1. Copyright © 1964 J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), Tübingen. English
   translation © 1965 Lutterworth Press. Used by permission.
   Oxford University Press: Excerpts from The Acts of the Christian Martyrs,
   translated by Herbert Musurillo. Copyright © Oxford University Press
2. Reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

THE WRITING of this book began several years ago with research into the
relation between politics and religion in the origins of Christianity. The
first four chapters have been published in more technical form in
scholarly journals (specific references precede the footnotes of each
chapter).
In preparing this volume I have generally chosen to follow the
translations offered in The Nag Hammadi Library, edited by James M.
Robinson, since these are readily available to all readers. In certain cases,
however, I have changed the translation for the sake of clarity, consistency
or interpretation (for example, I have translated the Coptic transliteration
of the Greek term not as "perfection," but as "fulfillment," which
seems to me more accurate; in other cases, where the Coptic term
apparently translates the Greek , I have translated it not as "man"
but as "humanity"). In the case of two texts, I have used different
translations (see below).
I am especially grateful to those colleagues and friends who have read and
criticized the entire manuscript: Peter Berger, John Gager, Dennis Groh,
Howard Kee, George MacRae, Wayne Meeks and Morton Smith. For other
advice and criticism, specifically of aspects of the introduction, I owe
grateful thanks to Marilyn Harran, Marvin Meyer, Birger Pearson,
Gilles

Quispel, Richard Ogust and James M. Robinson. I am grateful, too, to
Bentley Layton for permission to use his translation of the Treatise on
Resurrection, and to James Brashler for permission to use his
translation of the Apocalypse of Peter.
Special thanks are due the Rockefeller Foundation, the Lita A. Hazen
Foundation and the Guggenheim Foundation for their support,
which granted me the time to devote to writing; and to President
Jacqueline Mattfeld and Vice President Charles Olton for approving
a year's leave from my responsibilities at Barnard College. Especially
I wish to thank Lydia Bronte and Lita A. Hazen for their encourage-
ment throughout the whole project.
The present version of the book would have been impossible to
produce without the superb editing of Jason Epstein, Vice President
and Editorial Director of Random House; the excellent advice of John
Brockman; and the conscientious work of Connie Budelis in typing
and Barbara Willson in copyediting.
Finally, I wish to thank my husband for his loving encouragement in
the process of this work.

CONTENTS

I The Controversy over Christ's Resurrection: Historical Event or Symbol?

II "One God, One Bishop": The Politics of Monotheism

III God the Father/God the Mother

IV The Passion of Christ and
the Persecution of Christians

V Whose Church Is the "True Church"?

VI Gnosis: Self-Knowledge as Knowledge of God

Conclusion
Notes
Index

(Links to be added for each chapter for easier review, will edit later)

