversimplification’, since it lacks cosmological myths often found in texts belonging to that milieu. Instead, the text represents ‘the mixture of theology, liturgy, and ascetical piety characteristic of Syrian christology of the 2d and 3d centuries’ (Attridge 1992: 534). The text does, however, contain various encratite perspectives that are central to the piety that it espouses. Foremost among these is its disavowal of sexual intercourse even within marriage. Marriage itself is not prohibited, but sexual relations are described as ‘filthy intercourse’ (Acts of Thomas 12, 88) or a ‘deed of shame’ (Acts of Thomas 14, 54, 55, 84). Alongside this, excess in food or drink is also a form of corruption (Acts of Thomas 20). In fact the material world and the body itself are seen as fundamentally susceptible to corruption (cf. Klijn 2003: 10). It is within this larger theological outlook that the christological and soteriological perspectives of the text are presented.
One of the more important aspects of the text is the presentation of Thomas as the twin brother of Jesus. This is most clearly communicated when a great serpent addresses Thomas, saying: ‘for I know that you are the twin brother of Christ and always bring our race to naught’ (Acts of Thomas 31). Such twinship does not equate with identity, but it does allow access and spiritual intimacy that permits a deeper understanding of the person and purposes of Christ (cf. the incident with the ass’s colt, Acts of Thomas 31). From this position of intimacy, Thomas’ preaching is central to the christological perspectives of the text. Christ is seen to have put on a human body. Therefore he is described as the ‘polymorphous one, who is the only begotten and first born among many brethren’. In a hymn addressed to the father it is stated that ‘you spread over us your mercy in him who came by your will and put on a body’ (Acts of Thomas 48, 70). Nonetheless, the text maintains a high Eucharistic theology focused on the body and blood of Jesus: ‘let your body be for us salvation, and your blood for the remission of sins’ (Acts of Thomas 158).
There is no strong concern to distinguish clearly between Jesus and God, so that the two are virtually synonymous on occasions. The text describes Jesus unambiguously as being divine, without reflecting in detail upon his relationship to the father: ‘Jesus, God of God and Saviour … Jesus Most High, voice arising from perfect compassion, Saviour of all, right hand of the light; God of God Most High and man …’ (Acts of Thomas 48). Yet, even here there are slight qualifications in that this Jesus is the ‘right hand of the light’ and while being lauded as ‘God of God Most High’ is also declared to be ‘man’. The emphasis on the divine aspect of Christ, and the viewpoint that his human body was a shell which he put on, suggests that the text aligns with various docetic ideas.
One of the frequent titles for Jesus is ‘Saviour’, and consequently the salvation he brings is a key aspect of the text. Thomas is the one by whom ‘is he preached, the Saviour of the souls that come to him’ (Acts of Thomas 42). In line with the wider theology of the text, it is the soul that needs to be freed and to be kept pure from bodily pollution (Acts of Thomas 30). However, it is the conversion of individuals that leads to salvation, and consequently ‘entails a life of rigorous asceticism’ (Attridge 1992: VI.533).
The Acts of Thomas contains a variety of christological and soteriological ideas that perhaps find their coherence in a commitment to a radical and demanding asceticism. Such an outlook promotes understanding Christ’s divine nature as the spiritual aspect of his being, and the human side as being simply a cloak or shell that allows him to approach humans in their lower and benighted physical state. Moreover, the Eucharistic theology found in the text declares Jesus’ body to be holy and the means of salvation (Acts of Thomas 158).
In 1974 François Bovon and Bertrand Bouvier rediscovered the longest surviving form of the Acts of Philip in the library of Xenophontos monastery on Mount Athos. The text of the Acts and the Martyrdom of Philip occupy folios 30r–109v of the 141 folios of the fourteenth-century paper manuscript. The process of transmission is unknown, but presumably this form of the text has undergone mutation between its likely composition in the fourth century and the date of the Xenophontos 32 (A) manuscript in the fourteenth century. However, notwithstanding these likely changes, much in the narrative appears to reflect the theological outlook of the earlier period.
