The Origenian Hypothesis

I recently suggested that the letter might be reattributed to Origen and, indeed, as I observed, there were earlier hints of an Origenian connection.^{Footnote 6} John Reumann mentioned to Smith, as Smith prepared his commentary, that a comparison of the letter’s vocabulary to Origen’s might be helpful, if only such an index had been available then.^{Footnote 7} Henry Chadwick noticed that the letter takes an Origenian attitude toward freedom, and Johannes Munck pointed out that its depiction of secret apostolic interpretations of gospel passages resembled Origen’s.^{Footnote 8} Attila Jakab much later mentioned that Theodore would have been more likely to write to Origen if, as Smith proposed, Clement had been away from Alexandria at the time.^{Footnote 9} And a decade ago, Annick Martin surmised the letter may have been forged by an Origenist in the fifth century for polemical purposes.^{Footnote 10} However, although the letter’s title (“From the letters of the most holy Clement”) refers to a collection of Clement’s letters, Martin determined no such collection existed, leaving her ultimately puzzled about the letter’s true author.^{Footnote 11}

Taken together, however, these observations suggest the simpler scenario that Origen himself was that author. In contrast with Clement’s letters, we know that Origen’s were collected, and I have suggested that the collection of letters apparently misattributed to Clement may in fact have been Origen’s (see below).^{Footnote 12} Clement’s influence over Origen was profound, and Jerome writes that Origen wrote his own Stromateis in imitation of Clement.^{Footnote 13} Any appearance of imitation in the letter would have been unintentional, as I have explained.^{Footnote 14} Yet Origen’s language can at times resemble Clement’s, despite its differences.^{Footnote 15}

Walter Völker, an opponent of Clementine authorship, dated the letter to the third century, connecting it with Christian-gnostic debates; but indeed, that was when Origen engaged gnostics in debate.^{Footnote 16} Völker objected that a sequestered, esoteric text stood in contrast with the unwritten esotericism Clement knew.^{Footnote 17} But whatever Clement’s attitudes actually were, Origen not only knew and defended unwritten esotericism and scriptural interpretation in general, he also believed the spiritually immature should be delayed from reading certain scriptures altogether, lest they misunderstand them.^{Footnote 18} Origen thus expresses the same attitude as the letter does, on regulating access to written texts with esoteric interpretations. The letter does not say that the longer Markan Gospel transmitted secret Markan tradition, but only that it provided mystical teaching by way of scriptural exegesis, an attitude that resembles Origen’s approach toward reproducing esoteric knowledge.^{Footnote 19}

Nevertheless, Origenian authorship had not been proposed at the time of the symposium, and some recent arguments for forgery were also not considered there.^{Footnote 20} These still need to be addressed, since earlier I only responded to arguments that were presented in the symposium proceedings.^{Footnote 21} In addition, the case for forgery typically claims that Smith forged the letter himself, based on various elements of the fragments that the letter contains from the longer Markan Gospel. I deliberately avoided discussing these fragments, to focus on the text of the surrounding letter, but they require careful attention if the forgery hypothesis relies on them.^{Footnote 22} There is thus a need to consider not only the most recent arguments for forgery, but also the noncanonical gospel fragments, in view of the Origenian hypothesis. This article, therefore, is an effort to supplement my earlier work.

The Origenian hypothesis may help resolve a long-standing debate, which has sometimes borne an unpleasant tone that I hope to avoid in this paper.^{Footnote 23} Answering the remaining elements of the forgery hypothesis may also help the academy move forward with traditional methods of reattribution. Some scholars have even discouraged their colleagues and students from using the noncanonical gospel fragments in research, but this will need to be reconsidered if Origen may have written the letter.^{Footnote 24} Smith may also deserve some exoneration, if there are new alternatives to forgery.

The Remaining Arguments for Forgery

The case that Smith forged the letter was principally renewed during the past decade by Stephen Carlson and Peter Jeffery.^{Footnote 25} Carlson contributed to the published symposium proceedings but did not attend the symposium itself.^{Footnote 26} In his contribution, he primarily argued that Smith’s research on Clement, prior to the letter’s discovery, implicates Smith as the letter’s forger.^{Footnote 27} But that argument had already been answered at the symposium.^{Footnote 28} Furthermore, if the letter is Origenian, that Clementine research is irrelevant.^{Footnote 29} Carlson also cited testimony regarding Smith’s abilities in ancient languages and paleography as evidence of his ability to forge the document.^{Footnote 30} But these were testimonies to Smith’s abilities in reading ancient texts, not in producing imitations of them.^{Footnote 31} In contrast, Origen’s native Greek and his life in ancient Alexandria would more naturally produce a letter that at times seems to reflect Clement’s influence. Carlson briefly listed several “anachronisms” in the letter, which he claimed betrayed its twentieth-century background, but these readings have all been shown to misunderstand the text.^{Footnote 32} Furthermore, some of the text Carlson misreads actually expresses Origenian usage. For example, Origen uses the same metaphor of corruptible salt at Contra Celsum 8.70 as the letter does, and likewise speaks of the temple sanctuary’s contents as veiled sevenfold at Homiliae in Numeros 4.2.^{Footnote 33}

In Jeffery’s contribution, he acknowledged several replies to his arguments already made by Scott Brown but did not elaborate further.^{Footnote 34} Jeffery principally argued that Clement’s theology renders incoherent the letter’s depiction of the “instructed,” on the one hand, and Christians being simultaneously “perfected” and “initiated,” on the other, a depiction that seems to confuse esoteric language in a non-Clementine manner.^{Footnote 35} Yet Origen’s teachings more closely resemble the letter’s, describing three stages of faith and exegesis often expressed as two: a literal stage given to “simpler” believers; and two higher, more spiritual stages reserved for those “making progress” and the already “perfect.”^{Footnote 36} These latter two stages, although technically separate, were typically treated together, as a continuing process of perfection through exegesis.^{Footnote 37} And this process was associated with initiation: Origen connected the study and exegesis of Scripture to initiation and perfection, in related esoteric terms that can recall the letter’s language.^{Footnote 38} Although Jeffery argues at length that the letter’s vocabulary must derive from the mind of Smith, Origen’s creative adaptation of his predecessor Clement far more easily explains the letter’s features.^{Footnote 39} Even Francis Watson, who believes the letter was forged, suggests that Jeffery’s speculations about Smith sometimes go too far.^{Footnote 40}

