Professor divides truth from myth in 'Code'

'Isn't it true that the Vatican conspired to hide the Dead Sea Scrolls from the public because of what they said about Jesus?  Wasn't Jesus the leader of the Dead Sea Scroll sect, its Teacher of Righteousness?"  Aren't the Nag Hammadi texts the same as the Dead Sea Scrolls?"?  these are frequent questions from my students.  Add to these the media-and money-driven eternal mysteries of the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Gnostic gospels, the Apocrypha, the Pseudepigrapha, the James ossuary, the Gospel of Thomas (who could forget the film "Stigmata"?) and don't forget the sensational new Gospel of Judas, and you get a sense of my job as a professor of biblical studies at the College of Charleston.

Why is it that everything is always a mystery, or better yet, part of a conspiracy?

When it comes to religion, and especially the Bible, we, the ever-gullible American public, want to believe the latest scandal.  Face it, they're so much more exciting than those dull and tedious scholarly introductions to the Bible or biblical history (always a sure cure for insomnia, as I tell my students).

I never cease to be amazed at the amount of nonsense (to use a more charitable term) on Jesus and related topics that one encounters in any trip to the local bookstore.

(Check out the front and center exhibits of "Da Vinci" wannabes and guides at your local Barnes & Noble).

Books such as "The Da Vinci Code," and many others before anyone ever heard of Dan Brown, successfully prey upon that tender underbelly of modern America's obsession with any juicy combination of religion, sex scandals, secrets and, especially, conspiracy, best of all, a Catholic conspiracy.

But alas, as the saying goes, a little knowledge is dangerous, and this is nowhere more true than when it comes to the Bible, only in this case the knowledge is not only little, but usually downright inaccurate.

So if you'll indulge me for just a few minutes, I'd like to offer a few comments about one bit of information presented as history in Brown's best-seller.

I'll save the topics of Gnosticism and the Gospel of Judas for a later date.

Much of what Brown tells us about the Bible, its formation and other nonbiblical gospels comes through the character Teabing, who speaks of "the most profound moment in Christian history," namely, the conspiracy of emperor Constantine, who outlawed and burned all of those Gnostic gospels because they did not mesh with his view of Jesus' divine nature.

Among these gospels, Brown includes the Dead Sea Scrolls.  This makes for a great story; the Bible itself born of a grand conspiracy.  But, like most of his historical asides in the novel, it is lousy history.

I have to admit, I cringed every time I came to one of these little history lessons, or rather sermons, in his book.

First, the Dead Sea Scrolls (discovered in 1947, not the 1950s) are Jewish texts (no gospels there), many of which date before Jesus' public ministry; the scrolls say nothing of Jesus or early Christianity, although they do illuminate various religious groups of the period in significant ways.

Second, the scrolls are unrelated to the Gnostic library from Nag Hammadi (different time, different place).  As for those mysterious Gnostic gospels, Teabing's assertion that they focused on the "earthly aspects of Jesus' life" is contradicted by the texts themselves.

If anything, the divine nature of Jesus is more pronounced in the Gnostic texts than in the New Testament Gospels.

Actually, only in the Gospel of John is Jesus' divine nature dealt with, and it is this gospel that shows early Gnostic features with its emphasis on spiritual knowledge from the realm above versus that of below.

So then where did Brown, and others before him, come up with this take on Constantine?  The only historical connection here is a letter sent by the emperor to Eusebius, the Bishop of Caesarea (died ca. 340).  The letter is quoted in Eusebius' "Life of Constantine," a major source for the period.

Due to the increasing number of churches in the city of his name (Constantinople), the emperor requests that Eusebius produce "fifty copies of the sacred scriptures" for the instruction of the Church.  Eusebius was supplied all the necessary materials and scribes to aid in completion of his assignment.  That is the extent of our knowledge of Constantine's involvement with the Bible: no Gnostic gospels, no book burnings.  Nor is there any evidence that the Council of Nicea took up the questions of which books to include.  As for the selection of books to be included in the New Testament, the choice of four Gospels had been made long before the time of Constantine.

The selection of those 27 books that make up what we know as the New Testament canon did not happen at any one point in time, nor was it accomplished by one individual.  The process began long before Constantine and continued after him.  (The best guide to this subject is Bruce M. Metzger's "The Canon of the New Testament," Oxford, 1987.  By the close of the second century, the four Gospels we know as Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John (written anonymously, with names attached later) had been recognized, although there was continued debate over John.

Most of the letters of Paul probably had been collected even earlier.

Not all 27 books, however, were accorded such status.  Based on the references and lists from the second through the fourth centuries, and even beyond, books such as Hebrews, 2 Peter, 2 and 3 John, Jude and Revelation were debated or excluded.

For example, Eusebius presents a bewildering list of books in his "Ecclesiastical History," where he accepts and then rejects Revelation, while Cyril of Jerusalem (in his Catechetical Lectures, ca. 350) does not include Revelation.

At the same time, various lists contained books not found in our New Testament, such as The Shepherd of Hermas, the epistle of Barnabas, and the Wisdom of Solomon, none of which are Gnostic texts.

The idea of a canon ("standard" or "rule") being applied to Scripture does not emerge until the later fourth century, well after Constantine and the Council of Nicea.

The first list of the 27 books that we have is found in one of the annual Festal Letters of Athanasius, bishop of Alexandria (written in 367, his 39th such letter), designed primarily to set the calendar dates for Easter and Lent.

Here, Athanasius lists the 27 books and adds: "In these alone the teaching of godliness is proclaimed.  Let no one add to these; let nothing be taken away from them."

But not everyone shared his views.  Debate continued with other influential churchmen of his day rejecting one or more of the 27.

One such figure, Amphilochius, bishop of Iconium (died ca. 394), appears to have rejected the books of 2 Peter, 2 and 3 John, Jude and Revelation, and yet asserts that his list is "perhaps the most reliable canon of the divinely inspired scriptures!"

Those who know their reformation history also will recall that the reformer Martin Luther rejected the book of Revelation, along with the letter of James, neither of which contributed at all to his theology of sola fide, or salvation by faith alone.

So to sum up, when it comes to Constantine and the Bible, Dan Brown's version of events is pure fantasy, good fantasy perhaps, and certainly very lucrative, but still fantasy.

John R. Huddlestun is associate professor of religious studies at the College of Charleston.  He teaches classes in biblical studies and the ancient Middle East.

This article was printed via the web on 5/15/2006 10:49:03 AM.  This article appeared in The Post and Courier and updated online at Charleston.net on Sunday, May 14,2006.