The diverse christological and soteriological statements of this extensive text can only be summarized. The fulsome title ‘Lord Jesus Christ’ is used repeatedly. Upon the appearance of a beautiful eagle, Philip ponders whether ‘perhaps even now, Lord Jesus Christ, you are the one revealing yourself in this form’ (Acts of Philip 3.6; cf. 15.7). This is a vehicle for a reflection on the mystery of the incarnation:
And how did you endure being made humble, since you are the Lord? And how did you bear being called a servant? And how, since you are eternal, did you associate with birth? You were fixed on a cross in order that you might set us free from the nails, granting us unceasing, unshaded, ever-shining nightless light. (Acts of Philip 3.6)
Here there is no concern with addressing docetic issues; instead the incomprehensibility of divinity in humanity is simply affirmed. This may explain the confident manner in which the text describes Jesus as a deity. Addressing a widow, recently bereft of her only child, Philip declares ‘I will raise your child by the power of my God Jesus Christ, who was crucified, buried, rose from the dead, and rules for ever—whoever believes in him receives life eternal’ (Acts of Philip 1.2). Therefore, Jesus is unabashedly described as divine, his death and resurrection are affirmed, as is his gift of salvation—conceived as being eternal life—which he gives to believers. The text does promote sexual asceticism. On the raising of her son, the widow confesses that ‘I believe in Jesus and in holy virginity’ (Acts of Philip 1.3). Given the likely fourth-century date, and that virginity is promoted, it may be the case that the text is not necessarily the product of an encratic community, but reflects the growing commitment to celibacy in the early church (cf. Jerome, Adversus Helvidium, c. AD 383), as well as the radical asceticism that became prominent in some sectors of Christianity in the period.
The text does not attempt to distinguish between the person of the Father and that of Christ in any significant manner. Rather it repeatedly calls Jesus ‘father’, in one sense or another. Thus Philip declares to the widow ‘you have as a father Jesus the crucified’ (Acts of Philip 1.3). With more discrimination Jesus is addressed as ‘O Lord Jesus, sweet voice of the Father’ (Acts of Philip 4.2)—perhaps showing relationship to, rather than identity with the Father. However, elsewhere the text in a litany of titles describes Jesus as ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Father of the ages, King of the light’ (Mart. Philip 38). Hence there is no strict desire to maintain a separation between the titles typically applied to the different persons of the Trinity.
From the perspective of the text, salvation is found exclusively in Christ. During a commotion in the city of Nikatera, Philip comforts his terrified fellow-believers by reminding them that Christ is the one ‘who saves us from every distress, and he will deliver us from every trial…. He also saves us from every trick and deception of the devil, whom the Lord Jesus will rebuke at the end’ (Acts of Philip 5.4). So while the saving power of Christ may be experienced in the present life, its ultimate manifestation is eschatological being expressed in the final defeat of the devil. Salvation is presented in the text as an individual experience, and one for which recipients may need to prepare themselves, but not for a period of great duration. In the conversation that ensues after Ireos shelters Philip and his companions from the baying mob, Ireos declares ‘I have prepared my soul for salvation.’ Philip responds with qualified approval, ‘The Lord will fulfil your longing. Only do not hesitate with regard to preparation, on account of which you have come to us’ (Acts of Philip 5.8).
The sheer length of the Xenophontos manuscript and its diverse statements concerning Christ and salvation means that one cannot offer a simple summary of its perspectives. Some developments in christological perspectives in comparison with some of the earlier five major apocryphal acts are readily seen: most notably the clearer affirmation of both the divinity and humanity of Christ that is represented as true but incomprehensible. Further, the text affirms that Christ is eternal, giving a more straightforward affirmation of a pre-existent figure taking human form. However, the text does not have a sensibility concerned with maintaining a clear differentiation when it comes to applying the title of ‘father’ only to the first person of the Trinity, and not to the second. The soteriological perspectives contained in the text find parallels in some of the earlier apocryphal acts. Salvation is in Christ alone, and believers are called to a radical asceticism. However, unlike the Acts of John, while salvation may be focused on the individual it is not about disconnecting the soul from the material body. Thus, if it is possible to draw a generalization, the Acts of Philip portrays an understanding in which salvation is not the escape of the soul from the material realm, but includes among other things the final defeat of evil and the end of its control over believers. In this sense salvation has an immediate impact on the life of believers in their present physical state.
The distinction between apocryphal acts and apocryphal apocalypses is not always particularly sharp. The apocryphal acts contain a number of apocalyptic or revelatory passages, where the information disclosed is mediated through a heavenly being, often the risen Jesus, and discloses a transcendent reality (Rowland 1982: 70–2). Similarly, a number of the so-called apocryphal apocalypses centre on a single apostolic figure, who becomes the focus of the revelatory actions in the text. Thus, while the latter category may place more emphasis on revelatory communications that pertain to the eschatological era, there are overlaps in generic features with apocryphal acts. The classification that is followed here is due in large part to convention, as well as being attuned to the ancient titles affixed to texts that are now grouped as apocalypses.
