The Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew

by Bart D. Ehrman

  Baur was a towering figure in the history of nineteenth-century biblical and theological scholarship. Professor of New Testament and historical theology at the University of Tubingen from 1826 until his death, Baur was the founder of the so-called Tubingen School, with its distinctive understanding of the history of the first three hundred years of Christianity, including most famously a complete reevaluation of the historical trustworthiness of the New Testament writings. Discussions concerning the arguments of this "school," pro and con, dominated German- and even English-speaking scholarship for an entire generation, and they still affect research today.

  Baur was a remarkable scholar in every way—brilliant, wide-ranging, and hardworking. Stories of his scholarly output are the stuff of legend. At his desk every morning at 4:00, by the end of his life he had produced the equivalent of a 400-page book every year, for forty years.

  One of his earliest writings set the tone for the understanding of church history that became the keynote of his career and the writings of his students. In a work called "The Christ Party in the Corinthian Community," Baur maintained that earliest Christianity, before the books of the New Testament had been completed, was characterized by a conflict between Jewish Christians, who wanted to maintain distinctive ties to Judaism and so keep Christianity as a particularist religion (it was Jewish), and Gentile Christians, who wanted to sever those ties in order to make it a universalistic religion (it was for everyone). The conflicts were spearheaded by the two key figures of the early church, Peter, head of the Jewish-Christian faction, and Paul, head of the Gentile Christians. According to Baur, there was no clear winner in the early back and forth between these two groups. Instead, a kind of historical compromise emerged, in which aspects of both the Jewish-Christian insistence on keeping the Law and the Gentile-Christian emphasis on salvation available to all came to be melded together into what eventually became the catholic church of both Jew and Gentile.

  Anyone familiar with continental philosophy will recognize here the influence of Hegel, the German philosopher who understood history to proceed dialectically, with a thesis (in this case, Jewish Christianity) encountering an antithesis (Gentile Christianity), resulting then in a synthesis (catholic Christianity). This Hegelian understanding, however, was not simply taken over by Baur in generalized terms; it was worked out in great analytical detail with specific texts. Two keys to Baur's argument were his claims that the history of the early conflict was shrouded by the emergent synthesis and that the earliest Christian writings could be situated in their genuine historical contexts only by analyzing their ideological proclivities.

  The book of Revelation, for example, is thoroughly Jewish-Christian in its apocalyptic and particularist orientation (the thesis position); Paul's letters to the Galatians and Romans are harshly anti-Jewish (the antithesis)., These books then are all early in the conflict, representing the two competing sides. But Acts—to take a prominent and, for us, key example—is a mediating force, showing Peter and Paul in essential agreement on all major points and working out a compromising solution to the problem of particularism and universalism. It is striking, as members of the Tubingen school could point out, that the speeches of Peter (e.g., Acts 2) and of Paul (e.g. Acts 13) read almost exactly alike. Peter sounds like Paul and Paul sounds like Peter. According to the version of Acts, rather than being at loggerheads over how Jews and Gentiles are to react to each other in Christ, as they were according to Paul's own account in Gal. 2:11-14, these two apostles, and all the others, are portrayed in perfect concord on the matter (Acts 10-11; 15). Acts is thus not a historical account of what actually happened but an attempt to smooth over the acrimonious debates. It is a later work, not from the lifetime of Paul at all but written by someone who chose to reformulate the history of the early tensions within the church to show that the catholic solution had been in place from the beginning.

  Again, no one subscribes to the precise views of Baur and the Tubingen school today. But the basic point is widely recognized that Acts, like the Gospels, is driven by a theological agenda that sometimes affects its historical accuracy. Probably the easiest way to demonstrate the point is to compare what Acts has to say about its main protagonist, the apostle Paul, with what Paul has to say about himself in his own letters. Not only are there small differences in detail concerning where Paul was, when, and with whom, there also are major discrepancies in important issues involving Paul's activities, the nature of his proclamation, and the overall portrayal of his character.

