This chapter deals with an aspect of the Nag Hammadi texts often portrayed as one of the reasons why they do not fit into a Christian context, namely, the many passages displaying different constellations of vowels. These have not been neglected in previous research but have mainly been treated separately, in light of the particular text and their specific context, as representing their ‘pagan’ origin. This chapter focuses on the question of why this phenomenon appears in an otherwise chiefly Christian text collection and how they would have been understood and used by those who owned, copied and read them. The vowel constellations are of particular interest for a study, such as this one, examining the material and visual features of the Nag Hammadi texts, although in an inverted sense. Magical vowel constellations often constitute a striking visual aspect of the ancient texts in which they are found – but not here. The vowels are not highlighted in the Nag Hammadi texts, as they are, for example, in many of the sources in Papyri Graecae Magicae (PGM).Footnote 1 What can this lack of visuality indicate?
The chapter continues the hypothesis presented in the previous two chapters, introducing the magical evidence from the codices and suggesting that Christian monks would have been very interested in their magical vowel features. It begins by discussing the passages and texts that contain such features, with a brief description of their ancient Helleno-Egyptian context, situated mainly within the traditions associated with Hermes Trismegistus and the Sethians. This magical context is then read in light of the legacy of the apostle Paul and the Christian texts of the Nag Hammadi codices – particularly those belonging to the Valentinian traditions – concerning holy sounds and words. Christian texts are seldom brought into the discussion when magical vowel features are explored, since the latter have mainly been associated with the broader pagan context; it is as if Christianity was in some way disconnected from its intellectual and social milieu. Lastly, the discussion of the magical vowel traditions found in the Nag Hammadi codices places them in the context of Pachomian monasticism, exploring how these features would have been read by Christian monks who spent most of their time in the inhospitable and menacing Egyptian desert. The conclusion reached will show that the magical vowel features of the Nag Hammadi texts would not have been regarded as at all strange or heterodox by early Christian monastics but, rather, have been viewed as a ritual feature with many parallels in monastic practice.
An Overview of Magical Vowels in the Nag Hammadi Texts
Magical vowel constellations appear in several Nag Hammadi codices, namely, in the following Sethian texts: The Holy Book of the Great Invisible Spirit (otherwise known as The Gospel of the Egyptians) (Codex III,2 and IV,2); Marsanes (Codex X,1); The Trimorphic Protennoia (Codex XIII,1); and the Hermetic text The Discourse on the Eighth and Ninth (Codex VI,7). We also encounter vowels used in this way in the badly fragmented Sethian text, Zostrianos, in Codex VIII, but unfortunately, they were mostly present in the parts now lost.Footnote 2 These five texts all contain different renderings and/or repetitions of the Greek vowels ⲁ, ⲓ, ⲉ, ⲏ, ⲩ, ⲟ, ⲱ. Before discussing how these magical aspects fit the larger context of the Nag Hammadi collection’s use and background, let us begin by familiarising ourselves with these individual passages and the contexts in which they appear.
The Holy Book of the Great Invisible Spirit (The Gospel of the Egyptians) (NHC III,2/ NHC IV,2)
This text is found in two versions, both are Coptic translations of what seems to be a Greek Vorlage but not necessarily the same Greek version, since there are some differences between the Coptic translations.Footnote 3 The text explains the origins and constellation of the heavenly world consisting of an unknowable God who generates the trinity, Father, Mother (Barbelo) and Son, each made up of an Ogdoad (a constellation of eight beings/entities). Apart from these figures, a being called the Doxomedon (Lord of glory) permeates the whole heavenly world. He is described as a great chamber within which sits a throne. This throne room is filled with a number of beings, among them Christ and the race of Seth. The text then describes the nature of the ‘trice male child’ Seth and his seed, why they occupy the cosmos and how they can be brought back to the heaven whence they derived. Hymns are sung and prayers are offered to the heavenly world and the great invisible spirit. The third part of the trinity, the Son, is made up of an Ogdoad consisting of himself and the seven vowels of the alphabet. In the first part of the text, we encounter a passage where the three beings of the trinity praise the great invisible spirit by reciting the vowels (see Fig. 5.1):
| NHC III: 44:1−44:13 | NHC III: 44:1−44:13 | NHC IV: 54:1−20 |
|
A hidden invisible/ineffable mystery came forth: iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ēēēēēēēēēēēēēēēēēēēēēē ooooooooooooooooooooo yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō ō And in this way the three powers brought praise to the great, invisible and incorruptible unnameable one, the virginal spirit of the Father and the male virgin.Footnote 4 |
