The Old Testament As Authoritative Scripture in The Early Churches of The East

HovhanessianVahanS978-1-4331-0735-1:NORMAN~1.
qxp 2/22/2012 1:06 PM Page 1
W W W . P E T E R L A N G . C O M BIBLE IN THE CHRISTIAN ORTHODOX TRADITION

1
HOVHANESSIAN, ed.
The Old Testament as Authoritative Scripture in the Early Churches of the
East represents the latest scholarly research in the field of Old Testament
@
as Scripture in Eastern Christianity. Its twelve articles focus on the use
of the Old Testament in the earliest Christian communities in the East.
The Old Testament
The collection explores the authoritative role of the Old Testament in
the churches of the East and its impact on the church’s doctrine, liturgy,
canon law, and spirituality. as Authoritative
in the Early Churches of the East

The Old Testament as Authoritative Scripture
Scripture in the
@ Early Churches
Vahan S. Hovhanessian holds a Ph.D. in Biblical studies from Ford-
of the East
ham University in New York. He is Professor of Biblical Studies at the
St. Nersess Armenian Seminary in New Rochelle, New York, and Vis-
iting Professor of Biblical Studies at the Georgian Court University in
@
Lakewood, New Jersey. He has published books and articles in the
English, Arabic, and Armenian languages in the fields of Biblical stud-
ies, Pauline theology, New Testament pseudepigrapha, and the early
Church in the East. He is the chairman of the Bible in the Eastern and
Oriental Orthodox Traditions unit of the Society of Biblical Literature.
PETER LANG
Edited by
Vahan S. Hovhanessian
HovhanessianVahanS978-1-4331-0735-1:NORMAN~1.qxp 2/22/2012 1:06 PM Page 1
W W W . P E T E R L A N G . C O M BIBLE IN THE CHRISTIAN ORTHODOX TRADITION

1
HOVHANESSIAN, ed.
The Old Testament as Authoritative Scripture in the Early Churches of the
East represents the latest scholarly research in the field of Old Testament
@
as Scripture in Eastern Christianity. Its twelve articles focus on the use
of the Old Testament in the earliest Christian communities in the East.
The Old Testament
The collection explores the authoritative role of the Old Testament in
the churches of the East and its impact on the church’s doctrine, liturgy,
canon law, and spirituality. as Authoritative
in the Early Churches of the East

The Old Testament as Authoritative Scripture
Scripture in the
@ Early Churches
Vahan S. Hovhanessian holds a Ph.D. in Biblical studies from Ford-
of the East
ham University in New York. He is Professor of Biblical Studies at the
St. Nersess Armenian Seminary in New Rochelle, New York, and Vis-
iting Professor of Biblical Studies at the Georgian Court University in
@
Lakewood, New Jersey. He has published books and articles in the
English, Arabic, and Armenian languages in the fields of Biblical stud-
ies, Pauline theology, New Testament pseudepigrapha, and the early
Church in the East. He is the chairman of the Bible in the Eastern and
Oriental Orthodox Traditions unit of the Society of Biblical Literature.
PETER LANG
Edited by
The Old Testament
as Authoritative Scripture
in the Early Churches
of the East
BIBLE IN THE CHRISTIAN
@ ORTHODOX TRADITION
General Editor
Vol. 1
PETER LANG
New York y Washington, D.C./Baltimore y Bern
Frankfurt am Main y Berlin y Brussels y Vienna y Oxford
The Old Testament
as Authoritative Scripture
in the Early Churches
of the East
Edited by
PETER LANG
New York y Washington, D.C./Baltimore y Bern
Frankfurt am Main y Berlin y Brussels y Vienna y Oxford
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
The Old Testament as authoritative Scripture in the early churches of the East /
edited by Vahan S. Hovhanessian.
p. cm. — (Bible in the Christian Orthodox tradition; v. 1)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. Bible. O.T.—Criticism, interpretation, etc. 2. Orthodox Eastern Church—Doctrines.
3. Bible—Evidences, authority, etc. I. Hovhanessian, Vahan.
BS1175.3.O43 221.6088’2811—dc22 2009035984
ISBN 978-1-4331-0735-1 (hardcover)
ISBN 9781453904664 (eBook)
ISSN 1947-5977
Bibliographic information published by Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek.

Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the “Deutsche
Nationalbibliografie”; detailed bibliographic data is available
on the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de/.
The paper in this book meets the guidelines for permanence and durability
of the Committee on Production Guidelines for Book Longevity
of the Council of Library Resources.
© 2010 Peter Lang Publishing, Inc., New York

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All rights reserved.

Reprint or reproduction, even partially, in all forms such as microfilm,
xerography, microfiche, microcard, and offset strictly prohibited.
Printed in Germany
Contents
Preface ................................................................................................................ vii
Abbreviations ...................................................................................................... ix
Introduction ......................................................................................................... 1
Nicolae Roddy
Son of Man, Son of God: Aphrahat’s Biblical Christology ................................ 9

J. Edward Walters
Ephraem the Syrian and the Authority of the Old Testament Writings ......... 19
Merja Merras
Levitical Paradigms for Christian Bishops:

The Old Testament Influence on Origen of Alexandria ........................... 25
Bryan A. Stewart
Leviticus between Fifth-Century Jerusalem and Ninth-Century Merv ............. 35

Mark W. Elliott
The Holy Spirit in Cyril of Alexandria’s Commentary on Isaiah .................... 43

David Kneip
Winking at Jonah Narsai’s Interpretation of Jonah

for the Church of the East .......................................................................... 51
Robert A. Kitchen
A Syriac Tract for the “Explanation” of Hebrew and Foreign Words ............. 57
Jonathan Loopstra
vi •C O N T E N T S •
Does the Orthodox Lectionary Subvert the Gospel? The Pericope

of the Parable of the Wicked Husbandmen (Matt 21:36–46) ................... 65
Nicolae Roddy
A Question for the Audience:

The Prokeimenon and Poetics in Eastern Liturgy......................................... 73
Timothy Scott Clark
Grand Entrance: Entrance into Worship as Rhetorical Invitation and

Liturgical Precedent in the Older Testament ............................................. 79
Edith M. Humphrey
The Use of the Old Testament in the Syrian Christian Traditions of India ... 91
Rajkumar Boaz Johnson
Notes................................................................................................................. 107
Bibliography ..................................................................................................... 131
Index ................................................................................................................. 133

Preface
T
his volume brings together a selection of fine papers in the field of
biblical studies from the perspective of the Eastern and Oriental
Orthodox Church traditions. The papers, submitted to the “Bible in
the Eastern and Oriental Orthodox Traditions” unit of the Society of Biblical
Literature (SBL), were presented and discussed at the 2008 Annual Meeting of
SBL which took place in Boston, Massachussetts, November 22–25, 2008.
The theme chosen by the steering committee of the SBL unit for the year
2008 was “The Old Testament as Authoritative Scripture in the Early
Churches of the East.” The intent was to focus on the function of the Old
Testament in the theology, liturgy and spirituality of the churches in the East.
The number of scholars who applied to participate in the unit was a clear
indication of the importance and relevance of this subject in the scholarly
world. Due to time limitations and in order to maintain the academic stan-
dards set by the unit’s steering committee, 13 scholars were selected to present
in one of the two sessions. I had the pleasure of chairing the first session on
November 22, 2009. The second session was chaired by Dr. Michael Legaspi
from Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska on November 23, 2009.
I extend thanks to all the scholars who participated in the conference and
presented thought-provoking papers, exemplifying the latest research in their
fields of study. Many thanks also to the members of the steering committee of
the SBL unit, as well as all who attended our unit’s sessions and participated
in the scholarly discussion.
The articles in this volume have been edited, certain titles abbreviated and
the style unified to meet the guidelines indicated in The SBL Handbook of Style
(Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 1999).
May the Lord and the fulfillment of the Old Testament laws and prophe-
cies, continue blessing the contributors and readers of this volume, as we strive
to comprehend and live His word.
Vahan S. Hovhanessian, Ph.D.

August 2009
Abbreviations
CSCO Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium

ETL Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses
GRBS Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies
JA Journal Asiatique
JECS Journal of Early Christian Studies
JJS Journal of Jewish Studies
JRS Journal of Religious Studies
JTS Journal of Theological Studies
OCA Orientalia Christiana Analecta
OCABS Orthodox Center for the Advancement of Biblical Studies
OCP Orientalia Christiana Periodica
PL Patrologia Latina
PO Patrologia Orientalis
PS Patrologia Syriaca
RevEAug Revue des études augustiniennes
RThAM Recherches de Théologie ancienne et médiévale
StPatr Studia Patristica
VC Vigiliae Christianae
ZNW Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft
•N I C O L A E R O D D Y •
Introduction
A
t no time has the spiritual authority of the Older Testament ever been
in question for the Orthodox Church,1 integrated as it was, from the
start with the Church’s theology and liturgical life, however overtly so
in response to challenges from various Gnostic and other neo-Platonizing
communities which held that the scriptural God of Israel was not the Father
of whom the Son bore witness. The wholesale acceptance and intrinsic
valuation of the Septuagint version of the Hebrew Scriptures,2 affirmed by
such monuments of Orthodoxy as Irenaeus of Lyons (late-second century),
Athanasius of Alexandria (296?–373 AD), Ephrem the Syrian (306?–373 AD),
John Chrysostom (347–407 AD), and several others, simply brought forward
the convictions of Jewish followers of Jesus, most notably Paul, for whom the
term “scripture” clearly meant the entire (albeit not exclusively canonized)
written Torah, i.e., the Books of Moses, the Prophets, and the Writings.3 This
robust ongoing defense of the divine authority of the Hebrew Scriptures thus
stands in stark contrast to non-Orthodox Christian communities then and
now, for which the Old Testament is regarded as only useful for faith at best,
or at worst wholly irrelevant.
Orthodox Christians at every level of the faith are thus readily able to
affirm the authority of the Older Testament as revealed in the New
Testament, explicated through Patristic exegesis, incarnated in the lives of the
saints, and expressed in the liturgical offices and lectionaries. What is lacking
in all of this—although some might say wholly unnecessary—is an opportunity
for many of them to engage in the critical examination of the Older
Testament (or any of the traditions surrounding it) for its own sake. For most
Orthodox Christians, and even some scholars, it is enough to say, “This is
what the Fathers said about the Old Testament and there is nothing more one
needs to say about it.” However, this is not a position the Fathers themselves
would have approved. If the world still remains a mission field for spreading
the Gospel—a world increasing in knowledge, but decreasing in spiritual values
necessary for managing such new and potentially dangerous knowledge in any
constructive, life-affirming ways—then it seems incumbent upon Orthodox
intellectuals to be able to provide a suitable apologeia of the timeless faith
2 •N I C O L A E R O D D Y •
expressed in the methodologies and expressions of thought appropriate to

one’s own era.
The establishment of such resources as the Orthodox Center for the
Advancement of Biblical Studies (OCABS; http://www.ocabs.org) and the
program unit, “Bible in the Eastern and Oriental Orthodox Traditions,” of
the Society of Biblical Literature (SBL) in which the present papers were
generated—both a result of the vision of Rev. Fr. Paul Nadim Tarazi and
developed through the efforts of a few of his many inspired students—seek to
address the need for critical study of the Bible with an eye toward Orthodox
homiletics and teaching. Already the results of these efforts have been
noticeable. The proceedings of the first conference of the SBL unit have been
published in the volume, Exegesis and Hermeneutics in the Churches of the East
(Peter Lang Inc., 2008), and represents a reference work in the field of biblical
studies from an Orthodox perspective. A steady increase in the number of
scholars participating in the national and international conferences of the SBL
unit, and the robust registrations at OCABS and OCABS-related seminars
held throughout the US and abroad, demonstrate a resurgence of interest in
the power of the Older Testament qua Scripture for the life of the Church in
the preaching and teaching of parish priests and educators eager enough to
learn—and bold enough to think—about what it is they profess in light of the
demands of the Gospel.
Increasingly more Orthodox faithful, both clergy and laity alike, have
come to understand and appreciate the value of critical approaches to the
Older Testament for gaining a fuller understanding of the prophetic word, the
person of Jesus Christ in the New Testament world, and the authentic,
obligatory self-critical implications this new knowledge inevitably compels. For
the divino-human institution of the Church, for which the divine side of the
equation remains ever-perfect, cultivating authenticity on the human side can
only assist her in fulfilling the image of Christ’s Bride.
The fine papers collected in this volume were authored by scholars, not all
of whom are Orthodox, whose work is founded upon the conviction that the
texts of ancient Israel have spiritual authority for Christian faith and practice
that can be enhanced and energized through a deeper understanding of their
historical and literary critical dimensions. Their various contributions to this
volume and to the field at large are most significant as a collective affirmation
for the rigorous application of sound critical methodologies to the study of the
Bible and related literature, expressed at an intellectual level with accessible
lucidity and a boldness not always at home in some faith communities.
The papers contained in this volume fall within the scope of our SBL
program unit and the vision of the OCABS, affirming that the human
experience of the divine and the resultant expression of it (see especially Jer
20:9) inspired by the revealed Word demands a hearing in the Near Eastern
•I N T R O D U C T I O N • 3
sense of the word, which carries the expectation of responsive accountability.

They affirm that one need not—indeed, must not—abdicate thinking about the
full import of the imperatives contained in the corpus of texts the Orthodox
Church reveres as divinely inspired and authoritative in matters of canon,
interpretation and liturgy.
The term “canon,” as every undergraduate student of the Bible knows,
derives from the Greek kanw/n, originally a Phoenician loan-word meaning
reed or cane (hnq), which came to signify a measuring rod or model. Thus the
biblical canon offers itself as the standard by which all other writings are
judged to be either helpful or detrimental to a religious community. Although
Christians around the world hold most of the same books in common, strictly
speaking each community has maintained its own particular list, so that at no
time in history has there ever been complete agreement, especially regarding
the books whose status is deemed deutero- or secondarily canonical. For
example, in addition to the books accepted by the Roman Catholic Church,
most Orthodox communities add 1 Esdras (and 2 Esdras, in the Russian and
Ethiopic traditions), 3 Maccabees, the Prayer of Manasseh, and Psalm 151.
Although not regarded as authoritative in any real sense, 4 Maccabees is
nevertheless appended to this list. In the Ethiopic tradition one finds versions
of the books of Jubilees and Enoch, two very important texts, versions of
which were found also among the Dead Sea Scrolls. Last but not least, the
version of the Book of Daniel that is included in the traditional Orthodox
canon—and therefore read liturgically—is not from the Septuagint at all, but
was taken from another Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible known as the
Theodotion, which was borrowed from Origen’s Hexapla. Thus, given this
complicated picture one sees that it is neither helpful nor accurate to speak of
a strictly Orthodox canon.
In addition to the respective delimitations of authoritative writings,
religious communities have also differed widely in their respective
understandings of what the term canon actually means. Traditionally, the
Latin West has drawn a sharp distinction between the books it identifies as
canonical and other texts putatively identified as euvangelia, acta or apokalypses.
The latter texts, regarded as spurious at best or dangerous at worst, were often
banned, rounded up, and burned by ecclesiastical authorities. Although
Protestants were mixed in their regard for the deuterocanonical texts, with the
exception of the Anglican Church, reformers further distanced the so-called
Apocrypha4 from the canonical books in their respective bibles and eventually
came to abandon them all together.
By contrast, the attitude toward extra-canonical books in the Christian
East—that is, eastern Europe, North Africa, and western to middle Asia—was
generally far more relaxed wherever Latin influence did not reach. Byzantine
Greek manuscripts containing apocryphal and pseudepigraphical narratives
have been found in abundance throughout these lands, representing all of

their many beautiful ancient and modern languages.
Many of these manuscripts bear moralizing colophons that suggest
public readings in monastic settings or parishes. Tendered through the
hands of monks and priests and given out in the form of pamphlets and
brochures, these narratives managed to find their way into the mainstream
of Byzantine and post-Byzantine (i.e., Ottoman period) rural life and
popular culture where they nourished an already fertile popular
imagination. So pervasive was their influence that many of their narrative
elements were absorbed into a variety of genres, including popular forms of
iconography and other graphic art; the lyrics of folk songs and carols; the
chanting of charms and spells; and in the sonorous cadence of life-cycle
observances, such as wedding rites and funeral laments. Sometimes their
characters sprang from the pages and adhered themselves to the walls of
rural and urban churches and monasteries.5 One should also keep in mind
that in most of these regions illiteracy was widespread and quite often a
pamphlet or brochure obtained from a monastery served more as a kind of
talisman than text. Chanted aloud, the words of these so-called amulet
texts were believed to possess genuinely efficacious power to break evil
spells and petition divine protection.
Finally, how many people realize that the Orthodox dismissal of the “holy
ancestors of God, Joachim and Anna” (Feast day Sept 9/22) and the liturgical
hymns associated with them are not derived from the Bible at all, but are
remembered from the Protevangelium of James, a second-century text that
celebrates the virginity of the Theotokos and her presentation to the Temple
along with the Gospel story of the angelic annunciation and miraculous birth-
giving?
In sum, Orthodox scribal reproduction of non-canonical manuscripts
continued profusely into the modern period. Despite the fact that some of
these texts contained elements that some readers might deem questionable,
they continued to nourish and inspire the minds and hearts of eastern
Christians who were fascinated by the biblical characters and themes they
encountered in them. Even more significant is the fact that this largely
monastic-driven process of scribal reproduction and popular circulation
remained largely unhindered by the hierarchy of the Orthodox churches.
On matters of biblical interpretation, it is commonplace that the
Orthodox hermeneutical enterprise operates under the conviction that Holy
Tradition is the indispensable guide for understanding the Scriptures it has
accepted and founded itself upon. For this reason, interpretation of the Older
Testament relies almost solely upon patristic exegesis with almost no attention
paid to how these texts may have been understood within their own historical
contexts. For example, is it important to see Isaiah’s Immanuel prophecy (Isa
7) as the Word of God directed toward a faithless King Ahaz? It certainly

would not have been a point lost to the Gospel writer! The Fathers did not
ignore these original contexts, but saw in them a foreshadowing of things to
come; but they certainly did not expect their personal understandings and
applications of Scripture to be the final word on Scripture.
What seems to be the common denominator among Orthodox biblical
exegetes past and present is that proper meaning derives from the biblical text
when the task is carried out within the inherent fullness of the praying
community, from which and for which the process is carried out. Some
modern Orthodox biblical scholars, including Fr. John Breck and Prof.
Bradley Nassif, among others, speak of Orthodox biblical hermeneutics
within the framework of theoria, which generally speaking, seeks to understand
the Word of God from within the experience of communion with God
through the contemplative and sacramental life of the Church. The challenge
is to distill a product that passes muster in the rigors of scholarship at large
and these and other Orthodox biblical scholars have been able to do this.
Clearly the greatest challenge regarding the authority of Older Testament
for communities of faith has come in the form of critical, especially historical,
inquiries rising out of the early days of the Enlightenment and culminating in
its best-known methodological formulation, the Documentary Hypothesis.
While the Documentary Hypothesis as it was classically formulated is hardly
recognizable anymore, the fundamental predicament for these faith
communities remains in the form of this question, namely, that when one
begins breaking down the Older Testament into all of its discrete constituent
elements, at which point does one cease to have “Bible”?
Various Protestant communities continue to deal with this challenge in a
variety of ways. Given the traditionally individualizing tendencies of
Protestantism in general, a wide gulf opens between those engaged in rigorous
biblical scholarship and their co-religionists in the pew. The former are often
frustrated by the fact that the latter, despite their affirmation of sola scriptura,
almost never call upon them for insight into the biblical text. For Roman
Catholics, Pope Leo XIII’s 1893 encyclical Providentissimus Dei officially
rejected higher criticism out of hand, but exactly 50 years later, Pope Pius XII’s
encyclical Divino Afflante Spiritu reversed the church’s position in a surprising
move that not only allowed Catholic biblical scholars to make use of critical
methodologies, but regarded their application a must so long as the basic
principles of Catholic biblical tradition were respected and maintained. The
Roman Catholic Church boasts many extraordinary biblical scholars, but
Protestant models and methods were almost immediately adopted and
continue largely to be used.
By contrast, Orthodox approaches to the study of the Bible are governed
by an ecclesiology and theological outlook that differs from its western
counterparts. This outlook can be a blessing as well as a curse. On the negative

side—as far as scholarship is concerned—is its mystical experience of eternity,
synchronicity, chairos—whichever of these terms one wishes to employ. This
does not readily admit to temporal causation but resorts easily to the position
that everything that needs to be known about the Bible is already in the grasp
of the Church, expressed liturgically or present in the writings of the Fathers
for those willing to go to these sources. On the positive side, however, the
difficult challenge for Orthodox biblical scholars engaged in articulating this
view through the rigors of critical methodologies can offer a transformative,
distinctively Orthodox contribution to the scholarly world.
For Orthodox scholars to ignore critical scholarship or dismiss it out-of-
hand without offering anything of real substance in its place betrays an
insecurity about the truths we as Orthodox claim to preserve. While Orthodox
biblical scholars have always been out there working away in the field, only
until recently has there been any real collegiality and collaboration. As such,
serious Orthodox biblical scholarship remains in a nascent stage when it
comes to the application of any serious historical and literary inquiry. Thus
the real challenge before us is to engage cooperatively in critical exploration of
the Scriptures in light of Orthodox ideals and values, thus developing ways to
maintain the Gospel’s role as proclamation (kerygma) of the Word of God.
When this kind of scholarship stands up to the rigorous review of the
profession, it is then that we demonstrate faith in the power Scripture, as
Word of God to convict, transform, and unite us all.
Moving finally to the role of the Older Testament in liturgy one sees that
the public reading of Scripture has been an integral part of Orthodox liturgical
worship from the beginning, as the earliest followers of Jesus participated in
the communal reading of Scripture (miqra) along with their counterparts in
other Jewish communities. In response to those who have charged that
institutional churches have little appreciation for Scripture, one has only to
survey the wide array of Orthodox service books to see a broad mosaic of
biblical references that come together to form a template by which Orthodox
worshipers are instructed and maintained in the faith. To be sure, it may be
said that the Orthodox Church prays, even breathes Scripture.
However, an important question arises: How might the role of the Older
Testament further enhance the Orthodox liturgy? The most obvious answer is
to begin reading it during the Sunday Divine Liturgy throughout the year, at a
time when most Orthodox Christians would hear it, and not just during daily
offices or special observances, such as when the Liturgy of St. Basil is
employed. But even more seriously, for purposes of this volume, how might
the critical study of the Older Testament enhance Orthodox life through the
liturgy? For example, what if it can be demonstrated that a liturgical reading
might actually subvert the Gospel? Is this a question that one may even be free
to raise? This question and similar ones will be tackled in the articles
published in this volume.
In conclusion, the involvement of Orthodox biblical scholars engaged in
critical approaches to the Older Testament is already a reality. An expanding
network of collegiality and cooperation is increasingly becoming a part of this
picture and the invitation is extended to all who would be bold enough to
labor together in the field under the burning sun of the Gospel.
•J. E D W A R D W A L T E R S •
Son of Man, Son of God:

Aphrahat’s Biblical Christology
T
he orthodoxy of the Christology of Aphrahat, the fourth-century
Persian Sage,1 has become a matter of some debate. While the early
stages of the debate focused on Aphrahat’s presumed knowledge of an
early Christian creed,2 A. Grillmeier was one of the first to argue that
Aphrahat’s Christology is subordinationist.3 Later, William Petersen argued
that Aphrahat's Christology is both subordinationist and “embarrassing.”4
More recently, A. Kofsky and S. Ruzer have presented a thorough discussion
of Aphrahat’s Christology in light of his concept of logos.5 While each of these
approaches differs significantly, the common thread that binds them is the
assumption that Aphrahat’s Christology is not Nicene and is, therefore,
lacking.
While each of these approaches acknowledges that Aphrahat’s historical
circumstances reflect a Judaic or Semitic background removed from that of the
Greco-Roman West, they still judge Aphrahat’s Christology by the standard of
Nicaea. Moreover, these accounts do not take into account the formational
role of the Biblical text—both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament—upon
Aphrahat’s Christology. If we consider Aphrahat’s Christology in light of his
historical circumstances and use of Scripture, then we will find that Aphra-
hat’s Christology resists such simple categorization.
The Assessment of Petersen’s Argument6

The crux of Petersen’s argument is that Aphrahat displays a subordinationist
Christology that reflects a particular primitive strand of Judaic Christianity
also evident in the pseudo-Clementine literature and in Justin Martyr.
However, Petersen goes on to state that the case of Aphrahat is “embarrassing”
to modern scholars who wish to view Aphrahat as christologically orthodox
because, unlike Martyr and the pseudo-Clementine literature, Aphrahat wrote
nearly two decades after the Council of Nicaea.7 Petersen argues that
10 •J. E D W A R D W A L T E R S •
Aphrahat’s primitive Christology requires some modern scholars to justify

their assertions that Aphrahat is orthodox.8 However, Petersen’s own
argument is open to methodological criticisms.
First, despite the broad scope of the project, as indicated by the title of his
article (“The Christology of Aphrahat, the Persian Sage”), Petersen has limited
his study to just one of Aphrahat’s 23 Demonstrations—Dem. 17. Not once
does Petersen reference a christological statement from the other Demons-
trations. By limiting his inquiry to Dem. 17, Petersen has excluded materials
that could challenge his view of Aphrahat’s Christology.9
In his discussion of the Christology of Dem. 17, Petersen quotes at length
a portion of the Demonstration,10 and then pronounces his judgment that the
Christology of the passage (and thus of Aphrahat) is subordinationist.
However, the use of the term subordinationist here is misleading, complicated
more so by the curious fact that Petersen does not qualify his judgment with
any supporting statements.11 Furthermore, it is only in the conclusion of the
article that Petersen states what he means by subordinationist. Petersen is not
using the traditional definition12 of subordinationism, which he calls
“Hellenistic subordinationism,” but rather a more nuanced definition which
he calls “Judaic Christian subordinationism.” As opposed to the former,
which is philosophical, this Judaic Christian subordinationism is “essentially
functional, titular, and references OT passages.”13 It is misleading to link these
two ways of thinking under the broad term “subordinationism,” particularly
when that term has for so long been used only to describe the “Hellenistic”
version.14
Finally, there are historical complications with Petersen’s assertion that
Aphrahat’s lack of Nicene language is “embarrassing.” There are at least two
defensible explanations for this absence in Aphrahat. First, Aphrahat may
have been ignorant of the proceedings at Nicaea and possibly of the entire
Arian controversy.15 While it is true that there was at least one Oriental bishop
at Nicaea,16 there is no way to be certain how quickly the proceedings were
disseminated throughout the East.17 Indeed, it seems that the canons of the
Council of Nicaea were not “officially” accepted in the Church of the East
until the Synod of Isaac in 410 AD.18 Second, even if Aphrahat knew the
intricacies of the christological debates going on in the West, it is likely that he
would have found them completely useless regarding the two prominent issues
facing his church: the great persecution of Christians in Persia under Shappur
II, and the loss of members to Judaism.19
These two problems, distinct though they may seem, are interrelated for
Aphrahat’s community. Under such persecution, it is likely that many
Christians considered Judaism as a viable alternative because the Jews were not
targeted by the persecution.20 The mixture of the brutality of the persecution21
with the social pressure from unaffected Jews and the associated theological
•S O N O F M A N , S O N O F G O D • 11
implications22 would cause some Christians to reconsider their allegiances—

hence the need for Aphrahat’s encouragement.23 The relationship between
these two problems explains why Aphrahat would dedicate so much of his
writing to the superiority of Christianity over Judaism. Aphrahat was not
writing these adversus Judaeos demonstrations as simply anti-Jewish
propaganda; he was engaged in an argument over the validity of Christianity
vis-à-vis Judaism during a critical time of Christian self-identification.24
Thus, though Aphrahat’s polemical demonstrations deal with issues of
Judaism, we must conclude that they are written for a Christian rather than a
Jewish audience—that is, his aim is not to convince Jews to convert to
Christianity, but rather to exhort Christians who may have been considering
conversion to Judaism.25 If Aphrahat’s primary concerns were the persecution
and the possibility of Christians reverting or converting to Judaism, then it is
not inconceivable that he would have ignored the christological controversies
of the West, even if he knew about them. They would have little consequence
for Aphrahat’s pastoral and theological concerns. Although either of the two
previous explanations is possible, the former is more convincing. It seems
reasonable to conclude that if Aphrahat had known about the christological
controversy of the West, his writings would reflect his knowledge.26
If Aphrahat is ignorant of the christological controversies and of the
Council of Nicaea, we must question the extent to which the language of the
Nicene Creed is an appropriate litmus test for the orthodoxy of Aphrahat’s
Christology. Despite the “scholarly consensus” of Aphrahat’s intellectual
distance from his Western contemporaries, scholars still subject Aphrahat’s
writings to christological categories forged in debates of which he was
ignorant. The Christology of the Council of Nicaea was the result of polemical
discourses that involved many people and several decades,27 not the pastoral
writings of an individual.28 Moreover, although scholars readily admit that
Aphrahat is relatively unaffected by the language and thought of the West,
very few take seriously A. F. J. Klijn’s warning that, when “dealing with Syriac
christological and theological treatises we have to be continuously aware of a
way of thinking different from the one we are used to of our Greek and Latin
literature.”29
A careful consideration of the social and historical setting in which Aph-
rahat wrote the Demonstrations supports the conclusion that Aphrahat’s lack
of Nicene language should not be considered an embarrassment to those who
would find in Aphrahat an orthodox Christology. Moreover, this considera-
tion should inform our reading of Aphrahat’s Christology throughout the
Demonstrations, and particularly in Dem. 17. This Demonstration, along with
its Christology, can only be understood in its context—that is, as an argument
with the Jews. Moreover, if we are to be fair in our survey of Aphrahat’s Chris-
tology, the Nicene Creed cannot be the standard by which we judge his ortho-
doxy. Aphrahat’s ignorance of Nicaea, as well as his historical and intellectual

distance from the Christological controversies of the West, demands a more
nuanced view of his Christology that does not limit its description to terms
like “primitive” and “archaic,” let alone “subordinationist” or “heterodox.”
Another Excursus on Demonstration 17

Given the title for Dem. 17, “On the Christ, that He is the Son of God,” it is
logical to assume that this demonstration adequately represents Aphrahat's
Christology. However, such an assumption does not take into account the
purpose and setting of this demonstration. Dem. 17 is one of the nine demon-
strations (out of 23) that deals specifically with issues pertaining to Jews.30 In
the opening lines of Dem. 17, Aphrahat informs his readers of his intentions:
: :
&" !" : $ % &" !" #
) ( $% *& " + !" ', ( ! : '
'
A response against the Jews who blaspheme against the people who are from the
peoples because they say thus: “You worship and serve a man [who was] begotten and
a son of man [who was] crucified, and you call a son of man God. And although God
has no son, you say concerning this Jesus [who was] crucified, ‘he is the son of God.’”
(Dem. 17.1)
With this context in mind, we must reconsider the extent to which the
arguments of Dem. 17 alone represent Aphrahat’s Christology.
While the underlying debate of Dem. 17 is clearly the divinity of Jesus, the
surface debate is concerned with the titles that the Christians bestow upon
Jesus—specifically the titles ' (“god”) and ' ( (“son of God”).
Aphrahat begins his response by searching the Hebrew Scriptures for the uses
of these titles of divinity.31 First, Aphrahat notes that God called Moses '
(“a god”) in his interaction with Pharaoh (Exod 7:1). Then, he provides two
examples of sonship language used by God: God calls Israel +( (“my son,”
Exod 4:22–23) and +( (“my firstborn,” Hos 11:1).
Aphrahat continues the argument concerning proper titles by defending
the Christian claim that Jesus is the Messiah by pointing to Messianic
prophecies in the Hebrew Bible.32 Aphrahat begins by quoting two of the most
common passages adopted by early Christians as Messianic prophecies: Ps 2:7
and Isa 9:6–7, which, taken together, recapitulate Aphrahat’s argument so far:
the Messiah is the son of God (Ps 2) and the Messiah is born into the world,
will have authority, and will be called by many titles (Isa 9). Continuing his
exposition of Messianic prophecies, Aphrahat turns to the passages concerning
Christ’s passion. As expected, Aphrahat relies most heavily upon Ps 22 and
the song of the suffering servant from Isa 52–53. After considering two
possible alternative subjects for these prophesies—David and Solomon—
Aphrahat concludes that Jesus is the only possible subject.33
Drawing his argument to a close, Aphrahat returns to the topic of the two
contested titles and states, “We call [Jesus] God like Moses, [and] first born
and and son like Israel.”34 Aphrahat also reminds his readers why he has
written this demonstration: “so you may reply to the Jews on account of their
saying that God has no son, and our calling him God, son of god, King, [and]
first-born of all creation.”35 Thus, Aphrahat concludes by stating his central
thesis that the Christian use of the contested titles “God” and “Son of God”
for Jesus is justified by the use of these titles in the Hebrew Bible, but he also
reminds his readers that these arguments are meant to be made in the context
of an argument with Jews concerning the titles of Jesus.
In light of this brief exposition of Dem. 17 and the context suggested
above, I would like to draw a few conclusions. First, a distinction needs to be
made between Aphrahat’s argument for calling Jesus God like Moses and his
belief that Jesus actually was God in the Nicene sense. It is clear in Dem. 17
that Aphrahat is arguing only for the former, but that does not mean that
Aphrahat’s Christology is limited to this comparison.36 In Dem. 17, Aphrahat
is not trying to prove that Jesus is the same substance as God the Father or
that he is eternally begotten; his aim is much more limited. Aphrahat is
arguing that it is “no strange thing” for Christians to apply the titles of “God”
and “Son of God” to a human being because the Hebrew Bible uses these
same titles for people.
Second, because he is dealing with a specific accusation from the Jews,
Aphrahat has intentionally limited himself to the particular discourse of the
Hebrew Bible. Indeed, Aphrahat states this limitation explicitly. After
providing a list of titles that Christians use for Jesus, Aphrahat states, “We
shall leave them all, and we shall argue concerning him that he who came
from God is Son of God and God.”37 Here, Aphrahat is intentionally
bracketing particular arguments for the sake of his opponents, and, in lieu of
these arguments, Aphrahat argues from the Hebrew Bible. Moreover, we see
from the reiteration of this point in the conclusion that Aphrahat clearly
intends for these arguments about Jesus’ titles to be used in arguments with
the Jews. It is a mistake to misconstrue this specific argument as Aphrahat’s
Christology in toto.
That Aphrahat relies so heavily upon the Hebrew Bible in Dem. 17
should not surprise us. As a “disciple of the sacred Scriptures,”38 Aphrahat is
well known for his copious use of biblical citations,39 and the majority of
citations throughout the Demonstrations come from the Hebrew Bible.40
Moreover, there is logic behind Aphrahat’s preference for quotations from the
Hebrew Bible. J. C. McCullough has demonstrated that Aphrahat consistently
employs a higher ratio of Hebrew Bible to New Testament citations in the

“polemical” (that is, the adversus Judaeos demonstrations) as opposed to the
“didactic” demonstrations.41 Thus, Aphrahat consistently limits himself to the
Hebrew Bible when he is arguing with the Jews. The ratio of Hebrew Bible to
NT citations in Dem. 17, however, is even higher than McCullough’s average
for the polemical demonstrations.42 Based on the preponderance of NT
quotations concerning Jesus throughout the other 22 demonstrations, it is
clear that Aphrahat exhibits an interest in a more nuanced and specific
Christology; but that is not his goal in Dem. 17.
Aphrahat is not merely crafting a speculative Christology for its own sake;
he is answering particular accusations levied against Christians by the Jews.
With his opponents in mind, Aphrahat responds by offering examples and
prophecies from the Hebrew Bible that are fulfilled by Jesus.43 Thus, in Dem.
17, Aphrahat has intentionally limited himself to a particular discourse that
excludes both NT quotations and quasi-credal statements.44 Moreover, by
limiting his discourse to the Hebrew Bible, Aphrahat provides the model by
which his community may read and interpret the Hebrew Bible as an
authoritative source in Christian life and thought.45
A careful consideration of the context of Dem. 17 provides a plausible ex-
planation for the utter lack of any “developed” Christology. Moreover, this
context renders Dem. 17 inadequate as the only source for a thorough discus-
sion of the Christology of Aphrahat.46 In order to reconstruct the Christology
of Aphrahat, we must utilize all of the Demonstrations, and we must consider
the external circumstances that may have influenced Aphrahat’s exegetical me-
thods and mode of argumentation. In keeping with this consideration of Aph-
rahat's context, we must bear in mind that although Aphrahat lived
contemporaneously with the Christological controversies of the West and
wrote the Demonstrations after the Council of Nicaea, no evidence exists to
suggest that his Sitz im Leben was directly influenced by these events. Thus, we
cannot expect Aphrahat’s Christology to reflect the precision of the Nicene
Creed.
The Christology of Aphrahat the Persian Sage

While it would certainly be fruitful to present a comprehensive study of every
statement in Aphrahat’s writings concerned with Christology, the confines of
the present study do not allow such detail. The Christological issues consi-
dered in this study are meant to be representative—though not exhaustive—of
Aphrahat’s Christology.47 Moreover, they are meant to show that Aphrahat’s
Christology is far richer and indeed more “orthodox” than the Christology
gleaned from Dem. 17.48 The following examples are arranged according to
pertinent Christological issues such as pre-existence, incarnation, death, resur-

rection, exaltation, and the impending judgment.
Pre-existence
While there are certainly problems with demonstrating Aphrahat’s belief in
the pre-existent Christ, it is equally problematic to assert that Aphrahat denies
the concept. Aphrahat affirms that Jesus is the “first-born of all created things”
('!-( ().49 While Aphrahat does not dwell extensively on the
nature of Jesus’ being in the time before the creation of all things, there is no
need to postulate that Aphrahat’s Christology is in any way deficient here.
Elsewhere, Aphrahat affirms that Christ was with the Father from the begin-
ning (' +! +( . '! /0 ).50 Although Aphrahat’s concept
of the pre-existence of Christ is not as developed as the Nicene Creed, it does
not preclude an understanding of pre-existence similar to that evident in the
Nicene formulation. More importantly, Aphrahat’s notion of pre-existence is
clearly shaped by the biblical text.51
Incarnation
With regard to the concept of the incarnation, Aphrahat appears to be
orthodox and scriptural. The primary difficulty in assessing Aphrahat’s view of
the incarnation, as Bruns notes, is his lack of the Syriac equivalents of the
technical vocabulary for the incarnation found in his Western
contemporaries, such as e)nanqrw/phsij (1"(.), sa/rkwsij (2(.) and
e)nswma/twsij ()&3.).52 Rather, Aphrahat frequently makes use of the
most common Syriac idiom for the incarnation in early Syriac Christianity:
1 (“to put on a body”).53 Aphrahat quotes from the prologue of John
and affirms that “the word became a body and dwelt among us”
('! 54 ( !3 .).55 This lends support to the orthodoxy of
Aphrahat’s view of both the incarnation and the pre-existent Christ, though
admittedly Aphrahat’s meaning is not entirely consistent with regard to the
topic of Jesus as the logos of God.56
The most important aspect of Aphrahat’s view of Christ “putting on a
body” is the role of the incarnation in the redemption of humanity. Building
on Paul’s view of Christ as the second Adam, Aphrahat views Christ’s
incarnation as the chance for humanity to be clothed in the robe of glory that
Adam lost.57 Christ’s incarnation is intimately related to both baptism58 and
resurrection59 so that, because of Christ’s incarnation, his baptism and
resurrection make resurrection possible for all humanity through baptism.
Any discussion of Aphrahat’s views on the incarnation must take into
account his use of the term , often translated “nature.”60 Klijn argues that
this term cannot be taken as an equivalent for fu/sij, and yet it can convey
meanings similar to those terms.61 Thus, it is not helpful to speculate on
whether Aphrahat has the precise corresponding meaning in mind when he
used the term . It is much more helpful to consider the manner of Jesus’
“being” that Aphrahat is describing when he uses the term.
The particular aspect of Jesus’ being that Aphrahat develops with the term
is the humility necessary to take on the human in order that humans
might take on the divine .62 This connection is demonstrated best by a
quotation from Dem. 6: “When our Lord went outside of his nature ( ), he
walked in our nature ( )...that he may cause us to partake of his nature
( ).”63 Thus we see that Aphrahat’s concept of is intricately connected
with the redemption that God offers through the incarnation of Christ.
Suffering and Death