  For instance, did Paul consult with the Apostles before going on the mission field? Acts says yes (Acts 9:26ff.), but Paul emphatically says no (Gal. 1:17). And what did Paul think about pagans who worship idols? Are they guilty before God for violating what they know to be true about him (so Romans 1:18-32), or are they innocent before God because they are ignorant of the truth about him (so Acts 17:22-31). In terms of the overall understanding of Paul's message and mission: Paul portrays himself as a missionary to the Gentiles who has abandoned, for the most part, adherence to the Jewish Law for the sake of his mission; Acts portrays Paul as a good Jew who has never done anything contrary to the Law. And what about Paul's interactions with his apostolic predecessors? Paul portrays himself as being at loggerheads with the apostles in Jerusalem, especially Peter (cf. Gal. 2:11-14); Acts portrays the entire Christian in harmony from the beginning to the end of Paul's mission (cf.Acts 15:1-24).

  The significance of this evidence for our survey should be obvious. Scholars widely recognize that the Acts of the Apostles may be driven as much by a theological agenda as by a concern for historical accuracy. For that reason, it cannot be used uncritically to provide a historical basis for the classical understanding of the relationship of orthodoxy and heresy.

  The third question to be addressed concerns the reports of Eusebius himself, whether he can be trusted to give an accurate account of the relationships between proto-orthodox and heretical Christians over the course of the first three centuries. In the early days of Enlightenment scholarship, Eusebius was occasionally attacked for presenting a biased and unhistorical account. With new discoveries of primary sources showing the wide varieties of early Christianity, scholars of the nineteenth century sometimes went further and argued that his narrative was inaccurate and theologically driven. But it was not until the early twentieth century that Eusebius's account came under severe scrutiny, leading to a devastating attack on his portrayal of early Christian unity and diversity.

  The major study was published by yet another German scholar, of similar name to the founder of the Tubingen School, but not to be confused as a relation. Walter Bauer (1877-1960) was a scholar of great range and massive erudition; his Greek lexicon remains a standard tool for all students of New Testament Greek. His most controversial and influential work was a study of theological conflicts in the early church. Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity (1934) was arguably the most important book on the history of early Christianity to appear in the twentieth century. Its precise aim is clear: to undercut the Eusebian model for the relationship of orthodoxy and heresy. The argument is incisive and authoritative, made by a master of all the surviving early Christian literature. Some scholars recoiled in horror at Bauer's views, and others embraced them fiercely, but no one in the field has been untouched by them. The repercussions are still felt today, as Bauer's analysis has changed forever how we look at the theological controversies prior to the fourth century.

  Bauer argued that the early Christian church did not consist of a single orthodoxy from which emerged a variety of competing heretical minorities. Instead, earliest Christianity, as far back as we can trace our sources, could be found in a number of divergent forms, none of which represented the clear and powerful majority of believers against all the others. In some regions of ancient Christendom, what later came to be labeled "heresy" was in fact the earliest and principal form of Christianity. In other regions, views later deemed heretical coexisted with views that came to be
embraced by the church as a whole, with most believers not drawing hard and fast lines of demarcation between them. To this extent, "orthodoxy," in the sense of a unified group advocating an apostolic doctrine accepted by the majority of Christians everywhere, simply did not exist in the second and third centuries. Nor was "heresy" secondarily derived from an original teaching through an infusion of Jewish ideas or pagan philosophy. Beliefs that later came to be accepted as orthodox or heretical were competing interpretations of Christianity, and the groups that held them were scattered throughout the empire. Eventually one of these groups established itself as dominant, acquiring more converts than all the others, overpowering its opponents, and declaring itself the true faith. Once its victory was secured, it could call itself "orthodox" and marginalize the opposition parties as heretics. It then rewrote the history of the conflict, making its views and the people who held them appear to have been in the majority from apostolic times onwards.

