RBL REVIEW (forthcoming)
Hugo Lundhaug and
Lance Jenott, The Monastic Origins of the Nag Hammadi Codices (Studien
und Texte zu Antike und Christentum 97; Mohr Siebeck, 2015) 332p.
In The Monastic Origins of the Nag Hammadi Codices Hugo Lundhaug
and Lance Jenott set out to answer a rather straightforward question—Who
produced and read the actual books collectively known as the Nag Hammadi
Codices? This question, when it has been considered at all, has often been
obscured by the preconceptions of scholars about what the terms “gnostic” and
“monastic” mean. The authors, however, are not concerned with who originally
might have composed the texts or their pre-codex literary history. These are
separate questions that are not directly relevant to the books’ terminal users,
who the authors seek to identify.
Chapter 1 (“The Secret
Books of the Egyptian Gnostics?”) addresses the history of the question and
debate around the circumstances of the discovery. In this context the early
work of Jean Doresse has cast a long shadow, since he famously asserted that
“whoever may have possessed (the books), they cannot have been monks” (p. 1).
Others who have looked at the question, such as Khosroyev, insisted that the
codices contained theologies that would have been incompatible with a monastic
setting, particularly a Pachomian one (p. 2). In fact, many scholars have seen
the Nag Hammadi texts as too “bizarre,” “esoteric,” or “untraditional” to have
come from a monastery (p. 2-3). As a result, a variety of alternatives have
been proposed, from a group of urban intellectuals, to a “gnostic” sect, to a
wealthy collector of esoterica. It has also been argued that the manuscripts
served as Christian “books of the dead” (p. 3-5). In spite of all this, a few
things are relatively clear: 1) the books can be dated to the 4th-5th
centuries CE (p. 10-11), 2) they were found near a cliff at Jabal al-Tarif,
near the Hamra Dum village (NB: the question of whether the site was a
“cemetery” is open to interpretation, although there are certainly tombs
nearby) (p. 17-19), and 3) Christian monks were active in the area as early as
the 4th and 5th centuries CE (p. 17-19).
Chapter 2 concerns
“Monastic Diversity in Upper Egypt,” a region known to have been inhabited by
male and female ascetics who lived both solitary and communal lives (p. 22).
Recent studies have shown that there was more interaction between monks (not
all Pachomian) and villagers than has normally been assumed (p. 24-25).
Moreover, some of the monks were highly educated (p. 25) and held a diversity
of theological opinions (p. 34-38). In fact, and this is key, the cartonnage
material from the covers of the Nag Hammadi codices does contain a substantial
amount of monastic material (p. 47-49).
Chapter 3 briefly
addresses the vexing question of “The Gnostics?” Once again, the authors assert
that their interest lies in determining the origin of the actual codices
themselves, not with speculating about what persons or theological factions
might have authored the texts they contain (p. 77). Still, Lundhaug and Jenott
underline the degree to which scholarly theories about “Gnosticism” have and
continue to obscure a “clear analysis” of the codices (p. 73). While this is
certainly a pertinent point, the chapter puts an overwhelming emphasis on the
work of Alastair Logan as representative of gnostic studies as a whole. This
seems like a rather narrow assessment of the field.
In Chapter 4
(“Contrasting Mentalities?”) the authors continue to unpack the many
preconceptions that interpreters have imposed on the codices. Often,
assumptions are made about what people at the time, particularly monks, would
or would not have read. The content of the Nag Hammadi manuscripts has
been labelled as “anti-biblical” and “syncretistic” material meant for the weak
minded (p. 74-75). Ideas about what constitutes the “monastic” (i.e. orthodox)
perspective abound (p. 75). Khosroyev serves as a particularly egregious
example of this, when he referred to the “bizarre mentality” contained in the
codices (p. 75). Attached to such assumptions is the equally stereotypical corollary
that such speculative literature couldn’t possibly have interested the poor,
ignorant Copts (p. 76, 78, 91). While there are certainly allusions to Greek
culture and philosophy in the texts, one need not assume that these elements
would have been of primary interest to the readers of the codices (p. 92). Here
the authors emphasize an often overlooked point. If the readers of the codices
are imagined as sophisticated urban intellectuals (as some have proposed),
steeped in Greek philosophical culture, why render them into Coptic? (p. 94).
Greek continued to be used in Egypt well into the Byzantine period (p. 96).
Therefore, the books must have been intended for a Coptic-speaking audience (p.
100-101).
