Gospel of Thomas Episode [further reading]

gospel-of-thomasOne of my earliest videos—”What did Gnostic Christians Believe?”—continues to garner the most views out of all of my videos. My other top performers? The videos on the Gospel of Judas and the Gospel of Thomas. Something about Gnosticism really interests people on YouTube! Check out my Gospel of Thomas video below:

This video coincided well with a new commentary on the Gospel of Thomas by Simon Gathercole published in 2015. It is probably the most exhaustive commentary on the Gospel of Thomas that I’ve seen, and he takes several moderate positions (ie. his dating of Thomas, his thoughts on whether Thomas contains any original sayings of Jesus). I highly recommend this text as the jumping off point for any further research on the Gospel of Thomas. Gathercole’s bibliography is extensive. I also relied on April DeConick’s research on the Gospel of Thomas. She argues that the Gospel of Thomas started as a kernel of Aramaic Jesus Sayings that went through several processes of compilation and re-writing into what we have today.

The question, “Why is it not in the Bible” is a rather silly question for those who know how complicated the process of canonization was…but it is the question I hear ALL THE TIME from people interested in the topic. Some have even crafted complicated conspiracy theories about how the Church stifled certain books, barring them from the Bible. In these situations, I always try to downplay the power of any centralized ecclesiastical authorities during this time. There is not much evidence for a concerted effort by Church authorities to ban the Gospel of Thomas. Sure, some church authorities didn’t like it, but it was obviously being copied and read by some people. However, its popularity apparently wasn’t enough. By the time the canon started to take shape, the 4 Gospel that we are most familiar with already had a huge fan base, and it was hard to break into that exclusive club.


April DeConick. Recovering the Original Gospel of Thomas: A History of the Gospel and Its Growth. 2005.

Simon Gathercole. The Gospel of Thomas: Introduction and Commentary. 2015


Gospel of Judas Bibliography

caf_image_630_420f_wnThis was a very difficult video to produce simply because of how much research is out there. The academic discipline of ancient history moves VERY SLOWLY. So when new data appears on the scene, scholars immediately jump on it.


I’ll make it easy for all of you and provide the monographs and articles I relied on to research this video. For those that are curious, I got the sense that more scholars agree with April DeConick that “daimon” should be translated as “demon” in the Gospel of Judas. Notably one of the premier scholars of Gnosticism, David Brakke, translates it as “demon,” while Marvin Meyer, the original translator for National Geographic, stood by his translation “spirit.”


Brakke, David. The Gnostics: Myth, Ritual, and Diversity in Early Christianity, (Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 2010).

DeConick, April. The Thirteenth Apostle: What the Gospel of Judas Really Says, (New York: Continuum, 2007).

Ehrman, Bart. The Lost Gospel of Judas Iscariot: A New Look at Betrayer and Betrayed (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006).

Jenott, Lance. The Gospel of Judas: Coptic Text, Translation, and Historical Interpretation of the ‘Betrayer’s Gospel,’ (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011).

Pagels, Elaine and Karen King. Reading Judas: The Gospel of Judas and the Shaping of Christianity, (New York: Penguin Group, 2007).

Meyer, Marvin. “The Thirteenth Daimon: Judas and Sophia in the Gospel of Judas,” article on Meyer’s website: http://www.chapman.edu/wilkinson/religious-studies/_files/marv-meyer/13th_daimon_final-11408.pdf

Did Emperor Decius Specifically Target Christians? [bibliography]

Emperor_Traianus_Decius_(Mary_Harrsch)Because Christian persecution is such a volatile topic, I approached this video with a measure of trepidation. Tempers can flare when you try to vet the historicity of martyrdom accounts. Dr. Candida Moss, for example, received huge amounts of hate mail for her book The Myth of Persecution back in 2013 for applying the historical critical method to these stories, and I’m not eager to experience that for myself.

The whole point of this video, though, was to try to get into the mind of Decius and the Romans in general. Why would Decius decree such an odd edict? And why would the Romans react in violence to the Christians who refused to sacrifice? As I said in the video, the mainstream scholarly consensus is that Decius was out to bolster the strength of the empire through a massive show of piety. He probably didn’t have Christians in mind. Scholars from earlier in the 20th century viewed it as a piece of anti-Christian legislation, but the discovery and analysis of the Decian certificates from Egypt cast some doubt on these conclusions.

Having said that, I do find the timing in the middle of the 3rd century as Christianity was starting to grow in numbers as a bit suspicious. So I allow myself a certain measure of skepticism to account for the possibility of an anti-Christian bias. The complete lack of references to Christianity in the papyrological evidence, though, has me pretty well convinced. I highly recommend that you read through the documents themselves to see for yourself.