Jeffery adds that the letter’s Alexandrian church seems more centralized than Clement’s was.^{Footnote 41} But that centralization began in Origen’s day.^{Footnote 42} Jeffery’s remaining comments, on the letter’s attitudes toward truth and the Carpocratians, seem based on Smith’s misreading of the text, rather than the text itself.^{Footnote 43} We can at least note here that Origen’s doctrine of truth resembles the letter’s permissive attitude toward deception in the defense of faith (a point addressed in more detail below), and Origen was also familiar with the Carpocratians.^{Footnote 44} Brown gave a two-part reply to Jeffery, arguing that the letter’s language is Clementine and that Clement likely also had knowledge of the longer Markan Gospel.^{Footnote 45} But if these arguments are correct, they simultaneously support Origenian authorship, since Origen almost certainly read Clement, and shared his background in the Alexandrian church.^{Footnote 46} Clement’s well-known influence over Origen would thus explain the letter’s Clementine features. Origen’s own creativity would then explain any differences from Clement.

Watson published an extended argument in 2010 that the letter is both non-Clementine and forged by Smith.^{Footnote 47} However, he was not a part of the symposium, where his arguments went largely unaddressed, and I likewise have not so far addressed them.^{Footnote 48} Although Watson’s arguments are at times mentioned in the published proceedings, they deserve fuller treatment, especially in view of the Origenian hypothesis.^{Footnote 49} Watson has also asked that his arguments be treated in full, and it seems respectful to accommodate his wishes.^{Footnote 50} His arguments against Clementine authorship are that 1) the letter seems to use Clement as a source, 2) its purpose seems anomalous with respect to Clement’s background, and 3) it seems to use the writings of Papias in a way that Clement does not.^{Footnote 51} As we shall see, Watson’s arguments have some merit. But even if the letter is not by Clement, we may simply be dealing with misattribution. Misattribution of ancient texts is not uncommon, and even Smith admitted certain fragments had been misattributed to Clement.^{Footnote 52} Although Watson’s claims about Clementine authorship may be correct, the evidence for them does not implicate a modern forger; rather, the evidence indicates Origen wrote the letter.

The Letter’s Source: Clementine Influence, Origenian Creativity

The letter’s title, which attributes the letter to Clement, does resemble Clementine attributions found in the titles of fragments of letters from the Sacra Parallela.^{Footnote 53} But again, those attributions may be mistakes, made around the time the Sacra Parallela was compiled, as Martin suggested.^{Footnote 54} Andrew Criddle dated the error to the sixth and seventh centuries, and Pierluigi Piovanelli likewise proposed that a purported collection of Clement’s letters was “an erroneous medieval misattribution.”^{Footnote 55} The letter’s title suggests it was misattributed to Clement alongside those others.^{Footnote 56} Various other patristic authors had letters misattributed.^{Footnote 57} Origen’s own writings were being transmitted anonymously as early as the fourth century and were misattributed as early as the fifth.^{Footnote 58} From the sixth century on, they were being deliberately destroyed, neglected, or hidden, after their condemnation in 553.^{Footnote 59} Origen’s recently discovered homilies on Psalms were likewise eventually misattributed.^{Footnote 60} Amid this general context, a misattribution of a letter by Origen does not seem implausible, perhaps to prevent its destruction, or even simply out of confusion.

The letter itself describes two noncanonical texts: the longer version of Mark’s Gospel, also called “longer Mark,” which added material to the canonical text; and another gospel based on this, used by the Carpocratians, which we will discuss in detail below.^{Footnote 61} With respect to the evangelist Mark, the letter seems to contradict Clement in portraying Mark as working independently from the apostle Peter’s notes, rather than from the memory of his preaching at the urging of his followers.^{Footnote 62} That also at first seems to contradict Origen, since he is usually read to say that Mark wrote as Peter “instructed” him (ὡς Πέτρος ὑφηγήσατο αὐτῷ).^{Footnote 63} However, Robert Gundry has explained that when followed by the dative, ὑφηγήσατο merely means “guidance” or “leadership” and may refer to the way Peter’s preaching set an example for Mark’s writing.^{Footnote 64} Thus, the letter does not contradict Origen on the link between Peter and Mark. It may seem to echo Clement in claiming that Mark wrote a “more spiritual Gospel” (πνϵυματικώτϵρον ϵὐαγγέλιον), which resembles Clement’s comment that John wrote a “spiritual gospel” (πνϵυματικὸν ποιῆσαι ϵὐαγγέλιον).^{Footnote 65} But this can in turn be explained by Clementine influence over Origen, and indeed, Origen calls John’s Gospel “spiritual” in Commentarii in evangelium Joannis.^{Footnote 66} Even so, he does not use the term “spiritual gospel” there in full, leaving him free to apply that term to a longer Markan Gospel, as the letter does.^{Footnote 67} These elements seem to reflect both Clementine influence and Origenian creativity.