ⲛ̄ⲁ[ϩⲟⲣⲁⲧⲟⲛ ⲟⲩⲙⲩ]ⲥⲧⲏⲣⲓⲟⲛ ⲉϥϩⲏⲡ ⲛ̄ⲁⲧ̣ⲛ̣[ⲁⲩ ⲉ]ⲣ̣[ⲟϥ ⲁϥⲡⲣⲟ] ⲉⲗⲑⲉ ⲉⲃⲟⲗ· ⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓ̣[ⲓⲓⲓ] ⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏ[ⲏⲏ ⲟ]ⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟ ⲩⲩ̣[ⲩⲩⲩ] ⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩ ⲉⲉⲉⲉ ⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉ ⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁ[ⲁⲁⲁⲁ] ⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ̣ [ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ] ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ·ⲁⲩⲱ [ⲛ̄ⲧⲉⲉⲓ] ϩⲉ ⲁⲧϣⲟⲙⲧⲉ ⲛ̄ϭⲟⲙ ϯ ⲥⲙⲟⲩ ⲉⲡ[ⲛⲟϭ] ⲛ̅ⲁϩⲟⲣⲁⲧⲟⲛ ⲛ̅ⲡ̅ⲛ̅ⲁ̅ ⲛ̄ⲁⲧϫⲱ ⲙ̄ⲡ[ⲉϥⲣⲁⲛ] ⲙ̄ⲡⲁⲣⲑⲉⲛⲓⲕⲟⲛ ⲛ̄ⲁⲕⲗⲏⲧⲟⲛ ⲙ̅ⲛ̣̅ [ⲧⲉϥ]ⲁⲣⲥⲉⲛⲓⲕⲏ ⲛ̅ⲡⲁⲣⲑⲉⲛⲏ | [ⲁϥⲡⲣ̄ϣ]ⲟⲣ︦ⲡ ⲛ̄ⲉ̂ⲓ ⲉⲃⲟⲗ [ⲛ̄ϭⲓ ⲟⲩ]ⲙⲩ[ⲥⲧⲏⲣⲓⲟ]ⲛ ⲛ̄ⲛⲁⲧϣⲁ [ϫⲉ] ⲙ̄ⲙⲟ[ϥ · ⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓ]ⲓ̣ⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓ [ⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓⲓ] ⲏⲏⲏ[ⲏ]ⲏ̣ⲏ[ⲏ]ⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏⲏ[ⲏⲏⲏ]ⲏⲏ̣[ⲏⲏ]ⲏ̣ ⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟ[ⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟ]ⲟ̣ⲟⲟⲟⲟⲟ ⲩⲩⲩ̣[ⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩ]ⲩ̣ⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩ[ⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩⲩ]ⲩⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉ[ⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉ]ⲉ̣ⲉⲉⲉⲉⲉ̣[ⲉⲉⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁ]ⲁ̣ⲁⲁⲁ[ⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁⲁ ⲱ ⲱ] ⲱ̣ [ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ] ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ ⲱ̣ [ⲱ ⲱⲱⲱⲱⲱⲱ·] ⲁⲩⲱ ⲛ̄ϯϩⲉ̣ [ϯϣⲟⲙⲧ]ⲉ̣ ⲛ̄ϭⲟⲙ ⲁⲩⲉⲓⲛ̣[ⲉⲉϩⲣⲁⲓ̈ ⲛ̄ⲟⲩ]ⲥ̣ⲙⲟⲩ ⲙ̄ⲡⲓⲛⲟϭ ⲛ̄[ⲛⲁⲧⲛⲁⲩ ⲉⲣ]ⲟϥ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲛ̄ⲁⲧϫ[ⲁϩⲙϥ̄ ⲛ̄ⲛⲁⲧϯ ⲣⲁ]ⲛ ⲉⲣⲟϥ ⲡⲓ[ⲡⲁⲣⲑⲉⲛⲓⲕⲟⲛ ⲙ̄]ⲡ̣̅ⲛ̅ⲁ̅ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉ ⲡ[ⲓⲱⲧ ⲁⲩⲱ ϯϩⲟⲟⲩⲧ]ⲙ̄ⲡⲁⲣⲑⲉⲛ̣[ⲟⲥ] |
Page 54 of The Holy Book of the Great Invisible Spirit in Codex IV,2 (left) and the fuller version of the text in Codex III,2 page 44 (right).
The latter part of the text consists of an intricate process of creation wherein a number of light beings play different parts in the process of bringing back the seed of Seth, now occupying materiality. A crucial part of the salvation act is when Seth is sent down to earth by four light beings (typical of Sethian tractatesFootnote 5) and provides his seed with the power of baptism.Footnote 6 The text concludes with a hymnic portion. After the worthy people of Seth have undergone baptism and the ritual termed ‘the five seals’ to ensure that they ‘will not taste death’ (ⲛ̄ⲛⲉⲩ ϫⲓ ϯⲡⲉ ⲙ̄ⲡⲟⲩ) (NHC IV, 78:9–10), they offer up to the heavens a hymn which is a briefer repetition of the above vowel recitations, a mirror of the heavenly praises of God.Footnote 7
This text is at its core a Sethian tractate but also contains some Christian adaptations: for example, Christ who identified with Seth in the Doxomedon; earthly Seth, who is Jesus; and John the Baptist who is identified with a heavenly being called Yoel. The vowel constellations represent a way for the mystagogue to establish a direct link with the heavenly world by joining the divine beings in heaven in their praise of God.
Marsanes (Codex X,1)
This lengthy, dense text is the only one in Codex X. The title Marsanes is found on the last page of the approximately 68-page-long text; of these, 54 pages are in a partial, poorly preserved state, leaving only about 27 per cent of the text legible. Thus, any analysis of the content must ultimately be viewed as tentative.Footnote 8 That being said, the first part of the text (1–10) and parts of the middle (25–42) are quite well preserved, which leaves us with a rough idea of what it contained. It is of Sethian origin and the genre is that of an apocalypse, with many Platonic points of reference.Footnote 9 The name ‘Marsanes’ refers to a legendary prophet who was taken to heaven and witnessed things that he then related to people worthy of receiving knowledge of the divine state.Footnote 10 The text reveals a variety of mysteries about the different levels of existence (material and immaterial), but one central aspect is to provide information about the descent of a saviour figure (Autogenes) and how people can attain ascension and escape through the different levels of existence. The material world is not rejected as evil or lost; rather, according to the text, it should be ‘saved entirely’ (5:24). The highest being is called the ‘silent one’ and ‘the three powered one’ and below him there are scores of heavenly beings, all of whom deserve praise. In order for people to traverse the heavenly spheres, it is necessary to gain the knowledge of their constitution, which is found in relations between different letters and sounds that correspond to the structure of the heavenly world as well as to the form of the human soul. Thus, Marsanes spends considerable time expanding on these topics and their importance to gaining deliverance from material restrictions. Below I quote the long passage 25:21–32:5, from the middle of the text, which illustrates its deep immersion in ancient traditions that attached the mysteries of letters and sounds to metaphysical and soteriological matters. Figure 5.2 showcases manuscript page 31 of Codex X, which is part of this long quote.
Page 31 of Marsanes, Codex X.
Just as there is a strict rank in the heavenly world, the letters of the alphabet and the different sounds humans emit when referencing them are arranged in a strictly hierarchical way. The secrets of the vowels contain the language of the gods and the angels. Thus, the world and the nature of the angels is understood to correspond to the letters of the alphabet and their sounds in different combinations. Some are single and individual, others are joined to one another, likened to vowels with one single tone and consonants that are made up of more than one sound. Information about the complex systems of vowels, consonants, tones and shapes is intermixed throughout the above passage with paraenetic sections calling for righteous behaviour and study, so that readers might gain insights into the secrets of how to separate themselves from the beings occupying the different levels on the way up towards heaven. As in the case of The Holy Book of the Great Invisible Spirit, the vowels seem to be used as a mind map of how humans are to relate to the divine, thereby gaining assistance in accessing salvation.
