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308 pages, Paperback
First published September 30, 2010
All this presents a rather sticky problem. Recall that in Professor Ehrman’s political interpretation of church history it isn’t until the fourth century that the ‘orthodox’ party finally ‘sealed its victory over all of its opponents’, At that time ‘it rewrote the history of the engagement’, claiming that its views were passed down from Jesus’ apostles. And yet here is Irenaeus, nearly two centuries earlier, already ‘rewriting history’ long before the victory was sealed. At a time when, many prominent scholars insist, the issue was still very much in doubt, Irenaeus writes as if the church had been nurtured by these four Gospels from the time of the apostles.
The problem with Irenaeus is that he simply wrecks the popular paradigm. His views about the emerging New Testament canon, and about the four Gospels in particular, are simply too well-developed, too mature, to fit the scheme that many have invested themselves in today. As a second-century Christian author who argued that there are, and can only be, four legitimate Gospels—because they alone teach the truth about Jesus and because they alone had been handed down in the church from the time of the apostles—Irenaeus lies like a fallen Redwood in the path of those who would see the choice of the four Gospels as a late and politically motivated manoeuvre of the fourth century.
How do you solve a problem like Irenaeus?
So, we may now ask, how did the Christian church, apparent drowning in a sea of Gospels, finally end up with only four? The educated reader of today may already have come to the conch. sion that the story was attended with a good bit of bullying intrigue, and skullduggery. Many perhaps picture councils of bad-tempered bishops voting on which books to include in the Bible one minute, and voting to execute heretics the next. As now widely believed, in any case, that the four canonical Gospels emerged into prominence only fairly late from a long and drawnout battle within early Christianity, a battle finally won in the fourth century after the establishment of the church by Constantine the Great. While academics might not, as Teabing does Dan Brown’s novel, attribute the collation of the Bible to 'pagan emperor Constantine’, many even in the academic community insist that the question of which Gospels the church ought to endorse was still up for grabs in the fourth century.
In short, we have no evidence that the church ever sat down collectively or as individual churches and composed criteria for jdging which Gospels (or other literature) it thought best suited its needs. On the contrary, the key realization which best explains our inability to find an ultimate ‘chooser’, which best explains why the church didn’t take the easy way out with some kind of singular Gospel and why it never cobbled together a set of criteria to apply to all the Gospel candidates, is that the church essentially did not believe it had a choice in the matter! The question ‘why did you choose these Gospels?’ would not have made sense to many Christians in the second century, for the question assumes that the church, or someone in it, had the authority to make the choice. To many, it would be like the question, ‘why did you choose your parents?
"Who, then, first chose the Gospels, if it wasn't anybody in the fourth century? It wasn't Origen, Tertullian, or Hippolytus in the first half of the third century, or Clement of Alexandria or Serapion at the end of the second. It wasn't even Irenaeus or anyone writing in the last quarter of the second century. All these had inherited the same four Gospels from previous generations.
"It wasn't Tatian in Rome or Syria or Theophilus in Antioch. . . . It wasn't Justin Martyr, who by the early 150s in Rome was using the same four Gospels, and treating evidently only these four as 'Memoirs of the Apostles,' composed by the apostles and their followers . . .
"The evidence brings us, then, to an earlier time. But how much earlier? While the date prior to 150 are not quite so clear, the four Gospels are known as authoritative sources in the Epistle of the Apostles and the Apocryphon of James in the 140s. Papias, probably in the 120s, knows all four; Aristides, at about the same time, knows 'the Gospel' in multiple individual written expression, including Luke and John, and a decade earlier Ignatius knows at least Matthew and John. And sometime around the year 100 Papias' elder discusses the origins of Matthew and Mark, and, if the argument summarized in chapter 10 is near the mark, Luke and John as well.
"How is it that these four Gospels came to be known so widely from such an early time? There was certainly no great council of Christian churches before 150 which laid down the law on which Gospels to use. No single bishop, not even the bishop of Rome, should he ever have made such a proclamation (and there is no reason to think he did), had the clout to make it stick. If there was any authoritative figure who endorsed the four Gospels, the most viable option would have to be, as a tradition known to Origen and possibly Papias' elder said, the aged apostle John. Such a story is a long, long way from historical verification, though that fact in itself does not make it impossible.
"But if we set aside that story as likely to be legendary, our search appears to have reached a dead-end. We cannot find who chose the Gospels. It looks like nobody did. They almost seem to have chosen themselves through some sort of 'natural selection.' And this at least concurs with the conclusion of Bruce Metzger, one of the last generation's premier scholars of the New Testament canon, who wrote, 'neither individuals nor councils created the canon; instead they came to recognize and acknowledge the self0authenticating quality of these writings which imposed themselves as canonical upon the church" (227-29).