  As should be clear from this thumbnail sketch, Bauer objected to the very terms of the debate between orthodoxy and heresy, which he nonetheless used. For him, historians cannot use the words orthodoxy to mean right belief and heresy to mean wrong belief. Those are value judgments about theological "truths." But the historian is no more able to pronounce on ultimate "truth" than anyone else. That is to say, historians cannot decide who is right in the question of whether there is one God or two; they can simply show what different people have thought at different times. More than that, however, Bauer objected to the implications of the terms orthodoxy as referring to an original and majority position and heresy as referring to later corruptions. Much of his book, in fact, is devoted to showing that these implications are completely wrong. Why then continue to use the terms at all? For Bauer they continue to be useful designations not so much for the conflicts of the second and third centuries as for how these conflicts came to be understood in hindsight. Only after Gnostics, Marcionites, Ebionites, and others had been more or less weeded out was there a majority opinion that asserted itself; at that point it makes sense to speak of orthodoxy, that is, a set of beliefs subscribed to by the majority of believers. Speaking about orthodoxy in the earlier period, then, is a kind of intentional anachronism that highlights the problem by using its own terms.

  Bauer's views were not established simply by assertion. His book is filled with a detailed analysis of all the relevant sources that were available to him. Seventy years after its publication, it is still essential reading for scholars in the field. Bauer proceeds by looking at certain geographical regions of early Christendom for which we have some evidence—particularly the city of Edessa in eastern Syria, Antioch in western Syria, Egypt, Asia Minor, Macedonia, and Rome. For each place, he considers the available Christian sources and subjects them to the closest scrutiny, demonstrating that contrary to the reports of Eusebius, the earliest and/or predominant forms of Christianity in most of these areas were heretical (i.e., forms subsequently condemned by the victorious party). Christianity in Edessa, for example, a major center for orthodox Christianity in later times, was originally Marcionite; the earliest Christians in Egypt were various kinds of Gnostic, and so on. Later orthodox Christians, after they had secured their victory, tried to obscure the real history of the conflict. But they were not completely successful, leaving traces that can be scrutinized for the truth.

  But how did the one form of Christianity, the form at the root of all major branches of the Christian church down to the present day, attain a level of dominance? For Bauer, this was the kind of Christianity that was found predominantly, though not exclusively, in the church of Rome, the capital of the empire, destined to become the center of Christianity. Is it a surprise that it was the Roman form of Christianity that became the Christianity of all people in the empire?

  Bauer does not simply suggest that Rome was the obvious place from which orthodoxy would move forth and conquer the Christian world; he again provides evidence and makes a case. We have already seen that the earliest noncanonical Christian writing that we have, Clement, is a letter from the Christians in Rome trying to influence the internal workings of the church of Corinth, urging in the strongest terms possible that the Corinthian presbyters be reinstated. But why would Christians in Rome be concerned about the politics of the church in Corinth? Is it because the deposed presbyters, as opposed to the now ruling junta, actually supported the Roman understanding of Christianity? Could they have been proto-orthodox Christians, whereas their opponents were not?

  As it turns out, we know of false teachers vying for authority in Corinth from the beginning—the "super apostles" referred to in Paul's letters to Corinth (2 Cor. 11:5), who appear to have thought that there would be no future bodily resurrection of believers. These may well have been forerunners of Gnostic Christians, who devalued fleshly existence. At the time of Clement, some thirty years after Paul's letters, had this group finally won out in a coup? And were the Roman Christians taking action to correct the situation?

  It appears, in any event, that the proto-orthodox letter of Clement had its effect. The book itself came to acquire sacred status among the Christians in Corinth and was read as Scripture in their worship services some seventy years later, according to the then proto-orthodox bishop Dionysius. This would scarcely have been likely, had the Gnostic usurpers retained power.