INTRODUCTION

IN DECEMBER 1945 an Arab peasant made an astonishing
archeological discovery in Upper Egypt. Rumors obscured the
circumstances of this find—perhaps because the discovery was
accidental, and its sale on the black market illegal. For years even the
identity of the discoverer remained unknown. One rumor held that
he was a blood avenger; another, that he had made the find near the
town of Naj ‘Hammadi at the Jabal al-Tarif, a mountain honey-
combed with more than 150 caves. Originally natural, some of these
caves were cut and painted and used as grave sites as early as the
sixth dynasty, some 4,300 years ago.
Thirty years later the discoverer himself, Muhammad ‘Ali al-
Samman, told what happened.1
Shortly before he and his brothers
avenged their father's murder in a blood feud, they had saddled their
camels and gone out to the Jabal to dig for sabakh, a soft soil they
used to fertilize their crops. Digging around a massive boulder, they
hit a red earthenware jar, almost a meter high. Muhammad ‘Ali
hesitated to break the jar, considering that a jinn, or spirit, might live
inside. But realizing that it might also contain gold, he raised his
mattock, smashed the jar, and discovered inside thirteen papyrus
books, bound in leather. Returning to his home in al-Qasr,
Muhammad ‘Ali dumped the books and loose papyrus leaves on the straw piled on the ground next to
the oven. Muhammad's mother, ‘Umm-Ahmad, admits that she
burned much of the papyrus in the oven along with the straw she
used to kindle the fire.
A few weeks later, as Muhammad ‘Ali tells it, he and his brothers
avenged their father's death by murdering Ahmed Isma’il. Their
mother had warned her sons to keep their mattocks sharp: when
they learned that their father's enemy was nearby, the brothers
seized the opportunity, "hacked off his limbs . . . ripped out his heart,
and devoured it among them, as the ultimate act of blood revenge."2
Fearing that the police investigating the murder would search his
house and discover the books, Muhammad ‘Aliasked the priest, al-
Qummus Basiliyus Abd al-Masih, to keep one or more for him.
During the time that Muhammad ‘Ali and his brothers were being
interrogated for murder, Raghib, a local history teacher, had seen
one of the books, and suspected that it had value. Having received
one from al-Qummus Basiliyus, Raghib sent it to a friend in Cairo to
find out its worth.
Sold on the black market through antiquities dealers in Cairo, the
manuscripts soon attracted the attention of officials of the Egyptian
government. Through circumstances of high drama, as we shall see,
they bought one and confiscated ten and a half of the thirteen
leather-bound books, called codices, and deposited them in the
Coptic Museum in Cairo. But a large part of the thirteenth codex,
containing five extraordinary texts, was smuggled out of Egypt and
offered for sale in America. Word of this codex soon reached
Professor Gilles Quispel, distinguished historian of religion at
Utrecht, in the Netherlands. Excited by the discovery, Quispel urged
the Jung Foundation in Zurich to buy the codex. But discovering,
when he succeeded, that some pages were missing, he flew to Egypt
in the spring of 1955 to try to find them in the Coptic Museum.
Arriving in Cairo, he went at once to the Coptic Museum, borrowed
photographs of some of the texts, and hurried back to his hotel to
decipher them. Tracing out the first line, Quispel was startled,
then in-credulous, to read: "These are the secret words which the living Jesus
spoke, and which the twin, Judas Thomas, wrote down."3 Quispel
knew that his colleague H.-C. Puech, using notes from another
French scholar, Jean Doresse, had identified the opening lines with
fragments of a Greek Gospel of Thomas discovered in the 1890's. But
the discovery of the whole text raised new questions: Did Jesus have
a twin brother, as this text implies? Could the text be an authentic
record of Jesus' sayings? According to its title, it contained the
Gospel According to Thomas; yet, unlike the gospels of the New
Testament, this text identified itself as a secret gospel. Quispel also
discovered that it contained many sayings known from the New
Testament; but these sayings, placed in unfamiliar contexts,
suggested other dimensions of meaning. Other passages, Quispel
found, differed entirely from any known Christian tradition: the
"living Jesus," for example, speaks in sayings as cryptic and
compelling as Zen koans:
Jesus said, "If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth
will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you
do not bring forth will destroy you."4
What Quispel held in his hand, the Gospel of Thomas, was only one of
the fifty-two texts discovered at Nag Hammadi (the usual English
transliteration of the town's name). Bound into the same volume
with it is the Gospel of Philip, which attributes to Jesus acts and
sayings quite different from those in the New Testament:
. . . the companion of the [Savior is] Mary Magdalene. [But Christ loved]
her more than [all] the disciples, and used to kiss her [often] on her
[mouth]. The rest of [the disciples were offended] . . . They said to him,
"Why do you love her more than all of us?" The Savior answered and
said to them, "Why do I not love you as (I love) her?"5
Other sayings in this collection criticize common Christian beliefs,
such as the virgin birth or the bodily resurrection, as naive misunderstandings. Bound together with these gospels is the
Apocryphon (literally, "secret book") of John, which opens with an
offer to reveal "the mysteries [and the] things hidden in silence"
which Jesus taught to his disciple John.6
Muhammad ‘Ali later admitted that some of the texts were lost—
burned up or thrown away. But what remains is astonishing: some
fifty-two texts from the early centuries of the Christian era—
including a collection of early Christian gospels, previously
unknown. Besides the Gospel of Thomas and the Gospel of Philip, the
find included the Gospel of Truth and the Gospel to the Egyptians, which
identifies itself as "the [sacred book] of the Great Invisible [Spirit]."7
Another group of texts consists of writings attributed to Jesus'
followers, such as the Secret Book of James, the Apocalypse of Paul, the
Letter of Peter to Philip, and the Apocalypse of Peter.
What Muhammad ‘Ali discovered at Nag Hammadi, it soon became
clear, were Coptic translations, made about 1,500 years ago, of still
more ancient manuscripts. The originals themselves had been
written in Greek, the language of the New Testament: as Doresse,
Puech, and Quispel had recognized, part of one of them had been
discovered by archeologists about fifty years earlier, when they
found a few fragments of the original Greek version of the Gospel of
Thomas.
8
About the dating of the manuscripts themselves there is little
debate. Examination of the datable papyrus used to thicken the
leather bindings, and of the Coptic script, place them c. A.D. 3 50-
400.9
But scholars sharply disagree about the dating of the original
texts. Some of them can hardly be later than c. A.D. 120-150, since
Irenaeus, the orthodox Bishop of Lyons, writing c. 180, declares that
heretics "boast that they possess more gospels than there really
are,"10 and complains that in his time such writings already have won
wide circulation—from Gaul through Rome, Greece, and Asia Minor.
Quispel and his collaborators, who first published the Gospel of
Thomas, suggested the date of c. A.D. 140 for the original.11 Some
reasoned that since these gospels were heretical, they must have been written later than the gospels of the New Testament,
which are dated c. 60-110. But recently Professor Helmut Koester of
Harvard University has suggested that the collection of sayings in
the Gospel of Thomas, although compiled c. 140, may include some
traditions even older than the gospels of the New Testament,
"possibly as early as the second half of the first century" (50-100)—
as early as, or earlier, than Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John.12
Scholars investigating the Nag Hammadi find discovered that some
of the texts tell the origin of the human race in terms very different
from the usual reading of Genesis: the Testimony of Truth, for example,
tells the story of the Garden of Eden from the viewpoint of the
serpent! Here the serpent, long known to appear in gnostic
literature as the principle of divine wisdom, convinces Adam and
Eve to partake of knowledge while "the Lord" threatens them with
death, trying jealously to prevent them from attaining knowledge,
and expelling them from Paradise when they achieve it.13 Another
