Author Archives: Derek A. Olsen

The Papacy *Sigh*

I have great challenges whenever I consume some of my favorite types of visual media: movies/shows/YouTube depicting historical or fantastic medieval societies. M will tell you how often I work myself into a state of apoplexy concerning the armor and weapon sets portrayed in such shows. (Studded leather was not, is not, and never will be a thing!!!)

Another great challenge to me is the portrayal of the western Church in these medievalish times, including the depiction of the papacy. Apparently, Hollywood screenwriters are taught that from the Fall of Rome until…The French Revolution?? the Pope was a mastermind, crouching like a giant masculine Shelob at the center of a highly effecient bureacratic web whose tendrils extended through every portion of Europe and likely beyond. A parish priest in furthest Scandanavia whispered a heretical thought and suddenly the papal assasins were on him…

Particuarly as an Early Medievalist, I find these assumptions truly bizarre. Do people really not know that the Roman popes were under the thumb of and often picked by the Roman Emperor (in Constantinople) until some point in the 8th century?? Sure, when Boniface wanted a final word on what degree of consanguinity was acceptable for Saxon marriages, he’d send a letter asking the pope. But that’s a missive from the periphery in—most certainly not the other way around! And as for political power and control in Latin-speaking Europe, you don’t get the first inkling of that until Leo III’s turn toward Charlemagne and away from the Eastern Emperor (and yes, Leo’s crowning of Charlemagne as “Holy Roman Emperor” was fully intended to be a middle finger to Constantinople!), and it isn’t actually realized until Gregory VII–from Frankia–was brought into Rome and who conceived of himself as above all other earthly authority. But even then you don’t begin to get an actual extension of the papal arm until the legate system got up and going around the 13th century or so—and even then it was sort of iffy at best…

Sometimes I almost feel like we need Adult Forum materials entitled “BS People Believe about the Church and Why it’s BS” including popes, Galileo and science, the “Lost” Gospels, and all sorts of silly things people are taught in modern media.

The Winding Stair

I’ve been reading a fair amount of novels recently; I just finished Susanna Clark’s Piranesi. I really enjoyed it and definitely recommend it. I was warned to go into it knowing as little about it as possible, which is a good idea. (And I’m not going to spoil anything here either, having said that…)

I’m coming to it having recently finished Mark Lawrence’s Library Trilogy, and am noticing some interesting and complementary things.

In particular, I’m feeling the influence of Borges’ collection Labyrinths: Selected Stories & Other Writings on both Clark and Lawrence’s works, and don’t want to comment further without going back to “Garden of Forking Paths” and “Library of Babel” and maybe a few others. Too, I’m wanting to reread Piranesi again before saying more about these works and their interconnections and themes, but need to reread The Magician’s Nephew again before I do so as Clark deliberately references that classic several times.

So, thoughts to come about selves and searching…

Confirmation: What’s it for?

A comment on the last post reminded me of the Great Episcopal Confirmation Debate. This is most certainly not a new one, and I was reminded of that recently when re-reading Prayer Book Studies 18 (Holy Baptism with Laying-on-of-Hands–no separate Confirmation here!) vs. Prayer Book Studies 26 (Holy Baptism Together with a Form for Confirmation or the Laying-On of Hands by the Bishop) and the 100+ page supplement explaining the logic of the rite especially after the special meeting of the House of Bishops to hammer out a list of agreed positions on Baptism and Confirmation!

Contra the Liturgical Renewal Movement and its peculiar form of 4th century fundamentalism on this issue, I am a firm believer in Confirmation and its continuing utility.

My own take approaches it from a big-picture view of Christian initiation and discipleship.

What does Baptism do? It is the sacrament that joins a believer into the Body of Christ. It unites us into the full company of Christians, the blessed company of all faithful people. It initiates us into the Church Universal–that is also the Church Invisible spread across time, place, and divided sects of the disjointed Christian family. This is why we say that people are not baptized into the Episcopal Church–because they’re not. I was baptized in a Lutheran church–not into the Lutheran Church. When I joined the Episcopal Church I had no need to be baptized again having already received the “one Baptism for the remission of sins” by being baptized 1) by water 2) in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

So what does Confirmation do? And why is a bishop required for it? As I see it, it’s a pretty simple answer. As a baptized member of the invisible and universal Body of Christ, Confirmation is that which grounds and instantiates me in the essential particularities and physicalities of an incarnate Christian faith: it ties me to a visible and particular assembly of Christian believers. If we agree with Irenaeus that the three marks of the Church are the biblical canon, creed, and apostolic succession–which I do–then Confirmation serves to orient and locate me within a particular instantiation of that apostolic succession through the physical touch of an actual bishop.

