Illuminating the History of the Bible

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The Changing Fortunes of Codex Vaticanus

Today, Codex Vaticanus is treated as a premier biblical manuscript. It was not always so.

Among those precious treasures kept in the Vatican Library is a fourth-century manuscript of the Greek Bible, with the shelf-mark Vaticanus Graecus 1209. For many, this ancient manuscript is known as the “Codex Vaticanus.” Among biblical scholars, its standard reference is the Roman capital letter B or the two digits 03 (or a combination of these two). This manuscript is generally regarded as one of the pillar witnesses for reconstructing the Greek New Testament. Thanks to the digital era and the generosity and effort of the Vatican Library staff, since 2015, anyone can simply search online and see this elegant manuscript without leaving home.

Historically, however, these aspects were not taken for granted. In fact, this manuscript for a long time was not seen as an important witness, its dating was uncertain, its access was limited, and its name was not “Codex Vaticanus.” How can these changes be accounted for? In what follows, I will highlight several of the more interesting aspects of Vaticanus’s changing fortunes over the centuries.

From corrupted witness to crowned pillar

This manuscript was brought to the scholarly world’s attention by the famous Dutch humanist Desiderius Erasmus (1466–1536). In 1521, he received a letter from his close friend in Rome, Paolo Bombace (1476–1527). He informed Erasmus that a Greek manuscript in the papal library, written in very ancient characters, did not contain the Comma Johanneum (the trinitarian passage at 1 John 5:7). Years later, Erasmus encountered the Spanish scholar Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda (1490–1573), who became one of his many opponents. Sepúlveda wrote against Erasmus’s project of the Greek New Testament by referring to an ancient manuscript in the Vatican Library that has hundreds of differences from Erasmus’s editions. We know today that he was referring to Codex Vaticanus.

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Sepúlveda also pointed out that Vaticanus’s text is similar to the underlying Greek text of the Latin Vulgate, thereby supporting the authenticity of the Latin textual tradition against Erasmus’s new and controversial Latin translation that he had based on other Greek manuscripts. In response, Erasmus insisted that the Greek and Latin texts he edited were superior to the texts found in Vaticanus and the Vulgate. In defending his preferred text, Erasmus further came up with a hypothesis that Vaticanus, together with other witnesses like it, must have been corrected according to the Vulgate text, thus making it of little use for his edition.

Known as the “Latinization theory,” Erasmus’s proposal would become dominant in the coming two centuries. Consequently, Codex Vaticanus was dismissed by the majority of scholars following Erasmus. Despite its antiquity, it was seen as a “Latinized” and corrupted witness.

Such a label was retained all the way until the second half of the eighteenth century. Because of the developments in scholarship, especially the paradigm shift in terms of the way manuscripts were assessed, scholars started looking at this manuscript from another perspective. The German classicist Karl Lachmann (1793–1851) and his Greek New Testament, published in 1831, can be seen as a watershed in text-critical studies. Lachmann highly valued Codex Vaticanus and considered its similarity with the Latin tradition not as the result of corruption but as an indication of a commonly shared, ancient source. Combined with other insights from his contemporaries, Lachmann’s observation became the basis of modern critical scholarship.

One of the features that distinguishes Codex Vaticanus is that it contains the Old and New Testament. Facsimile photo by Chandler Nick

As a result, subsequent editions of the Greek New Testament were prepared by making heavy use of Vaticanus’s text. Notably, the Cambridge textual critics Brooke Foss Westcott (1825–1901) and Fenton John Anthony Hort (1828–1892) published their influential The New Testament in the Original Greek in 1881, in which they were confident that our manuscript should be seen as the best witness among all the retainable sources. Through Westcott and Hort’s text, Codex Vaticanus bears a lasting impact on many contemporary vernacular New Testament translations.

From filtered data to full access

Erasmus’s Latinization theory was not the sole factor that caused subsequent scholars to be persuaded. Inaccessibility also played a decisive role. Before the internet and digitization became the norm, examining manuscripts was laborious and luxurious. One had to travel to where a certain manuscript was held, usually in a library or monastery, and stay there to study the manuscript. This came with various challenges, sometimes including a refusal to consult the material. The study of Codex Vaticanus was not an exception.

For a long time, Vaticanus was only seen by a few privileged individuals who could obtain the grant from the Vatican authorities. Under such restrictions, scholars outside Rome hardly knew of any readings from this manuscript. Particularly in the seventeenth and the first half of the eighteenth centuries, they usually had to rely on a 1580 publication by Franciscus Lucas Brugensis (1548/9–1619), where some twenty notes about the manuscript’s New Testament text are found.

However, the information was not always precise, and more importantly, the data were selective. Lucas Brugensis aimed to illustrate the reliability of the Latin Vulgate, so his references to our manuscript mainly concerned those cases where they support the Latin rendering. His data certainly reflected this. They were chosen based on his particular interest in the resemblance between Codex Vaticanus and the Latin tradition.

As a result, even what was accessible to scholars from Vaticanus was a “filtered” dataset. By its nature, this filtered data only confirmed the hypothesis proposed by Erasmus that the manuscript was a poorly Latinized witness.

Between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries, there were many attempts to produce collations of this manuscript, but the goal was seldom achieved. Fortunately, Andreas Birch (1758–1829) found success in examining the manuscript closely during his stay in Rome. He then published an elegant Greek New Testament edition of the Gospels, Quatuor Evangelia Graece, in 1788. Based on personal examination, it contained the first published collection of textual variants of Codex Vaticanus, alongside a lengthy introduction to the manuscript’s characteristics.

Birch’s contribution was significant to the critical study of the New Testament, as it allowed scholars to employ one of the ancient manuscripts known to the text-critical world. Moreover, he was the very first critic who made the public audience aware of the absence of the traditional Markan ending in the manuscript: Codex Vaticanus ended the Gospel of Mark at 16:8 (“for they [the women] were afraid”), followed by a subscription signifying the closure of the book.

Until that point, scholars had no hard evidence to support the patristic evidence that some manuscripts ended Mark at 16:8.

Until that point, scholars had no hard evidence from any Greek manuscript to support the patristic evidence that some manuscripts ended Mark at 16:8 (e.g., Eusebius, to Marinus 1). This abrupt ending would later be accepted as the critical text, thereby substantially changing our understanding of this Gospel’s narrative. But until Birch’s day, only very few scholars outside the Vatican Library knew about this important fourth-century witness to this ending, let alone considering it being the ending of this Gospel.

