In response to requests, I’ve now uploaded a PDF of the pre-publication version of my contribution to the newly-published (and excellent) Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Apocrypha (noted in my previous posting), the PDF available here, and under the tab on this blog site “Selected Published Essays.”
I’m pleased to have my contributor’s copy of what appears to be a very valuable new work: The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Apocrypha, eds. Andrew Gregory & Christopher Tuckett (Oxford University Press, 2015), the publisher’s online catalogue entry here. Here is the list of contributions:
Part I: Introduction and overview
1: Christopher Tuckett: Introduction
2: Jörg Frey: Texts About Jesus: Non-canonical Gospels and Related Literature
3: Charlotte Touati and Claire Clivaz: Apocryphal Texts About Other Characters in the Canonical Gospels
4: Richard Pervo: Narratives About the Apostles: Non-canonical Acts and Related Literature
5: Andrew Gregory: Non-canonical Epistles and Related Literature
6: Richard Bauckham: Non-canonical Apocalypses and Prophetic Works
Part II: Key Issues and Themes
7: Tobias Nicklas: The Influence of Jewish Scriptures on Early Christian Apocrypha
8: L. W. Hurtado: Who Read Early Christian Apocrypha?
9: Jens Schröter: The Formation of the New Testament Canon and Early Christian Apocrypha
10: François Bovon: ‘Useful for the Soul’: Christian Apocrypha and Christian Spirituality
11: Pheme Perkins: Christology and Soteriology in Apocryphal Gospels
12: Paul Foster: Christology and Soteriology in Apocryphal Acts and Apocalypses
13: Stephen J. Patterson: The Gospel of Thomas and the Historical Jesus
14: Simon Gathercole: Other Apocryphal Gospels and the Historical Jesus
15: J. K. Elliott: Christian Apocrypha and the Developing Role of Mary
16: Robin M. Jensen: The Apocryphal Mary in Early Christian Art
17: Richard I. Pervo: The Role of the Apostles
18: Petri Luomanen: Judaism and Anti-Judaism in Early Christian Apocrypha
19: Outi Lehtipuu: Eschatology and the Fate of the Dead in Early Christian Apocrypha
20: Harald Buchinger: Liturgy and Early Christian Apocrypha
21: Candida R. Moss: Roman Imperialism: The Political Context of Early Christian Apocrypha
22: Judith Hartenstein: Encratism, Asceticism, and The Construction of Gender and Sexual Identity in Apocryphal Gospels
23: Yves Tissot: Encratism and the Apocryphal Acts
24: Tony Burke: Early Christian Apocrypha in Popular Culture
25: Tony Burke: Early Christian Apocrypha in Contemporary Theological Discourse
As you can see, the topics included comprise pretty much anything you’d want to ask about this diverse body of texts, and the contributors form a galaxy of recognized scholars of a number of nationalities.
In my own contribution, “Who Read Early Christian Apocrypha?” I have had to be selective in the texts considered, but I hope that the selection is sufficiently representative to be adequate for answering the question. I’ve also included data not usually considered, specifically the features of earliest manuscript-copies of some apocryphal texts, reflective of my emphasis on manuscripts as artefacts of early Christians and what they did with the texts included in these manuscripts.
The short answer to the question posed in the title of my essay is: Various Christians read “apocryphal” texts (as they only later came to be designated), and for various reasons.
One of the long-standing presumptions often presented as established fact is that the cross wasn’t a Christian symbol until Constantine adopted Christianity (early 4th century AD). Bruce Longenecker’s new book, The Cross Before Constantine: The Early Life of a Christian Symbol (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2015) now effectively demolishes any such presumption. The publisher’s online catalogue description here.
Marshalling a massive amount of data, Longenecker shows that visual reference to Jesus’ cross was “there” in the pre-Constantinian period without question. Some years back, I tried to reinforce a similar observation made earlier by Erich Dinkler and Kurt Aland in particular, with reference to the so-called “staurogram,” a pictographic visual reference to the crucified Jesus that we find in early NT manuscripts (P66, P75, P45) commonly dated to the early 3rd century AD. (See my chapter on “The Staurogram,” pp. 135-54, in my book The Earliest Christian Artifacts: Manuscripts and Christian Origins, Eerdmans, 2006.) And so I greet Longenecker’s book as a more programmatic assault on the tired and ill-informed notion that the cross-symbol came with Constantine.
