Little attention has been devoted to the social context reflected in TriTrac, although, judging from the study so far, it is fair to say that it is a philosophically sophisticated text. As discussed in the introduction, some scholars have taken the complexity of TriTrac as an indication that the text was directed toward philosophically-trained individuals in order to convert them to the particular Valentinian theology presented in the text;1 but what can really be said of the context of the text? Who wrote it and for whom? A notion that is frequently employed for the Christians responsible for texts that present a theology like that of TriTrac is that they belonged to the ‘School of Valentinus’. As it happens, we encounter terms like “school” (literally “a place of receiving teaching” ⲟⲩⲙⲁ ⲛ̄ϫⲓⲥⲃⲱ) (123:12) and “school of conduct” (ⲁⲛⲥⲏⲃ ⲛ̄ⲡⲟ[ⲗ]ⲓⲧⲓⲁ) (71:22–23) in TriTrac. To what do these school allusions refer? And what have scholars meant by the term ‘School of Valentinus’? As we established in the previous chapter, the oikonomia of the Logos as well as the anthropology seem to be structured around pedagogy. What can be said about the roles that teaching and learning play in TriTrac? This chapter investigates the social structure of the group behind the text, positing that the ‘school-language’ in TriTrac is very important for visualizing it. I argue that TriTrac envisions a community structure made up of two groups modeled on the pedagogic relationship between pneumatic and psychic members. The chapter concludes with a discussion of the accuracy of the term ‘School of Valentinus’.
1 On the Community Structure behind TriTrac in Light of the Term “Church”
There are different opinions among scholars as to how the community represented in TriTrac should be understood. Understandably, the community behind the text has been associated with the term “the church” (ⲧⲉⲕⲕⲗⲏⲥⲓⲁ) in the text. There are basically two views on TriTrac’s community structure, represented by the two parties who have made the most systematic studies of the text. Attridge and Pagels have suggested that the psychics and the pneumatics together make up a community represented by the church on earth.2 Thomassen, on the other hand, has maintained that the community behind TriTrac is only made up of pneumatics, because “the church” refers only to pneumatics. Thomassen views the psychics as non-Christian helpers of the church, or a group of people who are friends of Christians but not yet initiated into the church. Thomassen writes that once you were baptized you became a pneumatic.3 Attridge and Pagels also see the categories as fluid but include the psychics as members of the church.4
I suggest that the main reason for the different views as to who was included in the community lies in the clash between the way the term ἐκκλησία is used in TriTrac and the connotations that the term “church” often brings with it today: the members of a particular Christian community. What ἐκκλησία refers to in the first three centuries is a debated topic, but one thing is clear: it is used in many different ways and refers to many different group structures.5 I argue that in TriTrac ἐκκλησία is not used as a term for the community of Christians who as a group partook in ritual, teaching and formation, but, rather, refers to a group within a larger assembly, to those who made up “the body of Christ” who will receive a higher order of salvation in the end-time. The idea that there were people who received higher and lower orders of salvation was not unique during the first centuries.6 So, how exactly is the term “the church” utilized in TriTrac?
The word ἐκκλησία appears 15 times throughout TriTrac,7 first appearing as a term for the third part of the Father, the collective of Aeons (57:34, 58:30, 59:2). It is then used to refer to the collective of pneumatic powers that the Logos creates as the Savior appears to him while he is distressed, the group that, outside the Pleroma, best reflects the members in the heavenly Church (94:21, 97:6–7). In the latter part of the text, dealing with humanity, the term ἐκκλησία appears in different contexts. The long passage describing the three different types of people, their reaction to the Savior, and their subsequent fate (118:14–122:12), ends with mentioning the church twice. We read that some people react instinctually to the Savior’s appearance on earth (the pneumatics), some hesitate (the psychics), and some reject him (the material). The psychics will be given salvation, but only if they “assent to the Lord” and “do what is good for the church”.8 The very last part of the text also mentions that the work of the psychics should benefit “the church” and that they will be rewarded in the end (135:26, 137:13–14). These passages do not clearly indicate whether the psychics are part of “the church” or not. However, in another passage it is stated clearly that those whom the psychics should help are the pneumatics, because the psychics “were entrusted with the services which benefit the elect” (ⲁⲩⲛ̄ϩⲟⲩⲧⲟⲩ ⲁⲛⲓϣⲙ̄ϣⲉ· ⲉ̣ⲧ̣ⲉⲓⲣⲉ ⲙ̄ⲡⲉⲧⲛⲁⲛⲟⲩϥ ⲛ̄ⲛⲓⲥⲱⲧⲡ̄) (135:4–6). “The elect” (ⲛⲓⲥⲱⲧⲡ̄) refers to the pneumatics. In light of Pauline theology, it becomes understandable why “the church” solely refers to the pneumatic people. Paul does not necessarily make this restriction, but the church is referred to as the body of the Savior.9 In TriTrac, however, it is clear that it is the pneumatic people who make up the body of the Savior. This is stated in the following way: “When his (the Savior’s) head appeared, it (the pneumatic substance) hastened to him immediately, it immediately became a body to his head”.10 Furthermore, we read of the pneumatics that “they share body and essence with the Savior” (ⲟⲩϣⲃⲏⲣ· ⲛ̄ⲥⲱⲙⲁ ⲇⲉ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲟⲩϣⲃⲏⲣ ⲛ̄ⲛⲟⲩⲥⲓⲁ ⲧⲉ ⲙⲛ̄ ⲡⲥⲱⲧⲏⲣ·) (122:14–15) and that the Savior came especially for them (122:12–17): he gave himself for “us in the flesh, who are his church” (ⲁⲛⲁⲛ ϩⲛ̄ ⲥⲁⲣⲝ ⲉⲧⲟⲉⲓ ⲛ̄ⲛⲉⲕⲕⲗⲏⲥⲓⲁ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉϥ) (125:4–5).11 The members of the church needed to come to the cosmos in order to receive the restoration (123:12–18). These passages, read in light of Pauline theology, indicate that “the church” refers to the pneumatics on earth, “the elect” whom the psychics are told to help in exchange for salvation and eternal life. This also fits the internal logic of TriTrac, because the term “the church” is used to refer to the pneumatic powers in the Logos’ heaven as well as the Aeons in the Pleroma, of whom the pneumatic substance in the cosmos is both a reflection and reintegrated with in the end.
If the term “church” is restricted to pneumatic people, does this mean that the psychic are not Christians, as Thomassen seems to imply? I do not agree with Thomassen’s reading of the psychics, that they were seen by the pneumatics as outsiders, as non-Christian “sympathizers”, as Thomassen has expressed it.12 There are clear instances where the psychics are portrayed as playing an active part in the community life represented in TriTrac: the psychics sing with the pneumatics (121:29–38), they are taught by the pneumatics (119:3), and they are baptized. We read that the psychics will be saved:
After they assent to the Lord and the thought of that which is pleasing to the church and (sing) the song of those who are humble along with her to the full extent possible, in that which is pleasing to do for her, in sharing in her sufferings and her pains in the manner of those who understand what is good for the church, they will have a share in her hope.13
That ἐκκλησία is used in a very particular way is also suggested by the term “the Man of the Church” (ⲡⲣⲱⲙⲉ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉⲕⲕⲗⲏⲥⲓⲁ) (122:30). “The Man of the Church”14 most likely refers to Christ because we read that this figure “separated pneuma, psychê, and matter in the oikonomia, from the one who thinks he is all alone, for he exists in the all, for he is the all, and he is for them all”.15 That Christ, who is the embodied church on earth, is called a “Man”, fits well with how the church in the Pleroma is described, as a “human body, which is inseparably divided into members of members, primary members and subordinate ones, into big ones and small”.16 It would seem that if the church in heaven is reflected on earth, there is a hierarchy within the community of pneumatics on earth as well. It nevertheless becomes clear that the theology of “the church” does not negate the fact that the Savior’s appearance on earth saves the psychics as well. We read that “the Man of the Church rejoiced and was glad and hoped for it,”17 i.e., that the psychics would also be given a place of salvation (122:12–30). Thus, I suggest that the term ‘church’ is used for the inner circle of a larger assembly, for the pneumatics and moral experts within a larger group of lay Christians, represented by the psychics. As Ralph Korner’s work on the term ἐκκλησία has shown, early Christians did not necessarily envision a church to which all Christians belonged. Rather, the term is used to refer to a permanent group of Christ-followers.18 The use of the term “church” in TriTrac could suggest that the pneumatics were a more stable and close-knit group, compared to the larger group which included the psychics but which met less frequently.
In order to expand on what can be said about these two levels of the community behind TriTrac, I believe the school language which permeates the text is important. Let us turn to this next.
2 The Cosmos as a “School” in TriTrac and Its Early Christian Context
We encounter the mention of “a school”, or literally “a place of receiving teaching” (ⲟⲩⲙⲁ ⲛ̄ϫⲓ ⲥⲃⲱ) (123:12) in TriTrac 123:12. The passage in question discusses the restoration of the Savior’s “members” (ⲛⲉϥⲙⲉⲗⲟⲥ) (123:11–12) (also identifies as the church). The Savior who steps down into corporeality also needs liberation just like those whom he comes to save.19 While the Savior will “immediately gain knowledge”, we read that the members of Christ:
… needed a school in the places which are adorned, so that they might receive from them the images of the form of the archetypical pattern, like a mirror.20
The “places which are adorned” is a reference to the cosmos (an expression which will be discussed in detail in the next chapter).21 A few pages later the cosmos is again described as a place of learning. We read that the pneumatics were put on earth in order that “they might experience the evil things and might train (ⲣ̄ ⲅⲩⲙⲛⲁⲍⲉ) themselves in them”.22
TriTrac was not the only text presenting life on earth in terms of an education. This was a common topos during the first few centuries CE. Plotinus maintained that the soul stepped down into corporality as an educational exercise,23 as did some Middle Platonists like Numenius, and the same language is found in the Hermetic Poimandres.24 Many Christians maintained something similar, for example Origen, and Basil of Caesarea, who saw the cosmos as a school for the soul.25 We also encounter this imagery, the cosmos as a school, in other Valentinian texts. In ValExp (NHC XI, 2) we read that there are “pneumatic and carnal” ([ⲡⲛⲉⲩⲙⲁ]ⲧⲓⲕⲟⲛ ⲛⲉ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲛ̄ⲥ[ⲁⲣ]ⲕ̣ⲓ̣ⲕⲟⲛ̣) (37:26–27) things and things that are “heavenly and on the earth” (ⲧⲡⲉ ⲙ̄ⲛ̣̄ ⲛ̣ⲉⲧϩⲓϫⲙ̄ ⲡⲕⲁϩ) (38:31) and that the Demiurge “created for them a place like this and a school (ⲟⲩⲥⲭⲟⲗⲏ) like this, for learning and form”.26 Here it would seem that the cosmos is created as a learning experience. We have reason to revisit the question of “form” shortly, when furthering our investigation of TriTrac. Yet if the cosmos is a school, who is the teacher? For Christians, it is obvious who the ideal teacher on earth would be: Jesus.27 In GosTruth (NHC I, 3), for example, we read that the Savior appeared in “schools” (ⲙⲁ ⲛ̄ϫⲓⲥⲃⲱ) and “spoke the word as a teacher” (ⲁϥϫⲉ ⲡⲓϣⲉϫⲉ ⲉϥⲟⲉⲓ ⲛ̄ⲟⲩⲥⲁϩ) (19:18–20). Many early Christians carried on with the teaching role they understood Jesus to have instigated and viewed their Christian doctrines as a culmination of pagan philosophy, the next level of a natural and logical culmination of human knowledge.28 Justin saw his engagement in theological questions as a school of divine virtue.29 Clement of Alexandria spoke of Christianity as the true philosophy and Basil and Eusebius described the teaching of Christ as the highest form of philosophy.30
Not only did Christians in the first centuries carry on the language and imagery of philosophy but there are also interesting similarities in how early Christians congregated and how philosophical movements were organized. The evidence from Rome suggests that the earliest Christians were organized in small house communities. Peter Lampe suggests that many were explicitly organized around a teacher who visited or was visited by other Christians and offered instruction on all kinds of topics, as, for example, Justin Martyr had done.31 A common way of organizing, even among philosophical schools, was to create smaller gatherings in the master’s house where lectures were offered, sometimes on different levels.32 As recent scholarship has pointed out, these organizational forms may have looked a lot like voluntary associations,33 small unofficial gatherings where the members formed around, for example, a common trade, or a deity or a household.34 Schools depended on wealthy patrons, as associations and Christian gatherings also often did.35
In Alexandria, something that could be called a proper Christian school milieu evolved. Eusebius writes that there was a man, Pantenaeus, who was head of a school (διδασκαλεῖον) in Alexandria,36 and Clement and Origen are depicted as carrying on the practice of teaching students “the divine things” (τῶν θείων).37 We do not know much about how these gatherings were organized, and the accuracy of Eusebius’ testimony is a debated topic.38 Yet, as Winrich Löhr has pointed out, information about ancient school milieus of this time is not only scarce concerning Christian schools. We do not know much about how the pagan philosophical schools were organized in the second and third centuries either.39 Porphyry’s testimony on the teaching style of Plotinus is one exception.40 Gregory Thaumaturgus’ description of Origen’s school is one of the Christian exceptions.41 It would seem that in Origen’s school there was an advanced class and one less advanced. The advanced students taught the less advanced and Origen taught the advanced students. Students came and listened (or were visited) and were given moral instruction and taught to interpret the Bible.42 Gregory tells us that he was first taught to judge a good argument from a bad one, then taught natural sciences, astronomy, geometry, physics, and finally ethics and theology.43 However, we are dealing with a pre-monastic period; these Christian scholars and pupils were not isolated but celebrated mass and communion within a larger community.44
Before we go deeper into Christian organizational forms of the first centuries, let us bring TriTrac into the discussion. What kind of teaching, according to TriTrac, took place in the “school of the cosmos” and can this tell us something of the organization of the community reflected in the text or the social context of the text? What is meant by the statement that the cosmos contains a school that provides members of the community with “images and the form of the archetypical pattern” (ⲁⲛⲛⲓϩⲓ̈ⲕⲱⲛ ⲁⲛⲓⲧⲩⲡⲟⲥ ⲛ̄ϣⲁⲣⲡ̣̄ ⲙ̄ⲡⲥⲙⲁⲧ) (123:14–16)?45 These things are examined below and I begin by discussing the mention of a “school of conduct” among the Aeons.
3 The “School of Conduct” in the Pleroma and the Gaining of Form
Before TriTrac expands on the description of the creation of the cosmos and human life in it, the structure of the Pleroma and the Aeons’ existence is discussed. Here, too, we encounter the mention of a school, more specifically “a school of conduct” (ⲟⲩⲁⲛⲥⲏⲃ ⲛ̄ⲡⲟ[ⲗ]ⲓⲧⲓⲁ) (71:22–23). The preceding passage portrays the Father creating the Son and the Church, made up of Aeons. The Father gives the Aeons a sense of longing for him, but he did not make them perfect at once. They have inside them a “love and longing for the perfect, complete discovery of the Father”.46 Then we read:
It is he, [the] Father, who gave root impulses to the Aeons, since they are places on the path which leads toward him, like toward a school of conduct.47
The term ⲁⲛⲥⲏⲃ ⲛ̄ⲡⲟⲗⲓⲧⲓⲁ, “school of conduct”, does not, to my knowledge, appear in any other Coptic text. The Aeons’ lives are described as consisting of searching for and worshiping the Father. The term school is used as a metaphor, it would seem, because the term ⲡⲣⲏⲧⲉ, “like” is used. The Aeons’ “way of life”, which we could translate ⲙ̄ⲡⲟⲗⲓⲧⲓⲁ,48 is likened to a school life.
As Philip Harland and others have shown, πολίτευµα is a term sometimes used for voluntary associations, and as mentioned above, the way voluntary assemblies were organized seems to have been close to how early Christians gathered, as well as some philosophical schools.49 This terms, πολιτεία, πολιτεύµα, and the verb form πολιτεύω appear four times in TriTrac. Twice, as above, it is used to describe the community life of the Aeons in the Pleroma.50 The pneumatic substance of the Logos is described as “governed” (ⲣⲡⲟⲗⲓⲧⲉⲩⲉ) by good emotions (97:2), and lastly the term is used when the Son steps down on earth together with his angels in order to create a particular “way of life” or “conduct” (ⲡⲟⲗⲓⲧⲉⲩⲉ) on the earth (125:17). We only encounter the term a few times but it does not seem to have the same technical connotations as the term “the church”, which is restricted to the pneumatics and the “body of Christ”.