(Now–I do believe that apostolic succession is first and foremost about intent: the intent to carry on the faith as handed down from the apostles. I’m not going to argue that Presbyterians, some Lutherans, and Baptists are not actual Christians because they don’t currently have sacramental bishops. But I do think we do need them and should have them. As the conversations around Called to Common Mission went, the Lutherans said: bishops are desirable but not essential; we responded: bishops are essential but not desirable…)

So–that’s my take. We can’t be Christians by ourselves. We need a physical, incarnate, embodied community to encourage us, live with us, and take us to task. That’s where Confirmation comes in. It’s the rite that connects us to a particular divided community of the Church filled with contrary, failed, broken people so we can be contrary, failed broken–and holy–alongside them. Does our rite currently reflect that logic? Not sure–but I think it should…

There’s Something About (St.) George

Intro

A correspondent was asking me some questions about the status of St. George, he–patron of England–who is not on our sanctoral calendar despite having several churches around the Episcopal Church named for him.

What’s up with that?

First Thoughts

Here’s a version of my initial response:

I’m at my daughter’s Parents’ Weekend at the moment so don’t have access to all of my records, but I can tell you this…

St. George was one of the saints on the first proposed American calendar during the 1913-28 period, but that calendar was voted down and not included in the 1928 BCP. When the topic was taken up again in Prayer Book Studies 9, St. George was the poster-child for “saints of dubious historicity.” Here’s the paragraph in question:

Not only are many of the most popular and widely commemorated saints of both the Eastern and the Western Churches of dubious historical authenticity; but, if their historicity is beyond reasonable doubt, there is no certain knowledge or information about their lives and character. It is impossible, for example, to establish the historical existence of St. George. The fact that he has become a patron saint of England does not make him any the more real; nor does it necessitate making him a saint of the American Church. Fairy-book tales may indeed be edifying. When they become part of the folklore and tradition of a great nation they can become stirring symbols. But it is asking too much of the majority of our American Church membership, who have no such traditional and patriotic associations with the name, to respond with mature devotion to a saint of whom it can only be said, “He may have existed, sometime, somewhere.” There are innumerable saints, many of them martyrs for the Faith, who deserve the thankful remembrance of the Church, but for whom the accidents of history have left no certain testimony. For these holy men and women whose memory might otherwise be forgotten by the faithful the Church provides the common feast of All Saints with its Octave. Where church dedications or other circumstances have left the memorial of saints who are scarcely recorded in the annals of history, the Prayer Book already provides two sets of propers for their commemoration: the Feast of the Dedication of a Church, and A Saint’s Day. These propers should give adequate coverage and usefulness for such occasions as may be desired by local parishes or parish groups.

PBS IX, p. 36.

Despite this, George was re-added in the Holy Women, Holy Men phase, and according to my records was in the HWHM editions of at least 2009 and 2013. He was also included in the ill-fated Great Cloud of Witnesses. In the return to Lesser Feasts & Fasts, though, he was once again dropped.

The largest hurdle to a new effort at including him would be the question of historicity–nailing down exactly who and when we’re talking about.

The Propers

Here’s the thing… When it comes to celebrating St. George, it doesn’t matter if he’s on the Official Calendar or in Lesser Feasts & Fasts. That’s because anyone (theoretically) can be liturgically celebrated if a local congregation chooses to. That’s the heart of the flexibility of our Calendar:

Subject to the rules of precedence governing Principal Feasts, Sundays, and Holy Days, the following may be observed with the Collects, Psalms, and Lessons, duly authorized by this Church . . . Other Commemorations, using the Common of Saints.

BCP, 18

So–yeah, any parish can celebrate St. George if they like using the Commons of Saints. That having been said, as I mentioned above, there were propers provided for St. George in HWHM:

I. Almighty God, who didst commission thy holy martyr George to bear before the rulers of this world the banner of the cross: Strengthen us in our battles against the great serpent of sin and evil, that we too may attain the crown of eternal life; through Jesus Christ our Redeemer, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

II. Almighty God, you commissioned your holy martyr George to bear before the rulers of this world the banner of the cross: Strengthen us in our battles against the great serpent of sin and evil, that we too may attain the crown of eternal life; through Jesus Christ our Redeemer, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

HWHM, p. 339

They’re different in Great Cloud of Witnesses. (I feel like I may have written these?? But haven’t checked back…)

Rite I. Lord Jesus Christ, whose cross didst seal thy servant George: Grant that we, strengthened by his example and prayers, may triumph to the end over all evils, to the glory of thy Name; for with the Father and Holy Spirit thou livest and reignest, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Rite II. Lord Jesus Christ, whose cross did seal your servant George: Grant that we, strengthened by his examples and prayers, may triumph to the end over all evils, to the glory of your Name; for with the Father and Holy Spirit you live and reign, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

GCW, p. April 23 (no actual page numbers??)

A Deeper Dive

A key question here is about history: Was George historical? Or, perhaps even better, What can be said about George from a historical perspective? I think that PBS IX raises a question worth examining when it asks whether people of mature devotion should be required to call upon a person who may or may not have existed–especially since there are so many fascinating worthies that history does record that the church of our day has completely forgotten (Radegund, anybody???)

Since the very first set of criteria were established for additions to the Episcopal calendar, historicity has been one of them. It’s worth looking into that a bit clearer.

At the Reformation, the cult of saints was one of the Reformers’ major objections with the Church of Rome. Issues involved matters of salvation, penance, and money (the Treasury of Merit binding these topics together), as well as dubious relics (cf. money again), an occlusion of Christ himself as our mediator with God, and–finally–the ahistorical and unhistorical tales of various saints recounted within the liturgy itself. As with many issues raised by the Reformers, sound minds within the Roman Church agreed that they weren’t entirely wrong. At the instigation of a couple of earnest researches, a organization arose to tackle some of these issues by means of that last item: The Bollandists.