Aphrahat does not dwell extensively on the event of Jesus’ death, though when
he does mention it, Aphrahat is sure to make it clear that Jesus actually suf-
fered death.64 Perhaps against some heterodox views of Jesus’ death, Aphrahat
is making it quite clear that it was actually Jesus who suffered in his own body
and died.65 Given his view of the relationship between the incarnation and the
redemption of humanity, it is not surprising that Aphrahat refers to Jesus’
death most frequently in reference to its salvific nature. For example, Aphra-
hat declares, “Through his death, he [Jesus] restored life to our mortality.”66
The clear relationship between Jesus’ incarnation, life and death in a human
body, and the redemption of humanity in Aphrahat’s writings does not sug-
gest a “primitive” way of thinking. Rather, it suggests that Aphrahat’s concerns
about the incarnation are more pastoral and moral than speculative.
Descent to Hell, Defeat of Death, and the Harrowing of Hell

Aphrahat clearly demonstrates his belief that, after death, Jesus descended into
Hell and defeated a personified death. He claims that, just as Joseph’s brothers
cast him into a pit, Jesus’ contemporaries sent him to the place of death.67
Elsewhere, he compares Jesus’ descent to Daniel being cast into the den of
lions—he is sent down “to the pit of the place of the dead.”68 Christ, of course,
is victorious in this descent to Hell.69 Jesus “broke the gates”70 of Hell and
“came up from the midst of Sheol”71 after three days.72 Moreover, Aphrahat
makes an argument for the harrowing of Hell: “When our Savior went down
to the place of the dead, he quickened and raised up many.”73 On the topics of
Christ’s death, defeat of death, harrowing of Hell, and resurrection, it appears
that Aphrahat is entirely orthodox.74
Ascension and Judgment

It is clear from Aphrahat’s writings that following Christ’s resurrection, Christ
ascends to heaven and is exalted to the right hand of God. This is a biblical
image75 that Aphrahat has taken to heart, as he repeats the phrase “at the right
hand of the Father” several times.76 And there, Christ awaits his role as the
“judge of the dead and the living.”77 In Aphrahat’s writings, Christ is more
often than not the agent of his own ascension and exaltation, rather than
God. If Aphrahat’s Christology were subordinationist, we might expect to see
more of an emphasis on God’s agency and Christ’s willing submission. Here
again we see that Aphrahat’s Christology reflects the orthodox position.
Based on this brief survey of Aphrahat’s Christological statements, we of-
fer here a few conclusions. First, this survey is suggestive of the breadth and
depth of Aphrahat’s Christology reflected throughout the Demonstrations.
Aphrahat’s portrayal of the triumphant Christ, having defeated death, har-
rowed Hell, raised to walk again, ascended to the right hand of God, and wait-
ing to judge the living and the dead, demands a more nuanced and detailed
exposition of his Christology than Dem. 17 alone can provide. Second, this
proposal is suggestive of the biblical nature of Aphrahat’s Christology. We see
clearly in Dem. 17 that Aphrahat believed Jesus’ identity as the Messiah could
be demonstrated from the Hebrew Bible. Moreover, Aphrahat's Christological
claims are often based on quotations from Scripture. Thus, Aphrahat’s Chris-
tology is based on the Christology of the Bible and not on Christological de-
bates, philosophical speculation or polemical propaganda.
Conclusion
Aphrahat’s Christology is contextual, biblical and orthodox. It is contextual
because Aphrahat is concerned with Christology only insofar as the topic con-
cerns his community. It is biblical because Aphrahat bases his arguments
about Christ on Scripture and he attempts to weave passages from the whole
of Scripture into a coherent Christology. Aphrahat’s Christology is orthodox
in two respects: 1) negatively, that Aphrahat’s Christology is not un-orthodox,
even if it is not as “developed” as the Christological debates of the West—that
is, nowhere does Aphrahat’s Christology preclude Nicene Christology; and
2) positively, that Aphrahat, throughout his writings, displays a coherent
Christology based on the biblical narrative of Jesus Christ, who came, lived
and suffered death, rose on the third day, and was ultimately exalted to the
right hand of the Father where he waits to judge all humanity.78 Moreover, for
Aphrahat, Jesus’ life and death are the means by which humanity is reconciled
to God.
•M E R J A M E R R A S •
Ephraem the Syrian

and the Authority of the
Old Testament Writings
E
phraem the Syrian (306–373 AD), the famous doctor ecclesiae from
fourth-century Syria, was the authoritative Bible interpreter
(mefasseqana) at exegetical schools, first at Nisibis and then at Edessa.
Those schools trained readers and clergy for the church. Besides bishops,
readers were also asked to preach in services. Only a few people were able to
read and presbyteroi were often illiterate. Thus the purpose of interpreting the
Bible was practical, as the message was mostly heard: “Scripture was explained
for ears, mouth repaid the debt with praise.” Hearing the text puts much
weight on playing with words, which is a cornerstone of Ephraem’s writings.
Ephraem (Ephrem) was certainly a profilic commentator on the Bible.
Both Syriac and Greek traditions remember Ephraem as having commented
on all the books of the Bible. The writings of Ephraem are preserved mostly in
Syriac. An Armenian corpus, consisting primarily of biblical commentaries
and a small number of hymns, appears to be genuine, whereas Greek texts in
his name are almost certainly not by Ephraem. They may be traced to his
disciples. Totally preserved are commentaries on Genesis and Exodus and
some commentaries translated into Armenian.
Besides providing basic teaching, the exegetical schools strove to react to
the challenges of their time. Ephraem was born in 306 AD and thus was, at
his youth, involved with christological debates, which culminated in the
Ecumenical Council of Nicea. His teacher, the famous bishop Jacob of Nisibis,
was present at Nicea. This had an impact on Ephraem who was eager to
defend the true Orthodox faith, which needed defenders after Nicea, too. He
found that Gnostics, Manicheans, Marcionites and Arians based their
teachings on Hellenistic philosophy, astrology and oriental religious ideas. If
they referred to the Bible they read it according to their own premises:
20 •M E R J A M E R R A S •
The sons of error saw/ the both Testaments,/ which were united and added/ to the
body of Truth./ From them they cut (pieces) and took (them)/ and stuck (together)
and made books./ They cut off and took orders, which were fitting (for them)./ And
this is the shameful deed:/ they wanted to make a perfect body/ from this separation
of the limbs. Without beginning/ is this book which they read./ And they want also
to make a body/ without the head and the two hands/ of the both Testaments.
(Hymnen contra Haereses 2:19–20)
Ephraem sees both Testaments as inseparable. Both are needed, the

former as a mold and the latter as contents of a mold.
The both Testaments,/ which the liars have separated from each other,/ are together,
one in another,/ made in unity./ But the covenant/ the old one, was like/ a typos
and a mould,/ which was made for that which will last forever./ It does its service and
goes away./ The new covenant was poured/ into the typoi of those which are like it,
and they were fulfilled. (Hymnen contra Haereses 36:8)
Ephraem does not want to study divinity, which he thinks is hidden from
humans. Ephraem blames especially the heretics for studying the essence of
God: “Study not God, study his commandments!” (Sermo de Fide 3:39). For
him the answers for the relevant questions of creation, human life,
transgressions, and death are found in the Scripture, as it is written. The Bible
is written to spread the idea of salvation. Salvation is tied in the right
understanding of the Gospels and through them of the whole Scripture.
Salvation is made for humans who understand and accept the deeds of Jesus
and confess it by coming to baptism.
For Ephraem the Bible was meant for preaching on the bema for
salvation, not for study among scholars to debate God’s essence and function.
The words of the Bible read aloud are words of instruction for one to do
them.
The earliest Syriac Lectionary Br. M. Add 14528, which is written between
351–390 AD, in part during Ephraem’s lifetime, confirms the authority of the
Old Testament by ordering very many Old Testament lessons to be read
during divine services. Many of them are the same as those read even today in
services of the Orthodox Church. Since the lessons are diminished in the
lectionaries that followed, it is possible that hymns replaced many of the
Scripture readings. Ephraem was both a talented poet and a fervent defender
of the Orthodox faith. Combining these qualifications, he created edifying
poems, which were sung at the services to explain the spiritual meaning of a
given lesson, thus diminishing the number of sermons and strengthening the
Orthodox understanding of Scripture. This development began in Syria,
probably just with Ephraem the Syrian.
Ephraem lived in Nisibis and Edessa, in a Semitic region of Syria, where
the famous Jewish schools of Pumbeditha and Sura were also located. The
Hebrew Bible was studied there, and it was there that Jewish oral tradition was
•E P H R A E M T H E S Y R I A N • 21
written down to be the Mishnah. We know the festal readings of the

Babylonian Jewish tradition quite well from the Babylonian Talmud.
Some scholars have suggested that Christian and Jewish biblical exegesis
were interrelated. Rabbi Jacob Neusner, however, denies this influence.
Christians and Jews did not study at the same academies. The most natural
explanation is that they both read the same book with their own traditions
and expectations. Differing aims could not prevent them from sometimes
arriving unconsciously at the same results. Christians and Jews had similar
oriental approaches, although often they ended up with different
interpretations, mainly because of the New Testament.
Christians changed the order of the lessons to point the value of the
Gospel. But the basic teachings of the Old Testament, such as the creation,
the commandments, the exhortation to repentance, the love for neighbours,
were seen in the same way. The importance of Moses in transmitting the Law
is common, too. Scripture was written by Moses who was the supreme
authority, since God gave him the commandments and spoke to him. In his
Commentary on Genesis, Ephraem begins every single explanation by saying:
as Moses spoke or wrote. The Scripture itself orders that everybody had to
listen to Moses: “He is entrusted with all my house…and he beholds the form
of the Lord.” In Num 12, Miriam and Aaron tried to challenge Moses’
authority, but they were punished for doing it.
The five books of Moses are written in the name of Moses, and the early
Church followed this notion. Those who factually wrote the Law wanted to
point that God spoke with Moses and that Moses transmitted the will of God
to the people. One could not bypass either Moses or the Law. There was no
other way to God. However, Ephraem does not give value to Jewish
interpretations. He sees Jews only as opponents for his endeavours. Ephraem
has been accused of anti-Semitism, and some of his writings, for instance
Sermo de Fide 3, is strongly anti-Jewish, even unfair, accusing Jews of being
murderers. The reason for that might be that in Ephraem’s lifetime there were
still Judaizing Christians who resisted Paul’s Gospel and held to circumcision
practices. Anti-Jewish sentences might be seen in connection with his defense
of the Pauline gospel. But Ephraem resists strongly Marcion, too, and all those
that prefer the New Testament, neglecting the Old Testament.
Ephraem’s method of exegesis is not intended to provide a continuous,
verse-by-verse exposition of the biblical text. He dwells on texts that have
particular theological significance for him. The bond that unites the two
Testaments is so intimate that there is virtually no incident or detail in one
which does not have its typological parallel in the other. Ephraem recognized
the symbolic nature of biblical discourse, and abides by the written word of
the Scripture, not in other writings, however famous they may be.
22 •M E R J A M E R R A S •
Let us learn from this Old Testament./ The sons of the Truth heard it with wise love/
and believed what was written,/ because all this is enough for benefit….Both
Testaments teach us/ that the believers never argue or study/ about the belief in
God.” (Hymnen de Fide 56:7–8)
I neglected what was not written, and I stayed in the written texts,/ so that by those
which were not written/ I would not miss that which was written. (Hymnen de Fide
64:11b)
God is to be seen in his creation as well as in Scripture:

Look at the world and look at the Scriptures,/ and confess that there is only One who
rules over all./ The created natures witness his goodness,/ the Scripture announces
his righteousness. (Hymnen contra Haereses 38:4a)
Ephraem was interested in defending the Orthodox Christian way to

understand the salvation of humankind, and all his exegesis and hermeneutics
aim to this. He was not interested in those questions pondered by exegesis in
our time, namely the background information of the circumstances or history
of the biblical land. For him it is important to meet the humanity to which the
Scripture guides its hearers.
Blessed he that neither tastes bitter wisdom from the Greeks/, nor spits out the
simple words of the men of Galilee. (Hymnen de Fide 2:24)
If your instructor goes astray, then go and study upon the Scripture by yourself. (Sermo
de Fide 6:167)
In his commentaries on Genesis and Exodus he is interested only in the

passages that confirm his ideas contra haereses. He is convinced that the
creation is described in Genesis in a proper way to point that the opinions of
heretics are false:
[Moses] wrote about the substances that were created out of nothing so that [the
descendants of Abraham] might know that they were falsely called self-existent beings.
(Com. Gen. 4)
He explains the creation according to the world view of his time, but is
unable to see the real purposes of the writer. For instance where does light
come from in the first verse, if the sun and the moon were not created before
the fourth day, even later than vegetation appeared? The obvious reason for
that is that he did not know what we now know, namely that in the era of
writing the Old Testament each nation had its own deity, and the notion of
one great creator-god was not yet spread over the empire. The story of creation
reflects that time. The author of biblical creation wants to say that JHWH is
the great creator-god, and every other deity—Sun, Moon, Stars—is submitted to
him. Ephraem is very dependent on the notions of his own time, and that
makes him useful only for his fellow citizens, not for us anymore. His interest
•E P H R A E M T H E S Y R I A N • 23
in defending the Nicene creed through the Scripture makes his interpretation
one-sided and prevents him comprehending the totality of the aims of the
author.
However, our time’s exegesis sometimes seems no better than Ephraem’s
exegesis, since we also treat the Scripture according to our time’s questions,
very anachronistically. Until the past few decades we have sought solution to
puzzles of the Bible in the history, imagining that Scripture tells us Israel’s
history from Abraham until the Maccabeans. Now we have turned to see the
Scripture as literature, full of edifying stories that are partly based on real
history, but in many passages only on imagined history. This seems to be the
more correct way to meet the ancient stories of humankind.
•B R Y A N A. S T E W A R T •
Levitical Paradigms for Christian

Bishops: The Old Testament
Influence on Origen of Alexandria
A
long with Augustine, Origen of Alexandria has been declared “the
most immense, the most prolific, and the most personal genius who
has illuminated the church of the first centuries.”1 These century-old
words of Ferdinand Prat, echoed later by Jean Daniélou, remain an accurate
assessment of the importance of Origen in the history of early Christianity. No
other thinker of the first three centuries has produced such a depth of insight
and such a vast command of his subject as Origen. While many scholars have
demonstrated Origen’s thoroughly philosophical world of thought,2 the majority
of his theological contribution comes in the unquestionably biblical expression
of scriptural commentary and exposition. Prat again: “Subtle theologian,
incomparable controversialist, patient critic and prolific orator, Origen is
above all an exegete.”3 Origen knows his Bible, is shaped by it and draws his
theology from it. He is, in his own words, a “man of the church (vir
ecclesiasticus), living under the faith of Christ and placed in the midst of the
church.”4 As a thinker both committed to the early Christian church, and one
thoroughly immersed in the church’s sacred texts, Origen provides valuable
insight into the way the stories and institutions of the Old Testament offered a
significant and central shaping influence upon early Christian thought. This is
no less true in regards to the emerging understanding of early Christian
ministerial leadership as a Christian priesthood.
It has long been noted that Origen employs the term i(ereuj/sacerdos
(priest) to designate the priesthood of Christ, the priesthood of the church,
and the spiritually mature Christian.5 Fewer scholars, however, have
emphasized or even recognized that Origen also uses the term to designate the
Christian hierarchical leadership—particularly the bishop. Theo Hermans, for
example, argues that “Origen only rarely designates the Christian who has
received the sacerdotal ordination by the term i(ereuj.”6 Likewise, Robert Daly
argues that in Origen’s homilies, “There is no mention of the office of a class
26 •B R Y A N A. S T E W A R T •
of specially ordained hierarchical Christian priests.”7 Finally, Joseph Trigg

draws similar conclusions, averring “Unquestionably, Origen did not identify
priests with the existing officials of the church.”8 The aim of this paper is two-
fold: first, to demonstrate Origen’s regular appropriation of priestly language
for Christian leadership; second, to explain that appropriation by exploring
the shaping influence of the Old Testament upon Origen’s choice of
vocabulary and his understanding of leadership functions.
One clear example of Origen’s connection between official Christian
leadership and the idea of priesthood comes from his Homilies on Leviticus.
Here, in light of the public ordination of Old Testament priests as prescribed
in Lev 8:4–5, Origen explains:
For in ordaining a priest (sacerdote), the presence of the people is also required in
order that all may know and be certain why, from among all the people, one who is
more excellent, who is more learned, who is more holy, who is more prominent in all
virtue, is chosen for the priesthood (sacerdotium), lest afterward, when he stands in the
presence of the people, any objection or doubt remain. For this is what the Apostle
also teaches in the ordination of a priest (sacerdotis), saying “For it is proper to have a
good testimony from those who are outside.”9
In this text, Origen explains the reason God requires a public ordination
of the priest (sacerdos) as mandated in the book of Leviticus. But Origen then
moves seamlessly from a discussion of the Levitical priesthood to the Christian
ministry by citing 1 Tim 3:7, “For it is proper to have a good testimony from
those who are outside.” The importance of this citation lies in the observation
that 1 Tim 3 delineates the qualifications for the Christian bishop
(e)pi/skopoj). The tie between bishop and priest is made explicit by Origen; he
grounds his Christian application of the Old Testament Levitical prescription
by turning to the New Testament, saying “the Apostle also teaches in the
ordination of a priest.”10 For Origen, then, the office of bishop in the New
Testament corresponds with the Levitical priesthood of the Old Testament
such that an Old Testament text on the priesthood is understood to refer to
the Christian bishop.
A second example in which Origen draws this link is his seventh homily
on Leviticus. Here Origen notes that Lev 9:7 commands priests who approach
the altar to abstain from strong drink. Origen explains: “Therefore he wants
those, to whom the Lord himself is their portion, to be sober (sobrios), fasting,
vigilant at all times, especially when they are present at the altar to pray to the
Lord and to offer sacrifice (sacrificandum) in his sight.” These commands hold
for the church as well, avers Origen, since “the Apostle asserts these same
things in the laws of the New Testament. For in a similar way, he himself,
setting up the rules of life for the priests (sacerdotibus) or chief priests
(principibus sacerdotum), says ‘they ought not to be enslaved much to wine, but
ought to be sober (sobrios).’”11 Origen makes explicit his bishop-as-priest
•L E V I T I C A L P A R A D I G M S F O R C H R I S T I A N B I S H O P S • 27
paradigm by comparing the commands for the priests in Leviticus with the
qualifications for bishops in 1 Tim 3. Where Old Testament priests are
commanded to be sober, so New Testament bishops receive similar
instruction.12 For Origen, then, when the Apostle speaks about the
qualifications for bishop, he is speaking about a Christian ministerial
priesthood, and when he reads the Levitical prescriptions of the Old Testament,
he unapologetically applies them to the Christian ministry.
Similar connections can be found in Origen’s homilies on the books of
Numbers and Joshua. Discussing the text in Num 2:2 which commands the
Israelites to “encamp each by his own standard, with the ensigns of their
father’s house,” Origen interprets it as a prescription for order (ordo) within
the church, yet warns against overly idealizing the clergy in the church:
Do you think that those who discharge the office of the priesthood (sacerdotio) and
glory in the sacerdotal order (sacerdotali ordine) march according to their order
(ordinem) and do everything which is worthy of that order? Similarly also for the
deacons; do you think they march according to the order of their ministry? From
where is it often heard to blaspheme men and say: “Behold, such a bishop! such a
presbyter! such a deacon!” Is this not said where a priest (sacerdos) or minister of God
will be seen to violate his order and to act against the sacerdotal or levitical rank
(sacerdotalem vel leviticum ordinem)?…If they fail in decency and discretion, if they
behave impudently, will not Moses accuse them at once and say: “Let a man march
according to his order”?13
Here Origen clearly has in mind the bishop and presbyter as the sacerdotes,
those who fill the sacerdotalis ordo, reminding them of and calling them back to
the dignity of their office. There is here an implicit chastisement of those
unworthy of their office, but he affirms that office as a sacerdotal ordo
nonetheless.
In a homily on Josh 3, Origen discusses the Israelite crossing of the Jordan
River. There he addresses his Christian congregation: “And do not be amazed
when these things concerning the former people are applied to you. To you, O
Christian, who have passed through the Jordan River through the sacrament
of baptism, the divine word promises much greater and loftier things.” Origen
then ties together the Old Testament priesthood with current Christian
leadership by reminding his audience that “if indeed you have come to the
mystic font of baptism and in the presence of the priestly and Levitical order
(sacerdotali et Levitico ordine) have been admitted to those venerable and
magnificent sacraments…then, with the Jordan crossed, you will enter the land
of promise by the services of the priests (sacerdotum ministeriis).”14 While Origen
does not name the bishop or presbyter explicitly, the liturgical reference to
baptism and the sacraments undoubtedly indicates the ministerial leadership
of the Church. Just as “the former people” were led into the land by the
priests, so too the Christian people “enter the land of promise by the service of
the priests.” The Christian leaders, implies Origen, are the “priestly and
Levitical order” for the Christian people.15
What can explain this connection Origen makes between Christian lea-
dership and Israelite priesthood? Moreover, why have so many scholars either
downplayed this connection or denied it altogether? The answer, I suggest, lies
in exploring the way Origen’s underlying ecclesiology has been shaped by the
Old Testament, in particular his assumption of the Christian connection with
ancient Israel.
Ecclesiology Shaped by the Old Testament

In his nearly 900 page monograph, Mysterium Ecclesiae, F. Ledegang surveys the
variety of images of the church used by Origen. He notes that the majority of
scholars do not address the subject of Origen’s ecclesiology at any length,16 and
those few exceptions who do, typically conclude with E. G. Weltin that
“Origen’s fundamental concept of the church was spiritual…a spiritual
body.”17 These scholars largely explore Origen’s discussion of the church in his
commentary and homilies on Song of Songs and the comparison especially
between the soul and the church, and the church as the mystical bride of
Christ. The conclusion, then, that Origen’s ecclesiology consists of a spiritual
and invisible church is, of course, not without merit, for Origen clearly speaks
in numerous places of the church in this more spiritual, mystical manner.
However, another important, yet oft-overlooked, metaphor Origen uses for the
church is that of a “divine nation.”
In his work Contra Celsum, Celsus has accused the Christians of failing
their political duty to the state by refusing to take office in the government.
Origen responds at length:
But we recognize in each city the existence of another national government (su&sthma
patri/doj) founded by the Word of God, and we encourage those who are powerful
in word and of a wholesome life to rule over the churches (e0kklhsiw~n)….And those
who rule (oi9 a1rxontej) us well are under the constraining influence of the great
King (tou~ mega&lou basile/wj), whom we believe to be the Son of God, the divine
Word. And if those who rule (oi9 a1rxontej) the church rule well, being called rulers
of the divine nation (qeo_n patri/doj)—I am speaking of the church—they rule
according to the commands of God….18
Origen here describes the church as a “national government” complete

with “rulers” and a “great King.” The church is likened to a “divine nation”
(qeo_n patri/doj) in Origen’s words, ruled by divine commands. References to
the church as a “nation” or a “race” are found again in Origen’s homilies on
Numbers, Joshua, Judges, Ezekiel and his Contra Celsum.19
What does it mean for Origen that Christian leaders are “rulers of the
divine nation”? The significance of this image lies in noting another important
aspect of Origen’s ecclesiology—an assumed connection with Israel which
results in the Old Testament institutions and realities becoming paradigms for
understanding his current Christian situation. For example, in his
commentary on Joshua, Origen discusses the Israelites’ destructive campaign
against the Canaanites, employing a spiritual interpretation to arrive at its
contemporary meaning. Just as the nation of Israel was called upon to fight a
carnal battle, so now the church is called to wage a war against the spiritual
adversaries of the soul. He explains further: “And we carefully consider from
these nations, which visibly besiege carnal Israel, how many nations there are
opposed to virtue from these spiritual things, which are called ‘spiritual forces
of evil in the heavens’ (Eph 6:12), which stir up wars against the church of the
Lord (ecclesiam Domini), which is the true Israel (verus Istrahel).”20 The Israelite
wars found in the Old Testament are interpreted by means of re-reading the
text in a new way: Israel now typifies the church; the war in Canaan signifies
the Christian battle against vice.
Origen’s assumption of an ecclesiological connection with Israel can be
observed again in his commentary on the Gospel of John. Comparing the
church with Israel, Origen opines:
I think that the first ancient people who were called by God were divided into twelve
tribes for the service of God, and in addition to the remaining tribes, the Levitical or-
der, itself divided according to further priestly and Levitical orders; so I think that all
the people of Christ according to the hidden man of the heart, being called a “Jew in
secret” and having been “circumcised in the spirit” (cf. Rom 2:28–29), have the na-
tures of the tribes more mystically.21
For Origen, to be a Christian was to be a “Jew in secret” and to have been

“circumcised in the spirit.” Origen affirms a robust relationship between
ancient Israel and the Christian church, asserting that the church retained the
nature of the people of Israel in a mystical sense.
Origen, of course, derives this understanding of the church not from his
own invention, but from the apostle Paul. In Origen’s systematic treatment of
biblical interpretation, On First Principles, he explains that “the apostle, raising
our understanding, says somewhere, ‘Behold Israel according to the flesh,’ as if
there is some Israel according to the spirit. And he says elsewhere, ‘For these
children of the flesh are not the children of God, nor are all Israel who are
from Israel.’”22 Taking his cue from Paul, Origen argues that the true Israelite
is the one in spirit, that is, the follower of the promised Messiah. As N. R. M
de Lange notes, “Crucial to the whole argument is the paradox that the Jews
and the Gentiles suffer a reversal of roles. The historical Israelites cease to be
Israelites, while the believers from the Gentiles become the new Israel. This
involves a redefinition of Israel.”23
An equally important component to Origen’s ecclesiological construction

is the illumination provided at the coming of Christ. As he says in On First
Principles, “the light contained in the law of Moses, having been hidden under
a veil, showed forth at the arrival of Jesus, when the veil was taken away, and
the good things came into knowledge at once, which the letter held as a
shadow.”24 Only at the arrival of Christ did the shadows and figures of the Old
Testament come to full view as symbols about Christ and the church. As
Marcel Simon comments, for Origen “the church is in the Old Testament…
[and] Israel’s rites should be understood as the simple prefiguration of the
Christian rites.”25 Or as Origen himself says in a homily on Leviticus: “Every
single thing which is written in the law is a figure (formae) of the things which
ought to be carried on in the church.”26 All that the Old Testament law had to
say about Israel Origen sees as applicable and fulfilled in his current Christian
situation.
Returning then to Origen’s earlier comments about the church as a “race”
or “divine nation,” one must remember that Origen already has a particular
“nation” in mind with which the church is linked: Israel. The Christian com-
munity, according to Origen’s description of the church, is none other than
the “divine nation” which is built upon and fulfills the Israelite nation of the
Old Testament. As Ledegang remarks, for Origen “there is one history of sal-
vation, one citizenship of Israel and Christians alike. The common line of the
history of salvation runs from the Exodus to Christ’s redemption.”27
A Typology of Priesthood
How does Origen’s ecclesiology relate to his conception of the Christian
ministerial leadership in terms of priesthood? Put simply, Origen assumes an
ecclesiological connection between Israel and the Christian community such
that he reads and appropriates the Old Testament patterns of Israelite
leadership (particularly the Israelite priesthood) as a working typology for his
understanding of Christian leadership. This hermeneutic of ecclesiological
continuity with Israel allows Origen to understand the Old Testament
Levitical priesthood in a typological way.
Here I follow Daniélou’s definition of typology as “the essential idea of
analogy between the actions of God in the events, institutions and individuals
of the Old and New Testament.”28 Elsewhere, Daniélou describes typology as
“a relation between realities both of which are historical, and not between
historical realities and a timeless world.”29 Likewise, R. P. C. Hanson empha-
sizes both the “similar situation” between the events and the “fulfillment”
aspect of typology. He explains: “Christian typology…was a fulfilled typology,
that is to say, it saw each of the Old Testament types as ultimately no more
than prophecies or pointers to the reality which had taken place in the
Christian dispensation.”30 The realities of the Old Testament become figures or
types of realities found in the New Testament, Christ, or his church. The
important point to observe is that a typological interpretation works primarily
upon an analogy between historical realities, not between historical (visible)
and spiritual (invisible) realities. While much of Origen’s interpretation of
Levitical priesthood does move from historical to spiritual (the heart, soul,
morals, and so on), his appropriation of the Levitical priesthood as a type of
the Christian ministry does not. Rather, he is moving from one historical
reality to another, from one visible institution (Israelite priesthood) to another
visible institution (Christian ecclesial office).
Because neither the Christian church nor the Jews worshipped in the
Temple in Jerusalem or offered bloody animal sacrifices any longer, the Old
Testament institution of priesthood and the accompanying laws could not be
read without some alteration. It should come as no surprise that Origen
applies his typological hermeneutic to his reading of such Old Testament
texts. As he says in Homily 4 on Numbers, “We return thus to this Tabernacle
of the church of the living God and see how each of these [prescriptions of the
Law] ought to be observed in the church of God by the priests of Christ
(sacerdotibus Christi).”31 The old law must still be observed, according to Origen,
even in the church of God. Just as the priests of Israel were responsible for the
exercise of these laws, so too the “priests of Christ” must enact these
commands in the church. Elsewhere in Homily 9 on Leviticus, Origen
reminds his listeners: “the things which are written in the law were shown to
be copies (exemplaria) and figures (formas) of living and true things.”32 For
Origen, those “living and true things” were none other than the realities now
present in the Christian ministerial leadership. Moreover, as previously
demonstrated, because the Christian e0kklhsi/a is understood by Origen as a
kind of “divine nation” modeled around biblical Israel, the priestly leadership
of Israel quickly becomes the formative paradigm for understanding Christian
leadership.
This underlying ecclesiological hermeneutic applied to Christian
priesthood is expressed in a number of homilies. For example, in a homily on
Num 18:8, Origen addresses the Old Testament practice of giving the first-
fruits to the priests:
This passage which we have in our hands, it seems to me, invites the interpretation
that it is right and useful to offer also the first-fruits to the priests (sacerdotibus) of the
gospel. For thus “the Lord arranged that those who proclaim the gospel live from the
gospel, and those who serve the altar participate in the altar” (1 Cor 9:14, 13). This is
thus right and decent; and thus it is contrary, indecent and unworthy, even impious,
that one who worships God and enters into the church of God, who knows that the
priests (sacerdotes) and ministers stand by the altar and serve either the Word of God
or the ministry of the church, should not offer to the priests (sacerdotibus) the first-
fruits from the produce of the earth…33
Origen draws upon Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians to establish his
reading: the Old Testament priests are fulfilled by and correspond with the
Christian leaders; the old ministers of the altar who receive the first-fruits
typify the current Christian ministers who also receive support from their
congregation. As Theo Schäfer explains, “Since the priest—like the Levites of
the Old Testament—should be dedicated entirely to the service of God, Origen
demands that [bishops] be provided for materially by the laity….Whoever
proclaims the gospel should live from the gospel and whoever serves the altar
should also receive his share from it.”34 Origen continues to understand the
Old Testament text in light of its relevance in the new community, and sees
obvious continuity between old leadership and new.
Thus, Origen’s ecclesiological reading has a continuity of application, yet a
transformation. In each dispensation the gifts are offered to the spiritual
leaders of the people of God, and in this sense, his reading is a straight-
forward appropriation of the Numbers text. Yet, with the Israelite Temple and
priesthood now removed, Origen finds application in the new institution: the
Christian assembly with its appointed leadership, what he calls “the priests of
the gospel” who perform “the ministry of the church.” Such a passage
demonstrates the ecclesiological hermeneutic employed in Origen’s reading of
the Old Testament priesthood as a typology for Christian leadership.
Perhaps the most striking example of Origen’s typological interpretation
of Israel and its priesthood comes from Homily 2.1 on Joshua. Here, Origen
expounds on the death of Moses, explaining to his audience that “unless you
understand how Moses died, you will not be able to draw your attention to
how Jesus reigns.”35 He then moves into an elaborate contrast between
“Moses” and “Jesus”:
If therefore you consider closely that Jerusalem is destroyed, the altar having been
abandoned, that nowhere are there sacrifices or offerings or first-fruits, nowhere
priests, nowhere high priests, nowhere the ministry of Levites—when you see that all
these things have ceased, say that “Moses the servant of God is dead.”
If you see no one coming three times a year before the face of God, neither offering
gifts in the temple nor celebrating the Passover nor eating the unleavened bread, nor
offering the first-fruits, nor consecrating the first-born—when you do not see these
things being celebrated, say that “Moses the servant of God is dead.”
But when you see Gentiles entering into the faith, churches being built, the altars no
longer spattered with the blood of animals, but being consecrated with the precious
blood of Christ, when you see priests and Levites attending not to the blood of bulls
and goats, but to the Word of God through the grace of the Holy Spirit …when you
see all these things, then say that Moses the servant of God is dead and Jesus the Son
of God occupies his place. 36
In this lengthy passage, Origen compares Moses and Jesus, but in doing so
he also draws in an entire portrait of continuity and contrast between dispen-
sations and public institutions, the old and new rites, the old and new people
of God, and the old and new priesthood. Jean Daniélou comments upon the
passage this way:
In this magnificent text there appears at the same time both the succession and the
continuity of the two economies, simultaneously all the novelty of the gospel and all
the collapse of the Law; and at the same time—and this, properly speaking, is the no-
tion of ‘figure’—the resemblance between the spiritual realities of the new law and the
fleshly realities of the old….We have here a typology that is profoundly traditional,
which contains its dogmatic reality, one which is in fact an essential part of the depo-
sit of the church.37
Here we see most clearly how Origen’s reading of the Old Testament has
guided and shaped his thinking about both the Christian community and
Christian leadership. Because the new realities still maintain continuity with
the old. The old Israelite priesthood still finds application in the new visible
institution of the church. Yet, because there is also discontinuity and trans-
formation from Moses to Jesus, that application must move beyond a simple
succession. The result: the old priesthood of Israel has been typologically ful-
filled and transformed into a new priesthood, embodied in the Christian mi-
nisterial leadership of the church. As Origen explains, the Temple of old no
longer remains. Those old bloody sacrifices are no longer offered. The old
priesthood exists no more. In its place, public church buildings arise, the gos-
pel is preached and the Christian leaders inherit the title priests.38 Thus, when
Origen speaks of the Christian ministerial leader as a i(ereuj/sacerdos, it is just
one clear example of the way Origen’s interest in and attention to the stories
and realities of the Old Testament has shaped his understanding of Christian
reality.
•M A R K W. E L L I O T T •
Leviticus between Fifth-Century

Jerusalem and Ninth-Century Merv
H
esychius of Jerusalem (d. 452 AD) seems, on the basis of admittedly
patchy evidence, to have been one who moved in an increasingly mia
or mono-physite direction at the time of the Council of Chalcedon,
451 AD, expressed finally in his opposition to Leo’s Tome.1
As for his Leviticus-Commentary, the only extant complete one in
Christian Antiquity, it is extant only in Latin translation and at some point in
its transmission, the Vulgate text was superimposed on it as lemmata, for the
text of the commentary clearly did not use Jerome.2 The commentary was
hugely significant in this translation as the foundation of almost all medieval
Latin interpretation of Leviticus: the Glossa Ordinaria.3 The occasion for
writing such a thing in Leviticus may have been an apologetic necessity in the
face of a Jewish majority, or so argues Elena Zocca.4 Vaccari insisted that the
author of the commentary certainly knew Jerusalem.5
Hesychius was more interested than most ancient Christians in how the
Law was considered by those who first received it. It was meant, to use his
rhetoric, to bow these rebels down so that they would eventually receive the
gospel. But those who have received can see Law as a dispenser of gospel (on
Lev 4:14).6 Thus, he wanted to relax any tight law-gospel opposition and not to
distance itself too much from referring to a real observance of precepts.7 Thus,
the referents are often very concrete and only where he absolutely has to will
he employ a spiritualizing exegesis, e.g. where he takes “morning” in Lev 7:14
as “the age to come.”
The gospel and “the flesh of Christ” are one and the same thing in
Hesychius’ exegesis of Lev 16:2, as Jüssen emphasized.8 The point is, one needs
to look at this cloud of “lordly flesh” (sa.rc despoti/kh) and not speculate
behind it, but rather to adore its mystery. So the realia of the faith are not to
be gone behind nor given too much spiritualized significance. However
throughout the commentary there is a continual awareness of the two aspects
of Christ’s being, the suffering and the glorifying, and these are well
distinguished, although their jutxtaposition is often regarded as a paradox. On
36 •M A R K W. E L L I O T T •
closer inspection it would appear that these two parts are not so much his
divinity and humanity as much as an exalted and humbled humanity, which at
points sounds suspiciously like Apollinarianism, but which makes Christ’s
human agency able to work a true penitence which supplements the feeble
penitence of believers.9
We should perhaps see Hesychius as standing near the head of what was
becoming the West Syrian stream of Pentateuch-interpretation. Perhaps it is
no coincidence that there were 14 readings from Leviticus in the West Syriac
Lectionary (Harran, ninth century) compared with only three in the East
Syriac equivalent, and those on the social justice themes to reinforce texts
from Isa 28–30. Now with Jacob of Sarug in his Homilies against the Jews,
VII.378,10 there is a tone not dissimilar to that of Hesychius in his polemical
disregard for the earthly Jerusalem. As D. Lane borrows for the title of his
most helpful paper, whence I have drawn these examples from Jacob, the true
religion is “no longer Jerusalem or turtle doves.” Christological cards are
placed firmly on the table when in Homily IV.323–411 he views the
pure/impure distinction as nothing other than “an image of the distinction
between the Father and the Son.” And therefore he can follow this up with
“The sacrifices of Moses, with their customs and kinds: what do they
represent, O Jew, other than your Saviour? What is the purpose of the
sprinkling of blood on the table? If you look well, it is the portrayal of the
blood of the only Son…”12
In the same vein, Philoxenus of Mabbug in his Dissertationes 3 makes
good use of Lev 26:12 for miaphysite Christological ends.13 “If God the Word
had taken another man and had dwelt in him, as you say, instead of ‘he dwelt
among us’ he would have said ‘he dwelt in him,’ for ‘in him’ indicates a single
being, but ‘among us’ (points out) many, just as ‘I will dwell in them and I will
walk with them’.”
Yet to return to the head of that “river,” most of all Hesychius was known
for and was influential through, not least in the Latin West, long sections
which deal with the theme of penance. In Lev 21:11 the question is raised:
“how can the immortal soul die?” Ezek 18:20 provides an answer. It is full sin
which leads to death that kills the soul. In Lev 19:13 (1025C) there are peccata
maiora and peccata minora; the sins which are more serious are those which are
intentional or which are materially directed against God (841C). His
contemporary, Anastasius of Sinai, had certainly drawn the knowing/
ignorance distinction. As Jüssen observed, Hesychius defended a free will
principle while also upholding a belief in original sin.14 It is not that humanity
is evil in nature; concupiscence is not a material cause of sin, but is rather a
wound that is self-inflicted, for we have freely (kata gnomen) sold ourselves into
slavery.
•L E V I T I C U S B E T W E E N F I F T H -C E N T U R Y J E R U S A L E M • 37
For Hesychius penance is related to baptism as an extension of it,

symbolized by the fact that both involve water. He speaks of the aqua
poenitentiae as tears of penance which in turn are “reliquiae gratiae baptismatis,”
that is, an extension of the effects of baptism that works in its power.15
Penance is about coming away from the world, following the monastic lifestyle
in principle if not in practice. Just how strict penance should be depends on
the gravity of one’s sins. Just as there were different offerings in Leviticus, so
are there several forms of penance. The idea was to humble the flesh and
release the spirit from the earthly and sinful bonds. From this we can observe
an analogy between natural humanity and “Jewishness.”
Confession of sins was not a hidden, purely internal thing. Even capital
sins could be dealt with by the church as the Syriac church tradition, with its
“therapeutic” conception of penance had insisted, and there is the possibility
of repeated penance in a way that would have shocked Tertullian and even
Origen, though not for serious sins. There was a sense that the community
owned the sin of the individual. Even in the case of grave sins a person should
not despair, but rather turn to Christ as a backslidden sinner, even while out
with the church. Metaphorically, the sinner is put out of the tent for an
uncomfortable period; the eucharist “like a tent protects from cold and heat in
which we eat with God” (Lev 14:8).16 This exclusion typically lasts seven days,17
although he also mentions the possibility of permanent exclusion.
For the penitent there has to be a system of checking to see how genuinely
contrite he is, as in Lev 13. Here we see quite a precise literal observance: a
second seven days is to be imposed if needed, e.g. if the penitent is still
inwardly clinging to sin. There is a “can do” quality to this theology of
penance. Ordinary Christians can also be spiritual directors, i.e. true “sons of
Aaron” (see 1120ff; 1128ff; 1165ff). The priest has to be personally holy; there
must be a spiritual kinship with Christ the high priest, for him to work
penance; just as Origen had insisted on their having the Holy Spirit (De
oratione 28, 2).
Between Hesychius and Ishodad, during the eighth century, those who
were followers of Theodore of Mopsuestia in the hermeneutical approach to
the texts and very often in the interpretations, made a significant contribution
to the exegetical task.18 These were notably Isho bar Nun in his Questions and
Answers, and Theodore bar Koni in his Scholia.19 Around that time Theodore
of Mopsuestia’s exegesis began to be eclipsed by his imitators, usually through
simplification. As Leonhard shows, although Ishodad of Merv, bishop of
Hedatha in the middle of the ninth century,20 used Theodore, he did not feel
a slave to his authority. “Ishodad’s commentaries emerged from, and were
used in, a rather liberal environment where one could use one’s sources
according to one’s needs—a process which permits more or less independent
observations on the text but did not lead to ultimate answers.”21 He turned
question and answer into indirect question: “and it is being asked why, etc.”22
Leonhard makes the good point that the Peshitta was easier to understand
than the LXX was for the Greeks, and thus there would have appeared fewer
“difficulties” needing to be allegorized, although Ishodad would also have had
the Syro-hexapla for comparison which also would have given him access to
the meanings their Greek Antiochene forebears had.23 The style is deliberately
non-midrashic in the Antiochene way, pointed out by Schäublin.24
There is a great deal of similarity between these Isho bar Nun and Ishodad
in large part due to their use of a common source, possibly Theodore of
Mopsuestia himself.25 However it is clear that Ishodad was the one who wished
to do justice to the whole of the Pentateuch and not just to its more obviously
preachable parts.
Turning to Ishodad himself, his exegesis of Leviticus gives to our ears
perhaps a comical impression of his casuistry when, on Lev 19:19 first he
argues that the ban on mixed clothing cannot be meant and therefore is not to
be taken literally. Yet, as for the ban in the next half-verse on animal cross-
breeding, well that must be taken literally. One must never cross an Arabian
and a Bactrian camel; such crosses are human inventions and thus they lose
the benediction of Gen 1:28. This seems an obvious case where local coloring
on the Silk Road comes to the fore in biblical exegesis (108).26
As for the Levitical cult, God prescribed offerings not because he needed
them but:
1. Because he would use material aids to draw people to him in love so

as to bless them.
2. To demonstrate that animals do not have souls.
3. To take people away from the cult of Satan.
4. To counter gluttony by giving up some types of food.
5. As a type of the universal sacrifice to come.
6. He permitted them to eat the animals adored by the nations and to
hold as impure the ones which the nations offered up (79).27
The first two of these are slightly unusual. The first reflects the view that
God is immaterial and the material can only have a symbolic value. Likewise,
in Lev 4:12 the command is to throw out the ashes of the sacrifice, so nobody
believes it is the sacrifice which procures the pardon but God. Thus, when
commenting on Lev 6:10–11, Ishodad makes it clear that the ashes are not put
under the altar, pace some interpreters like Rabban Qatar. The second point,
the proof that animals have no souls, might seem to contradict the view that
the life is in the blood, but clearly “soul” means something more. The
distinction matters, just as it did for Moshe bar Kepha. Lev 11:14 tells us that
the life of an animal is in the blood, but it is not so with a human.28 What
animals have is life, but not soul.
The second theme that shines through in Ishodad’s commentary is the
concern to ward off overdue emphasis on the fire in the burnt offerings. In
Lev 6:12–13 he makes it clear that it is not for the sake of the dignity of the
fire but for that of the sacrifices to be consumed by it that something called
“elevation” (6, 9) goes on. The stupid disciples (87) of Zoroaster have taken
their doctrine and think that fire is the child of Hormizd. But they don’t
understand there are not two natures of fire in the world, i.e. fire does not
have a hidden metaphysical nature. It is just fire! Likewise when Lev 9:24
reports that fire leaped out, this did not happen by the nature of the fire but
by dint of its being a gift of God (88).
The Syriac tradition he inherits assumed that Nadab and Abihu were
drunk; but that is not certain. He muses: if they have been fasting how could
they have been drunk? He then gives five possible explanations from Christian
and Jewish sources:
1. Michael (of Badoqa, student of Henana of Adiabene, head of the