The Aeons’ “school of conduct” (ⲁⲛⲥⲏⲃ ⲛ̄ⲡⲟ[ⲗ]ⲓⲧⲓⲁ) (71:22–23) is likened to “root impulses” (ⲛⲛⲁⲫⲟⲣⲙⲏ [ⲛⲛ]ⲟⲩⲛⲉ) (71:19–20), a road that leads to the Father. Having a root seems to be the same thing as being able to gain form (ⲧⲩⲡⲟⲥ). The Father is described as a single being; there is nothing next to him. Nor is there an original form outside the Father (53:27). The Father creates by himself and from himself, and those he creates are granted form from him. The Father shapes himself in a way that allows him to be known. This is done through the Son, who is called “the form of the formless” (ⲧⲙⲟⲣⲫⲏ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉ ⲡⲓⲁⲧⲙⲟⲣⲫⲏ) (66:13–14). This “first form” ([ϣⲁ]ⲣⲡ̄ ⲙ̄ⲫⲟⲣⲙⲏ) (61:11–12) is then extended to the next step in the expansion of the Father, to the Pleroma, “in order that they might [perceive] who the Father is who exists for them”.51 Thus, the Son gives himself to others and this gives them “form”, which is equal to the knowledge of the Father. The Aeons do not know the Father completely but are described as naturally drawn to him, and this is because the Father supplies them with form:
In order that [they] (the Aeons) might know [what exists] for them, he (the Father) graciously [granted] (them) the first form, in order that they might [recognize] who the Father is who exists [for them]. Through a voice, he gave them the name “Father”, proclaiming to them that that which exists, exists through that name.52
The Aeons are naturally drawn to the Father but at the same time the mention of a school of conduct suggests that there is more going on than a natural attraction, that the Aeons’ lives include learning and development. So, exactly how is the “school of conduct” in the Pleroma—where the members have access to the form—organized? What does this natural attraction to the Father look like?
The activity of the Aeons is expounded upon in the latter part of the first sections of the text. The Aeons exist in order to give glory to the Father and this is done collectively. Even though they are individuals, they exist as a collective entity. They are brought forth “in order that the Father might receive honor from each one (of them)” (ϫⲉⲕⲁⲥⲉ ⲉϥⲛⲁϫⲓ ⲉⲁⲩ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲛ̄ ⲡⲟⲩⲉⲉⲓ ⲡⲟⲩⲉⲉⲓ) (63:17–18). They sing hymns to the Father in gratitude because of his overflowing sweetness (62:33–64:8). “Through the song” (ϩⲛ̄ ⲡⲓϩⲱⲥ) (68:22–23) the Aeons give glory to the Father, and as they “glorify him, he returns the glory to those who glorify [him]”.53 On account of this, the Aeons “bore fruit through the Father for one another”.54 They are granted free will and wisdom (74:20–23) and the Father wishes them to “help each other” (ⲛ̄ⲥⲉϯ ⲧ̣[ⲟⲟ]ⲧϥ̄ ⲛ̄ⲛⲉⲩⲉⲣⲉⲩ) (72:17–18). There exists a hierarchy among the Aeons and there are different levels in the Pleroma, just as there are more and less important parts in a human body. The organization among the Aeons is like that in a:
human body, which is partitioned in an indivisible way into members of members, primary members and subordinate ones, big [and] small.55
The individual Aeons exist in a collective and it is through the collective that they are supposed to glorify the Father (69:24–30). However, “there is a limit to speech set in the Pleroma, so that they are silent about the incomprehensibility of the Father”.56 It is also suggested that advanced Aeons are supposed to help those lower down but keep quiet about matters that belong to more advanced things, like the true nature of the Father (74:29–75:13). The breach of this hierarchy is what causes the creation of cosmos, when the Aeon at the lowest level attempts to “grasp the incomprehensibility and give glory to it”.57 The Logos attempts to approach the Father “in order to glorify the Father” (ⲁϥϯ ⲉ̣ⲁⲩ ⲙ̄ⲡⲓⲱⲧ) (76:5–6) but this fails because “he did not have the command” (ⲉⲙⲛⲧⲉϥ ⲙ̄ⲡⲟ̣[ⲩ]ⲁϩ ⲥⲁϩⲛⲉ) (76:11–12).
The “school of conduct” of the Aeons seems to refer to a collective with the clear objective of giving glory to the Father; they have rules of hierarchy that include different levels of knowledge with rules surrounding the boundaries between the levels of knowledge and glorification. This heavenly “school of conduct” seems to correlate with the community on earth and the cosmic school. Let us return to the cosmic school in TriTrac and investigate this further.
4 The Cosmic School: an Imperfect Reflection of the Heavens
In TriTrac, the cosmos is described as “a place of receiving teaching” (ⲟⲩⲙⲁ ⲛ̄ϫⲓⲥⲃⲱ) (123:12), of gaining form, and we read that the Savior came down to earth because people “need teaching” (ⲉⲧⲣ̄ ⲭⲣⲉⲓⲁ ⲛ̄ⲥⲃⲟⲩ) (116:17–20).58 Let us look at the description of creation again, but this time from the perspective of the concept “form”, which was so central for gaining knowledge of God in the school of conduct of the Pleroma.
The Logos’ initial creation is described as two sides that make war on each other, associated with psychic and material substances. The Logos returns to his initial stable state on account of the Savior’s appearance. After the Savior’s return, the Logos becomes capable of bringing forth “living images of the living persons” (ϩⲛ̄ϩⲓⲕⲱⲛ ⲉⲩⲟⲩⲁⲛϩ̄ ⲛ̄ⲇⲉ ⲛⲓϩⲟ ⲉⲧⲁⲛϩ̄) (90:31–32).59 Among those powers that war against each other, there are those who can be saved (the psychics), and the Logos placed before them “beautiful rationality” (ⲡⲓⲗⲟⲅⲟⲥ ⲛ̄ⲧⲥⲁⲉⲓⲟ) so that “it might bring them (the psychics) into a form” (ⲁⲧⲉⲣϥⲛ̄ⲧⲟⲩ ⲁⲩⲙⲟⲣⲫⲏ·) (99:6–7).60 When the Logos had “returned to his stability” (ⲉⲛⲧⲁϥⲥⲧⲁϥ ⲁϩⲟⲩⲛ ⲁⲡⲉϥⲥⲙⲛ̄) (92:23–24), he established himself in another level of powers made of pneumatic substances (93:15–16). The powers in this level had “the form of the thing” (ⲡⲥⲙⲁⲧ· ⲙ̄ⲫⲱⲃ) (93:23) that resembles the Pleroma.61 “They are forms of maleness, since they are not from the sickness which is femaleness”.62 When the Demiurge and his helpers create humans they used the substances available to them, left and right, material and psychic, “each [of the or]ders forming [man in the way] in which it (itself) is”.63 Corporeality is described as “the sickness (of being) [in ma]ny forms” ([ⲡⲓ]ϣⲱⲛⲉ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉⲥ ⲡⲉ ⲡⲧⲱϣⲉ [ϩⲛ ϩⲁ]ϩ̣ ⲛ̄ⲥⲙⲟⲧ) (106:8–9). But the Logos controlled the Demiurge and made him breathe into the humans the pneumatic substance, too, so that “the first human was a mixed formation, and a mixed creation, and a deposit of those of the left and those of the right, and a pneumatic rationality”.64 When the Savior appears for the second time, this time as a human in the world, the pneumatic people immediately recognize him and gain form (118:29–119:16). As we saw, the pneumatics make up the body of the Savior and they are associated with the term “church”. The psychics, however, hesitated but after being “instructed by means of a voice” they “run to him in faith”.65 The materials are lost, because they are “darkness” (ⲕⲉⲕⲉⲓ) (119:10) and they “shun the shining of the light” (ⲉϥⲛⲁⲛⲁϩϥ̄ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ· ⲙ̄ⲡⲣⲣⲉ ⲙ̄ⲡⲟⲩⲁⲉⲓⲛ) (119:10–11). Thus, “the material (class) will receive destruction in every way”.66 Those who heed Christ’s message will ultimately enjoy the dissolution of “the whole multiplicity of shapes and from inequality and change”.67
Here it becomes clear that the psychic powers as well as the psychic humans will gain form, and that this is done through teaching and by placing a beautiful order above them. The cosmic school in this way provides the inhabitants with form, similarly to the school of conduct of the Pleroma; however, there are also important differences. There is no material or psychic substance in the Pleroma, and thus the larger community on earth cannot be a pure reflection of the heavens; this is why the term “church” is restricted to the pneumatics. What exists in the cosmos is ultimately a pale representation of what is above or, rather, the pedagogic tasks in heaven which are restricted to members of the church are expanded to include the psychics on earth as well. The cosmic system is still intimately tied up with the gaining of “form”, similar to the aeonic school in the Pleroma. The way “form” is presented aligns itself well with the epistemology we discussed in Chapter 1, where the pneuma and psychê possess image and likeness of the things above and thus can receive salvation. The likeness and image corresponds with being able to gain form, and thus attain salvation. This takes place through the Savior, “the form of the formless”. However, there is a hierarchy in the way pneumatic and psychic retain form, just as there is a hierarchy between the way pneumatic image and the psychic likeness reflect knowledge.68 The pneumatics do not need to be “drawn into form” (ⲁⲧⲉⲣϥⲛ̄ⲧⲟⲩ ⲁⲩⲙⲟⲣⲫⲏ) (99:6–7) as the psychics do. As we saw, the pneumatics in the Pleroma that the Logos creates in the cosmic system—a heaven below the actual heaven—have the form already. When the pneuma is placed in matter it seems to lie dormant, as I argued in the last chapter, but is awakened as the Savior appears. Although the psychic people hesitate, they are nevertheless instructed “through a voice” (ϩⲓⲧⲛ̄ ⲟⲩⲥⲙⲏ) (119:3) and gain form that way. Life on earth is in this way associated with the potentiality of gaining form.69
It is clear that TriTrac places great emphasis on the pneumatics; it is they who have come to earth in order to edify the Pleroma through their experience of the worldly life. The pneumatics will be integrated into the Pleroma, not the psychics. This is represented in the great focus on pedagogy in TriTrac’s description of the pneumatics. The pneumatics are to educate themselves but are also responsible for the formation of the psychics, just like lower members in the aeonic community are taken care of by those above. The psychics are those who needed instruction and guidance and it is the pneumatics that have been appointed for this task.70 The pneumatics “are the apostles and evangelists, the disciples of the Savior and they are teachers of those who need teaching”.71 The pedagogical skills of the pneumatics in the earthly community are reflected in the pneumatic “church” that the Logos creates upon the appearance of the Savior. These powers are described as possessing skills that focus on pedagogy; they are known for “their desire to be upright” (ⲛⲉⲩⲟⲩⲱϣⲉ ⲁⲧ̣ⲣⲉϥⲧⲉϩⲟ ⲁⲣⲉⲧϥ̄), “openness for instruction” (ⲟⲩⲱⲣϩ̄ ⲁⲩⲥⲃⲟⲩ), “eye for vision” (ⲃⲉⲗ <ⲉ>ⲟⲩϭⲛ̄ⲛⲉⲩ), “wisdom for ones’ mind” (ⲥⲟⲫⲓⲁ ⲁⲡⲉϥⲙⲉⲩⲉ), and “word for speaking” (ⲗⲟⲅⲟⲥ ⲁⲩϭⲛϣⲉϫⲉ) (94:2–9). Thus, the pedagogic task of the leaders of the community, “the church” within the larger assembly, is reflected in the nature of the pneumatic substance to which those members have access. The psychics are not ‘outsiders’ but represent Christians who are not endowed with the task of gaining moral knowledge in order to be reintegrated in the Pleroma; rather, they are rewarded for their services to the pneumatics who are those with the most important task. The psychics still gain salvation as part of the community of those who believe in Christ, a fact over which the Savior rejoices (122:12–30), and they celebrate communion with the pneumatics.
In conclusion, the community on earth corresponds to the structure of the pleromatic community in heaven,72 but only to the degree that this is possible within the limitations of cosmic existence. Within the church on earth, the inner community, higher level members help lower level members just like in the Pleroma, but the pneumatics also supply psychic Christians with guidance. The larger community of Christians on earth is not a complete mirror of the Church in the Pleroma, since there is no psychê beyond the cosmos. Let us turn to investigating the details of the relationship between psychic and pneumatic members of the community, looking more closely at what teaching and learning entailed. What exactly was the nature of the different pneumatic and psychic instructions? What do the reference to voice and invisible instruction mean?
5 Silent and Oral Instruction: Formation, Baptism, and Education
In TriTrac all levels of the community seem to receive instruction. We read that no one has found the Father “by his own wisdom and power” (ϩⲓ̈ⲧⲛ̄ ⲧⲉϥⲥⲟⲫⲓⲁ ⲙ̄ⲙⲓⲛ ⲙ̄ⲙⲟϥ ⲙⲛ̄ ⲧⲉϥϭⲟⲙ·) (126:14–15). The pneumatics teach the psychics but the pneumatics are also depicted as receiving instruction. While the psychics are those who were instructed vocally by fellow Christians,73 the pneumatics are “instructed in an invisible manner” (ϩⲛⲛ ⲟⲩ[ⲙ]ⲛ̄ⲧ·ⲁⲧⲛ̣ⲉ̣ⲩ ⲁⲣⲁⲥ· ⲁϥⲧⲥⲉⲃⲁⲩ ⲁⲣⲁϥ̣) (115:1–2) by the Savior himself. This is similar to First Corinthians, where Paul differentiates between ordinary human wisdom and pneumatic teaching, which is without words (1Cor 2:13–14). In TriTrac this seems to be expanded upon. After one has received instruction, one enters a state where there is “no need of voice” (ⲙⲛ̄ ⲭⲣⲉⲓⲁ ⲛ̄ⲥⲙⲏ) (124:19–20). The Aeons, too, are instructed “by means of a voice” (ϩⲁⲧⲛ̄ ⲟⲩⲥⲙⲏ) (61:15) concerning what it is that exists, but then sink into silence. How should we understand the discussion of different levels of learning and invisible learning versus vocal learning?
As I argued above, the “school of conduct” of the Aeons is associated with gaining form and to gain form one needs instruction. It is also clear that the organization of the cosmos is made so that it will reveal something of the true forms. This resembles how Plato described human life and the struggle for excellence.74 In the metaphor of the cave, Plato describes the ascent from the dark places of the cave to the light of the true forms as a long education.75 This image, of ascending from darkness into light through instruction and initiation, is a dominant theme in Hellenistic mystery cults, and it would become a central ritual aspect in early Christianity as well. Receiving instruction was a vital part in the process of becoming a member of a new community.76 This was sometimes expressed as forming and reforming one’s mind. Carrol Harrison has discussed this phenomenon among Christians in antiquity in her book The Art of Listening. Harrison argues that a common means to describe the way a person became aware of something was that of an image being imprinted on the mind or an image which had previously been imprinted being remembered.77 This view fits well with TriTrac in light of the discussions of ancient cognitive theory with which we engaged in the first part of this study. Harrison also points out that many early Christian writers, like Irenaeus, Clement, Origen, Athanasius, Gregory of Nyssa, and later Augustine, seem to have thought that humans had lost the ability to directly experience God, that humans had been “formed” in the image of God in the beginning of time, but that the image of God had been lost through sin and disobedience, as a result of the original fall in paradise.78 Several Christian authors portrayed paradise as a place where written and spoken words were not needed, where one was in intuitive contact with God’s mind.79 Reinstating the lost image of God was, nevertheless, commenced through words, through oral instruction and study. It is worth reminding ourselves that we are dealing with oral cultures. Texts were read aloud, people wrote by dictating aloud to a scribe, and one announced one’s writings by performing them in public.80 Harrison argues that many early Christian authors made a distinction between inward hearing and outward hearing.81 In order to be able to hear the word of God within oneself—to be able to believe, pray, and ultimately act in accordance with the will of God—one first needed to receive oral instruction and be baptized.82
I argue that it is in this context—in ancient negotiations between inward formation and the outside cosmic world—that we need to place TriTrac’s distinctions between psychic and pneumatic learning, between pneumatic invisible instruction and psychic vocal instruction, in order for them to become understandable.83 The importance TriTrac, and other early Christian texts, place on “gaining form” in order to be able to experience the divine and hear only through the mind, gain even further meaning in light of ancient cognitive theory, as explored in Chapter 1. As per ancient cognitive theory, TriTrac presents the imprints that take shape in the mind as determined by the shape of one’s constitution, the mixture of matter, psychê and pneuma. The form of your mind affected the imprints that were made in it. Furthermore, while the intellect should be the leading principle of any life that was to result in happiness, the emotive part could still be useful and of support to the intellect,84 just like the pneumatics are represented as the natural leaders who gain support from the psychics.
What about the ritual aspect of the discussion of formation? The ideal community in TriTrac does not seem to differ from many other early Christian constellations when it comes to initiation: membership is portrayed as being sealed with a baptism. In fact, it would seem that we find in TriTrac references to pre-baptismal instructions, instructions that often were considered necessary before one was allowed to become a member of a Christian community. Page 127 of TriTrac begins a long passage on baptism:
As for the baptism which exists in the fullest sense, into which the All will descend and in which they will be, there is no other baptism apart from this one alone, which is the redemption into God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, when assent is made through faith in those names, which are a single name of the gospel, when they have come to believe what has been said to them, namely that they exist.85
Here it would seem that the catechumen confesses, or rather assents to the trinity and then has to trust in “what has been said to them” (ⲛⲉⲧⲉⲁⲩϫⲟⲟⲩ ⲉⲛⲉⲩⲟⲩ), that they should have faith in the fact that they truly exist, or rather will remain to exist even after their cosmic existence, because their existence is based on their unity with the All. These could indeed be references to pre-baptismal instruction. The references to higher order members teaching lower order members, and the lower order members needing oral instruction (“with voice”), supports such a reading.