A Jesuit named Herbert Rosweyde produced his principal work, an edition of the Vita Patrum [Lives of the Desert Fathers] in 1615 with the intention of creating a work that would focus on cutting through myth and pious legend, back to the best and most recoverable sources in Greek and Latin about the saint in question. This was the first step on a grand project, the Acta Sanctorum [Acts of the Saints] which would attempt to do this work or research and recovery on the full Roman Kalendar. Unfortunately, Fr. Rosweyde caught a disease from a dying man to whom he was ministering and died himself in 1629. But that’s not the end of the story: his work was taken up by another Jesuit, Fr. Jean Bolland, from whom the organization’s name would arise. Taking on an assistant named Henschenius, the first two volumes of the Acta Sanctorum were published in 1643. By the death of Henschenius in 1681, 24 volumes had appeared and more were in preparation. By this time a community of scholars were involved in the work and it would continue even through its own suppression, the suppression of the Jesuits, and a refoundation in the 19th century using the developing tools of philology and historical criticism. As the Roman Church periodically reformed its calendars, they relied heavily upon the Bollandists’ Acta Sanctorum–as they continue to do. New volumes and supplements continue to be issued.

It’s this group, their efforts and labors, that was hanging in the minds of Massey Shepherd, Jr., Morton Stone, and Bayard Jones as they worked on their own calendar revision (two volumes by Hippolyte Delehaye published by the Société des Bollandistes appear in the General Bibliography of PBS IX).

Why does this matter? In a word–Incarnation. A mature sanctoral theology is grounded by a great many things but at the core is the doctrine and concept of Incarnation. Saints are humans. Regular, fallible, sinful people–just like you and me. Yet, they serve as examples of how our weak flesh maybe suffused by the light of Christ that the people they encounter might see their good works and glorify their Father who is in heaven. And Incarnation demands historicity because without it, all we are left with is a pleasant, pious story.

Complications

But–it’s also more complicated than that.

The way I see it, the story of the saints is not simply an exercise in history. No more than the story of a nation is an exercise in history. And that’s because history is a very slippery animal. The way I can explain it best is like this…

The discipline of history is the science of discovering facts–truths–about reality in the past that can be quantified. A certain man died here on a certain day. A battle was fought at this site in a certain year. A pot, of a particular type, made at a particular time, by particular people, was broken here because we have gathered its fragments. These momentary points of truth are then gathered and weighted–some receive more weight, some less–but taken together these weighted facts become steps and signposts in the creation of a subjective narrative (or set of narratives) that rely on these data points to pull together something coherent, that can account for the greatest number of the most compelling points in the best way.

This is why history changes; why the past is not fixed. Not only can the data points themselves be reinvestigated as new techniques give us new information with which to study them, but the stories in which we embed them are subject to revision as we learn more and as we examine the constellations of data points from new and changing angles. And that’s the point of so-called “revisionist” history: the subjective narratives that former historians have built around the data points they had access to are what is being revised in the light of new facts and new narrative options. (Indeed, one of the best examples of revisionist history in the fields I know best is Eamon Duffy’s Stripping of the Altars which led to a complete reassessment of late medieval piety and spirituality.)

I’d suggest that both stories of nations and stories of the saints are far better conceived of not as objective history, but as an exercise in social memory.

Social memory rests on history, even on a framework of historical facts, but is an origin myth where the facts themselves matter less than their role in a foreshortened, condensed, and broad-stroked story that we tell ourselves to establish our cohesive group identity today. Social memory is a corporate and collective exercise in describing who we are now, by telling a story about who we were and how we got here.

So many of the modern political fights that we assume are about history are actually about who controls and narrates the social memory. Does our Story Of America! start with the Mayflower and Plymouth Rock in 1620 or in Jamestown in 1607? Is the start of the story about the establishment of a corporate town to funnel money and profits back to England or is it…a story about the establishment of a corporate town to funnel money and profits back to England from the Virginia area? (Less than half of the people on the Mayflower were radical Puritans; the majority were adventurers and tradesmen–and that’s a historical fact.)

So what does this mean and how should it influence our stories about the saints and the commemorations we put on our calendars?

To my mind, it means that who we choose matters because when we choose them we are saying something about us as much are we are saying something about them. And looking at how people are chosen, which people are chosen, can tell interesting and sometimes uncomfortable truths about us. Like how the Roman Calendar in the 19th century was greatly weighted towards French, Spanish, and Italian bishops… What does that say about who is important in the church?

In the same way, we should asks questions like–why George? Is it because of his connection to “Englishness”? Is he a symbol of national or ethnic origins? Or because he is a tie to our deep history: a saint called upon by our spiritual ancestors since the eighth century and possibly before? A human echo of the angelic St. Michael, slaying with his lance a dragon, symbol of Satan, just as his angelic mentor rides down Satan himself?

I don’t have answer–but I think it’s essential that we ask the question…

Ending, for now

I’ve been thinking a lot about saints recently.