Nisibis School 572–610 AD) and others think: They got their own
fire; they went at the wrong time; or they had no permission from
Moses and Aaron.
2. Rabban of Qatar did think that they got drunk and let the fire go out,
and then tried to cover up their negligence.
3. Aphrahat judged that they brought their own fire after divine fire dis-
dained touching their unworthy sacrifice (see Dem IV, 3)
4. Others hold that they were new and didn’t know the rules of ap-
proach—and were drunk too.
5. For Qatraya, they were punished for their ostentation and presump-
tion (90).
What is interesting is that Ishodad is not really too concerned about

ruling on the right interpretation. Likewise, when he reports Yohanan of Bet
Rabban who had led the School of Nisibis in the mid-sixth century relating
the Jewish interpretation that thinks their bodies not burned, just that their
soul taken out of body, since (Lev 10:5) “they carried them by their tunics,”
here too Ishodad is not terribly bothered to say which explanation he prefers.
It is one of those places where the pre-modern exegetes allows the reader to
choose.
Third, in Lev 12 any connection between the impurity of menstrual blood
and original sin does not seem self-evident, as Antiochene fathers would have
concurred. Surely, he writes, this blood is not impure by itself since humans
are born from it. Why indeed should menstrual blood be any more impure
than ordinary blood? Ishodad feels compelled to find a reason and it is

because certain people like Indians use it to drink in rites for mental sharpness
and fecundity. Also, it is clear from Gen 3:16 that menstruation resulted from
Eve’s act of disobedience. The blood issues only when she is fertile as it
becomes the milk for nursing. So he seems to have mixed feelings about it:
biologically this blood is necessary, yet theologically there is some stain, but
perhaps it is a punishment rather than something impure as such. As though
still not very happy with the subject, he concludes by adding that it is in
diabolical mysteries that one gets men coupling with menstruating women.
In Lev 16, Michael of Badoqa is quoted, to the effect that Azazel means
“God is strong,” and this is not to distinguish him from another God but to
be set in contrast to “the God of mercy.” Azazel could certainly not mean
Christ, since God had not yet taken a body—even though that is the opinion
of John and Abraham of Beth-Rabban (103).
Mar Nasai thought it was Michael the archangel who had performed the
signs (and wonders) in the desert and who would intercede for the people, as
per Ps 78:48. No, says Ishodad, it is a lot simpler that that. The goat was sent
into the desert to show that the sins do not come back on them or us (cf. Mic
7:19). Goats were gifts from God: one goat was given for sins and justice, the
other for “actions of the graces of God” ()tYhl) )twBY+LBwQl) for the sake
of mercy ()twNMXrMl).
Now Daniel bar Toubanita would not admit this justice in opposition to
God’s mercy. How can it be that mercy is within God but his justice (the
scapegoat) is so far from him? And if the scapegoat really was sent for the work
of reconciliation then a priest would have had to go with it (104).
Also, Ishodad continues with Daniel’s interpretation, it is not for justice
to forgive sin but mercy; yet he can see that the two sides of God work
together like carrot and stick. Even in the Garden, there was a tree of life and
tree (that of the knowledge of good and evil) that breathed death. Ishodad
reminds us that in Leviticus we are at stage two in salvation history: with
Moses, God punished and also rewarded (Exod 20:5–6). At the third stage,
Jesus placed the kingdom and gehenna in opposition. But here in stage two—
and it is not quite clear to which stage Christian believers belong—the
sacrificed goat represents divine reconciliation and the scapegoat represents
the repudiation of their iniquity through confession so as to be stimulated to
know the divine reconciliation.
The name Azazel is not the name of a person but of an action; for the
avoiding of divine jealousy—and the dry, desert land means a land unable to
produce iniquity and so punishment no longer.
Here at last I think we find our way back to where we left Hesychius.
There is an optimistic theology of penance, where confession is the way of
knowing that God has forgiven his people. Ishodad in some sense stood
against the East Syrian disdain of Leviticus. His interests concern more the
doctrine of God than Christology, possibly due to his location in an interfaith
context. There are these apologetic and local apologetic flavors. The style is
terse and allusive, but in contrast to Hesychius’s prolixity it is preferable.
•D A V I D K N E I P •
The Holy Spirit in Cyril of

Alexandria’s Commentary on Isaiah
C
yril of Alexandria composed a verse-by-verse commentary on Isaiah
sometime in the early period of his pontificate. While the dating is
uncertain, the commentary almost certainly derives from the period
before the Nestorian controversy. Indeed, unlike Cyril’s commentary on Luke,
in which he mentions Nestorian positions, and unlike his commentary on
John, in which he engages Arian doctrine (whether in current controversy or
as a purely literary conflict), Cyril’s commentary on Isaiah does not seem to
array itself against any group in particular.1 Rather, the commentary seems to
be intended for the Christian faithful or some subset thereof, with its goal a
better understanding of this large biblical book, especially in the ways in which
it points to Christ, the Apostles, and the Church. J. David Cassel has pro-
posed that the commentary was likely written for the clergy of the diocese of
Alexandria as part of their Scriptural education;2 while I am not in a position
to adjudicate this claim here, I certainly agree that Cyril’s audience seems to be
“the faithful” in some way.
Introduction and Background

Unfortunately, despite the prominence of its author and the length of the text
(it comprises an entire volume of Migne’s Patrologia Graeca (PG), numbering
over 750 columns in the Greek alone), Cyril’s commentary on Isaiah has en-
joyed very little scholarly attention. I believe that this situation arises largely
from the lack of anything approaching a critical edition of the text. Indeed,
Migne’s volume reprints the text of Aubert from the 17th century,3 and due to
his untimely death, Pusey was not able to finalize the Isaiah commentary in his
late-19th-century set of editions of Cyril.4 Furthermore, and consequently,
while we have modern translations of full Isaiah commentaries from both Je-
rome and Theodoret of Cyrus from roughly the same time period, as well as
portions of one from Chrysostom and of the commentary that has come down
44 •D A V I D K N E I P •
under the name of Basil of Caesarea, there has until recently existed no trans-
lation of Cyril’s commentary into any modern language whatsoever.5 Again, as
a result, there has been a resulting dearth of secondary material on the com-
mentary as well.
The situation has begun to improve in recent years, however, especially in
English-language materials. Metropolitan Demetrios Trakatellis published an
important article in 1996 comparing the exegesis of Theodoret with that of
Cyril, Eusebius, and Chrysostom. In it the Metropolitan was able to more fully
explore some of the traditional distinctions between the so-called “Antio-
chene” and “Alexandrian” schools of exegesis. I found his comments on Cy-
ril’s work quite accurate, especially the note that Cyril’s exegesis tends to be
quite Christocentric.6 Also, Brevard Childs’s book The Struggle to Understand
Isaiah as Christian Scripture includes a chapter on Cyril. In this chapter Childs
rightly engages Alexander Kerrigan’s seminal work from 1952 on Cyril’s exege-
sis of the Hebrew Scriptures. Childs finds this work, perhaps not surprisingly
for its time, rather unappreciative of what he sees as the important work Cyril
does in interpreting the Hebrew Scriptures in a “spiritual” way. This is a me-
thod that is not arbitrary but is rather grounded in the conviction that Christ
is at the center of Christian interpretation of this book, despite its being writ-
ten before his advent.7
Most exciting, however, are two translation projects that address the trans-
lational desideratum. First, the 2007 volume on Isaiah edited by Robert Wilken
and others in Eerdmans’ “The Church’s Bible” series includes many passages
from Cyril’s commentary on Isaiah, among them several that stretch multiple
pages. These long selections allow the reader to gain a better sense of Cyril’s
characteristic emphases and methods.8 Secondly, Holy Cross Orthodox Press
is in the process of publishing a full translation of the commentary, the major-
ity of which was completed by the late Robert Hill before his death. The first
volume, comprising the comments on chapters 1–14, is currently available,
and the next two volumes, covering the comments on chapters 15–50, are to
be published early in 2009.9 It is my own hope that these works will attract
both amateur and professional readers to Cyril’s commentary and enable ad-
vances in the scholarship on Cyrilline exegesis.
Cyril’s Comments on Important Isaianic Passages

on the Holy Spirit
A consideration of the topic of pneumatology within the confines of the book
of Isaiah likely calls to the reader’s mind two important Isaianic passages that
have been influential in later Christian reflection on the Holy Spirit. The first
comprises the first verses of Isa 11. This passages describes the Spirit of God
•T H E H O L Y S P I R I T I N C Y R I L • 45
resting upon the shoot that comes from the root of Jesse, and it is the source
of the traditional teaching of the “seven gifts of the Spirit,” to be distinguished
from the nine “fruits of the Spirit” in Galatians. The second is the beginning
of Isa 61, which describes the ministry of the one upon whom “the Spirit of
the Lord” has come. This is the familiar text that the Gospel of Luke records
as one of Jesus’ sermon-texts in the synagogue. Before proceeding to more syn-
thetic analyses of the commentary as a whole, I will explain what Cyril says on
these two “purple passages” from Isaiah on the Holy Spirit.
Concerning Isa 11:1–2, Cyril locates the proper referent in the passage in
the future, namely, as Christ, because of the text’s place within the book; since
the destructions that are described in Isa 10 did not happen for a long time
subsequent to the prophecy, then a person described “after” these (in the or-
der of the book) must come after these events in time. He then describes how
the words for “shoot” and “flower” (in Greek, rhabdos and anthos) can testify to
Christ, because rhabdos can mean “scepter.” It refers to Christ as king; in that
it can mean “staff.” It refers to him as the good shepherd who protects his
sheep with his staff, because Aaron and Moses employed a staff at the time of
the delivery from Egypt. It refers to Christ as our deliverer. Furthermore, an-
thos or “flower” refers to the blossoming that a person in Christ enjoys—a
growth into eternal life and incorruption—as well as to the “aroma” which was
Christ in the world and of which Paul makes mention in 2 Co 2:15. Concern-
ing the Spirit, Cyril describes the difficulty in understanding why Christ, who
is the one who pours the Spirit out on us, would be said to “receive” the Spi-
rit. According to Cyril, Christ submitted to receiving the Spirit as a demon-
stration of the extremity of his self-emptying (Phil 2:7). Then, however, Cyril
mentions a theme prominent in some of his other works, but not as much so
in this commentary, namely, that Adam had the Spirit at the beginning of the
human race, which he then utterly lost. The Spirit did not return until the
coming of Christ and whom we now enjoy as we are in Christ. Finally, Cyril
relates the manifold nature of the gifts listed in Isa 11 to the many gifts de-
scribed by Paul in 1 Cor 12.10
In the comment on Isa 61:1–3, Cyril begins again with the question of
how Jesus, the Holy One, could be “made holy” by receiving a Spirit whom he
himself pours out. His answer is that both sides of the seeming paradox are
true, for as God he gives the Spirit and as human he receives the Spirit. Cyril
then discusses referents for some of the groups mentioned in the lemma—the
poor, the captives, etc.—and what the blessing promised to them would mean
in their respective states. In all cases, Christ himself and his ministry are the
blessing. For example, he says that the ones “beaten down in heart” are those
who worship false gods and do not know the truth, and so Christ, the “sun of
righteousness” (Mal 4:2), comes as the heavenly light that leads these individu-
als to an acknowledgement of divine truth. Further, the “poor” could be those
lacking in good things, namely, the “atheists” (atheoi) of the world, that is, the
Gentiles. These people have subsequently grown rich through faith in Christ,
having gained the heavenly treasure of salvation. Cyril then spends a consider-
able amount of ink concerning the “acceptable year of the Lord” and “the day
of requital,” which he understands as the time of Christ’s appearance when he
begins to turn everything around, meaning repentance for those who will turn
to him, and judgment for Satan who kept humanity bound. Finally, he sees
this “upside-down” world also in the last verse, namely, the exchanging of
ashes for happiness and of weariness for glory, as benefits that come through
Christ. Unfortunately, Cyril does not say much about the Holy Spirit here,
despite the importance of this passage for later reflection on the work of the
Spirit.11
Cyril on the Spirit’s Place within the Trinity

Cyril does talk about the Spirit a great deal in this commentary, and in many
other places. One of the more common themes concerns the Spirit’s place
within the Trinity, especially concerning the sanctification of humanity. These
two aspects have been explored at length in the scholarly literature, the former
most fully by Marie-Odile Boulnois in her book entitled Le paradoxe trinitaire
chez Cyrille d’Alexandrie, and the latter 60 years ago by Paul Galtier in his Le
Saint Esprit en nous d’après les Pères grecs and recently by Daniel Keating in his
The Appropriation of Divine Life in Cyril of Alexandria.12
In this commentary Cyril does not enter into long discussions of the more
abstract elements of the Spirit’s place within the Trinity, as he does in his
dogmatic works. For example, there are no discussions that I can find in this
text, even when the Spirit is mentioned in the lemma, concerning the divinity
of the Spirit, the Spirit’s sharing in the essence of God the Father, or that the
Spirit is not a creature, important themes in both his Thesaurus and his Dialo-
gues on the Trinity. He does occasionally refer to those conversations, as for
example in his comment on Isa 63:11–14, where he mentions that the Spirit is
homoousios with God the Father, or in the comment on Isa 25:6–7, where he
speaks of “God” as “the homoousios Triad.”13
The most common Trinitarian reflections concerning the Spirit are sote-
riological. The frequency with which this theme recurs reveals that Cyril sees
our salvation as a work accomplished by all three persons of the Trinity, a doc-
trine that Boulnois mentions and that certainly appears in this commentary.
Countless times in this work alone, Cyril discusses various aspects or images of
our salvation, and very often all three divine persons are mentioned. A few ex-
amples of this emphasis must suffice.
First, in Cyril’s comments on Isa 8:15–16, he picks up on the word

“sealed” in the lemma, and connects it with a word “marked” from Ps 4. He
then proceeds to reflect on our sanctification and how the three persons of the
Trinity share in the work. “The Son is the image and the likeness, as though
the face, of God. And the Holy Spirit is the light that is sent from him (pre-
sumably, the Father) to us; through this Spirit we have been sealed, being re-
shaped through holiness into the first image.” As he says, the Spirit is for us a
light and a seal, but the Spirit does not work alone.14
This is also true in his comment on Isa 12:3, where Cyril describes the
Church as founded upon the Apostles, the springs of water mentioned in this
particular lemma. The Spirit is the one through whom the words of the Apos-
tles come to all those in the world. He says that it is also through the Spirit
that we are being “built through faith as a spiritual house into a holy temple.”
Again, though, the house is not entirely of the Spirit, for Christ has been
placed as the foundation of the house, he says, and the Father is the one who
did the placing.15
Finally, in his comment on Isa 44:21–22, Cyril invokes the idea of “partic-
ipation in the Spirit,” a key phrase for him in terms of our salvation, both in
its means and its benefits. Again, the picture is Trinitarian, even if the Spirit
plays a significant role in bringing us to holiness. In this text the overall rubric
is our “being formed in Christ”; this happens by the Holy Spirit’s sending into
us a divine “re-shaping,” by holiness and righteousness. Thus, he says, “does
the hypostasis of God the Father fit into our own souls, when the Holy Spirit
shapes us to his likeness…through holiness.” The process is Christ being
formed in us, the primary actor is the Spirit, and the result is the presence of
God the Father in our lives.16
There are many other similar examples, but I believe the point is clear.
But why does Cyril emphasize this so strongly? I am not entirely certain, for I
cannot find any place where he answers the question clearly, but I believe that
this Trinitarian theme in Cyril’s pneumatological and soteriological matrix
may relate to his Christological ideas. Cyril repeatedly uses the term “re-birth”
(anagennēsis) in speaking of our salvation, and when one examines an account
of the birth of Christ from this commentary, one finds the same Trinitarian
picture. In his comment on Isa 8:3, which describes a “prophetess” conceiving
and bearing a son, Cyril speaks of the conjunction (synodos) that resulted in
Jesus. As he says, “For Christ became a first-fruit of those sanctified in spirit
[the Spirit?], who have been birthed not from blood, nor from the will of flesh,
nor from the will of a husband, but from God. Therefore, he himself was be-
gotten of the Spirit, according to the flesh and before the others, in order that
we also might share in these things on account of him.”17 Here we see both
God and the Spirit involved in the birth of Jesus in the flesh—and we also see
that Christ's becoming human is an explicitly soteriological event—“that we

also might share in these things on account of him.”
Cyril on the Holy Spirit’s Role Concerning

Baptism and Scripture
There are also other aspects of Cyril’s pneumatology, aspects that have re-
ceived less scholarly attention but which nonetheless appear in Cyril’s writ-
ings. There are two themes that are more prominent in other works, but not
so here. First, elsewhere Cyril discusses the role of the Spirit in the Eucharist;
this theme, however, does not appear anywhere in the commentary on Isaiah
to my knowledge, and so I will leave it aside. Secondly, Cyril occasionally dis-
cusses the role of the Holy Spirit in establishing and preserving unity in the
church. Indeed, in his commentary on John 17, he elaborates on this topic,
treating both the unity that Christians enjoy with one another and that which
they have with God. I have not yet found any extensive passages in which he
takes up this theme in the Isaiah commentary, but he does mention it briefly
in his comment on Isa 11:12. Here, discussing the beautiful passage in Eph 2
concerning Christ’s breaking down barriers that divide humanity, he says that
Christ did this “in order that we all might be one in spirit and one in body,
sharing together in soul and body.” Of course, the “in spirit” could require a
capital “S,” that is, that we are one “in the Spirit.” Cyril’s discussion of this
topic in the commentary on John leads me to believe that he would prefer to
read it both ways together.18
A much more common theme in the Isa commentary is the role of the
Spirit in baptism. For example, in the comment upon Isa 4:4, he says of the
“spirit of burning” there that it is the gift given at baptism which comes to be
in us “not apart from the Spirit.” Apparently “burning” here reminds him of
“fire,” with which John the Baptist says Christ will baptize. Also, in the afore-
mentioned comment on Isa 25:6–7, Cyril says that the myron in this passage
refers very well to the Holy Spirit, since it is at baptism that we are anointed
with myron, thus making it a symbol of the Holy Spirit. Then, in his commen-
tary on Isa 61:1–3, one of the ways Cyril defines the “acceptable year of the
Lord” is the one in which “we were admitted, having obtained the likeness
that is to him and having been washed clean from sin through holy baptism,
and having become sharers in his divine nature through participation in the
Holy Spirit.” The reader will notice that these three things seem to happen all
together: obtaining the likeness of God, being baptized, and participating in
the Holy Spirit.19
This association of baptism with the Spirit—indeed, for Cyril, the gift giv-
en at baptism does not happen apart from the Spirit—is reinforced through the
association of water with the Spirit. Here Cyril seems to be following both
Scriptural testimony and liturgical practice. The two are easy to demonstrate,
and they are interconnected. From the early days of the church, Christians as-
sociated water baptism with the gift of the Spirit, as exemplified in the story
recorded in John 3, where in verse 5 Christ himself is depicted as speaking of
rebirth “in water and spirit.” Further, the Scriptural foundation for this idea is
visible even in the commentary. For example, in his comment on Isa 44:3–5,
Cyril associates the water God gives to those in “arid places” as symbolic of the
consolations of the Spirit given to those working in the kingdom. But this is
not an arbitrary association, for the lemma itself may suggest the connection
to Cyril. The text of verse 3 reads, “I will provide water in their thirst to those
who walk in a dry land; I will put my Spirit on your offspring and my blessings
on your children.” Here Cyril may simply be following the logic of the text—
water is parallel to Spirit, in terms of blessings coming from God. The other
likely Scriptural source of Cyril’s association is the passage in John 7 that
records Jesus’ saying that for anyone who comes to Christ thirsty, “Out of the
believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water,” and the author’s comment
that “he said this about the Spirit.” Indeed, in Cyril’s comment on Isa 44:3–5,
he mentions these texts explicitly; I would argue that they are formative for
him in his connection of the Holy Spirit with water. It is clear that, as impor-
tant as baptism is in the process of the regeneration of humanity, it is impossi-
ble for Cyril to think of baptism without also thinking of the Spirit.20
Finally, Cyril also discusses the role of the Spirit in the production and in-
terpretation of the Bible. This theme is extremely prominent in Cyril, and yet
in some ways it is the most difficult to approach because it is deeply imbedded
in his consciousness. In fact, given the doctrinal considerations of this paper
and their source in a Scriptural commentary, one could read this entire essay
as a demonstration of a fundamental truth for Cyril, namely, that the primary
source of doctrine is Scripture. Whether one wants to speak of our salvation
in Christ, of the inner connections of the members of the Trinity, or the role
of the Spirit in baptism, one should primarily have recourse to Scripture. In-
deed, like so many patristic texts, Cyril’s Isaiah commentary is shot through
with Scriptural quotations and allusions, including those places where he
speaks of the Spirit. As just one example, Cyril’s comment on Isa 42:1–4 (one
of the so-called “Servant Songs,” which includes the phrase “I have put my
Spirit upon him”) leads him to affirm Christ’s possession of the Spirit, but he
confirms this teaching by appealing to the narratives of Christ’s baptism, in
which the Spirit is said to descend like a dove upon him.21
For Cyril, though, the very reason that the Bible is so useful for doctrinal
proclamations is that its primary author is God through his Spirit, even if God
uses the voice of various authors. Cyril’s most pointed comment on the sub-
ject comes concerning Isa 29:11–12. Following the lemma, which speaks of a
book that is sealed, he says in his comments, “…the God-inspired Scripture

was sealed up in a certain way by God, as a single book. For the whole thing is
one unit and has been spoken by the one Holy Spirit.”22 He expresses this in
his writings in two different ways. First, he will often say that God spoke
“through the voice of” a particular writer from the Hebrew Scriptures. In the
Isaiah commentary these include David (in the Psalms), Isaiah, Jeremiah, Eze-
kiel, Joel, and Zechariah, among others. He will also speak of various biblical
authors speaking “in the Spirit” or “by the Spirit.” These latter include David
(again) and “the prophets.”23 I have not found a place where Cyril describes a
New Testament author speaking “in the Spirit,” but that does not mean such
places do not exist. If they do not, perhaps he assumes that, as bearers of the
Spirit (pneumatophoros—a term he uses frequently in both the Isaiah and John
commentaries, for instance), it simply goes without saying. Or, he could be fol-
lowing 2 Pet 1:20–21, a text that specifically describes prophecy as coming
through human beings, from God, by the Holy Spirit.
Conclusion
I have attempted several small tasks in this paper. First, I hope that I have sug-
gested the presence of a wide field for patristic scholarship in the future,
namely, the relatively untouched commentary of Cyril of Alexandria on Isaiah.
Second, I hope to have given my audience a small taste of Cyril’s work in the
commentary by discussing at some length his comments on various Isaianic
passages, including two that have been important for later reflection on the
Holy Spirit. Third, I have attempted to argue that for Cyril, at least in this
commentary, the Spirit has a significant, indeed indispensable, role in the sal-
vation of humanity, but a role that is never apart from the other two persons
of the Trinity. Finally, I have attempted to illuminate Cyril’s thought on the
Spirit’s role in baptism and concerning the Bible. The last of these illustrates
well two truths that may seem circular but must be held in tension. For Cyril,
definitive doctrine concerning the Holy Spirit derives most prominently from
the Bible, but the very Bible that leads to definitive doctrine has primarily
been authored through the activity and voice of the Holy Spirit. In other
words, for Cyril, the Bible is authoritative concerning the Spirit, and its au-
thority comes from that same Spirit.
•R O B E R T A. K I T C H E N •
Winking at Jonah Narsai’s

Interpretation of Jonah
for the Church of the East
T
here can be little argument that the Book of Jonah is one of the most
popular tales in the Old Testament across time and culture.1 The Sy-
riac tradition of poetic Biblical exegesis and commentary exemplified
this enthusiasm. Ephrem has composed a number of madrāshē2 and mēmrē,3 in-
terpreting the narrative of Jonah and Nineveh from various perspectives. Jacob
of Serug’s (d. 521 AD) epic Mēmrā 122, included in Paul Bedjan’s Homiliae Se-
lectae,4 endures for 123 pages, 72 sections, four divisions, ca. 2540 lines, with
which I have dealt on several previous occasions.5 I now turn to Narsai’s leng-
thy mēmrā on the wayward prophet to complete the trinity of authors,6 though
in this initial treatment I will offer a brief survey and focus on one of the best-
known symbols of Jonah. Not the fish.
Narsai (399–ca. 502 AD) is perhaps the least known, but certainly not the
least important of the major Syriac exegetical poets. He was most notably head
of the School of Nisibis in the latter fifth century, after being forced from a
similar position in the Persian School of Edessa. Considered the most impor-
tant poet of the Church of the East and a Biblical commentator in the spirit
and tradition of Theodore of Mopsuestia,7 what survives of Narsai are mēmrē
or homilies principally on Biblical themes, along with a number on baptismal
and eucharistic themes. The paucity of modern language translations is being
slowly amended along with studies of Narsai’s theology and exegesis. Frederick
MacLeod,8 Judith Frishman,9 Phillipe Gignoux,10 and recently Kristian Heal11
have contributed both studies and translations of Narsai’s work.
The mēmrā on Jonah is the eighth in volume one of the collection com-
piled by Alphonse Mingana, published in 1905 in Mosul—the present-day city
of Nineveh. A poem of medium length, 508 lines in 12:12 syllable meter, its
structure is that of a verse-by-verse retelling of and commentary on the Biblical
book of Jonah, precisely one-fifth the length of Jacob of Serug’s mēmrā (2540
lines). Jacob indulges in numerous dramatic dialogues and Christian typolo-
52 •R O B E R T A. K I T C H E N •
gies throughout his retelling. Jacob includes Justice (kēnūtā - '.",) con-
demning Jonah after the lots fell on him; the Sea (yamā - ) telling the sai-
lors they will survive only if they throw Jonah overboard; the Symbol (rā’zā -
'%0) calling upon Jonah to descend to the depths as a sign of his prefiguring
Christ; and Grace (taybūtā - '. 4) receiving the prayers of the Ninevites and
presenting their case before the judge in heaven. Narsai is more concise and
does not spend much time filling out the narrative with abstract conversations
as does Jacob,12 with one important exception to be noted later.
Narsai uses two conventions to say more about Jonah than the Biblical
book tells. From the Biblical narrative he amplifies and expands the speeches
and comments of the human and divine characters. God’s first and second re-
velation to Jonah are filled out, along with Jonah’s reaction to the first revela-
tion and his sermon to the Ninevites following the second are detailed. All the
conversations between the captain of the ship, the sailors and Jonah are re-
hearsed, as well as the sailors’ crying out to the God of the Universe. Jonah’s
prayer from the belly of the fish could not be omitted, nor the King of Nine-
veh’s sermon to his people to repent. Finally, Jonah complains to God after
the withering of the plant and Jonah is rebuked at some length by the Sign
(rēmzā - '50).
The second convention is to embark on several excurses which allow Nar-
sai to draw together his Christian perspectives on the events. As with other
Christian writers, Jonah becomes the type of Jesus. Midway through, Narsai
offers two longer reflections back to back: the first on the mystery of Christ’s
advent being first depicted in Jonah’s situation, and continuing to compare
the distinctions between Jonah and Jesus (lines 233–254); and the second de-
scribes how the Gentile nations become parables and Jonah’s mission to the
nations enables the reader to see God’s authentic message (lines 255–284).
Two shorter reflections summarize the Christian conclusions. The major one
is a meditation on the appropriateness of Jonah’s confinement in the fish as a
prefiguring of Christ’s time in the tomb and resurrection (lines 307–318). The
mēmrā concludes (lines 497–508) with a look back at how God used Jonah to
extend salvation to the Gentiles.
Two threads weave through the mēmrā, one thematic and the other spiri-
tual. The predominant theme of Narsai’s interpretation of Jonah is the New
Gospel of salvation being extended to the Peoples/Nations, in this case, Nine-
veh. The animosity of the People/Nation/Israel against the Peoples/Gentiles
noted before the story of Jonah begins (lines 25–32) remains a tension
throughout the mēmrā, although Jonah realizes that God obviously is the origin
of this new direction and finally cannot be resisted.
“Christian” Nineveh is saying too much. Nineveh does not directly accept
Christ—indeed, Christ is not named at all in the mēmrā. Narsai, as with other
poets and exegetes, is purveying the story of Jonah with hindsight. Jonah’s
•W I N K I N G A T J O N A H • 53
preaching and the response of Nineveh is brought about as a prefiguring of

the coming Christ event. To borrow loosely Karl Rahner’s characterization,
the Ninevites here are understood by Narsai to be “anonymous Christians.”
A small detail is worth noting. The name “Nineveh” is mentioned only a
few times, for he usually refers to the city and region as “Assyria” (’ātur - 0.)
or even the city of Assyria. The Assyrian Church of the East takes great pride
in asserting its Assyrian heritage, and while I do not possess enough of a lite-
rary and historical perspective on this issue, here is a proof-text for such usage
from one of their earliest and greatest writers.
This “bringing about” of the prefiguring of Christ in Jonah is affected and
enabled by Narsai’s employment of Jesus’ allusion to “the sign of Jonah” (Matt
12:38–42,16:1–4; Luke 11:29–32). In the Peshitta, the word for “sign” is ’ātā
('.). Jacob of Serug utilizes rā’zā ('%0) as the principle, “the mystery,”
which gives meaning to everything, and personifies this sign/mystery to ex-
plain to Jonah as he is descending to the bottom of the sea, what marvelous
event he is now beginning. Narsai, however, selects another word, rēmzā ('50)
—having the connotation of a human “gesture” (rēmzā d‘aynē - '50)
“gesture of the eyes” or perhaps “wink” carries this human physical sense to
aid personification—to indicate the personified “Sign of Jonah” working to
bring this marvelous event to fruition. The Sign appears periodically through-
out the mēmrā in the role of the guiding Spirit.
A short excursus is required here, for the term “Sign” (rēmzā) is used ex-
tensively in Syriac literature, but in particular by Narsai. A fuller study would
be most helpful, but a few notes will have to suffice to amplify the use of the
term for this text. Philippe Gignoux describes the term: “More precisely, God
operates by his Sign (rēmzā), a term that Narsai uses usually to designate the
divine act of creating, and which signifies properly ‘a sign of the head.’ This
word wishes in this way to express the rapidity of the divine act, and to under-
line also that it is situated outside of time. The realization of the act occurs in
effect at the same time as the sign, without there being the slightest difference
in time whatsoever.”13 This instantaneous characteristic is perhaps best cap-
tured in English by “wink” which is not simply involuntary blinking, but a
conscious and intentional movement, not without humor as well.
Other suggestions fill out the range of this enigmatic term, which is often
expressed more fully as rēmzā kasyā ( 2 '50), “the hidden Sign.” Judith
Frishman translates the expression as “the hidden Hint” in a mēmrā on Enoch
and Elijah,14 adapting the suggestion of T. Jansma that rēmzā as used by Narsai
and Jacob of Serug “means the nod or gesture by which God indicates His
will.”15
Kristian Heal presents two other fruitful translations in the first mēmrā of
Pseudo-Narsai on Joseph. As the merchants to whom the brothers have sold
Joseph are leading him away, he begs to stop and weep at his mother Rachel’s
tomb and hears a voice like his mother’s: “In the likeness of his mother Ra-
chel’s speech he heard from the tomb/ The hidden (Divine) Will (rēmzā kasyā)
speak with him, saying...”16 This Will fits well with the divine intention in di-
recting and guiding the action. Earlier, the merchants approach Joseph’s
brothers: “And behold Merchants came traveling at the beckon of the Lord
....”17 The expression “at the beckon of the Lord” (rēmzā dmāryā - '50)
points to the larger dramatic dynamic behind the term. Heal suggests, “It is as
though the Lord is presented as watching over these events taking place like a
director of a play; and when the time is right he beckons another group of ac-
tors onto the stage to move the story along.”18 This insight will help us as we
return to Jonah.
The Sign first appears in response to Jonah’s flight and disturbs the sea
and creates the storm (lines 103–136). When the lot falls upon Jonah and he
is asked to identify himself and his sin, Jonah himself knows that it is God’s
Sign that has trapped him in the storm. “His [God’s] Sign has caught me in a
rough net of unstable waters” (line 170).
After being swallowed by the great fish, the Sign is described as recreating
Jonah as a new fetus in the belly of the fish. “The Sign kept him in the catego-
ry of fetuses in wombs” (line 230). Narsai does not pursue this imagery in
quite the vivid manner of Jacob who describes Jonah reentering the womb of
the fish as an immaculate conception, prefiguring the birth of Christ by the
Virgin Mary.19
In the belly of the fish, the Sign shifts to become the protector and sus-
tainer of Jonah, in a rather visceral manner. “The son of Mattai descended
and dwelt in Sheol with the mystery (’rāz - %0 6 ) of our Savior/ and the Sign
kept for him the food of insects in the bowels of the fish” (lines 283–284). The
Sign then commands the fish to bring Jonah back to dry land, to the very loca-
tion where Jonah had first heard God’s revelation (lines 319–328).
Jonah hears this time and obeys, preaches to the Ninevites, the city of As-
syria, and at the urging of their king, the Ninevites repent. The Good One no-
tices and repents of the evil actions threatened. But God is glad and Narsai
notes that part of his arsenal had been that hidden Sign (rēmzā kasyā - '50
2). “He drew them in by the hidden Sign to his knowledge/and he gave
the wage of his gentleness for repentance” (lines 403–404).
Jonah is deeply disappointed and sulks in the hot sun, inviting death. But
it is the Sign which rescues him again, making grow the young gourd plant to
shade him (lines 431–432). Moreover, it is the Sign’s design to enable Jonah
to understand what should be his response to God’s redemption of the Nine-
vites. “The Sign bound him by the love of the gourd so that he might again
become wise/so that when he took it he might repent greatly and learn its rea-
son” (lines 437–438).
•W I N K I N G A T J O N A H • 55
This respite did not last, for the Sign was the deliverer of the searing heat
that would wither the plant and take away Jonah’s comfort and assurance. “It
was not the usual sultry heat which came upon the preacher/the Sign heated
him up beyond the norm with heat” (lines 445–446). The Sign itself then di-
rectly addresses Jonah in a long expanded speech, rebuking him for his lack of
pity towards his neighbors. “The Sign whispered to him through a word ac-
cording to his tongue, ‘Why are you sad about the silent one which flourished
suddenly?’” (lines 459–460)
In the first place, the use of the Sign of Jonah in interpreting and direct-
ing the story of Jonah is a clear example of Narsai’s (and Theodore’s) identifi-
cation of the true type and archetype in the Biblical narrative.20 Usually one
would say that Jonah is the type for the fulfilling archetype, Jesus Christ, but
that is not exactly the case here. The Sign refers to the events in which Jonah
is forced to participate, and in particular, the descent into the tomb of the fish
and eventually being vomited out back on to dry land, which is the type of
Christ’s descent into hell and his resurrection. Christ is identified authentical-
ly by his actions, but not Jonah. Although Jonah finally does preach to Nine-
veh according to God’s commandment, the results of his preaching are not
due to his righteousness or desire, but to God’s graciousness—which Jonah res-
ists and resents.
The Sign as type/archetype indicates how the Old and New Testaments
function as one Scripture. The Sign is mentioned only by Jesus in the Gospels
of Matthew and Luke, but Jesus’ words imply a presence of the Sign in the
Old Testament narrative, to which the Old Testament book does not testify.
Narsai inserts the living Sign, in the role of the Spirit initiating and guiding
the action without a sense of ambiguity. There is no sense, moreover, that
Narsai is introducing an anachronistic element into the story, for Scripture
appears to be seamless. The artificial seam separating the Old and New Testa-
ments is not acknowledged. Jesus pointed to the Sign of Jonah to refute his
opponents, so Narsai inserts the Sign into its appropriate and logical places
and roles, a sort of “forward to the past” for his readers so that they might
then return “back to the future.”
One more observation about an important aspect of the story of Jonah
and how Narsai deals with it: Kristian Heal has pointed to Narsai’s construc-
tion of “the scriptural self,” that is, the author inducing the reader to adopt
the ideals, behavior, and sanctity of the Biblical characters being examined.21
This works admirably for many of the Old Testament exemplars, Joseph, Ab-
raham, Job, but certainly not in the same way for Jonah. Jonah has always
been an enigma, a prophet who is an anti-saint. Indeed, Jonah’s strength is as
an anti-model, a prophet without honor, presenting effectively a different road
for the construction of the scriptural self of the reader. Against his best beha-
vior and will, Jonah demonstrates the possibility and impossibility of Christ—
can a human being remain alive three days in the tomb?—thus preparing the
way for a Savior whose archetypal behavior is equally incomprehensible.
The Sign rebukes Jonah in a long final speech (lines 460–496), the some-
how prophet whose greatest fear was that he would be perceived as a prophet
of falsehood in human terms. Jonah’s false perception of the nature of God’s
mercy and grace—that it only extends to Israel—inhibits him from seeing the
reality of God’s salvation among the Ninevites. The Sign exhorts Jonah and
the readers, “Imitate me through pity towards your neighbors” (line 478). That
is, form your scriptural self by imitating the Spirit which usually inspires the
saints to sanctity. But with Jonah, nothing is usual.
•J O N A T H A N L O O P S T R A •
A Syriac Tract for the “Explanation”

