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Also Featured

The Life and Legacy of William Tyndale

Tyndale’s work to translate the Bible into English reminds us that the Bible has a history written in blood.

Peter J. Gurry

It’s fair to say that no single individual has left a more indelible mark on the language of the English Bible than William Tyndale (ca. 1494–1536). He was the first to translate the Bible into English from the original languages (the Wycliffe Bible was from Latin). He completed two editions of the New Testament and got as far as 2 Chronicles (and Jonah) in the Old Testament. By one estimate, as much as 80 percent of the wording of the King James Version is Tyndale’s. He was, by all accounts, a superb translator and his concern was always to give the Bible to the people. As one biographer says, “One key to Tyndale’s genius is that his ear for how people spoke was so good. The English he was using was not the language of the scribe or lawyer or schoolmaster; it really was, at base, the spoken language of the people.”1David Daniell, William Tyndale: A Biography (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1994), 356.

But he was also not afraid to innovate. He coined many English words including “anathema,” “godly,” “Passover,” and “fisherman.” He is also responsible for such famous biblical lines as “let there be light” (Gen. 1:3) and “fight the good fight” (1 Tim. 6:12) and he gave us “Jehovah” for the personal name of God in the Old Testament.

Preparation

Not much is known about Tyndale’s youth. Our first real record of him comes from his time at Oxford, where he began his training at age fourteen. This was on the younger side, but also not especially unusual for the time. The university was still small by today’s standards with only several thousand students, but it was growing in influence. The printing press was still new and printed textbooks were available but rare. Students typically borrowed, bought, or had a new copy made of their textbooks. Importantly, the memory of John Wycliffe still loomed large at Oxford. More than that, the tide of the Reformation was just beginning to hit the English shores. A German monk named Martin Luther would soon make a deep impression on Tyndale’s theology.

Painting of William Tyndale. Wikimedia

It was said of Tyndale’s time in Oxford that he was “brought up from a child in the university of Oxford, where he, by long continuance, grew up, and increased as well in the knowledge of tongues and other liberal arts as especially in the knowledge of the scriptures, whereunto his mind was singularly addicted.” Along with this devotion, he was intellectually gifted. He would later be praised by another scholar for mastering eight languages: Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, French, German, and, of course, English.

A series of events that would shape his future occurred just as the young Tyndale finished his master’s degree. The first was the publication of Erasmus’s Greek-Latin New Testament that came off the press in 1516. This new edition met a growing interest in the Bible in its original languages. Nowhere would that interest be more significant than in Germany where, a year later, Luther nailed his 95 theses in a challenge to the Catholic church’s teaching on indulgences (1517). Five years after that, in 1522, Luther published his German New Testament—the first translated from the Greek and an edition that would become Tyndale’s model for an English counterpart.

After finishing school, Tyndale returned to his home in Gloucestershire, England to become a tutor. It was during this time that he was ordained as a priest and began to preach in the surrounding churches. What marked his preaching was his emphasis on the Scriptures. But the people were not used to this, nor were they well acquainted with the Bible. His preaching was so unusual that he was warned that, if he kept it up, it would eventually cost him his life—a prescient warning in hindsight.

But Tyndale persisted for, as he wrote later, he “perceived by experience, how that it was impossible to [es]stablish the lay people in any truth, except the scripture were plainly laid before their eyes in their mother tongue, that they might see the process, order and meaning of the text … which thing only moved me to translate the New Testament.” Already, he began to see the need for the Bible in the language of the people.

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It was also during this time that he had his most famous encounter. He met a “learned man” who told him that “we were better without God’s law than the pope’s” to which he famously replied, “I defy the Pope and all his laws” and “If God spare my life ere many year, I will cause a boy that driveth the plough, shall know more of the Scripture than thou dost.”

Rejection in London

As predicted, not everyone liked Tyndale’s preaching and he soon found himself with enemies who began to threaten his patron. So, he left Gloucestershire for London with hopes of securing the support and necessary license-to-print from the Bishop of London to publish a Bible in English from the original languages. By this time, he had already produced several translations of Greek classical works as a sort of proof-of-concept and he probably began his New Testament while in London. But it was to no avail.