text, mysteriously entitled the Thunder, Perfect Mind, offers an
extraordinary poem spoken in the voice of a feminine divine power:
For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin. . . .
I am the barren one,
and many are her sons. . . .
I am the silence that is incomprehensible . . .
I am the utterance of my name.14
These diverse texts range, then, from secret gospels, poems, and
quasi-philosophic descriptions of the origin of the universe, to
myths, magic, and instructions for mystical practice.
WHY WERE THESE TEXTS BURIED—and why have they remained
virtually unknown for nearly 2,000 years? Their suppression as banned documents, and their burial on the cliff at Nag
Hammadi, it turns out, were both part of a struggle critical for the
formation of early Christianity. The Nag Hammadi texts, and others
like them, which circulated at the beginning of the Christian era,
were denounced as heresy by orthodox Christians in the middle of
the second century. We have long known that many early followers
of Christ were condemned by other Christians as heretics, but nearly
all we knew about them came from what their opponents wrote
attacking them. Bishop Irenaeus, who supervised the church in
Lyons, c. 180, wrote five volumes, entitled The Destruction and
Overthrow of Falsely So-called Knowledge, which begin with his promise
to
set forth the views of those who are now teaching heresy . . . to show
how absurd and inconsistent with the truth are their statements . . . I
do this so that . . . you may urge all those with whom you are connected
to avoid such an abyss of madness and of blasphemy against Christ.15
He denounces as especially "full of blasphemy" a famous gospel
called the Gospel of Truth.16 Is Irenaeus referring to the same Gospel of
Truth discovered at Nag Hammadi? Quispel and his collaborators,
who first published the Gospel of Truth, argued that he is; one of their
critics maintains that the opening line (which begins "The gospel of
truth") is not a title.17 But Irenaeus does use the same source as at
least one of the texts discovered at Nag Hammadi—the Apocryphon
(Secret Book) of John—as ammunition for his own attack on such
"heresy." Fifty years later Hippolytus, a teacher in Rome, wrote
another massive Refutation of All Heresies to "expose and refute the
wicked blasphemy of the heretics."18
This campaign against heresy involved an involuntary admission of
its persuasive power; yet the bishops prevailed. By the time of the
Emperor Constantine's conversion, when Christianity became an
officially approved religion in the fourth century, Christian bishops,
previously victimized by the police, now commanded them.
Possession of books denounced as heretical was made a criminal offense. Copies of such books were burned and
destroyed. But in Upper Egypt, someone, possibly a monk from a
nearby monastery of St. Pachomius,19 took the banned books and hid
them from destruction—in the jar where they remained buried for
almost 1,600 years.
But those who wrote and circulated these texts did not regard
themselves as "heretics." Most of the writings use Christian termino-
logy, unmistakably related to a Jewish heritage. Many claim to offer
traditions about Jesus that are secret, hidden from "the many" who
constitute what, in the second century, came to be called the
"catholic church." These Christians are now called gnostics, from the
Greek word gnosis, usually translated as "knowledge." For as those
who claim to know nothing about ultimate reality are called
agnostic (literally, "not-knowing"), the person who does claim to
know such things is called gnostic ("knowing"). But gnosis is not
primarily rational knowledge. The Greek language distinguishes
between scientific or reflective knowledge ("He knows mathe-
matics") and knowing through observation or experience ("He knows
me"), which is gnosis. As the gnostics use the term, we could translate
it as "insight," for gnosis involves an intuitive process of knowing
oneself. And to know oneself, they claimed, is to know human
nature and human destiny. According to the gnostic teacher
Theodotus, writing in Asia Minor (c. 140-160), the gnostic is one
who has come to understand
who we were, and what we have become; where we were . . . whither we
are hastening; from what we are being released; what birth is, and what
is rebirth.20
Yet to know oneself, at the deepest level, is simultaneously to know
God; this is the secret of gnosis. Another gnostic teacher, Monoimus,
says:
Abandon the search for God and the creation and other matters of a
similar sort. Look for him by taking yourself as the starting point.
Learn who it is within you who makes everything his own and says,
"My God, my mind, my thought, my soul, my body." Learn the sources of sorrow, joy, love, hate .
. . If you carefully investigate these matters you will find him in
yourself.
21
What Muhammad ‘Ali discovered at Nag Hammadi is, apparently, a
library of writings, almost all of them gnostic. Although they claim
to offer secret teaching, many of these texts refer to the Scriptures of
the Old Testament, and others to the letters of Paul and the New
Testament gospels. Many of them include the same dramatis personae
as the New Testament—Jesus and his disciples. Yet the differences
are striking.
Orthodox Jews and Christians insist that a chasm separates
humanity from its creator: God is wholly other. But some of the
gnostics who wrote these gospels contradict this: self-knowledge is
knowledge of God; the self and the divine are identical.
Second, the "living Jesus" of these texts speaks of illusion and
enlightenment, not of sin and repentance, like the Jesus of the New
Testament. Instead of coming to save us from sin, he comes as a
guide who opens access to spiritual understanding. But when the
disciple attains enlightenment, Jesus no longer serves as his
spiritual master: the two have become equal—even identical.
Third, orthodox Christians believe that Jesus is Lord and Son of God
in a unique way: he remains forever distinct from the rest of
humanity whom he came to save. Yet the gnostic Gospel of Thomas
relates that as soon as Thomas recognizes him, Jesus says to Thomas
that they have both received their being from the same source:
Jesus said, "I am not your master. Because you have drunk, you have
become drunk from the bubbling stream which I have measured out. . . .
He who will drink from my mouth will become as I am: I myself shall
become he, and the things that are hidden will be revealed to him."22
Does not such teaching—the identity of the divine and human, the
concern with illusion and enlightenment, the founder who is presented not as Lord, but as spiritual guide—sound more
Eastern than Western? Some scholars have suggested that if the
names were changed, the "living Buddha" appropriately could say
what the Gospel of Thomas attributes to the living Jesus. Could Hindu
or Buddhist tradition have influenced gnosticism? The British
scholar of Buddhism, Edward Conze, suggests that it had. He points
out that "Buddhists were in contact with the Thomas Christians
(that is, Christians who knew and used such writings as the Gospel of
Thomas) in South India."23 Trade routes between the Greco-Roman
world and the Far East were opening up at the time when
gnosticism flourished (A.D. 80-200); for generations, Buddhist
missionaries had been proselytizing in Alexandria. We note, too,
that Hippolytus, who was a Greek-speaking Christian in Rome (c.
225), knows of the Indian Brahmins—and includes their tradition
among the sources of heresy:
There is . . . among the Indians a heresy of those who philosophize
among the Brahmins, who live a self-sufficient life, abstaining from
(eating) living creatures and all cooked food . . . They say that God is
light, not like the light one sees, nor like the sun nor fire, but to them
God is discourse, not that which finds expression in articulate sounds,
but that of knowledge (gnosis) through which the secret mysteries of
nature are perceived by the wise.24
Could the title of the Gospel of Thomas—named for the disciple who,
tradition tells us, went to India—suggest the influence of Indian
tradition?
These hints indicate the possibility, yet our evidence is not
conclusive. Since parallel traditions may emerge in different cultures
at different times, such ideas could have developed in both places
independently.25 What we call Eastern and Western religions, and
tend to regard as separate streams, were not clearly differentiated
2,000 years ago. Research on the Nag Hammadi texts is only
beginning: we look forward to the work of scholars who can study
these traditions comparatively to discover whether they can, in fact,
be traced to Indian sources.