The letter’s defense of outright deception regarding longer Mark, or “LGM,” has seemed especially un-Clementine to scholars.^{Footnote 68} In comparison, as Ronald Heine explains, Origen justified occasional deception when for a “great good” (magnum … bonum) in his lost work Stromateis, defending it elsewhere as well, and, unlike Clement, he never prohibited perjury by the faithful.^{Footnote 69} Yet the letter’s “secrecy” has been somewhat misunderstood: the author does not tell Theodore himself to lie by keeping secret the existence of LGM but merely defends secrecy in general, and impersonally.^{Footnote 70} That attitude seems in accord with Origen, who, if Jerome is accurate, taught that a teacher may sometimes lie but that pupils should not.^{Footnote 71}

Clement’s influence on Origen may explain why the letter’s fragmentary last sentence seems to echo Clement’s Quis dives salvetur 5.2, in presenting a mystical interpretation of a Markan text rather than a “carnal” interpretation.^{Footnote 72} Origen himself certainly contrasted a historical or literal sense of Scripture, sometimes called the “carnal sense,” with a more elevated or spiritual, sometimes “mystical,” sense.^{Footnote 73} It is easier to imagine that Origen inadvertently echoed Clement here than that some modern author deliberately imitated him. Although Watson adds that “the letter is oddly reminiscent of modern studies of the gospels,” Jean Daniélou called Origen the “founder of the scientific study of the Bible.”^{Footnote 74} While all these features point away from Clementine authorship, they simultaneously point toward Origenian authorship.

Origen’s authorial traits also explain the letter’s attitude toward not only LGM, but the Carpocratian gospel as well. The letter quotes two noncanonical passages from LGM, termed LGM1 and LGM2, that it says the Carpocratian gospel also included, but with various interpolations.^{Footnote 75} LGM1 echoes various canonical Markan verses, and Watson argues this implies a modern imitator of Mark, i.e., that both LGM and the Carpocratian gospel are invented.^{Footnote 76} However, despite citing Brown’s works, Watson never addresses his argument that the Markan author wrote both LGM and canonical Mark, which would explain their similarities.^{Footnote 77} Although we will not resolve here the question of how these two texts relate, we will examine the attitude the letter takes toward both, showing that, in either case, its attitude is Origenian.

Describing the Carpocratian Gospel

Although Watson believes both LGM and the Carpocratian gospel are fictional, his portrayal of them seems to go well beyond what the letter says. For example, LGM1 describes the resurrection of a man by Jesus—which structurally resembles the resurrection of Lazarus in the Gospel of John—after which Jesus gives the man spiritual teaching. Watson finds the behavior of the characters in LGM1 somehow suggestive or out of place; however, Brown has shown that the language Watson points to in LGM1 is typically Markan.^{Footnote 78} At any rate, the letter goes on to say the Carpocratian gospel had somehow altered LGM, including adding the phrase γυμνὸς γυμνῷ at some unspecified location. The phrase could mean “naked with naked,” but remains ambiguous without a context. Watson gave it a sexual interpretation, calling it “scandalous” and even pretending to quote the Carpocratian gospel to that effect.^{Footnote 79} But the letter does not say where the phrase was found in the Carpocratian gospel: it describes the authentic text of LGM1, states it was followed by Mark 10:35–44, and then says γυμνὸς γυμνῷ is among the language not found in LGM.^{Footnote 80} That does not tell us where the phrase actually appeared in the Carpocratian gospel.^{Footnote 81} Nor need we assume it depicted anyone in the Carpocratian gospel: it could have been part of a saying uttered by any one of various characters. The phrase itself may not have been objectionable to either the letter’s author or to Theodore.^{Footnote 82} Jerome, in the early fifth century, developed the Latin phrase nudus nudum and variations thereof as a pious and spiritual metaphor.^{Footnote 83} Thus, γυμνὸς γυμνῷ could have represented a similar precept.^{Footnote 84} Early Christians were γυμνός or nudus when baptized; furthermore, these terms may only indicate light clothing.^{Footnote 85} Clement, whom Origen read, interpreted Mark 10:21 in Paedagogus as a command for the wealthy to follow God, stripped (γυμνὸς) of worldly trappings.^{Footnote 86} And Origen, whom Jerome read, used γυμνός to refer symbolically to poverty, both material and spiritual.^{Footnote 87} He also used the same term to describe the pursuit of truth, a term which Watson elsewhere translates as “pure.”^{Footnote 88}

Watson also describes LGM2, two verses that briefly relate Jesus’s encounter with and initial dismissal of some female relatives of the resurrected man from LGM1. The brevity of the version excerpted by the letter strongly implies that in the authentic longer Markan Gospel, the passage continued at some length, likely containing a spiritually edifying lesson involving Jesus’s acceptance of the women.^{Footnote 89} In contrast, Watson wonders whether we are to imagine that the Carpocratian version depicted Salome receiving the same teaching as the resurrected man (called a νεανίσκος, a man in his twenties), and he proposes that this somehow provided the Carpocratians with justification for promiscuity, based on “more scandalous versions of the two passages.”^{Footnote 90} But we know only that the Carpocratian text was somehow objectionable to the letter’s author. There are various ways it may have been objectionable, with no reason why the objectionable material must have been sensual.^{Footnote 91}

Watson may have taken for granted Smith’s English translation, which assumed that Clement was the author. According to Smith’s translation, the letter describes the Carpocratians’ “unspeakable teachings … carnal and bodily sins … servile desires … [and] blasphemous and carnal doctrine.”^{Footnote 92} Watson and other scholars seem to interpret all these phrases as referring to sensual behavior of a kind an early Christian would find illicit.^{Footnote 93} But as we saw above, “carnal” in Origen can simply refer to the material realm, in contrast with the spiritual one.^{Footnote 94} The term ἄρρητος does not merely mean “unspeakable” in Origen; it often means “ineffable” and was used by Christian and pagan authors to describe Middle Platonic, gnostic, and Christian theological doctrines.^{Footnote 95} Origen discusses the blasphemous in theological settings: for example, at Contra Celsum 7.56 in a dispute with Celsus about interpolations into the Sibylline Oracles, or at Homiliae in Numeros 19.3 on blasphemous Christian heresy.^{Footnote 96} And if the phrase ἀνδραποδώδων ἐπιθυμιῶν (servile desires) has any sensual connotation, it most plausibly refers to the doctrine of sexual liberty between men and women that the Carpocratians are already known to have taught.^{Footnote 97} There seems no basis for speculating that the letter refers to any Carpocratian doctrines besides those already known from Irenaeus and Clement.^{Footnote 98}