After a year of failed attempts to secure a meeting with the bishop, Tyndale came to see that England was not welcome to his ideas. As he would say later, he came to see “not only that there was no room in my lord of London’s palace to translate the New Testament, but also that there was no place to do it in all England.” He left for Europe in 1524.

The time in London was not a waste, however. While there, he established crucial connections with a group of merchants who supported him and would continue to do so.2David Daniell, The Bible in English: Its History and Influence (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003), 143. They would prove key to his success. As one writer says of them,

The merchants of London, mainly in the cloth and tailoring industries, were firmly entrenched in the Lollard movement first set in motion by John Wycliffe 150 years earlier, a movement which now was in touch with the German Lutherans and which, in defiance of English Church law, was crying out for a new translation of the Scriptures. Such men as these were to provide the finance and shipping that were crucial to the success of the enterprise, and that is how, in 1525, Tyndale found himself in Cologne and in the printing house of Peter Quentell.3W. R. Cooper, “Introduction,” The New Testament: 1526 Tyndale Bible, Original Spelling Edition (London: British Library, 2020), ix.

It is in Cologne that he first begins to print his New Testament.

The First Print Run

Printing began in 1525, but was interrupted when the printshop was raided by authorities. He seems to have reached only to Mark and, today, only part of Matthew survives in a single copy. But the door had cracked. For the first time in English, Matthew 7:7 read, “Ask and it shall be given you: Seek and ye shall find: Knock and it shall be opened unto you.”

Tyndale did not give up. He fled up the Rhine River to Worms—the same city where Luther had defended his own theology just five years before. There Tyndale started again, and this time succeeded. His second edition stands as the first complete English New Testament translated from Greek. Besides this, several features helped make it a success: it was small, attractive, and affordable.

It was half the size of his first attempt and a bound copy might cost just five days’ wages for a skilled laborer.4At 3s. 4d. using the the National Archives currency converter Contrast that with a few centuries before, when a complete Latin Bible might cost fifteen years’ salary for the same man. A century before Tyndale, a copy of Wycliffe’s English Bible might still cost around two year’s wages.5For these prices, see Cooper, “Introduction,” xiv–xv. For the first time, the ordinary Englishman had a Bible he could understand—and afford.

Matthew 1 in Tyndale’s 1525 (left) and 1526 (right) editions. The color was added by the owner. Images are not to scale. British Library G.12179 and C.188.a.17.

Thousands were smuggled to England and sold and it was immediately condemned by the Bishop of London, Cuthbert Tunstall—the same bishop who had previously refused to host him. In October, Tunstall sent out a prohibition of the book, calling it “that pestiferous and most pernicious poison dispersed throughout all our dioceses of London in great number.” He had it burned at St. Paul’s Cathedral, an occasion at which he preached the sermon. Today, only three copies survive.

Capture

Despite the instant interest, Tyndale did not benefit financially from his new Bible. In 1531 he spoke to a friend of his poverty, his exile, his hunger, thirst, cold, danger, and absence from friends—all which he did with the hope to “do honour to God, true service to my prince, and pleasure to his command.”6Daniell, Tyndale, 213.

Despite the instant interest, Tyndale did not benefit financially from his new Bible.

But he remained undeterred. During this time, he published several theological works and finished his translation of the Pentateuch, published in 1530. But the opposition only grew. His most famous critic was Sir Thomas More who wrote no less than nine volumes against Tyndale, totaling nearly half a million words!7Daniell, Bible, 149.

By November 1534, Tyndale had finished a second edition of his New Testament in Antwerp where he was then living—still in exile from England. Like most Bible translators, especially in this new era of vernacular translations, revision started almost before finishing. Work on his Old Testament continued as well. He was, by this point, very Lutheran in his theology and is on record attacking the Catholic church’s theology, which he saw as nullifying the role of grace in salvation.