I’ve endorsed the book as “an effective barrage on the insufficiently-examined position that the cross was not a Christian symbol prior to Constantine.” I’m pleased to note that the respected historian of early Christianity, William Tabernee, endorses it also, urging “If you only read one book on early Christianity this year, The Cross before Constantine has to be that book!” High praise, indeed!
Longenecker shows that there are still things to learn, and sometimes even widely-shared views that can be shown to be incorrect, in favour of a much better grasp of the fascinating pre-Constantinian period of early Christianity.
I’m in Cambridge all week teaching in the Vacation Term Biblical Studies programme for this year. Just a quick reminder of the forthcoming British New Testament Conference being held this year in Edinburgh. The link for further information and registration is here.
Main speakers are now set (but may not be up on that web site yet):
Dr Susan Docherty: ‘The Use of Scripture in the New Testament and the ‘Rewritten Bible’ Texts: Some Exegetical Comparisons’
Prof. Philip Esler: ‘Giving the Kingdom to an Ethnos that will Bear Its Fruit: Ethnic and Christ-Movement Identities in Matthew.’
Dr Peter Oakes ‘Galatians as a Letter Defending Unity in Diversity in Christ’
Full-board is £235; the non-resident rate is £160; and Saturday only is £80.
I continue to see some scholars stating as unquestioned fact that “orthodoxy” and “heresy” really only emerged after Constantine, that only with the power of imperial coercion could these categories operate, and that in the pre-Constantinian period all we have is Christian diversity, with no recognizable direction or shape to it. In some cases, scholars will admit that with Irenaeus (late second century) and perhaps even Justin (mid-second century) we may see the early expressions of notions of “heresy.” But a recent study by Robert M. Royalty, Jr., The Origin of Heresy: A History of Discourse in Second Temple Judaism and Early Christianity (London/New York: Routledge, 2013), marshals effectively evidence and argument that should correct such views. The publisher’s online catalogue description is here.
Royalty essentially shows that, although the term “heresy” (Greek: hairesis) came to be used in the now-familiar pejorative sense sometime in the second century, the social and rhetorical dynamics reflected in this use of the term go back much, much earlier. Indeed, not only earlier Christian texts, but also pre-Christian Jewish texts (e.g., from Qumran) exhibit these dynamics, which involve labelling certain views and practices as unacceptably deviant. To cite Royalty, “I have shown here that Justin was part of a discursive tradition that developed in earlier Christian Gospels and post-Pauline literature. . . . The Christian notion of heresy and the rhetoric of heresiology [that emerged full-blown in the second century] draw on these earlier Christian and Second Temple Jewish discursive formations . . .” (172).
Actually, one of my PhD students, Troy Miller, reached and argued for essentially the same conclusions earlier in his 2002 thesis, “The Emergence of the Concept of Heresy in Early Christianity : The Context of Internal Social Conflict in First-Century Christianity and Late Second Temple Sectarianism.” The University of Edinburgh Library catalogue entry here. Indeed, as Miller, and now Royalty also, show, the critical engagement with diversity in belief and practice seems to have been there in earliest circles of the Jesus-movement, and reflected already in Paul’s own letters (e.g., Galatians, 1-2 Corinthians), because it was a feature of the Jewish tradition that was the matrix of the young Jesus-movement.
Moreover, careful study of the second and third centuries will show that, along with the now-familiar panoply of diverse forms of Christianity then, there was actually also an emerging early “mainstream” of Christian circles. They themselves included a certain diversity, but saw one another as sufficiently alike to recognize one another. This is reflected, for example, in the early stages of text-collections that later grew into our familiar New Testament: especially the formation of a four-fold Gospel collection (which itself represents a significant diversity), but also the inclusion of writings ascribed to Peter, James and John, as well as writings ascribed to Paul (contra the Marcionite stance). The second-century critics of Christianity, such as Celsus, also direct their fire against what seems a fairly recognizable form of Christianity.
In short, it’s high time for us to move on from earlier overly simplified notions and gain a more sophisticated and nuanced understanding of the early dynamics and developments in question.