What is interesting to note in the passage above is the mention of the central role played by the number seven in relation to vowels and letters. This is a common trope in ancient letter speculation and vowel magic. In the writings of Philo of Alexandria, for example, we find many lengthy expositions on the secret and knowledge-giving merits of letters and numbers, in particular the number seven, the most powerful of numbers.Footnote 12 Philo was greatly inspired by predecessors such as Plato and the Pythagoreans who viewed numbers as carrying secret and divine information; numbers were associated with the higher realm, while at the same time they were things in themselves. Indeed, the cosmos was imbued with the structure of numbers.Footnote 13 There were seven vowels, seven musical tones and seven planets. Everything was clearly structured. Xenocrates, Eudorus and Plutarch’s teacher Ammonius are also said to have been fond of numerology.Footnote 14 Tiberius’ court philosopher, Trasullus, was devoted to Pythagoras and wrote a now lost work entitled On the Seven Musical Tones.Footnote 15 The secrets of music and language were intimately associated with the number seven. This view of the symbolic power of the Septuagint was also adopted by the Romans and coincided with a renaissance of Pythagorean philosophy in Rome and Alexandria in the first century BCE and after the beginning of the common era. Clement tells us that Hermippus wrote a book entitled On the Number Seven,Footnote 16 and Marcus Varro also wrote a now lost work dedicated to the secrets of the number seven, called Hebdomades.Footnote 17 Porphyry tells of a certain Pythagorean Moderatus of Gades and his speculations on the nature of numbers: all numbers were plurals born of the Monad (one of what appear to be three primordial pairs in this system), which then return to the Monad. This was a clear formulation of an idea about birth and return, and the numbers were considered by many to have a redemptive power; by contemplating their nature, one could also redeem the nous stuck in the body like the unity that became the plural through emanations from the Monad.
The vowels and tones were seven in total, a fact which Origen also recognised. Along with Philo, he contended that God did not rest on the seventh day of creation, but that this day – through its connection to the power of the number seven – was a day for contemplation, reflection and spiritual activity. Like Philo, Origen argued that it was unthinkable that God rested on the seventh day;Footnote 18 rather, he was active in another way, in transcendent spiritual activity.Footnote 19 Thus, the seventh day was especially auspicious for contemplation and spiritual pursuits,Footnote 20 such as the explorations deliberated upon in the above passage from Marsanes.
The Trimorphic Protennoia (NHC XIII,1)
This text is found in what has been termed ‘Codex XIII’, eight leaves found in the cover binding of Codex VI. These sixteen pages consist of the text titled, The Trimorphic Protennoia (the three forms of the first thought), and the first page of On the Origin of the World, the opening of which is found on the last page of The Trimorphic Protennoia.Footnote 21 As with the two texts discussed hitherto, this is a Sethian tractate and, like The Holy Book of the Great Invisible Spirit, it shows some Christian influence. The text is divided into three separate parts, retelling three instances of descent by the saviour figure Protennoia (God’s ‘first thought’), identified with Barbelo. This is comparable with the ending of the longer version of The Apocryphon of John, which contains a hymn to Pronoia who descends three times (NHC II, 30:11–31:25). The three descents in The Trimorphic Protennoia are related to the sphere of sound and speech. In the first descent Protennoia is called the voice of the highest god who steps down in materiality to unveil the mysteries of God to the worthy. During the second descent Protennoia reveals yet another part of the mystery, this time as the speech of the highest God’s voice. The final mysteries are revealed in the third descent, when Protennoia is described as the word of the speech of the highest God’s voice. This frame highlights the importance placed on the nature and practice of vowel magic. The threefold descent of Protennoia first releases humans from sleep caused by the body, then Fate’s grasp is lifted and, finally, the mystery called ‘the five seals’ is provided. A ritual called ‘five seals’, together with a baptism, is also mentioned in The Holy Book of the Great Invisible Spirit, and in The Apocryphon of John.Footnote 22 As in other Sethian tractates, the highest God is described as a great invisible spirit who takes the three forms of a Father, Mother and Son. Protennoia is a manifestation of these three aspects.
The following quote from the first part of the text illustrates the place of magical vowel features in this text, and its ritualistic context, here read as part of the first descent undertaken by Protennoia:
Page 37 of The Trimorphic Protennoia, Codex XIII.
This passage has clear Christian traces as major parts of it centre around the powers of a heavenly Christ figure. First, Protennoia establishes her position as a manifestation of the highest god in the world, the invisible spirit. Then we get some background information concerning the structure of the heavens, a sort of protology. The heavens are populated by a score of aeonic beings created by Christ, who then reveals himself to them. They in turn give praise to Christ as a representative of the highest God in heaven, and there follows a passage describing the order among the Aeons in the heavens. The magical vowel features of this text are placed in the context of the aeons praising Christ, and just as in Marsanes and The Great Indivisible Spirit, the vowels seem to be associated with the structure of the heavens and provide humans with an opportunity to take part in the exchange being conducted in heaven. For this to be made possible, one must first distinguish between human words and sound in the cosmos, and the language attached to God; the text makes this clear by linking the different levels of sound to the downward evolution ultimately resulting in the material existence of humans. For humans to reach God, their languages must be made into a voice and the divine voice must be made into words. A similar passage alluding to these views on the relation between letters, sounds and words is found in the poetic tractate, Thunder: Perfect Mind, in Codex VI.Footnote 24
A curious material feature in The Trimorphic Protennoia which has gone unnoticed – probably due to its being left out of transcribed modern editions – concerns the three squares that appear at the beginning of the text (see Fig. 5.3). The scribe has drawn three quadrangles in association with the discussion of the three parts of the highest God and the tripartite distinction between divine sounds, a voice audible to humans and words which make it understandable. These quadrangles reside, we read above, ‘secretly within a silence of the Ineffable One’. The three squares, given that the ineffability of God is mentioned in connection to them, could refer to the mathematical proof that there was an inborn transcendence, infinity if you will, built into the structure of the cosmic system. Three squares can be placed edgewise to each other to symbolise a right-sided triangle (see Fig. 5.4). With the aid of the Pythagorean theorem regarding the nature of right-sided triangles,Footnote 25 one could effectively illustrate the existence of irrational numbers: numbers that cannot be expressed as the ratio of two whole numbers (an example is π). Irrational numbers contain an aspect of infinity, since in their decimal form, they consisted of an infinite number of decimals (1/3 for example is 0.333 …). This, Plato tells us, had been demonstrated by Theodorus of Cyrene (465–398 BCE).Footnote 26
Right-sided triangle surrounded by three squares.
The Discourse on the Eighth and Ninth (NHC VI,6)
This text is without title but has been termed ‘the discourse on the eighth and ninth’ since the major topic of the text is the nature of, and road towards the eighth (Ogdoad) and ninth (Ennead) levels of existence, representing the highest heavens. This text belongs to the tradition associated with the mythical prophet Hermes Trismegistus. It is one of three Hermetic texts in the Nag Hammadi collection, the other two being Prayer of Thanksgiving and the fragment of Asclepius, all contained within Codex VI.