I’ll likely have more to say as I think through it all. Reflecting on some of the stuff mentioned above, and quite a number of things not included up there as well. But I thought I’d just go ahead and share this with you now as I get the writing juices flowing again.

Easter Breviary Fixes

It’s been a while…

I’ve completed a number of breviary fixes that include:

  • Buttons to increase and decrease font size,
  • Restoring the Evening Gospel Canticle Antiphon, and
  • Correcting some Easter/Easter week related issues

I continue to work through the items on the bug fix page–and adding suggestions from the comments.

I’ve been doing some writing. More on that in a bit…

Advent Hiccups

Moving to a new year is always challenging… I knew I needed to put some patches in to make the transition to Advent and Year 1, but it’s taking much longer than I expected and I’m running into some odd challenges.

That being said, I am aware and working on the issues, and hope to have everything operational just as soon as I can–even if that means fixing things in stages rather than all at once.

John Cassian from grdominicans.org

Breviary Tweaks Continue

I’ve been away from the computer quite a bit as we did our yearly family vacation at the Shore, brightened by the presence of my wife! (Some of you know that in addition to being a priest, she’s also an army/National Guard chaplain currently deployed with her unit; she got to come back and spend the week with us before shipping back out again…)

((Yes, the Episcopal Church does have military chaplains! No, most Episcopalians don’t seem to know this or anything about their work, but that’s a discussion for another post.))

In any case, I have been making some corrections and fixes to the current code, including a fix to a silly mistake preventing a number of saints from showing up. Thankfully, John Cassian is back today, and we get his collect which I very much like:

Holy God, whose beloved Son Jesus Christ didst bless the pure in heart: Grant that we, together with thy servant John Cassian and in union with his prayers, may ever seek the purity with which to behold thee as thou art; one God in Trinity of persons now and for ever. Amen.

It’s got a passing reference to his Conferences, but makes sense whether you’ve read those or not. It doesn’t make him some figure in the past who has one feature for us to emulate (as in the “biographical” collects), but a current companion with us on the way, and–honoring our Baptismal Ecclesiology–acknowledges that our prayers ascend together regardless of any temporal divide between us as we are bound together in the common life of Christ. What a nice little collect! I wonder who could have written it…

;-)

I’ll probably put up a page to collect and track the fixing of breviary errors, just so you know if the mistake you’ve seen is one I’m aware of or not. It’s not uncommon for me to miss mistakes that occur in the versions/selections that I don’t pray myself, so especially if you’re a Rite II type, don’t hesitate to chime in!

New Version of the St. Bede’s Breviary

Here is the new version–here within this site: stbedeproductions.com/daily-office/.

It’s fully functional, but I’m still finalizing features and aesthetics…

In the original version, a preference code would produce a tailor-made page with only your options. I’ve gone away from that in this version, and use interactive buttons and toggles to show or hide content. At the moment, there is no simple mechanism for saving your preferences, but there are some ways to accomplish this functionality that I am exploring.

There are also a few less options. In the first version, I wanted to enable you to pick anything rubrically allowed. With the growth of other Episcopal Daily Office sites, I feel less of a need to implement everything, and instead am focusing on the sort of traditional enrichments (antiphons for psalms and canticles, hymns, marian material, etc.) that you won’t find in those other places.

That having been said, if there is an option that you are really missing from the original version, leave a comment, and I’ll see what I can do.

Since there’s a fair amount of new code and some new database tables driving things, there will inevitably be some errors. When those pop up, please do let me know and I’ll get them fixed as soon as I can!

St. Bede’s Breviary Note

The breviary has been having some issues for a bit, including some long-running security flaws.

I’m currently in the process of creating a secure replacement–I hope to have it up shortly (like within the next week or two).

Stay tuned…

On the Canon of Scripture

On the Canon of Scripture

Following on the previous post, after I did the presentation on Inspiration, M taught on the Canon. We worked on that together, me serving as her Tertius, scribing her words. Since then, I’ve taken that and re-worked and expanded it a bit. Thus, this is a companion of the previous post and where it spoke in generalities of the writing and collecting of the Scriptures, this one expands and hopefully clarifies what was said there.


Introduction

The word “canon” means reed or ruler. By extension it means the thing by which other things are measured, and that’s the sense in which we mean it in the church. The canon both defines the collection of books that sit at the heart of the Church’s experience of and conversations about God, and also contains the apostolic faith against which all else is measured. That is, this canon contains the Old Testament—the writings of the Hebrew Bible (and some documents written after that point by Jewish authors sometimes called “Apocrypha”) that the Church received through their Greek translation, and the New Testament—the written records of the lived faith of the Church as it was practiced in the first few decades after Jesus, directed by the teaching and proclamation of the apostles and disciples. It’s those folks—the inner circle of Jesus’ companions (the apostles) and those who heard and followed both his preaching and theirs (the disciples)—that orient us to the authentic practice of the faith revealed in, through, and by Jesus.