of Hebrew and Foreign Words
S
yriac biblical interpretation between the ninth and thirteenth centuries
can be characterized by an attentiveness to readings found in differing
Syriac biblical versions as well as an abiding interest in the
interpretation of Greek and Hebrew words.1 Syriac speakers had long
understood that their Peshitta text had been translated from Hebrew, and
residual elements of this Hebrew translation were obvious.2 At the same time,
the theological controversies of the fifth and sixth centuries lent momentum
to a growing “mirror-like” translation movement which increased awareness of
the importance of the Greek versions in Syriac-speaking circles.3 By the mid-
eighth century, therefore, West Syrian Christians had inherited a number of
Syriac translations of the Old Testament, ranging from the Peshitta, whose
origin lay in the second and third centuries, to the Syro-Hexapla and the
version of Jacob of Edessa, dated, respectively, to the seventh and eighth
centuries.4 It was, perhaps, because of their awareness of this complex
assortment of biblical witnesses that Syriac commentators and exegetes proved
quite versatile in finding ways to correlate and explain the various versions
which they had inherited.5
Recent scholarly work has focused on homilies, exegetical catenae,
theological treatises, and biblical commentaries to help shed light on biblical
interpretation in this period.6 New work on biblical versions such as the Syro-
Hexapla and the version of Jacob of Edessa has established the needed
foundations to make further study possible.7 Yet, despite such progress, one
important part of this literature has remained relatively untouched. I have in
mind pedagogical tracts used to teach elements of Syriac language and biblical
interpretation in the Syriac-speaking schools and churches. A number of such
tracts appear in large pedagogical compilations commonly known as the
“Syriac Masora.” These tracts have been rarely explored and remain largely
unknown.8
The following study will provide a brief overview of one such tract found
in these “masoretic” handbooks. The title of this work is, “An explanation of
58 •J O N A T H A N L O O P S T R A •
Hebrew and foreign words which are in the books of the holy prophets, and
have been explained with much care from the version of the seventy
translators [the Syro-Hexapla] and from the correction of Jacob of Edessa.”9
This tract has never been examined in depth, although it has been puzzled
over by scholars who have not had the leisure to probe its contents.10 The
purpose of the following brief study is to highlight some features of this tract.
By examining this tract, it is hoped that we can understand more about these
“Syriac Masora” manuscripts and the place of these “masoretic” compilations
in the history of later Syriac biblical interpretation.
These “Syriac Masora” pedagogical handbooks were the work of
Christians of Syriac-speaking heritage living in a largely Arabic-speaking world.
These Syriac speakers were faced with the question of how to preserve and
read Syriac translations of the Bible and the Fathers, which had been so
skillfully adapted to Greek syntax and vocabulary at the height of the “mirror-
like” translation movement in the sixth and seventh centuries.11 This genre of
“masoretic reader” facilitated the study of the biblical versions and select
Greek Fathers in Syriac translation by helping students and exegetes in the
Syriac-speaking schools and churches. Well over a dozen large manuscripts of
these “readers” survive, located in libraries and monasteries around the
world.12 Dated to between the tenth through thirteenth centuries, these
manuscripts were labeled by 19th-century Syriacists as the “Syriac Masora”
because of their supposed affinity to the Hebrew Masora.13 The most distinct
feature of these “masoretic” readers is that they only include select, difficult
words and phrases from the Peshitta and Harklean bibles, as well as from the
writings of the Fathers.14 These difficult words are fully vocalized and provided
with diacritical markings, aiding the reader in the correct pronunciation
(orthoepy) of these Syriac writings.
Following these collections of words from the Syriac biblical versions and
the writings of the Fathers is a type of appendix containing smaller tracts on a
range of subjects related to the Bible and Syriac lexicography. One of these
tracts is the aforementioned “Explanation of Hebrew and foreign words.” In
fact, this tract appears in at least eight of these “masoretic” manuscripts.15 The
inclusion of this tract in these larger pedagogical compilations reflects its use
as a pedagogical and/or exegetical help for Syriac-speaking students. As is true
in the collections of difficult words from the Bible and the Fathers which
immediately precede it, this small tract only includes individual words and
phrases; although, unlike in the previous collections, the words in this tract
are not regularly vocalized. Obscure words or short phrases are given first,
followed by a short explanation or definition. As the title of this tract
indicates, these words are taken from both the Old and New Testament
Scriptures. The order of biblical books usually proceeds as follows: Job,
Pentateuch, Joshua, Judges, 1–4 Kings, Proverbs, Song of Songs, Wisdom, the
•A S Y R I A C T R A C T • 59
Minor Prophets, Ezekiel, Jeremiah, Daniel, Ecclesiastes, Psalms, Isaiah, Acts,

the Epistles, and the Gospels.16 This tract opens, in most manuscripts, with a
brief prologue, listing explanations for the “Hebrew” divine names: “God”
(ƆAlāhā), Adonai, El-Shaddai, Sabaoth, and “I am who I am” from Exod 3:14.17
. )30.! ' (God which is interpreted Judge)
. )30.! 8" (Adonai which is interpreted Lord)
. 3 ' )30.! + & (El-Shaddai which is interpreted God
Mighty Forevermore)
."! : )30.! .,(9 (Sabaoth which is interpreted powerful)
;)30.! / (I am who I am, which is interpreted
.+! ' +! He is who he is)
The first explanation, “God, which is interpreted Judge” is notable be-

cause it brings to mind the well-known textual variant in Exod 21:5–6 in
which the Syriac Peshitta reads (“judges”) for the Hebrew ~yhla. The
translators of the English Standard Bible reflect the usual translation of the
Masoretic Text: “But if the slave says, ‘I love my master and my wife and
children; I do not wish to be freed,’ then his master will bring him before God
[italics added]...”18
Whether or not the compiler of this tract had this passage from Exodus in
mind, it is clear that he knew of an interpretative tradition which viewed
“judge” as an adequate explanation for this name of God; quite possibly, this
association came from a familiarity with the Septuagint reading.19
Based on the title of this tract and the contents of this prologue, one
might be tempted to conclude that the entire tract consists only of these con-
cise explanations of Hebrew proper or place names. In actuality, only about
one-quarter of the words in this tract are explanations or etymologies of actual
Hebrew names. One finds, for example, that “Samuel” means “name of God”
(' / /),20 “Melchizadek” means “king of righteousness”
('.< % = > 5 =),21 “Zeporah,” the name of the midwife in Exod 1:15,
means “beauty” ( / 0 9),22 “Moses” means “taken from the water”
( / /),23 etc. Several etymologies also occur in the New Testa-
ment portions of this tract; so, “Thomas” means “abyss” (. .),24
“Capernaum” means “village of comfort” ('! ?"$ ',( ),25 etc. One
doubts whether these personal or place names created lexical difficulties for
the readers of this tract. It is most likely that these (sometimes fanciful) ety-
mologies were valued mostly for their interpretive and exegetical interest.
Whereas some words in this tract share the same root letters with Hebrew,
other words have no Hebrew or Targumic Aramaic cognates. This combina-
tion of Hebrew and non-Hebrew words might be expected because the title of
this tract claims to include both “Hebrew and foreign words.” But it should be
noted that the inclusion of this term “Hebrew” (cEbrāyā) does not necessarily
infer that the compiler of this tract knew Hebrew. Weitzman had earlier po-
sited that the “Hebrew” (cEbrāyā) was often cited by Syriac commentators not
from the Hebrew Bible, but from oral or written knowledge taken from the
Jewish tradition.26 More recent work has suggested that words classified by Sy-
riac commentators as “Hebrew” (cEbrāyā) include many archaisms or anti-
quated expressions that may not bear any true relation to the Hebrew
language.27 The above observations are certainly true for many of the words in
this tract. In short, some words included in this tract are, indeed, Hebrew or
Hebrew cognates. But the majority of words in this tract seem to have been
included because they either reflect difficulties in exegesis and interpretation
or contain variants found in other, non-Peshitta, Syriac biblical versions.
In the explanations from the Book of Job, which immediately follow the
prologue, one can glimpse the more regular patterns found in the remainder
of this tract.28
1. Job 1:1: . : &"( : 3 (A man/A man)

2. Job 1:6: ., ) 8( (Sons of God/Angels)
3. Job 2:11: .= 5$ (Eliphaz/King)
4. Job 2:11: ."4 ( (Bildad/Tyrant)
5. Job 2:11: .= 9 (Zophar/King)
Unlike in the previous examples from the prologue where the initial “He-
brew” name is not always a reading in the Peshitta, here the initial word or
phrase is always from the Peshitta translation. In the first two readings (Job 1:1
and 1:6) this Peshitta text is immediately followed by the equivalent transla-
tion in the Syro-Hexapla. The following three readings (from Job 2:11) list the
names of Job’s three advisors. In each of these instances, the second word in
the sequence, “King” or “Tyrant,” is an insertion taken from the Syro-Hexapla;
a word not found in the Peshitta text.29
This brief glimpse at the explanations from this tract from the beginning
of Job hints at ways the Syro-Hexapla was used by the compiler to provide ex-
planations for words from the Peshitta text. The inclusion of explanations
from the Syro-Hexapla certainly confirms the reference to the “version of the
seventy translators” found in the title of this tract. But recall that this same
title also mentions that some explanations are drawn from the version (or
“correction”) of Jacob of Edessa.30 Is there any evidence for how the compiler
of this tract may have incorporated Jacob’s version into these word selections?
After all, it is not thought that Jacob’s version extended to the entire Old Tes-
tament.31 Unfortunately, the scarcity of manuscripts of Jacob’s version and the
lack of a critical edition of the Syro-Hexapla complicate a comparison of these
two versions and make it difficult to establish a definite pattern to the compi-
ler’s use of both later biblical versions. The problem is exaggerated because
this tract only includes individual words, many of which are identical and do
not change between Jacob’s version and the version of the Syro-Hexapla.
A brief sample of possible ways Jacob’s biblical version was used in this
tract may be seen from the description of Goliath’s armor in 1 Samuel 17:5–
7.32 The highly technical vocabulary in these three verses apparently interested
the compiler here, because he lists explanations for six words in these three
verses; an exceptionally generous number of definitions for such a limited
number of verses.33 The following examples give the word and explanation
found in the tract, followed by the full text of this passage in both the Peshitta
and in Jacob of Edessa’s version. The text of the Syro-Hexapla is, unfortunate-
ly, not extant for this passage.
1. 1 Sam 17:5 . 2 '.0# (Helmet/Helmet [lat. cassis])

2. 1 Sam 17:5 . 0% 24 / (Cuirass of scale armor/Mail)
3. 1 Sam 17:7 . 0 ! / ! (Weight of his cuirass/Weight
of his mail)

4. 1 Sam 17:7 &! (@3 <"%( (Greaves/A stocking

'! </ which was worn on the legs and the thighs)
5. 1 Sam 17:7 2 4 (Corslet/Buckler)
6. 1 Sam 17:7 @% '!= -3 " (Weaver’s beams/Weaver’s
beams).
Peshitta

$
&: [3]/ ! .1 [2]24 / .&( &" [1]'.0#

2 .! ! ! ( &" [5]2 4 .+3-( &" [4]<"%-( .&" !
[6] . -3 " C (5 "
Jacob of Edessa
&: [3];/ ! .' 1 [2]24 / .&( &" [1]'.0#

&" [5] .&" +3@ [4]</
!(
.% &" < # $
[6]-% '!= C " 2 .! ! ! (
The initial words in the first three lines above (nos. 1, 2, 3) can be found
in both the Peshitta text and the version of Jacob of Edessa. These terms re-
main unchanged between versions. Each of these readings is followed, in the
tract, by a Syriac synonym of unknown origin. Unfortunately, because the Sy-
ro-Hexapla is not available here, it is not possible to check to see if these syn-
onyms derive from this source. The fourth reading “greaves” (<"%() is taken
from the Peshitta, while Jacob’s reading differs from the Peshitta and is not
included at all in this instance. Moreover, the Peshitta selection “greaves” is

followed by an extended explanation, not simply a synonym, “a stocking which
was worn on the legs and the thighs.” Similar, elaborated explanations occur
frequently in this tract and show that the compiler was interested in providing
more extended definitions for certain words. Of particular interest are the
fifth and sixth readings. As usual, the Peshitta reading comes first in the tract.
Yet, in both lines the reading in Jacob differs from the Peshitta and it is the
text of Jacob which supplies the second word in the couplet. In these last two
readings, therefore, it seems that the version of Jacob is used to explain the
text of the Peshitta, while this is not the case in the previous examples. Again,
the text of this passage is not available in the Syro-Hexapla, so we have no way
of determining if Jacob is incorporating the Syro-Hexapla.34
As the earlier example from 1 Sam 17 demonstrates, the compiler of this
tract was very interested in providing explanations for technical or relatively
obscure words in the Peshitta. In the three short verses given, most of the
components of Goliath’s armor from the old Peshitta version are provided
with explanations; in two instances (nos. 5 and 6) these explanations are, in
fact, taken from Jacob’s more recent translation of Samuel. It is possible that
some of this technical vocabulary was included because the translation of the
word in question varies considerably between major Syriac biblical versions.
Many other obscure words in this tract are references to the natural world. So,
in Job 9:9 the compiler has explained the term used in the Peshitta for the star
Aldebaran, '. , with the explanation found in the Syro-Hexapla, “star of
the evening” ( &0 ).35
Besides this interest in technical vocabulary, other obscure words incorpo-
rated by the compiler include rare words, archaisms, biblical hapax legomena,
and even a notable quotation from a pagan author. So, for example, the word,
., “staff,” is explained as '." .(0 4: “the scepter of high
priesthood.”36 This term . “staff” (1 Sam 2:32) occurs only once in the Pe-
shitta, although it may have a cognate in Babylonian Jewish Aramaic.37 Cu-
riously, in the New Testament selections the compiler has singled out the
entire saying quoted by Paul in Titus 1:2, “Cretans are always liars.” This is fol-
lowed by a short speculation on the name of the “diviner” whom Paul is quot-
ing.38
The inclusion of the above quote hints that, while the vast majority of
readings in this tract are explanations of obscure words, a few readings were
included more as aids to biblical interpretation, without explicit lexical inter-
est. A good example can be found in the word selections from Genesis where,
having given the “etymology” of the name “Israel,” the compiler, as an aside,
then blames the death of the Messiah upon the sons of Israel.39 One particular
aside occurs regularly throughout the Old Testament selections. Interspersed
between these biblical books are short notes to the reader describing the num-
ber of years each prophet prophesied “before the coming of God in the
flesh.”40 This chronological “countdown” until the coming of the Messiah ef-
fectively places each of the prophets and Old Testament biblical authors in re-
lation to each other and to the advent of Christ. In short, these notes supply a
brief commentary on biblical history in the midst of a multitude of lexical
terms and definitions.
One of the most fascinating features of this tract, and one that deserves
much more future research, is the regular overlap we find with the biblical
commentaries of contemporary West Syrian exegetes such as Dionysius bar
Ṣalibi (d. 1171 AD) and Bar cEbrāyā (d. 1286 AD), as well as the Syriac catenae
tradition. The obscure words commented on by these writers and the explana-
tions they provide for these obscure words are often identical with the words
and explanations found in this tract. For example, the first phrase from Eccle-
siastes in this tract reads, “vanity of vanities [meaning] vapor of vapors”
(3 3 ( ().41 Dionysius, in his commentary on the Syro-
Hexapla of Ecclesiastes, focuses his attention on this particular phrase, quot-
ing three Syriac versions in turn: the Syro-Hexapla ('.<-# '.<#), the
Peshitta ( ( (), and version of Jacob of Edessa (3 3).42 We
see, then, that the explanation attributed by Dionysius to Jacob is identical
with the explanation provided in this tract: 3 3. This same expla-
c
nation (3 3) is given by Bar Ebrāyā in his scholia, although he
does not directly attribute the reading to Jacob.43 In at least one manuscript of
the Syro-Hexapla this explanation is attributed, in the margins, to Aquila and
Theodotion.44
Although this tract is found in manuscripts of West Syrian provenance,
there are substantial similarities with the explanations given for difficult words
by East Syriac sources.45 For example, comparison of the difficult words and
explanations from the eighth-century writer Theodore bar Koni’s Scholion with
the words included in this tract indicate significant overlap. This overlap ex-
tends to difficult technical expressions, Hebrew calques, cognates, and arc-
haisms; even, at one point, the shared reference to a Persian loanword,
-.46
Conclusion
A cursory survey of this tract reveals that the compiler worked his way through
the Old Testament, interpreting select words from the Peshitta text with words
from the Syro-Hexapla, the version of Jacob of Edessa, or other sources. The
compiler’s method is certainly not rigid and inflexible. Although his definite
interest is in defining specific words and phrases from the Peshitta, he often
varies the version he uses to provide the explanation. It is clear that in his
choice of obscure words to be explained, as well as in his chosen explanations,

the compiler of this tract is working with a much larger interpretive tradition.
This genre of difficult word lists is a valuable field of study and one that may
help us better understand the relationship between these pedagogical hand-
books, the “Syriac Masora,” and the later Syriac commentary and exegetical
tradition.
•N I C O L A E R O D D Y •
Does the Orthodox Lectionary

Subvert the Gospel? The Pericope of
the Parable of the Wicked
Husbandmen (Matt 21:36–46) 1
A
s an Eastern Orthodox scholar of the Hebrew Bible, faithful to both
Church and conscience, every year on the 13th Sunday after Pentecost,
I stand in the Divine Liturgy of my local parish and listen to a Gospel
pericope from the Pentacostarion that is abruptly truncated. The interruption
of the pericope is not all that noticeable to most worshipers and would not
necessarily be a problem in and of itself, but I wish to argue that the absence
of these lines has serious implications for the hearers in understanding the
role of Jesus Christ in the parable, in the gospel overall, and most importantly
in shaping attitudes of Orthodox laity throughout the centuries. This paper
examines the theological and social implications of this truncated reading and
pleads for the restoration of these key verses (44–46) to the Orthodox
lectionary for the greater spiritual well-being of the Church and authenticity to
her own Scripture.
As a human construct it seems appropriate to question certain instances
in which a particular lectionary reading might actually be counterproductive to
the life of the Spirit, which the Orthodox Church seeks to preserve. As such a
case, the present paper examines the Matthean pericope of the Parable of the
Wicked Husbandmen (Matt 21:33–46 // Mark 12:1–12 // Luke 20:9–19), as
prescribed in the Pentacostarion for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost (and
elsewhere during the liturgical year), in light of the prophetical literature of
the sixth century BC. It asserts that this literary unit is abruptly truncated at
verse 43, resulting in the omission of information key to understanding the
role of Jesus Christ in the pericope, within the gospel overall, and most
importantly in the hearing of Orthodox laity throughout the centuries. The
paper examines both the theological and social implications of this truncated
reading and, on the authority of the Older Testament, pleads the case for
restoring these key verses (44–46) for the purpose of enhancing the spiritual
health of the Church through greater fidelity to the Gospel.
The origins of the Orthodox lectionary readings are obscured by history.2
The practice of liturgical reading goes back to the synagogue, where the
reading of Scripture is known as miqra, literally a “calling together.” Although
the Church drew largely upon Jewish models, by the fourth century it had
developed its own system of lectionary readings based primarily on the New
Testament and spread over books governing the various liturgical offices and
cycles. Subsequent developments in the Christian East produced relatively
minor differences between Greek and Slavic liturgical traditions. The upshot
is that for centuries, New Testament pericopes, such as the Parable of the
Wicked Husbandman, which can be easily interpreted as advocating the
condemnation of Jews on the basis of a perceived wholesale Jewish rejection of
Jesus Christ, have continued to be read and interpreted in readings from the
Menalogion, Menaion, Pentacostarion, and especially the Lenten Triodion,
with historically disastrous results. The dark past of Orthodox nations in
eastern Europe is especially replete with pogroms occurring as a response to
anti-Jewish rhetoric associated with the Great Lent even into the modern
period.3
The historical causes of this phenomenon are rooted deep in the middle
of the Pax Romana (ca. 27–180 AD) at the end of the first century. However,
the combination of Roman imperial pressure (that regarded this emerging new
religion as an upstart “atheistic” religion distinct from Judaism—which as a
determinedly defensive monotheistic faith was not required to offer public
sacrifice to the Roman pantheon), and the fact that the vast majority of Jews
outside the movement remained largely unaffected by Christian claims
regarding Jesus, made it possible for an isolated and defensive community to
view the vast diversity of Second Temple Period Judaism (with all of its various
sects and parties and degrees of Greco-Roman cultural assimilation) as one
detestable and Christ-denying monolithic entity. An example of this is
reflected in the Gospel according to John:
Jesus said to them…“You are from your father the devil, and you choose to do your fa-
ther’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning and does not stand in the truth,
because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks according to his own na-
ture, for he is a liar and the father of lies…Whoever is from God hears the words of
God. The reason you do not hear them is that you are not from God.”4
According to John, Pilate refuses to crucify Jesus under Roman law, so he

hands him over to Jewish authorities who are made responsible for his death.
Thus “the Jews” come to be regarded as the wholesale Other, responsible for
deicide, when these Jewish words against fellow Jews—not so unlike the
exclusivist, dejected outlook expressed in other sectarian documents such as
• ORTHODOX LECTIONARY AND THE GOSPEL• 67
the War Scroll from the caves near Qumran—are quickly taken up by non-
Jewish Christians against the same demonized enemy, only contemporized and
with far more disastrous results.
Such New Testament texts served as the platform for the Patristic Adversos
Judaeos trend that spanned the second to sixth centuries and reinforced the
notion that Jews were an apostate people guilty of deicide and the direct
enemies of God. As much as Orthodox biblical scholars revere St. John
Chrysostom for his face-to-the-text exegesis, one must not overlook his overt
assertion that ancient Israel was not only abandoned for its widespread
idolatry, murder, adultery, or fornication, but “because they killed the son of
their Benefactor.”5 There should be absolutely no question that Chrysostom
was motivated more by his frustration with Judaizing Christians than Jews per
se, but like the Gospel of John and other NT texts, it is the concrete surface of
the literal text to which people respond—not whatever else may be hidden
within the author’s mind. Whatever his intent, Chrysostom stated that
Israelites practiced infanticide and even cannibalized their own babies!
Chrysostom’s condemnation of Jews was not directed primarily to those
living at the time of Christ, but directed at Judaizing Christians in his own
age, people he explicitly identified as Jews, which he characterized as base and
immoral:
The synagogue is not only a whorehouse and a theater; it is also a den of thieves and a
haunt of wild animals…not the cave of a wild animal merely, but of an unclean wild
animal….The Jews have no conception of things at all, but living for the lower nature,
all agog for the here and now, no better disposed than pigs or goats, they live by the
rule of debauchery and inordinate gluttony. Only one thing they understand: to gorge
themselves and get drunk.6
Liturgically, however, it is the hymnography of the Church that presents

more serious implications for anti-Jewish polemic, for here poetic assertions of
a dogmatic nature give authority to anti-Jewish language by association. While
other religious traditions have been sensitive to the implications of such
language as being contrary to the life of the Gospel and have taken measures
to transform these readings, the Orthodox tradition as a whole solidly retains
its anti-Jewish language and thus presents it de facto as dogma.7
Returning now to the pericope in question, ascribed to the hypothetical
Q, Jesus of Nazareth is depicted as offering a mashal concerning a group of
shameful, unruly husbandmen who beat and kill their landlord’s agents sent
to collect his share of the harvest. Following this violent act, the landowner
sends his son to collect the fruits, thinking, albeit naively, that they will respect
him. However the wicked tenants also murder the son in order to maintain
their adverse possession, or “squatters’ rights,” over the fruits of the land.
The answer to the rhetorical question at the end of the parable, in which
Jesus asks the crowd what the landowner will do when he himself comes to
visit these wicked tenants, is “He shall put those wretches to a miserable death
and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the
harvest time” (verse 41).
The lectionary reading—but not the gospel pericope—ends with its nimshal;
that is, the mashal’s explanatory, real life referent:
Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the scriptures: ‘The stone that the build-
ers rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is amazing
in our eyes’? Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you
and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom. The one who falls on
this stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls.”8
Ending the reading here invites a facile popular interpretation of Jesus as

somehow the first Christian, who authoritatively foretells and therefore gives
tacit approval to his Father’s divine punitive and wholesale destruction of Jews
for killing the Son of God. Only in recent times has the distinction been
explicitly made that it is the wicked whom God will destroy, not Jews qua Jews.
However, the key to the pericope and the completion of its structural unity is
found in verses 45–46, which for whatever reason has been left out of the
Orthodox lectionary reading:
When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they understood that he
was speaking about them. When they sought to seize him, they feared the people, be-
cause they considered him to be a prophet.
Restoring the full reading, the conflict is no longer between God and “the
Jews,” but Jesus, perceived by the people to be a prophet, and the Jewish
leadership of the time. The socially-conditioned association of Jews with the
devil, as in the case of John’s Gospel, is potentially dangerous enough in itself.
It makes no sense to abuse the Gospel further and increase the likelihood that
Scripture will be misunderstood for historically murderous ends.
So how might the Older Testament shed light on this passage and use its
canonical authority to influence a sorely needed corrective to the lectionary
reading in order to better serve the Gospel in the spiritual life of the Orthodox
Church? During the course of my research into the Older Testament, I have
identified a pattern that offers an effective pedagogical purpose, which I refer
to as the “Prophetical Priestly Perspective of the Exile.” In nuce, this approach
to understanding the Older Testament begins from the historical platform of
the Babylonian Exile, following the destruction of Jerusalem’s palace-temple
complex in 586 BC and the subsequent exile of its royal and priestly
aristocracy in a six-month trudge to Babylon. This loud and enduring, multi-
vocal critique arose out of a small group of exiles representing formerly
disparate royal and priestly backgrounds. These priestly and royal exiles laid
aside their despair and their longstanding and sometimes nasty differences
long enough to work out the question collectively of why history for them had
come to a sudden devastating halt, especially since just two decades earlier,
King Josiah had been regarded (at least by the biblical writer) as the
representative of God’s sovereignty over Israel. But now in order to account
for why the Temple lay in ruins, the writer must assert that the sins of
Manasseh had outweighed all the virtues of Josiah. Was the Babylonian god
Marduk stronger than YHWH? If not, then only YHWH himself could have
brought about the destruction of his own house. The question for this vocal
minority, then, was “why”? And the cause they came up with was brutally self-
directed.
I have identified three institutions in which the Bible writer, most notably
the so-called Deuteronomistic Historian, author-editor of the corpus
traditionally known as the Former Prophets, directs his critique. The pattern
that seems to emerge, on the basis of 20/20 hindsight from a post-destruction
perspective, is that the covenant people had placed their trust in human
institutions which by their natures could not save them, namely: (1) Israel’s
royal and priestly leadership, a subject to which we will return in the following
pages; (2) human means of self-defense; that is, chariots of iron as opposed to
chariots and horses of fire; and (3) fortified cities, including Jerusalem, whose
massive Iron Age walls offered no protection against those whom God would
raise up against them.9
Affirming in hindsight that Israel’s leadership had failed, the so-called
Deuteronomistic Historian affirmed that the institution of the monarchy as
described in 1 Sam 8 was a bad idea from the start; that God would regret that
he had made Saul king (1 Sam 15); that David could break seven of ten
commandments in one fateful afternoon; that Solomon’s lapse of wisdom in
falling into the idolatry of his thousand wives would split the kingdom; that
every king ever to sit on the throne of Israel or Judah would range from bad to
worse to reprobate; that Jeroboam I would be responsible for the eventual
destruction of Samaria, just as King Manasseh would be responsible for the
destruction of Jerusalem. Even King Josiah, the darling of the
Deuteronomistic Historian, was portrayed as fallible. Rending his clothes in
the traditional sign of anguish in realizing that he had fallen short of the
standard set by the Book of the Law newly found in the Temple, he can be
judged “good” only insofar as he realized that he had not been good.
Focusing on the prophetic critique of royal and priestly leadership, we
find support within the prophetic oracles themselves. Hosea proclaims:
Hear this, O priests!
Give heed, O house of Israel!
Listen, O house of the king!
For the judgment pertains to you;
for you have been a snare at Mizpah,
and a net spread upon Tabor,
and a pit dug deep in Shittim;

but I will punish all of them. (5:1–2)
Likewise, Jeremiah proclaims:

As a thief is shamed when caught,
so the house of Israel shall be shamed—
they, their kings, their officials,
their priests, and their prophets,
who say to a tree, ‘You are my father’,
and to a stone, ‘You gave me birth.’
For they have turned their backs to me,
and not their faces.
But in the time of their trouble they say,
‘Come and save us!’ (2:26–28)
and elsewhere,
For the [royal] houses of Israel and Judah
have been utterly faithless to me, says the Lord.
They have spoken falsely of the Lord,
and have said, ‘He will do nothing.
No evil will come upon us.’ (5:11–12)
Finally, in agreement with the Deuteronomistic Historian, Jeremiah

proclaims the divine judgment that the sins of Manasseh are responsible for
the destruction of Jerusalem:
I will make them a horror to all the kingdoms of the earth because of what King Ma-
nasseh son of Hezekiah of Judah did in Jerusalem (Jer 15:4).
Out of the many portraits of Jesus that have emerged from the quest for
the historical Jesus one aspect is certain: namely that Jesus was viewed by his
early followers as standing in the line of true biblical prophets stretching from
Moses, as the author of Matthew’s Gospel attempts to show, through Elijah
and Elisha, and through Jeremiah, who by the way I believe is the
Deuteronomist’s “prophet like me” who predicts ex eventu in the mouth of
Moses in Deut 18:15.
Without restoring the structural integrity and essential data of the Wicked
Tenant pericope, re-establishing Jesus in the context of the true biblical
prophets, the Gospel reading for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost does a major
disservice to the Gospel and therefore the spiritual life of the Church. True,
there are far more slanderous and potentially dangerous readings in our
Tradition, case in point the verses of Holy Friday Matins usually read on
Thursday evening, but these must be considered on another occasion.
In conclusion, if it can be demonstrated that a particular reading actually
subverts the spirit of the Gospel and is therefore counterproductive to the
spiritual life of the Church, then responsible pastors of the flock, in

traditional Orthodox fashion, should undertake to rectify the situation, even if
only a grassroots, parish by parish correction is possible. If the Church would
be true to its oldest tradition, the Gospel as rooted in the Hebrew Bible, it
would hearken to the prophets and level the prophetic Word against itself; for
true biblical faith at its core consists of rigorous self-examination and scathing
self-conviction, lest in our blindness we trip over our own self-righteous hubris
and plunge headlong into hell.
•T I M O T H Y S C O T T C L A R K •

The Prokeimenon and Poetics
in Eastern Liturgy
T
he starting point for this paper is my interest in the mechanisms of
biblical interpretation and how these are advanced in liturgical and
other communal ritual settings. In researching ritual biblical texts, I
have been exploring the ways in which books purporting to be biblical
legislation are structured to receive their authorization through the public
proclamation of the text itself. While my research is centered entirely on ritual
texts of the Old Testament, the conceptual issues that it raises have directed
my attention as well to the ways in which Christian sacred texts, which found
themselves in need of a similar public authorization against the background of
the Old Testament, were promoted to their audiences in the ancient Eastern
Christian rites. In this paper, I would like to focus on the special role of
psalmodic responsoral readings in advancing both the scriptural validity of the
New Testament readings and in engaging the liturgical audience in the poetics
of Christian biblical interpretation.
A famous passage from Ignatius’ Letter to the Philadelphians cites a
conversation with members of the Philadelphian congregation concerning the
relationship of the textual record of received scriptural documents with the
particulars of the gospel proclamation. According to Ignatius, his interlocutors
questioned the gospel’s validity by attacking the accuracy of the
correspondences between the original scriptural texts and the gospel texts that
purported to be in accordance with them. Specifically, they argued, “Unless I
find it in the archives, I do not believe in the gospel” (eva.n mh. evn toi/j
avrxei/oij eu]rw( evn tw|/ euvaggeli/w| ouv pisteu/w ouv pisteu,w). To Ignatius’
affirmation that, indeed, the proclamation of the gospel “is written”
(ge/graptai) in the scriptural texts, they replied skeptically, “that is the
question [that is laid out before us]” (pro/keitai). Ignatius responds to this
charge by telling his readers, “But to me the archives are Jesus Christ; the holy
archives are his cross and his death and his resurrection and the faith which is
74 •T I M O T H Y S C O T T C L A R K •
through him” (evmoi. de. avrxei/a estin vIhsouj Cristo/j( ta. a;qikta avrxei/a o`
stauro.j auvtou/ kai. h` pi/stij h` di v auvtou/).1
The skeptical response to Ignatius’ confident assertion that the gospel is
written in the archives of the Scripture lies at the root of what I would like to
address in this paper. The skeptics’ choice of language reflects a semantic
ambiguity that would later be exploited subtly in developing liturgical
structures in the Eastern church. When Ignatius tersely claims, “ge/graptai—
it is written,” his opponents answer, with equal brevity, “pro/keitai.” The
verb they choose (or at least the word that Ignatius uses in characterizing their
dialogue) has a significant semantic range, but all possible aspects of the
word’s meaning are based in some fashion on the literal sense of the verbal
compound, which translates, “to be laid out before.” This verb has also been
famously incorporated into the liturgical structure known as the prokeimenon, a
series of psalm verses that are delivered in a verse-refrain structure prior to the
reading of scriptural texts. Most frequently, particularly in modern Orthodox
liturgical practice, these texts are from the New Testament, although setting a
prokeimenon before the reading of Old Testament texts is also common. It is
my contention here that the liturgical function of the prokeimenon both mirrors
the question that Ignatius’ interlocutors ask—does the gospel conform to the
“archives” of Scripture?—and is designed to provide an affirmative response.
The liturgical institution of the prokeimenon is an outgrowth of one of the
earliest forms of communal Christian worship (second and third centuries):
responsoral psalmody. The texts of responsoral psalmodies were designed for
congregations whose knowledge of the Psalter was minimal (as opposed to
monks or trained cantors, who would be expected to have the Psalter
committed to memory), yet who wished to engage actively in the recitation of
the Psalter during the service.2 The delivery mechanism was quite simple: a
cantor would begin by delivering a refrain—either a verse from the psalms or
an “Alleluia”—which the congregation would then repeat. After this initial
response, the cantor would chant other lines of the psalm, with the
congregation continuing to repeat the initial refrain after each verse. The verse
and response reading would end when the cantor read only the first line of the
response refrain, which would then be completed by the congregation.3
The prokeimenon is one of the few portions of liturgical responsoral
psalmody in which this structure is still actively maintained, even if the
number of verses read in its contemporary setting has been dramatically
reduced, in most cases now constituting only a refrain and one verse. Its
preservation is perhaps not accidental, since the prokeimenon and the Alleluia
responsoral that precede the New Testament readings during the liturgy are
the portions of the service most actively involved in presenting the
congregation with communication between various elements of the biblical
text. As such, it is the portion of the liturgical cycle where the active
•A Q U E S T I O N F O R T H E A U D I E N C E • 75
engagement of the congregation with specific biblical texts is of the highest

importance, and therefore a place where an investigation of how meaning is
produced through the juxtaposition of these texts most crucial.
In its liturgical setting, I know of no evidence to suggest that the meaning
of the liturgical term prokeimenon is not relatively straightforward: the psalm
verses are those texts that are “laid out before” the reading of other scriptural
texts that bear witness to the proclamation of the apostolic kerygma, whether
this takes the form of the new interpretive texts that form the New Testament
or particular texts of the Old Testament scripture. The term is a basic liturgical
instruction, informing the reader that this set of psalm texts is supposed to
precede a set of formal scriptural readings. They are not verses that are to be
read for other liturgical purposes. However, while there is no reason to think
that the prokeimenon is given its liturgical title for any reason beyond the simply
practical, I believe that reading this liturgical term in light of the
aforementioned discussion in Ignatius’ letter—in which pro/keitai was used to
suggest the statement of a question—can help shed some light on the ways in
which psalm texts are used as a method of authorizing scriptural texts in a
liturgical setting.
If the prokeimenon asks a question, it is the same as that proposed by
Ignatius’ antagonists: what is the relationship between the Old Testament and
the Christian proclamation, and how and why is it that the orthodox
Christian interpretation of scripture should be read as a necessary consequence
of the Old Testament documents? The Christian response to the Old
Testament proposed by Ignatius and his successors is, of course, not the only,
nor even a very likely, hermeneutical result of scriptural reading. Other forms
of early Christianity, including those branches usually lumped together as
“Gnostic,” as well as a variety of ancient Jewish schools of interpretation,
would and did come to very different conclusions about the meaning of the
Scriptural corpus.
The mere act of placing the prokeimenon texts before New Testament
readings, or before Old Testament readings that are read as obvious supports
to the underlying Christian kerygma, enlists liturgical structure itself in making
a bold assertion that there is an existential link between the two texts. Simply
by setting the texts together, the liturgical order implicitly claims that the
psalm verses of the prokeimenon are relevant to the specifics of Christian
interpretation. The ritual structure itself is making what is essentially a poetic
claim: that one set of texts and their motifs may legitimately be interpreted
against another set, and that the meaning that comes from this interpretation
is both valid and revelatory of meaning deeper than that which could be
gained from either text considered in isolation from the other. This is an
aggressive liturgical move that seeks to pre-empt the question of Ignatius’
inquisitors about the relevance of the New Testament texts to an established
scriptural foundation, by conscripting the language and myths of the Old

