The Ties That Bind: Negotiating Relationships in Early Jewish and Christian Texts, Contexts, and Reception History, written by Esther Kobel, Jo-Ann A. Brant and Meredith J. C. Warren, in collaboration with Andrew Bowden

Reviewed by: The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts by Ronald Charles Mary Ann Beavis ronald charles, The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts (Routledge Studies in the Early Christian World; London: Routledge, 2020). Pp. xvii + 272. $124. This book sets out to examine a wide range of early Jewish and Christian texts in which enslaved figures are represented and, according to Charles, rendered silent, by their authors, “who had no intrinsic interest in slaves . . . used, abused, and silenced their enslaved characters to articulate their own social, political, and theological visions” (p. 1) The Jewish texts considered all belong to the so-called Pseudepigrapha: Sibylline Oracles, Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, Testament of Job, Letter of Aristeas, Jubilees, Joseph and Aseneth, and Wisdom writings that include Ahiqar, 3 Maccabees, Pseudo-Phocylides, and the Sentences of the Syriac Menander. The early Christian writings are both canonical and extra-canonical: 1 Corinthians, Philippians, Philemon, the Gospels, Acts, the Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas, Acta Perpetuae, Letter of the Churches of Lyons and Vienne, and the Acts of Andrew. C. approaches these texts through the lenses of Michel-Rolph Trouillot’s Silencing [End Page 330] the Past: Power and the Production of History (Boston: Beacon, 1995), and Subaltern studies, to “uncover small tales constructed around slaves, or better, to consider how particular narratives could be understood differently if the reader pays attention to enslaved persons in their characterizations in the texts” (p. 12). Not surprisingly in a project that covers so much ground, the results are uneven. In my reading, several “small tales” stand out: the slave woman in the Testament of Job who gives her own loaf of bread to Satan, disguised as a stranger, when Job snubs him (7:5). Admittedly, the woman is rebuked for her kind act, but by Satan, hardly a reliable character. C. pays special attention to the slave characters—an unnamed slave girl and Malchus, the male slave of the high priest named in John 18:10—who figure in the scene of the denial of Peter (Mark 14:66–68; Matt 26:69–71; Luke 22:56; John 18:15–26), meticulously detailing the unique features of each narrative. C. highlights both the devalued figure of Rhoda (Acts 12:1–16) and the unnamed fortune-teller of Acts 16:16–18, characters often neglected by interpreters. Although all act/speak truthfully (and, in the case of the slave woman in Testament of Job, righteously), their words are dismissed, like the true words of the women disciples in Luke 24:11. Similarly, the slave Felicitas is sidelined by the freeborn Perpetua in the Passion, and both women are silenced in the Acts. In the Acts of Andrew, the body of the slave woman Euclia is used, abused, and discarded to preserve the chastity of her Christian mistress Maximilla: “The body of the elite woman is protected, while the body of the slave is exploited” (p. 196). Several of C.’s interpretive moves are less compelling. Some of the references to slaves in the pseudepigraphal writings he includes are slight or nonexplicit, as with the figure of Hermon in 3 Maccabees 5, who “is not explicitly called one [a slave] in the text” (p. 47). The observation that “he is an administrative person, who is in danger of being killed because of the king’s caprice” (p. 47), suffices to explain his vulnerability. C. adopts the traditional, but highly contested, hypothesis that Onesimus (Phlm 10) was a runaway slave, although why a fugitive slave would seek refuge by visiting a Roman prisoner is not explained. C. assumes that Epaphroditus (Phil 2:19, 25; 4:18) was a freedman (and thus outside the scope of the study), although he could just as likely have been enslaved or freeborn. To be sure, Eusebius’s construction of Blandina as a Christ figure whose death has cosmic significance (p. 182) subordinates her to a “highly theologized salvation history” (p. 183), but this is no different from his portrayal of other martyrs, enslaved or free. Charles’s study features a conclusion that thoroughly summarizes his analysis, chapter by chapter, seemingly in response to the critiques of...