Writing of the Old Testament

Literacy & Writing

The first thing to remember is that we take literacy and writing for granted. We are used to everyone knowing how to read and write, and the constant presence of reading material whether its books or magazines or emails or websites. That’s not the way literacy worked in the ancient world. Very few people needed to read, let alone write. As mentioned in the discussion on Inspiration, the Old Testament was written gradually over a series of centuries and was edited into the books that we have today—and one of the best ways to understand this is to understand in what circles and in what jobs reading and writing were important.

Desert Bedouins who raise sheep and camels, and herd them through the wilderness from place to place don’t use guidebooks. They read the winds and the stars to help them get from oasis to oasis—not a set of written words. The patriarchs and their extended families were just these kinds of people. Literacy in the Ancient Near East went hand-in-hand with the monarchy and with agriculture. Our very earliest texts from the region are records of containers of grain, jars of oil, and slaves, things that had been paid as taxes or received as tribute by kings. Literacy, then, first tends to show up around royal courts as they developed in Babylon, Assyria, and Egypt. The second place we see it is in temple complexes where we find hymns and stories about the gods. So it’s these two places—royal courts and temples—where we first find the written word.

The other things is that when we go back that far, you also have to consider what they were writing on… If you were in Egypt, they did process the papyrus reeds into a form of paper, but it was fragile and outside of the dry climate of Egypt didn’t keep real well. Instead, the palace and temple records that we have from the Babylonians to the Hittites to the Canaanites are all preserved on clay tablets.

Now—can you imagine the Israelites wandering through the deserts on the way to the Promised Land with a string of donkeys entirely loaded with clay tablets? And yet, that’s what you would have to imagine with the model of Moses writing the first five books of the Old Testament!

So—how did this really work?

The Israelites wouldn’t have been going through the deserts with bags and bags of clay tablets—instead they would have taken stories, songs, and likely some epic poetry. As you’ll see when we read through the historical books of the Bible, some of them will make a few scattered references to some ancient histories. One of these, mentioned in the book of Numbers (Num 21:14), is called “the Book of the Wars of the Lord,” and the fragment we have of it is poetry. Immediately after mentioning it, two other poems appear (Num 21:17-18 and Num 21:27-30). These tantalizing glimpses of a poetic past suggest that it might have been an epic poem that was later written down (just like the Iliad and the Odyssey) and then used as a source when our books were collected. The lost “Book of Jashar” also contained histories and songs (Josh 10:13; 2 Sam 1:18) or was perhaps a history in poetic form.  The stories of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob probably were all transmitted this way—stories handed down by the campfires through long generations.

The Monarchy

There wasn’t a monarchy in Israel until Saul, but when we talk of establishing Jerusalem and building palace and temple compounds, we’re really talking about David and Solomon. To have a nice round number that’s easy to remember, David becomes the second king of Israel somewhere right around the year 1000 BC, and then Solomon becomes king around 960 BC. Solomon, of course, was the great builder who was in contact with the other monarchies of the Ancient Near East, trading with them, bringing in craftsmen, and forming alliances through marriage. Solomon’s reputation for wisdom is no doubt connected with the scribes who would have been essential to keep track of the trade, commerce, and all the building activity that he did, so this is probably when we can confidently talk about the first Hebrew texts—which were probably tax records and building orders.

As long as there was a court, scribes would have been needed to keep records, write laws, and handle diplomatic matters. As we read through the books of Kings, we’ll occasionally see references  to “the book of the Acts of Solomon” (1 Kings 11:41) and, once the kingdom split into two after the death of Solomon, “the Book of the Annals of the Kings of Judah” (1 Kings 14:19) and “the Book of the Annals of the Kings of Israel” (1 Kings 14:29). Our text assumes that these books are still around—but they have been lost to the ages. That’s the kind of thing the scribes would have been doing, though: keeping the records of the kingdoms. But that’s not all they did; in the book of Proverbs, chapter 25 begins with this notice: “These are other proverbs of Solomon that the officials of King Hezekiah of Judah copied.” King Hezekiah ruled for about 30 years right around the year 700 BC, or some 250 years after Solomon. So, if nothing else, there is clear biblical evidence that there was a group of scribes at the court, interested in collecting wisdom sayings of this kind in 700 BC as well as keeping the chronicles and the tax records up to date!

When the kingdoms split after the reign of Solomon, two different courts kept records, the northern one in Samaria, the city that was the capital of Israel, and the southern one in Jerusalem, the capital of Judah. As a result, when these groups of scribes began writing the ancient histories of their kingdoms and collecting the old oral traditions, two different sets of stories about the ancient patriarchs sprang up—those recording traditions in the north, and those set in the south.

The Temple

As well as building the royal compound, Solomon is also the guy who built the first Temple in Jerusalem. As a result, we can imagine that the earliest religious writings would have been specifically for use in the Temple and would have been hymns, instructions for conducting the sacrifices and other rituals, and instructions on how to reckon and keep the calendar.

The Temple in Jerusalem wasn’t the only place worship happened, though; there were important shrines at Shiloh, Gilgal, Beth El, and other high places that would have done and recorded things in their own way. They would have had their own stories and ways of worshiping. As worship began to be centralized in Jerusalem, though, these different ways would no doubt have been collected. Perhaps some of the ritual details hidden away in Leviticus and Numbers that don’t entirely agree with one another, reflect different collections of materials from different locations.