However, education and formation did not necessarily stop after baptism.86 Cyril of Jerusalem, for example, wrote that people who were taught the basic Christian message heard from the outside, while those who were baptized started to hear from the inside.87 Something similar seems to be the case in TriTrac. According to TriTrac, there are three types of people. Each person’s nature is revealed through their reaction to the appearance to the Savior, as well as their ability to learn and level of learning. We read in TriTrac that a “seed of the promise of Jesus Christ” exists in humans and that this seed provided the humans of the right constitution with the “ability to be instructed” and to be saved.88 The instruction is, however, different for different humans. It is specifically stated that the pneumatics have come to earth to learn about, or rather to “train” (γυµνάζειν) themselves in the workings of evil.89 Pneumatic people “received knowledge swiftly” (ⲁϥϫⲓ ⲙ̄ⲡⲥⲁⲩⲛⲉ ϩⲛ̄ ⲟⲩϭⲉⲡⲏ) (118:35–36), and have immediate access to a “good proairesis”, that is, the ability to assent to the Savior. As such they are in a position to be role models and the psychics are told to follow the lead of the pneumatics. As mentioned above, ethics was often the last stage of a student’s curriculum, which is not strange at all considering what we learn of Origen’s school where one needed knowledge in physics, logic, and epistemology to be able to understand the finer structures of ethical reasoning.90 In light of the discussion in the first part of this study, the relevance of knowledge in physics, epistemology, and cognitive theory becomes obvious; they explain the basis for human behavior. Few people, however, reached the level where ethics were discussed in such detail and further developed, and even fewer devoted their lives to the pursuit of moral excellence. In light of the socioeconomic reality of education in the Greco-Roman world, a deterministic system would most likely have made perfect sense; everyone could not be pneumatic teachers and moral experts. The vast majority of the inhabitants of the Roman Empire during the imperial age did not receive any formal education at all and were virtually illiterate.91 Only a small number of people ever completed the time-consuming and costly training of a specialized education that went beyond basic literacy. Those who did receive formal education would most likely have focused on mastering basic skills in reading and writing and not much more. Edward Watts argues that many of those who started such a basic training in literacy would not finish the course and of those who did—as literacy is a skill that has to be developed and practiced continuously—many would probably have forgotten much of what was learned as life continued.92 In short, anything beyond basic literacy was reserved for the elite spheres of society and, furthermore, elite education was not centered on furthering knowledge of ethics but, rather, rhetoric and a career in public life.93
In light of this, the category of pneumatic was probably limited to a few people while the category of psychic seems to have been broad, including everyone within the community who needed the moral guidance of the pneumatics. It is perhaps conceivable that one could have been thought to be a pneumatic even though one lacked formal education; there are examples of teachers and sages that come from humble beginnings, like the Apostles, who are in fact called pneumatics in TriTrac (116:17–20).94 Nevertheless, considering the description of pneumatics as teachers and moral experts, and considering the breadth of topics one had to master in order to discuss ethics in any detail (TriTrac being an example of this), a formal education would have been indispensable. Porphyry describes the group that surrounded the philosophical school of Plotinus as made up of the best and brightest, people well read on the topics that were being discussed.95 And Origen’s school was, as we have seen, divided into beginners and advanced students. Still, the fact that a person could have been included in the pneumatic church without formal education or the socioeconomical advantages of someone who had the opportunity to study from a young age (like the Apostles), would have been easily explained in light of the text’s fixed anthropology: those who are pneumatics are so because of their mental constitution (or, put in other words, as long as they retain the identity of pneumatics in the group).
Even though the categories are fixed, one has the possibility to develop within one’s own category. In the very end of TriTrac we encounter a long passage that deals with the return and salvation of “the Calling” (ⲡⲧⲱϩⲙⲉ), which is another term for the psychics, a term that echoes Pauline language96 and fits well with the idea that some people need the voice. The psychic people need to be called to receive their formation. The psychics:
… will receive the vision more and more by nature and not only by a little word, so as to believe, only through a voice, that this is the way it is, that the restoration to that which used to be is a unity.97
The psychics will develop a more natural way of understanding the message of the Savior, to which the phrase, “receive the vision” (ϫⲓ ⲡⲛⲉⲩ), is most likely an allusion, but nowhere does it say that psychics become pneumatics. After baptism the psychics will not have to rely only on words and voice to believe but will receive a natural understanding. Nevertheless, they are part of the world in a much more concrete way than those who have chosen to commit themselves solely to moral progress. The question of what to do with ‘ordinary’ Christians who committed sins even after baptism engaged several early Christian theologians.98 Origen, for example, imagined that such Christians would, except for receiving less of a reward in heaven, be awakened at a second later resurrection, while the perfect Christians would rise first and reap the full benefit of salvation. Perfect Christians did not, Origen said, mix with worldly affairs once they had given themselves to God.99 This comes very close to how TriTrac describes the differences between pneumatic and psychic. Nevertheless, what a psychic person can expect according to TriTrac, after finishing the oral instructions and baptism, is a natural understanding of the faith and “the revelation of [the] form <in> which they believe … and escape from the whole multiplicity of shapes and from inequality and change”.100 Even though the category of psychics allows for degrees in knowledge, there is still a great difference between basic Christian formation and the more advanced level of ethical considerations of the pneumatics, whom the psychics should emulate. Let us look at the nature of this “imitation”, which I argue is important for the psychic’s pedagogic process.
6 The Duty of the Pneumatic Moral Expert and the Formation of Psychic Christians
The depiction of pneumatics as role models for psychic behavior was, as we saw in the previous chapter, very similar to the way Stoics imagined the teacher-student relationship. In fact, this image strikes a chord with the general ideal of the ancient student-teacher relationship, and to the exampla-type of paraenesis.101 To a large extent, education consisted of monotonously imitating already prepared syllabuses,102 but imitation was also part of a broader ethical trope in antiquity: the emulation of one’s moral superiors was the best way to progress in virtue.103 This is an important literary trope in many forms of early Christian literature as well, in hagiographies, gospels, and vitae of different kinds.104 What can this tell us about the nature of the psychics, and their relation to the pneumatics?
In light of the above points on education and formation, the psychics in TriTrac could be defined as “everyday Christians” who did not have moral authority in the community, but who are told to imitate their moral superiors. The language of imitation is already reflected in 1 Cor 11:1 where Paul encourages people to imitate him, just like he has imitated Christ.105 In 1 Cor 2 Paul also seems to make distinctions between levels of knowledge, and he can be interpreted as having written that some people, those of the flesh, do not have what it takes to hear deeper truths.106 As we have seen, some Valentinians most likely developed Paul’s language on fleshly, psychic, and pneumatic people, and their different levels of understanding.107 From a broader perspective on attitudes towards moral development, TriTrac’s way of dividing humanity into three levels—people who seem to reject moral development (at least their definition of it) on the one side and on the other the student-teacher relationship—is not very strange.
TriTrac is not unique in calling for people who are inferior in knowledge to imitate their betters, and furthermore, highlighting that some people are just naturally prone to deeper insights. As Dunderberg has noted, some Stoics thought that for the wise, good actions came naturally as part of their constitution, and it was the duty of the wise to help those less fortunate, who needed instruction and help to develop a firm mind.108 This view on natural ability is not limited to Stoics and Valentinians.
In his three-part work, Paedagogus, Clement discusses the moral development of ‘ordinary Christians’.109 In book I of Paedagogus, he examines the tasks of the Gnostic instructor and in the following two books he turns to the nature of the teaching and behavior of everyday Christians. Clement writes that everyone should be as children in their attitude to learning the message of God: imitating Jesus and following his example like children who follow a tutor.110 Clement thought that for some, advanced spiritual studies came naturally. Most people needed someone to instruct them while the true Gnostic sought spiritual knowledge and the immediate experience of God.111 There were, however, limits to what a teacher could do, because instruction was useless without the total devotion of the pupil to exercising and developing the receptive faculty.112 Clement writes that the ability to receive instruction is a sort of natural art.113 Furthermore, Clement maintained, not all reacted in the same way to the call of God:
… the divine Word cries, calling all together; knowing perfectly well those that will not obey; notwithstanding then since to obey or not is in our own power, provided we have not the excuse of ignorance to adduce. He makes a just call, and demands of each according to his strength.114
Those who needed to be instructed were driven by fear, Clement maintained. Those Christians who were not ‘Gnostics’ like him, acted as they had been instructed, and did it to avoid hell rather than for the love and knowledge of God.115
David Brakke has called the split of humans into different levels of understanding, “an Alexandrian tradition”.116 Origen also divided Christians into different categories of moral progress. Simple believers were in the majority while advanced Christians were rare in a community. The majority of Christians based their faith on the fear of God and the hope of salvation. Origen thus distinguished between people with simple faith and those with insights based on rational inquiry, which seems to have been, similarly to TriTrac’s distinction between psychic people’s likeness and pneumatic’s image,117 derived from Plato’s distinction between belief or opinion (δόξα) and knowledge (ἐπιστήµη).118 This did not mean that less developed Christians were lost in the end, but they could not expect the same level of reward in heaven as those who had excelled in virtue, like the knowledgeable and the healers of souls. Just like TriTrac, Origen distinguishes between Christians who are “called” (vocatus) and those who are “chosen” (electus).119 It is the elect Christians who will reap the greatest rewards in heaven, those who are simply called will be saved but have neglected the full grace that God offers and are not devoted wholeheartedly to spiritual progress.120 This idea, that the degree of moral progress and learning corresponded to the level of one’s future rewards in heaven, seems to be suggested in TriTrac as well, a view shared by Clement too.121 In TriTrac we read that:
The pneumatic class will receive complete salvation in every way. The material (class) will receive destruction in every way, as one who resists him (the Savior). The psychic class, however—since it is in the middle when it is brought forth and also when it is created—is double, in accordance with its determination for both good and evil … (they) who give glory to the Lord of glory, and who renounce their rage; they will be rewarded for their humility and continue (to exist) forever.122
The damnation of the materials has already been established. Although the exact difference between the rewards pneumatics and psychics will receive is not explained, there seems to be some difference nevertheless. At times, it even seems as if the text is written from the perspective of pneumatics. Let me quote a few passages where the integration of the psychic people is addressed as if the pneumatics’ salvation is not an issue:
As it is fitting to say, nonetheless, on the matter of those of the Calling (psychic people)—for those of the right are so named—it is necessary for us to return once again to them and it is not profitable for us to forget them.123
And then a page later:
Not only those who have come forth from the Logos, about whom we spoke, not only they will attain the good work, but also those whom these brought forth in accordance with the good dispositions, they will share in the repose according to the abundance of the grace. And those who were brought forth from the desire of lust for command—because they have the seed of lust for command inside them—will receive the reward of good things, they who have worked together with those who have the good proairesis, provided they, in opinion and will, abandon the desire for vain temporary glory, and keep the commandment of the Lord of glory, instead of the momentary honor, they inherit the eternal kingdom.124
And this continues a few lines later:
What is the nature of the one who was a slave? He will take a place with a free man. For they (the psychics) will receive the vision more and more by nature and not only by a little word, so as to believe, only through a voice, that this is the way it is, that the restoration to that which used to be is a unity. Even so, some are exalted because of the oikonomia, since they have been appointed as causes of the things which have happened because they as natural forces are more active and since they are desired. Because of these things angels and men will receive the kingdom and the uprightness and the salvation.125
Here it would seem that the text takes the perspective of the pneumatics, telling the reader that it is “not profitable for us to forget them”—that is, we the pneumatic elect must not forget them the psychics who are being called.126 It is possible that the first-person plural (us/we) is at times used also as an authorial plural (for example 130:2–9), but the text seems nevertheless primarily be addressed to pneumatics rather than psychics. This is understandable, because in an earlier passage it seems that the focus of the whole text is on the pneumatics’ fate. We read that the Savior gave himself for “us in the flesh, who are his church” (ⲁⲛⲁⲛ ϩⲛ̄ ⲥⲁⲣⲝ ⲉⲧⲟⲉⲓ ⲛ̄ⲛⲉⲕⲕⲗⲏⲥⲓⲁ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉϥ) (125:4–5),127 which would indicate that the Savior came mainly for the pneumatics (since they are his church). Nevertheless, the salvation of the “Calling” is one of the chief topics of the third part of the text, while at the same time it being clear that the Savior came mainly for his church, the pneumatics, “we in the flesh” (ⲁⲛⲁⲛ ϩⲛ̄ ⲥⲁⲣⲝ). The psychics are more associated with everyday life—the psychics have many different positions depending on their “exaltation”, as we read in the last passage above—while the pneumatics are naturally gifted and moral experts.
We can conclude that from the perspective of moral development—and it would seem from a soteriological perspective too—that it was not at all uncommon to divide humanity into three parts: (1) advanced teachers who would receive the full benefit of salvation for their developed moral formation; (2) ordinary people who would be rewarded for listening and following their betters, (3) and those who outright worked against moral knowhow, guided by their material nature.
In the next chapter, we return to the significance of the pedagogical framework of the anthropology of the text and look at attitudes toward social involvement in TriTrac. Now, however, before summarizing the discussions above and drawing conclusions as to the social structure presented in TriTrac, we need to address the portrayal of Valentinians as those Christians who belonged to the ‘School of Valentinus’.
7 The Category of the ‘School of Valentinus’ in Early Christian Scholarship
It should by now be clear that TriTrac’s utilization of school language is paramount for presenting the structure of the community and portraying the characteristics of the different members that it comprises. As stated at the outset of this chapter, the term ‘School of Valentinus’ has occurred frequently in the study of early Christianity. How, therefore, does this concept relate to the community of TriTrac?
Bentley Layton has argued that after Valentinus arrived in Rome in the middle of the second century, he gained followers and his movement “blossomed into a brilliant international school of theologians and biblical commentators”.128 Layton has also maintained that the “Valentinian movement had the character of a philosophical school, or network of schools, rather than a distinct religious sect”.129 Agreeing with Layton, Christoph Markschies has studied the heresiological evidence in hopes of finding “the anatomy” of the Valentinian schools. He is aware of the polemical nature of the evidence but nevertheless makes a case that there are a number of analogies between the Valentinian form of Christianity and philosophical schools. Valentinians attended lectures, he writes, read and created commentaries, had a concept of degrees of learning, and teacher-student relations.130 Unfortunately, neither Markschies nor Layton engage with the question of how the school structures are reflected in the ‘first hand sources’, the Valentinian texts themselves (i.e., those from Nag Hammadi).
Many scholars have followed Layton and Markschies in visualizing the Valentinian form of Christianity as a school. One example appears in the subtitle of Ismo Dunderberg’s book Beyond Gnosticism: Myth, Lifestyle, and Society in the School of Valentinus. Dunderberg writes in the introduction to his book that it “seems clear that Valentinians bore some resemblances to ancient schools of thought”,131 and he goes on to study—among many things—the Valentinian “therapy of passions”, comparing Valentinus with a philosopher engaging with students with frankness of speech (parrhêsia).132 Dunderberg’s understanding of the ‘School of Valentinus’ rests chiefly on the heresiologists’ depictions that seem to favor school terminology when describing the Valentinians, but he also discusses several interesting similarities between Valentinian texts and the topics that engaged philosophical schools, like the therapy of passions.
Einar Thomassen also seems to be inspired by the heresiologists’ depictions of Valentinians as a philosophical school and he puts considerable effort into systematizing and tracing the developments of the ‘systems’ of two different Valentinian “schools”, the Eastern and Italian branches, mentioned by heresiologists (Clement, Hippolytus, and Tertullian).133 However, Thomassen uses the term “school” in the meaning of ‘school of thought’, rather than an organizational form, and due to the polemical nature of the heresiologists’ portrayals of the Valentinians, Thomassen also cautions against reading too much into the notions of Valentinians as a philosophical school. The Valentinians thought of themselves first and foremost as a church, he writes (what “church” refers to, however, is not clearly defined).134
I would caution against contrasting the terms school and church too rigidly. There are many similarities between how early Christians organized themselves and how philosophical schools worked. The term “church” and “school” should not be treated as mutually exclusive.135 Thomassen’s cautionary note is nevertheless valid and important to consider. There are some general problems with the label ‘School of Valentinus’. First of all, as just noted, different connotations are brought to the term “school” which can lead to confusion. As Angela Standhartinger points out when commenting on Pauline scholarship and the use of the term ‘School of Paul’:
… the term ‘School of Paul’ is a kind of Platzhalter for a number of phenomena: Paul’s theological work and method, the process of transmitting Pauline traditions, the dependence of his students upon the apostle, and a socio-historic description for the institutional organization of Paul’s and/or his followers’ mission.136
The same could be said about research into the Valentinian Christians. It is often not quite clear what is meant by the ‘School of Valentinus’. Is it a reference to a general tradition of interpreting the Christian message from the view of the theology of Valentinus? Is it a reference to the mutual interests Valentinians shared with pagan philosophers? Or is it a reference to the organizational structure within Valentinian Christian congregations? Was there a particular curriculum Valentinians had to go through that differed from other Christians? These questions are seldom clarified.