Testament into a participatory congregational rite designed to exalt central
propositions of orthodox Christianity. According to the liturgical structure,
the Christian documents are valid by the mere fact of their ritual combination
with the phrases of the Old Testament. If one accepts the legitimacy of the
worship itself, then not only the importance of the New Testament readings,
but also their relevance to the Old Testament scripture, is forcibly affirmed.4
As an adjunct to the raw suggestions of its liturgical placement, it is also
necessary to consider the role of the prokeimenon as poetry. As a category of
responsoral psalmody, the prokeimenon always utilizes psalm verses, and this
reliance on psalms, which are themselves poetic compositions, is a goad to
analyzing the role of the prokeimenon as advancing a poetic response to the
interplay between the Old Testament and the Christian texts that interpret it.
One of the most noticeable elements of prokeimenon texts, and particularly the
responsoral refrains, is a general reliance on typology: an assertion that a
particular figure, event, or device in scripture replicates another figure from
Christian mythology, and that the similarity of the scriptural figure to the
Christian counterpart imbues the Christian image with the scriptural text’s
presumed cosmological importance. Typology is not an interpretive device that
reads elements of the Old Testament as mere stand-ins for figures of Christian
mythology.5 Instead, it is a form of poetics, of reading texts with similar or
complementary motifs against each other and, in so doing, molding a new
literary and intellectual creation. This new idea is guided by the author toward
a particular hermeneutical outcome, but an outcome that is fundamentally
controlled by the deeper themes of the established texts upon which it draws.
In speaking of the poetics of scripture, I am referring to the ways in which
the motifs of scriptural documents are recycled through the juxtaposition of
texts and then reproduced with new, more complex meanings.6 Such allusion
to and juxtaposition of well-known, weighty cultural texts is a commonplace of
literature that aspires to be read as a coherent contribution to the stream of
the author’s inheritance. Such texts may be a commentary on and a critique of
that inheritance, but also speak to and for it. Rather than overturning their
literary patrimony, these literary “children” embrace those elements of the
parent tradition that they find most deeply true, and then read the entire
tradition in the light of these central strains. Such readings require their
audiences to respect the integrity of the parent tradition, as the interpretive
stance of the new literary position is dependent on the validity of the older
system.
In the orthodox Christian tradition, an early recognition of this poetic
system is found in Irenaeus, who mocks his Gnostic opponents at length in
the beginning of his work Against the Heresies. Irenaeus’ sarcastic criticism is
based less on the inherent logical impossibility of Gnostic theological systems,
•A Q U E S T I O N F O R T H E A U D I E N C E • 77
but rather on the fact that they do not cohere with any received text, despite
their frequent citations of both the law and the prophets and the Apostles.7
The various Gnostic systems, in Irenaeus’ estimation, are fundamentally
erected ex nihilo from the minds of Gnostic thinkers, and it is this flaw, rather
than some fault of their metaphysics, that dooms Gnostic theologies to
irrelevance. The Gnostic universe is not so much false to Irenaeus as it is
random, with no grounding in received forms. The failure of Gnostic theology
lies in its inability to comment meaningfully on the texts of Old Testament
scripture, in its failure to speak to the tradition from which Irenaeus believes
any proper theological system must naturally spring.
While Irenaeus makes his case over a lengthy theological treatise, liturgical
rites do not have the luxuries of space or the endless attention of a
congregation for sustained theological argumentation. Instead, texts presented
within a ritual context must make their hermeneutical stance known in a
much more compressed fashion, and they must do so indirectly. The
prokeimenon is used liturgically to assert that the New Testament texts read in
Christian worship are not random, that they are connected in an organic way
to predecessor texts and in fact advance the central precepts of those texts. In
so doing, the prokeimenon offers an answer to the “question” of the textual
relationship of the New Testament to the essential archives of the Old
Testament, which are themselves the source of cosmological reality for their
readers.
Expressing such textual recycling liturgically in ritual structures like the
prokeimenon, is critical for two reasons. First, texts are not alone in requiring a
grounding in recognized forms to achieve significance for their recipients.
Indeed, successful rituals must be based on forms that are somehow
recognizable to their performers; even if one wishes to do so, one cannot
simply create a ritual from whole cloth, since it would then lose any grounding
in the structure of reality recognized by its participants.8 The use of familiar
psalms read in a participatory form—responsoral psalmody—that had early
become an accepted form of liturgical expression, further encouraged the
acceptance of New Testament readings as being themselves scriptural.
Liturgically encasing New Testament readings within Old Testament
Scriptural texts facilitated the New Testament readings’ attainment of the
same status granted to the Old Testament. In ritual, as in literature, no
element can be fully “original.” Instead, rituals cobble together elements of
received tradition to create intellectual structures that their audiences can
comprehend precisely because of their interior similarities to familiar
predecessors.
Second, whether the prokeimenon is read before a New Testament
document, or before an Old Testament text that is intended to be understood
as a typological witness to Christian theology, its function is to lay the
foundation for the congregation’s understanding of that particular text. Not

only does the liturgical arrangement of the prokeimenon encourage the
congregation to appreciate the theoretical connections between the text, but
the juxtaposition of texts requires an attentive congregation to engage in the
hermeneutical project themselves. The ritual office asserts that texts are
connected to each other, but it is incumbent on each member of the
congregation to consider how this is so, to consider the range of poetic and
interpretive possibilities inherent in combining the images and exhortations of
each text.9 This process is facilitated by liturgical authors when prokeimenon
texts are specifically chosen to accompany the readings that follow them; the
selection of the prokeimenon psalm verses is designed to elicit a primary
association from the audience, although secondary linkages, even those not
intended by textual arrangement, are possible in the course of ruminating on
the texts. Yet in cases where prokeimenon verses are less directly associated with
the lectionary readings that follow—as in the case of the prokeimena for regular
Sunday resurrectional liturgies, where the prokeimena simply repeat over an
eight week cycle, instead of being chosen to accompany specific readings—the
imperative of interpretation rests far more heavily on the congregation itself.
In these instances, the question found in Ignatius, “What does the gospel have
to do with the archives of the Old Testament?” is a far more open-ended
inquiry, one that invites deep exploration of the connections between
disparate texts.
•E D I T H M. H U M P H R E Y •
Grand Entrance: Entrance into

Worship as Rhetorical Invitation and
Liturgical Precedent in
the Older Testament
Not a temple made by hands, but the opening of the heavens, the world transfigured
into a temple, all life into the liturgy—such is the foundation of the Christian lex
orandi.1
I
n these poignant and universal terms, Fr. Alexander Schmemann
describes the church as a praying body, invited by the living God to enter
into a reality, company and action far beyond our thought or imagination.
Entrance into the heavens is the basis for Christian prayer. Some might
consider Fr. Schmemann’s words to be overly expansive, an overstatement
born of the Eastern Christian tradition and of a poetic mind. However,
recourse to the historic liturgies and hymnody of East and West confirms that
the motif of “entrance” is remarkably pervasive. Indeed, developed in various
ways through the centuries, the theme is foundational both in a theological
and a historical sense. In particular, worship as entrance finds an august place
in the scriptures of the Older2 Testament, from which it is carried,
transformed by Christ, into the New Covenant Tradition, so that its distinct
mark is made in the New Testament and sub-apostolic writings, as well as in
the liturgies.
This study represents the first stage in a project that addresses controver-
sies concerning worship in North American ecclesial communities. My work-
ing hypothesis is that the Western “worship wars” must be contextualized by a
recovery of the compelling and ancient idea that worship is something into
which we enter, not something created at will out of whole cloth.3 My point of
departure for the project is the biblical analysis of key Older Testament texts,
80 •E D I T H M. H U M P H R E Y •
an analysis of passages where worship is directly described, as well as where

“entrance” emerges as visual symbol, rhetorical invitation or theological in-
sight. Applying a literary-rhetorical method to those Scriptures where the mo-
tifs of “entrance” and worship converge, I intend to demonstrate how this idea
is deeply embedded in the tabernacle/temple worship of the OT, and in the
underlying view of God’s cosmos as interconnected. In particular, the Psalms,
Chronicles and Isaiah picture the boundary between heaven and earth as star-
tlingly permeable, and invite God’s people to join in a synaxis not confined to
the inhabitants of the human realm. This perspective continues into NT and
early formative writings, although the connection between early Christian li-
turgy and the synagogue and temple cult is complex, as we have heard from
Oesterly,4 Dix,5 Bouyer,6 Kavanagh,7 Senn8 and others. The theme is continued
and amplified in the Eastern liturgical tradition, and is not ignored in the
Western liturgies, either. As a prominent and foundational concept, the motif
of entrance offers a salutary perspective for those embroiled in the contempo-
rary liturgical debates of the West. It is also a strong corrective to those who
hold a romantic idea of free-form, individualist and fundamentally non-
corporeal worship—assumptions that have plagued the academy and Protestant
churches alike.
In passages in Exodus, 1 Chronicles (3 Kingdoms), the Psalter, Isaiah and
Ezekiel, we find different uses of the motif of entrance. We come across the
tantalizing yet reserved mystical narrative where Moses and the elders com-
mune with the holy God, the clear invitation to Temple worshipers as they re-
joice and tremble before the glorious Judge, and the promises and warnings of
prophets who have seen the heavens opened. In such passages, we can note
how the theme of entrance encompasses and is adapted to the separate offices
of prophet, priest, king and worship-leader (Levitic or Aaronic), for the sake of
Israel. I will confine my remarks to Isa 6. This passage is by all accounts a
touchstone in coming to terms with the impact of a holy God upon humanity,
and therefore was aptly prominent in the preaching of the early Church, and
in early and later Christian liturgies.
It is significant for the Biblical analyst as well as for the theologian and li-
turgical specialist that chapter six is a structural key to the first part of the
prophet Isaiah. Several commentators remark that, in terms of the final com-
position, the chapter functions as a hinge, joining together chapters 1–5 and
7–12. It follows immediately upon the poignant “song of the vineyard” in Isa
5, where readers hear about the just anger and judgment of the Lord, and en-
counter the prophetic picture of light growing dark with clouds. (The ongoing
influence of Isa 5 is discernible near the onset of the Divine Liturgy, where the
celebrant asks the Sovereign Lord to “look upon his vineyard” with pleasure, a
prayer followed by reverent entry, cf. Isa 6, into the divine presence.) Follow-
ing Isa 6, every chapter from 7 through 12 promises God’s presence among his
•G R A N D E N T R A N C E : E N T R A N C E I N T O W O R S H I P • 81
people and anticipates or longs for their entry into full peace (Isa 7:14; 8:10;
9:6; 10:21–2; 11:10; 12:6).
Entry is foundational to Isa 6. The prophet is taken, unprepared, into the
divine presence, a crisis so startling and formative9 that he marks it with a
temporal note (the death of King Uzziah). Commentators squabble as to
whether his vision is portrayed as occurring while he is in the earthly Temple
of Jerusalem or whether it is wholly a vision, concerned with the heavenly
sanctuary alone. The text itself indicates that the debate is moot, and that Fr.
Christopher Seitz is correct: the vision “takes place within the temple itself,
even as it explodes the limitations of that sacred space.”10 His understanding is
shared both by the Jewish commentator Rashi and the Latin commentator Je-
rome.11 Though the nouns heykal (Hebrew) and oikos (Greek) may refer to “pa-
lace” or “house,” they are often used in the Older Testament (MT and LXX)
for the temple of the Lord, and references to smoke (of incense and offering),
doorposts, prayers, worship and the altar confirm the context.12 The most nat-
ural reading of Isa 6:1 is that Isaiah saw into the heaven of heavens, where the
Lord was on high—and yet, the divine train filled the earthly temple, his glory
irradiating the house where his people worshipped him. This marriage of tran-
scendence and immanence is confirmed by the song of the seraphim, who
speak with one breath of the “holy” (separate) God whose glory fills the earth.
As Otto Kaiser remarks, we are to understand “the Jerusalem temple as the
place in which heaven and earth come into contact.”13 As Fr. Schmemann re-
minds us, “Standing in the temple we stand in heaven.”14
We begin, then, with the shocking juxtaposition of the eternal and im-
mense God in connection with time and space—a specific time in Judean his-
tory, and a specific space at the Jerusalem altar. The prophet directs his gaze
immediately to the scene by which he is enraptured: if the glory of the Lord is
more than the prophet can bear, he meditates upon the appearance, aspect
and refrain of the seraphim. Here again we find surprising juxtapositions, for
the seraphim are like and unlike us, with faces and feet like humankind, but
with wings by which they both fly and exhibit modesty (over against characte-
ristic human shamelessness) before God. In their actions of seeing, covering,
and moving, they are living symbols of awe, humility, and action. By God’s
grace they see the living God—and so they cover in awe. Because of their crea-
tureliness, they are aware of their distance from God—and so they humbly cov-
er their “meaner” parts.15 And yet they are meant to fly and to cry out—and so
they do God’s will while they praise him, because that is what they are meant
to do. Their very song underscores the strangeness of the scene—here is a Lord
who is wholly other, and yet with his creation. Perhaps we are meant to im-
agine the one exclaiming “Holy, holy, holy Lord” and the other responding
antiphonally “The whole earth is full of his glory!” Their demeanor and action
proclaims the nature of the One for whom they sing.
This is not the only vision-report that contains, embedded within it, key
propositions of a mysterious nature. The prophet perhaps had trained his gaze
upon the two seraphim because they were more easily contemplated than the
One upon the throne—yet to look on them is to be drawn back to worship the
Source of their light and life. The vision, full of action, complication, and
parts, is interpreted by their antiphonal hymn, which centers upon God’s holy
separateness and God’s immanence.
Immediately, there is a reaction to their word (or rather to the One whom
the song celebrates). Strangely, though two seraphim16 have been singing, the
prophet speaks in the singular of the “one whose voice calls.” At that voice,
there is both a shaking and smoke. The impact of the almighty is felt and seen,
but felt and seen in such a way that feeling and seeing is disturbed, for shaking
and smoke impede the senses. To perceive that One is to know that percep-
tion is inadequate, and so the revelation is both positive and negative, a matter
of disoriented sensibilities and sight. In this shaking and smoking the major
actor is the “Voice of the one who calls,” the initiator of all. To follow the
phenomenon back to its origin is again to have attention trained upon the
One who cannot be apprehended, the One upon the throne.
The prophet embodies the appropriate human reaction: immediately he
acknowledges his personal sinfulness, the sinfulness of his community, and
the disjunction between who he is and the One whom he has glimpsed. Each
and all are seen in relief against the Heavenly Glory. Some have fastened upon
this reaction of Isaiah as the center of the entire passage, as though the expe-
rience of the prophet were the thing at issue here. The passage is made to ad-
dress the nature of the prophet’s experience—an initial call vision, a special
commissioning?—or to speak about the wonder of humankind’s ability to sense
the ineffable. Though there is material here for the historian or the anthro-
pologist, the church has read otherwise. Every part of the vision, including the
prophetic reaction, becomes a catalyst for worship, directing us back to the
One seated, in condescension, upon the throne.17
As Brevard Childs remarks, clearly with our subjectivist age in view, “the
focus throughout is not on the spiritual experience of the prophet or on what
this ecstatic event meant to him. To focus on such individual, personal evalua-
tions completely misses the point of the narrative. Isaiah has no time to revel
in his private emotions. He is not concerned with reimagining God!”18 No;
Isaiah’s reaction is unstudied, consonant with the abject response of other vi-
sionaries, including the apocalyptic seers and the Apostles who beheld the
Transfigured Christ. With other Biblical visions, the response of the human
recipient is reported so as to glorify the One who is seen, so far as he is able to
bear it.
Heaven has no need to deny or to confirm the prophet’s fear of sinfulness,
but responds. From the altar is brought a living coal, a coal that both is
touched and not touched—in the hand of the angel, yet removed indirectly
from the altar. Again, the imagery both is negative and positive, live but burn-
ing, touched and yet not touched. In the application to his lips, personal sin is
purged, so that Isaiah may respond to the voice that he will now hear.
The voice of the Lord, speaking in first person singular and then plural,
sets us up to expect a parallel response from the prophet. The question
“Whom will I send and who will go for us?” ideally would be answered by
“Here am I; Send us.” But Isaiah alone is the remnant, and may only reply,
“Send me.” Blind, deaf, and heartless, his people will not raise their voice for
God. This leads to the dark mystery of God’s commission—Isaiah, the prophet-
ic mouthpiece of the Lord will speak, but the people will not hear, see, or be
moved….Or will they?
This absolute indictment, “hear but do not understand, see but do not
perceive” finds its context in a body of Scriptures where God is known to
overcome hardness, and even to change his mind. We think of Jonah and the
many other unconditional words of the Lord which were miraculously over-
turned. To be sure, utter desolation is in full view in this oracle—the land will
be burnt, even to the stump itself—yet the chapter ends by reference to the ho-
ly seed. There will be real death, yet even in that, the astonishing hope of life.
In the LXX there is a surprise at the end of verse 10; an astonishment fol-
lowed by the NT writers, a startling detail that accentuates this mystery. Mat-
thew and Luke declare, “For the heart of this people has become gross, and
their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes have they closed; lest they should
see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart,
and turn—and I shall heal them (Matt 13:14–15; Acts 28:26–7). John recites:
“He has blinded their eyes and hardened their heart, lest they should see with
their eyes and perceive with their heart, and be turned—and I shall heal them”
(John 12:40)19. Though the Synoptics favor the Greek text with its triad of
eyes, ears and heart, and John favors the Hebrew text for the most part, all
three end with the future indicative used by the LXX. In doing so, they envi-
sion, hope against hope, the future action of God, against all grammatical
rules, and against all probabilities. Proper usage would say, “lest they should
repent, for in that case I would heal them.” Yet the LXX and the evangelists
hear God say, I shall heal them. Herein lies the wonder of Isa 6: the Almighty is
seen yet does not destroy, the coal burns yet does not consume, the people are
sinners, steadfast and unlikely to turn; they will die and yet God will heal
them.
Because of the numerous times in which Isa 6:22 is quoted in the New
Testament, we know that this was a key verse in the preaching of the apostolic
age. It was ready to hand for several purposes—to explain the mystery of evil,
the obdurate hardness of heart, to illustrate the long-suffering of God and his
provision for humanity, to contrast the darkness of humanity with the glory of
the Lord, and to envision the unthinkable—God’s healing of those who seem
not to want to be healed. Evil and spiritual thickness are mysterious—how can
someone see and yet not see, hear and yet not hear? Repentance, too, is myste-
rious.
We must read the gospels in unison as they demonstrate the synergic mys-
tery of agency. In citing Isa 6:22, the Synoptics retain the OT view that human
beings themselves actively turn. John describes the action passively, picturing
humans as “turned” by the Spirit of God. But the greatest mystery is the heal-
ing of God, described as a positive future action, where it seems impossible.
Isa 6 brought forcibly to the early Christian imagination the Lord who had
shown himself in the Son to be a God of utter holiness and plenitude, of tran-
scendence and of immanence.
Since Isa 6 was so poignant in speaking to the early Church about the
concourse between the Lord and his people, we are not surprised to discover
its prominence in worship. Indeed, we find the chapter weaving its way
through the earliest liturgies that we know, and sustaining its influence
through to the mature liturgies used today. The presence of Isa 6 in corporate
worship ensured that commentators would see in the details of that vision
clear references to Trinitarian and Incarnational theology. So, St. Ambrose,
speaking of the redemptive death of Jesus, St. John Damascus, referring to the
Eucharist, and Lancelot Andrewes of my own Anglican tradition, in approach-
ing the task of preaching, find in the holy coal a reference to the God-Man Je-
sus:
Does an angel forgive? Does an archangel? Certainly not, but the Father alone, the
Son alone and the Holy Spirit alone…Or what is so in accordance with piety as to
understand according to the mystery…that everyone should be cleansed by the passion
of Christ, who as a coal according to the flesh burnt up our sins? 20 (On the Holy Spirit
1.10.112)
Let us receive the divine burning coal…so that by this communion with the divine fire
we may be set afire and deified. Isaiah saw a live coal, and this coal was not plain
wood but wood joined with fire. Thus also, the bread of communion is not plain
bread but bread joined with the godhead. And the body joined with the Godhead is
not one nature. On the contrary, that of the body is one, whereas that of the
Godhead joined with it is another—so that both together are not one nature but
two.21 (Orthodox Faith 4.13)
O Thou, that Coal of double nature, which touching the lips of the prophet, didst
purify him from sin, touch Thou my lips who am a sinner, set me free from every
stain, and make me fit to set forth Thy oracles.22 (Prayer Before Preaching)
Similarly, Sts. Cyril of Jerusalem and John Chrysostom see in the song of
the seraphim a warrant and pattern for us to praise the Triune God:
For this reason of our reciting this confession of God, delivered down to us from the
seraphim, is this, that so we may be partakers with the hosts of the world above in
their hymns of praise. 23 (Catechetical Lectures 23.6)
Do you desire to learn how the powers above pronounce that name…Do you perceive
with what dread, with what awe, they pronounce that name…? But you, in your
prayers and supplications, call upon him with much listlessness; when it would
become you to be full of awe, and to be watchful and sober.24 (Homily Concerning the
Statues 7.9)
Above all, however, the fathers, in consonance with the liturgies, find in
Isa 6 language to describe the mystery of entrance, and the healing that this
entrance brings, where the human might expect only fear. For one of Anglican
background, the English Eucharistic hymn derived from the Jacobite liturgy
comes readily to mind:
Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and with fear and trembling stand. Ponder nothing
earthly-minded, for with blessing in his hand, Christ our God to earth descendeth,
our full homage to demand.
King of kings, yet born of Mary, as of old on earth he stood, Lord of lords, in human
vesture, in the Body and the Blood, He will give to all the faithful his own Self for
heavenly food.
St. James’s liturgy itself continues, after calling for silence and awe, with a
more pointed connection of the prophet Isaiah to the Eucharistic sacrifice:
…for the King of kings and Lord of lords advances to be slain and given as food to the
faithful. Before him go the choirs of Angels, with every rule and authority, the many-
eyed Cherubim and the six-winged Seraphim, veiling their sight and crying out the
hymn: Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.25
In this song and anaphora we have already, so to speak, entered, trembling

before the Lord of lords, in his presence, and singing the mysterious Trisagion
with the angels. We must, however, go further back, both in time and in the
sequence of the liturgy. In 2 Cor 3–6, St. Paul puts flesh on the pointed saying
of our Lord, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” He re-
minds the church that the veil has been removed for those who are in Christ
Jesus, that together they are being transformed, that they have seen the glory
of the Lord in the face of Christ, and that they must therefore put off deceitful
and impure ways while sojourning in the flesh, in the hope of the resurrec-
tion.
In 1 Cor 11:17–33, St. Paul appeals, in the words of Fr. Schmemann, to
“the triunity of the assembly, the Eucharist and the Church;”26 further, he cor-
rects the Corinthians by putting the Eucharist firmly within the context of
what has been received (1 Cor 11:22) and by recalling them to purity of mo-
tive and to unity—worship is entry into an action and a community larger than
they are conceiving. Indeed, he has already reminded them in the same chap-
ter of the presence of angels and the centre of their worship—not the glory of
humanity but of the Lord (1 Cor 11:2–16).
Didache 9:4 describes the mystery of the entrance into the kingdom
enacted in the synaxis: “Even as this broken bread was scattered over the hills,
and was gathered together and became one, so let Your Church be gathered
together from the ends of the earth into Your kingdom; for Yours is the glory
and the power through Jesus Christ for ever.” The language used in the Eu-
charist described in the Didache adapts the themes of various Jewish blessings
and prayers that featured the vine, bread, and the ingathering of exiles. Several
of these themes are to be found in the (reconstructed) Didascalia Apostolorum
Section 7,27 and all of them in the compiled Apostolic Constitutions, chapter 9.28
Indeed, portions from the eucharistic part of the Didache had staying power,
and are used eucharistically in the Dêr Balizeh papyrus (late second century?29),
as well as reproduced “almost verbatim” in the fourth century liturgy of Sera-
pion.30
From the beginning, then, the theme of dynamic entrance into worship
was well established. In the early days, as we are reminded in the Didache,
many of the Eucharistic prayers were offered at will by the celebrant, no doubt
informed by such passages as Isa 6. By the third century, when the Syrian
church was praying the liturgy of Addai and Mari, the theme of entrance is vi-
brant indeed! Consider some phrases from the anaphora:
Let your minds be on high…
…A thousand thousand of those on high, Lord, worship thy majesty and ten thou-
sand thousands of the armies of ministers of fire and spirit praise it in fear, together
with the cherubim and seraphim that cry one to another and say: Holy, holy, holy,
Lord God of Hosts. Heaven and earth are full of thy glory. Glory be to thee, O Lord
Most High.
We too, Lord, thy sinful servants, give thee thanks because thou hast wrought in us thy
favor that cannot be repaid; thou hast put on our humanity so as to give us life by thy
divinity, thou hast exalted our low estate, raised up our prostration and given life to our
mortality…
…[M]ay our prayers be lifted up to thee and may thy mercies descend on our petitions…
…We offer, Lord, this oblation before thee for the commemoration of all the righ-
teous and just fathers, the prophets, apostles, martyrs, confessors, bishops, priests,
ministers, and of all the children of the holy Church that are signed with the signing
of holy baptism; and us too, Lord, thy humble servants that are gathered together and are
standing before thee and have received by tradition the example [lit: tupsa, type] that has come
from thee…We celebrate…this great sacrament [alternate translation: “we perform this
great mystery…”]31
In this very early Eastern liturgy are highlighted the language of entrance
into the heavenlies, immersion into the historical tradition, and solidarity with
the action of the whole people of God, made possible because of the type pre-
sented by Jesus himself. The performance of the mystery is possible because of
the incarnation, by which life has been given to mortality, and in which pray-
ers are lifted up to the Lord of Lords. God performs all this…yet we are to “lift
our minds on high.”
It is this “lifting up” that constitutes the dynamic of entrance that per-
vades the whole of the Eucharist. In his study on the “little” entrance,
Fr. Schmemann describes how the little entrance, which once began the litur-
gy, came to be preceded by the triple cycle of antiphons and prayers now
common to Eastern liturgies. The triple cycle was performed during the pro-
cessions made from the Hagia Sophia to the church of the saint or feast to be
honored, with the entrance occurring at the door of that church. Once the
triple cycle was well established in usage, even when there was no procession,
the entrance was detailed after the antiphons, and eventually it was trans-
formed into a formal component of the liturgy and attached to the carrying
out of the gospels. Entrance, however, describes drawing near to God by the
Word or the Sacrament, rather than an appearance from behind the iconosta-
sis. Very early in the development of the West Syrian Church, argues Frank
Senn, and in precursors to the liturgy of St. James, the idea of entrance was
key, and attracted development, since entrance included movement of the
priest and the people.32
Fr. Schmemann, as we have seen, depicts the entire liturgy (containing the
“little” and “great” entrances) as a graduated entrance into the divine Pres-
ence, but also considers that “the eschatological meaning of entrance, as draw-
ing near to the altar and ascent to the kingdom, is best of all expressed in the
prayer and singing of the Trisagion.”33 We should not be surprised to discover,
in the development of approach and in the entrances, recurring images from
Isa 6:
Defiled as I am by many sins, do not utterly reject me, Master, Lord, our God.
…Sovereign Lord Jesus Christ, O Word of God, who freely offered Yourself a blameless
sacrifice upon the cross to God even the Father, the coal of double nature, that
touched the lips of the prophet with the tongs, and took away his sins, touch also the
hearts of us sinners, and purify us from every stain, and present us holy beside Your
holy altar, that we may offer You a sacrifice of praise.
…lead all to perfection, and make us perfectly worthy of the grace of Your sanctifica-
tion, gathering us together within Your holy Church…
…God Almighty, Lord great in glory, who hast given to us an entrance into the Holy of
Holies, through the sojourning among men of Your only-begotten Son, our Lord, and
God, and Saviour Jesus Christ, we supplicate and invoke Your goodness, since we are
fearful and trembling when about to stand at Your holy altar…
Let all mortal flesh keep silent, and with fear and trembling stand…
…Master and Lord, who visit us in mercy and compassion and have granted us, hum-
ble sinners and your unworthy servants the grace to stand at your holy Altar and to
offer to you this dread sacrifice without shedding of blood for our own sins and those
committed in ignorance by the people, look on me, your unprofitable servant and
wipe away my transgressions through your compassion and purify my lips and my
heart from every defilement of flesh and spirit…
We thank you, Lord our God, that you have given us the freedom of entry into the
holy place by the blood of Jesus, inaugurating for us a new and living way through the
veil of his flesh. Having therefore been counted worthy to enter the place where your
glory dwells, and to be within the veil, and to look upon the Holy of Holies, we fall
down before your goodness, Master… And having uncovered the veils of the mysteries
that symbolically surround this sacred rite, show us clearly, and fill our spiritual vision
with your boundless light; and having cleansed our poverty from all defilement of
flesh and spirit, make it worthy of this dread and fearful presence.34
Here, we find the opening of the mystery vouchsafed to the prophet

Isaiah, expressed fully in Christ, and celebrated in the proclamation and wor-
ship of the early Church—God’s provision for entrance into his presence.
Themes of holiness over against human sinfulness are gathered together with
the saints, the ministering angels and all of creation for worship, and God’s
transcendence and immanence is seen in its most acute expression in the In-
carnation and the holy mysteries. To be touched by the divine should be to
risk death—and yet we hear the voice of grace saying, “I will heal.”
This study has traced a single (but significant) strand of continuity from
Isa 6 through the NT and into the early Eastern liturgies. Readers in the East-
ern tradition will have supplied further connections with the liturgies of St.
Basil and St. Chrysostom, for you inhabit these from week to week. Yet the
glory of God fills the whole earth, and the theme of entrance into the mystery
is witnessed to, by God’s grace, in the west as well, even in the little traditions
of my own ancestral home, England. St. Dionysius thinks that the crying out
of the seraphim in Isa 6 means “they ungrudgingly impart to each other the
conceptions resulting from their looking on God” (Ecclesiastical Hierarchy
4:3–9).35 And so, joining the seraphim, permit me to share with you a verbal
antidoron, a spiritual gift from that northern island of “angels.”36 Here is the
wonder-struck thanksgiving of 17th-century British poet Richard Crashaw, one-
time Anglican who sought the mystery of the Church, and perhaps even met
his untimely death at the hands of those who would have snuffed out his
voice:
Welcome all wonders in one sight!

Eternity shut in a span!
Summer in winter! day in night!
CHORUS.
Heaven in earth! and God in man!

Great little one, whose all-embracing birth
Lifts earth to Heaven, stoops Heaven to earth!37
•R A J K U M A R B O A Z J O H N S O N •
The Use of the Old Testament in the

Syrian Christian Traditions of India
T
hree philosophical frameworks have impacted biblical interpretation in
India, according to students of Indian Christian Theology. First, there
was the colonial framework, espoused by those theologians who were
trained in western methodology. Second, there was the Brahamanical
framework, which was espoused by a powerful group of theologians who came
from the dominant priestly caste of Hindu society. In more recent times Dalit
interpretations of the Bible seek to interpret the Bible from a Marxist
framework.
This paper will seek to examine a neglected field of Indian Christian The-
ology, Biblical Theology, and specifically Old Testament Theology in the St.
Thomas Knanaya Christian traditions of India. The paper will show that
Western, Brahamanical and Marxist frameworks do more harm than good to
the Bible in the Indian context. A study of the use of the Old Testament in
the St. Thomas Christian traditions of India, on the other hand, provides val-
uable lessons for the use of the Bible in India, as well as, biblical theology in
the context of pluralism in the West today.
A Skeletal Overview of Indian Christian Theologies:

A Quest for a Framework to Do Theology
in an Indian Context
Indian Christian Theologies have taken five forms:
1. Jnana theologies and theological hermeneutics: Brahmabandhab
Upadhyaya attempted to express his Christian theology within the
framework of Sankara’s Advaita Vedanta. He used Jnana Marga, the
Hinduism of the Way of Knowledge to express his theological propo-
sitions.
92 •R A J K U M A R B O A Z J O H N S O N •
2. Bhakti theologies and Bhakti theological hermeneutics: A. J. Appas-

wamy used Bhakti Marga. He used Ramanuja’s Vishishta Advaita to ex-
press his theological propositions. (These are theologies which seek to
develop the theology of God)
3. Karma theologies and Karma theological hermeneutics: M. M. Tho-
mas used the framework of Karma Marga to formulate his Christian
theology. (These are theologies from the bottom up, which address
the theology of humanity)
4. Western theological models have been used by many others to express
their theological thoughts. These theologies are of the kind influenced
by western missionaries or theologians like Hendrik Kraemer.
5. Dalit theologies: Dalit theologies began emerging in the 1980s and the
1990s. These were primarily influenced by the liberation theologies of
Latin America.
These theologies may be divided into two categories: One, theologies

which are formed on the basis of Hindu Upanishads, Vedas and Puranas;
Two, theologies which use as their framework western philosophical models.
Jnana and Bhakti theologies focus attention on the Theology of God, while
Karma and Dalit theologies focus attention of the Theology of Humanity. For
the purpose this paper, I would like to pay closer attention to Jnana theologies
and Dalit Theologies. I will show that the St. Thomas Knanaya Christians
provide a better model of doing theology.
Theologies Based on the Upanishads

Indian Christian Theologies, it is clear, were solely proposed by those Chris-
tians who came from high caste backgrounds. They tended to dwell almost en-
tirely on Vedantic ontological understanding for their theological
formulations. Good examples are Brahmobandhav Upadhayay (1861–1907)
and his close friend, Keshub Chandra Sen. Upadhyay was also a close friend
of Swami Vivekananda who single-handedly made Hinduism a household
term in western society after his speech at the World Parliament of Religions,
Chicago, 1893.
Keshub Chandra Sen came up with a theology of God, e.g. based on the
Vedantic concept of Sat Cit Ananda. He explains the concept of Brahman in
the form of a triangle: “The Apex of the triangle is the Supreme Brahman of
the Vedas…in his own glory. From him comes down the Son in a direct line,
an emanation from divinity, into Jesus. Thus God touches one end of the
humanity, and then running all along the base permeates the world, and then
by the power of the Holy Spirit drags up the degenerate humanity to himself.”1
•S Y R I A N C H R I S T I A N T R A D I T I O N S O F I N D I A • 93
Similarly, Upadhyay also sought to come up with a Hindu-Christian the-

ology of God. He wrote, “His eternal self-knowledge or logos is to be con-
ceived as identical with the divine nature and yet distinct from the Supreme
Being in as far as by comprehending himself generates his logos. God, know-
ing himself by producing or generating his own image and word, is called Fa-
ther; and God as known by himself by his inward generation of the word is
called the Word or the Son.”2
Upadhayaya sought to explain Christology also in Hindu categories. For
example he wrote, “According to the Vedas, human nature is composed of five
sheaths, kosas….These five sheaths are presided over by personality (ahmpra-
tyayi), which knows itself. This knowing individual is but a reflected spark of
the supreme reason (kutastha-chaitanya) that abides in everyman as the prime
source of life. Similarly, the time incarnate Divinity (the Logos, the Christ) is
also composed of five sheaths. But, he is presided over by the person of the
Logos, Cit himself and not by any created personality (aham). In the God-man,
Cit, the five sheaths, or kosas, are presided directly by the Logos-God.”3
We will note that Ramabai takes an entirely different approach to her de-
velopment of Indian Christian Theology. She comes to the opinion that a ge-
nuine Indian Christian Theology must be based on rigorous biblical theology,
and Pre-Vedic Indian Philosophy. Vedantic Philosophy, according to her, is
inimical to the development of a good Indian Christian Theology.
Dalit Theologies
The dalits are the untouchables of India, atishudras. The Hindu brahmanical
texts define these people as lower than human beings.
Dalit intellectuals have realized that the consciousness of their people was
shaped by Vedic and Puranic myths. It served the interests of the dominant
castes and classes. A consciousness based on ancient history had to be formed
to strengthen their existential identity. The following are two examples of
Hindu texts which informed their identity:
The Rig Veda X. 90:12, “When they divided the Purusha, into how many parts did
they arrange him? What was his mouth? What were his arms? What are his thighs and
feet called? The Brahmin was his mouth, his arms were made the Rajanya (warriors),
his two thighs Vaishyas (traders and agriculturists), and from his feet the Shudras (ser-
vant class) were born.”
Manu Dharma Shastra VIII, 413–14, “But the Shudra, whether bought or unbought,
he may compel to do the work of a slave; for he was created by the self-existent
(svyanbhu) to be the slave of the Brahmin.”
According to Dalit theologians like James Massey there are 200 million da-
lits. If one includes the Other Backward Classes or the shudras, then the num-
ber would rise to more than 700 million. This is 75 percent of the population,
and 75 percent of the Christian church is dalit. It is only very recently that the
dalits are beginning to have their voice heard. In fits and starts, Dalit theology
is taking shape.
Dalit theologies began emerging in the 1980s and the 1990s. Unfortunate-
ly, Dalit theological schools became heavily influenced by the liberation theol-
ogies of Latin America. Therefore, it took on a decidedly Marxist orientation.
They expressed discontinuity with traditional Indian Christian Theology,
which has mainly been articulated by upper-caste theologians.
Arvind Nirmal, one of the pioneers of Dalit theologies expresses it best.
He suggests that the core of Dalit theology will be formed from the existential
experience of the dalits; “It will be produced on their own dalit experiences,
their own sufferings, their own aspirations, their own hopes. It will narrate the
story of their pathos and their socio-economic injustices they have been sub-
jected to throughout their history.…This also will mean that a Christian dalit
theology will be a counter theology.”4
Maria Arul Raja, another prominent Dalit theologian claims that the Dalit
theology must take as its basis “the wretched condition violently imposed on
the dalits (which) forces them to seek an immediate apocalyptic intervention
from the unseen God.” This desire for an “apocalyptic intervention” must
form the basis of Dalit theology. “The method of the dalit reading of the Bible
is oriented towards concrete historical commitment transforming the present
reality into a new liberative one.”5 The method of interpretation is liberation
and praxis oriented.
Theology of the St. Thomas Knanaya Christians

It is the thesis of this paper that these theologies are not genuine Indian
Christian Theologies—they are not based on a genuinely biblical and Indian
hermeneutic of the Bible. They either seek to express Christian theologies in
the framework of Upanishadic thought, or in the framework of some other
philosophical thought, e.g. a Marxist framework. They do not seem to interact
with the biblical text seriously to come up with an original biblical theology for
India. I propose that a true Indian Christian Biblical Theology is seen in the
lectionary and liturgies of the St. Thomas Christians of India.
A second part of the thesis of this paper is the discovery that the herme-
neutic which was developed by the St. Thomas Knanaya Christians of Malabar
was developed with an in-depth interaction with the Jewish community called
the Cochin Jews. Indeed, this liturgical dialogue makes the St. Thomas Chris-
tians distinct from other St. Thomas Christian communities and churches. At
the same time it makes the Cochin Jewish community distinct from other Jew-
ish communities. I will show in this paper that the appropriations of the Ma-
labar Christians of the Cochin Jewish community was based on their
interpretation on whether a certain liturgy or practice was in line with their

reading Qeryane of the Old Testament or not.
The substantial and intrinsic dialogue between the Malabar Christians
and the Cochin Jews is a very good model of dialogue between Christians and
Jews in the modern era. In many senses the “parting of the ways” model,
which has been the pattern of much theological discussion in Jewish-Christian
dialogue, has done more harm than good to theological discourse. In contrast
to this, the St. Thomas Knanaya Christian communities and the Malabari Jew-
ish communities have shown that meaningful and deep essential dialogue can
positively shape the two communities. I must concede that this is perhaps be-
cause both were minority communities and they had to lean on each others’
shoulders.
I would like to explore the Jewish-Christian relationship as minority
communities in the context of their interaction with majority communities—
whether these be Muslim, Buddhist, or even secular communities. My hypo-
thesis based on my research in the Malabar area is that biblical and theological
scholarship does not need to stress the “Parting of the Ways” a la scholars like
James Dunn, and Lawrence Schiffman,6 but rather the creative and dialogical
re-imagination of the ways. This is what is seen in the dialogical encounter be-
tween the Malabari Knanaya Christians and Jews. It may already be shown
that a creative interaction between Christian and Jewish communities has led
to emergence out of crisis points—the reformation is a good example of this. It
was the interaction of Christian thinkers with medieval Jewish rabbis like Ra-
shi and Radak, which led to the resurgence of interest in biblical exegesis. Of
course, young Luther’s love relationship with the rabbis, and the old Luther’s
hate relationship with the Rabbis is well researched. My larger hypothesis is
that much can be learned from Jewish-Christian encounters when both were
minority groups in the midst of hostile majority cultures and civilizations.
A Word on Methodology
My approach to this study is a phenomenological approach to the encounter
between the St. Thomas Knanaya Christian communities and the Malabari
Jewish Communities. I am seeking to follow in the tradition of the great phe-
nomenologists of religion like Mircea Eliade, Ninian Smart, van der Leew, etc.
I examine the narrative dimension, the philosophical dimension, the textual
dimension—the use of the text, the ritual dimension, the ethical dimension,
the experiential dimension, and the social dimension of the St. Thomas Chris-
tians, and how they understand their identity in creative encounters with the
Malabari or Cochin Jewish communities. The methodology I am proposing
has been neglected in the studies of Indian Christian Theologies, of the
churches of St. Thomas; as well as the studies of the Cochin Jewish Commu-
nity.
In the keynote address to a conference on The Life and Nature of the St.
Thomas Christian Church in the Pre-Diamper Period, Mar Paul Chittilapilly argued
that the “Church of the Thomas Christians was neither an integral part nor
an output of the Church of Mesopotamia (The Church of the East), and the
relations of the former with the latter were for practical but not for doctrinal
(or liturgical) purposes,” He goes on to add, “It is admitted by all that the Ma-
labar Christians got related to the Persian Church in a later period.”7 Based on
this and similar publications, it is obvious that the Syro-Malabar Christians
seek to portray themselves primarily as St. Thomas Malabar, rather than Syrian
Orthodox. The St. Thomas Christian ecclesiology and theology, they claim is
of apostolic origin, and is different from the ancient Chaldean or East Syrian
churches or of the contemporary Chaldean and Nestorian traditions.
The Malabar Knanaya Christian Phenomenological