Here the texts that are considered are a representative sample, and include the Apocalypse of Peter, the First Apocalypse of James, and the Apocalypse of Thomas. These texts are selected because of the diverse perspectives they reflect. A number of apocalypses occur in different recensions, but in length the Christian apocalypses associated with a figure from the early Jesus movement tend to be much shorter texts than the apocryphal acts.
This text occurs in a number of different forms, and is a title applied to at least two different texts. Here the text being considering is that known in both a shorter Greek form (discovered at Akhmîm in 1886–7), as well as in a longer Ethiopic form. This text is distinct from the Nag Hammadi tractate of the same name (NHC VII.3). The relationship between the surviving Ethiopic and Greek forms of the text is complex and not yet fully resolved. The differences between the two forms reflect the fluidity in the process of textual transmission. However, both of the surviving forms are likely developments of a base text. The text is significant because it is viewed as the ‘earliest extant Christian document that describes Heaven and Hell’ (Elliott 1993: 595). Moreover, while it is often linked with the Bar Kokhba revolt (see Bauckham 1985: 269–87, 1994: 7–111), that association is not certain.
The longer Ethiopic text employs various christological titles, while the shorter Greek fragment is consistent in using ‘the Lord’ as its means of designating Jesus. This use of the title ‘the Lord’ also aligns with the most frequent christological title in the Gospel of Peter fragment, which is preserved in the same codex. Both the Apocalypse and the Gospel of Peter fragments contained in the Akhmîm codex may be written in the same hand. Therefore, the consistency in the use of the title ‘the Lord’ may have been imposed by a later scribe or editor, rather than reflecting a more primitive textual form. However, on one occasion when the Greek text of the Apocalypse of Peter refers to the deity using kyrios language, it makes this clear by employing the formulation ‘Lord God’ (Greek Apoc. Peter 19). In the Ethiopic text Jesus is described or addressed using the following titles: ‘Christ’, ‘Son of God’, ‘Lord’, ‘Saviour’, ‘God, Jesus Christ’, ‘my Lord and God Jesus’, Lord Jesus Christ’ (Apoc. Peter 1, 3, 16). The formula ‘my Lord and God Jesus’ may well reflect the phraseology of the fourth gospel when Thomas confesses Jesus to be ‘my Lord and my God’ (John 20.28). Therefore, in line with much other extant early Christian evidence, the Apocalypse of Peter affirms that Christ is a divine being. There are, however, no explicit affirmations or denials of Christ’s humanity. What the text does do is situate the revelation of teaching concerning differentiated future fates within the setting of the earthly ministry of Jesus. The opening portion of the text has numerous verbal parallels to Jesus’ eschatological discourse, most frequently to the Matthean form (cf. Matt. 24.3–44). Although this temporal horizon fades as the text progresses, the location of this revelation during the earthly life of Jesus may suggest that the humanity of Christ was not an issue for the christological perspective of the text.
However, the text rapidly moves beyond the subject matter contained in Matt. 24. Referring to Jesus as ‘the Saviour’ (Apoc. Peter 3), it launches into a lurid description of the punishments that await those who are to be consigned to hell at the final judgement. Here the theme of future salvation and damnation is the main concern of the text. On the day of the final judgement ‘all the children of men’ are gathered, hell gives up those it holds captive, animals have to return the human flesh which they have devoured, and Uriel revivifies all human life by giving back ‘soul and spirit’ (Apoc. Peter 4). The text devotes a disproportionate section to outlining the sufferings of the damned in comparison to describing the ‘life that is above’ that the righteous are to enter. However, the damned are able to see the heavenly life of the righteous, and consequently the text depicts the following appeal and its rejection:
And all those in torment shall say with one voice, ‘Have mercy upon us, for now we know the judgement of God, which he declared to us beforetime and we did not believe.’ And the angel Tatirokos shall come and chastise them with even greater torment, and say to them, ‘Now do you repent, when it is no longer the time for repentance, and nothing of life remains.’ And they shall say, ‘Righteous is the judgement of God, for we have heard and perceived that his judgement is good, for we are recompensed according to our deeds.’ (Apoc. Peter 13)
Here one sees the classic idea of differentiated eternal fates for believers and unbelievers. This scheme finds antecedents in New Testament texts such as Revelation 20–2. However, in that example less is said about the negative future state than about the paradisical future for the faithful. The imagery may develop ideas already present in Jewish (1 Enoch 17–36) and classical texts (Homer, Odyssey, Book XI; Virgil, The Aeneid, Book VI).
