Papyrological DescriptionThe fragment has a largely regular rectangular shape measuring ca. 4 cm in height by ca. 8 cm in width. The lines of text are incomplete, suggesting it belonged to a larger piece of papyrus. It is not possible to determine its original size because none of the margins are preserved, and no known direct parallels exist upon which to reconstruct the text.5 The fragment may have been inscribed on a single new leaf or a reused piece of papyrus, perhaps taken from a wide margin or an uninscribed portion of a leaf.6 (The terms “recto” [→] and “verso” [↓] are used solely to indicate the dominant fiber patterns on each side.7)
Radiocarbon analysis conducted by Greg Hodgins at the NSR-Arizona ANS Laboratory (June–July 2013) produced a date of 404 to 209 b.c.e. The reliability of this date is problematic, however, given that the small size of the sample led to the interruption of the cleaning protocol in order to reduce loss. In addition, the low δ13C (stable isotope) value of 14.3% is odd, although not impossible among plants that employ the C4 biosynthetic pathway.15 Initially it was speculated that this oddity might indicate the presence of an unknown contaminant that would result in an older-than-expected dating. Subsequent FT-IR microspectroscopic analysis by the Swager team at MIT did not, however, identify a specific contaminant (beyond the “orange” spots).16 A second radiocarbon analysis of the papyrus was done by Noreen Tuross (Harvard University) in conjunction with the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute (January–February 2014). She reports a δ13C value of −12‰ and a mean date of 741 c.e. for GJW.17
The FT-IR testing did, however, produce additional information.18 The team concluded the papyrus's chemical composition and patterns of oxidation are consistent with old papyrus by comparing the GJW fragment with a fragment of the Gospel of John (dated by Hodgins's and Tuross's radiocarbon testing to the seventh–eighth centuries c.e.) and with modern papyrus. Neither the recto and verso nor the inked and “bare” areas of the GJW papyrus displayed major spectral differences. The nature of the oxidative aging of both GJW and the John fragments, however, differs notably from modern papyrus.19 Current testing thus supports the conclusion that the papyrus and ink of GJW are ancient.
Who is Worthy and Able to be Jesus's Disciple?Family and discipleship were issues that deeply concerned early Christians. In a world where family membership assumed strong ties of duty, loyalty, and a social identity that carried religious or cultic obligations, those who followed Jesus would often have found themselves at odds with natal family members. Sayings in the early gospel tradition emphasize that mission and loyalty to Jesus should override familial relations and could put followers at risk of losing their lives.64
Yet at the same time, Jesus's followers were constituting themselves using the language of family, with God as Father, Jesus as his Son, and members of the churches as brothers and sisters—or alternatively Christ as bridegroom and the Church as his virginal bride. For example, in Mark 3:31–35 when Jesus's mother and brothers come asking for him, Jesus tells the crowd, “Whosoever does the will of God is my brother, and sister, and mother.”65 The Gospel of Thomas differentiates natal and spiritual families in the sharpest terms. For example, in Gos. Thom. 101, Jesus distinguishes between parents one should hate and those one should love, differentiating his (birth?) mother from his “true” mother who gave him life.66 And in saying 105 Jesus says, “Whoever knows father and mother67 will be called the child of a harlot” (Gos. Thom. 50:16–18), equating birth through human lust with sexual illegitimacy and implying that one's true identity is as a child of the divine Father (and Mother?).68 By using this strong language of hating family, slurring natal relations as illegitimacy and harlotry, and by contrasting natal family with the family of God in Christ, gospel writers were attempting to dis-embed believers from their natal families, at least in terms of primary loyalty, and to re-embed them as concrete members in a new (fictive) family, the church. In later centuries, these sayings took on new significance as Christians faced ruptures with natal families and broader communities during times of persecution69 or as believers were urged to give up marriage and reproduction in favor of lives of sexual renunciation.70
Might the similarities of these dominical sayings to the dialogue between Jesus and his disciples in GJW indicate similar concerns with the cost of discipleship or the identification of one's true (spiritual) family? Jesus speaks in GJW about worthiness and who is able to be his disciple, and, as we have seen, the mention of family members (mother and wife) in such a context is not surprising. Indeed the clear focus on female figures—“Mary,” “my mother,” “my wife,” “my (female) disciple”—suggests a special interest in the worthiness of women to be disciples. That someone or something is being denied or rejected (→3), that someone speaks about the (un)worthiness of Mary (→3), and that Jesus defends some particular woman's ability to be his disciple (→5) all seem to indicate that the topic under discussion concerns questions or challenges about women and discipleship, in particular sexually active and reproductive women (wives and mothers). We know these were topics under debate in the early period of Christian formation. For example, in Gos. Thom. 114 Peter declares, “Let Mary leave us, for women are not worthy of life” (a position Jesus corrects), and 1 Timothy condemns those who forbid marriage, insisting that women will be saved through childbearing (4:1–5; 2:15). Might GJW, too, be weighing in on such controversies? Let us take a closer look.