But his work would soon be interrupted for good. In 1535, a young man named Henry Phillips, who had left England in disgrace after gambling away his father’s money, feigned friendship and interest in Tyndale and his work. In a turn eerily reminiscent of Judas’s betrayal, he turned him over to the authorities for money. On May 21, 1531 Phillips tricked Tyndale into leaving his house and Tyndale was seized in an alleyway. He was taken to the castle of Vilvoorde near Brussels. The charge was being a Lutheran. The sentence was death. During his year in prison, Tyndale was interrogated by the local Catholic theological experts, the goal being to solicit a confession to save his soul from hell.

Vilvoorde Castle from an early engraving. Image source

As winter approached, he wrote what is his last and only surviving letter. Today, it is all that remains in his own handwriting. He writes,

I beg your lordship, and that of the Lord Jesus, that if I am to remain here through the winter, you will request the commissary to have the kindness to send me, from the goods of mine which he has, a warmer cap; for I suffer greatly from cold in the head, and am afflicted by a perpetual catarrh [nasal inflammation], which is much increased in this cell; a warmer coat also, for this which I have is very thin; a piece of cloth too to patch my leggings.

My overcoat is worn out; my shirts are also worn out. He has a woolen shirt, if he will be good enough to send it. I have also with him leggings of thicker cloth to put on above; he has also warmer night-caps. And I ask to be allowed to have a lamp in the evening; it is indeed wearisome sitting alone in the dark.

But most of all I beg and beseech your clemency to be urgent with the commissary, that he will kindly permit me to have the Hebrew Bible, Hebrew grammar, and Hebrew dictionary, that I may pass the time in that study. In return may you obtain what you most desire, so only that it be for the salvation of your soul. But if any other decision has been taken concerning me, to be carried out before winter, I will be patient, abiding the will of God, to the glory of the grace of my Lord Jesus Christ: whose spirit (I pray) may ever direct your heart. Amen

As he prepares for death, Tyndale’s chief desire was still to get the Bible into English. What is especially remarkable about this letter is that, at the time he wrote it, he had no reason from the circumstances to be hopeful about his life’s work. His books were being burned, his house had been raided, the new Bishop of London was harsher than Tunstall. David Daniell says of this time that a “heavy curtain hung before him, through which he could see little or nothing.”8Daniell, Bible, 156.

One can’t help but think of the heroes of faith in the book of Hebrews of whom it is said, in Tyndale’s own version, “They all died in faith, and received not the promises: but saw them afar off, and believed them, and saluted them: and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth” (Heb. 11:13).

Early in October, he was brought out, a chain placed on his neck. He was strangled first and then burned, but not before crying out his final prayer, “Lord! Open the King of England’s eyes.”

The depiction of Tyndale’s death from Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. Wikimedia

Legacy

His legacy was immense. We have already noted his contribution to the English language and to subsequent English translations. But perhaps most remarkably, it was within months of is death that his friend John Rogers printed, for the first time, a complete English Bible with all of Tyndale’s translation work: not only his New Testament and Pentateuch, but also his work through 2 Chronicles that many thought was lost during his arrest.

The initials “W.T.” at the end of the Old Testament in the “Matthew Bible” (1537). Image source

More remarkable still is that a copy of Rogers’s Bible, printed under the pseudonym “Thomas Matthew,” was sent to the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer. Cranmer sent it on to King Henry VIII’s viceregent, Thomas Cromwell, with an endorsement saying, “I like it better than any other translation heretofore made.” From there, it was shown to the king and, amazingly, approved for use in England. Cromwell wanted a copy in every English parish.

In less than a year after his death, Tyndale’s dying words were answered. His own translation would be in the hands of the people in a Bible with his own initials stamped in large letters at the end of the Old Testament. The Lord had indeed opened the king’s eyes.