The text begins as a dialogue between a teacher and his pupil. Three pages into the text the narrative changes to a hymn to, and a dialogue with the highest God in the heavenly world. The Discourse on the Eighth and Ninth is mainly made up of an outline of how initiates first enter the eighth sphere by recognising their unity with the all-encompassing mind (nous), and then the ninth sphere by becoming one with the mind of the All (God). Then follows the singing of hymns of praise to God, and finally the pupil is told how to preserve and pass on the knowledge contained in the work. In the following two passages, the first is a prayer directed to God for granting the salvific vision needed to traverse the spheres:
The second passage containing vowels appears five pages later, in a hymn sung in praise to God for receiving salvation:
Pages 56 and 61 of The Discourse on the Eighth and Ninth, Codex VI.
Here the two instances of vowel recitation occur in different contexts, as a prayer and as a hymn of thanksgiving. In The Discourse on the Eighth and Ninth, the vowels do not sync with the structures of the heavens, as in the Sethian tractates. This is not surprising considering that materiality has a different standing in this Hermetic text, which echoes a Stoic notion that materiality is all there is (granted, in both much finer and rougher constellations). Here the vowels are associated with the hidden structure of the cosmos and the seven spheres which make up the cosmos, as well as with the seven planets and the archons guarding them. This is the underlying law of all existence, ultimately a manifestation of the highest divine principle. By tapping into this structure, the initiate shows awareness of the hidden knowledge required to be let through the spheres and to open up communication with the God above and assure personal ascent after death. The text ends with the initiate promising to preserve and safeguard the knowledge of the Hermetic tradition and pass it on. References are made to an Egyptian context – hieroglyphs, Egyptian gods and temples are mentioned – revealing either a common antique appropriation of Egyptian culture due to its being imbued with mystic knowledge or, as Bull has argued, an actual Egyptian priestly context for the text.Footnote 29
Contextualising Magical Vowel Features
Previous studies have bestowed ample attention on the individual Sethian and Hermetic contexts of these magical vowel passages, both of which are based on Graeco-Egyptian traditions much older than the texts themselves.Footnote 30 I shall not here attempt to give a complete conceptual background of what went into the art of vowel magic, merely mentioning the main ideas needed to facilitate the following discussion on their place within the Nag Hammadi collection as a whole, as well as within a monastic setting.
Any discussion of vowel magic should take its departure from ancient views concerning the close intermingling of physics, medicine and theory of mind, that is, the way cognition and emotions were thought to work. As Hans Dieter Betz writes, the practice of magic was closely linked to local and everyday use. People referenced magical words and formulas, and experts touted knowledge of them, for very practical reasons: to improve life here and now, to solve the problems everyone faces in terms of love, health, finances and politics.Footnote 31 In the PGM we have many examples of this, where spells consisting of holy names and constellations of vowels are used for everything from improving one’s memoryFootnote 32 or vision,Footnote 33 to love spells,Footnote 34 enticing dreamsFootnote 35 and attracting a particular person to one’s side.Footnote 36 The art of vowel magic, also clearly represented in the PGM, had a second more transcendent function in that it was a way to establish communication with the gods for spiritual edification.Footnote 37 This is what we find in the Nag Hammadi texts. Vowels are used as means to give praise to and facilitate the soul’s contact and ultimate unity with the divine. The term ‘magic’ should not confuse us when discussing vowel magic, and we should at the outset rid ourselves of any pejorative connotations attached to the practice as ‘proper’ religion’s degenerate sidekick. The practice of seeking knowledge and indeed power in the art of sounds, letters and numbers – in both the more practical and the theological aspects of vowel magic – was firmly established in a systematic and an ancient scientific approach to the world. But the Nag Hammadi codices consist mostly of Christian texts, produced and owned by Christians. As I have mentioned, and as becomes clear from the images provided here of the texts, the vowel constellations are not highlighted as one might expect if they were used in a ritual setting. So, how and why would the Christian owners of the Nag Hammadi texts read these representations of ancient vowel magic? Before tackling these questions, it is worthwhile surveying Christian views of holy words, letters and sounds, which are addressed in the following section.
Christian Use of ‘Pagan’ Techniques of Holy Letters and Sounds
Paul refers to an ability to speak a special language which directly communicates with God. These are ‘unintelligible sounds’ (στεναγμοῖς ἀλαλήτοις), gifts of the spirit which put humans in contact with God (Rom 8:26). In 1 Corinthians, Paul distinguishes between the speech of men and angels (1 Cor 13–15), and claims that the speech of the spirit is only grasped by God: ‘no one understands them, since they are speaking mysteries in the Spirit’ (οὐδεὶς γὰρ ἀκούει, πνεύματι δὲ λαλεῖ μυστήρια) (1 Cor 14:2). Further on in the same letter, Paul differentiates between ordinary human wisdom and spiritual teaching, which is ‘not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit’ (οὐκ ἐν διδακτοῖς ἀνθρωπίνης σοφίας λόγοις ἀλλ’ ἐν διδακτοῖς πνεύματος) (1 Cor 2:13–14).