In a commendably professional step, Michael Kok sent me advance notice of a piece in which he addresses briefly the work of several scholars associated with the “early high christology” perspective (sometimes also referred to as “the new religionsgeschichtliche Schule”), and that he subsequently posted on a web site here. In that piece, he says that he hopes “to open up a dialogue,” and so I offer an initial response here.
My first observation is that I think that Kok has attempted a balanced and (within the limits of his brief posting) essentially fair treatment of recent discussion/debate about the origins of “high Christology” (or, as I prefer to describe my own emphasis, “Jesus-devotion”). The notes to his piece will guide readers to some key works both “pro” and “con,” and the characterization of various scholars seems to me basically accurate (again, working with the constraints of a brief web-posting, and see my critique in the following paragraphs). So, I’ll take up his wish for dialogue by briefly addressing a few issues of substance.
One of Kok’s concerns is whether in the recent work that prompts his piece (particularly mine and that of Bauckham) there is “a concern to date a ‘high Christology’ as close as possible to the founding of the “Christian” movement.” Well, Bauckham can speak for himself (as can others), but, to represent my own stance in the matter, I’ve reached the views that I advocate on the basis of the evidence and the best analysis of it that I can develop, using premises, approaches and arguments that are fully open to scholarly engagement by colleagues of any perspective. I think that the evidence points to the conclusion that the pattern of Jesus-devotion presumed and reflected already in Paul’s letters was basically shared by, and likely originated among, Jewish circles in the young Jesus-movement based in Roman Judaea, i.e., among the earliest circles and in the earliest “post-Easter” period. I judge that, I repeat, not out of some concern that it be so, but because that seems to me what a reasonable analysis demands. (In footnote 9, Kok says that his concern applies more to “apologetic appropriations of the work of the EHCC rather than to its main scholarly proponents,” and I take him at his word. But his essay addresses the “main scholarly proponents,” in which case his “concern” seems to me a red-herring.)
I will also note again that (unlike the older German Schule) this so-called “new religionsgeschichtliche Schule” includes scholars of various personal and religious stances, such as Jarl Fossum (who was a Jungian but I’m not aware of any particularly Christian theological stance) and Alan Segal (a self-identifying Jewish scholar of ancient religion). I happen to be a Christian (so, take me to the lions, I guess!), and Bauckham is also. But I’m also a white male, a North American of mixed British and Spanish ancestry, near-sighted, of centre-left political leaning, a gender-egalitarian, who also likes porridge often for breakfast, gin and tonic or a good whiskey on a Friday afternoon, brought up on country music, and the first in my family history to take a university degree. So? The positions I’ve reached and advocate don’t require anybody to share any of these personal features. Let’s discuss substance.
Kok also wonders if the emphasis on the ancient Jewish matrix of earliest circles of Jesus-devotion serves to “insulate them from influences from the Greco-Roman world.” Well, one could also note that the older work against which I and others have been pushing back was openly concerned to attribute a lot to “oriental” forces, with an inadequate appreciation of the richness of the Roman-era Jewish tradition. But, again, Kok’s statement implicitly imputes a motive, rather than engaging issues. Any reader of my work, for example, can note that one of the “forces and factors” that I specifically cite is the larger Roman-era religious environment, including emperor-cult (e.g., Lord Jesus Christ, pp. 74-77). Moreover, as Hengel and others showed, the Jewish matrix of the Jesus-movement was Roman-era Jewish tradition that had been shaped (albeit variously) in response to Persian, then Hellenistic, and then Roman influences for some 300 years or more. So, I reject any suggestion of an effort to dodge “influences from the Greco-Roman world,” and I simply ask for colleagues to point out specifically what things I’m ignorant of, or incorrectly interpreting.
Kok suggests that “through a process of colonial mimicry, some Jews may have replaced the emperor with Jesus as the sovereign to whom divine honors were due.” Now that (along with other things) is possible. But to pose it as a possibility is one heck of a long way from showing it to have been the case. Do we have evidence of Jewish “mimicry” involving the sort of devotional pattern that we see in earliest Jesus-movement circles, and given to other figures? The major thrust of my 1988 book, One God, One Lord, was that we have no such evidence. If I overlooked something, let’s have it. And are we to imagine (and it is only imagination so far as I can see) that the stoutly Jewish early followers of Jesus would have aped emperor-cult, when, by all indications, it was regarded with utter disdain and horror by Jews who identified strongly with their ancestral tradition? Or do we imagine that these Jews might have aped emperor-cult unconsciously? Really?