The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts analyzes a large corpus of early Christian texts and Pseudepigraphic materials to understand how the authors of these texts used, abused and silenced enslaved characters to articulate their own social, political, and theological visions. The focus is on excavating the texts "from below" or "against the grain" in order to notice the slaves, and in so doing, to problematize and (re)imagine the narratives. Noticing the slaves as literary iterations means paying attention to broader theological, ideological, and rhetorical aims of the texts within which enslaved bodies are constructed. The analysis demonstrates that by silencing slaves and using a rhetoric of violence, the authors of these texts contributed to the construction of myths in which slaves functioned as a useful trope to support the combined power of religion and empire. Thus was created not only the perfect template for the rise and development of a Christian discourse of slavery, but also a rationale for subsequent violence exercised against slave bodies within the Christian Empire. The study demonstrates the value of using the tools and applying the insights of subaltern studies to the study of the Pseudepigrapha and in early Christian texts. This volume will be of interest not only to scholars of early Christianity, but also to those working on the history of slavery and subaltern studies in antiquity.

Reviewed by: The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts by R. Charles Chris L. de Wet Charles, R. 2020. The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts. Routledge Studies in the Early Christian World. London: Routledge. Hardcover. ISBN 978-0367204341. Pp. xvii + 272. $160.00. The study of slavery, both ancient and modern, has become a theoretically rich and robust field, exhibiting numerous inter- and multidisciplinary approaches to try to "get to the bottom" of texts and contexts related to enslavement. The study of slavery in biblical and extra-biblical material is no exception to this move. Ronald Charles's interesting and important monograph situates itself fully in this critical theoretical stance with regard to ancient slavery, successfully using the work of Michel-Rolph Trouillot, specifically Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History (Boston: Beacon, 1995). The principle in this regard is that within historiographical production, various voices are lifted up, while others are silenced. In order to give voice to the voiceless slaves in some of these historical texts, Charles engages in subaltern readings—reading from below and from the perspective of the oppressed, against the typical elite and imperial/colonial tendencies in the texts. The important contribution of such an approach, for the study of ancient slavery, is that it once again warns us that we cannot take texts about slavery at face value and as adequate representations of the "majority" of ancient life and its inhabitants. What I enjoyed about the book is its reading of seemingly "small tales" of slaves, in order to give these due significance and meaning through imaginative reading. Charles writes: My task is to uncover small tales constructed around slaves, or better, to consider how particular narratives could be understood differently if the reader pays attention to enslaved persons in their characterizations in the texts. Slaves are, for the most part, silent or silenced in the narratives. One may wish there were more precise ways to get at their voices, desires, activities, and personal thoughts in the texts we investigate. The alternative reading of probing silence and of trying to understand unspoken utterances is not an easy task. Reading against the grain requires alertness to the gaps in the texts. Making silence speak requires much patience and attentiveness to minute details by proceeding tentatively and noticing passing or dismissive comments. It also requires a commitment on the part of the historian to actually see the [End Page 193] presence of marginalized and enslaved peoples that are rendered invisible, and hear their voices that are made mute in the texts, around the texts, and outside of the texts. (12; his italics) In my own research on slavery (see De Wet 2015; 2018), I have often experienced the same challenge that Charles highlights here. Because of the fact that slaves are usually not the primary actors in ancient texts, we often need to fill the gaps of silence we see in the historical record. This is not an easy task, and sometimes it is accomplished with more success than at other times. But it remains a necessary task. The implication is that, at times, we need to "read in," or eisegete, certain plausible possibilities into a text, which does hold risks. For instance, Charles allows for the possibility that figures such as Hermon in 3 Macc 5 or Epaphroditus (in Philippians) could have been slaves or former slaves, in the case of the latter, although there is very little evidence to actually confirm or deny this. So, at times, there is an engagement in imaginative reading in order to retrieve some of the possibly lost voices of slaves. Nevertheless, the theoretical approach in the book is a welcome addition to the study of ancient slavery. In terms of the coverage of ancient materials, the book is very ambitious. The book covers slaves in the pseudepigrapha, Pauline literature of the NT, slaves in the Gospels and Acts, slaves in the martyr narratives (specifically the works related to Felicitas and Blandina), and finally, slaves in the Acts of Andrew. The chapter on the pseudepigrapha looks at the Sibylline Oracles, Testament of Joseph, Testament of Job, Letter of Aristeas, Jubilees...