  As should be clear, for Bauer, the internal Christian conflicts were struggles over power, not just theology. And the side that knew how to utilize power was the side that won. More specifically, Bauer pointed out that the Christian community in Rome was comparatively large and affluent. Moreover, located in the capital of the empire, it had inherited a tradition of administrative prowess from the state apparatus through a kind of trickle-down effect. Using the administrative skills of its leaders and its vast material resources, the church in Rome managed to exert influence over other Christian communities. Among other things, the Roman Christians promoted a hierarchical structure, insisting that each church should have a single bishop. Given the right bishop, of course, certain theological views could then be preached and enforced. Moreover, the Roman influence, for Bauer, was economic: By paying for the manumission of slaves and purchasing the freedom of prisoners, the Roman church brought large numbers of grateful converts into the fold, while the judicious use of gifts and alms offered to other churches naturally effected a sympathetic hearing of their views. As the Dionysius of Corinth could say to Soter, bishop of Rome:

  From the start it has been your custom to ... send contributions to many churches in every city, sometimes alleviating the distress of those in need, sometimes providing for your brothers in the [slave] mines by the contributions you have sent. (Eusebius, Church History 4.23)

  Over time, the proto-orthodox views of the Roman community became increasingly dominant in the cities connected in one way or another to the capital, and since all roads lead to Rome, eventually that meant most of the cities throughout the empire. By the end of the third century, the Roman form of Christianity had established dominance. All it took then was someone like Eusebius to write the account, and not only the Roman proto-orthodox theology but also the Roman view of the history of the conflict came to be established for ages to come.

  Scholars in Germany immediately recognized the importance of Bauer's radical rewriting of early Christian history. Unfortunately, the book was not translated into English until 1971. Most of the English-speaking world thus knew about it only secondhand and mainly through the refutations of Bauer's opponents. Even so, the impact of the book was enormous."

  Specific details of Bauer's demonstration were immediately seen as problematic. Bauer was charged, for good reason, with attacking orthodox sources with inquisitorial zeal and exploiting to a nearly absurd extent the argument from silence. Moreover, in terms of his specific claims, each of the regions that he examined have been subjected to further scrutiny, not always to the advantage of his conclusions.

  Probably most scholars today think that Bauer u
nderestimated the extent of proto-orthodoxy throughout the empire and overestimated the influence of the Roman church on the course of the conflicts. Even so, subsequent scholarship has tended to show even more problems with the Eusebian understanding of heresy and orthodoxy and has confirmed that, in their essentials, Bauer's intuitions were right. If anything, early Christianity was even less tidy and more diversified than he realized.

  As a result of this ongoing scholarship, it is widely thought today that proto-orthodoxy was simply one of many competing interpretations of Christianity in the early church. It was neither a self-evident interpretation nor an original apostolic view. The apostles, for example, did not teach the Nicene Creed or anything like it. Indeed, as far back as we can trace it, Christianity was remarkably varied in its theological expressions.

  Probably the primary piece of evidence for this widespread variety comes from the proto-orthodox sources themselves, and in a somewhat ironic way. Eusebius and his successors quote these sources at length, including the books of the New Testament, in order to show that at every turn, their proto-orthodox forebears were successful in deposing false teachers and their heretical followers. But what they neglect to point out is that these "successes" presuppose the extensive, even pervasive, influence of false teachers in the early Christian communities.

  Take our earliest Christian writings as an example, the letters of the apostle Paul. In nearly all his own churches, the ones he himself founded, there are dangerous "false teachers" propounding an understanding of the gospel that Paul finds reprehensible or even damnable. In many instances, the opposing forces are winning out, so that Paul is compelled to intervene to reverse the trend. In his letter to the Galatians, for example, he contends with "Judaizers," Christian missionaries instructing Paul's converts that to be true members of the people of God they must adopt the ways of Judaism, including circumcision for the men. The success of these missionaries is evident in Paul's angry response; he genuinely fears that the entire community is being led astray (Gal. 1:6-8,3:1-5).