Secondly, there are polemical issues involved. We can find strong arguments against using the term ‘School of Valentinus’ if by this one means that Valentinians thought of themselves as being part of a school rather than the Christian community. Geoffrey Smith has emphasized the apologetic and polemical nature of the epithet ‘School of Valentinus’.137 In Irenaeus’ multivolume work, Against Heresies, he called the people he refuted heretics (αἵρεσις). This was not initially a negative term but came to be used among Christian heresiologists more and more derogatorily. By using the term heretic (αἵρεσις) for his opponents, meaning choice, Irenaeus attached himself to an already established polemical technique also found in Justin Martyr’s writings. Justin argued that some people called themselves Christians but were really something else, charlatans posing as followers of Christ. These false Christians had made a choice (αἵρεσις) to follow other doctrines than those embraced by the church established by God, doctrines established by a human.138 It was not uncommon to sample different philosophical schools before making a choice to join the school one found most convincing, just like Justin Martyr himself had done.139 However, Christianity was different, according to Irenaeus and Justin; the Christian community, or church, did not belong to the smorgasbord of doctrines and practices of the Hellenistic philosophical landscape. True Christians got their knowledge and legitimacy, not from human sages, but from God, through the community established by the apostles appointed by God’s representative on earth: Jesus. Irenaeus and Justin argued that some Christian heretics subscribed to an authority established by a human, a founder of a school, not a follower of the divinely established church. This is the reason Justin gives the name Valentinian to those Christians who were theologically inspired by Valentinus, just as Plato’s followers were called Platonists. Irenaeus and Justin distinguish between ‘divinely inspired’ and thus pure and true, and ‘man-made’, or effected by humans, and thus diluted and false. Irenaeus claimed that Valentinus was inspired by “the heresy called Gnostic” (τῆς λεγοµένης γνοστικῆς αἱρέσεως), and that he had established his own school (διδασκαλεῖον/ Ualentini scola).140 The audacity of the Valentinians was so great, wrote Irenaeus, that they had written their own gospel and mixed into their writings passages from the true scripture to add legitimacy to their cause.141 Irenaeus even accused Valentinians of added things to Valentinus’ theology so that they could expand the lecture time and thus charge more money for their courses.142 It was all about the money, according to Irenaeus. Thus, just like the philosophical schools, the Valentinian dogmas were man-made; they stood outside the divinely inspired church Irenaeus himself belonged to.
The polemical aspects of the term “school”, as opposed to church, should be clear. Part of the confusion as to the organization of Valentinians in comparison to other Christians surely derives from the vague use of the term “church”, which, as I have argued above, does not negate school structures. The polemical techniques used by Irenaeus and Justin continued in modern time, among protestant apologetics who defined true and pure Christianity against erroneous and syncretistic Gnosticism.143 Geoffrey Smith has argued that after the important work done by Williams, King, and others in unearthing the problems with the term Gnosticism, scholars have instead opted to use the term ‘School of Valentinus’ more. However, Smith argues that classifying the Valentinians as belonging to a school is problematic on the same grounds as the term ‘Gnosticism’: it does not refer to anything that existed in ancient time; it is a polemical construction.
Smith and Thomassen make the important points that we need to be aware of the polemical background of the heresiologists’ depictions and careful to follow their emphasis on the Valentinians as a school rather than a church.144 However, as Löhr and others have argued, in light of Gregory’s description of Origen’s school and other early Christian intellectual milieus, there were strong similarities between Christian schools and philosophical schools.145 Even though Irenaeus and Justin construct a dichotomy between school and church, these terms should not be treated as mutually exclusive.146 Furthermore, the term church has a very specific meaning in TriTrac, referring only to one part of the community. For this community the image of the school, school language, and school structures was very important for understanding the human predicament on earth and when visualizing and organizing the structure of the community. In this, TriTrac is not alone. The same accusation Irenaeus leveled at Valentinians in general could undoubtedly have been leveled at other Christians as well, like Clement, Origen, or Basil.147 Indeed, as we have seen, Christians were viewed by some pagan observers as a philosophical movement.148 Nevertheless, just because we need to be cautious of harmonizing Valentinian texts too much, and reifying social communities that did not exist,149 we should not discard the importance of the image of the school for early Christian community structures and activities. Christianity was thought by many intellectual Christians to be the culmination of philosophy, not its opposite, and education and study were vital parts for many Christian intellectuals and their vision of ideal social structures. However, concerning TriTrac and most of the other Christian texts and individuals discussed here, there is no doubt that the community also included activity other than studying, like singing, praying, baptism, and other rituals of different kinds.150 At the same time the language of pedagogy was very important; in TriTrac it was used to visualize the structure of the cosmos, as well as to present and legitimize the ideal social structure.
Let us now, in conclusion, discuss the above findings and draw some further conclusions as to the social context of TriTrac.
8 Conclusions: the Dual Structure of the Community behind TriTrac
We have seen how the reference to the Aeons’ “school of conduct” (ⲟⲩⲁⲛⲥⲏⲃ· ⲙ̄ⲡⲟ[ⲗ]ⲓ̣ⲧⲓⲁ) (71:22–23) is connected, through structural similarities, to the community on earth. Moral development is paramount for salvation in TriTrac. Salvation is likened to gaining a form, which is either perfected invisibly by internal growth or “by voice”, that is, teaching by a second party. Whether you belonged to the first category who could develop with the internal aid of the Savior, or the second category who needed aid from a morally superior model, depended on your natural composition, whether you were mainly guided by your logical and intellectual part or the emotive, soulish part of the tripartite picture of the human mind. As we established in the first part of this study, the individual mind does best when following the lead of the logical part rather than the soulish or material part, which do not lead to truth and knowledge. This cognitive and epistemological position is reflected in the community structure as well: the human collective should follow the advice of the pneumatic humans.
This social ideal, where pneumatics have a monopoly on the ethical formation of the community, could very well have fueled the heresiologists’ depictions of Valentinians as determinists, although, as I have argued above, the intellectualism we encounter in TriTrac is also fairly close to the social structure envisioned by other early Christian theologians like Clement and Origen. However, there are differences, too. For example, TriTrac presents a fixed anthropology, while Clement, Origen, and others rather adopted the doctrine of free will and envisioned, at least in theory, the possibility of social mobility. A deterministic worldview did not, however, mean that there were no possibilities for moral progress. One could better one’s character, although it would not have been possible to change one’s natural composition. One’s nature was revealed through one’s behavior and one’s position within the community. Pneumatics were devoted to learning about good and evil, and psychic people developed by taking their advice and imitating their moral superiors.
Nevertheless, the image of a school fits well with the structure favored in TriTrac, where knowledge and moral ability is valued highly, and where pneumatics guide the psychics, as in a teacher-student relationship. The school metaphors used in TriTrac, however, do not presuppose a formal school setting, with one teacher and a group of pupils following a clearly established curriculum.151 Picturing the cosmos as a school for the soul was a common Christian image. In TriTrac, the pneumatic class is not presented as consisting of just one individual pneumatic teacher addressing a group of psychics. Rather, we seem to be dealing with classes, or ideal types, of people. Considering what it took to be viewed as a moral expert, the pneumatics were most likely a minority, a well-educated minority. However, considering that there are examples of teachers and sages coming from humble beginnings (like the Apostles or ascetic pioneers like Pachomius152), I am not arguing that all pneumatics had to have a background that included formal schooling, although that would—considering how the pneumatics are described—undoubtedly have improved their likelihood to be counted as one. Rather than the school language and psychic-pneumatic relations’ reflecting a formal school setting, we are most likely dealing with metaphors for the ideal structure of how the community was envisioned to function in the world. Nevertheless, considering the way the term “church” is used in the text and considering that the pneumatics are described as devoted to ethics and teachers of psychic ‘ordinary’ Christians, the ideal community structure implied by the text consists of one group existing within a larger community; a group consisted of a smaller number of members devoted to study and deeper reflection who catered to the spiritual needs of a larger collective.
Even if it is not unproblematic to translate ideal structures in a text into the social reality behind it, the community structure envisaged in TriTrac could very well reflect an actual original context. In fact, TriTrac’s view of the pneumatics fits the picture of a Christian study group; for example, the advanced study group of Origen which Gregory describes, or that of the study circle of Justin Martyr.153 These Christians sought out advanced education. Just like Origen’s advanced class, they in turn taught lower-level Christians, and just like Justin’s study group,154 the pneumatics were part of a community setting including lay Christians. The pursuit of moral excellence was a time-consuming matter. Porphyry insisted that the study of moral excellence demanded the abandonment of everyday life,155 and the way TriTrac describes the psychics as taking care of the pneumatics, it is possible that what we find in TriTrac resembles early tendencies towards monasticism. In the next chapter, we will explore TriTrac’s attitude toward social engagement more deeply. The first proclivities toward organized monasticism are found in Egypt, and most likely emerge in a city context.156 The Christian school milieu seems to have been especially vibrant in Alexandria,157 the Egyptian metropolis which produced many intellectual giants, such as Valentinus, Pantenus, Clement, Origen, Hieracas, and Didymus the Blind, just to mention a few whose names we still have, and who attracted large followings. The ‘school milieu’ of Alexandria has been characterized by David Brakke as promoting freethinking, debate, and theological speculation.158 This continued for a long time. In the fourth century, Athanasius, following his predecessor Alexander, combated Arian Christians, connecting them with a form of Christian gathering where doctrines were openly discussed and debated.159 The pneumatics represented in TriTrac were, I suggest, Christian intellectuals who gathered in this way, in study groups. In light of the detailed level of TriTrac’s ethical system, which hinges on insights into physics, epistemology, and cognitive theory, these people had most likely undergone formal education. The pneumatics congregated to develop and discuss their doctrines, but were also part of a larger community, teaching and partaking in communion with lay Christians who supported them and used them as moral examples.
In conclusion, I argue that the context reflected in TriTrac is a dual one, reflecting a group of pneumatics comprising an inner circle within a larger community. We are most likely not dealing with formal school structures in either case. Nevertheless, both collectives are envisioned as following a pedagogical structure: (1) one could not advance by oneself; (2) there was a need for teaching and learning for all; (3) higher pneumatic members taught lower psychic members as the Savior teaches the pneumatics; (4) psychics saw to the needs of the pneumatics and engaged in worship with them; (5) oral instructions were delivered by the teachers of the community, probably including pre-baptismal instruction; (6) psychic laypeople with a low literary level were expected to follow the example of the teachers and leaders; (7) an upper level identified with the pneumatics who possessed the ability to consider moral questions, topics that would most likely have demanded a high level of literacy.
But how does TriTrac’s community structure relate to broader structures and claims to authority of third century Christianity? Christians were a minority during the first centuries, sometimes oppressed, but this would slowly change in the third and fourth centuries. During this time Christians were being given access to the halls of power to a greater extent than before, and it was chiefly Christian intellectuals who were given access, who were at times even sought out for their advice.160 Peter Brown has outlined how important education and the culture of paideia was for gaining and exercising power.161 Christian intellectuals were much like the philosophers of old, admired and sought after for their intellect. The image of the Christian philosopher would slowly give way to the image of the holy man and the monk.162 When the empire became Christian, a lot of political power naturally flowed into the hands of the bishops.163 Nevertheless, it was the holy reclusive and monk who stood closer to ancient ideals of virtue, associated with the intellectual, the philosopher, who was an uncorrupted figure not subsumed by the allure of world power. The holy man, and later the monk, were figures whose advice was to become sought after by the powerful.164 The parallels between holy man/monk and philosopher are well known; both were characters who had mastered their mind, and thus gained control of their passions/demons. The lives of monks and holy reclusives became the topic of numerous literary productions and stories of their moral excellence presented ideals that were to be emulated.165 TriTrac’s emphasis on otherworldly knowledge, the rejection of passions and demons, as well as world pleasures and honors, fits this ideal of the third and fourth centuries CE. However, as I argue further in the next chapter, TriTrac does not advocate the abandonment of life in the world, but restricts moral authority to those who are not lured by the honor of worldly power. Indeed, the text seems to advocate that the psychics should be engaged in the world. Nevertheless, it is clear where TriTrac places the moral authority: in the hands of an intellectual elite. This is done by accentuating the need for ‘ordinary people’—who are engaged with dealings in the everyday world—to seek the advice of those whose vocation it is to investigate the structures of deeper things.
However, just because the pneumatics are depicted as teachers who are engaged with study and the pursuit of the good, we should not draw the conclusion that pneumatics were uninterested in worldly power. On the contrary, the rhetoric of humility seems to have been a common technique for gaining power. A closer look at how Christian bishops portrayed themselves, reveals marked similarities with how the pneumatics are described in TriTrac. For example, Gregory of Nazianzus and Basil the Great, two early Christian bishops (of Constantinople and Caesarea respectively) who would wield great power in the burgeoning state Church, portrayed themselves, and were portrayed by others, as wholeheartedly devoted to philosophy, to the tranquil life of pursuing spiritual growth, not political power.166 However, as Susanna Elm has argued, even though Gregory and Basil (and other powerful bishops of the early church), may have been portrayed as uninterested in political pursuits, it was no coincidence that they happened to live in close proximity to political power most of their lives. Given their elite upbringing they were bred for politics and the wielding of power.167 They became bishops against tough competition and entered that vocation because they sought to do so. This fits with David Brakke’s study of Athanasius, who used asceticism as a model for the ideal Christian. Athanasius’ biography of Antony was not just one of the most widely read Christian texts of ancient time, it was also an immensely important political tool, it was the manifesto with which Athanasius promoted his particular theology and criticized his political opponents.168 Thus, in the case of the pneumatics of TriTrac, we should be careful about imagining a group of reclusives who were solely devoted to the eternal topics of the Pleroma. The political motivations and ramifications of arguing for the monopoly over ethical interpretations by one group of people within a community should not be underestimated, and the community structure behind TriTrac needs to be explored through the lens of the early developments of Christian church structures and claims to authority.
In order to draw further conclusions concerning the ethical outlook of the text and the social context it might have reflected and how it related to the context of early Christian approaches toward power, let us add the political perspective to the discussion in the following chapter.
Perkins, “Logos”, 388; Berno, “Rethinking Valentinianism”, 342, n33. There are important and recognizable similarities between the protology of TriTrac and the metaphysics of important philosophical schools of thought: the Middle Platonism of Numenius and Alcinous, for example. Numenius and Alcinous maintained that the intellect of the highest unknowable god produced from contemplation of its own self intellectual beings equivalent to his thoughts; these were connected with each other as well as integrated with and residing within god’s mind. This closely resembles how the Aeons are portrayed in TriTrac. Furthermore, Alcinous and Numenius did not view the highest god as the creator god but attributed material creation to a second god. However, TriTrac’s strong monotheism is somewhat unlike Middle Platonic systems in general. For a more detailed description of the Platonic background of TriTrac see Kenney, “The Platonism”, 187–206; Perkins, “Logos”, 379–396.
See, for example, Attridge and Pagels, “The Tripartite Tractate”, in Notes, 456–457.
Thomassen, “Saved by Nature?”, 148–149. Schenke adopts a similar view, see Schenke, “Tractatus Tripartitus”, 36–38.
Attridge and Pagels, “The Tripartite Tractate”, in Notes, 456–457; see also Dunderberg, Beyond Gnosticism, 161–188, who uses the term “Church” for the community of the text which seems to include the psychics.
See Ralph J. Korner, The Origin and Meaning of Ekklēsia in the Early Jesus Movement (Leiden: Brill, 2017); J. Y. Campbell, “The Origin and Meaning of the Christian Use of the Word ΕΚΚΛΗΣΙΑ”, Journal of Theological Studies 49 (1948): 130–142.
See, for example, Clement, Stromata VII.2.9; Origen, On First Principles II.10.2; Jerome, Against Jovinianus II.23. For a study on early Christian ideas on different levels of salvation and reward, see Kocar, “In Heaven”.
57:34, 58:30, 59:2, 94:21, 97:6–7, 121:31–36, 122:7–30, 123:18, 125:5, 135:26, 136:13.
“… After they assent to the Lord … and remember what is good for the church” (ⲙⲛ̅ⲛ̅ⲥⲁ ⲧⲣⲟⲩϩⲟⲙⲟⲗⲟⲅⲓ ⲙ̄ⲡϫⲁⲉⲓⲥ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲡⲓⲙⲉⲉⲩⲉ· ⲙ̄ⲡⲉⲧⲁⲛⲓⲧ· ⲁϯⲉⲕⲕⲗⲏⲥⲓⲁ) (121:29–38). Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified. This passage refers to the “right ones” (ⲛⲓⲟⲩⲛⲉⲙ), which is a term used for the psychics in TriTrac.
See 1 Cor 12:12–13; Eph 4:4–15; and also Col 1:18, 2:14, 2:19.
118:33–35: ⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲣⲉⲧⲉϥⲁ̅ⲡⲉ· ⲟⲩⲱⲛϩ̄ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ⲁϥⲡⲱⲧ ⲁϩⲟⲩⲛ ⲁⲣⲁϥ ⲥⲉϩⲏⲧϥ· ⲁϥϣⲱⲡⲉ ⲛ̄ⲛⲟⲩⲥⲱⲙⲁ· ⲥⲉϩⲏⲧϥ̄ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉϥⲁⲡⲉ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified. This is not the only passage that indicates that the text is written from the perspective of the pneumatics, see also 132:30–133:14.
Thomassen, “Saved by Nature?”, 148.