The Prophets

During this time there were a variety of prophets, some connected with the Temple in Jerusalem, some connected with some of these other shrines, and some who weren’t part of the formal religious system at all. Their proclamations and actions were written down by people who heard them speak and who became their followers. The earliest that we have is Amos, preaching in the North in the eighth century BC. Through the seventh and the sixth centuries prophets of various kinds responded to various current events, bringing words from God to comment on the social and political doings in both the Northern and Southern Kingdoms. 

We can get a picture of how prophetic words were preserved, circulated, and received by their audience through the story recounted in Jeremiah 36. God tells Jeremiah to write down everything he’s been told; Jeremiah calls Baruch, his scribe, and tells him everything which he dutifully writes down. Jeremiah—who’s been banned from the Temple at this point—has Baruch go and read it aloud there. Some government officials hear it, take the scroll, and tell both Baruch and Jeremiah to hide. They then take the scroll to the king who has it read to him. Clearly he wasn’t a fan, for the king hacks off sections as they’re being read and tosses them into the fire. Jeremiah and Baruch then must go back and recreate the scroll, writing down all of Jeremiah’s previous words  “and many similar words were added to them.” It’s this sometimes haphazard process of organization and collection that causes interesting anomalies like the dual appearance of Jeremiah’s Temple Sermon in both Jer 7:1-15 and Jer 26:1-6ff.

Again, an issue with the traditional “Mighty Man of God” model of inspiration and composition is worth mentioning here. Notice something that the prophets both do and don’t do… Some of them seem to be riffing off of psalms. Like, it’s hard to imagine Isaiah, chapter 5—his song about God’s vineyard—without Psalm 80 which uses that same image as a setup for it. But notice what they don’t do; none of the prophets quotes Genesis or Exodus or Deuteronomy—that’s because they haven’t been written yet! While they may engage with some traditions that may be incorporated into those books, the Law as we know it now, has not been fully collected together.

The other thing to remember is that the prophets that we have are probably only a few of all the prophets who existed. We hear the names of several who did not leave writings behind in the Books of Kings, but there were undoubtedly others whose words were either not recorded or not collected for posterity.

Religious Reforms—Hezekiah & Josiah

Shortly after the fall of Israel, the Northern Kingdom, to Assyrian armies, King Hezekiah took the throne of Judah and reigned for many years. One of the things he did was to institute a religious reform, centralizing worship in Jerusalem at the Temple instead of all of those other shrines and places of worship. This was probably an important point when some of these diverse records were gathered together.

Hezekiah’s grandson Josiah also launched a set of reforms based on a book that was found in the Temple when he ordered it to be cleaned out. The many things that Josiah did sound a lot like what we read in Deuteronomy, and many scholars believe that the core of Deuteronomy was that book which was either found or written at that time. It’s quite likely that the first steps towards writing several of the books of the Bible—like the editing of the historical books, may have happened in this period. Unfortunately, Josiah died an untimely death in battle, and before too long the Babylonians were at the door.

Sack of Jerusalem

In the year 596 BC, Babylonian armies captured Jerusalem, and took the top 10% of the population into Exile in Babylon. This included the political and religious leaders—basically anybody they thought could start another revolt against them—like the prophet Ezekiel who had been a priest in the Temple. However, Judah did revolt again, and in the year 586, the Babylonians responded to this second revolt by leveling Jerusalem and destroying the Temple. This is one of the most important events in the religious history of the people of Israel. They could easily have joined the large number of groups in the ancient world who arose and then passed away without a trace. Instead of passing away, the exiles in Babylon made the momentous decision to remember who they were, to collect the many various writings that they had brought with them, and to edit and organize them into a coherent set of books. It was at this time that the majority of the books of the Old Testament were put into the form in which we know them.

Ezra’s Books

We know this act of collection occurred at this point in history for certain because of what happens after The Return. The Persian king Cyrus unexpectedly conquered the Babylonians, and one of the things that he did was send home the many people the Babylonians had captured as hostages. Thus in the year 515 BC, the people from Jerusalem, by this time their children and grandchildren, were allowed to return home. The books of Ezra and Nehemiah tell the story of the return and of the rebuilding of the Temple which was accompanied by a great public reading of the books of the Law. This is the first time that we hear of something like this—a large public reading of the religious books, probably because this is the first time that these books existed in a definitive and fixed form.

The End of Hebrew

With one exception, this is the point—the years right after the return from Exile—where the books of the Old Testament, the Hebrew Bible, end. And I’d say there are two major reasons for this.

First, the books that the Exiles collected, edited, and finished during the Exile and in the years after the return from Babylon clearly communicate to their descendants their vision of what the relationship between God and the people of Israel is. These were the foundational books for how the Second Temple would be run, and how the faith of the Children of Israel would be remembered and taught from that point on. These were not the only books or the only traditions—but these were the ones that they decided gave the shape of the relationship as they understood it and chose to pass it on.