Even so, ideas that we associate with Eastern religions emerged in
the first century through the gnostic movement in the West, but
they were suppressed and condemned by polemicists like Irenaeus.
Yet those who called gnosticism heresy were adopting—consciously
or not—the viewpoint of that group of Christians who called
themselves orthodox Christians. A heretic may be anyone whose
outlook someone else dislikes or denounces. According to tradition,
a heretic is one who deviates from the true faith. But what defines
that "true faith"? Who calls it that, and for what reasons?
We find this problem familiar in our own experience. The term
"Christianity," especially since the Reformation, has covered an
astonishing range of groups. Those claiming to represent "true
Christianity" in the twentieth century can range from a Catholic
cardinal in the Vatican to an African Methodist Episcopal preacher
initiating revival in Detroit, a Mormon missionary in Thailand, or
the member of a village church on the coast of Greece. Yet Catholics,
Protestants, and Orthodox agree that such diversity is a recent—and
deplorable—development. According to Christian legend, the early
church was different. Christians of every persuasion look back to the
primitive church to find a simpler, purer form of Christian faith. In
the apostles' time, all members of the Christian community shared
their money and property; all believed the same teaching, and
worshiped together; all revered the authority of the apostles. It was
only after that golden age that conflict, then heresy emerged: so says
the author of the Acts of the Apostles, who identifies himself as the
first historian of Christianity.
But the discoveries at Nag Hammadi have upset this picture. If we
admit that some of these fifty-two texts represent early forms of
Christian teaching, we may have to recognize that early Christianity
is far more diverse than nearly anyone expected before the Nag
Hammadi discoveries.26
Contemporary Christianity, diverse and complex as we find it,
actually may show more unanimity than the Christian churches of
the first and second centuries. For nearly all Christians since that time, Catholics, Protestants, or Orthodox, have
shared three basic premises. First, they accept the canon of the New
Testament; second, they confess the apostolic creed; and third, they
affirm specific forms of church institution. But every one of these—
the canon of Scripture, the creed, and the institutional structure—
emerged in its present form only toward the end of the second
century. Before that time, as Irenaeus and others attest, numerous
gospels circulated among various Christian groups, ranging from
those of the New Testament, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, to such
writings as the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Philip, and the Gospel of
Truth, as well as many other secret teachings, myths, and poems
attributed to Jesus or his disciples. Some of these, apparently, were
discovered at Nag Hammadi; many others are lost to us. Those who
identified themselves as Christians entertained many—and radically
differing—religious beliefs and practices. And the communities
scattered throughout the known world organized themselves in
ways that differed widely from one group to another.
Yet by A.D. 200, the situation had changed. Christianity had become
an institution headed by a three-rank hierarchy of bishops, priests,
and deacons, who understood themselves to be the guardians of the
only "true faith." The majority of churches, among which the church
of Rome took a leading role, rejected all other viewpoints as heresy.
Deploring the diversity of the earlier movement, Bishop Irenaeus
and his followers insisted that there could be only one church, and
outside of that church, he declared, "there is no salvation."27
Members of this church alone are orthodox (literally, "straight-
thinking") Christians. And, he claimed, this church must be
catholic—that is, universal. Whoever challenged that consensus,
arguing instead for other forms of Christian teaching, was declared
to be a heretic, and expelled. When the orthodox gained military
support, sometime after the Emperor Constantine became Christian
in the fourth century, the penalty for heresy escalated.