Conclusion

Tyndale’s life and work is a reminder of the cost that has been paid to have the Bible. Even listening to a copy being read could be punished by death in the flames. Today, our easy access to dozens of English translations can lead us to take the English Bible for granted. We can argue so much about the “best” translation that we fail to appreciate the fact that we have any at all. But, if the lesson of Tyndale’s life needs to be learned today, it is not the first time.

Tyndale’s life and work is a reminder of the cost that has been paid to have the Bible.

In 1570, John Foxe made the same point. He wrote in his Book of Martyrs about how the zeal for the Bible in the time before Tyndale should be a spur to Christians in his. “The fervent zeal of those Christian days seemed much superior to these our days and times, as manifestly may appear by their sitting up all night in reading and hearing; also by their expenses and charges in buying of books in English … some gave a load of hay for a few chapters of St. James or of St. Paul in English.” The lesson then is the same as today: “To see their travails, their earnest seekings, their burning zeal, their readings, their watching, their sweet assemblies … may make us now in these days of free possession, to blush for shame.”

If the “free possession” of the Scriptures was a reason to appreciate the Bible in Foxe’s day, how much more should it be one in ours?

The content of this article is also available as a video lecture. King Henry’s viceregent was Thomas Cromwell not Oliver Cromwell as an earlier version of this article said.

Notes

  • 1
    David Daniell, William Tyndale: A Biography (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1994), 356.
  • 2
    David Daniell, The Bible in English: Its History and Influence (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003), 143.
  • 3
    W. R. Cooper, “Introduction,” The New Testament: 1526 Tyndale Bible, Original Spelling Edition (London: British Library, 2020), ix.
  • 4
    At 3s. 4d. using the the National Archives currency converter
  • 5
    For these prices, see Cooper, “Introduction,” xiv–xv.
  • 6
    Daniell, Tyndale, 213.
  • 7
    Daniell, Bible, 149.
  • 8
    Daniell, Bible, 156.

Filed Under: Also Featured, Translation Tagged With: English Bible

Does the Woman Caught in Adultery Belong in the Bible?

Jesus’ famous act of mercy is missing in many manuscripts, raising questions about its place in the Bible.

Tommy Wasserman

The story of the Woman Caught in Adultery (John 7:53–8:11) is arguably one of the most beloved Jesus stories in the New Testament which includes the familiar quotation, “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” However, the story is missing from some ancient manuscripts of John, as noted already by early church fathers like Jerome and Augustine. For this and other reasons, a majority of modern scholars regard the passage as a later insertion, and some even want to remove it altogether from our Bibles. One can imagine the outcry such a radical move could cause.

Thus, in his study on early manuscripts and modern translations, Philip Comfort rejected the passage as a non-Johannine interpolation and lamented the habit of printing the tradition at all in editions and translations: “True, the passage has been bracketed, or marked off with single lines … , or set in italics. But there it stands—an obstacle to reading the true narrative of John’s Gospel.”1 Philip Wesley Comfort, Early Manuscripts and Modern Translations of the New Testament (Wheaton, IL: Tyndale House, 1990), 116.

Andreas J. Köstenberger expresses a similar attitude in his commentary on John: “proper conservatism and caution suggests that the passage be omitted from preaching in churches” and it should not be regarded as “part of the Christian canon.”2 Andreas J. Köstenberger, John, BECNT (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2004), 248. More recently, Dan Wallace has suggested that the inclusion of the narrative in modern translations reflects “a tradition of timidity,” implying that at least Protestant churches should but did not yet dare to remove the story from the Bible.

The story may well go back to a very early tradition about Jesus and a woman accused of many sins

To be sure, the story is often marked out in various ways in both scholarly editions and Bible translations, for example, by double brackets and an accompanying footnote explaining that it is missing in the earliest manuscripts, including Papyrus 66, Papyrus 75, Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Vaticanus from the third and fourth centuries, and goes unmentioned by Greek church fathers until the twelfth century.