121:29–38: ⲙⲛ̅ⲛ̅ⲥⲁ ⲧⲣⲟⲩϩⲟⲙⲟⲗⲟⲅⲓ ⲙ̄ⲡϫⲁⲉⲓⲥ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲡⲓⲙⲉⲉⲩⲉ· ⲙ̄ⲡⲉⲧⲁⲛⲓⲧ· ⲁϯⲉⲕⲕⲗⲏⲥⲓⲁ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲡⲓϩⲱⲥ ⲛ̄ⲛⲉⲧϩⲃ̄ⲃⲓⲏⲩ ⲛⲙ̄ⲙⲉⲥ ⲁⲡⲉⲧⲉ ⲟⲩⲛ̄ ϭⲟⲙ· ⲙ̄ⲙⲟⲟⲩ ⲧⲏⲣϥ ⲙ̄ⲡⲉⲧⲁⲛⲓⲧ· ⲁⲉⲉϥ ⲛⲉⲥ ⲁⲧⲣⲟⲩⲕⲟⲓⲛⲱⲛⲓ ⲁⲛⲉⲥϣⲱⲛⲉ ⲙⲛ̄ ⲛⲉⲥⲙ̄ⲕⲟⲟϩ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲓ̈ⲧⲛ̄ ⲡⲥⲙⲁⲧ ⲛ̄ⲛⲉⲩⲅⲛⲱⲙⲱⲛ ⲁⲡⲓⲡⲉⲧⲛⲁⲛⲟⲩϥ· ⲁϯⲉⲕ̣ⲕ̣ⲗ̣ⲏ̣[ⲥ]ⲓⲁ ⲉⲩⲛⲁϫⲓ ⲛ̄ϯⲕⲟⲓⲛⲱⲛ̣ⲓⲁ ϩⲛ̣ [ⲧⲉⲥϩ]ⲉ̣ⲗⲡⲓⲥ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified. This passage reflects the activity of the Aeons in the Pleroma, who sing together to please God even if they are on different levels in the Pleroma. Thus, I choose to add the word “sing” to highlight that the “assent to the song” refers to taking part in the song, i.e. to sing the song together with the pneumatics (the church).
Einar Thomassen has also argued that the perfect man is the Savior (see Thomassen, Spiritual Seed, 55; Thomassen, Le Traité tripartite, 436–437). Attridge and Elaine Pagels argue differently. They view the perfect man and the Man of the Church as references to pneumatic members of the community while the term “members” (ϩⲛ̄ⲙⲉⲗⲟⲥ) refer to the psychics. They point out that the “members” need instruction, and this, they write, fits the psychics, while the pneumatics receive knowledge immediately (Attridge and Pagels, “The Tripartite Tractate”, in Notes, 460–462). However, as seen previously in this study, and is explored further below, the pneumatics are also described as coming to earth to learn and develop. The passage that follows the mention of the members of the church describes the restoration of the Pleroma, which is depicted as a release from the left and the right powers, i.e. psychê and matter (see 124:3–7), and thus it would be strange if the members of the church that receive salvation are the psychics, the people who need to get unmixed.
122:31–35: ⲁϥⲡⲱϣⲉ ⲙ̄ⲡⲛ(ⲉⲩⲙ)ⲁ ⲯⲩⲭⲏ ⲥⲱⲙⲁ ϩⲛ̄ ⲧⲟⲓⲕⲟⲛⲟⲙⲓⲁ ⲙ̄ⲡⲁⲉⲓ ⲉⲧⲙⲉⲩⲉ ϫⲉ ⲛⲉⲟⲩⲉⲉⲓ ⲛ̄ⲟⲩⲱⲧ· ⲡⲉ· ⲉϥϣⲟⲟⲡ· ⲛ̄ϩⲏⲧϥ̄ ⲡⲉ· ⲛ̄ϭⲓ ⲡⲣⲱⲙⲉ ⲡⲉⲉⲓ ⲉⲧⲉ ⲛ̄ⲧⲁϥ ⲡⲉ· ⲡⲧⲏⲣϥ̄ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲛ̄ⲧⲁϥ ⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲩ ⲧⲏⲣⲟⲩ ⲡⲉ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified. See Kasser et al., Tractatus Tripartitus: Pars II, 19–20, who also interprets this as a reference to Christ.
74:13–18: ⲙ̄ⲡⲣⲏⲧⲉ ⲛ̄ⲟⲩ̣ⲥⲱⲙⲁ̣· ⲛ̄ⲣⲱⲙⲉ· ⲉϥⲡⲏϣ· ϩⲛ̣̄ ⲟⲩⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲧⲡⲱϣⲉ· ⲁϩⲛ̄ⲙⲉⲗⲟⲥ̣ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉ ϩⲛ̄ⲙⲉⲗⲟⲥ ϩⲛ̄ⲙⲉⲗⲟⲥ ⲛ̄ϣⲁ̣ⲣⲡ̄ ⲙⲛ̄ ϩⲛ̄ ϩⲁⲉⲟⲩ ⲁϩⲛ̄ⲛⲁ̣ϭ̣ ϩ̣[ⲓ] ϣⲏⲙ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
122:28–30: ⲡⲁⲉⲓ ⲉϥⲣⲉϣⲉ· ⲁⲩⲱ ⲉϥⲣⲁⲟⲩⲧ· ⲙ̄ⲙⲟϥ ⲉϥⲣ̄ ϩⲉⲗⲡⲓⲍⲉ ⲙ̄ⲙⲁϥ ⲁⲣⲁϥ ⲛ̄ϭⲓ ⲡⲣⲱⲙⲉ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉⲕⲕⲗⲏⲥⲓⲁ. The psychics are saved and “the place which the Calling (the psychics) will have is the Aeon of the likeness, where the Logos has not joined with the Pleroma” (ⲡⲉⲥⲧⲟⲡⲟⲥ ⲉⲧⲛⲁϣⲱⲡⲉ ⲛⲉⲥ· ⲡⲉ ⲡⲁⲓⲱⲛ ⲛ̄ⲇⲉ ⲛⲓϩⲓ̈ⲕⲱⲛ ⲙ̄ⲡⲙⲁ· ⲉⲧⲉⲙ̄ⲡⲁⲧⲉ ⲡⲗⲟⲅⲟⲥ· ⲧⲱⲧ· ⲙ̄ⲡⲡⲗⲏⲣⲱⲙⲁ) (122:25–28). Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
Korner, The Origin, 150–262. See also 22–80, which explores the term ἐκκλησία in light of its relation to Roman associations.
For more on the doctrine of “mutual participation”, see Thomassen, Spiritual Seed, 166–187.
123:12–15: ⲁⲩⲣ̄ ⲭⲣⲓⲁ ⲛ̄ⲛⲟⲩⲙⲁ ⲛ̄ϫⲓ ⲥⲃⲱ ⲡⲉⲉⲓ ⲉⲧϣⲟⲟⲡ ϩⲣⲏⲓ ϩⲛ̄ ⲛ̄ⲧⲟⲡⲟⲥ ⲉⲧ·ⲧⲥ̣[ⲉ]ⲛⲁⲉⲓⲧ ⲁⲧⲣⲉϥϫⲓ ⲉⲓⲛⲉ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲓⲧⲟⲟⲧⲟⲩ ⲁⲛⲛⲓϩⲓⲕⲱⲛ ⲁⲛⲓⲧⲩⲡⲟⲥ ⲛ̄ϣⲁⲣⲡ ⲙ̄ⲡⲥⲙⲁⲧ· ⲛⲛⲟⲩⲉⲉⲓⲉⲗ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
Thomassen, Attridge and Pagels come to the same conclusion (Thomassen, Le traité tripartite, 437; Attridge and Pagels, “The Tripartite Tractate”, in Notes, 464).
126:32–34: ⲉⲩⲛⲁϫⲓ ϯⲡⲉ· ⲛ̄ⲛⲓⲡⲉⲧⲑⲁⲩⲟⲩ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲛ̄ⲥⲉⲣ̄ ⲅⲩⲙⲛⲁⲍⲉ· ⲙ̄ⲙⲁⲩ ⲛ̄ϩⲣⲏⲓ̈ ⲛ̄ϩⲏⲧⲟⲩ.
See Plotinus, Ennead IV.
Numenius, Fragment 20; Corpus Hermeticum 1.13–14.
Basil, Hexaemeron 1.5; Origen, On First Principles II.11.6.
37:25–31: [ⲡⲛⲉⲩⲙⲁ]ⲧⲓⲕⲟⲛ ⲛⲉ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲛ̄ⲥ[ⲁⲣ]ⲕ̣ⲓ̣ⲕⲟⲛ̣ ⲛ̄ⲛⲉ̣ⲑ̣̄ⲛ̄ ⲧⲡⲉ ⲙ̄ⲛ̣̄ ⲛ̣ⲉⲧϩⲓϫⲙ̄ ⲡⲕⲁϩ. ⲁϥⲧⲁⲙⲓⲟ ⲛ̣ⲉⲩ ⲛ̄ⲟⲩⲧⲟⲡⲟⲥ ⲛ̄ϯⲙⲓⲛⲉ [ⲁ]ⲩⲱ ⲟⲩⲥⲭⲟⲗⲏ ⲛ̄ϯⲙⲓⲛⲉ ⲁϩ[ⲟ]ⲩⲛ ⲁⲩⲥⲃⲱ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲁ<ϩ>ⲟⲩⲛ ⲁⲩⲙⲟⲣⲫⲏ. However, the devil and evil powers took hold of the cosmos so that God (perhaps here referring to the Demiurge) “almost regretted that he created the world” (ⲥⲭⲉⲇⲟⲛ ⲁϥ̄ⲣϩⲧⲏϥ ϫⲉ ⲁϥⲥⲱⲱⲛⲧ ⲙ̄ⲡⲕⲟⲥ[ⲙⲟⲥ]) (38:38–39).
See for example Clement, Paedagogus. This is a large scholarly topic, see, for example, Pheme Perkins, Jesus as Teacher (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Chris Keith, Jesus’ Literacy: Scribal Culture and the Teacher from Galilee (London: T&T Clark, 2011).
This attitude is, somewhat paradoxically, combined with the view that philosophy leads to heresy and false beliefs. However, there is a distinction made between pagan and Christian, between atheist and god-fearing philosophy. For more on this, see Karamanolis, Philosophy, 29–59.
Justin, Second Apology 2.13; see also Justin, Dialogue with Trypho 8.1–2 where he compares Christianity with the other philosophical schools.
Clement, Stromata VI.8, I.11; Basil, Letter 8; Eusebius, Demonstratio Evangelica I.6.56.
The Martyrdom of Justin 1–2.
Lampe includes some Valentinians in the list of Roman Christians organized in this way. Peter Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries (London: T&T Clark, 2003), 276–279, 374–380.
See Philip A. Harland, Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians: Associations, Judeans, and Cultural Minorities (New York: T&T Clark, 2009); John Kloppenborg, “Collegia and Thiasoi: Issues in Function, Taxonomy and Membership”, in Voluntary Associations in the Graeco-Roman World, ed. John S. Kloppenborg and Stephen G. Wilson (London and New York: Routledge, 1996), 16–30. See also Robert Louis Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them, 2nd edition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), 15–30. For the dynamics between the term ἐκκλησία and Roman associations, see Korner, The Origin, 22–80. Korner concludes that the term ἐκκλησία would have had political connotations for Romans, but that it was not unusual for voluntary associations to adopt political terminology for their organizational structure.
These are the three most common associations as suggested by Kloppenborg, “Collegia and Thiasoi”, 16–30.
Finance, wealth and socio-ecological organization were not topics favored by popular philosophers, which probably was one reason most schools did not survive after the master’s death. Harland, Dynamics of Identity, 26. However, as Christoph Markschies has discussed from the perspective of Christian organizations in Rome, it is important to distinguish between different kinds of philosophical activity in second-century Rome. There was, apart from ‘professional’ philosophers who had a curriculum and regular student groups, a popular kind of philosophy practiced by ‘parlor’ philosophers, who performed in public and at private gatherings. Open lectures were held for the benefit of the interested. Some of Maximus of Tyre’s lectures and some of Epictetus and Musonius are preserved, and they deal with all kinds of philosophical questions in which a well-read public would be interested—such as of what goodness and evil consist, where they originate, and how one should live one’s life. Christoph Markschies, “Valentinian Gnosticism: Toward and Anatomy of a School”, in The Nag Hammadi Library After 50 Years: Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Literature Commemoration, eds. Anne McGuire and John Turner (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 403–411.
Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History V.10.4.
Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History VI.15, 21.4, 5.11.
Annewies van den Hoek. “The ‘Catechetical’ School of Early Christian Alexandria and Its Philonic Heritage”, Harvard Theological Review 90:1 (1997): 59–87.
What we have is Porphyry’s descriptions, see next note as well as Winrich Löhr, “Christianity as Philosophy: Problems and Perspectives of an Ancient Intellectual Project”, Vigiliae Christianae 64 (2010): 160–188.
Porphyry, Life of Plotinus. Here Porphyry writes that Plotinus admitted advanced students who came to him and wanted to attend his lectures. Plotinus is said to have encouraged questions, and some students stayed with him for years, such as Amelius, who Porphyry says followed him for several decades. Plotinus also had many companions and friends, like poets, senators, rhetoricians, and doctors, who seem to have been more like conversation partners that sometimes visited him rather than students who devoted themselves wholeheartedly to the study of philosophy. The “school” of Plotinus seems to have been made up of a mixture of lectures and debates on different philosophical topics, discussions of famous works by Plato or Aristotle, as well as debate over contemporary treatises and the clarification and composing of treaties in reaction to something they had read. However, at this level, there does not seem to have been a clear syllabus that attendees were expected to follow, but since Plotinus only admitted talented and advanced students to these meetings they seem to have already been well versed in classics such as Plato, Aristotle, the Stoics, and various contemporary philosophers. In short, Plotinus’s school is an example of the last stage of a ‘school milieu’, a place where different topics and philosophy were developed rather than merely discussed.
Gregory, Panergyric Addressed to Origen.
Roelof van den Broek, “The Christian ‘School’ of Alexandria in the Second and Third Centuries”, in Centers of Learning: Learning and Location in Pre-Modern Europe and the Near East, eds. Jan Willem Drijvers and Alasdair A. MacDonald (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 39–47; Clemens Scholten, “Die alexandrinische Katechetenschule”, Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum 38 (1995): 16–37.
For a summary of the curriculum of Gregory at Origen’s school see Löhr “Christianity as Philosophy”, 165.
This is indicated, for example, in the life of Origen, who received critique and was later excommunicated because of his work and preaching within the larger Christian community, work he did without being ordained. We are dealing with a period before organized monasticism; these intellectual Christians functioned within a larger community of lay people. It is also important not to oversimplify the isolation of monastics, who often led dynamic and vibrant lives, not simply being secluded in the desert. See James Goehring, Ascetics, Society, and the Desert: Studies in Early Egyptian Monasticism (Harrisburg, P.A.: Trinity Press International, 1999).
Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
71:9–11: ⲛ̣̄ⲛⲟⲩⲙⲁⲉⲓⲉ· ⲙⲛ̄ ⲟⲩϭⲛ̄ϣⲓⲛⲉ̣ ⲛ̣̄ⲥⲉ ⲡⲓϭⲓⲛⲉ ⲉⲧϫⲏⲕ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ⲧⲏⲣ̣[ϥ] ⲙ̄ⲡⲓⲱⲧ.
71:18–23: ϫⲉ ⲛ̄ⲧⲁϥ [ⲡⲓ]ⲱⲧ· ⲡⲉⲧⲁϩϯ ⲛⲛⲁ{ⲁ}ⲫⲟⲣⲙⲏ [ⲛⲛ]ⲟⲩⲛⲉ ⲛ̄ⲛⲁⲓⲱⲛ· ⲉϩⲛ̄ⲧⲟⲡⲟⲥ ⲛⲉ ⲙ̣ⲡ̣ⲓⲙⲁⲓ̈ⲧ⟦ⲛ̄⟧ ⲉⲧⲙⲁⲧⲛ̄ ϣⲁⲣⲁϥ ⲙ̣ⲡⲣⲏⲧⲉ ϣⲁ ⲟⲩⲁⲛⲥⲏⲃ· ⲙ̄ⲡⲟ[ⲗ]ⲓ̣ⲧⲓⲁ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified. Here we seem to have a play on words: aforme (impulse) is the result of having morfe (form), which is used to described being from the highest realm.
Thomassen has suggested emending πολιτεία to παιδεία (Thomassen, Le traité tripartite, 319–320). However, the word παιδεία or its derivatives do not occur in the TriTrac, while πολιτεία and its verb forms πολιτεύω and πολιτεύµα occur a number of times, meaning constitution, assembly or the conduct or way of life of citizens in a city (see Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon, 1113).
These usually included a varied range of people. See Harland, Dynamics of Identity; and Kloppenborg, “Collegia and Thiasoi”.
Apart from the passage describing the Aeons’ existence as “places on the path which leads toward him, like a school assembly” (ⲉϩⲛ̄ⲧⲟⲡⲟⲥ ⲛⲉ ⲙ̣ⲡ̣ⲓⲙⲁⲓ̈ⲧ⟦ⲛ̄⟧ ⲉⲧⲙⲁⲧⲛ̄ ϣⲁⲣⲁϥ ⲙ̣ⲡⲣⲏⲧⲉ ϣⲁ ⲟⲩⲁⲛⲥⲏⲃ· ⲙ̄ⲡⲟ[ⲗ]ⲓ̣ⲧⲓⲁ) (71:20–23), the Pleroma as a whole is called a ⲡⲟⲗⲓⲧⲉⲩⲙⲁ (59:11–12).
61:12–13: ⲁⲧⲣⲟⲩⲙ[ⲙⲉ ⲇⲉ ϫⲉ] ⲛⲓⲙ ⲡⲉ ⲡⲓⲱⲧ ⲉⲧϣⲟ[ⲟⲡ ⲛⲉⲩ]. See also 72:28–73:2.