I’d find this all a good deal less difficult to grasp if we had some comparable examples of other Jewish circles who likewise developed the sort of “dyadic” devotional pattern that we have in our earliest Christian texts. Otherwise, I think that we have to say that something unusual and innovative went on in the early Jesus-movement. That doesn’t mean that it was a miracle, or that you have to see it as the had of God. I’m simply focusing on historical observation, not apologetics.
Kok also worries that there is “a risk of depicting ancient ‘Christianity’ as monolithic, assuming that a divine Christology was the definitive feature of all Christ associations,” and he notes the thematic variety that we have in NT texts in their Christological emphases. Another red herring, in my view. To speak for myself again, I don’t claim a “monolithic” early Christian movement. In fact, in a recent article, I’ve argued that there was rich and “interactive diversity.” There may well have been early circles in which Jesus wasn’t treated as recipient of the sort of cultic devotion that I cite. But, again, to mention that as possible isn’t the same as demonstrating that it was so. In any case, my own emphasis isn’t that there weren’t any such circles. Instead, my point is that, whatever other kinds of Jesus-movement there may have been, the remarkable pattern of Jesus-devotion reflected in Paul’s letters seems to go back to/among the earliest circles. Maybe there were other circles with a different devotional pattern, but those circles in which such Jesus-devotion was practiced were at least among the earliest.
On some other matters briefly mentioned in Kok’s piece, my only complaint is that he cites this or that critic of my work without noting that I’ve often given an answering argument. For example, the critique of the term “monotheism” is by far wide of the mark. In several publications over a couple of decades or more I’ve made it quite clear that “ancient Jewish monotheism” didn’t involve necessarily denying the existence of other “gods,” but that what I mean by the term is the evident cultic exclusivity characteristic of Roman-era Judaism. And, as for James Crossley’s bizarre characterization of my portrayal of earliest Jesus-devotion as “Jewish, but not too Jewish,” well, in my view it says more about the limits of what he means by “Jewish” than it does about what I’ve actually written.
Finally, I endorse completely the exhortations in Kok’s final paragraph, which to my mind essentially echo emphases that I’ve posited for many years: Let’s avoid simplistic and reductionistic conclusions; let’s allow for a rich diversity in early “Christianity”; let’s contextualize early beliefs and practices; and let’s avoid simplistic uses of historical analysis.
 For analysis of the theological/cultural agenda of the older Schule: Karsten Lehmkühler, Kultus und Theologie: Dogmatik und Exegese in der religionsgeschichtliche Schule. Forschungen zur systematischen und ökumenischen Theologie, 76 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996); and Suzanne L. Marchand, German Orientalism in the Age of Empire: Religion, Race, and Scholarship (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), esp. 212-51.
 Larry W. Hurtado, “Interactive Diversity: A Proposed Model of Christian Origins.” Journal of Theological Studies 64 (2013): 445-62.
 Most recently, Larry W. Hurtado, “‘Ancient Jewish Monotheism’ in the Hellenistic and Roman Periods.” Journal of Ancient Judaism 4, no. 3 (2013): 379-400, which includes a response to (my friend and colleague) Paula Fredriksen’s critique.
In researching for my current book project on early Christian distinctives, I note repeatedly how scholarly attention to the second and third centuries seems often to suffer in comparison to the first century and the post-Constantinian period. On the one hand, many New Testament scholars today (especially those from a Protestant background) all too often tend to lose much interest after about 100 AD, almost anything thereafter terra incognita (or at least not considered other than in a cursory manner), in this quite distinguishable from earlier scholars such as Lightfoot, Hort, Zahn, Harnack, and others (including, may I note, New Testament colleagues here in Edinburgh). I recall, for example, that in several seminars held to discuss my 2003 book, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity, I was informed upon arrival that we would only deal with the first seven chapters (omitting the three chapters on the second century), and that the students hadn’t been asked to read any farther than that!