The Didache represents a community that has long since determined its place within its epic imagination. The community of the Didache found an important source for its epic imagination within the stories, themes, and passages of the Hebrew Scriptures, and in fact has transferred important items within the tradition to its own epic: past temple sacrifices are now communal meals; officiating priests are now prophets, teachers, and apostles; and the temple is now the church. The community also has a complete set of ethical guidelines or laws. In contrast to other early Christian texts, the Didache is remarkably calm in its rhetoric. In fact, its selection of themes or stories from the Hebrew Scriptures neglects violent or destructive episodes which were important to other early Jewish and Christian texts, such as the flood, the conquest, or the destruction of Jerusalem. Keywords: Christian texts; Didache ; epic imagination; Hebrew Scriptures

Stephen Wunrow addresses the pressing question of what the author of Hebrews meant by his descriptions of heaven, arguing that the author intended his references to heavenly space to be interpreted as realistic descriptions of a real place. Wunrow posits that language about heaven is neither metaphor nor a description of a “place” outside the creation, by examining other early Jewish and Christian texts that narrate or describe humans ascending into heaven. Given the nature and the function of heavenly space as described in these texts, Wunrow suggests it is most probable that the authors of the texts intended their descriptions of heavenly space to be understood as realistic. Wunrow thus explores 1 and 2 Enoch, 4 Ezra, 2 and 3 Baruch, the Apocalypse of Abraham, the Testament of Levi, the Testament of Abraham, the Ascension of Isaiah, and Revelation; investigating how other roughly contemporary authors described heavenly space, and considering that the rhetorical aims of most of these authors fail unless their readers understand their descriptions of heavenly space in realistic ways. Turning then to examine Hebrews, Wunrow suggests that while the letter does contain unique features and rhetorical aims, it also fits comfortably with other early Jewish and Christian texts that describe humans ascending into heaven in a realistic manner. He concludes with reflections on how this conclusion helps to clarify other topics in Hebrews, including atonement and eschatology.

Abstract: Whereas Richard Swinburne has tried to make a case for the rationality of Christian revelation, this article argues for the rationality of early Christian discourse. Early Christian texts display a type of “formal” rationality that is not an attribute of Christian revelation, intending authors, or historical contexts, but rather is a property of the discursive series to which they belong. Early Christian texts could come into existence only by achieving a relational coexistence with other, previously existing, non-Christian texts within a shared associative discursive series. Such an addition of a Christian text to a discursive series was always governed by the shared “rules” of coherence of the series itself. As a starting point for elucidating these “rules” of coherence, this article examines the structures of social grouping, social interaction, and social values as they were reproduced in the linguistic categories of Hellenistic Greek. This article further argues that the emergence of biblical texts within their respective discursive series occurred according to two strategies, synchronic and diachronic emergence. Synchronic emergence involves the addition of texts to a discursive series in such a way that the “rules” of the series are instantiated without significant alteration. In contrast, the term diachronic emergence designates the addition of texts to a series whereby the “rules” are instantiated in a novel or unexpected manner. In both cases, the emergence of early Christian texts is a function of formal rational processes.