The efforts of the majority to destroy every trace of heretical
"blasphemy" proved so successful that, until the discoveries at Nag
Hammadi, nearly all our information concerning alternative forms
of early Christianity came from the massive orthodox attacks upon
them. Although gnosticism is perhaps the earliest—and most
threatening—of the heresies, scholars had known only a handful of
original gnostic texts, none published before the nineteenth century.
The first emerged in 1769, when a Scottish tourist named James
Bruce bought a Coptic manuscript near Thebes (modern Luxor) in
Upper Egypt.28 Published only in 1892, it claims to record
conversations of Jesus with his disciples—a group that here includes
both men and women. In 1773 a collector found in a London
bookshop an ancient text, also in Coptic, that contained a dialogue
on "mysteries" between Jesus and his disciples.29 In 1896 a German
Egyptologist, alerted by the previous publications, bought in Cairo a
manuscript that, to his amazement, contained the Gospel of Mary
(Magdalene) and three other texts. Three copies of one of them, the
Apocryphon (Secret Book) of John were also included among the
gnostic library discovered at Nag Hammadi fifty years later.30
But why is this astonishing discovery at Nag Hammadi only now
becoming known for the first time? Why did we not hear news of
the Nag Hammadi discovery, as we did about the Dead Sea Scrolls,
some twenty-five years ago? Professor Hans Jonas, the eminent
authority on gnosticism, wrote in 1962:
Unlike the Dead Sea finds of the same years, the gnostic find from Nag
Hammadi has been beset from the beginning to this day by a persistent
curse of political roadblocks, litigations, and, most of all, scholarly
jealousies and "first-manship" (the last factor has grown by now into a
veritable chronique scandaleuse of contemporary academia).31
Access to the texts was deliberately suppressed not only in ancient
times but, for very different reasons, in the more than thirty years
since the discovery.32 In the first place, villagers from Upper Egypt and the antiquities dealers who were trying to
get rich from the manuscripts hid them to avoid confiscation by
government authorities. Their value became clear when the French
Egyptologist Jean Doresse saw the first of the recovered manuscripts
in 1947 at the Coptic Museum in Cairo. When the museum's
director, Togo Mina, asked him to examine it, Doresse identified the
manuscript and announced that this discovery would mark an epoch
in the study of the origins of Christianity. Fired by his enthusiasm,
Mina asked him to look at another manuscript, held by Albert Eid, a
Belgian antiquities dealer in Cairo. Following this meeting, Mina
went to see Eid to tell him that he would never allow the manuscript
to leave Egypt—it must be sold, for a nominal price, to the museum.
But still the majority of the find remained hidden. Bahij ‘Ali, a one-
eyed outlaw from al-Qasr, had acquired possession of many of the
codices in Nag Hammadi and went to Cairo to sell them. Phocion
Tano, an antiquities dealer, bought all that he had, and went to Nag
Hammadi to see if he could find more. While Doresse worked in
Cairo through the air raids and bombings of 1948 to publish the
manuscript of Codex III, the Minister of Public Education nego-
tiated to buy Tano's collection for the museum. Tano worked fast to
prevent the government from interfering, by saying that they
belonged to a private party, a woman named Dattari, an Italian
collector living in Cairo. But on June 10, 1949, Miss Dattari was
unsettled to read the following report in Cairo's French newspaper:
The acquisition of these precious documents by the Egyptian
government is in process. According to the specialists consulted, it has
to do with one of the most extraordinary discoveries preserved until
the present by the ground of Egypt, surpassing in scientific interest
such spectacular discoveries as the tomb of Tutankhamen.33
When the government nationalized the collection in 1952,
government officials claimed the codices, packed in a sealed suitcase.
They paid Miss Dattari nothing—although her asking price had been about £ 100,000. When she retaliated with a lawsuit,
she succeeded only in delaying research for three years by gaining a
court injunction against it; she lost the case.
But the government failed to confiscate Eid's part of Codex I. In
1949 Albert Eid, worried about government intervention, flew from
Cairo to America. By including the manuscript in a large collection
of export items, he succeeded in smuggling it out of Egypt. He
offered it to buyers for as much as $22,000, but since at least one
prospective buyer refused, fearing that the Egyptian government
would resent the sale, he returned disappointed to Belgium, where
he placed it in a safe-deposit box protected by a secret password.
The Egyptian government indicted Eid for smuggling antiquities,
but by the time of his conviction, the antiquities dealer had died.
The court imposed a fine of £ 6,000 on his estate. Meanwhile Eid's
widow secretly negotiated to sell the codex, perhaps even to
competing bidders. Professor Gilles Quispel, who urged the Jung
Foundation in Zurich to buy it, says he did not know that the export
and sale were illegal when he made the arrangements. He enjoys
telling the dramatic story of his coup:
On the 10th day of May, 1952, a professor from Utrecht took a train to
Brussels. However, due to his absentmindedness, he stepped out of the
train in Tilborg, while thinking he was in Roosendaal, and thus missed
his connecting train. But when he finally approached the appointed
meeting place, a café somewhere in Brussels, two hours too late, he saw
the middleman, from Saint Idesbald close by Coxye on the Belgium
coast, still waiting at the window and kindly waving to him. The
professor then reached out and handed the man a check for 35,000
Frs.S. In return, the man gave the professor about 50 papyri. How does
one manage to transfer them over the border without complications?
One cannot very easily hide such a package. Thus one must remain
honest, and when the customs official asks, "What do you have in that
package?" then one just tells the truth: "An old manuscript." And the
customs official makes a gesture of total disinterest and lets one pass. So this is how the Jung Codex was
purchased.34
Once ownership of the manuscripts was established by 1952—
twelve and a half codices in the Coptic Museum in Cairo, and most
of the thirteenth in a safe-deposit box in Zurich—the texts became,
for the next twenty years, the focus of intense personal rivalries
among the international group of scholars competing for access to
them.
Dr. Pahor Labib, who took over directorship of the Coptic Museum
in 1952, decided to keep strict control over publication rights.
Publishing the definitive first edition of any one of these
extraordinary, original texts—let alone the whole collection—would
establish a scholar's reputation internationally. The few to whom Dr.
Labib did grant access to the manuscripts protected their interests
by refusing to allow anyone else to see them. In 1961 the Director
General of UNESCO, alerted to the discovery by French scholars,
urged publication of the whole find and proposed setting up an
international committee to arrange it.35 The Scandinavian
archeologist Torgny Save-Soderberg wrote to UNESCO, speaking for
himself and other scholars, urging UNESCO to intervene, and to
prepare a complete edition of photographs of all the manuscripts in
order to place the whole of the discovery at the disposal of the many
scholars throughout the world who were impatient to see them.
Ten years later, in 1972, the first volume of the photographic edition
finally appeared. Nine other volumes followed between 1972 and
1977, thus putting all thirteen codices in the public domain. Since
undertaking such a major technical project in Egypt involved many
delays, Professor James Robinson, director of the Institute for
Antiquity and Christianity, the only American member of the
UNESCO committee, had organized an international team to copy
and translate most of the material. Robinson and his team privately
circulated this material to scholars throughout the world, thus
involving many people in the research, effectively breaking the
monopoly that had controlled the discovery.