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From uncertain identity to the ‘Vatican manuscript’

The third and last aspect I want to address is the name “Codex Vaticanus” itself. Nowadays, it is regularly applied to this great Greek Bible manuscript. However, just like the evaluation of its text, this name has changed over time. For instance, when John Mill (1645–1707) was preparing his Greek New Testament edition, his references to our manuscript were not consistent. He variously called it “the Vatican manuscript,” “the Vatican Greek manuscript,” “the ancient manuscript,” or even “a certain manuscript in the Vatican Library.”

Since Mill had to depend on secondary sources, he was not entirely sure how many Vatican manuscripts he was referring to and was also uncertain whether only one single ancient manuscript was responsible for all the referenced data. In the era of inaccessibility, mistaken attributions were found here and there among scholarly works, which were hard to verify.

The title page to Wettstein’s first edition (1751). Photo credit

Later, knowledge about the manuscript gradually grew, and more and more pieces of information became available in the eighteenth century. In his 1751–1752 edition, Johann Jakob Wettstein (1693–1754) created a numbering system for all known Greek New Testament manuscripts. At that point, our manuscript was assigned the letter B, a convention that has lasted until today.

Wettstein’s designation also contributed to the formulation of this manuscript’s distinctness, making it the most famous codex of the Greek Bible in Rome. At the turn of the nineteenth century, the Latin term “Codex Vaticanus” (its literal translation would be “a Vatican manuscript”) seems to have become the consistent reference to our manuscript in English scholarly literature. The exclusive use of this term for the manuscript reveals scholarly awareness of its significance and superiority. As noted, this would become the standard name of the manuscript from then on. Alongside the high estimation of its value and the greater use of its text, Codex Vaticanus eventually became the manuscript par excellence among all the New Testament witnesses. Today, it still holds that place for many.

Conclusion

Such an investigation prevents us from judging previous scholarship too quickly.

What can we learn from this unique history? you may ask. Tracing how a particular manuscript was used and perceived over the centuries makes us more aware of the ground and root of our present-day position. It provides us with important historical contexts. Such an investigation also prevents us from judging previous scholarship too quickly without understanding the historical backgrounds and limitations the critics of the past had to face. In this case, it helps us understand why past scholars dismissed Codex Vaticanus as unimportant.

In a way, the changing perceptions of Codex Vaticanus showcase the developments in the discipline of New Testament textual criticism. The study of this multifaceted change also makes us aware of the privilege we have in the digital era. It is a great gift to have full and unrestricted access to this crowned witness, from everywhere, at any time.

How the Two Testaments Became One Bible

When production of two-testament Bibles began in the fourth century, the notion already had centuries of precedent.

I love asking long-established couples how they first met. From Ruth and Boaz on, such stories often reveal the kindness and sovereignty of God in sweet and sometimes unpredictable ways, especially if the union appeared on paper unlikely, but has gone on to be happy and fruitful.

There is one couple, whose union at first seemed extremely unlikely, but which has gone on to be happy and fruitful for two thousand years: the union of the two testaments in the Christian Bible. But how did our two testaments come together? How did those books, which first-century Christians were writing about Jesus, come to be included with the Jewish Scriptures in what we call the Bible?

Uniting the Bible’s two testaments

It’s an important question, because the unity of our Bibles matters more than many Christians today realize and effects many controversial questions. The unity of Scripture means that one of the most important contexts for interpreting any biblical passage is the rest of the Bible. By approaching the Bible as one united collection of books, the early Christians were saying that the context of a biblical book within the Bible is as or more important than its original historical context in ancient Judaism or Greco-Roman culture.

The unity of the Bible is also the basis for connecting themes and symbols across the Bible. This assumes that the Bible has a grand, overarching story, rather than being an assorted collection of anecdotes, moral teachings, and theological ideas. This assumption is basic to Christian preaching, theology, and ethical interpretation of the Bible, but it only makes sense if the two testaments actually do belong together.

This was far from obvious in the first century AD. Imagine how you would feel if someone suggested that some new books, from our own time, deserved to be bound into your Bible. That’s what the early Christians started to do to the Jewish Scriptures, from very soon after the death of Jesus. From as far back in the history of the church as we can trace, it seems to have been uncontroversial among Christians that these new books, about Jesus, had the same authority as the Jewish Scriptures, which Jews had been reading, revering, and seeking to obey for centuries.

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Reading the two testaments as one book

We see beginnings of the story in the New Testament. First Timothy 5:18 appears to quote Deuteronomy and then something very similar to Matthew’s Gospel, and calls them both “Scripture.” Second Peter 3:16 unambiguously calls Paul’s letters “Scripture.” The Greek word translated “Scripture” (graphē), means anything written. But in religious contexts, it almost always meant authoritative Scriptures. When New Testament authors call other New Testament books “Scripture,” they are saying that these early Christian books have the same status as the Old Testament Scripture.

Similarly, the early-second-century Christian writer Polycarp quotes Ephesians and calls it “Scripture” (Polycarp, Philippians 12.) Justin Martyr, also in the second century, records what a worship service looked like in his church (Justin, First Apology 67). It included readings both from the Old Testament Scriptures and the “memoirs of the apostles,” which probably means the Gospels or related texts.

In contrast, the second-century heretic Marcion believed that Christians should not read the Old Testament. Marcion is interesting, because by the time he was active, only about a century after the death of Jesus, it was uncontroversial that books like the Gospels and the letters of Paul were at least as authoritative and at least as deserving of Scriptural status as the Old Testament.

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Marcion controversially tried to cut the Old Testament (and many parts of the New Testament which quote it or appear to agree with it) out of the Bible—but this means that by his time, the basic shape of a Bible with two testaments must have been well-established. In the mid-first century, Jesus’ followers were controversially writing new books and adding them to the Jewish Scriptures. In the mid-second century, Marcion was taking the old books out of the Christian Scriptures, which was only possible because no-one doubted the scriptural status of the new books.

Also in the second century, Irenaeus of Lyon was constructing a theology that assumed the unity of both testaments. His book Demonstration of the Apostolic Preaching summarizes the gospel by presenting the story of the whole Bible. His very approach assumes the unity of the Bible.

This evidence shows that from very early, Christians were treating the Bible as a single book.

Fitting the two testaments in one codex

But if the Bible was already being read as a single book, was it being physically produced as a single book? The technical name for a book containing the whole Bible is a “pandect.”

Pandects were rare in the ancient world, not least because books this size would have been difficult and expensive to produce.