The Letter’s Purpose I: Wearing the σινδών

Watson claims there are “three major anomalies” in the letter’s response to Theodore’s concerns, which indicate the letter was written specifically to reveal the longer Markan text, implying a clever forgery.^{Footnote 99} The first of these is that “the letter is an inappropriate response to Theodore’s concerns,” because, in Watson’s reading, even the authentic LGM placed its characters in “compromising positions.”^{Footnote 100} Reflecting his, likely mistaken, understanding of the Carpocratian gospel, Watson claims the letter reveals that “the Carpocratian view of Mark is largely true,” describing LGM1 in terms he describes as “only slightly less prurient” than the Carpocratian text.^{Footnote 101} But such interpretations of LGM1 had already been soundly refuted before Watson’s article was published.^{Footnote 102} Nevertheless, one element deserves further explanation.

Watson draws special attention to the resurrected man’s clothing, twice claiming that the σινδών (fine linen) the man wears to meet Jesus implies he was “scantily clad,” or even “nearly naked.”^{Footnote 103} But the phrase σινδόνα ἐπὶ γυμνοῦ (fine linen over his nakedness), describing the man’s clothing, does not necessarily indicate a single garment, since the same phrase at Mark 14:51–52 may not indicate that either.^{Footnote 104} Even if it does, the σινδών invokes various theological associations.^{Footnote 105} Gundry, for one, was untroubled by the resurrected man’s manner of dress in LGM1, finding nothing else in it but the Christian symbolism of poverty as qualification for discipleship, drawing a connection with “the growing ideal of poverty in Alexandrian Christianity.”^{Footnote 106} To wear a single garment in the privacy of one’s home, even (or especially) an inner garment like the χιτών or tunica (a tunic), was normative behavior for Greeks and Romans.^{Footnote 107} The ἱμάτιον (a cloak), usually an outer garment, was sometimes worn alone outdoors.^{Footnote 108} In Israel, too, the χιτών and ἱμάτιον were worn alone both indoors and outdoors, depending on one’s class.^{Footnote 109} Leviticus Rabbah 1.14 (a saying likely known to Origen) describes a king’s private dress in a manner that implies it was a linen garment, like the σινδών.^{Footnote 110} And the σινδών also was worn alone, as Howard Jackson explained two decades ago.^{Footnote 111} Single garments, including the σινδών, were worn in a variety of everyday contexts in the Roman Mediterranean, which would have been familiar to Christians. Smith’s critics seem to misunderstand the σινδών. Even Gundry, writing in 1993, calls it a “mere piece of cloth … or at most a scanty tunic, easily slipped out of,” but offers no basis for this reading.^{Footnote 112} Jackson explains that such notions are imaginary and lack an understanding of ancient Greek dress.^{Footnote 113} The latest Bauer-Danker lexicon in 2000 cited Diogenes Laertius, Vitae philosoporum 6.90, as “suggestion of scanty attire” with respect to the σινδών, but Lara O’Sullivan has more recently explained that this passage in D. Laertius in fact represents the enforcement of Athenian sumptuary laws.^{Footnote 114} Joel Marcus, in his 2009 commentary on Mark, maintained that “the reference is apparently to a loincloth” but cited only the 1993 Anchor Bible Dictionary entry for “Dress and Ornamentation” for his reading.^{Footnote 115} That entry, written by the late Douglas Edwards, provides no authority save for Mark 14:51–52 itself, giving a circular reasoning that begs the question.^{Footnote 116} The more recent work cited above, like O’Sullivan’s, supersedes these older readings.

The single garment in LGM1 may bear a particular philosophical meaning. To wear a single garment was how philosophers dressed, who were known for the simplicity of their attire.^{Footnote 117} This garment was sometimes called ἱμάτιον, but it was also called τρίβων.^{Footnote 118} This well-known attire was especially associated with the Cynic school, but other schools like the Stoics also donned it, and it generally signified a devotion to mental discipline and to a life of relative impoverishment.^{Footnote 119} Lucian includes the τρίβων among the philosopher’s fashion.^{Footnote 120} In Latin, the same garment was called the pallium and was worn by philosophers in the same way.^{Footnote 121} Epicureans and the Neopythagorean Apollonius of Tyana likewise adopted the attire, and even gods like the healer Asclepius were depicted wearing it.^{Footnote 122} By the time of Tertullian, the philosopher’s garment bore a connection with early Christianity, and artistic representations of Christian subjects, including Jesus and the apostles, often represented them in the philosopher’s pallium, sometimes over a tunic, and sometimes alone.^{Footnote 123} Early iconography of Jesus portrays him bare-chested in a pallium, resembling not only contemporary portrayals of Asclepius, but also images of philosophers, with, as Robin Margaret Jensen writes, “no tunic or undergarment, but only the pallium draped over his left shoulder—the garb of an itinerant intellectual.”^{Footnote 124} The apostle Thomas wears a single garment in the third-century Acta Thomae.^{Footnote 125} Other third-century Christians contemporary with Origen wore the philosopher’s garment, and Christian monks had adopted it by the early fifth century.^{Footnote 126}