There is indeed a wide scholarly consensus that the story was not originally a part of the Gospel of John, but on the other hand, it may well go back to a very early tradition about Jesus and a woman accused of many sins, which gradually found its way into John. The earliest reference to such a story is found in the Didascalia Apostolorum, a third-century book of instructions on living a Christian life, which survives in Syriac:

But if you do not receive him who repents, because you are without mercy, you shall sin against the Lord God. For you do not obey our Savior and our God, to do even as He did with her who had sinned, whom the elders placed before Him, and leaving the judgment in His hands, and departed. But He, the searcher of hearts, asked her and said to her: “Have the elders condemned you, my daughter?” She said to him: “Nay Lord.” And He said unto her: “Go, neither do I condemn you.” In this then let our Savior and King and God, be to you a standard, O bishops, and imitate Him.3Did. apost. 7; transl. by Arthur Vööbus

Eusebius (c. 260–c. 340) in his church history attributes a similar story to Papias of Hierapolis (c. 60–130) and the now lost Gospel of the Hebrews. Further, Didymus the Blind (c. 313–398) says he found the story “in certain gospels,” a reference which likely suggests he did not know the passage from John, but from a different gospel.

Codex Bezae at John 7:53
Codex Bezae (c. 400 AD) showing a later dash mark in the left margin at the start of John 7:53 (f. 133v)

The earliest manuscript evidence for the passage in John is the Greek-Latin Codex Bezae (c. 400 AD) which contains the story in its traditional place both in Greek and Latin on facing pages. Interestingly, later annotators have marked out the story in the margins, probably because it was treated separately in the liturgy.

We know that in the assigned reading for Pentecost in the Byzantine liturgy, a lesson is read from John 7:37­–8:12, but our story is skipped, likely because it was not present in the manuscripts when the lesson was first constructed. On the other hand, the story was assigned as a lesson at a later stage to celebrate the Feast of Saint Pelagia of Antioch and various other “sinner saints” such as Mary of Egypt, Theodora of Alexandria, and Eudokia of Heliopolis.

It is probably no coincidence that the story first turns up in a Greek-Latin manuscript, because it apparently became established much earlier in the Latin West even though it clearly originated in Greek. Indeed, the story was assigned a chapter in Latin manuscripts at an early stage, probably in the early third century. The Latin church father Ambrose of Milan (c. 340–397) knew it from the traditional place in John and cited it in different writings but in varying textual form. Perhaps this was because he translated the story himself from one or several Greek manuscripts.

Ambrose’s contemporaries Jerome and Augustine were familiar with the Johannine story as well, but both acknowledged that it was not in every copy. When Jerome cited the passage in an argument against the Pelagians, he mentioned that he found it “in many copies of the Gospel of John,” and therefore not in all of them. When he completed his new Latin translation of the Gospels (as part of the Vulgate) several decades earlier, he had chosen to include the story in John. In doing so, he guaranteed its abiding presence in the Latin Christian tradition. The story was also incorporated in the Roman liturgy perhaps some time in the fifth century.

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Augustine, who cited the passage about a dozen times, was also aware of its absence in some manuscripts. He even proposed an explanation why the story could have been omitted, suggesting that “men of slight faith” deleted it because they were afraid that their wives might commit adultery after hearing about the woman (On Adulterous Marriages 7.6). A few modern scholars who defend the story as original to the Gospel of John have argued along similar lines, that scribes may have excluded the pericope because Jesus is too lenient toward the sinner. However, this is highly unlikely, because scribes and scholars were trained never to delete, even when they doubted the authenticity of a given passage, and, besides, there was a long and widespread affection for stories about adulterous women across the ancient world (as reflected in other passages in the New Testament).

There was a long and widespread affection for stories about adulterous women across the ancient world.

Although the story is not preserved in any surviving Greek gospel manuscript before the eighth century, apart from Codex Bezae, there are still other traces of the story in the East too. For example, two ivory pyxides, likely Coptic in origin, are certain attestations of the story in an Egyptian setting. These two boxes depict the forgiven adulteress among other scenes from the life of Jesus. In a sixth-century Syriac chronicle there is reference to a Gospel manuscript, likely in Greek, in the possession of Bishop Mara (d. 532 AD), which had a “chapter” peculiar to the Gospel of John, but that this chapter was not found in other copies. Then follows a version of John 8:2–11.