Pandects were rare in the ancient world, not least because books this size would have been difficult and expensive to produce. We know of very few large books from the ancient world. There is Origen’s Hexapla, a copy of the Old Testament containing six different columns in multiple Greek translations. We also know of a manuscript containing all of the ancient Greek epic poem, the Odyssey (which runs to about four hundred pages in modern English editions).

When it comes to biblical manuscripts, there are four from prior to 600 AD that were probably originally pandects. They are Codex Sinaiticus, Codex Vaticanus, Codex Alexandrinus, and Codex Ephraemi rescriptus. In the first three, substantial portions of both testaments still survive, so it is very likely they originally contained all of both testaments. In Codex Ephraemi, we have only the New Testament and large parts of the Old Testament wisdom literature. However, the New Testament and the wisdom literature seems such an unusual combination (of which we have no other evidence) that it is likely this manuscript originally contained all the books of both testaments.

The view of Ephraemi rescriptus from the bottom. Photo credit

These manuscripts all contain the Old Testament in Greek translation (often called the Septuagint), since few early Christians could read Hebrew. They also contain the Old Testament Apocrypha and some contain a few early Christian texts in addition to the New Testament books (but these are placed after Revelation, which may suggest the scribes thought they were in a lesser category).

Further hints from our manuscript evidence

Of course, many of our early biblical manuscripts are small fragments and so it is impossible to know for certain what else they contained. One of our earliest manuscripts, known to biblical scholars as P52, is a tiny scrap of John’s Gospel. It is impossible to know what was in the original, complete version—all of John, all of the Gospels, all of the New Testament, all of the Christian Bible or some more unusual combination of texts?

However, some of these early, small fragments include page numbers and these generally suggest that they contained only a single biblical book. It is likely therefore that manuscripts of the whole Bible were rare and the four we know of are not only important but unusual.

Book technology at the time means that, even with these manuscripts, it’s unlikely all the books of the Bible were physically bound into a single volume. However the presentation, arrangement of words on the page and column layout is the same in each of these manuscripts all through the Bible, so it is very likely that they were intended to be used as single books, rather like a modern book produced in multiple volumes, but always sold together and with such similar font and layout that they are obviously intended to be read as one (such as N. T. Wright’s Paul and the Faithfulness of God or some editions of The Lord of the Rings).

The origins of the pandects

What led to the production of these pandects? As we have seen, the theological belief in the unity of the testaments existed from the late first century, so it is natural that scribes should start creating manuscripts with both testaments, but it is possible there was a specific reason to produce pandects in the early fourth century.

The early Christian writer, Eusebius, records a letter he received from the Roman Emperor Constantine, the first Christian Emperor, requesting “fifty copies of the clearly sacred Scriptures” (Life of Constantine 4.36). Similarly, another early Christian writer, Athanasius, records that he made “copies of the divine Scriptures” for the Roman Emperor Constans (Defense before Constantius 4).

Are these ancient requests for pandects? Scholars disagree at this point. It is possible that “fifty copies of the clearly sacred Scriptures” means fifty copies of the Gospels, or even a combination like ten sets each containing five manuscripts, one of the Gospels, one of the Pentateuch, one of the Psalms, one the Prophets and one of the letters.

However, there is no indication in the context that this is what Constantine or Constans intended and the natural reading of the definite article in Eusebius’s account is that “the clearly sacred Scriptures” includes everything in the category of clearly sacred Scriptures (just as if one spouse says to another “I’ll collect the children from school” without further clarification, this means all their children and only their children). Fifty pandects would certainly be an exorbitant request, but Roman Emperors were hardly known for their modest tastes or restrained demands.

Were any of our four surviving pandects produced in response to these demands? It is impossible to be sure.

Were any of our four surviving pandects produced in response to these demands? It is impossible to be sure, but Sinaiticus and Vaticanus both probably come from about the right time and Sinaiticus, in particular, probably comes from about the right place. What is even more important than identifying individual manuscripts with Constantine’s or Constans’s order, is the simple fact that these Emperors were likely commissioning pandects at all. It seems that Constantine believed that a well-ordered and united Bible would help build a well-ordered and united church, which might even help create a well-ordered and united society.

Conclusion

The production of physically united Bibles began in the fourth century, quite possibly because this was the first time there were Christian emperors who could support the production of such large books. But even more important is the fact that, when these emperors requested such Bibles, the idea made sense—because Christians had been trusting and treasuring a unified Bible for centuries.

The Fall and Rise of Revelation

Revelation was used widely in the early church, then doubted in the East in the fourth century, but eventually accepted again.

The book of Revelation describes many falls from grace, and its own is just as dramatic. In the late first century AD, John of Patmos received a cosmic vision while in exile for Christ. His account of this vision, our book of Revelation, was then quickly embraced by Christians all around the Mediterranean. So popular was Revelation that the number of early Christian writers who mention it rivals that of any other New Testament text.

This begins with Papias (c. 115 AD) and Justin Martyr (c. 155 AD) who made use of Revelation in what is today Turkey. They are followed by authors like Theophilus of Antioch in Syria (c. 175 AD); Irenaeus in France (c. 185 AD); Clement of Alexandria in Egypt (c. 195 AD); Tertullian in Tunisia (c. 200 AD); Hippolytus in Rome (c. 200–235 AD), and many other writers besides. By the middle of the third century, it is difficult to find Christians who do not quote from Revelation.

So popular was Revelation that the number of early Christian writers who mention it rivals that of any other New Testament text.

A reversal of fortune

But then, during the fourth century, a great reversal occurred. Several writers in the areas where Revelation had once been so beloved began voicing doubts over its legitimacy. These suspicions soon proceeded to foment and boil over in the succeeding centuries causing Revelation to be omitted from the New Testaments of many churches east of the city of Rome. There, in these Eastern locales, Revelation underwent a kind of New Testament exile from which it was only recalled after many centuries. This resulted in a great irony: Revelation, though possessing one of the strongest scriptural pedigrees, came to be known as the most disputed book in the New Testament.

And all this naturally brings up several questions which this article will address: In what churches was Revelation held in suspicion? What caused such suspicions? How were they resolved? And when were they resolved?

“The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” one of Albrecht Dürer’s 15 engravings of Revelation. Source

Doubt spreads

Where

Revelation was consistently held in high esteem from the very beginnings of Christianity in Western Europe, Northwest Africa, Egypt (both Greek and Coptic speaking areas), and it seems also to have been always embraced in Nubia and Ethiopia, though the evidence for these latter two areas is limited.

The story is different for other regions. While Revelation was viewed highly in the Greek-speaking portions of Europe and Asia in the second and third centuries, this changed in the fourth. At that point, a precipitous decline becomes evident, so much so that many later Greek writers never quote from Revelation and even omit it from their New Testament lists. Greek manuscripts of Revelation also become rarer during this time, and those that do exist often place Revelation alongside non-New Testament texts.