61:9–17: ⲁⲧ[ⲣⲟⲩ]ⲣ̄ ⲛⲟⲉⲓ ⲙ̄ⲙⲉⲛ ϫⲉ ⲟ̣[ⲩ ⲡⲉⲧ]ϣ̣[ⲟ]ⲟⲡ· ⲛⲉⲩ· ⲁϥⲣ̄ ϩⲙⲁⲧ [ⲁϯ ⲛ̄ϯϣⲁ]ⲣⲡ̄ ⲙ̄ⲫⲟⲣⲙⲏ ⲁⲧⲣⲟⲩⲙ[ⲙⲉ ⲇⲉ ϫⲉ] ⲛⲓⲙ ⲡⲉ ⲡⲓⲱⲧ ⲉⲧϣⲟ[ⲟⲡ ⲛⲉⲩ] ⲡⲣⲉⲛ ⲙⲉⲛ ⲙ̄ⲡⲓⲱⲧ· ⲁϥⲧⲉⲉⲓ̣ϥ̣ ⲛⲉⲩ ϩⲁⲧⲛ̄ ⲟⲩⲥⲙⲏ ⲉⲥϯ ϩⲣⲁⲟⲩ ⲛⲉⲩ ϫⲉ ⲡⲉⲧϣⲟⲟⲡ· ϥϣⲟⲟⲡ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲙ̄ ⲡⲣⲉⲛ ⲉⲧⲙ̄ⲙⲉⲩ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
69:11–12: ⲉⲩϯ ⲉⲁⲩ ⲛⲉϥ· ϣⲁⲣⲉϥ[.ⲥ]ⲥⲱⲧⲙ̄ ⲡⲉⲁⲩ· ⲁⲛ ⲉⲧϯ ⲉⲁⲩ ⲛⲉ[ϥ]. Here I read ⲥⲱⲧ as the verb “returns”, and not as Attridge and Pagels do, as “hear”. This fits better with what we read further on in the text, where the Aeons are described as being perfect because they glorify the perfect one (69:36–37).
69:18–20: ⲉⲛⲧ[ⲁ]ⲩϯ ⲕⲁⲣⲡⲟⲥ ⲙ̣̅ⲙⲁⲥ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲙ̄ ⲡⲓⲱ[ⲧ]· ϣⲁ ⲛⲟⲩⲉ·ⲣ̣ⲏⲩ. This reciprocity between the Father and the Aeons is the first and second aspect of the life of the Aeons, also called fruit (ⲕⲁⲣⲡⲟⲥ): the Aeons first glorify the Father; then they themselves receive glorification from the Father, and then “the fruit of the third is glorifications by the will (ⲟⲩⲱϣⲉ) of each one of the Aeons” (69:37–39: ⲡⲓⲕⲁⲣⲡⲟⲥ ⲇⲉ ⲛ̄ⲧⲁϥ ⲙ̄ⲡⲙⲁϩ ϣⲁⲙⲛ̄ⲧ ϩⲛ̄ⲛⲉⲁⲩ ⲛⲉ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉ ⲡⲟⲩⲱϣⲉ· ⲙ̄ⲡⲟⲩⲉ ⲡⲟⲩⲉ ⲛ̄ⲛⲁⲓⲱⲛ). See also 70:4–5. We also read that it is through the singing of hymns of glorification and through the power of the oneness with him who brought them forth they were “drawn into a blending (ⲟⲩⲧⲱⲧ) and a merging (ⲁⲩⲙⲟⲩϫϭ) and unity” (68:23–28). The Aeons are naturally drawn to the Father just like someone who smells a sweet “fragrance” and seeks the reason for the sweet smell (72:6–8).
74:13–18: ⲙ̄ⲡⲣⲏⲧⲉ ⲛ̄ⲟⲩ̣ⲥⲱⲙⲁ̣· ⲛ̄ⲣⲱⲙⲉ· ⲉϥⲡⲏϣ· ϩⲛ̣̄ ⲟⲩⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲧⲡⲱϣⲉ· ⲁϩⲛ̄ⲙⲉⲗⲟⲥ̣ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉ ϩⲛ̄ⲙⲉⲗⲟⲥ ϩⲛ̄ⲙⲉⲗⲟⲥ ⲛ̄ϣⲁ̣ⲣⲡ̄ ⲙⲛ̄ ϩⲛ̄ ϩⲁⲉⲟⲩ ⲁϩⲛ̄ⲛⲁ̣ϭ̣ ϩ̣[ⲓ] ϣⲏⲙ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified. Compare 1 Cor 12 here.
75:13–16: ⲟⲩⲛ ⲟⲩϩⲟⲣⲟⲥ ⲛ̣̄ϣⲉϫⲉ· ⲉϥⲕⲏ ϩⲙ̄ ⲡⲗⲏⲣⲟⲩⲙⲁ· ⲁⲧ[ⲣ]ⲟ̣ⲩⲕⲁⲣⲱⲟⲩ· ⲙⲉⲛ ⲁⲧⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲧⲉ· ϩ̣ⲁ̣ⲥ̣ ⲙ̄ⲡⲓⲱⲧ.
75:18–20: ⲁⲧⲣⲉϥϩⲓ̈ ⲧⲟ[ⲟ]ⲧ̣ϥ̄· ⲁⲧⲉϩⲟ ⲛ̄ϯⲙⲛ̄ⲧ·ⲁⲧⲣ̄ ⲛⲟⲓ̈ ⲙ̄ⲙ̣ⲁⲥ· ϥϯ ⲉⲁⲩ ⲛⲉⲥ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
In ValExp we also encounter salvation described as gaining “form” and here too the cosmos is called a school. We read that the “seeds of Sophia are incomplete and formless” (ⲛ̄ⲥⲡⲉⲣⲙⲁ̣ [ⲛ̄ⲧ]ⲥ̣ⲟ̣ⲫ̣ⲓⲁ ⲥⲉⲟⲉ[ⲓ]ⲛ̄ⲁⲧϫⲱⲕ ⲁⲃⲁ[ⲗ ⲁⲩ]ⲱ ⲛ̄ⲁⲙⲟⲣⲫ[ⲟⲥ]) (35:12–13). The cosmos is made up of material as well as pneumatic substances. This is why the Demiurge created “a place like this and a school like this, for learning and form” (37:28–31).
Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
Something similar is the case in InterpKnow where the All (the Pleroma) is described as “receiving form” (ⲛ̣[ϥ̄]ϫ̣[ⲓ] [ⲙⲟ]ⲣⲫⲏ) (14:14) when it is fulfilled.
ⲥⲙⲁⲧ is one of the Coptic equivalents of µορφή. See Crum, Coptic, 340b. I do not agree with Attridge and Pagels, “The Tripartite Tractate”, 263, who translate ⲙ̄ⲡⲥⲙⲁⲧ· ⲙ̄ⲫⲱⲃ as with “form of matter”. This translation makes it look like the pneumatics are like matter, but the opposite is actually true.
94:16–17: ⲛⲉⲉⲓ ⲉⲧⲉ ϩⲛ̄ⲙⲟⲣⲫⲏ ⲛⲉ ⲙ̄ⲙⲛ̄ⲧϩⲁⲟⲩⲧ ⲉϩⲛ̄ⲛⲁⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲙ̄ ⲡⲓϣⲱⲛⲉ ⲉⲛ ⲛⲉ ⲉⲧⲉ ⲧⲁⲉⲓ ⲧⲉ· ⲧⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲥϩⲓ̈ⲙⲉ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified. Femaleness is in TriTrac associated with passion and materiality. See Chapter 2 for a discussion of the “sickness of femaleness” and the relation to the Platonic Dyad, the “mother of becoming”.
105:8–10: ⲉⲡⲓⲟⲩⲉⲉⲓ ⲡ̣[ⲓⲟ]ⲩ̣ⲉ̣ⲉ̣ⲓ̣ ⲛ̣̄[ⲛⲓⲧⲁ]ⲅⲙⲁ· ⲉϥϯ ⲙⲟⲣⲫⲏ ⲙ̄[ⲡⲣⲱⲙⲉ ⲛⲑⲉ] ⲉⲧϥ̄ϣⲟⲟⲡ· ⲙ̄ⲙⲟⲥ· Attridge and Pagels do not give any suggestion as to the emendation in the lacuna on line 9. Here I follow Thomassen’s emendation. Thomassen, Le traité tripartite, 180.
106:18–22: ϫⲉ ⲡⲓϣⲁⲣⲡ̄ ⲇⲉ ⲛ̄ⲣⲱⲙⲉ· ⲟⲩ̣ⲡⲗⲁⲥⲙⲁ ⲡⲉ ⲉϥⲧⲏϩ ⲡⲉ· ⲁⲩⲱ ⲟⲩⲧⲥⲉ·ⲛⲟ ⲡⲉ ⲉϥⲧⲏϩ ⲡⲉ· ⲁⲩⲱ ⲟⲩⲕⲟⲩ ⲁϩⲣⲏⲓ̈ ⲡⲉ· ⲛ̄ⲇⲉ ⲛⲓϭⲃⲟⲩⲣ ⲡⲉ ⲙⲛ̄ ⲛⲓⲟⲩⲛⲉⲙ ⲡⲉ· ⲁⲩⲱ ⲟⲩⲡⲛ(ⲉⲩⲙ)ⲁⲧⲓⲕⲟ̄ⲥ ⲛ̄ⲗⲟⲅⲟⲥ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
119:2: ⲁⲡⲱⲧ· ϣⲁⲣⲁϥ ϩⲛ̄ⲛ ⲟⲩⲛⲁϩⲧⲉ. This is because they were “instructed through a voice” (ϩⲓ̈ⲧⲛ̄ ⲟⲩⲥⲙⲏ ⲉⲩϯ ⲥⲃⲱ) (119:3).
119:18–19: ⲡⲓϩⲩⲗⲓⲕⲟⲛ ⲛ̄ⲇⲉ ϥⲛⲁϫⲓ̣ ⲡⲧⲉⲕⲟ ⲕⲁⲧⲁ ⲣⲏⲧⲉ ⲛⲓⲙ.
132:19–20: ⲙ̄ⲡⲓϩⲁϩ ⲛ̄ⲣⲏⲧⲉ ⲧⲏⲣϥ̄ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲧⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲧϣⲱϣ ⲙ̣ⲛ̣̄ ⲡϣⲓⲃⲉ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified. Compare Gal 3:28.
In InterpKnow we also have a clear separation between different members of the church: those with spiritual gifts and those without. However, the way the cosmos is portrayed is very different. The school of the cosmos is associated with error, fear, and illusion, while the TriTrac portrays the organization of the cosmos as the road to salvation. Here it becomes obvious that the common theology these two texts are often thought to share takes a backseat role in favor of other matters. As I have argued elsewhere, InterpKnow’s negative portrayal of the cosmos is understandable if one reads it from the perspective of the ostensive social conditions portrayed in the text. The text addresses a community in conflict (especially 15:34–35, 16:31–38) and one of the main themes throughout the text is the mediation of this dissension (see Paul Linjamaa, “The Pit and the Day from Above: Sabbath-Symbolism in the Gospel of Truth and the Interpretation of Knowledge”, Swedish Exegetical Yearbook 80 (2015): 187–206). TriTrac does not reflect any conflict among its addressees. Thus, the different social situations behind the texts are reflected in the theology, which is a good reminder of the placid nature of the phenomenon ‘Valentinianism’.
It is possible that we encounter something similar in ValExp. In this text, we read that the “seeds of Sophia are incomplete and formless” (ⲛ̄ⲥⲡⲉⲣⲙⲁ̣ [ⲛ̄ⲧ]ⲥ̣ⲟ̣ⲫ̣ⲓⲁ ⲥⲉⲟⲉ[ⲓ]ⲛ̄ⲁⲧϫⲱⲕ ⲁⲃⲁ[ⲗ ⲁⲩ]ⲱ ⲛ̄ⲁⲙⲟⲣⲫ[ⲟⲥ]) (35:12–13). The cosmos is made up of material as well as pneumatic substance. This is why the Demiurge created “a place like this and a school like this, for learning and form” (37:28–31).
This too, could be reflecting 1 Cor 2:16 where we encounter the question: “For who has known the mind of the Lord that he may instruct Him? But we have the mind of Christ” (τίς γὰρ ἔγνω νοῦν Κυρίου, ὃς συµβιβάσει αὐτόν; ἡµεῖς δὲ νοῦν Χριστοῦ ἔχοµεν). Dunderberg is probably correct when commenting upon Irenaeus and concluding that it is likely that those who Irenaeus comments upon, who split Christians into psychics and pneumatics, develop this Pauline distinction (Dunderberg, Gnostic Morality, 137–148). See the previous chapter for a further discussion of this.
116:17–20: ⲛⲓⲁⲡⲟⲥⲧⲟⲗⲟⲥ ⲛⲉ ⲙⲛ̄ ⲛⲓⲣⲙ̄ϯ ϣⲙ̄ ⲛⲟⲩϥⲉ ⲛ̄ⲙⲁⲑⲏⲧⲏⲥ ⲛ̄ⲇⲉ ⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲩ ⲙ̄ⲡⲥⲱⲧⲏⲣ· ⲛⲉ ϩⲛ̄ⲥⲁϩ ⲇⲉ ⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲩ {ⲛ̅}ⲛⲉ ⲛⲉⲉⲓ ⲉⲧⲣ̄ ⲭⲣⲉⲓⲁ ⲛ̄ⲥⲃⲟⲩ. Here I diverge from Attridge and Pagels, who translate ϩⲛ̄ⲥⲁϩ ⲇⲉ ⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲩ ⲛⲉ ⲛⲉⲉⲓ ⲉⲧⲣ̄ ⲭⲣⲉⲓⲁ ⲛ̄ⲥⲃⲟⲩ “and teachers who need instruction”. I believe ⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲩ stands in relation to the teachers, i.e. ⲛⲉⲉⲓ ⲉⲧⲣ̄ ⲭⲣⲉⲓⲁ ⲛ̄ⲥⲃⲟⲩ, “those who need teaching”. This makes better sense in a context where teachers and apostles are spreading the message of Jesus.
In the Valentinian text InterpKnow, for example, we do find something very similar to TriTrac’s way of portraying psychics and pneumatics, although these terms are not used as human categories in InterpKnow. In this text, we find references to two schools as well as two levels of learning, but in a somewhat different way than TriTrac’s pneumatics and psychics. The term “school” (σχολή) appears twice in the first part of the text, on pages 9 and 10, which represent two of the most well-preserved pages of the very fragmented first part of InterpKnow. As I have argued elsewhere, the first part of the text seems to include a mythological exposition that provides a frame for the paraenetic sections in the latter half of the text (Linjamaa, “Female Figures”, 29–54). A “school of life” is juxtaposed to “another school”, connected to death. The first part explicates how the soul fell into the world, was set on by cosmic powers and imprisoned in the body. Page 9 begins to tell of how the Savior was “entangled with the creations and destroyed them” (ⲉ̣ϥⲁ̣ϭⲗⲁⲙⲗⲗⲙ̄ ⲁⲛ̣[ⲉϩ]ⲃⲏⲩⲉ ⲛ̄ϥϣⲣ̄ϣⲱⲣⲟⲩ), and how he “spoke to the church” (ⲉ̣[ⲁϥ]ϣⲁϫⲉ ⲙ̄ⲛ ⲧⲉⲕ[ⲕⲗ]ⲏⲥⲓⲁ) and became “its teacher of immortality” (ⲛⲉⲥⲛ̄ⲥⲁϩ ⲛ̄ⲧⲙⲛ[ⲧⲁ]ⲧ̣ⲙ̣ⲟⲧ). After this follows the mention of a school and this sentence is unfortunately very fragmentary: [..]ⲱ̣ⲡ[…..]ϩⲁ[….] ⲥⲭⲟⲗⲏ ⲛ̄ⲱ̣[…..]ϩ̣[..] ⲁⲣⲉⲩ[….]ⲛ̄ⲕⲉⲥⲭ[…]. We read of a “school of […]” something. All text-critical emendations read the ⲱ following the ⲛ̄ after ⲥⲭⲟⲗⲏ as the beginning of the word ⲱⲛϩ, “life”, which seems very plausible. The “school of life” fits the previous sentence, where the Savior spoke to the church and taught it immortality. Then we have “another school”, which is a very likely emendation of ⲕⲉⲥⲭ[ⲟⲗⲏ]. There are not many words that have the letters ⲥ and ⲭ in them, and since the word ⲥⲭⲟⲗⲏ is just mentioned and fits the lacuna, and since death is mentioned in the very next sentence, it seems plausible that we here have “another school” connected to death which contrasts with “the school of life”. We also read of writings or letters (ⲥϩⲉⲉⲓ), and the cosmos which is connected to “our death” (see page 9 in InterpKnow). For the Coptic text and generous emendations, see John Turner, “The Interpretation of Knowledge”, in The Coptic Gnostic Library: Nag Hammadi Codices XI, XII, XIII, ed. C. H. Hedrick (Leiden: Brill, 1990), 21–88. For more conservative emendations, see Uwe-Karsten Plisch, Die Auslegung Der Erkenntnis (Nag-Hammadi-Codex XI, 1) (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1996); Funk, Painchaud and Thomassen, L’interprétation de la gnose. There are considerable similarities between TriTrac and InterpKnow, but they most likely do not reflect the same community background, and the symbol utilized for the school is also different.
“Through a voice”, or “vocally” (ϩⲓⲧⲛ̄ ⲟⲩⲥⲙⲏ) (119:3).
Plato, The Republic III.402c.