There is much to suggest that the story had been assigned its own “chapter” (kephalaion) in Greek gospel manuscripts no later than the fifth century. Unlike our modern chapters, this particular system of “Old Greek chapters” marks out the highlights in each of the four gospels with a focus on Jesus’ miracles and teachings. Thus, the first kephalaion in John was placed at John 2:1 (the wedding in Cana). Most extant Byzantine manuscripts contain eighteen chapters in John, but some add a nineteenth chapter—the story of the adulteress—as chapter ten.

Minuscule 1 showing the note explaining textual issues the woman caught in adultery.
The story of the woman caught in adultery in Minuscule 1 (12th c.) is located at the end of the manuscript with a long, explanatory note about it. INTF

In several important medieval manuscripts that represent a family of manuscripts (known as Family 1), at the end of John 7 where one expects to find our story there is instead a critical note to inform the reader concerning “the kephalaion concerning the adulteress,” that it is not found in most manuscripts, nor mentioned by the divine fathers John Chrysostom, Cyril of Alexandria, Theodore of Mopsuestia and the rest. This ancient scribe or editor, probably working in the fifth century, decided to relocate the story to the end of John, where it is found in this family of manuscripts. By this time, then, the popular story had already been inserted into John and even assigned its own chapter in some manuscripts but was omitted or relocated in others.

Today, the large majority of surviving Greek manuscripts of John include the story. It is read in the Byzantine liturgy and thus accepted as inspired by the Greek Orthodox Church. It is part of the canonical Vulgate used by the Catholic Church, and it is present in virtually all Protestant Bible versions albeit often marked with brackets and footnotes.

On the other hand, it is clear that the story was interpolated into the Gospel of John at an early point in a climate of Gospel book production in which the story was regarded as “gospel.” Incidentally, from the concluding verse of the Fourth Gospel we learn that many stories about things that Jesus did were in circulation, some of which had not yet been written down (John 21:25), but genuine “gospel stories” all the same I presume.

So, should the beloved story of the Woman Caught in Adultery be read in our churches? Yes, I think so. The story has the earmarks of a genuine gospel story albeit not original to John.

Notes

  • 1
    Philip Wesley Comfort, Early Manuscripts and Modern Translations of the New Testament (Wheaton, IL: Tyndale House, 1990), 116.
  • 2
    Andreas J. Köstenberger, John, BECNT (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2004), 248.
  • 3
    Did. apost. 7; transl. by Arthur Vööbus

Filed Under: Also Featured, New Testament, Text

Did Nicaea Really Create the Bible?

Debunking the popular myth that a Roman emperor and a fourth-century church council decided the canon

John D. Meade

Ideas have consequences. One idea that has yielded dangerous consequences is the notion that the Council of Nicaea (AD 325), under the authority of Roman emperor Constantine, established the Christian biblical canon.

Did the Bible originate from a few elite bishops selecting which books to include? Should we credit a Roman emperor with creating the Bible? No. This falsehood has been used to cast suspicion on the origins of the canon, which undermines the Bible’s authority.

Dan Brown’s 2003 bestseller, The Da Vinci Code, planted this idea in our culture, and many now think Constantine or Nicaea established the Bible. But Brown didn’t invent this story. He only perpetuated it through his fiction. (Same goes for popular spy novelist Daniel Silva’s latest book, The Order. He admits in an author’s note: “Christians who believe in biblical inerrancy will no doubt take issue with my description of who the evangelists were and how their Gospels came to be written.”)

There is no historical basis for the idea that Nicaea established the canon and created the Bible.