For more on the history of Revelation, see the author’s book.

The situation in Armenian, Syriac, Georgian, and Slavonic contexts was graver still. Evidence suggests that Revelation was excluded when the first Armenian translation of the New Testament was commissioned in the 440s AD. An ancient Armenian translation of the book was eventually carried out, but it was little used. Likewise, the first Syriac translations of the New Testament (3rd–5th centuries) also appear to have omitted Revelation and it was not until the sixth and seventh centuries that Revelation was translated into Syriac. But even then, it was ignored by most Syriac writers and omitted from almost all Syriac biblical manuscripts.

In Georgia, Revelation was yet again omitted when the Georgian New Testament was first translated (fifth century), and no translation of Revelation was ever made into Georgian before the tenth century. Lastly, though the first Slavonic translation of the New Testament appears to have included Revelation (ninth century), this translation was lost. Revelation was translated into Slavonic again several hundred years later, but then unhappily lost once more.

Why

There were multiple reasons for Revelation’s declining fortunes in the East. First and most simply is that Revelation is a difficult book to understand. While some found this difficulty to be divinely and profoundly mysterious, others found it obscure and nonsensical. Hence, these critics of Revelation voiced concerns over its alleged narrative incoherency, its supposed internal contradictions, and its seemingly ridiculous creatures and scenery.

Compounding all of these issues were instances where Revelation was felt to be doctrinally suspect, as when Revelation—again allegedly—mentions seven different holy spirits (Rev. 1:4, 3:1, 4:5, 5:6), portrays the spiritual heavens in a physical or even grotesque manner (Rev. 21), describes a final thousand-year earthly reign of Jesus (Rev. 20), calls Jesus a mere creature by stating that he is the “beginning of creation” (Rev. 3:14), and other such passages.

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Another sharp thorn goading suspicion was that Revelation’s authorship was questionable. Many doubted that John the apostle and evangelist wrote Revelation because its style differed from the other writings of John and because some earlier Christians postulated that there were actually two disciples of Jesus named John.

A further, though ancillary, reason contributing to the above concerns was that Revelation viciously critiqued Rome (Rev. 17 and 18). This was well and good when Christians were being persecuted by pagan Rome, but such critiques were harder to swallow when Christians came to rule Rome in the fourth century.

Answering the doubts

These suspicions were in large part answered by Revelation commentators. Beginning in the sixth century, writers began composing full-length, often verse-by-verse, commentaries defending Revelation from criticism. They pointed out that Revelation is a cyclical work that repeats material from different vantages and perspectives and, in this view, should not be seen as narratively incoherent.

Regarding alleged internal contradictions and absurd creatures, commentators again and again highlighted that Revelation proclaims itself as an allegorical work (Rev. 1:1, 1:20, 11:8, 12:1, 17:5, 17:7), and so its imagery should not be taken literally, but instead ought to be probed for deeper, profounder meaning. This too is why one should not assume that Revelation’s earthly depictions of heaven or its thousand-year reign of Jesus pertain to physical reality; rather such things symbolically and mystically outline exalted spiritual realities that would not otherwise be comprehensible to lowly humans.

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Areas where Revelation was doctrinally suspect were also defended. When Revelation mentions seven spirits, it only uses “seven” as a figurative number representing the perfection of the one Holy Spirit; or if not, then the seven spirits refer to seven high ranking spiritual beings such as the archangels Michael and Gabriel. In like manner, Revelation does not call Jesus the “beginning (archē) of creation” (Rev. 3:14) but rather calls him the “origin” or “ruler” of creation, which indeed are other valid interpretations of the Greek word archē.

As for Revelation’s authorship, commentators argued that stylistic differences should not trouble the reader because John may have changed his style intentionally to suit an alternative audience. One or two commentators also seem to have believed that if another John wrote Revelation, then he was still nonetheless a disciple of Jesus and therefore an apostolic man, much like Luke, Mark, James, Jude, and Paul who also wrote documents in the New Testament, yet were not numbered among the original twelve apostles.

A final resolution

It is impossible to be absolutely precise with dates, but, in the Greek church, Revelation begins its recovery around about the tenth century, though the commentary by Andrew of Caesarea seems to have started propelling it into popularity starting in the seventh century.

In the Greek church, Revelation begins its recovery around about the tenth century.

In Syriac areas, several famous scholars attempted to promote Revelation, commencing with Philoxenus around 500 AD, who translated it as part of his Syriac New Testament. Revelation was translated again for the New Testament of Thomas of Harkel (c. 615 AD), and an extract of it was later translated by Jacob of Edessa (c. 708 AD). An anonymous Syriac commentary was also written on it probably in the early seventh century, but none of these attempts seem to have been effective—Revelation was still largely omitted from Syriac New Testament lists and manuscripts. However, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries it began gaining prestige in West Syriac circles, though East Syriac communities seem to have taken longer to come round, and certain of their communities did not accept Revelation until the early and mid-1800s, soon after the British Foreign Bible Society distributed the first accessible printed edition of the Syriac New Testament.

An 11th c. Syriac manuscript that may have once contained the whole NT, including Revelation, but today breaks off at Hebrews (New College MS 333). Photo by Peter Gurry.

In Armenia, Revelation was rehabilitated largely by Nerses of Lambron (c. 1179 AD), who re-translated it and then wrote a commentary (adapted from Andrew of Caesarea’s Greek commentary) defending it. His efforts seem to have been greatly successful. In neighboring Georgia, Euthymius the Athonite (c. 978 AD) made the first known Georgian translation of Revelation while also writing a commentary on the text (once again adapted from Andrew). Yet, it is unclear when Revelation became accepted in the Georgian church, and it may have been passed over until the printing of the Georgian New Testament in the early 1700s.1T. H. Darlow and H. F. Moule, Historical Catalogue of the Printed Editions of Holy Scripture in the Library of the British and Foreign Bible Society (London: The Bible House, 1903), vol. 2.1 p. 478–479. For the placement of New Testament texts within Georgian manuscripts, see D. M. Lang, “Recent Work on the Georgian New Testament,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London 19, no. 1 (1957): 87. In Slavonic circles, an anonymous commentary on Revelation was written in the tenth century (once more adapted from Andrew) and became quite popular. In 1499, the Archbishop of Novgorod included Revelation in his edition of the New Testament.