Plato, The Republic VI.514a. Not all could, or should, undertake the gruesome curriculum that led to being able to perceive (or rather remember) true forms; there was a need for all social classes (gold, silver, and bronze, as Plato calls them) and it was only the true lover of wisdom who, after continuous training, by the age of 50 could perceive true forms (The Republic 521c–541b).
Victor Turner has noted the importance of rituals, initiation rituals as well (where a crucial aspect often includes learning new things and receiving hidden knowledge), for social formation and identity creation, for individual and group alike. See Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Chicago: Aldine Publishing, 1969).
Carol Harrison, The Art of Listening in the Early Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 1–14.
Harrison, The Art of Listening, 254–255.
Irenaeus, Against Heresies IV.4.2; Origen, Against Celsus I.48; For references to Ambrose, Augustine, Clement, and for a broader discussion, see Harrison, The Art of Listening, 61–83.
Harrison, The Art of Listening, 61–63.
Harrison, The Art of Listening, 61–83.
To this can be added that some Christians seem to have gone further than others in developing theories and rituals based on the relation between sound and voice in the cosmos vis-à-vis the heavens. One example is Marcosian vocal magic which seems to have been a very intricate system based on similar concepts, whereby one’s mind could be cultivated through harnessing the relationship between heavenly sounds and earthly echoes (Irenaeus, Against Heresies I.13–17).
GosTruth also seems to emphasize the reading of text and the different ways to pronounce truth compared to error. The text connects people’s ability for salvation with an ability to hear the calling of their name. See especially NHC I, 3.21–23.
See Chapter 2 for details.
127:25–128:5: ϫⲉ ⲡⲓ̣ⲃⲁⲡⲧⲓⲥⲙⲁ ⲉⲧϣⲟⲟⲡ ϩⲛ̄ⲛ ⲟⲩⲙⲛ̄ⲧϫⲁⲉⲓⲥ ⲡⲉⲉⲓ ⲉⲧⲟⲩⲛⲁϣⲉ ⲁϩⲣⲏⲓ̈ ⲁⲣⲁϥ ⲛ̄ϭⲓ ⲛⲓⲡⲧⲏⲣϥ̄ ⲛ̄ⲥⲉϣⲱⲡⲉ ⲛ̄ϩⲏⲧϥ̄ ⲙⲛ ϭⲉⲃⲁ·ⲡⲧⲓⲥⲙⲁ ⲥⲁ ⲡⲉⲧⲙ̄ⲙⲉⲩ ⲟⲩⲁⲉⲉⲧϥ̄ ⲉⲧⲉ ⲡⲉⲉⲓ ⲡⲉ· ⲡⲥⲱⲧⲉ· ⲁϩⲟⲩⲛ ⲉⲡⲛⲟⲩⲧⲉ· ⲡⲓⲱⲧ· ⲙⲛ̄ ⲡϣⲏⲣⲉ ⲙⲛ̄ ⲡⲛ(ⲉⲩⲙ)ⲁ ⲉⲧⲟⲩⲁⲁⲃ· ⲉⲁⲥϣⲱⲡⲉ ⲛ̄ϭⲓ ϯϩⲟⲙⲟⲗⲟⲅⲓⲁ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲓ̈ⲧⲛ̄ⲛ ⲟⲩⲛⲁϩⲧⲉ̣ ⲁϩⲟⲩⲛ ⲁⲛⲓⲣⲉⲛ ⲉⲧⲙ̄ⲙⲉⲩ ⲛⲉⲉⲓ̣ [ⲉⲧⲉ ⲟ]ⲩⲣⲉⲛ ⲛ̄ⲟⲩⲱⲧ ⲡⲉ ⲛ̄ⲇⲉ ⲡⲓϣⲙ̄ ⲛⲟⲩϥⲉ ⲉⲁⲩⲛ̄ϩⲟⲩⲧ ⲛ̄ⲛⲉⲧⲉⲁⲩϫⲟⲟⲩⲉ ⲛⲉⲩⲟⲩ ϫⲉ ⲥⲉϣⲟⲟⲡ ⲉⲁⲃⲁⲗ ⲙ̄ⲡⲁⲉⲓ ⲉⲩⲛ̄ⲧⲉⲩ ⲙ̄ⲙⲉⲩ ⲙ̄ⲡⲟⲩϫⲁⲉⲓⲧⲉ ⲛ̄ϫⲓ ⲛⲁⲓ̈ ⲉⲧⲁⲛⲁϩⲧⲉ ϫⲉ ⲥⲉϣⲟⲟⲡ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
See, for example, Brian B. McGowan, Early Christian Worship: Early Church Practices in Social, Historical and Theological Perspective (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014), 65–110. For a comprehensive study of early Christian baptism practices, see Everett Ferguson, Baptism in the Early Church: History, Theology, and Liturgy in the First Five Centuries (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 2009).
Cyril of Jerusalem, Baptismal Instruction 11.16. Irenaeus also accentuates the need of the voice of the Savior before one can learn to know God: “… we could have learned in no other way than by seeing our Teacher, and hearing His voice with our own ears, that, having become imitators of His works as well as doers of His words …” (Irenaeus, Against Heresies V.1.1. Translation by Alexander Roberts and William Rambaut in Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 1, eds. Alexander Roberts et al. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885)).
117:14–23: “A seed of the promise of Jesus Christ was set up, whom we have served in (his) revelation and union. Now the promise possessed ability to be instructed and the return to what they are from the first, from which they possess the drop, so as to return to him, which is that which is called ‘the redemption’”. (ⲉϥⲕⲏ ⲁϩⲣⲏⲓ̈ ⲛ̄ϭⲓ ⲥⲡⲉⲣⲙⲁ ⲛ̄ⲇⲉ ⲡⲥϣⲡ ⲱⲡ ⲛ̄ⲇⲉ ⲓⲏ(ⲥⲟⲩ)ⲥ ⲡⲉⲭⲣ(ⲓⲥⲧⲟ)ⲥ· ⲡⲉⲉⲓ ⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲛⲣ̄ ⲇⲓⲁⲕⲟⲛⲓ ⲙ̄ⲡⲓⲟⲩⲱⲛϩ̄ ⲁⲃⲟⲗ ⲙⲛ̄ ⲡⲓⲙⲟ̣[ⲩ]ϫϭ ⲡⲓϣⲡ ⲱⲡ ϭⲉ ⲛⲉⲩⲛ̄ⲧⲉϥ ⲙ̄ⲙⲉⲩ ⲡⲉ ⲙ̄ⲡϭⲛ̄ⲧⲥⲉⲃⲁⲩ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲡϭⲛ̄ⲥⲧⲁⲩ ⲉϩⲟⲩⲛ ⲁⲡⲉⲧⲁⲩϣⲟⲟⲡ· ⲙ̄ⲙⲁϥ ϫⲛ̄ ⲛ̄·ϣⲟⲣⲡ̄· ⲡⲁⲉⲓ ⲉⲧⲉⲩⲛ̄ⲧⲉⲩ ⲁⲃⲟⲗ ⲛ̄ϩⲏⲧϥ̄ ⲛ̄ϯⲧⲗ̄ϯⲗⲉ ⲁⲧⲣⲟⲩⲥⲧⲟ ⲁϩⲟⲩⲛ ⲁⲣⲁϥ· ⲉⲧⲉ ⲡⲉⲧⲟⲩⲙⲟⲩⲧⲉ ⲉⲣⲟϥ ϫⲉ· ⲡⲥⲱⲧⲉ ⲡⲉ).
They are come so that they can “experience the evil things and train (ⲣ̄ ⲅⲩⲙⲛⲁⲍⲉ) themselves in them”: ⲉⲩⲛⲁϫⲓ ϯⲡⲉ· ⲛ̄ⲛⲓⲡⲉⲧⲑⲁⲩⲟⲩ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲛ̄ⲥⲉⲣ̄ ⲅⲩⲙⲛⲁⲍⲉ· ⲙ̄ⲙⲁⲩ ⲛ̄ϩⲣⲏⲓ̈ ⲛ̄ϩⲏⲧⲟⲩ (126:32–34).
Origen’s curriculum ended with ethics and theology, and Stoics maintained that physics was the basis of ethical reasoning.
In Edward Watts’ estimation, between one third and one tenth of the population in the high imperial period were literate to the level of being able to read and write basic documents. See Edward Watts, “Education: Speaking, Thinking, and Socializing”, in The Oxford Handbook of Late Antiquity, ed. Scott Fitzgerald Johnson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 467–486. For an even lower estimation of literacy levels see W. V. Harris, Ancient Literacy (Cambridge, M.A.: Harvard University Press, 1989). For a more optimistic reading see Ann Hanson, “Ancient Literacy”, in Literacy in the Roman Word, ed. J. L. Humphrey (Ann Arbour: University of Michigan Press, 1991), 159–198.
Watts, “Education”, 469.
For a work that explores the importance of the paideia of Roman elite, see Peter Brown, Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity: Towards a Christian Empire (Madison, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1992).
A concrete Egyptian example is Pachomius. See Janet Timbie, “The Education of Shenoute and Other Cenobitic Leaders”, in Education and Religion in Late Antiquity, eds. P. Gemeinhardt et al. (Farnham: Ashgate, 2016), 34–46; see also James Goehring, The Letter of Ammon and Pachomian Monasticism (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1986).
Porphyry, Life of Plotinus 7–10.
1 Cor 1:9, 7:15–24, Gal 1:6–15, 5:8, 13; 1 Thess 2:12, 4:7, 5:24; 2 Thess 1:11, 2:14; Col 3:15; Eph 4:4; Rom 8:30, 9:24–26.
133:1–7: ⲥⲉⲛⲁϫⲓ ⲡⲛⲉⲩ ⲛ̄ⲅⲁⲣ· ⲛ̄ϩⲟⲩⲟ ⲛ̄ϩⲟⲩⲟ ϩⲛ̄ⲛ ⲟⲩⲫⲩⲥⲓⲥ ϩⲛⲛ ⲟⲩϣⲉϫⲉ ϣⲏⲙ ⲟⲩⲁⲉⲉⲧϥ̄ ⲉⲛ ⲁⲧⲣⲟⲩⲛⲁϩⲧⲉ· ⲟⲩⲁⲉⲉⲧϥ̄ ϩⲓ̈ⲧⲛ ⲟⲩⲥⲙⲏ ϫⲉ ⲡⲉⲉⲓ ⲡⲉ ⲡⲣⲏⲧⲉ ⲉⲧϣⲟⲟⲡ ϫⲉ ⲟⲩⲉⲓⲉ ⲛ̄ⲟⲩⲱⲧ· ⲇⲉ· ϯⲁⲡⲟⲕⲁⲧⲁⲥⲧⲁⲥⲓⲥ ⲁϩⲟⲩⲛ ⲁⲡⲉⲧⲉⲛⲉϥϣⲟⲟⲡ.
For a discussion of Clement’s views on post-baptismal sin, on the controversy over re-baptism in the third century, and much more see Everett, Baptism, 320, 380–399.
Origen, Homily on Leviticus 11.
132:13–20: ⲡⲟⲩⲱⲛϩ̄ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ⲙ̣[ⲡⲓ]ⲥⲙⲁⲧ· ⲉⲛⲧⲁⲩⲛ[ⲁ]ϩ̣ⲧⲉ…ⲁⲩⲣ̄ ⲃⲟⲗ ⲉ̣ⲃⲟⲗ ⲛ̄ⲧⲟⲟⲧϥ̄ ⲙ̄ⲡⲓϩⲁϩ ⲛ̄ⲣⲏⲧⲉ ⲧⲏⲣϥ̄ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲧⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲁⲧϣⲱϣ ⲙ̣ⲛ̣̄ ⲡϣⲓⲃⲉ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
For references to the school of ancient philosophers like Plotinus, Porphyry, and Proclus, see John Dillon, “Holy and not so Holy: On the Interpretation of Late Antique Biography”, in The Limits of Ancient Biography, eds. Brian McGing and Judith Mossman (Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales), 155–167.
See Raffaella Cribiore, Gymnastics of the Mind: Greek Education on Hellenistic and Roman Egypt (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2001), 220–244.
Richard Valantasis, Spiritual Guides of the Third Century: A Semiotic Study of the Guide-Disciple Relationship in Christianity, Neoplatonism, Hermetism, and Gnosticism (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991); Tite, Valentinian Ethics, 147–164; James Petitfils, Mos Christianorum: The Roman Discourse of Exemplarity and the Jewish and Christian Language of Leadership (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016).
Samuel Rubenson, “Early Monasticism and the Concept of School”, in School and Monastery: Rethinking Early Monastic Education, eds. L. Larsen and S. Rubenson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), 13–32.
The call to imitate one’s betters also strikes a chord with a common discourse on leadership in the Roman empire. For a study of the Roman, Jewish, and Christian relations to exemplary leadership, see Petitfils, Mos Christianorum.
For a discussion on the social background of 1 Cor and a review of past scholarship into 1 Cor in light of the early hypothesis that the Corinthians were Gnostics, see Todd E. Klutz, “Re-Reading 1 Corinthians after Rethinking ‘Gnosticism’”, Journal for the Study of the New Testament 26:2 (2003): 193–216.
For example, in InterpKnow we also encounter people that have a natural ability for understanding (15:10–19:37).
See, for example, Seneca, Epistles 94.13–14: “it is our duty either to treat carefully the diseased mind and free it from faults, or to take possession of the mind when it is still unoccupied and yet inclined to what is evil” (Translation Gummere, Seneca: Volume 3, 21). For a broader discussion, see Dunderberg, Gnostic Morality, 128–130.
For insights into Clement’s pedagogical plan, see Michael L. White, “Moral Pathology: Passions, Progress, and Protreptic in Clement of Alexandria”, in Passion and Progress in Greco-Roman Thought, ed. John T. Fitzgerald (London and New York: Routledge, 2008), 284–321.
He writes this as he presents an exegesis of Matt 19:14 wherein Jesus rebukes the disciples for keeping the children from him. Clement, Paedagogus I.4–5.
See for example Clement, Stromata VI.10–18.
Clement, Stromata II.6. Translation by Wilson in The Ante-Nicene Fathers.
Clement, Stromata II.6. Translation by Wilson in The Ante-Nicene Fathers.
Clement, Stromata II.6. Translation by Wilson in The Ante-Nicene Fathers.
Clement, Stromata VI.12, VII.11.
David Brakke, Athanasius and Asceticism (Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press, 1996), 170.
See Chapter 1 for a thorough discussion of the epistemology and ontology of TriTrac.
This is an argument put forward by Gunnar af Hällström, Fides simpliciorum according to Origen of Alexandria (Helsinki: Societas Scientiarum Fennica, 1984). See this work for a thorough overview of the theme of simple Christians versus advanced Christians in Origen’s theology.
Origen, Commentary on Romans 1.2.
Origen, Commentary on Romans 1.2; On First Principles II.10.2.
Clement, Stromata VII.2.9. For a work that is devoted to the early Christian texts and attitudes to higher and lower orders of salvation and the ethical implication of this, see Kocar, “In Heaven”. Kocar discusses, for example, the apostle Paul, ApJohn, The Shepherd of Hermas, and several Valentinian texts from this perspective.