This garment was also called σινδών, as Diogenes Laertius shows when he relates the story, at Vitae philosophorum 6.90, that Crates the Cynic and Theophrastus the Aristotelian both wore the σινδών.^{Footnote 127} In that passage, Crates uses the phrase σινδόνα περιβεβλημένον (fine linen wrapped around) to describe the dress of Theophrastus, echoing the letter’s phrase περιβεβλημένος σινδόνα; with the same phrase appearing in Mark 14:51, it seems this was a stock phrase associated with donning the σινδών.^{Footnote 128} It has been observed elsewhere that the σινδών of Mark 14:51 may represent the philosopher’s garment.^{Footnote 129} Tertullian calls Crates’s garb a duplex (doubled) pallium, rendering the pallium, especially of a doubled sort, likewise equivalent to σινδών.^{Footnote 130} Thus, the σινδών was a variety of ἱμάτιον, related to the philosopher’s τρίβων or pallium.^{Footnote 131} D. Laertius, writing not long before Tertullian, relates how Antisthenes and Diogenes, also Cynics, were said to have been the first to wear a τρίβων doubled (πρῶτος ἐδίπλωσε τὸν τρίβωνα), which again suggests that Crates’s σινδών may have evoked a doubled τρίβων or pallium.^{Footnote 132} Still another connection between Christianity and a doubled garment, worn alone in a characteristic wrap, may be reflected in the Christian misidentification of a statue of Asclepius at Caesarea Philippi as Christ, a statue whose figure Eusebius describes as “clothed decently in a doubled cloak” (διπλοΐδα κοσμίως περιβεβλημένον).^{Footnote 133}

Presenting Christianity as the true philosophy became commonplace in the second century, and philosophy still served as a shared language between Christians and pagans as late as the third century, especially in Origen’s Alexandria and also in Caesarea.^{Footnote 134} Although the philosopher’s fashion was a contested practice among early Christians, many of them did adopt and portray it.^{Footnote 135} Justin Martyr refers to the philosopher’s fashion (σχῆμα), and Eusebius states that Justin wore it himself.^{Footnote 136} The school of Ammonius, Origen’s teacher, also apparently wore the philosopher’s robe.^{Footnote 137} In a letter quoted by Eusebius, Origen himself describes his fellow Christian, Heraclas, likewise a student of Ammonius and later bishop of Alexandria, as taking on the philosopher’s fashion (φιλόσοφον ἀναλαβὼν σχῆμα), which incorporated the τρίβων.^{Footnote 138} Origen cites Heraclas’s adoption of the attire in defense of his own study of philosophy, and would make Heraclas a teacher of Alexandrian Christians, so he likely approved of the fashion.^{Footnote 139} Typically made of linen, but occasionally of cotton, the σινδών may have been a relatively luxurious version of this garment, but the philosophers Crates and Theophrastus did wear it, as did the Christian monk Serapion by the fourth century, suggesting a connection to poverty.^{Footnote 140} Thus, many early Christians would have not found the σινδών immodest, and it bore an intellectual significance many would have understood.

LGM1 already shares themes of resurrection, discipleship, and initiation with Mark 14:51–52, which likewise describes a νεανίσκος clad σινδόνα ἐπὶ γυμνοῦ.^{Footnote 141} Both passages also involve metaphors of baptism, although LGM1 evokes not a literal baptism, pace Smith and others, but rather, a metaphorical one that represents the initiation of already-baptized Christians into mysteries and spiritual exegesis.^{Footnote 142} That theme of exegetical initiation seems amplified by the σινδών garment’s association with philosophical education.^{Footnote 143} Thus, the attire of the νεανίσκος in LGM1 confirms symbolism already associated with the σινδών, and this would have seemed appropriate garb for learning Christian mysteries, which early Alexandrian theologians like Origen explain were equivalent to scriptural exegesis.^{Footnote 144} Given the life-setting of early Christian Alexandria, describing the resurrected man’s garb as “prurient” seems without support. The resurrected man of LGM1 is dressed in seemingly appropriate attire for an exegetical lesson, with philosophical and initiatory overtones, taught within his own home.^{Footnote 145}

For his part, Origen, in Homiliae in Leviticum, gives single garments a sacerdotal context, when he contrasts the “minor priests” of Leviticus with the major priests. Ignoring the priestly breeches, since they are not mentioned in Lev 8, Origen writes: “Neither two garments nor ‘a cape’ nor ‘a breastplate’ nor ‘an ornament of the head’ are given to minor priests. They are only given ‘a tiara’ and ‘belts’ which bind the tunic.”^{Footnote 146} Origen interprets wearing a single garment in a spiritual sense in Homiliae in Lucam, citing Luke 3:10–11 and Matt 10:10 in prohibiting two tunics (or prohibiting a “double garment,” as Jerome translates), and taking this to prohibit two masters. He connects this with apostleship and goes on to say that wearing one tunic not only implies clothing the naked and poor, but also opposes spiritual powers.^{Footnote 147} And when Origen discusses the σινδών Jesus is buried in, it is in the context of the purity it conferred on his body, quite unrelated to any prurience.^{Footnote 148} Although Origen does not connect the σινδών itself with philosophy in his extant writings, at Contra Celsum 2.69 he suggests he may, in a later work, provide a greater explanation of the significance of the elements of Jesus’s burial, such as the σινδών, echoing the letter’s promise to provide an exegesis of LGM1 “which accords with the true philosophy” (κατὰ τὴν ἀληθῆ φιλοσοφίαν ἐξήγησις).^{Footnote 149}

Indeed, like the letter, Origen connected philosophy to exegesis.^{Footnote 150} And again, the letter’s language of exegetical initiation seems especially Origenian.^{Footnote 151} As Jeffery himself explains, the letter also contains mystery religion terminology, used by Christian and Platonist philosophers for “initiation into the study of philosophy.”^{Footnote 152} That is terminology Origen might use to explain a gospel story—hinting at philosophical symbolism and intended for Christians undergoing advanced initiation—about a lesson taught by Jesus. Origen did, after all, promote the study of philosophy by his students, so long as it was subordinated to Christianity.^{Footnote 153} That seems in sympathy with LGM1, in which a man dressed as a philosopher, invoking sacerdotal and spiritual imagery, approaches Jesus to learn the Christian mysteries. Given its interpretive context, the letter’s reply to Theodore is in no way an “inappropriate response to Theodore’s concerns,” as Watson claims, nor would Theodore have felt any “discomfiture” from the author’s explanation of the longer Markan Gospel.^{Footnote 154}