Women and Discipleship: Mary, My Mother, My Wife, My DiscipleWhile certainly Jesus's reference to “my wife” is the most startling aspect of the fragment for modern readers, it is also notable that he refers as well to “my mother,” “Mary,” and “my (female) disciple.” All these figures, except a wife, are characters in narratives of Jesus's life found in early Christian writings both within and outside of the New Testament canon. It is not entirely clear, however, how many women are being referred to in GJW,71 who they are, precisely what is being said about them, or what larger issues are under discussion.
To whom, for example, does “Mary” refer—Jesus's mother, his wife, a female disciple, yet another figure, or even all of these? Early Christianity's well-known profusion and confusion of Marys should make us cautious in identifying Mary here. “Mary” was a popular name among Jewish women, and six of the sixteen named women in the New Testament are called “Mary.”72 Two Marys, however, are particularly prominent: Jesus's mother and Mary Magdalene. It seems likely that “Mary” refers to one of these, but which? Orthography is not decisive since early Christian literature uses the spelling of “Mary” () found in GJW →3 variably for both Mary the mother of Jesus and Mary Magdalene.73 Further difficulty arises in that later tradition not infrequently assigns to the mother Mary roles otherwise belonging to Mary Magdalene,74 and the reverse occurs as well, albeit more rarely.75 Both are traditionally regarded as disciples of Jesus. In one case multiple Mary figures are directly identified. Gospel of Philip 59.6–11 first refers to three Marys but then conflates them into a single figure76:
(There are three who always walked with the Lord: Mary his mother and her sister and Magdalene, who is called his partner [koinônos]. For Mary is his sister and his mother and his spouse [hôtre]).77
Moreover, it is possible that the references to mother, Mary, and wife do not refer to characters in the career of the historical Jesus but are being deployed metaphorically as figures of the Church (fem.) or heavenly Wisdom (Sophia; fem.) or symbolically/typologically as brides of Christ or even mothers. Examples abound. In the later church, Jesus's mother is presented as the model for virgins who are understood as brides of Christ. Athanasius, for example, writes: “But Mary, the bearer of God, remains a virgin [so that she might be a pattern for] everyone coming after her. If a woman desires to remain a virgin and bride of Christ, she can look to her [Mary’s] life and imitate it.”78 Thus Mary the mother is, in that sense, “the image” for both his mother and his bride. As for Mary Magdalene, she too was allegorically interpreted as the bride of Christ, for example in a fourth-century intertextual interpretation of Song 3 with John 20.79 Moreover, in Gos. Phil., it may be that Mary Magdalene is identified as “the mother of angels” and the type of the heavenly Wisdom.80 However, Gos. Phil. also teaches that Mary the mother conceived not by the Holy Spirit but from the Father of the All, and from their union Jesus's body came into being (Gos. Phil. 71:4–9; see also 55:23–36). Thus Gos. Phil. ascribes roles in the heavenly drama of salvation to the “historical” figures of both Mary Magdalene and Jesus's mother. What about Jesus's reference to “my wife” (GJW →4)? Might it belong to intra-Christian polemics over the value of marriage? Let us consider this question in the broader context of what early Christians said about Jesus's marital status.85
The New Testament gospels never explicitly claim that Jesus was not married, but other literature does portray Christ as married metaphorically to the Church or to Jerusalem.86 The first Christians to claim that Jesus was not married used the claim to denounce all marriage, according to Clement of Alexandria. In his Stromateis, he reports on some second-century Christians “who say outright that marriage is fornication and teach that it was introduced by the devil. They proudly say that they are imitating the Lord who neither married nor had any possession in this world, boasting that they understand the gospel better than anyone else.”87 Tertullian, too, stated that Christ was “totally unwed” (innuptus in totum) and he urged believers to a higher perfection by imitating Christ's status as spado in carne (“an impotent person” or “eunuch in flesh”—perhaps referring to Matt 19:8–9, 12), although Tertullian invoked Jesus's celibacy not to forbid marriage altogether but to charge believers against a second marriage.88 As a high valuation of celibacy and virginity flourished, the position that Jesus was a virgin who never married came to be dominant, even though the extreme denunciation of marriage was rejected.89 On the other hand, the ascetic movement tended to produce many “brides of Christ,” virgins who pledged themselves to him in “spiritual marriage.”90 Without referring to a married Jesus, however, other Christians already in the second century pushed back against the devaluation or rejection of marriage and childbearing. 1 Timothy, for example, requires bishops to be married (3:2), argues that woman are saved by bearing children (2:15), and rebukes those who reject marriage as liars possessed by demons (4:15).