The study of glossolalia in the Bible is a vast field of research. Paul’s references to the gift of spiritual speech in association with the situation in Corinth is often read in parallel with the references to speaking in tongues mentioned in Mark 16:17, where Jesus tells the apostles that those who believe in him will speak in new tongues; and Acts 2:6, 10:46 and 19:6, where people who have received the Holy Spirit speak in tongues, a language foreign people of diverse origins could all understand. This spontaneous ability to communicate with foreign people through a holy or angelic language can be viewed as an aspect of wider antique phenomena involving holy words, letters and speech. However, glossolalia was far from a Christian invention. The Testament of Job, a first-century apocryphon of the story of Job, describes Job’s daughter as speaking in angelic language. The Greeks viewed the language of the gods as alien to humans; thus, if spoken, it would sound like gibberish to human ears, as was the case with the Pythia, the oracle at Delphi, who needed trained priests to interpret her speech as she was possessed by Apollo. Speaking in tongues or while possessed by the gods was an ability assigned to sages and holy figures or one that was spontaneously granted to a few holy people. It was associated with the eighth sphere of the cosmic realm and, as such, it could be viewed as the ultimate objective of those who explored vowel magic pertaining to the structure of the cosmos and its origin in the work of the gods. In the Hermetic text Poimandres, the beings in the eighth sphere sing praises to the gods in a language that belongs only to them.Footnote 38
The Christian phenomenon of glossolalia was surely informed and made more credible through its association with the wider context of letters and sounds, intimately intertwined with the structure of the cosmos and its divine governance. Nevertheless, scholars of the Bible and early Christianity have undoubtedly been hesitant to read early Christian expressions of glossolalia in the context of ancient magical vowel features. In his study of the intricacies of the Corinthian conflict and the legacy of Paul, Dale Martin writes in connection with a discussion of the social meaning of glossolalia that ‘one might include here, though I do not, the function of “nonsense” terms (at least to outsiders if not to insiders) in Gnostic literature and magical papyri’.Footnote 39 Martin argues that divine or angelic speech was a high-status marker for those who possessed it. His choice to exclude magical vowel features and their ritual aspect is strange, particularly considering that gaining divine speech through exploring vowels would serve to strengthen his hypothesis that glossolalia had high social status and was an ability chiefly showcased among people in leadership roles. Attaining a mastery of divine speech through vowel exploration would only have been possible among those deeply initiated or who had undergone serious study and practice of the rituals and the complexities undergirding them. Yet Martin is far from alone in excluding the relevance of magical vowel features from studies of early Christian glossolalia; indeed, he represents one of the more balanced dismissals.Footnote 40 My point here is not to argue that vowel magic is relevant to discuss in every early Christian setting where holy sounds and words are mentioned, only that the phenomenon should not be automatically disregarded as by definition something un-Christian. Rather, magical vowel features should be approached as an aspect of the broader religious scene involving speculations about the secrets contained in letters and sounds, which would also have been relevant for and utilised by Christians. To illustrate its relevance for interpreting Christian texts, let us take some examples from those found in the Nag Hammadi library, as some of those in the Valentinian tradition, for example, are well suited to be read in light of references to the power of sounds and letters as gateways to higher truths.Footnote 41
In The Interpretation of Knowledge (NHC XI,1), for example, some people are portrayed as having access to free-flowing prophetic speech.Footnote 42 This causes strife within the congregation represented in the text, as others became jealous. The congregants asked ‘Why does he speak while I do not?’Footnote 43 To this the text responds, ‘You also possess that which exists among your brothers, that which flows forth as gifts. But if someone is making progress in (studying) the Word, do not be hindered by this.’Footnote 44 ‘For what he says is yours, and the contemplation of the Word, and that which speaks it, is of the same power.’Footnote 45 The cosmos is ruled, we read, by a structure that can be transcended through the Word. Beyond the low cosmic ‘harmony’ (ⲑⲁⲣⲙⲟⲛⲓⲁ) exists an aeonic ‘symphony’ (ⲧⲥⲩⲙⲫⲱⲛⲓⲁ) (18:22–27).Footnote 46 These moral exhortations addressing a congregation in conflict are all found in the second half of The Interpretation of Knowledge. But it is in the first part, consisting of a mythological backdrop,Footnote 47 where we find the keys unlocking the mechanisms of the aural references in The Interpretation of Knowledge, explaining how the cosmic oppressive harmony is thought to have related to the aeonic symphony. People are described as clothed in a ‘garment of condemnation’ (ϣⲧⲏⲛ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉ ⲧⲕⲁⲧⲁⲇⲓⲕⲏ) or ‘flesh of condemnation’ (ⲥⲁⲣⲝ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉ ⲕⲁⲧⲁⲇⲓⲕⲏ). These ‘clothes’ are contrasted with how the Father clothes the Son: with the Aeon, the ‘living rational elements’ (ϩⲛ̄ⲥⲧⲟ[ⲓⲭ]ⲉⲓⲟⲛ ⲛ̄ⲗⲟⲅⲓⲕⲟⲛ ⲉⲩⲁⲁⲛϩ).Footnote 48 Here the word ‘elements’ (στοιχεῖα) is used for the Aeon in which the Son is clothed.Footnote 49 This term is often used to refer to the building blocks of the cosmos and the human body, the four elements.Footnote 50 In The Interpretation of Knowledge humans ‘were made slaves’ (14:34–35) and will stay thus as long as they are stuck in the ‘garment of condemnation’ and in the body, and will continue to be attacked by evil powers (6:30–32).Footnote 51 What separates the elements of the body and the elements of the Aeons are the qualifying words ‘living’ and ‘rational’ (11:36–37). The elements that make up the flesh are irrational (without Logos, without form), what Philo called ‘lifeless elements’,Footnote 52 which makes them subject to Fate and other lower powers.Footnote 53 This is only one example of how a Christian text employs precisely the same structures and theoretical ideas that undergirded the magical vowel features found in the Sethian and Hermetic texts discussed above. There are, however, even clearer statements in other Valentinian Nag Hammadi texts.
In The Gospel of Truth, for example, the aural and letter imagery is more prominent. At the outset we read that Error is the reason for the cosmic creation. But those who are predestined to salvation, those who are mentioned in ‘the book of the living’, may escape. That which is written in this book ‘are letters of truth which only those speak who know them’ (23:8–10). These people are likened to sheep who have fallen into a pit but who have access to a certain voice, which is designed to call out to the Father: ‘the Father is the sign in their voice’ (ⲡⲓⲙⲁⲉⲓⲛⲉ· ⲙ̄ⲡⲉⲧⲛ̄ ⲡⲟⲩϩⲣⲁⲩ ⲡⲉ· ⲡⲓⲱⲧ ⲡⲉ ⲡⲉⲉⲓ) (32:17). Tjitze Baarda has suggested that this sign correlates to the sound made by a sheep – in Greek βῆ – whose numerical value if cried out twice would equal the number one hundred, which is mentioned in the sentence before (the sign of the Father), the sign of perfection.Footnote 54 This is a creative reading indeed, but it nevertheless underscores the esoteric nature of the references used in the text. Just as in The Interpretation of Knowledge the structure of the world is juxtaposed with the heavens using aural references.
In several Valentinian tractates the ‘Name’ of the Father is associated with the Son.Footnote 55 In The Gospel of Truth this Name is connected to a certain voice (ⲥⲙⲏ). The passages on pages 20–21 of The Gospel of Truth describe how the saved humans receive teaching and are given a Name and knowledge about themselves and their origin. These humans are contrasted with the humans who ‘have no Name, have no voice’ (ⲙ̄[ⲙ]ⲉ̣[ⲩ] ⲛ̄ⲛⲟⲩⲣⲉⲛ ⲙⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲉⲩ̣ ⲙ̄ⲙⲉⲩ ⲛ̄ⲧⲥⲙⲏ) (NHC I, 22:1–2). In one passage Jesus speaks to humans in the form of a voice of light: ‘he spoke new things, speaking about what is in the heart of the Father, bringing forth the flawless speech, for light had spoken through his mouth and his voice’.Footnote 56 One last passage must be mentioned, here, one that might pertain directly to the art, or at least to the context, of vowel magic. In the first part of the text, we read how the Father reveals himself to the Aeons directly under him in heaven by introducing them to the content of the book of life:
Throughout The Gospel of Truth, great emphasis is placed on the need to manifest one’s salvation through one’s voice, and references to letters and numbers seem to be used in much the same way as in the above Sethian and Hermetic material: to make transcendence more concrete through aural cues.