Excursus: Remaining the Night

There also seems to be some confusion about whether the phrase ἔμεινε σὺν αὐτῷ τὴν νύκτα (he remained with him that night) in LGM1 was derived from “common usage” in antiquity, as Smith claimed.^{Footnote 155} Carlson stated that it has no precedent in ancient literature, and that this led readers to understand it as a modern romantic euphemism, a reading compatible with Watson’s.^{Footnote 156} However, Carlson admits he found two near-parallels, both in innocent Christian contexts, by substituting μετά for σύν (both can mean “with”), since, as he says “it is not uncommon for non-native speakers to use the wrong preposition.”^{Footnote 157} There is also another near-parallel, which Carlson did not notice, that does use σύν with νύξ (night), in Plutarch’s Vita Dion, καὶ παραμέινεν ἐδεῖτο και συννυκτερεύειν (and begged them to remain and spend the night with him).^{Footnote 158} This example is contemporary with early Christian literature, and does not indicate sensuality. It would seem, then, that we have at least three ancient examples, in different forms, of the same underlying turn of phrase. These examples are all innocent, and so we should take the example from the letter to be equally so.^{Footnote 159}

The Letter’s Purpose II: The Use of LGM

Describing the second “anomaly” he found in the letter, Watson claims that “Theodore is instructed to make absolutely no use of his new-found knowledge of the authentic Secret Mark,” and that “his new knowledge is for himself alone. For all practical purposes, it is useless.”^{Footnote 160} But this ignores the indication in the letter’s fragmentary ending that, in the remainder of the original text, the author provided Theodore with a much more extended explanation of the longer Markan Gospel’s meaning and interpretation, giving Theodore a use for his new knowledge.^{Footnote 161} And indeed, Origen saw philosophical and spiritual exegesis of Christian texts as one of the most useful activities a Christian could perform.^{Footnote 162} Again, echoing the letter’s vocabulary and themes, he writes in First Principles that Christians should interpret scripture on multiple levels,

It is also no surprise that Theodore is asked to “resist the temptation to parade his new text-critical knowledge,” as Watson puts it, for that is precisely what Origen told his students to do: withhold their exegetical methods from the less-enlightened, so as not to confuse them with knowledge they could not understand.^{Footnote 164} Origen knew that Jewish and Christian teachers alike withheld certain Scriptures from spiritual novices: not only should the immature be literally kept from holding Song of Songs in their hands, but other Scripture was kept from the young (i.e., those under thirty) until the end of their religious education.^{Footnote 165} This included certain passages from Genesis and Ezekiel known for their use in Jewish spiritual exegesis.^{Footnote 166} The situation with longer Mark seems analogous: although the letter twice calls longer Mark an “arcane gospel” (μυστικὸν εὐαγγέλιον), it does not say it was a separate gospel, but explains that it was made when Mark transferred (μεταφέρων) material to his existing text (τὸ πρῶτον αὐτοῦ βιβλίον).^{Footnote 167} That implies longer Mark was still regarded as Mark’s Gospel, with the addition of some purportedly Markan material.^{Footnote 168} Origen would have been quite comfortable with suggesting that some parts of Scripture were to be literally withheld from the spiritually unprepared.

The Letter’s Purpose III: Text-Criticism

Describing his third difficulty with the letter’s response, Watson claims that the letter’s author “goes to considerable lengths to inform his correspondent of what he already knows” in explaining to Theodore what portions of the Carpocratian gospel were authentic, and where the authentic portions were found in the longer Markan narrative.^{Footnote 169} But this “excess of detail,” in Watson’s words, is typical for Origen, who often discussed biblical and gospel passages with similar care.^{Footnote 170} We can also easily imagine that the Carpocratian gospel so badly altered LGM that the authentically Markan text was not immediately before Theodore’s eyes. Hence, Origen would have needed to provide the passages from LGM in full, insofar as was possible, to isolate the authentic text from the adulterated one.

Yet we should also not be too confident that the letter reflects the text of LGM with great accuracy. The letter declares it is providing the longer Markan passages κατὰ λέξιν, which Smith translated as “word for word.” That may be what it means in Clement, but for Origen, κατὰ λέξιν (in various forms) often means “in the literal sense,” as opposed to the higher or more “spiritual sense.”^{Footnote 171} Apparently, Origen is describing the portions of the Carpocratian gospel that are authentically Markan and that may therefore be treated as “historical” when taken literally. He is not guaranteeing that the text he offers is identical to the original. Origen was also sometimes skeptical or dismissive of excessively literal interpretations of scriptural events, favoring the more spiritual interpretations of them.^{Footnote 172} It is precisely such a spiritual interpretation that the letter fragment begins to provide just before it breaks off, with the words “Now the true explanation (ἐξήγησις) and that which accords with the true philosophy … ”^{Footnote 173} That seems like a typical preamble to Origenian exegesis, and the letter’s missing portions likely provided Theodore with a spiritual understanding of the passages from LGM.^{Footnote 174} Providing Theodore with the precise words of LGM would have been at best subordinate to that goal.^{Footnote 175}

Although Origen was a sort of early text-critic (and often a surprisingly modern one), he did not always quote even the canonical Gospels precisely: at times he “paraphrased and conflated” Scripture, occasionally offering his own unique readings of texts.^{Footnote 176} He was especially poor with the text of Mark.^{Footnote 177} We should not expect him to quote LGM with absolute accuracy, even under the best of circumstances. Indeed, the letter seems to indicate he did not have a copy of LGM at hand and is merely taking what he finds authentic from the passages Theodore has quoted from the interpolated Carpocratian gospel. The letter also seems to refer to Alexandria from a distance, so Origen likely wrote it after he relocated to Caesarea, perhaps while away on one of his travels, to his current or former pupil Theodore.^{Footnote 178} Origen’s memory may have been legendary, but it was not perfect, and we should expect it to falter somewhat when describing a gospel that seems to have existed only in a single copy or two and that he had last seen several or even many years before.