As far as secondary literature, my research for this video came mainly from the scholars I mention: Allen Brent, Candida Moss, and J.B. Rives. Both Brent and Rives engage the earlier scholarship on this topic, so if you want actual names and titles for these older scholars, please check out their work.


Brent, Allen. Cyprian and Roman Carthage. 2010

Knipfing, John. “The Libelli of the Decian Persecution,” The Harvard Theological Review, Vol 16, No 4 (Oct 1923), 345-390.

Moss, Candida. Myth of Persecution. 2013.

Rives, J.B. “The Decree of Decius and the Religion of Empire,” Journal of Roman Studies, Vol 89 (1999), 135-154.

What Did Marcion Believe? [video bibliography]

Researching for my Marcion video was actually pretty tough. Not because of the scarcity of sources, but because of the huge glut of scholarship on the topic. Marcion is pretty popular among scholars, and I needed to distill all of their research into a 10 minute video.

Coincidentally, I had just read a recent monograph on the topic: Dieter Roth’s The Text of Marcion’s Gospel. Roth’s book is so interesting because he tries to reconstruct Marcion’s version of the Gospel of Luke. If you remember from the video, Marcion is famous for “corrupting” the Gospel of Luke (or some other text that his detractors called a corruption of Luke). By mining the writings of authors like Epiphanius and Tertullian, Roth offers a plausible reconstruction of that Gospel. The book is quite technical and really requires an understanding of Latin and Greek, but I highly recommend it if you’re interested in the so-called “Marcionite Canon.”


Lieu, Judith. Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the 2nd Century, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015.

Roth, Dieter. The Text of Marcion’s Gospel, Leiden: Brill, 2015.


Eavesdropping on a Historical Areopagus Sermon

View from the Areopagus.

View from the Areopagus.

Early some Sunday morning in June, I dragged myself out of my bed in Athens and hiked up to the Areopagus to shoot my latest video blog episode on Paul’s famous Areopagus speech.

Though I had hoped to avoid the inevitable glut of tourists, several Christian groups had already congregated around the hill for Sunday morning worship. An American pastor (who you see featured at 00:42 in the video) was preaching a sermon on Paul’s speech to one of these groups. Standing at an awkward distance to eavesdrop, I overheard the pastor echoing my own thesis: Paul emulates Greek apologists–especially Socrates–in his speech.

The pastor’s conclusion?: Acts 17 proves that the historical figure of Paul was well-versed in Greek apologetics and that he deployed these skills to tailor his message for his Athenian audience.

As benign as this may sound, this pastor highlights the toughest obstacle I encountered when writing this vlog, namely, acknowledging the disconnect between the traditional and scholarly interpretations of this Biblical passage in a way that was both fair and accurate. 

For most Christians, this pastor included, Acts 17 is an accurate representation of a historical speech that Paul gave on the Areopagus sometime in the mid-1st century CE.

For most scholars, Acts 17 reflects how the author of Acts wanted to portray Paul as well-versed in Greek apologetics.

Notice the difference.

The former assumes the historicity of the event, the latter recognizes that the event is filtered through the lens of an author. This doesn’t necessarily preclude the historicity of the event, but it DOES return agency to the author who has a vested interest in crafting a positive image of their main protagonist Paul.

Of course, some scholars unequivocally assert that the event is spurious. From their perspective the author of Acts is obviously a Pauline fan-boy who composed this speech from whole-cloth in an attempt to prove Paul’s intellectual prowess. But other scholars strike a more moderate tone, conceding that Paul may have given a speech in Athens which the author of Acts then embellishes.

Since it’s difficult to prove a negative (i.e Paul didn’t give this speech) by historical means, I side with the moderate position that Paul may have given a speech in Athens that more or less follows the trajectory described in Acts. However, as an educator in ancient religion, I would be remiss to gloss over the complexity of this passage. Paul possibly did not give this speech, and if he did, it might not have sounded exactly like how the author of Acts records it.

Historical criticism such as this is disconcerting for many people of faith and may invite opprobrium both in the classroom and in blog comments, but I’m a firm believer that engaging and appreciating this complexity can not only benefit one’s own beliefs, but it is also a vital component of religious literacy. 

Yes, historical and archaeological interpretation, especially within biblical studies, is a messy business, and scholarly conclusions don’t always tell us what we want to hear. But the whole point of religious literacy is to become a more informed and empathetic individual in the 21st century. It is to discover how to thrive in a diverse secular society, not hiding from viewpoints that challenge our opinions but rather engaging them honestly with an open mind.