However, as Revelation was regaining (or gaining, as the case may be) its standing in the East, it underwent its first real trial in the West when some of the Protestant reformers questioned its authority. Martin Luther, for example, claimed that Revelation was neither apostolic nor prophetic in his first edition of the German Bible, though in a subsequent edition he mostly reversed course, but still held doubts.2Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut Lehmann, eds., Luther’s Works, American edition (St. Louis & Philadelphia: Concordia & Muhlenberg, 1955-1986), vol. 35 pp. 398–399 (first preface), 399–411 (second preface).

Conclusion

Such as that may be, I quite agree with the arguments of Revelation’s ancient and medieval commentators. There are sound, reliable reasons for considering John of Patmos to have been a disciple of Jesus, whether John the apostle or another John.

The text of Revelation, albeit challenging and at times bewildering, is full of mystery and profound insight. If you read with a mind awake to Revelation’s cyclical narrative; if you train a patient eye towards Revelation’s own instruction to understand it “spiritually,” then the stumbling blocks fall away. And in due time, you too will be able to exclaim along with Jerome (c. 420 AD) that

The Apocalypse of John has as many mysteries as words. In saying this I have said less than the book deserves. All praise of it is inadequate; manifold meanings lie hidden in its every word.3Letter 53.9; translation modified.

Notes

  • 1
    T. H. Darlow and H. F. Moule, Historical Catalogue of the Printed Editions of Holy Scripture in the Library of the British and Foreign Bible Society (London: The Bible House, 1903), vol. 2.1 p. 478–479. For the placement of New Testament texts within Georgian manuscripts, see D. M. Lang, “Recent Work on the Georgian New Testament,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London 19, no. 1 (1957): 87.
  • 2
    Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut Lehmann, eds., Luther’s Works, American edition (St. Louis & Philadelphia: Concordia & Muhlenberg, 1955-1986), vol. 35 pp. 398–399 (first preface), 399–411 (second preface).
  • 3
    Letter 53.9; translation modified.

Paul and First-Century Letter Writing

Understanding his context reveals the Apostle Paul as one of the great letter writers of his age.

My grandmother called it snooping when you read someone else’s mail. Yet, that is what we are doing, peering over the shoulders of the Philippians, reading Paul’s letter to them. But aside from reading his letters themselves, what can we learn about Paul’s first-century letters by learning about first-century letter writing more generally?

Basics of first-century letter writing

Paul grew up in a first-century Mediterranean world that loved sending and receiving letters: a sailor wrote his mom (P.Mich. 8.490), a woman invites another to a birthday party (T.Vindol. 291), travelers wrote home (P.Mich. 8.477) or someone at home asks for updates from a traveler (P.Oxy. 123). In every part of the empire where ancient documents could survive, archaeologists have found thousands of letters from everyday people. These everyday letters, uncovered in the last hundred years or so, supplement what we already knew from the letter collections of the great Roman rhetoricians: Cicero, Seneca, Quintilian and Pliny.

In every part of the empire where ancient documents could survive, archaeologists have found thousands of letters from everyday people

Letters had become quite formulaic, even more than today’s “Dear So-and So” and “Sincerely, …” Both Greeks and Romans, small and great, shared patterns in the way they wrote letters. From England to Egypt, we find the same format, diction, and rhetoric. We should not be surprised to find Paul’s letters fit the mold.

The standard format for an ancient letter was an opening, a body, and a closing. Naturally, the skilled Roman rhetoricians brought more variety and complexity to their letters, but there was still amazing conformity. “Antimenes to Zenon, greetings” (P.Zen. 10) followed the standard format. Paul creatively plays on “greetings” (chairein) and the traditional Jewish greeting: “Peace to you” (John 20:19), producing his characteristic opening: “Grace (charis) and peace to you.” It was common to add some elaboration about the recipient and/or the sender: “Apollonarius to Taesis, his mother and lady, many greetings” (P.Mich. 8.491). Similarly, “Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle …to all God’s beloved in Rome … Grace to you and peace” (Rom. 1:1, 7).

Naming the sender

The traditional three-part (tripartite) Roman name (tria nomina) comprised a given name (praenomen), a clan or ancestral name (nomen), and, finally, a family name (cognomen). Often only the family (third) name was used in letters (see T.Vindol. 291). In fact, the first name was so standardized and common, it was often just written as an initial. Thus, the famous orator, M. (Marcus) Tullius Cicero, referred to himself as simply Cicero in his letters.

Cicero was one of the great letter writers of the ancient world. Source

Newly minted citizens proudly showcased their chosen Roman name (but usually only the second and third name): “Apion called Antonius Maximus” (BGU 2.632). So, Luke’s description of the proconsul on Cyprus in Acts 13:7 leaves us only somewhat certain that it was L. (Lucius) Sergius Paulus, brother of Q. (Quintus) Sergius Paulus. Likewise, “Lydia” in Philippi was her family name (Acts 16:14), likely from an ancestor who chose their province of origin as the name. (Thyatira is a city in the province Lydia.) She could be one of the women mentioned by Paul (Phil. 4:2).

Paul’s tripartite Roman name was likely [Some common name] Saul[us] Paul[us]. Whichever ancestor first chose the Roman name picked for the ancestral name the most famous member of their tribe of Benjamin, King Saul. For a family name, it appears Paul is a member of the famous Paulus clan of Anatolia (Acts 13:7), albeit likely on the outer fringes of the family tree. As was letter-writing custom, Paul uses only his “last name” in his letter address.

The letter opening

The letter opening was commonly followed by wishes or prayers for health, “Daily I myself offer prayers for your well-being in the presence of the local gods” (P.Mich. 8.499). Paul occasionally prays for his recipients (Eph. 1:17 and Col. 1:3), but he preferred the far less common custom of giving thanks. In fact, no other known ancient letter-writer had such long thanksgivings. Most ancient letters had a small amount of business to discuss, more like a postcard today and far less than modern letters.

Paul fell into a very small group, mostly of philosophers, who beefed up their letters to propagate ideas and to encourage behavior. As we will see below, Paul’s letters were quite long for his time. Following closing greetings, ancient letters often had another brief health-wish, such as “Farewell.”

Writing the letter

Ancient rhetoricians considered appearance important. When an ancient wished his letter to be well-received, he used a good pen and nice paper (Cic. QFr. 2.15b.1) or even a secretary with beautiful handwriting (Cic. Att. 13.14–25). We see no hints Paul trivialized his letters; we shouldn’t assume Paul sent some rag to Philippi.