Thus, the letter’s text of LGM is many times removed from the original. The letter describes how an anonymous priest made a copy of LGM, which the Carpocratians obtained and copied with numerous alterations and interpolations.^{Footnote 179} Theodore somehow encountered this document and copied some passages from it, whether directly or by hearsay, apparently sending them to Origen, who did his best to recall the authentic text and to place it in its proper Markan order. Origen was already bad with the text of Mark and is not always precise with his Gospel quotations, so he did his best to relate the authentic material back to Theodore in a “literal sense” that was not necessarily identical to the original (though roughly accurate in sequence). That reply seems to have been left behind, perhaps at Caesarea, to be later copied and misattributed, and perhaps relocated, in the Byzantine era. Many centuries later, in the early modern period, a scholar of some kind found that copy and did his or her best to transcribe it into the back of the Voss volume. Although this last copy is said to be rather well made, Smith suggested its quality was due to careful editorial work by the scribe. Even so, Smith notes several mistakes in the text.^{Footnote 180}

Given this elaborate transmission history, the manuscript cannot be relied on to provide a lexically precise rendition of LGM.^{Footnote 181} At best, we have a somewhat unreliable representation of selections from that text, which likely resembles it in some respects but deviates from it in others. It should be read like other scriptural passages in Origen: sometimes reliably precise, at other times less so.

Papias as a Compositional Aid

Watson argues that the letter uses the testimony of Papias on the Gospels’ composition in significant detail, in contrast with Clement. Although Clement’s account of the Gospels in some ways resembles Papian tradition, Watson points to several much closer grammatical or stylistic parallels with Papias’s account in the letter.^{Footnote 182} Watson views this as evidence of Smith’s forgery. “It is all too easy,” he writes, “to imagine a modern author gratefully availing himself of Papias’s assistance as he laboriously crafts his pseudo-Clementine fictions.”^{Footnote 183}

But the Papian tradition may also have informed Origen, who agrees with Papias that Matthew wrote in Aramaic, and that Mark’s Gospel was connected with Peter.^{Footnote 184} Origen says he learned this “by tradition” (ἐν παραδόσει), and Charles Hill points out this “could easily be a way of referring to an account of Papias.”^{Footnote 185} Papias also does not say whether Mark wrote before or after Peter’s death.^{Footnote 186} Thus, his views on the matter cannot contradict Origen, whatever Origen’s own may have been.^{Footnote 187} Moreover, the connection between Papias and Origen is not limited to a belief in an Aramaic Matthew and a link between Mark’s Gospel and Peter’s preaching. The accounts in Origen and Papias share several more details, lexical and otherwise, of the same sort as Watson found shared with the letter’s. Here is Papias’s account in Eusebius:

Origen has two accounts in Eusebius that echo this language, the first from Commentarium in evangelium Matthaei, and the second following close after, taken from the lost Homiliae in epistulam ad Hebraeos (under the title Fragmenta ex homiliis in epistulam ad Hebraeos):

The accounts in Papias and Origen share several related terms. Note also that Origen says the author of Hebrews interpreted in writing (σχολιογραφήσαντος) Paul’s teaching, akin to the way Papias says Mark was the interpreter (ἑρμηνευτὴς) of Peter and wrote (ἔγραψεν) his teaching and that many interpreted (ἡρμήνϵυσϵν) Matthew’s sayings. Watson argues the letter echoes Papias when it explains that longer Mark must be interpreted (ἐξήγησιν), but we see that Origen’s vocabulary echoes Papias in the same way.^{Footnote 190} Origen also links the terms for teaching and memory (ἀπομνημονεύσαντός … διδασκάλου) in the same manner as Papias (διδασκαλίας … ἀπεμνημόνευσεν). Whether due to influence or coincidence, these passages from Origen seem to parallel Papias at least as closely as the letter does.

Watson also saw rhythmic parallels with Papias in the correlative conjunctions the letter uses, but these parallels are not really present.^{Footnote 191} Nevertheless, we might concede that the phrase οὐ µέντοι is genuinely shared between the letter and Papias. Thus, Watson found altogether about half a dozen points of contact between Papias and the letter. Yet there are the same number or more between Papias and Origen:

In the two passages Watson selected from To Theodore, on Mark and LGM, there are five or six direct connections with Papias and one thematic connection. But in the two passages Eusebius selected from Origen, on Mark and Matthew, there are seven or eight direct connections with Papias, with one (σχολιογραφήσαντος) also counting as thematic. Even if we treat the passages from Origen separately, we still find five direct connections in the first and three in the second, plus a fourth, thematic parallel—in either case about the same number as found in To Theodore. Origen seems to echo Papias as closely as the letter’s author does.^{Footnote 192}

The letter’s sequences of correlative conjunctions οὐ μέντοι … οὐδὲ μὴν … ἀλλά (not, however … nor yet … but) and οὐδέπω … οὐδὲ … ἀλλά (nevertheless … nor … but) are again not used by Papias, although the general sequence οὐ … οὐδὲ … ἀλλά (not … nor … but) is used in Clement’s authentic writings.^{Footnote 193} But if that sequence is a parallel, it is also used often by Origen.^{Footnote 194} Furthermore, Clement never uses the specific sequence οὐδέπω … οὐδὲ … ἀλλά, but Origen does, at Commentarium in evangelium Joannis 13.12.75.^{Footnote 195} If the letter’s account of the gospels is “obviously related”—Watson’s phrase—to Papias’s, so also is Origen’s. The letter’s possible reliance on Papias and characteristic sequences of correlative conjunctions do not implicate Smith as the letter’s forger; rather, they suggest Origen was its author.^{Footnote 196} There is, at least, no need to suppose a modern author imitated Papias, if an ancient author like Origen might echo him.