Reflecting on Forgery: Gospel of Jesus’ Wife Revisited

NTS61_03In April 2014, Harvard Theological Review published a barrage of articles on the Gospel of Jesus’ Wife…the controversial scrap of papyri that early Christian expert Karen King brought to light back in 2012. Although the edition was chock full of scientific studies dating the papyri and ink, by the time they hit the public, the academic community had already concluded that the writing was a modern forgery.

Since then we haven’t heard much about the fragment. As a “closed case,” academic bloggers didn’t really feel a need to talk about it (despite many among the public still viewing it as an authentic document…something i try to combat in my video blog over on YouTube).

Thankfully the academic journal New Testament Studies has provided the “autopsy” we’ve been needing that reflects on the hype surrounding the fragment. The tenor of this edition differs a lot from the HTS publication since all of these articles come from the understanding that the Gospel of Jesus’ Wife is indeed a forgery. So rather than slogging through dense chemical analyses, we get some interesting pieces on the context of forgery and how the Gospel of Jesus’ Wife gained “viral status” online.

Even better…all of these articles are open-access, so I highly recommend you check them out here.

What do you think? Why did the Gospel of Jesus’ Wife generate so much hype?


What is Gnosticism? [vlog]

Depending on who you ask, the Gnostics were either evil heretics or enlightened sages plumbing the depths of divine knowledge. This latter romanticized view cropped up in the weeks following the publication of the Gospel of Judas back in 2006. For a public still basking in the afterglow of Dan Brown’s bestselling The Da Vinci Code, a fanclub quickly formed around the Gospel of Judas, attracted to the idea that Judas and Jesus were actually in league with each other unbeknownst to the rest of the disciples.

Though the hype from 2006 has since dwindled, misconceptions about the Gnostics still abound. Even among scholars, Gnostics escape easy classification. Were they overly-Hellenized Christians? Neoplatonists obsessed with the Christ myth? Manichees or Zoroastrians who had crept into Christian communities? The answer is of course none of these, but scholars have trotted out theories like these over the past 100 years, leaving scholarship on Gnosticism a somewhat confusing mess.

I purposely choose video blog topics that engage these messy situations. Although many may feel that they have a good handle on what Gnosticism is, I’m here to say it is never as simple as it seems. So check out my latest episode and let me know what you think! Can we actually define Gnosticism? Should we jettison the term entirely?

Where Did Ancient Christians Meet? [Vlog]


Seconds before an attendant told me I can’t film on site.


Balch, David and Carolyn Osiek. Early Christian Families in Context: An Interdisciplinary Dialogue. Eerdmans Publishing: 2003.

Billings, Bradley S. 2011. “From House Church to Tenement Church: Domestic Space and the Development of Early Urban Christianity—The Example of Ephesus. Journal of Theological Studies. 62:541-569.

Meeks, Wayne. The First Urban Christians.

Stern, Karen. “Tagging Sacred Space in the Dura-Europos Synagogue.” Journal of Roman Archaeology 25: 2012

Urman, D., and Paul Virgil McCracken Flesher. 1998. Ancient Synagogues: Historical Analysis and Archaeological Discovery. BRILL.

Staring into the Abyss (Why I Study Ancient Christian Magic Pt. 2)


Ancient sarcophagi in downtown Athens.

This is my second post in a 3 part series. See “Part I” here

I’m the first to admit that I started researching magical ritual in Late Antiquity because it was weird. For an undergraduate who had primarily subsisted on a sanitized diet of Homer, Plato, and Cicero, I was equally shocked and excited to discover that the ancients deployed curse spells calling for a victim’s utter destruction and fashioned amulets to ward off sexual advances from demons. Not only did these texts controvert my romantic view of antiquity, but they were bizarre and exciting—perfect for a student who struggled to feign interest in dense philosophical or theological texts (I’m looking at you Plotinus).

But as I continued in my studies, the novelty faded, replaced by the realization that I had taken a morbid fascination in the suffering of long-dead men and women. Most ancient spells aim to ameliorate physical ailments, loneliness, or poverty, and although these strategies strike us as outlandish, the underlying motivations are all too familiar. Indeed, death and disease were more readily visible to the ancients, but try as we might to mitigate and manage them in the present, we still stare into the same abyss.  

Our own mortality resonates with this sort of research. Magic is a deeply existential activity motivated by, in the words of scholar Catherine Bell, a necessity of doing something rather than nothing. In magical ritual, we engage the world with our own body, emotions, and words in an effort to regain agency in a fragmented and uncertain reality—not out of some hubristic sense of mastery over the world but precisely because we recognize that the universe cannot be compelled.