Once a polished draft was checked and ready for dispatch, the sender usually added a summary comment, any last-minute updates, and/or greeting in his own hand; thus, a correction is added in a postscript: “Know that I have been assigned to Misenum, for I learned it later” (P.Mich. 8.490), after the final draft was prepared but before it was sealed.

In business letters, the postscript often summarized the transaction (which had been spelled out more fully in the letter), in a sense to underscore the author verified the deal. So, “[2nd hand] I, Ammonius, son of Ammonius, have sold the loom, and have received the price of 20 drachmae of silver and will guarantee the sale as aforesaid” (P.Oxy. 264). Paul playfully does the same to his friend: “I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand. I will pay it back—not to mention that you owe me your very self” (Phlm. 19).

Signing the letter

The sender’s handwriting authenticated the letter, the ancient equivalent of our signature. We see these changes in handwriting in two ways. First, in the original letter, pulled from the sands, we can see the change in handwriting, indicated by modern editors with “[2nd hand].” A minority of writers expected copies to also circulate. Since copies no longer show the handwriting change, they explicitly noted it: “Greetings to Pilia and Atticus . . . The rest I write to you in my own hand” (Cic. Att. 12.32.1).

Paul expected his letters to be copied (Col. 4:16), so he often made similar comments: “I, Paul, write this greeting with my own hand” (1 Cor. 16:21; see also Gal. 6:11; Col. 4:18; 2 Thess. 3:17; Phlm. 19). Paul desired the Thessalonians to learn his handwriting: “I, Paul, write this greeting with my own hand. This is the mark in every letter of mine; it is the way I write.” He follows with his version of closing health-wish: “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with all of you” (2 Thess. 3:17–18).

Preparing the letter

After checking the letter and adding any closing remarks, the sender folded the letter (accordion-style like a paper fan), bent it double and tied a string around (and sometimes pressed clay/wax over the knot). We seal envelopes today to keep out prying eyes: “There are very few who can carry a letter of weight without lightening it by a perusal” (Cic. Att. 1.13). Except Philemon, Paul’s letters were much too long to fold in the normal fashion. They were scrolled (like a book!) and tied.

P.Oxy. 123 is a letter from a father to a son that mentions how the letter was sent. Image source

Sending the letter

Paul, like everyone else, had two ways to dispatch a letter: someone traveling that way or sending someone. The common method was someone traveling to that direction: “Having had the luck to find someone going up to you, I felt obliged to [send a letter]” (P.Oxy. 123).

Because such methods were dependent upon another, letters often mentioned other letters to verify if they arrived. “I rejoiced greatly on receiving your letter which was given to me by the cutler, though I have not yet received the one which you say you have sent me by Platon the dancer’s son” (P.Oxy. 1676)—apparently, one carrier was more reliable than the other. Paul likely used such happenstance carriers to deliver his early letters too. The cities of southern Galatia, Thessalonica and Corinth were stops along main roads, providing lots of options for carriers. Initially, Paul probably saw no reason to pay costs to send his own carrier.

Paul seems to have eventually learned the advantages of a dedicated carrier, who could improve chances of the letter’s safe arrival (for a lost letter, see Cic. Fam. 7.25.1) and authenticate his letters against forgeries (2 Thess. 2:2; 3:17). It appears some misunderstood Paul’s earlier letters, e.g., 1 Corinthians 5:9–13 and a trusted carrier/associate could interpret Paul’s intent.

Reading the letter

For ancients, the performance of a reading (intonation, cadence, gestures, etc.) was a part of rhetoric. Then as now, a reader (lector) who knew Paul’s intent better would read aloud the letter. Once, Paul explicitly validates that he wants the carrier/lector to elaborate: “Tychicus will tell you all the news about me. … I have sent him to you for this very purpose so that you may know how we are” (Col. 4:7–8).

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Paying for and collecting Paul’s letters

Today, the cost of writing, even multiple drafts, is insignificant. A denarius is commonly described as a day’s wage, but the only basis for that assertion is Jesus’ parable (Matt. 20:1–15), where he is describing a generous master. Jesus never says it was a standard amount. Actually, a half-denarius was standard pay for a day laborer. We cannot know the exact cost, but we can estimate (very conservatively) the cost in today’s dollars to prepare Paul’s letters, for example:

Pauline LetterEstimated Cost (USD)
Romans$2,275
1 Corinthians$2,108
Philippians$515
2 Thessalonians$255
Philemon$101
The estimated cost of Paul’s letters in today’s dollars

Ancient letter writers kept copies of their letters, often in “notebooks” (membranae, parchments, 2 Tim. 4:13). Cicero happened to mention making a copy of a letter while at dinner (Cic. Fam. 9.26.1). Another letter became waterlogged and thus was “lost,” but Cicero sent another copy (Cic. QFr. 2.12.4), indicating he had kept one. Our copies of Paul’s letters likely arose from copying Paul’s set, not by going around and collecting the dispatched copies. This was how the letter collections of the other writers were published (see Sue. Vit. Jul. 56.6).

Our copies of Paul’s letters likely arose from copying Paul’s set, not by going around and collecting the dispatched copies.

Paul’s letters were surprisingly expensive to us, but actually the reason is that his letters were uncommonly long. Even Paul’s letter to Philemon was longer than a typical letter. Paul’s letters were even longer than the famed Roman letter writers: Cicero and Seneca. When we compare average length (word count) of Paul’s letters to the everyday letter and those of Cicero and Seneca, we find this:

Letter writerAvg. Words per letter
Typical  Letter87
Cicero295
Seneca995
Paul2,495

The longest letter by Cicero (2,530 words) or Seneca (4,134) is dwarfed by Paul’s letter to the Romans (7,114). Paul’s opponents said his letters were “weighty” (2 Cor. 10:10), they were not just ridiculing the content of his letters, but their size.

Conclusion

While clearly within the bounds of the Greco-Roman letter tradition, Paul was one of the great letter writers of his age. Furthermore, he stood on the leading edge with a few others (Cicero, Seneca, Pliny) who were beginning to use “private” letters as a means for propagating philosophies. Paul saw his letters as part of his mission. Today, looking back, we can be glad he did.

How Digital Apps Are Changing How We Read the Bible

Digital Bibles shape what we see—and don’t see—in the text and require us to be mindful of their power and peril.

Perspicuity is a fancy, hard-to-pronounce word that means just the opposite. In contrast to the complex, difficult-to-follow writing of academics, perspicuity means clear, direct, and understandable. The gist of the word is captured by the popular phrase “clear is kind” which applies equally to writing and personal relationships. Don’t beat around the bush. Just say what you mean. That is kindness.