Reviewed by: The Glory of the Invisible God: Two Powers in Heaven Traditions and Early Christology by Andrei Orlov Adiel Schremer andrei orlov, The Glory of the Invisible God: Two Powers in Heaven Traditions and Early Christology (Jewish and Christian Texts in Contexts and Related Studies 31; London: T&T Clark, 2019). Pp. xiii + 224. $120. This book explores various theophanies described in ancient Jewish and early Christian texts, in which God appears alongside a second, divine figure. It points at a process, common to these texts, whereby God’s visual attributes are transferred to the second figure, who is also bestowed with God’s Glory (Hebrew kābôd), while God withdraws into an aniconic aural mode and becomes invisible. This process, according to O., is one of the major characteristics of the NT accounts of the baptism and the transfiguration of Jesus. He suggests that Jesus’s divine identity was developed in the NT materials through the bestowal of God’s visual attributes on Jesus, and that the earliest christology emerges from the creative tension of the ocularcentric and aural theophanic molds, in which God abandons the divine corporeal profile so as to release it for the second figure, “who from then on becomes the image and the glory of the invisible God” (p. 190). Part 2, which is the book’s real focus, is devoted to “Two Powers in Heaven Traditions in Early Christian Accounts.” As frequently noted in previous scholarship, “Already within the earliest Christian testimonies preserved in the Pauline corpus, one can see clear tendencies toward the promulgation of the glory language” (p. 79), and a “predisposition to transfer the attributes and functions of the divine Glory to Jesus” (ibid.). O. adds that “the refashioning of the second power’s theophanic makeup goes hand-in-hand with the deity’s abandonment of its visual, corporeal dimension and its withdrawal into the aniconic aural mode” (p. 83). In his opinion, these two inverse conceptual dynamics “proved to be of paramount significance for the development of early Christology” (ibid.). To facilitate this analysis O. suggests looking at the NT material through the prism of Two Powers in Heaven traditions found in early Jewish texts, and part 1 is devoted to this task. O. begins with the well-known passage in Dan 7:9–14 and proceeds to other Second Temple Jewish texts, including the extrabiblical apocalypse known as the Book of the [End Page 345] Similitudes, and to some later Jewish texts, such as the Primary Adam Books, the Exagoge of Ezekiel the Tragedian, 2 Enoch, the Apocalypse of Abraham, and the Ladder of Jacob. Then he turns to a discussion of “Theophanic Molds in Rabbinic and Hekhalot Two Powers Debates,” where the well-known Pardes story is given much attention and is treated at some length. The relevance of these texts is not simple, however, and, as O. himself notes, they do not represent a single picture. In the ocularcentric theophanies (where both powers are fashioned in ocularcentric mode), as found in the first three texts (Primary Adam Books, Exagoge of Ezekiel, and 2 Enoch), God appears first. In contrast, in the theophanies attested in the other two texts—the Apocalypse of Abraham and the Ladder of Jacob—the second power is depicted first, “followed by the aural epiphany of the first power, which manifests itself as the hypostatic voice” (p. 88). This raises the question of how much of the Jewish material is really relevant to the understanding of the theophanic narratives in the NT. It seems, however, that the main problem with the book lies in its very application of Two Powers in Heaven terminology to the NT material. The key term, “Two Powers in Heaven,” is entirely absent from the above Jewish texts, and the early rabbinic sources in which it is found do not use it in relation to a theophany of whatever kind. Moreover, the rabbinic sources never refer to a specific figure who might be considered a “second power.” Rather, they use it as a general theological concept, according to which there is more than one God. Of the identity and characteristics of the “second power” they say virtually nothing...

This chapter explores some of the methodological issues raised in the process of interpreting art as biblical interpretation. It raises three methodological points concerning the relationship between textual and iconic representations of biblical narratives and scenes. The first point concerns the nature of the relationship between texts and artistic productions. The second point concerns the mechanics and economics of art production. The chapter focuses on one aspect of Akedah iconography - the positioning of Isaac - to see what attention to this graphic element may and may not tell us about the reception of the biblical story in Jewish and Christian community contexts from late antiquity and forward. It suggests that the kneeling Isaac iconography originally developed by way of Isaac's prior cultural role, along with Daniel, the three young men, and other figures, as a model for martyrs. Keywords:Akedah iconography; artistic productions; Christian texts; Isaac; Jewish art; martyrs