Magical ritual evokes a hypothetical reality “as it should be” rather than the stark, brutal reality “as it is.” This is not to imply that magic is some illusory mentality known only to “primitive” people. Indeed, the gap between ancient irrationality and our modern sensibility disappears when we consider that all humans seek any strategy to gain mastery over their material realities. “Mortality” embodies this struggle because it is ultimately awareness of our eventual demise that spurs us so strongly to augment our own agency.

This is why I have continued researching ancient magic…to empathize with the ancients through our shared existential condition and to learn something about ourselves in the process. Though we may scoff at the obvious inefficacy of ancient magic, we ironically battle the same demons with the equally inefficacious weapons of wealth, sex, or power.

Why I Study Ancient Christian Magic (and so should you) Pt. 1 of 3

A drawing of an angel, possibly Gabriel, from a Gnostic Christian magical papyrus.

A drawing of an angel, possibly Gabriel, from a Gnostic Christian magical papyrus.

I study ancient Christian magic. No, not [simply] because I aspire to be Harry Potter…but the reasons are as complicated as they are personal, and it is about time that I address them.

Some may think I derive perverse glee in exposing the inconsistencies in ancient Christians’ piety—that somehow their reliance on love spells, Jesus amulets, and curse tablets invalidates their legitimacy as moral actors in history. “Why,” the critic may ask, “would Christians—whose own religion denounces magic—rely on bizarre, disgusting, and often shamefully misogynistic strategies to navigate their daily lives?”

As important as it is to recognize how ancient and modern Christians differ, castigating the ancients smacks of desperate axe-grinding from a recovering fundamentalist and not serious scholarship. Not only is it unproductive but it also breaks a cardinal rule of historians: foisting modern morality onto ancient sensibilities. As the scholar Robert Orsi says, “Religious studies is not a moralizing discipline.” We refrain from condoning, defending, or passing judgment on our subjects of study in favor of exploring how religion functions in specific geographical and chronological contexts.

This, however, does not relegate religious studies to mere “knowledge production.” In my own work, I strive to highlight the relevancy of research even as arcane as “ancient Christian magic”—how, through studying the rituals and habits of  ancient Christians, we can promote empathy, exercise humility, and tear down walls of misunderstanding in the present.

My first reason for studying ancient Christian magic is that it explores the 99% of Antiquity.

“Church history” brings to mind big names like Ignatius, Tertullian, John Chrysostom, Augustine, and Jerome. Introductory classes often focus on major events like Constantine’s victory at the Milvian bridge or social changes like the rise of monasticism. However, although the Church fathers, bishops, monks, and emperors constitute the bulk of research in my field, they ironically reflect the vast minority of the ancient Christian population—the 1%, as it were.

The major heroes of ancient Christianity were, in general, wealthy politicians, statesmen (men…not women), lawyers, and scholars. Their own prestige afforded a certain level of fame to their writings even during their life time, enabling them to be copied again and again to our present age. Archaeology likewise favors the 1% as massive basilicas tend to survive 15 centuries far better than mud-brick houses in the Mediterranean countryside.

This is not because of any latent bias in academia…this simply is the nature of our evidence in a field so far removed from its subject. However, focusing on the 1% of ancient Christianity skews our understanding of how Christians thought, worshipped, and related to each other and the divine in antiquity.

It is difficult to describe just how privileged characters like Augustine and Ambrose were. Living in villas fit for kings, they had the time to wax eloquent on the nature of the Trinity that others spent on subsistence farming. Life for the masses was, in the words of Thomas Hobbes, “poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” Barely 15-20% of the population had any level of literacy. Archaeology moreover reveals to us a world characterized by high birth mortality rate, rampant parasites, and a near-complete lack of public health initiatives.

It is within this world we must imagine early Christian magic. Studying magic, more than any theological text, brings us face to face with the average ancient Christian and how they practiced their faith “on the ground.”

When I focus my camera on an apotropaic menorah inscribed on the threshold of an ancient house in Priene, the power that the symbol held for the original homeowner is almost palpable. When I study curse tablets found in situ, I encounter the angst and anxiety of the last person who had touched the object.

Here there is immediacy to ancient ritual far removed from the rarefied rhetoric of Paul or Pausanias. 

In short, everyone practiced magic in antiquity….not everyone (in fact, very few) wrote sweeping theological tracts or eloquent sermons. Focusing on the former is my way of exploring the nature of ancient Christianity, a field so often dominated by “big name/big event” histories.