Encounters with the Hebrew Bible - The Malabari St.
Thomas Knanaya Christians and the Malabar Jews
Actualize Patriarchal Stories to be their Stories of Origin: 8
There is a growing understanding among scholars that the Jews of Cochin and
the St. Thomas Christians have very similar stories of origins. The Jews of Co-
chin are regarded by St. Thomas Christians as precursors to Christianity. Both
have traditions which link the biblical narrative to India. As early as the tenth
century BC, for example, they are of the opinion that King Solomon traded in
spices, precious gems, etc. The “Ophir,” or Land of Gold of the Hebrew Text
of 1 Kgs 9:28, is the capital of the Indian kingdom of Aparanta which was on
the west coast of India. It stretched all the way from Bombay to the state of
Kerala. Jewish people lived in this stretch of Land. Other traditions link Tar-
shish to an Indian city in the present state of Kerala, near Quilon, Tharisa. 3
Kgs 10:22, “For the king had at sea a navy of Tharshish with the navy of Hi-
ram: once in three years came the navy of Tharshish, bringing gold, and silver,
ivory, and apes, and peacocks.” Other traditions among the Jews and St.
Thomas Christians of Malabar suggest that the word for “apes” in Hebrew
qoph is an early Dravidian loan word. Similarly, they suggest that the word for
peacock, tukkiyyim is also a Dravidian loan word.9
One significant common tradition between the Jews of Malabar and the
St. Thomas Knanaya community is the tradition of the copper plates. The Jews
of the Malabar Coast are divided into two groups, the “White Jews” of the
North, and the “Black Jews of the South.” These Malabar Jews have in their
possession copper plates which were given to them by Bhaskara Ravi Varma,
whose title was Cheraman Perumal. According to Malabar Jewish traditions

these copper plates were given to Joseph Rabban, the leader of the immigrant
Jewish community in the fourth century. The text of the inscription is in an-
cient Pre-Aryan, Dravidian language in the Vatteluttu script. It reads:
Greetings! Prosperity! Gift was made by him who assumed the title “king of kings,”
his majesty the king, the glorious Bhaskara Ravivarman…we have given to Issuppu
Irappan Anjuvanna, together with seventy-two proprietary rights. 10
Stephen Neill, in his monumental A History of Christianity in India, notes

very similar origin stories of the St. Thomas Christians. He writes, “In one of
the copper plates, now in the possession of the St. Thomas Christians of Kera-
la, a king whose name is Viraraghava Chakravarti conveyed to one Irava Kor-
tan otherwise known as Ceramanloka-perrum-jjetti (the great merchant of the
world ruled over the Chera king, the title of Manigramam, together with a
number of privileges.11
Common traditions of this kind, especially in matters related to their ori-
gin and identity, suggest a close interaction between the Jews of Malabar and
the St. Thomas Christians. In this paper, I will show that this interaction goes
beyond these kinds of crucial identity formation traditions.
The Self-Understanding of the Knanaya Christians

Defines their Identify as Distinct from
High Caste Brahmanical Hinduism:
The identity of the St. Thomas Christians revolves around legends which por-
tray them as the New Israel. The St. Thomas Christians divide themselves into
two categories, the northists and the southists. In Malayalam—the language of
the St. Thomas Christians—they are called the Tekkumbhagar and the Vada-
kumbhagar. According to the tradition of these two communities, a group of
70 families came into Malabar from the Middle East, led by Rabbi Joseph and
a merchant known as Thomas of Kana (Knayi Thoma). In grounding their le-
gends in Cana of Galilee, the St. Thomas Christians seek to ground their
identity in the miracle of Cana. This, we shall see later becomes an essential
part of their liturgy.
In their legends they seek to appropriate the biblical narrative of the He-
brew Patriarchs. Thomas Keay retells a legend, for example, in which Thomas
of Cana had two wives: one from the Middle East and the other from an In-
dian Nayar family. The Southists, who also call themselves the Knanaya, claim
that they are the descendants of the woman of Cana who came along with
Thomas of Cana. The Northists therefore claim to be of higher caste category,
while the Knanaya community claim to be of pure Jewish descent. The Nor-
thists have had, as a result of this, a better relationship with high caste Hindu
rulers, while the Knanaya Christians have been considered to be of lower
caste.
The stories from a Northist perspective are quite different. They call the
wife of Thomas who produced the Southists, a dhobi, i.e. a low caste woman.
This is an attempt on the part of the Northists to portray themselves to be
closer to the Hindu-pure Brahmin caste.
It is interesting to note that these stories seem remarkably similar to the
biblical narrative. There is a series of two-son narratives in the biblical text.
There is the story of Cain and Abel, in which the older son is unjust to the
younger son and kills the younger son. God himself posthumously lifts up the
image of the younger son.12 Similarly, Abraham has two sons, Ishmael and
Isaac. In that narrative, Ishmael the son of Hagar scoffs at the younger son,
Isaac.13 In yet another patriarchal story, Jacob’s ten older sons, sell the younger
son Joseph into slavery.14 Jesus’ story of the two sons follows this series of two-
son Old Testament stories. The older son demeans the younger son, while the
father himself lifts up the image of the younger son. 15 The St. Thomas Kna-
naya Christians, it seems quite clear, seek to actualize the stories of the Bible.
It further seems clear that the Knanaya community seeks to side with the
lower castes of India, and to elevate their status. According to scholars of In-
dian history, the Aryans came into India ca. 1500 BC. They took over the po-
litical, religious, and economic control of society. They formed the upper
castes of India: the Brahmans, the priestly caste; the Kshatriya, or the ruler caste;
and the Vyashiyas, or the business caste. These three form the upper caste
structure of India to this day. These three castes have historically formed about
nine percent of the population of India. The low caste, the Shudras have
formed approximately 52 percent of the population of India. The rest of the
population has been divided between the aboriginal tribes, the dalits and the
other religions. In their formation traditions, it seems clear that the St. Tho-
mas Knanaya Christians have sided with the low castes and the Dalit, outcaste
peoples groups. In actualizing the biblical narrative, and making it their own
narrative, the Knanaya Christians elevate the status of the low caste to Jewish
origins.
Rituals of the Knanaya St. Thomas Christians:

Actualize the rituals of the Hebrew Bible:
The rituals of the Southists, or the Knanaya are very similar to the Malabari
Jews.
Rites of passage
Gouvea, a Portuguese traveler described the St. Thomas Christians of Malabar
as people, “who were allowed to wear the hair of their head tied with a golden
flower.” This seems to be quite similar to the Cochin Jews’ custom of having
long uncut sideburns. This was a ceremony among the Malabar Christians,
who also call themselves Knanaya. In doing so they appropriate the Old Tes-
tament injunction of the Nazarite vow (Num 6:5–19).
Funeral rite
When a person dies, in the Knanaya Christian tradition, there is a mourning
period of 40 days. This was a Cochin Jewish practice. It is more crucially based
on the Old Testament practice seen, as in the burial ceremony of Jacob, the
Patriarch of Israel (Gen 50:3). The ceremony ends with performing the
kaiyyamuthu or the “kiss of hand” of the priest. This is reflective of the Kna-
naya Christian actualization of the Old Testament. The “kissing of the hand”
of the priest links them back through several generations to the Old Testa-
ment. The following is one of the most crucial blessings of the parents and
grandparents to the children as part of a death-bed ceremony:
God gave his blessing to Abraham
Abraham gave that blessing to Isaac
Isaac gave that blessing to my forefathers,
My forefathers gave that blessing to my parents
And my parents gave that blessing to me,
Now, dear son (daughter), I give that blessing to you.
Wedding rite
Another ceremony worth noting is the wedding ceremony. Before the wedding
ceremony, both the bride and groom have to undergo a special rite of bathing
which is very similar to the Jewish mikveh. The lighting of a lamp precedes the
wedding ceremony. The bride and the groom sit under a chuppah-like canopy.
The bride is given a gold cross; the necklace is made of the thread, which is
taken from the wedding prayer shawl, called the Tali. This is in contrast to
other Indian ceremonies, where the father of the bride has to pay a large sum
of money to the bridegroom’s family called a dowry, practiced even among
other St. Thomas Christian families. In the case of the Knanaya, the father of
the bride is given a good amount of money, and the bridesmaids sing songs
from the Song of Songs and other wedding texts of the Old Testament.
During the ceremony the bride and groom are given a special drink. This
drink is made out of coconut milk and certain plums. This is obviously related
to the Jewish tradition of the cup of wine, the Kaddish, which sanctifies the
wedding ceremony.16
Maundy Thursday
On Maundy Thursday, the Malabar Christians, called the Southists observe
Passover. They eat unleavened bread for seven days. The wine for the Pesach is
a special drink, which is also made out of coconut milk and certain plums.
Throughout the Pascha, they sing songs from the Old Testament: creation
narrative, Abrahamic narrative, Exodus narrative….They end with the story of
the suffering of Christ.
Another tradition, which is common among the Knanaya Christians, is
the practice of giving alms to the poor during the time of Pascha. On Good
Friday, they drink a juice of bitter herbs. This perhaps, is the connection,
which the Southists see between the Passover use of bitter herbs and the
Christian remembrance of the suffering of Christ on Good Friday.
The Ecclesiology of St. Thomas Knanaya Christians

The liturgical relationship between the Malabar Church and the Church of
the East has been well attested by several scholars.17 The Malabar church used
the Anaphora of Addai and Mari, which originated probably in the early third
century. However, the way in which this liturgy is used, especially in the
Southist Knanaya church, has strong local Dravidian and Jewish interpreta-
tion. The concept of the community of the local church and the concept of
communion is contained in the concept called Palliyogam. This is an interest-
ing mix of the pre-Vedic, pre-Hindu Dravidian concept of the Manram, and
the Jewish concept of adat. Neendoor sees in this the Hindu concept of Sabha,
and the Buddhist concept of Sangha. However, it seems to me that he misses
the point. In Aryan Hinduism, the Sabha consists of the community of Brah-
mans who are a part of the Sabha or Samiti of the Brahmin’s by virtue of their
karma. In Buddhism the concept of the Sangha is the community of the en-
lightened.
The Malabar church’s concept of the Palliyogam is strongly influenced by
the Dravidian, pre-Hindu concept of yogam. The yogam was a community of
families. The community yogam was generally held under a tree. The commu-
nity was very egalitarian. Decisions were made keeping this sense of equality in
mind. The people would spend a long time in singing songs while their cattle
were grazing. There was a sense of serenity in this place, which served as a
work place, as well as, a worship and communion place.
The leaders of the yogam, then formed a manram, a community of “wise

leaders or elders.” There is a form of mystical communion between the yogam
at the local level and the manram.
The Malabar Jews similarly had a very strong sense of adat, or gathering-
ness in their community. While there was a Rabban, he was essentially equal
to the rest of the people in the community. The Malabar synagogue was a
place of “gathering” in the true sense of the word. It was a group of people
who found unity around the Torah, and around the halakhah, the Malabari
Jewish practices.
These two concepts—the pre-Hindu Dravidian concept of community and
the Jewish concept of community—become the source of the Knanaya concept
of worship and communion.
The Kadisha recited before the Holy Qurbana

In the early part of the 19th century, George Broadley Howard, an Anglican
minister serving in South India made extensive visits to the Malabar area. He
collected the Malabar versions of the anaphora of St. James, St. Peter, the
Twelve Apostles, Mar Dionysius, Mar Xytus, and Mar Evannis, and the Ordo
Communis.18 He observed that the heart of the Southist, Knanaya worship was
the constant repetition of the Kadisha. This he observed, and rightly so, was
“the Trisagium of the Jacobite Church, differing from that used by the Ortho-
dox and the Nestorians.”19 He observed that the Kadisha reached a crescendo
just before the Qurbana, the communion service. They sang,
Kadisha Aloha, Kadisha Heil-sana, Kadisha Lamai-o-sa
Det-salev Hala-pein Meshiha Aloha Di-lan
(Holy is God, Holy is the Mighty One; Holy is the Immortal One;
The One who was crucified for us. Messiah our God.20
This creedal statement is very central to the communion and identity of

the Knanaya. The first part is more a reflection of the Kadosh of the Jews of
Cochin, which was taken from Isa 6, “kadosh, kadosh, kadosh, YHWH Tsevaot,
melokhol ha-aretz kevodo.” This becomes the Trinitarian formula of the St.
Thomas Christians. Yet, the fullness of this Trinity is seen in the “the one who
was crucified for us, Mashiach our God.” The Trinity forms the core of the
unity of the Malabar community, and this unity is seen in the communion
with the one who was crucified.
This central creed of the St. Thomas Christians may be seen in the granite
slab, which is at the St. Thomas Mount, the traditional burial site of St. Tho-
mas. The writing on the slab is in Pahlavi (ancient Persian). He reads, “He that
believes in the Messiah, and in the God on high, and in the Holy Spirit is in
the grace of him who suffered the pain of the Cross.” The communion of the
Father, Son and the Holy Spirit, according to the Knanaya Christians, is seen
most clearly on the Cross. Obviously, this becomes the heart of the commu-
nion of the Knanaya Church.
It is significant to note that Christology and Theology emerges not out of
an engagement with the philosophical issues raised Aryan Hinduism. That
would have led them to categories, which are beyond the categories of the Bi-
ble. Rather, they simply actualize the text of the Old Testament and see a
seamless flow of the narrative of the Old Testament into the narrative of the
New Testament and the Gospel. The revelation of God in the Old Testament,
as Qadosh, Qadosh, Qadosh, is simply ascribed to the Messiah, the one who was
crucified. This is the human face of God.
It is, as if they completely overlook the Chalcedonian formula, and say,
“Let us just stick with the biblical narrative, and make it our own.” There
seems to be profundity in this simplicity.
Times and methods of liturgical prayer

W. J. Richards, another Anglican priest under British India, wrote an account
of his travels among the Malabar Christians entitled, The Indian Christians of St.
Thomas otherwise called the Christians of Malabar: a sketch of their history, and an
account of their present condition, as well as a discussion of the legend of St. Thomas.
Richards wrote down some crucial aspects of the Southist or Knanaya prayers.
He noted a number of prayer practices, which replicate the prayer practices of
the Jews of Malabar. Following are some of the examples:
1. We are commanded to pray standing, with faces towards the East (Je-
rusalem), for at last the Messiah is manifested in the East.
2. All Christians, on rising from the sleep early in the morning, should
at once undergo ritual washing rites and then pray.
3. We are commanded to pray seven times, thus: At morn, because the
Lord granted light; and nine, because he was delivered to judgment; at
noon, because he was nailed to the cross; and three, because the earth
quaked and the dead rose; at eve, for rest during the night, for protection
from dreams and unclean spirits; at midnight, for safety and deliverance
for all perils. If all cannot pray seven times, they are bound to pray thrice,
as David and Daniel.
It is significant that their model of prayers come from the Old Testament,
rather than the models of the early Church Fathers of the East. This obviously
shows another strong influence upon the theological identity of the Knanaya
St. Thomas Christians.
Claudius Buchanan’s Christian Researches in Asia and the Knanaya

Jewish Manuscripts21
At the Library of the University of Cambridge there is a set of manuscripts,
which was brought to Cambridge by Rev. Claudius Buchanan in 1806 AD
from his travels in Malabar. (Oo 1:3, 4, 5, 16, 20, 23, 24, 30, 32, 34, 35, 37,
38, 42, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, and Add. 271). Buchanan wrote, “the Black Jews
possessed formerly copies written on goat-skins; and that there was an old
record chest, into which the decaying copies of their scriptures had been
thrown.” Buchanan also got among these manuscripts a Hebrew copy of the
New Testament. He writes, “The translator, a learned rabbi, conceived the de-
sign of making an accurate version of the New Testament, for the purpose of
confuting it. His style is copious and elegant, like that of a master in the lan-
guage and his translation is in general faithful.”22 It seems clear that these cop-
ies of the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament give further evidence of a
close relationship between the “Black Jews” of Cochin and the Southists or
Knanaya of the St. Thomas Christian church.
It may be remarked that there is a scarcity of Malabar manuscripts since
several of them were destroyed at the direction of the Synod of Diamper (1599
AD). There is, however, a comprehensive dissertation written by Pauly Kan-
nokadan, The East Syrian Lectionary: An Historical-Liturgical Study, at Pontificio
Instituto Orientali, under the direction of Robert Taft and Pierre Yousif,
1991. Kannokadan mainly examines the Chaldean editions Old Testament
(Qeryane); Epistle Lectionary (Sliha); and the Gospel Lectionary (Ewangelion).
The work is mainly based on the manuscripts of the Upper Monastery System;
the extant manuscripts of Mosul system; the extant manuscripts of the Beth
’Abhe system; and the extant manuscripts of the Cathedral system. However,
there is some reference to the St. Thomas Christian lectionary.23
In the Malabar Knanaya lectionary, the first period covers from Koodosh-
Etho to Yeldo incarnation. The second period covers from Yeldo to Kothine
Perunal (marriage at Cana) or Pethrutha of Great Lent. The third period, be-
gins from Kothine Perunal to Kymtha (Resurrection).
It is crucial to observe that Kothine Perunal becomes the heart of the
identity of the Knanaya community. It is the encounter of the people with the
divine Messiah, who changes the water into wine, the ritual into the miracul-
ous, the Old Covenant into the renewed covenant.
It is from Cana, obviously, that the community gets its identity. It be-
comes clear that the liturgical use of the Old Testament in the worship of the
Knanaya community is an act of continuation of the canonical actualization
into the life of the community. This may be called a “liturgical communion
actualization and theologizing.” The texts are recited before the Holy Qurba-
na. In reciting the Old Testament texts the Knanaya community seeks to actu-
alize the Old Testament narrative, make it their own, and then move into the
Qurbana.
This may be construed as a great contrast to the great theological debates
which the church, in other parts of the world encountered in the fourth cen-
tury and following. In the history of the church during this period of time, the
church was seeking to come to terms with important concepts like Christolo-
gy, the doctrine of God, the doctrine of the Church, in the light of Greek phi-
losophical categories. In contrast to this, the Malabari Knanaya St. Thomas
Christians came up with a different method of doing theology. Perhaps, we
may call it a “Liturgico-narrative-actualization” method. They simply saw their
identity, doctrine of God, doctrine of Christ, and doctrine of the church,
seamlessly woven into the texture of the Old Testament, and the biblical narr-
ative.
The liturgical year, very similar to the Malabari Jewish community, begins
with Rosh Hashanah and Simchat Torah. There is a clear indication that the St.
Thomas Knanaya Christians derive from the Malabari Jewish community an
amazing actualization hermeneutic. Every aspect of the phenomenology of the
Knanaya St. Thomas Christian community seeks to actualize their continuity
with the Old Testament Community and the New Testament Community.
In their Qeryane, the recitation of the Hebrew Bible, they actualize crucial
concerns of theology. It is not merely a propositional approach to the study of
the theology of God, Christology, and ecclesiology. Rather it is a living her-
meneutic which results in a living theology. The Old Testament community,
the New Testament community, and the Knanaya St. Thomas Christian
community are intrinsically woven together. The biblical stories are actualized
in the rituals, life and liturgy of the community.
A good example is the Qeryane, the recitation for Qoodosh Eetho (Time of
Sanctification) at the beginning of the Church calendar, which of course,
coincides with the holiest days in the Malbari Jewish calendar. It begins with
the theme of holiness, which is very central to the Yom Kippur theme. The Old
Testament reflection of the community begins with recitation of the Exod 33
text, which reminds people of the preparation of the community to receive the
Torah. The Tent was called “the Tent of meeting.”24
It should be noted that this text was one of the texts, which was a part of
the Eastern lectionary of the Jewish community, especially recited after the
Ten Days of Awe, during the Sabbath of Sukkoth, or Tabernacles. The Kna-
naya community may well have interpreted this as preparation of the incarna-
tion, “the tabernacling of the Messiah.”
It is almost as if the community is seeking to be actualized into the new
Joshua, the community which is sanctifying itself to speak with God “face to
face” like Moses. The text in Exod 40 similarly describes the “glory of God”
filling the temple.
The community actualizes the presence of the “pillar of cloud” and the
“pillar of fire,” which are living symbols of the presence and the power of
God. Their songs reflect the “pillar of cloud” and “pillar of fire” which led
them in ancient times. Now this presence of God resides in their midst and
they get prepared for a new year.
Soon after this text they go into the recitation of the Qadisha text from
Isa 6, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his
glory.”
Qadisha Aloha, Qadisha Heil-sana, Qadisha Lamai-o-sa

Det-salev Hala-pein Meshiha Aloha Di-lan
(Holy is God, Holy is the Mighty One;
Holy is the Immortal One;
The One who was crucified for us. Messiah our God.)
The focus on this Knanaya Qeryane suggests that identity of the communi-
ty, quite clearly, is defined by the Exodus community. In the wilderness, they
saw the glory of God. This glory and holiness defines the holiness of this new
community—the St. Thomas Christian Knanaya community.
Conclusion
This study makes it quite clear that Indian Christian Theology can benefit
much from the theological methodology of the St. Thomas Christian com-
munities. This is especially true of the Knanaya community. They base their
identity and theology on a genuinely biblical and Indian hermeneutic of the
Bible. The Indian Christian Theologies which emerged in the modern period,
either seek to express Christian theologies in the framework of Upanishadic
thought, or in the framework of some other philosophical thought, e.g. a
Marxist framework. They do not seem to interact with the biblical text serious-
ly to come up with an original biblical theology for India. It seems very clear to
me that true Indian Christian Biblical Theology can be found in the lectionary
and liturgies of the St. Thomas Christians Knanaya community of India.
It also seems clear to me that their theological methodology was developed
with an in depth interaction with the Jewish community called the Cochin
Malabari Jews. Indeed, this liturgical dialogue makes the St. Thomas Knanaya
Christians distinct from other St. Thomas Christian Communities and
Churches.
It becomes clear that the substantial and intrinsic dialogue between the
Malabar Knanaya Christians and the Cochin Jews is a very good model of di-
alogue between Christians and Jews in the modern era. In many senses the
“parting of the ways” model, which has been the pattern of much theological
discussion in Jewish-Christian dialogue, has done more harm than good to

theological discourse. In contrast to this, the St. Thomas Knanaya Christian
communities and the Malabari Jewish communities have shown that meaning-
ful and deep essential dialogue can positively shape the two communities. I
must concede that this is perhaps because both were minority communities,
and they had to lean on each other’s shoulders.
This brief analysis of the liturgy, rituals, and lectionary of the St. Thomas
Knanaya Christian community shows that the “no parting of the ways” thesis
between Jews and Gentiles is overemphasized. The St. Thomas Knanaya
Christians and the Malabari Jews are in dynamic continuity with each other.
The Old Testament community and the New Testament community are in
dynamic continuity with each other.
This is a profound way of doing theology in any age, especially in our
present age. This is a profound dialogue between two minority communities
in a majority Hindu community. Many times theology and dialogue find their
best face in the face of persecution and opposition.
Notes
Introduction
1
The distinction between Eastern and Oriental Orthodox, a separation that occurred largely
as a result of semantic misunderstandings over the dogmatic formulations of the Council
of Chalcedon (451 AD), will not be observed in this introduction; thus the term Orthodox
refers to both communions.
2
Philo ascribed divine authority to the LXX, as did Josephus, thereby establishing a
tradition inherited by many first-century communities, Christian and Jewish alike.
3
See as examples Rom 1:2, 15:4; 1 Cor 15:3–4; and Gal 3:22.
4
Originally, the term Apocrypha was objectively neutral, referring to writings of unknown
origin, or for Jerome, any book not in the Hebrew canon; however, since the western
debates in the 16th century over the question of canon, the term has come to carry a
perjorative sense.
5
Especially in Romania, where examples include the episcopal chapel at Foleştii-de-Jos
in Râmnic and Sfântii Arhangheli (The Holy Archangels) at Caîneni, as well as many
of the world famous monasteries of Moldavia.
Son of Man, Son of God:

Aphrahat’s Biblical Christology
1
Little biographical information is known about Aphrahat. For the best introductions to his
life and work, see Marie-Joseph Pierre, Aphraate le Sage Persan, Les Exposés I (Exposés I–X),
SC 349 (Paris: Cerf, 1988), 33–199; and Peter Bruns, Aphrahat: Unterweisungen I, Fontes
Christiani 5/1 (Freiburg: Herder, 1991), 35–73. Aphrahat’s only known writings are the
Demonstrations, and even these circulated under the name of Aphrahat’s contemporary, Ja-
cob of Nisibis, for some time. The Syriac text of the Demonstrations is available in two
sources: W. Wright, The Homilies of Aphraates, the Persian Sage, Vol. I (London: Williams
and Norgate, 1869); and J. Parisot, Aphraatis Sapientis Persae Demonstrationes, PS I (Paris,
1894). Complete translations are available in French by Pierre, German by Bruns, and
English, by Valavanolickal, Aphrahat Demonstrations, 2 Vol. Catholic Theological Studies of
India, 3–4 (Kerala: HIRS, 1999).
108 •N O T E S •
2
F. C. Burkitt noted that the spirit of Aphrahat’s “Creed” at the end of Dem. 1 is “the spirit
which pervades the Didache,” Burkitt, Early Christianity Outside the Roman Empire (Cam-
bridge: University Press, 1899), 34. Several years later, R. H. Connolly published an article
in which he attempted to reconstruct this early creed by showing the parallel statements in
Aphrahat’s writings and in the Western creeds, Connolly, “The Early Syriac Creed,” ZNW
7 (1906): 202–223. Connolly's argument produced a reaction from H. L. Pass, who argued
that Aphrahat's “Creed” was a response to creedal statements in a letter that Aphrahat re-
ceived that presumably inspired Aphrahat to include his creed at the end of Dem. 1; Pass,
“The Creed of Aphraates,” JTS 9.34 (1908): 267–284. Connolly then returned the favor
with his own response to Pass in JTS, and defended his position; Connolly, “On Aphraates
Hom. 1.19,” JTS 9.36 (1908): 572–576.
3
A. Grillmeier, Christ in the Christian Tradition, Vol. 1: From the Apostolic Age to Chalce-
don (451), 2nd ed. (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1975), 215.
4
William L. Petersen, “The Christology of Aphrahat, the Persian Sage: An Excursus on the
17th Demonstration,” VC 46.3 (Sept. 1993): 241–256.
5
Aryeh Kofsky and Serge Ruzer, “Logos, Holy Spirit and Messiah: Aspects of Aphrahat’s
Theology Reconsidered,” OCP 73.2 (2007): 347–378.
6
Petersen’s article will form the basis of this discussion because he explicitly attempts to
construct the Christology of Aphrahat from Dem. 17.
7
And, as Kofsky and Ruzer state, “There seems to be a scholarly consensus regarding the
basic absence of explicit Trinitarian and Nicene theology in Aphrahat’s writings,” in “Lo-
gos, Holy Spirit, and Messiah,” 347.
8
Petersen begins by considering three references (two modern and one ancient) to Aphrahat
that ostensibly betray an attempt by those authors to defend Aphrahat's christology as “or-
thodox.” Petersen then builds on these three examples by offering three general “ploys”
that have been used to hide Aphrahat’s “embarrassing” christology. The first ploy “ac-
knowledges Aphrahat’s Semitic world view, but then proceeds to assert his theological or-
thodoxy.” The second ploy also affirms Aphrahat’s theological orthodoxy, but denies the
“presence of Semitic elements in Aphrahat’s thought.” In both ploys, Petersen notes that
there is a clear “predetermined conclusion” which the authors are trying to reach—namely,
that Aphrahat’s Christology is orthodox. The third ploy that Petersen notes is to “pass over
the issue in silence," Petersen, “The Christology of Aphrahat,” 245–46.
9
As Stephanie Skoyles-Jarkins notes, “Judging Aphrahat’s christology only on one demon-
stration does him a disservice; his christology is far richer and more complex than he has
been given credit for by some scholars.” Stephanie K. Skoyles-Jarkins, “Aphrahat the Per-
sian Sage and the Temple of God: A Study of Early Syriac Theological Anthropology”
(Ph.D dissertation, Marquette University, 2005), 109. This work is also a forthcoming pub-
lication under the same title by Gorgias Press in the Gorgias Dissertation Series. This ver-
sion was not available at the time of this project, so page number references are to the
original dissertation.
10
The passage is Dem. 17.2–8, though some of the material in these paragraphs is omitted by
ellipsis, Petersen, “The Christology of Aphrahat,” 243–44.
11
Throughout the quoted passage, Petersen frequently offers the Syriac words for the words
or concepts that he apparently wishes to highlight. In this manner, Petersen most frequent-
ly draws attention to the words for “god” ('), “son” ((), “name” (/) and varia-
tions of the verb “to call” (). Based on this selection of words, it seems that Petersen is
relying on his readers’ knowledge of Grillmeier’s assertion that Aphrahat’s “name
•N O T E S • 109
christology” is subordinationist, despite the fact that Petersen does not refer to Grillmeier.
See Grillmeier, Christ in the Christian Tradition, 215.
12
Cf. M. Simonetti, “Subordinationism” in A. di Berardino, The Encyclopedia of the Early
Church Vol. II (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 797.
13
Petersen, “The Christology of Aphrahat,” 150.
14
Perhaps this is why in a more recent article Petersen has described Aphrahat’s Christology
only as “primitive” and not “subordinationist.” See Petersen, “Problems in the Syriac New
Testament and How Syrian Exegetes Solved Them,” in The Peshitta: Its Use in Literature and
Liturgy, (ed. Bas ter Haar Romeny; Leiden: Brill, 2008), 71–74.
15
Indeed, David G. K. Taylor asserts, “there is no trace of any awareness of the disputes rag-
ing across the border” in Aphrahat’s writings. Taylor, “The Syriac Tradition,” in G. R.
Evans, The First Christian Theologians: An Introduction to Theology in the Early Church (Oxford:
Blackwell Publishing, 2004), 214.
16
The name Jacob of Nisibis appears on the list of those who were present at Nicaea, Moffet,
History of Christianity in Asia, Vol I: Beginnings to 1500, (Maryknoll: Orbis, 2008), 123.
17
Sebastian Brock asserts “there seems to be little literary contact between Christians across
the borders of the two empires,” during the fourth century, “The ‘Nestorian’ Church: A
Lamentable Misnomer,” Fire from Heaven: Studies in Syriac Theology and Liturgy (Burlington:
Ashgate, 2006): I, 13. Elsewhere, Brock asserts that the first councils of the Roman Empire
were “of no direct or immediate concern to the Church in Persia,” S. Brock, “The Chris-
tology of the Church of the East,” in D. Afinogenov and A. Muraviev, Traditions and Herit-
age of the Christian East (Moscow: Izdatelstvo, 1996), 159–179; repr. in S. Brock, Fire From
Heaven, III.
18
For an account of the council, see J. Chabot, Synodicon Orientale: ou recueil de synodes nesto-
riens (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1902), 259. Whether or not it can be proven that lead-
ers in the Oriental churches knew of the Council’s decisions before 410 AD, the fact that
the Council’s decisions were accepted at the Synod of Isaac demonstrates that their accep-
tance was a process that required some “official” action. The synod is named for Isaac, bi-
shop of Seleucia-Ctesiphon (it is also known as the Synod of Seleucia-Ctesiphon), who
presided over the council, but the acceptance of the Nicene Creed was the result of the
work of a westerner: Bishop Marutha. For more on the role of this council in the Church
of the East, see J. Gribomont, “Le symbole de foi de Séleucie-Ctésiphon (410),” in A Tri-
bute to Arthur Vööbus: Studies In Early Christian Literature (ed. Robert H. Fischer; Chicago:
Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, 1977), 283–294; S. Brock, “The Christology of
the Church of the East,” III, 161; David G. K. Taylor, “The Syriac Tradition,” 213–214; S.
Moffet, A History of Christianity in Asia, 154–56; and R. Murray, Symbols of Church and King-
dom: A Study in Early Syriac Tradition, rev. ed. (New York: T&T Clark, 2006), 34.
19
A. Grillmeier asserts that Aphrahat “seems to know nothing of Nicaea, or rather to take no
notice of it,” in Christ in the Christian Tradition, 167; A. F. J. Klijn asserts, “Nothing of [the
christological controversies] is found in [Aphrahat’s] writings. His work is confined to
questions and problems related with the church in his own district,” in “The Word kejan
in Aphraates,” VC 12.2 (1958): 57.
20
J. G. Snaith, “Aphrahat and the Jews,” in J. A. Emerton and Stefan C. Reif, eds., Interpret-
ing the Hebrew Bible: Essays in honour of E. I. J. Rosenthal (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 1982), 236. For a concise survey of the situation of Christians in Persia under
Shapur II, see T. D. Barnes, “Constantine and the Christians of Persia,” JRS 75 (1985):
126–136. For more in-depth information see the classic work of J. Labourt, Le christianisme
110 •N O T E S •
dans l’empire perse sous la dynastie Sassanide (Paris, 1904), 224–632, and, more recently, M.-L.
Chaumont, La Christianisation de l’empire Iranian: des origines aux grandes persécutions du IV
siécle. CSCO 499, Sub. 80 (Louvain: Peeters, 1988).
21
S. Brock asserts that this persecution is “the most traumatic event in the history of the
Church under the Sasanian Empire,” Brock, “The Church of the East in the Sasanian
Empire up to the Sixth Century and its Absence from the Councils in the Roman Em-
pire,” in Brock, Fire from Heaven, II, 72. Cf. Brock, “Christians in the Sassanian Empire: A
Case of Divided Loyalties,” Studies in Church History 18 (1982): 1–19.
22
According to Aphrahat, the Jews claimed that God was not protecting the new “chosen
people” (i.e. Christians) from the persecution. Naomi Koltun-Fromm refers to this as a
“Jewish spiritual onslaught,” to which Aphrahat responded “in kind,” Koltun-Fromm, “A
Jewish-Christian Conversation in Fourth-Century Persian Mesopotamia,” JJS 47(1996): 50.
As Adam Becker points out, “In a world where the barrier between Christianity and Ju-
daism was not clearly defined, the persecution of the former could tip the scales in favor of
the latter,” in “Anti-Judaism and Care for the Poor in Aphrahats Demonstration 20,”
JECS 10.3 (2002): 307.
23
Naomi Koltun-Fromm, “Jewish-Christian Conversation,” 45–46, 59.
24
As Koltun-Fromm asserts, “It appears that the anti-Jewish polemic which Aphrahat
presents in his compositions was one-half of an on-going conversation between Jews and
Christians in Mesopotamia at the height of the Persian persecutions on the subject of true
faith,” Koltun-Fromm, “Jewish-Christian Conversation,” 51.
25
Adam Letho, “Moral, Ascetic, and Ritual Dimensions to Law-Observance in Aphrahat’s
Demonstrations,” JECS 14.2 (2006): 157–158. Cf. Frank Gavin, Aphraates and the Jews: A
Study of the Controversial Homilies of the Persian Sage in their Relation to Jewish Thought (New
York: AMS Press, 1966), 31; and Edward J. Duncan, Baptism in the Demonstrations of Aph-
raates the Persian Sage (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America, 1945), 22–23.
26
As is the case with Aphrahat’s younger contemporary, Ephrem the Syrian. Ute Possekel
asserts that Ephrem “strongly promotes Nicene orthodoxy and vehemently opposes the
Arians,” in Evidence of Greek Philosophical Concepts in the Writings of Ephrem the Syrian,
CSCO 580, Sub. 102 (Louvain: Peeters, 1999), 18. R. Murray notes that the last years of
Ephrem’s life were “darkened by the advent of Arianism,” and that he turned his pen
against this heresy in his Hymns on Faith, including his use of the phrase “the poison of the
Greeks,” in reference to the Arian controversy, Murray, Symbols, 30. Cf. Lewis Ayres, Ni-
caea and Its Legacy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 229. A. Grillmeier, Christ in the
Christian Tradition, 335; and David G. K. Taylor, “The Syriac Tradition,” 216.
27
As evidenced by the emendations to the Creed only five decades later at the Council of
Constantinople in 381 AD.
28
Indeed, we must question the extent to which any single writer contemporary with Aphra-
hat (and with Nicaea) would have been considered entirely consistent with the Nicene
Creed. In his recent work, Nicaea and Its Legacy, Lewis Ayres draws attention to the prob-
lems with speaking of “Nicene theology” at the time of the Council and even in the years
after 325 AD. Ayres’ point here is worth quoting at length. After referring to a number of
authors whose writings represent the core of the Nicene Creed, Ayres states, “Note that I
point to a set of texts rather than trying to isolate a theology supposedly embodied in the
creed itself and acknowledged by the signatories of Nicaea. Such a tactic would have been
problematic because there are clearly many signatories of Nicaea who did not hold to the
theological positions of those who framed the creed, even if they were able to agree to it.
Far too much traditional discussion about the disputes immediately after Nicaea takes at
•N O T E S • 111
face value the fourth-century polemical accusation that a given opponent is distorting Ni-
caea or its intention. Such tactics hide the pluralistic nature of this original Nicene theolo-
gy....Thus, original Nicene theology was a fluid and diverse phenomenon, and one that
kept evolving,” 99. Furthermore, A. Grillmeier argues that though the Council of Nicaea is
a significant turning point in the history of Christianity, it received this status “in the
course of a long history leading to its acceptance,” Grillmeier, Christ in the Christian Tradi-
tion, 167.
29
Klijn, “The Word kejan,” 66. Klijn’s immediate concern is, of course, the difficulty asso-
ciated with considering the parallels between the Syriac concept of and the Greek
concept of fusij, and yet, his point here is applicable to the comparison of Aphrahat’s
theology and Christology with that of the West.
30
Dem. 9, 12–19, and 21. Portions of Dem. 23 could fall into this category, though it is not
as explicit as the others about the problems of Judaism; Jacob Neusner, Aphrahat and Ju-
daism: The Christian-Jewish Argument in Fourth-Century Iran (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1999), 4.
31
This methodology exemplifies Aphrahat’s use of lists to prove his points. See R. Murray,
“Some Rhetorical Patterns in Early Syriac Literature,” in A Tribute to Arthur Vööbus, 109–
131; and Murray, Symbols, 29. Pierre notes that this expression of faith in the identity of Je-
sus as the Messiah using language from the Hebrew Bible would likely have been more ef-
fective among Jews, Pierre, Aphraate, 117.
32
In this portion of the argument, Aphrahat’s quotations are quite predictable as they are
based on the NT appropriation of Hebrew Scriptures that could apply to Jesus. Thus, while
Aphrahat quotes the NT quite infrequently, it is clear that his concept of Messianic proph-
ecy is shaped by those portions of the Hebrew Scriptures that the NT authors found help-
ful in proving Jesus’ identity as the Messiah. Neusner, Aphrahat and Judaism, 175.
33
As Aphrahat states, “All these things are completed (i.e. fulfilled) in the Messiah”
( & )/ ), Dem. 17.10.
34
Dem. 17.11.
35
Dem. 17.12.
36
Although Grillmeier asserts that Aphrahat is subordinationist, he grants that this compari-
son between Moses and Jesus is a “manner of speaking,” and, moreover, that in the context
of an “argumentum ad hominem against the Jews,” we should not take this comparison to
represent Aphrahat’s Christology, Christ in the Christian Tradition, 215.
37
Dem. 17.2.
38
Dem. 22.26. There are two recent surveys of Aphrahat’s reading of Scripture: J. W. Child-
ers, “Virtuous Reading: Aphrahat’s Approach to Scripture,” in Malphono w-Rabo d-
Malphone: Studies in Honor of Sebastian P. Brock (ed. George A. Kiraz; Piscataway: Gorgias
Press, 2008), 43–70; and Craig E. Morrison, “The Bible in the Hands of Aphrahat the Per-
sian Sage,” in Syriac and Antiochian Exegesis and Biblical Theology for the 3rd Millennium, Gor-
gias Eastern Christian Studies, no. 6 (ed. Robert D. Miller; Piscataway: Gorgias Press,
2008), 1–25.
39
Indeed, as J. C. McCullough notes, “in the 23 Homilies there is hardly a line where there
is not some scriptural reference or allusion to be found,” McCullough, “Aphrahat the Bib-
lical Exegete,” StPatr 18 (1990): 263. See also T. Baarda, The Gospel Quotations of Aphrahat
the Persian Sage, I: Aphrahat’s Text of the Fourth Gospel (Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit, 1975),
9–10. Based on Parisot’s text and citation count (987 from the OT and 753 from the NT),
Robert J. Owens calculates that there are at least “four citations per column of Syriac text,”
The Genesis and Exodus Citations of Aphrahat the Persian Sage (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1983), 17.
112 •N O T E S •
40
In his edition, J. Parisot noted over 1300 allusions and quotations from the Hebrew Scrip-
tures as compared with 750 from the NT. Other scholars have proposed different num-
bers, but each suggestion roughly corresponds to a two-to-one ratio of Hebrew Scriptures to
NT references. No matter how one calculates this number, it is clear that Aphrahat’s writ-
ings contain an “immense reserve of citations,” Pierre, 131.
41
McCullogh asserts, “In all the Homilies, the percentage of quotations from the New Tes-
tament against quotations from all of the Bible is 36.27%; in the didactic sections, howev-
er, this rises to 45.92%, while in the polemical sections it drops to 19.12%,” J. C.
McCullough, “Aphrahat the Biblical Exegete,” 264. McCullough argues further that Aph-
rahat is more likely to use the plain-sense or literal interpretation in the polemical demon-
strations, 268.
42
There are at least 30 explicit citations from the Hebrew Bible, most of which display an
intent to cite, while there are less than five explicit NT citations. Thus, in Dem. 17, the
percentage of citations from the Hebrew Bible is 85 percent
43
Marinus D. Koster argues that Aphrahat’s exegetical methods, including typology, scriptur-
al testimony, and prophecy/fulfillment all assume the “unquestionable authority” of the
biblical text. Koster, “Aphrahat's Use of His Old Testament,” in ter Haar Romeny, The Pe-
shitta, 132.
44
As Jacob Neusner points out, Aphrahat, “met the opposition mostly on neutral grounds
provided by Hebrew Scriptures and Israelite history,” Neusner, Aphrahat and Judaism, 244.
45
Indeed, as Koster notes, “For Aphrahat his Bible was a permanent source of information
and inspiration. It forms the backbone of his argumentation, as it represents the highest
authority,” “Aphrahat's Use of His Old Testament,” 139.
46
As Oleh Shchuryk asserts, “Even the famous 17th Demonstration ‘on the Messiah’ is more
focused on Christ’s status as the Son of God and on developing an apology against the
Jews than with the Incarnation, Shchuryk, “Lēbeš pagrā as the Language of ‘Incarnation’ in
the Demonstrations of Aphrahat the Persian Sage,” ETL 83.4 (2007): 420.
47
Though I do not necessarily agree with R. H. Connolly’s search for a proto-Nicene creedal
formula in Aphrahat’s writing, I am grateful for his compiled list of Christological quotes
and I admit here my reliance upon his work to frame my own discussion. R. H. Connolly,
“The Early Syriac Creed” (see n. 2).
48
By “orthodox” we mean 1) that Aphrahat’s Christological statements, while not as devel-
oped as the Nicene formulation, do not preclude any of the Nicene canons, and 2) Aphra-
hat’s Christology is both standard and normative for early Syriac Christianity. Petersen
agrees that Aphrahat’s Christology may be called orthodox insofar as it is “normative,” but
concludes that “it is difficult to maintain that Aphrahat’s Christology is ‘orthodox’ by the
standards of the Great Church,” Petersen, “The Christology of Aphrahat,” 250.
49
Col. 1:15. It is interesting that Petersen makes no mention of the christological potential
of this phrase, despite the fact that it comes from Dem. 17.
50
Dem. 1.7. In his comparison of this quotation with John 1:2, T. Baarda notes that Aphra-
hat alone uses the preposition rather than D to make the phrase “from the begin-
ning” rather than “in the beginning,” 59. However, there seems to be no reason to
consider this as evidence of a deficient Christology, as it could have been a variant reading
in Aphrahat’s text, Baarda, 60. Kofsky and Ruzer mention this passage, but they bracket its
potentiality by suggesting that “it is quite possible that he [Aphrahat] intends the preexis-
tence of Christ in the mind of God and not a distinct quasi-hypostatic one,” [emphasis
mine] “Logos, Holy Spirit and Messiah,” 352. Moreover, they continue this argument by
•N O T E S • 113
stating that because Aphrahat demonstrates this noetic pre-existence in his discussion of
Adam, he believes the same about the pre-existent Christ. This type of conjecture is not
convincing. It is possible that Aphrahat intends a noetic pre-existence of Christ, but this is
certainly not a necessary conclusion from his writings.
51
Note the two examples are citations from Scripture: Col 1:15 and John 1:2.
52
P. Bruns, Das Christusbild Aphrahats des Persischen Weisen (Bonn: Borengässer, 1990), 189.
53
R. Murray argues that this phrase is “virtually...an equivalent for ‘the doctrine of the In-
carnation’,” Symbols, 69–70, though Murray goes on to note that Aphrahat does not devel-
op this thought into “an ecclesiological or sacramental Christology,” 70. For a more in-
depth survey of Aphrahat’s use of this phrase, see Oleh Shchuryk, “Lēbeš pagrā and the
Language of ‘Incarnation’ in the Demonstrations,” 419–444. S. Brock asserts that the
phrase would have been the original used in the Synodicon Orientale, and indeed it is pre-
served in the Syrian Orthodox recension, despite the fact that the recension of the Church
of the East uses the phrase )&3., Brock, “The Church of the East in the Sasanian Em-
pire,” Fire from Heaven, II, 74. Brock also notes that 1 was used to translate
evsapkw/qh in the early Syriac translation of the Nicene Creed, “The Christology of the
Church of the East,” 165.
54
T. Baarda explores Aphrahat’s use of the word rather than 2(. Baarda, Gospel
Quotations, 66.
55
John 1:14. Dem. 6.10; 8:6. Kofsky and Ruzer, “Logos, Holy Spirit and Messiah,” 350.
56
Dem. 1.10; 8.15–16. Kofsky and Ruzer, “Logos, Holy Spirit and Messiah,” 350.
57
Dem. 23.51
58
O. Shchuryk describes this relationship quite well: “Christ, who ‘puts on the body,’ enables
man to ‘put on God,’ and, ‘in baptism, the humanity that puts on the new Adam is given
the possibility to participate in the divine realm’,” “Lēbeš pagrā as the Language of ‘Incar-
nation’ in the Demonstrations,” 422–423.
59
Aphrahat states, “The beginning of our resurrection is the body, which he took from us,”
( 1 ! /0), Dem. 3.16.
60
J. Payne Smith notes that was also used as “essence” or “being” before the adoption
of the Greek ousia into Syriac ( #). J. Payne Smith, A Compendious Syriac Dictionary
(Reprint Eugene: Wifp and Stock, 1999), 213. Klijn’s article “The word kejan in Aph-
raates,” brought attention to this important aspect of Aphrahat’s thought.
61
Klijn, “The word kejan in Aphraates,” 66.
62
Indeed, Peter Bruns asserts that the humility and humiliation of Christ are crucial to a
proper understanding of Aphrahat’s use of the term . P. Bruns, Aphrahat: Demonstra-
tiones, I, 58.
63
Dem. 6.10.
64
. $( E49 ? 0% 1 '. *& '.
'. (“And when Jesus, the slayer of death, came and clothed himself in a body from
the seed of Adam, he was crucified in his body and tasted death.”) Dem. 23.11.
65
Moreover, this passage seems to debunk Bruns’ suggestion that Aphrahat’s doctrine of the
incarnation is open to docetism, Bruns, Das Christusbild Aphrahats, 189. Cf. Shchuryk,
“Lēbeš pagrā as as the Language of ‘Incarnation’ in the Demonstrations,” 440–442.
66
Dem. 2.19.
67
Dem. 21.9.
68
Dem. 21.18.
114 •N O T E S •
69
Diana Juhl points out that, for Aphrahat, Jesus is victorious over death in a “struggle” that
is not really a struggle, Die Askese im Liber Graduum und bei Afrahat: Eine vergleichende Studie
zur frühsyrischen Frömmigkeit (Weisbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1996), 91.
70
Dem. 21.19.
71
Dem. 17.10. Note here, as is often the case in Aphrahat, that Christ is the agent of his as-
cent from Hell, not God.
72
Dem. 7.6–7.
73
Dem. 6.13. Elsewhere Aphrahat claims that Christ brought prisoners out of the place of
darkness, Dem. 21.19.
74
P. Bruns asserts that this is the “climax of the salvation drama” of the Messiah, Aphrahat:
Demonstrationes, I, 59.
75
Acts 2:32–35.
76
Dem. 21.10, 14; 6.10, 12.
77
Dem. 14.31, 39; 22.2.
78
David G. K. Taylor also affirms that Aphrahat’s Christology is orthodox, “despite a marked
lack of technical Christological terminology, and a willingness in his apologetic writing to
base himself firmly in his opponent’s territory,” Taylor, “The Syriac Tradition,” 214.
Levitical Paradigms for Christian Bishops:

The Old Testament Influence on Origen of Alexandria
1
“… le génie le plus vaste, le plus fécond et le plus personnel qui ait illustré l’Église des
premiers siècles.” Ferdinand Prat, Origène: Le Theologien et l’Exégète (Paris: Librarie Blous,
1907), 165. See also Jean Daniélou, Origène (Paris: La Table Ronde, 1948), 7 and John
McGuckin, “Origen’s Doctrine of Priesthood I” Clergy Review 70.8 (1985): 277.
2
See for example Eugène de Faye who argues that Origen was nothing more than a Platonic
philosopher in Christian disguise. Origène: Sa vie, son Oeuvre, a Pensée, 3 vols. (Paris: E.
Leroux, 1923-28), 1 :85–95; 2:156–163.
3
“Théologien subtil, incomparable controversiste, critique patient et orateur fécond,
Origène est avant tout exégete.” Prat, Origène, 111.
4
Origen. Hom. Lev. 1.1 (SC 286: 68). All translations are my own unless specified otherwise.
The strongest objections to this view of Origen come from de Faye (see above) and Joseph
Trigg, “Origen Man of the Church” Origeniana Quinta, (ed. Robert J. Daly; Leuven Univ.
Press, 1992). For strong support of the idea that Origen is first and foremost a Christian,
not a philosopher in Christian guise, see Henri de Lubac, Histoire et Esprit: L’intelligence de
l’Écriture d’après Origène (Paris: Aubier, 1950), esp. chapter 2, “Origène Homme L’Église,”
47-91. See also Daniélou, Origene, 41; and Albano Vilela, La Condition Collegiale des Prêtres
au IIIe Siècle (Paris: Beauchesne, 1971), 127–128.
5
Albano Vilela, in his 1971 work on the collegial condition of priests in the third century,
summarizes Origen’s understanding of the priesthood by noting that Origen affirms a
variety of priesthoods: the historical priesthood of Christ, the priesthood of the body of
Christ, the priesthood of the spiritually elite, and the heavenly priesthood (Condition
Collegiale, 56). Likewise, John McGuckin surveys a number of priesthood texts in Origen
and argues that the various conceptions of priesthood are often intermingled and
•N O T E S • 115
intertwined for Origen, especially his notion of a Christian priesthood and the priesthood
of Christ. “Priesthood I,” 277.
6
“Origène désigne, mais rarement, par i(ereuj le chrétien qui a reçu l’ordination
sacerdotale.” Theo Hermans, Origène: théologie sacrificielle du sacerdoce des chrétiens (Paris:
Beauchesne, 1996), 20.
7
Robert Daly, “Sacrificial Soteriology in Origen’s Homilies on Leviticus,” StPatr 17.2
(1982): 875.
8
Joseph Trigg, Origen: The Bible and Philosophy in the Third Century Church (Atlanta: John
Knox Press, 1983), 142.
9
Origen, Hom. Lev. 6.3 (SC 286: 278). The extant homilies on Leviticus, Numbers and
Joshua are Rufinus’ Latin translations from the original Greek, which Rufinus himself
admits are not always literal translations, but rather paraphrastic in nature.
Methodologically, one may wonder what worth these sermons have for a discussion of
Origen’s view on the priesthood, or on any issue, for that matter. While it is true that
Rufinus does take some liberties with the text, there is good reason for using them in this
present study. As Ronald Heine has pointed out, much of what Rufinus changed was
based on his belief that heretics had altered Origen’s texts. Origen: Homilies on Genesis and
Exodus (Washington D.C.: Catholic Univ. of America Press, 1982), 30–39. Therefore,
wherever Origen appears to contradict himself, or appears out of line with later orthodoxy,
Rufinus attempts to emend the text. This particularly applies to issues of Trinitarian
doctrine. As Heine notes, “Nevertheless, one may say that, on the whole, the substance can
be regarded as representing Origen’s thought. The major exception to this statement is
theological statements regarding the Trinity and the resurrection of the body” (38).
Therefore, what we find on Origen’s discussion of the priesthood most likely represents
Origen’s original thought. See also, McGuckin, “Priesthood I,” 279, for similar
conclusions. For the dating and location of Origen’s homilies see Trigg, Origen, 176; Pierre
Nautin, Origène: sa vie et son oeuvre (Paris: Beauchesne, 1997), 389–409; and Robert
Wilken, “Leviticus as a Book of the Church” Consensus 23 (1997): 10.
10
Origen, like the rest of the early church, took the apostle Paul as the author of the pastoral
epistles.
11
Origen, Hom. Lev. 7.1 (SC 287: 300).
12
Likewise, Titus 1:7–8 speaks of sobriety (sobrium) as a necessary prerequisite for the office
of bishop, a passage Origen doubtless has in mind as he exegetes this Leviticus text.
13
Origen, Hom. Num. 2.1.4 (SC 415: 58–60).
14
Origen, Hom. Jes. Nav. 4.1 (SC 71: 146–148).
15
Lest one thinks these Latin translations represent only emendations from later Church
tradition, we need turn only to Origen’s homilies on Jeremiah, extant in Greek, to show
the bishop-i(ereuj connection is original with Origen. Hom Jer. 11.3; 12.3; 13.13: all equate
Old Testament priesthood (i(ereuj) with Christian ministry. Hermann Josef Vogt makes
similar conclusions as well. Das Kirchenverständnis des Origenes (Köln: Böhlau, 1974), 43; see
also Colin Bulley who likewise concludes “Origen himself had used hiereus, and it is not an
addition of [later Christians], reflecting practice in their own, later day.” The Priesthood of
Some Believers: Developments from the General to the Special Priesthood in the Christian Literature
of the First Three Centuries (Waynesboro, GA: Paternoster, 2000), 98.
16
To give just a few examples, while Joseph Trigg addresses Origen’s views on ecclesiastical
leadership, he does not address Origen’s views on ecclesiology. Trigg, Origen, 140–146.
Henri Crouzel discusses Origen’s ecclesiology for roughly fourteen pages. Origen, trans.
116 •N O T E S •
A. S. Worrall (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1989), 219–233; Eugène de Faye for roughly fifteen
pages. Origène, Sa Vie, Son Oeuvre, Sa Pensée, vol. 2 (Paris: E. Leroux, 1928), 269–284; and
Jean Daniélou for ten pages (Origène, 52–63). Notable exceptions include: Gustave Bardy,
La Theologie de l’Église de Saint Irenee au Concile de Nicee (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1947),
128–165; Pierre Batiffol, L’Église naissante et le Catholicisme (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1971),
358–397; and Vogt, Kirchenverständnis, passim.
17
E. G. Weltin, “Origen’s ‘Church’” in Studies Presented to David Moore Robinson on his
Seventieth Birthday, eds. G. E. Mylonas & D. Raymond, vol. 2 (St. Louis: Washington U. P.,
1953), 1016–1017. See F. Ledegang’s discussion of Weltin’s comment and the state of
current scholarship on Origen’s ecclesiology in general. Mysterium Ecclesiae: Images of the
church and its members in Origen (Leuven: Peeters, 2001), 1–3. See also Jacques Chênevert,
L’Église dans le commentaire d’Origène sur le Cantique des Cantiques (Bruxelles: Desclée de
Brouwer, 1969); E. Bellini, “L’Ecclesiologia di Origene (a proposito di uno studio recente)”
ScC 100 (1972): 37–44; and Crouzel, Origen , 221.
18
Origen, Cels. 8.75 (SC 150: 350–351).
19
See Origen, Hom. Num. 12.2; Hom. Jes. Nav.. 9.10; Hom. Judic. 6.3.1–7; Hom. Ezech. 12.3.1–
5; and Cels. 1.45. See also Ledegang, Mysterium Ecclesiae, 503–504 for some discussion of
this concept.
20
Origen, Hom. Jes. Nav. 15.1 (SC 71: 330–332).
21
Origen, Comm. Jo. 1.1 (SC 120: 56). Origen alludes to Rom 2:28–29.
22
Origen, Princ. 4.3.6 (SC 268: 366). Origen cites 1 Cor 10:18 and Rom 9:6.
23
N. R. M. de Lange, Origen and the Jews: Studies in Jewish-Christian Relations in Third-Century
Palestine (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1976), 80. Cf. Origen, Hom. Num. 15.3.
24
Origen, Princ. 4.1.6 (SC 268: 282).
25
“L’Église est dans l’Ancien Testament. Elle est Israël….Les rites d’Israël doivent être
entendus comme la simple préfiguration des rites chrètiens.” Marcel Simon, Verus Israel:
Ètude sur les Relations entre chrétiens et Juifs dans l’Empire Romain (135–425). (Paris: E. de
Boccard, 1964), 104–105.
26
Origen, Hom. Lev. 5.12 (SC 286: 260).
27
Ledegang, Mysterium Ecclesiae, 654.
28
“L’idée essentielle de l’analogie entre les actions de Dieu dans les événements, les
institutions et les personnages de l’Ancien et du Nouveau Testament.” Jean Daniélou,
“Origène comme Exégète de la Bible” StPtr 1 (1955): 285.
29
Jean Daniélou, “The Fathers and the Scriptures” Eastern Churches’ Quarterly 10 (1954): 268.
30
R. P. C. Hanson, Allegory and Event: A Study of the Sources and Significance of Origen’s
Interpretation of Scripture (Richmond: John Knox Press, 1959), 67, italics original. See pages
7 and 22 for his formal definition which emphasizes the aspect of “similar situation”
between type and antitype.
31
Origen, Hom. Num. 4.3.1 (SC 415: 108).
32
Origen, Hom. Lev. 9.2.1 (SC 287: 74–76).
33
Origen, Hom. Num. 11.2.2 (SC 442: 22–24).
34
“Da die Priester—wie die Leviten des Alten Testaments—sich ganz dem Dienst Gottes
widmen sollen, verlangt Origenes, dass sie von den Laien materiell versorgt warden....Wer
nämlich das Evangelium verkündet, soll vom Evangelium leben, und wer dem Altar dient,
soll auch seinen Anteil davon empfangen.” Theo Schäfer, Das Priester-Bild im Leben und
Werk des Origenes (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1977), 52–53.
•N O T E S • 117
35
Origen, Hom. Jes. Nav. 2.1 (SC 71: 116).
36
Hom Jes. Nav. 2.1 (SC 71: 116–118).
37
“Dans ce texte magnifique apparaît a la fois la succession et la continuité des deux
économies, a la fois toute la nouveauté de l’Évangile et toute la vétusté de la Loi, et, en
même temps—et c’est proprement la notion de figure—la ressemblance des réalités
spirituelles de la Loi nouvelle et des réalités charnelles de l’Ancienne…Nous sommes ici
dans la typologie en ce qu’elle a de profondément traditionnel, en ce qu’elle contient de
réalité dogmatique, en ce qui en fait une part essentielle du dépôt de l’Église.” Daniélou,
Origène, 153.
38
Jean Daniélou has suggested, surprisingly, that “the institutions of the Old Testament are
the figures of the invisible realities of the New and not the realities of the visible church”
(Origène, 74). This seems to press Origen too narrowly into purely invisible, spiritual
typology. As I hope I have demonstrated, Origen also seems quite willing to apply a
typological reading of the OT priesthood to the visible Christian priesthood of the new
covenant.
Leviticus between Fifth-Century Jerusalem

and Ninth-Century Merv
1
L. Perrone, La Chiesa di Palestina e le controversie cristologiche (Brescia 1980), 60–79. See also
K. Jüssen, Die dogmatischen Anschauungen des Hésychius von Jerusalem (2 vol.) (Münsterisdie
Beiträge zur Theologie, 17 and 20: Munster, 1931, 1934.)
2
PG 93, 787–1560. See A. Wenger, “Hesychius de Jerusalem,” RevEAug 2 (1956), 457–470,
466, who adds that the Latin text as we have it in Migne is not always comprehensible
3
E. Bertola E., “La Glossa Ordinaria biblica ed i suoi problemi,” RThAM 45 (1978), 34–78.
4
Elena Zocca, “L’interpretazione della lebbra e della sua purificazione nel Commentario al
Levitico di Esichio: un tentativo di confronto con la tradizione esegetica precedente e
contemporanea,” Annali di Storia dell'Esegesi 13.1 (1996), 179–199.
5
Wenger, ibid., with reference to 1058B: “igne exusta est (Synagoga); quod manifestat tem-
plum et CIVITAS HAEC IERUSALEM antiqua, adhuc ostendens incendii reliquias.”
There is also a marked special reverence for James the “Armenian” apostle and apparent
knowledge of the Jerusalem lectionary.
6
PG 93, 961C.
7
Zocca, “L’interpretazione,” 189.
8
“In hac nube Deus tam in Dominica carne quam in evangelica praedicatione
insinuatur…neque enim frustra uno nomine carnem Domini et Evangelium legislator
significavit, sed quia Evangelio et carne Dominica occasio atque subsistentia est.” (985BC)
9
(874) “Hic autem color coeli est, quod vero est color coeli, hoc est actio coelestis, scilicet et
subistentia, propter quod et coelestis dicitur. Multa autem et alia hypodytis habet signantia
coelestem hominem, quae in constructione tabernaculi, cum pontificalem stola, explana-
ret, legislator exposuit…comprehensa sunt ut probaretur quia utrumque nostrum Christus
suscepit hominem, et manifestum et occultum, et terrenum et coelestem, id est corpus per-
fectum et animam perfectam, et in omnibus integram.”
118 •N O T E S •
10
Ibid., 206, PO 38, 1; 1976), page 180.
11
PO 38, 1, page 132, in David J. Lane, “There is no need of turtle doves or young pigeons…
(Jacob of Sarug). Quotations and Non-quotations of Leviticus in selected Syriac writers,” in
The Peshitta: Its use in literature and liturgy (ed. Bas ter Haar Romeny; Leiden: Brill, 2006),
143–58, 150. The point is not quite as Lane reads it, but that the one who will not have
various things mixed together also will not have his name confused with those of other
deities.
12
Jacob, Homilies, IV, 191–97 quoted in Lane, ibid.
13
PO 39.4, page 186.
14
It is always a case of the will not nature; yet (Jüssen, II, 3) “Als freigewollter Gegensatz ge-
gen Gott ist die Sünde stets ein schlimmer Krankheitszustand der Seele.” In the Leviticus
Commentary at 854C on Lev 12 he declared a need for baptizing “quia nemo est mundus
a sorde, nam licet unius diei vita eius sit super terram, sordem tamen, quam ex Adam suc-
cessione et generatione traxit, retinet.”
15
935D.
16
953C.
17
947D.
18
Theodore tended to downplay the spiritual worth of the OT. The reluctance to see the
importance of salvation history—as Theodoret and his Doppelgänger Cyril of Alexandria
did—meant that for Theodore the OT is not part of God’s self-revelation, nor is it even an
oracle of wisdom.
19
Lutz Brade, Untersuchungen zum Scholienbuch des Theodoros Bar Konai: Die
Ubernahme d. Erbes von Theodoros von Mopsuestia in d. nestorian. Kirche (Gottinger
Orientforschungen: Reihe 1, Syriaca). Of course the reaction against Theodore of
Mopsuestia’s rigorism had started with Henana circa 600.
20
C. Leonhard, “Tradition und Exegese bei Ishodad von Merv (9Jh.) am Beispiel der Opfer
von Kain und Abel (Gen 4,2-5a)” in Martin Tamcke, Andreas Heinz (Hrsg.), Zu Geschichte,
Theologie, Liturgie und Gegenwartslage der syrischen Kirchen. Ausgewählte Vorträge des deut-
schen Syrologen-Symposiums vom 2.–4. Oktober 1998 in Hermannsburg. Leonhard’s mo-
nograpgh, Ishodad of Merv’s Exegesis of the Psalms 119 and 139–147 (Leuven: Peeters, 2001)
is a little vitiated by some of his English expressions. On the Hebrew text, did he have
some knowledge of this through his knowledge of the Jewish sources? Not much, argues
Leonhard.
21
Leonhard, 25. As a compiler Ernest G. Clarke, The selected questions of Isho bar Nun on the
Pentateuch (Leiden: Brill, 1962), 174, “He has heaped up a wealth of different and some-
times conflicting interpretations of a verse, shrinking back from taking his own stand on
the problem under discussion and leaving it to his on readers to choose for themselves the
solution they think best.”
22
Ibid, 238.
23
Ibid, 241f: “Even if Ishodad does not discuss questions of textual criticism etc. in the
commentaries under discussion here, the way he used his transition allowed him to get
closer to the Biblical text in the various forms of its transmission than readers who relied
in the Peshitta alone.”
•N O T E S • 119
24
Chr. Schäublin, Herkunft der Methode der antiochienischen Exegese, (Koln-Bonn,1974), 159.
More generally cf. A. Viciano “Das formale Verfahren der antiochenischen Schriftausle-
gung. Ein Foschungsüberblick” in Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum 23, (1996): 370–405;
and Lucas Van Rompay, “The Christian Syriac Tradition of Interpretation,” in Hebrew Bi-
ble/Old Testament. The History of Its Interpretation, I. From the Beginnings to the Middle Ages
(Until 1300), 1. Antiquity (ed. Magne Sæbø; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996),
612–641. Also, The Book of Genesis in Jewish and Oriental Christian interpretation: a collection
of essays (eds. Judith Frishman and Lucas van Rompay; Leuven: Peeters, 1997.)
25
Clarke, 170. “Furthermore, seeing that the whole of the exegetical literature of the
Nestorians between Narsai’s Homilies in the fifth century to Theodore bar Koni’s Book of
Scholia in the late eighth Century has been irretrievably lost, the only means of
establishing the sources from which Isho ‘dadh’s predecessor worked is provided by the
literary form of the material which he presents in his Commentary.”
26
All the following references in brackets are to the page numbers of C. van den Eynde,
Commentaire d’Išō’dad de Merv sur l’ancien testament, vol. 2, CSCO 176 (Louvain: L.
Durbecq, 1958.) For an introduction and contextualisation of Ishodad, see Van Rompay
“The Christian Syriac Tradition.”
27
We might wish to compare Ephraim’s three reasons: Armenian Commentary on Leviticus
(Ephraim) tr. E. G. Mathews (Leuven: Peeters, 2001; CSCO 558 Scriptores Armeniaci 26),
p. 71: “So, sacrifices were given as signs, for lo! the just were in no need of them and they
were of no help to sinners.” (cf. 1 Kgs 3:14) Sacrifices were commanded as a sign of the
knowledge of God, for Moses did not reconcile God with sacrifices when the people
sinned, but with prayer and with other righteous deeds—cf. also the cases of Hezekiah and
Joshua. As for the unrighteous it was because they were sacrificing to demons God com-
manded sacrifice to him. Indeed there were five annual sacrificial festivals to remind them
of his grace.
28
David J Lane, “‘There is no need of turtle doves or young pigeons’ (Jacob of Sarug).
Quotations and Non-quotations of Leviticus in selected Syriac writers,” in The Peshitta: Its
use in literature and liturgy (ed. Bas ter Haar Romeny; Leiden: Brill, 2006), 143–58.
The Holy Spirit in Cyril of Alexandria’s

Commentary on Isaiah
1
See the chapter on Cyril in Brevard S. Childs, The Struggle to Understand Isaiah as Christian
Scripture (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 110–129.
2
J. David Cassel, “Cyril of Alexandria as Educator,” in In Dominico Eloquio—In Lordly
Eloquence: Essays on Patristic Exegesis in Honor of Robert Louis Wilken, (eds. Paul M. Blowers, et
al; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 348–68.
3
PG 70, coll. 9–1450.
4
Sancti patris nostri Cyrilli archiepiscopi Alexandrini [opera], 7 vols. (ed. P. E. Pusey; Brussels:
Culture et civilisation, 1965).
5
For modern translations of Jerome, see Commentaires de Jérôme sur le prophetie Isaïe, ed.
Roger Gryson, Vetus Latina: Die Reste der altlateinischen Bibel, ed. Hermann Josef Frede,
120 •N O T E S •
nos. 23, 27, 30, 35, 36 (Freiburg: Herder, 1993); of Theodoret, see Théodoret de Cyr:
Commentaire sur Isaïe, ed. Jean-Noël Guinot, Sources chrétiennes, ed. C. Mondésert, S.J., and
D. Bertrand, S.J., nos. 276, 295, 315 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1980–84); of
Chrysostom’s partial commentary, see Jean Chrysostome: Commentaire sur Isaïe, ed. Jean
Dumortier, trans. Arthur Liefooghe, Sources chrétiennes, ed. C. Mondésert, S.J., no. 304
(Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1983); of Chrysostom’s homilies on Isaiah, see St. John
Chrysostom: Old Testament Homilies, vol. 2, Homilies on Isaiah and Jeremiah, trans. Robert
Charles Hill (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 2003); of both of the previous,
see Giovanni Crisostomo: Commento a Isaia, Omelie su Ozia, no. 162 (trans. Domenico Ciarlo,
Collana di testi patristici, ed. Claudio Moreschini; Rome: Città Nuova, 2001); of the
partial commentary of “Basil,” see San Basilio: Commento al profeta Isaia, ed. and trans.
Pietro Trevisan, Corona Patrum Salesiana, Series Graeca, nos. 4–5 (ed. Pietro Ricaldone;
Turin: Società Editrice Internazionale, 1939), and St. Basil the Great: Commentary on the
Prophet Isaiah, trans. Nikolai A. Lipatov, Texts and Studies in the History of Theology, no.
7 (Mandelbachtal and Cambridge: Edition cicero, 2001).
6
Metropolitan Demetrios Trakatellis, “Theodoret’s Commentary on Isaiah: A Synthesis of
Exegetical Traditions,” in New Perspectives on Historical Theology: Essays in Memory of John
Meyendorff (ed. Bradley Nassif; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 313–342.
7
Childs, Struggle, 110–129. See also Alexander Kerrigan, St. Cyril of Alexandria, Interpreter of
the Old Testament (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1952).
8
Robert Louis Wilken, Angela Russell Christman, and Michael J. Hollerich, eds., Isaiah:
Interpreted by Early Christian and Medieval Commentators, The Church's Bible (Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 2007).
9
Cyril of Alexandria: Commentary on Isaiah, vol. 1, Chapters 1–14, trans. Robert Charles Hill
(Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 2008).
10
The entire comment can be found at PG 70, coll. 309B–316B.
11
The comment can be found at PG 70, coll. 1349C–1357B.
12
Marie-Odile Boulnois, Le paradoxe trinitaire chez Cyrille d’Alexandrie: herméneutique, analyses
philosophiques et argumentation théologique, Collection des études augustiniennes, Série
Antiquité, no. 143 (Paris: Institut d’études augustiniennes, 1994); Paul Galtier, Le Saint
Esprit en nous d’après les Pères grecs, Analecta Gregoriana, Series Facultatis Theologicae, no.
35 (Rome: Gregorian University, 1946); and Daniel A. Keating, The Appropriation of Divine
Life in Cyril of Alexandria, Oxford Theological Monographs (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2004).
13
PG 70, coll. 1389C, 561B, respectively.
14
PG 70, coll. 233C–236D.
15
PG 70, coll. 341D–344B.
16
PG 70, coll. 933C–937B.
17
PG 70, col. 221B.
18
PG 70, col. 333A. The commentary on John 17 can be found in PG 74, coll. 473D–577B,
and more recently in Pusey, Sancti patris nostri Cyrilli, IV:658–739 and V:1–14.
19
These texts can be found, respectively, at PG 70, coll. 132C, 561C, and 1353AB.
•N O T E S • 121
20
The comments on Isa 44:3–5 can be found at PG 70, coll. 920B–924A.
21
Cf. PG 70, coll. 849D–852A.
22
PG 70, col. 656A.
23
On the usage “through the voice of” (dia phōnēs), representative texts include, among
others, PG 70, coll. 240A (David, called here “the Psalmist”), 569BC (Isaiah), 1188D
(Jeremiah), 965B (Ezekiel), 1392C (Joel, called here “the prophet”), 1353C (Zechariah),
1217C (the prophets, generically); on the topic of speaking “in the Spirit” (en pneumati),
texts include PG 70, coll. 176B (David) and 853A (true prophets).
Winking at Jonah Narsai’s Interpretation of Jonah

for the Church of the East
1
For an excellent overview of how Jonah has been received and used over the millennia
until fairly recently, cf. Yvonne Sherwood, A Biblical Text and its Afterlives: The Survival of
Jonah in Western Culture (Cambridge University Press, 2000).
2
Hymns on Virginity, numbers 42–50. Cf. Edmund Beck, CSCO 223/224, Louvain, 1962;
English translation by Kathleen E. McVey, Ephrem the Syrian: Hymns (The Classics of
Western Spirituality; New York: Paulist Press, 1989), 438–460.
3
Ephrem, Sermones II, Edmund Beck, CSCO 311/312, Louvain, 1970; English translation,
The Repentance of Nineveh: a metrical homily on the mission of Jonah by Ephraem Syrus,
translated by Henry Burgess (London: Blackader, 1853). Cf. Sebastian P. Brock, “Ephrem’s
verse homily on Jonah and the Repentance of Nineveh: notes on the textual tradition,” in
A. Schoors and P. van Deun (eds), Polyhistor: Miscellanea in honorem C. Laga (OCA 60,
1994), 71–86; and in From Ephrem to Romanos (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999), chapter V. Also,
Christine C. Shepardson has a forthcoming article and new translation of this long mēmrā,
whose authorship has often been debated, but the consensus now leans to Ephrem,
“Interpreting the Repentance of the Ninevites in Late Antique Mesopotamia.” This mēmrā
barely mentions the early parts of the Jonah saga, great fish and all, but concentrates on
the response of the Ninevites and subsequent attempts to reform Israel.
4
Jacob of Serug, Homiliae Selectae, edit. Paul Bedjan (Paris, 1908) vol. 4: 368–490. BL Add.
14623, f. 31a.
5
“Jonah’s Oar: Christian Typology in Jacob of Serug’s Mēmrā 122 on Jonah,” Hugoye Journal
of Syriac Studies, Vol. 11.1 (Winter 2008); “On the Road to Nineveh: Dramatic Narrative in
Jacob of Serug’s mēmrā on Jonah,” in Malphono w-Rabo d-Malphone. Festschrift Sebastian P.
Brock (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2008) 367–383.
6
Narsai: Homiliae et Carmina, Alphonse Mingana, edit. (Mosul, 1905) Eighth Mēmrā, “On
Jonah the prophet,” 134–149.
7
Frederick McLeod, “Narsai’s Dependence on Theodore of Mopsuestia,” Journal of the
Canadian Society for Syriac Studies 7 (2007), 18–38.
8
F. G. McLeod, Narsai’s Metrical Homilies on the Nativity, Epiphany, Passion, Resurrection and
Ascension (PO 40.1; Turnhout, 1979).
9
J. Frishman, The Ways and Means of the Divine Economy: An Edition, Translation and Study of
Six Biblical Homilies by Narsai (doctoral dissertation, Leiden: Rijksuniversteit, 1992).
10
P. Gignoux, Homélies de Narsai sur la creation (PO 34.3–4; Turnhout & Paris, 1968).
122 •N O T E S •
11
K. S. Heal, Tradition and Transformation: Genesis 37 and 39 in Early Syriac Sources (doctoral
dissertation, University of Birmingham, 2008).
12
J. Frishman, “Type and Reality in the Exegetical Homilies of Mar Narsai,” Papers Presented
to the Tenth International Conference on Patristic Studies held in Oxford, 1987 (Leuven: Peeters
Press, 1989), 169–178, esp. 172–173.
13
P. Gignoux, Homélies de Narsai sur la creation, 23.
14
J. Frishman, The Ways and Means of the Divine Economy, Homily I: “On the translation of
Enoch and Elijah,” lines 115–116; Part 2: Translation, 7 note 26.
15
T. Jansma, “Barhebraeus’ Scholion on the Words ‘Let There Be Light’ (Gen 1,3) as
presented in his ‘Storehouse of Mysteries.’ Some Observations on the Vicissitudes of the
Exposition of a Biblical Passage,” Abr-Nahrain 12 (1972): 109–110.
16
K. Heal, Tradition and Transformation, 68. Appendix: English translation of Ps-Narsai I
(forthcoming), lines 220–221; text in Homiliae Mar Narsetis in Joseph (ed. P. Bedjan;
Paris/Leipzig: O. Harrasowitz, 1901), 532.
17
Ps-Narsai I, line 128. Bedjan, Homiliae Mar Narsetis, 527.
18
K. Heal, English translation of Ps-Narsai I (forthcoming), footnote to line 128.
19
Jacob of Serug, Homiliae Selectae, vol. 4: 418:7–8, “A new infant that entered through the
mouth into the belly of his mother/and became a conception without intercourse by a
great miracle.”
20
Frederick McLeod, “Narsai’s Dependence on Theodore of Mopsuestia,” Journal of the
Canadian Society for Syriac Studies 7 (2007): 18–38.
21
K. Heal, Tradition and Transformation, esp. 126–139.
A Syriac Tract for the “Explanation”

of Hebrew and Foreign Words
1
A cursory glance at Bar cEbrāyā’s biblical commentary, the Storehouse of Mysteries (Awṣar
rāzē), makes clear his interest in these matters. Martin Sprengling and William Graham,
eds. and trans., Barhebraeus’ Scholia on the Old Testament. Part I: Genesis-II Samuel (Chicago,
University of Chicago Press, 1931).
2
See Lucas Van Rompay’s discussion in his article “Between the School and the Monk’s
Cell: The Syriac Old Testament Commentary Tradition,” in The Peshitta: Its Use in
Literature and Liturgy (ed. Bas ter Haar Romeny; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2006), 30, 47.
3
Sebastian Brock has written prolifically on this subject. Sebastian Brock, “Towards a
History of Syriac Translation Technique,” in III Symposium Syriacum, Goslar 7–11 September
1980, OCA 221, (Rome: Pontificae Universitatis Gregorianae, 1983, 1–14; repr. in Studies
in Syriac Christianity (ed. René Lavenant; Brookfield, VT: Variorum, 1992), ch. X; idem.,
“Aspects of Translation Technique in Antiquity,” GRBS 20 (1979): 69–87; repr. in Syriac
Perspectives on Late Antiquity (London: Variorum, 1984), ch. III; idem., “Some Aspects of
Greek Words in Syriac,” in Synkretismus im syrisch-persischen Kulturgebiet (ed. Albert Dietrich;
Göttingen, 1975); repr. in Syriac Perspectives on Late Antiquity (London: Variorum Reprints,
1984), ch. IV; idem., “From Antagonism to Assimilation: Syriac Attitudes to Greek
Learning,” in N. G. Garsoïan, T. F. Mathews, and R. W. Thomson, East of Byzantium:
Syrian and Armenia in the formative period (eds.) (Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks
•N O T E S • 123
Center for Byzantine Studies, 1984); repr. in Syriac Perspectives on Late Antiquity, London:
Variorum Reprints, 1984), ch. V.
4
For an introduction to the Syro-Hexapla, see A. Baumstark, Geschichte der syrischen
Literature (Bonn: A. Marcus & E. Webers Verlag, 1922), 186–188. On Jacob’s version of
the Old Testament, see the introduction in Alison Salvesen, The Books of Samuel in the
Syriac Version of Jacob of Edessa (Leiden: Brill, 1999). For an overview of various Syriac
biblical versions, see Sebastian Brock, The Bible in the Syriac Tradition, 2nd ed., Gorgias
Handbooks 7 (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2006).
5
For an assessment of these various Syriac biblical versions and their place in Syriac
exegetical literature, see Bas ter Haar Romeny, “The Peshitta and its Rivals: On the
Assessment of the Peshitta and Other Versions of the Old Testament in Syriac Exegetical
Literature,” The Harp 11–12 (1998–1999): 21–31.
6
See overview in Van Rompay, “Between the School and the Monk’s Cell,” 27–51; also Bas
ter Haar Romeny, “The Greek vs. the Peshitta in a West Syrian Exegetical Collection,” in
The Peshitta: Its Use in Literature and Liturgy (ed. Bas ter Haar Romeny; Leiden: E. J. Brill,
2006), 297–310.
7
See, for example, W. Baars, New Syro-Hexaplaric Texts: Edited, Commented upon and Compared
with the Septuagint (Leiden: Brill, 1968); see also Salvesen, Samuel in Jacob of Edessa.
8
One of these small tracts was published by R. G. H. Gottheil, “A Contribution to the
History of Geography,” Hebraica 8 (1891–92): 65–78. Some of the letters by Jacob of
Edessa in these manuscripts have been published by J. P. P. Martin and G. Phillips. For the
publications of Jacob’s “Letter on Orthography,” see A Letter by Mār Jacob, Bishop of Edessa,
on Syriac Orthography; also a Tract by the Same Author and a Discourse by Gregory Barhebraeus on
Syriac Accents (ed. and trans. George Phillips; London: Williams and Norgate, 1869); J. P.
P. Martin, Jacobi Episcopi Edesseni Epistola ad Georgium Episcopum Sarugensem de orthographia
syriaca (Paris: Klincksieck, 1869).
9
'. $( <&$ & " (!=(
# "-: & '!- </ D.