Reviewed by: In the Eye of the Animal: Zoological Imagination in Ancient Christianity by Patricia Cox Miller Rachel Wheeler (bio) In the Eye of the Animal: Zoological Imagination in Ancient Christianity. By Patricia Cox Miller. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2018. 271 pp. $79.95 Patricia Cox Miller's newest book takes issue with Lynn White's contention that Christianity, as the most anthropocentric of all spiritual traditions, is thus most responsible for ecological crisis ("The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis," 1967). In Miller's view, early Christian writers expressed equivocation regarding anthropocentrism in ways that anticipate contemporary sensibilities. Even in patristic texts that seemingly promote human exceptionalism there remains an uneasiness around this self-identification. In the texts interpreted by Miller, a continuity between animal and human identity problematizes dogmatic assertions that theorize humanity's identity as the sole bearer of the imago Dei. Animals thus often appear as exemplars for humans, enacting virtues that school Christian readers in their own spiritual formation. And yet, animals are not seen as simply instrumental to human perfection; instead, a poignant cross-species intimacy appears in these ancient Christian texts as animals and humans share life together. The Introduction succinctly announces Miller's intention: "to be attentive precisely to what the animals are saying and doing, so as to engage ancient Christianity's kinships with them that have often gone unnoticed" (3). Miller believes that a "zoological imagination" emerged in early Christian texts that resists the "rhetoric of domination" justified by certain readings of Genesis. Chapter One, "Animals and Figuration," examines the case of birds, a natural place to start as birds capable of flight imaged the human soul for many ancient writers. Peacocks, doves, and pelicans also enable Miller to quickly establish her point: the "simultaneous embrace and distancing of animals in terms of their continuity, even their shared moral being (even their superiority) with humans is part of the paradox that lies at the center of this book" (29). Chapters Two and Three, "The Pensivity of Animals, I & II," allows Miller to explore animals in early Christian texts from two angles: zoomorphism and anthropomorphism. The first angle ("zoomorphism") explores animal form as a way of speaking of the human. Here, her argument draws strength from Augustine's sermons, in which he addresses his congregation as "asses" to underscore their difference from and similarities to such creatures, all for the purpose of spiritual transformation. Miller concludes that "Zoomorphic interpretations such as this one depend on a willingness to become entangled with an animal, and to explore the possibilities of meaning that such a venture opens up" (55). Augustine's writings express both a discontent with anthropocentrism and a subtle undermining of it, while "nudging human consciousness toward a new awareness of itself" (77). Miller's second angle ("anthropomorphism") helpfully contrasts anthropocentrism [End Page 365] with anthropomorphism, the former emphasizing separation and the latter emphasizing connection between humans and animals. How are humans and animals connected? Numerous stories demonstrate animals' possession and use of rational thought by speech and gesture, a striking contrast to the prevailing assumption of human exceptionalism (anthropocentrism) in much of Christianity. However, Miller draws on Merleau-Ponty's notion of "strange kinship" to explain human-animal continuity as a function of shared embodiment rather than shared rationality (however identified by such writers). Appropriately, these two chapters end with a reflection on the centaur in Jerome's Life of Paul to demonstrate the hybridity of "strange kinship" drawing the human and animal into intimate proximity in a singular embodiment; the image of the centaur functions to both highlight nostalgia for the pre-cultural condition of animals and underscore the inner and essential animality of human life. Chapter Four, "Wild Animals," looks specifically at ascetics who chose to live in desert environments, invading animals' natural habitats and learning to live peaceably with such wild animals as lions and wolves. Here, Miller uses affect theory to explore how intimacy, touch, and emotions are part and parcel of human-animal relations. Her observation is that, in many of these stories of desert ascetics, human holiness is envisaged as the ability to have friendly encounters with animals (126): to care for them...

In distinction from magical rituals, which are typically intended to ward off malevolent beings or to coerce spirits to do the will of the person or persons performing the rituals, in worship devotees express a more positive stance of thanksgiving and adoration, subordination to, and dependence on the object of worship. Although worship can be offered by individuals privately, early Christian worship was more typically sited in the gathered ekklēsia (congregation/church). Historians of liturgy probe early Christian texts for origins of subsequent liturgical practices and forms but with limited results. The earliest Christian texts (e.g., the New Testament) presuppose early Christian worship, however, and do not reflect any common order of worship. The earliest examples of any set liturgical order come from the 3rd century ce and later. New Testament scholars have tended to focus on various matters other than worship (e.g., early Christian beliefs, social setting, and questions about specific texts), but in recent decades there has been a small renewal of interest in worship as an important topic. Some recent studies explore the relationship of early Christian worship practices to the Roman-era context and especially the Jewish religious matrix in which Christian faith emerged. However, similarities granted, several features distinguish early Christian worship. Along with ancient Judaism, early Christians also were to worship solely the one God of biblical tradition and to refuse to worship the various other deities of the Roman world. At an astonishingly early point, however, believers also treated the risen/ascended Jesus as rightful recipient of corporate and private devotion with God, thereby also distinguishing themselves from the Jewish tradition. In addition, Sunday (the first day of the week) became the particular and distinguishing day for corporate worship. Moreover, whereas animal sacrifice was a typical component of worship in pagan circles and also in Jewish religion (prior to the destruction of the Jerusalem temple), it was not a feature of early Christian worship. The specific phenomena of early Christian worship also form a scholarly focus. Practices likely varied among churches of the time, but verbal expressions of praise, thanksgiving, and adoration including hymnic ones were apparently common. Spiritual gifts (e.g., prophecy, tongues speaking), phenomena ascribed to the Holy Spirit, are also featured. Corporate worship was to be regarded as an occasion of transcendent significance and character; angels were thought to be present as the earthly worship joined with that of heaven.