However, the text itself appears to wrestle with the notion of eternal damnation. Towards the conclusion of the Ethiopic version, Peter is overcome by the apparent eternal punishment of sinners and appeals to Christ to have pity on them. Peter weeps for many hours on their account, and although ‘exceedingly diffuse and vague, [the text] does seem to promise ultimate pardon for all’ (James 1924: 520). Jesus answers Peter, ‘my Father will give to them all the life, the glory and the kingdom … It is because of them that have believed in me that I am come. It is also because of them that have believed in me, that, at their word, I shall have pity on men.’ In the end, the text may espouse a type of universalism. This is striking, especially given the intense punishments described. The text may, however, offer its own hermeneutic for understanding this tension. Jesus forbids Peter from speaking of the potential universal salvation: ‘you must not tell what you hear to sinners, lest they transgress and sin even more’. Consequently it is possible to infer that the depictions of the torments in hell are primarily seen as motivational. Fear of eternal judgement is viewed as a very strong reason to join the company of the righteous in the present life.
Found amongst the Nag Hammadi corpus of writings (NHC V.3), the visionary text the First Apocalypse of James is concerned with the future sufferings soon to befall James, transmission in secret of the true teaching, the role of women disciples, and the rebuke of the Twelve (Schoedel and Parrott 1996: 260). The Lord provides James with a series of formulae that will enable him to progress past the hostile powers that will attempt to block his assent to ‘the pre-existent one’. ‘These formulae represent a dramatized version of texts that appear elsewhere in the context of rites for the dying in forms of Valentinian Gnosticism’ (Schoedel and Parrott 1996: 260). The motif of the post-mortem journey of the soul and its confrontation of hostile powers is well known in the broader thought world of the time (see the Egyptian funerary text, the Book of the Dead, and from a similar setting as the Nag Hammadi texts, see the Books of Jeu).
The narrator refers to Jesus as ‘the Lord’, whereas in direct speech James addresses him as ‘rabbi’. This may affirm the role of Jesus as a teacher of hidden mysteries, as well as attempting to communicate to readers the antiquity of the tradition, stemming from Jerusalem in the first decades of the movement. In this way the First Apocalypse of James appears to be advocating an alternative ancient strand of authoritative teaching that has an apostolic pedigree. In this text ‘the Lord’ declares himself to be unnameable, yet to be ‘an image of Him-who-is’, and his purpose is to bring forth that image to the ones who are the offspring of the highest ineffable one. Thus the Lord tells James that ‘I shall reveal to you everything of the mystery’ (NHC V.3, 25).
The text is more interested in the revelation of the mystery than in the identity of ‘the Lord’. Its view of salvation is concerned with the cosmological assent through the seventy-two heavens that are under the authority of the twelve archons. James is not only forewarned about his coming martyrdom but also the perils he will face during his cosmic journey. When one of the powerful beings will confront James with a question concerning his origin, he is instructed to answer ‘I am from the Pre-Existent Father, and a son in the Pre-Existent One’ (NHC V.3, 33). The central concern of the text is that of soteriology, but as understood from a Valentinian perspective. Many of the characters associated with Valentinian cosmology appear in this revelation dialogue about James’s future assent. Similarly there is an emphasis on the female. This occurs in two ways. First through prominence given to female disciples, with James commanded to ‘encourage these four: Salome and Mariam and Martha and Arsinoe’ (NHC V.3, 40). Also in line with Valentinian cosmology and the understanding of the reunification of the feminine soul with her masculine heavenly counterpart, the text states that ‘the perishable has gone up to the imperishable and the female element has attained to this male element’ (NHC V.3, 41). Salvation is mystical, and entails the reunification of the soul and its return to the one who is the highest power. The text communicates its salvific teachings in a narrative form. Not only does this result in a greater dramatization of the soteriological teachings of the text, it also projects the antiquity of such teachings back to the origin of the Jesus movement.