On the other hand, although the second century and thereafter is the traditional territory of scholars in “Patristics” (to use a traditional label, now increasingly replaced with “Early Christian Studies”), all too often the second and third centuries fail to get their due from these scholars as well. To use a baseball metaphor (and to risk caricature to make a point), it sometimes seems that the second century in particular is treated as the “bull pen” time in which a “warm-up” goes on for the “game,” which really gets underway with Constantine. One of the buzz-words now is “Late Antiquity,” and in practice this can sometimes mean a focus on the fourth century and thereafter, with less attention to the “pre-Constantinian” time.
Now, granted, in and after the fourth century AD the extant Christian texts and other data (church buildings, art, sarcophagi, jewels, elegant manuscripts, etc.) multiply considerably. But I wonder if this perhaps makes it more difficult for scholars to recognize adequately what we do have from the earlier period. If you come to the second century, with training and previous focus on the post-Constantinian period, does this make you too aware of what seems missing, and less able to appreciate what is there in its own terms? For example, perhaps judged from the post-Constantinian period (especially the fifth century and thereafter), the earlier centuries may seem to be simply a time of incredible diversity in practices and beliefs, and only a very loose linkage and structure. Well, diversity there certainly was then, and there weren’t synods and ecumenical conferences and creeds. But how would we judge matters if, instead, we made comparisons of second/third century Christianity with other religious options of those earlier centuries?
As another illustration (and to “ride a pet horse”), as to artifactual data, OK, we don’t have the buildings and items that archaeologists more typically study, and we don’t have the lavish Christian art of later centuries that art historians write about. But what if we recognized that earliest Christian manuscripts were not only copies of texts but are also material/visual objects, early Christian artifacts? As such, for example, they are direct artifacts of the practices involved in the use of the texts that they contain. Likewise, precisely in light of the diversity of earliest Christianity, what are we to make of the rather clear and widely-shared Christian preference for the codex (especially for texts treated/read as scripture) and right from the earliest extant manuscripts? And, similarly, of what import is the curious scribal practice, apparently distinctive to early Christians, called the “nomina sacra,” which likewise seems to have been adopted across various Christian circles?
As still another illustration, what if we studied the writings of the second century in their own terms and time, not comparing them with the later writings and issues that are (justifiably) given so much attention classically (e.g., Augustine, the Cappadocian Fathers, etc.)? Eric Osborn showed that the second century was in fact a time of remarkable Christian intellectual activity. The journal, Second Century, that appeared in 1981 was intended to focus on that Cinderella period in Christian studies, but, unfortunately (for whatever reasons) did not survive in that form.
Certainly, the social and political circumstances of Christians (of their various stripes) in the first three centuries were categorically distinct from those that obtained in the post-Constantinian period. So, there continues to be scope for analyses of these matters.
It was to contribute to breaking down the unhelpful barrier between New Testament studies and “early Christian” studies that I founded here our Centre for the Study of Christian Origins (1997), which focuses on the first three centuries AD. The conferences that we’ve held in recent years, on Justin, Irenaeus, and Peter, reflect this scope of interest. The formation of the New Testament was a process that originated in the first century (when the earliest texts were composed) and ran through the second and third centuries (when these writings and others were read, copied, cited, and collections of these writings began to be made) into the fourth century (when the current list of New Testament writings began to achieve progressively wider acceptance).
So, New Testament scholars need to define the field chronologically to include at least the first two centuries. The recently established journal, Early Christianity, reflects this view of the field (publisher’s information here). And I also hope that more scholars in “Early Christian Studies” might focus on the pre-Constantinian period, without invidious comparisons to later developments, and with a full appreciation of this period in its own right. Together, we could enrich further our understanding of this vital and unique era.
 Perhaps the “normative self-definition” project run in McMaster University by E. P. Sanders and Ben Meier back in the 1980s illustrates a more positive approach.
 Larry W. Hurtado, The Earliest Christian Artifacts: Manuscripts and Christian Origins (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006).
 Eric Osborn, The Emergence of Christian Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993).
 The journal was taken over by the North American Patristics Society and re-branded as The Journal of Early Christian Studies, and now has a much wider chronological scope.