I first learned of the Nag Hammadi discoveries in 1965, when I
entered the graduate program at Harvard University to study the
history of Christianity. I was fascinated to hear of the find, and
delighted in 1968 when Professor George MacRae of Harvard
received the mimeographed transcriptions from Robinson's team.
Because the official publications had not yet appeared, each page was
stamped with a warning:
This material is for private study by assigned individuals only. Neither
the text nor its translation may be reproduced or published in any
form, in whole or in part.
MacRae and his colleague Professor Helmut Koester encouraged
their students to learn Coptic in order to begin research on this
extraordinary find. Convinced that the discovery would
revolutionize the traditional understanding of the origins of
Christianity, I wrote my dissertation at Harvard and Oxford on the
controversy between gnostic and orthodox Christianity. After
receiving the Ph.D. from Harvard in 1970 and accepting a faculty
position at Barnard College, Columbia University, I worked almost
exclusively on early Christian gnosticism. After publishing two
technical books on this research,36 I received grants in 1975 (from the
American Council of Learned Societies and the American
Philosophical Society) so that I could study the manuscripts at the
Cairo Museum and attend the First International Conference on
Coptic Studies in Cairo. There, like other scholars, I was initiated to
the Coptic Museum, amazed to find the library that houses the
manuscripts to be a single, small room of the Coptic Museum. Every
day, while children played in the library and cleaning women
washed the floor around me, I worked at the table, transcribing the
papyri. Having seen only black-and-white photographs, I found the
originals surprisingly beautiful—each mounted in plexiglass,
inscribed in black ink on golden brown leaves. At the First
International Conference, held in Cairo while I was there, I delivered
a paper on one of the manuscripts (the Dialogue of the Savior),37 and
even met one of the middlemen from al-Qasr who sold the texts illegally in Cairo.
Having joined the team of scholars, I participated in preparing the
first complete edition in English, published in the United States by
Harper & Row in 1977. Only with that publication, and with the
completion of the photographic edition expected by 1980, have we
finally overcome the obstacles to public knowledge caused by what
Professor Gerard Garitte of Louvain called "personal rivalries and . . .
pretensions to monopolize documents that belong only to science,
that is to say, to all."38
BY THE TIME I LEARNED of the discovery, however, gnosticism had
already had become the focus of a remarkable amount of research.
The first to investigate the gnostics were their orthodox contem-
poraries. Attempting to prove that gnosticism was essentially non-
Christian, they traced its origins to Greek philosophy, astrology,
mystery religions, magic, and even Indian sources. Often they
emphasized—and satirized—the bizarre elements that appear in
some forms of gnostic mythology. Tertullian ridiculed the gnostics
for creating elaborate cosmologies, with multi-storied heavens like
apartment houses, "with room piled on room, and assigned to each
god by just as many stairways as there were heresies: The universe
has been turned into rooms for rent!"39 By the end of the nineteenth
century, when the few original gnostic sources noted above were
discovered, they inspired new research among scholars. The great
German historian Adolf von Harnack, basing his research primarily
on the church fathers, regarded gnosticism as a Christian heresy.
Writing in 1894, Harnack explained that the gnostics, interpreting
Christian doctrine in terms of Greek philosophy, became, in one
sense, the "first Christian theologians."40 But in the process, he
contended, they distorted the Christian message, and propagated
false, hybrid forms of Christian teaching—what he called the "acute Hellenizing of Christianity."41 The British scholar
Arthur Darby Nock agreed: gnosticism, he said, was a kind of
"Platonism run wild."42
Other historians of religion objected. Far from being a Christian
heresy, they said, gnosticism originally was an independent religious
movement. In the early twentieth century the New Testament
scholar Wilhelm Bousset, who traced gnosticism to ancient
Babylonian and Persian sources, declared that
gnosticism is first of all a pre-Christian movement which had roots in
itself. It is therefore to be understood . . . in its own terms, and not as
an offshoot or byproduct of the Christian religion.43
On this point the philologist Richard Reitzenstein agreed; but
Reitzenstein went on to argue that gnosticism derived from ancient
Iranian religion and was influenced by Zoroastrian traditions.44
Others, including Professor M. Friedländer, maintained that
gnosticism originated in Judaism: the heretics whom the rabbis
attacked in the first and second centuries, said Friedlander, were
Jewish gnostics.45
In 1934—more than ten years before the Nag Hammadi
discoveries—two important new books appeared. Professor Hans
Jonas, turning from the question of the historical sources of
gnosticism, asked where it originated existentially. Jonas suggested
that gnosticism emerged in a certain "attitude toward existence." He
pointed out that the political apathy and cultural stagnation of the
Eastern empire in the first two centuries of this era coincided with
the influx of Oriental religion into Hellenistic culture. According to
Jonas' analysis, many people at the time felt profoundly alienated
from the world in which they lived, and longed for a miraculous
salvation as an escape from the constraints of political and social
existence. Using the few sources available to him with penetrating
insight, Jonas reconstructed a gnostic world view—a philosophy of
pessimism about the world combined with an attempt at self-