In The Tripartite Tractate we also encounter a certain voice (ⲥⲙⲏ) which enables the recipient to come into contact with the Aeons as well as his/her own particular salvific status. Just as in The Gospel of Truth, the Aeons are at first unaware of the Father and are thus in disarray. They are granted knowledge of the Father not from reading letters, as in The Gospel of Truth, but from a voice (ⲥⲙⲏ), which enabled them to know the Father and the place and nature whence they came. Thus illuminated, we read that the Aeons ‘need no voice and spirit, mind and word’Footnote 58 in their present state. In the cosmos, however, things are very different. Humans are divided into three categories: pneumatics, psychics and material humans. All three live in ignorance before the coming of the Saviour but at his appearance on earth pneumatic people immediately recognise their status as saved individuals. Their task is to spread the word to psychic people who possess the potential for salvation. The material people stand outside; these are people who speak ‘like Greeks’ (ⲡⲧⲩⲡⲟⲥ ⲛⲛ̄ϩⲉⲗⲗⲏⲛ) (110:25), while the wise among them speak ‘arrogantly and (in an) illusory way concerning the things which they thought of as wisdom’.Footnote 59 The material people are hindered by the archons who rule the cosmos and, therefore, are restricted to knowledge pertaining to the ‘visible elements’ (ⲛⲓⲥⲟⲓⲭⲓⲟⲛ ⲉⲧⲟⲩⲁⲛϩ̄) (109:22–23). However, through their prophets, the psychics – a category in which Jews are included – have historically been able to speak about things pertaining to a higher level, although unaware of it, since they are guided by angels at a higher level than those only dealing with the visible elements of the cosmos (111:23–113:30). Once the Saviour appears, the pneumatics are awakened and able to instruct the psychics, while the material people are beyond redemption.Footnote 60 The psychics are, thus, instructed aurally by fellow Christians,Footnote 61 but the pneumatics are also depicted as receiving teaching, ‘instructed in an invisible manner’ (ϩⲛⲛ ⲟⲩ[ⲙ]ⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲧⲛ̣ⲉ̣ⲩ ⲁⲣⲁⲥ· ⲁϥⲧⲥⲉⲃⲁⲩ ⲁⲣⲁϥ̣) (115:1–2) by the Saviour himself. This resembles 1 Corinthians, in which Paul differentiates between ordinary human wisdom and pneumatic teaching, which is without words (1 Cor 2:13–14); The Tripartite Tractate seems to have expanded upon this. After one has received instruction, one enters a state of the Aeons where there is ‘no need of voice’ (ⲙⲛ̄ ⲭⲣⲉⲓⲁ ⲛ̄ⲥⲙⲏ) (124:19–20). This is likened to gaining ‘form’ (ⲙⲟⲣⲫⲏ).Footnote 62 Several Christian authors portrayed paradise as a place where written and spoken words were not needed, where one was in intuitive contact with God’s mind.Footnote 63 Nevertheless, reinstating the lost image of God commenced with words, through oral instruction and study.
Carrol Harrison has argued that many early Christian authors made a distinction between inward hearing and outward hearing.Footnote 64 In order to be able to hear the word of God within oneself – to be able to believe, pray and ultimately act in accordance with the will of God – one first needed to receive oral instruction and be baptised.Footnote 65 This context fits the Valentinian material in the Nag Hammadi codices. For example, in The Tripartite Tractate the psychics receive baptism and instruction from the pneumatics and have to assent to the trinity and then trust in ‘what has been said to them’ (ⲛⲉⲧⲉⲁⲩϫⲟⲟⲩ ⲉⲛⲉⲩⲟⲩ) (128:1); they are thus termed those of ‘the Calling’ (ⲡⲧⲱϩⲙⲉ), also echoing Pauline language.Footnote 66 They need to be provided with words and oral instruction, which, once received, elevate them above cosmic words: the psychics ‘will receive the vision more and more by nature and not only by a little word, so as to believe, only through a voice, that this is the way it is, that the restoration to that which used to be is a unity’.Footnote 67 It is the Logos who structures the heavenly world, where the pneumatics will be granted eternal repose. The Demiurge creates the cosmos but is guided by the Logos, which enables the Logos to step down to earth in order to awaken the pneumatic people (100:31–35). For this purpose, again from The Tripartite Tractate, he uses ’spiritual words’ (ⲛ̄ϩⲛ̄ϣⲉ̣ ϫⲉ ⲙ̄ⲡⲛ(ⲉⲩⲙ)ⲁⲧⲓⲕⲟⲛ) (101:15–16). As Einar Thomassen has observed, the way these spiritual words, and the voice the pneumatics’ possess which gives them access to the structures of heaven, remind us of how the words of the world and the heavens are differentiated in The Gospel of Philip, another Nag Hammadi text often attributed to the Valentinian tradition.
The Gospel of Philip also contains references to Colossians 4:6 which makes a distinction between speech ‘seasoned with salt’ (ἅλατι ἠρτυμένος) and more colloquial and mundane speech: ‘The apostles said to the disciples, “May our entire offering obtain salt”. They called [Sophia] “salt”. Without it, no offering [is] acceptable. But Sophia is barren, [without] child. For this reason, she is called “a trace of salt”.’Footnote 68 Here, wisdom is likened to the ingredient elevating mundane speech. Thus, when one addressed God, it was not enough to use everyday speech, it had to be an enlightened, illuminated and full of wisdom (salt) to be effective.