The latest issue of the journal New Testament Studies (vol. 61, no. 3, July 2015) contains a battery of commissioned articles from several scholars that collectively present the reasons that the putative Coptic fragment referring to “Jesus’ wife” (GJW) is a modern forgery. The small galaxy of scholars are of unquestioned expertise in the language and the texts, and here combine to show why the putative fragment cannot be accepted as a genuine early Christian text. The table of contents of the issue is here. (The link is slow, but wait for it.)
Simon Gathercole’s article, “The Gospel of Jesus’ Wife: Constructing a Context,” presents reasons why a reference to a wife of Jesus doesn’t really have a context in early Christian texts, contrary to Prof. King’s proposal. And he reiterates reasons why the GJW fragment is a pastiche of phrases heavily indebted to the Coptic Gospel of Thomas.
Christian Askeland, “A Lycopolitan Forgery of John’s Gospel,” gives in his article a full presentation of evidence that the putative fragment of a Coptic translation of the Gospel of John (another fragment in the small batch passed to Prof. King) is certainly a forgery (created through use of a 1924 publication), and why this means that the GJW fragment must be also. Among the reasons, the two fragments seem to be the same “hand,” so, if the one is a forgery, the other is also likely one.
Andrew Bernhard, “The Gospel of Jesus’ Wife: Textual Evidence of Modern Forgery,” presents fully the evidence that the GJW fragment was created by use of modern published versions of the Coptic text of the Gospel of Thomas.
Christopher Jones, “The Jesus’ Wife Papyrus in the History of Forgery,” recounts previous examples of forgeries purporting to be genuine Christian texts, and shows how these typically are intended to reflect trends in culture and thought of their time. The GJW fragment seems now to be the most recent instance of this.
Myriam Krutzsch and Ira Rabin, “Material Criteria and their Clues for Dating,” address the tests of the writing material and ink used to create the GJW fragment, showing the limits of these tests and how they cannot adequately address the question of forgery (especially if a forger is sufficiently clever).
Gesine Schenke Robinson, “How a Papyrus Fragment Became a Sensation,” summarizes the grounds on which it appears that the great majority of scholars with expertise in Coptic early judged the GJW fragment a forgery and now do so with greater confidence.
As of today, the Harvard Divinity School web pages on the GJW fragment here appear not to have been updated since the April 2014 publication of her article in the Harvard Theological Review. The articles in the new issue of New Testament Studies, however, collectively give interested readers a rather full presentation of reasons why the GJW fragment is now widely regarded a hoax, Prof. King perhaps the scholar most seriously and cruelly the victim of it. It appears that surely now, however, the appeals of various scholars for a candid response to the collective judgment that the fragment is a hoax must be heeded, and (unless the combined judgments of the aforementioned scholars can be shown to be erroneous) an effort should be made to trace (and disclose) the process by which it was attempted.
In a programmatic essay surveying recent scholarly discussion about earliest Jesus-devotion, Jörg Frey (Professor, University of Zürich) judges that one can speak perhaps of “a paradigm-shift” (von einem Paradigmenwechsel) or, “a new perspective” (von einer ‘neuen Perspektive’) in the work of a number of scholars: “Eine neue religionsgeschichtliche Perspektive: Larry W. Hurtados Lord Jesus Christ und die Herausbildung der frühen Christologie,” in Reflections on the Early Christian History of Religion/Erwägungen zur frühen Religionsgeschichte, ed. Cilliers Breytenbach & Jörg Frey (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 117-69.
The term “new perspective” derives from (and alludes to) the use of that expression to describe the major shift in viewpoint (or at least in the scholarly agenda) arising from the landmark book by E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism (1977). In the case considered by Frey, however, there is no one book and no one scholar to point to as having had the same effect. Instead, there are a number of scholars in various countries and of varying stances (and Frey cites many of them, pp. 122-24), among whom he includes me. I would myself cite Martin Hengel’s works as particularly important foundation for me and, likely for a number of others as well. His little (but typically jam-packed) book, The Son of God: The Origin of Christology and the History of Jewish-Hellenistic Religion (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1976; German: 1975) I would cite as especially noteworthy.