transcendence.46 A nontechnical version of his book, translated into
English, remains, even today, the classic introduction.47 In an epilogue added to the
second edition of this book, Jonas drew a parallel between
gnosticism and twentieth-century existentialism, acknowledging his
debt to existentialist philosophers, especially to Heidegger, in
forming his interpretation of "the gnostic religion."48
Another scholar, Walter Bauer, published a very different view of
gnosticism in 1934. Bauer recognized that the early Christian
movement was itself far more diverse than orthodox sources chose
to indicate. So, Bauer wrote,
perhaps—I repeat, perhaps—certain manifestations of Christian life
that the authors of the church renounce as "heresies" originally had not
been such at all, but, at least here and there, were the only forms of the
new religion; that is, for those regions, they were simply "Christianity."
The possibility also exists that their adherents . . . looked down with
hatred and scorn on the orthodox, who for them were the false
believers.49
Bauer's critics, notably the British scholars H. E. W. Turner50 and C.
H. Roberts,51 have criticized him for oversimplifying the situation
and for overlooking evidence that did not fit his theory. Certainly
Bauer's suggestion that, in certain Christian groups, those later
called "heretics" formed the majority, goes beyond even the gnostics'
own claims: they typically characterized themselves as "the few" in
relation to "the many" (hoi polloi). But Bauer, like Jonas, opened up
new ways of thinking about gnosticism.
The discoveries at Nag Hammadi in 1945 initiated, as Doresse had
foreseen, a whole new epoch of research. The first and most
important task was to preserve, edit, and publish the texts
themselves. An international team of scholars, including Professors
A. Guillaumont and H.-Ch. Puech from France, G. Quispel from the
Netherlands, W. Till from Germany, and Y. ‘Abd al Masih from Egypt,
collaborated in publishing the Gospel of Thomas in 1959.52 Many of the
same scholars worked with Professors M. Malinine of France, R.
Kasser of Germany, J. Zandee of the Netherlands, and R. McL. Wilson
of Scotland to edit the texts from Codex I. Professor James M. Robinson,
secretary of the International Committee for the Nag Hammadi
Codices, organized a team of scholars from Europe, Canada, and the
United States to edit the facsimile edition of photographs53 as well as
a complete scholarly edition of the whole find in Coptic and English.
Robinson sent copies of manuscripts and translations to colleagues
in Berlin. There, members of the Berliner Arbeitskreis für koptisch-
gnostische Schriften (Berlin Working-Group for Coptic-Gnostic Texts),
a circle that includes such eminent scholars as Professors H. M.
Schenke, K. M. Fischer, and K. W. Tröger, and collaborates with
others, including E. Haenchen, W. Schmithals, and K. Rudolf, has
prepared editions of the texts in Coptic and German, as well as
numerous commentaries, books, and articles.
What could this wealth of new material tell us about gnosticism?
The abundance of the texts—and their diversity—made generali-
zation difficult, and consensus even more difficult. Acknowledging
this, most scholars now agree that what we call "gnosticism" was a
widespread movement that derived its sources from various
traditions. A few of the texts describe the multiple heavens, with
magic passwords for each one, that the church fathers who had
criticized gnosticism led scholars to expect; but many others,
surprisingly, contain nothing of the kind. Much of the literature
discovered at Nag Hammadi is distinctively Christian; some texts,
however, show little or no Christian influence; a few derive
primarily from pagan sources (and may not be "gnostic" at all);
others make extensive use of Jewish traditions. For this reason, the
German scholar C. Colpe has challenged the historians' search for
the "origins of gnosticism."54 This method, Colpe insists, leads to a
potentially infinite regress of ever remoter "origins" without
contributing much to our understanding of what gnosticism
actually is.
Recently several scholars have sought the impetus for the
development of gnosticism not in terms of it cultural origins, but in
specific events or experiences. Professor R. M. Grant has suggested
that gnosticism emerged as a reaction to the shattering of traditional religious views—Jewish and Christian—after the
Romans destroyed Jerusalem in A.D. 70.55 Quispel proposed that
gnosticism originated in a potentially universal "experience of the
self" projected into religious mythology.56 Jonas has offered a
typological scheme describing gnosticism as a specific kind of
philosophical world view.57 The British scholar E. R. Dodds
characterized gnosticism as a movement whose writings derived
from mystical experience.58 Gershom Scholem, the eminent Professor
of Jewish Mysticism at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, agrees
with Dodds that gnosticism involves mystical speculation and
practice. Tracing esoteric currents in rabbinic circles that were
contemporary with the development of gnosticism, Scholem calls
them forms of "Jewish gnosticism."59
Today, those investigating the Nag Hammadi texts are less concerned
about constructing comprehensive theories than analyzing in detail
the sources unearthed at Nag Hammadi. There are several different
types of research, each investigating primarily those specific groups
of texts appropriate to the purposes of the inquiry. One type of
research, concerned with the relationship of gnosticism to
Hellenistic philosophy, focuses primarily on those Nag Hammadi
texts that exemplify this relationship. Contributors to this aspect of
research include, for example (besides Hans Jonas), the British
scholars A. D. Nock60 and A. H. Armstrong,61 and such American
scholars as Professors Bentley Layton62 of Yale University and
Harold Attridge of Southern Methodist University.63 Professor
Morton Smith of Columbia University, on the other hand, whose