Nicaea and the Canon in History

There is no historical basis for the idea that Nicaea established the canon and created the Bible. The Biblical Canon Lists from Early Christianity and other early evidence show that Christians disputed the boundaries of the biblical canon before and after Nicaea. For example, even lists from pro-Nicaean fathers such as Cyril of Jerusalem (ca. AD 350) and Athanasius of Alexandria (ca. AD 367) don’t agree on the inclusion of Revelation. None of the early records from the council, nor eyewitness attendees (Eusebius or Athanasius, for example), mentions any conciliar decision that established the canon.

In the preface to his Latin translation of Judith, Jerome wrote:

But since the Nicene Council is considered (legitur lit. “is read”) to have counted this book among the number of sacred Scriptures, I have acquiesced to your request (or should I say demand!).

Could Jerome be referring to a formal decision to include Judith in the canon? That’s unlikely.

The earliest adopters of Nicene orthodoxy—from Athanasius to Gregory of Nazianzus to Hilary of Poitiers to Jerome himself—don’t include Judith in their canon lists. If a decision was made at Nicaea on the canonicity of Judith, the earliest adopters would’ve listed it among the canonical books. But they don’t. Rather, Jerome is probably describing discussions in which some fathers may have referred to Judith as scriptural. In any case, these discussions didn’t end in a formal conciliar decision on the canon’s boundaries. It seems Jerome’s statement, though, was later misunderstood to say that Nicaea decided on the canon, which leads us to the rest of the story.

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Nicaea and the Canon in Legend

The source of this idea appears in a late-ninth-century Greek manuscript called the Synodicon Vetus, which purports to summarize the decisions of Greek councils up to that time (see pages 2–4 here). Andreas Darmasius brought this manuscript from Morea in the 16th century. John Pappus edited and published it in 1601 in Strasburg. Here’s the relevant section:

The council made manifest the canonical and apocryphal books in the following manner: placing them by the side of the divine table in the house of God, they prayed, entreating the Lord that the divinely inspired books might be found upon the table, and the spurious ones underneath; and it so happened.

According to this source, the church has its canon because of a miracle that occurred at Nicaea in which the Lord caused the canonical books to stay on the table and the apocryphal or spurious ones to be found underneath.

From Pappus’s edition of the Synodicon Vetus, this quotation circulated and was cited (sometimes as coming from Pappus himself, not the Greek manuscript he edited!), and eventually found its way into the work of prominent thinkers such as Voltaire (1694–1778). In volume 3 of his Philosophical Dictionary (English translation here) under “Councils” (sec. I), he writes:

It was by an expedient nearly similar, that the fathers of the same council distinguished the authentic from the apocryphal books of Scripture. Having placed them altogether upon the altar, the apocryphal books fell to the ground of themselves.

A little later in section III, Voltaire adds:

We have already said, that in the supplement to the Council of Nice it is related that the fathers, being much perplexed to find out which were the authentic and which the apocryphal books of the Old and the New Testament, laid them all upon an altar, and the books which they were to reject fell to the ground. What a pity that so fine an ordeal has been lost!

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Voltaire earlier mentions that Constantine convened the council. At Nicaea, then, the fathers distinguished the canonical from the apocryphal books by prayer and a miracle. The publication of Pappus’s 1601 edition of Synodicon Vetus—and the subsequent citing of the miracle at Nicaea, especially by Voltaire in his Dictionary—appears to be the reason Dan Brown could narrate the events so colorfully and why many others continue to perpetuate this legend.

Matter of Authority

The church no more gave us [the] canon than Sir Isaac Newton gave us the force of gravity.

As our culture becomes increasingly secular, many will continue to cast doubt on the Bible’s origins and especially on early Christianity’s role in the canon’s formation. Although the history of the canon is a bit messy at junctures, there is no evidence it was established by a few Christian bishops and churches convened at Nicaea in 325.

Christians need to prepare their minds for action in this age and confidently assert that the biblical canon is the work of God, recognized by churches over many years’ time. In the vivid words of J. I. Packer, “The church no more gave us [the] canon than Sir Isaac Newton gave us the force of gravity.”

This article was originally published at The Gospel Coalition.

Filed Under: Also Featured, Canon, New Testament, Old Testament

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