It was in Hengel’s endorsement on the cover of the initial publication my own book, One God, One Lord (1988) that he referred to the work of a number of scholars of various countries as comprising a kind of “new religionsgeschichtliche Schule” (“history of religion school”), this term taken up several times subsequently by observers of the ensuing scholarly discussion. As I have stated earlier (Lord Jesus Christ, 11-18), I don’t think that the term strictly fits. Unlike the original “schule,” the more recent scholars are from various universities in various countries, and, perhaps still more importantly, they are not all of one stance on matters of religion (the old “schule” were all German Protestant liberal theologians, mainly in the University of Gottingen). But, with allowance for differences among us, we do all tend to judge that a “high” devotion to Jesus erupted early and quickly, and in circles of Jewish Jesus-followers.
So, I agree with Frey that it may be more appropriate to refer to “a new perspective” in the study of the origins of “Christology” and the place of Jesus in earliest Christian faith and practice. Frey characterizes my book, Lord Jesus Christ, as now offering “a comprehensive representation” (“eine zusammenfassende Darstellung”) of that new perspective (125). Well, it is at least my attempt to do this.
Frey’s essay derives from a day-long seminar on my 2003 book, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity, held in Berlin in 2005 under the auspices of the New Testament section of the Wissenschaftliche Gesellschaft für Theologie. Other essays from that event, now published in the same volume, are by Jens Schröter, “Trinitarian Belief, Binitarian Monotheism, and the One God: Reflections on the Origin of Christian Faith in Affiliation to Larry Hurtado’s Christological Approach” (pp. 171-94); Christoph Markschies, “‘Radical Diversity’? Ein Gespräch mit Larry Hurtado über verschiedene Formen der Christusverehrung im zweiten Jahrhundert” (195-210); Hermut Löhr, “‘Binitarian Worship’? Zur impliziten Theologie des frühchristlichen Gottesdienstes. Dargestellt an Justin, 1 Apol. 61-67″ (211-29).
I remember that Berlin seminar well, with gratitude to the German-speaking colleagues who gave my work their serious attention. There were both appreciative and critical observations, to be sure! I remember that when we re-convened after the lunch-break the leader said something like “Well, after roasting you on one side, we now turn you to the other side,” alluding, of course, to the story of the death-by-roasting of my early Christian name-sake, Laurence! But, in fact, they were much kinder than that, and I escaped without any serious scorch marks.
Earlier this week I received the proposed cover for the third edition of my book, One God, One Lord: Early Christian Devotion and Ancient Jewish Monotheism (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, forthcoming November 2015). Now I see that Amazon has notice of this edition as forthcoming here. Originally published in 1988, there was a second edition in 1998, in which I provided a new 5,000-word Preface reviewing the discussion of relevant topics in the ten years between editions. In this third edition, I provide a 20,000-word Epilogue in which I sketch the background of the book (in my own research development), and then devote the greater part of the Epilogue to tracing scholarly discussion of the main points of the book, engaging key scholars in the process.
Because I judge the net effects of the vigorous scholarly work reviewed not to have called into question anything significant in the original edition of the book, I’ve again chosen not to revise it. Instead, the Epilogue is my effort to update the scholarly discussion and carry the argumentation forward. The book has, however, been typographically reset for this edition, and so the page-numbering differs. But the publisher kindly offered to provide in the margins the original page numbers, so you can find places cited in work published earlier than this edition.
It’s unusual for a scholarly work to remain in print for 25+ years, and to continue to be cited and pointed to by colleagues as worth consulting, so I’m understandably pleased and encouraged that One God, One Lord has enjoyed this success. To be able to help shape the scholarly agenda in one’s field is surely one of the most cherished aims of scholars, and a source of great satisfaction. I’m encouraged and honoured by the commendations of fellow scholars for this third edition, as they appear on the back cover as shown here: One God, One Lord proof 3.
As I indicate in the Epilogue, the book remains foundational in my body of work on the origins of Jesus-devotion. The later works, including the big book, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity (Eerdmans, 2003) all take the positions reached in One God, One Lord as the premise and carry the investigation further. On some matters, therefore, such as the basic relationship of earliest Jesus-devotion and the Jewish matrix in which it first emerged, the book continues to be my crucial statement of my position. It continues to be cited as well as a good review of the “chief agent” figures of ancient Jewish tradition.