current research concerns the history of magic, investigates the
sources that evince magical practice.64
A second direction of research investigates gnostic texts from a
literary and form-critical point of view. Much of this work was
initiated by J. M. Robinson and H. Koester in their book Trajectories
Through Early Christianity.
65 Others have explored the rich symbolism
of gnostic texts. The French scholar M. Tardieu, for example, has
analyzed gnostic myths;66 Professor L. Schottroff has investigated
gnostic accounts of the powers of evil.67 Many of their American colleagues, too, have
contributed to the literary analysis of gnostic sources. Professor P.
Perkins has investigated both genre68 and imagery;69 Professor
George MacRae has contributed to our understandings of gnostic
metaphors,70 myth,71 and literary form;72 he and others, including
Quispel and Professor B. A. Pearson, have shown how certain gnostic
myths drew upon material traditional in Judaism.73
A third direction of research (which often overlaps with the second)
explores the relation of gnosticism to its contemporary religious
environment. While Scholem, MacRae, Quispel, Pearson (to name a
few) have demonstrated that some gnostic sources refer extensively
to Jewish tradition, others are examining the question: What do the
gnostic texts tell us about the origins of Christianity? The many
scholars who have shared in this research, besides those mentioned
above, include Professors R. M. Grant and E. Yamauchi in the United
States; R. McL. Wilson in Scotland; G. C. Stead and H. Chadwick in
England; W. C. van Unnik in the Netherlands; H.-Ch. Puech and Dr.
S. Petrement in France; A. Orbe in Spain; S. Arai in Japan; J. Menard
and F. Wisse in Canada; and, in Germany, besides the members of the
Berliner Arbeitskreis, A. Böhlig and Dr. K. Koschorke. Because my
own research falls into this category (i.e., gnosticism and early
Christianity), I have selected primarily the gnostic Christian sources
as the basis for this book. Rather than considering the question of
the origins of gnosticism, I intend here to show how gnostic forms
of Christianity interact with orthodoxy—and what this tells us
about the origins of Christianity itself.
Given the enormous amount of current research in the field, this
sketch is necessarily brief and incomplete. Whoever wants to follow
the research in detail will find invaluable help in the Nag Hammadi
Bibliography, published by Professor D. M. Scholer.74 Kept up to date
by regular supplements published in the journal Novum Testamentum,
Scholer's bibliography currently lists nearly 4,000 books, editions,
articles, and reviews published in the last thirty years concerning research on the Nag
Hammadi texts.
Yet even the fifty-two writings discovered at Nag Hammadi offer
only a glimpse of the complexity of the early Christian movement.
We now begin to see that what we call Christianity—and what we
identify as Christian tradition—actually represents only a small
selection of specific sources, chosen from among dozens of others.
Who made that selection, and for what reasons? Why were these
other writings excluded and banned as "heresy"? What made them
so dangerous? Now, for the first time, we have the opportunity to
find out about the earliest Christian heresy; for the first time, the
heretics can speak for themselves.
Gnostic Christians undoubtedly expressed ideas that the orthodox
abhored. For example, some of these gnostic texts question whether
all suffering, labor, and death derive from human sin, which, in the
orthodox version, marred an originally perfect creation. Others
speak of the feminine element in the divine, celebrating God as
Father and Mother. Still others suggest that Christ's resurrection is
to be understood symbolically, not literally. A few radical texts even
denounce catholic Christians themselves as heretics, who, although
they "do not understand mystery . . . boast that the mystery of truth
belongs to them alone."75 Such gnostic ideas fascinated the
psychoanalyst C. G. Jung: he thought they expressed "the other side
of the mind"—the spontaneous, unconscious thoughts that any
orthodoxy requires its adherents to repress.
Yet orthodox Christianity, as the apostolic creed defines it, contains
some ideas that many of us today might find even stranger. The
creed requires, for example, that Christians confess that God is
perfectly good, and still, he created a world that includes pain,
injustice, and death; that Jesus of Nazareth was born of a virgin
mother; and that, after being executed by order of the Roman
procurator, Pontius Pilate, he arose from his grave "on the third day."

Why did the consensus of Christian churches not only accept these
astonishing views but establish them as the only true form of
Christian doctrine? Traditionally, historians have told us that the
orthodox objected to gnostic views for religious and philosophic
reasons. Certainly they did; yet investigation of the newly
discovered gnostic sources suggests another dimension of the
controversy. It suggests that these religious debates—questions of
the nature of God, or of Christ—simultaneously bear social and
political implications that are crucial to the development of
Christianity as an institutional religion. In simplest terms, ideas
which bear implications contrary to that development come to be
labeled as "heresy"; ideas which implicitly support it become
"orthodox."
By investigating the texts from Nag Hammadi, together with sources
known for well over a thousand years from orthodox tradition, we
can see how politics and religion coincide in the development of
Christianity. We can see, for example, the political implications of
such orthodox doctrines as the bodily resurrection—and how
gnostic views of resurrection bear opposite implications. In the
process, we can gain a startlingly new perspective on the origins of
Christianity.

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