The Apocalypse or Revelation of Thomas is known in two recensions. The longer recension betrays knowledge of events at the end of the fourth and beginning of the fifth century with obvious allusions to imperial history. The text portrays its own contemporary horizon as the end of time:
Suddenly there shall arise near the last time a king, a lover of the law, who shall not rule for long, he shall leave two sons. The first is named after the first letter, the second after the eighth. The first shall die before the second. Thereafter shall arise two princes … Again another king shall arise,… After a little space there shall arise a king out of the east, a lover of law,… and after that again a king shall arise in the south part of the world … (Apocalypse of Thomas, long recension)
The first figures mentioned are Theodosius I (347–95) and his two sons Arcadius who died in 408 and Honorius in 423. Thereafter, the text alludes to the divided empire, and the second emperor depicted as a lover of the law appears to be Theodosius II (401–50), whose name is attached to the eponymous legal code. The surviving portion of the longer form of the Apocalypse of Thomas has no explicit christological or soteriological interests. Rather, its concern is to interpret contemporary events as part of the eschatological culmination of history.
By contrast, the shorter form is likewise addressed to Thomas, but explicitly as a communication from Christ: ‘Hear, O Thomas, for I am the Son of God the Father, and I am the father of all spirits.’ (Apocalypse of Thomas, shorter recension). The more precise christological formulation that declares the speaker to the son of ‘God the Father’ reflects developments in Trinitarian theology that had evolved by the time of the composition of the text, usually taken to be late fourth or early fifth century (Thomason 1992: VI 534).
Next, after a brief description of the time of pestilence, the text narrates the time when there shall be ‘for seven days great signs in heaven.’ It is not until the sixth day that Christ surfaces in the account when he states ‘then shall they behold me coming from above in the light of my Father.’ Here the text expresses the belief that the resurrected Christ dwells in heaven with his Father until his parousia. At this point the spirits and souls of the departed return to repossess their bodies, ‘then shall every spirit return to his own vessel, and the bodies of the saints who have fallen asleep shall arise’. After this, those revivified saints shall ‘be changed into the image and likeness and the honour of the holy angels, and into the power and image of my holy Father’. This future that awaits the faithful departed entails the sending forth of the spirits awaiting in paradise, which appears to be an interim state prior to the final eschatological salvation. The resurrection of the dead, prior to the ingathering of living believers is probably due to an application of the Pauline declaration that ‘the dead in Christ will rise first’ (1 Thess. 4.16). It is not until the seventh day that ‘my elect shall be sought out by the holy angels from the destruction of the world’. On the eighth day, after the final battle and destruction of the earth, there is heard ‘a sweet and tender voice in heaven from the east’ and at this point the angels ‘deliver the elect who have believed in me’. Therefore, in the Apocalypse of Thomas, salvation is linked with eschatological victory. The faithful departed are brought forth from their interim state as disembodied spirits in paradise, and the living ‘elect’ are saved from the apocalyptic destruction of the world through the intervention of the angels of God. The schema is a much-developed reflection and expansion on ideas embryonically latent in certain New Testament texts.
It is not possible to draw out unified conclusions concerning the topics of christology and soteriology as reflected in the various texts known as the apocryphal acts and apocalypses. The reason for this is because of the multiple and diverse perspectives they contain in relation to christology and soteriology. At times it appears that certain texts are used overtly to promote a particular theological outlook. However, at other times, the christology or salvific stance of the text is a secondary concern and may be reflected in an allusive manner. In the apocryphal acts and some of the apocalypses, the extended title ‘Lord Jesus Christ’ is prominent.
While terms such as ‘gnostic’, and to a lesser extent ‘docetic’, are contested (Williams 1996), texts such as the Acts of John and the First Apocalypse of James do present cosmologies that involve the assent of the soul and its release from the material world to the immaterial sphere above. As such, affinities with Valentinian soteriological beliefs are readily seen. Other texts among the apocryphal acts link the efficacy of salvation in the individual with the practice of radical asceticism, most typically demonstrated through the renunciation of sexual intercourse and through embracing celibacy. Such texts may thus reflect some association with encratic communities. However, given the widespread adherence to asceticism, especially in terms of celibacy in various sectors of the early church it does not follow that such tendencies necessarily reflect writings that were the products of encratic communities. Other texts, such as the Acts of Paul, appear to reflect a popular form of piety, and the purpose of these writings may be none other than encouraging ongoing devotion to Jesus through the telling of racy and inspiring stories about the adventures of the apostles.
The apocryphal acts and apocalypses are a varied and artificially assembled collection of texts. As such it is perhaps unsurprising that their christological and soteriological perspectives are similarly diverse. However, this is perhaps the important lesson to be drawn. Namely, such diversity illustrates why the quest for clarity concerning christology and soteriology became such an important and pressing concern. Moreover, this is precisely why the seven ecumenical councils were required to resolve these fundamental theological questions.
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