A collection of essays that offers a genuinely comparative perspective for the exegesis of early Jewish and Christian texts. The book steps beyond the older program of searching for philological traces of Aramaism in the Gospels, and presses the essential question: how might we use these obviously related documents to illuminate one another? For scholars and advanced students of either the New Testament or the Targums. Also intended for courses in the Judaic aspect of early Christianity. A volume in the Studies in Judaism series.

Examples of sexual violence and mentions of it appear with a disturbing level of frequency in the literature of early Christianity. This collection of essays explores these occurrences in canonical and noncanonical Christian texts from the first until the fifth centuries CE. Drawing from a range of interpretive lenses, scholars of early Christianity approach these writings with the goal of identifying how their authors employ the language of sexual assault, rape, and violence in order to formulate and support various rhetorical and theological claims. Individual chapters also address how and why these episodes of sexual violence have been ignored or, sometimes, read in a way that would make them less problematic. As a collection, Sex, Violence, and Early Christian Texts examines these texts carefully, ethically, and with an eye toward shining a light on the scourge of sexual violence that is so often manifest in both ancient and contemporary Christian communities.

Reviewed by: The Identity of John the Evangelist: Revision and Reinterpretation in Early Christian Sources by Dean Furlong Christopher W. Skinner dean furlong, The Identity of John the Evangelist: Revision and Reinterpretation in Early Christian Sources (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books/Fortress Academic, 2020). Pp. 191. $95. This reception-historical study is a revision of the author's doctoral research at Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam (2017), and attends to a number of debates that existed among early Christian writers. Furlong is not concerned with the historicity of the traditions surrounding the evangelist. Instead, he argues that the view that equates John the Evangelist with the son of Zebedee stands at the end, rather than the beginning, of a long and somewhat convoluted evolutionary process; it was not an assumption shared by the earliest sources commenting on the Johannine tradition. The identification of John the Evangelist with the son of Zebedee spawned a number of inconsistencies among early Christian writers discussing the Johannine texts. These include whether "John" was exiled during the reigns of Claudius, Nero, or Domitian—all of which are suggested in early Christian texts—and whether he suffered a martyr's death earlier in the first century or died of natural causes under Trajan's reign after previously recovering from being placed in a vat of boiling oil. According to F., two Johns appear in the earliest texts and they eventually become conflated, giving rise to these inconsistencies. The book is divided into three sections of nearly equal length. The first section is entitled "The Identity of the Evangelist" and consists of three chapters. In the first chapter, F. argues that Papias—the earliest author to discuss the identity of John—is best interpreted as having spoken of two different Johns, both of whom were followers of Jesus. One is identified as the apostle and the other as the elder. In chap. 2, F. examines the competing narratives regarding John's death and seeks to resolve the tension between those authors that narrate John's martyrdom and those that speak of John's natural death. F. concludes that a resolution can be found by recognizing that these two stories originally had reference to two different individuals. The final chapter of the first section is devoted to exploring the earliest presentations of John the Evangelist. The second section of the book is entitled "Conflated Figures, Revised Narratives" and also consists of three chapters. In chap. 4, F. deals with sources that date John's exile and death during the reign of Claudius (41–54 c.e.) and, in chap. 5, looks at the dispute between Hippolytus of Rome—who attributed the Fourth Gospel and the Apocalypse to the apostle John—and his opponent, Gaius, who attributed them to the heretical teacher Cerinthus. After surveying the evidence, F. concludes that the claim for apostolic authorship by John the son of Zebedee could have been an intentional ploy aimed at (1) establishing the [End Page 136] apostolic authority of the two works, and (2) putting to rest lingering doubts raised by Gaius and others. The final chapter of the second section examines the traditions surrounding John's exile under the reign of Domitian. F. concludes that Eusebius is responsible for creating this "fiction" by misinterpreting and misrepresenting a handful of statements from various early authorities. The third and final section of the book consists of four chapters and represents F.'s own reconstruction of the earliest traditions surrounding John and the authorship of the Johannine literature. As stated above, his substantial concern across these chapters is to establish his thesis that the identification of the evangelist with the son of Zebedee is a late tradition, resulting from a complex process that included an admixture of misunderstanding, misrepresentation, conflation, and apologetic. A great deal of information is found in this volume, and F. should be commended for his detailed engagement with a host of ancient sources. While in places his prose is dense and reads like a dissertation, he ultimately provides a valuable service for advanced students and scholars, first by examining all of this information in one place and, second, by offering a compelling narrative that accounts for the emergence of these contradictory...