.+0 D<F '90. ;<&$ F/ '.& '., # . Vat. syr. 152, fol.
198r. This MS is dated to 980 AD, from the Mār Aaron Monastery in the region of Meli-
tene. For catalogue information, see J. S. and S. E. Assemani, Bibliothecae Apostolicae Vati-
canae codicum manuscriptorum catalogus (Rome: Rotilius, 1756), 287. Most references to this
tract in the following pages will be bases on the text of this manuscript.
10
Baars writes concerning this tract: “The very short and puzzling massora on the ‘Syro-
Hexapla and the translation of Jacob of Edessa.’” Baars, Syro-Hexaplaric Texts, 23.
11
See works by Sebastian Brock listed in footnote 3 above.
12
For a recent examination of these manuscripts see Jonathan Loopstra, “Patristic Selections
in the ‘Masoretic’ Handbooks of the Qarqaptā Tradition,” PhD diss., (The Catholic
University of America, Washington, D.C.), esp. ch. 2. Also see Chaim Brovender, “The
Syriac Shemahe Manuscripts: A Typological and Comparative Study,” PhD diss., (Hebrew
University, Jerusalem, 1976).
13
J. P. P. Martin, “Tradition karkaphienne, ou la massore chez les Syriens,” JA ser. 6 vol. 14
(1869): 245–379; William Wright, Catalogue of the Syriac Manuscripts in the British Museum:
Acquired Since the Year 1838, (London: Trustees of the British Museum and Longmans,
1870–1872); reprinted by Gorgias Press (Piscataway, NJ: 2004), 101–115; Rubens Duval,
La littérature syriaque (Paris: V. Lecoffre, 1907), 55–61; Baumstark, Geschichte, 259–260.
14
The Syriac title of these manuscripts is a “book of šmāhē and qrāyātâ” ('/ #0
'!-). Brovender, “Shemahe,” 1–22.
124 •N O T E S •
15
Manuscripts which include this tract include, of the “Syriac Masora”: Vat. syr. 152 (979/80
CE) fols. 198r–202v; Barb. orient. 118 (10–11 c.) fols. 163v–167v; BL Add. 7183 (11 c.)
fols. 127r–129v; Paris, Bibliothèque nationale syr. 64 (11 c.) fols. 216v–222v; Dam. Syr.
7/16/Chicago, Oriental Institute Library (1004 CE) fols. 207r–213v; Mosul, St. Thomas
(1014 CE) fols. 200r–204r; Deir al-Surian 13 (Brock/Van Rompay)/ 7 (Murat Kamil), (10
–11th c.) fols. ?; Borg. syr. 117 (1868 CE, copy of Mosul MS) fols. 327v–33. This tract can
be found in another non-“masoretic” manuscript: Ming. syr. 339 (1863 CE, copied from
MS 1585 CE) fols. 27v–52r. For cataloguing information on all these manuscripts, see
Loopstra, “Patristic Selections,” ch. 2.
16
See, for example, the order of biblical books in Barb. orient. 118. Arnoldus van
Lantschoot, Inventaire des manuscrits syriaques des fonds Vatican (490–631) Barbarini oriental et
Neofiti (Studi e Testi 243; Vatican: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1965), 171–172. Some
variations in this order do occur between manuscripts.
17
The order in Barb. orient. 118 is slightly different in that these names of God are listed
after the selections from Job. Barb. orient. 118, fol. 160r a 28. Some manuscripts also
include the name “Jesus” to this list of names in the prologue ( ? 0.! *&
:,). See Vat. syr. 152, fol. 198r a 19.
18
English Standard Bible, Exod. 21:5–6.
19
The Syro-Hexapla reflects the LXX reading here: (' ! ( = to. krith/rion tou/
qeou//). Paul de Lagarde, Bibliothecae syriacae (Göttingen, 1892), 74.
20
Vat. syr. 152, fol. 199v b 21.
21
Vat. syr. 152, fol. 198v b 1.
22
Vat. syr. 152, fol. 199r a 3.
23
Ibid.
24
Vat. syr. 152, fol. 202v b 7.
25
Vat. syr. 152, fol. 202v b 11.
26
M. P. Weitzman, The Syriac Version of the Old Testament (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1999), 12.
27
See Jerome Lund, “Ishocdad’s Knowledge of Hebrew as Evidenced From His Treatment of
Peshitta Ezekiel” in Romeny, The Peshitta, 177–186.
28
Vat. syr. 152, fol. 198r a 21–23.
29
See the text of Job 2:11 in Codex Syro-Hexaplaris Ambrosianus (ed. A. M. Ceriani; Milan,
1874), fol. 39v.
30
Vat. syr. 152, fol. 198r.
31
Brock, Syriac Versions, 29.
32
Syriac text from Salveson, Samuel Jacob of Edessa, 51.
33
Vat. syr. 152, fol. 200r a 8–13.
34
For more on Jacob’s incorporation of the Syro-Hexapla in his biblical version, see R. Saley,
The Samuel Manuscript of Jacob of Edessa. A Study of its Underlying Textual Traditions (Leiden:
Brill, 1998), 19–23.
35
Vat. syr. 152, 198r a 31. For the text of the Syro-Hexapla, see Ceriani, Codex Syro-Hexaplaris
Ambrosianus, fol. 41v.
36
Vat. syr. 152, fol. 199v b 20.
37
I owe this observation to Alison Salveson, “Obscure Words in the Peshitta of Samuel,
According to Theodore Bar Koni,” in Romeny, The Peshitta, 343.
•N O T E S • 125
38
The text reads: .G H0 '! " 3@ (5=( 8( . Vat. syr. 152,
202v a 25.
39
The text reads: . +( : .', '5: " 2
. & '.0! . Vat. syr. 152, fol. 198v b 9.
40
.$( ' !., ) . Vat. syr. 152, 198v a 7.
41
Vat. syr. 152, fol. 201r a 10.
42
! ( ( 0 D<F . ( ( & I! J '.<-# '.<#

.( K& 3 3 . For this text of Dionysius see Kohelet-Kommentar des Diony-
sius bar Ṣalībī. Auslegung des Septuaginta-Textes (ed. And trans. Werner Strothmann; Wiesba-
den: Otto Harrossowitz, 1988), 48.
43
Bar cEbrāyā in Storehouse of Mysteries (Awṣar rāzē) writes: 02( ( &"
. 3. Anmergungen zu den Salmonischen Schriften (ed. A. Rahlfs; Leipzig, 1887), 16.
44
Ceriani, Codex Syro-Hexaplaris Ambrosianus.
45
Alison Salvesen has recently published an article on lists of obscure words found in
Theodore Bar Koni’s Scholion on Samuel. Salveson, “Obscure Words Theodore Bar Koni,”
339–345.
46
The text reads: ( - / (“quivers/quivers of gold”). Vat. syr. 152, fol. 200r b
1. See also, Salvesen, “Obscure Words in Theodore Bar Koni,” 345.
Does the Orthodox Lectionary Subvert the Gospel?

The Pericope of the Parable of the
Wicked Husbandmen (Matt 21:36–46)
1
This paper largely represents a persuasive appeal for discussion on the topic of liturgy and
the authority of the Old Testament, thus it retains much of its extemporaneity.
2
J. Reumann, “A History of Lectionaries: From the Synagogue at Nazareth to Post-Vatican
II,” Interpretation 31 (1977) 116–130.
3
The New York Times reports just one such a pogrom, which took place in Chisinau,
Moldova, on Pascha (Easter) Sunday, in 1903. New York Times, Tuesday, April 28, 1903.
Some later reports reduce the number of dead, but still include a number of injured equal
to the difference, which hardly disputes the point.
4
John 8:44–47. This and all translations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from the NRSV.
5
Cited in D. Cohn-Sherbok, The Crucified Jew: Twenty Centuries of Christian Anti-Semitism
(Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1992), 27.
6
Ibid, 27–28. Chrysostom could just as well have been describing my own now deservedly
defunct boyhood Orthodox parish.
7
For further discussion, see “The Relevance of Western Post-Holocaust Theology to the
Thought and Practice of the Russian Orthodox Church,” Sobornost 20 (1998): 7–25.
8
Verses 42–44; verse 44 is lacking in some early major manuscripts and may have been
supplied on the basis of its identical parallel in Luke 20:18.
9
See N. Roddy, “Landscape of Shadows: The Image of City in the Hebrew Bible,” in Cities
Through the Looking Glass (ed. R. Arav; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008).
126 •N O T E S •

The Prokeimenon and Poetics
in Eastern Liturgy
1
Ign. Phld. 8:2.
2
R. Taft, "Christian Liturgical Psalmody: Origins, Development, Decomposition, Collapse,"
in Psalms in Community: Jewish and Christian Textual, Ritual, and Artistic Traditions, (ed. H.
Attridge and M. Fassler; Atlanta: SBL, 2004), 16.
3
Ibid., 17–18.
4
As R. Rappaport has claimed, “Myth as such carries no self-referential information, nor
does its telling either presuppose or establish any particular relationship between the myth
and he or she who recounts it….In contrast to myths, rituals even when they seem to be no
more than detailed reenactments of myths always stipulate a relationship between
performers and that which they perform. Such rituals communicate more than their
myths. They communicate the indexical message of the participants’ acceptance of those
myths as well.” Ritual, Religion, and the Making of Humanity (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1999), 134–35.
5
F. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1997), 152–60.
6
Such a process is an expression writ large of the individual reading process described by W.
Iser, in which new meaning in texts is created as they are balanced against the condensed
reading experiences of the past and as the text’s practical framework changes. The Act of
Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978),
107–118; trans. of Der Act des Lesens. Theories aesthetischer Wirkung (Munich: Wilhelm Fink,
1976). For an exploration of how this process may unfold when dealing with mythic
literature, see W. Doniger, The Implied Spider: Politics and Theology in Myth (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1998), 79–107.
7
Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses 1, esp. 8:1 and 9:1–4.
8
For a discussion of the problems and possibilities of ritual invention, see C. Bell, Ritual:
Perspectives and Dimensions (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997) 223–42.
9
By forcing texts into the ritual realm in this fashion, the prokeimenon mandates a
conventional relationship between congregational ritual participants and the mythic texts
that constitute the foundational structure of orthodox Christian belief and its liturgical
expression. Cf. Rappaport, 134–38.
Grand Entrance: Entrance into Worship as

Rhetorical Invitation and Liturgical Precedent
in the Older Testament
1
Alexander Schmemann, The Eucharist: Sacrament of the Kingdom (trans. Paul Kachur;
Crestwood, New York: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2003), 220.
•N O T E S • 127
2
This comparative (versus what may be considered a more absolute term, “old”) term for the
Hebrew Scriptures as used by the Church may be helpful in reminding brothers and sisters
that the Old Testament is not obsolete, but still speaks to us today.
3
My task here is difficult, for I will appeal to friends of the Protestant communities, who do
not share a common reverence for the Holy Tradition. Yet the impulse that I seek to ad-
dress is not new. Leontius of Byzantium (mid-sixth century), censured Theodore of Mopsu-
estia for his restlessness with the liturgies handed down by the Fathers, so that he drafted
his own anaphora to match his chosen theology. His actions, said Leontius, demonstrated
a lack of reverence for the Apostles’ way of worship, continued by St. Basil and others
(“Against the Nestorians and Eutychians,” PG, LXXXVI, 1368).
4
W. O. E. Oesterly, The Jewish Background of the Liturgy (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1925).
5
Dom. Gregory Dix, The Shape of the Liturgy (London: A&C Black Dacre Press, 1945).
6
Louis Bouyer, La vie de la liturgie: une critique constructive du mouvement liturgique, ET Liturgi-
cal Piety (University of Notre Dame Press, 1955).
7
Aidan Kavenagh, On Liturgical Theology (New York: Pueblo, 1984).
8
Frank C. Senn, Christian Liturgy: Catholic and Evangelical (Augsburg Fortress, 1997).
9
Many commentators consider chapter 6 as representing the initial call of Isaiah, and
comment upon the complexities of the book’s structure, in which the call is delayed for
several chapters. A few question this assumption—see, for example, John D. W. Watts
Isaiah 1–33, (Word Books: Waco, 1985), 70—and argue that this was a striking vision
shaping Isaiah’s ministry, but not his first calling as a prophet.
10
Christopher R. Seitz, Isaiah 1–39 (Westminster John Knox Press, 1993), 54.
11
See the references to Rashi’s Hebrew Commentary on Isaiah (Buxton’s Biblica Rabbinica)
and Jerome’s Commentariorum in Isiam libri octo et decem (Migne PL 24) in George Buchanan
Gray, The Book of Isaiah 1–XXIX, International Critical Commentary (Edinburgh; T&T
Clark, 1912), 104.
12
This is not to dismiss the literary connections with the passages that detail the high council
of God, cf. 1 Kgs 22 though God may hold high council in his house, it must remain
always a place of worship, for the heavenly King is the God of all.
13
Otto Kaiser, Isaiah 1–12; A Commentary, (1981 German; trans. Bowdon; Philadelphia:
Westminster, 1983), 122.
14
Schmemann, The Eucharist, 45.
15
The discussion concerning the exact meaning of the covered feet, and whether the
heavenly beings here are conceived as possessing the equivalent of genitalia, is ongoing.
16
The Hebrew is strange, vacillating between the dual and the plural. Matters are further
complicated by the singular “the voice of the one calling” in the subsequent verse.
17
In Against the Anomoeans 3.16, Chrysostom explains, “It is obvious from the very words of
Isaiah that he saw God because of God’s condescension….God is not encompassed by a
throne….That said, the seraphim could not endure the condescension of God although
they were nearby.” Cited in Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, Isaiah 1–39. Old Tes-
tament X, (ed. Steven A. McKinion; InterVarsity Press: Downer’s Grove, 2004), 48.
18
B. S. Childs, Isaiah. (Louisville, Westminster John Knox, 2001), 56.
128 •N O T E S •
19
This is my own translation, since most versions obscure iasomai, removing the solecism of
the future tense.
20
Ancient Christian Commentary, 54.
21
Ibid.
22
The Private Devotions of Lancelot Andrewes (ed. F. E. Brightman; Peter Smith: Oxford Uni-
versity: 1883), 242.
23
Ancient Christian Commentary, 50.
24
Ibid.
25
This beginning to the Great Entrance of the Liturgy of St. James may be found in the
version at http://web.ukonline.co.uk/ephrem/lit-james.htm
26
27
http://www.piney-2.com/DocAposConstitu.html. See the references to God’s
“inheritance” in the Presider’s prayer, and the description of approach to the altar in the
east, as if it were a return to Eden.
28
http://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/anf07.viii.iii.ix.html. Thanks is given for “the holy Vine
of thy servant David,” a prayer is made that the scattered Church be “gathered into one,”
and access to the holy Eucharist is hedged.
29
A. S. Wood, “Creeds and Confessions,” International Standard Bible Encyclopedia, I (ed.
Geoffrey W. Bromiley; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Publishing, 1995), 808.
30
These observations are made by Senn, Christian Liturgy, 63.
31
The Anaphora of the Holy Apostles Addai and Mari may be found online at
http://www.oxuscom.com/liturgy.htm#Anaphora. This version is reproduced from the
text provided by William Macomber, “The Ancient Form of the Anaphora of the Apostles,”
in East of Byzantium: Syria and Armenia in the Formative Period (eds. by Nina Garsoïan, Tho-
mas Mathews and Robert Thomson; Washington, D.C.: Centre for Byzantine Studies,
1982), 73–88. One of the difficulties working with such texts is to determine how much is
of ancient origin, and which portions have been added by connection with other liturgical
traditions. Senn queries some portions of the anaphora with regards to later influence, es-
pecially the addition of the Sanctus after the Trisagion, but what remains settled is the in-
fluence of Isaiah 6 and the theme of entrance into mystery. See Senn, Christian Liturgy, 80–
81.
32
Senn, Christian Liturgy, 120.
33
34
These phrases are taken from two versions of the liturgy, the first academic and the second
popular: http://web.ukonline.co.uk/ephrem/lit-james.htm.
35
Ancient Christian Commentary, 50
36
Abbot Gregory the Great, sixth century, was shown British slave children (called “Angli,”
Anglos, by the one marking them out) and remarked, prophetically: Non Angli sed angeli, si
forent Christiani (Not Anglos, but angels, if they become Christians!”).
37
Richard Crashaw, QUEM VIDISTIS PASTORES, ETC. A Hymn of the Nativity, sung by the
Shepherds. Available at http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/crashaw/nativity.htm. This
•N O T E S • 129
poem was written by Crashaw at age 33, after he had joined the Latin church. It features
overlapping liturgical responses and poetic juxtapositions in order to celebrate the mystery
of the God-Man, and so reflects the patterns of the Eucharistic liturgy.
The Use of the Old Testament in

the Syrian Christian Traditions of India
1
K. C. Sen, Lectures in India, p. 16.
2
Sophia Monthly, 2.4 (1895): 11
3
Sophia: A Weekly Review of Politics, Sociology, Literature, and Comparative Theology, 1.2, (1900):
8.
4
Arvind Nirmal, “Towards a Christian Dalit Theology,” in A Reader in Dalit Theology
(Madras: Gurukul, 1990), p. 59.
5
Maria Arul Rajah, “Towards a Dalit reading of the Bible: some hermeneutical reflections,”
Jeevadhara XXVI/151 (1996), p. 31.
6
James J. D. Dunn, The Parting of the Ways between Christianity and Judaism and their
Significance for the Character of Christianity (London: SCM, 1991); Lawrence Schiffman, “At
the Crossroads: Tanaaitic Perspectives on the Jewish-Christian Schism,” in Jewish and
Christian Self-definition, vol. 2, Aspects of Judaism in the Graeco-Roman Period (ed. E. P. Sanders
Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981), 155–56.
7
The Life and Nature of the St. Thomas Christian Church in the Pre-Diamper Period, Liturgical
Research Centre of the Syro-Malabar Church, (ed. Bosco Puthur; Cochi, Kerala, 2000), 18.
8
The material discussed here are based on the following sources. Earliest record of the St.
Thomas tradition: Acts of Judas Thomas, written in Syriac in the Edessan circle, third
century AD. (P. Bedjan, vol. III, 1892), 1–175; English translation, A. J. F. Klijn (1962);
Clement of Alexandria, Doctrine of the Apostles (Syriac); Rabban Songs; Rabban Pattu by
Maliekiel Thomas Rabban (ca 1200 AD); Margam kali Pattu “Song of the Way.” (E.R.
Hambye, “Saint Thomas and India, The Clergy Monthly 16, 1952); Portuguese sources:
Amador Correa, Francisco Dyonisio (1578); Manuel Gomes (1517), The Land of the
Perumals, or Cochin, Its Past and Present, (Madras: Gantz Brothers 1863). Mention is made of
two kinds of people in the Malabar area. One, Nasrani Mapillas, or Jewish-Christians, and
two, Yuda Mapillas, Jewish. The term mapilla refers to Semitic people in the Dravidian
language; W. J. Richards in Indian Christians of St. Thomas otherwise called the Christians of
Malabar: a sketch of their history, and an account of their present condition, as well as a discussion
of the legend of St. Thomas, 1908, observes remnants of Saturday worship in some Nasrani
communities. Documents of this kind suggest that the Nasrani, Malabar Jewish Christians
followed a lot of Jewish rituals and customs till the Portuguese conquest in the 16th century
AD.
9
L. M. Zaleski, The Apostle Thomas in India: History, Tradition and Legends. Mangalore, (1912);
Thomas Puthiakunnel, “The Jewish Colonies paved the way for St. Thomas,” in St. Thomas
Christian Encylopaedia (STCE) vol. 2. Trichur (1973), 26–27
10
Fischel, The Exploration of the Jewish Antiquities of Cochin on the Malabar Coast, Journal
of the American Oriental Society, 87.3 (1967): 231
130 •N O T E S •
11
Stephen Neill, A History of Christianity in India: the beginnings to 1707, (London: Cambridge
University Press, 1984), p. 70.
12
Gen 4
13
Gen 21:9
14
Gen 37
15
Luke 15
16
Cf. John 2, where Jesus turns the water into wine, so that this crucial ritual may be
performed.
17
P. J. Podipara, The Hierarchy of the Syro-Malabar Church (Allepey, 1976); Thomas
Manoramparambil, The Anaphora and Post-Anaphora of the Syro-Malabar Church, Kottayam,
1989; Thomas Neendoor, Communion: An Ecclesiological Analysis of the Concept of
Communion of the Thomas Christians in the Light of the Idea of Self in Emmanuel Levinas
(Kottayam, 1998).
18
George Broadly Howard, The Christians of St. Thomas and their Liturgies (Oxford: John Henry
and James Parker, 1864).
19
Ibid., 158.
20
Ibid., 157.
21
Claudius Buchanan, Christian Researches in Asia: with Notes of the Translation of the Scriptures
into the Oriental Languages, (London: Ward & Co. Paternoster Row, 1849).
22
Ibid., 119–121.
23
Pauly Kannokadan, The East-Syrian Lectionary: An Historical-Liturgical Study, (Rome: Mar
Thoma Yogam, 1991).
24
See Exod 33:7–11.
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Index
•A• Athanasius of Alexandria, 1

Augustine, 25
Aaron, 21, 37, 39, 45, 80, 123n.9 Azazel, 40
Abihu, 39
Abraham, 22–23, 40, 55, 98, 99, 100
Adam, 15, 45, 110nn.22, 25, 113nn.50, 58, •B•
64, 118n.14
Adonai, 59 Babylon, 68
Africa, 3 Babylonian, 21, 62, 68
Alleluia, 74, 85 god, 69
Altar, 26, 31, 32, 38, 81, 82, 83, 87, 88, Talmud, 21
116n.34, 128n.27 Baptism, 15, 20, 27, 37, 48–50, 86, 110n.25,
Anaphora, 85, 86, 100, 101, 127n.3, 113n.58
128n.31, 130n.17 Basil of Caesarea, 6, 44, 88, 120n.5, 127n.3
Anastasius of Sinai, 36 Bhakti, 92
Angel(s), 60, 83, 84, 85, 86, 88 Bhaskara, 96, 97
Antiochene, 38, 39, 44 Bible, 2–6, 9, 12, 13, 14, 17, 19, 20, 23, 25,
Aphrahat, 9–17, 39, 107n.1, 108nn.2, 4–11, 44, 49, 50, 58, 59, 60, 65, 69, 71, 91, 94,
109nn.13–15, 19–20, 110nn.22, 24–26, 96, 98, 102, 103, 104, 105, 109n.20,
28, 111nn.29–33, 36, 38–40, 112nn.41, 111nn.31, 38, 112n.41, 42, 45, 115n.8,
43–48, 50, 113nn.52–53, 59–60, 62, 65, 116n.28, 119n.24, 120n.8, 123n.4,
114nn.69, 71, 73–74, 78 124n.18, 125n.9, 128n.29, 129n.5
Apocrypha, 3, 107n.4 Bishop(s), 10, 19, 25, 26, 27, 32, 37, 86,
Apostle(s), 26, 27, 29, 43, 47, 77, 82, 86, 109n.18, 115nn.12, 15, 123n.8
101, 115n.10, 117n.5, 127n.3, 128n.31, Brahman(s), 92, 98, 100
129nn.8, 9 Bread, 32, 84, 86, 100
Arabian (-ic), 38, 58
Aramaic, 59, 62
Archangel, 40, 84, 107n.5
Arian Controversy, 10, 110n.26 •C•
Armenia(n), 19, 117n.5, 119n.27, 122n.3,
128n.31 Canaan, 29
Ascension, 16, 121n.8 Catenae, 57, 63
Asia, 3, 103, 109nn.16, 18, 130n.21 Chalcedon, 35, 107n.1, 108n.3
Assyria, 53–54 Cherubim, 85, 86
Astrology, 19 Chief priest, 26, 68
134 •I N D E X •
Circumcision, 21 Fire, 39, 48, 69, 84, 86, 105, 109n.17,

Cochin, 94, 95, 96, 99, 101, 103, 105, 110n.21, 113n.53
129nn.8, 10 First-fruit(s), 31, 32, 47
Communion, 5, 84, 100, 101, 102, 103,
107n.1, 130n.17
Corinthians, 32, 85
Covenant, 20, 69, 79, 103, 117n.38
•G•
Creed(s), 9, 11, 14, 15, 23, 101, 108n.2,
Galilee, 22, 97
110nn.27, 28, 112n.47, 113n.53, 128n.29
Gentiles, 29, 32, 46, 52, 106
Cyril of Jerusalem, 84
Gift(s), 32, 39, 40, 45, 48, 49, 88, 97
Glossa Ordinaria, 35, 117n.3
Gnostic(s), 3, 19, 75, 76, 77
•D• Gospel, 1, 2–7, 20, 21, 29, 31, 32, 33, 35, 45,
52, 55, 59, 65, 66, 67, 68, 70, 71, 73, 74,
Dalit, 91, 92, 93, 94, 98, 129nn.4, 5 78, 84, 87, 102, 103, 111n.39, 112n.54
Daniel, 3, 16, 40, 59, 102 Greek, 3, 11, 19, 22, 38, 43, 45, 58, 66, 81,
David, 13, 50, 69, 102 83, 104, 110n.26, 111n.29, 113n.60,
Deacon, 27 115n.9, 122n.3, 123n.3, 6
Dead Sea Scrolls, 3
Didache, 86, 108n.2
Dionysius, 63, 88, 101
Dravidian, 96, 97, 100, 101, 129n.8
•H•
Heaven(s), 17, 29, 52, 79, 80, 81, 82, 86, 89,
109n.17, 110n.21, 113n.53
•E• Hebrew, 1, 3, 9, 12, 13, 14, 17, 20, 44, 50,
57, 58, 59, 60, 63, 65, 71, 81, 83, 96, 97,
Edessa, 19, 20, 51 98, 103, 104, 107n.4, 109n.20, 111nn.31,
Jacob of, 57, 58, 60, 61, 63, 123nn.4, 7, 32, 112nn.40, 42, 44, 118n.20, 119n.24,
8, 10, 124nn.32, 34 123n.12, 124n.27, 125n.9, 127nn.2, 11,
Egypt, 45 16
Elijah, 53, 70, 122n.14 Hell, 16, 17, 55, 71, 114n.71
Elisha, 70 Hellenistic, 10, 19
Empire, 22, 109n.17 Hermeneutics, 2, 5, 22, 91, 92
Roman, 108n.2, 109n.17, 110n.21 Hesychius of Jerusalem, 35, 36, 37, 40, 41,
Sassanian, 110n.21, 113n.53 117n.2
Enoch, 3, 53, 122n.14 Hexapla, 3
Ephrem (Ephraem), 1, 19–23, 51, 110n.26, Syro-, 38, 57, 58, 60–63, 123nn.4, 7, 10,
119n.27, 121nn.2, 3, 128n.25, 34 124nn.19, 29, 34, 124n.35, 125n.44
Eucharist, 37, 48, 51, 84, 85, 86, 87, 126n.1, Hindu, 91, 92, 93, 98, 100, 101, 106
127n.14, 128n.26, 28, 33, 129n.37 Hymn(s), 4, 19, 20, 82, 85, 110n.26, 121n.2,
Eusebius, 44 128n.37
Hypostasis, 47
•F•
•I•
Fasting, 26, 39
Fathers, 1, 5, 6, 39, 58, 85, 86, 102, 116n.29, Ignatius, 73, 74, 75, 78
127n.3 Incarnation, 15, 16, 84, 87, 88, 103, 104,
Feast, 4, 87 112n.46, 113nn.53, 58, 65
•I N D E X • 135
India, 91, 93, 94, 96, 97, 98, 101, 102, 105, •L•
107n.1, 129nn.1, 8
Irenaeus of Lyons, 1, 76, 77, 126n.7 Latin, 3, 6, 11, 36, 39, 81, 92, 94, 115nn.9,
Isaiah, 4, 42, 43, 44, 45, 48, 49, 50, 59, 80, 15, 116n.2, 128n.37
81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 88, 119n.1, 120nn.5, Lectionary, 20, 36, 65, 66, 68, 78, 94, 103,
6, 8, 9, 121n.23, 127nn.9, 10, 11, 13, 17, 104, 105, 106, 117n.5, 130n.23
18, 128n.31 Light, 2, 6, 9, 13, 22, 26, 30, 32, 45, 47, 57,
Isho Bar Nun, 36, 37, 38, 118n.21 65, 68, 75, 76, 80, 82, 88, 102, 104,
Ishodad, 37–40, 118nn.20, 23, 119n.26 122n.15, 130n.17
Israel, 1, 2, 12, 13, 23, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, Liturgy, 3, 6, 65, 73, 74, 79, 80, 85, 86, 87,
52,56, 62, 67, 69, 70, 80, 97, 99, 95, 97, 100, 104, 106, 107nn.14, 17,
116n.25, 121n.3 118n.11, 119n.28, 122n.2, 123n.6,
125n.1, 127nn.4, 5, 8, 128nn.25, 30, 31,
32, 34, 129n.37
•J• Logos, 9, 15, 93, 108nn.5, 7, 112n.50,
113nn.55, 56
Jacob
of Edessa, 57, 58, 60, 61, 63, 123nn.4,
7, 8, 10, 124nn.32, 34 •M•
of Nisibis, 19, 107n.1, 109n.16,
of Serug (Sarug), 36, 51, 53, 118n.11, Manasseh, 3, 69, 70
119n.28, 121nn.4, 5, 122n.19 Manicheans, 19
Jeremiah, 50, 59, 70, 115n.15, 120n.5, Manuscript(s), 3, 4, 58, 59, 60, 63, 103,
121n.23 123nn.8, 9, 12, 13, 14, 15, 124nn.15, 16,
Jeroboam, 69 17, 34, 125n.8
Jerome, 35, 43, 81, 107n.4, 119n.5, 124n.27, Marcion, 21
127n.11 Marcionite, 19
Jerusalem, 31, 32, 35, 36, 68, 69, 70, 81, 84, Mary, 54, 85
102, 117nn.1, 2, 5 Mashal, 67, 68
John Masora
the Baptist, 48 Hebrew, 58
Chrysostom, 1, 43, 44, 67, 84, 88, Syriac, 57, 58, 64, 123n.15
120n.5, 125n.6, 127n.17 Messiah, 12, 17, 29, 62, 63, 101, 102, 103,
Jordan (River), 27 104, 105, 108nn.5, 7, 111nn.31, 32, 33,
Josiah (King), 69 112nn.46, 50, 113nn.55, 56, 114n.74
Judgment, 10, 15, 17, 46, 69, 70, 80, 102 Miaphysite, 35, 36
Justice, 36, 38, 40, 52 Mishnah, 21
Justin Martyr, 9 Monophysite, 35
Moses, 1, 12, 13, 21, 22, 27, 20, 32, 33, 36,
39, 40, 45, 59, 70, 80, 104, 111n.36,
•K• 119n.27
Karma, 92, 100

Kerala, 96, 97, 107n.1, 129n.7 •N•
Kerygma, 6, 75
Kingdom, 40, 49, 68, 69, 70, 80, 86, 87, 96, Nadab, 39
109n.18, 126n.1 Nestorian(s), 43, 96, 101, 109nn.17, 18,
118n.19, 119n.25, 127n.3
Nineveh, 51, 52, 53, 55, 121nn.3, 5
136 •I N D E X •
Nicaea (Nicea), 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 109nn.16, •R•

19, 110nn.26, 28
Nicene, 9, 10, 11, 13, 14, 15, 17, 23, 108n.7, Rabban Qatar, 38, 39
109n.18, 110nn.26, 28, 112nn.47, 48, Rashi, 81, 95, 127n.11
113n.53 Redemption, 15, 16, 30, 54
Nisibis, 19, 20, 39, 51, 107n.1, 109n.16 Resurrection, 15, 16, 17, 52, 55, 73, 78, 85,
103, 113n.59, 115n.9, 121n.8,
Righteousness, 22, 45, 47, 55, 59
•O•
Oracle(s), 69, 83, 84, 118n.18 •S•
Origen, 3, 25–33, 37, 114nn.1, 2, 4, 5,
115nn.7–16, 116nn.17–24, 26, 30, 31– Sacrament, 27, 86, 87, 126n.1
34, 117n.35, 38 Satan, 38, 46
Ordination, 25, 26 Savior, 16, 54, 56
Orthodoxy, 1, 9, 11, 15, 108n.8, 110n.26, Septuagint, 1, 3, 59, 123n.7, 125n.42
115n.9 Seraphim, 81, 82, 84, 85, 86, 88, 125n.42,
127n.17
Sheol, 16, 54
•P• Solomon, 13, 69, 96
Soteriology (-gical), 46, 47, 48, 115n.7
Paul, 2, 46, 51, 96 Synod of Diamper, 103
The Apostle, 1, 15, 21, 29, 32, 45, 62, Synod of Isaac, 10, 109n.18
85, 115n.10
Pascha, 100, 125n.3,
Passover, 32, 100 •T•
Penance, 36, 37, 40
Pentacostarion, 65, 66 Tabernacle, 31, 80, 104
Pentateuch, 36, 38, 58, 118n.21 Temple, 4, 31, 32, 33, 47, 66, 68, 69, 79, 80,
Peshitta, 38, 53, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 81, 104, 108n.9
109n.14, 112n.43, 118nn.11, 23, Tertullian, 37
119n.28, 122n.2, 123nn.5, 6, 124nn.27, Theodore Bar Koni, 37, 63, 119n.25,
37 124n.37, 125nn.45, 46
Pharaoh, 12 Theodore of Mopsuestia, 37, 38, 51,
Philoxenus of Mabbug, 36 118n.19, 121n.7, 122n.20, 127n.3
Pneumatology (-gical), 44, 47, 48, Theodoret of Cyrus, 43, 44, 118n.18,
Presbyter (-roi), 19, 27 120nn.5, 6
Psalter, 74, 80 Theodotion, 3, 63
Theoria, 5
Trisagion, 85, 87, 128n.31
•Q• Typology, 30, 32, 33, 76, 112n.43, 117n.38,
121n.5
Qadisha, 105
Qatraya, 39
Qeryane, 95, 103–105 •U•
Qumran, 67
Qurbana, 101, 103, 104 Uzziah (King), 81
•I N D E X • 137
•V•
Veil, 30, 85, 88
Virtue, 26, 29, 69, 100
Vow, 99
Vulgate, 35
•W•
Water(s), 37, 47, 49, 54, 59, 103, 130n.16
Wine, 26, 100, 103, 130n.16
Wisdom, 22, 58, 69, 118n.18
BIBLE IN THE CHRISTIAN
@ ORTHODOX TRADITION
Vahan S. Hovhanessian, General Editor
This series aims at exploring and evaluating the various aspects of biblical traditions
as studied, understood, taught, and lived in the Christian communities that spoke
and wrote—and some continue speaking and writing—in the Aramaic, Arabic,
Armenian, Coptic, Georgian, Romanian, Syriac, and other languages of the
Orthodox family of churches. A particular focus of this series is the incorporation of
the various methodologies and hermeneutics used for centuries in these Christian
communities, into the contemporary critical approaches, in order to shed light on
understanding the message of the Bible. Each monograph in the series will engage
in critical examination of issues raised by contemporary biblical research. Scholars
in the fields of biblical text, manuscripts, canon, hermeneutics, theology, lectionary,
Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha will have an enormous opportunity to share their
academic findings with a worldwide audience. Manuscripts and dissertations,
incorporating a variety of approaches and methodologies to studying the Bible in
the Eastern and Oriental Orthodox traditions—including, but not limited to,
theological, historiographic, philological and literary—are welcome. Further
information about this series and inquiries about the submission of manuscripts
should be directed to:
Acquisitions Department
Peter Lang Publishing, Inc.
P.O. Box 1246
Bel Air, MD 21014–1246
To order books in this series, please contact the Customer Service Department:
(800) 770–Lang (within the U.S.)
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The Old Testament As Authoritative Scripture in The Early Churches of The East

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HovhanessianVahanS978-1-4331-0735-1:NORMAN~1.

qxp 2/22/2012 1:06 PM Page 1

W W W . P E T E R L A N G . C O M BIBLE IN THE CHRISTIAN ORTHODOX TRADITION

in the Early Churches of the East

W W W . P E T E R L A N G . C O M BIBLE IN THE CHRISTIAN ORTHODOX TRADITION

in the Early Churches of the East

Bibliographic information published by Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek.

© 2010 Peter Lang Publishing, Inc., New York

All rights reserved.

Preface ................................................................................................................ vii

Son of Man, Son of God: Aphrahat’s Biblical Christology ................................ 9

Levitical Paradigms for Christian Bishops:

Leviticus between Fifth-Century Jerusalem and Ninth-Century Merv ............. 35

The Holy Spirit in Cyril of Alexandria’s Commentary on Isaiah .................... 43

Winking at Jonah Narsai’s Interpretation of Jonah

Does the Orthodox Lectionary Subvert the Gospel? The Pericope

A Question for the Audience:

Grand Entrance: Entrance into Worship as Rhetorical Invitation and

Bibliography ..................................................................................................... 131

Index ................................................................................................................. 133

Vahan S. Hovhanessian, Ph.D.

CSCO Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium

expressed in the methodologies and expressions of thought appropriate to

sense of the word, which carries the expectation of responsive accountability.

have been found in abundance throughout these lands, representing all of

7) as the Word of God directed toward a faithless King Ahaz? It certainly

counterparts. This outlook can be a blessing as well as a curse. On the negative

Son of Man, Son of God:

The Assessment of Petersen’s Argument6

Aphrahat’s primitive Christology requires some modern scholars to justify

implications22 would cause some Christians to reconsider their allegiances—

doxy. Aphrahat’s ignorance of Nicaea, as well as his historical and intellectual

Another Excursus on Demonstration 17

employs a higher ratio of Hebrew Bible to New Testament citations in the

The Christology of Aphrahat the Persian Sage

pertinent Christological issues such as pre-existence, incarnation, death, resur-

Suffering and Death

Descent to Hell, Defeat of Death, and the Harrowing of Hell

Ascension and Judgment

Ephraem the Syrian

Ephraem sees both Testaments as inseparable. Both are needed, the

written down to be the Mishnah. We know the festal readings of the

God is to be seen in his creation as well as in Scripture:

Ephraem was interested in defending the Orthodox Christian way to

In his commentaries on Genesis and Exodus he is interested only in the

Levitical Paradigms for Christian

of specially ordained hierarchical Christian priests.”7 Finally, Joseph Trigg

Ecclesiology Shaped by the Old Testament

Origen here describes the church as a “national government” complete

For Origen, to be a Christian was to be a “Jew in secret” and to have been

An equally important component to Origen’s ecclesiological construction

Leviticus between Fifth-Century

For Hesychius penance is related to baptism as an extension of it,

1. Because he would use material aids to draw people to him in love so

1. Michael (of Badoqa, student of Henana of Adiabene, head of the

What is interesting is that Ishodad is not really too concerned about

than ordinary blood? Ishodad feels compelled to find a reason and it is

The Holy Spirit in Cyril of

Introduction and Background

Cyril’s Comments on Important Isaianic Passages

Cyril on the Spirit’s Place within the Trinity

First, in Cyril’s comments on Isa 8:15–16, he picks up on the word

1. Job 1:1: . : &"( : 3 (A man/A man)

1. 1 Sam 17:5 . 2 '.0# (Helmet/Helmet [lat. cassis])

&: [3];/ ! .' 1 [2]24 / .&( &" [1]'.0#