In conclusion, there are several magical vowel aspects that would have been well received in Christian texts, of which the Valentinian material is a good example. Several Valentinian texts, like A Valentinian Exposition (Codex XI,2), The Interpretation of Knowledge (Codex XI,1) and others, highlight a concept that is apparent in some of the Sethian and Hermetic material as well: silence as associated with God.Footnote 69 This is not at odds with the notion that aurality was effective, as the structure on earth containing sounds that can be heard with human ears was by definition something other or lesser than the reality in heaven. What should be clear by now is the similarity in intellectual context between those ideas that form the backdrop of the practice of vowel recitation and Valentinian ideas concerning the use of spiritual speech. In both Sethian and Hermetic literature, the enlightened person speaks in a silent and secret way to God, a speech that glorifies the Father of silence and results in transcending the cosmic restrictions, giving access to the heavens in which beings live whose existence centres around giving praise to the Father. Speech in the world is aural by definition, which is why God and the spiritual speech attached to him is repeatedly described as silent. In Marsanes and The Trimorphic Protennoia the highest being is called the ‘silent one’. In The Discourse on the Eighth and Ninth, we read that ‘He is perfect, the invisible God to whom one speaks in silence.’Footnote 70 The angels sing to God in silence, just as the mystagogue is advised to do. Again, from The Discourse on the Eighth and Ninth: ‘I am silent, O my Father. I want to sing a hymn to you while I am silent.’Footnote 71 This silent speech is associated with the vowels.
However, the Valentinian material is not the only Christian context in which vowel magic would have been received with understanding, and, dare I say, enthusiasm.
Divine Speech and Holy Words in a Monastic Context
What does monastic literature have to say regarding holy words, powerful vowels spoken in silence and the possibility to intermingle with beings of the heavens by transcending the structure of materiality? Would monks have found the Hermetic, Sethian and Valentinian reflections on these aspects ‘nonsense’ (as Martin puts it)? Indeed, as will become evident shortly, monastic sources are full of references to a secret language and creative approaches toward the alphabet.
In the burgeoning monastic context, spiritual knowledge was seen as separate from the educational undertakings and schooling belonging to worldly affairs.Footnote 72 As recent scholarship has indicated, references like these have led early scholars to view monastic learning as different from classical paideia.Footnote 73 Yet the scholarship has also highlighted the continuation of classical ideals and practices of paideia within the monasteries, and rather view references to spiritual knowledge and the ideal of being uneducated in worldly affairs as constructed architypes enabling monastic practices to be made exclusive.Footnote 74 As I wish to indicate here, not only were monastic approaches to study and learning were a continuation of the ideals and curricula attached to classical paideia (discussed in more detail in Chapter 7), but they also provided a language which separated monastic practice from the affairs of the outside world. Here, the references to secret languages and other forms of alphabet manipulation are central, echoing the endeavour to master a different kind of communication directed at God and the angels.
The most striking example of the belief in the mystical powers of letters comes from a Pachomian context. In the sixth letter in the collection of the Letters of Pachomius (preserved only in Latin), the founder of the Pachomian movement himself addresses the monastic Father Sourous and his housemate John, and states the following:
I want you to understand the characters that you wrote to me and that I wrote to you in answer, and how important it is to know all the elements of the spiritual alphabet. Write ν above η and θ; write ζ above χ, μ, λ and ι, when you have finished reading these characters. I wrote to you so that you might understand the mysteries of the characters. Do not write ν above χ, θ and μι; but rather write ζ above χ, and ν above η and θ. As soon as I received the characters you wrote, I wrote back and to mysterious [words] I also answered in sacred [words]. I noticed indeed that the characters of your letter were η and θ; therefore I also understood the meaning and the words in the same manner, so I could be even with your understanding, lest you suffer some loss from us. Therefore I wrote to you ςφυμ, lest perhaps someone might say that my name is not written ςφυμ. And do not say: we can write χη, for you said indeed that it is written this way. Now, therefore, ςφθμλουυσυυλιλ. Behold, I wrote to you also χ, complete and perfect all around. You write χ and φ, so that you can write ς and μ. Behold, θ is written before them. Let it be enough for you to take κ and τ, in case you are to go forth. We have written to you μι because of your labor, so that you might be able show every solicitude before you depart. We have indeed the same care as you have and we did not write κ and τ. I wrote to you μ. Therefore, when you see κ and τ written, write ζ in answer; when you see ς and φ, write ν; when you see η and θ, write μ; when you see λιλ write χ; when you see υουυ, write χ. Therefore, now, do not write κρ in these days, because we found δ written. As for us, we wrote ςφ. Take care of α. This is indeed what is written in these days; and be attentive to Ϥ and ϯ, which are Egyptian characters called bei and thei. We found ϩ and ϯ written, which are Egyptian characters called hore and thei. Therefore take care of ηι and write α, because I gave it to you for ηι; write also ς because it is written τ and δ so that you be able to come to us. Be careful not to forget to write ψ above κ, because it is written first, then, and ρ is written before it; and least you say that θ is written and a part of χ. Therefore, the whole thing is written β, lest you say γ is written. In every letter that I wrote to you there is something about your residing as well as rising above the shadow of the exterior world, which is outside the wall. The smell of your wisdom has reached us and has compelled us to write you these things. As for you, as wise men, understand what I wrote to you and prove yourselves to be such as my word has directed.Footnote 75
Pachomius’ letter is very cryptic.Footnote 76 Christoph Joest has studied these aspects of Pachomius’ letters and tried to solve what he suggests is a cipher. He shows rather convincingly that Pachomius employed a code language in much of his letter correspondence, one where whole key words or nominal phrases were contracted to single letters:Footnote 77 for example, θ could be code for God (θεός) or Dead (θάνατος), α could refer to beginning or redemption (ἀρχή) and so on. It would have been hard to decipher the letters without access to a list of which letters refer to which words or phrases. Joel Kalvesmaki has questioned some points of Joest’s suggested solution: for example, that all the letters used the same code, which does not seem to make sense across the board of Pachomius’ letters, or that the Coptic letters which Pachomius also used are not part of his overall schema but rather used when Greek does not give the answer.Footnote 78 Lundhaug and Jenott have previously noted these and other mentions of Pachomian proclivities towards secretive script, and read them in tandem with codes found in the Nag Hammadi codices.Footnote 79 It would undoubtably be interesting to apply these codes in a more systematic way to the cases of cryptic writing in the Nag Hammadi texts. While previous scholars have been preoccupied with cracking Pachomius’ cipher, there is more to Pachomius’ use of code language that goes beyond merely ciphering texts to keep them from being read by outsiders.