Second, this is also the period where Hebrew stops become the normal spoken language of the people of Israel. While in Babylon, the Exiles began to use Aramaic which was the common and official language of the great empires of the Ancient Near East including Babylon and the Persian Empire that replaced it. When they returned, they didn’t go back to speaking Hebrew, but continued using the Aramaic that they had learned in Babylon. And that’s one of the signs that alerts us that they’re something odd about the last book written that would be included in the Hebrew Bible. The Book of Daniel which is set in the days of the Exile is actually from a much later time, the 2nd century BC. One of the ways we know it is because the book starts in Hebrew and then slips into Aramaic between chapters 2 and 7.

Summary

 So, to sum up, the Hebrew Bible was, in fact, written by a great cloud of witnesses. From people who told stories around campfires to court scribes who copied histories, to followers writing down the preaching of prophets to editors in exile in Babylon, a whole community of people put together the books we have now, collecting over a thousand years of relationship between the children of Abraham and God. Some major historical events spurred its collecting, the most important being the Exile into Babylon.

The Septuagint

As we turn towards the New Testament, though, we have to pause for a moment, because the first Bible of the Christian Church was not the Hebrew Bible, but rather the Greek translation of it—and that’s important. In a process that probably began in the 3rd century BC and went until the first century BC, the large Jewish community in Egypt began translating the Bible into their own native language, Greek. There are some differences between the Hebrew text and the versions that got translated into Greek, but not a lot; what would be different is the order of the books and the fact that the Greek version would contain some extra books—including some that had originally been written in Greek rather than Hebrew. It’s these extra books, most written in the 2nd and 1st century BC, that make up the Apocrypha, the disputed books like Maccabees and the Wisdom of Solomon and the Letter of Baruch.

The order of the books in the Septuagint is where we get our order of the Old Testament books today. It’s worth noticing that this is a different order than what the modern Jewish community uses. Rabbinic Judaism, just like Christianity, came out of the destruction of the Second Temple and the Roman exile of the Jewish people from the province of Judea. When the rabbis sat down to hash out what books they would read in the synagogues, they collected the books into three categories: The Law, the Prophets and the Writings. As a result, their order is a little bit different from ours.

We can see signs of this way of ordering the books, in both the New Testament and, ironically, in some of the books that were in the Septuagint. The New Testament writings will often refer to “The Law and the Prophets” as a shorthand for the Hebrew Bible. The apocryphal book, Wisdom of Sirach has a prologue from its translator that begins like this: “Many great teachings have been given to us through the Law and the Prophets and the Others that followed them, and for these we should praise Israel for instruction and wisdom” (Sir prol). Indeed, the Bible is referred to as the Tanak in Judaism because this word is an acronym for the three sections of their canon: the Torah (or the Law), the Nevi’im (the Prophets), and the Kethuvim (the Other Writings). The main surprises for Christian readers is that the books of Chronicles and Daniel are placed in the Other Writings rather than among the Prophets.

Collecting and Selecting the New Testament

The Church Produced the Bible (not the other way around)

Turning to the New Testament, the very first point I have to make is that the Church existed before the New Testament did. The Bible did not produce the Church, the Church produced the Bible. This matters because at the heart of our faith is an organic community that has existed from the time of Jesus and the Apostles down to the present day. Because this community of believers exists, it has the right and the responsibility to determine what its own canon is.

That matters because the reason we even started talking about a canon was because of controversies about what the faith was and wasn’t.

First Focus on the Bible (2nd century): Canon, Creed, & Apostolic Succession

There were two major periods in the early centuries when the Church spent time thinking about what was and wasn’t in the canon of the New Testament, the 2nd and the 4th centuries. The problem in the second century was about what was the content of the apostolic faith. There were a lot of religions and religion-like philosophies in the first century AD. Some of them had no problem pulling in a figure like Jesus and fitting him into their system. The problem here is that they were using him in ways that he would never have intended or approved of! As a result, the church had to begin deciding who they were as a community—what things they did and didn’t believe and what the church had believed and taught from the very beginning.

The solution that they came to involved not just one but three things that worked together and would be known as the three marks of the Church: Canon, Creed, and Apostolic Succession. The Canon was the books that we agreed to read together in church as the Word of God. The Creed was a set of beliefs that would guide our reading and interpretation. Then, knowing that texts and rules can never fully settle human disputes about human problems, Apostolic Succession means that the clergy who guard and teach the faith are part of an unbroken line back to the apostles. On a simple level it means that I know who your teacher was; you had learned from a reputable source. On a mystical level, it means that you had received a share of the Spirit that the apostles received at Pentecost through the laying on of hands. These three things used together could ensure that what churches heard were properly part of what the church had always taught and believed.

The canon, then, was selected following a few basic criteria. First, the writing had to be from the apostolic age, preferably the work of an apostle. Second, many church communities had to agree that a particular writing was useful and taught the apostolic faith. The best way to think about it is that the New Testament was not written as Scripture. Instead, works that the Early Church were reading and using were collected and selected to be Scripture—because those were the ones that best represented what the apostles thought and taught. These were the books that best taught the Church how to recognize and follow Jesus. We have letters from bishops asking other bishops about certain books—is this one you guys have heard of? What do you think of it? This is the way canon formation really happened—identifying what communities found useful.