119:16–20…120:25–29: ϫⲉ ⲡⲓⲅⲉⲛⲟⲥ ⲙ̄ⲡⲛ(ⲉⲩⲙ)ⲁⲧⲓⲕⲟⲛ̣ ϥⲛⲁϫⲓ ⲙ̄ⲡⲛⲟⲩϩⲙⲉ· ⲧⲏⲣϥ̄ ⲕⲁⲧⲁ ⲣⲏⲧⲉ ⲛⲓⲙ· ⲡⲓϩⲩⲗⲓⲕⲟⲛ ⲛ̄ⲇⲉ ϥⲛⲁϫⲓ̣ ⲡⲧⲉⲕⲟ ⲕⲁⲧⲁ ⲣⲏⲧⲉ ⲛⲓⲙ· ⲕⲁ<ⲧⲁ> ⲡⲣⲏⲧⲉ̣ ⲛ̄ⲟⲩⲉⲉⲓ ⲉϥϯ ⲁϩⲧⲏϥ ⲡⲓⲯⲩⲭⲓⲕⲟⲛ ⲇ̣[ⲉ] ⲛ̄ⲅⲉⲛⲟⲥ· ϩⲱⲥ ⲉⲩⲛ̄ ϩⲛ̄ ⲧⲙⲏⲧⲉ ⲡⲉ ϩⲙ̄ ⲡⲉϥϭⲛ̄ⲛⲧϥ̄ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ· ⲁⲩⲱ ⲡⲉϥⲕⲱ ⲁ·ϩⲣⲏⲓ̈ ϩⲱⲱϥ ⲁⲛ ϥϩⲁⲧⲣⲉ· ⲕⲁⲧⲁ ⲡⲉϥⲧⲱϣ ⲁⲡⲁⲅⲁⲑⲟⲛ ⲙⲛ̄ ⲡⲕⲁⲕⲟⲛ….ⲛ̄ⲥⲉϯ ⲉⲁⲩ ⲙ̄ⲡϫⲟⲓ̈ⲥ ⲙ̄ⲡⲉⲁⲩ ⲛ̄ⲥⲉⲕⲱ ⲛ̄ⲥⲱⲟⲩ ⲛ̄ⲧⲟⲩⲃⲗ̄ⲕⲉ· ⲥⲉⲛⲁϫⲓ ⲛ̄ⲧϣⲃ̄ⲃⲓⲱ ⲙ̄ⲡⲟⲩⲑⲃ̄ⲃⲓⲟ ⲛ̄ⲇⲉ ⲡⲓⲙⲟⲩⲛ ⲁϩⲟⲩⲛ ϣⲁⲃⲟⲗ ⲡⲉ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
130:1–9: ⲁⲧⲣⲛ̄ϫⲟⲟⲥ ⲛ̄ⲑⲉ ⲉⲧⲉϣϣⲉ ⲁ·ϫⲟⲟⲥ ⲛⲁⲉⲓ ⲛ̄ⲇⲉ ϩⲱⲟⲩ ϩⲁ· ⲡⲣⲁ· ⲛ̄ⲛⲁ ⲡⲓⲧⲱϩⲙⲉ· ⲡⲉⲉⲓ ⲅⲁⲣ ⲡⲉ ⲡⲣⲏⲧⲉ· ⲉⲧⲟⲩⲙⲟⲩⲧⲉ· ⲁⲛⲓⲟⲩⲛⲉⲙ ⲙ̄ⲙⲁϥ ⲟⲩⲁⲛⲁⲅⲕⲁⲓⲟ(ⲛ) ϭⲉ ⲡⲉ· ⲁⲧⲣⲛ̄ⲟⲩ{ϩ}ⲱϩ· ⲁⲧⲟⲟⲧⲛⲉ· ⲁϣⲉ ⲁⲣⲁⲩⲟⲩ ⲁⲩⲱ ϥⲣ̄ ϣⲉⲩ ⲉⲛ ⲁⲧⲙ̄ⲧⲛ̄ⲣ̄ ⲡⲟⲩⲙⲉⲩⲉ·
131:14–132:3: [ϫ]ⲉ ⲟⲩ ⲙⲟⲛⲟⲛ ⲛⲉⲧⲁϩⲉⲓ̂ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ⲙ̣ⲡⲗⲟⲅⲟⲥ ⲛⲉⲧ·ⲁⲛϫⲟⲩ ⲙ̄ⲙⲟⲥ ⲁ[ⲣⲁ]ⲩⲟⲩ ⲟⲩⲁⲉⲧⲟⲩ ⲛⲉ ϫⲉ· ⲥⲉⲛⲁⲧⲉϩⲉ ⲡⲓϩⲱⲃ ⲉⲧⲛⲁⲛⲟⲩϥ ⲁⲗⲗⲁ ⲛⲉⲧⲁⲛⲁⲉⲓ ϩⲱⲟⲩ ⲁⲛ ϫⲡⲁⲩ ⲕⲁⲧⲁ ⲛⲓⲇⲓⲁⲑⲉⲥⲓⲥ ⲁⲛ ⲉⲧⲛⲁⲛⲟⲩⲟⲩ ⲥⲉⲛⲁⲣ̄ ⲕⲟⲓⲛⲱⲛⲓ ϩⲱⲟⲩ ⲁⲛ ⲁⲡⲓⲙ̄ⲧⲟⲛ ⲕⲁⲧⲁ ⲧⲙⲛⲧϩⲟⲩⲟ ⲙ̄ⲡϩⲙⲟⲧ· ⲁⲩⲱ ⲛⲉⲉⲓ ⲉⲛⲧⲁⲩⲛ̄ⲧⲟⲩ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲛ̄ ⲧⲉⲉⲓⲉⲡⲓⲑⲩⲙⲓⲁ ⲛ̄ⲧⲉ ⲧⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲙⲁⲉⲓⲟⲩⲉϩ ⲥⲁϩⲛⲉ· ⲉⲩⲛ̄ⲧⲉⲩ ⲙ̄ⲙⲉⲩ ⲙ̄ⲡⲓⲥⲓⲧⲉ· ⲛ̄ϩⲏⲧⲟⲩ ⲉⲧⲉ ⲧⲉⲉⲓ ⲧⲉ ⲧⲙ<ⲛ̄>ⲧⲙⲁⲉⲓⲟⲩⲉϩ ⲥⲁϩⲛⲉ ⲥⲉⲛⲁϫⲓ ⲛ̄ⲧϣⲃ̄ⲃⲓⲱ̂· ⲛ̄ⲛⲓⲡⲉⲧⲛⲁⲛⲟⲩⲟⲩ ⲛ̄ϭⲓ ⲛⲁⲉⲓ̣ ⲉ̣ⲛⲧⲁϩⲣ̄ ϩⲱⲃ ⲙⲛ̄ ⲛⲁⲉⲓ ⲉⲧⲉⲩⲛ̄ⲧⲉⲩ ⲙ̄ⲙⲉⲩ ⲛ̄ϯⲡⲣⲟⲁⲓⲣⲉⲥⲓⲥ· ⲛ̄ⲛⲓⲡⲉⲧⲛⲁⲛⲟⲩⲟⲩ ⲉⲩϣⲁⲣ̄ ϩⲛⲉⲩ ϩⲛⲛ ⲟⲩⲅⲛⲱⲙⲏ ⲛ̄ⲥⲉⲟⲩⲱϣⲉ· ⲁⲕⲱⲉ ⲛ̄ⲥⲱⲟⲩ ⲛ̄ⲧⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲙⲁⲉⲓⲉⲁⲩⲟⲩ ⲉⲧϣⲟⲩⲉⲓⲧ· ⲡⲣⲟⲥ ⲟⲩⲥⲏⲟⲩ ⲛ̄[ⲥⲉⲣ] ⲡⲟⲩⲁϩ ⲥⲁϩⲛⲉ ⲙ̄ⲡϫⲟⲓ̈ⲥ ⲙ̄ⲡⲉⲁⲩ ⲁⲛⲧⲓ ⲡⲓⲧⲁⲉⲓⲟ ⲡⲣⲟⲥ ⲟⲩⲁⲉⲓϣ ϣⲏⲙ ⲛ̄ⲥⲉⲣ̄ ⲕⲗⲏⲣⲟⲛⲟⲙⲓ ⲛ̄ⲧⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲣ̄ⲣⲟ· ϣⲁ ⲉⲛⲉϩ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
132:30–133:14: ϩⲓ̈ ⲉϣ ⲡⲉ· ⲧⲫⲩⲥⲓⲥ ⲙ̄ⲡⲉⲧⲉ ⲟⲩϩⲙ̄ϩⲉⲗ {ⲉⲛ} ⲡⲉ· ⲉϥⲛⲁϫⲓ ⲙⲁ̣ ⲙⲛ̄ ⲟⲩⲉⲗⲉⲩⲑⲉⲣⲟⲥ ⲥⲉⲛⲁϫⲓ ⲡⲛⲉⲩ ⲛ̄ⲅⲁⲣ· ⲛ̄ϩⲟⲩⲟ ⲛ̄ϩⲟⲩⲟ ϩⲛ̄ⲛ ⲟⲩⲫⲩⲥⲓⲥ ϩⲛⲛ ⲟⲩϣⲉϫⲉ ϣⲏⲙ· ⲟⲩⲁⲉⲉⲧϥ̄ ⲉⲛ ⲁⲧⲣⲟⲩⲛⲁϩⲧⲉ· ⲟⲩⲁⲉⲉⲧϥ̄ ϩⲓ̈ⲧⲛ ⲟⲩⲥⲙⲏ· ϫⲉ ⲡⲉⲉⲓ ⲡⲉ ⲡⲣⲏⲧⲉ· ⲉⲧϣⲟⲟⲡ ϫⲉ ⲟⲩⲉⲓⲉ ⲛ̄ⲟⲩⲱⲧ· ⲇⲉ· ϯⲁⲡⲟⲕⲁⲧⲁⲥⲧⲁⲥⲓⲥ ⲁϩⲟⲩⲛ ⲁⲡⲉⲧⲉⲛⲉϥϣⲟⲟⲡ· ⲕⲁⲛ· ⲉⲩⲛ̄ ϩⲁⲉⲓⲛⲉ ϫⲁⲥⲉ ⲉⲧⲃⲉ ⲧⲟⲓⲕⲟⲛⲟⲙⲓⲁ· ⲉⲁⲩⲕⲁⲩⲉ· ⲛ̄ⲗⲁⲉⲓϭⲉ· ⲛ̄ⲛⲉⲧⲁϩϣⲱⲡⲉ ⲉⲩⲣ̄ ϩⲟⲩⲉ· ⲉⲛⲉⲣⲅⲓⲁ ⲉϩⲛ̄ⲫⲩⲥⲓⲕⲏ ⲛⲉ [ⲁ]ⲩ̣ⲱ ⲉⲩⲣ̄ ϩⲛⲉⲩ ⲉⲧⲃⲉ ⲛⲉⲧⲙ̄ⲙⲉⲩ [ⲥⲉⲛ]ⲁϫⲓ ⲛ̄ϯⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲣ̄ⲣⲟ ⲙⲛ̄ ⲡⲓⲧⲁϫⲣⲟ [ⲙⲛ] ⲡⲓⲟⲩϫⲁⲉⲓⲧⲉ· ⲛ̄ϭⲓ ⲁⲅⲅⲉⲗⲟⲥ [ϩⲓ ⲕ]ⲉ̣ⲣⲱⲙⲉ. Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
Another possible interpretation is that the text is written ‘from above’—that this is revelation and the word of God, addressed to humanity as a collective. Nevertheless, if we try to imagine the people/person behind the text, it was most likely someone or a group of people who saw themselves as belonging to the group of pneumatics. This becomes clearer if we consider what it took to write such a text, which must surely have required a moral expert.
Translation by Attridge and Pagels, slightly modified.
Layton, The Gnostic Scriptures, 267.
Layton, The Gnostic Scriptures, 267.
See Hippolytus’ quoting of Valentinus’ poem which is followed by a commentary in the form of a superimposed Valentinian protological myth (Hippolytus, Refutation of All Heresies VI.37). See also the commentary on John by Heracleon, which lead Origen to write a response. Heracleon’s commentary is the first commentary of which we are aware that is written on John (Origen, Commentary on John). However, he deals with Ptolemy’s Letter to Flora. This text is often taken as an example of a Valentinian school text. Ptolemy writes to a potential student and gives the contours of his view on the law, the creator’s law versus the highest god’s law, as well as the devil. Ptolemy promises further instruction and initiation, if Flora is interested. Many of these points are indicated in Ptolemy’s Letter to Flora, according to Markschies, and this text is indeed often held as an example of a Christian teacher directing himself to a young pupil or a potential pupil (Markschies, “Valentinian Gnosticism”, 425–429).
Dunderberg, Beyond Gnosticism, 3.
See Paul Linjamaa, “Parrhesia i Valentinos fragment”, Patristica Nordica Annuaria 28 (2013): 89–110. Here I present a different interpretation of the use of parrhêsia in the fragments of Valentinus. I argue that Valentinus is drawing on the philosophical use of the term but utilizes the firmness and steadfastness associated with parrhêsia, and turns it against the cosmic rulers and demons pestering humans.
Thomassen, Spiritual Seed; see also Kalvesmaki, “Italian versus Eastern”, where these sources are problematized.
Thomassen, Spiritual Seed, 4–5, 5 note 4. See also his review of Dunderberg’s book in Journal of Religion in Europe 3 (2010): 191–193.
Neither can we distinguish between the two by saying that one represents a secular organization while the other is a religious one. Philosophical schools had important religious functions. For a more thorough discussion on the similarities between early Christian organizations and the way philosophical schools functioned, see Wilken, Christians, 72–93.
Angela Standhartinger, “Colossians and the Pauline School”, New Testament Studies 50:4 (2004): 573.
See especially Smith, Guilt by Association, 162–170, for a discussion of the use of the term “school” for the Valentinians.
Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho 35.
Justin, Second Apology 12; Dialogue with Trypho 2.2–6.
Irenaeus, Against Heresies I.11.1
Irenaeus, Against Heresies I.8.
Irenaeus, Against Heresies I.4.3; see also Epiphanius, Panarion 31.17.4.
See Linjamaa, “Gnosticism as Inherently Syncretistic?”, 25–40.
Four Valentinian Nag Hammadi-texts mention a “school”. I would not, as Smith does, call this “a small number”, even if it partly depends on how many texts one is willing to call Valentinian.
Löhr writes that “The fragmentary evidence of the 2nd century sources and the eloquent testimony of Theodore’s (Gregory’s) Address should, however, suffice to dispel the suspicion that any resemblance between these Christian schools and their contemporary Stoic, Epicurean or Platonic counterparts may be due merely to heresiological stereotyping.” Löhr, “Christianity as Philosophy”, 173.
For a proto-orthodox example, see Clement’s use of the image of the church as a school, a place where the soul gained learning. Clement, Paedagogus III.98.1.
Clement, Stromata VI.8, I.11; Origen, On First Principles II.11.6; Basil, Letter 8, Hexaemeron 1.5; Eusebius, Demonstratio Evangelica I.6.56.
See Edwin A. Judge, “The Early Christians as Scholastic Communities”, Journal of Religious History 1 (1961): 125–137. Here Judge discusses Galen among others.
There are fundamental differences between them and I believe that they should only be viewed as representing texts from the same “school” if by “school” one means the theological tradition that the heresiologists associate with Valentinus and his followers. There is, as Michel Desjardins has pointed out, a methodological circularity problem here. To accept the ‘first hand’ sources (the extant texts) as Valentinian we are relying on secondary Patristic sources. See Michel Desjardins, “The Sources”, 342–347.
We should, however, be careful of creating oppositions where they did not exist. Philosophical schools were not devoid of seemingly religious aspects; for example, one very important aspect of many philosophical schools was the annual veneration of founding figures. For more on the religious aspects of philosophical schools, see Wilken, Christians, 72–93.
The educational system of the Greco-Roman world was usually built around one teacher, often working with a few or just one pupil. As Raffaella Cribiore has argued, “schools did not usually have an existence separate from individual teachers”, and formal education was private rather than communal (Cribiore, Gymnastics of the Mind, 18, 3).
See Timbie, “The Education”, 34–46; Goehring, The Letter of Ammon.
The Martyrdom of Justin. Tatian and a certain Euelpistus is said to have studied with Justin (Lampe, From Paul, 277, 285).
Justin also engaged in community life with other Christians than those who visited him in his home for teaching (First Apology 61–67).
See Porphyry’s description of the senator Rogatianus, whom Plotinus used as an example of a good philosopher. Rogatianus gave up everything to devote himself to the study of moral excellence. Porphyry, Life of Plotinus, 7.
James E. Goehring, “The Encroaching Desert: Literary Production and Ascetic Space in Early Christian Egypt”, Journal of Early Christian Studies 1 (1993): 281–296; Samuel Rubenson, “Asceticism and Monasticism, I: Eastern”, in The Cambridge History of Christianity, vol. 2, eds. Augustine Casiday and Frederick W. Norris (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 637–668.
See, for example, Hans von Campenhausen’s study, Ecclesiastical Authority and Spiritual Power in the Church of the First Centuries, translation J. A. Baker (London: Hendrickson, 1966). Peter Brown has also written in a similar vein, portraying Valentinians as being socially organized as study groups. Brown, Body and Society, 103–121. As I have argued above, there are problems in this line of arguing if one imagines that this is something particularly Valentinian, while it contrasts with the members themselves’ viewing the church as a more important image than the school. The observation is nevertheless apt.
Brakke, Athanasius and Asceticism, 60.
Brakke, Athanasius and Asceticism, 57–79.
For example, Origen is said to have been invited by Emperor Severus’ mother for an audience. Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History II.67–69.
Brown, Power and Persuasion.
As James Goehring has argued, the ideals that would be associated with the ascetic monk were already established, long before Antony entered the scene, by Christian philosophers like Clement and Origen, for example, and, I might add, those Christians reflected in TriTrac (if one favors an early dating of the contents of the text, that is). See Goehring, Ascetics, Society, and the Desert.
For a few studies on the bishop’s role in early Christianity, see Claudia Rapp, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity: The Nature of Christian Leadership in an Age of Transition (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005); Andrea Sterk, Renouncing the World Yet Leading the Church: The Monk-Bishop in Late Antiquity (Cambridge, M.A.: Harvard University Press, 2004), see also Susanna Elm, Sons of Hellenism, Fathers of the Church: Emperor Julian, Gregory of Nazianzus, and the Vision of Rome (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012), and the discussion, from the perspective of Gregory of Nazianzus, of whether the bishop really can be said to have “renounced the world”.
Take for instance the monk Macedonius, who was called down from the mountains in Syria where he lived to speak sense to the political elite at the riots in Antioch 387. For more on this incident, see Brown, Power and Persuasion, 141. Shenoute, too, was sought after by the emperor himself for his parrhêsia. Besa, Life of Shenoute 54.
See, for example, Athanasius’ advice to the Pachomian monks mourning their dead leader Theodoret. Brakke, Athanasius and Asceticism, 201.
Elm, Sons of Hellenism, 24–25.
Elm, Sons of Hellenism, 6–9. See also Peter Norton, Episcopal Elections, 25–600: Hierarchy and Political Will in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), where it is argued that the paideia in which the early Christian leadership partook shaped them to be wielders of power, which in turn influenced their interpretation of the Bible, rather than the other way around.
See Brakke, Athanasius and Asceticism, for more on Life of Antony, see Samuel Rubenson, “Apologetics of Asceticism: The Life of Antony and Its Political Context”, in Ascetic Culture: Essays in Honor of Philip Rousseau, eds. Blake Leyerle and Robin Darling Young (Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 2013), 75–96.