The Reformers applied the concept of perspicuity to the Bible, saying that the most important ideas in scripture can be understood by any reader. That doesn’t mean that every part of the Bible is easy to understand (even Peter admits some things are “hard to understand” in 2 Pet. 3:16). It means that the essential things we must know—who God is, and what he is doing for us—can be picked up by individual readers. The Roman Catholic tradition, in contrast, argues that the scriptures need an official authoritative interpreter. The Roman Catholic Church calls its teaching authority the magisterium, explaining that it was passed from Jesus to Peter and the leaders of the Roman church.

A simple contrast between Protestant perspicuity and the Catholic magisterium on a non-essential issue would be a verse like Mark 6:4, “Is this not the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James, Joses, Judas, and Simon? And are His sisters not here with us?” Protestants would say that the most straightforward reading of this is that Mary and Joseph had children after Jesus who became his siblings. However, the magisterial teaching of the Roman Catholic church is that Mary remained a virgin after Jesus’ birth and therefore never had additional children. This leads them to conclude that “the brothers” (ἀδελφοί, adelphoi) mentioned here are cousins or some other non-blood relative.

Dr. Dyer’s book explores the use of digital Bibles on Bible reading habits.

The digital Bible

So what does perspicuity have to do with digital Bible apps like Logos Bible Software, YouVersion, and biblehub.com?

In the book People of the Screen, I explore digital Bibles in depth, looking at how app creators view their craft and mission and collecting data on how everyday Christians use Bible apps in their lives. Before focusing in on perspicuity, here are a few things I found.

First, it turns out that, unlike the move from scrolls to the codex and the codex to the printing press, Bible apps aren’t replacing printed Bibles. Instead, my survey data indicates that most people use a mix of print and digital media depending on what they are trying to accomplish and what is available to them. For example, they like to use print for devotional and long form reading, their phones for shorter daily readings and quick lookups, and desktops for deeper study. The American Bible Society’s 2023 report confirms this overall trend with 69% of Bible readers using print in a given month and 50% using an digital Bible app (p. 149).

Bible apps aren’t replacing printed Bibles. Instead, most people use a mix of print and digital media.

In addition, digital media is enabling a return to the way people engaged with the Bible before the printing press, when people heard the Bible. From the time of Moses to the time of Luther, few believers had their own copy of the Bible and their only access to the Word was what they heard in church. Bible apps have made audio versions much more accessible, and many Christians report an uptick in listening to scripture as a mode of engagement.

If you’re a regular reader of textandcanon.org, when you think of Bible software, you might be picturing tools that empower in-depth study of the original languages and offer commentaries and other resources such as Logos Bible Software and Accordance. These apps were originally only available on desktop apps, but there are now many excellent study-oriented Bible apps available for phones and tablet. It turns out that the presence of these study apps might be reforming how average Christians understand the Bible and its understandability.

Related

Digital hermeneutics

As part of my study, I interviewed almost two hundred Bible readers and gave them an interpretive exercise to see how print and phone screen reading might differ.

At several churches, I split the audience in half, asking one group to read on their phones and the other group to read their printed Bible. I asked both groups to read the book of Jude and then tell me (1) what the point of the book was, and (2) how it made them feel. Interestingly, two opposite trends emerged. The print readers said they felt Jude was about God’s judgment while the phone readers tended to emphasize God’s faithfulness. But then, on the second question, their answers seemed to split. The print readers, who felt the book was about God’s judgment, said they were encouraged by the reading. The phone readers on the other hand who said Jude was about God’s faithfulness, said after reading it that they felt discouraged and confused.

So what can account for that difference? Why is a judgmental God encouraging and a faithful God discouraging? As I looked through the interview data on how people spoke about their Bible reading habits and the digital age, some themes emerged that might explain this.

The free YouVersion App boasts 3,000 Bible versions in 2,000 languages.

First, while there are a few outliers that are print-only or digital-only, as I mentioned above almost everyone sees the value in using both mediums for different activities (print for devotions, phones for audio, desktop for study, etc.). Second, most people tend to associate certain characteristics with the medium itself beyond what the text is saying.

Over and over again, my interviewees would speak of a printed Bible as something they could trust, something that represented a faith they could literally pass on to the next generation. Someone might hold up a well-worn printed Bible and say, “This, this is what I believe.” On the other hand, when people spoke about Bible apps, they expressed appreciation for search functionality, audio Bibles, original languages, study notes, and so on. But they also tended to mention things like the distraction of notifications, the anxieties they feel when they read the news, and the pressure of social media.

Over and over again, my interviewees would speak of a printed Bible as something they could trust.

This recalls the Marshall McLuhan’s famous saying, “the medium is the message.” By this McLuhan meant several things, one of which was that a medium can influence how we perceive a message, much like tone of voice and body language when speaking in person. In this case, the medium of print itself sends a message of confidence, while screens seems to send a message of anxiety. It’s likely that we associate print with trust, but phones with all the complex emotions we experience on social media. It’s interesting to note that the text of scripture hasn’t changed at all, but when the medium changes, people perceive it differently.

These kinds of observations are also seen in “materiality of religion” studies which focus on how material objects have a representative power within a community. For example, some traditions carry a printed Bible through the congregation as part of the liturgy and others give a Bible to someone at key moments in their life. In these cases, the printed bible is functioning in an iconic way that a digital Bible cannot.

Secondary perspicuity

The people I interviewed also indicated, albeit indirectly, that the presence of digital Bible apps had altered their understanding of perspicuity. While most people associated print with more certainty and trust, they also spoke about how Bible apps gave them a unique confidence.

Some spoke of the familiar small group scenario where a member says, “I think it says somewhere in the Bible that …” but no one is sure. Bible apps, they went on to say, ensured that such a verse could always be found and verified or shown to just be a popular phrase but not something in the Bible.

Others discussed the role of Bible apps with study helps, saying that even the most difficult passage could be understood if one had the right app with the right resources installed. Long before Bible apps existed, Protestants and Catholics alike created printed Bibles with study notes and interpretive guides (e.g., the Geneva Bible in 1560 and the Douay-Rheims in 1582).

But unlike the static study notes around the printed text, Bible apps allow for an exploratory feeling. Several participants spoke of an endless experience of tapping words and going “deeper and deeper” to find the “original meaning” of the text. Some readers even said that after long periods of using apps, they found themselves wanting to tap on the words of their print Bibles when they didn’t understand something.