Arguably, however, Gos. Phil. does portray Mary Magdalene as the spousal partner of the fleshly (incarnate) Jesus, as part of its complex theological articulation of Jesus's incarnation and Christian salvation.91 It interprets Eph 5:22–33 in conjunction with a developing incarnational theology in which everything about Jesus is considered to have spiritual meaning, not only his teaching and deeds, but his birth, death, and resurrection—and his marriage. The Gospel of Philip interprets that marriage as a symbolic paradigm enacted by Christians in an initiation ritual (involving the normal water baptism, anointing with oil, the communal greeting of a kiss, and the Eucharist meal) that effectively made initiates into members of the body of Christ, the Church, and thus restored human unity with the divine. Just as Jesus's incarnation was the result of the union of the Father of the All with the virgin, so, too, the spiritual truth that Jesus taught in his marriage with Mary Magdalene was the union and restoration to unity with God. Baptism also purified Christians from demon possession and its pollutions, so that marriage between Christians was pure, free from demonic presence, and a matter of will not the lust of sexual desire. In short, Gos. Phil. offers an incarnational theology that embraces the pure marriage of Christians as a paradigm established by Christ in his own incarnate life.92
In the end, many possibilities remain open. The Mary in line →3 could refer the Jesus's mother, his wife, or even a different figure. Jesus's marriage in GJW might be carnal, celibate,102 metaphorical, and/or symbolic-paradigmatic. I consider it highly likely, however, that the polemical issue of the dialogue concerns the discipleship of women. There is no direct evidence that the issue of women's discipleship under discussion here centered around leadership roles within Christian communities. Rather it may be that GJW is interested in countering views that valued virginal celibacy over marriage and childbirth or positions that made rejecting sexual life a requirement for discipleship. The dialogue may be representing Jesus's mother and his wife as paradigms for married, child-bearing Christian women and affirming that they are worthy and able to be his disciples. Other interpretations are of course possible, but this one makes good sense within the early history of Christianity, when questions of marriage and reproduction, the status of Mary the mother and Mary Magdalene, and the meaning of Jesus's incarnation were all widespread topics of theological and ethical concern.
Dating the Manuscript and the Question of ForgeryFrom the moment the fragment's existence was announced, discussion of dating focused on the question of whether it was produced in antiquity or was fabricated in modernity with the intent to deceive (“forgery”108). This question deserves serious consideration and requires taking account of all the pertinent factors as a whole. These include: characteristics of the materials (papyrus and ink); application of the ink on the page; handwriting; language; compositional practice; the provenance of discovery; and historical contextualization.109 Let us consider each in turn.
The scientific testing completed thus far consistently provides positive evidence of the antiquity of the papyrus and ink, including radiocarbon, spectroscopic, and oxidation characteristics, with no evidence of modern fabrication. Hypothetically, a clever forger could acquire a piece of ancient papyrus and fabricate ink from ancient papyrus fragments or other vegetable matter—both of which would pass these kinds of inspection. Yardley comments, however, that while correct, “in practice this may not be so simple. The soot created in this way would not be at all the same as the soot normally used for inks unless the person who burned the papyrus was exceedingly careful to follow a procedure similar to or related to the processes used by the ancients.”110 Moreover, the very early (unreliable?) 14C dating is problematic since it requires hypothesizing either that a scribe already in antiquity acquired a centuries-old papyrus to inscribe or that a forger acquired and inscribed it in modernity; both of these hypotheses have difficulties. Further testing that indicates a date for the GJW papyrus within the seventh to eighth centuries resolves these difficulties.
Concluding Reflections
The most historically reliable early Christian literature is silent about Jesus's marital status, and the GJW fragment does not change that situation. It is not evidence that Jesus was married, but it does appear to support the favorable position on marriage and reproduction taken by the canonical 1 Timothy, and it stands on the side of Jesus as he refutes the statement of Peter in Gos. Thom. 114 that “women are not worthy of life.” Although we cannot know whether this damaged fragment supported the ancient patriarchal household order or argued that females should become male as these writings do, it does seem to enter debates over whether Jesus's incarnate life pointed toward marriage or celibacy as the ideal mode of Christian life. Ultimately such questions raise theological issues of whether sexuality belongs to being fully human or necessarily compromises holiness. In my reading, however, the main point of the GJW fragment is simply to affirm that women who are wives and mothers can be Jesus's disciples.
Fifty-nine years passed from the rediscovery of the fifth-century Berlin Codex in 1896 until its first publication in 1955. Its final editor, Walter Till, expressed a sentiment with which I have come to have a deep sympathy after only two years. “At some point,” he wrote, “a man must find the courage to let the manuscript leave one's hand even if one is convinced that there is much that is still imperfect. That is unavoidable with all human endeavors.”120 So, too, this article is not the last word on the subject of the GJW fragment, but I hope it will be a useful contribution to ongoing discussion and research.
Karen L. King (2014). “
Jesus said to them, ‘My wife . . .'”: A New Coptic Papyrus Fragment . Harvard Theological Review, 107, pp 131-159. doi:10.1017/S0017816014000133.