Chapter 5 (“The
Cartonnage”) explores what material from the codex coverings may or may not
tell us about their creators and users. Once again, previous scholars have gone
to extraordinary lengths to disassociate these supposedly “heretical” books
from their notions of Pachomian orthodoxy (p. 132). Many have assumed that
early Egyptian monks existed in total isolation, although this stereotype has
proven to be a hagiographic fiction. Monks and monasteries did have many (often
necessary) contacts with “the world” of the local villages (p. 132-3). Thus, it
would not be surprising if some of the cartonnage material consisted of
receipts and official documents. Such material has been used to suggest that the
books were owned by soldiers, bored bureaucrats, or an esoteric “underground.”
A bit of Ockham’s Razor might well be applied here. What is more likely, that a
group of religious books containing largely Christian material was produced by
local Christians known to produce books (i.e. monks), or some imagined
hypothetical alternative? What’s more, a letter from the cartonnage of Codex
VII is addressed to “father Pachomius” himself (p. 136-137). Though such
concrete evidence has often been ignored or dismissed as co-incidental.
Chapter 6 makes clear
that some Christians at the time did, in fact, approve of the reading of
“Apocryphal Books,” while repeated denunciations of such works by monastic
authorities well into the 6th century CE surely speaks to their continued
use (p. 176-177). Chapter 7, for its part, explains that the language of “The
Colophons” also fits comfortably within a monastic milieu and provide useful
information about the book exchange networks employed by the creators (p.
178-206).
Chapter 8 looks at “The
Codices” themselves. Here the authors argue that given the diverse character of
the Pachomian federation, it should not be surprising that multiple book
production practices co-existed (p. 212). Moreover, biblical manuscripts from
the Dishna Papers closely resemble the Nag Hammadi codices and themselves are
associated with local Pachomian communities (p. 231-233). Here again, it is
startling the length that scholars have gone and continue to go in an effort to
insulate their perceived notions of orthodoxy from their perceived notions of
heresy. Cornelia Römer is a case in point. As the authors point out, in a
recent study she has argued that Coptic manuscripts containing both canonical
and non-canonical material emerged during the same period and evidence the same
scribal and codicological techniques. Yet, instead of entertaining the
possibility that the same group of people might be responsible for both groups
of books, the existence of a separate class of commercial, freelance scribes is
postulated (p. 207).
After a systematic
appraisal of both internal and external evidence pointing to a monastic origin
of the codices, Chapters 9 and 10 turn to the question of what sort of “Monks”
might have been responsible and what are the implications of such a conclusion.
As the authors point out, there is plenty of material in the codices that might
have interested monks (p. 234) and that the monastic milieu of 4th-5th
century Egypt was far from homogeneous. One could find Melitians and
“Origenists” in addition to Pachomians (p. 235). In fact, much of the textual
material might have appealed to those with an enduring interest in Origenist
theology (p. 244-6). Some such people were certainly part of the Pachomian
scene (p. 247). The monastic interest in demonology is well-known (p. 259-260),
as is an interest in heavenly ascents (p. 260-261). The so-called “gnostic”
themes, which certainly aren’t present in all the texts, may not have
interested the monks at all (p. 264). We should be wary of assuming that any
ancient reader would have shared our thematic interests, or that they were
incapable of reading selectively and with discernment. After all, Christians
have always read even their Bibles in a highly selective fashion—highlighting
some parts, ignoring others. Why would the monastic readers of the Nag Hammadi
codices be any different? In the end, the authors assert that the preponderance
of evidence points to a “cenobitic monastic community” (p. 256), probably
Pachomian (especially in light of the letter from Codex VII cartonnage [p.
238]).
Based on the evidence,
who else could reasonably be said to have produced and read them? As Tito
Orlandi has remarked, all manner of hypothetical groups and sects have been
invoked to explain the Nag Hammadi Codices, except the ones we know actually
existed in the Nile Valley during the 4th and 5th
centuries CE (p. 262). Resistance to this seemingly obvious conclusion has been
remarkably resilient. Although the authors don’t say so explicitly, I suspect
that there has been a persistent and latent tendency to want to insulate and
protect “orthodox” Pachomians from the perceived contagion of the “gnostic
heresy.” Moreover, there has been a parallel tendency to segregate the various
corpora of Coptic literature instead of studying them in conjunction (p. 262).
It is, after all, completely normal for people in antiquity, as today, to
entertain conflicting and even contradictory opinions (p. 266). Unfortunately,
deeply rooted theological biases have impeded an honest historical assessment
of this material. An impediment that Lundhaug and Jenott’s book goes a long way
toward overcoming.
In closing, I would
like to note that The Monastic Origins of the Nag Hammadi Codices is a
model of clarity, careful research, and well-articulated argument. It is
entirely free from the academic jargon and theoretical mirages that cloud so
much work being done in the field. It was a pleasurable and rewarding read. In
addition, the book contains a number of helpful images, maps, and tables, as
well as a comprehensive bibliography and an excellent set of indices. It is
highly recommended.