Reviewed by: The Eucharist: Origins and Contemporary Understandings by Thomas O’Loughlin Michael Wahl Thomas O’Loughlin The Eucharist: Origins and Contemporary Understandings London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2015 xvii + 229 pages. Paperback. $34.95 In this book, Thomas O’Loughlin endeavors to develop a constructive, ecumenical, and incarnational theology of the Eucharist defined by its act of thanksgiving to the Father and the human practice of eating. O’Loughlin contends that these two elements have become marginalized in contemporary liturgical practice in favor of Christocentric understandings of Eucharistic presence and theologies of sacrifice. Drawing upon contemporary anthropology and historical sources, he argues that an adequate understanding of Christian worship must take into account the early Christian practice of worship and the basic identity of the human person as homo cenarius. The book is divided into seven chapters. After a first chapter concerned with methodology, O’Loughlin argues in the second chapter that the Eucharist is primarily an act of thanksgiving to the Father rather than an encounter with Christ. Drawing upon early Christian texts, he contends that the first Christians understood [End Page 349] themselves to be participating in Christ’s blessing the Father through their communal meals rather than effecting the presence of Christ in their midst. In the third chapter, O’Loughlin begins his anthropological argument. He posits that human eating differs from that of other creatures because human eating is marked by reason, technical skill, and sociality. He argues that this unique and essential aspect of human nature ought to be incorporated into their worship. O’Loughlin expands this claim in the fourth chapter, suggesting that all meals exist on a continuum from the most hastily eaten snack to the Eucharistic ritual meal. Consequently, he critiques contemporary Christianity’s marginalization of the meal expressed in the reduction of the bread and wine to mere tokens and emphasis on the discontinuity between natural food and the “bread of angels.” Rather than emphasizing a binary division between “sacred” and “profane,” O’Loughlin highlights the continuity among the growth of foodstuffs, their preparation and cooking, their being shared at table, and their becoming occasions of thanksgiving to God. In the fifth chapter, O’Loughlin turns to an historical investigation. He examines a number of early Christian texts in order to explore their own interpretations of the Eucharistic rituals they performed. He argues that the community meal and the Eucharist were intimately connected and seen as a celebration of unity, a sacrifice of thanksgiving to the Father, and a supper of reconciliation. The practices of early Christian communities combined with their memories of the meals of Jesus—including, but by no means limited to, the Last Supper—guide their liturgical praxis and subsequently form their self-understanding. In the sixth chapter, O’Loughlin investigates whether it is possible to establish the form of the meal that early communities used and believed to be in continuity with the practice of Jesus. He argues that although there is no uniform practice, there are common strands. All early Eucharistic rituals contain a blessing of the Father within the context of a meal, the sharing of a single loaf and a common cup, and a remembrance of Jesus. Moreover, early Christian worship is focused mainly on the unity of the assembly which partakes of one loaf and one cup rather than on the substance of the loaf and contents of the cup. Finally, in the seventh chapter, O’Loughlin argues that a eucharistic theology grounded in an understanding of the human person as homo cenarius entails [End Page 350] a reimagination of current eucharistic practices in order to refocus on offering thanksgiving to the Father, emphasize the role of the assembly, and recover and reinvigorate the place of the meal within the eucharistic celebration. Even as there is much to appreciate in O’Loughlin’s work, there are also points that call for further examination and critique. His distaste for theologies of Eucharistic presence will sit uneasily with many Catholics. Furthermore, despite the variety of scriptural and other early Christian ancient texts to which he appeals, he makes no mention of John 6, which plays a pivotal role in Catholic Eucharistic theology. O’Loughlin...