Smith’s Authorial Influences

Watson’s remaining arguments—that Smith’s guilt is demonstrated by 4) certain clues in the letter’s metaphors, 5) his research interests prior to 1958, and 6) echoes of a twentieth-century novel in his account of his discovery—have been answered elsewhere.^{Footnote 197} Furthermore, as we have already shown, the metaphors Watson examines are both Origenian, and Smith’s pre-1958 research on Clement is irrelevant to Origenian authorship.^{Footnote 198} Still, Watson’s last argument deserves some additional attention. He points to two linguistic parallels between James Hunter’s 1940 novel The Mystery of Mar Saba, which describes a fictional modern-day discovery of an apocryphal fragment at Mar Saba, and Smith’s 1973 popular account of his own discovery, The Secret Gospel.^{Footnote 199} Watson believes these parallels indicate Smith used the plot of Hunter’s novel as a template for forgery. But the first parallel more closely resembles a different passage from a different book, namely, John Allegro’s 1964 nonfiction account of his Dead Sea investigation, Search in the Desert. We compare Hunter, Allegro, and Smith below, with Watson’s parallels in boldface, and additional parallels in italics:

Allegro echoes Hunter here as well as Smith does and includes additional parallels. But if this indicates Allegro knew and adopted Hunter’s language, Allegro is nevertheless writing fact, not fiction. Thus, even if Smith knew and adopted Hunter’s language, there should be no reason to doubt his own account. Indeed, in some ways Smith’s account resembles Allegro’s more closely than Hunter’s novel. Allegro’s book is an account of discovery in the Holy Land, published in 1964 while Smith was writing his own nonfiction account of discovery there, so it seems more likely to have been read by Smith, and to be influencing him here.

It might not be too surprising if Allegro had read Hunter, since John Reumann in 1963 mentioned theologians who “like to read detective stories.”^{Footnote 200} Reumann himself read twentieth-century mystery novels by biblical scholars and may have known of Hunter’s novel.^{Footnote 201} So if Smith did encounter Hunter’s novel, it was likely on Reumann’s recommendation; yet the evidence indicates Smith worked closely with Reumann only after he began his commentary on the letter, not before.^{Footnote 202} Thus, rather than encountering the novel in a bookstore in the late 1940s, as Watson proposes, it seems more likely that Smith would have been given it by Reumann in the mid-1960s, perhaps after Reumann noticed the very faint coincidence between Smith’s discovery and Hunter’s plotline.^{Footnote 203}

And, Smith may simply never have read Hunter’s novel. Watson’s second purported parallel focuses on the similarity between Hunter’s use of the phrase “reconciled to,” and Smith’s use of the phrase “reconciling myself to,” when describing disappointed hopes prior to a manuscript discovery.^{Footnote 204} Watson believes this parallel also indicates Smith was using Hunter’s novel as a template. But beyond sheer coincidence, any similarity here likely derives from histories of manuscript-hunting, including popular accounts of Constantin von Tischendorf’s life and career.^{Footnote 205} Among those accounts, for example, are two chapters found in Leo Dueul’s 1965 work Testaments of Time: The Search for Lost Manuscripts and Records.^{Footnote 206} The first of these chapters describes Tischendorf’s visit in 1844 to Saint Catherine’s monastery, when he found some loose leaves of the Codex Sinaiticus.^{Footnote 207} A few pages before describing Tischendorf’s discovery, Dueul provides a passage from Robert Curzon’s Visits to Monasteries in the Levant, in which Curzon describes how a monk’s generosity “reconciled me to his guilt” during an encounter which resulted in a damaged manuscript.^{Footnote 208} It seems just as likely that Smith knew this passage in Dueul and happened to reflect its colorful language while describing his own adventures in The Secret Gospel during the 1960s, as it does that he happened to reflect the language of Hunter. We seem left with no remaining evidence for forgery and nothing to prevent attributing the Letter to Theodore to Origen.

Conclusion

The Origenian hypothesis seems to refute the remaining claims that the Letter to Theodore was forged. Its circumstances, vocabulary, and themes all seem Origenian, rendering Origenian authorship more plausible than forgery. I concur that Clement cannot have written the letter, and I agree he likely served as a source for the letter’s author.^{Footnote 209} But rather than use Clement for forgery, Origen would simply have written under his authorial influence. Both the letter and the longer Markan Gospel it describes have been misunderstood. Especially misunderstood is the symbolism of the garment that LGM1 describes, which was the characteristic dress of ancient philosophers, lending a philosophical aspect to LGM1 that seems compatible with Christian and Origenian spirituality. Although the letter’s language may be examined further, it is demonstrably ancient and typically Origenian, serving an exegetical and text-critical purpose that is also Origenian, even if the letter may not guarantee the text of LGM. And if the author’s possible use of Papias as an aid to composition is un-Clementine, Origen seems to reflect Papias’s statements on the gospels as closely as the letter does. Furthermore, any resemblance between Smith’s popular account of the letter’s discovery and earlier popular works by other authors is either coincidental or innocuous.

No one is accusing Smith of forging a letter by Origen. But if the forgery scenario is correct, he must nevertheless have done so by accident. That seems highly unlikely, and it would be an unprecedented mistake. Yet the letter’s character does seem remarkably Origenian. The simplest and most reasonable explanation currently remaining is the one I have argued for here: Origen wrote the Letter to Theodore. Additional work may be necessary to confirm authorship, especially in terms of vocabulary analysis.^{Footnote 210} But the evidence examined here no longer points toward Smith as the letter’s author. When it points toward anyone, it points toward Origen.