I call this phenomenon “secondary perspicuity” because the reader is still convinced that the meaning of the passage can be known—just as long as one has the right content downloaded. The digitally enabled Bible reader doesn’t need an authoritative Church to tell them what a passage means, but their understanding of the knowability of the text has shifted to include the necessity of outside helps and resources. This continues to evolve today with several new AI-generated Bible summary and interpretation tools, each of which reinforce the idea that the right tools can get us to the right answers, perhaps even apart from the Holy Spirit.

Conclusion

The point here is not that Bible apps are bad or that we need to go back to print (or back to exclusively encountering scripture through public readings). It’s to recognize the very subtle ways that mediums we use shape and form our encounters with content. Neither print nor screen are neutral. Both form us and our communities, shaping what we see and don’t see in the text and about God. As we seek to encounter the one true God, let us continually be thankful for the good gifts of technology, but also mindful of its power and peril.

Our Year in Review

As the year closes, we take look back at our work in 2023 and cast a glimpse ahead to 2024.

As we close the books on another year at the Text & Canon Institute, we’re grateful that readers like you found our website by the hundreds of thousands through Google searches, social media posts, and of course, by subscribing to our email list. To give you a sense of our growth, this past year, our website received more views than in the previous two years combined! We’ve especially loved meeting you at conferences, getting your emails, and hearing about your passion for the Bible’s rich history. So, here’s a look back at our work in 2023 and a glimpse of the year ahead.

New articles

This year, we published fifteen new articles. Readers learned about Erasmus and the search for the original text of the New Testament, a Hebrew manuscript that sold for over $38M at auction, bad Bible translations, a new papyrus with sayings of Jesus, the Bible in Jesus’ own language, and more. We enlisted scholars to write accessible articles from their expertise, and we’re happy to see their work received so positively.

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We especially love it when we hear from readers about how our articles have helped in their own ministry. From Kentucky, Hannah sent us this encouraging note:

I teach Apologetics to High School Seniors. As a part of the course, I always give a couple of lectures on biblical manuscripts and canon. The website has been very helpful in my own preparation and as a resource to give my students. I’ve had several students and alumni ask questions about issues of text and canon, and I have been so thankful to know that I can direct them to the TCI for information that is honest, scholarly, and trustworthy. Just a few weeks ago, I had a student asking where she could find reliable information on historical evidence for the Bible, and TCI was the first resource I recommended.

From Colorado Christian University, Megan noted the benefit of the web articles for her undergraduate students:

I am including several links to the TCI website in my syllabus as required reading in the Spring. I’m grateful to have it as a resource for my undergrads!

We’re humbled that the website received significant traffic this year from the US, the UK, and Canada. And we’re also excited that many readers found the Spanish and Portuguese versions of the site. In fact, our second most read article this year was the Spanish article ¿Por qué son Diferentes Las Biblias Protestantes y Católicas? Many of these views came from Mexico, Colombia, and Spain to name only the top three Spanish-speaking countries.

Speaking

In addition to publishing articles, our team traveled and spoke to churches and parachurch groups around the USA about how we got our Bible through the Scribes & Scripture conference. In the spring, we spoke at the Young Life Mountain West leaders conference in Spokane, WA; Desert Springs Church in Albuquerque, NM; and three other churches in our home state of Arizona. Interest in these events continues to increase. (Keep reading to see if we’re speaking near you next year.)

John Meade speaking on the canon of Scripture at TGC23. Image source

In the fall, we spoke at The Gospel Coalition national conference in Indianapolis to an audience of 1,300 people. We gave talks on the canon of Scripture and the history of the English Bible, and Dr. Michael Kruger spoke on some misconceptions about the New Testament canon. With attendees standing and sitting on the floor in the back of the room, the session was a complete success.

Scribes & Scripture videos

Routinely, when we announce we’re speaking somewhere, we receive several questions from our followers about whether the talks will be recorded and made available. We listened. And we did something about it. This year, we recorded our Scribes & Scripture conference talks in a world-class studio with a live audience. As much as we would like to travel and speak to every group, we simply can’t. We recorded our talks this summer and hope to make them available to individuals and groups next year. Stay tuned!

This year, we recorded our Scribes & Scripture conference in a world-class studio with a live audience.

Publications

Published just last year, our book Scribes and Scripture: The Amazing Story of How We Got the Bible (Crossway) was a finalist for the 2023 Christian Book Awards in the category of Bible reference works. Plans are already in the works for several translations. If you’ve read the book, consider leaving us a review on Amazon. It really helps.

In addition to speaking and producing digital resources, we also published a number of more academic works. Dr. Meade, along with his coeditors, published a special volume known as a Festschrift in honor of Dr. Peter J. Gentry, Like Nails Firmly Fixed (Qoh 12:11): Essays on the Text and Language of the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures, Presented to Peter J. Gentry on the Occasion of His Retirement (Peeters). Dr. Meade also published several chapters in edited volumes including “The Canonical Shape of the Greek Old Testament” (T&T Clark) and “Septuagint: Thematic Parallels to the New Testament” (Baker).

Dr. Gurry had several articles and chapters published, including “Inerrancy and the Initial Text” (in the journal Presbyterion), the entry on textual criticism in the new second edition of the Dictionary of Paul and His Letters (IVP), a chapter on textual variants in early Protestant Bibles in Pen, Print, and Pixels: Advances in Textual Criticism in the Digital Era (Hendrickson), and, finally, a chapter arguing for reasoned eclecticism in Can We Recover the Original Text of the New Testament? (Wipf & Stock).

Looking to 2024

Looking forward to the New Year, we eagerly anticipate serving you with more of our digital articles about the history of the Bible for the church and public. Make sure you’ve subscribed so you don’t miss an article. Also, consider a donation to the TCI so that we can enter the New Year fiscally strong. We depend on generous supporters to accomplish our mission of illuminating the history of the Bible.

We depend on generous supporters to accomplish our mission of illuminating the history of the Bible.

Next year, we plan to speak in Houston, TX; Kansas City, MO; Snohomish, WA; New Hyde Park, NY; and Phoenix, AZ. See if we’re speaking near you. John also plans to speak at the Apologetics Canada conference, “Can I Trust the Bible?” on March 2–3.

We will send out an announcement on the Scribes & Scripture videos once those are ready for distribution and we hope to announce some exciting updates on our academic colloquia in the first half of next year. You will not want to miss these.

Finally, as we sign off on 2023, we thank our Lord Jesus for his faithfulness to the TCI as we celebrate his miraculous birth this time of year. We are fully committing our plans to him, recognizing his goodness to us in all the work we get to do.

From all of us at the TCI, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Peter Gurry
John D. Meade

The Text & Canon Institute illuminates the history of the Bible through church resources, research, and mentoring.

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