Reviewed by: Books and Readers in the Early Church: A History of Early Christian Texts Sheila Elizabeth McGinn Harry Y. Gamble. Books and Readers in the Early Church: A History of Early Christian Texts. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995. Pp. xii + 337. $32.50. Harry Gamble fills a gap in our knowledge of the early Christian movement by exploring the extent to which early Christians were capable of writing and reading. Beginning by debunking the form critical distinction between Kleinliteratur and Hochliteratur, with the concomitant “romantic conception of the folk community” of early Christianity (20), G. illuminates the complexities of determining literacy levels in a multilingual society. Uncovering the sociological assumptions behind prior discussions, G. shows that the literary culture of the early church involved a rich collection of texts directed at a wide spectrum of socioeconomic classes. The early Christian use and interpretation of Jewish scriptures demonstrates “a scholastic concern and activity . . . from the begin- ning . . .” (24f). Gamble’s discussion of the Christian use of the codex is a fascinating example of historical reconstruction based on close examination of the evidence. Through a painstaking analysis (in chpt. 2), he makes a strong case for the seven-churches edition of Pauline letters being the incentive for the disproportionate use of the codex form by early Christians. Eventually, the wide currency of Christian books [End Page 149] shifted the traditional preference from inscribing literary works on scrolls to codices. In his discussion of how ancient books were transmitted and “published,” G. shows that Christian writings were disseminated very rapidly and over a wide geographical area. This does not presuppose a Christian “publishing house” in the contemporary sense of the term; the closest thing to this seems to be Origen’s private scriptorium in Alexandria. But there exists plenty of evidence that churches shared copies of their documents, and that collections of Christian writings were in circulation at very early dates (e.g., the collection of the letters of Dionysius of Corinth already during his own lifetime, ca. 170). The recurrent concern that texts might be adulterated (e.g., Rev. 22:18–19; cf. Eus. HE 5.20.2) testifies to a scholarly interest on the part of Christian writers. This interest in studying texts is confirmed by the proliferation not only of copies of early Christian writings texts but also their vernacular translations for use in the more remote sectors of the provinces. The practice of keeping stenographic records of church councils reinforced a strong Christian orientation toward the written word. Christians’ reliance on sacred scriptural texts was the most significant factor in giving Christianity the external appearance rather of a philosophical movement than a religious cult. The broad distribution of Christian books at an early date and their collection by even small local communities naturally led to the establishment of larger libraries in Christian centers such as Alexandria, Caesarea, and Rome. Even smaller churches had sizeable congregational libraries by the beginning of the fourth century. Diocletian’s edict ordering the confiscation and burning of Christian books attests that they were seen as vital to the continued viability of Christian communities. In his extensive discussion of libraries in antiquity, G. shows that early Christian libraries were relatively unique in their type of holdings. These church libraries “consisted primarily of religious texts used for religious purposes, a phenomenon closely paralleled in the Greco-Roman world only by Judaism.” (196f) Yet, even from the late second century, Christian libraries included texts from classical pagan authors, and became the medium through which these classical texts were collected and preserved (202). In his final chapter on “the Uses of Early Christian Books,” G. covers the gamut from public reading of the texts in communal worship, to private reading, to bibliomancy and other magical uses. His surprisingly unsupported claim that the public reading of texts like acta martyrii “was never confused with the reading of scripture” (218) is the exception that proves the rule to his careful and sequential analysis of the evidence. True, some may rather employ a “hermeneutic of suspicion” in analyzing the evidence of private ownership and reading of Christian texts, seeing in it a stronger aristocratic bias than does G. (e...