I would like to bring the vowel constellations into the discussion, to add a nuance to what Pachomius is doing apart from being cautious in his correspondence. Some words are not just neutral signifiers, but ‘sacred’ and ‘mysterious’. These characters are written, as Pachomius says, in the ‘elements of the spiritual alphabet’ (spiritalis alfabeti elementa), enabling the reader to gain information regarding ‘residing as well as rising above the shadow of the exterior world’ (continetur, et de resurrectione et umbra atenmurali). In the Greek Life of Pachomius, we read that Pachomius wrote in a ‘secret language’ (γλῶσσα κρύπτη),Footnote 80 a spiritual language which pertained to ‘the governance of souls’ (99), writing, we are told, ‘the names of the characters from α to ω’ (99).Footnote 81 This was knowledge not meant for all, because not everyone had what it took to understand it. This fits well into the context of the Latin Letter 6 quoted above, but also echoes the same deterministic language we have encountered in The Tripartite Tractate. As Armand Veilleux has stated, ‘The use of series of vowels and nonsense syllables is not rare either in the gnostic documents discovered in 1946 at Nag Hammadi, near the great basilica of St Pachomius at Phbow, and there could be some similarity or affinity between the two.’Footnote 82
The Pachomian monastery seems to have been organised in accordance with a system based on letters of the Greek alphabet. In The Life of Pachomius, we read that an angel visited Pachomius and commanded him to designate each monk with a letter from α to τ. The angel also commanded the monks to recite passages from The Book of Psalms and to sing antiphons (Greek ἀντίφωνον, ἀντί ‘opposite’ and φωνή ‘voice’), short chants sung as a refrain. In The History of Macarius the Alexandrian, we read that Macarius used to chant twenty-four antiphons, repeatedly.Footnote 83 This was a way to harmonise with the heavenly sounds which transcended the limitations of the body. It aided the monks in times of doubt, fear and crisis, a silent joining with the holy sounds and beings in heaven.Footnote 84
There are other indicators in monastic literature suggesting an interest in sacred words and sounds. The metaphor in Colossians 4:6 of speech seasoned with salt, which we encountered in The Gospel of Philip, is often used in the Pachomian literature.Footnote 85 The conviction that the most divine and spiritual words were spoken in silence – which we encounter in the Valentinian, Sethian and Hermetic texts – was a common monastic ideal. In Palladius’ Lausiac History we read of an episode of a novice monk asking an elder about the abilities of reclusive monks:
The brethren said, ‘Why is it that certain of the Fathers were called “men who transferred themselves from one place to another”, since they were recluses, and never departed from their cells?’ The old man said, ‘Because after much silent contemplation, and unceasing prayer, and watching of the mind, they were worthy to depart from the earth in their minds, and to ascend unto heaven to Christ the King. And they did not do this on occasions only, but continually, for whensoever they wished, or whensoever they sang the Psalms, or prayed, or meditated upon God, straightway their mind was exalted to heaven, and stood before our Lord.’Footnote 86
Silent speaking and recitation gave monks ‘the power to pray without ceasing’,Footnote 87 a practice mentioned and revered throughout the monastic world.Footnote 88 Palladius records another sage monk who tells his pupils that ‘When thou prayest say with a hidden voice unto God: “Lord, how am I to acquire Thee?”’Footnote 89
The power of letters and spiritual words lived on in the Egyptian monastic context for a long time. Ιn a Coptic text dated to AD 985, ascribed to John Chrysostom, we still find traces of the importance placed on the power of vowels and letters. The text was produced (commissioned?) by a man named Michael and presented to the monastery of Saint Mercurius in the mountains of the city Tbo in order to get Pachomius and John Chrysostom to pray on Michael’s behalf. It has been given the title An Encomium on John the Baptist by John Chrysostom and retells events that occurred after John the Baptist’s death, how Jesus honours him and performs wonders in his memory. In the text, we read that John the Baptist’s name is a ‘medicine and remedy which heals sicknesses of every kind’.Footnote 90 His father, we are told, was made mute by his conception, but at his birth he was asked what to call the newborn:
he made a sign with his hand whereby he asked for a writing tablet, and he wrote these three letters which are wonder-worthy, namely iota, and omega, and alpha. And whilst he was writing his mouth opened suddenly, and his tongue was set free, and he spake, and he gained strength, and he cried out with a loud voice, ‘John is his name.’Footnote 91
These letters form the first three words of John’s name as well as the powerful divine name IAO, popular throughout Egypt.Footnote 92
Let us conclude the proceeding explorations concerning the interest in magical vowel features encountered in the Nag Hammadi codices and how they fit into a monastic context.
Conclusion
Previous scholars have pointed out that aspects of the non-Christian texts in the Nag Hammadi library, like the Hermetic ones, would have resonated well within Pachomian monasticism.Footnote 93 One example of theologoumena found in plenitude in the non-Christian material in the Nag Hammadi library that would certainly have resonated in a Pachomian context regards the use of magical letters and words. This chapter has tried to address the question of how the material and contextual features of the many references to magical vowels and words in the Nag Hammadi codices would have been familiar in a Christian context, more specifically, a monastic one. Examining the vowel constellations in the Nag Hammadi codices from a material and visual perspective would indicate that they were chiefly used for reference, rather than as actual ritual manuals by the monastic owners of the texts, because they are not highlighted in any manner that would suggest the latter. They do not stand out in the document; they are not marked in any way whatsoever that would enable easier access or legibility in a ritual context (as in PGM). Rather, the vowel constellations appear along with the rest of the narrative, without use of margins or spaces. So, for what purposes were they read?
As Armand Veilleux writes, ‘The use of series of vowels and nonsense syllables is not rare either in the gnostic documents discovered in 1946 at Nag Hammadi, near the great basilica of St Pachomius at Phbow, and there could be some similarity or affinity between the two.’Footnote 94 Fredrik Wisse wrote in 1979 that the monks would have found these texts of great interest due to these precise features, and Lundhaug and Jenott have also pointed out the great interest Pachomian monks showed in ‘cryptograms’, codes, secret language and holy symbols.Footnote 95 I agree. The above discussion contributes to explicating this further. A Pachomian monk, at least if the legacy of Pachomius is a point of reference, would not have found these aspects of the Nag Hammadi texts alien. On the contrary, both operate with the same broader intellectual world view of Egyptian Hellenism, where the cosmos was seen as interlinked with the spiritual world. Transcending the ‘shadow of the exterior world’, as Pachomius writes, was a principal aim for the monastic, as well as for the mystagogue initiated in a Hermetic, Sethian or Valentinian setting – and the alphabet was utilised and made to represent the same ritual backdrop: human words and sounds could be used to transcend the earthly structure of elements and bring one’s spirit into the company of a heavenly choir, lauding God in an eternal symphony of silence.
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