By the end of the second century, around the year 180, a bishop named Irenaeus of Lyon wrote a book that laid out the teachings of a number of strange and unusual groups that proclaimed that they were Christian,  explained where they got off track, and taught the three marks of the church. He reveals that by this point the core books of the New Testament had already been fixed: the four Gospels and Acts, the Letters of Paul, and several other letters like Peter and the Letters of John.     

Second Focus on the Bible (4th century): Deciding the Edge Cases

It wasn’t until the fourth century with the legalization of Christianity and imperial support that Christians from across the Roman world could gather and discuss what their various communities had been reading and saying. These were largely arguments over edge cases. Some like 2nd and 3rd John, Hebrews, and Revelation were widely accepted and regarded as Scripture. Others like the Epistle of Barnabas and the Shepherd of Hermas were not regarded as Scripture. It didn’t mean that these weren’t widely read—because they were—they just weren’t part of the group designated as Scripture. While various church leaders drew up various lists, the first one that we have that contains all of our books in their current order is from St. Athanasius’s festal Easter letter from the year 367. Many of the early ones are very close and are just missing a book or two, or have one or two extra.

Now—there is a conspiracy theory out there (promoted in no small part by Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code) suggesting that the Emperor Constantine essentially invented Christianity, including his establishment of the New Testament Canon. Here’s the reality: Yes, Constantine supported Christianity; yes, he was very interested in Christian communities agreeing in order to be a unifying force in the Empire; no, Constantine made none of the decisions. The only thing we have regarding the New Testament, are requests made to Eusebius of Caesaria and Athanasius of Alexandria of volumes of the Scriptures. Eusebius tells us that Constantine ordered (and presumably paid for) 50 copies of the Scriptures which were duly delivered (Eusebius, VC 4.36-7). However, Eusebius probably would have left out James, Jude, 2 Peter, 2-3 John, and probably Revelation as he classes these as “disputed,” with Revelation even getting lumped into the “spurious” pile! (Eusebius, HE 3.25)  

Order of the New Testament

The order of the books of the New Testament that we have follows the chronology of the story being told in the texts, not the order of their writing. Thus, the New Testament opens with the four gospel accounts of Jesus, then goes to Acts, then the letters of Paul (the main character of the second half of Acts), Hebrews which feels like Paul but doesn’t say it’s by him, then the other apostolic letters, and then finally the Book of Revelation which ends the narrative by telling of the end of time.

There are a few surprises tucked in here when we look a little closer. First, it’s significant that the books of Luke and Acts are separated from one another because they were written by the same author and were intended to be read together. Second, one of the things that everything after Acts has in common is that there was apparently a tradition of circulating collections of letters to 7 churches. And we have three of these collections here. Paul’s letters are put in order not chronologically, but in order of length, and together we have letters to 7 churches: Rome, Corinth, Galatia, Ephesus, Philippi, Colossia, and Thessalonica. (And then also four letters to individuals). Then the Catholic or General Epistles consist of seven letters by James, Peter, John, and Jude. Finally, the Book of Revelation itself begins with letters to 7 churches in Asia Minor: Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia, and Laodicea.

If these books were arranged in the order of writing, Paul’s letters would probably be first as he was writing in the 50’s, starting just 20 years after Jesus; the first three Gospels were likely written around the year 70, with both John and Revelation probably finished around the year 100.    

The Canon—Closed & Open

So, the reason we have a canon is to clarify the core books that our organic community of faith has identified as the ones that best communicate our relationship with God and that can bring us into connection with God. On one hand, these are the books that define us. These are the books that the church has chosen to wrestle with through the ages. On the other hand, we also don’t say that these are the only books in whose pages God can be found. The canon doesn’t define or restrict inspiration or revelation. Indeed, an important part of our faith is that God’s inspiration is still an important part of what it means to participate in the community of faith.

As the Early Church discussed its books, it began to make several categories. What ended up as the New Testament were the books that were apostolic in character and widely read throughout all the churches. But they also kept lists of other accepted books, whether or not they were by apostles. There were disputed books that they were on the fence about, and then rejected books—those that did not communicate the faith handed down by the apostles. When you hear sensational stories about lost gospels like the Gospel of Thomas or the Gospel of Judas, these fall in the last category. They were lost because they weren’t copied, because the churches did not find them usefully, usually because they were very late creations that had no historical value and were usually gnostic in character. (Gnosticism was a heresy that taught that the material world was bad and was created by an evil god, a teaching condemned in the very first line of our creeds.)

Are there good books, inspired books and revelatory books not found in the New Testament? Of course! And that’s where we get into the writings of the Church Fathers. Teachers like Origen and Augustine and Athanasius wrote books and sermons and treatises that help us understand the Scriptures and the faith. While they’re not in the New Testament, they are part of the teaching that the Church holds as sacred tradition and are well worth reading if you haven’t encountered them.

However, at the end of the day, the canon contains those books that the Church has chosen and treasured from the earliest days. These are the books that most clearly reveal the faith of the Church. These are the only books read in worship that receive the response, “The Word of the Lord.” These are the books we have read together, argued over, disagreed about and incarnated for the past two thousand years—and that will form the Church for, perhaps, thousands to come.